#now in current it has around 6k (still a lot less than here

[forgottenflickr]

bruh how did u blow up 😭 i am trying to do my own little upload blog thing and it seems so hard

to be honest, I think it’s just because I already had another sideblog with a few thousand followers, and after some time with this blog i happened to reblog one of my own posts there talking about it. Before then, I got almost no interaction here (though I didn’t post very much then compared to now)

regardless, it’ll take some time and then you’ll get some hit post you didn’t expect, that’s what happened on my other blog I mentioned, here too

[misqnon]

Royal Blue

A gen Sanji fic, around 6K words. also on ao3, here

“Hey, guys? The News Coo just dropped off a letter with the paper, but I think it was a mistake. It’s not addressed to any of us.”

“Who’s it addressed to?” Robin asks. 

“Vinsmoke.” Nami says simply, and Sanji actually staggers in his place on the deck. 

-----

Five times Sanji’s secret past as a Vinsmoke almost got revealed to the crew, and one time he can’t help but tell them.  

AKA I love dramatic character revelations and I’m bitter not everyone was there to react to Whole Cake Island. 

Disclaimer- I’ve never actually written for an active fandom before, nor have I finished reading/watching One Piece. Please forgive any blatant errors. I’m currently in the middle of Water 7 and I skip around a lot. 90% of my knowledge comes from secondary sources.

pls enjoy!

The first time it happened, it was less of a danger to his cover, and more a painful reminder that he had anything to hide at all.

After all, he’d left that history behind him so long ago that by now, more than 10 years later, he was sure he wouldn’t ever have to reveal that history. Hell, not even Zeff knew. As far as he was concerned, Sanji was just an orphan boy who’d ended up in that unlucky cruise ship kitchen, and he didn’t need to know how he’d gotten there. 

So when they’d all been traveling through the Alabasta desert, Luffy and Nami and Vivi and all the rest of the crew, Sanji hadn’t been thinking about it much at all. When they’d found out Vivi was a princess, well, it had put a little ping into his mind. That little, “You’re technically a prince, too, remember?” But he had quickly squashed it. Not anymore, and never again, so he didn’t need to dwell on the commonality between them.

That was, until weeks later, during that boundless desert trip, when they’d all been sitting around the campfire, resting up for the night on the cool desert sand. It was so much more pleasant than the heat that’d been oppressive over their heads all day. Everyone was chatting, idly enjoying the soup he’d made for everyone. Luffy had downed two bowls of it, and was now snoozing with his hat over his head to the right of them all. Zoro seemed to have a similar idea, though it wasn’t clear if he was actually asleep, or just leaning back with his eyes closed in his usual introverted manner. 

Nami and Vivi were sharing stories over the meal, shawls pulled over their shoulders, and Usopp and Chopper were messing around beside them, occasionally joining the conversation to interject one of Usopp’s grand adventures or Chopper’s impressed gasps. 

He decided to stroll over to the two women, now with his own bowl carefully balanced in his hand. The chef always ate last, after all.

“Hello, Vivi my sweet! And Nami, my swan! How is the soup?” He asked, practically floating through the air to slide in beside them both. Usopp silently rolled his eyes.

Vivi just smiled, answering for both of them. “It’s delicious, Sanji! Thank you for making dinner again.”

“Why of course! It’s my job as the chef, after all!” He sang, still balancing the soup in his hands that he has yet to even touch, now distracted. 

Then, he continued, “You know, this recipe is sometimes called ‘Marry Me Soup.’ They say it’s so good that it’ll convince you to marry the chef.” He said, wiggling his already swirling eyebrow.

Vivi just giggled. “I’m flattered, Sanji, but I don’t think my father would appreciate me getting married right now. Besides, I’ve always been told I’m expected to marry a prince.” She didn’t seem particularly happy about this, nor did she seem very enthusiastic about marriage, period- but Sanji still deflated at the undercut of a rejection. For multiple reasons.

The hopeless flirt within him almost blurted out, ‘Well, it’s your lucky day then, Princess Vivi!’

Except it didn’t, at all, because even for Vivi’s hand in marriage he wouldn’t let that secret slip. 

Instead, he just clamped his jaw shut, sat down beside them, and took a sad sip of his soup. Usopp and Chopper laughed, unaware of the true reason for his melancholy. Nami reassured Vivi he’d be fine after she momentarily worried she’d offended him, before scooching closer to inquire further if she really had to marry a prince someday, against her will. They began chatting again, Nami looking fiercely protective all of a sudden.

Sanji only had a couple more spoonfuls before he stood, silently, and walked off a few feet away from the group for a smoke.

A certain green-haired swordsman poked an eye open to glance over at him as he walked by.

That was odd. Sanji didn’t usually smoke while people were still eating. Especially the ladies. It was inconsiderate, he said, cigarette smoke wafting into people’s faces while they tried to eat, tainting the taste with the smell of nicotine.

But there he was, huffing away at the cigarette a bit too fast, in Zoro’s opinion. Then again, he didn’t really know anything about smoking. Nor did he care. He shrugged, shut his eye again, and went back to resting.

Now that Sanji thought about it, looking back, maybe it’d been on his mind more than he thought. After all, why else had he used the codename “Mr. Prince” while he impersonated Mr. 3?

—

“Liar Noland?”

“You know it, Sanji?” Nami asks, peering at this book that she’s never heard of. “But it says it was published in the North Blue.” 

“I was born in the North Blue.” He says, and actually smiles, wide and true. His memories of back then are anything but good, but…

“Didn’t I tell you?” He tries to play off, though he knows he’s done no such thing. “It’s where I grew up.”

“No, I thought you were from the East like the rest of us.” She muses, and Usopp agrees. 

Sanji continues. And a smile comes to his face again, for the same reason. “My mom used to read me that book when I was a kid.”

For a moment Nami and Usopp both think this is the first Sanji’s told them much of anything about his childhood- they know he had a pretty rough going when he met Zeff, but that’s about it. They’re too focused on the task at hand, though.

Nami opens it and begins to read, the rest of the conversation forgotten.

—

The seven of them stood around the ancient stone door as if peering at it would do anything.

“WHY WON’T THIS STUPID DOOR OPEN!?” Luffy yelled eventually, stomping his feet with impatience.

Robin stepped forward, looking closer at the intricate carvings of winged creatures and giant serpents. Most compelling was the small bowl that seemed to be carved into the center, right below a sharpened bit of rock in the enclave. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this before…” She said, hand to her chin in thought. Unlike Luffy, she wasn’t upset, only engulfed in academic curiosity. She stepped back then, walking away to inspect the other parts of the carvings, further down the wall. 

“Can’t we just break it down?” Zoro asked, poking at the old stone with little regard for its value. Nami frowned at him, slapping his hand away. 

Robin didn’t waste any emotion at his comment, still looking at the newfound bit of text she’d found behind some ivy. 

“This stuff is ancient, you idiot! It’s irreplaceable!” Nami growled, scowling as Zoro narrowed his eyes back at her. For a moment, Robin felt a bit of appreciation for the navigator. She was definitely the most levelheaded of this group so far.

“It could be booby-trapped! Besides, it’s probably worth a ton of Berry.” She said, eye’s suddenly aglow with a mischievous shine.

Nevermind, Robin thought with a sigh. 

Sanji, Usopp, and Chopper stood back with little to contribute. Usopp seemed to be trying to think of a way to get them over the impossibly tall wall, while Chopper distracted Luffy with the sighting of a big beetle.

Sanji just stood there, a lit cigarette lazily lilting smoke between his teeth. They’d probably figure it out between Usopp, Robin, and Nami. Meanwhile, he could continue to plan out what to make for the rest of the week with the meager rations of fruit and meat they’d gathered.

That was, until Robin finally stood, hand still on her chin but a look of accomplishment dancing on her features.

“Here. It says that to open the door, we must provide a drop of royal blood.” She explained, pointing to the ancient language inscribed on the ivy-covered wall.

Everyone rose their eyebrows at that, including (and especially) Sanji.

“Royal blood?” Usopp asked, confused. “Like a king or something?”

“Aw, man!” Luffy cried. “If only Vivi was still with us!”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense.” Zoro said. “How does the wall know whether the blood is royal or not?”

Robin shrugged. She was an archaeologist, not a scientist. “Who knows.” She said simply.

“I’ll just try it.” Luffy said, rolling up his sleeves and stomping over to the little enclave that held the bowl and the piercing rock. 

“Wait!!” Chopper yelled. “You can’t just go stabbing yourself with ancient rocks! Especially ones that have already had other people’s blood on it!” He cried, now trying to pull Luffy away from the wall. He continued to drone on about bacteria and blood-borne diseases as Sanji began sucking a little harder on his cigarette.

Honestly, he didn’t really see the need to get into the old temple anyway. He was starting to think they should just leave. For completely unselfish reasons.

“For once, I agree with the marimo. Let’s just break the damn thing open.” He said, stretching his leg. 

“No, damnit!” Nami said, stomping over to him. “You could set off a trap!”

He frowned at that, putting his leg down obediently. 

Usopp was next to Robin now, looking between the inscription she’d found and the spot where Chopper was still frantically pulling Luffy away from. “I don’t get it.” He decided finally. “Besides, what do they mean by ‘royal blood,’ exactly? Will any royal blood work, or only the royal blood of whoever ruled this nation?”

Robin found it to be a very good question coming from the teen. She nodded in agreement. “True. The inscription doesn’t clarify.”

As soon as Usopp said it, he began to wonder the same thing. And it made him more nervous. His poor cigarette was almost spent now. 

Would his blood work? If it did, would they suspect anything? Should he put it in now, and claim the door was just stupid, like Zoro had claimed earlier? If so, he’d better do it before Luffy, in case the rubber man’s didn’t work-

“HAHA!” Luffy exclaimed, finally pricking the tip of a rubbery outstretched finger on the rock. Chopper deflated in resignation, now joining the rest of them in peering at the bowl as Luffy’s blood fell into it. 

The drop of blood fell into the bowl, sat momentarily on the bottom, then was suddenly absorbed by the porous stone as if it was dying of thirst. Everyone looked on in various states of amazement and fear as they waited, one second, two seconds, three seconds, five, ten-

“...I don’t think it’s doing anything.” Nami finally grumbled.

“Well, the good news is, it doesn’t look like it set off any traps.” Replied Usopp, looking around anxiously for any sign of movement in the jungle around them.

Robin was peering at the bowl with curious blue eyes. “Intriguing…”

“Aw, man!” Luffy huffed. He turned suddenly to Usopp. “Usopp, you try.”

“WHAAA? WHY ME?”

“You like Kaya. And Kaya’s kinda royalty. That’s close enough, right?”

“KAYA ISN’T A PRINCESS, LUFFY! SHE’S JUST RICH! AND I’M NOT EVEN HER! THAT’S TOO MUCH OF A STRETCH.” Usopp yelled in frustration. 

Zoro, Chopper, and Nami were various degrees of frustrated and fed up listening to the two of them bicker. Sanji was still anxiously tapping his foot, hoping the captain wouldn’t systematically make them all try. And if he did, hoping that his didn’t do shit.

That is, until they heard the familiar call of Marines from up the path behind them. 

Sanji turned, eyes wide with panic. “Shit-” He said, lighting another cigarette. 

“Marines? All the way up here? How?” Someone said. Sanji wasn’t even paying attention anymore.

“HURRY USOPP! C’MON, GO!”

“NO, LUFFY! MINE WON’T BE ANY DIFFERENT!”

Zoro started unsheathing Wado, ready for a fight, though even he seemed to realize that that was far too many Marines and they were far too close to be able to run.

As the group devolved into arguing, panic, and frantic attempts to prepare for a fight, Sanji looked back one last time at that stupid door and its stupid little blood-sacrifice bowl. 

The Marines were visible now, charging from the bottom of the hill and quickly approaching- the path they’d used to get here- the only path out- now blocked. 

Sanji cursed, pushing through the mess of the crew and jabbing his thumb onto the rock. 

The group went quiet as the giant stone doors began to shake, then pulled slowly open into a dark, but open, temple. 

They all looked in surprise to Sanji, who bit down on his cigarette and began running through the opening. 

“C’mon, idiots! The Marines are right behind us!”

The group took one look back and followed, sighing in relief as the giant stone doors began to pull shut again just as they’d all made it through. 

Everyone was still running, unsure if the Marines would be able to power through, though Luffy had bound up beside him to ask,

“WOOOAH, SANJI! ARE YOU ROYALTY OR SOMETHING?”

“No, idiot. The door’s just stupid. It probably just didn’t work for you ‘cause your blood’s all rubbery and shit.”

Luffy frowned at that, though he seemed satisfied with that answer. 

Sanji didn’t turn around after that, but by the feeling of several pairs of eyes boring into the back of his head, he got the feeling the rest of the crew wasn’t quite as convinced.

—

Luckily for him, (and quite unluckily for everyone else), the temple was indeed filled with booby-traps. No one had any time to ask him why the hell his blood had worked because they’d spent the next hour or so of their lives trying not to die.

When they finally made it out the other side, sweaty and beat-up and a few crewmates still a little bit on fire, it was the last thing on everyone’s minds. Especially considering the map they’d found as spoils for their trouble.

Later that night, though, when they’d made it back to the Going Merry and everyone had feasted on grilled pork and pineapple and rice, Zoro stayed behind after dinner, arms crossed and leaning broodily against the doorframe, all despite the drinking that was now taking place out on the deck. 

“What do you want, Marimo?” Sanji spit, though he had a feeling he might already know what it was.

“Why did your blood open up that door?”

“Like I said, I don’t think that hunk of rock can actually differentiate between royal blood and not. We just got lucky.”

“Luffy’s blood didn’t work.”

“Yea, and like I said, it’s probably because his blood’s all fucked up and made of rubber.” Sanji bit back, emphasizing the fact that he’d already explained this.

“He’s still human. And I’m pretty sure I heard the Marines trying to prick themselves on it too after we got through.”

Sanji shrugged. “I guess I got some royalty in my family line somewhere, then. Like I said, lucky for us.”

Zoro glared at him. ‘Like I said, like I said.’ It was suspicious. 

“Whatever, shit-cook.” He finally replied, shoving off the wall and heading back out to deck to join the party. 

Sanji bitterly lit another cigarette.

—

“Newspaper’s here!” Someone calls from the front deck of the Sunny. Sanji’s already walking around with a tray of drinks, currently stopped at Zoro, who takes it without much of a thank you aside from a glance.

He rolls his eyes and moves on, wanting to take a peek at the paper anyway. Nami has it at the moment, so he heads over, even though he’s already given her her drink- first, as always.

“Anything interesting, Nami?” He asks, forgoing the swan~ that got him an eyeroll earlier. He’s also just genuinely curious, which has him distracted just enough to act normal around women.

She skims it and frowns. “Nah, not much. Unless you consider Buggy interesting news.” She says, throwing the stack of parchment to the nearby table without a care. She takes her drink and leaves, presumably to go work at her desk.

Sanji does not find Buggy the Clown to be worthy of his attention, but the damn weirdo happens to pop up way more than he or any of the crew seems to think reasonable. 

Regardless, he takes a peek at the newspaper anyway, since he’s already there. Nami’s right, nothing’s of interest- save for the stupid comic strip they’ve included on the last page.

Sora, Warrior of the Sea.

Sanji frowns, his face twisting up into the kind of gangster-like grimace he reserves for Zoro when he’s most exceptionally pissed him off. 

He’s not nearly as bothered about it as he should be, but the comic is included in almost every issue of the paper they’ve received since they hit the Grand Line. The first time he’d spotted the Vinsmoke name he’d nearly had a stroke, but apparently, the few crew members who actually read that bit of the paper seemed convinced it was all fictional, the villainous Germa 66 army included.

Sanji was quite fine with leaving it that way.

It’s just a shitty attempt at Marine propaganda, and the fact his family’s been written in as villains as if they aren’t a real royal family kinda does make him laugh. They’ve become so synonymous with evil that they’re written as cartoon villains by the same news company that works with them in the crime underworld. Sanji’s surprised they don’t see it as a slap in the face- maybe they do, but the strips continue to come out unchanged.

On the best days he laughs acridly at the insult it does his biological father, on the worst he bites his lip in anger that he and his crew have to be exposed to their existence.

Though…

He reads the title over again.

Even if it’s just some bullshit marine propaganda, the way they’ve named the main character who beats the evil Germa family again and again brings a small grin to his lips.

—

All in all, the various times his past had almost come out had been relatively easy to cover up.

The closest call, however, had been when they’d landed on an unsuspecting Spring island, a little too close to the North Blue for his liking.

Franky had stayed behind to work on the ship, but the rest of them had gone ahead and went inland to restock supplies, stretch their legs, and find what this island had to offer. 

And for once, they'd decided to stick together instead of splitting up. Mainly because some signs around town had said something about a big festival taking place in the square, and Nami, Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper had convinced the last few less sociable crewmates to come along. 

Despite the proximity to North Blue, Sanji wasn't actually that worried. He'd never heard of this island before, and he doubted his father would be anywhere near it either. Germa may be a wandering country, but it hadn't left the North Blue in a while as far as he knew, and at the moment they were still in the Grand Line.

So when they all walked up the brick path to the town square, finding before them a wonderful spread of tents, stages, and food stalls, he actually found himself a little excited. Good food, good entertainment, and- he squinted his eyes at the closest stage, where a group of women in traditional garb were performing a folk dance.

Beautiful women? Hell yea, maybe this pit stop would be worth it after all.

“Wow, this looks amazing!” Nami cried, clapping her hands together. “I wonder what it’s all for?”

Usopp jutted a hand over his shoulder. “I think one of the signs we passed said it’s somebody’s birthday. Probably one of the kingdom’s rulers, if I had to guess.”

“Usopp, look!” Chopper interjected, pulling lightly on the leg of the sharpshooter’s pants. “They have cotton candy!”

“Cotton Candy!?” Luffy grinned, patting his hat. He ran off like a cartoon character, leaving a trail of smoke and guffaws of laughter behind him. Usopp and Chopper followed behind.

“Wait! You guys don’t have any money!” Nami said, jogging after them with her Berry pouch already half-opened to loan some out (with interest).

Eventually, she’d caught them, and handed out a bit of Berry to the rest of the crew, too. She sent Zoro back to the ship to grab Franky, both so he wouldn’t miss out and so that Zoro wouldn’t get lost on his own. (If he could even make it back to the ship, anyway).

Then she and Robin began making rounds to all the shops and stalls while they waited, leaving Sanji to do whatever he liked by his lonesome. 

And he had absolutely no problem with that. 

Obviously, he went straight over to the dancers, making obnoxious heart-eyes in the audience while he watched. 

Soon enough, though, he calmed down and ended up wandering the food stalls, trading recipes with the vendors and even picking up some local produce from others. 

He'd spent nearly an hour doing so, occasionally running into another Strawhat or two, when a man stopped him near one of the textile stalls. 

Sanji had been about to head back to the ship, looking over one last fancy gourd with a scrutable eye, when someone called out his name. Well, a name.

"Young Master Vinsmoke?"

Sanji felt his blood run cold. He snapped his head up, his eyes meeting a man he didn't recognize. 

He looked friendly enough- actually, he looked quite pleased to see him. He was posed nervously, as if he couldn't believe what was before him. 

Now that Sanji thought about it, he did look somewhat familiar- the frilly outfit and the pins, bobs, and needles stuck into his pin-cushion bottoms. Some measuring tape hung loosely from a pack on his side, and bifocal glasses sat atop his head. 

Not familiar enough, though. And Sanji didn't care who the hell he was, not after calling him that. 

"Are you talking to me?" Sanji asked, cold anger already growing, though at the moment he was trying to keep his cool. 

The man shook his head in amazement. "It is you, isn't it? Young Master Sanji? Why, they told me you'd died!"

Sanji just gaped at him, his latest cigarette falling gracelessly out of his mouth. 

He suddenly grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged the two of them behind the nearest stall, to an unoccupied alleyway nearby. The man squeaked in surprise, which Sanji ignored.

"Who the hell are you?" He gritted out, suddenly realizing his friends could be nearby. He prayed nobody had heard them. After last time, there'd be no way he'd be able to sweep it under the rug again. 

"O-Oh, you don't remember me! My apologies, sir. I'm Taloose. I work as a royal tailor. I worked for your family when you were young, Mr. Vinsmoke.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT.” Sanji growled, resisting the urge to pull the man up by the lapels of his frilly suit. He knew the other man didn’t know any better, but it still pissed him off. 

Taloose squeaked again. “I’m sorry, sir!”

Sanji let out an irritated breath. “And stop calling me sir.” He grumbled, though with considerably less bite. 

“I don’t answer to that name anymore, and I’m not a prince either. So just Sanji is fine.”

The tailor seemed hesitant to comply, but he nodded, silently. 

There was a long and uncomfortable silence then. Sanji did recognize him, now that he thought about it. He barely saw the guy- maybe every couple months when he was really young, coming in to fix up little suits for special events for him and his siblings. At that age Sanji was still quite friendly, despite the abuse, but he didn’t form close bonds with the various workers at the beck and call of the Vinsmokes. If anything, he was too focused on his mother’s health and his failings in training. Any memories of this guy were quick snippets and stills of standing on a platform with measuring tape around his waist, and little else.

Realizing the silence had stretched a bit too far, Sanji figured he should probably say something. He had dragged the guy back here, after all.

“Tell me…If you worked for my family, then what are you doing here?” He tried not to let his anxiety seep into his question.

“Well, I’m a traveling tailor. I serve many royal families, including the family here. I helped craft the princess’s dress for this party, as well as some of the other family members. Once I was done, I decided I’d stop by and peruse the textile booths around the market- quite a fine selection if I do say so myself-!” He watched Sanji’s face become irritated and decided to shut up. “But, yes. Just here for the event, really.”

Sanji eyed him carefully. “Do you…still work for my family?” 

Taloose shook his head. “No, actually. I don’t mean to flatter you, but you were always my favorite of the Vinsmoke children. Miss Reiju was alright, but the other three boys were quite rude, and with age they only got worse.” He made an unsettled face, as if to imply ‘rude’ wasn’t the full extent of it. 

“It became increasingly difficult to work with them, and my work reflected that. I was on the verge of quitting anyway when your father fired me. I wasn’t qualified to be sewing raid suits anyway.” He scoffed.  

“So you don’t have contact with them any more? You won’t tell them that you met me here?” Now his voice was betraying his anxiety, but he didn’t care.

Taloose just shook his head, smiling kindly. “No sir. I wouldn’t go back even if they paid me a million berries!” He said, standing tall and adjusting his frilly collar with pride. 

Sanji felt himself relax a bit. He nevertheless pulled a new cigarette from the pack in his front pocket. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know where they are nowadays, would you?” He asked after a drag. His fingers twitched ever so slightly despite the coolness he now desperately attempted to front.

Taloose was luckily a man without judgement. He shook his head gently. “No, I don’t have a clue. Hard to tell with the place always on the move.” He paused then, looking over Sanji with keen eyes. 

“...I can tell you don’t wish to see them again. I apologize if my presence here made you uncomfortable. I assure you, I haven’t had contact with the Vinsmoke family in years. Should for whatever reason I come into contact with them again, I will not reveal your presence.” He says, bowing. “I promise.” A smile graces his face within the bow.

Sanji grumbles as he grabs Taloose by his collar, yanking him up to stand again. “Ya don’t gotta bow to me, idiot.” 

“...But I appreciate that. Thanks.”

—

Sanji and Taloose part ways after that. 

He’s glad to be rid of the reminder of his past, glad to have the reassurance the Vinsmokes aren’t actively searching for him or anything- but still troubled to have these memories brought back yet again. Running from your past is easy until you’re traveling the world with infamy, and suddenly the spotlight seems to put you back on the radar of harm long thought dead.

Make no mistake, Sanji didn’t regret his choice to join the Strawhats in the slightest. But he was beginning to wonder how much longer he could conceivably keep this secret.

It’s two years before it finally comes back to bite him in the ass.

—

“Hey, guys? The News Coo just dropped off a letter with the paper, but I think it was a mistake. It’s not addressed to any of us.”

Everyone’s heads pop up from their respective locations around the ship, peeking at Nami and the stack of papers now held in her hand. Luffy swings over from his spot on the figurehead. 

“What’s it say!? Open it!” He yells excitedly, now looking down over her shoulder at it himself. 

“You can’t open someone else’s mail, Luffy, it’s against the law.”

“We’re pirates!” He retorts, and for once Nami feels silly, realizing he’s right in this matter. She purses her lips and eyeballs it again, some recognition starting to come to her face. 

Sanji has come down from the galley by now, hands in his pocket as he and most of the rest of the crew approaches the only entertainment they’ve had so far on an unusually boring day of sailing.

“Who’s it addressed to?” Robin asks. 

“Vinsmoke.” Nami says simply, and Sanji actually staggers in his place on the deck. 

“Strangely enough, isn’t that the villain from that popular comic in the newspaper sometime? Why on Earth would someone try to send a fake character a letter? And how’d we end up with it?” Nami continues, though Sanji doesn’t hear her. He’s too busy falling into the depths of a panic attack here and now.

He’d say that his stomach dropped when he heard her say the name, that his blood ran cold, but with his worst trauma suddenly cropping up in front of him in real life, truly occurring and unable to be stopped, right before the gaze of his crew, his family- he just feels nothing. A switch flips in him and all he feels his nothingness, and then pure hot fear.

“...Sanji? Are you okay?” Chopper asks from beside him, his kind face full of worry at the cook’s near instant reaction. He looks pale, his face is staring straight down at the deck like if he doesn’t look up it isn’t real, and from this angle Chopper can actually see both of his eyes for once, and they’re both blown wide and full of fear. 

But he doesn’t answer, because as Chopper asks this Nami slips her thumb under the fold of the envelope and is about to rip it open, and Sanji lurches forward and has to stop himself from Diable Jambe-ing Nami’s hands and burning the letter to ash. He still does something quite out of character for him when it comes to the redheaded woman- which is that he actually yells at her to stop.

Nami, and everyone else, for that matter, freezes.

“Sanji?” Nami asks, incredulous, and a little worried.

He settles for taking it from her hands, as gently as he can manage, which is not at all.

“Don’t.” He says darkly, even though he already has the letter safely in his own hands.

Everyone is silent. They all expect someone to break the silence and yell about not being rude to Nami, but the person they expect to do so is standing right in front of them, doing exactly that. Sanji sighs, and without looking at his crew, slowly rips open the letter.

He looks it over, eyeing it as if he’s in his own pocket dimension at the moment, and no one else is there. Then, when he’s read the contents, he pauses, folds the letter, and sticks it in the pocket of his slacks. 

Everyone is waiting with a question on their lips when he finally looks up again, but no one says anything, even Luffy.

Then Sanji sighs, and crosses his arms. He looks all of a sudden more nervous and unsure of himself than they’ve seen him since before Saboady, maybe even since they’ve met him.

“Do you guys remember…back in Skypiea, when we found the book Liar Noland?”

It seems an odd place to start, but they all give various sorts of a nod.

“And I told you all how I was actually born in the North Blue.” He says, reaching an arm up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. He really wished he had a cigarette right now, but he didn’t want to interrupt by lighting one.

They nod again, aside from Franky and Brook, who hadn’t been on the crew yet at that time.

“Well…” He can’t help it anymore. Quicker than they’ve ever seen him do it before, he slips a cig from his pack and lights it with ease, pulling some smoke out of it like he’s thirsty for it. They’ve all started to put pieces together by now, or at the very least, realize he’s about to open up to them about something quite big.

“My real name…No. My birth name is Vinsmoke Sanji.” He says, wincing at the words put together outloud. “And I’m…I was a prince.” 

Everyone’s eyebrows raise at that, eyes widening; save for Zoro and Luffy, who stay relatively straight-faced, listening intently.

“I left when I was 8. I snuck onto a cruise ship, and then Zeff found me.” He continues, mincing the more ugly details that he doesn’t quite feel ready to tell them yet. He doesn’t want this to become a sob story.

“Basically, I’m a runaway prince. Though my father told everyone I was dead anyway…” He sucks in another breath full of smoke. He keeps stuttering and trailing off in his words in a way that so isn’t like him, it’s making him sick. He just wants to get this over with.

