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zaffrenotes · 4 years ago

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[TRR x ES] Viewing Party

Book: The Royal Romance & Endless Summer Pairings: Liam x MC (Katrina Bailey), Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux), Jake x MC (Laurel) Rating/Warnings: G; mild innuendo Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Katrina Bailey & Laurel are the MCs I use when writing fanfic for TRR and ES, respectively; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to birthday girl @burnsoslow * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 80: Stop looking at me like that. * Author’s Note 2: * This is a birthday gift for my cheesy, potato loving homegirl Burnsie, who requested her very first Endless Summer/Jake fic, despite having never read any ES fic until now 🙈 for the sole reason being that she and Jake McKenzie are almost birthday twins, and my favorite pilot turns 30 this year. If you’re unfamiliar with canon ES trivia, Jake can hold his breath for 9 minutes, and Estela can hold her breath for an astonishing 14. This isn’t entirely what I had in mind when I set out to write an ES/Jake birthday fic, but I wasn’t about to miss your day because I’ve hit a whole ass writer’s wall, Burnsie! I hope you have an AMAZING day and I’m sending you so many hugs! You’re one of the sweetest ladies here, and I am so very thankful that I can call you a friend 🥰 also my real, real gift to you is coming at a later date, as I still have to work on it 😬 * and yes, that’s DDT in the moodboard - just for Burnsie, again - since I use Barnes as Drake’s FC in my TRR fics, lol * Word Count: 2000 on the dot!

It was nearly 10:00 PM on Friday evening, when Burns arranged things around the comfiest chair in her living room. The rest of her family already retired for the evening, after a small but wonderful birthday celebration in her honor at home. Within easy reach, she’d arranged drinks and snacks next to her laptop - a glass of water, a hot mug of tea, a slice of homemade birthday cake to take care of any sugar cravings, and a small platter of cheese and crackers for something more savory. She grinned softly at the newest addition to her mug collection, watching the steam rise from the contents within.

The lavender mug arrived in the mail earlier that day from one of her friends, emblazoned with a quote from David Rose. Burns took a sip of the warm beverage before setting it down on the small side table and situated herself in the chair. She flipped open the laptop and pulled up a browser window, smiling at a gift from another friend - there was a sticker next to the trackpad with a drawing of a wedge of Swiss, quoting another memorable line from Schitt’s Creek, reminding her to “fold in the cheese.” Burns glanced to the time on the screen and logged in to her Netflix account, clicking until she arrived at the viewing party, and began typing to join the group chat.

She was greeted with jubilant messages from Donna, Ella, Brandy, Anitah, and half a dozen other friends, wishing her a happy birthday before the show started. They’d formed an ever-growing viewing party for a new series titled Stranded in the Orchard, which was an odd amalgamation of Survivor and Gilligan’s Island. Taking a cue from reality tv competitions, there were hidden cameras all over the island to monitor everyone and reduce production crew intervention, and in a nod to Hunger Games, there was an omnipresent host that would drop messages to signal when challenges were about to take place. After four episodes, the ladies in the watching party started picking their favorites from the two teams.

Team Ruby consisted of a group that appeared to have been shipwrecked onto the island. Leo was dubbed The Rogue; his brother Liam was The CEO; Katrina was The Attorney; Alyssa was The Teacher; Drake was The Cowboy; Olivia was The Weapons Expert; Bertrand was The Grump; Madeleine was The Whiner; Maxwell was Bertrand’s brother and The Jester; Hana was The Jill of All Trades. Bertrand and Madeleine had already been voted off when Ruby lost two events.

Team Catalyst consisted of a group of mostly college students. Jake was The Pilot; Laurel was The Mystery Girl; Sean was The Coach; Michelle was The Doctor, even though she was only pre-med; Craig was The Muscle; Zahra was The Engineer; Aleister was The Slick One; Grace was The Brain; Diego was The Entertainer; Estela was The Huntress. Catalyst lost the last two events, which sent Aleister and Grace packing.

Everyone settled in to watch the opening credits as they recapped last week’s episode, where Ruby won the immunity challenge and fishing gear by building a makeshift stretcher to rescue and carry Katrina from a jungle crash site to a first aid station on the beach; Catalyst voted Grace out. Burns popped a cheese cube into her mouth as she and her friends watched the two groups deal with day-to-day chores in their respective camps on Day 14 of the show. They chatted about the team members and how much Burns wanted to see Drake take off his shirt to go in the water, despite the knowledge that there were clips of him cuddling with Alyssa; Donna, Ella, and Anitah would keysmash in the group chat any time Liam appeared on the screen, even though he and Katrina were clearly sweet on each other, while Brandy and Alyssa Lauren would ask what was happening or who someone was from the Catalyst team.

—

“Pillows and blankets are nice, but what we could really use is food,” Maxwell said, drawing an octopus in the sand with a piece of driftwood. “I don’t know how much longer I can last on coconuts and rice.”

“Liam and Drake took the raft out this morning to try fishing with the gear, maybe they’ll get lucky,” Katrina suggested, stirring the pot of rice in the fire. She set the lid on top and stood up from her kimchi squat position, dusting some errant sand off her leg. They both looked out towards the water, as dawn stretched out across the ocean, making out shadowy forms of their friends as they bobbed in the water, just before one of them went under the surface. Behind them, the rest of their friends began to stir awake from the scent of rice cooking.

Back at the Catalyst camp, Jake sat by the campfire with Estela; they were working on making their own fishing gear from bamboo and camp supplies after losing the previous challenge. Jake fed a length of twine through a handmade fishing pole while Estela sharpened tips on one end of a pile of branches she’d gathered. “Whatcha whittlin’, Katniss?”

Estela glanced at Jake sideways. “Stakes. Hand over some of that twine, I need it to bind these to make spears.” With a begrudging huff, Jake unfurled the twine and ran it against the edge of the makeshift bench he was sitting on to cut it, before tossing the rest at Estela.

“How fast can you tie those off? We’re losin’ daylight for a morning catch, if you wanna ride on the raft with me.”

“Five minutes,” she answered, already working nimbly around a branch to secure the whittled spikes.

The screen cut back to Ruby’s camp, where Liam and Drake stepped ashore, smiles brighter than the sunrise as Drake held up a fish trap with small rays flapping against one another.

—

“kjsdhfksjhfksjhfks,” Burns smashed into her keyboard. “Look at my man! With the sea bounty!”

“mevmnbvmnxb,” Ella smashed back.

“How do you know Drake did all the work? Liam’s just as wet, hahaha,” Donna chortled in response.

—

After killing their catch as humanely as possible - with Alyssa turning her face to Drake’s chest to avoid witnessing it - Leo and Olivia gutted and cleaned the rays before setting them on top of their makeshift grill to cook. Liam and Drake regaled the group with their morning under the water, as they took turns fishing.

While Team Ruby enjoyed some protein with their rice that morning, members of the Catalyst team glumly spooned rice into their mouths as they sat around the campfire while Jake and Estela dried off; their morning fishing trip had been unsuccessful.

Later that day, both teams received messages from the host to gather for a reward challenge. Each team made their way to a small lagoon, where they saw a structure floating in the water. A booming voice overhead instructed them to swim out to the structure and await further instructions. Once everyone from both teams had done so, a blue holographic image of the host appeared in the center to explain the rules. “The challenge is simple,” she narrated. “We want to see who can hold their breath the longest. There’s a bar you can use to keep yourself from floating up if you need it. Last one standing earns the prize for the whole team — an overnight trip at the Celestial Hotel, where our rotating film crew goes to rest. You’ll be treated to clean sheets and towels, hot showers, along with a decadent dinner and breakfast menu the next morning, before having to return to your camp.”

Everyone’s eyes lit up at the incentive of a night away from sleeping on the beach, away from mosquitos, rodents, and the threat of being waterlogged by passing storms. Stomachs gurgled at the thought of hot meals that didn’t consist of rice, and the possibility of cocktails or wine. “Oh, we got this,” Jake murmured quietly to Laurel. “Bet I can hold my breath longer’n any of those Ruby kids.”

“Is that so?” Leo taunted, overhearing Jake’s comment.

“Just call me Poseidon,” Jake smirked.

“We’ll see about that,” Leo replied. “You know most of us are from an island, right? We’re basically merpeople.”

—

“Bets! Bets on who wins this!” Brandy typed into the chat window.

“Sticking with Drake,” Burns typed. “Maybe Hana. She could have another random talent up her sleeve.”

“My money’s on Liam. Look how broad his chest is,” Anya replied. “He’s got to have massive lungs to match.”

“That makes no sense,” Ella typed, adding a laughing emoji. “But I’m Team Liam anyway.”

“Don’t hate me,” Donna began. “Something tells me Jake isn’t boasting right now.”

From her screen at home, Alyssa Lauren used Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe to choose Zahra. The rest of the group picked their favorites as the castaways donned goggles and got into the water.

—

“Ready? Set! Go!”

Sixteen heads dipped under the water’s surface, with contestants pinching their noses and puffing out their cheeks as an underwater camera filmed them. A handful of them - Olivia, Alyssa, Maxwell, Diego, and Michelle - tapped out under a minute. As the sand settled, thirty seconds passed before Katrina, Laurel, Sean, and Drake headed to the surface. Just after the two minute mark, Hana, Craig, and Zahra gave up, leaving Jake, Liam, Estela, and Leo under the water.

Jake looked positively peaceful, sandy brown hair swaying with ease in the water. Estela tapped her fingers lightly across the bamboo rod, counting each second as it passed. Liam glanced over to his brother, who’d begun to turn pink. Half a minute later, Leo popped up to the surface, muttering to himself out of frustration.

Three minutes in, Liam surfaced, gasping for air, leaving Jake and Estela to battle it out between themselves. Even though the hologram host blasted a horn to signal the end of the challenge, neither Catalyst member surfaced. Liam ducked down to check on them, and Jake and Estela both signaled that they were fine. Everyone continued to wait as the pair spent minute after minute under the water.

—

“Seriously? They’re on the same team!” Anitah typed. “They won already!”

“They’ve been underwater for a scary length of time,” Brandy added. “What are they, Navy SEALs or something?”

“I think Jake mentioned he was actually in the Navy before,” Alyssa Lauren replied.

—

A digital clock appeared in the corner of the screen as the two Catalyst members continued to hold their breath underwater. With each passing minute, members from both groups began to worry. After eight minutes passed, the host’s voice rang out, advising them to pull Jake and Estela up from the water to end the challenge. Laurel and Craig ducked down, eventually pulling their teammates up. “Congratulations to The Catalysts!” the host exclaimed. “A boat will be waiting at your camp to take you to the hotel.”

Laurel swatted Jake’s arm as they made their way to the shore. “What’s wrong with you!? You were underwater for nearly ten minutes! Who does that!?”

Jake looked over his shoulder to her with a grin, mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Ten would be a new record, my best is nine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Imagine nine uninterrupted minutes of me holding my breath, Princess. My birthday is tomorrow, and I know exactly how I wanna celebrate,” he winked.

Laurel’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion. “Stop looking at me like that, Top Gun.”

—

That evening at the hotel, after a sumptuous feast of lobster, crab, and an endless supply of beer and wine, the Catalyst members eventually went to bed. Much later into the night, Jake was seen sneaking into Laurel’s room.

—

“I KNEW IT!” Burns typed. She laughed as her friends typed in responses full of lemon, fire, pepper, and eggplant emojis. She popped another cheese cube into her mouth and smiled, watching the rest of the episode play out.

#the royal romance fanfic #endless summer fanfic #choices the royal romance #choices endless summer #liam x mc #liam x trina #drake x alyssa #jake x mc #choices crossover fanfic #wacky drabbles #survivor au #happy birthday Burnsie #birthday fanfic #zaffrenotes writes #there was an attempt #this is not what I planned #lol but I am out of time and don't have it in me to scrap what I've written #🙈 I watched an entire season of Survivor for like...3 scenes to add to the fic

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mistresspandorawritesthings · 3 years ago

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Fun facts tag

@geekinthefuschiahair tagged me!

Comfort food: Grilled cheese, but like. Fancy grilled cheese, not Kraft singles. Also my dad's meatloaf, which I have the recipe for, but it isn't the same.

Favorite fruit: MANGOOOOOOO

Favorite piece of clothing you own: uhhhh.... probably a t-shirt I stole from my husband. Or a hoodie I stole from him.

Favorite drink: Coffee. Also a big fan of a dirty vodka martini.

Favorite time of year: Summer. I'm an indoor cat, so this isn't really a fair question 😂

Last song: Um... *pulls up spotify* Apparently it was "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)" by Aerosmith.

Do you collect something: I guess you could say that I collect the books I bind lol. Craft supplies comes to mind, but that's not collecting, that's hoarding like a dragon. But that's primarily so I can make more things that I also hoard like a dragon (or give away like an elf 😂). My little shelf of hand-bound fics and journals makes me super happy.

Are ya bored? Wanna play? Say I tagged you! 💖

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ziracona · 3 years ago

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[FGO AU -- The Kid (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ?)

“…Still nothing?” Her hands are perfectly still, muscles tensed and brow furrowed with all the concentration I ever seen on any mage, but, I think she can tell the answer before I give her a sympathetic smile. “AUGH,” she exclaims, flinging herself back unhappily into her seat, “Why! I’m trying my hardest! I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”

The mage folds over like a camp chair and deflates with unhappy sounds, sliding back against her own seat.

“Hey, come on now,” I try reassuringly, “It’s not so bad. I don’t know any magic at all, but pretty much all skills take more than an hour to come together.”

She lets out another long sigh and blows some hair out of her face, then straightens up a little. “Yeah, I know,” she admits, “But it’s not like I only tried today. Actually, I’ve…been trying to practice it like all week. So I’d be ready…”

Whoa.

I…guess I shouldn’t be surprised—I keep underestimating her, and her level of plannin’. She strikes me as impulsive, and she is—to the core—but, she’s smart too, and reasonable. Knows how it works, and thinks, just, goes for the long shots anyway. It’s a combination of traits I both like and can relate to.

“Still,” I offer, “You ain’t got a teacher, ‘n mage stuff’s complicated to learn.” She still looks incredibly down, but she nods as she stares vacantly through the bed past me. “…’Sides,” I add, “That medicine you gave me’s helpin’ a lot already—I’m feelin quite a bit better. And you don’t need to worry about havin’ to heal me, sooner or later. I’m getting’ a steady supply of mana from you, even if it’s slow, so my spirit core’s rebuildin’. It’s just gonna take it a little time. It won’t be like a real—human—bullet wound would be to heal.”

“Really?” she asks, perking up immediately.

“…Yeah.” I’m kinda surprised she didn’t know that. Girl seems to have a roulette-wheel of a library about my kind in her head. “At this pace, I should be back on my feet by mornin’.” Crap, it is morning. I forgot. I give the blinds a glance. “Or, --I mean a few hours.”

“That fast?” she asks, eyes widening.

I shrug, which hurts. Ow. Why…do I keep doing that? OW. DAMN it, Bill. When I’m not moving, I forget how much the entire left side of my chest is in agony when I do. “Not back to normal, but, on my feet,” I manage with my teeth clenched, trying not to let on how much that hurt.

She nods, thinking that over. “Can I do anything to help speed it up?”

I still can’t get used to that.

Kid’s so….fervent, and sincere. And nice to me. I’ve been awake for maybe an hour with her now, and I’m still not remotely used to it.

I refocus quick, and give her a smile. “Not more than you already have.”

“I could get you more food,” she suggests eagerly.

That’s probably true, actually, and I could use it. Just. “…Well, if you got some,” I stutter out. I am not used to feeling flustered, but I am realizing quick I am even less used to people bein nice to me. The odd heroic spirit maybe, but humans? Feels totally off now. Like I’ve snuck in somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

Happy, the kid snags her tray, but before she can leave I say, “—Actually though, uh, --before you go—I’m realizin spectacularly late here you still haven’t told me your name.”

She freezes with her hand on the tray and her face turns red. “CRAP, YOU’RE RIGHT!” the mage whips around to face me and gives a distressed bow. “I’m so sorry—I can’t believe—”

“—I-It’s fine, really,” I assure her, “Just you got me at a little bit of a disadvantage right now-”

“—Right! I-I’m sorry. I totally forgot! I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru,” she says, offering me a hand. It takes me a second to get she wants me to shake it, and I awkwardly do.

“Ritsuka Fujimaru,” I echo, “Well, you already know my name, but seein’ as I got several to pick from, Billy’s good. –Oh, uhm—you got a name you prefer me to call you?”

“Uh.” She gives me a glazed stare like someone looking at an oncoming train. “My…friends in high school called me ‘Gudako’ sometimes.”

I stare right back and forget to take back my hand from our handshake. Damn!! “…Your friends weren’t too nice, huh?” I offer sympathetically.

Her face turns crimson and she gives me a look saying she was praying and expecting that I wouldn’t know what that meant and is crying on the inside that I do, and I feel real bad for her that we spirits get such decent language translation built into us on summon. “No,” she offers in a tiny, beaten voice, staring past me.

It’s real hard not to grin, but I beat the impulse down internally with a shovel and give a sympathetic smile instead. “Well, I really just meant ‘do you prefer ‘Ritsuka’ or ‘Fujimaru’,’” She turns a deeper shade and I see her wish for death a little. “But if it’s any consolation, I would definitely not describe you as boring.”

The kid finally looks me in the eye again, a bit like a kicked dog, but she smiles back after a second and seems to bounce back with it. We both remember we’re still holding hands then and let go.

“Well, thank you,” she says like she means that, “I guess I’m not this week anyway.”

“Hardly,” I agree with a smile.

She returns it and takes the tray and goes back into the kitchenette I gotta assume is back there somewhere, and I get another second to think alone.

I’m doin’ better—a lot, I think. So far I think I’ve been up something close to an hour. All this is very strange to me, and it’s not been a great couple of months, but I’m feelin’ less and less dead by the minute, and the answer to ‘does pain medication work on Heroic Spirits’ seems to be a solid ‘yes’—which—considerin alcohol still does and I knew that, in retrospect shouldn’t be such a surprise to me. A glad one though, for sure. Still.

What now? That’s the real question.

Kid says she just wants to help, and at this point I mostly believe that. There’s usually a catch somewhere down the line, but maybe not. I do think at the least she thinks she means it right now. …And…and. I wish that was all I had to worry about. But, the less pain I feel, the clearer I’m starting to think, and either way, she’s right; I can’t just go back to the throne, or I’ll get resummoned. I’m stuck here like this, tied to her right now. But I can’t stay here indefinitely, and neither can she—actually, come to think of it, if they got any kind of security at that workshop, she might be in danger now, for breaking me out. Mages are…known for their ruthlessness. There could be people already on the way to deal with her. Okay. Better find that out, and fast.

Then, third and last on the list of things for me to figure out and deal with is those mages themselves. And that’s the big one. I’m not the only one of us that’s gonna happen to, if it ain’t already happened to more of us, and I can’t leave the place like that. If they have more spirits already, I need to break them out. And either way, I need to destroy that research and probably the people in charge, so they don’t just rebuild, or they absolutely will. And fast. Not sure this new master is just gonna let me go on a wild murder tear either, though, no matter my motives. Which is a problem…

She’s back then, though, so I’m out of time to focus.

“More okayu, plus some chocolate, if you’re feeling good enough,” she offers hopefully, setting her tray back down, “and I brought you some tea too.”

See that’s the problem, I think mournfully at the sight, I can’t do nothin’, but I can’t just betray her after this either, even if I got a good reason! No one’s ever been this good to me—I can’t just go lie to her and then pull a bunch of bloodshed on her dime—even if she don’t sign off on it, she’ll find out, and she’ll feel responsible, and she’s a kid, I’ll have done that to her! I don’t wanna give some kid who saved me a bunch of guilt trauma! After all this? …Hell. I… But I can’t do nothin’ –I can’t. I got friends in the Throne, and even if I didn’t, I ain’t about to allow that to keep on goin’. We don’t deserve that; it ain’t right. But if I tell her what I got in mind, she might use a command spell and bind me, so. …But still. I can’t… I can’t…do either, but. …Maybe I could convince her to absolve the contract, and get it done after that and before I vanish, just, once I got more strength? I got my Independent Action that could keep me goin’ for a little—even Gunner, I got a lot of my Archer traits, so, once I’m healed, it might be enough to get- …No. Ain’t enough. She’d still see what happened, and know the only reason I got it done was her. Same problem as before. Shit. Shit, this sucks… I’ll be doing somethin terrible no matter what, then…

And I know myself. And that the thing I’m eventually gonna do is not leave that place standin’ with people like me trapped dyin’ inside it. As much regret and guilt as that’s gonna buy me too…

“What?”

I glance up, and she’s got her head cocked. I gotta stop bein’ an open book here. Let me think…

“About Ur-shanabi,” I start hesitantly, “Master, did—”

Her expression changes drastically to distress and she immediately cuts me off. “—Oh, please don’t call me that.”

I forgot I even said it, so it takes me a second to get what she means. “’Master’?”

“Please?” she says again, “I know you’re supposed to, and I’m supposed to call you my servant, but I really hate that.”

Everything else I’ve been thinkin’ about just kinda shuts off and I stare at her, blink. … Y…yeah, me too. Always…

“You’re all heroes, or famous artists, or explorers, or fighters, and we’re just mages. –I mean, even if it was different, I’m pretty sure I’d still hate it,” she continues with a sigh, somewhere deep in thought in her own head, but she comes back and meets my gaze, “But please don’t. I don’t want you to have to think of me that way either. I guess I don’t know how this all usually works in a lot of detail, and I know you’re stuck bound to me right now, but I don’t want you to worry I’m gonna try to make you obey me. I won’t! That’s not why I helped you!” She looks so intense. Leaned forward, one palm on the bed, look on her face that makes me believe she means it. “I want you to know I’m never gonna do that; I mean it. I won’t ever use a command spell on you to make you do something you don’t want to do, I promise.”

Her eyes are amber and bright like coals and full of intent. I find it impossible to look away.

“Not ever. I don’t want to try to use you or control you; I. …I’m…really just trying to help…” She finishes, pulling back once she’s made her statement and looking just a little embarrassed only now it’s done.

“…Well, good,” I finally find my voice, “Because I’ve never been much for the Master-Servant thing anyway. Can’t ever seem to stick to it, and it tends to cause problems down the road.”

She smiles back, happy with my answer and that I’ve accepted her proposal.

Some kind of a mage... This is…almost too much to really even understand right now, but I think she…meant it. She thinks she did. I’m beginin to think calling her a mage at all was plain off. She’s somethin’ else. I always think the kid’s thrown me for about as many loops as she can, and then I get knocked down again, and it’s been less than a day. Don’t bode well and really does for me at the same time.

“’Boss’ then?” I suggest, but I can instantly sense her dislike.

“’Partner?’” she counters hopefully.

That does have a much better ring to it, I gotta say. “Partner,” I concede with a wink, “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Never had a master that wanted me to un-know my place before.

“Well, you could also call me ‘Ritsuka’,” she says hopefully and then immediately becomes embarrassed. “Uhm,” she hurries, glancing away when I grin at her, “A-And you’re sure you prefer ‘Billy’? Not Henry?”

Lord it’s been a while since anyone called me that. Sends me a long, long way back. And not really in a good way. I appreciate the thought though.

“No,” I reply.

She seems surprised a little, but I can tell she’s not gonna press me, so, there’s really no reason to say this, but for some reason I want to tell her.

“That’s my middle name, actually,” I say.

“Huh?” says the girl.

“Henry,” I clarify, “Middle name. It’s William Henry McCarty, actually.”

Her brow furrows. “…But I thought…?”

“Step-dad had the same name, and it was too many for one household, so mine got shortened,” I gloss over, “Took it back when I picked my own name on the lamb.”

“So. …You outlaw-named yourself … ‘Your Name The Hot One’?”

It’s my turn to suffer nickname shame, though I’m not too ashamed of that, because it’s pretty funny. Does suckerpunch me a little to get called on it more than 100 years later.

“…I-I don’t know…” I answer automatically before thinking of what to say, “Maybe. …yeah.”

She almost chokes on a laugh. I grin.

“I mean, if you got the opportunity—wouldn’t you? I’m just sayin,” I say casually, past the slight amount of embarrassment I felt and pretty proud of myself again. It was a slick name.

“It’s got flair,” she says approvingly.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“So, what were you gonna ask—before I interrupted you?” she asks, picking up the cup of tea and offering it to me. I take it, feeling immense guilt as our hands touch for a second and I’m stuck thinkin about all the things she’s done for me for no reason other than bein’ kind, and the fact I’m definitely going to turn on that and her, and how awful that is.

I…wonder if it would make things some kind of right if I came back and let her kill me after? No. No, that’d make it worse. Mage or not, I don’t think this kid’s ever hurt anyone. I don’t know what I can do to soften taking this kind of kindness and drawing blood with it, but…

“Ur-shanabi,” I say quietly, working hard to pass off my internal distress as distraction as I hold the little clay cup and feel the warmth. It smells good. I know I have to drink it, and I’ll feel physically better, but everything nice I accept is piling on guilt.

…I wish. I wish I had a choice here, but I can’t let them keep this goin’. I wish I knew a way to make that right, or at least explain to you I’m sorry. And everything she says and does just makes this worse! I don’t want to hurt her. I really don’t. In any other situation, I wouldn’t, but I have to, and I hate it. I don’t want to betray her. I don’t want to make her regret showing me kindness. I don’t want her to feel the way it feels to not do something cold but safe, and then get shot for it.

Hot water slips over the top of my hand and I jerk back and just spill more of the tea, sucking in a sharp breath at the unexpected pain.

“Whoa! –Are you okay?” she asks worriedly, passing me a napkin and leaning over to catch onto my hand and help steady the cup and what’s left inside it, “What happened? Are you feeling worse again?”

Hell! My hands are shaking and I can’t quite get them to stop. Calm down. You don’t gotta do anything right now. You can feel bad later. Just think a second.

“Nah—s-sorry,” I manage, trying to smile at her and not quite sure how well I do, “I uh—I guess I’m just still a little weaker than I thought. I’m fine now.”

“Here,” she says, brow all scrunched up in concern, taking back the tea and passing me the ice pack to set on my hand.

I hate this. I’m terrible. It ain’t fair—it ain’t wrong for me to go back, I gotta, but. I hate this. I hate it.

I take the pack and try to look grateful. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about your hand,” she says.

I wave it off. “It’s already done hurting.”

“…” She waits a second, leaned a little forward expectantly, and I forget what for until she prompts me again. “What? About Ur-shanabi?”

“Oh,” I say. Right. “I was gonna ask how much you know about their operation. –How you even ended up in the right place at all.”

“Oh,” she says, and she loses some color.

Huh?

“Uhm,” she glances away, then back, and seems more herself, but I’m not sure I buy it this time. I don’t think she’s lyin’, per-se, but there’s something else she’s not saying. “Well. I’m from a mage family, but, not a ‘mage’ family—we know about magic, I did—growing up. But, I didn’t ever get any formal training, or anything. So I guess it was more like mage-adjacent in a lot of ways. There was this test I heard about from a friend—a research project on magical circuits, and I was curious.” She glances down at her legs again, but this time she looks far away and almost happy, like she’s revisiting a better moment in her head. “I’d always been curious about myself and magic, and I was excited, because if you participated in the research project, you got to know stuff they found out about your magical circuits—stuff you might be good at.” She glances up at me and gives me an embarrassed smile. “It sounded really cool. I had wanted to know for so long, and I thought—I still think—it would be really great to learn how to do more magic. So, I went.”

The girl—nope—Ritsuka, thinks for a second, then holds out her hand and looks at it. “Apparently I’ve got really unusual circuits.”

“Unusual?” I echo, kind of intrigued. I know jack-all about magic, but I am curious.

She glances over and nods. “Yeah. I thought I did really badly in the study, because I didn’t know any real spells at all, and everyone else did. They pulled me aside after and I thought they were just going to kick me out before we even got results, but, apparently my circuits were so unusual they wanted to do a case study. I’ve got ‘Almost no practical control or ability to utilize them, but possess a nearly inhuman amount of mana.’”

“Really?” I ask. I can’t feel that at all. I’m getting enough to keep me sustained, sure, but that’s it.

“I know, right?” she agrees, nodding and leaning forward, “That’s what I said! But apparently I do. They asked me if I’d come in to do more studies, and I said yes, because I was also curious. And that was Ur-shanabi. I’ve been going there for a while now,” she adds, then stops, gives me a guilty look, then looks away and keeps going in an almost dejected tone. “Uh. But I worked, or, was allowed in, I guess, a totally different part of the building. You were up on the 12th floor. I was on the 4th, R&D testing labs.”

“Oh,” I say, very confused by this reaction from her, and a little concerned by it too if I’m honest, “What brought you up to the 12th?”

“The mage I met with the most was named Nakata. He worked in a lot of projects more important than mine too. I think that was maybe the only time I was ever on the 12th floor,” she answers, “That day, I showed up and waited for a couple hours, and he never showed up in R&D. There were other people who wanted to use the room we usually used for another test, so I asked if I should go home, and the secretary said yes, but I bumped into Dr. Nakata in the elevator on my way out. He said he’d been swamped by a last-minute schedule change, and still wanted to do our test, but he’d be maybe another hour, and that I should just wait for him by his office. Which, is on the 12th floor. I was just standing there, and this big group of mages went into a large room at the end of the hall, so I was curious and watched them, and.” She shrugs.

Yeah, I can fill in the rest.

“I guess you don’t know a lot about what they were doing with me, then,” I say, a little disappointed. Any new information would have been useful. I don’t know that I expected another answer, though.

“…Actually, yes,” says Ritsuka, looking uncomfortable. I glance at her in surprise and she looks flustered and guilty and glances away again. “Uhm. After I saw you, I asked Dr. Nakata what was going on up here, and who you were.”

You coulda been killed, I think in a frozen kind of horror. What were you thinking?

“He told me,” she says simply, “You were a heroic spirit, and they were doing tests on things you could do using them. He even told me what the test was.”

I don’t know what to think or how to feel about that, so I just listen. I wonder why on earth he’d tell her?

She glances up and holds my gaze this time, an undercurrent of almost…incensed feeling somewhere deep in her eyes. “He said they had found a way to keep a summoned spirit away from the throne for a long time at low mana cost, and instead use the connection to their Saint Graph and essence as a fixed unit outside of time now, to generate a potentially limitless source of energy. To…make a heroic spirit into a battery.” I can tell while the rest of it was her echoing, the last statement is her own, and she’s bitter. “I asked how, and he told me,” she continues, “He said you had to trap one right between life and death, so they would give as little presence as possible to anything looking, and wouldn’t find a way to escape or retaliate on their own, but couldn’t actually vanish either. ‘An art and a science, to find the perfect thread to stop at, and keep them in place on the edge of death.’ Stuck. In pain, and too weak to fight back, but here.”

She lets out a long sigh and glances at me and says, “I said that sounded awful, and what about the spirits, and he told me a lot of stuff about heroic spirits being familiars that are meant to serve mankind in whatever way they’re summoned for, no matter how painful, and aren’t people anymore and that’s their intended use.”

