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thatkidwholikesthunderbirds · 3 years ago

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TAG Mini Bang 2021

Hey fam, This is mine and the amazing @katblu42′s contribution to the @tagminibang. Katblu42 wrote the story, of which I love so much, and i made a couple of doodles to go with it.

We both worked really hard on it, hope you enjoy.

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Deep Water

The summer is drawing to an end when an almost-twelve-year-old Virgil is lumped with looking after little bro Gordon for the day. When a simple walk in the woods becomes more than they bargained for, the pair must work together to overcome their fears.

Written by @katblu42

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“Hey, Virgil. Whatcha doin’?” Gordon bounced down the stairs and watched his brother carefully pack his brand-new artist’s set of watercolour pencils, mini easel, and sketchbook into his backpack, using one of his hoodies for padding. “I’m gonna go out on the top track and try out my new pencils. It’s gonna be a really nice day for practicing landscapes. I want to try and capture the way the light filters through the trees and . . .” As Virgil excitedly rambled on about all the things he wanted to draw, Lucy emerged from the kitchen with a lunchbox packed with sandwiches and snacks and two water bottles for Virgil to add to his bag. She ignored the eye-rolling from the younger boy, who obviously didn’t share the enthusiasm for artistic inspiration. Placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as she handed him the last of the supplies, Lucy smiled. “Sounds like the two of you are going to see all kinds of wonders today,” she said. Virgil opened his mouth to question, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re going to take your brother with you.” “But . . .” was all Virgil managed to squeak out, while Gordon sported a look of surprised incredulity. “It will do you both the world of good to spend some time together, just the two of you.”

Lucy knew these two didn’t always get along, mostly due to Gordon’s talent for finding exactly the right buttons to push to try Virgil’s patience. In fact, Gordon did that with everyone, but it somehow affected Virgil the most potently. Lucy, Jeff, and the other boys had little tolerance for Gordon’s annoying antics, but the fact that Virgil usually had an abundance of patience was exactly why Gordon got under his skin so much. With Virgil, Gordon would keep on pushing, keep needling, insistently nagging until that patience wore thin and caused Virgil to react in frustration. As a result, Lucy had noticed Virgil tending to avoid spending too much time with Gordon. But today she needed to pair them up together. Grandma would be by any minute to pick up Scott, as she was helping him log extra flying hours towards his pilot license while Jeff was away for work. John had already left for the library where they had been running a special summer program in the AV centre focussing on early space exploration because today was the last day he’d be able to see it. “Aw, Mom!” Virgil whined. “If he comes, I won’t get any drawing done.” “Yeah, Mom,” Gordon joined in, wrinkling his nose, “can’t I stay with you?” “Nope!” Lucy ruffled Gordon’s unruly blond locks. “I have errands to run today.” Gordon groaned. He hated being dragged all over town when his mom was running errands, mostly because the entire day was usually spent listening to her tell him he couldn’t run off too far or do anything fun – getting up to mischief, she called it. Lucy knew her day would be difficult enough with a toddler in tow without adding a hyperactive six-and-a-half-year-old to the mix. For a moment, she felt for Virgil. In a way, he had a point. He’d have to keep Gordon occupied, which would take his focus away from his artistic endeavours, but she had faith that the two of them would find a way to make it work. She stood between the two boys and, with a hand on a shoulder of each, pulled them into a hug. “You two go out and have fun.” She placed a kiss on first Virgil’s and then Gordon’s forehead. “Be good, look after each other, and don’t get into any trouble!” She ushered them through the door and watched them head out, turning back to wave goodbye to her from the front gate before continuing westward towards the top track. She would always worry about her boys out there on their own, but they all knew the rules and had repeatedly been warned of the various dangers contained within their little patch of wilderness. Virgil was not inclined to be reckless or break the rules, but the lure of an interesting view could distract him at times. Looking after a younger brother would help keep his attention more focused. It was one of Lucy’s secret weapons. Pairing a big brother with a little one always seemed to make the big brother more inclined to obey the rules and watch for dangers.

The two boys made quick progress across the open paddock towards the trees, Virgil striding out confidently, Gordon occasionally having to run for a few steps to catch up. Once they reached the track that wound its way through the trees, the pace began to slow. Virgil’s gaze wandered as he walked, noticing in great detail the colours of the foliage and tree bark, the stark contrasts formed by shafts of sunlight filtering between the trees and highlighting this branch or those leaves. He would hear the cry of a bird and look up, searching the treetops to see if he could catch sight of the culprit. Despite the distractions, however, Virgil didn’t stop walking. He had a destination in mind, and he was keen to get there so he could start drawing. Gordon found distractions of his own along the track. He’d hear skittering noises in the dirt and leaf litter beside the track and stop to see if he could spot the creature that had scuttled away. He found spiderwebs woven between the trees and bushes, and noted with interest whether or not the spider was home and if they’d caught anything. He, too, would search the trees and sky for birds that called out their various songs. Unlike Virgil, Gordon stopped often and would have to run to catch up to his bigger brother, usually after Virgil called out to him to hurry up. After falling behind for the fourth time, Gordon decided to run ahead along the track a bit. That way Virgil would have to catch up to him! He stopped short when he came to the fork in the track. An idea struck him, and he jogged back to his brother. “Hey, Virgil?” He had a glint in his eye that the older boy knew well enough to be worried about. “We should go down to the lake!” “No.” “Oh, come on! Why not?” His voice was verging on whiny and his expression close to a pout. “We’re not supposed to go to the lake on our own, it’s –” “We’re not on our own, we have each other!” Gordon didn’t want to give Virgil a chance to argue or talk about possible dangers. “We’re not gonna do anything dangerous or anything. It’s nice by the lake. Besides, you said your pencils were watercolours. Shouldn’t you draw something with water?” “That’s not . . . Uugghh!” Virgil sighed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew steering this particular brother away from water was going to be a hard sell, and if he was honest with himself, his little brother was right about the lake being a good place to draw. It would give him an opportunity to practice drawing reflections, which was something he’d been wanting to experiment with. And the view across the lake was pretty spectacular. But swimming in the lake could be dangerous. If they went to the lake, Virgil knew his entire day would be spent watching Gordon in the water. Gordon studied the expression on his brother’s face for some sign of what he was thinking. He had that look of intense concentration he used when he was figuring out how to fix something. Virgil slowed to a stop and looked down at Gordon. “If we go to the lake –” As Virgil spoke, Gordon’s face broke out in a wide gap-toothed grin as he sensed he had won. “I said if! If we go to the lake, you have to promise me you won’t go for a swim. I came here to draw, not play lifeguard.” “Aww! Virge, it’s summer! It’s a great day for a swim.” His smile was gone, and he now had to trot alongside his brother as Virgil began walking again, setting a brisk pace. He was going to have to fight hard to get his way. “Pleeeeease!” No reaction. “What if I promise not to go in any deeper than up to here?” He indicated his waist. Virgil’s eyebrows drew down into somewhat of a scowl, but he slowed his walking pace again. “You have to stay dry above the knees,” he said. “Yes! Okay, I can do that.” Gordon’s big, infectious grin was back, and he literally bounced with happiness and excitement at his victory. “I promise I won’t go in past my knees, and I’ll be good so you can just do your drawings.” Virgil tried to keep his expression serious, but his little brother’s glee was so irresistible he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pretty soon he was grinning too, and they headed down the left fork in the track towards the lake. As they descended the narrow trail, weaving between trees and larger rocks, the hard-packed dirt underfoot gradually giving way to sandy soil, Gordon’s excitement was barely containable. He ran ahead down the track, calling to Virgil to hurry, ran back to his brother urging him to walk quicker, tugging at his hand, gave up, and ran ahead again before he could even see Virgil roll his eyes. The whole process was then repeated. Twice. Soon enough the trees lining the track thinned out, allowing glimpses of dark blue water. The track curved, and suddenly they emerged from the trees onto an expanse of silty sand with the lake spread out before them, rippling and glistening in the sunlight. The dark greens of the trees on the far side of the lake separated dark blue water from pale blue sky on the horizon. Gordon ran straight to the water’s edge, while Virgil took a moment to take in the entire scene. The lake itself didn’t cover a particularly large area, but it was very deep in places. Virgil estimated that it was more than half a mile from side to side, north to south, and possibly as far as three hundred metres to the trees on the other side from where Gordon now stood. The hills to the north funnelled water down into the lake via a network of creeks and streams. The surface of the lake looked relatively calm, but it hid unpredictable undercurrents as the water worked its way to the small stream that trickled away from the natural dam at the lake’s southern tip. There were a few tiny islands dotted throughout the lake, most of them closer to the far side, some large enough to have trees growing on them, others no more than large rocks with their tops protruding from the water. A short walk along the water’s edge northward took Virgil past a small wooden pier with a little dinghy tied to it, gently rocking and bumping with the lazy motion of the water. Beyond that, the flat sand gave way to a series of rocky, sloped banks. Picking his way up over some of the lower rocks, Virgil climbed up onto a large, relatively flat boulder that afforded him a good view and room to set out all his materials. He could see the beach (as Gordon called it) and his brother discarding his shoes and socks so he could explore the shallows and the little boat attached to the pier, with the water stretching away before him. Once he had carefully unpacked his easel and sketchbook and placed his pencils beside him within easy reach, Virgil began to sketch out some rough outlines. It wasn’t long before Gordon popped his head up over the edge of Virgil’s rock platform.

“Is that all you’ve done so far?” he asked with curious disbelief. “You should use more colours.” “Gordon.” Virgil’s tone was a warning. “Okay, okay,” Gordon said, raising his hands, palms outwards. “I just wondered if it’s lunchtime yet. I’m hungry.” Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at his younger brother, searching for any signs of mischief and finding none. He realised Gordon was probably right, it was time for lunch. Virgil had been too caught up in what he was doing to notice how long it had been since they’d eaten breakfast. “All right, let’s see what Mom packed for us to eat.” He dug the lunchbox and water bottles out of his backpack while Gordon climbed up onto the rock and sat cross-legged beside him. Neither boy was surprised to find their mom had provided each of them with their favourite sandwich toppings, and they ate hungrily. Gordon would have polished off all the snacks too, but Virgil prudently suggested they should save those for later. They washed the sandwiches down with a hearty helping of water, making sure to save some of that too. When their little picnic was done, Gordon started to scamper back down over the rocks. “You can go back to drawing now,” he delivered a parting shot with that cheeky grin, “I’m gonna go see if I can find any fish.” “Stay out of the water,” Virgil warned. “You just ate.” “Ugh! I’m not stupid, Virgil! And besides, I’m only going in up to my knees, remember!” “I remember. I’ve just gotta make sure you do!” Virgil watched as Gordon started to clamber down the rocks. “Stay where I can see you!” he called after him. “And be careful! The rocks can get slippery.” “I’ll be fine!” Gordon yelled back, and added under his breath, “Spoilsport.” “I heard that!” Virgil didn’t see Gordon poke his tongue out before he ran off along the sand to go and get his feet wet again. He stood in the shallow water, running his hands over the slimy reeds looking for little fish. He spent some time digging his toes into the sand to see what little creatures came darting out into the water as it clouded around his feet. Virgil’s focus was split between the landscape that was rapidly developing on the paper and keeping tabs on Gordon. Every little, excited exclamation had Virgil looking along the beach, wondering what his brother had found. But his attention was inevitably pulled back to his watercolour sketch. Coming out of the water for a while, Gordon picked his way along the sand, gathering a pocketful of stones before finding a spot to stand and skip them across the surface of the lake. He was pretty proud of the one he managed to get to skip eight times before it sank. The clicky slap of the first skipped stone had Virgil’s head turning to watch, making sure his brother was still keeping out of trouble. He wondered who had taught Gordon to skip stones and fondly remembered Scott showing him how it was done. Gordon was actually pretty good at it, and he kept at it for quite a while. After that, Gordon wandered closer to the trees looking for beetles and interesting insects. He even took one or two of them over to show Virgil. He did the same with some of the smooth pebbles he’d found, especially the ones that had pretty colours or unusual patterns. Virgil liked those ones, he could tell. And every time he returned to Virgil up on his rock, while he munched on a snack or took a drink of water, he took a peek at what his brother was drawing. There was one main drawing of the view across the lake that was more and more detailed every time Gordon saw it, but there were some other smaller sketches too. Gordon wasn’t sure if they were like little practice drawings for things that Virgil wanted to add to the main one or if they were something else. It looked like some of those extra sketches included him, some were of the treasures he’d brought to show his brother, and some he couldn’t quite decipher yet. The afternoon sun beat down on them, too high in the sky for any shadows long enough to provide decent shade. Virgil barely noticed, but Gordon felt the heat. He had climbed back down from Virgil’s perch and was now sitting on the end of the little boat dock dangling his feet in the water. He kicked his feet, splashing and watching new ripples form. The water was pleasantly cool against his legs, but his head and shoulders yearned for that same refreshing feeling. He looked out across the lake, longing to jump in and immerse himself in liquid heaven. He was regretting his promise. “Gordon,” Virgil called down to him, “stop splashing around so much. I don’t want you falling in.” In response, Gordon just sighed. A gull squawked nearby, and he watched it wing its way to a large rock protruding from the water, joining other gulls and ibises sunning themselves. It was the closest island to where he sat, and it didn’t look too far to swim to. It was so hot. It would just be a quick swim. “Hey, Virgil,” Gordon called out, twisting his body around to look up at his brother, “how far do you think it is to that big rock out there?” Virgil took a moment to stand up and stretch muscles that he hadn’t really moved in nearly two hours. He looked where Gordon pointed and couldn’t help doing a rough calculation in his head to estimate the distance, but he knew where this question was leading. “Too far,” he answered. “You’re not going to swim to it. No deeper than your knees, remember?” “But, Virge . . .” “No, Gordon! It’s dangerous. We don’t swim out that far when Mom and Dad bring us down here, I’m not letting you go out there alone.” “But I’m a good swimmer, and the water’s really flat and calm, and it’s so hot . . .” “I said no!” Virgil was almost shouting now. Why wasn’t Gordon listening to him? Couldn’t he see how bad an idea this was? “It’s gotta be at least eighty metres out to that rock, and you can’t see the currents at work under the surface or the reeds or the cold spots or how deep it is. It’s not like swimming in the pool in town.” “Eighty metres is easy! I already have my two-hundred-meter freestyle achievement certificate. I’ll be out there and back in no time.” As he spoke, Gordon started removing his T-shirt. “Gordon, don’t!” Virgil’s heart was hammering at his rib cage like it was trying to break free, and he started making his way down the rocks towards the boat dock, knowing he wasn’t going to be quick enough. “Bet I’ll do it in the fastest time ever. Time me, Virgil.” And with a flash of a wicked grin, he turned and dived into the water. Virgil ran across the sand and onto the wooden dock, heart still pounding fit to burst as Gordon swam away. All he could do was stand there and watch. As scared as he was, he couldn’t help being a little bit in awe of his little brother. Even though he was little, he was a good swimmer. From his very first swimming lesson two years ago, he had been very much at home in the water. He learned fast and seemed to have the knack of skimming the surface of the water when he swam – unlike Virgil, who always felt like he was fighting the water, trying to stop it from pulling him down. He didn’t mind admitting that Gordon was a better swimmer than he was, but the little fish had no experience with open water – or getting out of trouble on his own. It wasn’t long before Gordon was halfway to the rock island, and everything seemed to be going fine. Virgil even managed to start to relax a bit. It seemed like he was going to make it out there just fine. His pace had slowed a little, but that was to be expected. Then suddenly something wasn’t right. Gordon had slowed right down, almost to a complete stop, his legs no longer breaking the surface with his kicks. He rolled onto his back and made a couple of awkward backstrokes, then he went under. Just for a millisecond. But it was enough to have Virgil scrambling to get into the dinghy. Gordon tried to shout, but the effort seemed to cause his head to bob under again. Virgil rowed as fast as he could, his head twisted to look over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off his little brother, praying each time he went under that he’d see blond hair break the surface again. Swear words repeated over and over like a mantra with every stroke of the oars. Strong, long strokes propelled the little wooden boat through the water. He fought back panic. He would get there in time. He had to get there in time. He had to save his brother. Gordon seemed to be losing the battle to stay afloat, arms flailing, panicking, bobbing and spluttering. He knew Virgil was trying to get to him, and he was desperate to keep his head above water until he got there, but kicking was difficult and painful. His left leg was not obeying. He’d never experienced a cramp like this before. Virgil finally reached the spot where Gordon had just gone under again. Leaning over the side of the boat, mindful of leaning too far and capsizing, he grabbed a flailing arm with one hand and reached the other into the water to grab a handful of blond hair. He ignored the shock of the cold mere inches below the surface and hauled his brother up far enough for him to gasp for air. He adjusted his grip and dragged Gordon into the boat, where he lay coughing and spluttering, shivering and absolutely terrified. Virgil sat, boat rocking beneath them, breathing hard and equally terrified, watching his brother, grateful for the coughing because at least he knew he was still breathing. “You okay?” Virgil panted out once the coughing had died down a little. “Cramp!” Gordon gasped out in reply, indicating his left leg. “Calf muscle? Here?” Virgil was kneeling with Gordon’s left foot resting on his thigh, fingers gently kneading into his calf. Gordon responded with a nod and a little groan of pain. Virgil spent a few minutes massaging the cramped muscle. He wasn’t sure if Gordon’s tears were from the pain in his leg or fear or relief, but he suddenly felt like he’d do anything to stop them. All he could offer were words of reassurance. Words that comforted both of them. “It’s okay, Gords. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” Virgil’s fingers worked methodically, gently, gradually relaxing the muscle, relieving Gordon’s agony, and calming both of them down in the process. Gordon was soon wriggling his leg free of Virgil’s grasp to sit up on the floor of the little rowboat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, still shivering. “Hold on, Gordon.” Virgil shifted himself back onto the seat and took up the oars. “Let’s get you back to shore and then we can warm you up.” Rowing back to the wooden dock seemed to take so much longer than it had to row out into the lake. Virgil wasn’t sure if this was because there were currents working against him or if he was just a great deal more tired now. Or maybe it was the lack of terrifying urgency driving his actions on the return trip. Either way, he was grateful to make it safely to the dock and get the boat secured. Gordon was adamant he could get out of the boat on his own, but Virgil’s assistance was accepted readily when he found himself unsteady on his feet. Virgil retrieved the T-shirt Gordon had so hastily tossed aside earlier and draped it over his little brother’s back. It didn’t take much convincing for Gordon to remain sitting on the dock in the same knees-huddled-to-chest position he’d adopted in the boat while Virgil raced up to his rock platform to retrieve all his gear. He also made a quick dash across the sand to find Gordon’s discarded shoes before returning. He didn’t like how quiet and still the normally boisterous boy was. The paleness of his skin and the fact he was still shivering – or perhaps trembling – worried him even more. The now damp T-shirt had been pulled on over his head but offered little in the way of warmth. “Hey, Gordon. Arms up,” Virgil instructed, holding his own hoodie ready to slip over the blond head. Gordon did as he was told without comment or complaint, seeming to Virgil a little like some sort of robotic puppet. The hoodie was way too big, but it was soft and thick and most importantly dry. With head and arms now inserted into their correct holes, Virgil knelt in front of Gordon and pulled the hoodie down over his entire tucked-up body. Not even his feet protruded from beneath the hem. He then wrapped his arms around the whole bundle of little brother and rubbed vigorously to generate some heat. “Virgil?” Glossy brown eyes peeked out from beneath the sweater’s hood. The voice was quiet and had a quality to it that felt somehow small and uncertain. “I’m sorry.” The look in his brother’s eyes, more than the words, stung Virgil somewhere deep inside. “What?” Virgil answered. “What for?” “I didn’t listen. You told me not to and I . . .” “That doesn’t matter now.” Virgil’s arms tightened ever so slightly around him, and Gordon rested his head against his big brother’s shoulder. “All I care about right now is making sure you’re okay.” For a moment, the two boys stayed locked in the embrace, Gordon letting the feeling of safety envelop him, Virgil feeling the rise and fall of Gordon’s chest with every breath. He was relieved to find his brother relaxing into an even, steady pattern of deep breaths. There was no sign of any wheezing, and the coughs and splutters seemed long gone. “Come on. Let’s get you home,” Virgil said softly, giving Gordon’s back one final rub before releasing the hug. He slipped his backpack straps over his shoulders, held his hands out for Gordon to take so he could help him onto his feet, then lifted him up into a reverse piggyback hold. Gordon’s arms looped around his neck, and his legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation or protest, and Virgil set off for home at a slow but steady pace. The gentle but constant incline of the path back to the top track gave Virgil quite a workout with the additional weight he carried, but he took it in his stride. Gordon remained so still and quiet, hooded head resting against his left shoulder, Virgil thought he might have fallen asleep. He tried not to jostle his bundle of brother too much as he picked his way up the hill. When he reached the relative flat ground where the lake path rejoined the top track, Virgil took a moment to catch his breath, and Gordon stirred. “Hey, Virgil?” he said quietly. “When we get home . . . we don’t have to tell anyone what happened, do we?” “Gordon, we have to tell Mom. You nearly drowned!” Gordon caught his brother’s gaze and for the first time saw there was fear in those deep brown eyes. It made something in his insides feel fluttery. “But I’m okay,” he pleaded. “You saved me.” “I pulled you out of the water, but . . .” Virgil wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence and sighed. “If you got any water in your lungs, that would be bad. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but sometimes it can make a person have trouble breathing hours after they’ve been rescued from drowning.” “Oh.” The initial response was almost whispered, then Gordon’s features and tone brightened. “But –” “Did you swallow any water?” Virgil cut him off. “Because the water in the lake could make you sick if you did.” Gordon’s brow creased. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe?” Virgil sighed once more, then began walking again. “I don’t want to scare you, Gords, but what happened out there was a big deal.” “I know,” Gordon whimpered, and held on to Virgil a little tighter. “But I’m not scared now. I’m safe. I was afraid. In the water, when I thought . . . when I couldn’t . . . It was scary, but now I’m not scared because you’re here and you saved me.” Virgil remained silent. “Would it be less scary for you if you stay with me until you know I’m not going to get sick or stop breathing?” Gordon whispered. The rhythm of Virgil’s footfalls faltered for a step or two. “I promise I won’t leave your sight until you’re sure I’m okay. Then we don’t have to tell Mom unless I get sick. Okay?” For a moment, Virgil couldn’t say anything. The lump in his throat was too much of an obstacle. He blinked a few times to clear his swimming vision, huffed out a ragged sigh, and hitched his brother a little higher on his hips. “Okay, Little Fish. You got a deal. I won’t tell Mom, and you and I stick together like glue for tonight.” Not long after their deal was struck Virgil’s steady paces brought them out of the trees and into the paddock, with home in sight. It seemed they had beaten Lucy home, as her car wasn’t parked in its usual spot, but John’s bike was neatly leaned on its stand next to the others, and Virgil suspected Scott was already home too.