“The point is, this letter…It’s for me. I’ve been invited back…”

For a moment, Sanji considers not telling them the truth. He doesn’t want to put them in danger, he doesn’t want them to pity him, he doesn’t want them to feel the need to help him, to do so because he’s too weak to do it himself.

But he also trusts them. More than anyone else in the world, save for his father. His real father.

“For an arranged marriage to one of Big Mom’s daughters.” He grits out, biting down on his cigarette with distaste.

Usopp looks ready to burst with questions, Nami and Robin are incredulous, and even Zoro looks vaguely emotive. Franky and Chopper and Brook are just waiting for someone else to say something first.

But Luffy is, strangely enough, smiling. He adjusts the position of the straw hat on his head, ensuring it’s nice and tight. Then he gives Sanji a grin.

“I’ve been waiting for a reason to pick a fight with Big Mom.” He says. 

And somehow, that’s the most reassuring thing he could have heard Luffy say to all of that.

[thetwelfthcrow]

Soooo can we get recs for 443316?👀

but of COURSE you can !!

▴🏎 4433 fic recs: with Charles edition 🏎▴

welcome everyone to this special fic rec list: 443316 - fics where, in whatever order, lewis/max/charles are together. it's a short list, but i hope that serves only as an invite to write these three more. as far as i know these are the only fics in this ot3 ship and they're amaziiiing! i sincerely invite all lestappen, 4433 and 4416 shippers to give these a try. even if you don't like one of these three ships, these two fics are absolutely worth your time - i promise !

AO3 collection with all my Formula One bookmarks general favorite fics in the 4433 ship favorite christmas fics in the 4433 ship favorite omegaverse fics in the 4433 ship

always be sure to check the accurate and updated tags on the fic itself (i only copy a few)! if your fic is on here and you'd like me to link your tumblr then just comment below and i'll add it :)

▴ honey, there is no right way [series] by latebrakers | 11,3k | incomplete secret relationship 4433, charles helps them / pining / getting together

(1) fair weather | G | 3k | complete

The first time, Max asks Charles for a favor. The next time Max could use some help, Charles offers it himself.

(2) fair warning | T | 5k | complete

Charles thought he was being generous, at first, but now he just feels greedy.

(3) fair share | M | 3k | complete

Lewis takes his phone out of his pocket and props it on the porch railing. “Two minutes,” he announces. “Everyone think of a wish.” Charles could not possibly think of just one. Or: Charles books a flight to Colorado.

▴ three [series] by additivity | 20,3k | incomplete secret relationship / relationship reveal friends with benefits

straight-ish | M | 3,6k | complete

There were a lot of photos of Formula 1 drivers on the internet. But none like this.

amateur photography | E | 16,6k | 5/5ch, complete

Lewis really isn't looking for a relationship. Which is why his current arrangement is pretty perfect. What's not so great is trying to explain that to his press officer while F1 twitter self-destructs about it.

▴ behind different doors [series] by kiwialicat | 49,3k | incomplete established fwb lestappen / voyeurism / unresolved feelings

It’s not the size of your motorhome it’s how you use it | E | 6k | complete

Max looks back at him, and then down at the hand that Lewis still has firmly planted on Charles’s knee. Despite Lewis being a little less sharp than usual, it’s definitely not lost on him. “Jealous, Maxy?” Lewis doesn't want to waste this champagne, post Silverstone 2020 round one. He goes to find someone to celebrate with and gets a little more celebration than he'd hoped for.

Let’s feel this and think later | E | 31k | 6/6ch, complete

Lewis is pretty sure when it comes to Max and Charles there are strings, of one form or another, but he can’t deny there’s also a pretty incredible pay-off attached to those strings. It's the second week of the British GP double header, and it's a bit more memorable than usual for Lewis with a new version of Max and Charles in his life.

Room for three | E | 11k | complete

“So…” Lewis breathes deeply, “this offer…” he watches his hands open and close in front of him, “is this just a one-time thing? Tonight only?” Lewis has Max and Charles over for dinner. Some eating, some talking and some other stuff ensues.

▴ He Hit Me (It Felt Like A Kiss) by m00nlightE | 18,8k | 2/5ch, incomplete omegaverse / alpha max, alpha lewis, omega charles / emotional manipulation

It was something they’d often discussed at the beginning of the relationship: the potential that one day, sometime in the future, the three of them could end up fighting for a championship title against one another. So when the start of the 2021 season came around and it looked like Red Bull might be bringing the competition to Mercedes at last, Charles couldn’t help but feel the battle between his partners was inevitable. He just never expected to get so caught in the middle of it all. OR: Charles, Max and Lewis, and how their relationship turned toxic over the course of the 2021 season.

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

askbox always open for your favourite 4433(16) fics! i love to know what you love to read. this list is not complete (nor will it ever be), but it turned out all 443316 fics are amazing so these are the only fics in the tag rn. this IS AN INVITE to everyone reading all the way to here to write 443316 heheh! enjoy reading!

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 3

KageHina AND KuroKen because I’m very picky with these ships so there’s not a lot :/ 

KageHina:

The Cure for You (is You), by tsunderei (6k. T. canonverse) 

Brooo...cute shit

Kageyama knew they would separate after graduation. He knew he was going to miss Hinata. He just didn’t know he’d still be here, three years later, nursing an old crush that now seems more or less ruined by time and distance and stupidity. 

discovering the smile of one kageyama tobio, by emleewrites (8k. T. canonverse)

Innocence, pure innocence. Those are synonyms, shut up.  

Kageyama blinks once before a grin of his own spreads over his face. Shouyou’s breath halts in his lungs at the sight, and he wills for time to stop, just so he can drink it in. He sees it sometimes, when they’re playing - Kageyama’s fierce smile when they pull a combo off just right, when they show their opponents how possible the impossible can really be. But then there’s another serve, another rally, and the moment is gone.

'Shame', Shouyou thinks to himself, as he lets his eyes roam over Kageyama’s stupidly happy face, taking in the creases that are from joy rather than frowning, for a change. 'It’s a really nice smile.'

-

In which it's their third, and final, year in high school and Hinata has only one goal: to make Kageyama smile outside of volleyball.

 room to grow, by Mysecretfanmoments (6k. T. canonverse)

Third year Kageyama is considerate, careful, doesn't grab Hinata's hair. Hinata's still trying to figure out how he feels about it. 

where the night goes, by bigspoonnoya (20k. M. canon-divergence)

This one is very popular, and for good reason! It's beautiful. 

When their bond loses the immediate context of volleyball, they're left to consider why it's still so vital and important.

Meeting again, by chance, six years later.

 thirty-three days of mist and mountains, by tinygumdrops (curryramyeon) (36k. T. canon-divergence)

Kageyama, that’s a lot of paper, sir. I sure hope you recycle, god damn. 

Tobio runs by himself every day. Even though he can't shake off that awful feeling that something's closing in on him, he still does it. It's habit now.

When he gets a phone call that Hinata Shouyou is thinking of coming to Italy, Tobio feels like he has to run even faster.

(Or: Tobio has a month to prepare himself before his high school rival comes to visit him. They haven't spoken to each other for two years, and Tobio can't even remember what food Hinata likes. He's got a lot to think about.)

 soft serve, by tothemoon (9k words. T. canonverse):

Alternatively, the fic that made me immediately go out and buy a pint of ice cream after reading. So cute and fluffy! We’ve got a socially awkward Kageyama and, if I may, a little bit of a subdued Hinata.  Cute, cute, cute. Want ice cream. 

"I'm gonna run you over with this truck," Kageyama says, with only half of his usual conviction.

(Because frankly, he's still flabbergasted that Hinata would remember his favorite flavor.)

Or, in which Kageyama and Hinata drive an ice cream truck for a week, the former struggles with a crush, and the latter dares to eat the popsicles without paying.

 Fake it, Make it, by zadderlee (50k words. T. canonverse. Unfinished):

Ah yes, the classic fake dating that causes real feelings to arise. Here for the trope, will always be here for the trope. It is an unfinished fic, but it's still worth the read. Actually hilarious and Suga had me rolling. I take back what I said about only feeling safe alone with Iwa, I’d feel safe with Suga (lets be honest, with almost all of the Haikyuu boys. But not Atsumu. Rat bitch (I love him so much). 

"Because Kageyama is already dating someone!"

"Really? Who?"

“Me!” Hinata shouts suddenly, grabbing Kageyama’s hand as an afterthought and grinning triumphantly, like he’s somehow missed the implications of what he’s just done. Kageyama is going to kill him.

 touch, by buu (3k. T. canonverse)

Pure, young love. COVID-19 doesn’t exist yet. (WASH YOUR HANDS, DAMMIT)

Hinata doesn't notice it at first, really. It's small things, natural things, like when they sit together at lunch and Hinata ends up hooking his ankle over Kageyama's and he doesn't move away; in fact, he seems to not notice it, and go on eating his lunch like nothing's different. 

 we are the sparks that never fade, by thecivilunrest (4k. T. injury au)

A Kageyama injury fic and I never realized how painful that could be until I read this work. 

The first thing Hinata tells him after seven years is, “Toss to me.” 

 confession, by buu (3k. T. canonverse)

Just a really short, sweet school-boy love fic.

“You've been an ass to me for three weeks!” Hinata blurts, and finally the weight of it is pushing down on him. He's been trying to ignore it, telling himself it's just Kageyama being Kageyama, but this isn't like him, this is weird, and Hinata hates it. He's miserable.

 kisses, by buu (3k. T. canonverse)

So many smooches! So pure! 

There's a blur and Hinata remembers warm lips, surprisingly soft from someone who frowns all the time, and Kageyama's terrified face when he pulls back, and the electricity running through Hinata's entire body, heating his cheeks to match Kageyama's.

Kissing, it turns out, is as good as volleyball.

 Never More Cruel, by dawnstruck (3k. T. canonverse)

How have you not read this?? I know you haven't, so read it and smoosh in sweetness with me.  

Hinata starts fading away from him, and Kageyama tells himself that he doesn't mind.

Kuroken: 

teach me the way home, by icespyders (22k. T. canonverse)

WHY DOESN'T THIS HAVE MORE HITS?? 

Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

 Good Calls, MemeKonHQ (MemeKonYA) (4k. T. canonverse)

Captain Kenma, captain Kenma!

His first morning practice as a third year starts with a blur of gray and red moving fast towards him on his peripheral vision the moment he sets foot inside the gym, and then a pair of lanky arms gracelessly falling over him as Lev contorts himself in all sorts of ways to properly envelop him like some sort of octopus.

“Kenma-san!” He basically screams, thankfully far away enough from his sensitive ears that it doesn’t outright hurt. Lev puts his chin over the crown of his head and Kenma sighs, “Kenma-san! I am so happy! Some of the other second years thought you would bail on us! But you didn’t! Now you can keep tossing to me.”

(Or: Kenma's third year. Or part of it.)

 even if you're ahead for a bit, i will catch up, by ghostpot (4k. G. canonverse)

Kuroo sticking to it. 

Kuroo first confesses when they're sticky-fingered, wide-eyed kids, and subsequently every day after that. Kenma takes a while to come around. 

the golden route, by astersandstuff (12k. T. canonverse/road trip au)

Why is it so hard to find good kuroken fics? This is so good, though. Kenma and Kuroo in a van, on the road, kisses, and mackerel pike. 

“It’s a three-and-a-half hour walk,” Kenma points out, on the subject of the cat’s home in a town inside Ama District. “Why aren’t we taking the train?”

“That cancels out the point of a road trip,” Kuroo argues.

“Railroads are roads.”

“We’re currently leading a frugal existence.”

-

Or, in which two childhood friends go on a road trip and Kenma builds up a quest.

 love's not the way to treat a friend, by girltalk (8k. T. canonverse/post-canon)

How sweet! To be each other’s life lines. Drunk Bokuto is the best boy. 

There’s really nothing quite as revelatory as the silent minutes spent in bed during the aftermath of a wet dream involving you and your high-school best friend. 

 the walk home, by skiecas (42k. T. canonverse) 

Gorgeous. Author writes kurokens dynamic growing childhood through adulthood absolutely wonderfully. 

Kenma reluctantly spoons vanilla into his mouth, watching the sun set. And when everything is dusted in stripes of pale orange and purple and gold, he glances at Kuroo’s profile muddled in the shadows of the descending sun, and wonders whether he had somehow accidentally made friends with an impressive sort of boy. The ice-cream melted under his thumb feels maddeningly sticky, like he’ll never wash it away thoroughly enough and it would leave its mark wherever he touched before he could.

Kenma has never really thought of anyone as good-looking before, never really cared enough about these things to notice them. But Kuroo is objectively so, in this light, in this angle—maybe all the time.

(A Kuroo and Kenma life story, told in five acts).

[zeppelin-and-unicorns]

so i’ve read your entire fanfic recs lists and thank you so much for making it!! it introduced me to some of my fave fics like I Think It’s A Real Waste by Jaded Angel and That’s My Baby by kezztip (not including your works of course because i love them all). but now i’m at a lost of what to read. do you have any current fics or fics you would add to your lists?

p.s. so excited RYLH is gonna be updated soon!!! i am seriously in love with that story that it’s my pick me up fic

I'm glad my fanfic recs post was useful to you!! I spent a lot of time making that and I love ALL the stories I recommended.

[do you have any current fics or fics you would add to your lists?] -- Oh hell yeah, a lot of new fics came out after I made that post, and I've found a few more old ones. I'll list them all below (this is going to be LONG):

Multichapters:

all that glitters by SparklingSoul (canon divergence s3):

After getting into some hot water, Jackie and Hyde find themselves thrust into an unlikely partnership-- a partnership where in the lines of morality quickly become blurred as they lead each other down a questionable path to cope with their less than ideal home lives.

This story is a WIP.

Y'ALL, please trust me and read this one, it's amazing. The first chapter was posted yesterday and I'm already addicted.

Rated T.

6k words, one chapter so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Fez/Kelso, and Eric/Donna.

Baby Blue by crimsinsky (s7 fix-it):

Zenmasters being Godparents.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

4k words, 5 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Kelso/Brooke

Friend of the Devil by glittermila (AU):

An AU where Hyde's a girl, and falls for Jackie anyway.

Btw, everyone's gay in this story and I love it, lol.

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

65k words, 26 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Buddy, Eric/Donna, Fez/Kelso.

He Let Her Go by kezztip (canon divergence s7):

Jackie runs away to her wealthy grandmother in New York after the midseason 7 breakup. Will absence make Hyde's heart grow fonder? What happens when Jackie returns for a secret visit?

This story is complete.

Rated T.

17k words, 17 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I Think I Was Blind Before I Met You by TeaTimeAllOverTown (AU):

He’s 14 and she’s 13 and he finds her crying outside the prison doors and, not that he would ever admit it, hearing her cry makes his skin itch.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

15k words, 2 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Just Ask Santa by heatherlea75 (post s8, Christmas fic):

This is a two part Christmas story featuring JH from Cliches and Things They Say. Sometimes, adults should believe in Santa Claus, too.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

10k words, 3 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Miracle by B_August (AU):

To Pam Burkhart, Jackie is the abnormal child that her husband dragged in during their vacation in Hawaii. To her peers, she's the smart and stuck-up princess that graces the school halls. To the Basement Gang, she's the annoying brat that infiltrated their ranks. To Jackie herself, she is a super powered freak who just wants to do her best. But to Jack Burkhart, Buddy Morgan, a pair of higher life forms, and those who she would later help, she is nothing short of a miracle.

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

47k words, 33 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Fez/Buddy

My Best Friend's Girl by the bohemian flow (AU):

What if Hyde had a crush on Jackie instead of Donna?

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

2k words, one chapter so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, temporary Jackie/Kelso

perfect matches burn (and baby, so do we) by deartangerine (AU):

One year after their break-up, Jackie and Hyde have finally pieced themselves back together, on their own. Jackie's in school. Hyde's sober. But one fateful weekend stuck together at their best friends' wedding might be all it takes to tear them down again.

Or maybe, just maybe, to build something new.

Another fic where Hyde's genderbent, and it's great! I highly recommend reading the prequel, our fingers intertwined (just like our hearts).

This story is a WIP.

Rated M.

24k words, 9 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Play With Fire by ShinyBo0ts0fLeather (s8 canon divergence):

After Hyde comes back from Las Vegas, Sam comes into everyone's life and thus ruining the very last chance he had with Jackie. Instead of the moping around, Jackie is now fueled with fire and a sense of determination to move on and make a life for herself as a strong, independent woman. Instead of turning their back on Jackie and siding with Hyde, Eric, Donna, Kelso, Fez and even Laurie remain loyal friends to Jackie. Hyde is completely broken, but isn't a complete asshole to Jackie. The gang doesn't turn their back on Hyde, but instead support him yet hold him responsible for his actions instead of sweeping it all under the rug. While Jackie is set on moving on, Hyde is set on getting Jackie back and changing his ways for both her and his sake. Whatever it takes.

Eric never left to Africa, and Kelso is in Chicago with Brooke, but is still around. Donna sticks to her feminist values like in the early seasons and is a better friend to Jackie. Jackie is close to the Forman's as well, and her relationship with her father will be prominent and better here as well. Overall positive with some angst.

This story is a WIP.

Rated M.

30k words, 15 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Something Unexpected by crimsinsky (s1 canon divergence):

What if Jackie wasn’t quite so heartbroken over Kelso kissing Pam Macy?

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

15k words, 11 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Red/Kitty

Spirit In The Night by springsteenicious (s4/s5 canon divergence):

Jackie and Hyde are in the midst of a passionate- and secret- fling. When Kelso's sister lends the six of them her cabin by a lake for a few days, they have to be even more secretive. But secrecy proves to be a difficult thing to maintain, especially when they can't seem to get enough of each other's presence. (Inspired by the Bruce Springsteen song).

This story is funny as hell, and it's a WIP.

Rated T.

4k words, 2 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Take The Money and Run! by MinaSeraphina (post s7):

This here's a story about Steven Hyde and Jackie Blue. Two young lovers with nothin' better to do...

Complete.

Rated M.

29k words, 12 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One That Wasn't Canon by samcaponi (AU):

Basically, this is an AU where Jackie never dated Kelso. It's not set in a specific season but will take different aspects from each season.

This has to be one of the cutest stories I've ever read in my life.

This story is a WIP.

It doesn't have a rating.

11k words, 9 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Things Fall Apart by leoasc (s8 canon divergence):

On one night in a motel room in Chicago, Jackie and Hyde learn a valuable lesson about love and life: Things fall apart. People get hurt. Hearts get broken. Over the course of nine months and a series of events no one saw coming, they learn how true that really is.

Prepare yourself because your heart's going to be crushed, but the author guaranteed that they'll fix it so I'm trusting them.

This story is a WIP.

60k words, 9 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Too Late by brokenrussiancrawl (s8 canon divergence):

Hyde was not stalking her. It was just, after months of not seeing or hearing from her, finally spotting her in a bar made him realize how much he truly missed her. The only problem is, the tiny brunette wants nothing to do with the gang...even more so him. But he couldn't stay away.

This is angsty. Very, very angsty. But it's great!

This story is a WIP.

Rated T, but the author said that might change later.

23k words, 5 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/OC, background Eric/Donna

We're Not Broken, Just Bent by SparklingSoul (post s8):

When tragedy strikes and Jackie and Hyde are forced to live up to their godparent duties, they need to overcome their differences and work together. Along the way, they realize that maybe their relationship isn’t broken beyond repair after all...

This story is one of my favorites, I love it so much!! Please read it.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

67k words, 24 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

When Did This Happen? by QueenBookBuff (post s8):

Hyde is stunned when he finds out Jackie and Eric no longer hate each other, and he finds he hates the idea of her having a soft place to land that is not him. What he hates even more is the idea that Eric is protecting Jackie from him.

Angsty and beautiful story, I'm loving it.

This story is a WIP.

Rated M.

46k words, 13 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One-shots:

Anything For You, Doll by icanseeformiles (missing moment):

One-shot, takes place during season 5. Jackie is sick while staying overnight with Hyde in the basement, and Hyde has to take care of her. All fluff.

Rated T.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Five Years by johnnycakewasgolden (idk, it wasn't specified):

It's been five years. Fluffy fic. Sappiness. H/J.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

He Cared by johnnycakewasgolden (missing moment):

After Hyde tells Kelso that he's a tool for trying to get out of Brooke's pregnancy. Hyde's thoughts drift to Jackie and everything between them.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Here I Go Again by Tandy (I think it's post s8 but I'm not sure):

Life had not turned out like Jackie had planned. She wasn't rich, she had no maid, no mansion, and no husband. (don't worry this is fluffy).

Rated T.

5k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I'll Have To Say I Love You In A Song by springsteenicious (s5 canon divergence):

"Every time the time was right all the words just came out wrong, so I'll have to say I love you in a song..."

Hyde isn't sure how to tell Jackie he loves her. Then he finds the perfect way, and it's a song sung by Jim Croce.

Rated G.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I LOVE YOU by PrettyinPink33 (I think it's s5 canon divergence but I'm not sure):

"Why can't you say it? It's three words. Eight letters! Why can't you say it?" Hyde doesn't want to use the L-word. A sweet little fluffy J/H oneshot

Rated T.

839 words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

is this the place that i've been dreaming of? by SparklingSoul (missing moment):

“I’m mostly over it now,” she continues, “but sometimes I can’t help but worry about that same thing with any guy. So tell me, would you break up with me, too?”

Jackie has some leftover relationship insecurities from when she dated Kelso and Hyde is there to remind her that she doesn't have to worry anymore.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

It's a Hyde Thing by not.so.tragically (AU canon divergence):

It became a Hyde thing. She had part in one of his Hyde things, and for some reason, he was okay with it.

Rated T.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Magic Man by ShanghaiLily (missing moment):

Just a sexy little 'missing scene' one-shot that takes place after Donna returns from California and she and Eric catch Jackie & Hyde together on the couch but before Kelso finds out about the affair. After a naughty afternoon together, they admit to themselves & each other they don't want to break up.

Rated M. Very M.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Nice To Meet You by crimsinsky (AU):

What If Jackie and Hyde met without Jackie and Kelso ever dating?

A loudmouth girl meets a troublemaking knight in shining armor.

Rated T.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar by MissRaichyl (post s8):

Hyde and Jackie meet after a long time apart and find comfort in each other that they thought was long gone.

Rated M.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Old and Grey by zpplnchick (post s8):

After a busy day of shopping, Jackie and Hyde make one last purchase: new boots. Post-finale. Told from a 3rd-party perspective.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One Special Morning by marirable (missing moment):

If anyone caught him at this hour and in this situation, they would be inevitably buried in the Formans' backyard to maintain his burnout image and not lead it towards the worst. Towards the gang thinking that Hyde got himself a heart.

Rated K.

643 words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

She's a Rainbow by trobedisons (AU? idk):

"she comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair, she's like a rainbow."

as with everything, jackie is the opposite. they're polar opposites. the rich girl; the bad boy. archetypes that should clash, but they attract. it was as if his calloused hands were crafted to mold into the curve of her hips.

hyde notices jackie’s affinity for rainbow sweaters. hyde also notices he likes jackie. so what happens when she needs a date?

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The Big Toy by JoyfulHeartEO (missing moment?):

When Jackie and Hyde get bored at the Drive in with their friends...where will they go? And what will they do? ;D Read and find out what happens.

Rated M because this has a lot of sex, but it's well written and funny.

3k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Where Did You Sleep Last Night by QueenBookBuff (s8 canon divergence):

Would a married Jackie ever break her vow to be faithful?

I love ALL of QBB's stories, but this one has a special place in my heart, I don't know why.

Rated T.

This work is part of a series, so there's a sequel.

4k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/Kelso

Why Didn't You Tell Anyone? by zpplnchick (missing moment):

The gang talks about their first kiss, and a surprising revelation is revealed… Set shortly after 4x20.

Rated K+.

6k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

You Give Me Fever by crimsinsky (missing moment):

Jackie is sick, or is she? She claims she is, but Kelso says he saw her not too long ago. Who is Hyde supposed to believe, and what does he do about it?

Rated G.

5k worrds.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

1983 by antrazi (post s8? idk):

Somebody comes back and watches Hyde's life from the outside.

Rated T.

731 words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

*

I think this is it! I probably forgot some fics because my brain is weird, but yeah. I've read all of these, and they're all amazing. I think you'll love them!

[jalapeno-princess]

Car Troubles

Mechanic Jaebum X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Your car has been acting up lately, but you’re too stubborn to do anything about it. However, your best friend BamBam suggests you take your car to a mechanic and gives you the contact of his friend JB. When you take your car in to JB’s shop, you find yourself immediately attracted to him. You thought that he was just going to fix your car and that would be the first and last time you’d end up seeing him, but oh were you wrong.

A/n: Hey guys! So this was requested a while back and if I’m being honest, I’m kind of iffy with how this turned out I can never do JB justice :( I hope you enjoy! (This was actually written based on my first experience with a flat tire. Luckily I live in Hawaii, a lot of the locals are some of the sweetest people and they won’t hesitate to help you if needed plus we have a bunch of auto repair shops almost anywhere you go so before I could freak out about having to do all this unnecessary shit, I literally drove less then two minutes down the road and BOOM I was good PLS CHECK YOUR TIRES)

“Damnit! This is the third time this week my car overheated. I don’t get it. I put coolant inside every single time, so what’s going on?” You and your best friend BamBam were currently on the way to the grocery store to buy some snacks for the movie night you both had planned from the beginning of that week. Unfortunately, as you were about to turn in to the shopping mall, your car gave you a warning that it was overheating. 

BamBam couldn’t help but let out a chuckle; he’s been telling you for months to save up some money and to sell the piece of junk that you call a car in order to buy another one but you always gave him the excuse that it gets you to and from your location just fine so there’s no point in spending thousands of dollars to get a new one. 

“You already know what I’m going to say so I don’t see a reason to waste my breath.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you pulled in to a parking stall. BamBam was right and you didn’t understand why you were so adamant on keeping your car, especially when the cost of maintaining it was more expensive than getting a new one. It’s just that you didn’t want to have to deal with another car payment and everything else that came with it on top of your college tuition and rent. 

“Have you ever actually taken it in to an auto repair shop to see if there might be something wrong with it? I’m sure there’s more you need to do to it rather than constantly putting in coolant. Who knows, you might even be making things worse by doing so. Hey, why don’t you let my friend JB take a look at it? He’s a mechanic and he owns his own shop. What? What is that look for?” You sent him a knowing glare as the two of you got out of your car and made your way towards the store. 

“The last time you introduced me to a friend of yours I almost broke my ankle.” BamBam giggled at the memory of his friend Yugyeom teaching you how to dance and you tripping over his extremely long legs. 

“Hey, it’s your fault you have two left feet. Yugyeom is an amazing dance teacher, you’re the one who can’t dance. Ow—okay I deserved that. But I’m serious about JB. He knows his stuff. He’s been fixing cars since we were in high school and I’m sure he’ll give you a discount since you’re friends with me. Just say the word and I’ll give him a call. You can even search him up and read his reviews if you don’t believe me.” 

You contemplated his offer for a few moments before releasing a frustrated sigh and nodding in agreement. There wasn’t any harm in having him take a look at what might be the problem with your car. You just didn’t want BamBam to continue bothering you about it like he did with Yugyeom’s dance lessons. 

Once the two of you finished your grocery shopping and headed back to your apartment, you decided to look up JB’s auto shop to look at the reviews before having BamBam reach out to him for you. You were surprised to say the least when you saw all the comments from customers raving about how good he was at his job. 

As you continued to read the reviews and saw the photos of people’s cars, you could tell that JB was very passionate about being a mechanic and he put a lot of time and detail in to his work. BamBam was quick to reach for his phone in order to call his older friend once you gave him the okay and you took this time to start mixing the brownie batter. 

“Hey man, it’s Bam. Yeah, I’m gonna need a favor. What do you mean I still owe you for—okay I know, but didn’t I get you that—I didn’t? Okay well that’s not the point here. The favor isn’t even for me it’s for my friend. Her car keeps overheating and I was wondering if you could take a look at it? Really? You’d do that? Thanks bro! That means a lot to me I owe you one—I get it—fine I owe you nine whatever. She’ll bring it in tomorrow. See you then.” The older boy placed his phone down on the coffee table and folded his arms behind his head cockily. “Am I the best or what? You’re welcome.” You scoffed before setting a timer on the oven and making your way in to your living room. 