Ow. I mean, it’s not new; I hear this from mages all the time, but it’s never fun to hear one say it right to your face. Fuckin mages…

“But, I think he could tell I didn’t like it, even though I was a little scared by then and trying not to seem as much like it,” she continues, glancing down at her hands, “And he told me ‘Don’t trouble yourself. You’re new to this, but it’s a normal part of being a mage. If it helps you rest easier, the one we summoned was Billy the Kid, an outlaw and a murderer from the old American west,’ a-and. That…” her voice gets quieter, like suddenly she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said any of this, “…I could think of it as divine punishment, in a way. And not have to feel bad.”

…

That. It really shouldn’t bother me to hear. People always act like that to me. Even when I was alive. I think about being sent to hang for a murder I didn’t commit for a moment. I had so many murders on my record by the end of it, but I’ve never pulled a trigger that wasn’t in self-defense or a last resort. But it’s never mattered. You are what people make of you, in the public eye, and in history I guess, no matter what the truth is. And eventually that tends to push you to an ending written about the person you’re described as. I never thought of any of the fights I was in as murder. I guess it’s been a long time since I could even pretend that mattered to anyone but me, though.

…I still hate it.

It hurts. Not so much people sayin’ that—don’t care too much what people think; I know who I am. But, the fact that it just straight up don’t matter what’s true, at all. Even a little… I could have lived a completely different life and not been remembered as any worse at all.

“He thought I’d agree with that.” Her voice is angry. I glance back up, train of thought broken, and Ritsuka looks as mad as she sounded, somewhere else in her head too. It’s a quiet, deep anger. “I didn’t.”

There’s something about how she looks, like she’s an embodiment of what she’s saying, and again it becomes hard to look away if I’d wanted.

“He was wrong. I guess there are some people who deserve to die,” she continues, “I’ve thought about that. About if I think if…if someone killed my family or something, I’d want them to have to die too for it. If I think that’s fair, and right. But. …Even if some people probably deserve to die, nobody deserves to be just kept in pain forever. Even the worst people. I don’t know how anyone could think after more than a day anybody at all could possibly know it’s right to go on hurting someone. Not even the worst person.” She looks distressed by that for a moment, then glances back at me and smiles a little. “I decided that, and that I was going to try to do something, and then I went home and looked you up, and you didn’t even sound that bad.” Her eyes go big immediately and she looks mortified. “—Wait—That sounded bad! I’m sorry! I-I said that wrong. I—I meant—I didn’t—I just mean—he’d said—uh—a-and you didn’t sound like—it seemed like you weren’t so—like stuff went wrong for you more than you were a bad person actually, a-and you didn’t seem like you were really a murderer—"

The poor kid is sweating buckets now. I think she thinks she’ll have offended me sayin’ that, but it’s very much the opposite.

“—I should stop talking. I’m sorry. I-I just—uhm. You were different sounding than I thought before I looked you up is the only thing I was trying to say—I’m so sorry I don’t know why I said any of it at all!” She gives up and hunches over apologetically in shame.

“…I ain’t mad,” I try to assure her after a second.

Ritsuka glances up between her bangs and gives me a sorrowful, worried look.

“…I…think I actually appreciate that,” I continue after a second, figuring it out as I go and then giving her a smile, “I ain’t sure what you read about me, or how true it was, but I’ll take what goodwill I can get.” She raises her head a little more, but still looks worried, so I keep going. “Ain’t offended me—I get it. You were already thinkin of doin’ something dangerous. Gotta know what you’re in for best you can, with a heroic spirit. Only smart to try’n be prepared.”

Looking a little better, she cautiously un-hunches. “Yeah. …I really didn’t mean to say it how I did, though. I don’t think you’re bad! I mean, I know I don’t know you, but I-”

I hold up a hand. I feel like after all this, I really oughta let her off the hook.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a sure smile, “You don’t gotta explain yourself, or tell me what you thought, or what you think now. I don’t have to know. I’m aware you’re takin’ a risk on me, especially with my kind of record, and I appreciate it. Probably ain’t easy for you.”

Shit, haven’t thought about that before, but it’s true. Kid might have command seals, but I’m quick, and she’s not experienced. Pretty much any heroic spirit she summoned that wanted to could kill her easy. She didn’t think to use one immediately to order me to not. I’ve been so strung out and nervous of her, I haven’t thought for a second about the fact she’s probably scared of me.

“…Uhm. In light of that, Ma- Partner,” I correct, “I’d like to set a few things straight for you, if you don’t mind?”

She seems to recover a little, straightens up and gives me a very serious nod.

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be. Whatever you heard, truth is I never killed anybody except when it was them or me, or I was defendin’ someone else. I never was a fan of it, either. Only crimes I ever set out to commit were thefts, mostly outa need,” I say, “Where I grew up, once you had a reputation, that was all you had left. I stole food when I was on my own at sixteen, and there weren’t no turning back after that. ‘Bout that simple.”

The gal’s listening attentively, head cocked. Takin this serious. And I’m still thinkin over how this has probably been for her. Angering a group of powerful mages is scary enough. Now she’s contracted to an outlaw spirit, and she’s apparently a mage who’s got no real practice usin spells. She’s basically just a civilian. She’s all alone here too, and somethin like sixteen or seventeen, and she’s got no real idea what I’m gonna be like, or want, or do. I’m not in great shape, but I’m still a heroic spirit, and a lot more powerful than her, and I’ve killed people. That’s a pretty good reason to be scared. I don’t want her to be, though. At all.

“I know all you got’s my word on this,” I say, working hard to convey my sincerity, “But it is the truth. More importantly, you saved my life, and I owe you. I really am grateful. I got no plans to try and hurt you; I promise—you got nothing to worry about.”

FUCK. What I’ve just said hits me like a ton of bricks. Fuck, I should’ve phrased that differently!—no no no—damn it damn it; I should have thought about it first! Hell! I am gonna hurt her! Probably. Not physically, which is what I was thinkin’ about when I said that, and meant, but it’s not technically what I said, shit shit shit, I just promised her something I’m gonna break—oh great, and I must have some amount of that showin’ on my face because she actually does look nervous now. I lied and I actually made her more afraid of me. Great job! Damn it damn it damn it.

“I’m really not the kind of person to do that,” I add quickly, trying hard to save it. This is bad this is bad. “I wouldn’t have a reason to anyway, but you definitely don’t gotta worry about me—” Everything I am thinking to say is wrong. All of it. ‘turning on you’ – a lie. ‘repaying that by making you sorry’ – a bigger lie. Shit. And I feel like it now too, more than before. I’m the worst—I’m terrible. I know I don’t have an alternative, and I have to go back, but this is awful, and I feel very appropriate amounts of guilt about it. I deserve this. “attacking you or something,” I go with, even though it sounds weird in my ears, because I don’t want to outright lie again, and even this much is making me feel miserable. “after you’ve been good to me.”

I hate this. I hate myself. Maybe. …Maybe there’s another way, maybe I can… Can…

She smiles for a moment, happy I said that I think, then slowly looks worried. “You look worried.”

Oh. I guess I’m the one who looks worried.

I…

I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to work this out better than it’s gonna be. I just. …I just…

…Fuck it.

“I am,” I say honestly, turning my head to look at her. She’s so sincere, and so worried. She’s been so good to me. I just. … I just… “I’m worried about Ur-shanabi,” I say, so sure I’m going to regret this in seconds, but doing it anyway because of some deep inherent flaw in who I am, “I’m okay right now, but I figure with me gone, they’ll just take another one of us and do the same thing. If they haven’t already.”

I watch slow horror creep over her face as that clicks. “…I. Would…? Oh. They will. And it’ll be my fault.” she says, glazed-over expression on her face.

What? “No!” I say immediately, “That it’s someone else and not me? It ain’t your fault. It’s theirs—they’re the only ones doin’ it, aren’t they?”

She comes back to herself a little and looks at me, but her face is still drained of color.

“It won’t be your fault,” I say again, “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. …They will keep doin’ it, though. Probably to more and more of us, if they can. Probably they’ll sell the idea to other mages too.” I hesitate, give myself one last solid chance to reconsider this, and don’t. Just pray for luck. I’ve gotten a lot of it the last 24 hours—maybe I have a pinch left. “…Unless I find a way to go back and stop them pretty fast. It’s that, or this is gonna keep happening to us. And it’s only gonna get worse. …I got friends, in the throne. …I don’t want that to happen to any of them. Even for the ones I don’t know, even the ones I don’t like, it’s like you said: nobody deserves that. So. I think. …I gotta go back.”

Her eyes are huge and I can see her running what this means, trying to process it all. I’m praying she’ll agree with me, but it’s such a long shot to get from an idealistic teen.

“Please!” I try, going for the best pitch I can before she decides to force me not to, “I-I know you’ve met those people, and I’m askin’ a lot, but at least think about it. You helped me because you knew what they were doing was wrong—I know it too, and I’m the only one in a position to shut it down. I can’t do nothing, and this is the only way to end it. You don’t know what it’s like. We-“ I’m getting to desperate, and I know it, but I hold up a hand and plow on because so long as I keep talking, she isn’t, and I don’t know what else to try. “—Our bodies are pretty close to what they were before; we feel pain the same, we can just survive more of it. I-I’m lucky, I got shot—I’ve known spirits who were bled to death, or hung, or burned, or decapitated—you can’t imagine what it would be like to be stuck chained down forever with your head just not quite severed all the way enough to kill you. I know it’s not your fight, and it’s not fair for me to ask this, but I have to try and stop them. And I—can’t. Without an anchor. Please...”

Maybe this won’t be a terrible idea. Maybe it won’t backfire on me immediately. Maybe she’ll let me go. Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe I won’t have to—

For a moment, she stares at me, motionless. Then her eyes well up.

Damn it. Damn it; I knew! I knew she’d feel like she had to stop me, and I showed her my hand because I felt bad, and now promise or no, she—

“I’m so sorry…” she whispers, and I’m fully expecting the threat of a command spell to follow that, but instead she tucks her knees up to her chest and folds over into a little ball and starts crying again.

I don’t…rightly know what to do about that, so for a second I just stare at her like an idiot.

“I know it was bad,” I hear muffled and choked up from the little bundle she’s made herself into, “I. I don’t—don’t know how awful it was, I know, but I know it was—I know it was so bad. And it’s my fault it was you.”

What?

“You have to go back?” she asks pleadingly, looking up at me for a second from over her knees, like she’s asking me if I gotta go die in a war, “What if they catch you and put you back where you were? O-or kill you and just summon you into a trap again? I’ll never get back in if—”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘your fault’?” I ask, still stuck on that and very lost again. So much so she’s halfway through her next paragraph before I even clock that me potentially getting trapped again is the only thing she has immediately objected to.

Ritsuka looks at me with her big, tearful eyes, then looks defeatedly at her knees. “…I. One day, several months ago, I showed up for a research day and Doctor Nakata had these boxes on the table, and a bunch of papers.” The kid looks and sounds completely miserable, and exhausted. “I didn’t know what any of it was, so I asked him. He said it was for another project, and to just wait a few minutes while he packed it up. …And then he changed his mind, and said actually, would I come over? He told me they were deciding between a few candidates for a project, and at this point it didn’t really matter which one they started with, and would I like to pick one. I asked what the project was, and he said it was a secret. But, it looked so important, and cool, and I wanted to be involved, so I said yes please, and I went up and picked. I didn’t know what they were.”

Ritsuka grimaces and looks sadder, rests her chin on her knees and exhales slowly. “No, I think I did. I just didn’t know what they were for. I could sense they were all magical, and they were all odd, and specific. An old little clay vase. A shuriken. An earring. A coin. A letter. And a photograph.”

I stare. She makes herself look up at me, and I can see how sorry she feels. “I picked the photograph.”

Ah.

“He even told me later,” she adds quietly, all the spunk gone, “That I picked you. When I asked, after seeing—”

“Good.”

She looks up quickly, surprised.

“I appreciate you feelin’ bad for me,” I continue sympathetically, “But it ain’t your fault, what happened to me. You didn’t know what was goin’ on, and if it hadn’t been me, it’d have just been someone else. Luck of the draw; just how life happens. On top of that, they’d have gone after every one of us on that list eventually, and if I hadn’t been here and now with you, I might not have ever gotten out.” It’s true, and I give her a smile. “Also, this whole thing is a pretty big relief.”

“A relief?” she echoes, confused.

I nod. “You get summoned with a catalyst, ain’t much you can do but show up, like it or not, but I wanted to answer the call when I got it. Up till now I thought my sixth sense had plain stopped workin’ or something. I guess it was actually just because I thought I was answerin’ your call.”

She looks confused for a moment, then smiles slowly. “…Really?”

I give a little head tilt. “Best I can guess.” I honestly don’t know if a summon can work that way at all, but I’d like to think so, and why not? Makes us both feel better.

I meet her gaze and try and get her to smile back, and this time it works.

“I really am sorry,” she says, “even if you’re not mad.”

“Well thank you,” I say, accepting the apology, “But consider it behind us.”

Something she said earlier that I had running in the back of my head comes through hard, and I feel the bottom of my stomach drop out.

“…You said a coin?” I ask, really, really, really hoping my gut feeling is wrong for once.

She nods, catching my expression and getting sympathetically worried along with me.

“…Was it kinda silver, with a face on one side, and a short cross and some words on the back?” I ask.

“Uh. I only saw one side, but it did have a face,” she says nervously.

“Was there a scratch across it? Deep? Diagonal on the face?”

“Yeah,” she says, surprised, “How did you know? What is it?”

Oh no. Oh shit that’s bad. Okay. Okay, this is gonna be okay. I can figure this out. He might not even be here yet, and I can snag the coin and he’ll be fine. All this means for sure is that I have to figure this out, more than before now.

“A friend,” I answer when I remember I need to, “—a catalyst to summon one, I mean.”

“Oh,” she says in a voice like I feel.

For a moment, we look at each other in silence. I got no idea what she’s thinking, but my mind’s far away and frantic, trying to piece together some kind of plan.

“…What do we do?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“You said you gotta go back in,” says Ritsuka as I refocus on her, and I can see she’s come to some kind of decision, “And need me to help, and now you know they’re gonna hurt your friend unless we can stop them. I’ll help you, but I don’t know how. How do we go back and stop them?”

I gape.

“…You…want to help me?”

She gives a nod, looking confused that I’d ask her.

“You-? I mean—it might. …I might have to…shoot someone,” I say. Wow. Great job Billy you sure did sugar coat that and make it sound real fine. Nicely done.

Her eyes widen, and she glances away, hesitates. Then says slowly, “…But if we don’t, they’ll keep torturing heroic spirits for energy.” Working through it herself.

“That’s about it,” I agree sympathetically. It…can’t be easy for her. She’s a civilian, a kid. And she seems like a bleedin’ heart who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She’s already been a lot more understanding towards my perspective than I expected.

“…So it’ll be bad either way,” she says finally, looking back and meeting my gaze.

I’m kind of taken aback that she’s put it into almost the same words I did to myself, but I nod.

“…That sucks,” she says to herself sadly.

“Yeah,” I agree quietly, looking at my own knees and thinking it over.

“…Is there a way to do it without killing anyone?” she asks after a second, hopeful.

Probably not. Even if I destroyed the whole building, there’s the people in charge who know how to do it, and can and will rebuild. I think she can see that on my face, because her expression falls.

“I…don’t know for sure,” I answer, “But. I think…probably not. … They’d rebuild. –Not all of them—not all of them would know how, but, at least a few will.”

She stares off at nothing, thinking.

I feel worse, somehow. Thought I was doing the nicer thing, basically giving her a chance to stop me, and risking my success. But. Now I think maybe I’ve accidentally been more heartless.

She shouldn’t have to carry a choice like this. Life ain’t fair, and I know that, but I’m finding I like being on the giving end of that even less than the receiving.

“…How old are you?”

The mage turns and looks at me, surprised, and flushes a little. “…I. S-seventeen?”

“Yeah?” I ask.

She nods.

Seventeen. She’s about the age I was when my life started really fallin apart. I hate being a part of that for someone else. I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with it,” I offer quietly, “You could dissolve our contract. Fifty-fifty chance I get the job done before I vanish, fifty—”

“—No!” she cuts in adamantly before I’m even halfway through my pitch, “No way! You’d get trapped there again! That’d be even worse! I made a deal with you to protect you if you trusted me! I’m not just gonna abandon you now.”

I blink. Tilt my head, taken aback by her fervor.

Did you? Is that what the contract was to her? I try to recall her words. ‘My soul becomes your will; your spirit becomes my destiny.’ Right, she said that wrong. But what I want to remember is before that. I try hard. “Please—If you die, they’ll summon you back! I-I can ground you! I can keep you here!” I can’t see much in the image in my head, but I can hear it, I can feel it—the pain and her hand on mine.

…I guess she did.

I don’t know how to respond to that. Look down at my own hand, playing it again in my head.

The kid is thinking still, her brow furrowed with worry. Taps the edge of the little bedside table agitatedly with a finger. “…So. Either we find a way to destroy their research, and get any other spirits they have out, and…maybe fight some of the people in charge,” she says finally, “…or they keep on doing this to you all, forever. There’s no other way things can go? You’re sure?”

I’ve already thought about it, but she’s so sincere and sad I think again, and then nod.

She sees that and glances at her hands and then back at me. “Then. …I guess we have to go back and stop them. You’re right.”

I stare at her. A-are you serious? Even as such a bleeding heart, you really—?

“But nobody gets hurt that doesn’t have to, okay?” she adds fervently, “And. I-I want to try to talk to the people in charge first! I know they won’t change their minds and it’s probably a waste, but.”

“—We can try,” I agree readily, overcome with relief, “Are you sure, though? You don’t have to stay contracted to me, and you sure as hell don’t have to come. You—you’ve already taken a lot of risks for me, big ones, and I know I’m basically returnin that favor by involving you in bloodshed. I don’t want to do that.”

It’s her turn to look surprised, and she blinks and tilts her head right back at me, and for some reason it makes me feel a whole lot better and a whole lot worse at the same time. But also more like I understand her.

“You’re not doing anything to me,” she says simply, “They’re the ones doing something that has to be stopped. It’s not your fault you’re the one who knows about it.”

I…guess that’s true. Feel like I’m getting my own words thrown back at me; maybe I am.

“It sucks,” she adds, “And I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt anybody, or get anyone else hurt. But. Mom and Dad always said it’s just as bad to stand by and let somebody be hurt as it is to hurt them yourself, if you could have done something about it. So. I want to help you, and I will.”

“You’re sure?” I ask again, “It’s…it’s a whole lot, and it ain’t gonna be easy, or safe, and you’re—” If I say ‘a kid’ I think she’s gonna get offended because I would have when I was seventeen. “Young. It shouldn’t be on you to fix.”

“Well, you’re young too,” she says.

Ow. I’m twenty-one. I know I’m short, but at least I’m an adult.

“And you’re mostly dead, so let’s just agree it’s unfair for both of us, but we’re partners, and someone has to do it, and we’re here, so that’s us,” she says very diplomatically.

I give up and sigh, then offer her a hand. “If you’re sure, Partner.”

She takes my hand and shakes it.

“So, what can I do?” she asks as she lets go.

“Well, anything you know about the building’s layout’ll help, and what defenses they might have. Mostly, I just need to get back to fighting shape,” I answer.

She nods. “Food, then?”

I give in again and smile. “Thanks.”

#fate grand order AU #fate series #fate fic #writing #billy the kid #ritsuka fujimaru #fate go #The Kid #The Kid (fic)#I wish I had as much time as my heart wants for writing :'-]#'Gudako' basically means 'boring girl'. and Billy called himself William Bonney which is Irish for 'William Attractive' more or less so they #deserve to both be roasted but in the most loving way possible also Ritsuka my dear I'm so sorry your friends suck

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writer-k-pop · 4 years ago

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The Bookseller (j.w.w) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.8k / Ending B - 4.7k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"And there's a problem with one of the elevators." Jiwoo says sheepishly and I close my eyes in frustration, a scowl growing on my face.

Stopping in the middle of the hall, I look up at the ceiling and pucker my lips together. "What's next? The front doors break?" I say up to the Gods, not caring if they are actually listening or not.

Jiwoo raises his eyebrows at me, "You wanna be challenging them like that?"

I lower my gaze to him and narrow my eyes, "I will do as I please."

Jiwoo holds up his hands in surrender.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself again, "Add it to the maintenance list and I'll wrestle with it tomorrow." I instruct him.

"Will do." Jiwoo nods and we continue on our way.

"Is he still with Soon Bok?" I ask him, getting tired of hearing only the sounds of our shoes hitting the flooring.

"Yes, she should be finishing the tour and should be heading to his room." Jiwoo answers just before we hit a more open area and guests mill past us.

"What room?" I ask, ignoring most of the guests even though they offer polite smiles.

"Number 177." Jiwoo informs me. "The one with the huge book shelf wall."

I smile, already knowing the answer to my thought, "Well, let's hope he enjoyed books in his ..." I look at him to finish my sentence.

"Oh," Jiwoo quickly realizes what information I'm searching for, "6 lives."

I nod, "Pretty average. But let's hope he enjoyed books in at least some of his 6 lives."

Jiwoo shrugs, "If not, it's a nice aesthetic wall."

I pat him on the shoulder, "I'm glad you think it's good for staring at. Because I definitely spent hours picking each book so that it could be just a good photo opportunity." I finish sarcastically.

"Not everyone's a reader." Jiwoo rolls his eyes.

"They should be." I retort.

"Anyway..." Jiwoo changes the subject as we reach the edge of the lobby, "Will you be joining the us for the celebration this weekend?”

I open my mouth to give my regular 'no' answer but two males cut me off. They barrel through the front office doors, a brunette following a few steps behind a blonde one. Both seem angry and on edge.

"I saw you with my girl!" The brunette shouts.

"I don't what you saw, man, but I was never WITH your girl." The blonde one responds and flicks a certain unpleasant finger behind him, "So leave me the fuck alone."

The lobby slowly gets quiet and not a soul moves, not even me or Jiwoo. Jiwoo out of fear and me cause I kind of want to see where this leads.

The brunette jogs ahead of the blonde and forces him to stop, "Just tell me why you were with my girl and then I'll leave you the fuck alone." The brunette seethes.

"Dude." The blonde holds out his hands, "We're best friends. Why would you think I'd be with your girl? Do you really think that low of me?"

"You know, after the stunt you pulled with Henry, I wouldn't put it past you." The brunette spits.

The blonde gets right up in the brunette's face and presses finger into his chest, "None of that was my fault. I was the one who got played and yet everyone seems to believe otherwise."

"The evidence is pretty clear." The brunette grits his teeth.

Jiwoo slowly leans over as if any faster and the men's radar would latch onto him. "Shouldn't you do something?" He whispers.

I shrug and look at him, "They're only yelling right now. I don't have to do anything until the-"

The sound of someone crashing against a column cuts me off. I look over and find the brunette pushing off of the pillar, anger steaming off of him. The blonde drops into a fighting stance.

Sighing, I uncross my arms, "Now I do something." I mumble, quite annoyed that they would cause such a scene when they're dead. It's not like they could kill each other here.

I stalk closer to the brawling men who now have a fistful of each other's shirts. When I'm a few steps away, I clear my throat loudly to get their attention.

They both glance at me for a second before returning to staring at each other.

"Leave us alone, sweetheart." The blonde says lowly.

"This is none of your business." The brunette adds.

I scoff, "Actually, this is entirely my business seeing as you are acting ridiculous in my hotel."

The men land a few punches on each other but remain close.

"You want to kill each other?" I wonder but the men don't answer, "You're already dead so there's no point in trying."

Both men pause, look at me, then back at each other. And a new kind of fury is awoken in them.

"YOU GOT ME KILLED?" They both scream just as I was thinking they were going to back down.

They begin going at each other again but this time with more anger and all I can do is groan. After giving them a couple seconds, I walk towards them to pull them apart. I grab both of their arms and before I can 'magically' send them flying away from each other, the men swing the arms I'm grabbing. With their combined force aimed at my stomach, I'm sent skidding backwards on my side across the floor.

When I finally stop sliding, I jump to my feet, ready to kick both of their asses. But when I look up, Mun Hee is restraining the blonde one while the brunette is being shoved backwards by a guest.

"Hey, cool down man. Cool down." The guest says and my ears instantly recognize his voice: Wonwoo's.

"(y/n), you okay?" Jiwoo jogs over to my side, worried.

I swat at my pants, "I'm fine." I answer him without taking my eyes off of Wonwoo as he stands in front of the brunette male.

"You probably shouldn't have told them they were dead." Jiwoo states and I shoot him a glare. He frowns and nervously glances around the lobby.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" I clasp my hands behind my back and look at the brunette then the blonde with cold eyes. They both instantly realize they may have screwed up and lower their defenses.

"If you would've actually stopped to look at where you were, you would've stopped at the front desk and understood what was going on." I explain as they step closer, Wonwoo and Mun Hee not far behind. "And what is going on is that you both have died. Congrats." I give them a sarcastic smile. "And unfortunately, your souls don't have another life lined up so." I gesture to the hotel, "You have come here to greet your past lives once more before heading to the place where your soul will rest peacefully.... Hopefully." I say, mumbling the last word in disgust.

The men look at each other in a bit of shame and embarrassment.

"From my understanding," I continue, "You both died because you were fighting over some bitch-"

"She's not a bitch." Both males cut me off with the same sentence before sharing a menacing look which has Mun Hee and Wonwoo on alert for another fight.

"And you walked right into the street, where, well you know." I finish, ignoring their intrusion. My words sink in and they both soon realize that I'm being serious and am not joking, which turns them somewhat somber.

"So what do we do?" The blonde asks.

"You go get assigned a room, stay here for the duration of your lives, and then get the hell out of my hotel." I snarl. "Oh, and stay out of my sight. I'm already annoyed with you two."

"Oh, actually." Mun Hee chuckles and raises a hand, "He's supposed to go to Hotel Blue Moon." He points to the blonde male who's eyes widen.

"What is that?" The blonde asks, afraid it might be somewhere along the lines of hell. And man do I wish that is true.

I glower at the lobby wall, "It's the place where souls go before living another life." I say, ready to have a very strong word with the Gods.

"What about me?" The brunette wonders, glancing at me like he’s afraid to be left here in my hotel.

"Can I see your palm?" Mun Hee steps forward and examines the man's palm. "Hmm... You too. You're not supposed to be here."

With my annoyance nearing my tolerance levels, I turn away from the small group but before I walk away, I tell them, "Get out of my hotel."

Without waiting for them to respond, I walk away hoping for silence so I can mentally scream profanities at the Gods and Hotel Blue Moon. But instead of silence, I hear footsteps following me.

I run a hand through my hair and turn to face the idiot following me.

And by idiot, I mean the man who let me sit in his book store for hours and the man I loved.

"Hi, sorry." Wonwoo nervously rubs the back of his neck, "Uh, I was just headed to the library." He makes up an excuse.

I press my lips together then point back the way we had come, "The library is back that way." I inform him.

He turns around and I use the chance to slip down an unknown hallway, hidden by a tapestry.

"Actually, I was..." I hear Wonwoo turn back around, "Going to ask if you were okay." He finishes before sighing.

I turn my head to the side and look down at the floor, listening to his footsteps retreat back towards the lobby. Part of me feels kind of bad for ditching him like that but another part of me doesn't want to get close to him until he's the soul I knew.

Which is going to take 6 days.

~The Sixth Day~

"What's wrong with you?" I ask Mun Hee who is laying on my couch, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"The Wonwoo guy asked me to bring him a bunch of supplies last night." He groans and I walk to my desk to add some more files to my growing stack.

"What kind of supplies?" I question and lean back against my desk.

"Books, paper, glue, binding, and some book covers if we had them." Mun Hee says and I chuckle because of course Wonwoo would want those supplies.

He was a bookseller when I knew him but he cared for books just as much and found a lot of joy in fixing old books.

"Ugh. My shoulders are killing me." Mun Hee rolls his shoulders backwards.

"You're already dead." I remind him.

"Way to shoot a man while he's down." Mun Hee sasses.

I shrug. "Eh."

"So much love." Mun Hee mutters.

I chuckle and move to sit in my desk. But before I can, the door opens and Yong pops just her head in.

"Hey, Wonwoo's in the garden." She informs me and I nod with a smile, "And have you seen Mun Hee? He disappeared a while ago and I haven't seen him anywhere."

I point to the couch and Yong steps into my office to look, "Right there."

"Mun Hee!" Yong raises her voice a touch, "Get back to work. Goodness, I am not your mother."

Mun Hee rises to his feet, "Feels like it sometimes." He grumbles and then follows Yong out of my office.

When I step into the hall, I hear their echos of laughter floating farther away. After securely closing my office doors, I turn down the hallway and head for the elevators. I rock back and forth in my heels anxiously while the elevator slowly approaches my floor. The elevator finally arrives and opens its doors. I quickly rush inside and furiously press the lobby floor button.

"Come on." I encourage it to go faster but hey, like everything else about this hotel, it doesn't listen to me.

Eons later, the elevator reaches the lobby and releases me from its squared hold. I rush out and nearly run into Jiwoo.

"Woah, hey, where's the fire?" He wonders as I continue past him.

"Can't keep my man waiting." I throw a wave at him over my head and his only response is laughter.

About halfway down the hall, I pause to control my breathing and straighten out my dress. After I'm satisfied with the way I look, at least the way I think I look, I walk the last little bit to the garden.

Peeking in, the midnight moonlight illuminates the area with a crisp, clean look. The bare tree somehow looks less dead but only very slightly. The usually hidden bench is out in front of the tree and its subsequent chrysanthemums. And sitting on the bench, with his nose buried in a book as per usual, is Wonwoo. A simple broad striped sweater hugs his shoulders and his glasses sit prominently on his nose. With one leg bent over the other and the book in his hands, he looks like the perfect gentleman.

"Took you long enough." Wonwoo comments and turns to the next page of his book, "I nearly finished three chapters while waiting for you."

I roll my eyes and walk around the bench, "I had things to do, Mr. I-can-read-500-pages-in-5-hours."

"That's a bit exaggerated." He closes one eye in thought but then breaks out into a smile. "Come here." Wonwoo grabs my hand, pulls me down, and securely wraps me in a hug. He doesn't care that his place in the book is lost as the front cover closes shut.

I chuckle and snuggle close into him.

"I missed you." He breathes out after a bit of silence.

"I did too." I mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Wonwoo shrugs and I readjust to be sitting properly. "It was what it was. I'm just glad to know that you weren't dead."

"Well, I can't exactly die." I give him a silly smile and nod towards the tree.

"I know that now." Wonwoo says a smile on his own lips. The smile that knocked me off my feet every day.

"What were you reading?" I ask, glancing at the book now in his lap.

Wonwoo picks it up and holds it out in front of us. "The one I've read a million times."

I squint my eyes in thought, "You've read a lot of books a million times, so which one is it?"

Wonwoo chuckles and knowing that I can still make him laugh with my mundaneness makes me very happy. "Sherlock Holmes." He says, setting the book aside.

"Is it still fun to read after the first time?" I wonder.

"Of course it is." Wonwoo answers as if I lost my marbles. "You get to go back and pick up on details that you missed during the first read."

"Yeah, but you have to read it all again." I give a small, shy smile.

"But you would rather spend all your time staring at me while I read." Wonwoo stretches out his arms arrogantly.

I hit his chest playfully and he retracts his arms while laughing.

"I heard you're the reason Mun Hee was in my office complaining about his back." I say following a groove in the tree with my eyes.