He was relieved to finally climb the stairs and deposit Gordon gently on his feet on the front porch. Slipping off his backpack and rolling his shoulders to ease tired muscles, Virgil followed his younger brother through the front door and into the kitchen. He might have known Gordon would gravitate towards food. At least this was a good sign – if Gordon was hungry, then he probably wasn’t feeling any ill effects from swallowing lake water. “Oh, look. It finally happened,” Scott said with a smirk and an elbow to John’s ribs. “One of Virgil’s hoodies grew legs and walked away.” “Ha-ha,” Gordon replied as he grabbed the jug of juice from the fridge. “Seriously, Gordon,” John spoke up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he and Scott had been finishing their afternoon snacks, “what’s with the hoodie? It’s gotta be ninety-six degrees outside.” “He just wanted to prove me wrong,” Virgil chimed in, walking straight to the cupboard and grabbing a couple of glasses. “I told him he would disappear completely inside one of my hoodies.” He noted the suspicious looks but ignored them as he poured juice for himself and Gordon. “How was the space thing at the library?” As John began eagerly explaining in great detail the highlights of the interactive exhibition, Virgil met Scott’s expression of curiosity with his best nothing-to-see-here shrug. He knew the innocent look he tried to project wouldn’t be enough to prevent Scott from seeing straight through the change of subject. Scott’s sapphire-blue eyes had the ability to cut like diamonds, and right at that moment Virgil felt the full weight of their scrutiny. He tried to give a reassuring smile and turn his attention to John’s increasingly fast-paced account of the space exhibit. “Actually, that sounds pretty cool,” Gordon said with an air of surprise and a warm smile at the conclusion of John’s animated description. He drained the dregs of his glass of juice and turned to Virgil. “I’m gonna go upstairs and change clothes.” “I’ll be up in a minute,” Virgil replied. Gordon left the room at a trot and bounded up the stairs. Scott and John were both back to studying Virgil intently. “What?” “Why’s Gordon so attached to you all of a sudden?” Scott asked. “He’s practically asking you for permission to leave the room.” Virgil’s gaze flicked between the blue and the turquoise, and he resisted the urge to squirm. “I don’t know. I guess we just had kind of a good day.” It was the only thing Virgil could think of to say. “You two spent the whole day together and you’re not sick of the sight of each other?” It was John’s turn to question the lack of frustrated bickering that would normally have surfaced between them. Virgil just shrugged, finished his own glass of juice, and picked up his backpack. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away.” He left the room, deliberately not hurrying but desperate to escape from the interrogation he felt was coming. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Gordon’s bedroom door opened. He was wearing his clownfish pyjamas, and Virgil couldn’t help but grin. “Virgil?” Gordon packed so much uncertainty into just his name Virgil was a little concerned at what might be coming. “Do you think maybe . . . I mean could we, maybe . . . Do you wanna build a blanket fort with me?” “Actually, I think that’s a pretty great idea.” When Lucy arrived home, wrangling a grizzly Alan who had missed his afternoon nap, and exhausted from a rather frustrating day full of unnecessary delays at every stop, she found Scott and John in the kitchen getting dinner started. Neither had seen the other two boys in a while, so she settled Alan in the living room with his favourite cartoon and headed upstairs to investigate. She found them in Gordon’s and Alan’s room. At least, she found evidence that this was where they had been for some time. Half of the room was obscured by a complex construction created out of pillows, blankets, and assorted bed linen supported by various pieces of furniture and some rather ingeniously rigged clothesline string. “Well, look at you two in here together, thick as thieves!” Lucy said as her head emerged from between two blankets that served as the entrance. “Hi, Mom! We’re building a blanket fort!” Gordon explained excitedly. Virgil rolled his eyes. “She can see that, doofus.” “And it is quite an impressive feat of engineering.” She winked and smiled. “What did you boys get up to on your walk today? Lots of exciting adventures, no doubt.” A look passed between the two. “Nothing,” Gordon blurted out, just as Virgil spoke. “Not much.” Virgil added a shrug and a somewhat apologetic expression. “Just . . . boy stuff.” “Yeah, Mom. Boy stuff,” Gordon repeated emphatically. “We can’t tell you because you’re a girl.” Lucy’s head tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised, and the corners of her mouth and eyes began a slow upward quirk into a smile. She wondered what they were up to, but she was happy the two of them were getting along well. “Hmm. Does this boy stuff include any drawings I’m allowed to see?” If they wouldn’t tell her where they’d been, perhaps she could discern something from Virgil’s sketches. “Can I show you later? Tomorrow maybe?” Virgil squirmed a little under the inquisitive gaze of those soft, honey-coloured eyes. Usually he loved sharing his artworks with Mom. She always praised the bits she thought he’d done well and knew exactly how to suggest little improvements without making it seem like he’d made mistakes. Sometimes it felt like she saw more in his drawings than what he’d put in them. “Okay,” she said, changing tack. “Are you two coming out of there to join the rest of us for dinner?” Another look between the brothers. The plot thickening before her eyes. “Can we come back in here after dinner?” Gordon asked. “Could we, maybe, both sleep in here for tonight?” Virgil followed up quickly. Lucy studied the faces of her two brown-eyed boys. These two were not regular partners in shenanigans. There was something going on here that she was not quite sure she understood just yet, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in what they were asking. “I don’t see why not,” she answered, and was rewarded with two beaming smiles. “Go wash up and you can set the table while I help your brothers finish up in the kitchen.” Dinner for the most part was about as chaotic as usual. Alan was still irritable and played with more of his food than he ate, making a mess of himself and the table in front of him in the process. Scott and John both gave lengthy answers to their mom’s enquiries about how they had spent the day. There were all the usual arguments over who would get the last helpings of this or that as plates and dishes were rapidly emptied, their contents hungrily devoured. Virgil and Gordon managed to talk about the more innocent parts of their day, clinging to descriptions of what plants were flowering, the types of birds they saw, the spiders and beetles and butterflies, rather than any specific mention of the lake. As the scrape of knives and forks on plates finally died down, Lucy began clearing serving dishes off the table. “How about tomorrow we all have a day at the pool?” Standing behind her water-baby as she spoke, she gave his hair a ruffle. John and Scott were both quick to answer with excited affirmatives, Alan enthusiastically exclaimed “Swim!”, but she didn’t see the panicked look that flashed across Gordon’s face as he looked across the table at Virgil. “That sounds great, Mom,” was Virgil’s reply as he kept his eyes firmly on Gordon, trying to relay a sense of calm reassurance that he didn’t really feel. If anyone noticed Gordon’s lack of enthusiasm at the suggestion, no one made mention of it. Perhaps his reaction was lost in the flurry of activity as the table was cleared and Alan was escorted upstairs for his bath. Virgil did notice an odd expression cross Scott’s face as he watched Gordon begin loading dirty cutlery into the dishwasher, but he said nothing before leaving the kitchen. John and Scott had helped cook dinner, so Virgil and Gordon were left to load the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen. “Gordon?” Virgil caught his little brother’s attention with a gentle flick of a tea towel, and a sullen expression was his reply. “Don’t you want to go to the pool tomorrow?” Gordon shrugged. Virgil kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to hear the conversation. “You always get excited about going to the pool. You’ve been begging Mom to take us every day for the entire summer. People will ask questions if you suddenly don’t want to go.” The look in Gordon’s eyes was a complicated mixture of fear, sadness, and uncertainty that had Virgil once again wanting to do anything he could to take away the pain. He was about to say something more when he heard John’s voice carry through from the living room and thought better of it. The discussion wasn’t over, but it would have to wait. The rest of their kitchen duty was completed in awkward silence. Chores done, they headed upstairs, back to their blanket fort. They had barely begun to settle into the pile of pillows and cushions when a small hand, followed by a headful of slightly damp blond hair, poked through from beneath a blanket wall. Bright blue eyes sparkled as a giggle escaped through a cheeky grin. “Peek-a-boo!” Alan exclaimed and wriggled his way into the enclosure. “Alan!?” Lucy parted the fort’s entrance with her arms so the blankets draped like a stage curtain. As her eyes came to rest on her littlest, a wave of relief was reflected in her fond smile. “Say good night to your brothers and I’ll read you a story.” Liberal good-night cuddles were dished out to both big brothers before Lucy ushered Alan out so she could bundle him into bed. “You two – shower or bath, teeth brushing – go!” she instructed. By the time Virgil and Gordon had washed and brushed and were attired for bed (again in Gordon’s case), Alan was asleep, the bedroom was illuminated only by Alan’s star projecting night light, and their mom was holding her finger up to her lips. “Shh. Try not to wake your little brother,” she whispered. She gave each of them a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stay up all night!” Virgil and Gordon were soon alone and comfortably secure in their plush fortress. Their flashlights had been propped between pillows and furniture so they provided a soft glow amid the cosy gloom. “Talk to me, Fish,” Virgil said softly. “You’ve been so quiet since dinner. Are you feeling okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” Gordon’s slumped posture added to Virgil’s impression that his brother looked pretty miserable. “It’s just . . .” A huge sigh escaped his tiny frame. “You’re worried about tomorrow?” Virgil finished for him. “Do you think I could tell Mom I have to do some reading for school or something?” Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart dropped into his stomach. His little brother might not be physically sick or injured, but he was not okay. “You know that’s not gonna work, Gordon. You’ve been pestering her all summer to take you to the pool. If you suddenly don’t want to go, she’s going to be super suspicious. And nobody will believe that you would ditch the pool in favour of schoolwork. Especially in summer!” “I know.” Another sigh. A long silence. “It’s just, when Mom said we’d all go to the pool tomorrow I . . . Normally I’d be really excited, but this time I kind of got scared.” “What are you scared of?” Gordon thought Virgil’s question was a pretty stupid one considering what had happened at the lake, and his scowling glare communicated as much. “I mean, what exactly scares you about going to the pool? Are you afraid you might get into trouble like you did in the lake?” Gordon’s expression turned more quizzical as he considered what Virgil was trying to say. “Because the pool is going to be very different from the lake. The water is clear. You can always see the bottom. The temperature is controlled and kept fairly warm. There’s a lifeguard on duty all the time keeping everyone safe, and we’ll all be there with you. You won’t be on your own, far from shore.” “I guess.” “Gordon, you love the water. You always have, even when you were tiny. You’re always happiest when you’re in the water – even if it’s just the bath or splashing in puddles.” “Not anymore.” “You have to get back on the horse,” Virgil said absently, almost to himself. “What? What horse? What does that have to do with the pool?” “It’s a figure of speech. Something Grandpa says. If you fall off the horse, you’ve gotta get right back on. You can’t let one bad experience make you scared forever, and the sooner you get back up on the horse after falling, the easier it is to ride again.” Gordon looked uncertain. “So, you’re saying that I have to go to the pool tomorrow and get back in the water or else I might be scared of swimming forever?” “I’m saying you have to go to the pool tomorrow because swimming makes you happy. You’re good at it, and you can’t let today stop you from doing something that makes you light up like Fourth of July fireworks and grin like the Cheshire Cat.” There was another long silence. Gordon scooted a little closer to his big brother and rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder. “Will you stay with me tomorrow? At the pool?” Virgil wriggled his arm under his brother and tugged him closer. “For as long as you need me to,” he affirmed. “We’ll start off in the shallow end. Mess around for a while, just getting wet, splashing about. Pretty soon you’ll be swimming like a fish and I won’t be able to keep up. But I promise I’ll stay close and watch out for you, okay?” “Okay.” Despite how tired he sounded, there was a brightness to Gordon’s voice that caused a wave of relief to sweep over Virgil. The day’s exploits had exhausted the two boys. Their little nest was cosy and warm, and the close contact between them helped relax them both as they quickly drifted off to sleep. But Virgil’s usually sound sleep was disturbed by unpleasant dreams. Twice he woke suddenly, heart pounding and breathing hard, certain that something terrible had happened and with an unshakable need to check on Gordon, only to find him safely asleep beside him. He lay awake after each nightmare, watching the even rise and fall of his brother’s chest, noticing every little twitch and murmur made as he slept. He had a feeling it would be a while before he could completely shake these nightmares, but it was comforting to think that Gordon had been spared the same kind of disruption through the night.

*** Morning dawned bright and warm, and despite the duvet cover preventing much sunlight penetrating the sanctuary of the fort, Gordon was awake with the dawn chorus. He tried to let his brother sleep, happy to listen to the soft snores and try not to giggle, but he quickly became impatient. Virgil woke to gentle but insistent poking to the ribs and the repeated whispering of his name. When he peeled his eyes open, he was greeted with brown eyes mere inches in front of his own and a beaming smile. “We’re going to the pool today, Virgil,” Gordon whispered with a hint of excitement. “You have to get up.” “Okay, okay,” Virgil managed to somewhat grunt as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Then he registered the expression on his little brother’s face, the gleam in the eyes and the fact that the smile still hadn’t faltered, and a smile of his own spread from the depths of his heart and across his face. The mixture of nerves and eagerness thrumming through Gordon all morning was enough to give the rest of the family the impression he was full of barely contained excitement fitting for the day of a visit to the pool. He repeatedly asked when they would be leaving and was repeatedly told they would head out after lunch. He offered to pack everyone’s towels and Alan’s floaties into a bag ready for later, and he fidgeted and bounced his way through to lunchtime. After lunch, as promised, Lucy piled all the boys into the family car and drove them to the public pool. She paid their admission, and they all tumbled through the turnstile. As usual, Scott, who had never grown out of wanting to go everywhere at top speed, and Gordon raced away to find them a spot on the grass where bags and towels could be unceremoniously dumped before they hit the water. By the time Virgil and John joined them, T-shirts had already been discarded and comments about the fate of the last person into the water were being bandied about. When Lucy was finally able to set down her load of Alan and the bagful of necessities required for their day out, her four oldest boys were already racing towards the Olympic-sized pool. Scott first, John not far behind, and Gordon practically dragging Virgil by the hand.

Lucy kept an eye on her boys happily splashing about with each other in the shallow end of the pool while she got herself and Alan stripped down to their bathing suits and slid Alan’s floaties on over his head and arms. They had started a game of Chicken Fight by the time she slid herself into the water and lifted Alan down into her arms. John, sitting on Scott’s shoulders and Gordon atop Virgil’s, were locked in grappling combat. Scott and John had the advantage of both height and reach, and it was not long before Gordon toppled into the water. A rematch produced the same result in short order, and Gordon exacted revenge by distracting Scott with an underwater pantsing, causing him to break his hold on John, who overbalanced and slid from Scott’s shoulders into the pool. Lucy and Alan laughed along with the others as Scott protested foul play. Handstand competitions and a game of Freeze Tag followed. Lucy took Alan to the toddler pool where he could splash about more freely, instructing the older boys to behave and try not to bother other pool users too much while she was gone. Virgil was pleased to see that, just as he’d predicted, Gordon was happily swimming rings around them all as they played. He’d stuck close to Virgil at first, but after the Chicken Fights, he was swimming farther and faster in his efforts to escape being tagged and spending longer underwater with every passing minute. It seemed he had slipped right back into his home environment without any lasting dramas. As the afternoon shadows grew long, one by one Lucy’s boys returned to their spot on the grass. She and Alan had grown tired of the water first, and Alan had even had a short sleep amongst the pile of towels as they waited for the others to tire themselves out. Scott was first of the older boys to tire of swimming and return to towel off and dress in dry clothes, with John quick to follow. Lucy was a little surprised at how long Virgil lasted in the water until she spotted him sitting on the edge of the pool with just his feet and lower legs in the water watching Gordon as he shot back and forth across the free-play area, dodging strangers. She gave a shrill two-finger whistle. Virgil, recognising the signal, turned his head to look back at her, and she beckoned with her hand to indicate it was time to go. It seemed to take a while to convince Gordon to get out of the pool, but Lucy was not surprised. The car ride home was a fairly quiet one, the boys having spent a great deal of energy over the course of the afternoon. They brightened at the suggestion of ordering pizza for dinner when they got home, and there was a brief buzz of conversation when she mentioned their father would be home by the weekend. He had only been away for two weeks, but the older boys had never really grown out of getting excited by his return. This latest trip wasn’t as far away as Mars or even the moon, but the prospect of having Dad home again still triggered that same feeling of welcoming someone who had been long absent. He may not visit space for work any longer, and his absences could be measured in days instead of months or years, but it was always great to have him home again. “He already has big plans for this year’s Last Day of Summer,” Lucy mentioned with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s only ten days away now!” While Scott and John speculated on what their dad might have in store for the annual family day at the lake on the last weekend before they went back to school, Virgil felt a small hand slip inside his and squeeze. He looked to his left at Gordon staring silently out the car window and gave a slight hand squeeze of his own in reply. While today had helped, it was obvious his little brother was still harbouring some fear of returning to the lake. There was no chance for Virgil to talk one-on-one with Gordon when they got home from the pool. As was fairly normal in the Tracy household, there always seemed to be someone else around or something that needed doing, and before he knew it, Gordon was already tucked in bed and reading a bedtime story with Mom. Virgil took a little longer than normal in the shower, needing the time alone with his thoughts. If Gordon acted anything less than excited about going to the lake for Last Day of Summer, it wouldn’t be long before their little secret would come to light. He had to find a way to get Gordon’s confidence back, but he was starting to wonder if he could manage on his own. With something like this, he would normally talk things out with Scott. It felt wrong to be hiding something from him and even more wrong to be hiding things from Mom. He was beginning to wonder whether he should just let the cat out of the bag and tell the truth, but he really didn’t want to let his little brother down either. Unable to face revealing how close he’d come to letting his brother drown, Virgil ended up avoiding any chance of conversation for the evening and shut himself away in his room until it was time for bed. John was in and out of the shared bedroom as he began preparing to turn in for the night, but it was not unusual for the two of them to quietly do their own thing without really exchanging words. When Lucy popped her head inside the door to check on her two quietest boys and say good night, Virgil tried his best to act like everything was normal. Her gaze fell heavily on him for a moment, and he had to fight the urge to tell her everything about the day at the lake and ask her advice. “Don’t stay up too late, boys,” she playfully warned them. “Lights out by 9:30 please, Virgil, and John, no more stargazing after lights out!” “Okay, Mom,” they both answered automatically and in chorus. “Good night.” It took a while for Virgil to fall asleep that night, mind whirling with the thought of his little brother being afraid of something that had always been a source of such joy. There had to be a way to fix it – every problem had a solution, you just had to find it, that’s what Dad would say. As tired as he was, his mind kept trying to focus on finding that solution before drifting away into a sleepy fog. Gordon didn’t know exactly what time it was, but he knew it was very late. The house was quiet. The room wasn’t dark – Alan’s night-light saw to that – but he couldn’t hear any voices, any indication of anyone moving around downstairs or in the bathrooms and bedrooms. Everyone must be asleep. He had startled awake, sitting bolt upright, breathless, heart pounding, eyes prickling with oncoming tears and really wishing he wasn’t so alone. He’d been dreaming about the lake, and now he didn’t want to go back to sleep. Slipping silently from his bed, he tiptoed across the floor, careful not to disturb Alan, and crept out into the hall. He hesitated for a moment. Normally he would head for his parents’ room, but Mom would ask what the dream was about, and he didn’t want to tell her about swimming in the lake. He didn’t want to get in trouble – or get Virgil into trouble. Gordon changed direction and headed for Virgil’s and John’s room. Being very careful to open the door without a sound and close it just as silently behind him, Gordon stood in the pitch-dark bedroom for a moment and let his eyes adjust. He couldn’t understand why his bigger brothers liked it so dark, he found it a bit creepy, but he couldn’t turn on the light and risk waking John. It wasn’t long before he could make out the shape of Virgil’s bed amongst the gloom, and he stealthily padded across the carpet to stand beside his sleeping brother. Now that he was here, he wasn’t really sure how to wake him or whether he should. He stood twisting the fingers of both hands around each other, close to tears again. “Virgil?” he whispered, barely above a breath. No response. “Virge?” This time a little louder, a little more desperate, a little more whiney and accompanied by a sniff. He tried tapping Virgil’s shoulder a few times, but his brother didn’t budge from where he lay curled on his side, facing the wall. In the end, not knowing what else to do, Gordon climbed across the bottom of the bed and squeezed his way past Virgil’s knees, wriggled himself under the covers and Virgil’s arm, and curled himself into the space between his brother and the wall. It was around three a.m. when Virgil woke to find he wasn’t alone in the bed. He didn’t know how or when Gordon had come to be there, but he could hear him softly whimpering and feel him shaking with the occasional sob. “Gordon,” he whispered softly, “are you okay?” He tugged his brother a little tighter to him, feeling him struggle to get the sobbing under control and even out his breathing. “Had a bad dream,” came the ever-so-quiet response. Virgil eased his grip and shuffled over on the bed, allowing Gordon to roll over and face him, but he kept his hand resting against his brother’s back. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the quiet darkness seemed both comforting and ominous at the same time. Gordon heaved a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh before breaking the silence. He kept his voice low, but once he started, the words tumbled out in a torrent. “I can’t go back to the lake for Last Day of Summer, Virgil. I don’t want to go back in the water and everyone will know that’s not normal and want to know why and I don’t want them to know what I did and –” “Shh,” Virgil soothed, rubbing Gordon’s back as he spoke. “We’ll work something out together. I promise.” “You mean so we don’t have to go?” “No, I mean so you won’t be afraid anymore. We have to go. It’s tradition. And I think we both have to go back to the lake and confront our fears.” “You’re scared too? Wait, what are you scared of?” It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. “Gordon, as annoying as you sometimes are, you are my little brother, and if anything happened to you – anything really bad, I mean – I’d be . . .” Another sigh. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. And I guess I’m scared of what might have happened. I keep having bad dreams where I couldn’t save you.” Gordon was suddenly wrapped around him like an octopus, his skinny little arms squeezing tight around Virgil like he was never going to let go and legs twining their way between bedding and body to latch on too. Despite feeling a little bit trapped within the many-limbed embrace, Virgil felt oddly comforted by it. “You don’t have to hold so tight, little octopus. I’m not going anywhere,” Virgil whispered into blond hair. “I’m not an octopus,” came the muffled reply, buried somewhere in Virgil’s neck, “I’m a squid.” “Okay then, Squid. How about we try and get some sleep and work this out tomorrow?” Gordon’s hold on his brother relaxed enough for them both to get a little more comfortable in the bed, but it was clear he wasn’t letting go. Virgil managed to get one arm disentangled enough to trace his hand back and forth across Gordon’s back, helping to lull him to sleep. Slumber quickly claimed the older brother soon after.

*** Morning crept up on them, dawning overcast and gloomy, despite being summer warm. As a result, Gordon slept later than he normally would and was woken by John’s quiet movements as he rolled out of the bed on the other side of the room and shuffled towards the bathroom. If John noticed the interloper in Virgil’s bed, he didn’t say anything, so Gordon took the opportunity to unceremoniously climb over his brother and hightail it back to his own room. Virgil woke with a start after yet another nightmare. Sitting up and trying to reacquaint himself with reality, he realised Gordon was no longer with him, and his heart rate ratcheted up a few more notches in brief panic. Catching sight of the clock and taking a few slow, deep breaths, Virgil managed to convince himself that everything was fine, Gordon had obviously just woken up earlier and was more than likely perfectly okay. But he needed to check. He tumbled out of bed and, after a brief detour to the bathroom, stumbled his way down the corridor in search of Gordon. Finding the tiny two’s bedroom deserted, he headed downstairs and found his target in the living room. Virgil stood in the doorway watching Gordon playing with Alan for a few minutes. Seeing his goofball brother being his normal, animated self and hearing the shrieks and giggles his antics prompted from Alan were enough to reassure him that yes, Gordon was just fine. Sometime after Virgil had found himself some breakfast and begun to consider himself properly awake, John found him sitting at the piano, absently staring out the window. John didn’t recall hearing Virgil play any practice exercises, and Virgil’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration, so John concluded that he was there more for the familiarity than the urge to play music. He did this sometimes – sat there just thinking, wheels turning, gears shifting, working something out in his head – and John always found it interesting to watch the thought process play out through Virgil’s expressions. But the expression wasn’t changing. “Virgil?” John prompted with some concern. “You okay?” With a jolt, Virgil tore his eyes away from the view he wasn’t really seeing out the window and focussed them on John. “Yeah.” Virgil sighed. “I just have something I need to do, something that needs fixing, and I don’t know how to do it.” “Look it up,” John answered with a shrug. “That’s what I’d do. There’s probably a book about it somewhere or a repair manual or instructional video. If I want to know how something works or how to do something, I start with research.” With that, John walked away, leaving Virgil to ponder how to research fixing a fear of swimming in a lake. And then it hit him. Research was the answer, he just had to look up the right thing – not how to fix the fear, but all the things there were to be afraid of. The more information you know about the thing you’re afraid of, the less scary it becomes. So, all he had to do was look up everything that could cause someone to get into trouble swimming in a lake – and maybe rivers, streams, and oceans too – and learn everything about them. If he knew how to spot the dangers or how to prevent them and how to get out of trouble, then maybe Gordon wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Virgil set off at a run to go and find Gordon. At first, Gordon wasn’t sure about this idea of Virgil’s. Sitting in front of a holoscreen looking up information sounded a lot like homework. But Virgil was insistent that they at least give it a try. After all, it couldn’t hurt to know more about different waterways. “Okay, so where do we start?” Gordon asked as they settled themselves at the big desk in the corner of the living room. “Well, what scares you most when you think about going swimming in the lake?” “Getting another cramp.” Gordon’s reply was quiet, and suddenly Virgil hated himself for making his little brother revisit that moment when everything had gone wrong. He put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze. “Then let’s start there. We can find out what causes cramps when you swim and learn how to prevent them or how to manage them.” Virgil found a great deal of information on muscle cramps related to swimmers, which he quickly became quite absorbed in. He had to remind himself to stick to the sites with simple wording and steer clear of the ones that crossed too far into medical jargon territory. The boys learned the importance of warming up before swimming, being careful not to overexert the muscles, and staying hydrated. They also found that cold water could increase the chance of cramping. Virgil physically shivered at the memory of plunging his arm into deceptively cold water to grab at one of the only parts of his little brother he could still see. They researched swimming in cold water, what caused cold spots in lakes and rivers and whether you could spot them, and ways you could avoid them or deal with them. They learned about different types of currents – ones you could see, and ones you wouldn’t know about until you felt them. Submerged objects, reeds and seaweed, rocks and tree roots . . . “What are you guys doing?” Scott startled them so badly Virgil jumped and Gordon squeaked. “Researching water safety.” Virgil decided honesty was the best way to go . . . to a point. “It’s for Rescue Scouts.” “But we don’t go back to Rescue Scouts until a week after school goes back.” Scott eyed both brothers suspiciously. “We know, but there’s no harm in getting in early, and Gordon really wants his Water Safety badge.” Virgil had to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his big brother’s gaze as Scott remained silent for what seemed like a whole minute. “Well, it’s time for lunch,” Scott finally said before turning his back on them and heading for the kitchen. Gordon grinned up at Virgil, who huffed out a long exhale in relief. He didn’t think Scott completely believed the Rescue Scout story, but it seemed as though they would be able to continue their research unquestioned. In fact, no one questioned the time these two spent together in snatches of an hour or two here and there over a couple of days, continuing to search out information on the best ways to stay safe in just about any body of water. Gordon had even made a scrapbook of notes and pictures so he could keep track of all the things they’d learned. Excuses aside, when Rescue Scouts resumed after the summer break, Gordon would already be well on his way to earning his Water Safety badge in earnest. As promised, Jeff was back home by the time the boys awoke on Saturday morning, and he began dropping hints about his plans for the best Last Day of Summer yet. It was to be bigger and better than ever before because, for the first time since they began making the end-of-summer vacation a celebration, it coincided with Virgil’s birthday. The first hints encouraged the boys to check their tents and sleeping bags. It wouldn’t just be a day out with a picnic lunch this year, it would be an overnight campout. There was a promise of campfire tales and s’mores and a special surprise that required the night sky as a backdrop. There were hints about guests that prompted a whole day of guessing who might be joining them at the lake. Grandma and Grandpa were the first confirmed additions to the guest list, along with “Uncle” Lee and a mysterious extra guest from England and his daughter, who was apparently around Virgil’s and John’s age. Amidst all the building excitement about the big event at the end of the week, signs of Gordon’s nervousness about returning to the lake were easily missed by the rest of the family. Only Virgil saw the signs – the slight frown at Scott’s mention that they’d all need to remember to bring their swimmers and towels, the look of horror at John wondering if he’d see more stars if he rowed out into the lake after dark. Virgil decided he’d have to take Gordon back to the lake before the weekend. They needed to return to the scene of the crime. Gordon, having come to much the same conclusion in his own way, approached Virgil after breakfast on the Wednesday. The day was clear and bright, much like it had been on the morning of that fateful day little more than a week before. It seemed like a good day to go back and face the monster that the lake had become. “Virgil,” Gordon said quietly, despite there being no one else in the living room at the time, “can we go back to the lake today? Can you take me?” “Today seems like a good day to me,” Virgil answered with a gentle smile. “We’ll have to tell Dad we’re going out for most of the day.” Now that Jeff was back from his trip and working from the home office, Lucy was spending more time at work. The boys were expected to look after each other and only interrupt their father if it was important, but Jeff would check up on them all throughout the day. “Do we have to say where we’re going?” Gordon twined his fingertips around each other, raising his eyes to meet Virgil’s from a head trying to look down at the floor. “We’ll tell him we’re going back to the place we visited last week to finish the drawing,” Virgil suggested. “It’s not exactly a lie. We are going back to the same place.” The knock on Jeff’s office door was tentative but loud enough that he heard it over the voice of the colleague on the other end of the video call. He muted his audio to tell his visitor to wait a moment before unmuting and bringing the phone conversation to a conclusion. “Come in,” he finally called towards the closed door. He was a little surprised by the request for this particular pair to spend a day out together on their own, but he remembered Lucy mentioning something about these two having been out on the top track the week before. He gave them permission to go provided they tell Scott and John where they were going and promise to be back by five. “Take something to eat and plenty of water, Virgil,” he reminded the older boy, “and look after your brother.” “I will, Dad.” Virgil gave a solemn nod, and the two boys slipped back out of the office, closing the door behind them. Bag packed with sandwiches and water bottles, art supplies for the sake of appearances, and towels, the boys were soon striding out across the paddock towards the top track. This time there were no lingering looks at the scenery as they walked – the birds, spiders, and bugs were largely ignored. Unlike the last time they had set out together, Virgil had no desire to hurry, and he let his younger brother set the pace. He noted with a small amount of pride the purposeful strides, the determination in the set of squared shoulders, and the fire in amber eyes as Gordon focused his energy on reaching their destination so he could do what needed to be done. Gordon’s determined march stuttered to a somewhat abrupt halt when they rounded the last curve and stepped onto the silty sand of the lake’s beach. With his eyes fixed on the water, shoulders drooping, it seemed Gordon’s fire had died. Without a word, Virgil placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the simple gesture having the desired effect – lending the younger boy enough resolve to steel himself once again, lengthen his spine, and straighten his shoulders. Virgil steered them over to a patch of sand where he could spread out a towel for them to sit on. Shoes were shed in preparation for the inevitable trip to the water’s edge, but the boys remained seated. “What do you see out there?” Virgil asked. “It’s the same. Calm. Flat. But it’s different from last time too.” Virgil waited for a moment before trying again, wanting Gordon to see past the feeling of fear. “Remember what we learned about studying the ripples?” he prompted. “Is it really flat and calm?” There was silence as Gordon’s gaze focused intently on the expanse of blue stretching before them. The embers of the fire that had previously lit his eyes seemed to ignite anew as he studied the surface, looking for telltale signs. “There are reeds just under the surface over there,” he said, pointing a little to their left, “and the ripples over here are different to that bit farther out where it looks really smooth.” Virgil could see Gordon’s confidence growing as he gestured to various parts of the lake, telling his big brother what the differences in the rippled and smooth areas were likely to mean in terms of what was going on beneath the surface. Pretty soon they were on their feet and striding into the shallows to test the waters. Gordon entered the water at a slow walk, which Virgil thought was through caution or trepidation at first, but then Gordon gently trailed fingertips through the reeds and beckoned his big brother over. “Virgil, come look,” he called, looking up at him with a grin. “There are fish that feed in the reeds.” The next half hour was spent following Gordon through the shallows exploring the aquatic life found therein. As the younger boy got more caught up in watching the fish, finding different types of reeds, discovering eels, and excitedly pondering all manner of life in the depths of the lake, they wandered deeper into the water. Virgil followed and listened, answering questions as best he could when asked, smiling fondly all the while. The Squid was in his element. “Hey Gordon,” Virgil said as he playfully splashed a well-aimed hand scoop of water into the side of his little brother’s head. “You realise you’re getting your shirt wet, right?” Gordon looked down at the water that was now up to the middle of his chest and back up at his brother with a grin. “Oops.” They briefly returned to the little beach, shed their shirts, and laid them down in the sun to dry. “You know, when we come back this weekend, we’ll mostly be swimming out here where we just were.” Virgil nodded his head back towards the little patch of lake they’d just explored. “We could go a little deeper, actually lift our feet off the bottom and swim for a while. This is the only part of the lake any of us have ever really swum in before.” Gordon’s eyes sparkled with light reflecting off the water as he pondered Virgil’s words for a moment. Mom and Dad had always suggested the boys shouldn’t swim out past where they could touch the bottom and definitely never past the end of the wooden pier. Looking at the pier and the dinghy tied securely to its mooring drew his eye to the rock island beyond, tantalisingly close, yet so terrifyingly far. Virgil watched his squid brother scanning the water, casting his gaze over the safe and familiar. He saw the moment the line was crossed and thoughts turned to the challenge just that little farther afield. Once again, he placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, hoping to redirect his thoughts. “Why don’t we just go back in, swim around for a while, have some fun where we know it’s safe?” “Yeah, okay,” Gordon agreed, a little half-heartedly. Virgil took his brother by the hand, and by the time they’d taken two steps, they were running towards the water. He only let go once they were in deep enough that a tug of the hand lifted Gordon’s feet off the bottom and propelled him a short distance through the water. He received a splash to the face for his efforts, but his little brother was smiling and treading water. In no time at all, Gordon was literally swimming rings around his big brother, splashing at him and darting away, taunting him, daring him to swim after him. It was hunger that drove them out of the water and back onto the dry sand sometime later. PB&J sandwiches were retrieved from the backpack and devoured. The late summer sun warmed their shoulders as they sat in content silence, listening to the lapping of the water and the cries of the birds. Virgil would have been happy to remain there soaking it all in, but Gordon soon became restless, his gaze drifting back to where water birds were drying their outstretched wings. “Virgil, I wanna swim to the rock.” The fire was back in Gordon’s eyes. Virgil studied him for a moment, seeing that same determination that had driven the march to the lake. He wasn’t asking for permission, he was making a statement. It was what he’d come here to do – the demon he needed to conquer. Virgil wasn’t feeling anywhere near as courageous as his little brother looked at that moment. “Gordon . . .” “I need to do it, Virgil.” He turned his head, those glowing embers burning straight into his big brother’s wide brown eyes. “But I need you.” “I can’t . . .” “Use the boat. I’ll swim, you row. If I get into trouble, you’ll be right there.” Virgil had to look away. The intensity in those eyes, the body language, the strength of will in his little brother were too much. But it was the faith Gordon was placing in him that was twisting his gut. He caught sight of the rock island, out there beyond the boat docked at the pier. He was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat thumping just a little too hard and a little too fast. Gordon needed this – needed him to do this with him. He couldn’t let the Squid down. “Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. He had expected a look of triumph, a smile, a victory dance . . . something. Anything but the simple nod and determined knitting of Gordon’s brow that he received in reply. The younger boy then grabbed his water bottle and took a long draught. “Staying hydrated helps stop you getting cramps, right?” Gordon asked. Virgil nodded. “And I should do some warmup stretches before I swim out there.” “Right again.” Virgil was gladdened by the amount of thought and preparation Gordon was putting into the task ahead of him this time. “And you’ll stay close in the boat?” There it was, the uncertainty just below that confident façade. “Right beside you all the way, little brother.” Virgil tried to school his expression into one of reassurance, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. They made their way across the sand and onto the wooden planks of the pier, then stood studying the expanse of water for a moment, watching the ripples and trying to read currents. Looking for dangers. At last Virgil could put it off no longer. Gordon was warmed up and ready to go, they had assessed the risks and had plans in mind for just about any eventuality. It was time to untie the boat and take up the oars. Sitting in the gently rocking dinghy, Virgil had to take a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on a few deep breaths to quell the hammering in his ribcage before looking back up at Gordon and giving a nod. He was as ready as he’d ever be. This time when Gordon dived in, he began his swim with a measured pace rather than a burst of speed that he wouldn’t be able to maintain. Virgil didn’t have to work too hard on the oar strokes to keep up with him. Not far out there was a brief moment of panic when Gordon suddenly stopped his forward momentum and started treading water. An odd expression furrowed his brow, then he ducked his head under the water. Dropping the oars and preparing to make a grab for his brother, Virgil was sure his heart stopped beating altogether for a second before the blond head re-emerged above the surface. Seeing the panic in his big brother’s eyes, Gordon grinned and held up the weed he’d just untangled from his leg. “It’s okay, Virge, no cramps, just waterweed.” And with that, he resumed his swim with a flurry of swift kicks and smooth strokes. By the time Virgil could regather the oars – and his wits – his little brother was ten meters ahead of him. It took only a few strong pulls on the oars to catch up again, but Virgil knew his pulse rate was not going to climb down out of the stratosphere until they were both on dry land. It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before Gordon was able to lay his hands on the slippery surface of the rock. Finding a decent hold, he clambered up far enough to sit on a crag, feet still in the water, triumphant grin lighting up his features, water droplets catching the sunlight, causing his hair and skin to glisten as he caught his breath. “I knew I could do it!” he panted as Virgil drew the dinghy close beside him. “I never doubted you, Squiddo,” Virgil agreed, practically beaming with pride at his brother’s achievement. “Now, are you gonna swim back? Or do you want a lift?” Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about the return trip. Virgil chuckled. “Um, I think maybe I’ll just come back with you in the boat.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, dragging it back from where it was dripping into his eyes. “No problem, Fish. You’ve proved enough for one day.” With a bit of manoeuvring, jostling, and boat rocking, Gordon was able to climb into the dinghy and settle himself into the seat at the prow. To him, the journey back to the dock seemed to take no time at all. Virgil’s strong, steady strokes with the oars propelled them quickly and smoothly through the water as though it took no effort at all. He jumped out of the boat and onto the pier before Virgil had even finished drawing the oars into the boat, then waited for Virgil to climb out and secure the mooring. “Virgil?” It was all the warning the older boy got as he turned to face his little brother, who closed the space between them at a run and launched himself into what became a squid hug, arms and legs tightly wrapped around Virgil’s torso. It took Virgil a couple of backward steps before he could steady himself under the sudden additional weight. “Thank you. You are the best big brother.” Virgil returned the embrace, allowing a chuckle to escape as he rested his head against damp hair. “You are a pretty amazing little brother, Squid.”

