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arminsumi · 5 months

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I Want to Kiss You (4)

You and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

2.6k

★ Synopsis : struggling to communicate on an aquarium date.

★ Pairings : fem reader / Gojo さとる / Geto すぐる

★ Content : fluff, lighthearted love triangle

↺ Ch.3 | M.List | arminsumi | Library

すぐるのアパート 9:15 AM

A soft redness dusted Satoru’s face as he vigorously washed his face with a foaming cleanser in the bathroom. Early morning. Very hot. Peak summer heat. And on this stark-bright day he had plucked the courage (thanks to Suguru’s motherly encouragement) to ask you out on a date. You’d agreed with a smile – and the image of your smiling response lingered in Satoru’s head while he got ready for the date.

Satoru looked in the mirror at his reflection and noticed that the corners of his lips were naturally upturned; he was at a genuinely happy point in his life. Ever since you came to visit Japan, Satoru felt like an invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. One he wasn’t aware of before it lifted.

He blinked at his reflection, white lashes quivering.

私は大丈夫に見えますか？

Do I look okay?

He checked himself out in the mirror, observing how his white t-shirt draped over his shoulders.

私はカジュアルすぎる服装ですか？

Am I dressing too casually?

He dabbed cologne on his neck and sprayed it under his shirt to trap the minty-vanilla scent.

When he entered the living room, Suguru took one inhale of Satoru and his nose immediately scrunched up at the minty scent that hit his nose.

「ミント？」 he fake-belched, "Better vacate the area." he said dramatically and went to the kitchen, which was not divided by a wall but just a ceiling-tall shelf panel that you could peer through.

You and Satoru laughed at Suguru's overreaction.

Mint hopped on one of the shelves near Suguru, and then he extended the joke by freaking out.

「私はミント地獄にいる。」 he said. "I'm in mint hell."

Satoru giggled and tormented Suguru with his cologne by trying to trap him in a hug — Suguru was having none of it. Their banter settled down after a few minutes.

Mint was just observing and swishing her tail peacefully the whole time.

"Satoru should put that cologne on you, Mint, then I'll hate you even more!" he cooed condescendingly at the Turkish Angora.

You laughed, "Suguru, it's no wonder Mint hates you, if you speak like that to her."

"Hey now listen — this cat is the reincarnation of a murderer that tried to kill me in a past life." Suguru said dramatically, "See that evilness in her eyes? She's out for my blood."

電車 / Train / 10:00 AM

Satoru used the translator to talk with you during the train ride to the aquarium.

At some point, a translation of one of your replies made him laugh so hard that tears formed in his eyes.

Google translate felt emotionless, so Satoru brought out his phrasebook and tried to speak with it. It looked personalized with his notes. You could tell that he’d consulted the book many times already in the past.

You wanted to look at it closer, so you asked, “Can I?”

“Mhm.” He handed it to you.

You flipped through the phrasebook and read the section names. Basics. Practical. Social – there was a big red circle drawn around a particular phrase on page 140. The romance section.

Satoru’s cheeks burned. He felt a bit caught. He gave you an awkward but cute smile.

What he had circled in the phrasebook was;

キスしてもいい？

The train stopped at the station you had to get off at. The lady over the speaker sounded so sweet that your attention was drawn away from the phrasebook. Satoru surreptitiously took it from your hands and packed it into his backpack.

The two of you boarded off the train, bumping shoulders at the doors and laughing about it.

Satoru squinted because of the sun, and you distinctly remember looking at him and thinking about how attractive he was when he squinted.

Because the sun was blazing so bright, Satoru hovered his hand over the back of your head to make sure you didn't heat up too much while you and him walked to the aquarium.

水族館 / 11:00 AM

Satoru felt a self-conscious feeling kick in when the two of you bumbled through the aquarium together.

Hand gestures flew between the two of you. You shared confused faces which were followed by laughter. It felt like you were playing charades at some point.

Sometimes Satoru would say "uhh" for so long after saying one English word that he'd start smiling and laughing at himself.

He'd end his incomplete thought with "You know?" and you'd shake your head and start laughing, "I have no idea." you'd reply.

Then Satoru would use google translate, practicing each word under his breath.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

While waiting for you by the aquarium bathrooms, Satoru practiced asking "Can I kiss you?" over and over. He paced around and muttered under his breath.

It's not that he couldn't pronounce it, it's just that he wanted it to sound less stiff and more emotional.

I want to kiss you with desperation, not I want to kiss you with dullness.

An old man who looked about ninety blinked at Satoru and wondered why this young man was pacing back and forth while practicing romantic English phrases.

("What are you doing?") he asked Satoru.

("Learning to speak English.") Satoru replied.

("Why?") the old man asked.

("Because the girl I like speaks English. I'm waiting for her right now.") Satoru replied.

("Well, I teach English. I don't think you should ask to kiss her, that’s too direct. If the universe wills it, you two will fall into a kiss and it will just happen.") he advised.

("I don't really believe in the stars bringing people together. I want to kiss her whether or not the universe wills it.") Satoru said.

("You've got it all wrong. The stars really do bring people together. I'm sure the same stars that brought her to Japan will also bring her to your lips.") the old man said.

("... are you a poet, too?")

You came out of the bathroom. The ethereal aquarium light lit your face beautifully.

("Oh... is that girl the one you are in love with?") the old man noticed you.

Satoru looked at you. His cheeks warmed up.

("Yes, that's the girl I'm in love with...") he replied dreamily.

("It's no wonder. Well then, good luck.") the old man said.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

It felt like the aquarium was a whole other world, like a paradise in a bottle corked shut, one which only you and Satoru could exist within.

He watched the spin of aquatic life with you in silence. You seemed captivated.

The back of his hand brushed against your arm.

Satoru's hand trembled a little.

背が高すぎるんです。

I'm too tall.

Satoru had to be tactful about it.

どうすれば彼女の手を握ることができますか?

How can I hold her hand?

He awkwardly bent his knees a little to shorten himself.

Then he poked the back of your hand softly to get your attention, blatantly hinting to you that he wanted to hold your hand.

So you offered him your hand and then he seized it like a treasure being presented to him. His lips grew into a smug smile.

You saw him go red in the face, even in the dimness and blueness of the aquarium light.

You and him gently held hands and stood in front of the tall glass of the jellyfish enclosure.

つまりこれが愛なんだ？

So this is love?

The room was dark blue, but the enclosure lights lit up the see-through sea creatures with a magenta color.

It felt like a sight you could stare at forever and ever and always be at peace; magenta jellyfish pulsing then drifting then pulsing again, their bell-shaped bodies and tentacles behaving like a chiffon dress in water.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

クラゲのようにあなたの愛の中で漂いたい。

I want to float in your love like a jellyfish.

You and Satoru held hands as if your hands were glued to each other.

While exploring the map in the afternoon, he stayed at your side like a magnet. If he lost your hand, he immediately searched for it and held it again.

The summer heat got intense. He sweated more than you did, but even still looked attractive and fresh. To cool off, you and him searched for cold things to eat.

"Uhhh — do you want to eat shave ice?" he asked.

"Mhm, sounds good." you nodded.

So the two of you went on a long, long search for someone selling shaved ice and eventually found one. You zoned out a bit while enjoying his voice.

Satoru mentally kicked himself because even though he thought he was prepared for this date with you, he forgot to bring extra money. He could only get one cup of shaved ice.

"What flavour?" he asked you.

You told him cherry, so he got cherry.

The two of you shared it. It made his lips go red and cold.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

真っ赤で冷たい唇でキスできたらいいのに。それは冬のキスのようなものでしょう。

I wish I could kiss you with red, cold lips. It would be like a winter kiss.

The train shuddered.

You'd noticed that Satoru always kept his knees together when sitting next to you — to give you space. But now after holding hands, closeness was being chased and chased; the both of you scooted closer together and tried to translate your thoughts to each other with the phone.

Satoru typed in:

JPN : 私たちはくっついています。

ENG : We are stuck together.

You chuckled softly in response. His eyes always lit up and he really relished in making you laugh, even if it was just a soft chuckle.

You replied to him:

ENG : you are warm.

JPN : あなたは暖かいです。

He replied to you:

JPN : そう、あなたのせいで。

ENG : yes, because of you.

You replied to him:

ENG : are you flirting?

JPN : イチャイチャしてるの？

Satoru gave you a cheeky smile.

JPN : 私はいちゃいちゃしてます、はい。

ENG : I'm flirting, yes.

You smiled as he continued typing. His thumbs hesitated, like he was nervous about what he was about to type next.

Satoru's heart was beating harder and harder in his chest.

JPN : 頬にキスしてもいいですか？

ENG : ! NO CONNECTION

You both groaned.

The connection kept failing from then on, so the two of you laughingly attempted to communicate by using the outdated pocket phrasebook for the rest of the train ride home.

"Kiss...?" he tapped his finger on his cheek.

You thought he meant he wanted you to kiss him on his cheek, but he meant to ask if he could kiss your cheek.

So he malfunctioned when you leaned in and gave him a small but firm kiss on his left cheek. His ears and cheeks burned.

When you two stepped off the train, Satoru lingered behind you for a moment and grazed his fingertips over the place where you kissed and smiled to himself.

こんなに柔らかい唇。。。

Such soft lips...

すぐるのアパート 9:00 PM

The boys were talking about you at home while you were in the bathroom freshening up after the long, hot day out.

("Satoru, you're glowing. Did something good happen on the date?") Suguru smirked.

("She kissed me.") Satoru told him dreamily.

Suguru widened his eyes.

("She kissed you?!")

("Just on the cheek.") Satoru sighed, ("Her lips were so soft...")

("Were they now? I think you're exaggerating.") Suguru teased.

("I'm not exaggerating! Ask her for a kiss on the cheek, and you'll see; she has the softest lips ever.")

Suguru went quiet and pink in the face after Satoru suggested that he should ask you for a cheek kiss.

("Alright. I'll see for myself...") he mumbled.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Come the evening, the three of you piled up like cats on the couch in the living room and watched an old movie together.

"Seems like someone's comfy." Suguru commented.

You smiled and looked at Satoru; he curled up against you with his noodle-like limbs and fell asleep mid-way through the movie. Your warmth had made him too drowsy and dreamy to keep his eyes open.

"You know, I was worried that we wouldn't have the same chemistry in real life as we've had through the screen." you said.

Suguru let out a breathy laugh and replied.

"Yeah, I thought it would be like that too. When I hugged you at the airport, though, I felt the same spark I felt when we first video-called." he said.

You felt your cheeks warm up the more he talked.

"...spark?"

"Huh?" he raised his brows.

"You said you felt a spark between us?"

Suguru's heart throbbed. He didn't seem to know how to respond, but then he decided to act a fool.

"Oh, did I say spark?"

"Yes, you did! You said spark, I heard you." you playfully smacked his shoulder.

He started grinning so he hid his mouth with his hand.

"Well, I think you heard wrong." he teased.

You looked at each other in silence.

"... hey, Suguru?"

"Yeah?" he replied breathlessly.

He withdrew his hand from covering his mouth and his face became serious.

"What were you two talking about earlier? I heard my name being tossed around a lot. You can't keep gossiping behind my back like this!"

"Oh... earlier? We weren't gossiping. Satoru was boasting to me about how soft your lips felt on his cheek." Suguru said.

"Boasting? You seem jealous." you said.

"Don't prod at me now just because you think I'm jealous."

"I will absolutely prod at you." you teased.

"I'd rather you kiss me." he said.

"What?"

You looked at each other for a moment.

"Not like... on the lips." he backtracked.

"Oh."

"Satoru said I should ask you for a cheek kiss because I claimed he was exaggerating how soft your lips are."

"Well... he's not exaggerating." you teased.

"Oh yeah? I need proof."

"What kind of proof, Suguru?"

"Kiss me."

So you kissed his cheek very slowly.

He felt the press of your lips, and how damn soft they were, and thought to himself;

Shit. Her lips really are as soft as Satoru said they were.

When you pulled away, you asked "So? Are they as soft as Satoru claimed?"

"Soft enough." he teased.

"Soft "enough"?! What does that mean?"

"Soft enough to make me feel that "spark" again." he said.

"Huh?"

You looked at each other with wide eyes.

Satoru made a wakeful noise.

「うるさい。」 he mumbled, then snuggled into you like you were his pillow.

"Oh. We woke the cat." Suguru joked. 「おい、バカ。あなたは映画全体を通して寝ていました。」

「残念な。」 Satoru replied and let out a sleepy sigh.

"Okay, let's get to bed... it's late."

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

★ Tags

@miwanilla / @sukunasdirtylaugh / @coco-cat / @babydiamondblog / @mp3playerblog / @froufrousnowman / @lovesickramblingsofmine / @arminswifee / @instantmusico / @kaechannn / @sabo-has-my-heart / @yoonjinhusbands / @honey-i-will-come-back / @thirtykiwis / @satoruiloveu / @iamthedetective / @melaaaara / @xakilicious / @i-am-the-geek-overlord / @starrylibras / @beanluvsmilo / @kittytoru / @reese-is-right / @rains-mae / @c0pkiller / @baepsays / @hueanhdang / @fuck-imstillhere / @yourimaginaryfriiendd / @alwaysminhyuk / @andromidagalaxie / @vianna99 / @akumakitsune21 / @ducksdoughnuts / @itsnotmelo / @animechick555 / @hypernovaxx

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Like Betta Fish Do - Part 15

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts.

WC: 4225 (Ch 12 when on ao3: Chs 1-10/Parts 1-12 are there already and are better than here btw.)

“The ghosts’ King?”

Danny hummed in agreement and placed one of the trays of food on Jason’s lap.

“Seriously, you’re a king?”

“Mostly. Now eat you Pho.”

Jason did as he was told.

He shot Danny purposeful looks throughout dinner, but Danny refused to give. He kept his attention fully on the TV even though Jason knew that Danny was incapable of keeping his full attention on any show— much less one they were only watching for Jason’s sake. When the food was gone and the trash had been thrown away, Jason leaned over and paused the show. He figured that Danny was out of excuses.

Danny was still hovering in the doorway between the kitchen and living space, refusing to look at Jason. It made Jason sigh. He pulled himself off the couch, wincing slightly at the cuts on his feet. Now that he was clean and full the minor hurts he’d gotten from the episode bit at him, but he pushed the matter aside as he walked over.

Gently, Jason cradled Danny’s face. The wrapping around his split knuckles felt rough against the soft skin, but Jason simply soothed the path with his thumb.

“Danny.”

The sigh Danny let out was impressively resigned. “I didn’t mean to tell you about the king thing yet. I just didn’t want you to worry about hurting me.”

Jason hummed softly. “But it’s true?”

“Mostly.”

“You’ve said. That doesn’t explain anything, fish.”

Danny just closed his eyes at another brush of Jason’s thumb.

“Fish… I can’t say this won’t change how I think about you, because it feels like every time we meet you’re telling me things that shake me world view, but it’s not going to scare me away. Danny, you’re…,” Jason had to pause to swallow thickly. “You’re here. You saw me in a Pit Rage where I tried to scare you away and you’re still here. You’re here and… and you’re not flinching when I touch you.”

Bright aqua flashed as Danny’s eyes flicked open, intense in their severity. “I told you, I trust you.”

“Then trust that this won’t scare me away, just like I didn’t scare you away.”

Danny sighed and caught Jason’s hand. Instead of pulling it away, though, Danny just twined their fingers together and rested his cheek on them. “So, yeah. Ghost King.”

“Mostly,” Jason said, teasing a little. It worked to pull a slight smile out of Danny.

“Mostly. I can’t take the crown fully until I’m done living. As halfas we’re constantly in change and flux in a way that full ghosts aren’t. There are also some concerns the power that come with the trappings of royalty would be too much for my human half. So right now I’m seen as… too turbulent, basically, to be fully in charge. That means the monarchy is a regency under my council. I’m king in name, but I’m more of a princling right now.”

Jason nodded slowly, absorbing all of that information. It left him with a hundred questions: how did the ghost court work, who made up the council, what were the trappings? As with every conversation with Danny these days there were more questions than answers. He went for the one he felt the need to know most. “How were you chosen to be king?”

“Would you believe right of succession through combat?” Danny asked with a wounded smile.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck about sums it up.” Danny said. “So I can hold my own. Even if you end up a really strong ghost, you’re not there yet. I don’t think you’re even strong enough right now to land a hit if I went intangible.”

“Right, intangible.” He’d forgotten that was a thing. “You went right through the door after—”

“Ghost stuff,” Danny cut Jason off. “I’ll teach you once your develops. Invisibility, intangibility, and flight are all really basic ghost stuff.”

“And then there’s the not so basic stuff like the core powers?”

“Mhum. And whatever else you might get. I picked up a lot of things from fighting my rogues.”

Jason jerked back in surprise. “Your what?”

“My rogues. That’s what you all call them here, right? The villains or nemesis or anti-heroes or whatever that fight the Bats.”

Danny had rogues. Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If he hadn’t worn himself out already he would have been terrified of the green surging up. “Fish— Danny, are you a hero?”

“Officially retired,” Danny said. “Being King helped solve a lot of issues. And it turns out a lot of them just wanted to brawl so I’ve scheduled times for the ones not actually out to hurt any one. And I’ve destroyed the portal and most ghosts can’t make their own.”

“But you were a hero,” Jason choked out.

“Yep. The portal gave a way to get ghosts through and someone had to do something. My friend Sam convinced me of that— Jason, are you okay?”

Jason forced through a breath. “I’m fine, fish.”

That was a lie, but how could he explain it? How could he explain the knife that was twisted in his gut at the idea that Danny had died and been forced to become a hero. He couldn’t without revealing a lot of secrets that weren’t his to share.

“Just hate thinking of you in danger.”

“It’s— I’m fine. I mean, it sucked, a lot, but I’m fine. A lot of them weren’t that bad. Like Boxy’s whole thing is about wanting to amass boxes. He’s a nuance but not really a threat,” Danny rambled as he fiddled idly with Jason’s wrapped knuckles. “He’s really calmed down too since he married Lunch Lady who, yeah, went a little overboard with things but mostly just want’s to feed people. Their daughter Box Lunch is just the cutest little blob too.”

“Wait.” Jason squinted his eyes open at that. “Ghosts can have children? How does that even work?”

Danny grinned. “Well you see when one ghosts loves another ghost very much—”

“Fish.”

“Okay, sorry. I mean not sorry, your face was too great, but sorta sorry. Um, let’s talk ectoplasm and Ancients. It’s— all of it is a whole thing. Come one, I’ve got some candy in my bag we can open,” Danny said, dragging Jason back over to the couch.

Jason let himself be pushed down to sit and have his feet propped back up. Really, Jason just wanted to pull Danny close and make sure he was alright and go kick the ghost tails of whoever left scars on Danny, but this didn’t see to be the night for it. Right now, Danny wanted to look out for Jason, so he’d let him. There would be time for the other stories later— maybe once Jason could explain why it impacted him so much.

For right now there was candy to eat and ghost biology to learn about. Because apparently not every ghost was alive once— and wasn’t that, as Danny said, ‘a whole thing’.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to do this?” Danny asked. Again.

It had only been two days since Jason had come out of the Pit Rage. Danny had stayed through the night and most of the next day. Finishing ‘The Lizzie Bennet Diaries’ was the excuse (and it was pretty good for a ‘Pride and Prejudice’ adaptation), but Danny knew that Jason knew it was a weak excuse. Still, Jason let it slide and didn’t try to push Danny away again.

It was after a very late lunch that Danny made himself leave. He didn’t want to push his luck or make Jason feel trapped; he didn’t want to give Jason a reason to lash out like that again. As much as Danny understood that Jason was doing it out of fear and that Jason couldn’t seriously hurt him, it didn’t change the fact that Jason was a little terrifying in that moment. Worse than the spike of fear that had run through Danny was knowing that Jason was terrified of himself. And so to try and fix that they were walking in, substantially after hours, to a gym that Jason knew. Danny would prove to Jason that the other didn’t have to be afraid of hurting him.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Mr. Wayne,” the brick house of a man who was tidying up behind a small reception desk quipped.