“You didn’t do anything, you know that right? All you did was call to make an appointment with a mechanic. I could’ve done that by myself.”

“Fine, you can go by yourself tomorrow too if you’re going to act like that.” You gave him an adorable pout before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your chin on his shoulder. 

“I’m kidding Bam. I’m very grateful for you. You’re my best friend.” He gave you a knowing look before dipping his finger in the brownie batter and licking it clean.

“Who are you kidding? I’m your only friend. But I’m the only one that you need anyway. By the way, I actually have to go with Yugyeom tomorrow to his doctor’s appointment; he promised me lunch so you’re on your own but you have nothing to worry about. JB‘s a really cool guy. He’s even nicer to girls. All you have to do is bring your car in and sit in his office while waiting. It’ll be a breeze. Let me know how it goes, if he needs to keep your car overnight, just give me a call and I’ll come pick you up. If you’re nice to me, I’ll talk Yugyeom in to buying you lunch too.” 

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual and began to get ready to head over and drop your car off to JB’s shop. You couldn’t understand why you felt so nervous. Something about mechanics were so intimidating, probably because you were afraid of being reprimanded for neglecting your car. BamBam went in to detail about their friendship the night before and explained to you that JB was very dedicated to his job. He knew anything and everything that had to deal with cars. All you had to do was hand your car over to him and let him do his thing while you occupied yourself with your phone. 

After eating some breakfast and preparing your insurance forms, you made your way to his auto repair shop which was conveniently located less than ten minutes away from your apartment. The drive took longer than expected; it seemed that almost everyone was out on the road today and you couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that fell from your lips at the realization. Once you finally arrived to “Nora’s Auto Repair” you pulled up right in front of the garage and parked before looking around for who BamBam described to be JB. 

“He’ll probably be working on a car by the time you get there so there’s no use in wasting your time looking for him in his office. He’s a few inches taller than me with dark, brown hair up to his shoulders, brooding eyes and a sharp jaw. Try not to make him angry, that jaw has a mind of it’s own. But don’t be intimidated by his appearance, he’s a big softie.” 

You walked straight up to the garage and saw a pair of feet underneath a car. At first, you were afraid of interrupting him, with the music blasting in the background on top of the sounds of what you assumed to be a screwdriver, you knew he was very focused on the car he was currently working on; but at the same time, you didn’t want someone walking in on you standing there, doing nothing like a weirdo. 

“Um—excuse me?” It came off almost like a squeak of a mouse, you were sure he probably didn’t hear you, so you repeated yourself again. When he still had yet to acknowledge your presence, you decided to get his attention another way and gently tapped his ankle with the tip of your sandal. Unfortunately, he ended up getting startled and immediately sat up, hitting his head up against the radiator and released a frustrated grunt before getting up from underneath the car. You were about to open your mouth to release countless apologies for scaring him but that was before you got to take a good look at him. 

He was in more or less words extremely gorgeous. His long hair was slicked back, he was wearing overalls and a blank tank top that showed off his broad shoulders and toned biceps. BamBam was right about his brooding and piercing eyes, and you were quick to notice the two adorable moles right above his eyebrow. He also had some dirt and grease on his cheeks, but for some reason it made him look even more attractive than he already was. You didn’t think someone could look so good, as if he came right out of a magazine while working on a car. You’ve been friends with BamBam for years now, why did he have the audacity to keep this beautiful man standing in front of you a secret? 

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you I just—BamBam told me to look for you and—“ When you first heard him groan in pain after hitting his head, you were sure you’d get an earful about interrupting someone while they were working on a car. However, your cheeks warmed up at the way he was looking at you with the most adorable smile you’ve ever seen on a grown man. 

“Don’t sweat it, it happens all the time. My employees constantly nag me about turning down my music so I can hear people approaching. You must be y/n. Nice to meet you. You’re friends with BamBam? You poor thing. It must be tiring being his right hand man—I mean woman. So, what seems to be the problem with your car?” He asked for you to lead him to your car and had you pop open the hood so that he could take a better look at what the problem might be. 

“It’s been overheating a lot these days. I’ve put in coolant three times this week and it’s still not cooling down. I have a fear that one day the battery will die if I don’t do something about it so that’s why I’m here.” He nodded in understanding before taking a look inside and making sure nothing was out of the ordinary. Your eyes began to wander all along his body and you felt weird for checking someone out just a couple of minutes after meeting him but who could blame you? He was practically a Greek God and honestly, even if the two of you just met, you would do anything he’d ask of you. 

JB took a few minutes going over multiple parts of your car, the exhaust system, suspension, brakes, air filter, spark plugs; anything he felt could be adding on to the failure of your car. While he continued examining the hood of your car, you decided to look away to prevent yourself from staring at him any longer. You texted BamBam to let him know that you made it over to JB’s place and you were about to admit that you were having a hard time paying attention to anything other than him. For someone who was drenched in sweat and car exhaust, he looked like he came straight out of a magazine. You were so deep in your thoughts that you failed to notice JB trying to get your attention. 

“I think the coolant you must’ve put in there kinda screwed it up but it’s nothing I won’t be able to fix. I also recommend you get an oil change since you’re here. It won’t take too long, you can go sit in my office and I’ll come let you know when I’m done.” You politely thanked him and he gave you a soft smile and you were sure your heart was about to jump out of your chest the longer you were around him. As you began heading towards his office, you heard him call out for you. 

“By the way y/n, call me Jaebum.” With the way warmth immediately rose on your cheeks, you had a feeling you were a blushing mess from hearing his words and you were quick to pick up on the cheeky intonation of his voice. You refused to turn around to face him and nodded softly to yourself, there was no way you’d give him the benefit of the doubt by making it aware that he was having an effect on you. You had just met the guy less than ten minutes ago and you’ve seen your fair share of good looking men before, so why were you going so crazy over JB? 

Once you took a seat in his office, you gave yourself a few seconds to breathe and get your thoughts straight. However, your mind wouldn’t stop going back to how attractive he looked with his hair all out of place while oil and dirt was stained on his overalls. The smile he sent was now glued in your mind. He was easy on the eyes, hardworking, and extremely personable. You secretly cursed BamBam for not introducing the two of you sooner under different circumstances but you had no idea why you were acting like this. It’s not like the two of you actually conversed with each other, nor were you anything more than just a clumsy customer who had no clue about anything car related. 

For almost two hours, you played a couple of games on your phone and even watched a few Netflix shows to make time go by faster, and to keep your mind off of the way Jaebum’s muscles flexed while working on your car as you checked up on him every now and then through the window. Luckily, multiple episodes of Parks and Recreations took up all your attention for almost the entirety of waiting. You were so deep in to an episode that you failed to notice Jaebum enter his office until you heard the door shut. 

“Hey, I’m done with your car. Sorry it took so long, I wanted to make sure everything is good before sending you off. I changed the oil, tightened a few pipes and fixed the overheating problem. You should be all good to go.” You smiled softly at him and thanked him profusely before taking out your wallet. 

“How much do I owe you?” He took a seat at his desk and began writing down a few numbers, estimating how much the work on your came out to on your car. 

“$100 flat.” You looked at him in shock, dumbfounded with his answer. Sure, you weren’t one to know much about cars, but you knew with the amount of work he did to your car that it was worth more than just one hundred dollars. It felt as if you were gypping him and taking advantage of his kindness. 

“Jaebum, you can’t be serious right? I’m sure it’s more than $100. I’m fine with paying full price! You did so much—“ he playfully shook his head before handing you your keys. 

“It’s totally fine y/n. If I’m being honest with you, I think you should actually put your money in to getting a new car. I took it for a drive around the block and it still runs just fine, but you don’t want to risk something bad happening to it again soon.” You nodded in understanding before writing out a check. An idea popped in your head and you could only hope that he’d want to go along with it and not think negative of you for asking. 

“How about I treat you to some lunch? You must be hungry after hours of work. Plus I want to pay you back for all that you did for my car. It means a lot, thanks again Jaebum.” The wide grin that he was now sporting made your heart flutter. You were soon regretting your decision of taking him to lunch because you knew you wouldn’t be able to sit in front of him without practically drooling over him. 

“That sounds cool. Let me just get cleaned up a bit and we can go.” After you paid him, he left his office to and in his words “look more presentable” leaving you all alone with your thoughts. Why were you so worried? He seemed like an extremely cool guy and he practically fixed your car for less than half of what is normally expected. If BamBam could trust him, you could too. It just didn’t help that he was extremely attractive. 

“Ready to go?” If you thought he looked good earlier, seeing him freshened up was a sight to behold. His face was free of dirt and oil, he changed in to a pair of jeans and a flannel and he threw his hair back in to a man bun. You were internally cursing yourself for putting yourself in such a situation. All you wanted to do was treat him to lunch, but now you had to suffer knowing that you were quickly developing a little crush on him. 

“Yeah. Shall we?” He hummed in agreement and like the gentleman he was, he held the door for you and led you to his car. When he walked up to his pick up truck, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. 

“Something wrong?” You shook your head in disagreement. 

“Your car matches you.” With the way he adorably tilted his head in confusion, you knew he didn’t understand what you meant. “Trucks can be intimidating and quite rugged. Like you.” 

“Ah. I get what you mean. Well, since we’re on the topic of it, your car doesn’t match you at all.” You were about to open your mouth but he was quick to continue. “You’re driving a 2003 Toyota Corolla. Quite a safe car, which is understandable—if you were an elderly woman. However, you seem quite stable unlike your car—ow! I fixed your car for cheap and I get a slap in return. I’ll make sure to rack up the bill at lunch to get back at you.” He winked at you, causing your heart rate to increase before opening your door and helping you inside. 

The car ride was filled with laughter and terrible singing, mainly from Jaebum, but you enjoyed every second of it. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you were only really close with BamBam, so you weren’t used to being around any other guy. You could get used to being around Jaebum. He had the heart of a child; he was so charismatic and optimistic. You also learned that he owned five cats, loved to read books in his free time and he was the biggest mama’s boy. So this is what BamBam meant when he said JB is a big softie. 

Your time together at lunch was much like it was in the car. You found yourself laughing almost the entire time over the countless stories he told you about his childhood, his friendship with BamBam and the rest of their group of friends and the horror stories that came with being a mechanic. Seeing his eyes light up as he described to you how in love he was with his job made butterflies erupt in your tummy. Too bad this was only a one time thing and you had a feeling you’d only ever get to see him if you needed your car fixed. When the two of you were finished with your meals, before you could reach for the check, he handed his card to the waiter in which you were quick to object multiple times, but he reached over and placed his finger on top of your mouth to prevent you from complaining any further. This man was going to be the death of you. 

“Jaebum, I was supposed to pay—“ he shook his head as he signed the receipt and motioned for you to get up. 

“You can get the check next time okay?” You gave him a pout, but on the inside you were over the moon. Next time? Did this mean he had plans on becoming friends with you? Or something beyond friendship? Whatever it was, the idea of having Jaebum in your life made you extremely happy. You could use such a positive and carefree person like him in your life to motivate you to become a better person. 

To your dismay, your day with Jaebum came to an end and before you knew it, he pulled up in front of your parking structure. “Thank you again Jaebum. For my car, for lunch, for everything. I had a really nice time tonight. Let me know when you’re free, you ass. I really wanted to treat you.” He flashed you his award winning smile before pinching your cheek. 

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m already planning on which expensive steakhouse I want you to bring me to. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need help with your car. Have a nice night!” When Jaebum told you to call him whenever something was wrong with your car, he didn’t expect you to call him every other week. The two of you texted each other back and forth every so often, but it was never more than a simple “how was your day?” Or “how is your car?” You had a feeling he wasn’t interested in you the way you wish he would be, but you decided to let it go. 

Unfortunately, only two weeks after he worked on your car the first time, your air conditioning broke which he was quick to offer in fixing. Then another two weeks later, your battery died. You were on your way to the grocery store when your car completely gave out and Jaebum did not hesitate to drive over to you and bring you another one. He even installed it on the side of the road where your car was. It was if you couldn’t catch a break, but you weren’t going to lie; you enjoyed having excuses to see Jaebum again. His presence was like a breath of fresh air and every time you had to leave him, you felt like your life was colorless and dull. 

He was always very kind and patient with you, he even tried his best to console you the minute your battery died because he could tell in your voice that you were freaking out. Even when he arrived to your location, he pulled you in to his embrace and cautiously rubbed your back in attempts to get you to calm down. His arms were so comforting and you missed the feeling of them practically swallowing your body entirely. With each and every time you needed his assistance, he would always give you a knowing smirk and remind you that maybe it was time to get yourself a new car. 

You didn’t fail to notice the way that Jaebum would steal glances from you every so often, and how he was quite gentle with you than he was with other clients. Even when he hugged you that day, there was something with the way he placed his chin on top of your head while running his fingers through your hair that made you feel as if he didn’t act this way towards just anybody. When you told your assumptions to your best friend, the older boy laughed in your face. 

“Jaebum? Like you? Hahahaha! Don’t make me laugh y/n—oh. You were being serious. Don’t take it the wrong way, you’re beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend. It’s just—Jaebum doesn’t date. Or at least I’ve never seen him in a relationship before. That guy is married to his job—hell he’s married to the cars he fixes. Maybe he’s just being friendly since you’re my best friend. It’s been a month since I first sent you his way. Don’t you think he would’ve made a move on you by now?” 

Although his words sent a jab to your heart, he was right. If Jaebum reciprocated your feelings for him, he would’ve done something about it a long time ago. You knew BamBam didn’t mean any harm, but hearing him say things like that was a slap in the face by reality that you were nothing to Jaebum but a nuisance. Someone who was too stubborn to pay for a new car and had to keep wasting Jaebum’s time when he could be doing something more important. 

You did whatever you could to make sure you no longer needed his help, but life never seemed to be on your side. You were sitting in line at a drive through when the cutest little elderly man came up to you and pointed out to you that your back tire was looking pretty low. Once you got your food, you pulled to the side and contemplated your next move. As much as you didn’t want to bother Jaebum, you didn’t know what to do. 

“What’s up y/n, everything okay?” You released a frustrated sigh at the thought of why you were calling him in the first place. 

“Hey. Sorry to bother you again but car has a flat tire and I have no idea what to do.” You heard him giggle softly through the phone and the sound alone made you calm down. Something about Jaebum’s laugh made you want to laugh yourself. He had one of those contagious laughs that could even get a mime to crack a smile. It was the most beautiful sound in the world, you were sure of it. 

“That’s why you have me. Where are you? Are you in a safe location? Can you send me a picture of your tire? Are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” Your heart warmed at all of his questions. The fact that he seemed genuinely worried about you made you blush like a schoolgirl. “I’m fine. I was at Jack in the box when someone told me my tire was flat. I’m currently in their parking lot just eating my soggy curly fries and cursing myself for not listening to either you or BamBam about finally getting a new car.”

“Hey, as much as I want to tell you I told you so, now is definitely not the time. I’ll be there in fifteen. Save some of those soggy fries for me.” After you hung up the phone, you decided to kill time by playing some games. You even ran inside and bought him something to eat as your way of thanking him for having to leave work again to come help you. When he arrived less than ten minutes later, you were quick to pick up on the car he was driving. It wasn’t his truck, was he maybe taking someone else’s car for a test run? 

“Hey, I’m glad to see that you’re all in one piece, I was worried. It’s a shame your cars not.” Every time he had to come help you out, he always made a joke about how shitty your car was and if it were anyone else, you’d probably fight them. But because it was Jaebum, you allowed him to constantly make fun of you and the fact that your car was a piece of junk. You handed him over the bag of food to which he thanked you and playfully wiggled his brows at you. 

“You know this doesn’t count right? I’m still expecting dinner at Kobe steakhouse.” You playfully rolled your eyes and it’s as if he knew your next move so he immediately moved away. The two of you were extremely playful with one another and you would always end up hitting him whenever he made a joke about you but it was all in good fun. He began snacking on a few French fries before taking a look at your tire. 

“Oh shit. Oh yeah that’s bad. You know something y/n?”

“What?”

“At first, I was sure your car was cursed. Sure, it’s 17 years old, so it’s expected to be a little run down. But I’ve had customers bring in cars from the 90’s and they drive perfectly fine. So I couldn’t help but think that maybe you purposely mess around with your car so that you have an excuse to come and see me.”

Although you loved every chance you got to see the handsome boy, you weren’t crazy enough to go to the lengths of practically killing your car. Did he really think you would waste hundreds of dollars by purposely breaking down your own car just so you could see him? He must’ve lost his mind. As you were about to open your mouth and fight back against what he said, he connected your lips with his. 

His lips were hot and rough against yours and his hands were quick to cup both your jaw and neck. He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth, nonverbally asking for entrance. Once you felt his tongue against yours, you were quick to release a soft moan and gently tugged on his soft locks. To your dismay, he pulled away in order to catch his breath and took a good look at you before hiding his face in the juncture of your neck. 

“I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter every time I saw your name pop up on my phone although, I hated the thought of you in an unfortunate situation and I would always get worried because you’re usually alone whenever something goes wrong with your car. I’ve liked you from the day we went to lunch the first time and you practically snorted on your soda at something I said. You’re extremely beautiful you know that? I have a hard time trying to keep myself from looking at you. And you’re so fun to be around. Albeit a little clumsy, stubborn and irresponsible, but it makes you unique and honestly I really like those things about you.” He picked one of your hands up and began leaving a few kisses on the back of it. 

“Wait, you kissed me before confessing or even trying to see how I felt. Were you planning on seeing how things would go? Or did you just so happen to catch me practically drooling over you every now and then?” He let out a snicker and shook his head. 

“A little birdie called me last night and told me that you were talking to him about me and whether or not I had feelings for you.”

“That asshole. He told me he had no clue and that you were only being friendly with me. I didn’t think you liked me back, you never really talk to me unless something’s wrong with my car.”

Jaebum couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips as he saw your brows furrow in frustration. “Nobody knows how I feel about you. Look how quick BamBam was to admit that you liked me! If I were to tell him anything for that matter, it would probably be on the news less than an hour later. He’s one of the biggest blabber mouths there is babe. And I’m actually shit when it comes to these things. Trust me, every time you would text me, it took a lot of willpower not to go deeper in to the conversation. I love talking to you. There were so many days where I had the urge to call you and just talk about nothing. You make me really happy y/n. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Whenever you came in, I couldn’t help the stupid grin that would stay on my face for the entirety of the day. My employees wouldn’t stop looking at me funny. Is it wrong that I would sometimes hope something were to happen to your car just so you would come in?” 

You scoffed before stealing a kiss from the corner of his mouth. “And you call me crazy. You’re just as head over heels for me as I am for you punk ass.” He took a bite out of the sandwich you bought him and motioned for you to follow him. You noticed how he took out the keys from the car he drove in and handed them to you. It’s as if he knew you were about to ask him a question and beat you to it. 

“This is your new car. It’s not much, but it’s a lot better than the one you have now. Someone brought it in the other day because they had no use for it and so I decided to fix it up and planned on giving it to you. Take good care of it okay? As much as I love seeing you come in to my shop, I don’t want you having any more problems with your car.” 

Your jaw dropped in awe and a few tears fell from your cheeks. You couldn’t believe that he was giving you a new, well, used car but in way better condition than the one you had now. He could’ve sold it or donated it but yet he fixed it up with the intention of giving it to you. What did you do in your past life do deserve him? He wasn’t quite ready when you practically jumped on him, but his reflexes were quick as he wrapped your legs around his waist and held you by your thighs. You began leaving wet kisses all around his face before finally bringing your lips to his. When you felt him smile in to the kiss, you returned the same ministration. 

“Thank you so much Jaebum. Ugh you’re so amazing you know that? I really don’t know how I can pay you back for all that you’ve done to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He smiled against your neck and placed you back on the ground before intertwining your fingers together and leading you over to your old car to get your things. 

“You can repay me by going out with me on a date. Tonight, if you’re free.” You nodded in agreement while hiding his face in your chest. However, before you could get comfortable, you felt something wet against your cheek. 

“Ew babe did you just get finished working on the car? You’re sweaty!” He scoffed before playfully slapping your butt earning himself a surprised moan. 

“You want to give me another reason to get sweaty baby? Ow—there are other ways you can show me how thankful you are without having to hit me y/n. Unless you’re in to stuff like that I’m all for getting rough—hey—where are you going silly girl? Babe! Get back here y/n! And don’t eat my fries you bought those for me!”

[emberfrostlovesloki]

# 12 Comic Con

Gif credit; @prettyboyspence​

Prompt: Comic Con - Spencer and Garcia go to a convention in Pennsylvania so Spencer can see his favorite cosplayer [the reader]  again in person.

Couple: Spencer Reid/ Reader (female)

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: None

A/N: I wanted to write something completely fluffy, because I’ve only written angst for either the Reader or Spencer and I thought I should switch it up a little. This one shot is based on the reader being a cosplayer, but as long as you have a basic understanding of conventions this shouldn’t pose a problem. It’s not a super romantic fic, but it leans in that direction. I hope you enjoy! Like/ reblog please. 

List with all stories

Word Count: 6K

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/i_ = your initials 

_h/c_ = hair color

Spencer tried to make himself comfortable in the economy seat of the airplane he was currently on. With his long legs, unfortunately, the task was futile. After he gave up, the lanky man returned to his book. The genius FBI agent was not on the plane for a case, in fact he was on the plane for pleasure, or at least future pleasure. Reid was on his way to Pennsylvania to attend Steel City Comic Con. He had never attended the convention before, what was really drawing him to the state of virtue and independence was the cosplayer FrindlyFighter. 

Reid had stumbled across their account a few years ago. They cosplayed from Star Trek, Marvel, and many other fandoms that Spencer enjoyed. He had the opportunity of meeting FriendlyFighter at San Diego Comic Con in 2017. She was hosting a panel about the psychology of the Red Shirt from Star Trek. Although they hadn’t gotten all of the hard science right, Spencer was still enamored at someone being dedicated enough to do the research to pull off the panel. After the discussion was over he had approached the area where the host was chatting with some of the volunteers at the convention. She had noticed him and turned and walked up to him. “Hey, how are you enjoying the convention?” Spencer had stumbled over his words as he replied, “I’m good, I mean the convention has been great. I was really excited to see that you were hosting a panel this year.” The cosplayer smiled at his statement and asked, “So you’re interested in the psychological elements of Star Trek? It’s good to hear because every time I give one of these panel’s I’m not sure why there are so many people in the audience. You might say I’ve got impostor syndrome.” FriendlyFighter laughed at her self-deprecating humor and Spencer quickly replied, “I’m very interested in what you have to say. I actually use psychology a lot where I work, and I don’t think you’re an impostor. Upon hearing that one of her fans was more qualified in the field of psychology than her, she asked, “Where do you work?” She had not expected his response of, “I’m a profiler for the FBI, actually.” Her eyes grew wide at the information and she quickly said, “Wow, that must be a very difficult job. You’re a lot better at the science than I am. How did I do up there? Did I butcher all of the science?” The woman cringed at the idea, but she had asked and wanted to know if she was super off base in her assertions. Thankfully the man said, “You did really good. Not all of your claims are bullet proof, but generally you got it right.” The cosplayer relaxed and the knowledge and said, “Sorry I’m interrogating you over here, I haven’t even asked your name.” Spencer smiled and said, “My name is Spencer Reid, it’s nice to meet you.” She at him and said, “It’s nice to meet you Spencer.” The tall man stood for a second. He hadn’t realized that a short line of FriendlyFighter’s fans had formed behind him. The panelist looked back at him and said, “Would you like a picture.” At this statement Spencer smiled and fumbled for his phone. He positioned himself beside the cosplayer. She lifted her hand in the Vulcan salute and Reid snapped the photo. He said, “Thank you so much.” To which she replied, “Of course. Have a good rest of the con.”  

Spencer was brought back into the moment when the wheels of the plane touched the earth with a lurch. After he had grabbed his suitcase from the baggage terminal the agent flagged down a taxi and went straight to his hotel. The hotel was just across the road from the Monroeville convention center where the event was taking place. The hotel was already bustling with guests with large props and costume pieces on their luggage carts. The atmosphere was so different from his normal 24/7 work induced stress. After the lean man made it up to his room on the fourth floor he set his suitcase in the entrance way and he flopped down on the bed. He told himself that after a short nap he would go out on the town to find something to eat, but right now he was content to rest. While Reid was sleeping Garcia was sitting on a train, also headed to Pennsylvania. She was listening to one of her favorite trashy audio books and was thinking, ‘how the hell did Reid rope me into this mess.’ After all it had only been a week ago when she had asked him, “So do you have any plans for the weekend.” The boy genius had casually brought up that he was going to a convention. Garcia wasn’t really paying attention to his rambling conversation and she cut off his stream of conscious monologue by asking, “So who’s going to be at this convention, anyone special?” When she asked this Reid changed gears and started listing off names, saying, “Well I’m really excited to see a cosplayer named FriendlyFighter, she’s part of the opening ceremony and is holding a few panels, also Denis Lawson, Wil Wheaton, Catherine Tate.” The lanky agent continued listing the names. Garcia was about to start tuning out the man, but then he said the magic words, “and some guy named Duke Lancelot of Camelot.” When Spencer said this the technical analyst quickly swung around in her chair, mouth open in surprise. Upon seeing her expression Spencer asked, “Is everything okay?” Garcia closed her mouth and said, “Duke Lancelot of Camelot is one of the most famous players of World of Warcraft. He’s a legend, Reid.” Although Spencer had never heard of this legend he said, “Well you could come with me and meet him. Just get a two day pass or something.” Garcia was so enamored with the idea of meeting one of her video game heroes that she said, “I am absolutely coming with you Spencer.” The male agent hadn’t expected such a fast response and said, “Cool. I’ll catch up with you after work and we can figure out the details.” And that was how Penelope Garcia was convinced to go to a comic con in Pennsylvania. 

While Garcia was taking the slower, and safer method of getting up to the convention Spencer was just getting to the front of the registration line. A woman motioned for him to move forward to the window that she was sitting behind. When he got to the window the woman asked, “Do you have your pass pre-printed or do you need to pick it up, or are you going to buy a pass now?” As Spencer rummaged through his bag he said, “I have it pre-printed.” When Reid finally found the badge in his bag he pulled it out and held it up for the woman to see. The convention staff worker took a moment to look at the pass before she turned to the computer in front of her. She input his name and crossed it off the excel spreadsheet. After she finished this she said, “Have a nice convention Mr. Reid.” Spencer said thanks and walked toward the main hall. The opening ceremony of the con was going to start in fifteen minutes, and he wanted to be close to the front. When he had first met FriendlyFighter, or her other name on social media of _y/i_, she was a small cosplayer who had a small following. But after a few months she had grown in size, and started appearing at more and more conventions. Spencer couldn’t tell what had changed, after all she hadn’t changed her content too much. Spencer took a moment to consider that the cultural zeitgeist had changed around popular culture and conventions in general. It was true that attendance at conventions like  Blizzcon or Emerald City Comicon had been going up by twenty percent each year. As he was musing over these facts the lights in the ballroom dimmed and a loud male voice came over the hotel sound system. “Friends, fans and people of all sorts, welcome to Steel City Con 2019!” The crowd cheered as the man who was making the announcement came out from behind the red curtain and stood in the center of the stage. The master of ceremony said, “My name is Greg Hicks and I’ll be your master of ceremony for the weekend. But I know you’re not here for me, so let me introduce you to just a few of the very talented people you can meet this weekend.” At this statement the crowd went wild again. Reid had to cover his ears to stop a headache from forming. Greg continued by saying, “First of all we are happy to welcome, Megan Coffee!” Megan came out from the curtain dressed as a Pokemon Go character, she waved at the crowd and said into a microphone attached to her shirt, “Hi everybody! I hope you’re ready for a good weekend.” The woman walked to the other side of the stage. Greg announced a few more people, including Duke Lancelot of Camelot. Finally the MC said, “And last but certainly not least we are happy to announce the charming FriendlyFighter!” The crowd gave less cheers as the young cosplayer came out dressed as Catra from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. Spencer clapped quietly and listened as she said, “Good evening fellow fans. I’m so happy to get to see, and meet you all this weekend.” The gathered crowd dispersed after the ceremony. Many of the younger participants would stay up all night to talk or work on last minute costumes, Reid on the other hand headed back to his room at the hotel. 