*** The Last Day of Summer celebration, and Virgil’s twelfth birthday turned out to be a fantastic, fun-filled event for all involved. Nothing could hold Gordon back from spending as much time as possible in the water, and so no one knew there had ever been a problem. The nightmares had run their course too. Summer vacation came to an end, and with the start of the school term, life returned to normal. A few weeks later a chance meeting at school pickup resulted in a few puzzle pieces slotting into place for Lucy. Gordon’s class teacher spotted Lucy waiting in the Kiss & Drop zone and made a passing comment about his wonderful piece of creative writing for the obligatory “What I Did Over Summer” assignment. When they got home, with the boys all occupied with snacks or homework and various afterschool activities, Lucy dug out Gordon’s writing workbook and found the story in question titled “My Summer Vacation,” with a large A+ written in red at the top of the page. My Summer Vacation I did lots of things in summer with my big brothers and we had lots of fun but there was one scary day. I went swimming in the lake when I wasn’t supposed to and I nearly drowned but my brother was there and he saved me. After that I was scared to go swimming, but he told me it would make him sad if I didn’t swim anymore because he says swimming makes me happy. We looked up all the ways you can get into trouble swimming in lakes and rivers and oceans. We found out all the ways you can look for dangers and get out of trouble in the water and how to be safe. Now I’m not scared to go swimming anymore. Well, that explained a great deal. Lucy smiled to herself and shook her head a little. She would have words with Virgil about the kind of secrets that needed to be shared with an adult, but she was struck once again by how amazing her boys could be and just how far they would go for one another.

***

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #katblu42 #kidthunder's art #tag mini bang 2021

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years ago

Text

I’ll Love You ‘Til I Die

Summary: In which Lottie Green makes a vow to James Buchanan Barnes in her childhood. Against all odds, she kept that vow.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: This will be my last 10 year old Lottie chapter! There’ll be a time skip to her freshman year. I’m debating on whether Steve and Bucky would’ve stayed in school till graduation or if they would’ve dropped out to work for their families. Let me know what you think! If you’d like to support me on ao3, my user is wurstings. Also I removed the “mini-series” subtitle because I have so many ideas for this series lol.

Chapter Four: The First Day

The first day of school came quickly; Lottie spent the last few days of summer collecting school supplies, making sure that she was prepared for fifth grade. She left her apartment in a flurry, a piece of toast dangling from her mouth while she tried to shove her journal into her bag.

She was extremely protective of her journal; mostly out of embarrassment. She’d listened to Steve’s suggestion that she use it to practice sketching, so several of the pages were full of jotted down thoughts and haphazard doodles. Most of the time they were sketches of crinkled, mischievous eyes or lips curled into an easy smile. It was like she was trying to memorize the features, trying to perfect them in her art.

The gifted necklace thumped against the hollow of her throat as she went down the stairs, taking two at a time. She knew Bucky and Steve had been waiting for her outside the apartment for too long, so she needed to hurry. She burst out onto the front steps, slamming the door shut.

“‘M sorry ‘m late!” She mumbled around the toast, fiddling with the ribbon in her hair so it would be more secure.

“S’alright,” Bucky shrugged, “Not like Steve and I haven’t been late before.” Lottie rolled her eyes and swallowed the rest of her toast, “Yeah, well, I’m not gonna be late on the first day of fifth grade. You eighth graders get to do whatever you want.”

She hooked her arms through each of theirs, “C’mon boys, let’s hop to it!”

And so the students of PS 102 in Brooklyn were treated to the sight of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers walking through the gate arm-in-arm with Miss Lottie Green. When they approached the doorway to the school building, Steve and Bucky disentangled themselves. Bucky looked at her, “Alright Little Lottie, Steve and I are gonna head to Mrs. Baker’s room. See you at lunch?” Lottie nodded and walked through the door, calling over her shoulder, “Have a good day, boys!”

The first half of classes passed easily; Lottie’s arithmetic, English, and science classes were nothing exciting, but they weren’t horribly boring. When the lunch bell rang, she strode into the cafeteria, sack lunch in hand. She spotted Bucky and Steve sitting with a few other eighth graders; before she headed over, she waved goodbye to her friends Mabel and Lucy.

“Hello Bucky, hello Steve,” Lottie greeted as she sat down across from them, trying not to pay any mind to the looks the received from a few other boys present.

“Hey Lottie,” Steve greeted, smiling at her kindly, “how was your first half of lessons?”

“They were alright,” she shrugged and picked at the crust of her peanut butter sandwich, “English seems promising, but I’m already sick of arithmetic and science. How about you?”

Steve and Bucky shared a look. Steve sighed, “A couple classes were okay. But in our wood shop class this guy was makin’ a fool of himself talkin’ back to the teacher. He’s a real pill. I told him to knock it off and long story short, he told me he’d thank me real good for what I said to him. Told me to meet him in the alley after school.”

Lottie opened her mouth to protest, but Bucky stopped her, “Don’t you worry that little head of yours, Steve’s not goin’ into it alone. I’ll be there if he needs me. ‘Sides, we’ve been doin’ this sorta stuff since we were your age; we know what we can handle.” He puffed out his chest at the last part, mischief sparking in his eyes.

“Well aren’t you plenty rugged,” Lottie commented sarcastically, “when your Ma gives you worse bruises than Mr. Wood Shop ‘cause of your rendezvous in the alley, don’t come crying to me.”

Steve chuckled, “Don’t worry, I can sweet talk Mrs. Barnes into going easy on him.”

Bucky shook his head and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping at some crumbs on the side of his mouth. Gordon King, who sat across the table and a few seats over, glanced at Bucky, seeing the handkerchief.

The boy sneered, “Your grandma give you that handkerchief, Barnes? Or did your Ma lend you one of hers?”

Lottie’s heart instantly dropped. She should’ve known better than to decorate the handkerchief as she had; yes it might have made Bucky happy when she gave it back, but not he was getting mocked for it. She stared at the table in front of her, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. This was all her fault.

Bucky retorted, “Y’know Gordon, you’re a real crumb. This handkerchief belongs to me; it’s my favorite, actually. One of my best friends, a real doll, went out of her way to embroider if for me. So piss off would you?”

Gordon muttered something under his breath and went back to shoving his lunch down his throat. Lottie was still staring down at the table and said in a small voice, “I’m sorry about that, Bucky. You can just rip the threads if you want, it’ll come out real easy.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and reached across the table to ruffle her hair, “Like I said, Little Lottie, it’s my favorite.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest at the reassurance; he really did appreciate her handiwork, albeit pretty mediocre at this point.

Before she could respond, the bell rang, signaling a return to classes. She rose from her seat and disposed of her lunch, but kept the brown bag. Lunch bags were expensive, so she always reused the same one. She parted ways with the boys, waving goodbye, and headed to her classroom.

When school ended, she walked home with Lucy and Mabel. They were chatting about the events of the day and after-school plans for the week. Lucy asked the two of them, “D’you wanna go see ‘Song o’ My Heart’ tomorrow?”

Lottie hummed in thought, thinking it over. “How ‘bout we see it in a few weeks when the admission’s a little lower? I’m really keen on seeing it, I just don’t wanna ask my Ma for the money right now. My parents already sorta spoiled me for my birthday.”

Mabel nodded in agreement, “In a few weeks it is, then! And we’ll know if it’s good or not by then. I hope it’s real romantic, I love a good romance. Like Anne of Green Gables or something— that unrequited love is so divine.”

Lottie had to admit there was something romantic about unrequited love. It was painful, yes, but sometimes pain is so bitterly beautiful. To love another quietly from afar can be such sweet suffering.

Lottie shook herself from her thoughts and listened into the conversation between Lucy and Mabel; Lucy had suddenly gotten all moony-eyed, “Have you seen Eddie Lewis? I feel like his hair is blonder than it was before, and I never realized how much green there is in his hazel eyes.”

“I’m sure you’re the only one who’s noticed,” Mabel giggled and Lottie joined in on the laughter.

“Alright girls, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” Lottie said as the approached her tenement. Both girls said their farewells and continued down the block.

Lottie hurried up the steps to her apartment and called a quick greeting to her mother. She grabbed a wet rag and some bandages, then assumed a post on the stone steps in front of her tenement. She knew Steve and Bucky would have to walk past her tenement to get home, so she waited patiently for them.

At around half past four o’clock, they appeared. Steve had a black eye and a split lip, but Bucky only had some bloody knuckles.

“Boys!” She scolded, motioning for both of them to come over. Steve had a slightly guilty look on his face, probably over the fact that the fight had worried her, but Bucky strode over with a sort of swagger that made her swallow a sigh.

“Alright, go on and tell me what happened. But you need to sit and let me help you,” she said sternly, eyeing the two.

“Well I was doing just fine till Bucky here stepped in—“ Steve began, shooting Bucky an annoyed look.

Bucky responded with a hint of exasperation, “The guy was twice your size! If I hadn’t stepped in, he would’ve beaten you to a pulp. You’ve got the moxie, Steve, no doubt about it, but you know I’m always gonna help you out. ‘Til the end of the line.”

The annoyance seemed to leave Bucky, and he responded in kind, “‘Til the end of the line, pal.”

“Well now that you two have proved how much cojones you have, sit still and let me clean you up,” Lottie said, shooing Steve’s hand away as he started picking at his split lip. She used the wet rag to clean up his split lip and advised him to put some ice on his eye.

She then moved on to Bucky, “Y’know you look like a real schlepper right now, your Ma’d go bananas if she saw you like this.”

“And that’s why you’re gonna clean me up real nice,” he grinned at her, adding a wink at the end. Lottie rolled her eyes, but a smirk made its way onto her lips.

She carefully pressed the wet rag onto his knuckles, trying to stay gentle as she knew it probably hurt a bit, “S’alright if you cry,” she joked, “you said yourself that Becca wails like a newborn at this sorta thing.”

“That’s some baloney, I’m not all pint-sized and dainty like you. I can handle it,” Bucky replied, smirking. Steve let out a bark of laughter at that, “Yeah, well you didn’t handle it very well when Billy Spencer kneed you in the n—“

Buck cut him off before Steve could finish, “Yeah, okay, no need to finish that story Steve, we’ve got a lady in our presence. ‘Sides, that was obviously a very different circumstance.”

Lottie furrowed her brow in confusion but said nothing; she figured if she even dared to ask, it would be one of those “You wouldn’t understand, Little Lottie” situations.

When she finished working on Bucky’s knuckles, she wrapped them in bandages. She smiled faintly at the memory of their first interaction; now she was the one taking care of him. Bucky and Steve were always teasing her for her age and stature, but she knew deep down that they respected her as an equal— they all looked out for each other.

Lottie wrapped up the remaining bandages and looked at the two of them, “Alright boys, you’re all set. But you better not start treating me like some nurse who can always tend to your wounds, you better stay out of trouble.”

“Thanks a million, Little Lottie, but we can’t make any promises! See you tomorrow morning,” Bucky responded, pulling her in for a hug and a ruffle of her hair.

“Lottie, thank you. I really appreciate it. You’re a gem,” Steve said earnestly, throwing an arm around her and giving her a squeeze, “See you at 7:30 sharp.”

Lottie stood at the top of the tenement’s stone steps, waving goodbye to the two of them. Before they crossed the street, Bucky turned and sent her a wink. Lottie rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. As he and Steve disappeared from sight, she whispered,

“James Buchanan Barnes, I’ll love you ‘til I die.”

#40s!bucky x ofc #1930s bucky #1940s bucky #40s!bucky #bucky barnes #Bucky fic #bucky Barnes fic #Bucky fanfic #bucky Barnes fanfic #bucky x ofc #bucky x original female character

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baka-monarch · 4 years ago

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👉👈 soulmate au where whatever you write appears on the other's arm but one is smol and the other is the human who caught them. 👉👈

Was scrolling through my WIPs when I saw this thing I wrote at some point around the beginning of summer. It was supposed to have more chapters, and he gets caught eventually, but here's chapter 1. But then I remembered your ask and how I'd been having writer's block, so I hope this will suffice! Also, it has trans Patton, so don't freak out because of Logan's soul mate

Just A Little Emo

Chapter 1 (idk if I'm ever going to finish the other chapters if I'm being honest)

Virgil had just turned three not even a month ago, but loved to play with the marker tips his parents had borrowed for his present. He didn’t have any paper scraps to doodle on, but that didn’t stop him as his arm got covered with every color he could fit on there. He stuck out his tongue, laying on the ground, focused on his masterpiece. His oversized hoodie, from his mom, was discarded to the side, giving him full access to the canvas that was his skin. He was so focused that when suddenly a little flower was drawn out of nowhere, he jumped making a startled noise as he waved his hand around trying to get it off.

“Virgil, what’s wrong?” His mother spoke gently, as she came to investigate.

“Fower!?” Virgil held out his little hand showing her the illustration still being added to by an unknown hand. His mother smiled softly, knowing exactly what was going on.

“Honey, that’s your soul mate.” She picked him up, and held his hand so he could watch as more detail was added.

“Souw matt?” He looked at her curiously.

“”What you draw on your skin, your soulmate will see too, and when they draw it’ll be just for you!”” His mother quoted, booping him on the nose on the last word. “Your soulmate is your true love, the person you’re meant to be with. When you draw on your skin, you’re showing them that you care, and that you will always be there for them…” She trailed off sadly at the end.

“Daddy souw matt?” Virgil pointed to his mother’s hand, not noticing her change of mood.

“No, daddy isn’t my soulmate. I’m afraid neither of us have met ours yet.” She looked down at her hand, where there was currently a picture of a small four leaf clover, with its leaves designed like hearts. “Most borrowers don’t ever meet their soulmate.”

“Mommy?” Virgil squished her cheeks between his hands, getting marker ink all her face, smiling when she gave him a confused look. “Souw matt see wove now!” She giggled at his words.

“Yes, Virgil, they can see how much I love them now.” Some words were written on her arm making her chuckle, Virgil tried to make sense of the scribbles, but had no idea what they meant. “Why don’t you go draw something for your soulmate while I make dinner, okay?”

“Okie!” He giggled jumping off her lap. He grabbed his markers and started coloring in the flower that was being drawn. His mother smiled fondly at him.

Neither of them knew that this was going to be their last memory together. That, after that night Virgil’s father would leave her, taking Virgil with him.

⇔

Virgil spent two years without a mom. His dad explained that he’d found out his soulmate didn’t live too far away and had made plans in secret to be with her by meeting at a house close to where each lived. Unfortunately, they had miscalculated and Virgil’s dad had to take care of Virgil alone for two years. Throughout that time Virgil was left alone in the walls often, and had a game him and his soulmate would play. One of them would start a drawing and the other would finish it, they did that and many other things together just through their connection alone. Neither of them knew how to read or write yet, so when Virgil felt alone he would talk to himself, imagining that his soulmate was there with him, listening to all of his random little thoughts.

Little did he know that his soulmate was doing the same thing.

Roman King could remember that night clear as day. He had woken up from his nap time to find his arms and hands covered with all sorts of colors, with more still appearing. He had rushed out of the nursery, ignoring his snoring brother, and straight(lol)to his mom. “Mommy! Mommy!” His mother turned around from the cooking pasta at her son’s distressed voice, seeing tears pricking his eyes as he held out his arms with fear. It didn’t take her long to understand. She picked up her sniffling son, wiping his tears away. “Mommy, there color o-on m-m-me, a-a-and i-it’s sti-il coming!”

“Shh, shh.” She rubbed the tears and snot from his face. “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s only your soulmate.”

“Saoul malt?” He looked at her confused, then back down at his arms, trying to see if there was something there, other than the colors. His mother chuckled fondly.

“Yes, your “saoul malt”.” She booped him on the nose. “”What you draw on your skin, your soulmate will see too, and when they draw it’ll be just for you!”” She tapped his arm as an example. “Your soulmate is drawing for you Roman, it means that they love you.”

“Wove?” Roman’s eyes widened and sparkled at the familiar word.

“Yes, love, like Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming.” She chuckled as he looked down at his arms with wonder and delight.

“Pwincess?” He held his arms out to her in question.

“Maybe, you’ll never know until you meet her, Prince Roman.” She smiled as he gasped with wonder. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Do you wanna draw for her?” She grabbed a discarded marker off the counter and held it out to him.

“Mhm!” He snatched the marker and wiggled out of her arms as she set him down. As soon as he was back on the floor he fell to his bum and uncapped the marker. It only took him a few seconds to think of what to draw for his princess. A flower. It was perfect, what princess doesn’t like a flower?

⇔

For the next two years Roman always had a marker on him just so he could draw with his soulmate. You could almost say that they were inseparable. It was during these two years that Roman started preschool, while there he learned a little about writing, mainly his name, but that didn’t stop him from picking up the skill quickly as he wrote and rewrote his name on his arm over and over again hoping that someday he would know more about these scribbles so he could ‘talk’ to his soulmate.

One day as Virgil was coloring one of his soulmate’s doodles he saw a series of scribbles appear. Although he recognized them as words, he had no idea what they meant. Not knowing what else to do, he mimicked the scribbles to show that he saw them to his soulmate. In return his soulmate scribbled again, and Virgil in turn copied him. They kept doing this, scribbling and rescribbleing, each new scribble being more clearer and clean. At some point Virgil even ran out of room on his arms, so he listed his oversized hoodie and started scribbling there.

“What’re ya doin there Spiderman?” His dad asked as he returned from borrowing.

“Souw matt.” Virgil pointed at the scribbles, showing the red ink where his soulmate had scribbled and the black ink where he had copied them. Virgil’s dad recognized what the scribbles were and what they said easily.

“It’s your soulmate’s name Spiderman.” He explained as he picked up his son.

“Na-ame?” Virgil sounded out.

“Yeah, it looks like your soulmate is Roman.” His father smiled.

“Wroammin?” Virgil tried the name.

“Yeah, Roman.” His father said a little more hard, trying to help his son to understand the name.

“Raman.” Virgil smiled, proud that he ‘got’ the name. His dad chuckled at his son’s attempt, but still proud how close he was.

“Do you wanna write your name?” He gently took the marker tip, ready to help the kid.

“Yeah!” Virgil exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

⇔

It wasn’t until later that night that Roman saw a series of scribbles appear on his arm, spelling out, what his mom claimed said, “Virgil.” Through the next two years up until kindergarten, Roman did all he could to learn about writing, as Virgil worked with his dad when he could to learn how to write in return. It wasn’t until the first day of kindergarten that Roman realized that there was more to reading and writing than just talking to your soulmate.

“Hello class, my name is Mrs. Parrot, and welcome to kindergarten.” Roman was five now, and was in kindergarten. Roman barely heard the teacher as he and Virgil tried to write each other’s names more fancier than the other. So far it seemed that Virgil was winning as he added all these little stars and curly letters, but Roman was determined to win. He paid no mind to the rest of the class or the teacher, as he wrote Virgil’s name on his arm in bubble letters, using all the markers he had to color them in, adding little spiders and skulls (he knew Virgil liked them from all the times they finished each other’s drawings), and making sure that there was more than enough purple. In fact he was so engrossed that he hadn't noticed the class sharing their names, hadn’t noticed all the eyes that had focused on him from his assigned table, hadn’t noticed the lesson, and had definitely not noticed the teacher's annoyance. Well, he hadn’t noticed until the teacher snached all of his markers away.

“Hey!” Roman glared up at her. It didn’t take long for her to see his soulmate’s writing on his arm.

“I understand if you want to write to your soulmate, but please pay attention.” She snapped before clicking back to her desk, depositing the markers into her desk. “You’ll get these back at the end of class.” Was all she said before returning to teaching. Roman only pouted, perfectly content with not paying attention until then.

“My soulmate also draws to me during school.” To Roman’s left there was a boy about his age, except he looked uptight with his hair made well and the little suit he wore. The boy fixed his glasses before holding out a hand for him to shake. “I am Logan.” As Roman went to shake the hand, he almosted wanted to laugh in surprise, despite Logan’s cold exterior his arm was covered in cute little drawings, most of which were goofy little cartoons. Roman hesitated to collect himself before taking the hand to shake it.

“Roman.” As their hands shook they noticed that their soulmates had stopped drawing momentarily. When they pulled their hands apart, Roman noticed that he had gotten some of his purple ink on Logan’s hand. Instead of Logan being distraught, his eyes widened in amazement as the word ‘Virgil’ appeared next to the smudge, he looked at Roman’s hand to find the word ‘Peggy’ written on his. “Peggy?” Roman questioned.

“She’s my soulmate.” Logan thought for a moment, “They must know each other.” he theorised.

“No way!” Roman exclaimed. “How do we know for sure?” Logan wasted no time in pulling out a marker of his own, keeping it and his hand under the desk. He didn’t normally break rules, but this was to test a hypothesis. He used Roman’s arm for reference as he wrote ‘Roman’ onto his arm. Only moments later did the word ‘Logan’ appear on Roman’s arm. “That’s so cool!”

“Indeed.” Logan breathed in surprise.

⇔

Virgil’s dad had recently found a small borrower settlement in an abandoned sewer pipe not even five feet away from the house they were living in. So when his dad was busy for the day, he left Virgil with one of the shop owners there, she had a daughter about Virgil’s age as well. Her name was Peggy, and Virgil got along with her well. It was on this particular day that Virgil and Peggy were left in a backroom of the shop unattended with some marker tips, and Virgil was doing all he could to write Roman’s name in the most magnificent way he could, as Roman was writing his name just as grand. Peggy watched from the side with intrigue as she drew little cartoony puppies every now and then on her arm. They didn’t really think much of their different arms, until Peggy brought up a point.

“What if our soulmates know each other?” She wondered aloud.

“There’s no way.” Virgil deadpanned, not looking up from his writing even though it seemed Roman had stopped. “It’s basically impossible.”

“Did your soulmate stop drawing?” She noted.

“We were writing, but yeah.” He stopped his scribbling for a moment to actually look at it.

“Well, my soulmate usually stops drawing around this time as well.” She explained. “Maybe they live together?”

“It’s probably just a coincidence.” Virgil tried, but there was no denying it when suddenly the splotch on Virgil’s hand was mirrored onto Peggy’s hand.

“See!?” She bounced with excitement and grabbed a marker tip. “What’s your name again?”

“Uhm-”

“Nevermind!” She cut him off as she used his arm for reference, she quickly wrote his name next to the smudge on her hand, before grabbing Virgil’s hand.

“Hey!” He tried to pull it back, but there was nothing he could do as she wrote her name on his hand. “What was that for-” The words were lost on Virgil’s tongue as Roman’s name appeared on Peggy’s arm. “How…”

“See! They do know each other!” She bounced.

“What’s your soulmate’s name?” Virgil asked.

“Logan!” She chirped.Virgil nodded and wrote Logan onto his arm. Moments later there was a little check mark next to the name, showing that Roman had seen it.

“Looks like they do know each other.”

#sander sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #g/t #giant/tiny #borrower Virgil #ask #request #promt #soulmate au #just a little emo #trans patton #kid roman #kid virgil

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laws-yellow-submarine · 4 years ago

Text

Together With Fruit Ch. 9 (Snippet)

Omgomgomg I actually finished something omg

Obviously this is not the full chapter, but it’s a pretty major chunk of it, and because I’m just so proud of myself and happy that I actually got something I set out to write forever ago FINISHED, I am posting this snippet here as a one-shot (it’s...more than a snippet really, it’s like 4000+ words, and it’s mostly unedited so...ye’ve been warned lol)

Word Count: 4199 (yikes)

Enjoy! Hopefully I’ll have the rest of the chapter finished within the next week or so!

“We’re finally nearing the Grand Line…” Nami muttered, pointing at a spot on the map. “It looks like the only way into it is through Reverse Mountain here.”

“Reverse Mountain?” Hazel murmured, peering over the girl’s shoulder at the point where the seas intersect.

“What a pain. Can’t we just sail straight through it?” Zoro groaned, glaring from where he sat leaning against the rail. Sanji shook his head.

“Nope, from what the geezer told me, that’s the only way boats can enter.”

“How come?” Usopp asked.

“Cause it’s supposedly dangerous.”

“But how come?!”

“I don’t know any more than that!” Sanji yelled, glaring at the sniper.

“Boys, please…” Hazel scolded, trying to stop any fights before they could occur.

“The reason for that is-”

“Alright! I got it!” Luffy interrupted Nami, pointing at the map. “Then let’s head straight into it!”

“Are you even paying attention?!”