Wait. Wayne? Danny’s gaze flickered between the two.

Seriously?

“Fuck you for making me sound like a smarmy creep by saying this,” Jason shot back without any heat, “but Mr. Wayne is my father. Seriously, there’s one the Mr. Wayne and it sure as fuck will never be me. Tim and Damian can duke it out over the that title when the old man goes.”

Oh fuck, seriously a Wayne.

The brick house clutched a dramatic hand to his chest. “I don’t know man, you don’t write, you don’t call, whatsa man to think but you moved up in the world? Gotten too good for little ‘o Sal’s.”

“No one in your family was ever named Sal, Joel, so fuck off.”

Jason was a Wayne. Tucker could never get wind of this.

“That’s between you and me, bub.”

“And half the clientèle that’s known you since you were in diapers.”

“Eh— same diff,” Joel said, shoving a folder file into a gym bag. “Gym is all yours, Mandy’s already gone. Be sure to lock up after yourself and clean up any mess you make.”

“Will do, Joel. Thanks.”

“Sure, Jason,” Joel said, heading for the door. He turned around at the last moment and give them a smirk and a sloppy salute. “And no having sex on the mats!”

“Joel!”

Danny knew he was blushing, but he bet it wasn’t as bad as Jason’s bright red cheeks.

“I’d apologize for him, but that’s just the way he is. He’s good people though, let’s me use this place after hours so I can exercise in peace… why are you staring at me like that?

Danny made himself blink. “You’re Jason Wayne.”

Between Tucker’s love for technology, Sam’s connection to the rich elite, and Vlad’s jealous Danny knew more than he wanted to about the Waynes. Just apparently not actually enough.

A frown tugged at Jason’s mouth. “You still hadn’t put it together. Shit. I get that I’m not in the spotlight as much as Tim or even Damian but— will this, I mean…”

“Won’t change a thing,” Danny was quick to assure Jason. “One of my best friend’s family is rich and the guy who’s, like, technically my godfather is rich too. I’m just surprised? You don’t exactly—”

Danny paused, one hand frozen in waving reassuringly as the rest of what Danny knew about Jason Wayne snapped into place. “Oh, fuck. You really did die, didn’t you? I mean, duh, I know you died, but Jason Wayne really died. That’s what you meant about cover story when we first met. Ancients, I am such an idiot! No wonder you thought I’d know you.”

“It was kinda endearing that you didn’t,” Jason said with a little shrug. “And I’m not the most recognizable Wayne.”

Danny’s eyes flicked obviously up to the white tuft in Jason’s hair.

Jason just shrugged again.

How did he keep ending up knowing rich people. Was he just cursed somehow? “Right. Okay. Promise, this won’t change things. I just needed a moment to re-compartmentalize you.”

‘Re-compartmentalize’, Jason mouthed.

Danny just sighed. “Shut up, my sister is a shrink— shrink in training I guess. You live with her long enough and you pick up on things.”

“Okay, sure. Can we stretch while you re-compartmentalize my existence?” Jason teased as he locked the front door.

“Yes we can stretch, dead boy.” Danny had to pause again. “Um, is Gotham going to draw and quarter me for calling you dead boy?”

“Maybe, but don’t change,” Jason said, leading them into the gym proper. “It’s…”

“Good to have someone who doesn’t make a big deal out of your death?” Danny offered when Jason fell silent.

“Yeah.”

Danny got that. As thankful as he was for Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, none of them actually got how was best for him to deal with his death. Sometimes you needed to joke about it. “Your family knows then, that you really died?”

Jason nodded.

“How do they think you’re back?”

“It’s Gotham, fucked up shit happens,” Jason said. His voice caught in that way that Danny had come to learn meant Jason was struggling with the topic.

Danny let it drop. “Okay.”

He followed Jason through the stretches. He still didn’t really think he needed to stretch, but even Pandora insisted on them and she was dead, so he behaved and worked through the motions. It did, at least, work out some of the kinks from being hunched too long over his laptop and textbooks.

When Jason finally asked ‘how do you want to do this’, he sounded normal again and the last bit of tension Danny was holding drained away.

He answered with a smirk.

“Well,” Danny drawled. “I can’t show you all of what I do, since it would be too destructive. But I figure we just start sparing and I’ll ramp up until you get the point.

“And what aren’t you showing me?” Jason asked, shaking out his arms.

Danny paused, having to think about that. “Ghostly wail. Pyrokinesis, electrokinesis… though cryokinesis should be fine if I’m careful. None of the ghost ray or ectoblast stuff. No overshadowing… I don’t… I only do that if I don’t have any other choice.

“That’s… quite the list, fish,” Jason said. He looked a little startled when Danny glanced his way.

“It’s like I said,” Danny said. He was trying hard not to be nervous about this. “I’m strong. I wasn’t kidding when I said that. So, you know…”

Danny took a breath and let the rings of light wash over him. He didn’t need to say it any more, but ‘going ghost’ still ran through his head out of habit. He let gravity’s control slip away and floated just a few inches above the floor.

Another breath. He fixed his glowing green gaze on Jason. “Come at me.”

Jason lunged.

Danny flung up a shield, grinning as Jason’s punch bounced harmlessly off of it.

“Too scared to let me get close?”

Danny laughed. “You know what they say, the best offense is a good defense?”

“Other way around, actually,” Jason mocked. “Can you actually throw a punch.”

“Oh I can punch,” Danny said. The shield flickered away with a wave of his hand and a grin stretched over his face. He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand, green flickering around them. “But can you catch?”

The hand flicked sharply forward.

Jason had just a moment to look confused before he was ducking the weight that Danny had flung off of the rack from across the room.

Alright, so Jason could accept that maybe he underestimated Danny a little, but this was still manageable. Telekinesis and barriers were pretty standard powers. He dodged another dumbbell, rolling through the motion to spring up in range of Danny.

Or Dannies.

Because now there were three of them standing there, arms crossed, and smirking at him.

That was… well, it was a sight for sure.

Jason cleared his throat. “So, that’s quite a power you have. Illusions?”

“I don’t know,” the middle Danny said.

The one on the right shrugged. “Not a clue. What do you think?”

The way the left one grinned was feral. “I think he’ll need to figure that out.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jason said. He shifted a half step back— just far enough. He caught his toe under the bar of one of the dumbbells. As he kicked it up he twisted, catching the bar and continuing into his twist to fling it at the Danny on the left.

Who caught it.

Fuck.

“Oh, look at that,” the Danny said, studying the dumbbell before smirking up at Jason from under his bangs. “Guess we are solid after all.”

Well, fuck indeed.

The Danny on the right shifted, warping like a shimmering mirage. “And that’s not all we can do.”

The rippling became more intense before the duplicate’s whole form shifted. Suddenly a massive black and white wolf with glowing eyes leapt at Jason. He let himself fall, leaning into the drop only to push off and dart forward. He caught the dumbbell being thrown back his way and sent it towards the wolf.

He stepped low, pushing off the ground to dart towards the middle Danny— the Danny he was pretty sure was the real one.

Two steps in and suddenly he lost his footing, sliding on a now ice slick floor— forward and right through the intangible cold spot that was Danny’s body. Jason was barely past when Danny turned solid, grabbed Jason’s wrist, and twisted.

Jason was seeing the ceiling as he was flipped up and over Danny’s hip. His breath was knocked from his lungs as he landed hard on his back. He tried to push through the momentum, but Danny twisted faster. Knees landed on either side of Jason’s hips and hands wrapped around Jason’s wrists. Frigid cold spread through him as his hands were iced to the mat.

The other Dannies popped out of existence as the real one loomed further over Jason.

Jason swallowed heavily. “Well, I guess you do have some tricks up your sleeves.”

“Mmmhumm.” The smirk had somehow gotten even more feral.

“The more you show me, the more I’ll learn and the easier you get to fight.”

“Sure, dead boy,” Danny dismissed with a roll of his eyes. He shifted, settling to sit on Jason’s stomach. “But I think I still proved my point. And that’s without anything actually dangerous. If I wanted to down you, I could down you.”

“Think you managed to put me down pretty well tonight,” Jason rasped. He tried (and failed) to not think too hard about how Danny was sat on top of him like that.

Danny snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Jason said. “I still… I get it, but I still don’t know if I’ll… if I can have you around next time without panicking, but I get I can’t hurt you.”

“Okay. And my promise holds, I’ll leave if you tell me to. Just,” Danny leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jason’s with a soft thunk. “I just ask that you consider letting me stay, so that you don’t have to go through that alone. I just want you to try.”

“I’ll try. For you fish, I’ll try.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now let me up, I want to go another round.”

“Your funeral.” Danny rolled fluidly off Jason before he paused, smiling down at him. “Oh wait. Been there, done that, right?”

Jason couldn’t help the bark of laughter that ripped out of him.

He wasn’t sure he had ever laughed so soon after a Pit episode.

“Oracle,” Dick started, activating his comm when there was a lull in the chatter. Batman might not like the chatter, but even he knew there was no stopping it. Besides, the Big Bat wasn’t even on tonight— Brucie duty called. “Has Hood checked in tonight?”

“No, but you know that he still doesn’t always ping when he’s out.”

Dick hummed softly through a frown.

“What is it?” Tim asked.

“Just, it’s been a few days since I’ve heard anything about him being active.”

“That isn’t unusually,” Babs pointed out, ever the voice of reason.

“Yeah, sure. But he missed a meal with Red and me too.”

“That also isn’t unusual,” Tim pointed out.

Dick sighed. Why didn’t anyone get it. “But all together?”

At least the silence felt a little more considering than judging.

“I think I’ll just swing by his place real quick, get eyes on him,” Dick said, twisting midair to change the direction of his flight. He silenced his comms again from his side, letting Oracle lead the Bats and Birds where she needed them. It wasn’t a busy night, at least, so Dick didn’t feel bad about taking a sidestop to check on his little wing.

He wanted to think that it was nothing— that Red Hood had just been quiet or, less likely, Jason was just taking some time for himself, but something was bothering Dick. It wasn’t one solid thing that was making Dick nervous. The bathbomb thing had been weird, but apparently it had been a case of mistaken identity for a joke. Which was odd, but it was Crime Alley. Finding Jason sick had bothered Dick more than it should have, but the other recovered easily enough. It was just that also… Jason had seemed a little different.

It was a good different! Jason has been thinking about going back to school. He had even been meeting up with parts of the family more casually and often. Dick didn’t want to be concerned about things like that, but something in his gut told him there was more going on. And as a Bat trained Bird, he couldn’t ignore his gut.

He landed, silently, on the roof top across from Jason’s as he caught the other stepping into the building.

“Well,” Dick said, turning back on his mic once he had settled into the shadows. “Seems Jason went to the gym.”

“Like Hood isn’t swole enough,” Steph chimed in. There was a heavy grunt from her end of the comms. Guess she caught up with the robber.

“Nothing weird about training,” Tim said. “I believe that he’s said there’s some gym he uses after hours? And it is still early, Hood isn’t off the table for the night.”

“No, that’s true. I guess—” Dick froze, almost jolting out of the shadows in surprise at what he was seeing.

“Nightwing?” Babs demanded.

“Jason has someone with him.”

There was silence for a beat before the line erupted in overlapping voices.

“What the hell?” Dick murmured.

“What’s happening Nightwing?” Tim demanded; words clipped and anxious and loud enough to be heard over the others.

“The twink just took Jason down. Dropped him like it was nothing.”

“Get in ther—”

“No, no that’s— okay that’s pretty weird, but that’s not the weird part. Jason swept the guy’s legs out from under him right after. And now, just… he’s laughing. They both are. Jason just flicked the other guy off.”

The silence on the comm line was heavy.

“Confirm that Nightwing?” Babs asked as Dick watched Jason pry himself up off the floor. He must have said something because the other man dissolved into harder laughter, curling up on his side as he flicked Jason off right back.

“There’s a stranger in Jay’s place and Jay is laughing,” Dick repeated.

He tracked Jason as he moved to the door and picked up the messenger bag the other man had dropped. Jason rooted through it and pulled out a small kraft paper bag. He raised his brows at whatever it was. And then he did something that Dick didn’t know Jason was capable of anymore.

He smiled. It was soft.

“Guys, he’s… smiling. Like….” Dick gave up trying to explain it and snapped a still of it with the body cam to send through chat.

“Oh,” Babs whispered. “He looks… so happy.”

“I can’t get an I.D. on the guy. Just somewhere around Jason or Tim’s age best as I can tell. Black hair. Lean but he’s obviously got some muscles,” Dick said when he had gathered himself. The guy basically oozed off the floor and onto the couch. He was twisted to watch Jason, which left his back to Dick. “I think the other guy got him tea. Jason’s making it for them now.”

“Tea? Like, a present?” Steph asked.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” That was a dangerous sort of ‘huh’ to hear from Tim. That ‘huh’ had layers— dangerous layers.

“No, Red.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Tim defended at the same moment as Babs chimed in with, “He has a point.”

“Thank you, Oracle,” Tim said.

Steph snorted. “I thought you didn’t say anything.”

“Oh shu—”

“No,” Dick interrupted. He poured every bit of authority he had learned leading his own team into the word. “I mean, it: no. I’ll stop by tomorrow to visit him and see what I can learn but no hacking, no looking at his cams, no checks.”

“Nightwing—” Oracle started.

“No. Guys, I’m serious. When was the last time Jay had someone he was close to outside of work and family?”

The silence really said everything.

“Yeah, exactly. So we’re not going to do anything to fuck this up for him. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yeah, yeah, crystal, no need to be so fucking dramatic,” Steph said, cutting through the tension as easily as she always did. “We have enough of that in the family. ‘Have I made myself clear’— who do you think you are? A bat shaped furry?”

Tim groaned. “No, we are not getting into this debate again—”

Dick tuned out his family as he watched Jason settle down on the couch across from the stranger. He was still smiling.

No, Dick was no Bat, but he’d still look after his little wing.

-----

AN: HELLO MY DARLINGS it has been a long time since we’ve had fresh fish here- a month to be exact. But we are back. Danny really wanted to throw a lot at this chapter. Danny, bby, we weren’t supposed to go into the King thing yet. But here we are. Also, Jason cluing in about how much he likes Danny? Could it be?

If you asked to be tagged on a part older than 14 or 13, I’ve probably missed you and you can ask again, but PLEASE be sure you’re not already on the list. Also when the new post editor becomes the only option in a few weeks, expect to see tags coming from my side account clockwaysadmin to get around the issue of too many tags stops things from being postable. That also might break tags less, we’ll see!

Stay delightful, darlings!

Tag horde:

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#dp x dc #dead on main #danny fenton/jason todd #danny fenton x jason todd #like betta fish do

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 6

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: M for Mature. But as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* This is just one big ol’ chapter full of various kinds of angst. Wholesome points for Bobby Rogers being a very good kid. Summary: As the gap widens between you and Jack, Diana’s loyalty shifts toward your budding friendship. Notes: Tensions are rising as spring gets closer and Diana is stirring the pot 😂 I just adore her. This chapter is a great little glimpse into the Rogers family and how they weave their way around the relationship between you and Jack.

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 can’t explain it, but he’s listless after the conversation with you. Wandering slightly as he leaves your porch and shoving his hands in his pockets as his boots slap along the gravel pathway towards the small pond on the property. Wondering why he feels like he’s done something wrong. The way that you had looked at him with your heart in your eyes and then watching it seemingly break rubbed him the wrong way. Tex had slept with you. He doesn’t understand why it sticks in his craw but it does. He wants you, physically, but he won’t touch you because of the damn ink on his skin, the invisible threads that seem to tie you together. But he shouldn’t care that Tex had spent the night in your bed. However, he can’t get the image out of his head and he doesn’t like it. Not at all. Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. Scoffing quietly at his ridiculousness. “Damn fool.” He huffs, looking out over the water.

The small pond reflects nothing but serene moonlight back at him, the young folks out walking through the green of the neighborhood or sitting in the gazebo too far from its surface to interrupt his ruminations. A few blocks away, Tex is drinking off his frustration while he packs, loud music enough to have his bookshelves vibrating but not a hint of it leaking out into the street. On the street, everything is peaceful and perfect. It’s the picture of serenity and always is - Statesman arguments happen behind closed doors because your neighbors might not have high enough clearance to be able to overhear whatever a fight is about.

Jack sighs, pulling a hand out of his pocket to drag it down the front of his face. This had been a place he loved coming, reminding him of the pond back home. The one that Abigail had loved to sit next to and watch the sun set. Now he just feels like there’s a weight on his chest, on his heart.

“Okay, Uncle Jack?” The cheery voice of Bobby Rogers is unexpected, but Champ’s son - Agent Rum - is all smiles when he waves at his father’s best friend. The junior agent’s evening walk is easily interrupted, and he strides over to the bench that Jack has sunken down on.

“Hey kid.” Despite the fact the boy is an agent and old enough to drink, he’s always called Bobby ‘kid’. A running joke because it had made the youngster laugh when he had met him. Old enough that he didn’t think about his son every time he looked at him. “I’m okay. How are you?” He asks, raising a brow in concern. He’d read the after action report from Prague.

“Just had dinner with Ginger and Gabi and the kids.” Bobby sits himself down next to Jack and leans back, surveying the older man with the same appraising expression as his mother uses, except Bobby shrugs amiably. “Itchin’ to get back out there but there’s no assignment for me right now. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs under his breath, very aware of being on desk duty. He tries to avoid turning towards the boy, aware that he’s as perceptive as his mother.

“Maybe there will be something for both of us?” He suggests optimistically, having wanted to run a mission with Jack ever since his promotion to active agent status.

Jack can grin at that, a smug little smirk that is fully aware of his own strengths as an agent. “That would be fun.” He acknowledges with a nod. “Maybe Champ’ll send us out together.”

“Maybe if you said something?” It’s no secret that Bobby looks up to Jack. He always has, ever since he was small, and even now there’s a remnant of something childlike in his excited expression. “I know you usually work missions with Tequila if you do doubles but I know we could be a hell of a team.”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, although he knows he will be shot down. “I’ll say somethin’ for sure, kid.” He turns towards him now. “It’ll be good to run a mission together.”

“You comin’ over for dinner this week?” With Jack’s agreement to the idea, Bobby is beaming. “I swear I don’t mind still living so close as long as Mom keeps making meatloaf every Wednesday night like clockwork.”

Jack chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Have I ever missed a meatloaf Wednesday unless I was out of town?” He asks, leaning over and shoving at the boy’s shoulder with his own. He can’t help but wonder how you make meatloaf.

“Never.” The young man acknowledges with a snort. “Can’t exactly find meatloaf in Prague. Gotta admit that I missed it.”

“Nothin’s ever better than homemade by momma.” Jack acknowledges honestly.

“It’s true.” The smile that plays on Bobby’s lips is wistful. “God I hope I get a soulmate that can cook,” he laughs. “If she’s as hopeless as I am we’ll be eatin’ at my parents’ table or in the Statesman cafeteria our whole lives.”

The blood in Jack’s veins freezes from the kid’s innocent statement. “H-here’s hopin’.” He manages and quickly glances back at the water.

Bobby might be young, but he’s a trained Statesman agent the same as Jack and he knows his uncle is acting jumpy. Instead of needing an answer like his father might do, though, he nods and decides to give Jack some peace. “I’m gonna walk on,” he decides, Stretching his long limbs before pushing up to standing again. “Got a good book calling my name. I’ll see ya ‘round, Uncle Jack.”

“See ya, kid.” Jack nods and watches the boy as he ambles away like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes Jack sigh heavily and he closes his eyes, thinking about Abigail. “Darlin’” he murmurs softly. “I’m doin’ what I think right, so why does it hurt?” He asks his long dead wife, wishing she could answer him.