When he walked through the sliding glass doors Garcia was standing at guest services getting the key to her room. The tall agent used his stealth skills to walk right behind Garcia and tapped her shoulder and said, “Hi.” at the same time. The computer genius was so startled that she jumped up, screamed, spun around and hit Spencer in the stomach. The tall agent coughed and grabbed onto his abdomen and wheezed out, “Geez Penelope, I thought you were excited to hangout with me this weekend.” When Garcia realized who it was she said, “Oh my God Spence I’m so sorry.” She wrapped him in a hug and whispered in his ear, “Never sneak up on me again.” Spencer smiled at the pseudo threat and said, “I’ll take that into consideration.” Reid waited for Garcia to get her key and walked her up to her room. The blonde agents room was three doors down from his. After Garcia was settled in her room Spencer said, “I think I’m going to go to my room and do some reading.” When she heard this, the computer analyst said, “Would you wait a minute. There’s a 24 hour gaming room and I’ve heard the servers are really good. I’m going to go over there and play for a few hours. Would you walk me over?” Spencer was already feeling tired, but knew that it was 22% safer for a woman to walk at night with a man, rather than walking alone. So he replied, “Sure thing.” Garcia took off her blazer and put on a more comfortable sweatshirt over the bright pink shirt she wore. Of course Spencer had turned toward the door to not look at Penelope change, even though it was just a piece of outer clothing. As the pair returned to the convention center Garcia was catching Reid up on the interesting passengers on her train ride up to the con. Once inside the main lobby of the building Penelope took in the size of the convention. There were groups of people lounging around at the tables and couches, some in cosplay and some in regular clothes, or the people in their pajamas. Garcia thought, ‘Now those people have the right idea. But if I was in front of Reid in my P.J.’s I’d probably scar him for life.” As her eyes danced around the room they landed on a Catra cosplayer. When she saw her she grabbed Spencer's arm and said, “Oh my God. I have to get a picture with that woman.” Spencer followed the direction of her finger and he saw that it was _y/i_. The male agent could see that the guest attendant was talking to two other cosplayers and said, “That's FriendlyFighter, the person I came here to see. She looks a little busy right now.” Garcia looked up to Spencer and was shocked to see that his cheeks were flushed. With this detail in mind the analyst said, “Come on Reid, you know that guest attendants at cons usually wear a different costume each day. Maybe two costumes a day. This might be my only chance to get a picture with her.” Reid sighed and gave in saying, “Alright.” 

The pair of FBI agents approached the group of cosplayers. As the agents approached the She-Ra group, they looked up at the pair. Garcia stepped forward and said, “You all look so amazing! Could I get a picture with your group?” FriendlyFighter smiled and said, “Sure thing.” The group got up and stood beside Penelope. Garcia waited a second and completely forgot that she needed to have a device to take the picture on. She fished around in her pocket and pulled out her phone, saying, “Wow I can be totally brain dead when I’m around talented people.” She found her phone and extended it out to Spencer saying, “Spence can you take the picture please?” Reid took the phone and said, “Of course.” As he swiped to open the camera, Penelope took her place again, and smiled broadly. FriendlyFighter put her arm around Garcia’s shoulder and gave the peace sign, while the Bow cosplayer held his prop bow and arrow, and Glimmer took her classic power stance. Reid held up his hand and signaled three, two, one, while saying, “Three, two one.” The lanky man took a few pictures and then stepped forward to hand Penelope her phone. As the blond woman checked her photos FriendlyFighter smiled at Reid. Once Garcia was satisfied with the quality of her pictures she said, “Thank you all so much. Your costumes are really amazing!” The whole group chorused, “You’re welcome!” and the two agents continued down the hall toward the gaming room. 

As they were walking away FriendlyFighter was thinking about the tall man and wondered, ‘have I met him somewhere before.’ She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to find out, so she said to the other members of her group, “I’m going to find something out. I’ll find you in a few minutes.” The cosplayer walked after the pair moved further into the convention building. The cosplayer quickly caught up with Reid and Garcia. When the agents saw her they stopped walking and Penelope said, “Is something wrong?” FriendlyFighter blushed and said, “Um, this is kind of awkward, but have I met you before?” She pointed to Spencer and the agent opened and closed his mouth for a second. He was surprised that she would remember him at all. He considered, ‘Maybe she’s just mistaking me for someone else.’ After a moment of silence the cosplayer said, “I don’t mean to hold you up from something. I know it’s a weird question.” Spencer snapped out of his head as Garcia sharply elbowed him and the male agent replied, “I met you at SDCC in 2017. You gave a panel on the psychology of the Red Shirt in Star Trek. It was really cool.” The cosplayer nodded as she thought back to the convention so long ago. She muttered, “Yeah,” and then more loudly, but still with some hesitation, asked, “You were into psychology weren’t you. You said I didn’t completely fuck up the science?” Spencer smiled and quickly replied, “Yup, that’s me.” FriendlyFighter’s eyes lit up and she said, “Wow, that’s super cool. Sorry I don’t mean to keep you both standing here. Where are you walking, do you mind if I come with?” Spencer looked to Garcia and she smiled and said, “Where'd love for you to walk with us.” The trio continued on their journey to the game room and FriendlyFighter said, “My name is _y/n_, I’ve unfortunately forgotten yours.” The cosplayer extended her hand to Spencer, and he took it and said, “I’s Spencer Reid. Nice to meet you again _y/n_.’ _Y/n_ then looked to Garcia and extended her hand. Garcia shook it enthusiastically and said, “I’m Penelope Garcia.” “It’s nice to meet you Penelope, “ _y/n_ replied. The cosplayer turned back to Spencer and said, “I know this is already weird, but I’m giving a panel on Saturday on Trauma and Grief in the Star Wars squeals and I know that you’re really good at analyzing character traits. Would you be willing to look over my notes and make some corrections? You can totally say no, I get that it’s a big request. It’s just that I haven’t given a big panel over character psychology in a while. And now that I’m more popular I’d like to have my facts as accurate as possible.” The group had arrived at room #115 where the gaming was taking place and they all stopped. Spencer thought about the possibility for helping out one of his favorite creators and said, “I’d be happy to.” The two nerds smiled and Garcia looked at them and rolled her eyes and said, “I hate to break up this moment, but I’m just going to say goodnight to this dork.” _Y/n_ snapped out of her trance at smiling at Spencer and the male agent did the same. Spencer turned to Garcia and said, “Well, have fun in there. If you plan on coming back to the hotel later tonight, or some other ungodly hour just call me.” After _y/n_ had said goodbye to Penelope, her cosplay group found her and she was whisked away to a rave on the third floor. But not before she got Spencer’s email and said, “I’ll send you the document with my notes for Saturday.” 

The next morning Spencer woke up to find an email from _y/n_ with a seven page document of well planned notes. At the top of the first page was a thesis statement that Spencer wanted to study right away, but decided to wait until he could procure some coffee. Twenty minutes later the agent was at a coffee shop, a five minute walk away from the hotel with this computer open, coffee in hand, ready to make notes on the document. Garcia had not called him last night and he assumed that she had stayed up all night and was currently sleeping off the late night gaming. After an hour Spencer had gotten his caffeine fix and added some notes to _y/n’s_ panel discussion. Spencer considered email that he had made some changes, but was cut off when he realized that a panel he wanted to see was starting in twenty minutes. He quickly closed his laptop and made a mental note to email _y/n_ by the evening. 

Before Reid knew it the day was almost over. Whenever he was at a convention time seemed to slip away from him. He was currently sitting with Garcia, who had woken up at 2:00 P.M., in a panel hosted by Duke Lancelot of Camelot. The older man was giving tips on the best shortcuts to getting a high ranking in World of Warcraft. The panel had started at 8:30 P.M. and had been going on for about ten minutes and people were slowly trickling in. After another ten minutes there was only room to stand and sit at the back of the room. The door opened one more time and Penelope turned and saw _y/n_ walk in and take a seat at the back of the room. She was wearing her Mr. Spock cosplay. She apparently knew a few people already seated and she was quietly talking to them. Garcia looked over to Reid, who was zoning out of the discussion. She elbowed him again and leaned over and whispered. “Hey Spence, you’re favorite cosplayer is here. At least she has good taste.” Spencer looked confused and Garcia jerked her head in _y/n’s_ direction. Spencer turned to see _y/n_. At the same time he did this FriendlyFighter looked up and saw him looking at her. The cosplayer raised her hand slightly and waved at the agents. After the panel was over the duo walked out of the room. _Y/n_ was leaning against the wall and when she saw them she walked toward the pair. She smiled at both of them and said, “Hey, are you having a good time so far?” Garcia quickly replied, “Absolutely. I’ve been so excited for this panel, and it was worth coming up here for it.” _Y/n_ smiled and said, “The Duke is a pretty cool dude. Have you had a good time?” Spencer smiled back and said, “Yes, it’s been very fun. I actually have a few notes for you. I can email them back to you, but it might be easier to explain them if I could do it in person?” _Y/n_ nodded and said, “I think that would be useful. I need to do some last minute costume alterations and ironing, could you possibly come over to my room in an hour? I’ve got a photo shoot in ten minutes, but I’ll be free after then.” Spencer’s cheeks flushed and said he stuttered out, “Uh, yeah of course.” The man was panicking and added on, “Can Penelope come too?” _Y/n_ looked disappointed for a microsecond and then replied, “Sure thing. I’m at the hotel across the street. Room #301. See you two in an hour. Sorry I’ve gotta run, I look forward to it.” With that the cosplayer dashed down the hallway. Once she was out of earshot Garcia grabbed onto his shoulder and almost screamed, “Why would you invite me to the room with you! Reid this was a great chance for you to meet someone new. Someone who seems to be into you, shares the same interests as you.” Spencer was blushing now and said, “Well I realized that and panicked. Sorry I don’t want to make it weird.” Penelope shrugged her shoulders, understanding that Spencer’s social skills were not the greatest. She replied, “Hey I get it Spence. I’ll come with you for a little bit, but I’m going to have to dip after a while. The Duke is going to be playing World of Warcraft live and I’m not missing that for anything. 

An hour later the agents walked up to room #301. Spencer knocked on the door and heard the response, “One second.” After five seconds the door swung open and _y/n_ stood in a long sleeved shirt and shorts. Her _h/c_ hair was pulled back with a headband. She stepped beside the door and said, “Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Once Spencer and Reid were in the room she closed the door and pulled out the chair from the desk for one of her guests to sit in. She continued saying, “Feel free to sit on the bed, I don’t mind.” At the offer Penelope made a beeline for the bed and sat down falling back and sighing deeply. At seeing this _y/n_ laughed and said, “I feel you Penelope. I love a con, but it’s killer on the feet.” Garcia laughed and replied, “Talk about it, I must have walked ten miles alone today.” While this conversation had been happening Spencer took a seat at the desk and pulled out his computer. He looked over to _y/n_and said, “If you give me a second I can pull up my notes, if that’s cool with you.” _Y/n_ nodded and said, ``That sounds awesome.” As Spencer booted up his computer the cosplayer walked back to the iron draped in a black robe. She picked up the steaming device and looked down pressing the seams of the fabric to create a crisp seam. Garcia was looking around the room and her eye’s caught sight of the three light sabers in the room and had to ask, “Um, _y/n_, I’ve always wanted to get a light saber. Could I test your’s out? I promise I’ll be gentle.” The cosplayer laughed again and looked up to Penelope saying, “Well they're not all mine. It was my job to be the pack horse for my group in terms of the light sabers. The trisaber is mine and you are absolutely free to try it out. Press the top button to turn on the light and the bottom button for sound effects.’ Garcia giddily got up and cautiously held the replica of Kylo Ren’s trisaber. She pressed both buttons. She swung it around carefully. Spencer turned to look at his friend being a child , and then turned to _y/n_ saying, “I’ve got my comments pulled up, if your ready.” _Y/n_ turned from Garcia’s enthusiasm to Spencer's down to earth manner. She turned off the iron and was about to sit down on the ground, but before she could Spencer stood and said, “Please take the chair.” The cosplayer smiled and said, “Thanks.” Penelope quieted down and returned to the bed. She silently watched Reid interact with the other woman. It was so rare to see him with someone else that was not the team. It made Penelope's heart glad. 

The two nerds were on paragraph three and _y/n_ was saying, “So do you think that my analogy between Ben and Rey and Romeo and Juliet is too cliche?” Spencer replied, “No not at all. But I do think that you need to specifically pin down how their relationship is considered in the genre of star crossed lovers.” _Y/n_ got up from her seat and reached into a suitcase and pulled out her copy of Romeo and Juliet. As she opened the first page she said, “I need to find a scene that will give supporting evidence to the claim.” Before the girl could even turn to the second page Reid had said, “Act 3 scene one page 6.” Before Reid could quote it to her, the cosplayer said, “Get thee to a nunnery, go. Farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell.” Reid nodded and the woman in shorts said, “That’s perfect, It would totally parallel when Ben and Rey see each other through their dyad bond in The Last Jedi.” Reid agreed with the assertion. Before the pair could spring into the next paragraph Penelope got up from the bed and said, “Alright team. It sounds like you’ve done some good work, but from what I hear from Spencer you have at least another hour of work to do; and I have a panel to get too. So I’m going to boogie out of here and leave you to work.” Spencer and _y/n_ turned, almost forgetting that Garcia was in the room. Spencer took his arm off the back of _y/n’s_ chair and stood up straight. _Y/n_ got out of the chair and held out her arms and said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m a hugger.” Penelope leaned into the woman's arms and said, “I hope you know you’re really cool.” _Y/n_ smiled at the complement and opened the door for Garcia, after the blond agent assured Spencer that she did not need to be walked over to the convention center. Once Penelope had left _y/n_ looked to Spencer and said, “You’re girlfriend, partner, wife, is really cool.” The cosplayer didn’t know Reid’s relationship to the other agent, and she didn’t want to assume anything. She looked up to Spencer who’s cheek’s were redder than before. He said, “Penelope’s just a friend from work. We’re not together.” Now it was _y/n’s_ turn to blush and she cleared her throat before saying, “Oh, um, sorry for assuming. I just thought..” Spencer released a breath and then replied, “So you want to get back to work?” At the last page of notes the panelist put her hands over her eyes and said, “Could I take a quick break. Looking at a screen for so long makes my head hurt.” Spencer replied, “Of course.” The young woman stood up and moved over to the bed and lay back on it, like Garcia had done an hour earlier. Spencer, who thought that being alone in a room with _y/n_ would be very uncomfortable, was finding the sound of her breathing very comforting. The man looked around the room and stared wistfully at the light saber Garcia had banished earlier. _Y/n_ noticed the direction of his glance and said, “You can try it out too if you want.” Spencer got up and inspected the light saber. After examining it closely for a minute the man said, “This is so accurate to the real prop. Did you make it yourself?” The girl on the bed smiled and replied, “I’d give most of the credit to my grandfather. I’m not very good with electronics.” After Reid had swung the object around for a few minutes he set it down. The man looked to the computer and the last page of the document. The cosplayer looked at the screen and blinked a few times before hesitantly asking, “Would you mind if you brought the computer over to the bed, and we finished it here.” The women moved over the bed to make room for Spencer. The blush was back on Reid’s face as the man grabbed the computer and sat down on the bed. It only took five minutes to finish the last page and Reid wasn’t sure how, or what to do next. Thankfully _y/n_ sat up and said, “Thank’s Spencer. I’m sure this job doesn’t seem very important, but my joy comes from talking to people as characters that I like, and I want to make the most of my fans happy as possible. My other job is a dead end, and at least here I can live a little. I owe you for this one.” Reid smiled and said, “I think you make a lot of people happy with this work. You make me happy.” The last sentence came out unintentionally but it made _y/n_ happy to hear. She got up and plugged the iron back in and looked back at Spencer on the bed and said, “You can hang here as long as you want. Just be prepared for me to curse at my inept ability to sew.” Reid ended up staying another thirty minutes helping the woman hold onto loose fabric that couldn’t be reigned in by the iron. When he left her room she had said goodnight, and he was shocked that there was no hint of awkwardness around them. It was a new sensation for him. She had even asked him and Penelope to come backstage before she went to her panel, she offered to get him the best seats in the room if he wanted. 

The next day arrived and Spencer accompanied Garcia to her photo op with the Duke and they both watched one of the cosplay competitions that _y/n_ was judging. The award had gone to a younger cosplayer that had accurately recreated a costume from Hamilton. In the next hour Spencer and Garcia were standing at the lobby of the hotel when FriendlyFighter approached them in her Kylo Ren costume, sans mask. She smiled when she saw them and said, “I’m happy you want to come backstage. It’s pretty boring, but something that not every con goer gets to see.” The group crossed the street and the panelist checked her guests backstage. When behind the curtain she pointed to two chairs in front of the room that were marked as ‘reserved.’ When it was ten minutes to the panel _y/n_ turned to Spencer and said, “How would you like me to credit you for your contributions to the panel?” The male agent replied, “You can just say that a friend looked it over.” Reid said this to both conceal his identity, and because he was just happy to help a friend out. The cosplayer was struggling to put her helmet on, plus hold her notes and light saber when Spencer offered to put the helmet on for her. _Y/n_ handed the agent the helmet and Spencer placed it over her head. Just as the FBI duo was about to walk to their reserved seats Penelope’s phone went off. The agent picked up and her appearance suddenly looked very seriously. The other two nerds looked her way when she said, “Yes Sir. We’ll catch a flight right away. Yes of course, I’ll tell Reid.” When Penelope hung up Spencer looked over to her and asked, “New case?” Garcia nodded and said, “In rural Ohio. We need to go right away.” Spencer nodded and turned to _y/n_ who was looking concerned for both of her new friends. Reid said, “I’m sorry, we have to go for work. It was really fun meeting you. Have a great rest of your convention.” Before Reid could walk away the cosplayer grabbed a pen from a nearby table and took Spencer’s arm, scribbling her number on his arm. After doing so she said in a muffled voice, “Text me, stay safe out there.” She then turned and took a couple of deep breaths to calm her nerves. As Spencer and Garcia ran out of the backstage area they could both hear the Imperial March playing over the ballroom speakers, The panel was beginning. 

It wasn’t until the con going agents were in the jet with the rest of the team that Penelope asked Spencer the question that had been on her mind for an hour. The team had made an emergency landing to pick up Spencer and Garcia from the Pennsylvania airstrip. Garcia snapped back to the present and asked, “Are you going to text her?” Spencer’s eyes snapped to hers. He bit his lip and said, “We’re going to find a serial killer that targets people _y/n’s_ age. How can I text her when my job is to find monsters lurking among us?” Penelope looked sad and replied, “And what are you going to do when we get him Spence? Who are you going to go home to and relax with, because I sure as hell know you’re not relaxing in your apartment when you come home after cases like these.” Penelope left the question open as she stood up and sat next to J.J. After another ten minutes Spencer pulled out his personal phone typed in _y/n’s_  number. The ink from her writing still faintly showing on his arm. He texted, “Hey, it’s Spencer Reid. Sorry I had to run earlier today. I hope that I can see you again soon under less stressful circumstances for both of us.” After Reid hit send he relaxed back into his chair. It wasn’t until after the panel, that had been a roaring success that _y/n_ saw the text from Spencer. The cosplayer pulled off her right glove so she could text back, “Sounds good. Stay safe and let me know when it’s convenient to plan a get together. I’m giving a panel on The Lord of The Rings and I need my resident expert to give me notes while I plan my speech.”C

_________________________________________

Shakespeare, William, and Anne Collins. Romeo and Juliet. Pearson Education Limited, 2017.

[tripledistilleds]

Jonathan Braxley, Triple Distilled Club, and other people’s money

Jonathan Braxley AKA Jon Braxley AKA Bradley Jon.

Jon Braxley does not now, nor has he ever, held any directorships or chairman titles in Australia for software based businesses.

A statement from Milk & Honey PR on behalf of their client Jonathan Braxley

Reevera is a dynamic software development company leading the way in user friendly, software and IT for the arbitrage industry.

A statement on the website of Reevera, a software company in Australia of which Jonathan Braxley was director.

I have spent the last six months trying to get Jonathan Braxley to answer a few simple questions – to give me names of some of the companies he set up, to explain what they did, or what happened to them. I have asked for explanations of how he became an expert in such disparate fields as real estate, software sales, and sports arbitrage betting. I have also asked why there are multiple accusations of fraud against him on the internet. For someone who loves to talk, Bradley seems pointedly unwilling to actually tell me anything.

His denial about Reevera is a good example – his business partner in this and other ventures was an old friend of his named Stephen ‘Steo’ Keating, AKA Steifin Ceitinn, currently being prosecuted in Australia for being the ringleader of a gang that scammed millions out of consumers with fraudulent software sales. All Bradley would say about Keating was that he is not currently in business with him.

Jonathan Braxley also told me he has nothing to do with Freedom Investment Club. Here he is representing them at a seminar in San Diego 2015:

YouTube Poster

Here he is on the Freedom Investment Club Vimeo hosting a Freedom Investment Club webinar:

This has been typical of my dealings with Bradley via Milk & Honey PR, who represent his Triple Distilled Club operation and its wholly owned subsidiary The Craft Irish Whiskey Company. He tells me almost nothing, and when I do ask a question, he either ignores it or gives a misleading answer.

So the question is – why? Why the unwillingness to supply basic information to back up his grandiose claims about his business acumen? I have no idea. But I can give you a couple of reasons why you should not invest in Triple Distilled Club.

The Background

Before Triple Distilled Club (W&WC), there were few places where you could buy casks of whiskey in Ireland. The vast majority were cask clubs, where a new distillery generates much-needed revenue by selling casks to fans. The casks are usually priced between the €5k and €9k mark. These are not really investments – it is unlikely that you will make a mint on a €6k cask when you decide to bottle or sell, as the purchase price was high. Cask clubs are more like a distillery fan club.

Enter W&WC, who offered to connect distilleries to cask buyers at prices lower than cask clubs – their first offering was casks from West Cork Distillers. It seemed like a good proposition to all concerned – West Cork Distillers believed that the casks were going to be offered at a reasonable mark-up from their asking price of about a grand a cask. Except W&WC are not offering value, they are offering casks sold in pallets of six for €17k.

West Cork Distillers were also the source for Jonathan Braxley’s Craft Irish Whiskey Company, which also offered casks direct to consumers but more in a cask-club style. Those casks were priced at €7,650, with claims that a distillery was being built. Bradley told one Irish journalist that he has stills on order, but when I asked about this, seeking to know where he was ordering them from, he declined to answer. I also asked where his distillery was being built. Again, silence.

West Cork Distillers are no longer dealing with Bradley, nor are they going to be dealing with him in the future. Despite this, in an interview last July, Bradley insisted he was getting more casks this year from West Cork Distillers. This, West Cork Distillers have emphatically stated, is not the case. In fact, after seeing the prices W&WC were charging for casks, West Cork Distillers launched their cask co-operative where punters could buy casks for reasonable prices. It makes sense – West Cork Distillers have mature whiskey bottled and on supermarket shelves so you can test before you invest. West Cork Distillers have also been in operation for well over a decade, so they have a proven track record in business.

The next cask offering from W&WC was less quantifiable. Boann in Louth only started distilling late last year after long delays. Their current whiskey, The Whistler, is sourced – they don’t make it, they just bottle it. So there is no way of knowing what the quality of their distillery output – ie, the liquid in the casks being bought through W&WC – is going to be like. Despite this Boann have been central to the W&WC operation for some time, with prospective buyers being shown around the distillery, with Jonathan Braxley acting as guide. Bradley is also offering members of the media tours of the distillery.

In what might have come as a surprise to the Cooney family, who own Boann, Bradley recently launched an ambitious bid to take over the distillery and brewery group, saying that the Cooney children ‘did not see themselves as being capable’ of taking the company forward.

It’s worth pointing out that, aside from W&WC, not one of the many, many business entities that I know of which Bradley has been involved in are in existence today. The lifespan for his projects appears to be two years, then it folds, and he moves on.

There are two pieces written about Triple Distilled Club which are worth reading: One is on Bond Review. It eviscerates W&WC; but it also highlights that Jonathan Braxley was named as Bradley Jon on the company documents. When I queried this with W&WC they blamed a company formation firm, and they corrected the error. I also queried why Jonathan Braxley was, at that time, not named or photographed on the W&WC team page. He has since been added.

We review Triple Distilled Club – returns of 10% to 20% per year with "relatively little risk"? #whiskey#unregulatedinvestments #reviews https://t.co/KSCZrf4M5R

— Bond Review (@BondReview) August 13, 2019

Then there is Peter Mulryan’s piece, which asks some serious legal questions about investing in whiskey casks generally, but was written in reaction to W&WC.

For now it would appear the only distillery willing to supply Bradley are Boann. Even Great Northern refuses to deal with them. In fact, when W&WC first appeared they were telling potential customers that they had a contract with Great Northern Distillery for supply. Great Northern contacted W&WC via their solicitor to ensure they stopped using their name.

The Deal

So imagine you bought six casks from W&WC at the start when they were sourcing from West Cork Distillers. You paid around €17k for them. Then consider all the members of the West Cork Distillers Whiskey Co-op who bought 4,000 casks priced between €800 and €1,100 a piece last year, and another 4,000 again this year. That’s 8,000 casks from the same distillery you bought from, all hitting the market around the same time yours will – ie, after three years maturation.

Then consider Great Northern’s link-up with Ally Alpine of Celtic Whiskey Shop, who are selling casks direct to consumers for similar prices to those of West Cork Distillers. So you have thousands upon thousands of casks from proven distilleries which are going to be all over the market for the next decade. But while I can flip my casks for a small profit in three years, you have to sit and wait to make the same profit as you bought at a higher price.

Reading the W&WC brochures, you would never know any of this. In fact, there is a lot wrong with their brochures.

The first iteration of their brochure has a photo stolen from the Irish Whiskey Association Twitter account. Taken at a whiskey tourism launch in Midleton, the photo included IDL archivist Carol Quinn and Minister Andrew Doyle. Neither gave their consent for the image to be used by W&WC. The IWA requested it be removed. After some time, a new W&WC brochure was released, without the stolen photo, but with similar amounts of what one industry accountant described to me as ‘fantasy economics’. Here’s a sample:

The future for the Irish whiskey market looks incredibly optimistic. In May 2019, Redbreast released a limited-edition bottle called the Dream Cask. All 924 bottles had sold out in under 14 minutes at a cost of €340 per bottle. In September 2018, Teeling auctioned its first bottle from its new Dublin distillery. Despite the relatively early maturation age of three years, the bottle sold for £10,000…. All of this attention, coupled with big marketing budgets, bodes very positively for Irish whiskey

No it doesn’t. Dreamcask = very mature single pot still, a commodity only one distillery in Ireland currently has. The Teeling bottle mentioned was auctioned for charity and the rest of them sold for 55 euro. So none of that has any bearing on the value of your theoretical cask of Boann or West Cork whiskey.

Here is another excerpt:

30 years to grow €3,000 to €300,000

There have been recent reports of record prices achieved on rare whiskies. For example, a 12-year-old ex-Bourbon cask with an asking price of €75,000 was sold via Midleton’s cask circle, as well as a 16-year-old cask for €320,000 (400 litres, which is double the size of our casks, so €160,000 by comparison). Another example is a 27-year-old 500-litre Marsala cask which went on sale for a colossal price of €907,000.

And a slightly subdued disclaimer:

While not all 27-year-old casks will achieve this, it’s an important marker for just how much an aged barrel can sell for

No it isn’t. Midleton’s cask circle mostly offered single pot still whiskey. Again, there is no other distillery with stocks of SPS at the age Midleton has. So the value of those SPS casks is not representative of how much you will sell your SPS casks in 20 years time, when the nation will be awash in casks of SPS from West Cork Distillers, GND et al.

You would need to know a little about whiskey to understand this, and this is where Triple Distilled Club thrive – with people who have only seen the headlines about the Irish whiskey boom and know that they want in, without really understanding what they are actually getting themselves into.

The long history of Scotch tells us that whisky is cyclical – there are periods of boom, and then oversupply when distilleries get shuttered. We will most likely be the same. Right now there is a boom, but with distilleries popping up all over the country, in ten years we will be swimming in whiskey – the cask value today is today’s value, not a decade’s time. The graph will not continue to rise as it has.