“But it sounds fun!” Luffy insisted, grin never wavering. “Plus it’d feel way better going straight into it!”

“Fun or not, I’d like to actually make it to the Grand Line before we die,” Hazel told him, side-eyeing her brother’s enthusiasm. Nami shared the sentiment.

“Talking to you makes me feel like I’m gonna go crazy…” the navigator whined, palm to her forehead in exasperation. Luffy soldiered on, ignoring the women’s concerns.

“Anyways, let’s stop at an island first and get meat! Meat! Meat!” Nami reached a finger out to point at a spot on the map, and Luffy and Hazel both peered closer at the paper.

“There’s a famous city on this island...Loguetown.”

“Loguetown?” Luffy asked, puzzled look on his face as he tried to think. “What? Is it famous for its meat?”

“Also known as the city of the beginning and the end…” Zoro chimed in, thoughtful look on his face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s where Gold Roger, the former Pirate King, was born,” Hazel supplied, appearing somber, “and where he was executed.”

“The town where the King of the Pirates died...” Even Luffy’s voice was tame, contemplation clear in his eyes. Nami swung her gaze to meet his, sly smile finding its way across her cheeks.

“Wanna go?”

“Yeah! I wanna see it!” As he spoke, his voice grew more excited, though it never lost its reverence. “I wanna see the town where the man who got the One Piece - everything this world has to offer - was born and then died!” Luffy stood up, grin fixed firmly back in place. “Nami! Set sail for Loguetown!”

As the crew scrambled to set their course, Hazel smiled at her brother’s excitement, though she didn’t share the enthusiasm. She didn’t really harbor any opinions on the former Pirate King, good or bad; there just wasn’t enough information available on who the man truly was. She had asked her grandfather once, considering what she knew about his connection to Ace, but after hours of pestering the only thing he’d told her was “don’t believe everything you hear”. Other than that cryptic statement, she knew about as much as anyone else: he was born in Loguetown, he circumnavigated the entire world, then turned himself in (to her grandfather, no less), and was executed in his hometown. For someone who was so famous, you’d think there’d be more to know about him.

Hazel looked down at the notebook in her hand, blank since Shells Town except for the notes she’d taken. She wasn’t going to let Luffy fall into that same level of anonymity. Sure, the boy couldn’t care less about the fame; his views on being the Pirate King weren’t shared by most other pirates, though she found his ideals to be more admirable. What she really didn’t want to happen, though, was for her baby brother’s name to be smeared by the media, with nothing to counteract it.

Which meant she had a lot of work to do.

“Well, before we get to Loguetown, I have to get to work. Which means I’m shutting myself in my room until I’ve finished writing about our adventure so far!” Hazel stated for all to hear. She ignored the odd looks sent her way. “So no one bug me, ok?” When she’d received satisfactory nods, Hazel made her way to the girls’ room, shut the door, and plopped herself down at the writing desk. She ripped out her pages of notes so she could refer to them easily as she wrote, then opened to a blank page, her pencil hovering above the paper.

An hour later and the page was still blank.

Hazel’s pencil had moved, at least. It’d been set on the desk, balanced on her nose (a failure on her part, but no one could see it so she wasn’t too pressed), twirled between her fingers, tucked behind her ear as she stretched in her chair (and changed position at least three times; currently she had her feet on the back of the chair with her head leaning on the desk). She’d doodled little pictures on her note pages; tiny flowers and crude renditions of her crewmates (note to self: hide these so Nami doesn’t see). There’s a reason she hadn’t decided to illustrate this book.

Another hour later and her legs hurt from how much she’d been bouncing them. The page remained blank, her mind void of ideas, and her eyes were fixed on the picture frame hanging on the far wall. Maybe some food would help? She didn’t think she ate much at breakfast…

As Hazel made her way on deck, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted her. Nami was lounging in the sun on the top deck, being served some fancy drink from their newest member. Zoro was, surprise, napping beneath the mast, his swords propped in his lap. Luffy sat on the other side of the ship, watching Usopp practice with his slingshot. Oh, that could be fun!

“Whatcha guys doin’?” Hazel asked, sneaking up behind the sniper, causing Luffy to laugh at the boy’s frightful shriek. “Oops! Sorry, Usopp!” He just glared at her in return.

“Usopp’s practicing his slingshot! See? We set up some targets against the other side of the deck, he’s really good!”

“Well, you see Luffy, I’ve been using a slingshot for at least 25 years,” Usopp boasted, ignoring the fact that he was only 17. “Which of course makes me an expert sniper!”

“25 years, huh?” Hazel snarked. “Well, mister “expert”, whaddaya say to a little contest? The closer to a bullseye gets you more points. Whoever gets the most points wins.”

“Uhh, ok, Hazel. But where are you gonna get a slingshot?” Hazel just pointed to Luffy. Specifically his arms. “Hey, now, wait a minute! You can’t use him!”

“Why not?” Hazel and Luffy asked, both with blank looks on their faces. The sniper spluttered.

“Because-! He’s not-! And you-!”

“Ok, look - we’re not going for power here, just accuracy, so it’ll still be a fair contest. And we’ll use the same ammo, ok?” She left no room for him to argue back, immediately grabbing one of the pellets from his hand and positioning her brother. Usopp rolled his eyes behind her, but sidled up next to the two, aiming his own slingshot at the first target.

“Ready...aim...fire!” Usopp let the pellet fly, smacking the target right in the center.

“Hey, nice job Usopp! But I’m gonna tie it up right here!” Hazel ribbed, tying Luffy’s fingers together to form a sling. She pulled them back, tongue poking out between her teeth as she aimed carefully. When she felt confident in her position she nodded, waiting for Usopp to give the signal, and then let go.

The target shattered to pieces.

“Oh fuck-!”

“WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!” Nami’s shrill voice called, causing all three to wince.

“Luffy did it!” Hazel immediately yelled while Usopp checked the ship for damage.

“No I didn’t!”

“Now, Luffy, you know you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not-!”

“ENOUGH!” Nami yelled again, interrupting the siblings. “I don’t care who did it, you’re just lucky the ship didn’t get damaged! You and you-” she pointed to Usopp and Luffy “-clean this up! And you!” Nami pointed at Hazel, making the older woman feel suddenly small. “You’re supposed to be writing right now! Not breaking things!”

“Well...you see...the thing is…” Hazel trailed off as Nami continued to glare at her. Huh. She didn’t like being on the receiving end of this. “I was hungry…?”

“Then ask Sanji-kun for a snack and get back to work. You told us not to bother you and we’re listening, take advantage of that!” At Hazel’s huff Nami smiled. “If you’d like, you can sit in the tangerine grove. I find it very relaxing when I need to focus.”

“Hmm...a change of scenery may be helpful. Thanks, Nami,” Hazel smiled, rolling her neck. “I better go bug Sanji.” But Nami held up a hand to stop her.

“Nope! You go sit, I’ll get it. I don’t want you to get distracted again.” The orange-haired girl walked away without another word, and Hazel was forced at that point to just listen to her. She made her way to the upper deck, finding a nice spot under the trees to nestle in. She reopened her notebook to the still blank page, and tapped her pencil against her chin as she tried to focus. The breeze up here was nice, as well as the sounds of her crewmates (Luffy and Usopp had made a game out of cleaning up her mess). The smell of tangerines wafted over her, muddying her senses. One of her curls was tickling her forehead.

She’d made zero headway by the time Sanji appeared with a snack.

“Hazel-chwan!~ I’ve brought you a plate of delicious sandwiches, and a fresh glass of cabernet sauvignon,” the man said, brandishing a platter on one hand and a glass of deep red liquid in the other. She looked to the glass curiously. Despite having practically lived in a bar half her life, she’d never actually tried wine. Her alcohol tended to be of a rougher variety.

“Oh, yeah, alcohol. That’ll help,” Hazel muttered, hoping Sanji didn’t think her rude. For all she knew, it would get the creative juices flowing, so to speak. “Thank you, Sanji.” She smiled at the cook, his feet practically floating off the ground in happiness. He turned to leave her, and Hazel tentatively took a sip of the wine...only to immediately cringe when the bitter liquid hit her tongue. She glanced around in panic, hoping the blond didn’t see, and snuck the glass behind her back, hidden under the trees. “Ooh! Sanji, wait up!” she called, wine forgotten as she grabbed her plate and ran after him.

“Yes, my love?” Sanji asked, twirling around to gaze at her through heart-shaped eyes.

“I just realized that I never asked about what happened at the Baratie! After we left?” The cook’s expression had switched to confusion at her question. “In fact,” she continued, following him into the galley, “I don’t actually know that much about you. Tell me, what’s your dream? Your motivation? Your tragic backstory? Spare me no detail!”

For the first time since they’d met, Sanji wasn’t looking at her with adoration. In fact, he almost looked a little scared. His eyes darted around for half a second while she pulled out her best pout, gray eyes shining like a puppy begging for table scraps. Later, she’d chide herself for being so mean. After all, she used to practically torture Ace with that expression. But for now, she needed answers.

“Well…” Sanji started, pulling himself together before all the blood rushed out of his nose. “I am merely a humble sea cook, mademoiselle. I fought valiantly for my former home, and for the chance to gaze upon your lovely visage once again.” He flourished into a low bow.

“Uh huh,” Hazel chuckled, an amused smile on her face as she raised a brow. “Definitely humble.” Sanji rose back to standing, an easy grin in place at their shared humor. “Come on, lover boy. Sit with me awhile and tell me a story.”

The two sat and talked for a time, Hazel’s pencil scratching across the pages of her notebook as Sanji divulged all the details he felt comfortable sharing: how Luffy had bartered with Zeff for his freedom, the way he’d swatted projectiles with a single kick. She had a feeling he may’ve been embellishing his actions a bit, but having seen the way he’d toppled part of a building at Arlong Park, she knew it wasn’t all bluster.

He told her of Pearl, the man who’d covered himself in armor, only to lose his mind (and catch fire, apparently) at the first drop of blood. How Gin, the man he’d helped, had taken the old man hostage, and how he’d been willing to die to save his mentor’s dream. Hazel filed away that note for later, planning to ask about the clear devotion Sanji had for the old man, even if the blond tried to hide it behind snark.

She tried not to laugh when Sanji told her Luffy destroyed part of the ship. From what he was telling her, it was actually a brilliant stroke on Luffy’s part, and definitely contributed to Sanji’s outlook on the situation; but the way the blond’s curly brow furrowed over his eyes at the memory was, in her opinion, hilarious.

“So, wait,” Hazel started, pausing Sanji’s tale of his fight with Gin. “How did you come to the Baratie in the first place? Zeff isn’t your father, is he? Why so devoted to preserving his dream?”

Discomfort crossed the cook’s face, as it had earlier, but whether it was his dedication to please the woman in front of him, or because he’d already come this far, he gifted her with the reason. “He saved my life,” was the simple answer. The follow-up nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Hazel reached across the table, covering his hand with her own, and she sent him a soft smile. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and she allowed him to turn away to light a cigarette; she even grabbed the ashtray off the back shelf for him.

Just as they were about to continue, the door to the galley swung open, a rubbery body bouncing its way inside. “Sanji!! Food!” Luffy yelled, head turning frantically before his eyes finally settled on the cook.

“You just ate, you damn animal!” The cook scolded, and the somber mood was broken as Hazel burst into laughter.

“But I’m hungry! Food!”

“I’m busy!” Hazel took that moment to step in.

“It’s alright, Sanji. I can get the rest from you later. If you don’t start dinner soon, we may not have a ship to sail on anymore,” she laughed, drawing Luffy’s attention. The boy leaped onto the bench in front of her, taking Sanji’s place, and glancing at the notebook for a second without reading.

“Whatcha talkin’ about? Whaddaya need Sanji for?”

“He was telling me about your fight with Don Krieg, since I missed it.”

“Oh! I can tell you! There was a boom! And a woosh! And then I went ‘Gum-Gum Bazooka’! And then there was poison gas, but we’re fine, and then everything went boom boom boom boom! And then I got poked a lot! And then-” Hazel tuned out as her brother continued telling her all about the fight with as little detail as possible. Sanji shot her a confounded look over their captain’s shoulder, and the girl replied with a nonchalant shrug. When Luffy finally finished, he looked to his sister expectantly, proud grin wide across his face.

“Thanks Luffy, I’ll make sure to write that down.” The boy nodded, then looked back at her notes from Sanji’s story.

“Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done!” Hazel flinched, grimacing into her palm.

“Yes and no…” Luffy just looked at her, confusion in his eyes, and Hazel gave a heavy sigh. “To be honest, Luff...I don’t really know where to start.”

“At the beginning. Duh.”

“Wow, I never thought about that,” Hazel deadpanned. “And get your finger out of your nose!” As Luffy stuck his tongue out at her, something struck her. Hazel’s eyes widened, an invisible energy urging her hand to move across the paper. “Actually, Luffy, you’re a genius! Thank you!”

She vaguely heard him say something in agreement, but her mind was too focused on the idea it had. Start at the beginning...she was surprised the thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier; after all, she’d only just told the story a week ago.

--------------

Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town. Even when pirates had settled their sails at its docks the year previous, the villagers had yet to deal with much past the occasional bandit or two. Our lives had been much the same, short as they were; filled with fun and laughter and play. Then one day, the stuff of legends became real, and peace would be known no more.

The sun had shown brightly that morning, though my brother and I had already been up for hours. We always had trouble sleeping the closer to Shanks’ departure. In only a short time, the red-headed man had wormed his way into our lives, and our hearts, and my brother especially was determined to join him this time.

So it was that we stood on the deck of the Red-Hair Pirate’s ship, the hustle and bustle of supplies and crates being loaded around us. A few of the men were singing songs - definitely inappropriate considering the children in their company - but we’d already spent the last seven years in a bar. There was nothing in those songs we hadn’t heard before.

I had been listening to Benn Beckman’s tale of their last voyage when Shanks’ voice had called our attention to the figurehead. Standing atop the dragon’s maw, my brother Luffy stood glaring down at our pirate friends. Unfortunately, none of us had taken his declaration of strength seriously. Not until he drove the knife beneath his eye.

--------------

The paragraphs flew quickly out of her hand, the day in question clear in her mind. Hazel took a moment to shake out her wrist, feeling stiff as she read over her work so far. She liked it, she really did. Now to keep up this momentum.

The door opened once again, and Usopp and Nami wandered in, talking about something she couldn’t hear. Hazel was still glaring at the page, chewing her cheek as she thought about how to word her next sentence. She heard Sanji mention dinner would be ready soon, Luffy’s excitement sounding through the room, then Usopp’s hiss for him to be quiet.

“Don’t distract her! She’s scary when she’s mad!” the boy whimpered out, much to Luffy’s amusement.

“No she’s not!” he laughed, drawing the sniper’s ire.

“You didn’t think that when she made you take a bath!” Hazel stifled a snort.

“Speaking of which,” Nami chimed in, holding a hand to her nose. “How long ago was that?”

“Actually, Luffy, you are due for one. Zoro too,” Hazel said, looking up at her surprised crewmates. What, did they think she couldn’t hear them at all? “Why don’t you go wash up before dinner. Please?” Luffy groaned, glaring at the navigator, but dutifully made his way to the bathroom. Despite what he said, he didn’t want to push his sister. Again.

Hazel took that moment to stand up, stretching her back with a loud pop, grabbed her notebook, and made her way outside to tell their grungy swordsman his bath was after dinner. She couldn’t see him at first when she stepped outside, but after glancing around for a moment, she finally spotted him. She blinked when she saw his bare back, mesmerized for a moment at the way the muscles rippled as he did push-up after push-up. A second later, she blinked the distraction away, and walked down the steps to the grass-haired man.

“Hey, your turn for a bath after dinner,” she told him, practically hearing him grit his teeth at the notion. “Dinner’s actually almost done, by the way, so you may wanna wrap it up here.”

“Not done,” he grunted, prompting her to raise a brow in his direction.

“Well find a way to be done. We’re hungry, and you’re sweaty.”

“If I’m gonna get stronger, I can’t cut training short. I need more weight.” His gray eyes swung up to hers, and Hazel got the distinct sense he was sizing her up.

“What do you want me to do about that?” She regretted asking the instant she said it. Zoro gestured to his back. His extremely sweaty back.

“Climb on.”

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating here?” She crossed her arms, trying to decide if she needed to hit him for calling her fat or not. She caught him rolling his eyes.

“You’re all muscle, it’s heavier. Climb on.” Hazel chewed her lip, weighing the pros and cons. Then, deciding she had nothing to lose except her hygiene (and really, she could do with a bath herself), she stepped closer to him, cautiously sitting down when he paused for her. He reached his arm around, causing a startled squeak as he adjusted her position, then he resumed his training, a new strain in his breath.

While he worked, Hazel puzzled once again over her notebook. Disappointment flowed through her as she stared at the four lone paragraphs, the struggle for where to take the story next staying her hand. She’d gotten nothing done today, and it was difficult not to take it to heart.

“What are you sighing about up there?” her cushion grunted below her. Hazel rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him by answering anyway.

“I’ve been working on this all day, and somehow I have nothing to show for it.” Zoro was silent except for his heavy breathing, but for some reason she pushed on. “What kind of record-keeper am I? What kind of storyteller can’t tell a damn story? I don’t even have to make it all up, it’s all stuff that happened…” A puff of air escaped her as her eyes began to sting. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

She hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud, and was startled when her chair suddenly stood up. She cried out as she fell, but before she could hit the floor, Zoro’s arms came out to steady her. She looked up at him in shock, affronted at the small glare he sent her way. “Read it out loud,” he said, pointing to the little book in her hands.

“Eh?!” Hazel shrieked, appalled at the very notion of any living being actually hearing her work out loud.

“Read it out loud,” Zoro said again, shrugging his shirt back on. “Then I can tell you if it’s shitty.”

“No way! It’s not ready for human consumption yet!” she yelled, glaring as he sat below the mast. “Besides, who are you to tell me if it’s shit? You wouldn’t know good literature if it waved a sword at you and said ‘boy, speak your name’!” Zoro rolled his eyes at the reference, but leveled her with a steady gaze as it dawned on her the trick he was trying to pull. “Stop it, it’s mine. Why should I share it with you?”

“Because I like the way you tell stories.” He said it so simply, like it didn’t carry nearly the weight for him that it did for her. Hazel felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Something held her gaze on his, something she couldn’t possibly name.

“So how does me reading it aloud help me write it?” Her voice was so quiet, she was surprised he could even hear it.

“Just write it how you’d say it,” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And when he said it like that, it did seem obvious, and Hazel could kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. Before she knew it, she felt herself nodding, sitting beside him beneath the sail.

“Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town….” she began, reading from the beginning, and surprising herself when her voice continued past the last paragraph. He’d heard the story before, but still Zoro sat, listening with rapt attention. Her voice slowed as she wrote, not allowing herself to forget what she’d said, what phrases she used that flowed from her mouth like water.

At one point Hazel glanced beside her, surprised to see the swordsman’s eyes shut. She let out a sigh, finishing her sentence, but not continuing on. She found herself rolling her eyes at the sleeping swordsman, irked that he apparently found her so boring.

“You stuck again?”

Hazel turned to him again, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes. She let out a half chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, before diving into the next paragraph.

It was only Luffy’s call of “Dinner!!” that finally drew the two inside.

#together with fruit #twf #monkey d. hazel #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro x oc #one piece #one piece fan fiction #one piece fanfics #one piece oc #one piece original character #I don't even care if this is 'good' I'm just. so glad to have something tangible written #I wanna keep going but it's late and my hands hurt #but the hard part is over; all that's left is canon events

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Bullet Wound

Follow-up to this discussion with Angel. They ended up doing the surgery in Angel’s room instead of the bar because SOMEBODY forgot that was where we agreed to meet. (It’s me I’m somebody.)

Alastor

Knock knock knock, guess who. It's Doctor Alastor and Nurse Hentai, here with their trademark "surgery with a smile" service.

Angel

He opened the door with one of his tertiary hands. The couple others were busy pressing a pink-stained... _something_ to his shoulder.

" Oh nonono, I ain't drunk enough fa THIS, YET. " Angel knocked back the remainder of whiskey left in the bottle he had before trudging to his minifridge for another. " Is Hentai, uh, gonna hurt? He slimy or some shit? How drunk I gotta be? " His eyes were beginning to lose focus.

Alastor

Alastor's gaze landed on the pink stain. Aha. There was the wound, no doubt. "It'll hurt about as much as you'd expect for something the width of a coffee stirrer to squeeze into a wound and yank a bullet out. I can dull your ability to feel around the injury."

Alastor tilted his head to peer into the minifridge, checking to see how good Angel's stash was. "I think you're quite drunk enough already! Unless you want to sleep the next two weeks." He held up the one bit of surgical equipment he'd visibly brought with him: a bottle of Everclear. "But I'd planned to use this to clean the wound."

Angel

" Oh, ya can?? " he responded with uncharacteristically dulled excitement, " Thank _fuck!_ I would'a gone fa a hit but, uh, _Bolivian Ma'chin' Powder's_ all OUT. An' I gotta... uh, show. Even if just ta say I can't work so I can get my standa'd issue ass kickin' an' come back. "

Angel then stumbled to his chair, flipping it around so he could lean forward off the back. " Just... go nuts. Fuck th' rug. I could get a Daddy ta get me a new one if it gets fucked up. Uh... youse can use th' bench if ya need to. "

Alastor

"What, sending a self-E of the bullet wound isn't a good enough doctor's note?" Alastor tutted.

He unscrewed the bottle; for the moment, he was still standing so he could remain taller than Angel. "Now, this IS going to sting—but I've got to clean you off before I can numb the area. I'd warn you to bite the bullet but—hah—we'll have to fish it out before you can do that, won't we!" And here comes the sting.

Angel

" Nah... he's gonna think I photoshopped it... " he groaned with a reach for a throw pillow to scream into. He would've laughed a little more whole-heartedly if not for the anticipated _agony_ that tensed him so hard he could've bit off his own tongue.

" _UGH THIS IS WHAT I FUCKIN' GET!_ " he muffled into the plush pink, now growing darker from the entrance wound, " Why's good shit gotta HURT so bad? It's so fuckin' _DUMB._ " Angel smothered a few more whines and hisses before getting a handle on his breathing again. " ... Can ya do the numbin' thin', yet...? "

Alastor

Ignore the studio audience laughing at your pain, it's nothing personal.

Alastor lightly brushed off what few drops of fresh blood the alcohol hadn't washed from Angel's fur. "Now I can!" He decided owing a small favor to a prince was worth it so he didn't have to drag a miniature apothecary out of his trunk, looked around for a pen or marker—ah, of course, makeup everywhere—and grabbed a tube of black lipstick. "You don't happen to have any bad blood with Prince Gaap, do you?"

Angel

Angel groaned, metaphorically biting his tongue to hold back any amount of quips or name-calling he would've fired at the hip for the sake of not pissing off the demon that was about to start poking around in him.

" Prince a who? " he asked with an instantly regrettable twist to see what Alastor was doing, " I ain't ever known any _legitimate_ royalty... I don' think... "

Alastor

"Then I'll take that as a no." He scrawled Gaap's sigil on Angel's shoulder around the wound—not his most artistic work, given how fuzzy his canvas was, but Alastor was on good enough terms with enough nobles that they wouldn't nitpick tiny errors in his work. "Now, this will make the area around your wound feel temporarily hale and hearty—but it's only a feeling. You're still just as damaged. Don't jump up and do cartwheels." He finished the double circle around the sigil and the lines started to glow green. Good. "Working yet?"

Angel

Angel took a deep breath as the nerves began to cease fire until finally, he no longer felt the need to scream or cry. Well enough to turn his head, he gave himself a peek in the mirror.

" Yeah... like I wanna do cartwheels, " Angel giggled, " Tell Prince Gaap I said thanks ~ " _An' ask him if he's single,_ he chuckled to himself as he stretched his limbs more comfortably about his chair. " Ya gonna stir me like a cup a coffee, now? " he joked.

Alastor

"I'll pass on your gratitude! Just don't tell him you owe him one if you happen to cross paths with him, he'll take it literally and then we'll both be paying him for the anesthesia."

Alastor huffed. "Once I clean the wound a little more. I don't know if you've noticed, but you've got quite a lot of fur around it." He looked around for some sort of towel that wasn't completely soaked in blood, poured a little more alcohol in it, and finally sat on the bench as he started carefully cleaning the wound itself while trying to avoid disrupting the sigil.

"You don't strike me as the type to get shot in the back," he mused. "What happened here—somebody take you by surprise?"

Angel

" Oh, he's _that_ type, " he commented, deciding on whether or not he should offer a razor. He was already going to be getting a temporary bald spot. May as well...

" If ya needa clear it some, there's clippers off th' side a the mirro- " Angel's arms and legs tightened around the chair as he sank his chin _deep_ into the pillow. _When_ was the last time...? Without the sting to distract him, all there was to focus on was the touch and it made his head swim. He didn't know how to process it, so he reverted to his go-to distraction. " _Funny how I still ended up on th' twink ma'ket cove'ed in all this peach fuzz, ah?_ "

He chuckled bitterly as his eyes swept to the ceiling. " Yeah... somethin' like that... Was a _surprise,_ alright... "

Alastor

"Most nobles are. Out of the ones that bargain with humans, anyway." He grabbed the clippers and very carefully started clearing a patch around the entry wound. "You know, between you being called one and *me* being called one, I'm beginning to think that 'twink' doesn't actually mean anything."

Alastor leaned around Angel's side to give him a vicious grin. "So, tell me about this surprise! You didn't think I was doing this without hoping to get a little entertainment in return!"

Angel

" _It means ya never get ta eat **shit,** that's what it means-!_ " he grumbled.

Then a sudden **gasp.** How the hell he manged to scare him despite being the forefront of his attention was beyond him. " _Fuckin'-_ " he groaned with a turn of his head in the opposite direction, " Was an ex... an angry one... That dramatic enough fa you? "

His claws clenched his skin as he tried to replicate the buzz of the razor into his brain. Sure would be nice if he could uncap his skull and do some doodling in _there._

Alastor

"... *Does it.*" There was a little bit of info Alastor was going to file away and never let go of.

"An ex! Oh, yes, *quite* dramatic enough! What did you do to *him?* That is to say—" One freshly alcohol-soaked claw brushed dangerously close to prying into the wound, "—was this earned, or an overreaction?"

Angel

" Earned. Def'nitely earned. Uh... " Angel pondered. He'd already vague-blogged about the incident. Any opportunity to avoid any scandal was already blown.

" She. I let her 'and it to me. It was th' _least_ I could do. "

Alastor

"*She!* That brings up some questions, doesn't it?" He dropped his impromptu wash cloth on his lap and said, "Now, as much as I'd relish prying this story out of you one detail at a time, unfortunately I won't be free to talk for a bit." He summoned up his cane. "Ready to have an alien abomination pry a bullet out of your back?"

Angel

Angel braced himself. Salt in the wound felt well deserved to him. Even if subconsciously, he'd allow every opportunity to pay for what he did to her. Being pried through by an alien abomination, sitting through a mortifying interview, and being shot point blank was a good enough start.

" Wouldn't be the _first_ time I 'ad tentacles in me ~ " he replied cheekily with a thumbs up, " Just don' let 'im get _too_ carried away, yeah ~ ? "

Alastor

"Oh, I plan to guarantee he won't!" A dark blot, small as an ink stain, opened in the air between them, and a single thin tendril wiggled out. "But while I'm giving him instructions, I won't be listening to closely to you. So!" He swung his cane around in front of Angel. "Take Mic here and let him know if you need me to stop, would you?"

Angel

" _Plan_ ta guarantee...? " He snorted, then crimson eyes flickered. He'd voluntarily _hand_ him that thing? " Yeah, ok ~ " Angel wiped off his bloody fingers and gently took the rod. " Can't feel a thin'- " _Liar._ " -so prolly won't need to. "

" Heyyy, Mic-y, how ya doin' ~ ? " he asked sweetly, turning the instrument about and inspecting him curiously. " Al give ya routine polishin'? Ya just, chill in th' other dimension 'til he calls ya? " Like a set of keys given to a toddler, he was sufficiently distracted.

Alastor

"Oh, I can't complain! It's not allowed in my contract!" The cane rolled its eye. "Naaah, who needs polishing? When I poof off, the dirt doesn't come with me!" It gave Angel a wry look. "Or d'you got another reason for asking how often Al *polishes his cane?* Eh?" Mic's humor was somewhat lowbrow compared to Alastor's usual standards. Usually Alastor would scold it for getting saucy. But right then, Alastor's brain wasn't entirely present.

He couldn't actually give his tentacled "friend" orders, per se. They were too different, too alien for normal person-to-person communication. What Alastor COULD do was broadcast a signal that let him slip into a fragment of a tentacle's mind and pilot it directly; but when he was doing so, when he was making sense of the world as the alien beast saw it, he wasn't exactly able to, say, process language.