******

It feels like you cried all night after Jack left, and for the better part of your private time for the next few days. At work you’re numb, going through the recipes that you chose with tender loving care, feeling like more machine than person. The aching in your heart just hasn’t abated, and every day you step out your front door halfway between Tex and Jack’s houses, you almost wonder who you miss more. Except that, as guilty as you feel about it, you know the answer. Today feels like a day that you just can’t get anything right, as every batch of cornbread you make seems to lack flavor, or texture, or not rise enough. You swear you might scream if another pan comes out looking deflated and overly dry - but that might also be the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten yet. Matter of fact, when was the last time you ate?

Diana pushes into the main dining room, frowning slightly as she does. Something is off and after pulling the truth out of Champ over breakfast, she decided that visiting you was what she needed to do. “Darling? Are you in the kitchen?” She calls out.

Oh god… The sound of Diana’s voice is usually welcome, but you’re just not up to having company. It’s not exactly a question you can dodge, though, is it? She’ll find you here whether you like it or not. “I’m back here!” You call finally, figuring she’s already heard your music playing. The speakers are always attached to whatever is playing on your phone, which you now turn the volume way down on.

“Am I interrupting you?” Concern laces her features as she pushes one of the double doors open and peers into your kitchen. It’s surprisingly empty, although with what’s been going on, she can’t blame you. “If you aren’t up for company, you let me know.”

"No, it's okay." After having barely spoken to anyone for a few days, you clear your throat and try to smile. "Come on in. I could use a break from all this cornbread." The pans sitting all around you are practically mocking you and you would be very glad to ignore them for a while.

You look devastated. Diana sighs to herself and reaches out to pull you into a brief but fierce hug. Wishing that she could wipe away the hurt and sadness. Damn Jack.

"What was that for?" You ask when she leans back to look at you. Just because you haven't said a word to her doesn't mean that she doesn't know what happened, although you would hope that Jack had enough discretion to not just go blabbing it to everyone. Who knows?

“Mother’s instinct.” She hums. “You look like you need a hug. So I gave you one.” She won’t tell you that Champ told her the situation, but she’ll listen if you need to talk.

"I was about to make myself some lunch." Wiping your hands on your apron gives you a moment to compose yourself so you don't just break down on the spot. You did need that hug. "Is it too late in the day for you to join me?"

“I’ve been running around with a tour group of two hundred.” Her eyes widen dramatically and she huffs. “Some corporate retreat and ‘team building’ thing so I’ve not had a chance to hear myself think.”

"So that's a yes?" Since cooking for people is the one thing that seems to relieve stress, it actually makes your shoulders drop a little and sloughs some tension away. "I have more cornbread than we can shake a stick at to go with it."

“Ohhh are you making cornbread fritters?” Diana asks ask she looks at the fallen pans of cornbread.

"I can if you like." It would certainly use up some of this failed baking. "How about I make us a big chop salad and we can have a basket of cornbread fritters to go along with it?"

“Do you want some help or do you want me to be your sounding board while you cook?” Diana asks, tilting her head at you, curious to see what you will decide.

“Why don’t you join me?” It’s not just anyone that you would invite into your kitchen, but you’ve become fairly attached to the older woman in just the few weeks you’ve been here. She is usually an endless source of positivity and support - two things you could really use right now even if you hate the reason why.

“Absolutely, chef.” She tosses you a grin and immediately marches over to your industrial sized sinks to wash her hands. “Put me to work.”

Everything you’ll need to road test the upscale Cobb salad for your menu is already in the fridge, so you set Diana up with a cutting board, knife, and a bowl to deposit everything into and set to work turning one skillet’s worth of cornbread into fritter mix - with some cheddar cheese added for good measure. There are a few slices of bourbon maple glazed bacon that you’ve been experimenting with that you’ll chop up as well - the perfect topping for the salad after it’s been dressed. “So a corporate tour?” You ask, trying to remind yourself to be social as the two of you start working side by side. “That sounds…sort of excruciating, honestly. Two hundred is a huge group.”

“They were more interested in tasting than the actual tour.” Diana tells you as she starts to chop the ingredients. Looking down at the cutting board and smirking to herself at how sharp your knife is. A good, proper blade.

“If I worked for a corporation doing mandatory retreats, I would be too.” It’s the closest you’ve been to laughing in days, the little huff you give as you shake your head.

“There’s some truth to that.” Diana laughs as she acknowledges it. “Although I guess it’s a good thing that the restaurant isn’t open yet or all of them would have been in here.”

“That’s fine. Customers I can handle.” Working the cornbread mixture with your hands is actually kind of cathartic. Imagining it’s the knots in your heart instead of food. “They’re particular, but in a way I can handle. I wouldn’t even know how to keep them all engaged on a tour.”

“Practice.” Diana muses, sneaking a glance over at you. “Much like wrangling cowboy soulmates.”

You sigh, a little too deeply, and turn to look at her with anxiety written all over your face. “How long have you known?”

“The tattoo?” She doesn’t suppose that you are talking about the situation you find yourself in now, but she just wants to clarify. “From the beginning.” She admits quietly. “Champ doesn’t keep much but classified information from me. And this…well, Jack is family.”

“So…” If your hands weren’t covered in edible sludge, you would be leaning on the counter while you try to collect yourself. As it is, all you can do is stare at Diana. “When was anybody going to tell me?”

“If I had my way, I would have slapped Jack upside his damned fool head.” Diana huffs, holding your gaze steadily. “But…Champ said that it was Jack’s place to figure out that he’s been given a second chance.”

That twists the knife in your heart, and you look down at your hands to avoid tearing up if you keep looking at the woman beside you. Diana is so full of empathy that it seems to just deep out of her. “Jack doesn’t want a second chance.” You murmur, head bowed like somehow it’s your fault.

“Damn jackass doesn’t know what he wants.” Diana hisses, her chopping becoming slightly less perfect through her anger. “And he likes you, so you terrify him.”

“He doesn’t like me as much as you think he does.” If he did, he wouldn’t have shattered any hope you had of something happening between the two of you somewhere down the line. “He made it abundantly clear last night that he doesn’t want another soulmate.”

“Stubborn fucking mule.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. She knows that Jack likes you more than he’s willing to admit, but the damn fool can’t get past his grief.

“He seems to know his mind well enough.” If you mix this damn batter anymore it is just going to be goo, so you stop - pulling your hands away and wiping them reasonably clean so you can wash up and start portioning out the mix. “Second time I’ve lost a chance at having a soul mate in just a couple of weeks and I didn’t get a say in it either time.”

“So he told you….” Diana is shocked at that, the knife turning to the side and she looks at you in shock.

“Not in a great amount of detail.” You shrug, feeling her eyes on you as you scrub your hands clean. “But yeah. He told me. A-about Statesman being…spies. About…” Sighing makes your whole body shake. “About how he…killed my soulmate. And then inherited me.”

Diana’s face screws up in anger, promising herself she’s gonna kick Jack’s ass from here to New York and back. “Jack has killed men before and never inherited their soulmates.” She spits. “So he’s full of shit. The universe doesn’t just randomly assign soulmates, especially not second ones.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” The worst part right now is how defeated you feel. How hopeless and helpless everything feels knowing that Jack’s mind was made up before he even met you. “He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but apparently the fact of him was enough to scare off the guy who did like me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Diana doesn’t know the details, just the highlights that had been given to her and she knows it might be better for you to talk and get it off your chest. “If you want.”

Not being able to talk to anyone these last few days has been the hardest part of everything, in some ways. With no one to help lighten the burden it seems to have tripled its weight on your chest. The normal phone calls to your sister whenever something bad or complicated happened hadn’t occurred this time - because how could you explain even half of what happened while avoiding the tidbits that apparently required security clearance? It was a minefield you didn’t know how to navigate. But Diana? Diana already understands this world. She lives in it and thrives. “It goes back to when I first got here,” you explain, as if that were longer ago than a mere three weeks. “That first night…Jack came to tell me that I had gotten the job here, and we ended up going out together.” Working while you talk is the best way to keep your mind from overwhelming you, and by the time lunch is finished being prepared you’ve told Diana everything. Every last detail is laid out for her to examine, leaving you feeling both exhausted and somehow unburdened as you sit down together at the long prep counter to eat.

Diana is madder than a bucket full of hornets. Fuming as you had described the back and forth treatment from Jack, dangling you like a marionette until he’s realized he’s too close and tossing you aside. Instead of raging, she reaches over and pulls you in for another hug. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What’s worse is that I can’t even bring myself to be mad anymore.” Upset, obviously, and hurt. But anger has come and gone like a flash in a pan. “I get that he’s hurt, and that this is as much a shock to him as it is to me. But I just…” You squeeze her back, needing the hug much more than you want to admit. “I haven’t gotten a say in any of it. Even Tex wouldn’t say a damn word to me once he realized. Like in his mind Jack already owned me, or something. But all Jack wants is to be friends.” At least, that’s what he had said. And all you could do is take it at face value.

"Tex is...loyal." Diana sighs. "He's always been secretly disappointed that soulmate marks haven't shown up on his body so he could find his soulmate." She explains. "Of course, he isn't going to poach Jack's mate. Even if he wanted to, his sense of propriety wouldn't let him because he feels like Jack will want you."

“Which means that, once again, I don’t get a say in my own relationships.” It’s becoming a recurring theme and you aren’t exactly thrilled with that. “I’m sorry,” you shake your head and pick up your fork, reminding yourself that eating is necessary even when you’re annoyed. “I don’t mean to complain about people who act with what they believe are the best of intentions. But I’d give my right foot for anybody to have asked me what I wanted.” Tilting your head, though, you look around you and half-chuckle. “Except Champ. He’s given me anything I want here, and I’m grateful for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Diana shakes her head. “Men always try to do what they think best without asking.” You are so sweet and you deserve the world. “Take back your control where you can.” She urges you.

“How am I supposed to do that?” It’s an honest question, considering you barely know what you want beyond to be loved. The fact that Jack's face is what always comes to mind now is just a complication. “Tex is in another country and Jack has made up his mind already.”

“That, I can’t decide for you.” Diana has a few ideas on what she would do if Champ had rejected her, but she wasn’t you. “But I can tell you what I would do if I were you.”

Something about the way she says it sparks your curiosity, and you tilt your head at her as you pluck up one of the fritters from the basket between you. “What would you do?” Anything is better than moping - which is all you’ve done for days.

“I would start dating.” Diana snorts and sends you a small grin. “As many dates as you want, whoever you want.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be ‘friends’, he doesn’t get a say in how you move on with your life.” She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “Operate like you don’t even acknowledge Jack Daniels wears your marks.”

“Seriously?” You’re not sure why the suggestion is so shocking to you, but you feel like your jaw drops all the way down to the counter when she looks at you with fire in her eyes. She’s angry for you, and it’s simultaneously daring and empowering. Like she has just done the emotional equivalent of offering the Revenge Dress to Princess Di. “That’s…I guess that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Yes it does.” She nods. “You don’t have to do it, but I would. Just to show him that he’s not going to dictate your life, just because he’s hung up on a past that is no longer reality.”

“Are you…suggesting that it might make him jealous?” You can’t imagine how, all things considered, but it would be kind of satisfying.

“If it does, it serves the fool right.” She hums, a slightly evil grin on her face. “Even if it doesn’t, it will be you taking control of your life again. You decide how you spend your time.”

“I…” Slumping slightly in your seat, you nudge your fork through your salad - it’s delicious, but you’re thinking things through. “I don’t know if I’m ready to possibly get rejected again so soon,” you admit. “I’m…I don’t think I could take it. Not this soon.”

“Let me set you up.” Her eyes light up and she grins. “Astrid’s brother is coming into town.” She gasps. “Oh that’s perfect.”

“Oh, I…” It’s guilt, this twisting feeling in your gut, and all of a sudden you sit up and shake your head. “The idea of it makes me feel guilty,” you tell Diana honestly. “Which is totally illogical, and I need to get over this fucking crush I have on Jack or it’s just going to fester and that won’t help. So…” Exhaling deeply, you nod as decisively as possible. “Tell me about Astrid’s brother.”

Diana grins and sends you a wink. “If I was twenty years younger…” she starts with a laugh, proceeding to tell you all about the handsome man that will be perfect for a good time and getting your mind off Jack.

It’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it. The trajectory of your life has taken such an obtuse turn that thinking about something like life after being rejected by your second soulmate is just a chat you have over lunch with your boss’s wife. Although, with this conversation today, Diana has become much more than just your boss’s wife. She’s your closest friend at Statesman. “Okay.” You nod, sitting up straight after she tells you all about the man she has in mind. “As long as Astrid is okay with it, I’m in.”

“Good!” Diana smirks as she picks up another fritter out of the basket. “I bet you these would be amazing as a side dish to meatloaf.” She muses before giggling slightly.

“I would make that for my staff in a heartbeat. I just need to find a good meatloaf recipe.” You ruminate on the idea for a second before smiling. “Actually, I’ve been trying to figure out one more thing for the main menu. Meatloaf and cornbread fritters might be just the thing.”

“I have a recipe.” The smile that creeps over Diana’s face is nothing short of fortuitous. “Every Wednesday it’s served at my dinner table.” She admits. “You are welcome to come, but….Jack will be there.”

For a split second you almost jump on the invitation, but even the mention of his name makes you hesitate. Especially when you realize that today is Wednesday. “Maybe next week.” Seeing him again so soon - mere hours after you’ve talked everything out - just doesn’t feel like something you can handle.

“I can understand that.” Diana nods sagely, reaching out and touching the back of your hand. “Why don’t I bring you some tomorrow and let you try it, see if you like the recipe.”

“That would be really nice of you.” You turn your hand over to squeeze hers quickly. “Thank you for this, Diana. For all of this today.”

“What are friends for?” She knows that she’s older, and she’s the boss’s wife, but she thinks of you as a friend. “Plus I’ll make sure I give you the portion that would have gone home with Jack.” She cackles and winks at you.

The two of you share a good laugh over the idea of Jack pouting over missing his leftovers, and you bite back the feeling of regret at not being able to sit at that table with him like any normal pair of soulmates. “I really…” It sticks in you, clinging to your heart unbidden. “I want him to be happy,” you tell her honestly. “If that’s not with me, then the universe screwed up.”

“Jack’s never going to be happy until he lets his wife’s ghost rest.” Diana explains exasperatedly. “The man can claim he’s happy, but he’s not. You can tell, at least those that have known him for a long time can.”

“Well…whatever it ends up meaning for him. He just…” Sitting back in your seat, you reach for what’s left of your tea and sigh softly. “Everybody deserves to be happy.”

“And that includes you.” Diana reminds you, giving you a firm look.

“I hope so.” After the last few weeks, though, you have your doubts.

******

“I shouldn’t let you in the damn house.” Diana scowls at Jack as he stands in the doorway of her house. If she had a rolling pin in her hand, she’d be hitting him with it.

In the hours since she left your kitchen, Diana has been fuming. Thank god Champ hasn’t been home until just a few minutes ago or he would have gotten quite the earful about how purely Jack had treated you.

Jack's easy smile is instantly replaced with a frown. "What did I do?" He demands, looking around. "I wasn't supposed to bring nothin'."

“What you did has nothing to do with dinner.” She tells him flatly. This isn’t a conversation for the whole neighborhood to hear, though, so she lets him inside despite wanting to wallop him. “Would you like to guess how I spent the afternoon, Jack?”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jack scoffs, shaking his head. "Your husband has me trainin' the young bucks on the whip and lasso." It still is a sore subject but at least he isn't stuck behind the desk for the entire day.

"I heard a little story today." Shutting the door behind him, Diana frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "From your soulmate."

"How many fuckin' times do I have to explain this." Jack's frown deepens and he rolls his eyes. "She ain't my soulmate. Second soulmates is a fucking lie you tell someone to make yourself feel better about the poor bastard losing his while yours is still happily breathin'." He scoffs. "It ain't real and I didn't fuckin' ask for her marks. I don't want 'em."

"A fact which you made abundantly clear to her." The steam pouring from Diana's ears is proverbial, thankfully, otherwise she would look like a cartoon character. "Without ever paying her the courtesy of kindness due to somebody who had their original soulmate torn from them. Instead you flirted with her, basically took her out on a date, kissed her; all the while telling her she basically means nothing to you. And then you had the goddamn audacity to make it seem like she did something wrong for finding herself likin' you at the end of the day." As it all comes tumbling out, Diana can feel herself just getting madder and madder, her blood nearly boiling all too quickly. "Second soulmates may be rare, Jack, but you're living goddamn proof that it's real. Whether you like it or not."

Shame fills Jack, but he'll be damned if he admits it. "She wouldn't have known if Tequila could keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He hisses. "She shouldn't have known, she'd have been happy livin' her life here and whatever attraction between us would have fizzled out and she could've moved on with her life." Guilt and something else twists in his gut, making it churn at the thought of that very thing happening. Shaking his head like he could shake off the feeling, he props his hands on his hips and stares at his oldest friend's wife. "Anything else you wanna lecture me on?"

"Yes, and it's ironic that you asked." The fact that he's trying to pass the buck off on poor Tequila is a whole other topic but she's too fired up in your defense right now. "Since you never once asked her how she felt about the whole damn thing."

"What does it matter?" Jack's volume creeps up in exasperation and he throws his hands up. "It's not gonna change things. It's not like I can change the fact that I'm gonna love my Abigail until the day I'm in the ground beside her. So what fuckin' good is it to ask how she feels about things that don't matter?"

"Because she's human, Jack!" Having to explain that to a grown ass man might be the most exasperating part, since Diana had always counted him as a concerned and caring friend. Apparently his blind spots when it comes to his own emotional state are even bigger than she had thought. "You don't have to love her but you do have to acknowledge that she's a grown woman with feelings and opinions all her own. And that those matter. How can you look her in the face and tell her you want to be her friend without ever once asking how she feels?"

“I can’t love her, Diana.” Jack’s frown turns into something desperate, almost beseeching as he implores her to believe him. “I can’t. I killed her soulmate.”

"Agents have killed lots of men, Jack Daniels." It's his job, and no one here is debating the morality of it. It's just a fact. "But she is the only soulmate that has ever transferred to a Statesman agent in the history of the organization." Diana shakes her head, her expression turning distinctly disappointed. "I'm not asking you what you think you're capable of. I'm saying she is alone, and she's sad, and she feels less than human because you didn't do the courtesy of just asking. You just assumed. And if nothing else, that isn't what friends do."

Jack stares at her for a long moment and sighs, his shoulders slumping and he closes his eyes. “I- I don’t know what to do.” He admits quietly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"Nobody expects you to." Like a patient older sister with her petulant little brother, Diana shakes her head before reaching out to rub his shoulder softly. "But this knee-jerk anger about having her mark isn't helping anybody at all. Least of all you and her. Or poor Tequila."

"Why do I get to wear hers and not Abigail’s?" Jack demands, choking the question out. "They disappeared, gone, like she never existed."

'I don't know, Jack." When he starts to crumble, Diana moves in, offering him a place to lean against her if he wants it. "But she didn't put them on you herself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like an undesirable for something completely beyond her control."

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and takes the comfort that is being offered. "I- I'll try to - to be her friend." He swallows, hating the way his heart leaps and starts to pound at the mere thought of being around you. "Like- like it was when she showed up."

"Platonic soulmates do exist." In her heart she doesn't think that's how the two of you are meant to be, but it's not up to her to decide. No one but you and Jack can determine how you feel about each other. For now she puts one arm around Jack and gently rubs it up and down his back in a slow, soothing rhythm. "And...for the record? Tequila didn't out you. He only told her that he had seen her mark on somebody else. She figured it out herself."

"Who else would that dumb hick know that would show him a fucking tattoo?" He huffs, still sore about his damn jaw. "I really did think that he had seen her mark on the arm."

"Statesman has hundreds of employees," she reminds him gently. "It could have been anyone. And...apparently she covered it for the wedding. With makeup. Her cousin isn't a big fan of tattoos so she wanted to be courteous."

“Shit.” Jack closes his eyes, the guilt compounding when he remembers the hurt in Tex’s voice.