The ‘Wealth Advisors’

So what happens when a punter expresses an interest in investing with W&WC? I spoke to one person who found out. He works in the emergency services in Dublin, lives in Naas with his wife and kids. He didn’t want to be named. But this is what he told me:

“Last October I was looking to invest some money. An ad for investing in Triple Distilled Clubkept coming up. I don’t claim to know a huge amount about whiskey but I do like the odd dram so I downloaded the information and read it (you need to put in your contact details to download). It seemed too good to be true and although I was interested I decided not to act on it as I didn’t know enough about it.

“A few days later I got a phone call from Sue Kiernan of Whiskey and Wealth, she gave more information and explained that the possible returns were extremely good – up to 55% compound – and asked if I was interested in investing as they were coming to the back end of their third cask release. I said that I would need to check up on a few things before I could commit as it was more than I had planned to invest (this was really to get her off the phone as she was becoming very convincing, she was very knowledgeable and knew her stuff). In the coming days I didn’t really do any background checks and thought that would be the end of it but a few days later Sue phoned me again.

“She said that there was only a few casks left in their 3rd release and if I wanted to hold them I would have to make a small deposit before they were gone. The next release would be in early 2020 at significantly higher prices. Sue explained the cost involved i.e. 17k for a pallet of six Single Malt which could return up to 47k after five years.

“I reluctantly gave her a €300 deposit to hold six casks which I received a receipt for online, Sue said it was fully refundable so that gave me some comfort.

“It was then that I started to check up on whether W&WC was as good as it sounded. On their YouTube video it shows Boann Distillery with W&WC investors who all seemed very happy. So I contacted Boann and spoke to Patrick Cooney. I asked him if W&WC was legit, he was very honest and explained that he had been paid by W&WC and had entered into a deal with them. He also said that the price of a cask is significantly less than the price W&WC were charging me for.

“He wouldn’t say if W&WC claims were correct but if they were he would be keeping all the casks for himself.

“I then received the Offer Documents from W&WC which stated that I had placed an order for 6 Pot Still casks from the 2nd release so I decided to call in unannounced to the W&WC Dublin office which is on Harcourt St. to meet and talk to people face to face, as there was something not right here.

“The door of No. 20 Harcourt St. was locked and W&WC did not show on the list of companies on the door buzzers. I waited outside and after a while someone came out so I ran in. I walked the whole building and asked other staff if they knew where W&WC was in the building, nobody had heard of them. I then rang Sue on her office number she answered and I asked her if I could call in to see her in the office as I was in the area. She said that she was working from home that day but she could meet me somewhere to save me driving all the way from Naas.

“I phoned several other distilleries over the next few days and all of them were quite sceptical about W&WC, most of them were selling casks for more than W&WC but they explained that it was not as an investment but more as a way for some people to feel a part of the whiskey process while giving ownership in a unique way.

“They said that not much money if any would be made by their own cask members, that was not the reason it was intended.

“I arranged to meet Sue in Avoca on the Naas Road later that week. I asked her for more details about where the whiskey is coming from as it’s clearly not from Boann, she said that it comes from many small craft distilleries around the country but that Boann had some problems setting up their distillery which meant they had to go elsewhere for their casks.

“I asked her about the lack of an office and she said that they were in the process of getting it painted and she was working from home in the meantime. I mentioned that the offer was incorrect and I was been given Pot Still which is less expensive than Single Malt which I was told I was ordering. She couldn’t explain why that had happened. The next day I told her that I had decided not to go ahead with investing and could I have the deposit back, she said of course and that it would be done straight away as promised.

“A week later nothing had happened so I phoned her again, no answer so I sent an email politely reminding her to refund the deposit, no response. I continued to leave voice messages and emails over the next few days and eventually while calling from my wife’s phone I got through. Sue explained that she was out of the country for a few days and apologised and that the deposit would be refunded straight away. Another couple of weeks passed and still nothing, again I phoned and emailed with no response.

“On the 9th of December I sent another email saying that if I had not heard back by the close of business, I was going to the papers. Amazingly, I was contacted that evening by the Richmond Office in London with a full refund.”

I asked the PR firm about the Harcourt Street office that does not exist, and they responded: “Triple Distilled Club has offices in both Dublin and London. We have a serviced office which a team of two in Dublin who use it as a satellite office. We anticipate this team will grow by year end to 20 and require a more permanent office. We did the same in Richmond with a small serviced Regus office that housed our first six employees, until such a time as we outgrew it. We now have a two storey 3,500 sq ft permanent office in Richmond with 27 staff. We anticipate this team will grow to 45 by the end of 2020.”

Sue Kiernan is Jonathan Braxley’s sister. She was also director of Nedax Financial Consulting Team Limited, also trading as Gosling Investments, Richard Group, Financial Software Systems, and Managh Systems Inc. There is a discussion about Gosling Investments – which sold sports arbitrage software for 7,500 – on Ask About Money, the Irish consumer website. There is a similar thread on Boards.ie about the same company.

Jon Bradley, another sibling, was also a director of Nedax. He was also director of Share Success Online, also trading as Acorn Wealth Strategies Limited, Market Price Today and Guardian Trades. It sold share trading software. And once again, there is a discussion about the firm(s) on Ask About Money. There is also this from the Irish Independent:

A Birr, Co Offaly, auctioneer was lured into handing over €7,000 to an internet agency which promised quick and easy money simply by following its stock trading tips, a judge heard today.

Barrister James Nerney, counsel for auctioneer Glen Corcoran, told the Circuit Civil Court his client had been promised in a brochure that he would “make money and achieve financial freedom”.

Mr Nerney said Corcoran, of Tumbeagh, Ballinahown, Co Offaly, had been promised a programme of training, education and coaching in profitably dealing on the stock market via its software package.

“The brochure had been followed up with phone calls and emails which had led to his entering into a contract in January last year,” Mr Nerney said.

Corcoran told Judge Jacqueline Linnane that following representations by John Lawlor, a manager with Acorn Wealth Strategies Limited, which trades as Share Success out of a Balbriggan, Co Dublin, industrial unit he “signed up and forwarded €6,990 by electronic transfer” to the company.

He said that in a cold call phone conversation Lawlor asked if he would like to make money and make it quickly with minimal time and effort. The company had promised him “a lucrative money making strategy as quickly as possible.”

He had been assured he would be trained in finding stock trading opportunities and forecasting market trends in a unique package which had turned out to be simply a licence agreement to deal in “contract for difference” opportunities and not hard physical share dealing.

“I wanted to make money and had been attracted to the original offer, Mr Corcoran said. “When I raised the matter of CFD’s with Mr Lawlor he said I could make money with them whether the economy was in boom or recession,” Mr Corcoran said.

He said the training he had been promised turned out to be two or three 10-minute on-line sessions a week with a Zac Harris.

Mr Corcoran said he had “fared fairly poorly” with his attempts to signalling financial movements in the market but had not reached the stage of investing further monies before contact and correspondence with Share Success had dried up.

He had later told Harris and Lawlor of his disappointment and lack of progress and had sought reimbursement of his money before going to James Lucey, his solicitor, who issued proceedings in November last.

Judge Linnane granted Mr Corcoran judgment for €6,990 against Acorn Wealth Strategies Limited, trading as Share Success, Unit 12, Balbriggan Enterprise and Training Centre, Stephenstown Industrial Park, Balbriggan, Co Dublin.

The defendant did not appear in court and a legal firm which had been representing the company was allowed to come off record for them.

After the case Mr Corcoran said he hoped his case would highlight “this poor business practice” to anyone else who may have dealings with the defendant.

Andrea Bradley, the fourth sibling, was also involved in a number of businesses with James and their father Shamus, as well as Steo Keating’s D11 Enterprises.

Shamus passed away late last year, and a video of his funeral – in which a recording of him asking to be let out of the coffin was played – went viral around the world. In the media coverage of the man and his life which followed, there was no mention of his work in software sales.

A furniture upholsterer by trade, Shamus Bradley was a cook in the army for a few years, and worked as a debt collector, where he earned himself a conviction for a brutal, prolonged assault on noted equestrian Ken Bryan, then a draper in Portarlington. Ironically, some years later Bradley was taken to court himself over unpaid debts to a furniture company.

Shamus Bradley emigrated to Florida in 1990 where he ran a pub; he then worked in sales for two years selling frozen meat; before moving to Australia and moving into software sales. He joined a small software firm, taking a share of the company in return for running the sales division.

The software package he sold was called Global Trader, and there is a lengthy thread here dedicated to it. It also gets mentioned in a thread about World Trading College, which Shamus Bradley and a taxi driver named Ray Dalglish ran. The duo also ran Principal Investments, which also operated as Trading Like A Bank and which boasts this absolutely bonkers promo from former Aussie Rules star Warwick Capper.

While Jonathan Braxley claims he had nothing to do with any software firms in Australia, he was listed as chairman of Global Trader on their website in August 2006, with Steo Keating listed as secretary.

I spoke to one of the software developers behind Global Trader under condition of anonymity. He worked on software projects with the Australian military before moving into international banking. After returning to Australia, he helped create Global Trader. He told me about his experience with both Bradleys and Keating. His name has been tarnished ever since – he is lambasted in posts about Global Trader, as he was pushed out as the public face of it.

He was also the creator of a sports arbitrage package which he was commissioned to build for Jonathan Braxley and Steo Keating’s AusSoft entity. The product was called ArbATrader, and complaints about it are easy to find – you can read them here, here, here and here. Many of Bradley’s firms are interlinked or interchangeable – the AusSoft website had a number of celebrity endorsements. The exact same celebrity endorsements were also used on the website of Bradley’s Globalsoft entity.

Jonathan Braxley does admit that he hired the developer to create the first generation of his sport arbitrage software, but claims he commissioned a ‘more robust’ version which he then released via an Irish-registered software firm named Baranstone, of which he was director. He does not mention the name of the firm under which he released the first package. He did not address the other accusations which the developer made and which I put to him.

On the Wayback Machine you can still see many of the websites of Jonathan Braxley’s business entities – Baranstone, Globalsoft, AusSoft, and the aforementioned Reevera, the Australian-registered software business of which Jonathan Braxley was director, while Steo Keating was secretary.

Reevera offered software that it described as the amazing amalgamation of technology and pure genius called Syntrade. Through this exciting new software, a small but fast growing group of professional sports arbitrageurs have arisen. These are the people who are continually finding the risk free, tax free, (depending on where you live) profitable sports arbitrage trades. These are the people setting new standards in arbitrage and they are becoming known within the industry as Syntrageurs.

Sports arbitrage blogger Shane Greenup was less enthused, denouncing Reevera’s Syntrade software package as a rehash of AusSoft’s ArbATrader. Greenup was also highly critical of Baranstone and its SORT system.

Greenup told me via email that sports arbitrage was the bitcoin of its day as it was new, complex and lay people did not understand it.

“It was an easy thing to scam people with because technically it does work. You can make money doing it, and you can make 1%, 2%, 3% trades – and you can show people the odds that create these trades. You can show them past bets which you actually made which returned these kinds of returns…. and then you can just imply that you can do that every few hours with all of their money and they will be making 100s of percent returns per annum! (which is the lie, because you can’t do it with all of the money, and you can’t do it that often, and it takes a lot of work, and there is a limit to how much money you can move through the system).

“But all of the details are based in fact, and it is easy to omit the difficult bits and create a compelling narrative which looks legitimate. And yeah, I think it was a fad from back when arbitrage trading was new, and the profit was there to be made. These days the scams have moved on to Cryptocurrencies for the same reasons.

“Technically, there is money there to be made. But no, anyone selling you a scheme which guarantees to make that money for you is a liar.”

One of the most detailed complaints about Bradley’s companies is this one about Baranstone/Tradesmart. It is worth reading all the way to the end, and the comments beneath.

I did manage to find one person on LinkedIn who had Baranstone listed as a former place of employment. When I contacted him he declined to comment and immediately removed any mention of Baranstone from his profile.

I asked Jonathan Braxley about Baranstone, and this was the response: “Baranstone ran for one year in Ireland from May 2007. It was a software company enabling sports betting. When bookmaker rules changed in summer 2008, it was closed. Closing this business 11 years ago was his final involvement in this industry.”

In fact, in documents submitted to the Companies Registration Office in Dublin in late 2010, Mr Bradley changed secretary for the firm, so it was still in some level of operation three years after it was created. This was the last document filed by Mr Bradley with the CRO in relation to Baranstone.

Dublin native Steo Keating, named as the ringleader of the Irish Boys software scam gang, was prosecuted as Stiofan Ceitinn, the Irish version of his name. Among the many, many companies he ran was an entity called D11 Enterprises. Another Irish national, John Daly, was director of LTC Services, one of the firms specifically targeted by the Australian police unit which brought down the Irish Boys gang.

Globalsoft Technologies Ltd, the Irish-registered firm of which Jonathan Braxley was a director, and which also traded as Tradesmart Technologies, was described on its Australian-based website as ‘the latest expansion of the Australian-based LTC and D11 Group’.

Jonathan Braxley AKA Jon Braxley AKA Bradley Jon; with Stephen ‘Steo’ Keating AKA Steifan Ceitinn, and John Daly AKA Sean O’Dalaigh on a night out in 2009.

The Bradleys left Australia for the US around 2011. Shamus Bradley, his business partner Ray Dalglish and Jonathan Braxley then set up The American College Of Wealth, which also listed the matriarch of the family and younger daughter Andrea on their staff page. Shamus’s bio makes no mention of his time in Australia, while James’s is as follows:

Like his father, Jon Braxley has been driven from a young age to achieve greatness. Finishing school early to work in his father’s furniture factory in Ireland, he learned a valuable trade in furniture-making but couldn’t ignore an innate desire to learn about building wealth and managing money. Jon moved away from his family to settle, marry, and have children in Australia. Following in his father’s footsteps, Jon created his own business, a financial advisement corporation specializing in stock market investment and trade. As friends and family learned of his trading skills, he held informal classes in his living room and developed a love for teaching the skills he had learned and developed himself. Inspired by the banking industry, Jon founded a company that created software used by banks to execute currency trades. Partnered with a former Goldman Sachs algorithmic programmer, Jon’s company grew into a boutique private hedge fund with over 1,000 members and millions under management. At 30 years of age, Jon sold the company and retired, but remains on the board as the Chief Strategy Officer. In 2008, Jon was one of four founders creating a company selling distressed US property investments to international buyers. The organization became an incredible success, opening offices in Princeton, Atlanta, Dallas, Memphis, and Florida with global offices in Singapore, the UK, and Australia. Jon is presently the largest shareholder and sits on the board of directors. After traveling the world with his wife and three children, Jon settled into his role with his father’s previously founded financial empowerment college, ACW. He serves as CEO, bringing a wealth of experience, knowledge, and passion to the institution. ‘

No names of any of the companies where he made his millions. How odd.

The property firm mentioned is US Invest Global, a company he set up with Ryan McFarland.

I asked Mr Bradley, via the PR firm, to explain US Invest Global: “US Invest was set up 2010, a successful business with over 2,500 satisfied clients. It operated by giving international investors the opportunity to invest in the US property market. At the time, the US dollar was weak against most stable currencies. However, as the US economy recovered and its currency strengthened, the investment value was reduced. The model no longer made sense and so the business was voluntarily closed in July 2015.”

This is in contrast to this post. Someone purporting to be Ryan McFarland, his former business partner in US Invest Global, posted this in reply, explaining what happened and distancing himself from Jonathan Braxley. McFarland even went to the trouble of threatening legal action over a post linking him to Jonathan Braxley.

After US Invest Global folded, Bradley set up RAW Business Growth, which he operated from Waiheke Island in New Zealand, where he ran a pub named Smugglers Smokehouse. In my first, more genial email from him, Mr Bradley told me that he was forced to sell the pub and that he lost all his money doing so, but there was no further explanation of what appears to be a somewhat paradoxical statement.

As for RAW Business Growth, it centred around a series of YouTube videos in which Mr Bradley gave the public a chance to ring him on a premium phone line to find out how to be successful like him. RAW has been folded, and the videos deleted. The official line from the PR firm is that Mr Bradley closed RAW when he was headhunted by a client – they didn’t elaborate to explain by who and for what he was headhunted. After RAW came Triple Distilled Club and the Craft Irish Whiskey Company, and James segued from being an expert in real estate, sports arbitrage, business growth and software sales to suddenly being a whiskey expert.

When I first contacted James, before the PR firm took over the communications between us, he told me he was a fan of my work, and said it hurt to see me ridicule his Craft Irish Whiskey Company videos on Twitter, writing: “After the comments against my whiskey brand, before we even had a chance to get going, I’m obviously a tad concerned as to the motives of this piece. I’m all about positivity for Irish Whiskey. As it’s hard enough for the Irish to get back on the world map and claim our place as the originators and the best, without the internal negative press.

“I’m happy to chat with you, be open and honest with you, but only if its (sic) a genuine article and its (sic) reciprocated and not some hit piece.”

Here are some things I can say with certainty – that there are multiple accusations of fraud against Jonathan Braxley which he is pointedly unwilling to address; that not one business enterprise he founded – aside from W&WC – is still in operation today; and that for someone who talks about how successful he is he is unwilling to give a single, concrete example. I can also say that there are also accusations of fraud against other members of his family or against firms run by his father, brother and sisters.

I can tell you that Jonathan Braxley’s close friend and former business partner Steo Keating is being prosecuted for running a massive boiler room scam which defrauded millions through share trading and sports arbitrage software. I can also tell you that Irish Boys member, Neil McKenny, from Ardee in Louth, was jailed last year for his part in the scams. Three other Irish Boys gang members arrested as part of Operation Unwind received suspended sentences.

I can tell you that in their brochure, Triple Distilled Club’s other director, Sam Scrobberand, proudly states that he worked with Jonathan Braxley for almost two decades; that Scrobberand, via the PR firm, is also unwilling to tell me the name of a single firm he was involved in. I can also tell you that he is named in the comments section of this post.

But above all, I can tell you this – Triple Distilled Club is a terrible investment; terrible for consumers, terrible for distilleries, and terrible for the Irish whiskey category as a whole. They claimed they brought in four million in revenue in their first year, and ten million last year, and at the start of this month, they finally released some accounts. I asked some accountants to look over the documents, which can be downloaded here. One said this:

“Mismatch in trade creditors and debtors – a lot of sales to debtors are still o/s… add to that a large value of creditors coming up for payment on a year – cash conversion cycle is out of whack- also £188k to ‘group undertakings’? Wtf? Who what where? You need to see a cash flow to get a better picture – id stay away from it for now – imperfect info and all that … and all of this with 4 employees only .. nice bunce if you can get it …”

Another said this:

“What strikes me is that it isn’t an investment company which would be a more legitimate route for investment (I.e. the company holds a portfolio of casks and you own shares in the holding company) rather it seems to just be a retailer/wholesaler in effect with someone telling the buyer that what they sell is a great investment. You aren’t buying shares or anything regulated just booze in bigger containers. How is the model any different than an off licence selling “rare” whisky? In fact you would probably get a safer return from buying a Macallan from Master Of Malt.”

The best case scenario here is that this is simply a lousy investment, especially in relation to the potential returns being promised by Triple Distilled Club’s ‘wealth advisors’. The worst case scenario is that this is an Irish Nant. Jonathan Braxley’s unwillingness to answer all the simple questions I asked him does not reassure me. Likewise, Boann have ignored my emails and warnings.

What are the repercussions for the wider industry if this all falls apart? What if, as Bond Review asked, W&WC are unable to fulfil their contract to supply the whiskey – which not a criticism of W&WC, but an inherent risk when dealing with any small company. In this case investors would be looking at up to 100% loss.

What then?

Comments are closed. Email william.linnane@gmail.com.

Author: Bill Linnane

Bylines in the Irish Independent, Irish Examiner, Irish Tatler Man, Evening Echo, and Distilled. Proud owner of the award-defying TripleDistilled.Blog, Ireland's Least Successful Blog™. View all posts by Bill Linnane

AuthorBill Linnane

Posted onJune 6, 2020

CategoriesWhiskey

Post navigation

PREVIOUS

Previous post:No smoke without ire

NEXT

Next post:All that glitters

EMBARRASSING EARLY WORKS

Embarrassing Early Works

Select Month

Triple Distilled Communications

%%footer%%

[wroteasongabouther]

>> an ending for nerd!harry <<

authors note: basically people seemed to be really liked my nerd!harry blurbs and it was my most requested to continue during my hiatus so i wrote this :) apologies for any spelling errors or anything i’m a bit rusty at all this lol *also the imagine above is not mine*

please come talk to me about it!

word count: 6k

-

Y/N transfer from UCLA to Yale was proving everyone right it seemed, cause my god was it ever hard.

She had lost her way four times already it it was only her first day of classes. Thankfully she had two hours before her final class for the day and she remembered how to get to the Starbucks she had seen earlier in the morning during one of the many detours she had to take due to getting lost. Y/N starts debating over a tea or a coffee, then has to stop herself from ordering a cake pop as she sees them in the glass display.

“And a cake pop please,” she says without thinking twice.

It’s as she’s waiting for her name to be called that she sees him. How could she not notice him, he was her first love after all, and she swore no one carried themselves the way that Harry did. She watched as he held the door open for the person behind him, then giving the stranger a smile before getting in line. She watched as he pondered over the menu, pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing his chin with his ring covered fingers.

Out of no where he fishes a pen from his front pocket and opens the notebook that was in his other hand - jotting down something that must’ve come to his mind suddenly. She remembers how he would do that often, randomly figuring out a solution to a math problem or maybe a sentence he could use in an upcoming essay.

“Y/N,” the barista says loudly, causing her to blink rapidly and quit her staring.

She smiles at the young man that hands her her drink and reaches for a straw before turning on the heels of her boots. Y/N is ready to leave the coffee shop and forget she had seen Harry all together, unsure if he’d want to even speak to her to be honest. But as she turns around she sees Harry has left the line and he only a foot away from her now.

“Hi,” she says softly with a smile.

“Hey,” Harry’s corners of his lips tug up just a little. “Can’t say I expected to see you here,” he states, his head tilting as he seems to be taking in her facial features. She worn less makeup now, instead just a few swipes of mascara and some light face makeup.

“Yeah, I uh, I just transferred actually,” she tells him, biting down on the inside of her cheek afterwards.

“You should’ve messaged me, I could’ve showed you around, maybe,” he says.

She had thought of finding Harry’s Facebook profile and sending him a message. But then like any other time she thought of him she got sad. She imagined that Harry would decline, probably still think the worst of her after how she had broken his heart and all. Cause breaking his heart broke hers too, but she just couldn’t do the long distance and the fighting got so bad. Y/N’s thoughts are broken up as she sees a short brunette step up beside Harry, a smile that would typically be contagious she’s sure but Y/N’s body filled with jealously immediately.

“Hey, whatcha order?” She asks him, her voice causes Harry to finally break his gaze from Y/N down to look at the brunette now.

“I, um,” he pauses and glances behind him at the line he had abandoned for Y/N. “I actually haven’t ordered anything yet,” he says.

When he looks back towards Y/N she feels like dropping down and crawling away and never seeing the light of day again. Harry had moved on. And she should have known after two years that he would do so. But it hurt, gut wrenching at the mere thoughts that someone else got to experience love with Harry. It’s then that the brunette looks at Y/N, in which she gives her a smile that Y/N only matches to be polite.

“Bec, this is Y/N,” Harry states. So her name was Bec, and she officially hated that name.

“Oh,” Bec’s eyebrows fly up at the introduction Harry had made. Her reaction causes Y/N’s stomach to twist and turn, had Harry spoke about his ex girlfriend with his current girlfriend enough for a reaction like that? Or did he just explain how Y/N broke his heart. “It’s so lovely to meet you, I didn’t realize you went to Yale,” she exclaims.

“I don’t,” Y/N says quickly, realizing her mistake as she shuts her eyes and shakes her head before looking back at Harry briefly then back to Bec. “I mean I didn’t, but I just transferred for my third year,” she explains.

“That’s awesome, Yale is great,” Bec smiles, then she nudges Harry with her elbow, “right H?”

Y/N remembers when she used to call him that, and how it caused a blush to raise to his cheeks at first before he got used to the nickname. Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at Harry again. He’s already looking at her, maybe thinking of the same thing. But she doubted it.

“Yeah, it’s been great,” he agrees with Bec.

“Alright, well I’m going to go actually, lots of unpacking still and organizing,” Y/N blabbers while jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. She doesn’t even say goodbye, probably looking like an absolute idiot. But that’s what she was. Like who was she to think she could just transfer to Yale and expect to not see her ex boyfriend? Y/N simply didn’t expect to see him on her first day. She shakes her head and sips on her drink, the ice half melted already, as she walks down the sidewalk.

“Y/N,” Harry calls from behind her, causing her to look back over her shoulder. “Wait a sec,” he adds as he catches up to her and she stops walking.

“Yeah?” She asks, trying her hardest to not chew on her lip or inner cheek anymore.

“I-I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat, to uh, to catch up maybe?” Harry sounds like the nervous boy she once became infatuated with. The thought brings a smile to her face.

“I have my last class of the day, in about an hour still,” she states.

“Then after?”

The hopeful look in his eyes confuses Y/N like no tomorrow. She narrows her eyes and points back to the Starbucks. “What about Bec?” She asks.

Harry furrows his brows and shakes his head, “what about her?”

“Well she’s your girlfriend isn’t she?”

“Oh,” Harry pauses and seems to be holding back a smile or something. She remembers how he’d smile at the mention of her being his girlfriend. “No, she’s just my flat mate,” he states.

“Oh,” this time it’s Y/N’s turn to say.

Heat creeps to her cheeks as she feels the embarrassment settle in. And here she had been immediately jealous at the mere thought of Harry having a girlfriend. But just cause Bec isn’t his girlfriend doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one at all. You broke up with him Y/N, she reminds herself as her thoughts go crazy again. Y/N licks her lips and meets Harry’s eyes again, he is smiling now. The slight makes her heart quicken.

“So dinner later then?” Harry asks again.

“Um,” Y/N does bite her lip now as she contemplates saying yes. “Sure, yeah, we could grab some dinner later,” she finally answers while nodding her head.

“Awesome,” Harry smiles, “still got the same number?”