If Angel happened to turn around, he'd see that Alastor's eyes had gone blank and filled with static. But he probably shouldn't turn around, since that was when Alastor managed to seize control of the noodle-thin tentacle that had wriggled through and fed the tip of it into the wound.

Angel

" Hehehe! I getcha, I getcha. Talk back get smacked, ah? " Angel couldn't can more giggles, but he did feel the need to do some scolding in Alastor's place. At least, as much as he _assumed_ he should.

" Buh-BUH! Shouldn't ya know better than ta be talkin' deer dick? At least, _more than me_? Ta at least keep it in th' context a dick seasoned up real nice on a silver platter? " He snickered deviously, remembering certain debaucheries he'd engaged in both before and after death. " I _like_ ya, though! Wonder how much fun ya'd be _outta_ contract ~ "

Gently tapping the deep red surface of the back with a pristinely manicured claw, Angel had a sudden urge to seize an opportunity he might not get later. " Hey... can ya do that radio thin' ta _my_ voice? "

Alastor

"You can't have slapstick without the stick! And what'm I if not a stick? You ain't gettin' me outta contract, though. That's not how it works."

(Alastor, meanwhile, has slithered the tentacle in deep enough to reach the bullet. Pardon the weird feeling as it wraps around the intrusion, and then prods briefly past the bullet to make sure it didn't penetrated Angel's lung. Whole new can of worms if it did.)

"No can do! You wanna get your voice broadcast outta the radio, sure, I'm the Mic for the job, long as Alastor's authorizing the broadcast. But if you wanna GET the radio voice? Uh-uh. Only way to sound like the Radio Demon is to BE the Radio Demon."

Angel

An eye twitched as he took a breath and felt that internal pinch. Sans the pain of one, the sensation reminded him of an air bubble he'd have to spend several minutes patting out until he could finally take a deeper breath again. He shallowed his lungs and stayed still as he could with a held breath until the tendril retreated. A deep, testing sigh of relief, then he shook his head with a glance to the mirror. Alastor sure was getting _busy._ He trusted he was in good hands.

" Nah, I don't wanna do _that._ Just wanna give ya singin' a lil' try. Not _everyday_ ya passed off t' another demon, am I right? Specially not a _talented_ one like yours truly ~ " Angel pouted and pursed his brows. " C'mon ~ Just this once! I promise I'll _do ya right ~_ "

Alastor

"Ya wanna sing, then sing! But I can't give you the voice any more than I can give you deer antlers. It ain't transferrable. It's *his.*"

And there was the bullet being slowly dragged backwards out of the wound it had caused. Carefully. But they probably weren't going to completely avoid doing a little extra damage.

Angel

" 'Tis almost th' season, Sweetie, I can give _m'self_ antle's if I wanted to ~ " He then rolled his eyes and relented, followed by some sensational weirdness in his shoulder cavity. Checking in wasn't his first instinct. It was, of course, to _play._ He'd never nail Alastor's southern belle, so he let his register drop as he casually snapped and tapped his own beat with Mic dramatically in hand. ( At least, theatrically as he could while being an obedient patient. )

https://youtu.be/eAiMOTlUVv4

Alastor

Bullet retrieved. Alastor's eyes snapped back to normal as the tentacle withdrew into its portal, dropping the bullet as it did. He caught it, but waited until the end of the song to speak up. "Not bad." He held the bullet over Angel's shoulder. "Do you want this little troublemaker?"

Angel

" Hehe! _Thanks ~ !_ " Angel took the bullet in a free hand to inspect it for shatter. Thankfully, it was all in one piece. Hentai wouldn't have to do any further digging. " What I owe ya? This thin' gonna last 'til it heals, or should I get ready ta go Vicodin huntin' _now?_ " he asked with an experimental roll of his shoulder and another check in the mirror.

Alastor

"Go Vicodin hunting. And also bandage it up, change the bandage twice daily, check for infection, et cetera et cetera." He stood, stretched, and his cane poofed out of Angel's hand and into his own. "As for what you owe me... Give me the rest of the story about this ex of yours and if I think it's interesting enough, we'll call it square."

Angel

" ... Ya ain't gonna be reco'din' it, are ya? " he asked solemnly, " Ah fuck whatever... " Angel threw himself into mercy and rummaged around his drawers for bandages.

" I 'ad a squeeze t' get the Outfit off m'back, " he began, " Drew it out as long as I could but uh, _women's_ a pretty hot topic wit' th' boys. Older I got... y'know. _Family._ They's wantin' _kids._ Big ol' fuckin'... Italian _famiglia_ ta' keep th' bootleg business goin'. "

Was it the pain of the memory or the pressure of the wrapping? Angel was thankful for it. He even dabbed at himself a bit forcefully to override any involuntary bodily response to the whole ordeal.

Alastor

"You have my solemn vow that I won't start recording." That wasn't a promise that he wasn't already recording.

Alastor could guess where this story was going; his grin widened in anticipatory schadenfreude. "Go on."

Angel

As Alastor's grin widened, Angel's eyes narrowed. He tucked his bandage and leaned back against his vanity.

" She's was _-IS-_ like you. I was about as inta her as she was inta anyone else. At least, when I wasn't mistakin' 'er fa a guy. We's was dumb kids, grew up t'gether in the same mafia network. We knew th' game an' we knew we 'ad ta play it. So we _made a deal._ "

" I broke it in, uh... 1944. "

Alastor

Now there was a twist Alastor hadn't been expecting. He'd anticipated a young bride doe-eyed with love and a young groom miserably trying to pretend it was reciprocated. But a mutual ruse was far more interesting.

And far more relatable. It wasn't very far off from his own parents' arrangement—except that theirs hadn't involved the Mafia.

"Let me guess. Get handcuffed together, play the happy couple in front of the family, ignore each other at home? Something like that?" And the one point that actually concerned him—"Were children involved?"

Angel

" No. We were very close, very convincin'. She was m' best frien'. Like Cherri, I didn' deserve 'er. E'ryone thought we was wildin' in the sack, but it never happened. No sex, no kids, just... two murderin' peas in a pod playin' th' most convincin' game a pretend... 'til I couldn't anymo'e. "

" _Could_ say we 'ad kids involved, though _THEM_ fuckin' wild childs could 'ardly bc counted. They was lil' monste's from the Forty-Two. Loved 'em like m'own. Some's prolly down 'ere. "

Alastor

Good—if they'd gotten offspring involved, that would have just been distasteful. Outside children that Angel actually liked were a different matter entirely.

"So, what did the grand breakdown look like? A big blowout fight and a demand for a divorce? No—Catholic, I presume—attempted murder?" He cocked an eyebrow. "*Successful* murder?"

Angel

Angel actually bursted a laugh. " Nope! Wasn't really... a _single thin-_ ok, it was, but uh, said _breakdown_ was less of a _single act_ an' more of a... "

His eyes searched the air for dates, encounters. It didn't help he didn't remember most of it, but he shrugged thinking that was enough indication in itself.

" _Buncha dragged out climaxes_ fa th' next... three years a so. Then I died an' left 'er ta face th' music all 'er own. Hence... " He then tapped at his shoulder and shrugged as if violence was the logical answer to beginning to level a half century-long grudge.

" She's workin' fa Rosie now. Keepin' th' fucks off 'er turf. I was one a them, " he snickered.

Alastor

Well that was the least subtle euphemism Alastor had ever heard. "You mean the prenuptial agreement for your marriage of convenience didn't include provisions for you to sleep around?" Alastor shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "I can forgive her for the lapse—it takes multiple lessons to learn that you sexual people aren't exaggerating when you say the allure of sex is irresistible—but *you* ought to have known better!"

But never mind that, there was a personal connection now. "Well, it's a small underworld after all! If she's working for Rosie, then *I* might know her! What's her name—down here, I mean?"

Angel

" That was fa show! " he burst defensively, " We was bound by nothin' but laws an' laws is fake! " Angel pouted with a quadruple arm cross. He hadn't even _intended_ that innuendo as much as he meant to convey the feeling of being constantly at the edge of your seat for years. That'd drive _any_ sane person wild.

" She didn't _care_ who I fucked with! If ya ask _me,_ it's her _own fuckin' fault_ I went off th' 'andle because she had ta fuckin' PLAY WINGMAN AT THE MENAGERIE! "

He ignored Alastor's question of her identity at the moment. He was much too offended and much too defensive to let any shaming go unchecked, untouched by the oblivion of his violent self-assurance.

Alastor

Alastor laughed at the outburst. "Well, if she didn't care who you were crawling under the covers with, then what in the world is it you did in '44 that constituted such a great break from your 'agreement'? You didn't try to kill her, by mutual agreement you weren't cheating—what's left? Beatings? Framing her for infidelity? Eloping with a rival don's son?"

Angel

He clamped his jaw shut, gritting gold grinding into a horrid sound that soundtracked his anger. Angel didn't want to tell him any more than Alastor was surely not going to be letting it go. Should he just lie? Was that better than letting this asshole in on what was arguably _the_ most defining moment of his life?

" I already told you. I died. I left her alone when we were supposed to get through the fucking SHITSHOW together. '44 was just the year I _started..._ dying. "

Alastor

Alastor was silent for a moment as he processed that—and Angel's atypically somber tone at the announcement—and then, at last, said, "Some betrayal. Most people can't help dying—even the people who do it to themselves." Well, it didn't make for an exciting conclusion to the story—he could vaguely imagine the drama and trauma of the story in action, but the retelling left most of it out.

Still—a sham marriage in the middle of mobster family politics; it was a good enough story. "But, very well! Consider your surgery paid for. And I suppose if the two of you think that was reason enough for her to shoot you—HA!"

Alastor suddenly slapped Angel's shoulder. (By sheer luck, at least it was the uninjured shoulder.) "Have you ever heard that joke? 'My ex-wife still misses me—but her aim's getting better!'" Studio audience laughter. "I guess she doesn't miss you!"

Sometimes Alastor kills himself.

Angel

He _almost_ wished he had slapped his injured shoulder, just so he'd have a more solid reason to hit him back. Nonetheless, he managed to dodge _that_ bullet so Angel figured he could call it a day. A day to start dealing opioids.

" Yeah. She didn't miss, alright. " The corner of his mouth could only twitch. He wasn't consciously _stifling_ a smile, but his every deep-seated instinct to self-destruct at the slightest brush with self-awareness took more effort than he had to deal.

" Bel. La Donna. Like th' poison. She's like yay high an' redder than ya fuckin' mop before ya treatment. A spider. Like me. "

Alastor

"Oh, come now, that was funny and you know it."

Alastor's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh! *Bel!* Yes, we're acquainted! Not *well*, but well enough we'd be obligated to say hello if we passed on the street. My, my, it really *is* a small underworld."

Angel

" Aw _fuck,_ " he groaned, " Best _keep_ it that way. This place is already starting to feel like Double Hell. Last thin' I need's YOU TWO tag-teamin' me... "

Angel then lazily fished for his phone and hit up a dealer. " I'm gonna head out fa meds. Youse- " He hesitated. " ... gonna need anythin'? I'll replace ya everclear. "

Alastor

"Don't you worry! We don't talk much. Anyway, if she's gone this long without spreading the news around Rosie's inner circle that her ex-husband is Hell's biggest porn star, I doubt she has any interest in discussing it now."

He shook his head; he got the story behind the bullet, he had his payment. "It wasn't my bottle, I got it for this."

Angel

" Heh heh... that's the funny thin', " he confessed, " _She ain't known I was goin' by Angel Dust until t'day._ " He picked up a jacket and shrugged through the sleeves. " She always knew how ta cover my tracks. I _don't know_ how generous she's gonna be _now,_ but... here's hopin' she's satisfied with gettin' me penetrated by an alien named Hentai. "

He snickered, returning some to his usual self. " Thanks anyways. Ya didn't have t' be helpin' me out. "

Alastor

"And what's she going to do if she doesn't feel generous? Tell people that the famed porn star Angel Dust married a beard when he was alive? I hardly think that would cause a scandal down here!"

He waved off the thanks. "I'm perpetually bored and bullet wounds are almost always interesting."

Angel

" Oh you'd be surprised ~ Though. I don't think she's the type. Prolly just shoot me again fa hidin' from 'er all these years. "

He snickered and shot Alastor some fingerguns. " If she does, I'll let her hit somethin' interestin' fa ya ~ "

Alastor

Alastor tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yes, that... does sound like her.” He didn’t know a lot about Bel, but he knew THAT. How had Angel described himself and her, murderous peas in a pod or something of the sort? “See if you can’t persuade her to avoid the lungs and the bowels. Those are a pain to deal with. For me. But I imagine they’d also be a pain on the receiving end!”

Angel

" _The heart it is then ~_ " he sang with a wink, landing a heavy hand upon Alastor's shoulder on his way towards the door, " If ya see 'er aroun', be good ta her, ah? I should be back in time fa late dinner. "

Alastor

"A classic! How symbolic."

He gave Angel a farewell nod as he headed out himself. "I'll set aside some leftovers for you." *Never get to eat shit,* his ass. Not on his watch.

#sluttyspiderpolkacock #chat log

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hysterialevi · 5 years ago

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Red Dead Rising | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: 12 YEARS BEFORE RDR2 - Greed, money, and larceny. These are the only things Arthur has ever known; the only things he’s ever been taught. But when Dutch decides to hit a town called Harlow, what started out as nothing more than a plan to rob the local bank ends up igniting the events that lead to RDR2, and a 24 year-old Arthur is forced to confront his morality while the gang faces a terrifying enemy of their own making.

Point of view: third-person

This story is also on AO3 and Wattpad

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Author’s note: Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. It was really late when I finished this and I don’t have the energy to review it lol. Hope you enjoy regardless though :)

TWO MONTHS LATER

APRIL, 1887

INDIGO PEAK

Scribbling down a few more lines into his journal, Arthur added some last-minute touches to his sketch of Indigo Peak, doin’ his absolute best to capture what was in front of him.

There was a whole array of purple mountains just sitting in front of this camp. They all sat in a majestic, uneven line right above the horizon and towered over a gathering of evergreen trees, separating the sky from the wildlife that lived in the fields and meadows below.

The white sun also hovered above the mountains in a thick blanket of blue-tinted clouds, and provided the landscape with an abundance of rays. They passed through the space between the summits like something out of a painting, and touched the ground in a scattered pattern, giving the grass a dotted look.

It was extraordinarily beautiful, in Arthur’s opinion. He had seen nature’s beauty many times before, but... it was just one of those things that never got old.

Unfortunately for him however, he absolutely despised his drawing.

“Dammit...” Arthur muttered, smudging some of the graphite out.

How did people do this? Arthur originally got the idea to try it from Thomas who was constantly sketching away in his own journal, but the man made it look so easy. His “doodles” were always so detailed and lifelike, and in the meantime, Arthur’s looked like someone drew them in the midst of an earthquake. Or, at least, that was how he saw it.

The young outlaw let out an annoyed sigh and shut the journal closed, deciding to take a break for now as he relaxed on a nearby tree stump.

He was planning to visit Mary, anyway. The woman sent him a letter not too long ago, and apparently, she was in the region with her family. They were attending the wedding of one of her cousins and were staying at a farm that her grandparents owned, just outside of Harlow. Arthur figured he may as well stop by and say hello before they left.

He just hoped he could avoid Mr. Gillis.

None of the people in Mary’s family really liked him to begin with, but that man was an absolute menace whenever Arthur was around. The young outlaw didn’t know what the hell it would take to please Robert, but the fact that the one person who wanted him dead was the father of his fiancée worried him, to say the least.

Arthur understood Robert’s concerns about letting his daughter marry someone who was a criminal -- any good father would -- but at the same time, he thought he had more than proved himself during his time with Mary.

Arthur never put her in danger, or allowed her to get involved with the gang’s activities. He kept her well away from anything Dutch or Hosea did, and even promised to leave that life behind once he and Mary finally tied the knot. There was also the fact that little Jamie seemed to enjoy having Arthur nearby.

He just didn’t know what else he could do to show Robert that he would be a good husband. Maybe he thought Arthur wouldn’t keep his promise? Or that he was too incompetent?

Well, whatever the case was, Arthur had a bad feeling that Robert was going to be more of a headache than he originally expected. He assumed the man would’ve warmed up to him by now -- the wedding wasn’t too far away, after all -- but that obviously hadn’t happened yet.

He supposed he would just have to keep trying. Mary always told Arthur to have hope, but the young man wasn’t so sure that’d be enough anymore. Mr. Gillis was probably the most stubborn man he’d ever met in his life, and if things didn’t work out between the two of them -- well, that was a bridge they’d have to cross when they got to it.

Arthur just prayed he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that.

Breaking the silence, the sound of people arguing suddenly drew Arthur’s attention away from the landscape and cut off his train of thought, leading him to see what all the commotion was about.

It looked like Thomas and Mac were currently stuck in a spat about something at the moment, and the latter seemed to cling to his companion while he strode around camp, desperate to get away from the quarrel.

“--I’m just saying,” Mac reiterated, “we can’t wait forever!”

“And we won’t,” Thomas replied, clearly vexed. “But we need to be careful.”

The two of them came to a halt, carrying on with their argument not too far away from where Arthur was.

“C’mon, Mac. We’ve been robbing stuff with Hosea for nearly a year now. You know how this works. We make a plan, we wait, and when the time comes, we strike. It’s always the same.”

The other man crossed his arms. “Yeah, but we ain’t never robbed a bank before!”

Thomas placed his hands on his hips. “All the more reason to make sure we do this right. We only have one chance to pull this off, Mac. You understand that? One chance. Ain’t no way we can come back from this if we fail.”

Mac let out a sigh, still not convinced.

“It’s been two months, Thomas. How much longer are we gonna wait?”

Moreau leaned against a tree, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“And what happens if the law finds out we’re here? We gonna move camp again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what about Shaw? Has he made any progress with Farley?”

“I don’t--!” Thomas took a breath, calming himself down. “...I don’t know.”

Arthur jumped into the conversation before the two of them could argue any further and glanced over his shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

“Hey, uh... you boys alright?” He called out.

Thomas dismissed the question, evidently just wanting to walk away from this.

“We’re fine, Arthur,” he answered, his tone saying otherwise. “Just... a tad anxious about the upcoming robbery.”

Mac scoffed. “If it ever comes.”

That caused Moreau to snap somewhat. “Yeah, well, you got any better ideas, Callander? Maybe you think we should just run up to the bank and shoot our way through the front door? In broad daylight. Oh, and while we’re at it, we could say hello to Sheriff Farley on the way back to camp! Maybe stay at his place for a cup of tea.”

“You know what, Frenchy,” Mac fired back, “you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Why Hosea even bothers puttin’ up with your bullshit is beyond me. He shoulda left you in New Aubertin as far as I’m concerned.”

“My bullshit?” Thomas repeated. “If I recall correctly, it’s always me who’s cleanin’ up after you and Davey! Like that hell y’all raised back in Mercy when Hosea first found you.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out now--”

“--Gentlemen!”

Bringing the dispute to an abrupt halt, a guttural voice suddenly cut Mac and Thomas off right before things started to get heated, causing everyone to fall silent as a third party joined the scene.

Sauntering in their direction, Dutch casually walked up to the pair of outlaws with an amused grin on his face as he took a long drag on his cigar, chuckling at their behavior.

“You know, gentlemen, while I do appreciate a good ol’ fashioned fight like no other man alive...” he breathed out a puff of smoke, “...I’d rather you saved the killin’ for Farley’s boys. We got enough of a storm comin’ our way as is.”

Thomas sighed wearily. “Sorry, Dutch. It’s just... folk are gettin’ restless. We been sittin’ on this bank robbery for two months now, and Shaw has yet to give us the all-clear. Some are worried that we’re never gonna pull this off.”

Dutch smiled, pointing with his cigar. “Now, listen to me son, if there’s anything you’re gonna learn from your time with me, it’s that losin’ faith never did no one any good. This robbery is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. In fact, I actually received a letter from Benjamin yesterday evening. He thinks we can make our move at any minute now..”

Mac’s expression lit up with a newfound interest. “What? Really? When?”

The other man didn’t promise anything just yet. “I don’t know, but I’m planning to pay him a visit in Harlow. We’ll speak to him face-to-face, and see when we can get things rolling.”

Arthur picked up on that. “We?”

Dutch turned to him. “Yes. I need you to come with me too, Arthur. Apparently, Ben’s got a job for you to do. He asked for you specifically.”

Well, it looked like Arthur wasn’t going to see Mary as soon as he thought. The young man concealed his disappointment. “...Alright, I guess.”

“Good. Then you and I will take a trip down to Harlow, see what Benjamin wants, and in the meantime...” Dutch brought his gaze to Thomas and Mac, “make sure the camp stays in one piece while we’re away, would you?”

Thomas nodded. “Things’ll be fine when you get back.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Dutch put out his cigar and headed for the horses, beckoning Arthur. “Come on, son. We got a job to do.”

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Arthur removed himself from the tree stump and followed Dutch at a brisk pace, sticking close-by while Thomas and Mac returned to their business.

It looked like the two of them had calmed down by now, and to finish things off, they exchanged some final words before parting ways for the afternoon.

“Hey...” Mac murmured apologetically, “sorry for, um... what I said back there. Y’know I didn’t mean it.”

Thomas let out a fatigued breath. “...Sure. I know.”

The hot-tempered outlaw threw in a quick offer. “...Wanna head down to the saloon later?”

Thomas repeated his answer, although a bit more relaxed this time. “Sure.”

Arthur grinned at the sight and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He supposed he and Marston weren’t the only ones who had a relationship like that.

There was no doubt that the little boy drove Arthur insane sometimes, but deep down, the young man knew he could never really hurt John. The kid was like a baby brother to him, after all. Dutch and Hosea pretty much raised them like siblings, and underneath all the havoc, Arthur couldn’t deny that he loved Marston.

He just wished he could get some alone time once in a while. Lord knew John loved getting attention.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans you had,” Dutch suddenly remarked, bringing Arthur back to the task at hand. “I know I dragged you into this rather quickly.”

Arthur decided to be honest with him. “Well, I was gonna visit Mary, actually. She’s in the region right now, and wanted to see me before she left. But it’s like you said, we got a job to do first.”

Dutch approached Belle-Dame, unhitching her from the post. “Mary’s in Harlow?”

“Not Harlow,” he corrected. “On a farm outside of it. She’s stayin’ there with her father and grandparents.”

“Ah. Well, tell you what -- we’ll just have a short chat with Benjamin, hear what updates he’s got for us, and afterwards, you can go on and see Mary. Sound good?”

Arthur mounted Abitha, readying himself for the ride. “Sounds good.”

Dutch smiled at him, climbing on top of his own horse. “Thank you for bein’ patient with me, Arthur. I know this process has been long, but we are gonna do this. We just gotta push a little bit more, and soon, that bank’ll be ours to pillage. Now, c’mon. Harlow awaits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE GALLOWS, HARLOW

Falling with a sudden drop, the criminal collapsed beneath the gallows’ surface and dangled morbidly in the air, causing the noose’s rope to go taut while the crowd watched in both horror and fascination.

Harlow was normally a peaceful town, and even prided itself on having such a low crime rate, but recently, things had changed for the worse... and everyone could feel it.

No one knew exactly where this feeling came from or why it was appearing so suddenly, but for the past couple of months, a peculiar sense of dread loomed over the town like a dark cloud that just wouldn’t leave.

There were more thefts, more break-ins, more fights... and even more murders. The people of Harlow were either vanishing or dying one-by-one, and as a result, the entire town was on edge. Though, no one was quite as stressed as their beloved sheriff, Ronan Farley.

The man had the population of a small city depending on him. Harlow always looked to him for answers whenever things went wrong, and normally, he was able to provide.

With everything that was going on though, the sheriff was at a loss for words. Ronan truly had no idea why the town’s overall safety had deteriorated so quickly, and the possibilities of what could’ve been at the heart of all this made him shudder.

Farley had been dealing with outlaws for long enough to know that crimes like this didn’t just fall out of the sky. There was something bigger going on here. Something lurking in the shadows... but he couldn’t act on pure speculation alone.

If Ronan was going to get to the bottom of Harlow’s turbulent situation, he’d have to hope that the people responsible would expose themselves eventually. His hands were full enough as is, and without any proper evidence to conduct a thorough search, there was really nothing more he could do.

Farley’s hands were tied.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“That’s the third execution this week...” Deputy Leighton said with a discouraged sigh, gazing out the window. “What is happening to this town?”

Ronan removed his hat and placed it down on the desk, offering some reassurance to his friend.

“Keep it together, Andrew,” he reminded the young lawman. “This ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with this.”

“True,” the deputy conceded, “but lately, it just feels like... the wind’s shifted in Harlow. Like our luck’s run out. There are more criminals hangin’ from the gallows than there are bounties on our wall, and this idea that we can’t do our job as lawmen anymore is startin’ to propagate.”

Andrew took a seat at the desk, leaning back in exhaustion. “...Everything’s just a mess.”

Andrew Leighton was the youngest out of the four deputies, and also happened to be the newest, apart from Deputy Shaw. He had only been working with Ronan for about six months, whereas Buchanan and Sommer had been at the sheriff’s side for a couple of years.

Andrew was twenty-one years old, and in contrast to his fellow lawmen, carried a slightly more gullible demeanor to him, often making him a target.

He wasn’t naive, necessarily. Andrew had seen more than his fair share of violence in the past, but he had also been blessed with the curse of wanting to believe the best in people. He tried to maintain the idea that no man was truly evil, and that good nature was reflected in his appearance.

Leighton had a clean-shaven face, a pair of kind blue eyes, and a head of short blond hair that he always kept in a neat style. He wore a slate-blue Classic Frock coat on top of a white shirt and black vest, and adorned a black Paragon Town hat to go with his boots.

Sheriff Farley, on the other hand, sported a much rougher temperament. The hardy man had loose and short brown hair, a full beard, and a noticeably wounded look in his eyes. He was only in his late-thirties, but had a few extra wrinkles creasing his face due to all the stress and lack of sleep.

Ronan’s usual attire consisted of a somewhat weathered Gaucho hat, a dark-brown duster coat, and a scarlet-red vest that he wore on top of an opened white shirt. His boots were nothing fancy and bore no sort of design, but they were sturdy enough... sort of like the people he worked so hard to protect.

Gazing blankly at the empty jail cells, Andrew decided to put professionalism aside for a moment and posed a more colloquial question to Ronan, hoping to get his honest opinion.

“Hey, sheriff...” he said, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Andrew softened his voice a bit, not wanting to announce their conversation to anyone in the vicinity.

“...What d’you think is really goin’ on in Harlow?”

Ronan paused at the vagueness of the question, not entirely sure what Andrew was getting at.

“What do you mean?”

The deputy took a second to clarify. “The deaths, the disappearances, the sudden lack in morale... Harlow’s had its rough patches, sure, but nothing quite like this. You think it’s all just a coincidence?”

The sheriff didn’t crack his shell just yet. “Coincidence or not, we’ll get through it.”

Andrew didn’t buy it. “...With all respect, Ronan, I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not that dense. I’m sure you out of all people can sense something’s wrong in Harlow. Something that... we might not be ready for.”

Ronan took a seat across from Leighton, hoping to relax for just a second.

“It ain’t our job to speculate, Andrew. When there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it. But we can’t go searchin’ for trouble when we don’t even know what to look for.”

“I know,” the deputy agreed, “it’s just... I hate this feeling, y’know? This feeling of sittin’ around, not being able to help the folk ‘round here. Everyone’s worried that we’ve got a rough road ahead of us, and they expect us to solve all their problems, but... we can’t even do anything without solid proof. I suppose I just wish I could do more.”

Ronan leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

“You’ve got a good heart, Leighton, but we’re the last people this town needs to be gettin’ paranoid. Stay vigilant, and remember to use your head. If anything does happen to Harlow, it’s gonna need all of us to protect it.”

Andrew nodded in reassurance, deciding to drop the subject for now. “...You’re right, you’re right. I can’t go startin’ trouble when there might not even be any. I gotta keep my head on my shoulders. It’s just... it’s difficult when you don’t actually have a target to shoot at yet. But... you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

The deputy stood up from his seat and headed for the door, leaving Farley to his thoughts.

“...Anyway, thanks for listenin’ to me ramble, sheriff. I didn’t mean to put all that on you. You’re a rock for more people than you realize. I just hope I can repay you someday.”

Ronan’s expression remained flat, but it was still clear to Andrew that he appreciated the remark.

“You don’t owe me anything, Andrew.”

Opening the door with a firm pull, the deputy wasted no time in getting back to work and headed out into the open, only to stop in his tracks when he found someone blocking the doorway.

It was a woman. She was about ten years older than Andrew, and a head of black hair that had been tied into a loose bun.