"It's been a rough few days." She can acknowledge that. That it's been hard for everyone, him included. Unfortunately, there isn't much more she can do but say her piece and be a good friend - both to you and to Jack. "Let's go have some dinner."

“I’m allowed to stay?” Jack asks, slightly surprised that she’s not booting him out on his ass.

“I’m upset, not heartless.” Diana tells him, though if he hadn’t showed remorse or had dug his heels in, she might have sent him on his way. “But next week she’ll be here right alongside you, so I’ll ask you to find a way to be civil by then.”

“I got no problem being civil.” Jack promises, even though he would prefer to limit his time with you until he feels like he is on steady ground. But what could a dinner hurt?

“Good.” Even if she doesn’t quite believe him, she’s already picked her fight for today.

Jack follows Diana into the house, wondering why the older woman felt so strongly about you - a newcomer. He shakes his head and shuffles towards the living room as he greets Champ.

“I won’t ask.” Champ already has a beer out for Jack, having heard the ruckus from upstairs. His wife had given him an overview of her conversation with you but mostly kept your confidence, as she always does with a friend. “The youngins do alright today, Jack?”

Jack can only be grateful that someone doesn't want to crawl up his ass and into his business. He takes the beer and nods. "Comin' along, though some of them ain't exactly cowboys."

"I'm sure we can fix that," the older man chuckles as they follow Diana into the dining room. Bobby had been getting the table set while his mother took the screws to Jack, apparently. "Most don't hang around here too long without getting the spirit."

"True." Jack can agree with that, knowing his own training had weeded out plenty of unsuitable candidates. "But you've got a family legacy here." He tells the older man as he winks at Bobby. "Like the boy here."

"He's doing fine work." Champ commends, puffed up proudly as they all take their seats at the table. "Finer than I was at his age, that's for damn sure."

Jack snorts. "Of course he is." He jokes, winking at the kid. "But that's not sayin' much."

"Alright, you three." Diana looks around the table as she starts to serve - a habit she's kept for years just to keep the men in her life from making a mess at the table. "No shop talk at dinner, you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am." Jack grins as both he and Bobby answer Diana at the same time and Champ just grins at his wife and winks at her playfully.

The meal starts with a little benign chit chat, but soon turns around to Statesman again - though the men are all careful to avoid mentioning case work to adhere to Diana's 'no shop talk at family dinner' rule. "Did I see a groundbreaking on the new apartment building this morning?" Bobby asks when he reaches for seconds. There used to be three small parks in the housing neighborhood. Soon there will only be two. "I didn't know we were expanding that much more. Is the new restaurant gonna be that big?"

Champ leans back and nods. "Figure it will be." He admits, smirking slightly at how well the projected sales are forecasting with just the traffic from the people who work at Statesman enjoying your food right now. "We got ourselves a real winner." He glances over at Jack who is looking down at his plate.

“And it’s just the start.” Diana’s pride is more for you than for the business. “When we start hosting more events than just corporate getaways and bachelor parties, things are really going to get busy around here.”

Jack shouldn't feel pride, he had nothing to do with the restaurant. It was your baby, your hard work and vision that was making it a reality. Still, he nods as he forks up another bite of meatloaf and agrees. "She will be full every day."

Across from him, Diana bites back a smirk at the pride in his voice. “Once she starts doing weddings, she’ll be lucky to have a day off.”

"She doesn't need to be overworked." Jack immediately frowns. "She needs to trust the people around her."

"She'll need a team." For the first time in a little while, Diana is in total agreement with Jack. "It's going to be time to start hiring staff soon, won't it? Including a good second-in-command."

Jack nods, keeping his eyes on his plate. “Yeah she will need that.”

"You sure you don't want the job, Mom?" Bobby grins at his mother, knowing little about the woman who will be running the new restaurant on premises except that his mother is incredibly fond of her. "You always said you wanted to be a party planner."

“Oh no,” Diana quickly shakes her head. “There’s no way that I could keep up with her.” She laughs. “She’s too energetic.”

"What about the opening night party, Di?" Champ suggests, glancing sideways to get an eyeful of Jack staring into his plate. "You're still our gal for events until we hire a full on planner. Why don't you talk to her about what she'd like for opening night?"

“Oh she should have a party, shouldn’t she?” Diana muses. “Something to celebrate the opening. We need to get her family here for it.” She turns to Jack. “You take care of that.”

"Jack's a little overqualified to be a travel agent, ain't he?" Bobby snorts, obviously not having understood the argument between his mentor and his mother, if he overheard it at all.

Jack swallows and pushes around the green beans. “Nah, kid, I’ll be happy to arrange for the family to come down.” He raises a brow. “Gonna need the jet of course. She’s got a big group.” It highlights how alone Jack is now, his own family reduced down to just him. No siblings, parents gone, wife and child gone. Alone.

"Whatever you need." Champ waves his hand like it's the easiest thing in the world, then smiles at his wife. "You, too. Whatever y'all need. Carte blanche to throw a hell of a hoedown."

“Well, that’s a mistake.” Jack snorts, shaking his head even though he’s grinning. “Your wife will invite half the state and plan on feedin’ em too.”

"I'll be damn sure to book the whole place full with reservations." And Diana won't pretend otherwise, either. She has a few strings she can pull, some friends she can call, and some favors she can call in. People enough to make the night the talk of Louisville, that's for sure.

Champ chuckles and reaches over to take his wife’s hand. “I know you will, honey. You always do a good job for us.” He praises, kissing the back of her hand and Jack looks back down at his meal, unable to rationalize the jealousy swimming through him at the causally intimate gesture.

"I'll hash everything out with her this week," Diana hums, as casually as if they were all chatting about the weather. She's interested to know just how rankled Jack will get if she takes things one step further in this conversation about you. "Before the weekend. I don't want her worrying about anything when Lewis gets into town."

“Lewis is coming?” Bobby grins, well acquainted with Astrid’s brother. “That means we need to make sure that our tab is in good standing at the bar. For damages.” He chuckles and leans back. There was always a scuffle at the bar when Ginger’s little brother came to town.

"Y'all can get into plenty of trouble on a boys' night." She laughs, shaking her head at her son even while she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. "He's taking our favorite chef out while he's here."

Jack’s head snaps up and he almost immediately starts to protest and then he presses his lips together. Knowing that he doesn’t have any reason to argue against it. Instead he ducks his head down and stares at the meatloaf that suddenly tastes like ash in his mouth.

"Oh?" Champ nearly chokes at Jack's reaction but manages to keep his poker face. "Yes." Diana has sat back in her chair, raising her glass of wine to her lips in victory. The jealousy on Jack's face is as obvious as the shade of red he has turned. "Something about a concert he has tickets to? He was very excited."

Jack’s jaw nearly breaks; he's mashing it together so harshly, grinding his back teeth. Eyes burning a hole in his plate as he stares at it.

"Sounds like fun." The sound of chomping from Jack sitting beside him is unexpected, but Bobby doesn't call attention to it because he's not sure what the hell he just heard. "What's he up for? Just the concert?" Diana shakes her head, absorbing every single reaction she can get out of Jack. "Astrid and Gabi's oldest is turning seven next week. They're not doing a big party or anything, but you know Lewis wouldn't miss the kids' birthdays."

It hurts to sit here. Listening to Diana happily chatter about Lewis. Even if he does like Ginger’s brother, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot less happier he’s coming. Wanting to bolt from the table and the conversation but he reaches for his glass to gulp down the rest of his sweet tea, mouth dry.

“Now that we got a pastry chef on premises, birthdays for the kids are going to be a lot sweeter.” Champ nudges his empty plate back on the table after taking his last bite and pats his belly in satisfaction. He’d have to have lost his marbles to be oblivious to what his wife is doing as she harps on the topic, but he also can’t say that Jack hasn’t been damn fool enough to have it coming.

Jack nearly chokes, coughing to cover up the way that the tea manages to slide down the wrong pipe. Slapping himself on the chest and taking deep breaths when he finally finished sputtering the liquid up from his lungs.

“Alright, Jack?” Diana asks, expression washed with nothing but mild concern. She knows he’s fine, but he’s been awfully quiet while he stews - right until this.

"Fine." Jack clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. "Fine. Just swallowed wrong." He gives a bland smile and takes another sip of his drink.

“Good.” Her smile tightens just barely. “I’d hate to think anything here,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the meal in front of them. “Was hard to swallow.”

Jack's jaw rocks but he nods, understanding what is being said. "Not a damn thing." He drawls. "Everything was just as good as it's always been."

“Good.” If that’s all that Jack wants - what’s always been - he’s going to be hurtin’ watching you live your life. And if that’s the bed he’s made for himself, Diana thinks as she gives him a smile, it will be a very lonely one to lie in.

"Good." Jack nods, fully aware there is nothing good about it at all.

******

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock by the time you’re winding down for the day, exhausted from interviews and looking forward to grabbing dinner with Diana after this next one was over with. The intensive process of hiring an entire restaurant’s worth of staff hasn’t been fun, and this is the end of day three. The only thing you’re happy about is that you really do have most of your team together by now. One more line cook and maybe two more waiters and you’ll have a full house. You look down at the application in front of you - the bottom of the stack - and hope you can retain any of the information it contains while you’re talking to this guy. Tripp Tanner. You chuckle Unconsciously at the alliteration. Well…at least you’ll remember his name.

Jack decides to stop by your kitchen. Trying to make a more conscious effort to make you feel wanted, it’s been hard, but he also won’t admit that he likes checking on you. Making sure that you are enjoying your new creation. “Sugar?” He calls out. “You in the back?”

“Jack?” In the weeks since everything exploded between the two of you, you’ve been trying to be nice. To be friendly. Even though it twists your aching heart that he doesn’t see you as anything more, you’re trying to move on. Something that’s hard to do when he pops in to surprise you like this. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Are you busy?” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but he wants to ask about the planning for the party. Talking to your brother about scheduling everyone in your family to come down is a pain. Too many people to juggle.

He strolls through the door like a cowboy rolling up to his favorite saloon and you can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of minutes before my last interview. What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on kickin’ off the festivities on your big day?” He asks, looking around the kitchen and nodding at the controlled chaos that it seems to emit.

“It’s still almost two months away.” There’s a lot of work to do before then, but you’re excited. Champ has given you everything you’ve asked for and then some. “But the party is…it’s going to be a lot of fun.” Diana’s idea to turn the one-night soft opening you had planned into a party is shaping up to be wonderful. “The whole thing will start at six that night.”

“But the opening is when?” Jack nods, filing away that information. “So I can make sure that the website is updated.”

“Six weeks from Saturday.” Which is so far away and so close all at once. “April 14.”

“Okay, so they are different days?” Jack shakes his head in confusion. “Take me through everything please?”

“The soft opening is like our trial run.” You pop up from your seat to refresh your tea and come back from the fridge with a glass for him as well. “People come by invitation and they have reservations. We’re going to offer our whole menu and have some live music that Diana is arranging. There will be thank you gifts for everyone who comes and they’re all going to get little nips of Statesman with the date on the bottle as well. Champ’s idea, of course.” With how wonderful everyone’s been, you’ve really just been basking in the support. Professionally, at least, things are wonderful. “What this does is give us a night to work out any kinks in the system and make sure all the food is perfect for the grand opening, which is the next day. That’s when we open to the public.”

“Okay, soft opening is Saturday, Grand opening is Sunday.” Jack nods, knowing he will invite the family for the entire weekend. Give you a chance to spend time with them outside of the hustle of your restaurant opening. He leans against a counter, unaware that there is a tool with a sharp edge to snag on his button down shirt. It’s too hot to wear his sports coat and he had run by after leaving the office.

“It will be a very big weekend.” You already know you won’t sleep Friday night, too excited and worried and proud and scared to rest at all. “For tonight, though? Just one more interview.”

“Who you hirin’?” Jack asks before he takes a sip of his tea. Trying to ignore the way your eyes light up and seem to sparkle talking about the opening. Too damn pretty for his peace of mind.

“My sous chef is coming from Savannah. She was the first person I hired.” The enthusiastic woman is about your age and has been doing French influenced Southern fair in Georgia hotels for her whole career. She was excitable but focused in your video interview and you hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger. “And my front of house manager is actually my roommate from college. She was a hospitality major when I was in culinary and we always said one day if we had our own place we’d hire each other.” The stack of applications and resumes had been intimidatingly thick when they started to arrive, but with Diana’s help you’re getting through it all. “This last interview is for a line cook. I’ve had twice as many applicants as I have positions so I’ll decide this week and call everyone before the end of the day on Friday.”

Jack knows next to nothing about hiring cooks but he nods. Diana’s voice in his head about being polite. “That’s good, sugar. I’m sure you’ll find the right fit for everyone soon.” He agrees. “That sandwich you had everyone tastin’ was mighty good. I never did hear what it was called?”

“That was my version of a croque monsieur.” Having agents and office workers and everybody from the Statesman offices come down to taste test recipes has been an absolute blessing, and so far you’ve made good use of all the constructive criticisms that have come your way. Although you may have weighed opinions like Jack’s more heavily than others…

“It was damn good.” He admits, taking another sip of the sweet tea that you have down to an art form despite growing up in the North. “Hopefully that will make it to your menu at some point.”

“It was a pretty rousing success, so I think it will.” It’s such an easy moment between the two of you. Sitting there together and chatting away, you could almost be mistaken for a couple with the smiles on your faces. But you’ll never tell him just how often you harbor thoughts like that. He would despise it.

Jack hums, knowing that most days will be spent having lunch here, or at least ordering it into the office. “Good,” he leans forward and the material catches, the sounds of ripping fabric filling the air. “Shit.”

“Oh shit!” You jump up, reaching around him to snatch the corkscrew up that somehow got wedged under a stack of cast iron pans and became a weapon against men’s fashion. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did it scratch you or just your shirt?”

Jack frowns, twisting his head and pulling on his arm. “Looks like it just tore my shirt.” Of course it would tear so that the tattoo he wears is exposed and he hisses. “No- it scratched me.”

“Shit,” you murmur again, turning him a little so you can see the damage. “Th-that shouldn’t have happened. I’ll replace the shirt for you. I—I’m sorry, Jack.” What a stupid thing to have ruined a perfectly nice moment, too. “It just looks like a scratch, though. Not like it will…” Even the thought of it has you cringing. “Not like it will scar.” God knows the last thing he wants is another reminder of you.

“Don’t worry about it.” The black looping scrawl on his skin is visible and it makes Jack’s mouth run dry. Your own is already visible today since you have your sleeves rolled up and Jack pulls back to hastily stand straight. “I’ll change my shirt and toss this one.” He tells you quickly. No need to buy another or triage.” He’s panicking and he knows he is, but he sends you a sickly smile.

“You’d better go.” There is no mistaking the way he jumps. The jittery way he jerks is so diametrically opposed to his normally smooth and confident movements. It’s obvious, once you see how his shirt has ripped. He doesn’t want your tattoo showing. Being nice to you is one thing, but having anyone know what you are to him is another. You cross your arms and lean against the counter, suddenly sullen rather than apologetic. “Get a new shirt on before anybody sees.”

“I– that’s not–” Jack protests and shakes his head, falling silent when your stony expression doesn’t change. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He murmurs silently. “Thanks for the tea, sugar.”

The best way to keep yourself from running after him like some godforsaken schoolgirl is to stay stone faced, and you turn back to the counter that you had been using as a desk to take a few very deep breaths before whoever the hell Tripp Tanner is gets here.

Jack curses himself as he rushes through the door, not even paying attention to the man who had come in without him hearing. Watching him through narrowed eyes.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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 @kettlekatie @preschoolispunk @djarinsstuff @generallysleepdeprived @love-affair-with-fandoms @jay-ghostly @wowieitbeme @fanofverymanythings @josephquinnswhore @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @djarinsstuff @justherebecausesafarisucks @cedricbitch

My Masterlist!

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

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

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Five Fics Friday: March 1/24

Happy Friday everyone!! Check out these fics for y'all to get into the weekend! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Through a Glass, Darkly by Calais_Reno (T, 5,959+ w., 2/11 Ch. || WiP || Mirror Universe / ACD Meets BBC Sherlock AU || Serious Injuries, Case Fic, Questionable Science, Spatiotemporal Anomalies, Protective Sherlock, Doctor John, Developing Relationships, Danger, Angst with Happy Ending) – It begins in an alley. Two alleys, to be accurate. John and Sherlock, chasing a suspect. Holmes and Watson running for their lives. While John and Sherlock try to clear their names in ACD universe, Holmes and Watson are solving a missing persons case.

The Detective I Can't Forget by amalnahurriyeh (M, 8,761 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Online Dating, Gay Culture, Grindr, Sympathetic Sally) – John Watson knows whoever he met last night was amazing. He just can't remember a bloody thing. He never should have joined Grindr.

Invalid Home by Tindomerelhloni (NR, 10,853 w., 7 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Strangers to Lovers) – Captain John H Watson has only been home from the war for two weeks. He is not home out of his own free will but due to an injury that has put an end to his ability to serve. On one fateful day, he decides that he will seek out three strangers and do something kind for them before he ends his life. On his third encounter, he meets a strange man who sees right through him and helps pull him from the brink of self-destruction.

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer by meet_me_in_samarra (G, 15,066+ w., 4/15 Ch. || WiP || Post THoB, Case Fic, Bromance / Friendship, Clever John, John is a Conductor of Light, BAMF John / Sherlock, Sassy John, Cheeky Sherlock) – Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

Happily Ever Jeremy Bearimy by standbygo (M, 16,922+ w., 8/9 Ch. || The Good Place Crossover || Afterlife, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Implied / Referenced Drug Us, Soulmates, Angst with Happy Ending) – So. Sherlock Holmes is dead. He's in The Good Place. And he has a soulmate that makes him actually believe in the soul. Too bad that John Watson doesn't think he belongs here.

#johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #five fics friday

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wrongcaitlyn · 2 months

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wrongcaitlyn masterlist

decided to make this for anyone coming from greatest of luxuries or new to my works in general, in case anyone wants to check out my other stuff! my ao3

my name's tawny (not caitlyn, lmao, that's actually from caitlyn kiramman from arcane), i use she/her pronouns, and i write pjo and marauders fics!

asks are open, i love rambling abt any of these fics (or general fandom stuff) <3

i currently have two main wip's that i'm working on:

the greatest of luxuries (is your secrets): solangelo, part of the dear reader series, popstar!nico, and a sequel to talk your talk. updates every sunday! may these memories break our fall: jegulus/wolfstar, percy jackson au, and follows the quest of heroes of olympus. on hiatus!

and several completed fics (both multi-chaps and one-shots)!