"Am I? Oh, is it from all the stuff I asked him for?" Wonwoo wonders then clicks his tongue, "I told him I could help if it was a lot. But he said he was fine so I just sat in my room."

"Sounds like something Mun Hee would do." I nod my head, "How did you like your room by the way?"

Wonwoo smiles contently, "I loved it. The wall of books was beautiful. You had all my favorites in there." He nudges my shoulder with his shoulder.

"Took me ages to find all of them. Some of them were quite old." I say with a slightly apologetic look.

But Wonwoo shakes his head, "Don't worry. I fixed them all."

I look at him in wonder, "You fixed all of them?" I ask.

He nods, "Yeah, most of them just needed some binding repairs and the rest weren't that hard to repair."

"So that's why you asked for the supplies and broke Mun Hee's back." I realize though I should've realized sooner.

Wonwoo laughs and my heart flutters happily at the sound. "That's why I needed the supplies."

"You didn't read all of them in that time, did you?" I double check and give him a questioning look.

He boops my nose and scrunches his face at me, "No I didn't. It took me a whole lifetime to read all those books."

"A whole lifetime." I repeat his words.

"How did you even find all those?" Wonwoo asks, playing with my hand, "I read most of those after you left."

I smile bashfully, "I kind of guessed."

'You guessed?" Now Wonwoo gives me the questioning look.

"After I left, I just kind of kept an ear open in the book world and sometimes I would come across a book that just felt like you would really enjoy. So I brought it back and started a collection in that room."

"But other guests use that room." Wonwoo pouts, feeling kind of jealous that other people would've read those books before him.

"Nah, only the right touch can get certain books off the shelf." I tell him with a knowing smile, "I made sure that no one but you or I would be able to read the special ones. To every other guest, it's just a really aesthetic wall."

"Well, look at my girl go." Wonwoo says smugly.

"So." I say, wanting to change the topic.

"So?" Wonwoo responds, turning his body slightly to face more towards me.

"I wanna know..." I pause.

"Mmhm?" He nods once, encouraging me to keep speaking.

"Did you end up married to your books or did some lucky girl come and steal your heart?" I ask with a genuine smile of curiosity.

Wonwoo chuckles but I notice the light behind his eyes dims ever so slightly. His chuckle dies down but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just looks at the tree, contemplating.

"You know I'm not mad if you did move on." I clarify, "I honestly wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and I wanted you to find it after I left. You deserved that happiness."

I know Wonwoo hears me because he chews on the inside of his cheek but he still doesn't say anything.

"What you didn't deserve was falling into the pain of me and my punishment." I say apologetically, "It happened to twelve others and I never for a moment thought any of you deserved that pain."

Wonwoo wraps an arm around me and pulls me close again, "Oh, it's not your fault. It's that damn demon's and trust me if I ever get the chance to meet it, I will get revenge for what it did to you." He presses a kiss to my temple before whispering. "I did marry."

I smile and ignore the slight pain slicing through my heart. Even though my words about wanting his happiness are true, it still stings.

"I met her like 5 or 6 years after you left." Wonwoo recalls and the memories sparkle in his eyes, "She first started coming in and reading her own books. Then she'd come in and read the books I had on the shelves. Then she started to watch me while I repaired books."

"That must've been awkward." I giggle.

"It was at first." Wonwoo agrees, "But then she did something and I knew she was supposed to be in my life."

"What'd she do?" I ask, intrigued.

"Remember the first edition book you and I repaired together?" He wonders.

I nod, "How could I forget that? I was finding glue in random places for weeks."

Wonwoo chuckles at the memory, "You're the one knocked over the glue can."

"You're the one who put it on the edge of the table." I banter back.

"Anyway." Wonwoo squeezes my arm, "I kept it in a showcase box near the back of the store. Hardly anyone asked about it and those who did only wondered if it was for sale. But she, she inspected it and then asked if I had put it together."

"And what did you tell her?" I probed.

"I told her that I had repaired with someone special. I think she could see or hear the bit of sadness in my voice cause she didn't dig deeper." Wonwoo explains, "So then I asked her what made her think that we'd done it by hand. And she," He laughs, "She said cause the back cover was crooked and on the part that poked out, she could see some writing. Somehow made out my name."

I chuckle and think back to the night we stayed up for hours trying to decide what to write there. Like it was our will that would go down in history as the most important document ever. The warm tea cup in my hands and the burning candles that painted the room in rustic comfort.

"And then that was that really. We dated for a while, got married. and then we raised three kids." Wonwoo continues his story.

"Three kids?" I inquire.

Wonwoo nods proudly, "Three. Changkyun was my oldest then came the twins, Soyou and Lisa. Changkyun protected the girls well and the girls grew up tough all thanks to him."

"Nah, I'm sure you had a large part in that too." I reassure him. "You were always tougher than I. Even in future lives." I reference the first day of his stay.

"Oh, I totally was going to ask you if you were okay that day, but you just disappeared." Wonwoo remembers and pouts that he didn't get the chance to ask then. "Part of the punishment I'm guessing."

"Actually I don't know. I never really tried so I don't know if it's against the rules or not." I admit. "But I, uh, I didn't want to find out."

Wonwoo gives me an understanding look, "Totally understand. It couldn't have been easy being stuck here for all those years."

"For the first hundred years, it was awful." I tell him, "But after that, I grew numb to the passing of time. It just kind of happened like that."

"So while you were numb to time, I was terribly sensitive to the passing of time." Wonwoo ponders the thought.

"Kids grow up too fast?" I guess.

Wonwoo looks at me with confusion cause how am I supposed to know what it's like to have kids.

"I overhear guests chatting with each other and a big part of the conversations are kids and how they just grow up so fast." I explain pointing a thumb behind us towards the hotel.

"Ah, I see." Wonwoo murmurs, "But yeah. They just kept growing and then all of a sudden, my wife and I were empty nesters and then a second later, we had grey hairs on our heads and grand babies in our arms. Completely crazy."

I giggle at his amazement, "So what did your kids end up doing?" I ask and he dives into the stories of his children and his life with them.

I sit and listen to his low voice tell the tales of the bookstore, how some years the store would be overrun with teens and then next year it would be filled with fresh out of college adults. He immerses himself in the ocean of stories from his life while I float along the with the waves and let his voice take me through the stories.

All too soon, though, the setting sun freezes the ocean and my tree's crooked branches set me back in reality.

"The setting sun always represented an end with another beginning." Wonwoo stares at the western windows where the last rays of sunlight are slowly being swallowed up by the night. "But this one is just an end."

I stare at his face, hoping to memorize all the pieces I missed before. Like he does during a second or third read of a book.

"For your worldly soul, it's an end." I say, "But for your true soul, it's the start of an eternity of peace."

"What do you think happens on the other side?" He asks, looking back at me.

I give a small shrug, "I don't know, but you'll find out today and someday I'll find out too."

"Could it be like the books?" Wonwoo wonders.

"Depends on which book." I tell him with a tender smile.

"Touché." He tilts his head. "You know," He leans closer to me, "I know I have to go, but I really don't want to." Wonwoo giggles.

I laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "But we do." I remind him, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice.

Wonwoo sighs, "We do." He repeats and stands up before helping me up. "Were you always this fashionable?" He asks after looking me up and down.

I raise my eyebrows, "Uh, yes, and fashion has changed since we were together."

Wonwoo grabs my hand and swings it between us as we walk, "Well, the change looks absolutely stunning on you."

The lobby is quiet as the hotel's opening hours are just around the corner. We quickly make it to the back door and like a gentleman, Wonwoo opens the door for me.

The cool night air rushes by us and we both stand on the landing just taking in the scene.

"Remember the night by the river?" Wonwoo wonders when he starts walking towards the forest, Shin, and the car that will take him.

"The night when you said you loved me?" I ask and he nods, "The air feels the same, doesn't it?"

"Exactly the same. " Wonwoo nods, gripping my hand tighter. "Do you think the Gods are doing this on purpose?"

I look up at the dark sky that's littered with tiny little lights from thousands of miles away. "At this point, I'm certain everything that happens to me is because they," I point upwards, "Want it to happen."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to thank them for letting me happen to you." Wonwoo smiles and I feel his eyes on me.

Lowering my gaze, I meet his gaze, "But I caused you pain. Like freakishly awful pain."

Wonwoo shrugs, "Still don't regret meeting you." He says as we reach the car.

Shin has the door open and is waiting patiently.

"This is the end of my worldly journey then." Wonwoo comments, glancing at the forest and its fog.

"Now you can rest. Forever." I place my hands on his cheeks and he rests one of his on top of mine.

"You know, hearing it now, it isn't as scary as I initially thought." He says a placid smile on his lips.

I kiss him through a smile, "Says the man who would be willing to jump from the highest heights just for the thrill." I mumble against his lips.

"Answer me this, will you?" He asks and rests his forehead against mine. I nod and he asks, "If you were to have met me without a punishment, would you have stayed with me?"

I stare into his eyes and move to rest my arms on his shoulders, "Till the very end." I say with honesty rallying behind me.

"That's all I need to hear." Wonwoo says then presses another kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are glossy but I know he won't cry. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers.

"I love you too." I tell him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears.

Wonwoo pulls away and lowers himself into the car. After Shin shuts the door behind him, the car drives into the fog.

The tires crunch over the gravel road and Shin stops next to me.

"That was the bookseller?" He asks.

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.

"He was a good man. He shall be very comfortable." Shin reassures me and walks back into the hotel.

With Shin gone, I let the tears fall freely. Letting the tears fill with the sadness and pain of being left then let them fall and land wherever they please. My heart cracks into a million pieces and it takes everything within me to keep it from exploding into more pieces. It is then that a white chrysanthemum withers away in my garden.

After a while, the moon has risen high into the sky and my tears have dry though my heart hasn't stopped aching. But even now, I have a hotel to run and others to wait for. So I run my hands through my hair, detangling it, and wipe away the left over tears. Just as Wonwoo always told me, I straighten out my shoulders, hold my head level, and walk back into the hotel with purpose.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Did you ever think today would come?" Wonwoo wonders.

"I knew it would come but I just could never definitively say when it would come." I tell him, "Like when an author has a story and a perfect plot in their mind but putting it on paper is harder than imagined and they’re not sure if the story will ever leave their mind."

“Good analogy.” Wonwoo chuckles, “Come on. Your story has left the author's mind." We stand up together and I instantly grab his hand. Like a child latching onto their favorite toy.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"Hey, Mun Hee." Wonwoo calls out, "I would've helped you with the supplies. You didn't have to carry them by yourself and hurt your back."

Mun Hee vigorously shakes his head, "No, no. I didn't hurt myself, I'm just sore. I haven't worked my body like that in ages." He gives excuses.

"Well, you should start again. Who knows what other guests will request." Wonwoo advises and Mun Hee gives him a thumbs up.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks and looks at me with tears appearing in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears and I hear Wonwoo chuckle behind me.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Wonwoo grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Wonwoo and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Wonwoo softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Wonwoo securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

#kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen wonwoo imagine #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #writer-k-pop #waning crescent hotel

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 35]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

I wanna write something so I’m going to do this.

Chapter 13

Logan was able to quickly set up the station for making protection charms. Patton had always liked making them, though he often used his more as fun accessories than for protection. The one he was going to show Virgil how to make was a very simple low level one used for little more than to keep bugs off of yourself and, in the event of a well made one, alert one to imminent danger by changing temperature. It was a nice thing to hold in the middle of the night if one was frightened by real or imagined threats. It would be warm to the touch when your environment was safe; he thought Virgil might appreciate it.

He and Patton decided to wait until Virgil woke up naturally which only took about 30 minutes. Then, Logan brought him to his set up supplies. He explained briefly the process for making a protection charm. “I will be the one performing the enchantment for today,” he told Virgil. “I will show you how to make your own later, but I thought seeing how to make them would help with the learning process.”

“Plus, it’s fun!” Patton said.

Logan flashed a smile at him. “And that as well. I’ve prepared a small number of possible pendants for you to choose from. You can choose the shape and color, then we will put on a custom engraving, as well as decorations.”

“Glitter! Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!”

“Yes, Patton, everyone knows you’re going to choose glitter,” Logan said, amused, “but why don’t we let Virgil decide for his own pendant?”

“Fine,” Patton said, “but mine will be glitter.”

Logan grabbed the box of blank pendants and offered it to Virgil. “Choose whichever one feels right,” he suggested. Virgil moved forward and looked over the box. “You can touch them,” Logan said. “In fact, I would suggest it as it is meant to be held when it’s done and you may as well get a feel for it.”

At his prompting, Virgil did. He reached into the box and shifted a few to the side. Eventually, he started picking a few up. “I like the crescent shape for holding the most he said,” holding a blue one up, but I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Patton asked.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled. “I dunno.”

“Well here,” Patton said, reaching for the box. He dug through it and pulled out every single crescent moon shaped pendant and lined them up. “What do you fancy?”

Virgil considered them all for a long moment and then tentatively pointed the purple one out.

“Great!” Patton said. “Then, we’ll use that one.”

Virgil nodded and Patton picked up the pendant to drop it into his hands. His fingers curled over the shape and he seemed satisfied by the choice, so Logan turned to Patton. “Your turn,” he said.

Patton happily grabbed out a heart shaped blue one, but then paused and exchanged it for a purple one. “We match!” he said.

Virgil smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, and Logan dug out a blue crescent moon shape for himself. “Now that you have your base, you get to choose the engraving.” He opened up the instruction book to the correct page and showed it to him.

Virgil looked over the two pages of designs with carful focus. He wavered between the spiral sun and the flames for a moment, but eventually settled on the flames. Patton chose the interlocking hearts design as anticipated; it was his favorite, and Logan chose the spiral sun design for himself.

“Now, I’m going to engrave this design onto yours,” Logan said getting out the thin pen like instrument and dipping it into the slightly glowing bottle of potion he’d set out. “In the meantime, Patton will show you what we have for decorations.”

He was careful to get the symbol as perfect as he could and then started on Patton’s. Patton apparently managed to corrupt the boy because both of them came back with brushes and glitter to add as decoration.

Logan shook his head and handed them their freshly engraved pendants. “Apply the glitter how you like,” Logan said, moving on to his own engraving. Once he was finished, he selected some glow in the dark paint to decorate his own.

Once he’d finished decorating his own pendant, Logan looked up. “Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yep!” Patton said, shoving his pendant at Logan while Virgil nodded. Virgil had been far less enthusiastic than Patton, having carefully brushed glitter into the flame design only whereas Patton had haphazardly covered his own all over with glitter. Logan took both pendants.

“This,” Logan said, bringing over a different potion, “is used to make sure the decorations never fall off. It basically allows the other substances to become a part of the stone. “It isn’t too dangerous, but I’d suggest you stand back for the moment.”

Virgil stepped back farther back than was strictly necessary and gave the potion bottle a wary look. Logan moved all three pendants to the prepared surface (else they ran the risk of also getting stuck to the table) and put on gloves, having learned that magically gluing rocks to ones hands was not fun years ago. Then, he carefully drizzled a bit of the potion onto each rock. The rocks fizzled loudly, and Virgil gave off a startled yelp before toppling over flat on his face with his wrist glued to his sides.

“Oh no, honey,” Patton said immediately crouching next to him. “I’m sorry. We should have warned you about the noise.”

Logan wasn’t sure what type of action he’d tried to take when the sound started up, but whatever it was, it had caused him to move his arms fast enough that he’d activated the binding potion and it snapped his wrists to his side, overbalancing him.

Patton’s hands hovered over the startled boy, but he didn’t touch. After a few moments, it was clear that the magic keeping Virgil’s hands at his side released because his hands slowly crept forward to push himself up, so his face wasn’t planted against the ground. His eyes still looked incredibly startled.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Logan took his words as permission to move without risking startling him more. Virgil’s eyes bopped back and forth between him and Patton a few times as he crossed to his wall of potions and grabbed one.

He also selected a clean cloth from a basket on his way over to them. “A light healing potion,” Logan explained as he knelt in front of Virgil. He uncorked it. “May I?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said with a frown. “I’m not even bleeding. It’s barely anything.”

“Which is why it’s a light healing potion,” Logan said. “You are sure to bruise with the way you hit. This will prevent it and make it stop hurting.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed after a moment. Logan dribbled a bit out onto the rag. After a moment of thought, he touched the damp part of the cloth with his own finger, just to quash any fears that it would harm him.

“It will tingle slightly,” Logan warned. Virgil tilted his face to let him dab it onto his nose and the light scrape on his face. His nose scrunched up and he moved to rub the sensation away quickly only to have his arms slam back to his sides.

Patton caught him so the sudden involuntary movement didn’t cause him to fall back, and then giggled when Virgil titled his head to what could only be described as pout back at him.

“Aw, poor thing,” Patton cooed, reaching forward to rub a hand across the top of his nose and then his forehead where the potion had been applied for him.

“Better?” Patton asked.

“You’re really bad at this being captors thing,” Virgil commenting, willingly leaning back into Patton. Patton just smiled happily.

Logan took the bottle and got to his feet, before returning it, and then glanced at the pendants as Patton helped Virgil to his feet. The pendants had stopped fizzing, so Logan felt okay reaching in and grabbing them all.

He handed both Patton and Virgil their pendants when they walked closer to the table.

“And now for the actual enchantment,” Logan said. “For today, I already prepared the potion up to the last step as it has to sit for a few hours, but I will show you the last step and eventually teach you everything if you are still interested.”

Virgil nodded, but said. “No more noises?”

Logan smiled. “No more noises,” he confirmed. Then he pushed forward all of the ingredients he was about to put in the pot for Virgil to study one by one before putting them each in it in the correct order. Then he demonstrated how to stir it correctly and told him how many times, though he doubted he’d be able to retain all of the information from this one demonstration. “There,” he said, setting down his spoon. “Now we just all put our pendants into the pot, and they should be ready in 25 minutes.”

Logan showed Virgil around his potion’s lab while they waited, explaining what certain pieces of equipment did and a bit about his organization system. Virgil followed him around, looking at the things he pointed out curiously. He, however, got very distracted when Logan showed him one of the experiments he’d concocted. It was a thick liquid that was super attracted to itself and would form a small ball that could be disturbed by touching it. He seemed to like the sensation of squishing it down onto a table… over and over and over again.

“We should get him a ball of yarn,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth. He may have been enjoying watching Virgil play with the substance more than Virgil was enjoying playing with it himself. And that was saying something.

21984

Eventually, however, the pendants were finished, and he dragged Virgil away from his new toy to show him the finished product.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Is it supposed to be warm?” Virgil inquired.

“Yes,” Logan replied. “It’s temperature changes based on if the magic on it senses a threat or not. Warmer temperatures mean you are safe.

“Oh,” Virgil said softly, hand squeezing around it. “I like it.”

Logan found himself smiling. “I’m glad. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“If you would like, I’m sure Patton has some suggestions if you’d desire a way to keep it attached to your person. He in particular likes to make them into necklaces or clip them to his clothing.”

Virgil looked over at Patton and nodded shyly. Patton immediately perked up. “I’ll go get some supplies!” he said.

Chapter 14

“So then,” Patton was saying. “We ran to the stables.”

“We went to gazebo first,” Logan cut in.

“Right, we tried to go to the gazebo first,” Patton corrected, “but Mr. Deknis was over there tending to the tomatoes, and we knew he’d tell Mama the second he saw us. So, then we turned around and went to the stables.”

Virgil tilted his head, listening to the story Patton was telling. Patton was not the best storyteller. He tended to get lost in the middle and embellish, though Logan always corrected him. It was still very entertaining to watch though because he got incredibly animated. He’d even toppled himself over in excitement a couple of times.

Virgil squeezed the small pillow he had in his lap. He… wasn’t 100% sure what was going on. Logan and Patton had settled him on the blanket covered ground near Logan’s bed and proceeded to feed him snacks and talk about a lot of different things. It had started with them talking about what they’d done that day, and when Patton had made reference to something Virgil hadn’t understood, the two of them ended up talking about things from their childhood.

Virgil found himself entranced by their stories about playing in and running around the castle. It was all so different from what Virgil had experienced.

“…but, right as we were about to get to the ladder to climb up into the hay loft, Logan tripped!” Patton said, arms whipping around him. “He fell into a container of grain for the horses and it spilled all over the place. He tried to get up but grabbed the edge of the water trough and apparently it wasn’t very secure because it fell over and soaked him. So, then he was wet and covered in grain. He looked hilarious.”

“I did not!” Logan protested, but it did not sound like all of the other times he’d corrected Patton’s stories that night.

Patton looked over at him. “You did! You woke up the cute stable hand and he laughed himself silly at you, and by the time we got you even partially cleaned up, your dad had already found us. That’s how we got caught.”

“I have no recollection of these events,” Logan clearly lied, his cheeks a bit flushed.

“Liar,” Patton claimed. “You complained about picking grain out of your sheets for weeks.”

“No,” Logan growled.

“Yes! It’s okay. It was a good laugh.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed on him, and he looked pissed, but a second later, his expression lightened up. “You know what else was a ‘good laugh’?” he asked.

There was a second of silence before…

“Don’t you dare Logan.”

Logan looked him directly in the eye. “Patton was thirteen,” Logan started, but was interrupted the next moment when Patton lobbed a pillow at his head. Logan grabbed the pillow and leaned forward to smack Patton back with it. “He was thirteen and had just ‘discovered boys’ as his mother and my father called it when they attempted to explain his behavior to me. The focus of said ‘discovering’ at the time was the son of an ambassador from Lamir” who was staying for the summer, a seventeen-year-old boy by the name Bernardo.”

Virgil flinched back as Patton suddenly threw himself across the semicircle they’d made with their bodies to tackle Logan to the ground. He watched as they ineffectually wrestled on the ground for a few seconds before Logan, voice strained continued to speak, while battling Patton’s hands away from his mouth.

“Patton’s only knowledge about flirting… ow… at that point was laughing at everything someone said and touching their arms and shoulders.” Logan managed to flip himself onto his stomach which was a horrible move as far as Virgil was concerned. It put him at a disadvantage to get out of the pin. However, Patton just kept reaching for his mouth and didn’t bare down on his neck to try to cut off his oxygen like Virgil expected. So, perhaps it was a rational move. “Our parents were speaking leaving Patton, Bernardo, and I in the garden,” Logan mumbled into the ground. “Bernardo said something ‘funny’ and Patton went to slap his shoulder while laughing, but shoved too hard… Patton did you just lick my face?!”

“And I’ll do it again if you don’t shut up!” Patton threatened. That was a… weird fighting strategy.

Logan paused to consider his options. “He shoved Bernardo into the fountain and when Bernardo asked him why he did that, he ran away and wouldn’t talk to him the rest of the summer!” Logan rushed out.

Patton reached over and grabbed the nearest pillow, proceeding to whack him viciously in the back of the head. Logan was lucky the nearest object was a pillow and not something any sturdier. “It’s not funny!” Patton yelled, smacking him even more, which was when Virgil realized Logan was laughing despite the pinning and pillow pummeling. “It’s not!” Patton said. “I really liked him!!”

“He was seventeen!” Logan said. “It was never going to happen!”

Patton groaned and rolled off of Logan to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “But he had so many muscles,” Patton said. “He probably could have thrown me 10 yards.”

“And that is… a benefit?” Logan asked, rolling over onto his side to face him.

“You don’t. Get me.” Patton tilted his head to look at Virgil. “Anyway,” he said. “That is the story of how I died at 13.”

Virgil stared at him, and Patton’s forehead crinkled looking at him.

“Is something wrong, honey?” he asked.

“What was that?” Virgil asked.

“What was what?”

Virgil just blinked at him. Patton seemed to think for a moment.

“Oh, did you think we were fighting?” Patton asked. “Like, really fighting?”

“You weren’t fighting?” Virgil asked.

“No, sweetie,” Patton said. “We were just playing.” He popped up into a sitting position. “Well, play fighting, but emphasis on play!”

Virgil looked over at Logan for confirmation. “No one is harmed nor was there any intention to harm each other,” he assured.

Patton grabbed the pillow he’d been smacking Logan with. “Like this!” he said. “Bap.” Unlike how he’d smacked Logan ruthlessly, he basically just touched Virgil’s shoulder with it.

Virgil squinted at him.

“Bap!” Patton said again, smacking him again, this time with a little bit more force and on the cheek. Virgil’s nose scrunched up. “Pillow fight!”

“Pillow fight?”

“You try,” he said, pointing to the pillow in Virgil’s lap.

Virgil glanced down at the bands around his wrist. “Um…” he said. “I don’t think I can?”

“Oh, right,” Patton said with a frown. He bit his lip and glanced over at Logan. “Maybe…”

“Ill-advisable,” Logan said.

“But…” Patton said. “Pillow fight.”

“We would have to be very cautious and make sure there were no weapons in the area.”

“No weapons but pillows!”

“Fine,” Logan relented to whatever was going on. “Let’s clear the area.” Virgil watched them with mounting confusion as they removed everything within a few meters radius of him except for pillows and blankets.

“There!” Patton said after a minute. “All done!”

“What are you doing?” Virgil said.

“We’re going to have a pillow fight,” Patton said.

“But I…”

“We’ll temporarily allow your restraints to be in the third setting like when you’re in the closet.”

Were they serious? Were they stupid? Virgil could have killed them dozens of times with the second setting and now they were giving him even more range of motion?

“You have to promise not to try to hurt anyone though,” Patton said. Virgil stared at him dumbly, as Patton held out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Patton nodded solemnly. “We lock pinky fingers and make a promise. It’s the most binding promise in the universe.”

Virgil looked at his finger, confused. He’d never heard of that type of deal. “What kind of magic is it?”

“No magic,” Patton said. “Just friendship.” Virgil tilted his head but brought his hand up so Patton could twine their fingers together. “Now, promise you won’t hurt anyone.”

“I promise I won’t hurt anyone,” he said.

“It’s a deal!” said Patton, squeezing Virgil’s finger with his own briefly before drawing away. “I trust you.” Virgil felt a rush of something that was no type of magic he’d ever come into contact before but was definitely far more powerful.

Logan came over to them and waved his hand over the restraints on Virgil. They buzzed slightly and Virgil looked between them. “So, I just hit you with pillows?”

“Try not to hit too hard near the face, and Lo and I should probably take off our glasses before we start, but yeah,” Patton said, taking his glasses off as he said it. It was yet another foolish move on his part. “It’s fun, and it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay…” Virgil said.

“I will demonstrate,” Logan said as he took a pillow and smacked Patton in the stomach.

“Hey! No fair!” Patton giggled. “We haven’t started yet!” This did not deter Logan however, as he continued to smack Patton with a pillow.

“On the contrary,” he said. “It has started, and we’re getting you first.”

“No,” Patton whined, but the way he crumpled to the ground under the onslaught seemed far too staged to make Virgil worry. He didn’t even try to curl up into a ball or to protect his head, just taking the hits and giggling.

Logan looked up at Virgil and motioned with his head. Virgil inched over and looked down at Patton. Logan slowed for a few moments. “Go on,” he urged.

Virgil bit his lip and reached forward to smack Patton lightly with his pillow which seemed to do nothing to him but renew his peels of giggles. From there, it was easy to continue. Logan picked up the pace of his strikes and he and Virgil proceeded to ‘fight’ Patton until he couldn’t breath through his laughter and pushed the pillows away, curling up on his side to recover.

23897

“No what?” Virgil asked when Patton sat up.

“Now I get vengeance!” Patton said, popping to his feet and smacking Logan in the face. “Help me Virgil!” So, Virgil turned on Logan and he and Patton gave the prince the same treatment. Then, because it was only fair, it was Virgil’s turn, though they were a lot more careful with him then they’d been with each other, and really Patton spent more of the time checking in on Virgil then actually hitting him with the pillow. It was nice. Fun. And when Virgil pushed them away, they pulled back. Then, it was Patton’s turn again and they went around teaming up on each other and sometimes just smacking at each other at random.

Eventually, they slowed, and all ended up laying near each other on the floor.

“Well, that made me hungry,” Patton said, sitting up and stretching. “I asked Mama to make us a bunch of mini sandwiches with different flavors. I’ll go get them.”

He hopped to his feet to walk over to where they’d stored the food earlier in those little glowing magical balls Logan had for food preservation.

Logan and Virgil sat up too, and Virgil offered him his wrists.

“Right,” Logan said with a blink. He made a motion and Virgil could feel the magic weighing down his hands once again. He’d almost forgotten, Virgil thought with an internal sigh. They’d given an assassin free range of motion, had a pillow fight with him, and almost forgotten to restrain him again. What was Virgil going to do with these idiots?

Chapter 15

Patton strolled up to the doors to the royal wing, his arms crossed casually around his middle.

Kalani raised an eyebrow as he approached and gave her the most innocent expression he could. “Whatcha got there, Pat?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, as his sweater squirmed. “What do you mean?”

She considered him for a moment. “Well, I see nothing suspicious here,” she said. “Do you Owen?”

“Nothing,” he replied without hesitation.

Patton grinned at them both.

Kalani leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret. “Who is it?”

Patton made a show of glanced around like he was hiding it from anyone passing by. Then he shifted around to pull up just the bottom of his sweater.

A small black paw reached out from the depths of his sweater and swatted at the air.

“Ah, I see,” Kalani said, reaching out to touch the little paw. “Hello, Mittens.”

Patton giggled as Owen poked the cat’s stomach gently through the sweater, making her wiggle a bit and try to bite him.

“Well,” Patton said. “I better be off with my totally normal sweater.”

Kalani nodded and stepped to the side, and Patton was free to head down the hallway to Logan’s room. Patton knocked on the door with their new extra secret knock and Logan all but ripped open the door. “I’m late. I have to go,” he said, darting past Patton.

Patton smiled, happy that his plan to be running a little late to come watch Virgil had worked so well, even though he felt a little bit guilty about it. He hoped Logan wasn’t late to his meeting, but he also knew that if Logan had noticed Mittens, he wouldn’t have let her into the room.

Virgil was already out of the closet, sitting on one of the chairs. Patton came in and smiled at him. Unlike Logan, Virgil’s attention was immediately drawn to the oddly shaped lump in Patton’s sweater.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” Virgil said.

“It worked on Logan,” Patton defended himself.

“Logan was about to rocket into space if you didn’t show up in 5 seconds,” Virgil pointed out. Patton just shrugged, and Virgil tilted his head. “What do you have?”

Patton grinned wide and carefully pulled Mittens out of his sweater. She did not resist this maneuver at all, simply purring. He held her up for Virgil to see. “Ta da!”

“A cat?” Virgil said.

“This is Mittens,” Patton said. He then turned to Mittens. “Mittens, this is Virgil. I thought I’d introduce the two of you!”

Virgil blinked at the cat. Mittens blinked back. Patton thought maybe he should have let them sniff each other from under a door before doing this.

He didn’t need to worry though, as Mittens started purring after a moment. “You can pet her,” Patton offered. Virgil looked up at him. “Just…” he said.

“She likes chin scratchies!” Patton prompted.

Virgil reached out a hand to scratch under her chin and that was the end of it. Mittens stretched out her chin happy to get the attention and Virgil’s eyes widened at how soft her fur was. It was a work of minutes before Virgil was sitting down on the floor and Mittens was happily kneading his thighs and spinning around in circles to make sure he pet every inch of her.