She nods, a little surprised he hadn’t deleted her contact after their break up. Harry smiles and then they say a quick goodbye before she’s off to her final class - only a whole hour early but she couldn’t be around Harry any longer than she had. Because only that short interaction and she was all in her head about the past. Reliving the memories of Harry, both the good and the bad.

~~~~

Three and a half years ago...

“You know, we’ve uh, we’ve been hanging out a lot. Like one on one too and not just for studying and I just thought maybe you felt the same way as I do about you-”

“I do,” Y/N can’t stop smiling as the boy she’s got the biggest crush on ever stutters over his words. Harry smiles back, nodding his head before looking back down at his hands in his lap.

“Would you be my girlfriend, Y/N?” He asks, eyes flashing back up to meet hers.

Y/N’s smiles grows - if it’s even possible - then she’s reaching for his hands in his lap and intertwining their fingers together. She immediately takes notes of the cool metal from the ring she had bought him for his birthday only last month. Harry wore it every single day. The one single ring on his middle finger, a simple silver band with the word ‘peace’ engraved on it. Y/N saw it and thought of Harry right away, buying it a whole month before it was even his birthday. That January was 3 months into their blossoming friendship that started one cool October night at the bonfire.

It really only took her 3 weeks tops to fall for the adorable Brit, but after 3 months she knew she loved him. And now after 4 months, he was finally asking her to be his. Y/N wasn’t really upset about the waiting, she always knew they’d become a couple one day and she wanted all the days after too.

“Yes,” Y/N says through her grinning, squeezing his hands in hers before spontaneously bringing her hands up to both sides of his face gently.

Y/N and Harry had only kissed 5 times in the past 4 months. 3 times while drunk, them both blushing like fools and wiping the saliva from their lips afterwards. Twice it was a simple peck on the lips, leaving Harry stunned both times with a smile and wide eyes. And once was like this moment right now. Slow, like they were savouring each other, her hands brushing into his hair while his inched closer to her bum. Then they broke away to catch their breath, looking into one another’s eyes and smiling.

On March the 2nd of their junior year, Harry asked Y/N to be his girlfriend and at that moment she never imagined them not being together - ever.

>><<

The Following Week...

“Okay intervention time,” Y/N’s friends all crowd her. “You can’t seriously want to like date Harry can you? I mean he’s a serious loser, like wears Game of Thrones T-shirts kind of loser,”

“He’s a great guy,” Y/N says, closing her locker and looking at the few friends around her.

“Yeah but he’s so out of your league,”

“No he’s not,”

“Are you kidding me?” One of her friends snort, “he so is, Y/N, what are you blind and stupid now?”

Y/N rolls her eyes and shakes her head at her so-called friends. This was why she couldn’t be happier for high school to be over. She was over these judgemental childish games that they loved to play. Maybe at one point she could laugh along and let it slide, but not anymore. Now she realized that it wasn’t about fitting it, it was about being happy. And Harry made her really freaking happy.

“Whatever,” Y/N sighs, “I’m dating Harry, and I could care less if you like it or not,”

And with that, she walks away to her class as the bell rings around the halls. Y/N turns into her class, ignoring the looks from Chad and his friends and walking right back to the table that Harry was sitting at with a couple of his friends. She smiles and takes the seat next to him.

“Hey,” he says, mirroring her smile.

“Hey,” she echoes.

“How was your last class?”

“Meh,” she shrugs, “cared more about this one,” she admits to her boyfriend. Queue inner sigh and heart eyes as she watches her boyfriend bite down on his pen to shuffle out his binder from her backpack. Screw whatever anyone else thought, Harry was not out of Y/N’s league.

“Did you get the homework done last night?” Harry asks, snapping her back to reality.

“Shit,” she curses while flipping through her papers. Suddenly a filled out sheet is in front of her blank one. Y/N looks over at Harry, smiling at him, “thank you, I owe you, again,” she whispers as their teacher begins to speak.

“No you don’t,” Harry shrugs.

Y/N smiles at her boyfriend before copying down his smart as hell answers that she would have never gotten on her own.

>><<

One Year Later....

“Wh-What is this?” Harry stutters. Y/N knows what he had catch sight of. She thought she got rid of all of it, but the instructions must’ve been left behind in her trash bin in the en suite of her bedroom.

She stays silent, totally unsure of how to tell her boyfriend of 1 year that she had a freaking pregnancy scare. Hence her trying to just get rid of it all and not telling him. Y/N is in her own head for so long before she looks up at Harry. He is holding the piece of paper that told her how to pee on a stick and how long to wait for the results. My god the look on his face, she thinks as her eyes sting with threatening tears. She notices Harry’s eyes drift down to her stomach.

“You’re p-pregnant?”

A tear falls down her face as her mouth gapes open but no words come out. Harry drops the paper on the floor and makes the few steps to be beside her now. He sits down beside her on the bed and puts his hand on hers that’s resting on her knee. His other hand, the one with the silver ring she got him that now had a red ruby jewelry ring beside it, reached up to cup her cheek. He pushes her face gently till her eyes meet his.

“We’ll get through this together. What-whatever you chose, to keep it or to-“

“I’m not pregnant,” Y/N blurts out.

“Oh,” Harry says.

“It was just like a scare I guess, my period was like five days late and I got nervous,” Y/N explains. Harry brushes away her tears before dropping his hand from her face. That’s when she noticed the change in his expression.

“When?” He questions. Y/N furrows her brows.

“What?”

“When did you have the scare?” He asks further, taking his hand off her knee now.

“Like last week,” she states.

“You-you weren’t going to tell me?” He questions. “I’m-I’m your boyfriend, Y/N, and I love you and would be there through anything with you and for you,” he’s hurt, she knows by the tone of his voice. He’s only ever gotten upset with her once before, she cried then too. Y/N reaches up to wipe her own tears this time, sniffling as she forces herself to look into Harry’s eyes.

“It-it was a scare,” she sniffles again, wiping her nose on the cuff of her sweater.

“Well you still should have told me,” he’s raising his voice again.

“I know,” she croaks, holding back a sob.

“I mean I’m obviously not ready to be a father but I could’ve helped you,” Harry begins to ramble again. “This isn’t something you can’t just fucking hide from me, Y/N,”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Y/N says, grabbing for his hands again but he moves. Standing up from her bed and grabbing his backpack from by her desk. “What-where are you going?”

“I just need some space to think,” he mutters before opening her bedroom door and closing it shut behind him.

Y/N hears the echo of his footsteps going down the staircase, the sound of the front door opening and closing and then the beep of him hitting the lock button on the key pad. When she sees his car drive down the street and away from her house she lets herself cry. Laying back in her bed, curling up into a ball and full on sobbing as she replayed the fight her and Harry just had.

Their first big fight, something she prayed didn’t jeopardize their relationship.

The next day she doesn’t wake up to her usual good morning text with an estimated time Harry would pick her up for school. So she finds herself reaching for an oversized crew neck sweater and leggings, throwing her hair up into a bun and not putting any makeup on her face. When she’s brushing her teeth she notices how puffy and red her eyes are from all the crying she had done the night before. Y/N sighs and slowly makes her way downstairs, grabs a banana for breakfast then walks down the hall to her moms studio.

It’s 8:30 in the morning but she can tell her moms been painting for hours, by the paint in her hair and the smile on her face. But when her mom looks over at whom opened her studio door and sees her daughter frowning her smile wipes away.

“Mom, can you drive me to school?” Y/N asks in a quietly voice.

“Is Harry sick or something?” Her mom questions, standing up to where the en suite was for what would traditionally be a guest bedroom.

“We uh,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, “we had a fight,” her eyes fall to the ground before she can take in whatever expression her mom gives her.

“Let me grab my keys and we’ll go,” she says softly, stepping past Y/N but first leaving a kiss to the crown of her head. Y/N nods and follows after her mom.

Her mom doesn’t ask any questions till about half way through the drive. Y/N sighs and looks towards her mom instead of out the window like she had been. She debates telling her mom the truth. She was her best friend after all - but she was also her mom. Before she can over think it too much, she tells her.

“I-I took a pregnancy test,” Y/N states.

Y/N grips the car door as her mom swerves the car slightly. She shuts her eyes and prepares for her mom to go all hellish on her. But it doesn’t come. She opens her eyes again to look to her mom, she’s simply staring out the front window and flicks on her turn signal.

“What were the results?” She asks.

“Negative,” Y/N doesn’t miss a beat to tell her that much.

Her mom doesn’t hold back on letting out a long deep breath, blowing a piece of her paint covered hair. Then she’s chuckling to herself, turning the wheel into the school parking lot and instead of pulling up to the front like she typically would she parks in one of the stalls. After putting the car in park she turns to face Y/N.

“I’m assuming you’re using protection and being safe and that it was just a case where you got scared your period was a bit late,” Y/N nods. “And Harry got upset?” Y/N nods again.

“He was,” she pauses as she feels her eyes water again, “he was good about the potential pregnancy and wanted to help, just didn’t take it too well that I wasn’t planning to tell him I had a scare,” she explains. Her mom nods now, rolling her lips into her mouth before letting them go to smile. She reaches over the console to hold Y/N’s hands.

“Now tell me what high school boyfriend would take a teen pregnancy well? I got pregnant right after graduation and your father still didn’t want anything to do with it all,” Y/N bites her inner cheek at the mention of her father. They didn’t have a bad relationship, he would come around for birthdays and would come for some visits. But he had his own family now, one Y/N never really felt like she fit into.

“So think about that, okay, the fact he was ready to help is amazing. Don’t worry your pretty little mind too much, that boy loves you beyond this world and you’ll be fine by the end of the day, okay?” Her mom exclaims, rubbing her daughters hands.

Y/N nods and just then the school bell rings. She hugs her mom awkwardly, saying their I love yous and goodbyes before Y/N has to face this day on her own. Her mom was right of course, because right before last period as Y/N is reaching in her locker she sees Harry walking towards her. She closes her locker and holds onto her binder, looking at the small heart with H.S. in the middle she had drawn in the top left hand corner.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Harry sighs, stopping right in front of her. “Sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning,” he says.

Y/N shrugs and hugs her binder closer to her chest, “it’s alright, think my mom misses our morning drives,” she states.

“Oh, she can drive you more often than,” Harry says so nonchalantly that Y/N swears her heart stops. Her mouth goes dry at the thought of her and Harry breaking up.

“Are-are you breaking up with me?” She questions.

Harry’s eyes widen and he reaches forward to touch her arms, “god, no,” he says. Y/N let’s out a deep breath and nods. “I just needed the space to think about what happened, and I did that, and I get why you didn’t want to tell me,” he explains. His hands are rubbing up and down her arms gently now, his body closer as they seem to be in their own world in the slightly crowded hallway.

“I was scared, H,” she says just above a whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back, “I’m sorry for getting upset,”

“Well I’m sorry for not telling you,”

Harry leans forward and they share a kiss, not too long since they are still in public in their high school hallway and all. When they lean back to look at one another they’re both smiling. Y/N takes notice of how he’s wearing contacts today, the green of his eyes particularly lovely when he did so. She opens her mouth to tell him she loves him when someone decided to join their moment.

“Hey guys,” Harry’s friend - and now hers too she supposed - Trevor, says with a smile.

Harry takes a slight step back from Y/N and looks at his friend. “Hey, what’s up?” He asks.

“The bell rang, we’ve got last period together today,” he states to Harry.

They hadn’t even noticed that the bell had rung or that the hallway was clearing out. Y/N fixes the strap of her purse and holds her binder with one hand now. She takes one step back and gives the two boys a smile.

“I should go to class too,” she says.

“I’ll see you after,” Harry smiles. She nods and turns on her heels to where her class was at the end of the hall. She’s not surprised when she hears Trevor speak before she’s out of hearing range.

“I still can’t believe you two are together, like some princess and the servant boy type shit ya know,” Trevor says. Y/N chuckles to herself and turns into her class with a smile.

>><<

The Following Month...

Applying for universities was something Y/N had been dreading for her entire time in high school. She was one of those kids that had no clue what she wanted to do with the rest of her life and didn’t know where she wanted to apply. Add how bad her grades were and these past couple months before applications deadlines were terrible. What was even worse was that her boyfriend knew exactly where he was applying and what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Harry had talked about Yale for as long as uni talk started.

But Y/N knew one thing for sure - she wasn’t going to get accepted into a top Ivy League school like Yale.

It had been just over a month since their first real fight, about the pregnancy scare, and things were back to being great. Till any time applying for university was brought up. Harry would mention the deadline for Yale, clearly meaning for her to get her application in, and Y/N would simply stay quiet or change the subject all together. She obviously didn’t want to be apart from Harry, she just was grasping the fact it was going to happen regardless of anything she did or said.

“Hello?” Harry waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her back into reality.

“Sorry,” Y/N mutters and looks back down at her bio homework they were working on in Harry’s back yard. The sun was shining and his family was gone for the weekend, meaning they had the house to themselves.

“Whatever,” Harry mumbles back through his teeth, annoyance clear as day in his voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just kinda annoyed,” he admits, letting out a sigh and dropping his pencil. Y/N looks up from her paper, watching as he ran a hand through his hair. “Why won’t you apply to any of the schools I want to go to? It’s like you won’t even consider it and I just get annoyed,” he explains.

“I did consider it, and then I considered how shit my grades are so I accepted the fact I won’t be going where ever you go, Harry,”

“But you don’t know unless you apply,”

“Can we just drop this, please,” she urges before looking back at her school work.

Harry doesn’t say anymore, and when she glances back up at him and sees the look in his eyes it’s like someone punched her in the gut. They both knew in a few short months this relationship would be over. Y/N couldn’t do long distance, she just knew it’d hurt too much and be too expensive to try to fly back and forth to see each other. And daily FaceTime calls would turn into maybe once a week to then only once in a while as their class work would pile up. They’d both make new friends, maybe meet someone else that made their hearts thumps a bit louder than normal. The mere thought of Harry falling in love with someone else made Y/N feel sick.

“Hey,” Harry mumbles and reaches across the table to grab onto her hand.

She states are their hands for a moment before she stands suddenly, “is there still some watermelon in the fridge?”

Y/N doesn’t wait for Harry to answer, instead she wanders off inside the house and tries to distract herself from what would eventually happen to her relationship.

>><<

The Following Week....

“Then I’ll just go to UCLA,” Harry says.

“No,”

“Wow, you really just don’t want to be with me huh? Don’t want to continue to date the loser nerd kid after high school?”

“You know that’s not it,” Y/N is fuming with anger. “I don’t want you to go to UCLA with me because I don’t want you to give up your dream of Yale for me. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and going to UCLA would be a waste of your stupid genius brain,”

“I’m just getting really tired of this argument, Y/N,” Harry sighs.

“Well,” Y/N pauses, “so am I,”

They go silent again, something that’s been happening more often than not between the two of them. Something that Y/N hated, she hated it so much that it hurt her every single time. Because through that silence she thought of how their relationship was going to end. How she would finally break one of these silent moment by breaking his heart.

>><<

Present Day...

Y/N was beyond nervous. She was just round the corner from where she was to meet up with Harry for dinner tonight. She was almost about to turn around and leave, send him some sort of message to apologize. But she just about ran into him instead.

“Whoa,” Harry says, reaching out to catch Y/N before she tripped on the edge of the sidewalk.

“Sorry,”

Y/N looks up at Harry, then looking down at where his cool hands touched her bare arms just under the sleeve of her shirt. Her arms looked small in his hands. Her eyes drift up his arms, now covered in some tattoos, tanned and toned - he most definitely hit up the gym since their break up. Whoa was right, Y/N thinks before she steps back out of his grasp and swallows in order to clear her dry throat.

“Shall we?” Harry motions towards the front door of the restaurant he had chosen to meet up with Y/N.

Harry was the one to find her old number and text her a time and place, when an unassigned number popped up on her phone - Siri so gracefully made the contact ‘Maybe: Harry’ as it read: ‘hey y/n, it’s harry’. Y/N’s nerves only grew as he held open the door for her and she took in the inside of this locally owned Italian restaurant just off of campus grounds.

The lighting was a bit more dim than a typical restaurant, but not totally in a romantic way just more in a relaxing sense. Every table had the large white cloth napkins neatly folding by the large plates and several utensils, wine glasses and water glasses and of course a few red roses in the middle to pull it all together. Y/N swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat - this was really beginning to feel like a date, she thought as she watched Harry speak to the hostess.

“Reservation for Harry Styles, for two,” he smiles at the young girl, maybe only a year or two younger than them. She blushes immediately and nods, clicking a few things on an iPad before grabbing a couple menus and leading the way.

“Thank you,” Y/N says to the girl as she sets down the menus. She’s about to reach for her seat but Harry’s pulling it out for her before she can do it herself. “Oh, thanks,” she mumbles nervously with a smile.

“You’re welcome,” Harry nods, walking over to his own seat now.

They sit in an awkward silence for only a few second maybe, the sounds of the restaurant filling in for them as they both thought of how to start this all off. Harry licks his lips before opening his mouth.

“How was your first day?”

“Good,” Y/N nods, “I, uh, my dad actually helped me move in since he lives close and y’know he went to Brown so me coming here was kinda exciting for him I guess.”

“Oh, that’s awesome,” Harry says, “how’s your dad doing?”

“Good, he’s good, um Trisha is pregnant again so I’ll be getting another half sibling next March I think,” Y/N shrugs and takes a sip of her water. “Otherwise he’s just doing the usual, putting people in prison and golfing. I was actually surprised he got a day off to come help me,”

“That’s nice that he did though, since he doesn’t take too much time off to see you anymore,” Harry exclaims. He knew about Y/N’s relationship with her dad, she would cry on his shoulder about her stupid daddy issues sometimes while they were dating. Y/N smiles at Harry, which he mirrors instantly, before she clears her throat and adjusts how she’s sitting.

Another moment of silence falls between them as they stare across the table at one another. Y/N noticed how he must’ve cut his hair recently, it’s short on the sides but still a wild mess of sexy waves atop of his head. She likes his glasses, the frames really suited this new grown up version of him. And his style, wow, she loved how good he looked in some tight fitted jeans, boots, a plain T-shirt and a long trench coat - he looked amazing.

“You cut your hair,” Y/N says like an idiot.

Harry subconsciously runs a hand through his hair at the mention of it. “Actually it was a lot longer than you would’ve ever seen it just last month, but then I finally let Bec cut it all off. It was like,” he watches his own hand as he tries to show Y/N just how long his hair was, “about here maybe, always put it in a bun if I could,” he states.

“I can’t imagine you with a man bun,” Y/N chuckles.

“Hey, I looked pretty good if I do say so myself,” Harry jokes. They both laugh now, causing them to be grinning like fools afterwards. “I’ve missed you,” Harry admits without a second thought.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up while her heart aches at the memories of her breaking up with him those few years ago. She rolls her lips into her mouth and let’s out a small sigh. Harry must catch onto her hesitate reaction as he bites on his bottom lip and looks off to look for the waitress.

“I’ve missed you too, H,” Y/N says softly, “it’ll be nice to have a friend at Yale,”

Harry brings his water to his lips and takes a sip, nodding right before the waitress walks up. After they give the waitress their orders, they fall more into a casual conversation full of giggles and smiles. Y/N learnt that Harry had moved into an apartment just south of campus with his friends Bec and Julien, taking control the most in the kitchen. The thought of Harry cooking made Y/N heart ache. Harry learnt that Y/N worked her butt off her first two years of university, missing out on plenty of parties and nearly ODing on caffeine she swears - but it all paid off when both Yale and Dartmouth accepted her transfer applications.  

Y/N thanks Harry once again as they leave the restaurant and he holds open the door for her. She hugs her coat closer to her body as the cool night air hits her hard. Harry falls into step besides Y/N, thoughts banging back and forth in his head. Just do it, he thinks before taking a deep breath and letting it go quick.

“I don’t think I can just be friends with you, Y/N,” he says, causing Y/N to turn fast on her heels to look at him.

“What?”

“I-I mean that,” Harry pauses and licks his lips as he looks at his ex-girlfriend whom he hadn’t stopped thinking about. “I mean that I still care about you, and that I will always have feelings for you and now that you’re here-” he motions to where she stood in front of him. “Right here, in front of me, finally, again, I can’t let this second chance slide away from me.”

Y/N is at a lose for words. Harry had always been good at that. Her lips curl up into a smile, causing Harry’s to do the same. Sure, they only just reunited today but Y/N understood his every word. Their time in the restaurant felt like the most natural thing she’s felt in forever. All the jealousy and head spinning she felt earlier was another sign - Harry was right. Not everyone got a second chance at true love.

“Then let’s have our second chance, H,” she says.

Harry smiles, making Y/N giggle a little but then his hands are moving to her sides. He brings her closer to him, his body radiating heat just like she remembered but she was glad for it in this chilly night. His hands are gentle against the thin shirt she was wearing, one moving under her jacket to rest against her lower back. Y/N’s lips are parted, eyes hooded as she feels lightheaded at how close their bodies have become. Her hands rest against his chest, she watches her finger tips move slightly against him. Then, the moment she looks up to meet his green dreamy eyes he’s leaning down and touching his soft lips to hers.

It’s a short but sweet kiss that has both Harry and Y/N’s heart thumbing in their chests.

“Let me drive you to your dorm,” Harry says.

“Okay,” Y/N nods. Harry grabs ahold of her hand and leads the way.

Suppose her first day at Yale wasn’t so bad after all, Y/N thinks while clenching Harry’s hand.

[gyromitra-esculenta]

Even If the Waters Rise 1/3

Talked myself into Mermay. But it’s Shadowrun based mermay with (something that resembles) plot. Mermaids are now metahuman, and, boy, do I have the issues with Sea Dragon’s design. It got 6k words on the first chapter.

Also, warnings for the whole planned thing: blood, gore, and violence; cannibalism (human on metahuman); questionable jokes and questionable totem choices; ambiguous relationships; referenced limb loss/cybernetics/etc; mating cycles.

(...)

Later, the deep throbbing bites on his back, shoulders, and neck almost manage to take his mind off the itching under the sleeves, the kind anything but scratching the skin off whole does nothing for. The bites, they should bother him more but feel only right, as does the thumb following the line of his spine, up and down each bump, ceaseless, building the pressure up and then letting go. Jack has to wonder as he drifts off if it's one of those times Gabriel will stay until he wakes.

He does. Looking with the usual neutral expression when Jack gulps for the air, the lingering vague memory of drowning but not sinking while something gorges itself on his flesh with little bites tearing him apart fading slowly.

(...)

Coming off the sedation after being cut was always a mixed bag. This time, though, the bustle of the street outside filters in slowly, rising like a wave over the ocean of static and breaking when the stims start doing their job.

The first breath is always the hardest, some kink in the lungs that kicks them into filtration mode each time the loss of consciousness occurs and demands focus from Jack to consciously switch back into the atmospheric intake.

"With us again?"

"You tell me, you're in my brain."

"Being obstinate will net you no points," Sombra mentally scoffs. "The pain?"

"No worse than usual."

"Arms up. Good, neural's working with no lag. And thank you very much for that kick, the legs are doing fine too."

"All?" Jack looks over the utilitarian metal surfaces of his limbs, the make and the model different from anything else he has seen on the market.

"Now, yeah," Sombra winces, pulling the plug out. She doesn’t need it but had told him once there were times she felt safer working with one. "For final calibrations, I need more data, so let's slap synthskin on those."

"What are they, anyway?"

"Scrubbed milspec, last year's model, or so I'd been told."

Sombra directs the assistant. Each applied sheet of layered synthskin gives Jack a lurch of unpleasant sensations before settling into annoyance, tension, and oversensitivity. A dance he's familiar with - a day or two before the brain puts a dampener on the sensory input when it integrates properly.

"I know why you're doing this for free, but why is he spending so much on this?"

Sombra flinches.

"The last batch you got rid of was worth more than those."

"It won't stop the demand, only the price of the meat went up."

"And the ability to process it for consumption went down. You know what's my take on it," she signs something on her pad. "Anyway, have fun tonight. I'll get in touch with you tomorrow to finish the calibrations."

"Not seeing much of a difference now," Jack pulls on his clothes, mindful of the temporary sleeves making sure the skin stays in place. "Tell me I won’t control and crush anyone."

"Implemented mental blocks. No limiters, so they can over-perform and get bricked, too."

"Taking bets on when I brick them?"

"Honestly!" Sombra throws the pad at him and Jack deflects it into the wall - looking back to her with a sheepish grin as it falls to the ground. "Too slow. Also, I don't want to see you in the professional capacity for at least half a year, but I'm giving you a month."

"Not very generous, and you're making me think you don't like it in my head."

"I don't, it's a jumble there since..." She stops herself, glaring daggers at the assistant who, granted with the rare ability to read the room, makes himself scarce - finding something urgent to do in the back.

"Since the glorified accident at work I don't even remember, seriously, five years, it's enough to stop treating me like I'm going to break about it." Jack pulls up the hood. Sombra's thinking about something, her brows drawn together in a worried frown.

"Aren't you curious?"

"Not really. Nightmares are a clue enough that something took out a lot of bites, and really, can't blame them, can I?"

"That's enough." She sends him a slightly nauseated look. "Scram now, have fun."

"Do you think he will tell me where he got milspec from?"

"He didn't tell me, so he's not going to tell you."

"But you've got an inkling how he got it."

"Maybe." She waves him off and Jack rolls his eyes, shrugging. Needling her for information has never worked before, anyway, and probably never will.

"See you when I wreck those."

"Fuck off!"

In less than an hour, there will be no trace left of her inside - and of Jack himself - the room is already being stripped down as he makes his way out of the basement up the concrete stairs with walls covered with dangerous amounts of mildew. Pushing past a corner stall encroaching on the doorway, he picks up a wrapped piece of barely seared meat waiting for him and waves his bracelet at the chit reader.

The air is wet and salty, like waves on the harbor, not even the smells of the market drown it out. The corners of his lips curl up at the thought tomorrow, or the day after, he'll be back out there, out on the sea, taking a dive into its depths, water everywhere, below and above, invisible current carrying him on its whims. Jack hails down the cab, the smile still on his face.

It remains there even twenty minutes later as he gets off by the hotel, both far too expensive and far too cheap at the same time. Too expensive for his own tastes, too cheap for Gabe to rent a room in it. Alas, here they are - and he sends a quick text.

'I'm coming up.'

Almost to the top, feeling vaguely claustrophobic in the humming elevator thankfully bereft of the usual muzak (apparently some taste did come with the money, but not enough for the interior to keep consistent style), he gets the customary message back. 'Open.'

Jack lets out the breath he's been inadvertently holding in when the doors open and he's left in the corridor, looking for the right entrance. A suite, of course, worth a chuckle as he walks inside, the only source of light the city's glow coming in through the windows.

And Gabriel, of course - again - standing with his back to the window, the only discernible features of his in the dim the almost glowing red irises and the white markings creating a vague outline of some animal face. Dramatic asshole, as usual.

"Show me."

The tone of authority and ownership demanding obedience - the order itself - coming from anyone else but the man who one way or another did own everything that made him, would have Jack snarling and pouncing whoever dared to speak to him like that. Hearing it from Gabe, though...

"Not even 'hi, how are you' or 'greetings, mortal'?"

Jack rolls his eyes, stripping down completely out of his clothes, leaving them lying on the plush carpet as Gabriel comes closer. Always smelling faintly of the deep ocean, or rather, of how Jack would imagine it to smell if it did.

Fingers dig around the edges of the sleeves on his shoulders, feeling the joints underneath, moving down to repeat the same around his hips. Synthskin sends confusing signals, not quite the pain yet, and a pinch of irritation.

"Looks fine."

"Will you tell me how you got your hands on last generation's milspec?" Gabriel ignores the question - no acknowledgment of it being asked even - as he's wont to do. Instead, he picks up a pillbox from the dresser. "I still got them."

"I know. You're dosing too low."

"Orgasm in a pill seems a bit too convenient." Jack massages the joint of his shoulder, moving to the bedroom. The carpet, probably soft on any other occasion, scratches his soles. "And a bit awkward."

"A fortunate coincidence of it interacting with your physiology."

"Yeah, coincidence. You're sure it's not another leash to keep me on?"

"If it were, you wouldn't be able to skip a dose. I'd make sure of it."

"I'm pulling your leg. I rather suspect you wouldn't do that, or would you?" Jack climbs the bed and props himself on the pillows - eyes focused on the single pill held between Gabriel's fingers, tracking it as he puts it in his mouth advancing - crawling over the covers, and Jack himself, with the grace of a predator playfully stalking a prey he knows cannot flee, the kill only a formality decided beforehand.

Drowning, always drowning in those eyes, black sclera and red irises blurring together into one, always looking too deep into him until he feels they don’t see him at all, his tongue brushing against sharp pointed teeth in an open-mouthed kiss, electricity traveling back and forth the nerves of phantom limbs with the speed of light coming to stop in a single burst leaving him breathless and shaking under Gabriel.

"Dutiful boy. You deserve a prize."