PJO COMPLETED FICS

dear reader series - popstar au - talk your talk and go viral (i just need this love spiral) - 34 ch, 145k words, solangelo - still hoping that the fire won't burn me (just one time) - one-shot, 11.1k, valgrace

keep your eyes open series - hunger games au - staying on guard (every lesson forms a new scar) - 6 ch, 40.2k words, solangelo, MCD - i've got a lot to pine about (a lot to live without) - one-shot, 2.2k words, solangelo/will solace-centric, graphic depictions of violence, psychological torture

because i'm a mirrorball series - will solace-centric, canon-verse - i've never been a natural (all i do is try, try, try) - one-shot, 10k words, will solace from pre-tlt to botl, not tsats compliant (written before that was released and my own version of will solace lore) - i'm still a believer (but i don't know why) - one-shot, 9.2k words, will solace from botl to tlo, not tsats compliant, canonical MCD - when i break, it's in a million pieces - one-shot, 1.7k words, will solace-centric, battle of manhattan aftermath, all canon/tsats compliant - i'm still tryin' everything (to get you laughing at me) - one-shot, 3.5k words, solangelo from ttc to end of boo, mostly tsats compliant - i'm still on my tallest tiptoes (shinin' just for you) - one-shot, 2k words, solangelo during toa, all canon/tsats compliant - all along there was some invisible string (tying you to me) - one-shot, 1.3k words, solangelo pre-toa, missing scene that's referenced in tsats (their first kiss), all canon/tsats compliant

let's go (battle royale) - one-shot, 7k words, solangelo fortnite streamers au, lots of references to the greek gods-themed season

on a wednesday in a cafe - one-shot, 2.3k words, solangelo college/coffee shop au, an absurd amount of taylor swift song references

like i'd be saved by a perfect kiss - one-shot, 1.1k words, aroace reyna-centric during toa, reyna's pov of rejecting apollo

i'm a mess (but i'm the mess that you wanted) - one-shot, 5.1k, solangelo arcane/timebomb au, nico as jinx and will as ekko but canon divergent from what actually happens in arcane (you don't need to watch arcane to understand it though)

midnights become my afternoons - one-shot, 3.3k words, aroace leo-centric on the argo II, with a bit of leo & nico friendship, canon compliant

MARAUDERS COMPLETED FICS

reputation (regulus' version) series - celebrity au - starry eyes (sparking up my darkest night) - 16 ch, 113k words, regulus as rep era taylor swift au, james as joe, marauders as a band, background wolfstar and dorlene - baby, let the games begin - one-shot, 1.7k words, bonus chapter to starry eyes, jegulus (in between chapters 15 and 16)

clear blue waters (high tide came and brought you in) - 7 ch, 32.1k words, jegulus cruiseship au, background wolfstar and lots of teenager tonks, very fluffy

#pjo #marauders #wrongcaitlyn #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #jegulus #wolfstar #my fics

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bg-brainrot · 1 month

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WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, violence, some explicit content

WC: 8k words, 15/?? chapters

Summary: Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

A/N: I know I put this warning in ch 1, but warning that the smut is always going to be more about their ~feelings~ than actual smut, so like, be forewarned and don’t expect too much 🔥!

Also: I never play wizards in real campaigns! I’m a filthy rogue-main and if I play a caster, it’s usually been for the roleplay of it all, so this Tav is not built optimally. They’re built for a chill life in Neverwinter with a few offensive spells. I’m also sticking to 5E rules for this (invisibility, spell prep) for the sake of story as well.

Ao3 | [Ch14][Ch16] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Since you rejected his advances a few nights ago, Astarion has been making an effort. You’re not entirely sure what the effort amounts to, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

At first you think it’s to get to know you better, understand who you are, as you asked him to. But surely it isn’t that. Something like that wouldn’t make you feel this uncomfortable.

“Oh darling, please let me embroider your robes. They’re simply not doing enough to flatter your alluring figure.”

“Simply exquisite. When you read by candlelight, your eyes shine brighter than even the most vivid moonstones.”

“Have I ever told you that your voice could lure a siren? No? Well, its dulcet tones make this dreadful work all worth the while.”

You think he’s… flirting? However, either he’s out of practice or you’re not an easy person to flirt with, because each time you’re left a bit confused and unsure how to react. Usually it ends with you changing the subject with an awkward chuckle and a thanks.

As the new week begins and you’re finding yourself inundated with these odd statements, you think this might actually be his attempt to get to know you better– he just hasn’t gotten close to someone in so long, it’s devolved into an awkward jumble of compliments.

So when you return from your start-of-week shopping trip to find Astarion waiting, arms crossed, expression irked, you suspect you know what it’s about.

“Why are you rebuffing my every attempt to converse with you?” His voice is annoyed and you try your best not to laugh, thinking of how long he might have been waiting for you in that very position. But you’d been expecting this, so you know better than to laugh.

“Astarion,” you start, putting your bags down. “Are you talking about your weird flattery?”

He all but sputters his next words, “‘Weird flattery’?!”

You nod. “How else am I supposed to take comments about my ‘dulcet tones’?”

As if just hearing these words for the first time, Astarion recoils a bit. “Well, when you say it…” he trails off a bit before continuing. “I’m just trying to open up a conversation, darling. Not all of us have your… knack for subtlety.” You ignore the insult, as it’s likely warranted anyway.

“Regardless, thank you for making an attempt,” you say, closing the distance between you. “It means a lot to me, even if it’s been, hmmm, odd.”

“Yes, well, I appreciate you saying so,” he says, puffing his chest out a bit. “Gods know I deserve more praise these days for how patient I’ve been.”

You laugh and respond with a matching levity, “Any more praise and your head shall be too big for your shoulders.” Then, you don’t know what compels you, whether it be the instincts of your former self or the strange lull of domesticity you’ve both fallen into in the past few weeks, but you peck a light kiss on his cheek.

Both of you freeze as the gesture catches up to you.

Your mind doesn’t freeze, however, already peppering you with all of the questions a situation like this warrants, Did that just happen? What have I done? Why did I do that?!

Your mouth catches back up to your mind next. “Oh gods, I'm so sorry, I just– my body moved on its own. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Astarion doesn't say anything, just stands there in shock. A slow motion brings his hand up to feel where your warm lips made contact on his cheek.

Your heart drops in your chest as you continue to spew words at him, "I keep messing up, I really am sorry.” Then, seeing that no ‘sorry’ is bringing him out of his stupor, you feel the need to explain further, "I just can't help it. It's like caring for you is instinctual. I know you don't care about me, but–"

"I do care about you. I think. Just not… the same," he says, interrupting your rampaging speech. "It’s just all a bit… confusing."

Your heart leaps in your chest at the glimpse of hope. "So you don't want me to crawl back to where I came from?"

"… no. I don't think I do," he responds, dropping his hand. He meets your eyes once more and his tone turns teasing. "And please do adjust your fantasies. I would be much more likely to recommend you take a trip to the hells."

You don’t speak for a bit, as you collect your weekly groceries, head to the kitchen and begin to sort them. Guilt still beats against your chest like a second heart and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to speak to him again. That is until Astarion jolts you out of your spiraling anxieties.

“Darling, are you going to pout all day?” he says, head resting on his palm while he watches you from the kitchen table. “While it was so very droll at first, I’m starting to feel like I live alone again.”

Right. He’s not the same Astarion you remember from your dreams. While the touch had been a surprise, he doesn’t seem angry or bothered by it in the slightest. He really does seem mostly amused– oh good, at least I’m a source of amusement to him.

So you try to let it go– the moment of weakness, of a habit that wasn’t even yours. That’s not to say that you let it go entirely though.

You apologize again. And again. And again. All throughout the day.

He says you don’t need to keep apologizing, but you do. You feel like you’ve crossed a boundary that wasn’t ready to be crossed. You’re so worried that this carefully crafted, all-too-delicate bond would break with a mere kiss on the cheek.

Astarion assures you, it didn’t bother him. He was simply a bit stunned. While he hasn’t remained celibate over the years, not many have dared to do as you had done. You, the intruder, had dared to kiss the sad, broken vampire’s cheek. He says it like a joke, and you wish you could laugh with him, but worry persists even after you manage a reluctant little chuckle.

And so the rest of the day remains tainted, all but ruined in your mind.

Despite this, the day does continue. You go through plans for an expansion to the colony, more room to allow the vampires a better life. You’re a bit more aware of his hands near yours, his head leaning toward you, but otherwise, you manage.

Towards the end of the day, Astarion receives a message on a Sending Stone from Dal. He doesn’t tell you the contents of the message, but the look on his face says it all: worry. As soon as the exchange is over, he gets up to leave. He refuses to elaborate beyond the fact that his siblings need him.

You nod, not questioning his concern. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No,” he says, lips pressed together firmly, broaching no room for discussion. “I need to go now. I should be back by morning. Remember what I asked you?” When your expression remains blank he continues, “Prepare a Mage Armour or another warding spell.”

“Okay,” you respond, and your own face is likely as worried as his is now. “Are you sure you don’t need my–”

He grabs your hand in a rush. “Stay put. Promise me.”

You’re not sure that you can promise that, especially if he’s entering a dangerous situation. But with the way his red eyes burn into you, you find yourself nodding again. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirms, releasing your hand and leaving. You’re left in a flurry of papers and growing unease.

On your sixteenth day in Astarion’s house, everything goes wrong.

He meets you in the morning, just as he promised, but after that, your day turns upside down entirely.

“Astarion?” you ask, when you open your door to his incessant knocks.

“Good,” he breathes. “You’re awake.”

You’d only just exited your reverie, but the look of sheer panic on his face means your remark dies in your throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Something came up,” he says before looking you up and down. “Get dressed and meet me in my room.”

Even on a regular day you would have listened, perhaps with a sly remark, but on a day like today, where his voice comes out short, clipped, and his jaw is clenched in a hard line? You comply with his orders like the model student you once were.

As soon as you’re ready for the day– in your best travel robe, Mage Armour cast, a variety of new spells prepared for the day– you head toward Astarion. You hope you won’t need the preparation, but with the way that Astarion’s shoulders were set, you suspect you might.

“Astarion?” you call, knocking on the door. “I’m here.”

He opens the door and you’re graced with a surprising amount of his bare chest. “Good,” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the blush that’s creeping up your neck and into your face. “I need your help.”

Finally, you think, brushing aside any feelings his bare body might stir within you. He trusts you and you this is your chance to prove yourself to him. You’re not sure with what yet, but what does it matter?

“Could you help me put on my armor?” he says, handing you a pile of leathers, straps, and buckles.

Oh.

“Of course,” you respond, working to lay out the armor. You vaguely recognize it, albeit with a few adjustments here and there. Different pauldrons, a few knicks marring its surface that weren’t there 150 years ago, but otherwise no worse for wear. “What else do you need help with?”

“Nothing else,” he says, pulling on a pair of boots you also recognize. “I simply don’t have the luxury of asking my siblings for help currently.”

You stop midway through sorting straps. “Okay, what’s going on Astarion? You can’t leave me in the dark like this.”

The vampire sighs, but lifts his head from his task to look you squarely in the face. “A group of hunters have found the colony. A few scouts found them on our trail last night. We’re preparing to defend it. It might be the biggest group we’ve seen… well, ever since we relocated.” He goes back to lacing his boots as he continues, “Nothing you need to worry about though. You will be staying right here, hiding.”

“Hiding ?” you ask, indignant. “Why would I be hiding when I can help?”

“Because,” he hisses, standing up and walking toward you like a panther. “We are frankly not in need of your help. We have our defensive plans set already, and I rather suspect you may do more harm than good.”

The words sting– largely because of the truth in them. Why should you enter the fray when you hadn’t been preparing to defend the colony? Did a few weeks of desk work amount to an honorary spot on the front lines? Still, the idea that this man– who you had already spent so much of your life with, who you had worked so hard to find– could be in danger? You could hardly sit by and twiddle your thumbs. So you begin your case.

“I may not be gifted in shaping my Evocation spells, but I have plenty of supportive spells,” you say, gesturing for Astarion to sit on his bed, the first undershirt for the armor ready in your hands. “I can create stone or relay messages for you. If none of that is helpful, I can always use Magic Missile– it wouldn’t get in your way at all. Please, let me help.”

Astarion sits there, silent, as you plead and place each piece of armor on his body. Partway through the process, you register that you’ve never done this before– but your memories of your past-life have guided you step-by-step.

You try to ignore the conflicting feelings bubbling up at that and focus on him, placing both hands on his now-armored shoulders. “Astarion, I won’t get in the way. I promise I will turn invisible or teleport out if anything goes wrong.”

Finally, he speaks again. “I appreciate that you care enough to help,” he starts, though he doesn’t sound like he appreciates it much. “But I’m afraid that you’re still not invited.”

You want to shake him, do something, anything to make him see you as an asset, an ally, someone he can trust with this. “But why not? Why teach me all of these things about the colony only to shut me out when it matters most?”

“Because this isn’t your responsibility!” he growls, glaring up at you through his lashes. “Because you are to remain here, stay safe, and live to see another day, despite all of your instincts to the contrary!”

His anger is palpable, pushing you back, off of him. You want to see the fear underneath his words, and you think you might get a glimpse. You want to understand where he’s coming from, to see yourself through his eyes. But all of that pales in comparison to the frustration building inside of you. Why won’t he take me seriously? “I can take care of myself!”

“I don’t have time for this,” he spits out as he stands up. “Shall I be brutally honest, darling? You’re too weak. You are not the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. And even if you were, I would tell you to stay here. ”

You know his words are meant to injure you, to deter you and keep you hidden away in this mansion, but they don’t hurt any less. You’re not sure what to say to him, can’t bring yourself to look at him as he storms out, toward the hidden entrance to the Underdark.

Just as he’s about to leave your periphery, into the illusory wall, he calls back. “I know you’re angry, but please, stay put. And if anyone other than myself or my siblings comes through that door, you leave.”

With that, Astarion is gone, body melting into the wall, leaving you standing in his room alone, emotions frayed and hands trembling with a silent rage.

You wait about thirty seconds before casting Invisibility on yourself.

You wait less than a minute after that to follow him.

He can treat me like a child all he wants, but I will make my own decisions. Even if those decisions involved diving head first into jeopardy. Watching him climb down the ladder, waiting for him to hit solid ground before you follow, you can't help but think back to your past week here. It had been lovely, born of a promise to forget the past and the spawn, focus on the present with him. But how unrealistic that truly was when faced with real danger.

So you trail him, careful to keep concentration on your invisibility, lest he catch you before you get to the colony. I’ll have to lose the invisibility sooner or later, you think. But I’d rather use it as an opportunity to attack.

You keep a distance between you through the field of Bibberbangs, on the walk toward the keep, but when you see Astarion dashing toward a small contingent, you begin to run after him.

Once you catch up to him, you notice the group appears to be comprised of most of his siblings. Out of arm's reach but well within earshot, you stay and listen to their conversation.

“Did we get a final count from the scouting party?” Astarion asks, and you see a tiefling, Aurelia you believe, step forward.

“A dozen at least, likely more. They’re organized, preparing to strike. Astarion, it’s not good,” she says. From your time with Astarion, you know that she’s been in charge of directing the scouting parties for at least a few decades.

Astarion grimaces but nods, turning to another sibling you recognize. “Leon, where do you need me?”

“The ambush point, if you’re ready. We need to head them off before they get any closer to the colony.” The man has been in charge of coordinating the various groups ever since your past-self died, and, from what you gathered, had grown into his leadership role well.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. What is our final count?”

Dal answers this one. “Our numbers haven’t improved much since last night. We only have about thirty in any real fighting shape. A few who are willing to fight if it means they feed, but none I would consider strong fighters. There are others on the ballistas ready for support fire though. Petras should be up there with them now.”

Astarion makes an annoyed sound. After helping him with colony logistics, you knew that their fighting numbers were low, too many had died in prior raids, too many had been without blood for too long, but you hadn’t expected it to get this bad. You half wonder if you would do better to offer your body up to them, rather than your magic.

You don’t have time to dwell on the idea before Astarion is asking his next question, “Very well. Violet is with the evacuees, I take it?”

Leon nods, and continues, “Yes. We’ve had more than enough time to evacuate the noncombatants. It’s now just a matter of keeping these hunters at bay.”

Astarion’s posture seems to loosen a bit at that, but not by much. You’ve not seen Astarion this serious since you were fighting a world-ending horror– and even then he had room for jokes. But clearly the man before you was different. Like he’d lost enough, and for the survival of his siblings, his family, he would do what needed to be done.

He turns to look down at his shortest sibling. “Yousen, come with me.”

The gnome gives a curt nod and pulls out his weapon. “After you.”

You’re torn at that moment. You want to follow Astarion, ensure that he remains safe above all else. But you also know that he would disapprove of you joining any type of ambush, that you may truly prove to be a distraction for him. Besides, what kind of wizard gets within stabbing distance?

So you watch him run off, Yousen in tow. As your heart sinks deep into the pits of your stomach, you wonder if the worry you feel is that of a friend. But you don’t have time to ponder anything as trite as your feelings for Astarion– you have to find a position that won’t hinder, somewhere you can help and show Astarion that you are capable of standing by his side. Metaphorically at the very least.

The rest of the siblings disperse after confirming their orders. Leon heads to the front of the keep, Aurelia returns to her scouts, and Dal seems to be heading somewhere secluded. From your dreams and learning of the colony, you know Dal to be a healer, so she ought to be heading somewhere away from the fight. You follow her.

Much as you suspected, she moves up into the battlement of the keep, close enough to provide support, but far enough to stay out of danger. Perfect, you think. You silently thank her, wishing you could send her a message without breaking your invisibility or chirp up without terrifying her. As it is, you have to take your time, wait for the perfect opportunity to be helpful.

The wait is excruciating. You may as well be in the Astral Plane for how little time seems to be moving.

A level below you, Petras and some spawn are preparing their ballistas. To your side, Dal sorts health potions, arranging ingredients to make more. All you can do is breathe as quietly as possible, rest your arms on the crenel before you, and hope that your spells will be able to reach.

It turns out that your hopes hardly matter in the face of real combat. One second you’re standing there, almost bored, and the next you spot Dalyria’s head pop up like a frightened rodent. “Petras! Take cover!” she yells.

Time seems to stop. You register that she’s diving into cover, that the sending stone she’d been holding had fallen to the ground, and that out of the corner of your eye a burst of bright light is rapidly approaching.

Crap.

You fall to the floor, hoping that will provide enough protection. Hoping, beyond all hope, that for some reason the Fireball will simply not hit you. Of course that’s not how magic works, you would know.

Only a split second later, the fiery burst explodes before you. You don’t even have time to feel fear or to react with a spell of your own. Luckily for you, the battlements provide some cover, and you manage to maintain concentration on your invisibility. But gods does it burn.

You can’t help the yelp that escapes your lips, and you note that Dalyria’s head turns toward you at the sound. She seems to have escaped the blast, hiding behind a wall, but you swear the expression on her face is more wounded than you are. The woman’s face is sad, it’s scared, and so tired.

You’re reminded of the dream you’d had, of your former-self helping to defend the vampire’s previous keep. After nearly three centuries of living in survival mode, the exhaustion in Dal’s eyes is warranted. Frankly, you don’t know if you would have the strength to last as long as she and the other spawn have. But, for at least today, you would muster it.

It’s easy enough to piece together what happened. Dal received a message from the scouts or from the frontlines, they were targeting the support lines, and you needed to get the hells out of these battlements.

You crawl forward, grabbing the Sending Stone before you make your way to Dal’s hiding spot. Making sure you’re out of swinging reach, you call to Dalyria, “Dal, it’s me.” She adjusts her gaze, honing in on where you are now. “I’m here to help.”

The woman nods, clearly too fueled by adrenaline to be shocked by your presence. “I knew you would come,” she says quickly. “Astarion is such an ass sometimes.”

While you agree with her, you decide not to comment on that. He had likely told them you were indisposed or didn’t want to be here, but you need her to know that that has never been the truth. “Of course I would come. Where do you need me?”

“Astarion said they’ve split their forces. The second group has a wizard, that’s where that Fireball came from,” she says, eyes darting back out to the rest of the keep, where the sounds of battle have begun to ring. “Do you have anything that could help neutralize their wizard?”

You think to yourself, wishing more than anything you had prepared the spell Silence. As it is, you have plenty of other, far less useful spells at your disposal. But you’re not about to tell Dal that, not when she’s looking in your vague direction with a set of hopeful, pleading red eyes. Eyes that remind you of the vampire who is also in danger at this very moment.

So you sound far more confident than you feel when you say, “Certainly, I’ll head there immediately.”

Before you go, you try to give her the Sending Stone back, in the event she needs to communicate with Astarion. She pushes the rock back into your invisible hand with a shake of her head. “No, no, you’ll be out there. You need this more than I do. Astarion has the matching stone, call for him if you need help.”

You decide not to tell her that Astarion might just kill you himself if he hears your voice through the stone, and instead thank her, pocketing the stone. “Stay safe,” you say as you hurry toward the stairs once more.

“You too,” she calls after you.

Then you’re running down the stairs, two at a time, no longer caring who might hear your invisible steps. After all, the din of combat is drowning out everything else. A few Fireballs hit the battlements you’d just left and you hear the following cries of those on the ballistas. You had known that fighting would be loud, scary, dangerous–but gods did you still miss the comfort of knowing that at the end of it all you would wake up, untouched.