“I did not understand why people like cats,” Virgil commented. “All I’ve seen of cats is people coming back with bloody scratches from trying to pet them, so I never even tried.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Cats are just like people. If you’re nice to them, they’re more likely to be nice to you.”

Virgil’s hand paused briefly on the cat’s head, but then continued with the petting a moment later. Patton wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t press.

“She seems to like you,” Patton said.

“Don’t know why.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.” Patton scolded.

Virgil hands jerked away from the cat he’d been petting and then were forced abruptly to his side in reaction. Mittens meowed, seemed very unhappy with the jostling as well as the sudden lack of petting.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, eyes wide. “What did I do wrong. I didn’t mean to be mean to her.”

It took Patton a moment to sus out what he was talking about and felt a pang in his chest when he did. “Oh, no honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I meant don’t be mean to yourself.”

Virgil gave him a confused look. Mittens bumped her head against his chin and with a blink, he cautiously went back to petting her.

“Of course, she likes you sweetie, you’re a good boy.”

“I came here to kill the king. I’ve killed before.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I don’t think you ever wanted to,” he said. Virgil seemed to grow very interested in mitten’s ears. Patton scooted over so he was sitting beside him and carefully brought a hand up to touch the top of his head. Virgil sort of curled into him, pressing his face against Patton’s shoulder, but continuing to pet the cat.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be okay now,” Patton said softly.

Virgil shook his head against Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Patton insisted. “You’ll be okay. You won’t have to go back.”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long moment. “You can’t keep me in Logan’s closet forever,” he said softly. “When his dad comes back, you’re going to have to turn me in.”

Well, that was true, but… “It’ll be okay. No one will hurt you.”

“The kings would be assassin?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“Thomas is nice. He’ll understand.”

“He’s nice to you. He’s nice to Logan. Maybe he’s even nice to the people he rules over, but what am I? An enemy assassin who would have slit his throat if I hadn’t gotten the wrong room.”

It…it did sound bad when he put it like that, but, but… “Thomas will understand,” he promised, hugging him tight. “He will, and we’ll keep you safe and I’ll introduce you to every single cat in the castle. In fact, we’ll get you a cat to keep as a pet if you want and he or she can snuggle you as much as you want. I’ll show you all around the gardens and introduce you to Mama and help you figure out what your favorite type of cookie is. You’ll never have to hurt anyone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

Virgil drew away a bit and shot him a half smile. He clearly didn’t believe him, and it made Patton’s stomach twist a bit. Patton knew. He knew Thomas would be nice. There was no way he’d hurt Virgil. Virgil was just a kid and with Logan and Patton on his side, there was no way anything bad would happen to him. He could see it from Virgil’s perspective though.

“I like her feet,” Virgil said, touching Mittens’ little black paw that contrasted her otherwise white coat. Mittens purred and began kneading his legs again with those paws. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s named Mittens?”

“Yeah,” said Patton softly. “‘Cause she looks like she’s wearing mittens.” Virgil leaned forward to kiss her little head and that little action made Patton’s heart ache for him. He deserved so many kitten kisses. So many.

Patton was determined to make sure he got them.

Chapter 16

“Well done,” Logan complimented when Virgil looked up at him for approval. It was the first time Virgil was trying to make the protection charms without Logan’s instructions. Logan was of course still in the room in case he had questions and the boy had a written set of instructions next to him, but for the most part Virgil was doing it on his own.

“Now,” Virgil said squinting down at the paper next to him, “we wait for 35 minutes.”

“Fifty actually,” Logan corrected offhand, focused on his own potion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said. He grabbed the timer and set it for the appropriate time.

Then, he stepped away from Logan’s nontoxic potion station. Logan saw him edge a bit closer to peak at what Logan was working on, though he was careful to maintain a distance. Logan wasn’t sure if this was because he’d been warned of the possible harmful substances Logan sometimes used at his experiment table or because he was worried Logan might not want him to approach.

Logan looked up at him. “You can come closer. Nothing here is very dangerous.”

Virgil nodded and walked over to peer at the boiling pot. “What are you making?” he asked.

“I am once again attempting to invent a potion that will reliably remove cat hair from surfaces,” Logan said, glancing over at Patton.

Patton looked up from the bracelet he was making and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I can never seem to find an adequate solution,” Logan said.

“The solution is to accept all parts of kitty love!” Patton insisted.

“Or maybe the solution is to exile you from my room for the rest of time,” Logan muttered. Patton chose to ignore him and go back to working on the bracelet.

“Do you want any help?” Virgil offered Logan.

Logan smiled at him. “I’m actually almost finished with this step and there isn’t much left to do but thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh, okay,” he said. He shifted back and forth a few times.

“You’re well on your way to mastering this potion,” Logan said. “I was thinking that next I could teach you how to make a tracking charm. I marked a passage about it in the book on that shelf.” He gestured to one near the station Virgil had been working at. “Why don’t you go ahead and read that while you wait?”

“The…” Virgil said. “The green book?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I left a bookmark in the correct page.”

“Um… yeah, sure. I’ll go… read that.”

Logan nodded and turned back to put the finishing touches on his own potion as Virgil walked away.

Logan finished up his potion up after a few minutes and covered it to let it simmer. He looked over to see that Patton had flopped onto his back, still working on the bracelet and Virgil had sat near to him with the book on his lap open. Logan walked over to them.

“What do you think?” Logan asked.

Virgil glanced up at him. “Erm,” he said. “Looks good.”

“Which option do you like better?”

“…The second one.”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m surprised,” Logan commented. “I figured you would shy away from the ones that required a blood sacrifice.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “I… didn’t notice that. I would like to not do that one, please.”

“You didn’t notice?” Logan asked. “Half of the entire first page is dedicated to a discussion of it.”

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Can you read the first paragraph on that page?”

He grimaced.

“You can’t read?!”

“Logan, tone,” Patton snapped when Virgil flinched.

Logan took a breath. “I am not upset that you cannot read, but what have you been doing for the past week when I have given you written instructions for the protection charm potion?”

“Not… read it.”

“How have you been making the potion?” Logan asked.

“I just remember the steps, and if I’m not sure I ask. You’re usually distracted enough that you barely notice.”

“If I had known this, we would have done a completely auditory explanation.”

“Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t need to pretend, Virgil.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “Sorry.”

Logan just shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. In fact, you are the one who is owed apologies from many people in your life for a multitude of reasons.” He knelt down to take the book from him. “Here,” he said. “For now, I will read this passage to you while we wait for the potions to finish brewing. Later we can talk about changing my lesson plans in reference to the potions as well as adding reading lessons into your schedule.”

“You… want to teach me how to read?” Virgil asked.

“If you are willing,” Logan replied. “It’s a useful skill to have and opens up many doors.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Virgil said with a frown.

“If you can memorize an entire potion recipe from start to finish with inadequate vocal instructions, I’m sure you can learn the alphabet perfectly well.”

“Okay,” he replied sounding a bit doubtful.

“And once we get you to an appropriate level, I’ll let you read a book about stars I enjoyed in my youth.” He seemed pleased with that prospect, and Logan smiled at him. “For now though, let’s read this together.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. Logan opened the book in his lap and started to read. He noticed that Virgil was leaning over to look at the page despite the fact that he couldn’t read it, and so he began to point to the words as he read. His reactions to the words on the page were honestly quite funny when Logan caught them. His nose would scrunch up in confusion every time he thought an instruction nonsensical, and he’d squint his eyes at the words as though willing the sounds and letters to connect in his head. Logan wouldn’t be surprised with his memory if he had parts of it memorized by the end.

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After a few minutes of reading, a light weight descended on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil had settled his chin on Logan’s shoulder to peer at the words. Logan did his best not to draw attention to this fact and shot a glare at Patton when he clearly noticed, sitting up to smile widely at them. Luckily the boy was sensible enough not to squeal as he oh so clearly wanted to. Logan pointed out a picture while explaining what the caption said and then giving a personal antecedent. Virgil touched the page curiously and asked a question about the story before laying his head back down on Logan’s shoulder. They continued in this way until the potion was finished.

Chapter 17

Virgil’s suspicion was growing. Logan and Patton seemed to have something planned. Luckily, whatever it was didn’t seem to be malicious, at least, Virgil hoped it wasn’t. He truly didn’t think that Patton had it in him to be so clearly excited about anything cruel. He also didn’t think Logan had it in him to be cruel, he was just was better at masking his excitement.

“What?” Logan asked innocently when Virgil gave him a pointed look the second Patton left to do ‘something’. Virgil would almost believe he truly wasn’t planning anything if it wasn’t for the way his lips twitched just a bit at the corners. Virgil glared harder.

Logan dared to laugh lightly at the expression on his face. “Come here,” he requested. “Patton wanted me to make you pick out a book for him to read to you tonight since, I quote ‘You’ve gotten to read him all sorts of stories the last few days.’ I attempted to explain that it was not purely for fun, but he insisted.”

Virgil grumbled, but wandered over to look over at the books laid out on Logan’s bed, settling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “What do they say?” he asked.

Logan pointed to each in turn. “Five Dragons and a Flame. The End of May. A Stone in the Meadow. Or you can continue to read The Never-ending Garden.”

“I want to finish The Never-Ending Garden,” Virgil decided.

“Good choice.”

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?” Virgil asked.

Logan just chuckled. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know that he had an assassin right next to his carotid artery. “Why do you think something is happened?”

“Patton’s a shit liar.”

“Be careful,” Logan said. “I might just have to tell him you said that.”

“Then I’ll tell him what you said when you accidently dropped the lavender into that potion,” Virgil threatened back.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Truce?”

“On that,” Virgil agreed, “but you still need to tell me what’s going on.”

“It is a surprise. A nice surprise,” Logan informed him. He looked at Virgil’s face. “Don’t pout at me.”

Virgil had not been aware that what he was doing was pouting, but he did whatever it was harder.

“Patton would murder me,” Logan claimed, “but I suggest you try that on him the next time you have a chance. You will certainly get whatever you want.”

Virgil sighed and gave up, figuring he’d learn whatever the surprise was soon enough. He chose to flop down on top of the pile of pillows on the floor that had been laid out already. It was his fourth ever slumber party and the first had only been a week ago. He did not know much about slumber parties, but that felt like a lot.

Goodness, it had already been two weeks. He looked up at the ceiling. He felt safe here. He felt like he didn’t need to watch Logan’s every move as he organized things in his room, but it wasn’t going to last, was it? The king was set to be back in a week. Virgil needed to actually attempt to escape soon. He hated that fact. He didn’t want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d figure something else out, but no mater what, he did have to escape, and soon. He looked over at Logan who was slotting the books Virgil hadn’t picked back into place on the bookshelf. Not tonight.

There was a knock on the door in a familiar pattern, and Logan walked over to open it for Patton. Virgil sat up to shoot a confused look at the giant thing that Patton rolled in.

“Ta da!” Patton said excitedly.

Virgil blinked at him.

“It’s food,” Logan explained.

Virgil perked up immediately. That must be a lot of food if he needed that to carry it.

“I know you haven’t gotten a chance to try a lot of different foods, so I asked Mama if I could use the kitchen earlier today and made a bunch of different type of food samples for you to try.”

That sounded like literally the best idea in the universe. These people were very good at surprises and Virgil would not question them again ever for the rest of his life (or, well, the next couple of days he was around them before he tried to escape and either managed it or died a bloody and painful death).

Patton seemed to feed off of Virgil’s excitement, practically vibrating himself as he gestured to different parts of the cart. “We have a bunch of types of cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, different smoked meats, six types of pasta, and every leftover I could find on this shelf. On this shelf, we have things with hot sauce, things with spicy dry rubs, curries, and things with a lot of peppers. I’ve ordered them by spiciness level so we can what you can handle, and we’ll only go as far as you want. Then this shelf is a bunch of types of cookies, mini cakes, pies, and ice cream!”

“We are not starting with the sweets,” Logan said firmly.

“But Lo!” Patton whined.

“We do not want to make him sick, do we?” Logan asked.

Patton pouted. Virgil honestly had no preference. All food was good food in his experience.

“Fine,” Patton said. “We’ll start with the cheese.”

They had him sit back in the center of the blanket pile and handed him little portions of things. Some of the cheese tasted weird at first and Patton would giggle at the faces of surprise he made, but Virgil managed to if not like, then tolerate almost all of them.

Then came the different sandwiches, some hot and some cold and all of the pasta and leftovers. Virgil eyed the plate of fettuccine alfredo long after they had moved on.

“You can have some more at the end if you still have room,” Logan promised with a fond smile. Virgil frowned at him. “You want to try all of the food, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can’t eat an entire plate of fettucine alfredo.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Virgil said darkly.

Logan just rolled his eyes and passed him another plate.

Eventually they moved on to the next shelf full of what was deemed ‘spicy food.’

“Part of this is figuring out what level of spiciness you can handle,” Patton said. “So, tell us when it gets to be a bit too much and we’ll move on two the deserts. Also, milk helps wash the spicy stuff that so drink some if you need to!”

Virgil nodded and accepted the first dish on that rack.

Virgil, it turned out, liked what they called “spicy” food even though some of it made his nose run a little bit. It was kind of fun to eat them, honestly. Some of them hurt a tiny bit, but they also tasted really good. It was strange.

“I am impressed and horrified,” Logan said when he finished that shelf. “Do you… have nerve endings in your mouth?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well,” Patton said, sounding pleased. “Now it’s time for the best part! Assuming you still have room.” Virgil nodded immediately and Patton handed him a plate he’d covered with chunks of cookies he’d torn off. He ate every single one of those and then went through the rest of the deserts. Everything was fantastic and he’d like to investigate a few of the cakes once more, but…

He pointed insistently at the fettuccine alfredo.

Logan shook his head but handed it over. “How many stomachs do you have?”

Virgil did not care to respond, choosing instead to shove his mouth full of pasta.

When he was done with that, he laid back to relax and digest the food, feeling very content. Logan and Patton had also eaten a bit of the different dishes and were finishing up themselves.

“You good there?” Patton asked after a moment of Virgil just laying with his eyes closed.

Virgil nodded.

“Did you like your surprise?”

“Uh huh.”

“It seems he will not be doing any of the other planned activities for a little while at least,” Logan said. “So now might be a good time for you two to read,” he suggested. “I’ll get the rest of the food stored in case we want something more later.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed. Virgil didn’t open his eyes, but felt Patton settle next to him. Virgil rolled slightly, so his head rested against the side of Patton’s leg. A hand touched softly down on the top of Virgil’s head and Virgil heard a page flip. “So, let’s see. I’m not sure when exactly you fell asleep last time, but how about we start at the Troll Bridge?”

Virgil hummed his ascent.

“Okay,” Patton agreed as he started to read. “‘Melly stepped onto the bridge backwards while sticking her tongue out at Al, but Lydia’s eyes widened as a large looming figure stepped up behind her….’” Virgil listened happily to him read about the four children. He liked this book. He hoped they managed to finish reading it before Virgil had to go.

Chapter 18

They made it all the way to the big blowout between Al and Melly where Melly got mad and left the group to their fate in the magical garden by the time Virgil awakened completely from his food coma (he’d never actually fallen asleep, or at least he always responded when Patton asked) and squirmed around for a bit before sitting up.

Logan hadn’t been particularly interested in the story he’d heard many times before and was reading a book of his own on Patton’s other side, but he put a bookmark in his book when Virgil sat.

“Want to take a break from reading?” Patton asked. “We can do a bit more later, but we have more than just food and books planned for tonight.

“Okay,” Virgil agreed easily.

“Great!” Patton said clapping his hands. “We’re going to introduce you to the most fun sleepover party event ever!”

Virgil tilted his head.

“Dress up!” Patton said. “Also make-overs. We’ll do you first and then we’ll help you learn how to help pick out other people’s outfits and make-up. If you want to, of course.”

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug.

“Yay!” Patton hopped to his feet. “You stay here. Lo and I will get everything ready.”

He pulled Logan to his feet and over to the chair that was the perfect height for doing make-up.

They set up what they’d need for make-up and then Patton instructed Logan to grab the clothes of his they usually used for this sort of thing out the closet that Virgil wasn’t set up in while he grabbed the pieces he himself had brought upstairs and strew them over the bed so they could see anything.

Smiling happily, Patton looked over at Virgil who had stood up in the giant pile of pillows and blankets to watch him with intense eyes. He looked like he was memorizing every action Patton took as though expecting a test at the end. He was so adorable. A rush of affection and a touch of mischief hit him suddenly.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton said. Virgil looked over at him. “Can I tackle hug you into that pile of pillows?”

“Tackle hug?” he asked.

“I run over and hug you so hard that we fall into the blankets. I do it to Logan all the time without warning, but I didn’t want to confuse you.”

Virgil considered the offer for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he finally decided.

“Great!” Patton did a little hop before launching himself across the room. He slammed into Virgil, who apparently had very good balanced because they didn’t immediately fall backwards, but then he seemed to remember that he was supposed to let Patton slam him into the pillows, and so he fell back on his own power.

Patton giggled when they hit the ground and drew back to look at his face. “I got you!” He leant forward to kiss him on the nose. “Oh wait! I should let you fight back.” He propped himself up on one arm and held out the other hand. “Pinkie promise not to hurt anyone if I let you use the 3rd setting again?”

“Pinkie promise,” he agreed with a grin, linking their pinkies.

“Great!” Without hesitation, Patton did the hand motion to allow the restraints to be in the third setting.

Patton was on his back almost instantly, but he didn’t even have a chance to think about worrying before Virgil pressed a kiss to his nose in a mirror of what Patton had done a moment before. “I got you,” he said proudly.

“So, you do,” Patton agreed with a laugh. He reached up on of his hands to card it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil leaned into the touch and then practically melted on top of him. “Virgil,” Patton laughed. “It isn’t nap time.”

He grumbled something unintelligible into Patton’s neck making Patton giggle more.

“Sweetie, please.”

Thankfully Logan saved him from the unrelenting cuddling by poking Virgil in the side. “I have finished preparing the stations for the makeover and dress up. You need to get up now.”

Virgil made a noise that sounded like a growl, but he did roll off of Patton.

Patton hopped to his feet and helped Virgil up before pulling him over to the piles of clothes. “We pick the outfit first, but you don’t put it on. Then, we do your make-up and hair based on it. Then, we get you dressed and do touch ups. Okay? Pick anything you want.”

Virgil looked over the options, eyes going a bit wide. “It…” he said. “It all looks really fancy and expensive. Are you sure you want me to touch any of it?”

“We wouldn’t be offering anything we didn’t want you to touch,” Logan said gently. “In fact, I insist you touch all of it. Beyond just appearance, making sure the texture of the fabric is agreeable is a large part of this activity.”

Patton picked up one of the pieces of fabric he knew was very soft and offered it to him. He touched it with careful fingers, his eyes lighting up at the feel of it. They had to continue nudging him into feeling the different fabrics, and he hesitated when they asked him to pick his favorite at the end, but eventually he shyly pointed at a dark purple dress.

Patton clapped. “Great! Ooo, I already have some ideas for make-up that will go with that.”

Virgil let Patton pull him over to the chair they’d set up and settled down on it.

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Patton hummed. “I think silver and purple make-up mostly?” he said.

Logan nodded and they grabbed a few things from the make-up kit. Logan let Patton do most of the make-up as he tended to be better at the more creative parts, but Logan was the one who gave him the fancy winged eye liner with purple sparkles because he was really good at them.

“You look fantastic!” Patton squealed when they were done. He held up a hand mirror for Virgil who studied himself in it for a long few moments. “Do you like it?”

“It’s really nice,” Virgil confirmed. Patton smiled and hugged him.

“Next hair. We have a lot of accessories. I’ll let you pick from the purple ones.”

He and Logan sorted through the jewelry box full of different hair accessories for the royal family and ended up finding three purple ones. Patton hesitated a bit over one of them, but Logan picked it up and set it in front of Virgil for him.

“Your choice from these three,” he said.

One was a purple feather with little hooks to braid into hair, one was a smattering of purple and silver stars that would weave through the back of someone’s hair, and the last was a string of silver leaves with purple tips that would wrap up the back of a person’s head from a bun.

Virgil thought for a moment and then pointed to the one made of leaves.

Patton glanced at Logan who took the hairpiece. “I’ll do your hair right for that one,” he said. “I know how it fits.”

He grabbed the brush and carefully ran it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil seemed to like the attention, leaning into the touch, and a smile flickered over Logan’s face. Logan started gathering the hair together to make the low bun that would be the base of hair arrangement. Patton honestly did not expect him to speak, but then he did as he started to secure the piece with pins.

“This was my Pa’s favorite hairpiece,” Logan said. “Not the father you came here for, but my other one. He died when I was six.”

Virgil went shock still. “I don’t have to...”

“I wouldn’t have let it be offered if I wasn’t okay with you using it,” Logan said.

Virgil didn’t move as he finished securing the hairpiece. “There,” Logan said when he was done. He picked up the hand mirror and positioned it so Virgil could see. “It suits you.”

“I…” Virgil said. His eyes were wide, and he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Now,” Logan said. “I believe there are some other pieces of jewelry that would match this very well in the other room. I…” he turned away. “If you will excuse me.”

He turned away and exited through his bedroom door into the hallway. Patton watched him go and then turned to Virgil. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay, okay?” Patton asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong, there’s just a lot of emotions.”

“I can take it out…” Virgil said.

“No,” Patton said. “I think he likes that you’re wearing it.” Virgil bit his lip. “He never really moved on,” Patton felt inclined to say. “This is… a lot for him, but I think it’s good too.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of his head, being careful not to mess up his artfully done hair. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned to follow Logan out of the room.

Chapter 19

Thomas sighed in relief as the door to the royal wing finally came into sight. He was exhausted from his journey to Lamir for many reasons. Beyond just the physically taxing journey, he’d also had to deal with the emotions of loosing someone he had thought of as a friend while also trying to help her young daughter who had just had the crown thrust upon her.

Now he just wanted to see his own child and curl up into bed. He smiled at Owen and Kalani as he approached. “Is Logan here?” he asked.

Owen nodded. “The prince and his royal advisor are having a slumber party.”

Thomas smiled. “Of course, they are,” he said.

He said goodnight to the two guard as they’d be getting off duty soon even if he did manage to drag himself out of his room again tonight and walked past them into the hall.

He walked past the room where they kept the jewels, though was unsurprised to see that the room was unlatched as Patton loved playing around with the different jewelry and had probably left it open when he grabbed them. He was however surprised when his son’s room’s door was thrown open, as Logan usually couldn’t stand for the thing to be open with or without him in it.

Thomas didn’t think much of it however, and simply walked over to look inside. He was surprised when he didn’t see his son or Patton and instead saw that the only person in the room was a young boy that Thomas did not recognize. He was seated in one of Logan’s chairs and had his head tilted looking at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be trying to get a look at the ornament on the back of his head, and Thomas felt his heart seize a little bit when he recognized the hairpin.

He hadn’t recovered from that gut punch when the boy’s eyes drifted and met his in the mirror. There were a couple of long seconds where the two of them stared at each other in silence.

“Hello?” Thomas finally managed to get out.

Panic. There was suddenly horribly intense panic in the child’s eyes, the likes of which Thomas had never seen before. Thomas could only blink dumbly as he hopped to his feet like his seat was suddenly made of hot coals and then threw himself across the room to the opposite side from Thomas.

He looked around himself, back to the wall and considered Thomas with wildly spooked eyes. Clearly, he realized that he was pinned in Logan’s room by Thomas being in the door.

The boy dropped suddenly and disappeared under Logan’s bed.

“Uh,” Thomas said, confused and shocked and still a bit in pain from seeing that piece of jewelry in use. He crossed slowly over to the bed and bent down to look under it, moving the bed skirt slightly to the side. He saw a small shaking blob curled up into itself under the bed. “Um, hi,” he said softly.

The blob did not respond except to continue shaking.

Thomas frowned and settled himself onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said softly. Had he been here stealing things? Thomas had to wonder as he wasn’t sure why someone here for legitimate reasons would be acting so terrified of being caught. Though, that posed the question of how he’d gotten past the guards, and why Logan hadn’t noticed him. “I’m not mad,” Thomas said. “You’re fine.”

The boy looked up briefly from his knees looking terrified. Thomas tried to smile at him gently, but that just made him hunch into himself more, his breathes coming faster. That wasn’t good.

“No, shh,” Thomas said softly. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He did not seem to believe him, and Thomas winced. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave him here but trying to talk him down himself didn’t seem to be working.

Luckily, a familiar voice spoke from behind him then. “Dad?” Logan asked.

Thomas looked back at him. Both Logan and Patton were standing at the door, a couple of pieces of jewelry in their hands. They seemed very surprised to see him.

“You… seem to have a guest,” Thomas informed them.

“I…” Logan said, beginning to edge into the room like he was expecting something to blow up at any moment. “Yes.” He got to Thomas and squeezed himself between him and the bed, putting a physical barrier between Thomas and the boy. Confused, Thomas took a couple of steps away without challenge. “That,” Logan glanced behind him. Patton had moved to the opposite side of the bed from Logan and Thomas and had gotten to his knees to look under it. “That is Virgil.”

Thomas blinked at him. “Virgil?” he asked.

“He’s… new to the castle,” Logan explained. Patton started speaking softly the boy, but Thomas could not make anything he said out. “Patton and I… invited him to a sleepover.”

“The guards didn’t mention anything,” Thomas said, sure that they would have warned him if there was a stranger in the royal wing.

“Uh, well, Virgil is… shy and we didn’t think you’d be back for another week. So, we snuck him past them.”

“Shy?” Thomas asked doubtfully. That was a lot more than shy.

“Particularly of adults,” Logan said.

Thomas took a moment to let that sink in. “Oh.” He was… scared of adults. Thomas could imagine many reasons why that might be the case and none of them set well. “I see.”

“Hey, no, sweetie, stop that,” Patton said, sounding distressed. Patton had managed to draw Virgil out from underneath the bed, though they were both still mostly hidden behind it and Thomas had no question in his mind that if he went to step towards them, Virgil would be back underneath it in a moment. Currently the boy seemed to be clawing at his own head. “No, baby shh,” Patton said, trying to stop him from tearing the pinned in hairpiece out, Thomas realized. “I’ll get it out,” Patton promised him. “Just calm down and let me do it.” He sounded close to tears, and Thomas couldn’t particularly blame him with the way the boy was acting. “You’re hurting yourself, baby.”

He must know, Thomas realized. If Logan had known he was here, then he must have allowed him to use that hairpiece. He’d probably even told Virgil that it belonged to his dead father. Now he was probably terrified that Thomas would be mad at him for touching it, especially when he’d come in to find Virgil alone without Logan to explain.

Patton managed to get all the pins undone and placed the piece delicately on the bed before wrapping himself protectively around the boy and hushing him.

Logan was looking back at them as well. He looked between the puddle of upset on the floor and Thomas. “Could…” he said. “Could I maybe come and see you in a few minutes, Dad?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “Of course, I’ll go wait in my room. Take as much time as you need.”

He was careful to move slowly as he stepped towards the door, so the poor thing didn’t notice him move and mistake it for him approaching. He closed Logan’s bedroom door softly behind him feeling even more drained than he’d been before as well as anxious and a bit sickened. He went to his own bedroom to wait for Logan.

Chapter 20

Logan let out a slow breath as his father closed the door behind him. That could have been very, very bad. He turned his attention to Virgil and Patton. Patton had curled himself around Virgil as much as physically possible and had tucked the boy’s head under his chin.

Logan slowly rounded the bed and knelt in front of them. “It’s alright,” Logan said, cautiously moving to put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil didn’t pull away. “I asked him to leave. It’s alright.”

Virgil tilted his head slightly too look at him. Logan rubbed a circle into his back as he slowly got control of his breath.

Logan smiled softly at him and reached out to touch his cheek with a gentle hand. “You… didn’t hurt him. You didn’t even try to hurt him.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Why not?” Logan asked curiously. “It was a perfect opportunity.”

“Promised Patton,” Virgil mumbled, and the idea that perhaps the thing that had saved his father’s life was a pinky promise just about gave Logan a migraine, but then Virgil ducked his head. “And it would make you sad.”

“I see,” Logan said, heart in his throat.

Virgil kept looking towards the floor, his eyes starting to fill with tears again. “Are you going to turn me in now?”

He was shaking and barely holding back a fresh wave of tears. Logan knew of course that no one would hurt him here if he turned him in to his father and the guards, but he also knew that Virgil would be terrified if he did so. He was already terrified. Logan didn’t want to know what he thought the fate Logan would be condemning him to.

“No,” Logan said before he could even truly think it through. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked.

“Well, there wouldn’t really be a point, would there?” Logan asked. “The reason we planned to turn you when father got back in is because you posed a danger to him, but you have just demonstrated that is no longer an issue.”

“Really?” Virgil asked, sniffling a bit and Logan saw Patton’s arms tighten even more around him.

“We will have to figure out a better cover for you than just that you’re new to the castle, but I believe it will work fine. No one besides the two of us would ever guess your origin anyway.”

“S-so I can stay?” Virgil asked, “and you won’t throw me into prison or execute me?”

“I promise you were never going to be executed Virgil,” Logan said. “Even if we turned you in, but yes you can stay with us. We’ll figure out a backstory for you that doesn’t involve assassinations and you’ll have to keep up the lie, but I doubt anyone will question it.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Virgil said, chocked up. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go.”

“Well, you’re our friend now so there will be no going anywhere,” Patton said kissing him on the cheek. Virgil relaxed back into his hold, pleased with the affection.

Logan smiled at them both. “Can I see your wrists, Virgil?”

Virgil blinked but offered them and Logan tapped the restraints doing a quick incantation. They popped off after a moment.

“You’re letting me go?” Virgil asked, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Logan said. “We’re not just going to keep you prisoner for no reason.”

“That’s…” Virgil said, eyes watering as he clearly was trying not to cry. “You’re the best people I’ve ever met.”

“I wish that was not so clearly the case,” Logan replied. He slowly reach up and set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go speak with my father. Patton will stay with you.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed, seeming a bit hesitant.

Logan smiled softly and leaned forward to gently touch their foreheads together. “I will be right back,” he assured. “We will finish our slumber party, though perhaps we will table the rest of the dress up activity for another night.”

He stood then, leaving Virgil in Patton’s capable hands to exit his own bedroom and cross the hallway to his father’s. He took a brief moment to compose himself before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” his father called.

Logan opened the door to see his father sitting on one of the armchairs in his room. Despite the almost disaster that had taken place a few minutes ago, Logan found himself smiling at the man. It was nice to have him home.

“Sorry about that,” Father said.

“It was more my fault than yours. If I knew there was a risk of you coming home today, I wouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” Logan answered. “Patton is with him and will certainly smooth out any lingering distress.”

“Good,” his dad said. “That’s good.” There was a pause and then he gestured at the seat beside his.

Logan settled himself down on it. “How was your trip?” he asked. “You’re back a week early.”

“Yes,” Father said. “The trip went better and worse than anticipated.

“How so?” asked Logan curiously.

“Well,” Dad said. “The purpose of the trip was to convince the new queen of Lamir, Cecil not to ally with Mocnejsi, but by the time I’d arrived there wasn’t really a risk of that.”

“Why not?”

“After investigation, it turned out that Cecil’s mother had been poisoned by an assassin from Mocnejsi.”

“Oh,” Logan said, mind already racing.