The dress she was wearing appeared rather simple in terms of design, but it still carried an elegant shape regardless. The upper part was a soft shade of white, and the bottom had been dyed mahogany brown. As a way to top it all off though, the woman had also tied a yellow scarf around her neck, and let most of it hang off her back like a miniature cape.

The young deputy recognized her immediately upon seeing her, and gave her a brief greeting.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Farley.”

The woman smiled in response. “Hello, Mr. Leighton.”

Allowing Mrs. Farley to step in first, Andrew waited off to the side until she was in the office before finally making his way out, shutting the door closed behind him.

As for Ronan, the man got up from his desk almost as soon as he saw his wife and approached her, concerned about what she might be doing here.

“Annabelle? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly, sensing her husband’s uneasiness. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check up on you. You haven’t been home much lately.”

Annabelle glanced out the window, lowering her head in fear as a grim expression spread across her face.

“I... heard about the execution today. That’s the third one this week, isn’t it? Or is it the fourth?” She let out a sigh. “I can never keep up. The days seem to blur together now with all these hangings. Are you... doin’ okay, Ronan? All of this pressure can’t be easy on you.”

Ronan sat on the desk’s surface, sliding a hand down his face.

“I’ll be honest, Annabelle. I’m... I’m worried.”

Annabelle stepped in front of him and gently held his hand, rubbing it in a comforting manner.

“Worried? About what?”

The sheriff gestured to the door. “Well, Andrew was talkin’ about this just before you came in, but... he feels like Harlow’s luck has run out. As if our time as a safe hamlet is over. And I’m inclined to agree with him.”

That sparked Annabelle’s interest. “Really? Why? Has somethin’ happened?”

Ronan shook his head. “Nothing in particular, but it don’t take a genius to see that Elijah, Curtis, and Suzanna’s murders are connected. Accordin’ to the evidence we found, they were three separate cases with three different killers -- and we hanged all of ‘em -- but... something just doesn’t feel right. Even after all that chaos, it feels incomplete.”

Annabelle took on a more steadfast tone. “Well, what do you think is happening? Forget the evidence. Forget what people are saying. What does your gut tell you?”

The sheriff fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“...I think there’s more goin’ on here than we can see. I think somethin’ big is coming our way. I dunno what, or how, or even when... but I believe the true killer is still out there. The murders just seemed too similar. Too easy to solve. It all felt contrived to me, and I believe Harlow won’t be safe so long as the real murderer is still roamin’ about. I believe it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

The woman furrowed her brows in anxiety, mindlessly tightening her grip.

“...You’re frightening me, Ronan.”

The man snapped out of his suspicions for the time being and put them aside, bringing a loving hand up to Annabelle’s face.

“I’m... I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to scare you. Things have just been tense around Harlow these past couple of months. I guess I needed to get that off my chest more than I realized. But don’t you worry. I’ll be home tonight. Before you go to bed.

Annabelle beamed at that, afterwards pecking a kiss on Ronan’s cheek. “Good. I miss you.”

The sheriff chuckled softly at that. “I miss you too.”

Mrs. Farley took a step back, still grinning from their conversation. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Just... be careful, okay? Harlow needs you now more than ever. And so do I.”

Ronan nodded firmly. “I will. The same goes for you.”

“Of course.”

Annabelle wandered closer to the door, offering some last-minute advice to the troubled sheriff before she left.

“These are strange times, Ronan. The only way we’re gonna get through them is with each other. Don’t forget that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE BLUE BRONCO SALOON, HARLOW

Sitting on top of a barrel, Arthur avidly sketched in silence while Dutch slowly paced around in boredom as the two of them stayed patiently behind Harlow’s saloon, waiting for Benjamin to turn up.

It had been quite a long time ever since Arthur last saw Ben. The man visited their camp occasionally to keep Dutch updated on things, but Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he and Ben actually sat down together and just... talked.

He wondered what he looked like now. What he was doing. How he was getting on.

Sure, Ben wasn’t always the nicest man, or even the most righteous, but as strange as it sounded, that was one of the reasons why Arthur liked him. To him, it made Ben seem to more genuine.

He may not have always been the most eloquent with his words, and sometimes he straight-up tried to avoid people, but Arthur knew that deep down, Ben never worried about hiding behind some sort of pretense.

He said what he meant, and he meant what he said, so there was never any doubt whenever Benjamin expressed his thoughts. Ironically though, he was the one Dutch chose to act as somebody else.

Arthur didn’t know why Dutch thought he’d be the best person to work as a mole. Ben never struck him as somebody to go undercover like this, but despite Arthur’s concerns, Dutch seemed to have no skepticism surrounding Benjamin’s capabilities. According to him, he was the “perfect” man for the job.

Arthur just hoped everything would turn out okay. The gang had worked so hard and for so long to get this robbery done, that for something to go wrong now would’ve been a major setback.

The folks back at camp were nervous enough about robbing a bank for the first time, and Arthur didn’t even wanna think about the chaos that would ensue if their plan failed.

It was like Thomas said. They only had once chance to get this right, and there was no room for impulse. They needed to focus.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, cowboy?” Dutch asked, making Arthur pause mid-sketch.

“Drawing.” The boy answered simply.

His companion smirked. “Oh? Drawing what?”

Arthur shrugged. “...Things.”

“That so? What kinda things?”

The young man gestured aimlessly at their surroundings, admittedly somewhat shy to talk about it. “Y’know, stuff. That we see. Horses, people, trees.”

Dutch chortled humorously at that. “Oh, okay.”

Arthur sighed. “Look, it ain’t nothin’ fancy, alright? I just do it when I’m bored.”

The other man’s grin only grew wider at his annoyance. “Well, please, don’t let me disturb you. Carry on with drawing your... ‘things.”

The young outlaw mentally groaned to himself, returning to his work.

Just before he could start sketching again however, a third person walked into the scene, causing both of them to divert their attention.

“Gentlemen.” Benjamin Shaw greeted flatly, strolling in their direction.

Benjamin was a scraggly-looking man with sunken cheeks due to his growing addiction to alcohol, and displayed a collection of small scars on his face, the most prominent one being a thin, horizontal gash that sat just above his left brow.

As for his hair, it was chocolate-colored and reached long enough to touch his shoulders. In terms of style though, the strands were rather tangled and messy, and his facial hair wasn’t anymore tame.

Benjamin had nothing more than a prickly layer of scruff sticking to his jawline, but there was a slim gap in his mustache from another scar that sliced downwards across his mouth.

On the topic of clothes though -- at the moment, Benjamin was wearing a black Collar Overshirt with a hickory-colored leather jacket that made his badge stand out like a beacon in the night, and he adorned a dark pair of trousers as well as some Sleeked Riding boots to match the Stalker hat that he always wore.

Overall, he looked pretty much the same compared to when Arthur last saw him, and that made the young man happy.

“There you are!” Dutch replied excitedly. “How the hell are you, my boy?”

Benjamin didn’t appear to return the enthusiasm. If anything, he looked exhausted.

“I feel like shit and I look like shit, but I got some information you might be interested in, Dutch. Though, it ain’t all good news, I’m afraid.”

Dutch’s expression dimmed instantly at the news. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well, then. What is it?”

Benjamin lowered his voice. “Well, the good news is I think we’ll be able to hit the bank soon. Ronan and his deputies trust me. It took some convincing, believe me, but they finally see me as one of their own.”

“Extremely well done, Ben. I knew you was the right feller for this job. When do you think we’ll be able to rob the bank?”

The “deputy” thought for a minute. “Give me... one more week. I’ll be able to get things rollin’ by then.”

Dutch switched to a more serious tone. “Just one more week? Are you certain? We don’t wanna rush this.”

Benjamin insisted. “I’m certain. I’ve got the whole town on edge with a string of recent crimes, and tensions are startin’ to build. Now is the time to do this. If we wait too long, this may not work.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “Okay, then. I trust your judgement. One more week and then we’ll finally hit this goddamn bank. I’ll let the people back at camp know. Now... what’s the bad news?”

Shaw leaned in a bit more, making sure that no one else could hear them.

“I did some investigatin’ into Sheriff Farley, and it turns out, that ain’t even the man’s real name.”

“What?” Dutch questioned, taken aback. “Then what the hell is it?”

Benjamin was quiet for a second, almost like he was worried to see his friend’s reaction.

“O’Driscoll.”

Arthur’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re shittin’ me. The sheriff of this town is an O’Driscoll?”

“Not just any O’Driscoll,” Ben clarified. “He’s Colm’s older brother.”

Dutch’s face scrunched into a glower. “How d’you know this?”

“I overheard Ronan and his wife talkin’ about it,” Benjamin explained. “Apparently, he changed his name to ‘Farley’ many years ago ‘cause he didn’t wanna be associated with the O’Driscolls no more. Sounds to me like he and Colm didn’t get along.”

“So, he’s not working with the gang?” Arthur asked.

“No. I don’t think so. Ronan’s got a strong hatred for outlaws. I highly doubt he’d ever work with them.”

“Still,” Dutch added, “it’s something to think about. When we first arrived at New Aubertin, Thomas told me there had been rumors of the O’Driscolls being in this region. If Colm’s got any affection left for his brother, and he finds out what we’re doing -- we need to be extra careful from here on out.”

“Agreed.”

“Well,” Dutch said, heading back to his horse, “I’m gonna return to camp. Let ‘em know about the plan. In the meantime, Arthur will help you out with that job you mentioned. Stay safe, you two. And keep a low profile. We’re this close to robbin’ that bank. We ain’t botching it now.”

Taking his leave, Dutch removed himself from the saloon’s vicinity and rode back to camp like a bat out of hell, eager to deliver the good news to the gang as the sun steadily began to set.

Meanwhile, Arthur stayed behind with Benjamin and simply remained seated on his barrel while the other man found a comfortable spot next to him, leaning against the saloon’s wall in a casual manner.

“So...” Arthur began, “what was that job you had for me?”

Ben took off his hat, wiping some of the sweat off his forehead. “There was no job.”

The young man raised a brow. “What? So why’d you ask Dutch to bring me here?”

“Because you’re one of the few people I like to talk to, and I need a break from this mess.” Benjamin quickly lit a cigarette, offering one to Arthur. “Anyway... how’ve you been? Things goin’ good at camp?”

Arthur took the cigarette and waited for Ben to light it, continuing the conversation. “As good as they can be. I’m plannin’ to visit Mary later. Apparently, she’s in the region.”

The other man’s face sagged with obvious disapproval. “Ms. Gillis is here?”

“Yes. You mean to tell me you still don’t like her?”

Benjamin put out the match. “It ain’t that simple, Arthur. Mary’s a sweet girl -- I ain’t suggestin’ otherwise. I just don’t know how serious she is about marrying you.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that he struck a nerve. “What do you mean by that? She said yes, didn’t she?”

“Well yeah, but how long before that dusty, old shithead father of hers gets in the way? You really think he'll have no influence on Mary? He’s already tryin’ to put your head on a pike as it is.”

The young man let out a cloud of smoke. “Mary loves me, Ben. And I love her. Nothing’s separatin’ us. Besides, what her father does ain’t her fault. I really don’t understand why you and Grimshaw dislike her so much. ”

Benjamin sighed in defeat. “We’re just lookin’ out for you, Arthur. You’re a good man. Much better than a lot of us. We don’t wanna see you get hurt. But... if you trust her, then I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I did too. Just don’t expect me to weclome her with open arms anytime soon.”

Arthur picked up on Benjamin’s agitated tone, suddenly worried about his friend’s well-being. This wasn’t just about Mary... was it?

“Hey...” he said, speaking more softly, “r’you good, Ben? I mean, you’ve always been an angry bastard, but you seem especially irritated today. What’s goin’ on?”

Thinking to himself for a moment, the deputy remained quiet and ignored Arthur’s question as he thought about what to say next, clearly conflicted about something.

It was unusual for Ben to be so reserved. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any means, but... even then, this sort of behavior was odd for him. Normally, he’d crack a joke or two -- maybe throw in a hint of sarcasm here and there, but today, he was completely serious.

It made Arthur suspect that this whole job was having more of a toll on Benjamin than anyone in the gang truly understood. Dutch did kind of force him into this, after all, and Arthur really had no idea what sort of experiences Ben was going through in order to get the gang where they were now.

Arthur just hoped that Ben wasn’t angry with him personally. It was no secret that Dutch favored the young man over anyone else in the gang, and part of Arthur couldn’t help but feel as if that was what got him out of doing this job, despite the fact that Hosea originally planned to send him or Thomas.

Just what was going on?

“...Y’know what, Arthur,” Benjamin finally said, sounding far more drained than before, “I won’t lie to you. These past two months with Ronan and his men... they’ve opened my eyes to some things. Things that... that make me question everything I’ve done in my life.”

Arthur turned to face him. “What d’you mean?”

Shaw looked at him with a guilt-ridden gaze, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“...I’ve done some terrible stuff throughout the years, Arthur. Stuff that even you don’t know about. I’ve hurt people like it was nothing, killed others for the sake of money, and even turned my back on a few folks who loved me just like you and Dutch do. But... after workin’ with Farley, I’m not sure that’s the man I wanna be anymore.”

Arthur quirked a brow at the statement. “Wait, are you sayin’ you wanna become a lawman for real?”

“Not a lawman,” Ben corrected, “but I dunno if I’m gonna be returning to the gang after this robbery. I’m thinkin’ of maybe going my own way. Starting a different life with the money we take, while I still have the chance. I’m... I’m sorry, Arthur. I probably should’ve said something sooner.”

The young man protested. “You can’t leave, Ben. We need you in this gang. Not only are you one of the best people we’ve had, you’re also my friend. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Benjamin flipped the subject to him. “And what about you? You’re gonna be a husband soon, Arthur. Possibly even be a father someday. You can’t stay in this life forever. It’s gotta be left behind eventually if you wanna be there for your family.”

Arthur felt admittedly somewhat cornered by the response.

“I-I know. And I’ll leave it behind when the time comes, but I still owe it to Dutch to stick with him throughout this whole thing. He saved my life. Yours, too. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, but my life wasn’t worth savin’ when he first found me. I wanna make sure that it is before I go.”

Somewhat overwhelmed by Benjamin’s sudden confession, Arthur gave the man nothing but a concerned gaze in response and simply sat there with a cigarette in his hand, watching the smoke dance from its tip as it slowly burned away.

Meanwhile, Benjamin threw his to the ground and swiftly stubbed it out with his boot, marking the end of their conversation.

“Do me a favor, Arthur,” he said before returning to his work. “Don’t become the same man I was. When the time comes, make sure you do what’s right.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that advice. “It ain’t always that easy, Ben.”

“I never said it would be easy,” he countered. “In fact, it’s probably gonna be a goddamned nightmare before any of this blows over... but it’ll be worth it. So long as you do the right thing. Remember that.”

With that being said, Benjamin walked off into the busier parts of town just as more people started pouring out of the different establishments around Harlow, ready to go back home for the evening.

He threw a casual wave over his shoulder, saying one last goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur. Lord only knows what the future holds.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story #rdr2 prequel #rdr2 oc

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 23)

Flimflammery

In this chapter, John and reader run a con together :) This part was inspired a lot by Better Call Saul and some of the scams that Jimmy and Marco would pull in season 1! I love writing this kind of thing :P you’ll notice this story focuses on the jobs reader does as well as the romance plot, I just cant help myself!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

I was up first. I brewed the coffee, poured myself a cup, yawned and stretched and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Draping my blanket around my shoulders and shuffling across the camp towards the horses with my journal tucked under my arm, I glanced towards Arthur's bed. He was curled up on his side, cheek smushed into his pillow, arm hanging off the edge, fast asleep. I smiled, his appearance endearing. I figured he must've gotten back late with Sean after causing whatever mayhem he had at the Gray's, so I left him alone. I couldn't help but think of the Pinkertons, Leviticus Cornwall, the countless people who wanted him dead or locked up, and seeing him looking so peaceful and harmless curled up asleep like that… none of it seemed possible.

Who on Earth could be mad at a face like that?

I took a drink of coffee as I sat down by the hitching posts. Some of the horses were still sleeping, including Rayna, bless her. But Jet was awake, chewing his way through a bale of hay, tale flicking, ears twitching. He looked up at me once, decided I wasn't enough of a distraction, and carried on eating. I put my coffee down beside me, pressing the tin cup into the grass until it felt stable enough to leave, then opened up my journal, ready to draw Arthur's gift. I did a couple of warm up sketches; I'd never really drawn horses before, so this would be interesting. I did a couple of little doodles of Rayna first, considering she was asleep and I figured I'd do better without a moving target.

I approached it the same way I would a portrait, blocking in her basic shape, putting down a few guidelines to plan where her eyes would go, then her ears, her nose, the curve of her neck and the scruff of her mane. I made a mental note to give her a thorough brush later, then sketched away. I produced a few little drawings. Some of just her head, some of her full body. I was certainly doing better with the close ups of her face; proof that I shouldn't run before I could walk. I filled up two pages, remembering to drink my coffee before it went cold.

Once I felt comfortable with the subject matter, I turned to a fresh page and studied Jet for a while, noting the markings on his face; a white splodge right between his eyes. In the early morning light his coat looked very close to black, but as the sun moved further up in the sky, it hit him and picked out plummy tones on all his high points. I started drawing him, just his head, where he was swooping down to the water trough, noisily slurping away. I took my time just like Arthur advised, keeping my eyes on him as my hand moved slowly across the page to capture the roundness of his jawbone, all the way along the straight plain towards his muzzle. Fully warmed up to the action, I found myself able to look at him more than my page, just like Arthur did that day in Scarlett Meadows. He was rubbing off on me.

I put a lot into the drawing, very tempted to start again on numerous occasions. I forced myself to keep at it rather than wasting paper, knowing that nothing was set in stone and I could tweak as I needed, rework areas until they satisfied. Jet began to emerge from the page, not just any horse, but him, and I was pleased with my tenacity as I created something I was genuinely proud of. I hoped that Arthur would be proud too, once I gave it to him.

Pleased with my efforts, I leaned back against the hitching post and settled down to finish my coffee, chewing through a biscuit from the almost empty tin I'd snagged from Pearson's wagon. I enjoyed the early morning solitude, but I could hear movement across the camp as Pearson started his work for the day, butchering up that bear meat, ready to cook slowly throughout the day to keep it tender. I leaned my head back against the post and closed my eyes, taking a deep, still breath and listening to the wind in the trees. Just taking a moment of peace before the day truly began. Susan would be up and about soon, and she'd find something for me to do.

She was a lovely lady, but I'd soon learned that she didn't take kindly to layabouts. You had to earn your right to sit down and relax, with her sniffing about, so every day it was a challenge to have her catch you doing something worthy of some downtime in the evening. Otherwise, there was hell to pay.

"Morning, sunshine," the voice caught me by surprise and my eyes snapped open, settling on Arthur's dominating figure blocking the cloudless sky behind him.

"Arthur. Good morning," I smiled at him, patting the space beside me.

"Keepin' the horses company?" He mused as he sat down cross-legged next to me. He blew across the top of his coffee before taking a tentative sip. I hummed my affirmation, nodding and glancing out at the animals.

"Well, my coffee buddy was sleeping, so," I told him, and he chuckled. "Exciting night?"

"One way of saying it," he tutted, huffing in mild amusement. "If committing arson is your idea of excitement."

"Well, depends what I'm setting fire to," I joked. "Boxes full'a dynamite are always a good time. Just gotta remember to stand well back."

"Yeah? What do you reckon to fields of tobacco?"

"Hmm, I'd say that's at least a little exciting."

"Well, you should've been there last night," he laughed. I smiled, eyes lingering on him even when he looked away. I tapped on the tin of biscuits and he took one, crumbs catching in the stubble that he was yet to shave.

I thought about Isaac, his son, and tried to imagine Arthur as a father. I'd never seen him in that light before, but I could imagine him being good at it. Not that I had any desire to test the theory, I thought, blushing at the very idea.

It was as if he was reading my mind, with his next words. "I was thinking, last night, laying in bed. I'm glad I told you about Isaac. I don't speak about him much – at all, really – don't wanna bother folk with it. None o' these ever met him," he made a vague gesture to the camp. "They never mourned him, so I felt like a nuisance bringing it up, dragging people into my suffering. But telling you…"

He looked at me, really looked at me, in the eye. It always pulled me out of something when he met my eyes so intensely, as if I forgot the world was real until those moments.

"I figured, if we're doing this. If we're starting something together, then, you ought to know me. My pain, and all," he continued. "I hope that I can do the same for you, listen to your hardships. You're just like me; lost just about everyone. You put on a brave face, but you don't have to. Not with me, at least."

"Thank you," I told him under my breath, reaching to squeeze his knee. I took his words to heart, and after a moment I sighed softly and spoke. "I miss my father a lot more than I let on."

"Your father?" He repeated. I hummed and nodded.

"I take after him a lot. I loved my mother, of course, but she drank a lot. I didn't notice as a child but as I grew up, I reckon that drove a wedge between us. She never remembered anything I told her, was like having the same conversations every day, stopped me from really knowing her, and her me, I think," I shrugged, then smiled. "But my pa, he used to take me out riding, put me up front on his horse, and we'd sing songs together on the road."

Arthur smiled too, eyes still fixed on me.

"I miss that. More than anything, I do. But I try to miss it in a way that makes me happy to remember it, instead of sad that it's been and gone, you know?" I looked up in time to see his brows raise thoughtfully.

"That's a pleasant way of thinking, you got there. Something I'll try and keep in mind myself," he nodded. He chuckled and looked up to the sky absentmindedly. "I remember the time I went to see Isaac and Eliza, after he'd started walking. Kid came stumbling out the house when I showed up and you know what I did?"

"What?"

"I burst into tears. I weren't sad. I don't know what came over me, just seeing him growing up, doing stuff for himself, it made me so proud, ain’t ever felt anything like it. Eliza laughed at me, not being malicious or nothin', I just don't think she expected it. Anyway, that's one'a my most treasured memories."

"It's an honour that you shared it with me, then," I told him, stroking my hand across the top of his thigh. He put his hand over mine, stilling it and squeezing my fingers. “I’m glad that you have those memories.”

“Me too. If memories is all I have, I’m grateful for ‘em,” he told me. I glanced over towards Pearson, checking his view of us was obscured before I leaned across and kissed Arthur’s cheek.

He caught me before I moved back, capturing my lips in a true kiss, one that was quick and risky but just as sweet as they always were. When it ended, we remained close, sharing breath between us and enjoying the moment, despite pushing our luck.

“Been thinkin’ about the other night, a lot,” he whispered. Tone timid, yet there was a look in his eyes that smouldered and dared. I pressed my lips together, letting my eyes drop to his mouth. “Can barely believe my luck.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” I exhaled a laugh, a sharp shake of my head. Arthur smiled, licking his lips, tongue just barely ghosting over mine and making my breath stutter. “I ain’t quite sure what you mean by that.”

“Lady like you? And it's me who gets to see her like that?”

“Shhh,” I said softly, shaking my head. “You don't need to flatter me, Arthur, you’ve already got me.”

“I’m doin’ no such thing. I mean it, I sure ain’t done anything deserving of this good fortune, you know my life,” he told me through a breathy laugh. I leaned away from him, shaking my head again with a tut.

“Well, you better wrap your head around it, or get used to it, or something. I don't plan on that being a one off.”

“Oh?” the sound was playful, musical even.

“Mhm,” I nodded, keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me, fire igniting in my belly and, of course, my face. Arthur hummed softly, fingers reaching to brush some of my hair back. He came close and hovered there, mouth inches from my neck.

Footsteps, light but graceless, scuffing to a stop just a little way away. Arthur’s head snapped up to their owner, and I gingerly took a peek to my left. It was the feller Mary-Beth had been mingling with a fair bit, Kieran. My conversations with him had been few and far between, mostly small talk when we were both tending to the horses; but he seemed like a nice enough guy. Always really timid, though, especially then. His eyes were locked on Arthur’s and he looked ready to wet himself.

“Mind your goddamn business, O’Driscoll. And keep your mouth shut,” Arthur’s voice was dark, gruff and downright chilling. I hadn’t heard anything close to it since the first time I’d seen him at Horseshoe Overlook, and he’d been yelling at Strauss. It rose goosebumps on my arms and made me feel something in the pit of my gut that would’ve been fear if it was directed at me, instead it was a sort of exhilaration.

Kieran visibly gulped before giving a jerky nod and carrying on his way. I had no idea what the issue between the two men – well, between Kieran and most of the camp – was. It wasn't the best time to ask, however.

Arthur sighed loudly and leaned away from me. I couldn't help but let a small giggle escape, prompting a quizzical look from him.

“We’re not doing well with the whole ‘keeping this to ourselves’ thing, are we?” I said. Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face, releasing a tenuous groan. “Which reminds me. Abigail knows,” I added through another laugh.

“I don’t mind you telling your friends,” he shrugged.

“It wasn't me,” I gave him a look and his expression soured when the penny dropped.

“Dumb as rocks, no good, little bastard–”

“Hey, come on. Don't be like that.”

“Sticking his oar in–”

“Arthur,” I said sharply, capturing his attention. “Just remember he saved my life.”

“‘Bout the only useful thing he’s done since he dragged his scrawny ass back to us.”

“You don't hate him that bad,” I cocked my head and Arthur shrugged indifferently.

“Anyway,” I said suddenly, changing the subject. I presented my sketchbook to him, dropping it in his lap. “Couple pages in, I drew your boy.”

“You did?” he seemed surprised, opening up the sketchbook and flicking through to the drawing in question. He beamed when he saw it, face breaking into an unrestrained smile. It made my heart thump “Look at that,” he chuckled.

“You like it?”

“You did a fine job on this, of course I like it. Y’ should be proud of yourself,” he patted me on the thigh, began rubbing up and down. “Thank you, princess.”

“You’re most welcome,” I said, preening under his praise just a little.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his name met my ears from across camp. His hand froze its subtle movement and he looked over his shoulder. A newly risen Dutch was shouting him. He let out a little breath then looked back down at the drawing.

“I better go see what he wants,” he told me, eyes still roaming over the drawing of Jet, thumb kneading the edge of my thigh. “You going out with the girls tonight, that thing John was on about?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I reckon so,” I nodded. “Are you coming?”

“Ahh, no. I think it's best I avoid that place, last time I was there, Hosea and I caused a little trouble,” he admitted sheepishly, and I didn't ask. “Anyway, you be careful,” he said, giving my thigh one last squeeze.

“I will,” I smiled, seeing him mirror it before he was heading off to see Dutch.

Rhodes Parlour House was as pleasant as I remembered it being from the few times I’d been there before. The place was clean and nicely decorated, crisp white table cloths and ornate furniture, a lovely curved staircase dominating the room, a polished bar at the back. Anyone would think we were somewhere like Saint Denis. The place was busy, the piano being played to grace the patrons with a lively tune, men were packed around the bar, others were taking up the tables. Women roamed the place too, but it seemed as though they were looking to make a dollar rather than spend one.

Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly mingled with the patrons in their own ways; Karen was going solo while the others teamed up together. I was still sat with John, observing as the two of us sat opposite one another in a booth by the entrance. He'd been approached by three different prostitutes, now, prowling like kittens to try and coax him upstairs, and for once I found myself reveling in a perk of being female. Though, I didn't get off completely scot-free, the third of the women eyed me in a way that turned my face cherry pink and made John burst into fits of laughter. Perhaps it was something in my decision to wear pants that evening, despite the other womens' confusion at the choice.

I'd told them that desirability wouldn't benefit my plan.

The plan I'd told John all about, explaining that it'd require his assistance. He'd been more than happy to oblige, and now all we needed to do was wait for the right time and the right mark. Lucky for us, a man walked through the doors, dressed to the nines, a lady at least half his age hanging off his arm; fat guy with a perfectly curled moustache, cream coloured suit and a top hat. He looked like money, walked with his gut puffed out a mile ahead of him, and he was sliding into the booth behind us. I shot John a look and he nodded, and I pulled out what was hiding in my satchel. A piece of cloth wrapped around a tiny rock.

"Alright," I said, not keeping my voice down. "I think I've waited long enough. Do you have my money?"

"Show me the goods, first, then we'll talk money," he replied, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. I saw the man, who was sitting in the space behind John, turn his head at the mention of the word.

"I showed you. My money, sir," I pressed through gritted teeth, and John sighed heavily.

"I want another look. Gotta make sure I'm getting the real deal, here," he countered and with a tense sigh I pushed the cloth bundle towards him.

"Alright, one more look, but we agreed a price last week. Remember that," I warned. John unfurled the cloth carefully. He stared down at the small, sandy chip of rock I'd picked up from the edge of Flat Iron Lake, carefully selected, even had little polished parts that shined in the light. It wasn't great, but it'd be good enough for someone with an untrained eye and under the bar's dim light.