You don’t know where to go or how to get there, so you find your feet moving on instinct, toward all of the sounds that should terrify you.

Once you’re finally in the fray, you see the two groups, as Dal had described. The group at the mouth of the keep is being held at bay by Leon and his forces, and you can see Astarion’s group dropping behind, preparing for another sneak attack. You hug a wall to get closer to the second group, all the while watching Astarion’s lithe form move in on an enemy.

You can’t help but be in awe at seeing the man in his element.

Armor hugging his body, knives gleaming in his hands, he looks every bit the dangerous, roguish vampire he was when you first dreamt of him. The difference is that now, instead of fear, you feel an odd sense of pride. That’s right, you think. Stab him again!

But you can’t let him distract you, you’re nearly to the second group of hunters. There are at least six to your quick count, each looking as nasty and well equipped as the last. Now that you’re close you can see the wizard, standing in the back, already preparing another spell.

Again, you curse yourself. Why didn’t you prepare Counterspell, you idiot? It’s too late for regrets though, you’d had no idea what you might be getting into when you arose that morning. All you could do was work with what information you had.

Despite all of your memories, nothing can prepare you for this moment, when you finally, truly enter a combat situation. Your mind races with possibilities, and you’re struck by the fact that none of them are the right solution. There is no right solution to a battle.

So you go with your instinct.

You run forward, directly in front of the wizard’s line of sight. At the end of your run you slide to the earth, landing a mere few feet away from the group in front of you as you place both palms on the ground.

The invisibility drops as you recite the incantation for Stone Shape and the earth beneath you bursts forth into a large stone wall, at least five feet tall, another five feet wide. It leaves a crater in its wake, pulling from the ground to materialize.

It seems to form just in time as the heat of a Fireball collides with the wall, flames burst out of both sides. Excitement surges through you as you realize your plan worked. You hear shouts behind the wall, the vampire hunters eating a face full of their own fire.

You remain on the ground, now visible, sure that the group on the other side is still alive if their shouts are any indication. Oh this isn’t a good place to be, you think belatedly.

It certainly isn’t, as you hear the hunters make their way around the brand new trench in the ground. I need to get out of here . “Inveniam viam!” Your whole body turns to mist as you step further back into the keep, still feeling naked in how visible you are.

You take a single moment to assess the situation. The hunters have gotten around the wall, though if their singed armor is any indication, the Fireball certainly helped weaken them. The mage seems no worse for wear, too far back to truly be hurt, but their eyes are now trained on you.

There goes my element of surprise, you think. And they probably did prepare Counterspell…

You try not to think too hard about how disastrous this wizard-on-wizard battle may prove, trying instead to find which group you may be able to support. That’s when you lock eyes with the exact pair of red eyes you had been dreading this entire time.

You’re too far to hear him, but it's easy enough to see his lips mouth your name. He looks angry, angrier perhaps than you’ve ever seen him, and his next stab seems particularly erratic.

Oh gods, he’s going to get hurt if I distract him too much, you think in a panic. I need to get out of here, give him a chance to calm down.

“Evanesco!” you call, trying to call forth the magic for Invisibility once more. But of course, you wouldn’t get the chance to try the same trick twice.

You feel the Counterspell more than see or hear it. It’s like your body rejects the magic as it tries to come out, and you’re left awkwardly standing there as the group of hunters close in on your position. Shit.

For the first time in your life you feel it for yourself: real, unfiltered fear.

You had always been horrified at this possibility. That when faced with actual danger, you would not rise to the occasion. But now that you’re here, you want to smack your legs, you want to jostle your own shoulders, push yourself into the action that you had craved.

RUN, damn you, you think, willing your shaking legs to move. All of those dreams of combat, of fighting by Astarion’s side, could all come true right now if you just moved.

Then you hear a cry.

It’s not bloodcurdling, it’s not particularly painful, rather a soft “argh” coming from the man you’d stupidly followed into danger. He’d been reckless, gotten himself nicked in his fury. But it’s all you need to jolt into action.

You’d promised Astarion that you wouldn’t cause any undue damage, no Evocation in the house and what not. But all of your promises were tossed aside the second he uttered a single pained sound.

Holding out a hand, you call out your most destructive spell.

You can feel the mage try to Counterspell you once more, as your magic wavers ever so slightly. But his attempt fails and a massive wall of fire rips out of the ground, like the hells themselves have torn the earth asunder.

You’d controlled yourself well enough, and you’re almost certain you haven’t trapped any unsuspecting vampire spawn in a fiery blaze. The hunters, on the other hand, were not nearly so lucky. They’d been approaching you in such a way that they all got caught in the Wall of Fire, all save that damn wizard.

Their cries are high-pitched, desperate things, as they run through the wall, stumbling toward you like some sort of twisted Fire Elementals. They refuse to go down without a fight.

Your legs stumble back, as you narrowly avoid a few of their attacks, one glances off your Mage Armour, another catches your robe, leaving a single bleeding line on your arm. You’re not sure how readily they will fall, but you certainly won’t let them take you with them.

“Tormentum!” you shout, as a stream of glowing darts shoot out of your fingers. You strike each of them as you pour more and more of your magic into the spell. Distantly, you can hear Astarion calling for you.

With your unoccupied hand you grab the Sending Stone, “Don’t come for me. I’m fine.”

His response is immediate, “Like hells I will, you bloody fool!”

You don’t have the wherewithal to know where Astarion might be at this point, but when a single blade bursts out of a man’s neck, you suspect that you have a good idea. A second later a second man collapses, clutching at a dagger twisting between his ribs.

Astarion stands behind them, silver hair streaked with bloody red strands, his face dappled with scarlet as well. He may be stabbing them, but his eyes are trained on you, fury not diminished in the slightest.

You want to thank him, tell him you didn’t need the help, appreciate that he’s still alive, standing in front of you. But you can’t because another spell is being fired at you– the wizard’s Magic Missile is about to hit when you reflexively put up a Shield spell.

Turning back to the damnable wizard, you call to Astarion, “Yell at me all you want later. Focus on the wizard!”

“That’s probably what they’re saying,” he retorts, but does dutifully turn his attention to the mage.

As he runs and vaults through the wall of fire, landing behind the stone you shaped. All the while, you shoot off a returning volley of missiles, hitting the remaining hunters and the mage in an attempt to provide cover.

You wish you had more in you, could summon another blazing wall right on top of the enemy wizard, but you’re reaching your limit. You can feel your magic waning– you likely only have a few spells left in you. Better make them count.

You shoot one last magic missile, assuring that the hunters in front of you are well and done. As you do so, Astarion reaches the mage, stabbing at them in two fluid motions. You see the mage Shield in response, hear Astarion’s annoyed grunt.

I need to give him an opening, you think. You’re growing lightheaded from overexertion, and you can barely feel the Weave as you try to summon your next spell. “Non movere,” you whisper, pointing a finger at the mage.

The spell overcomes them and the mage is frozen in place. Astarion takes prompt advantage of the Hold Person, stabbing him in several vital areas, likely killing him in place.

Fantastic, you think, swaying on your feet as your knees start to give out from under you. The world fades to black as the magic dissipates from your fingertip. The last thing you see is Astarion’s panicked face, slowly drifting out of your view as your body collapses.

___

You can’t recall the start of your seventeenth day in Astarion’s house. At least, most of it.

Everything aches, you hear voices, you feel healing magic, but your mind retains nothing as you slip in and out of consciousness over and over again. The only things you can recall are the sensation of sheets surrounding you, pillows beneath your head and the whisper of your name on Astarion’s lips.

You’re an elf– this kind of sleep is unnatural to you. Could you be dying? You have a moment of panic during a short burst of clarity, Am I already dead? Is this it? But you fall back into the darkness before the thought can take hold.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity in a ceaseless cycle of consciousness and unconsciousness, you open your eyes to the back of a familiar silver-haired vampire tending the fireplace. He’s dressed once more in his comfortable, luxurious attire, and you briefly wonder if the previous day had been a dream.

You blink, confused at the sudden change in environment. The last thing you remember was letting loose your spell then– well, you suppose you don’t know what happened next.

“Oh good,” Astarion says, walking toward you and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re awake." Distantly, you remember him waking you up just yesterday with those words. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

You sit up, a bit groggily, stretching out your limbs. They all seem intact, and you don’t even feel injured, all of your aches magically gone. “I am– is everyone alright? What… happened?”

“Everyone is fine. Well, save for the vampire hunters,” he answers. “Your destructive little wall kept them from getting too far. Nothing a few nights of healing and some rebuilding won’t fix.”

Your whole body aches from disuse and you wonder how long you must have been resting. Likely longer than you ever have before. “What time is it?”

“It’s late,” he replies, gesturing toward the darkness outside. “Dal’s been tending to your injuries, and luckily they’re minor, but you still needed the rest. Seems like you used more magic than you were used to, mm?”

His words chastise you, but the look on his face is so muted, his posture incredibly stilted– you have a momentary alarm. Is this really Astarion? “I must have. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his legs and turning away from you.

It’s hard to believe him when he reacts like that. “You don’t seem fine.”

“I just…” He takes a breath, and you can see the way his back rises and falls with a tremble. “I was worried.”

“About… me?” you hazard the question. You know you’d grown closer in the last few weeks, but you also don’t want to presume.

Now he turns back to you with a glare, his red eyes sparkling with rage. “Yes, you! For being a wizard, you’re such a gods-forsaken dunce. I told you not to join us and did you even pretend to listen?”

You had not, so you bear the brunt of his anger with what you hope is grace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, genuinely apologetic despite your initial gusto at joining the fray. You’d felt the fear in those moments, the first time in your life that this body, that you could have genuinely died. You’re not too proud to say that you hated that fear. “I just wanted to help.”

“That’s always the case with people like you, isn’t it?” he says, leaning toward you menacingly. “Always playing the hero and neglecting to even consider the danger they put themselves in? Did you never once consider that I was trying to keep you safe?”

Every word brought Astarion closer and closer into your space, and you start to sink back into the pillows to get away from his fury. “I know you were,” you say, voice still naught but a wisp. “I tried to be careful.” You had, you swear you had– why does it look like that doesn’t matter to him?

“Careful isn't good enough,” he hisses, his face mere inches from yours now. You can feel the next breath he exhales as he continues, calmer now, “I told you already. I refuse to get attached to you only to lose you.”

Is he attached to me? you think, eyes darting between his ruby ones. He’s dangerously close to you and he’s waiting for something. Your response, you idiot. You think back to what he said, trying to ignore the way his body is angled over yours. “I promise. You won’t lose me.”

An impossible promise to keep, surely. But it’s exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs. Then he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips on yours in a desperation you thought reserved for the starving.

You should pull away, push him off of you, at the very least protest. But after a life or death situation, you can’t help it. Something in you wants the very same solace he seeks. So you close your eyes. You twine your fingers into his hair. You press your lips to his in the same ravenous fervor.

He drinks in your reaction, lips chasing yours as cages you in with his arms. A moment later, you feel the blankets that had so carefully been tucked around you tossed aside, you feel one of his hands find your hip.

Oh gods, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Your mind is racing, trying its best to keep up as Astarion climbs over you.

Why not, you’ve done this so many times in your dreams. Your hands move of their own accord, leaving his hair to run down his arms.

We're not ready, you tell yourself. Astarion shivers at your touch and you feel his hands pulling at the neck of your robe to expose more of your flesh.

Will you ever be? Your head rolls back and Astarion dips his head down to touch his cold lips to your collarbone.

Maybe, given some more time… His fingers pull at the front ties of your robe, as you begin to unbutton his silk shirt.

What's the use of more time? You could have died yesterday. You could die any day. Ties undone, Astarion tugs at your robes a bit more, leaving your chest exposed.

I don't want to ruin this. Your breathing comes out a bit erratic as his lips trail up your neck, sucking hungrily but never drawing any blood.

What's one night of passion? Your past-self had this and more before they so much as spoke a single word of love. Your hands tug at his sleeves, all but tearing off his delicate shirt in an effort to touch more of him.

I'm not them, you think. Halfway through stroking his exposed chest, Astarion’s hand catches yours, pinning it above your head as he pulls you into another searing kiss.

You may as well be. His hand in yours, the way his leg presses into you– it all feels so familiar. So what's the harm in being the Hero of Baldur's Gate? Just this once?

That’s how, after years of silently judging your past-self for their loveless trysts with Astarion, you find yourself in much the same predicament. Only you’re not sure how you feel. You only know that there’s no way that this man, who’s driving force right now is likely fear, will love you come morning.

Who cares? the deepest, most primal part of your mind asks.

As Astarion finishes disrobing you, you wonder vaguely if this is what the hero felt. If near death had brought them to the brink of a terror that they couldn’t overcome, a terror that only Astarion’s cold lips, slick tongue, and nimble fingers would fix.

And by the gods above do they feel like the solution to even the most complex of problems.

His lips suckle at the ridge of your ear, sucking on its tip in such a way that draws a soft, unintentional whimper from your mouth. "Oh darling," he whispers, voice low and taunting. "I knew those dulcet tones would be my undoing.”

You want to retort, to shut his clever mouth up, but before you can so much as collect yourself, his lips are on yours again, opening them in a single, languid movement. His tongue, like the rest of him, is chill to the touch, a refreshing burst of cold as he explores your mouth.

Complaints all but forgotten, you relinquish yourself to him. His fingers leave you squirming under him as he traces the lines of your bare body. They never seem to stop moving, searching for each new piece of your skin that requires attention.

And sweet hells is he relentless in his search. Even if you didn't already know of his vast experience, this would have been a clear indicator. His probing fingers know how to play a body like an instrument, and he was tuning yours to play only the loveliest melody for him.

Astarion finally pulls his hands, his lips away. You want to groan in protest, but you’re enraptured by the stretch of his torso, the way his shoulders flex as he removes the last remnants of his clothing. His form laid bare before you, you can’t help but think that surely you’re paying witness to another’s lurid fantasy. Surely this beautiful figure bathed in firelight, celestial in his loveliness, could not be for you?

But he is, if for the moment.

Even if his movements are too perfect, his kisses too sweet– he feels real in the moment, simply because the sheer desperation never leaves him. His hands squeeze, his teeth bite, his words of passion come hurried and breathy between nips. It's abundantly clear what his goal is to you, as it’s similar to your own. He wants to feel you under him, around him, alive. You’re only too happy to oblige.

So you ensure that each of his movements is matched with one of yours. That when he bites, you lean into it; when his fingers probe between your legs, you buck into him; when he chuckles into your ear 'my, you're an eager little treat', you moan his name into his ear without shame.

You'd been with Astarion in more dreams than you would have been comfortable to admit. But, as with every experience you'd had since arriving here, it was nothing compared to living through it with your own body.

It’s not long before you realize that this body feels each touch differently, its sweet spots new treasure troves for Astarion's searching fingers– ones he seems eager to find for you as new indecent sounds pass your lips.

He seems to devour each sound, eager to consume any bit of you that’s ripe for the taking. That’s when you see past his need to feel you alive. No, he wants you to be his. He wants your noises, your body, your soul for his own.

As he expertly strokes between your legs with one hand, the other squeezes your hip, all but pinning you to the bed. In that moment, it doesn’t feel like he’s loving you. It feels like he’s keeping you in place. Like he doesn’t know how else to make sure that you won’t slip through his fingers, like your past-self before you.

You wish you could reassure him, tell him that you would never make the same mistake twice, but both of you know that’s not true. So instead you allow yourself to delude yourself, for at least this one night.

His body asks the question, “Will you really, truly stay with me, live for me?”

Yours responds with a sonorous, deceitful, “Yes.”

Astarion rubs his length between your thighs, almost teasing in its slow, rolling motion, but his hand never leaves your hip.

He palms himself with one hand, ready for you, but the other never leaves your hip.

Even as he thrusts into you, setting a brutal, punishing pace, his hand never leaves your hip.

It doesn’t bother you, this constant reassurance, but it does stoke the fear that already grips your heart. Despite the kisses he lavishes upon you, despite the sweet words that drip from his mouth to yours– you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have died. You could very well have left Astarion alone, again, wondering why he ever let another into his life.

Something about that thought pushes you forward to seek your pleasure, to give him every piece of you that you can, lest you lose it by tomorrow.

You don’t know how many times you lose yourselves in each other. By the end of it all, it all feels like another one of your dreams. But you do know that, for the first time since you regained consciousness, you don’t feel that fear any more– only his body, your own, and the beautiful music that they play together.

The night ends with both of you exhausted, laying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling to the room you used to call your own in a past-life. After two days of some of the most you’ve ever exerted yourself, your nightly meditation comes all too easily. Before you slip into your reverie, your last, fleeting thought is of Astarion: I don’t know how we got here, I don’t suppose it truly matters. But thank you for caring about me, in whatever way you can.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you

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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 10 months

Text

[CN] Victor x MC – S2 CH 46 (Eng Translation - Part 2)

“Perhaps you are the god sent from the heavens to protect me.”

“Who exactly are you?”

Do remember to read Part 1 first: Here!

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a chapter that is yet to be released on the global server. ⌚

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【CH 46-13, after part 1】

The airport lobby is packed with people. As pedestrians pass by the man, they all instinctively give him a wide berth, without even a sidelong glance.

MC: This isn’t rejection at all! It’s like the world has given you a “golden finger,” even more powerful than the “invisibility” Evol!

MC: Vic-Vic, do you think you can become rich by being an invisible person?

Man (Victor): [chuckles softly] Talking nonsense again.

Despite his words, a subtle smile forms at the corners of his lips. After a pause, he speaks again.

Man (Victor): Moving on––

My phone suddenly rings, and Anna’s name pops up on the screen. I mouth an apology to him and hastily answer the call.

MC: Anna, is there something you need me for?

Anna: MC, you finally answered the phone! I couldn’t reach you earlier, and there multiple pending tasks that need your authorization.

Anna: The previous advertising partners came to our office and informed us that the contract will expire next month. Additionally, we need to finalize the theme for the upcoming season of our program…

MC: Ask Minor to reach out to several advertising companies with the outstanding performance last year and inquire about their interest in collaboration and pricing. If the cost-effectiveness is not better than our current arrangement, we can proceed with contract renewal.

MC: As for the program theme, ask Kiki and the team to propose a few potential directions and send them to my email for review. I’ll try to finalize it within the next two days...

After ending the call, I notice that Vic-Vic is looking at me with a profound expression on his face.

MC: What’s wrong? You haven’t felt any new signs of rejection, have you?

Man (Victor): No, I haven’t. I was just surprised to see that you, who acted so recklessly in the desert, would still have a sense of order when it comes to work.

MC: …

So, is this how he viewed me when we were in the desert?

Feeling a bit indignant, I make up my mind to change his impression of me. So, with a firm grip on the man’s arm, I walk in large strides toward the airport exit.

MC: I acted that way only because I was in an unfamiliar environment. And now, you’re the one who needs to get familiar with the surroundings.

MC: In Loveland City, you need to stick close to me, your host!

The footsteps behind me closely follow, and after a moment, a voice interspersed with helplessness and amusement pass by my ear.

Man (Victor): [extremely helpless, indulgent chuckle] …dummy.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-15】

The sunlight seeps through the cracks between branches and leaves, casting warm and cozy light and shadows onto the city in the afternoon.

I purchase a set of casual clothes for Vic-Vic. After changing out of that weathered suit, we step out of the store. As we walk, I pause and gesture towards the faraway direction.

MC: That direction leads to the central hospital. It’s only a ten-minute walk straight ahead. There's also a square in the vicinity, which is perfect for leisurely strolls and relaxation...

My fingertips dance in the air, gently tapping on the distant skyscrapers.

MC: See that building? That’s LFG, the number one financial giant in the country!

MC: It has ventured into many industries. My company was on the brink of bankruptcy, but fortunately, we received their capital injection and made a remarkable comeback…

The man listens quietly, his gaze lingering on the imposing silhouette of the building for a long, long time, as if lost in deep rumination. There is a touch of wistfulness in his eyes and the faint furrow of his brows.