“They figured out that one of the young women who had been hired on in the kitchen for the winter had done it, and had learned her origin when they questioned her,” Dad informed him. “Considering Cecil was immediately approached for an alliance with Mocnejsi, their aim was likely to manipulate her going forward because of how young she is. Luckily, Cecil is a smart girl and has the help of her mother’s advisor as well as her own. By the time I got there, my only real role was to extend my condolences and reaffirm out alliance. I would have stayed longer, but the possibility that Mocnejsi may think to attack us in a similar way hastened me home.”

“That…” Logan said. “That is wise. I assume you are going to institute more security.”

“I am, yes,” Dad replied. “I would like your input on plans in the coming day.”

“Of course,” Logan agreed.

Dad smiled at him, “But for now,” he said, “I think it’s time you get back to your slumber party and I get to finally go to sleep.”

Logan nodded and got to his feet. He leaned over to hug his father perhaps a bit longer and harder than was strictly necessary, but Dad did not seem to mind at all. “Goodnight,” Logan said.

“Goodnight, son.”

Chapter 21

Virgil woke with something soft but kind of stringy in his face. That was weird. He didn’t know what in the closet would feel like that. In fact, as he woke more he noticed more things that he couldn’t sus out the origin of, particularly the warmth curled up against his side. Curious, he blinked open his eyes. Oh, right. Patton.

The soft stuff in his face was Patton’s hair and the warmth next to Virgil was the rest of the boy’s body. Patton had all but refused to let Virgil go last night after Logan had taken off the restraints and Virgil hadn’t minded the attention. They must have fallen asleep together in the piles of pillows and blankets on the floor.

Virgil brushed his hair gently away, internally (for fear of disturbing him) shaking his head at him. He’d fallen asleep hallway on top of an assassin. He had no self-preservation instincts. He looked at his wrists. It seemed no one had any self-preservation instincts. This of course, included himself as instead of running off when free in case they decided to turn him in after all, he had fallen asleep on the floor with Patton too.

He looked to the side and saw Logan was already awake, reading on one of his chairs. He seemed to sense Virgil’s eyes on him because he looked up after a moment.

“You can get up if you like,” Logan said. “He is a heavy sleeper and won’t wake up if you squirm out of his grip.”

Virgil frowned, unsure if he wanted to risk it.

“I have breakfast ready for you.”

Okay, Virgil was going to risk it.

He carefully squirmed out of Patton’s grip, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead in apology for leaving him before getting to his feet.

Logan handed him a plate of eggs and toast when he walked over and gestured to the chair next to him. Virgil sat there to eat while Logan continued to read.

#not writing #proofread stories

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

Whether It Works Out Or Not Part One

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Eventual Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: You guys wanna' join me in yeehell? I don't know what's happened to me. I'm from New England. I shouldn't find this cowboy chicanery appealing, and yet here I am with eighty something hours in the game. So! I've only just gotten to Chapter Three and I have avoided spoilers thus far. Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the first three chapters of the game!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @zombiexbody @nelba @gabrielle1776 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains gore/graphic depictions of violence, historical inaccuracies and general peril. Stay safe!]

Irene Craft had lived as a man for six months when she first met him.

Six glorious, difficult, yet somehow simultaneously carefree months.

The fateful night she had decided to leave her husband and make her own way in the world had been a long time coming. Every book, every treatise, every pamphlet she could get her hands on, she had devoured. She had no finances to speak of, everything was in her husband's name, so she knew that her struggle would be long and fraught with peril. But she refused to endure the abuse any longer, especially once he made an idle comment about pregnancy and how it would 'bind her to him forever.'

His bone-chilling chuckle afterwards had stiffened her resolve to steel. She left as the moon waned, her mount's saddlebags full of food and the mended clothes she would need for her new life.

In the city of Saint Denis, she sold her hair. Once her mother's pride and joy; when brushed out it reached the young woman's hips. The curls were unruly and dull russet in shade, but her mother had sworn up and down they bore auburn tones if the sun hit just right. Irene wondered briefly what her mother would say about her doing this, going to be shorn like a sheep, but she quickly put the thought out of her head. Her mother had been dead for nearly five years at that point, and her father in the ground for two. He had lived long enough to see her married off to the man he deemed a suitable match, and then the good Doctor Craft had passed on.

The barber, at the very least, was sober and much more kind than she had anticipated. He didn't begrudge her the few tears she did let fall, and he gave her a fair price for her locks.

With that business settled, Irene acquired supplies with her newfound wealth and headed up into the mountains. If her luck held, no one would come looking for such a delicate, fragile lady in the dangerous climes. She would take her chances, regardless.

…

The first few months were...challenging.

There was a massive difference between having the knowledge from books and having the experience that one could only garner out in the field. Bitter cold and hunger were excellent teachers though, and she had always been a quick study. Her mistakes were not often repeated.

Irene learned how to fletch her own arrows, learned how to snare small game and how to track large prey, how to build her shelters in the lee of bluffs to fend off the howling winds that whipped through the mountains. She made her living by hunting deer and other game to sell for their hides and meat in the nearby town of Valentine. No one would look for a woman if all they saw was a man, so she kept bundled up and pitched her voice into a low rasp when she needed to interact with other folks.

Irene had decided, in a fit of petulance, that she would call herself Frank. Franklin had been her father's name, and no doubt if he had been blessed with a son, the child would have been plagued by it as well. Doctor Craft loathed it when folk called him Frank, always correcting them with a belligerent harumph. Saints preserve them if they dared to call him Frankie.

So Frank Craft she became, the soft-spoken hunter who lived alone in the hills.

It was peaceful, but more importantly she was free.

Until the day she stumbled into a trap.

...

Again, she had been living in the mountains for around six months when this particular disaster struck. It had been a long day spent tracking a bull elk, which she had managed to fell just as night blanketed the landscape. Had it still been daylight out, she doubted she would have found herself in such a precarious position.

As it was, she had debated making camp right there, but ultimately decided to lash the hulking beast to her horse and forge her way back to her previous site.

She had been leading her horse through the fresh powder, not wanting to tax the weary animal, and didn't see the bear trap before her boot landed squarely in the middle of it. A mistake that would have cost her the whole leg, had she not been wearing these particular heavy furred boots. The trap also seemed worn, not crushing her foot outright as she had feared but simply gripping her ankle like a vise.

Though admittedly, it mattered very little. She was stuck. Her horse, a skittish, ghostly pale thing by the name of Bluster, immediately panicked at the sound of the trap snapping shut and fled. Irene swore at the damn animal until her voice threatened to give out, calling him every unkind name in the book while she tried to pry the jaws of the trap open to no avail.

She sat down awkwardly in the snow, bracing her free foot and then straining backwards in an attempt to unseat the tree that the trap's chain was secured to. Unfortunately for her, it held just fine. Then, she tried hobbling over to the tree and seeing if she could shim the chain off with a wedge, but that also proved futile.

Irene growled more obscenities under her breath, flopping onto her back and hammering her fists into the snow at her sides. "Shit." She sighed, the reality of her situation dawning slowly. She was trapped in a device that would no doubt cut off the circulation to her foot. There was a high probability of her losing the foot if that occurred. If, of course, she didn't perish from the cold or lack of food first.

Irene pressed her hands to her eyes, sucking in a lungful of the crisp, pine-scented air while she tried to assure herself that she would manage to escape this mess just like all the others. She wouldn't just give up, absolutely not!

As she sat there wracking her brain and trying to see whether she could muscle the trap apart enough for her to at least wiggle her foot out of her boot, she heard the distinct sound of a horse bumbling through the undergrowth. "Bluster!" She shouted, her voice a strange combination of husky and ragged. "You bastard, runnin' off at the first sign of trouble!"

But the horse that greeted her eyes first was not, in fact, Bluster. It was an appaloosa, still shaggy with its winter coat. On its back was a man in a heavy blue jacket, shearling peeking out at the collar. And in his hands were the reins for the sheepish-looking Bluster, who peered around the appaloosa and whinnied guiltily at her.

"Howdy mister." The man shook Bluster's reins. "I reckon this fine specimen is yours?"

Irene had never been more thankful to see a huge, imposing man in all her life. "Yessir, yes he is. I know we've only just met, but I don't suppose you'd be willing to offer me a helping hand?" She gruffed out, indicating her trapped foot with a grimace.

The man's face was in shadow from his hat, the moonlight overhead throwing everything into stark contrast. She caught a brief flash of teeth when he smiled. "Oh sure." He drawled, dismounting and securing Bluster to a nearby tree. His own horse he simply left the reins to trail, no doubt trusting the creature to behave itself. That done, he sauntered over to her, crouched down and with one low grunt, easily forced the jaws of the trap apart. "There. Simple enough. You weren't in there for very long, were you?" He asked, sounding a bit worried while she vigorously rubbed the circulation back into her leg. With any luck, she would escape with nothing but some bruising.

"My sincerest thanks." Irene said gratefully, "no, it's hardly been an hour." She cocked her head curiously. "May I know the name of my rescuer, sir?"

"Uh, Arthur." He replied, shaking her proffered hand. "You sound like you've got some learnin' under your belt there, Mister…?"

"Frank Craft, Mister Arthur, and I don't know what fate would have befallen me had you not stumbled across the," Irene paused, raising her voice pointedly at Bluster, "titanic coward that is my loyal steed. I'm in your debt, my friend." She waved a hand at Bluster, indicating his heavy burden. "As you can see, I had a relatively successful hunt before this misfortune befell me. Normally I'd head into town with it at daybreak, but seeing as you've saved my life and all, it's only fair that you should have it."

"Whoa now, I ain't helped you to get your hunt." Arthur protested, tipping his head to the side and permitting the moon's illumination to reach beneath the brim of his hat. Irene was momentarily struck dumb by just how blue his eyes were, nearly missing when he continued, "too many folk in this world only help other people on account of gettin' somethin' in return. If I was caught in a trap and I ain't had nothin' to give you for freein' me aside from gratitude, would you leave me?"

"What? No, that's barbaric." Irene almost forgot to adjust her voice, wincing when it cracked awkwardly.

Arthur chuckled, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up. She stumbled, her foot still numb, and the man kept a firm hand on her elbow until she regained her balance. "Now, that noble hogwash bein' said, I do got a lot of mouths to feed. So if the offer still stands, Mister Frank, I'd be mighty grateful."

"Absolutely! As long as you'll put it to use." And really, what was one day's worth of work to her? She could always find another creature to stalk and harvest. Bluster whickered nervously when she approached, the horse's ears flicking back and forth to catch the sound of her voice when she grumbled about his cowardice. "Kneel, Bluster." The horse clumsily obeyed and Irene untied the elk from his back, rolling it off onto the snow.

"Huh, that's a neat trick. I wouldn't have thought of that." Arthur remarked. "Teachin' a horse his dancin' steps and such."

"How else would I have gotten it up onto him?" Irene asked, grinning when Arthur chuckled again. "Of course, seeing as you muscled that trap open like it was nothing, I doubt you've ever had to worry about that sort of problem."

As if to prove her point, Arthur shouldered the elk up from the ground and neatly deposited it onto his own horse. The sturdy beast didn't so much as nicker, obviously used to this treatment. "You're more than welcome back at my camp, Mister Frank." He offered. "I reckon there's enough on this big bastard to warrant you gettin' a bowl of stew in the bargain."

Irene was already shaking her head before he could finish, politely declining his invitation. "I'm afraid I'm not suitable for most company, Mister Arthur. Been out here alone for too long. Maybe once the thaw hits, I'll suss out human companionship again."

Arthur chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then spat off to the side. "Well, I am mighty grateful all the same, Mister Frank. I know the others will appreciate this. Adios until we meet again, then?"

He touched the brim of his hat and Irene returned the gesture with a smile. "Adieu, Mister Arthur."

…

Two months went by before their paths crossed once more.

Irene had located a dense thicket of blackberry bushes down in the lowlands and spent almost two entire days stripping the branches of their fruit. A house was coming together just outside of Valentine, and that meant soon enough there would be a gathering for the last push of assembly. As she daydreamed about the most recent time she had been to a party (a dreary affair for her husband's birthday, full of ah the stately beauty and oh isn't she a catch despite her age), she failed to notice Bluster growing severely agitated about something.

Now granted, the horse's name was Bluster for a reason; he was always in a twist about one thing or another. So Irene paid him very little mind. By the time she noticed the problem, Bluster had snapped his tether line and taken off like a shot.

A bear, it was a bear, oh sweet Lord. Irene froze, a handful of berries halfway to her mouth while the beast scratched at the ground not fifteen feet away from her. It hasn't spotted me, she realized, trying desperately to recall what she had read about black bears. Was she supposed to run? Was she supposed to back away slowly? Wave her arms and yell?

Shit.

The bear grumbled, glancing around and sampling the air suspiciously. It appeared to notice her and reared up on its hind legs, unleashing a deafening roar. She was frozen, her knees shaking as the creature lumbered forward. She couldn't even open her mouth to scream. It rushed her with what seemed to be the devastating speed of a locomotive and she was knocked prone, her hand darting to her side, draw your knife idiot!

Her head flew back from the momentum of the assault and struck the ground hard when she landed, the blow sending sparking wheels of color across her vision and fading everything out for what felt like a lifetime. She had assumed she was dead, but someone shaking her shoulder roughly roused her back to consciousness. Irene groaned in pain, stirring.

"Alright, he lives! Wasn't sure for a little bit there." That voice. She knew that voice. "You comin' 'round, Mister Frank?"

Frank. Frank. Right, that was her. She was Frank. And that voice… "Arthur?" She rasped blearily.

He was on one knee over her, blocking out the sun with his large form. He inclined his head, drawling, "in the flesh, Mister Frank! Looks like you hit your head real hard when you landed. Put your own lights out."

Irene grimaced, moving to sit up. "Shit," she swore, touching the back of her head and feeling her fingers grow sticky with blood. The bear. She looked around frantically, spotting the creature slumped beside her with an arrow clean through its eye socket.

Arthur seemed to notice her distress, placing a well-meaning hand on her shoulder. "Easy now, boah. It's okay. You were lucky today, I s'pose." That hand traveled up the back of her neck, the man indelicately tipping her head forward and then whistling as he examined the wound on the back of it. "Damn, you'll have a hell of a scar. Looks like it's already stopped bleedin', though."

"How did you...where did you even come from?" Irene asked in confusion.

The man nodded in the direction of a large, grassy knoll to the west of their current location, adjusting himself absentmindedly in his pants when he settled back onto his haunches. Irene still had yet to maneuver that particular tic into her 'masculine' repertoire. She struggled enough with the spitting in public, and the last thing she wanted was to be labeled a pervert or a degenerate simply on account of her adjustments being 'less than organic'. "I didn't notice you was down here until the bear did, I'm pretty sure." He remarked. "Think you startled him as much as he startled you. You foragin' for berries?"

"Yes, I...I was thinking about treats and parties and I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention." Irene admitted, her face going a little red. Whether from the frank thoughts of adjusting or the shame of being caught unawares, she was uncertain.

"Blackberry pie, right?" Arthur hummed, obviously sympathizing with her distraction. "Means summer's really here. You bake things like that?" He rummaged in his satchel without waiting for a reply, pulling out a bandanna and two bottles. One bottle she recognized as whiskey, but the other was much smaller and made of a greenish glass. "You're gonna' want this to take the edge off." Arthur informed her calmly, pressing the bottle of whiskey into her hand and then uncorking the small bottle with his teeth.

"Edge?" She asked, wary now.

"Eeyup. Take a swig and I'll get started on this."

This was, apparently, cleaning and dressing the wound on the back of her head. Which, incidentally, the lone slug of whiskey she drank did nothing for. She didn't dare consume any more than that, however. Wine in the drawing room was one thing, but whiskey out in the berry patch was a horse of a different color. Arthur was at least capable, if a little more ruthless than the average physician. She had endured worse.

"You're a real lucky boah, Frank. Ain't deep enough to need stitchin'."

"I do feel immensely lucky today." Irene replied dryly, "a dead bear at my feet, a stomach full of fresh blackberries and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. Tell me, how could my life get any better than this?" She cringed in pain but the sensation quickly dulled in the wake of Arthur's gravelly chuckle.

"Gotta' say, you did a damn fine job of distractin' that bear. Let me get the easiest shot I've ever taken." He remarked conversationally after several minutes of silence.

"Mister Arthur, should I ask what it is that you're daubing all over the back of my head? Or is that a fool's errand?"

"What, this? Some uh…" he paused, flipping the bottle over and squinting at the label. "Ginseng and yarrow. Ol' Hosea swears by it and he's been alive longer n' most."

Irene relaxed slightly. The combination didn't sound too sinister, though she was unfamiliar with herbal medicine that wasn't refined tinctures. This was more of a paste than anything, Arthur constantly stopping to coax a bit more of it down the neck of the bottle. "Well, I'm very grateful, Mister Arthur. You don't have to-"

"I know." Arthur interrupted her. "You ain't beholden to me or anythin', don't fret. Though if you'd like to stick around an' help me butcher up that bear, I wouldn't say no."

"Are you still hunting for a small army?"

Arthur sounded rueful when he replied, "feels like there's more of 'em every damn day. I'll be takin' this kill into town. The women want the essentials, their flour and sugar and such." He grumbled, "dunno' why they need so damn much flour."

"Well, how else will they make pies?" Irene pointed out.

"Huh. S'pose you're right." Arthur said after a moment, seeming surprised. "Guess I never grew out the phase of thinkin' pies an' cakes just show up fresh on windowsills."

Cleanly skinning and butchering the good-sized bear was a long and arduous process, even with two sets of hands working on the task. Bluster had reemerged from the woods after a time and now grazed peacefully alongside Arthur's mare, that appaloosa from before who had since shed her winter coat.

Arthur finally sat back on his haunches, wiping the sweat off his forehead and accidentally leaving a rusty red trail of blood in its wake. "Welp, I dunno' about you, Mister Frank. But I could certainly do with a wash-up and a meal." He had taken his hat off while they worked, his tawny, sun-streaked hair curling around his ears and sticking out at odd angles from the sweat. "Join me for supper, won't you?" He requested, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the stream that flowed in a gully past the knoll. "Ain't nobody can chide me about takin' the best bits of the critter if nobody knows." He continued with a smirk. "Can I trust you not to rat me out, Frank?"

Irene hesitated. She was hungry and tired from the long day. Arthur didn't seem all that dangerous. Or rather, he obviously was, but in a way that was honest and blunt. "Absolutely." She replied firmly. "Your secret is safe with me, Mister Arthur."

"Now, I am gonna' ask for a handful or two of them berries you got." Arthur carried on as he got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. "As rec...recompense and such."

Irene sighed dramatically. "Ah, I should have known no good deed goes unpunished. And here I thought that offering myself up as unwitting bait was more than enough to justify a mouthful or two of meat."

Arthur's laugh was raucous, the large man clapping her on the back hard enough to make her stumble. "You're a good man, Frank."

"Nowhere near as good as you, Arthur." She retorted with a grin, confused by the way his face darkened.

"'Fraid I'd never be able to claim that title, Frank." Arthur said quietly, the mirth gone from his expression. "Beardless youth like yourself ain't oughta' cast me in any sort of decent light. I ain't a good person."

"Hey, what was it you said when you freed me up from that trap? 'Too many folk in this world only help other people on account of gettin' somethin' in return', right?" Irene reminded him, trying to mimic his deep, honeyed drawl. She must have done a poor job, because Arthur cracked a reluctant smile. "You've helped me twice, now! Surely that warrants a smattering of decent light, wouldn't you agree?"

"Aw hell, Frank, I just don't want you developin' any lofty notions about my character is all! Don't want you gettin' your hopes dashed." Arthur protested. "I ain't no saint or role model or anythin' like that."

"Don't worry about my preconceptions, Mister Arthur. I don't view you as a role model at all." Irene wanted to laugh at how crestfallen he looked, despite his big talk. She splashed water on her hands, scrubbing at the blood on them with some of the sand from the riverbed. "I view you as a friend. A friend with flaws and drawbacks just like myself. Just like all human beings have." She elaborated, startled when Arthur crouched beside her on the riverbank and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." The man said sincerely, his blue eyes warm and bright. "That means a whole lot to me, Mister Frank. I'd like to count you as a friend myself, if I could."

Irene forgot her tongue for a moment, ensnared by the blatantly hopeful look he was giving her. He must have any woman within fifty miles of here falling head over heels for him! "You'll have a remarkably difficult time trying to get rid of me, Mister Arthur. I'm very persistent." She finally managed to respond. "Like a mangy mutt once you feed it some table scraps."

"I reckon it's settled then." Arthur's smile had returned, and Irene found herself oddly pleased that she had been the one to bring it back.

...

They camped there under the stars that night.

Arthur planned to head into town the following day, where he would sell off the bear and then assist in the last few steps of the house building. But for now, he occupied himself with creating a roast fit for a king. Irene watched curiously as he studded the whole cut with herbs, finally daring to ask him a few questions about cooking. He obliged her with answers graciously and freely. Despite his opinionated stance on baking, he obviously had no such reservations when it came to cooking.

"I'm always afraid my ignorance of plants will get me into serious trouble. Lord only knows how many poisonous things I could consume if left to my own devices." Irene admitted, certain that he must think her foolish.

Arthur rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out a worn leather-bound journal. He tossed her the notebook, chuckling lowly when she nearly fumbled it. "I sketch a fair amount, look at the last pages. Check the margins for whether it's edible or not."

When she tugged loose the strap that held the journal closed and obediently cracked it open to the last few pages, Irene was flabbergasted. Sprawled across the pages were both detailed drawings and fleeting sketches of various plants and animals. "Arthur," she said, her voice breaking as she nearly forgot to pitch it lower. The older man glanced up at her, his brow furrowed. "These are incredible."

"What is?" Arthur asked in confusion. It abruptly seemed to dawn on him and he grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. "Oh, my l'il drawin's? They're just somethin' to pass the time, mostly. Done 'em ever since I was a kid."

"They're amazing!" Irene praised, making sure her hands were clean and free of grease before she even dared to hover her fingertips over the sketched snout of a border collie. "You actually capture the motion of the creature, which is a rare talent. I've seen a lot of art in my day, Mister Arthur, but few pieces have the same amount of life in them that your work displays."

"Aw shucks Frank, you're layin' it on pretty thick ain't ya'?" Arthur protested, and his face might not have been pink from just the heat of the fire. "It's nothin' special."

"Oh it absolutely is. These are...I mean all the plants are so detailed. Easily identifiable. Can you draw people and structures as well?"

Arthur took the journal back and carefully flipped through it to a few different pages, showing her that his skill extended to more than just plants and animals. An oil derrick sketched proud and tall against the blank-page sky, a blind man who he had come across in his travels, a two-page spread of a small camp titled Horseshoe Overlook... "Like I said, though, ain't nothin' special." He finished firmly, tucking the sketchbook back into his satchel.

"You ought to make a book!" Irene suggested. "For those of us ingrates that wouldn't know oregano from our elbow."

"Me? A book?" Arthur scoffed at the idea. "Last thing I want is more attention."

"Well...you could do it under a pseudonym!"

"A what? Listen here, Frank, I ain't no good Christian man, but I ain't about to pseudo...seedo...look, I ain't doin' nothin' to nobody's nims, alright?" Arthur sounded absolutely scandalised.

"Arthur, a pseudonym is just a fake name." Irene explained.

"Oh. Oh. Shit. Well I knew that." Arthur blustered at her, huffing out a breath. "Just...makin' sure you knew, is all!"

"Of course." Irene got to her feet, dusting herself off. "So. He can cook, he can draw, he can hunt…" she trailed off, doing her best to keep her tone light as Arthur continued to mumble in a flustered manner and fidget with the brim of his hat. "Is there anything you can't do, Mister Arthur?"

His laugh in reply was devoid of humor, a bitter noise. "Sure. Can't seem to stay out of trouble. More accurately though, can't seem to avoid gettin' dragged into trouble."

Irene squatted beside him next to the fire, debating giving his shoulder a rough shove of comradery. But the concern of accidentally knocking him over into the embers was enough to make her gentle her touch to a light pat. "I'm sorry to hear that, Arthur." She said quietly.

"Ah, don't pay me no mind, Frank. I'm just bellyachin'." Arthur placed his hand over hers absently, like it was an instinctive response. "You're a good kid. Don't get yourself tangled up in someone else's woes like I have, you understand me?" He admonished her sternly.

"I'm hardly a child, Mister Arthur." Irene protested. "I am nearly twenty-seven."

"What, without a lick of facial hair and your voice still shatterin'?" He teased, grazing her bare jaw with a large hand. "Naw, you ain't. But it's okay, your secret's safe with me."

"Arthur." Irene grabbed his hand, staring him down. She wasn't sure why this of all things was what she was caught up on. Maybe it was the notion that he believed she, or rather, Frank, was some fool stripling that had just been lucky so far. "I'm not a child."

Arthur stared at her, and for a split-second Irene was certain she had sold herself out. But then the older man abruptly guffawed, clapping her on the back. "No, I s'pose you ain't. You got old steel in them eyes of yours, Frank. Seen too much for your time on this earth, I imagine."

...

The final day had come at long last.

Irene hurried to help finish the last few clapboards for the outside of the house, nearly crushing her thumb with the hammer in her haste.

Various men and women from Valentine proper had already started to gather in the yard. Tables were being shuffled together, delicious smells coming from the freshly-christened firepit. Spirits were high and laughter was loud in the sunshine of midday, and Irene couldn't help her smile as she looked around.

It was truly a marvelous thing to be a part of a community that willingly accepted anyone who would help, regardless of their past transgressions. She felt utterly at peace here, even in the midst of such organized chaos.

A heavy arm landed around her shoulders and she felt a hand nearly shove the hat clean off her head. "There he is!" Arthur announced gladly, making her laugh. "It's finally time for the fun! You gonna' be stickin' around this evenin'?"

"Maybe." Irene allowed, letting him haul her into his side with his grip on her shoulders. Arthur didn't seem to actually know just how strong he was, which strangely enough made her feel safer around him. "And you, Arthur?"

"I wouldn't miss it!" The man replied, his voice bright with excitement. "Been too long since there was a reason to celebrate. Was a hard winter. Folks need this shit."

"Absolutely." Irene ducked out from beneath his arm and straightened her hat. "I'll see you later, Arthur. Gotta' go get washed up!"

Valentine was barely a five minute walk down the road, but impatience ate away at her and she broke into a jog. She'd hatched a plan for tonight. A foolhardy, stupid plan. She still had no clear idea why she was doing this, even as she sauntered up the steps to the Valentine hotel.

Irene slapped her money down on the counter, paying up front for a bath and a room for the night. Her spurs rattled loudly while she made her way up the stairs, nerves building in her throat like frantic bird wings beating away just beneath the skin.

It had been a short eternity since she had even seen herself in a looking glass, much less worn a dress.

The dress itself was nothing like the elaborate ones she had worn during her marriage. It was a plain fawn-brown color, lacking in lace trim or cumbersome whale bone buttons. A dress for this new life she had made, one that she could don and doff unaided.

Once she had scrubbed herself pink with the provided tub of hot bathwater and lye soap that threatened to be iris-scented, of all things, Irene stepped into the dress and slowly buttoned the tiny buttons that ran the length of the front. Thankfully, the cut was modest enough that she wouldn't need a fichu to cover up with.

She had been avoiding looking at herself in the mirror until she absolutely had to, and when she finally did gather her courage she was shocked by what met her gaze. She looked older, of course, a bit more weathered, but she looked alive. She had haunted her husband's house like a ghost, gaunt and battered and seen not heard. Now though, her eyes were clear and her cheeks were pink even without pinching, a byproduct of the fresh outdoor air. Her shoulders were freckled liberally as well, though the dress hid them well enough with its high neckline and long sleeves. Her mother had always tried to dull her freckles out with those blasted rose tea treatments and lemon, but the spots had stubbornly persisted.

Her hair though…

She grimaced, raking her fingers through the sun-lightened corkscrews that bounced and sprang back around her ears. It seemed that, as usual, her hair would be hopelessly unmanageable. Mercifully, since she always wore a hat, at least her hair wouldn't be the thing to give her away. Wonder of all wonders, it did appear that there was some auburn mixed in with the brown.

Irene emerged from her room, locking the door securely behind her and tucking the key into her pocket. She paused to straighten out her skirts, smiling a little dumbly downwards at the pleats while she swished back and forth in a brief moment of indulgence. However, no sooner had she stopped to do so than a large body in a hurry nearly toppled her over. She heard a startled grunt as the person managed to catch her, and then a familiar voice apologized, "sorry ma'am! 'Fraid I'm like a bull in a china shop sometimes."

Arthur, it was Arthur. Oh Lord. Irene stared at his boots in an effort to buy herself time to collect her thoughts, noticing dimly that he too had bathed and clearly attempted to tidy himself up. Did she come clean right now? Confess that she wasn't Frank at all, but Irene? Lord, this whole plan was stupid! What had she been thinking?! "Oh no sir, I should be the one apologizing. I was so excited for the festivities I appear to have forgotten my sensibilities." Her voice was soft and she looked up at him through her lashes, wondering whether he would even recognize her without a layer of grime on her face. "Forgive my inattention, won't you?"

Arthur, for some reason, swallowed hard. "Well, ain't you just as pleasant as punch! You must be from outta' town. My name's Arthur, ma'am, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave her a little half-bow and Irene barely contained her relief at his blatant unfamiliarity with her. Obviously she needn't have worried.

"My name is Irene, Mister Arthur, and trust me, the pleasure is all mine." She replied, automatically accepting the hand he offered. "Are you looking forward to the party as well?"

"Oh sure, Miss Irene." That drawl lingered sinfully on the syllables of her Christian name and Irene felt herself blush. "It's a rough life out here, only makes sense for folks to take what joy they can find where they can find it." Arthur glanced down at her, his smile a bit melancholy. "House raisin's hard work, but it's less tedious if we all know there's somethin' lighthearted waitin' at the end. Good food, good company…" He trailed off, clearing his throat.

"Of that, I'm certain!" Irene dared to continue holding his arm once they reached the street, and Arthur made no move to dislodge her. "Do you think there will be dancing, Mister Arthur?"

He chuckled at her obvious excitement. "I s'pose there might be. I'm not much one for dancin', though."

"Well," Irene said boldly, "I would be just delighted if I could steal a dance with you at some point this evening."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up to his golden-brown hairline. "You sure you got the right feller, ma'am?"

"Of course! Please Arthur, won't you save me a dance?" She implored sweetly.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, which one of 'em put you up to this? It was Karen, weren't it. Woman won't stop interferin' in my personal affairs." He growled, "I ain't lookin' for pity, Miss Irene."

"What?" Irene asked in confusion. "No, I haven't been put up to anything. I...I simply wanted a dance. Have I offended you, Mister Arthur?" This could be an irreparable blunder! Her plan might be in shambles.

"Aw hell, now I feel like a fool." Arthur rubbed a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly. "Pardon my suspicion, Miss Irene. I'm used to bein' passed over is all." He mumbled.

"What?" Irene gasped theatrically, loving the way his laughter rumbled in his chest. "A fine man such as yourself, passed over? That's deplorable, Mister Arthur!"

"Shucks ma'am, I'm passable decent, but I don't know if I'd ever call myself fine." Arthur smiled, his face a bright, endearing pink. Oh, complimenting him elicited the sweetest results! Irene was enraptured.