Jack chuckles at the first trace of any emotion in Gabriel's voice. The possessiveness is never truly gone, it's as much an integral part of him as are his looks, but there's a note of fondness giving Jack the incontestable impulse to almost preen: lower his lashes and incline back his head, hand sliding along dark red lines on Gabriel's arm.

"She's going to touch up off this."

"Are you worried about your privacy?"

"I'm used to having none with her. That was," he inhales sharply, feeling the bite on his collarbone, "for your benefit. I can see now you don't mind."

"I do not."

Jack merely snorts, rolling over and promising himself again to figure out Gabriel's trick with the clothes, there one moment and gone in the next, probably magic, but if he ever had any spark himself it was long lost with all the work done on him since the accident. Blunt as a troll's fist, this one.

Not that he has the ability to dwell on it while getting drilled into the mattress.

Later, the deep throbbing bites on his back, shoulders, and neck almost manage to take his mind off the itching under the sleeves, the kind anything but scratching the skin off whole does nothing for. The bites, they should bother him more but feel only right, as does the thumb following the line of his spine, up and down each bump, ceaseless, building the pressure and then letting go. Jack has to wonder as he drifts off if it's one of those times Gabriel will stay until he wakes.

He does. Looking with the usual neutral expression when Jack gulps for the air, the lingering vague memory of drowning but not sinking while something gorges itself on his flesh with little bites tearing him apart fading slowly.

"Lungs are still giving you problems."

Bathed in the sunlight, Gabriel looks as striking as in the darkness - minutely less dangerous now, however surface and not representative of his true nature the impression is. Regal. Focused on the multitude of holoscreens floating in the air before him.

"No. Not really."

"You were choking."

"Only a bit." Jack stretches, still feeling relatively boneless and exhausted, sticky with perspiration, too tired yet to consider the shower to be a genuine need right now. He slips off the bed only to retrieve the wrapped meat from the pile of discarded clothes in the other room and climbs right back into it.

"It's almost raw," Gabriel mentions when Jack's well into a third of his snack.

"Yeah. I'm finding it's not that bad at all, all things considered. Are you going to comment on my obviously poor dietary choices?"

"No. I'm rather curious about why would you consume it raw." A note of amusement, rare as it is, floats in Gabriel's voice. Jack shrugs.

"Started as a fucked up way to get closer and understand them better, and it grew on me. Not like I'm doing it a lot, wanted to treat myself tonight. Want some?"

To his astonishment, it does take Gabriel's attention away from the screens, as if he's considering the offer seriously - not that Jack would mind - and he leans in, hand trailing on Jack's shoulder for a moment and coming away with blood on the fingertips. Which he licks off.

One of the bites must’ve opened.

"No."

"Shit," Jack chuckles, pulling knees closer to his chest, resting his arms on them, just looking. "Could you just tell me what you are?"

"No. Probably never will."

"Suit yourself then, Knife-ears."

Soon afterward, Gabriel disappears in the bathroom and emerges back fully clothed, the suit so plain and unassuming it has to be worth its weight in diamonds, at least - and leaves without a word. Nothing about it bothers Jack, really, that's the only way he has ever known him to be: someone who's either rich or influential enough to never have had to conform to any social standards so they're like an alien concept to him. If anything, it tickles Jack's ego, the fact Gabriel spends both money and time on him regardless of his inscrutable reasons for it. And even if the time is scarce, the money comes in sums so high Jack’s not going to bother trying to figure the specific amounts out.

With a sigh, Jack plugs into his own pad, trying to ignore momentary vertigo any kind of connection, even the shallow one, gives him - waiting for Sombra to get to him. If she wanted anything from him, she always found him the second he jacked in.

The mental equivalent of a giggle has him rolling his eyes.

"You can say it."

"Boy, did you get screwed silly."

"I feel like I got some of my brain matter fucked out, that one's a freebie."

"What the hell are you eating now? Feedback from your tastebuds is giving me shivers."

"You too?" He bites off another chunk.

"What are you eating?" Sombra repeats, the tone akin to the one used towards a pet that definitely got into trash or picked up something suspect on the way.

"Almost raw meat."

"Interesting," she says after a pause. "Anyway, I'm done."

Jack flexes the free hand, clenching and unclenching his fist a few times.

"Not seeing any difference."

"You shouldn't because I know how to do my job. Also uploaded keys to the blocks, the data on the job, and you've got incoming charter on the roof in five hours."

"So I do have time for a bath then," he hums, smiling.

"Knock yourself out, I'm leaving you alone, you get weird in water."

"Thanks, Som."

"No biggie." Her presence warms up before blinking out, leaving Jack to sort through everything she's left behind both in, and on the pad. Processing plant, the floor plans from several flybys, one drone shot down by a spirit, two points of entrance, Genji on the spot, Jesse and him coming from the water with a few hours to spare, full carnage.

Jack smirks, pulling out the plug. Just how he likes it. He moves to the bathroom, the alarm set for two hours.

The bathtub is nothing spectacular, at best a tight fit for more than two people - still a fancy one with an array of controls barely anyone bothers to use. He picks the temperature and plays a bit with oxygenation and flow. Jack lowers himself into the water slowly, the cold playing havoc on the still sensitive synthskin. The nonexistent heat regulation of milspec freezes his joints with pain. All par for the course as he exhales before submerging in full.

And then, he breathes the water in.

The surface breaks with the remnants of the air pushed from his lungs. It's a poor man's substitute for the real thing but the pressure and the dampened hum of the surroundings, however dissimilar to a swim in the ocean, bring his mind some respite.

Running down the pier barefooted with the warmth of the sun on his back - jumping - the whiplash of the impact - diving deep, to look back from below at the light glimmering on the waves, the rays reaching for him - the hands reaching for him from the depths and pulling down.

With the sound of the alarm, Jack jolts up to a sitting position, coughing out the water. Another bout gets rid of the rest of it from the lungs, and he changes the temperature. The bath heats almost immediately.

The dream changes, but the ending remains always the same.

Head leaning against the rim of the tub, before properly washing, he spends minutes motionless except for the occasional shiver until his core warms up. Remaining two hours Jack idles away eating a late breakfast and not really watching some show on the holo while sprawled in the bed still smelling of sex.

Moving to the pad grants him some suspicious looks he can't fault people for because he does stick out here in his clothes like a sore thumb - and then surprise as his bracelet lets him pass through the gate and into the waiting Osprey with rotors running hot. A waste to use the craft fitted for carrying almost forty personnel merely for him, but he's not the one paying. At least, there's room enough to stretch his legs and to think very hard on how much he's unafraid of flying, his stomach doing backflips as it takes off.

The fact the crash might have been involved had occurred to him long ago.

Fifteen minutes in, Jack gives up and reaches out to Sombra, for which she ridicules him mercilessly but keeps him company. Getting angry helps to take his mind off of how fucking terrified he is. Even if he could run fucking laps inside the cabin, the changing tilt reminds him he's in the air, and the moment Osprey touches down three hours later, Jack's out like there's a pack of devil rats on his heels, relieved to have solid ground back under his feet.

Jesse, holding his hat down against the draft waves at him. The coyote stitched on his serape seems to stretch and yawn with the fabric moving, probably does so in truth, but Jack can never tell.

"Lúcio's finishing on the sub, we're going to drink tonight, coming too?"

Jack looks to the harbor and shakes his head.

"Not this time. I'll check the gear and maybe go for the swim."

"Dude, no, not in this water, trust me. Too much industrial, and many critters out here. Best case, you'd break out in boils after a dip."

"Can't be that bad."

"Well, Lúcio says that a pyramid had been hit hard some months back, there's been some runoff and an uptick in critters. Really want to chance it with whatever's in the water now?"

"Guess not." Jack shrugs, walking away from the powered down craft towards the only building on the pier.

"So how's about that drink?" The coyote on the red cloth sits down and scratches its ear. If he were to associate Jesse with any other spirit than it, he would be hard-pressed to find anything fitting.

"Pass. Just don't get in trouble with the locals. Or old pals."

"Hey, don't bring up my stalker vampire ex, the next time I see 'er, I have a stake with her name on it." Jesse throws his hands into the air, pausing in the doorway, letting Jack pass him.

"You know it doesn't work on her."

"It will slow her down."

"If you manage to stake anything vital."

"Oh, I will, because this," Jesse points to himself with a wide smile, "is absolutely irresistible to her."

Jack laughs, eyeing the crates set up inside.

"Yeah, there's no accounting for taste."

"Dude, harsh. Anyway, that's yours."

"Everything's in here?"

"I wouldn't know, I try not to touch your shit," Jesse gives an exasperated sigh while digging in his pockets for a cigar, the coyote snapping at it as he puts it between his lips. "Well, see you in the morning, dude," he adds before turning around. Jack nods, moving his attention to the boxes and working his way through their contents.

The story behind the coyote Jesse tells is as outlandish as the man himself, and a question for the ages of how he wasn't rad-insane or sporting another head. Yet.

In the German wasteland (the only place on earth one could be a real cowboy anymore, Jesse insisted), drunk off two shit beers because his ex fed off him earlier, and high on some local shrooms, staring at the dying campfire, the coyote came to him and took him on the trip. Jack would gladly chalk it up to alcohol, hallucinogenics, radiation, and exsanguination, all working in synergy - if not for the hard fact the coyote itself was very real, and as helpful as it turned out to be an impediment, or a bother, the other half of the time.

Methodically, Jack picks out the gear - the rest going back to their crates - and then he double-checks the selection, looking for any identifiable problems and defects. When he's finished and satisfied, it's well into the wee morning hours. He drags a random deck chair to the end of the pier and lays down in it. The city, as small as it is comparable to the majority on the coast, doesn't sleep - there is no escaping the lights and the sounds - but in his chosen spot overlooking more water than the land he can doze off.

If either Jesse or Lúcio notices him gasping for breath as they finish loading the sub, they don't mention it.

"I'm not hauling your shit," Jesse gestures to the container Jack left outside, by his chair.

"Hi, man," Lúcio smiles. "Also, I dig your new set, what's the specs?"

"You'd have to ask Sombra for technicalities, I'm only using them." Jack stretches, there's a kink below his left shoulder blade he tries to work out by rolling it. Almost manages to, too.

"Cool, will do. By the way, he tried to throw hands only once."

"Dude. Squeal much?"

"It's called being the responsible one," Lúcio shrugs and Jesse groans in response, muttering something sounding suspiciously like 'don't need a chaperone'.

"Sub's all ready?"

"She's right up purring now, the lady she is." Lúcio's eyes light up. "Nothing left to squeeze out."

"I'll hold you up to it." Jack gets up and drags the container to the sub, the box grating on the concrete, and brings it into the cabin, pushing it behind the seats.

"Oh, man, do that, love to see the data after you push her."

"Will do on the way back. Jesse, inside."

"That wasn't me sleeping when me and Lúcio were breaking our backs," Jesse snarks sliding into the pilot's seat, knowing well Jack's impatience and what they will use the spare time for. He doesn't mind, usually.

"Good hunting, guys." Lúcio mock-salutes as the hatch seals.

Before they're out of the harbor and submerged completely, Jack's out of his clothes, save for the boxers. Despite the sub being state-of-the art, with two people in it gets hot inside in less than an hour.

He starts on the sleeves, peeling them off slowly.

The synthskin underneath is still oversensitive, but no longer tries to overload his brain with conflicting or extreme stimuli. It just feels like blanched with boiling water and any negligible otherwise touch almost painfully tickles.

"Kinda creepy, like a snake's molt."

"Note to self, I look better with my skin falling off my frame."

"Hey, I'm just stating the bare facts. Fuck, ew!" Jesse leans away to evade the sleeve Jack waves in his direction. "Dude. No. That's uncalled for. I'm driving, I could crash us."

"Into what?"

"I'd find something!" It's either a threat, a promise, or a commentary on the nature of Karma.

"Out of the two of us, I'm the one who can breathe underwater, so..." Jack lets his voice hang as he reaches for the pillbox he left on the shelf earlier. It's a short debate if he should take one because even if he could take them as he felt like otherwise, risking going into implant rejection on the job was far from reasonable. As soon as the aftershocks fade, Jack leans back into the seat, lazily watching the water on the screen.

"And that's also creepy as fuck," Jesse comments, sounding a bit more somber. "You look like you just got your dick sucked off, every time."

"Honestly? Feels like it, every time."

"And you know what makes it even fucking creepier?"

"You're going to tell me and I can't stop it."

"Because this shit looks goddamn miraculous and I may have helped myself to some," Jesse begins, waving one arm in the air and Jack mutters that of course Jesse fucking did, "and they fucking don't work. And you know what's in them?"

"Not that interested as long as they work."

"It's people, dude."

Jack sends him a blase look.

"And you ate it."

"Yeah, but I didn't go looking like I creamed my pants after that."

"It's for implant rejection, so it only makes sense it has reconfigured genetic material in it. Also, do not eat my drugs, it's people."

Jesse grimaces.

"Dude, you made it sound weird."

"I made you getting into my stash of pharmaceutical drugs you personally can't get high off sound weird?"

"Dude, it's even weirder now. How do you do it?"

"What?" Jack chuckles. "You mean, use my brain, sometimes?"

Jesse mutters some expletive under his breath and Jack closes his eyes leaving it without comment as the whole chat makes him revisit more or less cloudy memories of the first months he's spent either half-conscious because of pain, or half-conscious because of drugs and pain.

At least, until the pill, and the moment when the pain finally went below the...

"Amida Bongo Christ Almighty!" Jack turns immediately at the sound of the genuine panic in the voice to see Jesse try to become one with his seat, pushing back with his feet against the floor, pointing at the screen where a shadow in the water comes into focus, massive, gliding with deliberation. "Of all the fucking things to run into, the Sea-Fucking-Dragon... we're all gonna die."

Jack kills the engine in his stead and swipes at the screen, focusing the image. He can't deny his own heart is hammering in his chest when he lets out the sigh of slight relief while trying to ignore Jesse's doom-saying.

"It's not her."

"What?"

"It's not her. Doesn't look like her, and it's much bigger."

"That's supposed to help us exactly how!?"

"Take her five hundred to the left," Jack, already climbing over the back of his seat and almost falling in a hapless heap on the container in the process, barks at him. "I'm going out."

"Are you fucking serious, dude? Of-fucking-course, you are!"

"Chance like this isn't going to repeat itself!"

"A chance to get fucking eaten by a dragon?"

"That too!" Jack locks the airlock behind himself and fits the propulsion module as it fills with water. There's no time to wait for the slow pressurization. When there's no air left inside, he forces the emergency release, pulling himself to the outside, and pushes away from the body of the sub.

"Dude." Jesse, switched to the comms, sounds appalled compared to the earlier panic, which is considerably better for the situation. "Did you just lewd a dragon?"

"Maybe possibly." Jack smiles, cutting across at an angle. "Remember, five hundred, match speed, if I do get eaten, go silent and wait, rendezvous with Genji, do the site rep, and then decide what you do."

"You're literally the last person who should give orders."

"Next to last. You're even less qualified."

"True what they say, the truth hurts."

The dragon is massive, its form much more suited to the open ocean than what footage of Sea Dragon there is shows of her. He's yet too far to discern if it has limbs or only the fins. It moves with a misleading slow grace, the powerful twists of the wide tail propelling it forward. Getting caught in the vortex of the currents pushed with each beat could be - is - deathly dangerous.

Smaller shapes swim with it, congregating around the middle part of its body.

At first, Jack takes them for merrows, they're known to attach themselves to big predators and form codependent relationships, but it's the perspective lying to him. They're bigger, more agile, gleam occasionally with reflective scales. A brood of young, maybe? If yes, the endeavor is even more foolish than in the beginning, but even that won’t deter him from undertaking it.

Two of the smaller creatures break away from the formation as he gets closer and approach, their tails swishing wildly in the water. Mermaids. Mermaids traveling in a pack with a dragon. Not something he had expected.

They're coming both from the above and the below, a male and an older female, judging by the scars and veils, still colorful but ripped and missing pieces. It's hard to keep up with their rapid movements. Jack curls his hands and legs to his body as they circle him.

"Please, don't bite," he tells them. "There's almost no meat and you will probably break your teeth on me."

The mermaids observe him warily. The female chirps once and turns back, the male following in her tow. She's green and yellow, the pattern reminiscent of the stripes on a perch or other fish known to thrive in greenery. When no light catches on her scales she blends with the deep green agate hue of the water, but Jack wonders if she's maybe better suited to sargassum forests. Her partner, on the other hand, with his solid canary yellow, stands out like a sore thumb - at least until both of them gain distance and rejoin the group amid some agitation from the closest mermaids, the reactions playing out like a change of direction in a school of fish.

It's his first close encounter with live mermaids since the accident, and he has been judged as neither a threat nor a meal. In this moment, Jack feels some of the rush bleed away, allowing him to slip into simple sensations, focus on them, and appreciate them: the steady pressure of water against every inch of his skin, the additional tension in his scalp when his hair, however short, drag with each movement, the cold seeping into him from the inside, the weightlessness - even if he knows his limbs would pull him much further down.

The ocean is far from silent - never silent - full of sounds he can hear with his ears, and the ones he cannot - he hears with his whole body - the symphony of the dulled hum of static and single notes played on different instruments, not unlike the sounds of traffic in its structure.

His eyes drift back to the dragon.

It's foolish. It's not borderline suicidal, it's just plain old suicidal. And he won't let a moment like this slip like air between his fingers.

Hand on the controls of the drive, Jack resumes the approach.

The dragon looms closer, its body at least thirty meters long from the tip to the tail, probably more. He can now see its limbs tucked close to the underbelly - the fins reminiscent of underdeveloped wings.

He swims parallel to its head, advancing.

Bone-like white crest covers its front. The black scales, even if they seem to have an inner shine to them, appear to consume the light voraciously. The dark red lines streaking along the sides twist and mold with each move of the powerful muscles hidden underneath.

Jack's heart does not fit into his chest, so hard it hammers against his ribs from the inside - with fear, with excitement, with awe - and that's before the low rumble resonates within him as the dragon opens its eyes, one after another, five of them on the side he's facing - each an abyss of darkness ringed with glowing red slowly focusing on him: an insignificant speck in comparison.

"God. You're beautiful."

No. It was a worthless descriptor when applied to the apex predator wrought with raw power both physical and not.

Sublime.

The dragon disregards him - its eyes swivel to look forward - he cannot fathom expecting to keep such creature's interest for longer than this. But it's also an invitation, he's considered to be harmless, hence nothing to bother with, and Jack slows slightly while swimming up. Above its bulk, he notices some mermaids just clinging to the body, clawed fingers curled around the edges of the scales. Stupid, again, but he is going to try the same: hitch a ride on a dragon.

The thought is intoxicating, sends his mind reeling with unsuppressed glee.

He dives forward, his fingertips brush the hard surface - with caution he digs his fingers underneath the scale - the other palm he lays flat against it as the propulsion module switches off.

Jack pulls himself closer against the current, that rush of underwater wind. Never has he wished for his limbs back more than now, to touch and feel with his real skin, not even when the bones that aren't his anymore burn with that deep ache that sends all the thoughts skittering away with no control. Instead, he pulls flush against its body, forehead pressed into the scales, each contraction of the muscle below them felt intimately.

At the moment, he doesn't count time, not until another rumble, one he feels against his skin, makes him realize almost two hours have passed.

He looks back to see the mermaids otherwise swimming try to grab onto scales as it continues. In the front, what he took for vestigial wings - the fins - slowly unfold to reveal skeletal-like frame filled in with dark ethereal filigree straining on the currents.

It's a profound kind of sadness Jack feels loosening his grip. Drifting - falling - sinking - away.

The wings spread and angle. The dragon's back winds up like a spring.

Then it soars underwater, deep in the ocean, each beat of the wings carrying it further away into darkness.

The rush of water pushed by the dragon sends him spinning. Jack instinctively curls his limbs to his core to wait it out, losing all sense of direction in resulting vertigo. When it stops, it takes him a while to orient himself, the leviathan nowhere to be seen anymore.

"Jesse, it's safe to approach. Can you get to my signal because I'm fucking lost?"

"I see you," the response comes with a delay. "Coming from your general six. Dude, do you know how much is the footage worth?"

"It's worthless." Jack turns around with a few kicks.

"All would kill..."

"You can't put a price on it, it will put a price on your life." He can see the incoming lights blinking for his benefit as they draw near. "And you want to put out there a proof of a dragon that had remained away from the public knowledge until now?"

"Fair, even I'm not that stupid. I think. With the way you put it."

Jack swims towards the sub and grabs one of the railings, pulling himself towards the airlock. Minutes later, he climbs into his seat, dripping water everywhere.

"Got what you wanted outta that one? Besides getting eaten?"

"I think I've found god," Jack smiles, genuinely. It's a memory he's going to treasure, one unlikely to be eclipsed by any other in the foreseeable future.

"You going to be one of them dragon-worshipping freaks? I've heard things, and none good, I say."

"Not like that."

"So," Jesse turns his head to look at him. "You want to dick down a dragon."

"When you get down to it," Jack starts carefully, eyeing Jesse with a certain degree of suspicion, "yeah, basically."

"Heard about that one club you can meet one, violet eyes and..."

"I don't want to dick down a dragon, I want to dick down this one."

"Okay. It's important to have goals in one's life. I'm not judging."

It's at this point that something about a much earlier conversation occurs to Jack and he stills before covering his eyes with his palm.

"Jesse?"

"Mhm?"

"When you said you have a stake with her name on it... Did you mean your dick?"

Jesse raises his eyebrows, makes finger-guns with his hands, and goes for a pithy imitation of 'badum-tss' sound.

"You fucking moron." And Jack can only laugh.

[queerofthedagger]

49 for Jegulus please?

Hi nonnie, thanks for the prompt, which was: “ You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out." 

It kind of... ran away with me and now I have this 6k word story and a lot more story in my head. So, this is basically a prequel to something that is now added to my WIP list. I hope you enjoy it!

Close Call

Summary: James didn't expect to find Regulus Black pacing in front of his and Sirius' flat at 3 am. After all, they're in the middle of a war, on opposing sides, and Regulus shouldn't even know where they live.What he expected even less was finding himself on top of a cliff towering over the ocean, after following Regulus unnoticed. It only gets worse from there (before it gets better).

Pairing: James Potter/Regulus BlackWarnings: None (but Canon-typical violence and some swearing.) Wc: 6041Can also be found on AO3

James isn’t sure what woke him up and he tiredly rubs his eyes, groaning when his gaze falls onto the clock next to his bed. It’s 3 am and he has to get up in 4 hours for Auror training.

Rolling around and burying himself under his blanket doesn’t help though, so after another 10 minutes, he gets up and quietly walks into the small kitchen. The flat is dark, only the streetlamps from outside spending a faint light and he can hear Sirius snoring softly from his room.

He casts a Silencing Charm before turning on the kettle, not inclined to get cursed for waking Sirius up as well, and when his tea is ready, he settles himself on the broad windowsill, pulling his knees to his chest and balancing his hot mug on them.

He leans his head against the cold glass and watches the drizzling rain, only visible against the yellow lights, and how the shadows flicker over the wet cobblestone street. A movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention and he turns his head a bit.

Someone is slowly walking down the pavement in front of their building and he can’t be sure if that are robes or just a coat. Glad that he didn’t turn on any lights he keeps watching, and frowns when the figure comes to a halt, staring at the front door of their apartment complex.

On the one hand, it’s London; it could be any drunk or confused idiot, maybe even some tourist who got lost after one too many beers and doesn’t remember where his hostel is. On the other hand, they’re in the middle of a war and people in dark robes are rarely a good sign, these days.

He bites at his bottom lip and drums his fingers against his mug, pondering what to do. If he wakes up Sirius and it’s nothing, he’s not going to hear the end of it for days to come, but if he doesn’t take a look, he’ll never be able to go back to sleep, anyway.

Sighing, he slowly stands up and when he’s out of range from the window, quickly walks into his room, throws on a jumper, some sweatpants, a coat, and his boots, and then grabs his Invisibility Cloak.

He takes another look out of the window on his way to the front door, his suspicion increasing when the same figure is still pacing.

He silences his steps and carefully slips out of the door, walking down the stairs and takes the exit at the back of the house, his wand held tightly in his hand.

Walking around the building complex takes longer than he likes, but when he comes out a few houses down, he instantly sees that the same person is still standing there, staring at the front door once again.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest and he slowly creeps closer, despite his Cloak keeping to the shadows. He might be a good duellist and whoever that is appears to be alone, but if he learned one thing since he left school, it’s that he should never overestimate himself.

Still, he nearly stumbles and crashes into the dumpster at the side of the street when he’s finally close enough to make out a face under the hood, only a few feet away.

His first thought is that it has to be Sirius, the shoulder-length black hair and distinct, aristocratic features, but it’s gone as soon as it came. Sirius is taller and filled out a lot since they started Auror Training – not to mention that he knows that Sirius is currently asleep.

Which leads him to the question of what in Merlin’s name Regulus is doing here, pacing in front of their flat when he shouldn’t even know where they live, at 3 am, after years of no contact between him and Sirius. At least as far as James is aware, and he’s rather sure that Sirius would have told him.

Shaking his head to refocus, he takes a second, closer look at Regulus who is once again standing still, staring at the door. He looks tired, exhausted really, and his hands are balled into fists and trembling slightly at his sides. Despite his thick cloak, he appears to be even thinner than James remembers, but then again, being a Death Eater is probably not the healthiest way of living.

Hell, fighting in a war isn’t, James would know.

Regulus clenches his eyes shut and heaves a sigh before turning away from the door, one of his hands running through his hair under the hood, a gesture James is still familiar with from school. (Not that he often watched Regulus in his last year. Not at all.)

With a start, James realises that Regulus is going to leave. He stamps down his first impulse of calling for him to stay, instead going with the second, which is to throw a Tracking Charm at him.

The whole situation is utterly strange, and he’s not going to let him leave and forget about it. First of all, it’s worrisome that he knows where they live, considering the whole Death Eater thing and all that. Then, if it’s not about that, there’s still no explanation for stalking out their flat in the middle of the night and looking so miserable that James' mother would try to serve him some tea and biscuits, at the very least.

Alright, and his natural curiosity just demands him to find out, he always had a bit more than a basic interest in Regulus, but that’s really beside the point here.

Regulus throws one last look over his shoulder, his face illuminated by the nearest streetlamp and his expression more desperate than James has ever seen it. He nearly forgets his conviction of keeping himself hidden in the face of it, but before he can react, Regulus apparates away, the pop too loud in the otherwise silent street.

He stays where he is, rolling his wand between his fingers and staring at the spot where Regulus vanished.

He should probably wake up Sirius, but something tells him not to and he knows his gut rarely leads him wrong. He waits a few minutes during which he tries to convince himself that following the Tracking Spell could literally lead him into a nest of Death Eaters, but it’s rather unsuccessful.

When the feeling of urgency threatens to overwhelm him, he closes his eyes, focusing on the pull within him, and apparates.

He keeps his eyes closed for a few seconds after landing, staying as still as possible and just listens to his surroundings. But there’s nothing except for the whistling wind and… waves?

He frowns and opens his eyes, taking in the view of cliffs and countryside and a raging ocean which really doesn’t help his confusion. At least, there is nobody around as far as he can tell. The sky is clear here, contrary to London, and the moon is hanging low, nearly full, and thankfully spending some much-needed light.

It’s not enough that he can be sure that nobody hides in the group of trees further down, but he doesn’t have to light his wand or completely rely on his other senses to move. If he were here for different reasons, it would be beautiful; the restless waves crashing against rough cliffs, with the light of the moon and some scattered stars reflecting in the ink-black water.

He takes a few steps, careful not to slip on the soaked ground and wondering if his spell might have gone wrong, when his eyes fall on a dark figure standing a few hundred feet beneath him on a high boulder, surrounded by water and the wind ripping around the dark cloak.

“What in Godric’s name,” he mutters to himself, certain that he won’t be heard over the howling storm.

He blinks, and Regulus is gone. It takes him way too long to reach the conclusion that he must have jumped into the water and he curses under his breath, not stopping to question if apparating onto the same boulder really is a good idea.

He nearly loses his balance but is already frantically scanning the surface of the water, all the while trying to come up with a single reason for Regulus to be here, to do something so utterly stupid.

He breathes in relief when he sees Regulus pull himself up at the entrance of what has to be a cave not too far away, not that it helps with his non-existent theories, or any idea what he’s supposed to do.

He doubts that it would be smart to be discovered even now, so he waits nearly 10 minutes until he follows him.

He stuffs his Invisibility Cloak into a pocket and grits his teeth before he jumps into the water, vowing to hex Regulus for whatever this is, at some point. He doesn’t even know for sure why he’s still following, what exactly he expects to happen – it’s likely that it’s some strange mission for Voldemort, who knows what the maniac has his little followers do, but it’s not like lack of logic ever really stopped him.