John picked it up and held it up to the light, arm stretching out of the booth as he made a show of inspecting it. All the while I could see the guy in the seat behind him taking curious peeks over his shoulder. John made a humming sound, and sucked on his bottom lip for a while, making me wait for some kind of response.

"A hundred," he finally muttered.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. "We agreed on two. And I know damn well even that's generous."

"I'm sorry? Who's the expert?" John snorted, putting the stone back down on the cloth and cocking a brow at me.

"I don't care to listen about your education again, sir. Two hundred," I smacked a hand on the table, and the mark finally made his move, slinking out of the booth.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I can't help but overhear your conversation. This feller trying to go back on a done deal?" He questioned, leaning his palm on the table, back to John, effectively cutting him out.

"Damn right he is," I hissed, jabbing a finger in John's direction in disgust.

"Maybe I can be of assistance? I'm somewhat of a businessman myself," he said proudly.

"I don't know. I doubt you'll know much about it, unless you're a gemstone expert," I shrugged, shifting in my seat and reaching under the triangle created by his arm and his body to fetch back the rock.

"I ain't an expert in gemstones, but I don't need to be to help you two figure out a good deal. For a cut, of course," he smirked, straightening up again. "What'chu got here?"

I paused for a while, not wanting to appear too eager. I sighed, finally answering; "Australian opal. Mined it myself, this is the last of my lot. Trouble is, I come back to the US for a family matter and I've got every man and his dog trying to swindle me out of a fair deal. This feller's the third."

"Opal? Huh. That dull thing?"

"It's unpolished, of course. They don't come out the ground wrapped in gold ready to go on a lady's finger, you know," I narrowed my eyes at him and he nodded thoughtfully. He picked it up, and I flinched for show. He eyed up my reaction, then put it back down.

"Two hundred, you settled on? What's the issue?" He turned to John.

"No issue, friend. Just doing business. I'm sure you understand, being a businessman yourself," John shrugged. The man looked him up and down.

"You don't look like the type to be walking around with two hundred dollars in your back pocket," he sneered and John snorted, shaking his head.

"How'd you think I manage to keep it there? Feller like you, flaunting it, surprised someone ain't tried robbing you yet," John retaliated, and I very nearly laughed. The man hummed, considering his point. "Anyway, no one asked you. Get out of here. Best I can do is one-fifty, ma'am. Take it or leave it."

"I sold chips half this size in Saint Denis for three hundred. I ain't taking no less than two hundred," I wrapped up the stone and pocketed it.

"Thought you needed fast money," John said, leaning his elbows on the table. The man stayed put, watching the exchange.

"Not that fast, I ain't willing to get totally ripped off. Two hundred."

"You keep saying that, ain't gonna make the money appear," he laughed, shaking his head at me. I narrowed my eyes.

"I've got fifty dollars on me, should be buying my wife a fancy new frock from Saint Denis tomorrow, but she can wait. Also got a pocket watch worth a hundred or more depending on who you sell it to. Can give you the name of a feller, a collector, he'll pay top dollar," the man suddenly butted in. My belly squeezed in excitement.

"Didn't I tell you to get out of here? This ain't your deal," John stood up, meeting the guy at eye level.

"Hang on, that don't sound too bad," I pondered aloud, staring ahead and pursing my lips.

"We shook hands," John spun towards me, brow mashing down angrily. I laughed maliciously.

"Yeah, we did. At two hundred," I purred, enjoying the way the man glanced between us, eating up every word. John gnawed on his bottom lip for a while, leaning down to my level.

"I ain't got that much on me right now. I can do one-seventy," he told me under his breath, but loud enough for the man to hear it.

"I'll throw in my wife's necklace. Gold. Gotta be worth something, right?" Came his bid.

"Hey, like hell you will!" His wife yelled from the other booth.

"I'll buy you a new one, sweetheart," he called back.

"Stay the hell out of it!" John spat in his face, but the man was ignoring him, his eyes set on me. I hummed, pursing my lips and looking up to the ceiling.

"Seventy-five, the watch, plus my wife's necklace. You could get, what, at least three hundred out of all that?" He offered, forehead shiny, hands fidgety. I levelled my gaze to his, kept him on his toes for a few long seconds, then offered my hand to him. He grinned and shook it.

"Fuck you!" John yelled, storming out of the booth, his shoulder smacking into the guy as he stomped towards the bar. He only laughed, glanced at his wife in time to have a necklace thrown at him, then gathered together my items.

We made the exchange, tucked away our goods, and bid each other a pleasant evening. I sat back in the booth, draining my bottle of beer and smiling to myself, pleased as Punch.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #John Marston #atink #reader insert

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 years ago

Text

House Call

A JSE Fanfic

Switch AU

Writing for the same AU two weeks in a row isn’t something I normally do, but I feel like this AU needs it because, well, I haven’t formally introduced all the characters yet. So, as a follow-up to the last thing I wrote, here’s this thing! Wherein some of the boys meet each other, and some more characters are introduced!

Jackie didn’t consider himself smart. Sure, he was able to get through medical school easily enough, but he wasn’t a surgeon or a specialist or anything complicated, just a general practitioner. That didn’t require too much book smarts to become, did it? And besides, there were plenty of areas where he had no idea what he was doing. That became evident when he tried to use Rama’s computer to play a video and ended up somehow entirely breaking the thing. He tried for half an hour to figure out what happened before giving in and calling a friend.

“So, uh...” Jackie bounced nervously, standing next to the desk in the study. “Is it, like, completely useless now, or...?”

The guy sitting at the desktop computer didn’t look up at him. He didn’t look like what most people imagined programmers to be like. He wore a black jacket and ripped black jeans, and his brown hair had a streak of green and a streak of black running through it. His eyes were two different colors: green on his right and blue on his left. “Yeah, completely useless,” he said casually. “You broke it all.”

“What?! You can’t be serious!”

“Dead serious. Gonna have to scrap the whole CPU.”

“But Rama has so much saved on here! We can’t just throw it all out! So much of their work is gonna go to waste—wait a second.” Jackie’s eyes narrowed. It seemed the programmer was biting back a smile. Jackie scowled, giving him a hearty shove. “Oh, very funny, Anti. Congratulations, you gave me a heart attack.”

“How many times are you gonna fall for that?” Anti asked through laughter.

“Well, it looks like every time at this point. Now give me the actual news.”

Anti calmed down, reentering his serious mode. “I dunno how it happened, but you somehow caught a virus on here. Not seriously harmful, but still nasty. Gimme a few more minutes, I should be able to root it out. Hopefully it hasn’t corrupted anything beside your browser, gonna have to reinstall that.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess?” At least it was salvageable. “Do you...need anything?”

“Uh...” Anti looked over to where Jackie was hovering over his shoulder. “I need you to stop being a fucking helicopter.”

Jackie leaned back, taking a few steps away. “Alright, calm your boots. I’ll just go stand in the corner, Blair Witch style. Don’t mind m—”

His snarky remark was cut off once he felt a vibration in his hoodie pocket. He dug around inside and pulled out his phone, a number he didn’t recognize onscreen. He frowned, then tentatively accepted the call. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. Until: “Hello! You wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Parker, would you?”

“This is him.” Jackie absolutely did not recognize the faintly posh British voice, yet it somehow sounded familiar. Maybe it reminded him of one of his friends’ voices.

Anti leaned back in the study’s swivel chair. “Hey, you mind taking that outside? Concentration, and all.”

Jackie made an okay sign, then left the study, leaning against the wall in the hallway outside. While he was moving, the person on the other side continued to talk. “Right. Um, my name is Jameson Jackson. I don’t know if he told you about me, but, uh, I got this number from a friend of yours. He told me to call you if we were ever in need of a doctor.”

“Wait, you’re the guy who Volt saw do real magic, right?” The incident had happened about a week and a half ago, and ever since then, Schneep would not stop bringing it up. As to be expected, when you discovered that something you thought was impossible was, in fact, possible. “I saw the whole thing on the news, too. Isn’t your stage name, like, Jazzy, or something like that?”

That prompted a sudden burst of laughter on the other end. “Jazzy!” Jameson repeated lightly. “Maybe I should have used that. No, it’s actually the Jaunty Jackson. Adjectives starting with J are scarce.”

“I see,” Jackie nodded. “So, what’s the problem? I mean, you wouldn’t be calling a number that a superhero gave you and told you it was for a doctor if you didn’t need...well, a doctor.”

“Oh, right, the problem. Well you see—” Jameson suddenly stopped. Jackie could faintly hear another voice on the other end, sounding a bit snappish. Then Jameson’s voice said something, sounding like he’d covered the phone with his hand. Jackie thought it was along the lines of “Shut your mouth and let me help you.” Then, Jameson returned. “Sorry about that. Anyway, the problem is that a friend of mine has had a bit of an...issue, a health issue, for a long time. It hasn’t really been looked at, but I thought that, since today is one of the bad ones, that it was about time we got around to that. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“No, of course not.” Jackie was already mentally reviewing the possibilities. “I’m not in my office right now, but can you come over here if I give you my address?”

“Oh. You can’t...come over here?”

“I mean, technically I could. But my spouse is out for once and they’d kill me if I left our daughter without supervision.” Anti didn’t count. He could leave at any minute.

On the other end of the line, there was what sounded like a discussion. A few moments passed. “Alright, where’s your address?” Jameson finally asked. Upon Jackie giving it to him, he said, “Oh good, that’s pretty close. We’ll be there in...hmm, fifteen minutes.”

“Alright. Just ring the doorbell, I’ll answer.”

“Understood. Thank you very much, Dr. Parker.”

“Eh, just call me Jackie. Everyone does. And no problem.”

“Thank you very much, Jackie. We’ll be there soon.” And with that, he hung up.

At that moment, two small children raced past Jackie, screaming. One of them, a taller boy with curly red hair and freckles, attached himself to Jackie’s leg. “Uncle Jackie, help!” he said. “She’s prosecuting me!”

The other child, a younger girl with black hair and eyes, skidded to a halt and whirled around, making the blanket tied around her neck fly in a nice whoosh. “I’m no-ot!” she yelled. “Dad, he stole the treasure of the Bed Plateau! He needs to pay for his crimes! In the Bedroom jail!”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, I can’t help a thief. But I don’t see any treasure. Are you sure you’re not persecuting him, Michelle?”

Michelle stomped her foot. “It’s in his pocket!”

“No, it’s not! You don’t know that!” The boy said, still holding on to Jackie’s leg.

“Well, Will,” Jackie said patiently. “I guess I have to ask you to...turn out your pockets! Show me you don’t have anything to hide!”

Will froze for a moment, then shoved himself away from Jackie and resumed his sprinting, shouting “You’ll never take me aliiiiiiive!”

“Face justice!” Michelle shouted, running after him.

Jackie shook his head, smiling, then peeked back into the study. Anti was still glued to the computer screen, now frowning. “Hey, how’s it goin’ in here?”

“Worse than I thought it would be,” Anti replied, clicking through files on the desktop. “This is gonna take...a lot longer than I thought. Might be here for a while.”

“Okay. But just to let you know, some people are coming over in a bit under fifteen minutes.”

“Really?” The word was half surprise, half groan. “Who? Some of Rama’s friends? Repair people?”

“Well, remember those two guys who Volt gave my phone number to for if they ever needed help? One of them just called me.”

“The magician and his assistant. Got it. Tell me when they leave.”

Jackie sighed. “You need more than two people to talk to, Anti.”

“Does Will count?” Anti glanced away from the screen for the first time. “How’s he doin’, by the way? Playing nice with Michelle?”

“He just stole her Beanie Baby,” Jackie said. “But I think that’s so Michelle can play defender of the bedroom. Nice of him.”

“Good.” Anti turned back to the computer. “Can you, uh, make sure neither of them get hurt while I work on this?”

“Of course, dude. I’ll shout for you if anything bad happens.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two kids had stopped playing defender of the bedroom and were now spread out on the living room carpet, surrounded by markers and crayons and doodling on pads of paper. Jackie was lying on the sofa, watching. And then the doorbell rang and he went on high alert. “I think that’s the visitors I told you about,” he said to the kids, standing up. “You two want to go somewhere else or stay?”

“We’ll go in the dining room,” Will said, already gathering the drawing materials. “Finish in there. Michelle, are you okay with that or do you want to stay?”

“Uh-huh! It’s hard to draw on carpet anyway. Let’s go.” And the two of them left.

“Don’t forget to listen and ask for me if anything’s wrong! And don’t jump off the table again!” That would very much lead to one of them getting hurt. Jackie sighed. Maybe he should’ve kept them in here, but too late now. He sighed, and made his way over to the front door, swinging it open. “Hello! You must be Mr. Jackson and his friend, right? Come in, come in.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s us, thank you.” The pair of them walked right inside. Even though Schneep had given Jackie descriptions of them after the incident at the theatre, he still took a moment to examine them. The one who’d spoken was dressed in a purple button-down shirt, and had a thick black mustache. The other one was wearing a brown jacket and vest, like he’d stepped out of another era, and was carrying a wooden cane. The latter was leaning heavily on the former (and trying his best to look like he wasn’t), and the moment the two of them were inside they made a beeline for the couch. The one in the jacket immediately sat down with a faint expression of relief.

“Right, well, I’m Jameson, as you probably recognize from my voice,” said the one still standing. “And this is Marvin.”

“Pleasure t’meet ya,” Marvin said, nodding. He held out a hand.

“Nice to meet you too.” Jackie shook the offered hand. “Can I get you anything?”

Both of them shook their heads in unison.

“Alright. So. What’s the problem?”

Marvin scowled. “It’s not a problem, per se.”

“Yes it is,” Jameson muttered.

“Jems, lemme speak f’r myself, thank you.” Marvin turned his attention back to Jackie. “Y’see, when I was a little lad, I got very sick. I recovered, obviously, but not without some...after effects.”

“Ah.” Jackie sat down in the nearest armchair. Meanwhile, Jameson took a seat next to Marvin on the sofa. “Like what?”

Marvin folded his arms. “Bas’clly, me legs weren’t ever the same again. Walking can be...difficult.”

“How so? Does it hurt, or does it just take a lot of effort?”

“The second one. The more I stand and walk, the harder it gets. And It changes ev’ry so often, some days bein’ worse than others. But it’s nothin’ I can’ handle. Jems is just overreactin’.”

“Yes, exactly, I was overreacting when I found you sprawled in the middle of the upstairs hallway, claiming you were just ‘taking a break,’” Jameson drawled.

“Yes, you were.”

“And I was overreacting when you had to call me to help you down the stairs, then stumbled into the front room and immediately sat down without eating breakfast or anything, which is an important part of your daily routine.”

“Yep.”

“And I was overreacting when I had to support you getting into the car, then practically pull you up the path to this front door.”

“Exactly,” Marvin nodded resolutely.

Jameson threw his hands up into the air. “Dr. Parker. Jackie. In your professional opinion, is this a problem?”

Jackie pursed his lips. “Most people would consider it one.”

“Look, I’ve had worse days,” Marvin waved it off. “If I can still walk, it’s fine. And last time we tried to go to one of these doctors, they tried to put me in a wheeled chair, which I def’nitely don’ need.”

“I wasn’t about to say that you do,” Jackie said calmly. “Look, you sound like you’re doing okay for the most part. But if, maybe, I could help you make things a little easier, would you listen?”

Marvin looked over at Jameson, who was giving him a pointed look. “...prob’ly,” he mumbled.

“Alright. Well then, first things first, do you remember what got you sick as a kid? I need to know so I can get a general idea of what’s up.”

“Oh. Yeah, I remember it.”

The moment Marvin told him, Jackie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.” Marvin gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“There hasn’t been a case of that in thirty years.”

“Oh.” Marvin and Jameson exchanged looks again. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s been basically wiped out. You’re sure that’s what it was?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Marvin sighed, already sounding exhausted.

“Alright.” Jackie decided to store this information away for a later date. It wasn’t the point right now. But later, he was one hundred percent going to call these two again and talk about how, exactly, that could have happened. “Well, I guess we’re moving on. Now, I guess the number one question is to ask you what you want to be able to do. And if there’s anything that you definitely don’t want to happen. Obviously, you already talked about the wheelchair scenario, but is there anything else?”

Marvin narrowed his eyes, obviously suspicious. “Really? T'at’s it?”

Jackie shrugged. “I mean, I could technically tell you what you should be doing, but a lot of times doctors that just tell don’t really take into account the patient’s wishes. And especially in cases like this, dealing with chronic pain and fatigue, they try their best to fix everything through any means, and they don’t really think about maybe some things can’t be fixed. So, tell me what you want to happen and I’ll give you advice on how to accomplish it.”

Marvin whistled, and put his chin in his hands. “Well...Jems has his shows. I wouldn’ mind bein’ able to...the last show I was backstage for the first time, and they don’ have anyplace to sit there. I was lucky it was a better day, but...you get what I’m gettin’ at, yes?”

The whole visit didn’t take any longer than ten minutes. Ten minutes of just talking, with Marvin listing things that had bothered him and Jackie offering ways to make doing those things just a little bit easier. Jameson watched the whole thing, sort of in awe at what was happening. He hadn’t seen Marvin this open with someone else in...well, in all the time he’d known him. Sure, he was still doing his stubborn thing and insisting he could handle some things that JJ wasn’t sure he actually could, but the fact that he was listening was already an improvement. There must’ve been something about Jackie’s casual attitude and clear willingness to help that was helping him put his guard down.

“Is there anything else?” Jackie finally asked.

“No, I t’ink t’at’s all,” Marvin replied. JJ wasn’t sure he was being honest about that, but there’d already been a lot of sharing, and maybe he was starting to reach his limit. Now the question was just how much of the advice he was actually going to listen to and how much he was going to discard in favor of “I can do it, see?”

“Hey, Jackie, I finally fixed the—oh.” Another man had walked into the front room from deeper into the house, then instantly stopped in his tracks the moment he saw there were still other people in the front room.

“...oh, that’s good to hear,” Jackie said, breaking the long, awkward pause. “Um, Anti, this is Jameson and Marvin. I told you they were coming, remember?”

“Yyyeah,” Anti said slowly. “Hey, where are the kids?”

“In the dining room.”

“I’ll go check on them. Will and I need to leave soon anyway.” He turned and quickly walked right back out.

Jameson stared at the spot he’d been standing, then looked right back at Jackie. “What...who was that?”

“Oh, that was Anti,” Jackie explained. “He’s a friend of mine. Good with computers, so when ours broke, I called him over to see if he could fix it. Apparently he just did.”

“He’s a...bit strange, isn’t he?” Marvin asked. “With t’at unusual name, and the hair and eye color.”

“Well, he dyes his hair, and he has heterochromia, meaning he was born with two differently colored eyes. But Anti isn’t his name.”

“Really?” JJ asked. “Do you mind if I ask what the story is behind that, then? Or what his name is?”

“I mean, your guess is as good as mine,” Jackie shrugged. “I literally don’t think anyone knows what his name actually is. He’s insanely secretive about it, which only leads to more speculation, of course. He calls himself Anti ‘cause the name of his channel is antisepticeye.”

“His what?” Marvin repeated.

“Y’know, his YouTube channel. He does let’s plays and walkthroughs, usually a lot of horror games. Sometimes he’ll throw a comedy bit in there. You should check it out, it’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe we will,” JJ said. Marvin didn’t look so sure.

Anti reentered the front room, the two kids trailing behind him, holding their drawings and the supplies. “Well, we were about to leave,” he said, “but Will and Michelle wanted to show off their artwork.”

“Dad!” Michelle bounced forward, hoisting herself up onto Jackie’s lap. “Look! I chron’cled our adventures today!” She started showing off the pieces of paper, decorated in crayon.

“Wow, sweetie,” Jackie said, impressed. “They look really good! I guess we have more for the archives, don’t we?” That was what it was called when Michelle’s drawings ended up on the fridge.

Michelle beamed, then caught sight of Marvin and Jackie sitting on the sofa. “Oh! These are your new friends, right, Dad?” she asked. “Hi! I’m Michelle. Do you want to see my adventures?”

“Adventures? Why, yes, I would!” JJ said excitedly. “What sort of adventures are they?”

“I’ll show you!” Michelle bounded over to the sofa, managing to squeeze in right in between the two of them. She looked up at Will. “C’mon, don’t just stand there! Show Dad and Uncle Anti what you did too!”

“Oh.” Will shuffled his papers. “Well, I didn’t draw anything we did today. Just a lot of stuff that I thought was cool.”

Anti smiled for the first time that day. “More dinosaurs?”

“Yeah. A couple of them are.” He handed the drawings to Anti. “Like, there’s the one with the brontosaurus family that I really liked. But there’s a lot that are just stuff I saw.”

Anti flipped through the drawings. “Did you draw the shop we saw on the way here? That’s very good! Really looks like it.” His smile faded a bit when he reached the last drawing. “Wait, what’s this one?”

“What one?” Will poked up on tiptoes to see which picture Anti had come to. “Oh, that one. I had a weird dream last night. I woke up and saw someone in my room. We talked for a long time, and then I went back to sleep, and when I woke up he was gone.”

“...huh. Jackie, look at this.”

He passed the last picture over to Jackie, whose brows flew up into the air upon seeing it. “Will,” he said softly. “It wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

“No, I wasn’t scared.”

“Are you sure? This looks kind of scary.”

“But he wasn’t scary. He was pretty nice, and he looked really happy. Or, I remember him looking happy a lot, I think.”

“Hey, can I see t’at?” Marvin didn’t know why the words had popped out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure he said them until everyone looked his way.

Will shrugged. “Sure.” He took the drawing back from Jackie, then padded over and handed it to Marvin.

The drawing was of a stick figure drawn in gray marker, with squares standing in for clothes and shoes. Darker gray scribbles were done in marker over the stick figure’s head. On top of the scribbles, two black circle eyes and a curved smile mouth were drawn in crayon. The figure also appeared to be crying, but red crayon had been used for the tears. The background was various strokes and sketches done in black and gray crayon.

JJ leaned over to see the drawing. “That’s...a little unusual,” he said slowly. “But I suppose dreams are a little bit weird.”

“...t’s familiar,” Marvin muttered.

“What?”

“I said...never mind.” Marvin rubbed the back of his neck, where all the hairs had suddenly stood up. “I t’ink...maybe I had a dream like t’is once.” He was sure that wasn’t the answer. This felt almost like a memory he’d forgotten. But when would he have seen something like this? Sure, he’d grown used to seeing strange things ever since he’d moved in with a magician, but nothing even close to this. It was probably just his imagination.

Jameson narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t buying this one bit. But this wasn’t the time to get into it. “We can talk about it later,” he muttered.

Jackie and Anti, who’d been quietly talking among themselves, suddenly broke off. “Well, if you don’t need anything else to be fixed or hacked, I think it’s time for us to go,” Anti said. “Will still has homework.”

“It’s just math.” Will made a face. “I’m ahead in that.”

“But do you want to stop being ahead in that? No. But at least it’s only one worksheet, and maybe we can...I dunno, get something special afterwards? It’s close to the end of the school year, after all.”

Will’s eyes lit up. “Alright, then!” He gathered up his drawings. “Bye Michelle.”

Michelle hopped down and gave Will a quick hug. “Bye, Will! I’m gonna put these in the archives now.” And with a skip, she rushed off to the kitchen.

“Oh hey, we’re still meeting at Schneep’s this Saturday, right?” Anti asked.

“Uh, unless he suddenly gets...‘injured on the job,’ yeah,” Jackie nodded. “In fact I was thinking...we could have even more people meet us there.”

“Really?” Anti folded his arms. “Who?”

Jackie’s eyes flicked over to where JJ and Marvin were still sitting on the couch. “Oh no,” JJ said. “No, we couldn’t possibly—this sounds like it’s your thing, we shouldn’t interfere with that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jackie shrugged, adjusting his glasses. “It’s always good to meet more people. And besides, Anti needs more friends.”

“Wh—no, I don’t, I’m fine,” Anti insisted.

Jackie sighed. He looked over at JJ. “You know, sometimes I think he likes to be called Anti because he’s antisocial.”

“That wasn’t funny the first fifty times.”

“I mean...it woul’ be nice t’get outta the house,” Marvin said slowly. “Haven’ done t’at in a while.”

“So then, you should come!” Jackie said eagerly. “Get to know Schneep better, he’ll be happy to see you. He’s got a bit of a...shocking personality, though.”

Anti rolled his eyes.

JJ bit his lip, thinking, then shrugged. “Alright. If you insist it wouldn’t be...intrusive in any way, we’ll come.”

“Yes!” Jackie smiled. “I promise you won’t regret it.” He turned to Anti. “And you won’t either. You’ll see.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll consider it,” Anti scowled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Will has been tugging on my jacket for the last minute, trying to get me to leave.”

Will self-consciously dropped his hand. “You talk a lot,” he said defensively.

“You’ll talk a lot when you’re a grown-up too. But don’t worry, we’re going now.” Anti opened the front door, turning around for one last goodbye. “See you later, Jackie.”

“See you, Anti. Remember: Saturday!”

“Yeah, I got it.” The door swung closed again.”

Jackie turned to JJ and Marvin. “Are you two ready to leave now too? Or would you like to stay some more?”

Marvin pushed to his feet, leaning on his cane. “I t’ink I’m ready to go now. Ah...thank you...for your help, doctor.”

“Jackie, remember. And it was no problem, I was glad to help. Need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine,” Marvin said.

JJ stood up. “Thank you for having us, Jackie.”

“You know, I’m still going to say no problem.” A smile quirked at the edge of Jackie’s mouth. “I’ll text you to remind you about the plan for Saturday. Give you the address. Oh, and lemme get the door for you right now.” Jackie reopened the door that Anti had previously closed.

“Thanks,” JJ said. “C’mon, Marvin. Goodbye, Jackie!”

“Goodbye you two! See you later!”

The moment the door had closed behind them and they were once again outside, JJ turned to Marvin. “What do you think? Good visit?”

Marvin considered this. “It was...certainly more helpful than I t’ought it woul’ be.” He paused. “Jems, would you...mind if I leaned on you for a bit?”

JJ smiled. “Not at all, Marvin.”

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jackieboy man #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #septicswitchau #brigid writes fanfiction #dr. jackie parker #programmer anti #the jaunty jackson #1920s marvin

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skeletorific · 6 years ago

Text

Ko-fi and Kisses Matchup Drabble: Something’s Brewing: UT!Sans/Fem!Reader

Back to the street where we began

Feeling as good as lovers can

You know

Yeah we’re feeling so good...

The end of Jen’s pencil bobbed a little bit to the piano chords ringing out of her headphones. The music drowned out the noise of the cafe that surrounded her table.

She’d been coming here for a few weeks now after getting hooked on their hot chocolate. Normally she wasn’t much for coffee but her friend had recommended this place to her. To her surprise, their non-coffee menu was surprisingly extensive and their pastries were better than the usual dry biscotti-and-maybe-a-bagel affair of most places. The staff was friendly, but not overly so, leaving her in peace to doodle or work on her laptop. She found herself spending at least a couple hours there a week. Which was odd, normally she hated being in public when she didn’t have to be. But the cafe was....peaceful.

Which is why the sudden tap on her shoulder felt so jolting.

She instinctively gripped her headphones and whirled to tell off whoever had felt bold enough to intrude on someone innocently minding their own business, only to nearly get a faceful of her drink. The skeleton monster holding it backed off a few paces, holding up his hands apologetically. “Whoa, whoa, easy kid.”

It took you a second to process what she was seeing before she relaxed. “I’m so sorry, i-”

He shook his head, grinning faintly as he set the cup down. “Didn’t mean to startle ya, just finished your drink. Don’t think you could hear me calling your name, so I thought a little hand delivery might be nice. Probably coulda thought that one through.”

She sighed, pulling out one headphone. Should’ve done that in the first place, she tended to zone out, and the music certainly didn’t help. “Thank you...” She didn’t know the names of all the staff yet and were forced to check the nametag, pinned carelessly onto the blue sweatshirt he wore. “Sans”

“Don’t mention it. Least I can do for the new regular.”

she smiled, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Guess that’s what I am now, huh.”

“No bones about it.”

She nearly snorted out her cocoa in surprise, which made a grin spread over the shorter skeleton’s face.

“U-um” She said, cheeks bright red as she tried to subtly wipe her face. “Yup! No bones!”

“you doin alright there?” His grin only widened at her efforts to save face.

She chuckled again, finally getting the last of it off with a napkin. “Fine, except for my pride. You caught me. I’m a closet pun lover.”

“Good to know I'm not the only one around here.”

She turned to look at him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“been taking a few days off. Between you and me, this job can be a latte”

She snorted again but wisely kept her face out of the coffee.

“but I’ve seen you a couple times. Back when you first started coming. Jen, right?”

“Um..yes.”

“Yeah, thought so. My bro’s here most mornings, he mentioned you.”

“All good things, I hope?” She said, slightly flustered at the thought of being noticed and discussed.