"Would you accompany me along the path to the festivities, Mister Arthur? I'm afraid I have no chaperone this evening." She implored. It was so strange, sliding easily back into being able to make polite conversation or clinging to an arm with rapt attention while a man spoke. She supposed all those etiquette lessons had done her some good. At least with Arthur she didn't have to feign her attention.

He nodded, swallowing hard again. "Sure, I can do that, Miss Irene."

"Oh!" Irene said suddenly like a thought had just occurred to her, the young woman making a move to pull away. "I apologize, Mister Arthur. It is so presumptive of me to monopolize your time. Did I interrupt you on your way to the Mrs. Arthur? Or perhaps a tryst with your beloved? I'm afraid I've always been rather self-absorbed, do forgive me."

He chuckled sadly, shaking his head. "Ma'am, there's no need for all that." He said, patting her arm in a way that he probably believed was soothing. Irene barely refrained from laughing at the knowledge that he calmed people like he calmed his horse. "All I'm headin' for tonight is some merriment with the local folk." He paused, still patting her hand absently. "Y'know, I think you'd get on real well with a friend of mine by the name of Frank." Arthur remarked, appearing oblivious to the way she froze. "He's got some real hellfirin' opinions and a noble heart. Nothin' like me at all, a genuine, sweet boah. Outspoken, but kinda' shy 'round lots of folks. If we stumble across him, I'll introduce you."

"Oh I very much doubt that we'll see him tonight." Irene muttered under her breath to herself, a little puffed up by the praise Arthur had inadvertently lavished upon her.

…

There was indeed food and drink, and Irene found herself in the midst of conversation more often than not. It was incredibly amusing to know that all she needed to do was wash the dirt off her face and don a dress to make 'Frank' disappear into the ether. But again, that had been the whole point.

The musicians were tuning up when she noticed something odd. There was an unmanned violin (or fiddle, perhaps), sitting forlorn and silent on the front steps. Irene straightened out her dress and made her way carefully over to the stairs. "Pardon me, sirs," she called cheerfully. "but where is your violinist?"

"Ah, I'm sorry ma'am, but ol' Jefferson died durin' the winter." The guitarist informed her, looking a touch morose. "Figured we'd bring out his Hyde so it could at least listen to all the hubbub. Be a shame to leave it to gather dust."

"My deepest condolences." Irene murmured, going to turn away and then biting her lip as she paused. "Sirs, I...perhaps I could be of assistance? I have...some prior experience with violin." Nobody needed to know about the years spent learning, and the few bright moments in her marriage being her improvising quick, jaunty tunes alone in the drawing room. Leaving the instrument behind had been like leaving a piece of her heart, but it was so delicate and fragile…

"Well if you think you can keep up, you're more n' welcome to rosin the bow ma'am." The man smiled, gesturing at the fiddle. "It would do it some good to be played again, I'll wager."

Irene was scooping up the instrument almost before he had finished speaking, immensely pleased to find out that it was relatively in tune. The man that she assumed would be the step caller graciously handed her a handkerchief to pad her cheek when she tucked the violin into place, and Irene spent several minutes hurriedly tightening and rosining up the bow.

The first draw emitted a note that was clear, if a bit flat. Irene grinned sheepishly, fidgeting with the tuning pegs and then trying again. Ah, there it was. The instrument had a beautifully rich voice, no doubt facilitated by the stockier body it bore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, finish up your food! It's time for the real fun to begin!" The caller announced over the buzz of the populace. Tables began to move out of the way, clearing the front yard.

"I see you're the fiddler this evenin'?" Irene started at the sound of Arthur's voice. She had lost track of him shortly after arriving to the party, the man apologizing to her even while he was getting dragged off by a dark-haired woman in a beautiful green dress. Now, he reclined against the railing, his eyes troubled but smile firmly in place.

"Hopefully, if the good Lord is merciful. It has been quite a while." Irene admitted. "I'd still very much like that dance, Arthur, if your other beaus don't keep you occupied." She jibed. Perhaps it was a bit bold for a woman to comment on an older man's pursuits, but she did feel that she could get away with a touch of good-natured ribbing.

"Welp," Arthur drawled, doffing his hat. "I s'pose we'll just have to see how the night goes, Miss Irene. I wouldn't call 'em beaus though. Just folks that want somethin' from me."

Irene tilted her head to the side, but Arthur managed to avoid her gaze. Following his line of sight, she noticed he appeared to be watching the dark-haired woman from earlier. "Who is your friend? I must know her seamstress, Mister Arthur, because that dress is lovely."

"Mary." Arthur muttered, the name sounding like it was dragged out of him. "Uh, that is, the widow Linton."

"Oh no, the poor thing." Irene said sadly, meaning every word. There had been a time in her life where she had been utterly devoted to her fiance, believing that she had truly loved him. She could not begrudge anyone their own happiness, as wary as she had been made from her past experience. As the saying went, 'see how the bear behaves in its den before you decide to live with it.'

"Eeyup, real shame. Pneumonia got him." Arthur informed her curtly.

Irene was sure her sympathy was evident on her face, because Arthur's sharp blue eyes had softened slightly when he looked back at her. Pneumonia was so sinister in its onset, the way it settled into the chest and by the time most patients realized it wasn't a cold, they were too far gone to help. "You should ask her to dance! Get her mind off of things." She suggested.

Arthur chuffed out a breath in a manner that was so similar to his horse Irene had to chew her lower lip to stave off her laughter. "Nope." He said firmly. "Mary shall not dance with me, Miss Irene. Not if I have anythin' to say about it. I doubt I'll dance much at all, honestly."

…

Arthur appeared to be sticking to his word throughout the night. He was indeed not much for dancing, but as he drank he got progressively more mobile. It was like his body loosened up, he smiled more, laughed louder…

He seemed absolutely thrilled when she found him later that evening, saying plainly, "There she is! I figured you forgot about me!"

Irene shook her head, smiling up at him. She had politely declined her way across nearly the entire yard in order to reach him. "I don't think I ever could, Mister Arthur. May I ask for a dance?"

"Obliged to oblige, ma'am." Arthur extended a hand, drawing her in almost indecently close. "That was some fine music you played earlier." He drawled after a moment.

Irene simply let herself be swayed back and forth, one hand on his shoulder and the other still entwined with his own. "Thank you." She replied softly. "It has been a while since I was able to indulge myself."

"Fiddlin' ain't a vice, ma'am." Arthur protested.

Irene chuckled. "Some might disagree, Mister Arthur."

"Well, they're wrong. How the hell could music be bad for someone?" He removed his hand from her hip to wave over at the group of men who were still currently playing away. "Music's good for the soul. Makes everythin' lighter. What miserable fools have you had to deal with?" Arthur grumbled.

Irene rolled her eyes comically. "Lord, you don't know the half of it!"

Arthur pressed her even tighter to his body, his breath hot over her ear when he murmured, "well Irene, they're dead wrong."

"Mister Arthur…" Irene went bright red at his proximity, at the heat that flooded her. What a strange sensation! Even back when she had been newly betrothed, before she had known her then-fiancé's cruelty, she had never experienced such a fierce reaction from a simple close whisper. Was it only to be chalked up to the newness of the experience? Or was it because it was Arthur doing it?

"Irene, I hope I ain't bein' too forward when I...would you like to…" Arthur trailed off, clearing his throat. "I mean, I ain't got anythin' to offer you aside from a good time," he continued to hem and haw. "You seem like a genuine lady and I...someone like me ain't never really been allowed to touch that sort of person. I sleep under the stars and drink too much for anyone's good, never mind my own." His eyes met her own and a slow, almost forlorn smile played across his mouth.

Despite the ribald impropriety of his words he looked so utterly tender, his hat slightly tilted and his eyes drowsily gentle. Irene found herself nodding before he even managed to actually ask her. "I have a room for the night, Mister Arthur. I am…" she hesitated. "Not...very experienced, but not inexperienced."

"Thank God." Arthur replied, surprising her. "You wouldn't want someone like me for somethin' like your first time."

"Oh?" Clearly, they had careened past the point of polite or appropriate conversation. But now, she was curious. "Why is that, Mister Arthur?"

He coughed, fidgeting with the brim of his hat. "I'm just...I'm not...fit for that sorta' thing. Not worth it. Fine ladies deserve a proper gentleman an' I ain't that." He stated.

"Arthur…" Irene took his hands and tugged on them, leading him out of the yard and towards the roadside. "You're more of a gentleman than most, I can promise you that." She insisted.

"Miss Irene, wait!" The sound of her name being yelled made her pause, and Irene found herself abruptly confronted with the step caller as he thrust the fiddle's sturdy case at her. "Me and the boys, we got to talkin'. We figure you ought to keep the old Hyde, as a thank you of sorts." He said, sweeping his hat off his head. "Besides, if you leave it here it'll never be played. And there's nothin' worse than an unplayed fiddle. Believe me, I would know!"

"I…" Irene wanted to burst into tears. This was so unexpected and kind. The case settled into her arms, like an old friend already. "B-But I have no way to-"

"Not for money ma'am. Simply for liftin' folks' spirits tonight. You take that Hyde and you spread that gift of yours around."

"Thank you." Irene said sincerely, "I...you have no idea how much this means to me, sir."

"Mighty kind of you fellers." Arthur added, his grin a little sheepish when the caller turned his attention on him to express his thanks for Arthur's help in acquiring the remaining lumber for the house. He tried to wave off the praise to no avail, looking increasingly awkward the longer he was subjected to the step caller's enthusiasm.

The woman from earlier (Irene wracked her brain for a moment before remembering Mary, Mary) approached on Arthur's opposite side while he was preoccupied with the step caller. However, she didn't miss the way Arthur's posture went tight as he noticed Mary standing there expectantly. Arthur suddenly seized Irene's hand, muttered a curt, "obliged," to the step caller and set off at a brisk pace down the road.

"Don't forget that you promised, Arthur Morgan!" The widow Linton called after him, her voice sharp. Arthur just waved a dismissive hand in her general direction.

Irene struggled to keep up even after Arthur scooped the case out of her arms, the man's longer legs easily outstripping her own. "Arthur, can you slow down?" She implored, a little fearful now. He looked like he was stewing, his shoulders squared against some invisible adversary.

Arthur obliged her in silence. He maintained that silence until they reached the outskirts of town, where he clarified, "you had a room, right?"

"Yes, I...yes. For the night." Irene answered softly. Arthur just nodded in reply. "Arthur, you don't-"

"I ain't gonna' hurt you." He cut her off. "You have my word, Miss Irene. Ain't got nothin' to fear from me."

Irene was still more than a touch anxious as they ascended the stairs, and she almost dropped the key, fumbling to get it into the lock. Arthur hummed low in his throat, that comforting horse pat landing on her arm again and soothing her enough that she managed to get the door open.

Arthur carefully set the case against the wall, and then he was on her. He kissed hungrily, his whole body pressed to hers before the door was even fully shut behind them. His tongue plunged into her mouth without so much as a warning or a by your leave. Irene had only read about this kind of kissing and experiencing it firsthand was composure-shattering. She found herself weak at the knees, grateful for the weight of Arthur's large form to anchor herself as he boldly coaxed her tongue to reply.

Irene shyly licked into his mouth, making a soft noise that had Arthur shuddering and offering his own groan in response. He pulled away, slow, like he was being dragged, and struggled to bring her with him.

The man sat down hard on the bed, urging her close in between his spread legs. Then, Arthur grabbed two handfuls of the back of her dress and rested his forehead on the spot directly beneath her breasts.

Irene froze, confused until she felt his shoulders tremble.

He was crying, like his heart was fit to break. Deep, shuddering sobs that came from somewhere by the floorboards and ravaged his entire body on the way up. Hesitantly, Irene carded her fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head. She could feel the tears seeping into the fabric of her dress, slowly dampening the material.

"It's just never enough." Arthur finally said thickly. He stayed where he was, wearily slurring into her abdomen, "I give an' I give an' I do an' it's just...never enough to make folks happy."

"Arthur..." Irene whispered. She felt silly for not noticing sooner than something was very wrong, guilt rushing her as she realized that she had been so caught up in him giving her attention that she must have missed the signs.

"It's never enough that I'm just there, still alive, still willin', even though I'm a damn fool. Never enough." He mumbled, "God, I'm a fool."

"No you're not." Irene said firmly. Arthur looked up at her. "You're brave, you're loyal and you're kind, Arthur. It's not your fault that the people around you seem to have taken those traits for granted."

"We was plannin' to be married, y'know. Me an'...me an' Mary." He confessed abruptly, not that he needed to. "Or maybe it was just me plannin'. She...I just don't know."

"What happened? Did she call it off?"

"Her daddy, he didn't approve of me. I didn't have...enough," Arthur explained, his words stilted as he recounted probably more than he meant to. "I was orphaned pretty early on and I...well shit, I hung around with folks bad and good an' to Mr. Gillis, that was worth a condemnation. Forbade it. Said I was filthy, that I'd c'rupt...corrupt her. Ruin her. Break her with these turrible hands of mine." The hands in question gripped Irene's dress even tighter and he fought back a sob. "So I...I had to let her go. Watched her fall in love with some rich feller and it made me wonder, made me scared that she ain't never loved me at all. And then tonight..." He shook his head.

"What about tonight, Arthur?" Irene prompted him gently.

"She come to me askin' for a damn favor. After everythin' that's happened, she still had the damn gall to ask me for shit. Her little brother's gone off to shack up with some cult ." Arthur cleared his throat. "So I'm too rough to marry, but I'm sure as hell good enough to ask to rescue her precious baby brother. She said she thinks of me often and I just...dammit, it ain't right for her to tell me that!" He erupted, hiccupping out yet another sob. "It ain't right, I finally thought I was--I mean I was doin' okay, I was better, an' now…"

"It feels like you just hit a patch of shale and slid your way back down into the bottom of the gorge you were crawling out of."

Arthur sniffled. "Well, yeah. Kinda'. H-How'd you know?"

"You think you're the only person in the world to have troubles with people you were trying to recover from?" Irene's laugh was soft and sad. "My situation is a bit different, but no less weighty for it, Mister Arthur."

Arthur huffed out a breath, rubbing his forehead back and forth on her stomach. "I just hate myself. Can't hate her, all I can do is hate m'self." He sighed.

"Don't." Irene admonished him, trawling her fingers through his thick hair and dragging his head back with the motion. Arthur groaned again, this time lower, his eyes half-lidding as he appeared to enjoy being ministered to. "Don't hate yourself for being kind, Arthur, and don't let the world beat that kindness out of you. There are people, so many people who will love you for it. Hell, there's probably some that already do."

Blue eyes blinked open sluggishly, still glassy with tears as he looked up at her. Liquor-honest words tumbled from his lips, "why the hell are you bein' so nice to me? Led you up here for a reason an' now I'm all a mess about another woman." He shook his head, not waiting for a response before continuing, "I just wanna' sleep. Forget about all of this. I...lay down with me? I need...I need...somethin' to hang onto." He mumbled, tugging at the back of her skirt. "Clothes on is fine. Just need to hold you. Few minutes, even." He pleaded.

Irene bit her lip uncertainly. Laying down fully-clothed? It seemed a bit strange. But she didn't have on a corset, so at least she wouldn't be uncomfortable… "Alright." She agreed softly after a moment, reaching down to unlace her boots. Hopefully Arthur was too inebriated to notice that 'her' boots were also Frank's boots. He seemed more than a few sheets to the wind, if his weeping was anything to judge by.

Arthur clumsily kicked off his own boots and laid on his side, catching her arm to guide her down with her back to his chest. It was somewhat awkward at first; Irene had never actually been held in such a manner and the bed was incredibly small. She knew she was probably too stiff, and slowly urged her shoulders to loosen a bit. Arthur draped his arm over her hips, not even holding her so much as he was simply laying his hand on her stomach.

"Thank you." He mumbled into the back of her neck, still sniffling a little.

Irene tentatively placed her hand over his own, lacing her fingers through his. "Shh, sleep. You'll feel better in the morning, Arthur." She whispered. Then, so quiet she wasn't sure he would even hear her, "thank you, Arthur. For everything."

Part Two: Friends

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johnsbleu · 5 years ago

Text

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 60

warnings: moments of nsfw-ness here and there. Hold My Hand Masterlist

Anytime you and John are in a book shop, you always end up separated. Part of you knows that you do it on purpose because John always gets so excited to see you again. He’ll toss aside whatever book he’s looking at and wrap his arms around your waist, kissing you repeatedly like you haven’t seen each other in days.

More than once the two of you have snuck into the corner of a book shop for a make out session. Yeah, it’s probably immature, but sometimes it’s fun to act like high school kids. One time you were almost caught with John’s hand up your shirt, but thankfully no one saw you.

Since the two of you are new to this shop, you’re hoping John will pull you aside at some point and kiss you with no end in sight. Surprisingly, you’ve never been to this shop before. It’s a lot like your shop, but it doesn’t feel as cozy. Probably from the cars honking on the street outside, and the fact that it’s about as big as your living room and kitchen combined. It’s tiny.

You know John is somewhere in the shop, even though his voice is quiet, it’s still deep and it carries throughout the shop. You peek around a shelf to see John talking to a woman who is helping him look for a certain book, and he’s listening to every word she’s saying as he looks over the book in his hands.

He’s been asked to look for a few books for a client, some old children’s books that they’ve had a hard time finding, and of course, John always knows the best places to find them.

It’s only been about a week since you made a website for John’s bookbinding business, but he’s gotten a few people asking for books. He checks it every morning and tries his best to play it cool when someone emails him. It’s so nice to see him genuinely excited about something he loves, and you couldn’t be more proud of him.

You lean against the shelf, watching John closely as he talks quietly with the woman. He nods several times, and the woman excuses herself for a moment and heads for the backroom to grab something.

John looks at you and smiles wide, “I’m almost done. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Take your time, babe.” you wave your hand and smile sincerely, “Come find me when you’re done.”

You hold John’s gaze for a moment, then he nods and gives you a wink. You head for the back of the shop and look through the books on the shelf. Since you found out that John binds books, you look through all of the old classics in hopes that you’ll find one with his stamp on the inside.

Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird. You set them on the table and carefully open them to see the inside cover is empty.

“Damn it.” you sigh and put them back on the shelf.

“Try A Tale of Two Cities.” John says quietly as he stands behind you.

You run your finger along the books as you look up and down the shelves, then you gasp a little when you find it and pull it out. Looking at John as you open it, you smile at him, then look down to see his stamp on the inside cover, “Oh, my god.”

“Just brought that one in the other day.”

You look up at you John, smiling wide, “I’m buying it.”

John’s cheeks turn pink as he smiles proudly, and he lets out a small laugh when you turn around and look for more. You look over your shoulder to see John has several things in his hands, and you spot Jane Eyre. The binding is all torn up, so you know whoever owned it must have loved it.

“Jane Eyre?”

John nods slowly and smiles, “Yeah, I’ve been looking for this one for a few months. It’s a first edition, and the binding isn’t too bad, but I want to fix it. Melanie had called me a few weeks back to let me know that it was in, but with everything that’s going on with our shop, I hadn’t had time to come pick it up.”

You squint your eyes at John, “That’s my mom’s favorite book.”

“I know.” he looks up at you and smiles, “It’s her birthday soon. I know you’re going to tell me not to do this, but I really want to.”

You put your hands up in defense and smile, “Hey, I think it’s super sweet.”

You watch John as he struggles to hold everything in his hands, despite the fact that his hands are huge. He has way too much he’s trying to carry, and he’d never ask for help.

You laugh as you reach out to help carry a few things, “Baby, just ask for some help.”

“Can you help me?” he asks quietly. He’s bought more supplies to bind books, and you hold them up as he explains each thing. “Thread. For the binding.”

You hold up a weird tool that almost looks like an ice pick and you widen your eyes, “You could kill someone with this.”

“That is a piercing awl.” he laughs as he puts every into a shopping basket. “And yes, I could kill someone with it.”

You hold up a ruler and laugh, “And this?”

“Well, for obvious reasons.” he takes it from you and looks around the shop, then he bends you over the table. You look over your shoulder as John lifts up your dress, then he slaps the ruler against your ass as the two of you laugh.

John has stopped at a gas station to fill up the gas tank, and he’s grabbed you a few snacks for the road. The drive back to Mill Neck will be a little longer since it’s rush hour and everyone is on their way home from work. Sure, John could weave in and out of traffic, but he’d never do it with you in the car.

Aurelio has recently updated the stereo in John’s car -- by John’s request, of course. You wanted to show John a new song that reminded you of him, but because his car is older, it didn’t have the proper stereo for you to be able to plug your phone into. John was more than happy to update it as long as you promised to let him pick some music to add to a playlist; mostly Michael Bublé, some Johnny Cash, and a song or two by Peter Frampton.

You kick off your shoes and sit cross legged in your seat, shifting around a few times until you’re comfortable as you swipe through the songs on your phone.

“Okay, now this song…it’s like, me about you. It’s how I feel about you.” you say, turning it up a little, “I’m sure you feel this way about me too though. At least I’d hope."

“Well,” John clears his throat and puts on his seat belt, “If it’s how you feel about me, then I’m positive I feel the same way. You ready?”

You grab your bottle of lemonade from the bag and crack it open to take a sip. You twist the cap back on and clap your hands together.

“Ready!” you smile at John, then start to laugh when you realize he’s been watching you, “What?”

He reaches out and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, then he sucks on thumb to get a taste of your lemonade, “You know how much I love you?”

“Um, a lot?” you say, smiling sweetly.

“A lot, a lot, a lot.” he leans his head against his seat and smiles as he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek, “You’re my girl.”

“Ooh,” you laugh, pressing your hand to your stomach, “That gave me butterflies.”

John leans over to kiss you and he reaches for your hand, then presses a kiss to it, “You look really good sitting in the passenger seat of my car. I’ve always wanted to tell you that. The first time you were ever in my car…” he puts his hand over his heart and smiles, “Best day ever. You looked so tiny, and you were so nervous. I just wanted to hold you in my arms.”

“Very sweet, Jonathan.” you lean over to kiss him again and start to crawl into his lap, “But I think I’d look even better in the driver’s seat.”

John wraps his arms around you and laughs, “Wanna just drive like this the whole way home?”

“Hmm…” you tilt your head and tap your finger to your chin.

“Do you want to drive home?” he asks, already opening his door.

“Yes!” you trade spots with John and get the seat adjusted as he gets out and walks to the passenger’s side. “I know you just got it back today, but I want to drive.”

John quickly pulls on his seat belt and smiles, “Okay, so just…gently push the gas when you’re driving. This car can go pretty fast.”

“Jonathan, I’ve driven your car before. Many times.”

He nods and exhales, “Yeah, you’re right.”

John watches you as you put your hand on the gear stick and put the car in reverse. He holds his breath for a moment as you back out of the parking spot, and he exhales loudly when you put the car in drive. From the corner of your eye, you can see John hold onto the door handle as you pull onto the street, and you start to laugh.

“Seriously?” you ask, looking back and forth between him and the road, “You’ve been in the car with me before when I’ve driven. I’m a good driver, John.”

“I’m still better.”

You laugh, “I won’t argue with that, but I’m much more patient in traffic.”

“Okay, yeah, well, I won’t argue with that.”

The drive back to Mill Neck went by faster than you’d hoped. You showed John several songs that reminded you of him, and he even played a certain one three times in a row. He hummed along to it and kept his hand on your thigh the entire drive.

You pull into the driveway and sigh, “Wish it would have taken longer to get home.”

“Why?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Kinda liked just driving and listening to music. I miss being with you.”

John gets out of the car and grabs his bags from the backseat, then he walks to the driver’s side and opens the door, reaching out for your hand.

“Oh…” you laugh and look at his hand, “I wasn’t waiting for you to…open my door, or anything like that.”

“I know, peach.” he shakes his hand and you finally reach out for it. “How about tomorrow we take a drive through the city? You can show me all the other songs, and we can listen to that one song again. And again.”

“You really liked that one, huh?” you laugh as you walk into the house, “I heard it the other day, and I just instantly thought of you. It’d be a good song for our first dance, or at least one of our dances on our wedding night.”

“Our first dance.” John repeats, still holding your hand as he walks into the kitchen.

Your cheeks are aflame from embarrassment, but you know John thinks about your wedding just as much as you. If only he’d fucking propose already.

“Yeah, I was just listening to it and thought about marrying you. Us dancing to it.” you look up at John and smile, “I mean, I think about it a lot. Like…quite a bit, almost like, ya know, constantly.”

“Getting tired of waiting?”

You let out a loud laugh and nod, “Yeah, to be honest, I kind of am. I like to think of myself as a pretty patient person, but…hurry up, already!”

“Soon, I promise.”

The smile on John’s face is making you melt and he sits down at the kitchen table, then pulls you into his lap. John has been eyeing you all day, and it’s honestly giving you butterflies. His hands slides in between your legs and he leans into kiss you. You’re wearing a dress that buttons up the front and it comes to your mid thigh, and you know you wore it on purpose. You always love the way John looks at you.

“I love this dress.” he whispers against your lips.

“Thanks.” you cup John’s face in your hands and stand up. He keeps his lips connected to yours as you back out of the kitchen and head for your bedroom. Once at the stairs, he lifts you up and you wrap you legs around his waist as he climbs the stairs, still kissing each other passionately.

John lays you down on the bed and starts to unbutton your dress, “You look beautiful today. You look so happy.”

“I am.”

“Not wearing a bra, I see.” he says, opening the front of your dress, then leaning down to kiss over your breasts.

“Thought you’d enjoy that.” you watch John as he kisses down your chest, past your bellybutton and to the waistband of your underwear, and you whimper a little when he nips at your sensitive skin. He lightly trails his fingers down your inner thighs, then starts to pull your underwear to the side. You tilt your head back and smile, “That feels good, Jonathan.”

“Does it?” he whispers, and you hum when you feel his tongue; wet and warm against your clit.

Licking your lips, you tilt your head back more and let out a soft moan as John slowly rubs his thumb over your clit. Your body jolts from the pleasure, and you open your eyes to watch John in between your legs.

“Fuck, you taste delicious.” he whispers against your thighs, and he smiles when he looks up at you. His phone rings in his pocket and he stands up straight to answer it, “Hey…yeah, no problem. I can be right over.”

You flop on the bed and laugh, “You’re kidding?”

John lays down on top of you and smiles, “Sorry, Jimmy needs my help. Tess isn’t home so you’d just be bored over there.”

You cup his face and kiss his cheek, “Just guys being dudes.”

“I don’t get that reference, and I’m sure you’re referencing something. You and Tess do that a lot, but yeah, just guys being dudes.” he smiles, then kisses your nose. “Come over in a little bit, okay, beautiful?”

You frown playfully as John smiles, and you sit up to kiss him, “I’ll meet you over there in a little bit. Grab some gum or brush your teeth before you leave.”

John licks his lips and smiles, “Maybe I like the taste of you on my lips all day.”

“And while that is one of the hottest things you’ve ever said to me, please eat a mint.”

John nods as he leans down to suck on your nipple one last time, “Okay. I love you.”

“Love you.” you pout as John leans back down to kiss you, then you watch him leave the room, “Just leave me here naked…and very turned on!”

“We have tonight!” he yells, and moments later, you hear the front door close.

As you walk across the street, you can already hear Jimmy’s playlist playing loudly in the backyard, and you know John is probably kicking himself for heading over early. You walk into the backyard, but seeing no one back there, you walk to the backdoor and see Jimmy, Tess, and John standing around the kitchen island looking at something.

Tess is pointing at the paper and as she talks, John is quickly writing everything down. It all looks very…secretive for some reason. You press your ear to the door, but with the music playing, it’s impossible to hear what they’re saying. You see Tess nod her head as John talks and she puts hand over her heart, then she smiles and covers her face with her hands.

“What is going on?” you whisper to yourself and turn the handle to the backdoor, but it’s locked.

You knock on the door, and John looks up at you as Tess leaves the room with the papers in her hand. Jimmy unlocks the door and lets you in, immediately hugging you.

“You look nice.” he says, smiling. “Sorry the door was locked, habit already.”

“Oh,” you wave him off, “No biggie, I just heard the music and figured everyone was in the backyard.”

John leans back in his chair a little to look at you and he smiles, “I love that dress on you.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” you say as you walk over to John, and he wraps his arm around your waist, “So, what were you three doing? Don’t think I didn’t notice you all standing around and looking at some papers.”

John laughs and shakes his head, “It was nothing, they just want to build something in the basement and wanted my input.”

“Hmm,” you squint your eyes at him as Tess walks into the room, “What were you three doing? What were those papers?”

“We want to build something in the basement and we asked John for help.” she says without looking at you, “We want to make a movie room so when we have our shows, we can all sit down there and watch. Oh yeah, and for Jimmy’s buddies, they can watch games down there.”

You look back and forth between the three of them and sit down next to John, “Okay, some secret society that I’m not allowed to be a part of, I got it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Tess laughs and leans against the counter, “So, what did you two get up to today?”

“Went into the city to get some supplies.” John says and takes a drink of his beer, then offers you a sip, which you take. “Gonna bind a book for mom’s birthday.”

Tess rolls her eyes, “Don’t brag.”

“I know. What’s even worse is that it’s a first edition of Jane Eyre, so now she’s gonna give us shit about how we don’t get her anything nice.” you laugh and shove John’s shoulder, “Damn you for being so…talented.”

John shakes his head and looks at Jimmy, “How is work?”

“It’s been pretty good.” he says and moves to the fridge to grab a beer, “You know the cliche story of a cop saving a cat from a tree? That was me the other day.”

Tess laughs, “So it’s been boring for him, like always.”

“I’d rather have boring days though. I couldn’t handle being a big city cop. I used to get calls to John’s house all the time,” Jimmy says, popping the cap on his beer, “That was hard enough.”

John starts to laugh and nods his head, “That’s probably true.”

“Noise complaints.” Jimmy chuckles, then takes a sip of his beer.

“What happened the first time you went over there?” Tess asks and sits down on the stool next to John.

“Well, it had been my first week at the station, so this was quite a few years ago. I had a pretty good week, but I was waiting for a really interesting call. You know how you watch Cops on TV and you see the most ridiculous things? A cow stuck in someone’s house, a man running around town naked. That’s what I was hoping for.”

“And boy, were you wrong.” you laugh.

“My shift was almost over and someone asked me to take their call for them. Some people were complaining about the noise, I guess.” he says and shakes his head, “I got in my car, drove to John’s house and knocked on the door.”

Tess props her head on her hand and laughs, “Were you scared?”

“At first, no, I’m trained in this kind of thing. But when I got to his house, I was terrified.” Jimmy laughs, “There were dead bodies just in his house, and I didn’t know what to do. I just saw this man…standing there, and behind him were about four guys, just…dead on the floor.”

John reaches for your hand and you scoot closer to him to let him know you’re not uncomfortable. He looks over at you, then leans down to kiss you quickly. He’s always so scared that you’re going to think he’s a monster, but you could never. John is…incredible. He’s the best man you know.

“I’m okay.” you whisper and nod, “It’s interesting actually.”

“I had to handcuff John, of course. He had dead people in his house. I called for backup, and then about 30 seconds later, the police chief called. He asked for his name and when I told him it was John Wick, he just told me to leave. I went back to talk to John, who was just sitting there waiting for me, and I was so scared of him. He could have killed me within five seconds, but he didn’t.” Jimmy laughs, “He was actually really cool.”