As I watch his silent profile, a sudden pang of unbearable emotions pierces through my heart.

What would this person’s life have been like in the past? Would it have mirrored his current demeanor, occasionally taking moments to pause and gaze at the distant scenery?

While I don’t know what he must have been through that shaped him into his current state, I can’t help feeling that he shouldn’t be so lonely and alone.

The mirage he saw, the person he’s been relentlessly searching for, must surely be someone who had been by his side all along, right?

A bitter tang involuntarily overwhelms my heart. I let out a quiet sigh, speaking softly.

MC: Well, since there’s no rush anyway, let’s rest here for a while.

MC: First, I’ll buy some things for you nearby. I’ll come back to find you shortly. Wait for me here, okay?

The man remains silent and simply gives a quiet nod.

I hurriedly dash to the nearby supermarket and pick up some essential daily supplies. Inadvertently, my gaze sweeps across the store windows, but I don’t see his figure.

I can’t help but freeze for a moment, setting down the shopping basket under the perplexed gaze of the shop assistant, and hastily rush out of the store.

…was he ostracized and forced back into that disordered space? Or did he run into some kind of danger?

As my pace involuntarily quickens more and more, I trot back to the footbridge, anxiously looking around in all directions.

Amidst scattered pedestrians on the stairs and the dense dancing shadows of trees on the street corners… until my gaze crosses over the bushes by the roadside, I finally spot that figure.

He is half-squatted in the sandpit at the center of the street park, his gaze lowered as he observes something intently.

Encircled by the playful and joyous children, his tall, slender physique seems somewhat inharmonious. Yet, he remains completely unaffected, silently gazing at the palm of his hand.

It feels as if my heart, which was hanging in the air, has finally found its place to settle. I release a long-awaited breath of relief and quickly cross the road, taking a few quick strides until I reach him.

MC: How did you end up here? You scared me.

Man (Victor): A kid suddenly kicked his ball onto the road, and I stopped it.

As he says this, his gaze remains fixed on the sand particles in his hand, as if he is lost in memories.

Unable to resist my curiosity, I find myself squatting down beside him, asking him softly.

MC: You’ve been staring at it in a daze. Did it trigger any memories for you?

Man (Victor): No… but it feels somewhat familiar.

Man (Victor): It feels like… I may have experienced something similar in the past.

Something slightly stirs inside me, and a blurry silhouette seems to appear before my eyes. Despite my efforts to recollect, the details elude my memory.

MC: It’s probably a sense of déjà vu.

MC: I have this persistent feeling that I used to play like this when I was a kid.

I speak while patting the sand mound several times, and with my fingertips, I causally poke a few holes and mold them into a rudimentary sandcastle.

MC: For instance, playing soccer or building sandcastles… it seems like these games are an integral part of everyone’s childhood.

The man’s eyes land on the outline of the sandcastle, and a flicker of light dances within his gaze.

He remains silent and simply loosens his grip, allowing the fine sand to slowly trickle through his fingers. Then, he turns his gaze to my empty palms.

Man (Victor): What about the things you went to buy?

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-16】

I follow his gaze, and feeling a bit embarrassed, I place my hands behind my back.

MC: I was in such a rush to find you that I left before settling the bill.

MC: …you’re not allowed to call me a “dummy”!

Before the man can say anything, I fix my gaze on his somewhat helpless expression and subconsciously begin to refute. He gives me a slightly teasing glance and speaks in a low voice.

Man (Victor): Seems like someone feels guilty.

MC: This is called “taking precaution in advance”! It’s not like you haven’t said it before, remember?

MC: Let’s go. It’s not too late to go together now, and you can also pick some other items that might come in handy.

I counter with a self-righteous air, and upon hearing the man with apparent helplessness, he unhurriedly follows behind me.

I can’t help but curl up the corners of my lips, and my steps also become a little brisker.

??: It’s been a while, QUEEN.

Hearing that word now makes me startled like a skittish bird. I involuntarily hold my breath and look toward the source of the sound.

A young man stands next to the display window of a designer toy store, his emerald green eyes firmly locked on me.

He appears very young, but there is a serenity in his eyes that belies his age.

MC: Who are you? Have we met before?

Eos: In this world, you can address me as Eos. To be precise, this marks our first encounter.

The young man’s reply is delivered in an unhurried manner, carrying a sense of calmness that seems out of sync with the fast-paced times.

Eos: During our previous encounter in the Land of Advent, I faced various constraints and could only appear cloaked. I apologize for any inconvenience caused.

–

[Tidbits]: Eos is referring to S2 CH 37; but now they remember it as erased and altered of the details where Victor was involved~ (┳Д┳)

–

Eos… the Land of Advent?

With these words, the memories of that moment when I was forced to reveal my identity in front of the main gods come rushing back to me.

Once again, as I recall the disheveled and anxious state from that time, my jaws tighten slightly.

At this moment, the man seems to sense the stalemate between me and Eos. He stands behind me and gently pats my shoulder.

A sudden boost of confidence surfaces in my restless heart. I subtly shake my head to reassure the man and lift my gaze to look at Eos.

MC: So, the great generation of the first gods reveals himself to me in his true form. What message do you have for me?

Eos: It just so happens that I spotted you, and I was wondering if you could do me a favor.

As if not picking up on the sarcasm in my tone, Eos points to a doll displayed in the shop window.

Eos: I wish to purchase this, but I’m unsure why, the shop assistant informed me that I’m not eligible.

MC: …

I didn’t anticipate the other party to speak in this kind of a deadpan tone about such a matter. But I still muster my patience and go over to take a look at the label.

MC: This doll is a merchandise from a virtual reality game developed by a company called Infinite.

MC: You need to buy their blind box first, which has a chance of containing closed beta experience vouchers for the game. Then, within the game, you can obtain the eligibility to make the purchase…

MC: In short, it’s not something you can simply buy with money.

Eos: So that’s how it is…

Eos casts a glance at the game promotional poster on the side and shakes his head.

Eos: The commercial norms in this world are far more intricate than what I observed in my records, yet the technological advancement is so far behind… never mind, it’s a waste of time.

What is this person talking about? Could it be that he came from another world?

As I ponder in my mind, Eos’s green eyes happen to shift onto my face.

Eos: Speaking of which, there are traces of fragments from many worlds on you. Have you been on a trip recently?

MC: What trip… hold on, how do you know I’ve recently traveled to many worlds?

Eos: The spacecraft Bennu, which I traveled on, was constructed using the power of QUEEN to establish interdimensional travel routes. As the QUEEN yourself, it’s natural for you to go on such trips.

–

[Tidbits]: The spacecraft Bennu is a reference to West Moon CH 10; where MC’s master aka Eos, explained to her how Victor had used his heart’s blood and the Demon King’s Pact to tear open the space-time rift caused by “Bennu” flying and sent the QUEEN aka MC to the past~ (┳Д┳)

–

I’m slightly taken aback by the person’s sudden matter-of-fact tone. Why is he suddenly being so prompt with his responses?

Although the answers don’t quite align with what I was expecting, I’m able to extract the key point from them––

This person is very familiar with navigating through different worlds.

— could it be possible to take advantage of the information gap between me and him to trick him into divulging something?

I swiftly glance at the man next to me. Perhaps I can also help him retrieve some of the things that belong to him.

MC: Haha, yeah, but it’s still quite laborious for me to travel between worlds. After all, I still need to navigate through disordered space during the transition.

Eos: Disordered space?

A trace of surprise crosses Eos’s face when he hears the term, but it doesn’t seem like he is unfamiliar with it.

Eos: It seems that you haven’t yet found the correct approach to utilize your power, which is why you find yourself in that realm of exile.

Eos: It’s best to steer clear of that place.

MC: Why should I steer clear?

Eos: It’s not safe. If you meet someone who has been banished by time there, your own time and space regulations will be disrupted.

Eos: And if you have prolonged interaction with someone who doesn’t exist in this world, even as QUEEN, you will still be affected.

People banished by time? Someone who doesn’t exist in this world? He couldn’t be referring to someone like Vic-Vic, could he?

A pang of bitterness wells up in my heart, and I anxiously press for more information.

MC: Is it possible for those who have been banished to return to their original world?

Eos: I’m not sure. I haven’t encountered a similar situation.

Eos’s voice pauses, and there’s a touch of interest in his tone.

Eos: Have you met someone like that?

MC: No, no.

I immediately deny it. Even though his tone is friendly now, I can’t forget the previous instance where he had provided assistance only to backstab later.

MC: I just… uh…

Man (Victor): You can say that you’re curious whether your power, in turn, would have an impact on the banished individuals.

As I find myself stumbling for words, a deep voice lands in my ear. I hastily repeat what he says. Eos mulls it over for a moment.

Eos: You can try to get that person to establish a connection with the world.

Eos: With someone to bind them, there may be a reason for them to leave their mark on the world.

MC: A bond, huh… I understand now. Thank you.

Although I’m unsure of why he is being so generous this time, I still politely thank him.

After glancing at the toy in the display window again, Eos lifts his foot and walks past me. However, just as he brushes by, he suddenly stops and offers me a smile.

Eos: If you make any progress with that person who has been banished, you can contact me. It used to be one of my research alternatives as well.

His radiant green eyes seem to pierce through my face and fixate on the figure of “non-existent” Vic-Vic behind me.

Before I can gather my thoughts, Eos has already turned around and walked into the crowd, disappearing from sight in an instant.

I blink my eyes and turn around, forcing a wry smile as I look at the man.

MC: Unfortunately, he didn’t tell us much useful information either…

Man (Victor): It’s okay. It’s already enough.

The man withdraws his gaze from the spot where EOS has disappeared and speaks softly.

Man (Victor): Didn’t you say we were going to the supermarket? Let’s go.

I nod my head. But as the supermarket gets closer and closer, I find myself unconsciously slowing down my steps.

Once he settles down, doesn’t that mean he will have established a connection with the world?

Does that mean he will no longer need me in his future life?

Almost as if guided by a mysterious force, I point towards the riverbank not far away.

MC: …I-I just remembered that there’s an event tonight on the cruise ship, and I can you take there.

MC: We can buy daily necessities later. Would you like to go and see the river view?

I glance at the person next to me and extend an invitation as I pretend to be natural. But the ending notes of my voice trail off involuntarily.

A silence envelopes my ears, and the man doesn’t respond. I begin to feel a little apprehensive, but a moment later, I hear him speak.

Man (Victor): [chuckles very softly and a little knowingly] Hmm, then let’s see the night of Loveland City.

–

[Anika’s Notes]: !!! Despite all the obviously painful call-backs, this “the feeling of the whole city under your feet at night dispels your anxiety” call-back somehow pierces my kokoro in places I cannot explain–– (┳Д┳)

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-17】

The river water glistens, and the cruise ship docked beside the pier is also bathed in the twilight. Vaguely, we can see a few scattered shadows on the deck.

I straighten my skirt and hand the electronic invitation on my phone to the waiter. They quickly scan it, and a warm smile lightens up their face.

Waiter: Miss MC, welcome aboard!

Waiter: The meals and drinks are all prepared. Please make yourself comfortable and enjoy. The ship will depart shortly.

I nod and leisurely step onto the gangway. It’s only when there is nobody around do I quietly whisper to the person next to me.

MC: How is it? The scenery here is very beautiful, isn’t it~

The man gazes at the scenery on both sides, and a subtle smile carrying a sense of solace graces his eyes. It’s an expression I’ve rarely seen on him.

Man (Victor): [laughs softly] It’s not bad.

As I watch his rarely relaxed side profile, the corners of my lips can’t help but curl up slightly. I tilt my head and gaze at the scenery on the river.

The lights in the nearby and far-off office buildings are lit up, creating shimmering reflections on the river’s surface, reminiscent of a flowing galaxy. The sound of a steam whistle shatters the brief silence as the cruise ship slowly moves forward.

The realization of having to part with him upon reaching the shore dominates my thoughts. I involuntarily smooth down my windblown hair while fixating my gaze on the river’s surface, speaking softly.

MC: After you’ve settled into your place, you’ll need to think about your source of income, right? If you need any help, you can come to me for anything.

MC: [MC’s Company Name] sometimes needs to conduct undercover interviews, and you should be able to handle them with ease.

Man (Victor): Are you this worried for just about anyone?

MC: …I certainly am not. It’s the fact that I’ve been through “life and death perils” together with you, so I’ll do the best of my abilities to help.

While speaking, a faint rumble suddenly emanates from my stomach. I cough lightly and shift the subject as if nothing has happened.

MC: I just noticed they’ve set up a buffet over there. Tonight, you can indulge yourself in a sumptuous feast!

Man (Victor): [chuckles teasingly] I suppose it’s not me who wants to indulge in a sumptuous feast, is it?

As I listen to his proficient teasing, a momentary glimpse of something seems to cross my mind, but I’m unable to grasp onto it. I let out a soft “humph” and walk with him to the buffet area, selecting a few dishes.

After just savoring the first bite of the crunchy lamb chop, the succulent and tender flavor instantly causes me to blissfully squint my eyes.

MC: Crispy on the outside, tender on the inside. So yummy!

Man (Victor): [sounds like subconsciously musing to himself] The lamb meat is fresh and not gamy. Indeed, it’s good. If it’s pan-seared with a little less heat and seasoned with white pepper powder, the texture would be even better.

I find myself somewhat amazed as I listen–– though, to be fair, he has already brought me numerous unexpected surprises.

MC: Were you a food connoisseur before? Or maybe a chef?

He half-jokingly lifts the corners of his lips.

Man (Victor): [chuckles teasingly] What? Do you still need to hire a chef?

MC: Well, it’s not entirely off the table…

??: Miss MC.

I haven’t yet finished my sentence when I hear a cordial greeting suddenly coming from behind me. I turn around and find myself facing a man dressed in a suit who holds glasses of wine, approaching me with a beaming smile on his face.

Taking a few steps forward, he seamlessly positions himself in the gap between me and the man.

Man (Victor): [clearly irritated by the audacity] …

The man furrows his brows slightly. Without showing any outward sign, I silently take a half-step back, the corners of my lips curling into a subtle professional smile.

Sun Jing: The name’s Sun Jing, the one who contacted you via email. Thank you so much for doing us the honor of attending this networking event.

MC: Thank you as well for providing this opportunity to admire the night view. On that note, your company has quite a reputation in the advertising industry.

MC: Our company is currently exploring potential new advertising partners for the upcoming year. I was wondering if there might be an occasion for us to work together?

Sun Jing smiles, and with perfect composure, he hands me one of the wine glasses.

Sun Jing: Absolutely. It’s just that the price quote for this year hasn’t been finalized yet. Once it goes through the departmental review, it will still need to be passed on to the board of directors for approval.

MC: Is that how it is? Well, in that case, please let us know as soon as there are any updates so that we can make the preparations accordingly.

Sun Jing: For sure. I’m also looking forward to the prospect of collaborating with a reputable company like [MC’s Company Name].

As Sun Jing speaks, his gaze casually sweeps over the wine glass in my hand. And then he turns around and walks away.

I withdraw my gaze and subtly straighten my posture.

MC: Ahem, did you hear that? [MC’s Company Name] is well-regarded in the industry. Once you’ve settled in, you can consider the proposal I just made.

I lift my wine glass as I speak, but the man stops me before it can touch my lips.

Man (Victor): There is something a little odd about what that person said.

MC: What do you mean?

Perplexed, I elevate my gaze and observe the man as he watches the other’s party’s receding figure, furrowing my brows slightly.

Man (Victor): The price quotes of advertising agencies vary depending on the scale and type of projects, and there is no standardized flat rate quote listed in a table.

Man (Victor): The board of directors only focuses on reviewing and approving operational decisions, and they rarely get involved in documents of this nature.

MC: …how do you have such detailed knowledge about this?

Man (Victor): Just intuition.

The man withdraws his gaze while he speaks, but his tone carries an unquestionable sense of certainty.

Man (Victor): His words just now don’t hold up when examined closely.

Man (Victor): Are you sure he is the person you interacted with regarding business matters?

MC: Kiki was the one in charge of handling the coordination before, and I actually haven’t met him before…

The evening breeze from the river seems to give me a start, suddenly putting me on high alert. I scan the surroundings without betraying any emotions and can’t help but break out into a cold sweat.

Perhaps his words have triggered a sense of suspicion in me, as I can’t shake the feeling that the bearings of the guests on the ship seem somewhat unnatural.

Feigning an expression of watching the riverside scenery, I speak to the man.

MC: Something doesn’t feel right. I have this nagging feeling that quite a few people here are keeping a close eye on me?

Man (Victor): Why don’t we verify it, then? The area behind the cabin is a blind spot where your view can be obstructed. Let’s go there and wait for a few minutes.

Man (Victor): If they really entertain ulterior motives, they might also come closer to ensure you remain within their sight range.

After pondering for a moment, I act as if the wind is making me cold and shiver, positioning myself towards one side of the cabin.

The heavy iron plates separate me from the view of others. I suppress my wildly beating heart and carefully observe the long, narrow aisle.

Sure enough, footsteps resonate outside the passageway. Several guests seem to nonchalantly walk nearby, but their gazes dart toward me intermittently.

…it’s not just unfounded suspicion. These people are indeed observing my every move.

I exhale a light breath, watching as the man wanders among the guests for a while, seemingly listening intently to something. As he approaches me, his face takes on a graver demeanor.

MC: Did you hear anything just now?

The man glances at those suspicious-looking individuals.

Man (Victor): Almost everyone on the ship is Mr. Sun’s people.

Man (Victor): Something was also added to the drink he gave you earlier.

I slightly tighten my grip on the wine glass, my heart tightening as well.

To rephrase this, I was ensnared in a trap from the moment I set foot on this cruise ship.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-19】

Beneath the drapery of the night, silence permeates the river’s surface, occasionally cut through by the slow sailing of one or two cruise ships. But they always remain at a considerable distance.

Currently, calling for help may not ensure our escape from danger and could instead beat the grass to scare the snakes.

I force myself to calm down and lift the wine glass to my lips, speaking in a hushed tone.

MC: We need to make them expose their intentions so that we can act accordingly, don’t you think?

The man seems to realize something, as a subtle sense of disapproval crests between his eyebrows.

Man (Victor): Pretending to be unconscious is equivalent to surrendering the initiative, which involves a significant amount of risk.

MC: Of course, I’m aware of that. But, it’s only when I successfully “become unconscious” that they can lower their guard and reveal their true color.

MC: As for the risks… with an exclusive trump card like you by my side, I have nothing to fear.

MC: Perhaps you are the god sent from the heavens to protect me.

I pretend to remain calm as I speak, but my voice betrays a barely perceptible tremor. The man’s gaze lands on my face, and he suddenly speaks.

Man (Victor): [sighs, carrying an undertone of complex emotions] Does this classify as employment?

I freeze for a moment, but then I smile, slightly raising my lips.

MC: Mhm, I’ll pay you ten times your regular salary.

I speak while raising the glass, pretending to have finished the drink under the watchful eyes of the individuals at different proximities.

Then, I pretend to lean against the railing, giving the impression of being slightly drunk. After a brief moment, I hear him remind me.

Man (Victor): Mr. Sun is checking his watch; it’s about time.

Steeling my heart, I shut my eyes and topple straight backward.

At the right moment before I would’ve landed on the deck, the pain I anticipated didn’t hit me. Instead, my back is gently cradled by a touch.

Man (Victor): [the tone of “Victor-indulgent-exasperation”] Are you a dummy? Couldn’t you have fallen sideways?

As I surreptitiously pout my lips, I hear a brief lull in the distant conversations, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Man (Victor): He is coming towards you.

Man (Victor): Relax a bit, don’t squeeze your eyes shut so tightly. The quivering of your eyelashes is too obvious.

MC: …

Heeding the suggestion, I adjust my expression accordingly. Almost immediately, I hear Mr. Sun’s probing voice ringing out.