“He and the boss are slightly concerned you’re gonna be opening up an art studio or a therapist’s office in this corner, but other than that, he’s a fan.”

“Oh, gosh, am I really here that much?”

He waved off the concern. “Nah. my bro’s just a chronic spy and likes to get familiar with the customers. Somethin about better service. Edge is just nosey.”

“Well....art studio might not be far off.” She said, glancing at the doodles in her sketchbooks.

Sans glanced at them. “They’re good.”

“Uh...thanks” she said, shifting her arm a bit to cover them. Shyness, modesty, who knew. She tried to laugh it off “Anime eyes, really breaking new artistic ground there.”

“You seen my handwriting? I’m impressed by anyone who can manage to draw a straight line.”

She couldn’t help a shy grin. “But, uh....therapist’s office?”

“He said ya usually have a friend with you or are calling someone and you get them venting about their life problems. Talk em through it.”

“Oh, well that’s-” She flushed. “That’s nothing”

“I think its cool.” He said, leaning slightly against the wall and grinning. “Cool thing to do for someone.”

“....oh.”

He was kinda cute....Mind racing she scrambled for a joke. “Well, what can I say....I like it when someone feels comfortable enough to....espresso their feelings”

Silence. And then....he burst out laughing.

It was a good laugh.

Jen wasn’t much for idle chatter. In general, she preferred the quiet. But...something about this cornball of a skeleton just made things feel easy. He was funny, charming even, in a sort of laid-back way. They traded jokes, swapped anecdotes from work. Somehow he even got her talking a bit about her personal like (although he seemed reticent to open up himself). Jen was used to being the one who listened to other people, who tried to help others. And while she didn’t resent that....it was kinda nice being on the receiving end of attention, for once.

Before she knew it, nearly two hours had passed. He was seated across from her

“...so long story short the kitchen is on fire-”

“How did he manage that with pasta?!”

“Million dollar question. Anyways-”

“yo, shithead.” The grouchy voice came from behind them, making her turn her head. Another skeleton, similar to Sans but with sharper teeth and a black jacket, was scowling at her conversation partner over her head.

“hello to you too, red” Sans said. Clearly a bit irritated.

“here to swap you out. Definitely seems like you’re hard at work.” He said, pointedly glancing at her.

“...right. Uh....yeah.” He took his apron off at chucked it at him. Red grumbled and went behind the counter.

“Man, what time is it...” She checked her phone and her eyes widened. “....shit, I should go.” Much as she was enjoying herself, she’d been here much longer than she intended to and she still had things to do at home.”

Sans sighed. “Yeah. me too. Lotta napping to do at home.” He got to his feet. “See you around though?”

Was she wrong for assuming he sounded...hopeful? She tried to shoo the thought away but there was a slight race in her pulse.

“Well, if you can put up with my motormouth for that long, sure, I’ll come back.”

“I think you’ll find I can take quite a bit.” He winked, and she felt her face coloring again. Curse her uncontrollable expressiveness. “Tomorrow?”

“....yeah. Sure.” she smiled. “But next time, I ask the questions.”

“Its a date then,” He said, strolling away.

....date?!

“...hey!” she called out, stopping him just before he opened the door. He glanced back at her.

“...how does the barista hit on the customer?”

His eyelights brightened fractionally. “How?”

“I’ve been thinking about you a latte.”

He laughed, opening the door and waving goodbye. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

#ko-fi and kisses #skelething is broke and doing commissions #undertale #sans #sans x reader #matchup #long post

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dreammutual-remade · 7 years ago

Text

high school!mark

request: highschool!mark if u love me plspls

word count: 5.5k

a/n: lucky that I love u anon hehehehe !!!!! also wOW I didnt mean to make this so god damn long itS REALLY JUST THESE GOD DAMN HIGH SCHOOL AUS IM WEAK FOR THEM OKAY. look at this cutie hOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO RESIST

mark, renjun, jeno, donghyuck, jaemin, chenle, jisung

warnings: the usual intermittent cussing and probably an inappropriate joke or two

this au is my Ultimate Weakness it makes me soft as hell alright

………………….

LETS DIVE IN

okay so your mom has a job that forces your family to move around….. A LOT

and while you’ve gotten used to it for the most part it still sucks having to leave people behind and make completely new friends once every couple of years

this time you’re moving to a new school for your SENIOR YEAR and you’re livid

bc like ??? it’s senior year and you have exactly zero (0) friends since you’re new,,, yet again

you Threw A Fit when you found out but your mom was like shut up you ingrate soon you’ll be in college and won’t even have to worry about it

so you, an ingrate, shut up :/

you move in a month before school starts and the house is nice and your room is cute so that’s a plus !!!!!

you hang up some pictures and organize all your cute little trinkets you’ve collected over the years aw

you’ve even got a lil succulent garden growing on your windowsill

ITS CUTE AS HELL OKAY

alright so you’re gonna go explore around town because you , don’t know where anything is and you wanna find some good spots to hang

you take the bus into the middle of town because who tf is tryna drive themselves amirite ladies

support ur local bus driver

anywhom this isn’t a HUGE town but it’s one of those cute towns where you can pretty much walk anywhere you need to go

(god i wish that were me)

so you spend all day just, walkin

you find a library and pick up some books …….

both for decoration and reading okay

and you find a couple of restaurants and write them down to try later along with some coffee shops and whatnot

eventually you’re tired and prolly a lil sweaty bc it’s summer and you’re outside and ugh

so you find a nice big park and a tree and sit down at the base of it to read and mindlessly sketch things in the margins of your book

whEN OUT OF NOWHERE

someone shouts

“HEY WATCH OUT”

and you look up just in time to dodge a sOCCER BALL HURTLING TOWARDS YOUR FACE

it bounces off the tree and rolls a couple feet away

“uhhhh holy shit” - you

you just kind of sit there astonished for 5 seconds before you get up to get the ball and look around for who saved your LIFE

and there’s boy jogging toward you looking extremely embarrassed

you meet him halfway to hand him the ball and he’s like

“oh mY GOD i’m so sorry i told them to settle down but they never listen to me and jisung just ??? doesn’t know how to not take everything seriously and he lost and got pissed and kicked it and we didn’t even kNOW you were over here and also i’m so sorry”

you smile and tell him it’s fine and hand him the ball

you go to get back to your tree and he’s like hey uh you there uh wait up

god he’s awkward

and you turn around to face him with an expectant look

“so um, what’s your name? i haven’t seen you around here before and like in case i ever gotta make this up to you you know ??”

cute

you tell him your name and stick out your hand to shake and he grabs it very hesitantly and tells you his name is mark

he has , very warm hands and they’re only slightly bigger than yours but that’s still cUTE

MARK HAS BABY HANDS I DARE U TO SAY HE DOESNT

he says he hopes you enjoy your book and he’ll make sure the boys don’t disturb you anymore than they already have

you wave as he goes and he gives you a smile over his shoulder and his cheeks are tinged pink and wOw this boy is a cutie patootie

you go back to your reading but now instead of doodling you’re just writing his name or drawing his big doe eyes or his smooth hands

(((((let’s pretend we’re all good at drawing okay god knows i can’t do much more than a stick figure)))))

the boys leave after an hour or two and you leave pretty soon after then because the sun is setting and you gotta be home for dinner

basically your mom wants to make sure you aren’t kidnapped and/or lost in a new town

which, to be fair, is not that unlikely

you have your headphones in and you’re leaned against the bus window half asleep as you go

bitch wake up youRE GONNA MISS YOUR STOP

it’s the same bus driver who saw you get on and honestly there aren’t a lot of people on the bus so he makes sure you get off

“hey you, girl back there, hEY! this is your stop girly”

you thank him profusely and tip him because uhhhh u gotta get home and like Not Lost

you skip home with your bag of books and miscellaneous items you found at the thrift store!!!

you bought a little figurine of a dragon and she’s beautiful her name is saraphina because why not

that’s completely irrelevant i’m so sorry

i have ADHD

anywhom

you walk in and you’re all like hey momma !!! how goes it !!:3

and your mom is Sus™️ because why are you in such a good mood

and you’re like !!! cause i had a good day okay love u bye i’m going to my rOOM

don’t let her question anymore or else she’ll dig out that you met a Cute Boy

you go to your room and get out all your purchases and organize them while you still have the motivation to do so

and yeah

you use one of the blank notes to start like a lil drawing diary of sorts ???? like just to draw stuff in whenever you’re inspired or you see something pretty

and you definitely saw smth pretty today ;))))))))

hint: ITS MARK

you try to draw him from memory but it doesn’t look quite right and like :(((((( how sad is that what if you don’t even see him again

the rest of the month passes pretty quickly in the same fashion

by now you’ve befriended the bus driver and he tells you all the cool secret nooks and crannies of town for you to go find

he’s also your bff pretty much he always tells you about his daughter and all the cute things she does and you just talk about your life in general and he gives you advice

congrats you’ve unlocked Wise Uncle

he gives you directions to this teeny TINY flower shop where you befriend the old lady who works there by bringing a muffin everytime you go by

she trades you for a seasonal flower and makes a big deal out of tucking it behind your ear herself

basically you find all the cute old people in town and make them your friend because.

THATS CUTE

ADDED BONUS OF LIKE 17 PARENT FIGURES TO GIVE YOU ADVICE

this is accidentally straying into art hoe territory i hope y’all are okay w/ that

school is starting really soon and you’re nervous but also used to this so it doesn’t affect you as bad as normally

also you did meet some people so you aren’t going in with no friends but like, pretty close to no friends

on the first day of school you ride the bus and you see ???? mark ????? on your bus ????????

so you get on and do your daily greeting of the bus driver

his daughter lost her first tooth AW

you fake cry and he says “mood” and you lose it because you’re pushing internet culture onto this unsuspecting middle aged man skdkdkkd

you pat him on the shoulder as you walk back to find a seat but there are none because for some reason the bus is busy this early in the morning ????

you wouldn’t know lmao summer sleep schedule had you up at 10 at the earliest

so you go to stand and hold onto one of the poles in the center

(nearby our boy mark LEE)

mark looks up from his phone

these god damn millennials always on that damn phone

and he sees you and he’s like wHOA what’s up uhhh Soccer Ball Girl

and nice you remembered his name bUT HE DIDNT REMEMBER YOURS

but then he’s like nahhhh just kidding i remember ur name hey y/n !!!

you talk otw to school and find out you’re both seniors at the same school and how you’re excited for sports games and like, GRADUATING

mark keeps trying to offer you his seat but you refuse and he pouts everytime you say no :((((

good god just take the seat look at the sad baby boy :((((((((((((

there is an, occurrence

at one point the bus goes over a bump and you stumble a little and mark reaches up to catch you before you literally fall on him

his hands fly out and grab you by the hips to steady you since he’s sitting and you’re standing and he can’t exactly reach your shoulders sO YEA

or at least that’s his explanation in his head huehuehuehe

his hands linger for MAYBE 10 seconds before he whips them back into his pockets and blushes while you thank him

you: are also blushing

the bus driver: completely did that on purpose

when you get off the bus your Second Dad tells you good luck and pats you on the head and mark is like ???? do you know him

and you’re like yeah that’s my man maurice we’re buds

and he’s like ???? i’ve rode that bus all my life to school and i’m not buds with him wtf :/

“srry you’re not as lovable as me!! jealousy is a disease <3”

and he laughs his dorky laugh

you highkey are smiling so big because this boy is so cute and he’s walking close enough that your shoulders brush every once in a while and he has a silly laugh and AW

as you walk into the school marks group of Boys starts waving him over excitedly and he turns in their direction but then stops when he sees you aren’t following

“hey whatcha doin???”

“well uhhh those are Your Boys you know and i’m, i don’t, really, uh they don’t know me”

“aw cmon they’ll love you!!! look ill just introduce you and if they’re terrible and annoying you can leave”

“........ i gue-“

but he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you over to them

“sup fellas this is y/n and she just moved here this year so don’t be too overwhelming.”

the smaller one with the highish voice chimes in

“aww but overwhelming is my only setting”

“then just don’t be yourself, chenle”

“heYYY it’s that girl i almost killed in the park !!! so sorry about that by the way”

he introduces them to you one by one and they all shake your hand

jisung is the one with the big ass yaoi hands and also the one who almost ended your young life

jaemin is the one with pretty smile

jeno is the one with the squishy eyes

renjun is the Art Hoe of the group you can just tell

he’s wearing some got damn overalls you gotta befriend him immediately

donghyuck is the one with beautiful skin and a v high voice you’re highkey like hey but can you dROP THE SKINCARE ROUTINE and he’s like “i just wash my face every day xoxo :*”

you quickly learn who is a piece of shit and who isn’t

you figure out who has classes with you and then set off for the day !!

mark has gym and economics with you but those are after lunch :(((

he squeezes your shoulder before he leaves and says good luck though so you’ll survive

you have art with renjun first and this boy is your bestie already

he’s such a sarcastic shit and he too likes drawing random things and vandalizing school textbooks with artistically correct memes

he also has the AUDACITY

“so, you and mark already ;););)(;);)))”

“i uh don’t know what you mean by that”

“you SO do!!!!! you guys walked into school together everyone probably already thinks you’re a thing”

“oh shit really??? ah i feel so bad”

“is that a bad thing???”

“i mean yeah i’m not tryna Tarnish mark’s reputation”

“that is some self hatred bs he would be lucky to have you !!!!”

“renjun you don’t even know me that well yet”

“i know enOUGH”

you just uhh change the subject which renjun def notices but like

who cares

renjun apparently also goes to the same flower shop as you !!!

you find out because you see him drawing the front of it and you’re like heY i’ve been there my girl edna works there !!!!! she insist i call her grandma tho

and he’s all oh sHIT that’s my girl too !!!!!!

long story short edna is now your shared grandmother

now THAT is some uwu shit

you go about your day and it’s lunchtime and yOU uh don’t know where to sit :(

you see a girl that you met who works at the little coffee shop you like so you set off in her direction and you’re almost there when jeno and jaemin walk up and sling an arm around your shoulder from either side

“hEY BUDDY” -jeno

“SUP SQUIRT” -jaemin

and they start steering you in another direction towards their own table

“god of all nicknames you had to give me sQUIRT”

“yes it’s because you’re cute and small like squirtle”

“that’s a god damn reach if i’ve ever seen one but okay”

you get there and they practically TOSS you into the seat next to mark

he winces and gives you and apologetic pat on the back before starting the conversation

“alright so who actually did the summer reading”

as the table bursts into Absolute Ruckus you just kind of sit back and watch

mark notices you being quiet and while renjun and chenle are arm wrestling he leans over to quietly be like

“hey you doin okay over there? are they too much”

“oh not at all i’m just takin it in lmao”

“yeah that’s understandable. they’re easily the most entertaining group of people you’ll ever meet but also i’ve wanted to strangle every single one of them at least once”

“what are you 30??? you talk about them like you’re their mom”

“i mean someone’s gotta do it”

you and mark talk all throughout lunch and head to gym together since that’s next

exercising right after eating ??? sounds like a GREAT plan thanks so much public school system !!!!

you go to pull out your bag of gym clothes but ??? all you’ve got is shorts ?????

S H I T

you start whining because you’re like aWW i’m gonna get in trouble :(((((

and he’s like here i have like 12 shirts in here because i always bring too many and then leave some when i got soccer practice i gotchu

(he gives you the clean shirt that hasn’t been sitting in his locker <3333 what a guy)

you thank him proFUSELY and then go to the girls locker room to change

the shirt is too big and you don’t wanna look like a Bag so you tie a lil knot in it in the front

you don’t look like a thot tho you just look Cute As Fuck

some girl in the locker room lets you borrow a hair tie and off we go !!!

it’s the first day so everyone literally just stretches and sits around talking

you’ve hashtag LOST mark and you don’t have any friends yet so you’re just chillin talking to the girl who gave you a hair tie because she seems nice and you got nothin better to do

you’re explaining to her how to take care of a succulent /properly/ when mark catches a basketball that was headed right for you yelling a watch it !!!! over his shoulder

he turns to you and giggles a little, nudging your foot with his

“you’re just a danger magnet aren’t you”

“i mean danger is my middle name so”

“uGH get your ass over here away from all those freshman hoodlums who think they can play”

you wave bye to your friend because there’s literal fear in her eyes at the sight of mark ??

you ask her what’s wrong later and she’s like oh it’s not him i just have a crippling fear of boys

(that’s a mood)

you and mark pass a volleyball back and forth and fuck around pretty much all period

this is actually the one (1) sport he isn’t good at thank GOD you were worried he had no flaws

at the end of the class you ask him if he wants his shirt back and he says, and i quote,

“nah you and your thot knot can keep it, looks cuter on you anyways”

you smack his arm for calling you a thot but then thank him anyways for the shirt and for calling you cute :))))))))

econ passes the same way except normal clothing and no sports

although mark does throw a wadded up piece of paper on you that says u want 2 hang w the boys n me after school ? if yes then breathe if no do a backflip

this headass boy

you throw it back so it bounces off his forehead and then nod to confirm you will

you don’t have any of the boys in your last class and you don’t where to meet up so you just kind of loiter by your locker since jeno’s is pretty close to yours and maybe they’ll meet here ????

luckily jisung spots you and is like hey what r u doin here aren’t u hanging with us after school??? cmon

you follow him out to the parking lot where they’re all gathered around jeno and jaemins vehicles because apparently they’re the only ones with actual cars

rip

they start waving too excitedly when they see you and mark smiles all big

wooOOO baby boy already has a crush on you :3

they’ve apparently already decided to go to chenles house because apparently he’s fuckin loaded

you don’t believe that for a sECOND because he’s wearing crocs and an old ass polo shirt but

we’ll see

you mark and renjun ride with jaemin while the Babies ride with jeno since he is able to ignore them being crackheads in the backseat and drive his vehicle without crashing

apparently they’ve cause multiple vehicular accidents ??? possibly the reason renjun doesn’t have a car ???????

who knows

y’all have a blast in jaemins car tho playing tokyo drift from the third fast and furious movie if u haven’t heard that shit plEASE GO LISTEN WHAT A SONG HEHEHHEHHEHE

you pull into this BIG ASS house and you’re like no fucking way dude

and everyone else in the car simultaneously says

“i know right ???”

y’all pull in and go inside and it’s real nice holy SHIT

chenle comes in cackling followed closely be jisung and more sedately by jeno who looks ready to fckin die

you pat him on the shoulder and go you did well, soldier

he salutes solemnly before breaking out into the smile

y’all know the one

you UWU right there on the spot but hold yourself back from poking his cheek and cooing

chenle then SCREECHES and yells

“WHO IS TRYNA PLAY JUST DANCE”

and everyone crowds into his living room

somehow the couch is big enough to fit all of you comfortably that’s fckin impressive

you play just dance for 3 whole ass hours and now you’re Tired and Ready To Go Home

there’s a bus stop nearby and you insist upon walking since jaemin already have you a ride here and you didn’t even have gas money to give him :(((

mark goes to since you have to catch the same bus

you hum as you skip around the sidewalk and he walks behind you smiling fondly while you twirl around

he recognizes the song and whistles along and wow !!!!

Harmony™️

when you get to the stop you’re like 5 mins early

so to entertain yourselves you play rock paper scissors and each time the winner gets to flick the loser on the forehead

mark is a sweet boy so he flicks softly but you go all out

wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bruise tmrw girly u need to chill

you sit on the bus together when it arrives since there’s actually room now and he slumps down low until his head is pretty much rested on your shoulder

(our man maurice sees and is like GET IT GIRL but only so you notice and you make threatening hand motions at him)

you’re not sure if he’s asleep so you stay extra still just in case

and no one needs to know you rested your cheek on top of his head

but when it gets to your stop you’re like mark? mark lee??? mork ???? wake up ??? and you nudge him a little with your shoulder and he sits up and rubs his eyes aW

he slow blinks at you and goes

“hm?”

and you’re like i uh gotta go now

and he’s like :/// okay i’ll see you tomorrow and stands up and gives you a half hug before you go

maurice is DYING in the front you’re going to kill him

you walk home with a smile on your face and again your mom is suspicious of your good mood but you’re like aw it’s nothin just had a good day at school made lots of friends !!!!!!

as summer turns into fall you make more friends but you mostly hang out with the boys because they’re funny and nice to you and also Mark is there and we love our boy

you guys all attend football games together and go absolutely ALL OUT for whatever the theme is

for example: the theme was halloween and you all dressed as god damn SMURFS

it was legendary there was not one bit of you all that wasn’t covered in blue paint

jisung almost fought some girl who thought he was from the movie Avatar until everyone was like jisung cHILL OUT ITS NOT HER FAULT YOURE VERY TALL AND COMPLETELY BLUE

and well

can’t argue with that

it gets chillier though so you all bring blankets and cuddle most of the games

all of the boys suspiciously aren’t cold at first until you and mark share a blanket

they’re so obvious GOD

with each time y’all share you get more relaxed around each other until eventually mark has one arm slung around you and your legs are hooked over one of his thighs while y’all Snuggle

renjun waggles his eyebrows at you every five minutes and you discreetly give him the finger every time

little ASSHOLE

college applications are due like. right now

you all apply to a nice university close by as a backup/safe place and then apply to more brazy places just to see if you can get in

everyone’s been real stressed lately so you’re like !!!!! hey imma throw a friendsgiving party !!! yeehaw !!!!!!!!!

and you invite all of them over

“everyone bring smth and i’ll bake a ham or smth,,, i swear to GOD if all of you show up with store-bought pumpkin pie. i will kill you and then myself”

“what’s with you and pumpkin pie?”

“jUST. don’t”

((((srry i’m projecting my hatred of pumpkin pie onto u reader heheehehheh))))

everyone comes over and it’s really chilly so you have a fire in the fireplace and you have a couple of your gal pals over too

your mom is nice enough to leave y’all alone for the night and she’s not hurt since it’s not real thanksgiving

we stan moms

you bring out the ham and someone has brought green beans and mark ,,,, tHAT ANGEL he brought cornbread stuffing do y’all know what i’m talking abt

OOO THAT STUFF IS GOOD

and there’s sweet potatoes and apple pie and all the Thanksgiving Essentials

jisung wanted to be a dick so he brought cranberry jelly

“why don’t you have some:) cranberry preserves:) , jisung” -you, every 30 seconds

everyone sits down to eat and it’s LOUD so you’re like shut UP !!!!!!!!!!

“every1 say smth ur thankful for :3333”

“my family !!!!”

“you guys <3”

“awW BOOO” - everyone, while throwing things at jaemin

“my life !!”

“that i’m happy”

“gay” -chenle

“minecraft”

anyways no one took it seriously until it got to mark

“i’m grateful y/n moved here :))))))”

everyone goes KSKDDIDI and you blush and you’re like okay ily mark JSKKD

everyone EATS A LOT and then you go sit in a pile in the living room

you go to make hot chocolate for everyone and when you come back it’s , interesting how there’s only room for you next to mark . hm

you pass out the hot chocolate and everyone reaches Maximum Sleepytime

at this point you’re too tired to give a fuck and you just flop onto the couch next to mark and curl up into his side

he puts his arm around you to pull you close and this mf presses a tiny barely there kiss to your temple

you look up and like talk with your eyes

did u just

i did

yeah

and then you just settle back down

it’s too crowded in here for any Moves to be Made

bUT YALL BEST BELIEVE WHEN ALL THESE YOUNGINS GET OUT UR HOUSE

you’ve got the karate kid on bc ??? who doesn’t love the karate kid and all of your cutie friends are asleep in various places

but once it gets super late you start waking people up and going hey i love you but your mom called mine like 8 times you gotta gO

you make sure everyone is awake fully if they’re driving and to text you when they got home safe

at long last

you’re alone

in your house

with mark

actually where is mark

mark has disappeared ?????

you start looking around for him and find him in your room ???

“you snoopin thru my things ??!?!??”

he jumps and is like uHH but you’re like nah you’re fine idc

so he continues and he was really just lookin at what kind of books you have and the little drawings and paintings and knick knacks everywhere

you just sit on your bed and observe him

let’s be real he’s nice to look at and you’d be perfectly fine doing this for uhhh the rest of your life

he pulls a book off your shelf and starts flipping through it until he pauses at a page

and his face blooms into this big smile and he looks hella giddy

and you’re like uhh hey whatcha lookin at there bud

and he just keep smiling and it’s a little smug now wtf

“when were you reading this?”

“oh uh i don’t know i got it this summer at that cute little bookshop”

“was it, by chance, the day we met?”

“i mean maybe??? why ????”

and he shows you the page and it’s tHAT oNE WHERE YOU WERE DOODLING BITS OF HIM AND WRITING HIS NAME ALL OVER IT

FUCK !!!!!!!

you immediately turn tomato red and snatch the book in to hold it tightly to your chest

“uhhh i do that with uhhhh eVerYONE I MEET”

“aw i thought i was special:((((”

he’s creeping closer to you this whole time until he’s INCHES AWAY

he gently pulls the book out of your hands and places it aside before grabbing your wrists and uncrossing your arms

“personally, i think it’s really cute”

you blush even more this man knows what he’s doing

you mumble a thanks with your eyes trained on his fuzzy socks what a dork

he releases one of your wrists to push your chin up so he can look you in the eyes

“do you really do that with everyone you meet?”

“,,,,,,, no it’s just you”

“alright cool”

and then he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you close til you’re pressed together chest to chest AW

he nudges his nose against yours and you close your eyes because your god daMN HEART IS POUNDING AND YOU CANT LOOK DIRECTLY INTO THOSE BIG PUPPY EYES

he presses the sweetest and gentlest of kisses to each cheek and then to the top of your nose

he presses one last lingering kiss on your forehead before he tilts his chin down to press your lips together

it’s so soft and innocent wow i’m going to SHED TEARS WRITING THIS

and he pulls away and you press your face into his neck in embarrassment

he chuckles a lil and rubs your back, leaning his cheek against your head

“hey, you down there”

you say “yeah?” but your voice is muffled by his neck and it’s more like eh ???

“my girlfriend y/n will you be ???”

what the fuck

you pull your head back so you can look at his face which is turning steadily redder

“uh what”

“shIT uh i meant will you uh bemygirlfriend”

your confused expression turns into a shit eating grin and you’re like

“what was that :)))) i didn’t hear you :)))))”

he groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder and pitifully whines out

“please be my girlfriend :(((((“

you pick his face up and hold it between your palms and he pouts playfully

“well how could i say no to that face”

and you smooch him right on those lil pouted lips

“yes i’ll be your girlfriend”

he smiles real big and smooshes you against him aw

wow so now you’re mark lee’s gf

LUCKY BITCH

lowkey you get a few threats but as soon as mark catches wind of that he stands on the statue in front of the school and announces that if anyone has a problem with you they’ve got a problem with him !!!!

and he looks like: ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

you drag him down while apologizing to everyone in the general vicinity

mark is. veRY CLINGY NOW

i mean no complaints here it’s just

wow

you’ll be standing at your locker when BAM mark is wrapped around you from behind and you get a hey baby how’s ur day right in your ear

in gym class he restrains himself since the coaches are always like LEE KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF

but he always whines after and is like

:((((( but you look so cute in my shirt i wanna squish you

whenever mark comes over you force him to let you draw him at least once

each time it gets easier since you’ve started to memorize the details of his face and the knuckles of his hands and the shape of his shoulders

a lot of times he just comes over to watch movies and talk

he’s not an eloquent guy

(“you all look like pretty grass :)))” - mark lee)

but he gets what he needs to say out and he enjoys listening to you talk about whatever’s on your mind

you’ve started a glow in the dark star sticker collection to put on your ceiling and each time he comes over you put a constellation up there

so you’ll lay in bed and turn off the lights and just stare at the ceiling and try to name them all

soon you’ll just get sleepy though and press your face into his chest

he uwu’s every time :((((

after he’s done being astonished by his Baby™️ he’ll wrap his arms around you and stroke a hand up and down your spine wow

Real Relaxation Hours

your mom will come home and find y’all asleep and then SHE uwu’s and it’s just one big cute MESS

he loves to kiss you right as he’s leaving like he’ll lay one on you then RUN to the bus stop

p.s. maurice is on y’all every day saying he called it AY

his other favorite kisses are when he catches you off guard and just turns you around and kisses you and you’re like

I’m Confused But I Like This

lots of sweet pecks throughout the day and then longer slower stuff when you’re home and alone and relaxing

leaves hickeys on your neck literally just to be annoying

it’s oKAY THO DONT TELL HIM YOU LIKE IT

months pass and youve said your first “i love you’s” to each other and renjun is always like so when y’all gettin married huh

you both SMACK him simultaneously

but lowkey you would marry mark he’s the best and you love him so wHY NOT

but it’s early and you know that and you’re happy with what you have now :))))))

pls love and support our hardworking baby mark lee he is doing his best and i love him goodnight

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