“That is so hot.” you laugh, and Tess looks over at you as she starts to laugh. “I’m sorry, that’s so fucking hot, John.”

“You are a legend.” Tess says, grabbing his arm as his cheeks turn red.

“He is.” Jimmy nods, “When I got back to the station, all the other guys were surprised that John didn’t kick my ass.”

“He would never.” you look at John and squeeze his hand, “You’re his best friend.”

“Well, I wasn’t then.” Jimmy laughs, “Once I got back to the station, they told me that John Wick was the John Wick. Baba Yaga.”

“Ooh, yeah. I forget he’s scary or something.” Tess teases, nudging John’s shoulder.

“Well, to be fair, you two have never seen him working.” Jimmy lets out a big breath then laughs, “Anyway, they decided anytime there were calls concerning John that I would be the one to handle them. I went over so much that all I had to do was ask John if he was working. A simple yes or no was all I needed. It was usually a yes.”

“Hey, John,” Tess cocks up an eyebrow, “You workin’?”

A smile spreads across John’s face and he lets out the cutest laugh. Pressing kisses to John’s cheek, you move to sit in his lap and he wraps his arms around you.

“You workin’, John?” you ask, and he shakes his head as he leans forward to kiss you. You look back at Jimmy and furrow your brow, “So, wait…you’re not from Mill Neck?”

“Nope.” Jimmy shakes his head, “Well, you know I work for the Oyster Bay Police Department, and so when I got out of the academy, I moved there. I ended up coming here so much, I just fell in love with it.”

“Yeah, you just kind of fall in love with Mill Neck, it’s weird.” Tess says, shaking her head.

Jimmy leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, “I just got an apartment here since I couldn’t afford a house.”

“Neither could I.” you laugh, trying to make Jimmy feel better. “I remember researching so much about Mill Neck before we moved here and I almost fainted when I saw the prices for things, but April wanted us to move here so bad, there was no way I could just say no. And mom and Dan pitched in quite a bit of money for us to move.”

“Plus April offered for us to live here rent free -- which we turned down, of course.” Tess smiles, and you roll your eyes, “Okay, so maybe paying rent was your idea.”

John wraps his arms around you tighter and kisses your cheek, “You’re so cute.”

“Do you try to pay John rent?” Tess laughs.

John laughs and nods his head, “She did try to pay me rent once, back when she first moved in. She came into the office when I was on a call with someone, and she just sat there and stared at me until I hung up. Then she just put about 700 dollars in front of me and said it was her share of the rent.”

Tess looks at you as she shakes her head, “You are so dumb.”

“Well, we hadn’t talked much about money and all of that stuff, so I figured since I didn’t really pay for things around the house, I’d give him money to pay for something.” you laugh and look at John, “But now I’m getting…a little bit better. I just don’t want anyone to think I’m just dating him for his money.”

“Whoever thinks that can get fucked.” Tess says, and John nods his head in agreement. “You’re clearly in love with him, and anyone who can’t see that is…”

“Stupid as fuck.” Jimmy chimes in, and you all start to laugh.

“I just remembered mom was so happy to see that the crime rate was so low here.” Tess chuckles, and you all look at John as he takes a sip of his beer.

He smiles smugly and shrugs, “What can I say?”

You let out a small laugh, then look up at Jimmy, “So, how did you two meet? Did you just go over for a noise complaint and then ask John out for a drink?”

“Yeah, we met that first night, but we didn’t really talk obviously. I would talk to John a little when I’d go over, just a casual conversation since I would be pretty nervous, and when I get nervous, I tend to just talk a lot. But I’d see him around town sometimes.”

John laughs and clears his throat, “We ran into each other at the grocery store, it was weird.”

“It was weird to not see John covered in blood or without cuts on all his face.” Jimmy adds.

Tess laughs, “God, now I’m just imagining you two just standing there in the bread aisle.”

“Anyway, we said hi, then we bumped into each other again at the check out.” Jimmy leans against the counter and laughs, “We hung out a time or two, then I didn’t go over to his house for awhile.”

Tess looks at John and smiles, “You retired?”

“Yeah.” John nods and shifts under you a little.

“But after all of that stuff, we bumped into each other again at the gas station, and I asked him about his car.” Jimmy clears his throat and smiles, “Man, I thought John was so cool.”

“Oh, whatever, you still do.” Tess laughs and shoves Jimmy’s shoulder as his cheek turn pink.

“I had just recently gotten out of a relationship -- a pretty serious relationship actually, and I wanted to start dating.”

“That’s so weird. To think that you were ever dating someone other than Tess.” you smile, looking at the two of them, “It’s just…weird. It feels like you two were always supposed to be together.”

“Aw!” Tess teases and moves to stand next to Jimmy, “He had some pretty tragic relationships before me.”

“I did.” Jimmy wraps his arms around Tess and kisses her cheek, “I was in a serious relationship for about two years, I tried to propose to her and she shut me down before I could even get down on one knee. I figured she was just...not ready, so I waited a little while longer, proposed again and she still said no.”

“Oh, no.” you frown. “Did she maybe just…not want to get married?”

“No, she did. We had talked about it several times.” he says, and Tess leans back to look at him. “She said she wanted to get married, but she never said that it was me that she wanted to marry.”

“Oh,” you frown again, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I think she just kept me around to…have someone. I don’t think she was ever really in love with me. I knew I wanted to get married and have kids, so I decided I wasn’t going to waste my time being with her since it wasn’t what she wanted. Not with me anyway.” he squeezes Tess in his arms and she smiles. “Then I bumped into John again, and I just asked if he wanted to grab a drink sometime. We went to a bar and watched a game. I didn’t pester him about what I would see every time I went over to his house.”

“Which I appreciated.” John says.

“I tried to act cool, but I was curious. I wanted to know everything.” he says and watches John as he leans up to kiss your cheek, “But after hanging out with him for awhile, I finally got him to open up a little more. He seemed like a lonely guy, and there was no reason for him to be sitting at home alone all the time. So I told him that I was dating, and that if he was interested, I would set him up on some dates.”

“Yeah, you set him up on several bad dates, or so I’ve heard.” you say, cocking up an eyebrow.

“To be fair, I didn’t know about you yet. If I had, I would have set you two up right away.” Jimmy says and wraps his arms around Tess tighter, “I remember when he told me about you.”

You look at John as his cheeks turn red, and he looks down at his hand on your thigh. John has told you all about the first time he ever saw, he remembers everything. But now you’re interested in hearing what Jimmy has to say.

“He had just gotten back from a date with Rachel, and he was pissed.” Jimmy laughs, “He called me and I could just hear it in his voice. I came over and he told me that he was done going dates that I set him up on.”

“What was so bad about it?” you ask, looking at John.

“She was…not my type. She complained about everything. Now that I think about it, she reminds me a lot of Leah.”

Tess laughs loudly, “Which means she was fucking horrible!”

John looks up at you and smiles, “My date with you was so different from my date with her. It was a complete 180. It was perfect.”

“Yeah…” you nod, then lean your forehead against John’s.

“Did you kiss her?” Tess asks, a smile growing on her face.

“Rachel?” John asks, then shakes his head, “No.”

“Did you at least--” Tess stops herself, “You know what? I won’t even go there. It’s not my business.”

“I’m proud of you, babe.” Jimmy teases.

“No,” John shakes his head, “Nothing happened.”

“Wait…” you lean closer to John, “You hadn’t been…intimate with anyone since Helen? Like, not even a kiss?”

John looks at you and smiles, “Not until you.”

You look away from John as a smile spreads across your face, and you feel a surge run through your body and you’re not sure what it is. Satisfaction, maybe? Satisfaction that John hasn’t been with anyone in years except you. Satisfaction that he wasn’t even interested in anyone like that until he met you.

“Didn’t you go out with her again?” Jimmy asks, and Tess slaps his arm. “What? I’m pretty sure he did. Like two more times.”

“One more time. She kept bothering me to ask her out again, and I thought maybe she was just having an off day.” John says, then reaches for your hand, “She was not just having an off day, she was just…”

“A bitch. It’s okay, John. You can say it.” Tess laughs.

“That’s the night he called me pissed as hell. He was like ‘I’m done doing this, Jimmy. I can’t keep going out with these girls’.” he says, trying his best to impersonate John, and you all laugh. “I knew something was going on because he kept looking out the window, like he was looking for someone. And he was.”

You feel yourself blushing, and John leans up to press another kiss to your cheek. Tess is watching the two of you as she leans her head back against Jimmy’s shoulder, and she smiles wide when you look at her.

“He told me he wasn’t interested in me setting him up on dates anymore, because he had seen someone that he wanted to talk to and maybe ask out.” Jimmy chuckles, “We went outside to ‘look’ at my car, then I saw you and realized why he was so nervous to talk to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you laugh, feeling your cheeks burning again.

“This is weird because you’re like my little sister, but you’re very….”

“Beautiful.” Tess says, finishing his sentence for him.

“You were outside with Tess actually.” he says and smiles at Tess. “John didn’t even have to point you out, I just knew he meant you. The two of you were sitting on the little bench that’s out front, and Tess must have said something funny -- like she always does -- because the two of you started laughing loudly. Absolute angels, you two.”

John bounces on his knee a few times, and you look down to find him smiling at you. You rub your finger against his beard and lean forward to kiss him a few times. Jimmy clears his throat to turn the attention back to him, and you smile as you look over at him again.

“So, anyway, I asked him why he hadn’t talked to you yet, and he just…completely shut down.”

“He was scared. Oh, my god. You were scared of her?” Tess asks, moving to sit down next to John again.

“I wasn’t scared of her.” John shakes his head and smiles, “Actually, yeah, I was pretty scared of her.”

Jimmy leans against the counter and laughs, “I remember he called me right after he talked to you, and I went over to his house. I walked in the front door and his face was as white as a ghost. He just sat on the couch and stared at the floor.”

“Jesus.” Tess laughs.

“He told me that he finally talked to you, said he thought he was already in love.”

You laugh loudly, “He did not.”

“I did.” John nods, pulling you closer. “I told you that I knew right away.”

You and John hold each others gazes for a few moments as a smile spreads across your face and tears fill your eyes. You lean your forehead against John’s and sniffle quietly.

“I love you.” he whispers, and you nod your head as he cups your face. “My girl.”

Tess is staring at the two of you, watching in awe. She puts her hand over her heart and smiles, “I love you two.” she looks over at Jimmy and points at him, “Why don’t you say sweet stuff like that to me? I’m your wife, you ass.”

“I do too!” Jimmy laughs, “We have reservations for that nice restaurant tonight, I made you a nice bath this morning, I gave you a foot massage yesterday. I made you breakfast in bed the other morning, and I took you to your favorite cafe today for lunch.”

“See how most of those things had to do with food?” Tess looks down at her belly and sighs, “This kid is gonna be a chunk.”

Jimmy laughs and pats Tess’ hand, “I love you, babe.”

Tess squints her eyes at Jimmy, then slowly starts to smile as she looks over at you, “He really is very sweet to me.”

“Oh, I know he is.” you laugh, then gasp, “Oh, my gosh, I forgot to tell you. John tried to get me to do self defense yesterday. Threw me on a mat, pinning me to the floor and everything.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It was so fun.” you laugh and look at John, then you jut out your bottom lip dramatically as he laughs. “He was actually getting mad at me though.”

“I wasn’t.” he shakes his head, then looks at Tess, “I wasn’t. I was just trying to teach her some self defense and she would not be serious.”

“We should all do that sometime.” Tess says and looks back and forth between John and Jimmy, “You two could teach us some self defense.”

John points at you and laughs, “She can’t be serious for two minutes, and I can’t imagine trying to teach you and her.”

“Oh, please. I can totally be serious.” you say and look over at Jimmy and Tess as she moves closer to kiss him.

The two of them start making out, and you and John look at each other in shock. Tess wipes off her mouth and reaches out for Jimmy’s hand, “I’m sorry. Pregnancy hormones.”

“Oh, I…” you watch as they walk past, and you hear them heading up the stairs to their bedroom, “Okay, goodbye?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to leave. Call you tomorrow.” Tess says, and a few seconds later you hear their bedroom door close.

“We should definitely head home.” John says and quickly gets up from his chair.

“That was so…” you snap your fingers and laugh, “It was like lightning quick.”

As soon as you get outside, John finally slows down and reaches out to hold your hand, “I had a good day.”

“You did?” you wrap your arms around John’s bicep and lean up to kiss him.

“I got to spend time with you. Of course I had a good day.” he says, stopping at the mailbox to check the mail.

“I’m glad we went out there today. It was nice to spend some time with you since I’ve barely seen you since you’ve been home from work.” you lean against the mailbox and sigh, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, peach.” John smiles and leans down to kiss you, “I know I’ve been a little busy lately, I’m sorry. I just have some stuff I need to get done by tomorrow.”

“It’s okay. I just miss you.” you frown, pouting a little more than intended. John bends down a little in front of you, waiting for you to hop on his back, and you laugh loudly and shake your head, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s just our driveway, no one will see anything.” he stands up straight and looks at you, “Aren’t you wearing underwear?”

“Well, yeah.” you shove John jokingly and laugh, “Of course I am. You know that, you saw that earlier.”

John shrugs, “I don’t believe you.”

“What? You think I took them off before I left the house?” you walk in front of John, heading up the driveway as you laugh, “You amaze me, Jonathan.”

You hear the gravel under John’s feet as he chases after you, and you start to run across the driveway to the grass as you both laugh. He wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you tight against his chest to keep you from escaping. He lifts you off the ground, and you laugh loudly as he rubs his beard against your neck, tickling you.

“I’m wearing underwear, Jonathan.” you tilt your head back and smile, “You can even check if you want.”

John smiles as he slides his hand between your legs and onto your underwear. He watches you closely as he pulls them to the side, rubbing his fingers against you teasingly and you struggle to keep your eyes open. You hang your head as you moan, and you dig your nails into John’s arm when he slides one finger in deep. You feel John’s lips on your neck and tilt your head back, giving him more access.

“Fuck, let’s go inside. Please.” you whisper and open your eyes to John still smiling.

John lets go of you and sucks on his fingers as he walks away from you, “If you can catch me…”

“Your legs are longer, so you’re faster than me. Clearly that is so not fair.” you say as you slowly walk closer to John.

He stops walking and you run up to him, wrapping your arms around him, and he holds tight to you as he walks to the house. John lets go of you when you get in the house, and you smile when see the bulge growing in his pants already.

You kick off your shoes and look at John, “So, since you know, we were so rudely interrupted earlier, do you wanna…?”

John nods his head and begins to unbuckle his pants, “Yes!”

“Okay…” you slide your underwear off and toss them to John, then you slowly unbutton the front of your dress and slide it open to show you’re still not wearing a bra. You toss it to him and slowly turn around, “You like what you see?”

“Wow.” he whispers breathlessly, and he reaches out for you as he walks closer.

You giggle loudly as you run up the stairs, “If you can catch me…”

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monsterheartshq · 4 years ago

Photo

THE WITCH.

“ manipulative, secretive, judgemental, brooding. the witch is all about casting silent judgement, and powerful hexes, from the safety of her own bedroom. ”

biography.

name. hajoon blackmoore age. 26 years old occupation. college junior. works at dark wood mortuary sexuality. pansexual gender. cismale faceclaim. seo kang joon monster. witch

origin.

Joon was adopted when he was three months old. The Blackmoore’s had been unable to conceive their own child. Even after almost 15 years of trying. So they turned to a family friend that helped them with the adoption. Joon isn’t exactly sure how legit his adoption was but, there isn’t much he can do about it now.

He grew up relatively spoiled. He was his parent’s pride and joy. They finally had someone to pass on the family name. Someone to mold into the perfect heir of the Blackmoore estate.

To say that Joon has a lot of expectations placed on him from an early age would be an understatement. His parents planned almost every aspect of his life. What he wore, what games he was allowed to play. Who he was going to be as an adult, what colleges he was going to attend. Who he was allowed to hang out with. His childhood was a very suffocating one.

As he got older, Joon rebelled, he pushed every boundary. Tested every limit, which only seemed to make his parents tighten the reins even more.

The only thing he didn’t fight them on was learning the family “business.” The Blackamoore’s were a family with deep traditions. Witchcraft was at the core of them. When Joon was about six his mother started teaching him her craft. He ate it up, excelling at almost everything she put in front of him. He had a particular affinity for the darker art. But in his defense they were always the most interesting.

Currently he’s been “cut off” from any of the benefits that his family name could possibly offer him. Which is completely his fault. After he applied to some random ass college in main, in some small ass town. Behind his parents backs of course. Harvard or Yale has been their choice. Joon would drop dead before he went to some elit bullshit school. So that is how he found himself on the outs with his family and living in Cinderbrush.

Now one may wonder what Joon is still doing in college at the tender age of 26. Most of his peers have already graduated. Moved on to life out their annoyingly cliche dreams. But that’s the problem. Joon doesn’t really have dreams. He’s changed his major three times. Has no real idea of what the fuck he’s going to do with his life. So, he figures being a chronic student is the better option. Who needs to have their future planned.

When he first started school he had just gone for a Liberal Arts degree. But he wasn’t a huge fan of being a ‘jack of all trades’. So his second semester he changed to History, which only lasted about a year before he decided he really didn’t give a shit about History. His current major is chemical engineering, with a minor in botany, which he actually enjoys a great deal. It also helps with his business.

He’s made quite a business out of supplying the student body with all kinds of party favors. If there is something you need, he’s the man to go to. He’s even made a few connections outside of the town. Being the resident drug dealer has its perks. He’s pretty content in his choices.

His social life isn’t really lacking. He has plenty of people he chills with. Mostly friendly acquaintances. Nothing too deep. Which if you asked him is how he likes it. He tried the close friend shit a while back and it ended up being nothing but a world of hurt.

Romance on the other hand really isn’t his thing. He doesn’t like strings or being tied to one person. So he keeps most of his conquests casual. Which he is very up front about. If you wanna fuck you gotta be okay with not having much after that.

look.

a haze of smoke. the smell of a burning fire. dirt under the finger nails. dusty books and candle wax. the smell of copper in a cup. misty mornings. full moons. a broken clock on the wall. empty chairs swinging in the breeze. cracked book spines. secrets in plain sight. tinkling bells softly dancing on the air. daggers gleaming in the light. comfort in hidden spaces. a soft scent of sandalwood in the air. acid sitting on the tip of the tongue. dismantling expectations one brick at a time.

hexes.

wither. a person loses all of their hair, or their teeth start rotting and falling out, or their period comes and it comes by the bucketful, or their skin gets all sickly yellow and spotty. whatever the specifics, it’s bad.

binding. a person cannot physically harm others.

ring of lies. whenever a person attempts to lie, they hear a piercing ringing noise. big lies will often make their knees buckle and disorient them. severe lies can cause harm or even brain damage.

watching. you enter a deep sleep, and begin to see the world through the eyes of the hexed. you can feel their reactions to and impressions of what they are seeing.

illusions. {Pick two: snakes and bugs, demonic visages, false prophecies, non-existent subtext.} the hexed sees that thing everywhere. you have no control over the exact images or manifestations.

social circle.

the gorgon: once upon a time the gorgon and the witch were the best of friends. in fact, they both are matriculating at cinderbrush because of a pact they had made as kids. attending the same university was apart of their life long plan. but a year prior the gorgon made a mistake, they allowed the witch in. deeper then anyone before, and it resulted in the witch getting hurt. years of friendship down the drain. now when they pass each other in the quad, the gorgon refuses to look the witch in the eyes.

the infernal: the witch feels something when they look at the infernal, and they’ve yet to figure out if what they’re feeling is sympathy or pity. they’ve been around magick long enough to recognize a dark presence. and there is darkness coming off the infernal in waves. the witch is convinced they can safe the infernal. they know they can grow stronger and break the bond between the infernal and their patron... but is that what the infernal wants? And is the witch truly as strong as the believe, or could this destroy them?

the queen: the witch would often tell you they could become invisible if they so chose. creep back into the shadows and remain unseen by most passing by. but this was not true when it came to the queen. in fact, the witch had been attempting a nasty spell on one of the queen’s hive members and while rummaging through their personal belongings, they were discovered. the queen has kept this little bit of information to themselves, and the witch is dreading to find out why.

this character skin is TAKEN

#the witch #taken

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jinxthequeergirl · 5 years ago

Text

Out there (pt.2)

Crowley x Nephilim!reader

Summary: you decide to hold your intruder hostage hoping to show your father you could handle yourself but you come across a better idea.

Warning: none

I just wanna say...