Sun Jing: Miss MC? Are you feeling unwell?

Sun Jing: Do you need me to call a doctor for you? Miss MC?

I remain completely motionless, my eyes shut tightly, letting him impatiently call out to me several times without giving out any reaction whatsoever.

After a brief silence in my ears, a cold snort reaches me. The anxiety in Sun Jing’s voice has now been replaced by a frigid coldness.

Sun Jing: All good, she’s passed out.

Sun Jing: Hurry and tie her up. You guys, go to the cockpit.

As his words echo, my wrist is gripped without warning, and I’m dragged a few steps before being forcefully pushed, causing my back to collide with the wall.

In front of me is pitch-black darkness, with only the sensation of coldness coursing through my wrist. Then, in the next second, something rough and coarse coils around my wrist.

I exert myself to restrain my shudder and hear a familiar voice speak up.

Man (Victor): [softly] Don’t be afraid, it’s just a rope. He doesn’t have any weapons to harm you with.

With the reassuring certitude, my strained nerves are finally able to relax a little.

While my eyes remain shut, I hear hurried footsteps fading away and then returning, followed by someone speaking in a low voice.

??: Boss, everything has been set up.

Sun Jing: Then don’t waste any more time. Lower the speedboat immediately.

Sun Jing: The only way we can ensure the organization’s efforts were not in vain is by pushing the blame for this woman’s death onto those people.

Organization… could they be members of GR? Or is it BS?

Sun Jing: When the moment comes, and NW finds evidence pointing to BS, it will be a spectacle to watch those Evolvers fighting like dogs amongst themselves!

Given their hostile attitude towards Evolvers, undoubtedly, they are from GR. But why would they want NW to implicate BS?

As my thoughts are racing at lightning speed, I suddenly hear the man speak in a low voice.

?? (Victor): How did it come to a point where even lives are at stake?

?? (Victor): Is this the “industry giant structure” you want to recruit me into?

MC: …

I exhale slowly, still maintaining an expressionless face as if I were in a deep state of unconsciousness, and listen to the footsteps gradually receding into the distance.

The surroundings lapse into quietude, and I can faintly hear the sound of the waves.

Man (Victor): Don’t be scared, they’ve all left.

Accompanied by the sound of his voice, the rope tightly binding my wrists is sliced into several segments, falling onto the deck.

I heave a sigh of relief and open my eyes, only to see that the deck that was brimming with laughter and voices earlier has suddenly become devoid of any human presence.

The only sound present is the sound of the ship cutting through the waves, enveloping us from all directions.

MC: Where have they all gone?

Man (Victor): They have already disembarked from the ship.

I cast a suspicious glance across the desk but don’t notice any peculiarities. After mulling for a moment, I turn to him with a hint of helplessness.

MC: It’s often said that a bystander can see things more objectively than those involved. Can you help me analyze the current situation?

Man (Victor): [visibly taken aback] …this is a matter of life and death. Are you sure you want to seek the help of someone you’ve only known for such a short time?

MC: It’s stemmed from my trust in you! Furthermore, judging from what we’ve just experienced, I think you have strong analytical abilities.

The man arches his eyebrow slightly, suggesting he has no objections.

MC: Actually, I have a special kind of power in me…

I try to organize my words as comprehensively and succinctly as possible, explaining to him the “CORE” in me, the attacks by GR, and the persistent undercurrents in this ostensibly peaceful world.

MC: …lately, GR’s actions have either been forced to cease or they have failed to achieve their goal.

MC: I initially thought they would lay low for some time, but today they hastily devised this plan…

The man ruminates intently for a while, then shakes his head.

Man (Victor): Based on what you’ve told me, it seems more like they are already at the end of their rope.

MC: What?

Man (Victor): I’m unclear about the backgrounds of these organizations you mentioned. But in the business world, well-operated companies usually proceed in any direction with caution and thorough planning.

Man (Victor): Conversely, companies that have existing problems are more likely to take risks in order to secure funding.

Deep in contemplation, I prop my chin with one hand, my tone unconsciously tinged with admiration as I speak.

MC: How come I didn’t consider it from this angle before? Indeed, this sort of radical behavior can be explained if they’re in a do-or-die situation.

MC: Your analysis is so strategically discerning… who knows, maybe you were in charge of a company that was even more formidable than LFG!

A smile, carrying with it a hint of helplessness, steaks through the man’s eyes.

Man (Victor): [chuckles helplessly] Exaggerating again.

MC: I’m being serious, you––

My words are abruptly interrupted by the sound of machinery operating beneath my feet. Accompanied by a slight vibration, the cruise ship, which has been at a standstill, suddenly resumes its functions.

Caught off guard, I find myself falling onto the sofa and grasping the railing with one hand, a hint of nervousness taking over my voice.

MC: Weren’t those people already gone?

MC: Then how could the cruise ship be moving forward on its own?

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【CH 46-20】

The cruise ship races through the river, swiftly cutting through the layers of waves like an arrow. In the distance, the pier begins to come into view, its outline faintly becoming visible amidst the darkness of the night.

The man and I quickly rush towards the cabin. But as soon as we open the door to the cockpit, we can’t help but be frozen in place.

On the massive dashboard, dozens of push buttons are densely arranged, and the text on them has become blurred and difficult to read.

The clock inlaid on the edge seems to be coated with a layer of oily film, flickering with a dim, red light.

I hurriedly take several steps forward, while my eyes dart around anxiously.

MC: Why are there no signs anywhere…

The man lifts his hand and grasps the helm, making a forceful turn without the slightest hesitation. Despite so, the cruise ship shows no sign of steering whatsoever and continues its direct course to advance toward the pier.

Man (Victor): …the navigation system is locked, and the helm now is just a mere ornament.

While we are talking, the outline of the pier becomes increasingly clear on our horizon. If this continues, the cruise ship will inevitably collide with the pier, resulting in a public accident!

I anxiously open my phone and begin searching. I can feel my fingertips tremble.

MC: Operating instructions… there must be driving manuals or guides available online for this type of cruise ship…

Man (Victor): I’ll give it a shot.

My head shoots up, a flicker of consternation crossing my eyes.

MC: You…

Man (Victor): There are many things I don’t remember, but it seems like I have a sense of how things are done.

Man (Victor): It’s like the feeling I had when I could detect the loopholes in those peoples’ conversations before. I have an analogous feeling now too.

Man (Victor): Are you willing to take a gamble with me?

A familiar conversation echoes in my ears, only this time, the person who has to respond is myself.

I find myself struggling to curl my lips into a smile, gazing into his eyes.

MC: Absolutely! Although I don’t know why, I feel like everything will be alright with you here.

The man nods and stands in front of the dashboard for a brief moment before decisively pressing several buttons.

The sound of the control keys reverberates intermittently, while the red light on the dashboard casts a flickering reflection on the glass, sending waves of alarms through the mind.

I stand nervously on the side, watching as the bow of the ship approaches the direction of the pier at top speed. After the man presses a certain lever, there is a sudden jolt, and the speed gradually slows down.

My tense shoulders instantly loosen to some extent, and only then do I take a breath and exhale.

MC: I’m overthrowing my previous assumptions. With such skill in operating the ship, you must’ve been a wealthy magnate who owned multiple cruise ships.

The man glances at me, his jawline beaded with a sheen of sweat.

Man (Victor): Chef, CEO, wealthy magnate… how many more guesses do you have about my identity?

MC: After all, it seems like there’s nothing in this world that you can’t do!

I lean back against the wall as I speak, relaxing myself. Without meaning to, my palm supports itself on the surface of the clock casing in the corner of the control panel, staining it with a layer of grime.

I lower my head to wipe it off, but as I look closely, I notice the time jumping from 0:21 to 0:20 on the cleaned dial.

…are the digits on it moving backward?

As soon as this realization dawns on me, a wave of chillness instantly crawls through my entire body.

Accompanied by a deafening explosion, the colossal hull of the ship shakes violently, almost causing us to tumble in a downward trajectory.

As I stagger and careen to the side, my head collides with a warm chest. A hand swiftly shields my shoulder, pulling me into an embrace and keeping me away from the oncoming blast waves.

I don’t know how many minutes have gone by before the noise finally calms down. I rise to my feet, placing a hand over my numb chest in lingering fear, and then I hear the man speak in a deep voice.

Man (Victor): Move cautiously and stay alert to any sounds in the surroundings.

Man (Victor): If I were the one and my intention was to kill the person, I wouldn’t have just orchestrated a single round of explosion.

My heart can’t help but sink. The man helps me up, and we both survey our surroundings from all directions.

Man (Victor): The lower compartment beneath the ship’s hold must have already taken in water. Let’s go to the stern first.

Man (Victor): The fire will draw attention from nearby rescue teams. There should be people arriving before the ship sinks.

I nod indiscriminately, steadying myself against the nearby wall, and begin walking towards the stern along the now slightly tilted deck.

After taking a few steps, I suddenly hear a subtle sloshing sound amidst the waves.

My heart tightens. At lightning speed, I lean over the railing to peer outside, and my eyes are met with the sight of another box flickering with a terror-striking red light, pulsating in sync with the ship’s tumultuous motion.

The digits on the display have already jumped from 0:05 to 0:004. Knowing there’s no time to actually turn my head, I let out a violent shout.

MC: Watch out! There’s another bomb here!

An ear-shattering explosion erupts, and I’m hurled forcefully to the ground. My ears are flooded with a buzzing noise as I struggle to lift my head, only to find myself confronted by a searing surge of heat.

Instinctively, I use my arms to shield my head, bracing myself for the anticipated pain.

–– ***[the BGM pauses here for a few seconds, giving the impression as if your heart itself has stopped beating]***

All of a sudden, an astounding silence descends upon the surroundings, as if someone has pressed the pause button on the world.

I slowly open my eyes and see the crimson flames frozen motionless in the air. Countless luminous sparks and shattered shards of glass hang suspended, creating a spectacle of twinkling lights and shadows.

Amidst the frozen firelights, the man rushes towards me, his anxious eyes reflecting my figure.

I find myself in shock as I take everything in. It’s not until he reaches my side that I mumble––

MC: What did you do?

Man (Victor): [voice literally shaking like an earthquake] I have no idea…

He casts his eyes down, gazing at his own palm, his eyes reflecting a mixture of complex emotions. After a brief moment, he finally speaks.

Man (Victor): No, I know.

Man (Victor): [voice still shaking] I might have… paused time.

MC: Paused time…

I feel as if a key has opened a small crack, allowing a hazy light to shine into the murky depths of sealed memories.

–

[Tidbits]: Just a refresher— the memories MC describes here are the call-backs to S2 CH 25 (will come back to this later)~ ╥﹏╥

–

Not so long ago, amid the chaotic ruins, it appeared as though there was someone resolutely standing in front of me.

His voice pierced through the mayhem of falling rubbles, shouting my name over and over again;

The palm that reached out to me was oozing vivid red blood, enveloping me tightly in his arms;

I make a desperate effort to remember that almost palpable figure, but my mind seems to be covered by a heavy layer of dust.

Tears rain down unknowingly, and an indistinct ache lingers in a certain corner of my heart. I grasp the man’s hand in anguish and helplessness, holding onto it like a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood.

MC: [sobbing] Why…

Why… who exactly are you?

Within the solidified flames, a black vortex suddenly materializes, accompanied by the unprompted sound of a mechanical violin. From within it, a person with hazed facial features walks out unhurriedly.

MC: …Zero?

I find myself momentarily stunned, as a slight sense of dissonance flickers in my mind. Why do I know this person’s name?

However, the other party’s gaze doesn’t rest on me but instead turns towards the person beside me.

Zero: [to Victor] This is not a place where you can stay.

The black vortex abruptly swallows half of the man’s form, and Zero’s voice rises.

Zero: [to MC] This is the inevitable price that Victor must bear… and so must you.

With the sound of these words, the speed of the swirling vortex suddenly accelerates.

MC: Wait… wait a moment, VICTOR!!

Without a moment’s thinking, I yell out this name instantly, as if I’ve uttered this name hundreds and thousands of times before.

MC: [sobbing] I will definitely find you again!

Through the murky haze, I see the man’s head snap up. He parts his lips as if he is trying to say something.

In the next moment, his figure completely disappears into the vortex.

—

[Note]: CH 46 ends here, and it cuts into the next chapter. The following 2 monologues are about Victor, so I thought to include them~ :>

—

The hustle and bustle of the world resumes, making me feel a little disoriented.

The burning flames sting my eyes. However, no matter what, it cannot erase that disappearing figure from my mind.

BANG––

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

✧ [Anika’s Analysis + Ramblings] ✧

this is long, like really really long. so a big hug from me beforehand haha ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

—

#word count: 2.2K+#HAHAHAHA I STILL HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY LMAO ANYWAY #BLESS VICTOR WRITERS IS MY CONCLUSION— (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)#mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

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no-side-us · 3 days

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The Invisible Man, Ch. 15 - The Man Who Was Running

In the early evening time Dr. Kemp was sitting in his study in the belvedere on the hill overlooking Burdock. It was a pleasant little room, with three windows—north, west, and south—and bookshelves covered with books and scientific publications, and a broad writing-table, and, under the north window, a microscope, glass slips, minute instruments, some cultures, and scattered bottles of reagents. Dr. Kemp’s solar lamp was lit, albeit the sky was still bright with the sunset light, and his blinds were up because there was no offence of peering outsiders to require them pulled down. Dr. Kemp was a tall and slender young man, with flaxen hair and a moustache almost white, and the work he was upon would earn him, he hoped, the fellowship of the Royal Society, so highly did he think of it.

We finally meet Dr. Kemp, probably the most recognizable character from this story besides Griffin. And from this first, single paragraph alone, I think it's clear his character is a contrast to Griffin's.

If you go through it, everything about Kemp's situation is the opposite of what Griffin's was. Instead of Griffin's tiny inn parlor room with a small window in the middle of town, Kemp has a "pleasant little room" with three windows encompassing a lovely view of the entire town. Griffin has his three notebooks and "thousand and one bottles," compared to Kemp's library of scientific publications and variety of "minute instruments."

The writing even makes note that, unlike Griffin, Kemp has no need to pull down his blinds because there's "no offence of peering outsiders to require them pulled down."

The most ironic part of it is though that despite how much better off he is than Griffin, the resources, the comfort, the visibility, he's still working on a project he hopes will earn him a fellowship at the Royal Society. This is as compared to Griffin who has obviously managed to create complete invisibility despite his dire financial situation, and probably would have a fellowship if he were better off.

Though I don't want to say they're complete opposites. If anything, their similarities highlight their contrasts. Aside from the obvious fact that they're both scientists (or experimental investigators as the book calls it), they also both have a streak of superiority in them, presumably because their status as scientists gives them a perceived better understanding of things. Kemp has a "belvedere on the hill overlooking Burdock," where he can literally look down upon the whole town. Griffin sees the people of Iping as "stupid bumpkins" and fools who don't know any better.

They have other similarities too, but I'll get into it when they're revealed. Regardless, I think this chapter does well to introduce Kemp to us, and while it doesn't exactly endear him, it does provide a seemingly better version of Griffin in most respects, which is interesting.

#the invisible man #invisible man #the invisible mail #hg wells

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miikishii · 6 months

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To Hold the Sea | Ch. 15

main masterlist

series masterpost | previous chapter | next chapter

synopsis: a good lazy day.

warnings: one suggestive joke

A soothing warmth embraces you, rousing you softly from sleep. As your eyes open, you’re met with a mass of wavy brown hair strewn across your chest. When you stretch your arms above your head, Dazai lifts his face to meet you. His eyes are barely open in his haze, but he nods at you; he doesn’t say good morning, but it’s close enough to a greeting. You bring a hand to comb through his hair gently. You’re well-rested, finally. You’re calm, finally.

You don’t say anything, just continue working your hands through his hair. You stare blankly at the ceiling, thinking to yourself. Whenever you woke up together, he always felt so distant; it was just something about him. But now, it seems, there’s nothing between you; no invisible barrier; no strange feeling of disappointment. Carefully, Dazai inches closer to your face. Your hands shift down slowly, tracing shapes on his shoulder blades. You smile at him,

“Good morning.”

“I’m cold…” he says groggily, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You take the blanket covering you and pull it up over his shoulders.

“Better?”

“Perfect.”

You can hear rain outside, but the sun still peeks through the clouds and into your window.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” you say softly. He just nuzzles further into your neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers; you chuckle and place a hand on the back of his head. You stay that way for a while. At some point, you try to get up, but he doesn’t budge. You sigh, but, nonetheless, you let him keep you. He smooths a hand up and down your side and places a soft kiss on your jaw,

“What do you think you’re doing?” you feel his smile, his lips pressed to your neck,

“Hopefully you.” he tries his best not to laugh.

“Ha ha, very funny.” you roll your eyes, “I’m hungry,” you say, trying to sit up. He doesn’t move at all, leaving you to struggle by yourself,

“Don’t go,” he whines.

“But I’m hungry..!”

“Five more minutes…”

“Ugh.”

You pout, but you know it really doesn’t bother you at all. He curls up closer to you again,

“I’m happy in moments like this; let me have this,” he says softly; it gives you pause.

“Happy…” you whisper to yourself.

“This is as close to perfection as I’ll ever get, as impossible as it is.” His words make you hug him a little tighter.

“I think you're right.” You smile. Your stomach growls.

“Breakfast is on me today.” He mumbles as if he regrets suggesting it.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

When you finally find the strength to get out of bed (push Dazai off of you) you get ready and sit in your living room while you wait for him. He walks out in his usual clothes, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The two of you walk to the train station holding hands in silence.

“It’s cold,” he mumbles to himself as he squeezes your hand a bit tighter.

“It’s a little chilly,” you say as he moves in closer to your side.

You don’t really think about where you’re going, your feet just happen to take you to the same place you always used to go. He lets go of your hand only to open the door for you,

“After you,” he bows and smiles. You roll your eyes and chuckle.

“Remember, breakfast is on you.”

“How could I forget?”

When you sit down he lays back in his chair, relaxed, waiting for you to say something. Instead, you enjoy the silence between you, sipping your drink idly, and staring at him. He hunches over his coffee, holding the mug to warm his hands.

“What else should we do today?” you ask.

“Stay home.”

“You don’t want to do anything else?”

“Nope. I’d like to take a nap today.” you stifle a laugh,

“We woke up, like, half an hour ago.”

“I’m just taking a page from Kunikida’s book; I’m planning ahead.”

“Maybe after your nap-”

“I was thinking it could be our nap.”

“Hm,” You stir your drink, “I’m okay with that.”

“Yes, so, anyways, after our nap…” he prompts you,

“We could watch something.” you shrug, “It’ll be a good lazy day.”

A good lazy day it is; breakfast is great and he pays without complaint, you walk home hand in hand, and sit at the kitchen island for a while. He reads while you scroll on your laptop. The lack of words between you makes the time that much more valuable; comfortable silence. When you move to the couch, he moves with you, not a word exchanged. He continues to read even when you turn on the TV and lay across his lap. Eventually, he puts the book down and drifts off, shifting onto his side to lay behind you, an arm draped over your waist.

“Our nap.” You say to yourself. You pull his hand to your chest, hugging it tightly, knowing many things could change in the next few weeks. You were no stranger to change, but it would never stop gnawing at you as it approached. And when it passes you by, it often comes back to nip at your ankles. Never stopping you, just biting enough to startle you. Even in your unhappiness, it’s sometimes hard to accept any change. Sometimes, the comfort in knowing that everything is the same is both your worst enemy and your greatest ally. As if he could feel your brain pacing in your skull, Dazai places a quick kiss on your head. Everything will be okay. He pulls you impossibly closer,

“Relax,” he whispers.

You squeeze his hand tight,” Okay.”

note: big things are coming I just really have to figure them tf out

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #ango x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd imagines #dazai bsd #dazai fluff #dazai angst #bsd dazai

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hazel-of-sodor · 5 months

Text

What's Lost is Found

Ch.15 Disappear