The amount of love I get is in reasonable wtf?

~~~~~

You stood frozen in the Position you landed in after hitting the intruder.

"Oh fuck!"

You dropped the book you used to hit him and knelt down beside him.

See you had a surplus of book plenty just lying around. That's how you experienced the world. So it only made sense that a nice sturdy book would have done the job. "Oh please don't be dead I can't handle a dead body right now!"

You poked his face and whispered softly. "Hello?"

You pulled off his already half of glasses from his face. And his eyes fluttered open a little bit. "Wh-"

He couldn't even muster a word as he began to wake up. Because as an instinct upon hearing his voice you threw him a solid punch in the face, knocking him out again. "Damn it!.."

You quickly got up and pulled him off the ground from behind scanning the room for a place to hide him. You pulled him to the broom closed and stuffed him inside.

"Stay!...stay…" you held your hand in front of him and with the other grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut.

You presses your back against it and locket it just in case.

"I have a person in my closet…"

You smiled softly to yourself. "I...I have a person in my closet! Haha take that dad! Can't handle myself!? Well check Out the person in my closet! Who i- oh yes ME single handedly took care of."

You chuckled to yourself pretending to dust off your hands as you walked away from the closer door. You smiled to yourself proudly hoping that Gabriel would feel the same amount of pride you did.

You made your way across the room to pick up your book but tripped over something. You lifted up your leg and found a bag handle wrapped around it.

You pulled the bag from your let and looked inside. You pulled out the single content and looked at it in awe.

It was a small dagger. Silver from the handle to the tip. The handle was decorated with feathers and a few yellow jewels.

You jumped when the mans phone began to ring from beside You.

"Y/n? I have a surprise!" You quickly grabbed the phone and dagger shoved them into the bag upon hearing gabriel's voice from outside, you took the bag and tossed it under the couch.

"So do i!"

You ran into the sitting room just as he opened the front door. "I brought you all new books and ingredients for your favorite dinner. SURPRISE!"

"Wow thank you! But dad." You took the basket of gifts from him and set it down.

"I was thinking about that you said about me not being able to handle myself."

"Not this again y/n…"

"No, just listen!"

"Y/n I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS WE HAVE DISCUSSED THIS!"

You stopped And he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was...I was just gonna ask if You could maybe get me some of those art supplies from Paris? Like when I was a kid?"

"Really?" You nodded. "I just thought it might be better than leaving?.."

"That might take a while...I have so much to do up stairs...it'll take a week tops till you can have it."

He pulled you into a hug and kissed you. "But if that's what you want, I'll get it."

"Thank you." and with that he went back up to heaven.

Once he was gone you quickly ran around the room placing your chair in the center of the room.

You then went to the closet and opened it up. The man came tumbling out of the closet into his face.

"Ah sorry…" You lifted him up and tossed him into the chair. Which almost tipped back do to the force of you throwing him into it.

You grabbed an old jump rope and hide from the garden shed and tied him down to the chair.

You grabbed a lamp from across the room and shone It on him, waiting for him to wake up.

You had your book in hand and stood back as his eyes fluttered open again. He winced in the light and looked down at his hands.

"Oh...oh no! No! No! Hallo? Where am I?"

He tried to pull his hands free but failed.

"Struggling...Struggling is pointless!"

He looked up attempting to look out past the light into the darkness. Only then did you notice his eyes. "Demon?..." You whispered to yourself stepping closer to him.

"Is this...a jump rope?"

You stepped into the ring of light looking at him closer. "Who are you?"

You stared at each other for a moment. Something about you put Crowley off.

You seemed normal but there was something odd about you. The longer he looked at you the more he felt comfortable and opened his mouth to answer your name.

"Cr-" but he stopped realising that you did after all have him tied down to a chair with jump ropes and an old garden hose he noticed. "Anthony." he lied.

You narrowed your eyes at him telling that wasn't the truth. "Alright then ANTHONY if that is your real name...what do you want with me?"

You circled him. "Hmm? Kill me? Bring me to hell with you so you can use me?"

"What? No I don't want anything to do with you! Except perhaps get away from you princess!"

You stopped And raised an eyebrow. "Wait You aren't here to kidnap me?"

"No! I just so happened to stumble upon you while running from a group of angry demons who I stole a-" he sat up straighter looking around. "Wha...where is the bag I had? And my phone!?"

"I've hid them where you will never find them!" You crossed your arms. He looked around and tilted his head. "It's under that sofa isn't it?" You frowned and slapped him across the face with the book.

He woke up moments later. "Stop doing that!"

"Now it's hidden where you will never find it. Unless…"

He narrowed his eyes as you grabbed the lamp and spun around it. "Unless?.."

"I've lived in this house my entire life...I need to see the world. You can have your bag back IF you take me out like a guide so to say."

"No." the demon responded flatly.

"Something brought you here Anthony! Fate? Destiny?"

He shrugged. "My car."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh come on! Haven't you ever felt trapped somewhere you wanted to escape? Doing something you hate?"

He sighed. "Well, yes but it's still a no you're trapped here for a reason why risk it."

You slammed both hands down on his wrists and leaned in. "I'm telling you now demon! You can year this house apart but you will never find that bag! Take me into the city for just a day, return me here, and have your little bag back!"

You stared into each other's eyes.

"You've got yourself a deal princess."

"Y/n." you corrected him.

"Sure.now let me go?"

You carefully undid his bindings and watched him get up and cross the room to the door. He stopped only momentarily to pick up his pair of sunglasses and placed them on his face And exited the house.

Which you took note of. You watched after him momentarily confused.

"Coming princess?" you jumped grabbed your book and ran out the door after him. You gasped when you spotted the new gate in the stone wall.

"Wow did you do this?"

"Yea…" as soon as you stepped out he snapped and it disappeared.

"Wow!..." You turned around and faced the trees. Which for you was something new. Sure everything was but you had spent so long climbing the wall and seeing this forest from afar and not to mention simply the top of it.

Crowley raised an eyebrow as you stepped close to one and touched it. You dropped the book and jumped up and grabbed the lowest branch hanging from it. You let out a gleeful giggle and jumped down before running through the forest.

Crowley sighed and picked up the book and followed you into the forest.

Tagging:

@writer-of-camelot

@popbubblegumpop

@jaksfanficsaver

@delightfully-anonymous

@the-hufflebird-girl

@ibjessjess

@steampowerednightvaler

@dadzawas-eyebags

@gothglamonenightstand

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years ago

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Thirty-Six → in which we go surprisingly more off-book

The island was quiet at night, as Friday led them down the path she’d been forbidden to go on, the one that the sheep took to the arboretum. They were silent, firstly because they feared a lot of noise would mean they were discovered, and secondly because they weren’t sure what to say. Friday gripped tight onto Lilac’s hand, a distant look in her eyes. For a while, nobody knew what they could tell her. Today had definitely been quite the ordeal for her.

Finally, when they’d been walking for quite a while, Lilac said, “We found out our parents were murderers the day we left for the island.”

The Baudelaires stiffened, and Solitude paused to stare at Lilac, though she was about halfway through helping Sunny step over a rock. Friday’s eyes went wide as her head shot up to look at the eldest. Lilac was glancing down at her, a sad look in her eyes.

“We’ve found out a lot of things about our parents.” she said. “They were in a cult. They stole things, and hid things from us, and…” she bit her lip. “They weren’t who we thought they were.” She shut her eyes. “I… I don’t know where I was going with this, Friday, but…”

“I think what Lilac’s trying to say,” Klaus came forwards, giving the girl a kind smile, “Is that you’re… you shouldn’t feel alone.”

Friday glanced at the ground. “I guess…” she shook her head. “Nevermind. We’ve been walking a while, we should be almost there.”

The sun was rising slowly as they parted some trees and hanging leaves, and as they did, Friday gasped, and Klaus said, “Oh, holy shit.”

Up ahead was all the items that had washed up over the shores of the island, over the years that Ishmael had been in charge. As far as they could see, there were piles of objects, towers of evidence, heaps of items, bales of materials, clusters of details, galaxies of stuff, universes of things, a register of seemingly everything on earth. Automobiles and alarm clocks, bandages and beads, cables and chimneys, and so on, and so forth. Cardboard boxes, chalkboards, a motorcycle, snowshoes, calculators, ceiling fans, menorahs, soccer balls, outhouses, coffins, cradles, and everything anyone could ever need. There were things that were hopelessly destroyed, somewhat damaged, in slight repair, and brand new.

“I know this.” Nick was the first one to move, stepping towards a tall fish statue, the red paint slightly peeling. He shook quite a bit as he ran a hand over it, and Klaus rushed over to put an arm around him. “We were trapped in here. How… how did we fit in here? Klaus, how did we fit?”

“Nick, just keep going.”

Nick turned to Klaus, eyes wide. “We did fit? We were in here? I didn’t make that up?”

Klaus bit his lip and nodded, and as the girls slowly stepped into the arboretum, he pulled Nick away. “Yes. Yes, you were in there. We didn’t know until it was too late. We’re sorry.”

“We… we were in there.”

“Yes. Yes, come on.” Klaus put his arm around him again, taking him towards Lilac, who was holding up a sparkly opera mask, as Solitude watched the Incredibly Deadly Viper lift and squeeze a soccer ball.

“Words fail me.” Sunny whispered, looking at a stack of items, where she had no idea why they were put together.

“Me, too.” Volet said, running her hand over a pink ribbon that blew towards her in the light breeze. “Li, think of the things we could invent here.”

“We could make so much here…” Lilac trailed off, looking down at Friday, who was still gripping tight to her hand. “Are you okay?”

“There’s so much here.” Friday whispered, looking ahead at everything before her. “I could… we could have used so much of this. We could have learned…” She leaned onto Lilac, shaking slightly. “There’s so much.”

“I know.” Lilac put an arm around her. Quickly, hoping to distract Friday, she said, “Violet, I bet we could build splints for Kit’s feet.”

“There are several boats here we could use, with only a little repairwork.” Violet said. “Wouldn’t be hard to make a water filtration system. We could invent anything and everything.”

“There’s so much we could learn here.” Klaus said, taking Nick’s hand and leading him towards a pile of wood.

“Cook.” Sunny said, looking over a huge collection of pots and pans. “I could make any kind of food we wanted.”

“Where do we even start?” Solitude asked, watching Babbitt and Ink wander away into the collection.

Klaus sighed. “Guess we start with weapons.”

“Should we really be supplying arms to them?” Lilac asked.

“Sure. They’re overthrowing a corrupt dictator.” Violet said. “I’ll give them a machine gun if we can.”

“I just…” Lilac began.

“Ink!” Solitude pointed, and they realized she was starting to run after the snake, who was flicking its tongue into the air and pushing forwards with a clear sense of purpose.

“Looks like Ink’s found something.” Klaus said, squeezing Nick’s hand. “Wanna go see?”

Nick nodded, and after a second, they all followed the snake, climbing over materials and discarded items.

“It seems to know where it’s going.” Lilac said. “Maybe it’s been here before.”

Before long, the viper sped up, and the Baudelaires and Friday started to run. Eventually, they found themselves on a path that must have been traveled before, as the ground was covered in footprints. Even after they lost the snake, they followed the prints, which were dusted around the edges in white powder. It was dried clay, of course, and in moments the children reached the end of the path, and they arrived at the base of the apple tree just in time to see the tail of the snake disappear into a gap in the tree’s roots.

Friday slid to a stop first, causing Lilac to almost run into her. She was staring up at the towering apple tree before her, and she whispered, “Whoa.”

“Come on, we can fit in, too.” Solitude said, waving her hand and rushing in after the snake. Nick quickly raced after her, not wanting to lose sight of her, and he dragged Klaus along with him. Violet followed, picking up Sunny in case there was a drop inside, and then Lilac and Friday brought up the rear.

Underneath the roots of the tree was a large, dark space, and it took everyone a moment to adjust to the dim light. Violet noticed some kind of switch beside her, and she messed with it a moment, until a few small fairy lights lit up along the walls of the tree’s inside, and everyone gasped to see everything that was surrounding them.

The space was much bigger than they’d thought, and much better furnished. Along one wall, a stone bench was almost covered in clean tools, beside which was an enormous bookcase, stuffed with all kinds of books and rolled and stapled documents; some books spilled onto the floor, making a neat little pile, and the bookcase lined almost the entire wall. Opposite the bookcase was an elaborate kitchen with a huge stove, several sinks, a large refrigerator, and a square table covered with appliances, and hanging over them were several utensils, pots, and dried herbs, fish and meats, as well as tall cupboards. The Incredibly Deadly Viper wrapped itself around the bottom of a device made of brass, that looked like a large tube with a pair of binoculars at the bottom, rising through the roots of the tree that formed a complete ceiling.

“Holy shit.” Klaus said.

“Wow.” Friday slowly released Lilac’s hand, wandering over to the books and running her hands across the spines, entranced. Klaus and Nick soon joined her, picking up books on the floor to look over, as Solitude ran to one that was emblazoned with a sketch of a serpent.

Violet maneuvered her way to the binoculars. “It’s a periscope.” she said. “You can see the whole ocean from here.”

Lilac moved to the tool bench. “There’s a lot here. We could fix anything.” She reached for her ribbon, only to remember she couldn’t use it anymore. Carefully, she instead picked up one of the tools. “These could be used to repair books. Fix the bindings and dry the pages.”

“Cinnamon.” Sunny said, climbing up to the counter and sniffing a spoon.

“There’s so much here.” Friday whispered. “Why… why would Ishmael hide this from everyone?”

“Maybe this will help.” Nick said, and they turned to see that he was kneeling by a dresser, picking up a very thick, patched book, with a very thick title written into the cover.

A Series of Unfortunate Events.

“Wh-what is that?” Lilac asked, as they all walked over to see.

Nick stood up as they all stood around him, and he flipped through the pages. “It’s a History of the Island, I think.” he stopped at a bookmarked page, and read, ‘Yet another figure from the shadowy past has washed ashore- Kit Snicket (see page 667). The Baudelaires caused enough ruckus that the islanders will leave them alone to drown, though we may have lost one in the process. Also managed to have Count Olaf locked in a cage.”

“Lost one?” Lilac looked aghast, putting an arm around their Friday.

“Turn to page 667.” Klaus said.

Nick did, squinting at the page. “Inky has learned to lasso sheep, and last night’s storm washed a postcard from Kit…” he trailed off, and stared hard at the page.

“What?” Solitude asked, hugging his leg.

“What’s wrong? Is it something bad?” Violet asked.

After a moment, Nick shook his head. “This isn’t Ishmael’s handwriting.”

Klaus peered over his shoulder, and then tears sprang to his eyes. “Oh.”

The Bauelaires all looked, and all fell silent.

So they all heard the voice at the far end of the room say, “Yes, Baudelaires. That’s your mother’s handwriting.”

They all whipped around, to see Ishmael walking out of the darkness, running a hand along the shelves of the bookcase.

Instantly, Lilac pushed Friday behind her and threw her arms in front of her and her other siblings. Nick grabbed one of her arms and pulled it down, slamming the book shut and throwing it in front of himself as a shield. Solitude let out a feral hiss, while Violet picked up Sunny and held her, as if intending to use her as a projectile weapon if necessary, while Sunny looked very much like she wanted that outcome.

Ishmael didn’t even look off-put. He just walked forwards and said, “I knew you’d come here. It’s in your blood. I’ve never known a Baudelaire who didn’t rock the boat.”

“Don’t come near us.” Lilac said.

“You.” Friday shook, and Lilac pushed her back more. “You, you’ve lied. To all of us. Kept this all from us!”

“Oh, settle down, Friday.” Ishmael said. “This would’ve just caused more trouble.”

Friday took several deep breaths, gripping tight to Lilac. “We- we-”

“The Baudelaire family has always wanted to cause trouble.” Ishmael scoffed. “When I washed up on the island, your parents were the facilitators. Your father suggested that they install the periscope to search for storms, and your mother suggested that they make the water filtration system, making this library and kitchen, and…” he narrowed his eyes. “They wanted to dig a passageway that would lead to a marine research center and rhetorical advice service some miles away. But it was never finished, and it was a good thing, too. That research center was destroyed in a fire, which could have spread here. And they wanted to carry all of these documents that had washed up here to Anwhistle Aquatics to give to some sub-sub-librarian. But others wanted to keep the island safe from the treachery of the world. By the time I arrived, some islanders wanted to mutiny and abandon your parents on the coastal shelf.”

“You-” Klaus began.

“I walked into the middle of this story,” Ishmael said, “As you walked into the middle of mine. Some of the islanders had found weapons in the detrius, and the situation might have become violent if I hadn’t convinced the colony to simply abandon your parents. We allowed them to pack a few books into a fishing boat your father had built, and in the morning they left with a few comrades as the coastal shelf flooded.”

“You drove them away?” Violet asked.

“They were very sad to go.” Ishmael said. “Your mother was pregnant at the time, and after all of their years with VFD, your parents weren’t sure they wanted their children exposed to the world’s treachery. But if the passageway had been completed, you would have been exposed in any case. Sooner or later, everyone’s story has an unfortunate event or two- a schism or death, a fire or a mutiny, the loss of a home or the destruction of a tea set. The only solution, of course, is to stay as far away from the world as possible and lead a simple, safe life. So we follow these customs to all be the same, so there’s no more schism.”

The Baudelaires contemplated this for maybe half a second before Nick said, “No.”

“No, that’s dumb.” Lilac said.

“Bitchass.” Sunny said.

“Suppressing free will in order to force conformity that will inevitably be ripped apart by whatever washes up the shores that vaguely challenges you, as well as lying to everyone so you could avoid the consequences of your decisions and drugging them so they stop arguing with you, is a dishonourable and immoral way of hiding from your problems.” Klaus said.

“Translation, you’re a bitchass.” Nick said.

“And you threw a pregnant woman and people who wanted to advance this island to the waves where they could have died.” Violet said.

“And, yeah, they shouldn’t have connected the island to VFD’s bullshit,” Solitude said, crossing her arms, “But that’s, you know, something you discuss, or at least wait to abandon them until after she’s given birth, you piece of shit.”

“And then you don’t drug people!” Sunny said.

“You kept us from the good things of the world,” Friday spat, tears forming at the edge of her eyes, “And you kept choices from us. But gave everything to yourself. You… you’re a jackass!”

She grabbed tighter onto Lilac’s arm, as Ishmael watched them. His gaze was unreadable.

“Hello? React, asswipe!” Nick said. “You’re a dick and we’re going to tell everyone exactly what’s here!”

“Why would you do that?” Ishmael said. “They’ll all just leave. I know your story Baudelaires- from all the newspaper articles, police reports, financial newsletters, telegrams, private correspondence and fortune cookies that have washed up here. You’ve been wandering this treacherous world since your story began, and you’ve never found a place as safe as this one. Give up your repairs and inventions and exploring and reading and snakes and cooking. Forget Count Olaf and VFD. Leave your things here and lead a simple life.”

“Never.” Nick said.

“We’re not sacrificing our individuality so you can remain in control.” Violet said.

“And once the islanders know you’ve been lying to them, they’ll never follow you again!” Klaus said, and he started to push his way forwards, so he could get a running head start to the island.

But then Ishmael said, “Before you go, I have something to tell you. I know what you’ve brought to these shores.”

“Yes.” Lilac rolled her eyes. “Treachery, trouble, boat-rocking, whatever you fucking wanna call it. We’re going.”

“You didn’t just bring that, my dear Lilac.” Ishmael said, in a voice so cold that Lilac felt a familiar chill wash over her. “You brought Count Olaf, and a harpoon gun, and… the Medusoid Mycelium.”

The Baudelaires completely froze, and Friday’s eyes widened. “Nobody can get to that.”

“The helmet’s-” Klaus began, before Nick elbowed him hard in the ribs.

However, Ishmael said, “Oh, you believe it’s with your Count Olaf.” they froze again. “Well, funny thing. Nick, you told us to watch out for that helmet. Thank you for that; it gave me something to look for. So, naturally, when I went walking to the arboretum and found a helmet on the coastal shelf…”

“No.” Nick said, his eyes going wide.

“Well, we just happened to have one just like it in our piles and piles of things. Several ones just like it. So if I… dropped one on the sand, where you or the Count could think it was where nobody would touch it…”

“No.” Solitude shrunk back.

Ishmael sighed and reached behind the tool shelf, and pulled out a thick diving helmet.

“Now,” he said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No!” Lilac screeched, throwing her siblings back.

“It will be a shame to abandon the arboretum for a few days,” Ishmael said, “But as I’m sure you’ve read, children, the human body can only survive for a little while without water, and it’s quite easy to block the filtration system from outside.”

“You…” shocked, Violet stumbled backwards, clutching Sunny tightly.

“Piece of shit!” Nick’s eyes widened. “Don’t you-”

“I think you’ll find that I have no reason to fear this mushroom,” Ishmael said, “So I’ll have no problem releasing it in here and only leaving you for an hour. I’m sure nobody will notice if you disappear a little before decision day. And if you’re found among the waves, that’s just a cautionary tale. I will keep my islanders safe here, Baudelaires, no matter what it takes.”

“You can’t release that mushroom, please!” Lilac said.

“Lilac,” Friday grabbed her arm so tight Lilac feared it might break. “Li, I don’t wanna die…”

“Then I suggest the Baudelaires stand right there.” Ishmael said. Then he turned and walked towards the exit roots. He smiled and said, “Now, we have Decision Day to get over with, and a Snicket and a Count to watch drown. Goodbye, Friday. I’m sorry that you were led so astray. And goodbye, Baudelaires.”

And then he left, and after a second, they heard something slam in front of the exit. Something wooden was shoved in, blocking their way out.

“What...” Violet shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “The... fuck?”

#asoue #asoue movie #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the end #mine #my fanfic

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flying-guinea-pig · 5 years ago

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A friend like this (complete)

A/N: finally finished that Avarice AU ficlet! You know, that one where Stan became a demon instead of Dipper, and how that would influence the demonology gang’s story? I’ve started clearing out my draft folder. This one was closest to finished, but expect other drabbles to appear soon...

On AO3: A friend like this chapter 3

A friend like this

Poker Night had become a regular occurrence, pretty much since the first day of classes, when Lee spotted them at lunchtime.

"What are you playing for?" he'd asked.

Maria had shrugged. "Just points. Brad doesn't want to play for money."

"Not against you, you witch. Hi, I'm Brad by the way. I've seen you in class, I think?"

"Yep, he's the guy who slept all through Demonology 101," Maria had said. "Evergreen, isn't it? Deal you in?"

"Call me Lee. And yes." He'd taken a seat and turned to the table behind him, where another student had been sitting all by himself. "Hey, wanna be our fourth?"

The other kid had looked up. "Really? I mean - sure!"

He'd hurriedly changed seats and beamed at them. "My name is Eduardo. How does this game go?"

"I'll explain," Brad had promised. "Nice to meet you Eduardo."

"Such a mouthful," Maria had teased. "Can I call you Eddy instead?"

"Er, sure."

Lee had grinned and given him a playful punch to his shoulder. It was clearly meant as playful - it also left a slight bruise.

"Nah," he'd said. "I think you look more like a Soos."

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

---

Of course Lee was odd. No one could deny that.

It was a lot of things, but one of them was how he never seemed to study. Often he didn't even show up for class, coming back the next day - or next week - in the grumpiest mood ever. And yet his marks were the highest of their year, whenever he bothered to go. Higher even than those of the resident nerds, Adams and Strange.

"How do you do it, dude?" Eddy had asked once, struggling with an essay about low-level binding wards. "Are you some kind of genius or something?"

Lee had paused at that, a weird look crossing his face for a second. Then the smile returned. "I'm no genius, buddy. I just know some stuff. Do you need help with that essay?"

"Does a Multibear poop in the woods?"

"Let's see it then."

---

Lee spent so much time with the three of them, that all those oddities really started to stack up. Eventually even they had to figure it out.

"Let's play for something other than points or candy tonight," Maria said, shuffling the cards one Poker Night.

"Oh?" Lee asked. He sipped his beer and burped. "We're finally playing for money then? Your funeral! Hey Brad, how rich did you say your parents were again?"

"You're a real hoot," Brad said. "But no. We're playing for answers today."

"Answers? Ugh."

"Yep," Maria said. "Whoever loses has to answer a question truthfully from the winner. No evasions, no lies. Like playing truth-or-dare!"

"Last time we played truth or dare Eddy got stuck in a skylight for three hours."

"Yeah, we're not doing that again," Eddy added. "Please. It was so cold..."

"Well, how about it?" Maria said, her poker face already in place, a slight smile curling her lips. "Are you in or not, Lee?"

"What the hell, sure," Lee said, and met her eyes with a poker face of his own. "Bring it on."

Eddy was decent at poker - Brad was a disaster, either raising too much and scaring everyone off, or trying to bluff with a lousy hand. Usually the winnings went to either Lee or Maria, depending on which one of them got caught cheating the most.

Not tonight. Tonight Eddy and Brad flanked Maria, blatantly sitting close enough for her to peak at their cards before they folded. The first time could have been coincidence. The other times, not so much.

Lee cocked an eyebrow. "Are you three ganging up on me?"

"This isn't cheating," Maria said. "It's cooperative play."

"Don't bother, I've got a bad hand anyway. You win." He threw down his cards on the table and sat back, arms folded in front of him. "What's your question? Is it how many girls I've dated? What my most embarrassing memory is? It's something like that, right?"

"While I do wonder about some of those things..." She shook her head and met his eyes. "Are you the demon Mercuriat?"

Lee blinked. If they hadn't been watching so closely, they would have missed the momentary expression that slid over his face before being replaced by 'honest' surprise.

"What?" he said, sounding flabbergasted. "No, of course not. Heh, why would you even think such a thing! It's ridiculous. Why would a demon - a handsome, clever and powerful demon he is, sure - waste his time like this? Makes no sense. None at all. Heh, I won't even count this one as a question, ask another. Go on, ask another question."

"Not before I get a truthful answer to my first one," Maria said. "Nice try though. And why we think you're Mercuriat, well..."

"Your disappearances tend to coincide with news about Mercuriat destroying some evil cult," Brad said. "It, eh, was Eddy who pointed that out first, I'll admit. I first thought you just made a deal for knowledge with Mercuriat, which would be a lot less terrifying."

"You sometimes talk about the past as if you were there," Maria said. "Things that happened centuries ago. And you know things. Like that time you mentioned how demons have a bar in the Mindscape? How the hell would a human know that?"

"Also, your eyes glow a bit when Maria beats you at poker," Eddy added. "So... that was a big hint, dude. Might want to watch out for that."

Lee - Mercuriat - stared at them.

"I... may have let down my guard a bit," he admitted. "This doesn't bother you?"

"We study demonology, bro," Brad said. "Bit dumb if we were scared of demons. And you're alright. But I'd just like to know one thing..."

Lee sighed, and snapped his fingers. Another beer popped into existence in his hand. "I was bored. That's why I pretend to be a student."

"We figured that, you're known for stuff like that - but not what I was going to ask. I just want to know... why a mullet?"

"Hey now!" Lee sputtered. "Mullets come back into style every few centuries. I figured it was time for them again. Someone has to set the trend."

Eddy patted his shoulder. "You tried."

"It's time to give up. Let it go," Brad said.

Maria got up. "I'll get the scissors!"

---

Thomas liked the small library in the demonology building. Access was restricted to second years and up, so even on its busy days there weren't more than a handful of students there. It was a good place to go and study in peace.

Usually.

Not today, though. Dewitt and her friends were doing some assignment at the other end of the room. He could see their reflection in the big silver mirror that hung between the bookshelves. They were talking quietly enough but occassionally erupted into laughter, which didn't really help Thomas' concentration.

Elisabeth had given up in disgust already and gone home. Maybe he should follow her example...

He idly tapped his pen on the table, still deep in thought, when he noticed Evergreen coming over. His arms were full of books, which he put on the return tray. Oh, good. Looked like he and his friends were leaving.

Evergreen paused in front of the mirror, probably to admire himself. Thomas made a face. It's not that he actively disliked Evergreen, it was just... high school had instilled a natural distrust towards sporty types who looked like they could break him in half with one hand.

But Evergreen wasn't preening and flexing his muscles, like Thomas had expected him to do. No - he seemed to freeze at his own reflection.

Thomas couldn't find anything odd about it. It was just a mirror after all, not even an enchanted one. Good for trapping ghosts but not anything special. And Evergreen looked normal. His hair was still poofy, but anything was better than that mullet he used to have.

"Heh," Evergreen muttered. He put his hands against the mirror. His reflection's smile was bitter. "Don't know what all the fuss was about. This college thing is easy."

Then he licked his fingers and the weird, tense moment was broken as Evergreen used his spit to style his hair into short spikes. Thomas cringed. Yeargh.

---

A gloomy basement, plastic zip ties around their wrists, a group of cold-faced kidnappers with guns trained on them...

Thomas would have like to spend his Friday night a bit differently. Watching a movie, maybe. Or visiting the boardgame club, they usually met in the Mangy Dog on Fridays. Stars, even a dentist appointment would have been fine - anything was better than being kidnapped and forced to summon a demon.

At least he wasn't alone. Did that make it better? Not if they were going to die, of course - though dying all alone would suck - but maybe together they would come up with some idea to survive this thing. Elisabeth had a gift for banishing circles and Thomas was pretty good with figuring out loopholes, so together they maybe had a chance...

He wasn't sure what Evergreen could add to their escape attempt though. Really, he didn't seem inclined to help much. He'd taken a look at the crate with summoning supplies their kidnappers had left them with, shrugged, and sat back against the wall.

"Evergreen, you look up the regular summoning they want," Elisabeth whispered, as she and Thomas put their heads together. "Then the two of us can focus on getting out of here alive. We should be able to sneak something into the wording of the deal -"

"Nah," Evergreen said. "I'm going to take a nap for a while. Just relax, kid - things will be fine."

"Don't call me kid, we're the same age," Elisabeth said.

Evergreen snickered. "Sure we are, kid. But seriously, take a seat and relax. I've got this."

"Excuse me if I'm not eager to put my trust in you," she said. "Why are you even here, Evergreen? I can understand why they kidnapped Thomas and me. But you? You spend all class playing cards with Dewitt instead of paying attention."

"Odd how Hicks never says anything about that," Thomas mused. It wasn't like Evergreen and Dewitt were subtle about it. Not to mention the armpit concerts they held during last Contract Negotiation class.

"Suit yourself," Evergreen shrugged, sliding the hood of his jacket back over his head. "Wake me up if something happens."

"If something happens? We're going to get killed and you don't care! What is wrong with you?"

"Hey, you there!" One of their guards called out. He gestured at Elisabeth with the hand that still held his gun. "Stop shouting and get to work!"

"Come on," Thomas muttered to Elisabeth, who looked ready to explode. "Time is ticking."

---

"Alright," Thomas said. "What do we know?"

"We made the preparations correctly," Elisabeth said. She tapped her fingers on the table, deep in thought. In the background her aquarium made soothing bubbling sounds. "I'm sure of it. That circle should have summoned Gubal the Thousand-Eyed."

"But it wasn't Gubal who showed up," Thomas pointed out.

"You don't have to remind me." Elisabeth shuddered. He couldn't blame her - he had nightmares too, about everything that happened in that basement. Being threathened with guns had been bad enough, but when the sacrifice had been dragged out and their kidnappers started the summoning...

The wording had been tricky. They'd worked really hard on it, and Thomas still wasn't sure it would have been enough to save them.

In the end it hadn't been necessary. It wasn't Gubal who answered the summons. Instead, of all things, a three feet tall, winged, fire-breathing goat showed up. In the smoke and confusion it must have escaped the binding circle somehow, because through stinging eyes Thomas saw it make a beeline for their kidnappers and then... then...

Crunch.

Goats eat everything, after all.

When the smoke cleared their kidnappers were reduced to bloody smears on the floor. The demon goat had disappeared again. And Lee Evergreen was cutting through the plastic strips binding the other captive with a knife he'd pulled out of nowhere. He'd paused long enough to give them both a shit-eating grin.

"We have to face the facts," Elisabeth said. "He must be some kind of supernatural entity. My money is on demon."

They looked at the list Thomas had been working on, detailing all the strange occurrences and weird habits they'd noticed in the past three years. They had only really started to pay attention after the kidnapping, but the list was still pretty long. Long enough for Thomas to wonder how the hell he'd ever missed this.

Well. He knew why. He'd been too busy with the whole university experience. Studying, the boardgaming club, homework sessions with Elisabeth... He'd ignored the, let's say, less academically inclined part of their class. They weren clever enough - he couldn't remember Evergreen ever getting a question wrong, in fact - but they didn't seem to take things seriously. Evergreen and his buddies were always goofing off, especially Dewitt. Sometimes loud enough to disturb the entire class, which was more than annoying.

"Do you think they know?" Thomas said. "They spend a lot of time with him."

"His friends? Probably. Maybe he's starting a cult, who knows." Elisabeth took a deep breath. "We have to tell Hicks."

Let the professional handle it. That seemed like a good idea. On the other hand...

Getting Hicks involved could have big consequences. And maybe it wasn't necessery? Evergreen - whatever else he was -hadn't done anything wrong, as far as they knew... On the contrary. They probably would be dead if not for him.

Elisabeth with a mission was difficult to reason with, though. Especially since Thomas wasn't quite sure about his own arguments to let 'Evergreen' be. It would be smart to tell Hicks, it would, but...

But he remembered a mirror, reflecting eyes that seemed too old and too human in their loneliness.

He needed to think. And derail Elisabeth, at least for a while. "Maybe we should wait until we have some kind of proof."

"Thomas, really? Are we going to waste time with - don't give me that look, fine. But if he eats our souls I'm blaming you."

He smiled. "I can live with that."

Stars, he really hoped he wasn't making a big mistake.

---

"You think too much," Lee said, baring his teeth in a grin. "You need to act, not think."

"That's easy for you to say." Brad massaged his fist. Lee was teaching him to box, which was harder than it seemed. Of course Lee had freakishly good reflexes, being a demon and all, but still. He'd toned it down for their little brawl and Brad still couldn't manage to land a punch.

Well, he'd managed to hit the wall. Unfortunately. He just wasn't cut out for this stuff.

"Are you calling me stupid?" Lee teased. "Come on, punch me! As hard as you can. Don't be a sissy."

"Why do you even want to learn this?" Eddy asked, from his cosy corner of the couch, where he was playing a videogame with Maria.

"Just in case I ever need to defend myself," Brad said.

"There are easier ways to defend yourself," Maria said, idly killing Eddy's character when he was distracted. "Like a gun."

"I was thinking about something less lethal and more close-range," Brad said.

"Or there's magic. Not everyone has Mercuriat on speed-dial, you know. That's quite an ace in the hole."

"Less lethal, Maria. I think calling a demon on some poor robbers is a bit much."

"Yeah, and I'm not your bodyguard," Lee said. "So, are you punching me or not?"

-------

It had taken a while to track them down. Evergreen didn't have an adress Thomas could find, but apparently he hung around Dewitt's apartment a lot.

He knew who Evergreen was, now. And sure, technically he could just summon him and tell him that way, but...

But it was still freaking Mercuriat, biggest and baddest demon around, and if he had to face him, he preferred to do it when Mercuriat was surrounded by people he probably didn't want to physically or mentally scar.

Probably being the key word there.

This was all such a huge mistake.

Still, he steeled himself and rang the doorbell, before he could chicken out. Maybe he was lucky. Maybe only Dewitt was here - she could give 'Lee Evergreen' the message and with a bit of luck he'd never need to see Evergreen again.

Damn it. The door was opened by Hallman, which didn't bode well on the odds of Dewitts other friends being absent. The smell of pizza wasn’t promising either.

"Strange?" Hallman said, clearly confused. "Hello."

"Good evening," Thomas said. He took a deep breath. How to say this...? "Listen. I need to talk to you - and your friends. I know Evergreen is actually Mercuriat -"

There was a gasp and then a burst of pain as Hallmans fist made contact with his face.

Through the haze of pain and watery eyes he could hear voices.

"Whoa! Is that Strange?"

"Did you punch him?"

"I'm sorry! He said he knew about Lee - I reacted by instinct, really, I didn't mean too!"

"You punched Strange!" The voice sounded way too amused about it. Thomas blinked away the tears and recognised Dewitt, flanked by both Evergreen and Noguerra. "That's kind of impressive, Brad."

"Yoo bwoke my noze," Thomas groaned. "Whad de hell!"

"I'm sorry, you startled me!" Hallman protested.

Evergreen gave Hallman a pat on the back. "Looks like those boxing lessons weren't a waste of time after all, heh?"

"Let's clean up your mess, Brad," Dewitt said. She took out a knife, and Thomas hurriedly backed away until his back touched the wood of the door. Someone must have closed it behind him.

"Whad?" he said, pronunciation still mangled by his swollen nose. "Yoo goin' do kill me now?"

"Don't be a baby," Dewitt said, and cut into her own finger. "Hey Lee, wanna make a deal?"

"Shh, we have company," Noguerra said.

Dewitt made a face. "Don't give me that look, he knows already. So, Lee - what about it?"

Thomas stared in horror as Dewitt and Evergreen high-fived, and blue flames covered their hands for a second.

His nose healed itself in the blink of an eye, leaving him free to sputter: "That isn't even close to how you make a safe deal! No laying down the terms? And we have nice, sterile needles for a blood sacrifice - why the hell would you use a knife like that!?"

"Because it's cooler," Dewitt shrugged.

"She's right," Evergreen added. "So, smart guy. Why exactly are you here again?"

Right. He was here for a reason. He wanted to help these crazy people.

"We know who you are," he said, focusing on Evergreen. "Or, well. What you are, actually. You're Mercuriat."

Evergreen seemed to freeze, just staring at him. It didn't escape Thomas' notice that Dewitt, Noguerra and Hallman all seemed to draw closer to him in some kind of protective move.

"You seem really sure of yourself," Dewitt said. "Why?"

"Does it matter? Listen, I'm here to warn you. Elisabeth and I, we figured it out after... what happened in that basement. I tried to stop her but she still went to Hicks, and apparently he'd figured it out himself already. He's been calling some experts. Don't know for sure when they'll arrive, but I thought... I should warn you." He avoided their eyes and shrugged. "I kind of owe my life to you, so... There."

There was a long silence.

"Alright," Evergreen said. "Seems like I have some cleaning up to do."

"Uh," Thomas said. "You're not going to hurt Elisabeth or Hicks, are you?"

"A word of advice, Strange," Dewitt said, not really unfriendly. "If a high-level demon says he's going to do some cleaning up, it's better to not ask too many questions."

"I can't let you hurt anyone."

"I'm not going to hurt them, kid," Evergreen said, sounding exasperated. "I'll probably trick them into loosing their memories about this. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Wait, what?"

"What did you expect me to do?"

"Well, I don't know... I kinda thought you would just... leave? I mean, why would you stay? You've been found out."

Evergreen paused. "So you came to warn me... just to throw me out?"

“Er. Well…” He flinched when Evergreen threw an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. Sofly, but with a definite hint of a threat.

“I’m not going a̡̜̰͎̭̗n̲̣̤̯͙͓y͔w͉̦̠͉he̬r̭̲͈̝͘e͖̦̮̲͍̙͜,” the demon said.

“Not until graduation, at least,” Dewitt added, with a rather unsettling grin. “It’s going to be epic.”

“Great,” Thomas said, weakly. “So this is a cult then.”

“No, dude, it’s so much better.” Noguerra waved his slice of pizza around in a grand gesture. “It’s friendship.”

“Oh boy.”

He glanced around the room, hoping to glean some sign of whatever nefarious thing they were planning. The room was a nightmare. It looked like an arts and crafts room and a library melded together and exploded. The table was covered in sheets of paper, pictures, empty pizza boxes and, for some reason, underwear.

Thomas almost didn’t dare to ask. But his curiosity got the better of him. One day that would get him killed, for sure… “Why do you have piles of men’s underwear lying around?”

“Right, that,” Hallman said, sheepishly. “We can explain that.”

Evergreen moved to the table and showed Thomas one of the pictures with a dramatic flourish.

It looked like the cover for a book.

‘Mercuriat, Gentleman Demon’ the title proclaimed, with a picture underneath of Mercuriat in full demon shape, his face turned away but the pose rather provocative.

Thomas took another picture from the pile. It was even worse. ‘Mercuriat and the Quest for Gold’. Sheesh.

"Alright. So this isn't a cult," he said. He leafed through the pages, reading. "This is worse."

"This is making money!" Dewitt grinned. She high-fived Evergreen again, who seemed entirely too pleased with himself. "Mercuriat? More like Mercuri-HOT!"

Thomas cringed. Hallman did too. “We’re not using that as a slogan, Maria.”

“We’ll see.”

“But why?” Thomas had to ask. He waved at the table with the pictures, the lopsided stacks of what he now realised were supposed to be freshly-written novels. “Just… why?”

Evergreen shrugged. “You know that movie that’s supposedly based on me?”

“Er…” He’d come across it in the past, when looking up demons in pop culture. It was a cult classic, wasn’t it? Rather old though. “Might have heard of it.”

“We’re cashing in,” Dewitt grinned. “Turns out, writing a bestseller isn’t that hard when you have some demonic assistance. We’re going to be filthy rich!”

“Mystery! Adventure! Romance! Gentleman Demon has got it all,” Noguerra added. “Maria writes, and Brad and me are working on merchandise.”

Hallman seemed less enthusiastic. “I still don’t think autographed underwear is ever going to sell.”

Thomas stared. At them. At the room, with the ridiculous pictures and everything. And at Mercuriat, the literal demon, who just stood there with a sly smile.

“What?” Evergreen shrugged. “It’s free advertising.”

Silence.

“So… you mentioned something about losing memories? Because I would be fine if I never heard about this.”

Evergreen laughed, and surprised him with another one-armed hug. “You remind me of someone I used to know, kid. Get that stick out of your ass and we’ll get along fine, you’ll see.”

#avarice au #mercuriat #the demonology gang #thomas strange #a friend like this

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