As soon as he reaches the gap in the cliff and pulls himself out of the water, he shoots a few Drying and Warming charms at himself, before pulling his Cloak out again.

After walking for a few minutes, the narrow tunnel opens into a small cave. There’s still a faint bulb of light hovering under the high ceiling, throwing flickering shadows over the still surface of the water that make the whole setting rather eerie.

There’s no sign of Regulus and, for the first time, James wonders if this might be some elaborate trap, but disregards the thought quickly. It’s way too complicated and involves too many chances for that – there’s no way anybody could have counted on him waking up at 3 am, discovering Regulus on their front door and then following him, after all. At least he hopes so.

Scanning the cave once again, his eyes fall onto a small archway and he sighs. This feels more and more like a scavenger hunt, just lacking the actual fun part of it.

It’s silent in here, too silent, and he carefully walks along the rough wall until he reaches the archway, his wand ready in his hand and his heart racing in his chest. Maybe he really shouldn’t have gone alone, without anyone knowing where he is, but it’s far too late to change that, now.

No matter why Regulus is here, there’s a foreboding sense of dread that only intensifies the further he goes.

He slowly steps through the entrance, only to look over an even bigger cave. There’s another light under the ceiling, washing the vast room in ghostly colours, but his focus is on the boat that is close to the small island in the middle of the lake.

Regulus sits crouched, his shoulders are hunched and it’s so untypical for him that it sticks out to James, even with it being years since they saw each other.

He sighs and walks around the shore, searching if there’s any other way across, when the light reflects on a grey spot just under the surface. He stops in his tracks, his mouth suddenly dry as suspicion takes hold of him and he slowly crouches down, only to nearly jump back when he’s confronted with an actual face, empty eyes staring right through him.

Merlin, but this could be right out of the worst nightmare. Bile rises in his throat and he has to swallow a few times to keep it down, to force himself to not turn on his heel and run. Maybe ask Sirius for a strong Obliviate.

He closes his eyes for a moment and stands back up, vowing to not look into the water again. He’s pretty sure that a lake full of Inferi is enough confirmation that this is connected to Voldemort in some way and he stubbornly ignores the feeling of disappointment with Regulus, instead focusing on the hope that this might be a useful lead for their side.

He contemplates leaving when a loud, pained groan echoes through the cave. He whips his head around, eyes landing on Regulus who’s standing bend over a basin in the middle of the island, his whole body so obviously shaking that James can see it from where he’s standing.

He watches, frozen to his spot, as Regulus lifts something to his lips, drinking, and startles violently when a croaky, second voice speaks up. “Kreacher is being so sorry, but Master has to, Kreacher promised,” interrupted by now outright crying and begging from Regulus.

His thoughts are racing, he can’t make sense of anything he’s witnessing and his heart clenches with every sob and every spasm of Regulus’ body who by now sits on the floor, curled up in himself.

“Please, please no more, I can’t, please –“ the words are thrown around the stone walls, their echo imprinting itself into James’ mind, and he absent-mindedly notices that he’s shaking as well.

“Just one more, Master,” the elf sobs, continuing to give Regulus what has to be some kind of potion.

A blood-curling scream finally startles James out of his stupor, only for him to realise that he can’t do anything. There’s no way for him to get to that island and as horrible as this is to watch, he’s pretty sure that if he reveals himself right now, he’d probably be in big trouble.

He’s not stupid enough to underestimate house-elves, and while he’s not so convinced anymore that this is a mission from Voldemort, everything else makes even less sense. Maybe it’s some fucked up punishment and the whole thing is monitored, maybe it’s a test for something – either way, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

Everything in him is screaming to do something, Regulus is begging and crying the elf to stop, repeating over and over that he’s sorry, to please not hurt him, to just stop, and James can feel tears running down his own face.

He might not have been close to Regulus, but he wouldn’t want to see anyone suffering like this, and the distress of the elf only confuses him more.

After what seems like an eternity, the elf retrieves something out of the basin and puts something else inside, and then proceeds to hug Regulus, clinging to him while they’re both sobbing – and then he just pops away, leaving Regulus there, a broken heap on the floor.

James furiously rubs his eyes, disbelieving, when he sees Regulus move.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, pulling the cloak away before he can think about it. “Accio boat,” he shouts, overpowering the spell so much that the little, wooden thing shoots over the water.

He only just manages to slow it down before it shatters on the stones and jumps inside, his eyes never leaving Regulus who’s still crawling forward.

He’d shout at him to stop if he thought it would help, but the last remaining rationality he possesses tells him that he most likely wouldn’t hear him anyway and that it would only serve to pull attention if anybody is watching.

He’s only halfway across the lake when Regulus reaches the water and he watches in horror as arms reach out, more and more Inferi pulling themselves up onto the island, grabbing for Regulus’ limp body.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Inferi, how do I…” he mumbles to himself, trying to remember what Moody told them. He knows they covered this but he’s so frantic it takes him way too long to remember.

“Incendio!” he shouts as soon as he does, but he’s too sloppy and still too far away for it to have any real effect.

He can’t even see Regulus anymore and panic is threatening to overwhelm him, but he clenches his eyes shut for a second, taking a deep breath and gathering himself.

“Incendio!” he tries again, putting as much power into it as he can muster, and this time it’s effective, flames shooting far and high from his wand. He focuses, directing them around the island and clearing the path so the boat can pass the remaining distance.

He jumps out before he’s there, ignoring the few hands that make a grab for his ankles. Most of them retreated under his onslaught of flames and he frantically scans the island for Regulus.

He can’t see him and already feels his heart sink, when a few bubbles of air appear on the surface of the water in front of him.

He curses once more, adds a “Sorry, Regulus, but hurt is better than dead,” for good measure and casts, “Accio, Regulus.”

He holds his breath, the few seconds it takes until a body shoots out of the water, barrelling into him with so much force that he falls. He grunts at the impact but ignores the pain in his back, hands scrambling and pulling him close, relieved to find that it’s a warm body with a pulse.

He’s crying and laughing, but the sound of water lapping against stone quickly pulls him out of it. He carefully pushes Regulus next to him, observing the deceptively calm surface of the water and then the shore at the other end.

But there’s nobody and a quick glance at Regulus tells him that he’s unconscious, which, as cruel as it sounds, might be the best for now.

His whole body hurts and he can feel the drain from his overpowered spells, but he pulls himself up and levitates Regulus into the boat first, before crouching down next to him.

The water stays calm and the cave is silent, but he barely keeps himself from fidgeting, instead occupying himself with keeping a close record of Regulus’ pulse. It’s beating steadily under his fingertips, albeit maybe a bit weak, but the fact alone that it’s still there and that he can feel it manages to keep him seated.

Thinking about everything he witnessed, he comes to the conclusion that it’s unlikely to have been on Voldemort’s orders; the only reasonable explanation would’ve been punishment, but he’s pretty sure someone would have stopped him from intervening, then.

That still doesn’t answer what in Merlin’s name Regulus thought he was doing – if James hadn’t been there, he’d be dead now. The thought alone makes his heart clench and his breath stutter.

He remembers that the elf left with whatever was in the basin, the ridiculously well-protected basin – did Regulus steal something? But that makes as little sense as everything else, and he’s slowly getting a headache from all those theories that are leading him nowhere.

Their way after reaching the shore is slow-going, at best. He carefully levitates Regulus in front of him, but that only works until they reach the exit. He just stares at the still raging ocean for a few moments, the sound too loud after the unnatural stillness, and wonders if he should risk apparating from here.

He quickly dismisses the thought – there have to be wards, and at best he’s only going to splinch them if he tries; he doesn’t want to consider the other possibilities.

He sighs, resigning himself to doing this the Muggle way. At least he only has to swim a few hundred feet until he can apparate them to the top of the cliff.

Casting a Bubblehead Charm on both of them, he ends the levitation and hugs an arm around Regulus’ chest and slowly, very slowly fights his way through the crashing waves. He’s nearly at the boulder from where it all went south when he risks the Apparation, losing his balance as soon as they land.

Regulus lies half on top of him but he’s too exhausted to move and, if he’s honest, the breathing weight is rather reassuring right now, the knowledge that he’s still alive.

He stays still for what feels like minutes, trying to regain some strength in his heavy limbs, until Regulus’ coughing makes him move and he carefully rolls him on his side.

He crouches next to Regulus and casts Drying charms at both of them, followed by a Rennervate.

The coughing gets worse, so he casts a few Anapneo’s for good measure, and then watches silently when Regulus finally blinks his eyes open. It takes a long time for the recognition to come, so much so that he’s already fearing that the horrid potion might have done some lasting damage.

It’s ironic that Regulus flinching away from him is as close to relief as he’s going to get. “What – “ he croaks, panic entering his eyes and he tries to scramble away from James without any success.

“It’s alright, I’m not here to harm you,” he says as softly as he can manage. He’d really like to pull him close to make that more obvious, but he doubts it would have that effect.

“You – what?” Regulus croaks again, followed by another coughing fit and James sighs, conjuring a goblet and filling it with some water.

“Here, drink that, I doubt that Inferi-polluted water is all that healthy for you.” When Regulus hesitates, he rolls his eyes. “Honestly, do you think I go through the trouble of rescuing you, only to poison you afterwards?!”

Regulus keeps staring at him, but eventually props himself up on his elbows and slowly takes the goblet.

Silence hangs heavy between them and James stares at the ground in front of him. What exactly do you say, after saving the little brother of your best friend from certain death, who’s fighting at the opposite side of a war? His emotions are all over the place and he has no idea what they’re supposed to do now.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asks quietly, and somehow, for whatever twisted reason, that sets off a sudden rage within him that he can’t suppress.

“What am I doing here? What the fuck Regulus, what am I doing here? Saving your sorry ass! For Merlin’s sake, what were you thinking?! What did you expect would happen, drinking that bloody potion in a lake surrounded by Inferi? Why did that elf just leave you?! Why –“ he breaks off, realising he’s shouting and that tears are burning in his eyes.

He rubs at them with his sleeves and glares at Regulus, who’s still more lying down than anything else and looks rather taken aback by his outburst.

Apparently noticing the same thing, Regulus struggles to sit up, avoiding to look at him. He links his fingers together and sighs. “You shouldn’t have,” he says, as if it were that simple, as if him dying in that cave that is definitely going to give James nightmares for a long time is what he expected from the very start.

And maybe it is, James thinks, and the truth of it makes cold dread coil in his stomach. He takes a deep breath, clinging to his last strength to not start shouting again. “Regulus, what were you doing here? It wasn’t a mission, it wasn’t a punishment, and your elf left with something.”

Regulus stays silent, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes fixed resolutely on his hands.

He ponders threatening him, taking him to the DMLE or calling a life debt, but he doubts it’s going to help him. “Come on, please tell me? You know, I might be able to help you,” he tries instead.

A harsh, bitter laugh is his answer, the sound so hollow and desperate that it hurts to just hear it. But Regulus finally meets his eyes, shaking his head. “You were always too noble, James Potter. You shouldn’t be here, you only put yourself in way too much danger.”

Grinding his teeth against the renewed flickers of rage, he grinds out, “It’s not like this whole war doesn’t, already. I swear to Merlin, if –“

Regulus sighs again, holding his hands up in a gesture of defeat. “Alright, alright, it’s not like it matters anymore, you already know too much, anyway. I found out what the Dark Lord did to achieve immortality –“

James chokes, the idea alone so horrible that he can’t comprehend it, but the glare from Regulus is enough that he keeps his mouth shut.

“He… It’s incredibly dark magic, so dark not even my family would ever touch it. Oh don’t look at me like that, there are lines even the worst of us wouldn’t cross. Anyway, I found out because he used Kreacher to hide it. I…” he trails off, looking uncomfortable or well, more than he already did.

James stays silent, guessing that trying to push would do him as little good as it generally does with Sirius, not that he’d tell that either of them.

“I… The whole Death Eater thing, I didn’t… I don’t want to do it anymore and this… It was like the final straw. I’m… or well,” he glares at James again who fights very hard to suppress his smile. “I was the only one who knew about this because he thought Kreacher died, so I decided to steal it and let Kreacher destroy it.”

“So you really expected to die, you… did you want to die?!” he presses out, only just keeping himself from shaking him, or shouting, at least.

Regulus' head flies up and he scowls, but it’s tense and twisted and he looks like he barely prevents himself from crying. “Of course not, fuck, I didn’t want any of this, I just, you don’t –“ he chokes, pressing a hand against his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he pulls him into a hug, the angle awkward but it doesn’t matter. For a moment, Regulus tenses, but then a sob escapes him and suddenly he’s clinging to James, fingers clenching in his coat and choked sobs wracking his body. It’s like he can’t stop, now that he started.

James only holds him more tightly, his head resting on Regulus’ and his mind still trying to comprehend the last hour or two, or however long this whole odyssey lasted.

“It’s alright, hey, we’ll find a way –“

The same bitter laugh interrupts him, but Regulus doesn’t let go, his words muffled, “You don’t quit the Death Eaters, James, much less betray the Dark Lord. I would have rather died in that bloody cave than being murdered personally.”

“You won’t,” he insists, refusing to believe anything else. “Believe me, I didn’t save you just so that bastard can destroy all the effort. You know, it was pretty hard work getting you out of there.”

Regulus laughs again and it sounds a little less broken, so James counts it as a win.

They stay like this for a long time, until James can’t feel his legs anymore and they’re both shivering violently from the unforgiving wind.

“Come on, we should go home. It’s late, or well, early, and Sirius is going to be worried if he wakes up and I’m gone,” he mutters, trying to convince himself as much as Regulus.

Regulus tenses at the mention of Sirius, and if he’s honest, James has no idea how Sirius is going to react to any of this, but it’s not like Regulus has anywhere else to go. Or like he’s going to let him out of his sight any time soon if he can help it.

“I don’t think – “

“Sorry to be frank, but I think our flat is the safest bet you currently have. Sirius will be fine,” he insists, hoping that it will be true. Eventually, if nothing else.

Sighing, Regulus nods against his shoulder, and James slowly disentangles himself, standing up. He winces at the crack in his knees and decides that he’s definitely not going to attend training today.

“Ready?” he asks when Regulus is standing next to him, and at his nod, apparates them both into the backyard of the house.

“Are you sure Sirius is not going to curse me the second he sees me?” Regulus asks dryly while they’re walking up the stairs.

James shakes his head and throws a grin over his shoulder, more pleased than he cares to admit that Regulus is already close to joking. “No idea, I’d suggest keeping your wand ready,” he pauses, turning a bit to look at him. “You do still have your wand, right?!”

Regulus nods and appears like he wants to say something, but stays quiet. James lets it be, taking the last few steps and opens the door carefully.

It’s rather useless, seeing that Sirius is standing in the doorway to their kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest and a crease between his brows.

His stern glare slips as soon as he sees Regulus and James has the rare pleasure of witnessing Sirius looking completely shocked and out of his depth, his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes wide.

“Found your brother, we have to take him in for a while,” he says light-heartedly, but then sobers quickly. “Let’s make some tea and we’ll explain, alright? It’s a rather…” he hesitates, unwilling to give Sirius the chance to make a pun, now of all times. “Important matter,” he finishes lamely.

He’s too tired to care though and Sirius seems to pick up on the solemn mood and their tiredness, just nodding and moving into the kitchen.

“You want some fresh clothes? Drying Charms are all well and good but, well, that lake…” he offers and Regulus looks so grateful that his heart clenches a bit. Merlin, but if it would have been him in that lake, he might have burned his clothes as soon as he got out.

He hands him some sweatpants and a jumper before leaving to change in the bathroom, uncertain just how much space and discretion Regulus might need.

When he enters the kitchen, he stumbles slightly, utterly unprepared for the sight of Regulus in Muggle clothes. His Muggle clothes. It shouldn’t be this… endearing, and he puts his suddenly dry mouth resolutely down to the stress of the night.

Sirius puts three mugs onto the table and as soon as they all sit down, looks at them expectantly, one brow raised in that demanding manner James envies way too often. He’s rather surprised that Sirius kept his silence for as long as he did, he wouldn’t have put it past him to still be shouting at this point, but he probably should have given him a bit more credit.

Seeing that he took the whole ‘bringing Regulus into their flat’- thing a lot better than James anticipated, he gets on with a summary of the night quickly, from the point when he woke up over following Regulus to the cave, to pulling him out of the bloody lake and Regulus explanation.  

If the matter was less serious, the development of Sirius’ expression from angry to disbelieving, to worried to downright horrified would have been comical. In the end, Sirius just gets up and hugs Regulus tightly and for a long time, who looks more surprised than he probably should.

It’s only now that James remembers how devastated and closed off Sirius has been when he found out that Regulus joined Voldemort; his brother has always been a sensitive topic since he moved in with James, but it became much worse after that. He even remembers thinking that Sirius cares a lot more about Regulus than he admits, but somehow, that got lost over the last few hours. Which, really, is rather justified as far as he is concerned and doesn’t matter all that much.

Sirius hugs him as well, and the muttered “Thank you,” is so choked up that James nearly starts crying again. Shit, but he’s bloody exhausted and rattled from the whole thing.

When Sirius has sat back down and gathered himself, he takes a deep breath and says, “Alright, obviously, you’re going to stay here for now, but in the long run, this isn’t safe for any of us. You can’t go back to our parents, but we should find something we can ward better. Everything else, we can discuss when you two slept. You look dead on your feet.”

Both him and Regulus wince at the phrase and Sirius looks confused for all of a second before he grimaces as well. “Sorry, bad choice of words. Anyway, Reg you can have my bed, I need to get to work anyway. I’ll tell Moody your ill, if it’s only one of us missing he’s more likely to buy it.”

James nods gratefully, too tired to say much more or to even marvel at how easily Sirius slips into planning mode. He would have expected a bit more… he doesn’t know, confusion, disbelief, maybe? Either way, he’s glad that Sirius takes it in stride and decides to worry about everything else after he slept.

He lets Regulus take the first shower, quietly talking with Sirius in the kitchen who asks a few more questions but appears to be mostly relieved how everything turned out, and maybe also still a bit overwhelmed with his brother turning sides so thoroughly.

When Regulus disappeared into Sirius’ room, he takes a quick, hot shower that dispels the last, lingering coldness and then falls into his bed, trying to keep his mind away from the images of the night as best as he can.

He’s just drifting off, revelling in the warmth of his covers when he hears his door creak open. Expecting it to be Sirius, he just shuffles a bit to the side, keeping his eyes closed.

“James?”

That’s not Sirius’ voice. He slowly blinks his eyes open and reaches for his glasses, frowning when Regulus comes into focus. “Are you alright?” he asks when he notices the tremble of his hands and his red-rimmed eyes, sitting up a bit.

Regulus looks utterly uncomfortable but shakes his head. “It’s just, I – “

“As soon as you close your eyes, you feel like you’re back there?” he asks softly, having suffered the same issue when he had just laid down. He can take a good guess that it has to be a hundred times worse for Regulus.

Regulus sighs and nods. “I mean it’s stupid, it’s not like I’m ten anymore but – “

James smiles a bit and shifts closer to the wall. “Don’t worry about it. You can sleep here if you want, the bed is big enough.” At Regulus' still tense expression he rolls his eyes fondly. “Honestly, you’re just going to drop where you stand if you don’t sleep soon, and company helps.”

“Yeah, alright, thanks…” Regulus murmurs, lying down next to him but carefully keeping some space between them.

He’s rather surprised if he’s honest, having expected Regulus to be, well… too proper to ever consider doing something like this, but then again, defecting, betraying the Dark Lord and a near-death experience is probably the safest way to shake you up a bit.

It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep but when he startles awake, it feels like no time has passed at all. Images and sounds of his muddled dreams are still fresh on his mind, imprints of Regulus’ screams and the grey faces of hundreds of Inferi, and his heart is pounding painfully fast in his chest.

Before he can start to panic though, he notices the heavy warmth pressed against him and forces himself to focus, only slowly comprehending that it’s Regulus who’s curled against him, his head tucked into the crook of James’ neck and one arm thrown over his stomach.

It calms him down faster than he cares to admit, even coaxing a small smile out of him and he exhales slowly, turning a bit to pull him closer. For a while, he only watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and concentrates on the feeling of having him here, alive and well, and the knowledge that he and Sirius are going to make sure that it stays that way.

And everything else, well. They will see, but he takes the current position they’re in as a good sign.

  I hope you liked it! Send me a prompt if you like

[bottseveryflavorbeans]

Masterpost of my fics on AO3

So I wanted to have a place to show off all my fics and I have finally gotten around to puttting them all on a list here so I can share it.

I hope some of you read my stuff and enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing these, especially the memoir-esque on (Harry Potter and the Sexual Awakening) and my current WIP, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in Strange Magic becasue it’s sort of detective-noir/urban fantasy.

If you read any and like them, stop by and say hi!

1. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in Strange Magic (37K WIP update weekly, M/E)

Summary: It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry Potter is an auror, who catches wind of a series of magical surges that he thinks are linked to something insidious, but with a mildly tarnished reputation, he has a hard time convincing people of the problem especially so soon after the war. Harry joins forces with unexpected allies to help him find the source of the magical surges and save the wizarding world again, even if it means going against the very Ministry for which he works.

Main Tags: auror!Harry, potionsmaster!Draco, case fic, slow burn/slow build, lots of angst and sadness (be warned), some triggers like mention of past rape/abuse, mystery, suicidal thoughts, detrustive behavior, EWE, bi!Harry, gay!Draco

2. A Series of Unfortunate Ghosts (26K, E)

Summary: It’s sixth year and Draco Malfoy’s life is about to change thanks to some meddlesome ghosts who show him the path he is on is not the only path for him. Between their ghoulish advice and some deep soul searching, Draco regains some of the hope he lost.

Main Tags: sixth year au, Christmas carol themed, established relationship, angst, mention of past abuse

3. The Beginning of Something to Savor (5K, M)

Summary: Draco is out to blow off steam when he spots Harry Potter, crying, at the bar. He goes over, like a good partner should, to check on Harry completely out of a sense of what is right and not at all having to do with Draco’s little crush.

Main Tags: auror partners, sexual tension, post Hogwarts

4. Say it Again (9K, M)

Summary: After Yule Ball (in 8th year), Draco finds himself at an after party on the Durmstrang ship locked in the headmasters bathroom. He is trying to calm himself down, manages it, but then Harry Potter throws a wrench in things.

Main Tags: 8th year, second triwizard tournament, Yule ball, first kiss, drinking games

5. An Invite to Dance (3K, T)

Summary: This is a Western AU where Draco (Drake Mal) has stolen a gun, his gun, back from Harry ( Golden Harold Potts).

Drake has been on the run, trying to stay ahead of Golden Harold Potts, but each time he thinks he’s outrun the sheriff, he finds himself face to face with his foe. Golden Harold caught up to him and interrupted his drink, so they duel.

Main Tags: western au, auror partners, POV Draco

6. Pride and Prejudice and Mr. Harry J. Potter (6K, T)

Summary: Draco Malfoy is on the outside of society life after his family was tried for aligning themselves with Voldemort. The only thing that saved him was the intervention of one Mr. Harry J. Potter, the wizarding worlds most well-regarded man. Draco, who has been smitten with Mr. Potter feels rejected and when meeting him at a ball, decides to manintain his dignity and refuse to engage with Mr. Potter. *This is a Pride and Prejudiuce inspired piece*

Main Tags: pride and prejudice au, dancing, banter, angst with a happy ending, fluff, one shot

7. Snow Falling on Us (5K, T)

Summary: This is a (belated) Christmas fic...I hope you all are still in the mood for it. It is Christmas Eve, Draco has roped Harry into helping him break into Snapes potions stores for an ingredient. Harry agrees because he owes Draco for all his help in potions. So invisibility cloak in hand, they head off to Snapes stores, but things go wrong and they end up in detention on Christmas Eve.

Main Tags: Christmas Eve, fluff, snowball fight

8. Seeker’s Games (7K, T)

Summary: Harry and Draco met on the pitch to play a seekers game. It turns into a regular thing and while it started as a way to get out frustrations and play quidditch since 8th years weren’t allowed on the house teams, it grew into something more.

Main Tags: 8th year, one shot, flirting, quidditch, seekers, midnight meetings, friends to lovers

9. Threats and Promises (11K WIP, E)

Summary: This is the Voldemort wins AU that no one asked for, and yet...Voldemort wins the war and takes Harry, Hermione, and Ron prisoner because he has decided they are more valuable alive, at least for now. They are kept at Malfoy Manor since Lucius has proven to be a resourceful and reliable minion. The task of torturing the trio for information on the whereabouts of any remaining rebels falls to Draco. This duty is one Draco willingly accepts. His other duties are much less pleasant. At least in the cellar, Draco has control and power over his captors—it is especially alluring when it comes to Harry.

**This is a WIP that is currently on pause while I finish other things

Main Tags: au Voldemort wins, prisoner Harry, torture, hate sex, violence, abuse

10. A Night on the Town (1K, M)

Summary: This is a fun, short one-shot where Draco and Harry are on their way to a party being thrown in Harry's honor. And Harry doesn't know if it's the fancy limo Draco got them, or the excitement of officially becoming Draco's boyfriend, but he can't keep his hands off of him.

Main Tags: smut, limo sex, dirty talk, established relationship

11. When Desire Comes Calling (3K, M)

Summary: This is a one-shot based off of a prompt. "I'll be right back with your drinks," Harry mumbled, avoiding Draco's gaze and thanking the gods that he pretended not to know him. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge Draco just yet anyway. Almost getting caught & biting.

Main Tags: post Hogwarts, past relationship, Harry is a bartender, exhibitionism, public sex

12. Always Some Madness in Love (9K, T)

Summary: This is a collection of conversations that Harry has with people. I wanted to try and write a story from Harry's perspective, but only focused on one person at a time and have the story unfold that way. So each chapter is a just Harry and that person talking about his situation with Draco, in one form or the other. Harry is in love and doesn't know what to do, but when Ginny figures it out, he realizes he is in deep and needs adivce on how to deal with the fact that he loves Draco Malfoy, whom he get's reaquanted with two years after The Battle of Hogwarts because they both play recreational Quidditch.

Main Tags: slow burn, angst, fluff, post Hogwarts, auror Harry, unspeakable Draco

13. An Unrelenting Hunger (Under 1K, T)

Summary: Just a small, slightly erotic drabble about our favorite neighborhood wizards, Harry "I am so suave" Potter and Draco "I am so oblvious" Malfoy.

Main Tags: seduction, flirting, one shot

14. The Bet (1.5K, T)

Summary: It's eighth year and house unity is at it's peak. After an evening of drinking firewhiskey, Harry and Draco get into a disagreement about which of them is more seductive. Draco claims that Harry wouldn't know what to do, even if he tried. However, Harry knows there is at least one person who cannot resist him; Draco Malfoy. The bet is on. Who will emerge the victor?

Main Tags: 8th year, bets, dirty talk, seduction, drinking

15. Girls Just Wanna (6K, M)

Summary: This takes place two months after Harry and Draco get together (See: Harry Potter and the Sexual Awakening). They are throwing an engagement party for Neville and Blaise, but Draco is still in "I want Harry all to myself" mode, so when Ginny interrupts Draco littering kisses all over his new boyfriend, he convinces Ginny to go flirt with Pansy. After all, Ginny did say Pansy had a nice arse.

Main Tags: bathroom sex, spin off from series, female slash

16. Harry Potter and the Sexual Awakening (33.7K, M)

Summary: Harry Potter gets outed by Rita Skeeter in a recent Daily Prophet article and decides to take matters into his own hands. He decides to write a tell-all that everyone wants, the story of how he came to terms with his sexuality. What no one, especially Draco Malfoy, expects is this book doubles as a love letter to someone Harry calls, L.B. In the midst of being assigned to read and review Potter's new book, Draco realizes that some of the stories Potter tells in his book seem a little too familair. Thus, bringing up old feelings about the man.

Main Tags: slow burn, angst, lots of sex, past relationships, new relationships, memoir esque, POV switches, Draco pines a lot, Draco is shy

17. Hot for Teacher (15K WIP, M)

Summary: The students at Hogwarts are playing a dangerous game with Love Potions. Harry Potter is the Auror assigned to deal with the recent thefts from Hogwarts' Potions Professor and find the person behind the Love Potions. What Harry is not ready to deal with is his resurfacing feelings for none other than Potions Professor, Draco Malfoy.

**This is a WIP that is currently on pause while I finish other things

Main Tags: post Hogwarts, hogwarts professors neville and Draco, smut, auror Harry

18. Professor Malfoy Likes it Dirty (2.2K, M)

Summary: Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts newest Potions Professor, has a crush (a sex-dream-induced-crush) on Hogwarts very own Herbology Professor, Neville Longbottom.

Main Tags: a flirtation that leads to something hot, hogwarts professors

19. Song of my Soul (26.5K, T)

Summary: Harry is having nightmares again and just when he thinks there is nothing to help him, he hears a song. The song is coming from the Room of Requirement and it is beautiful. Without realizing it, the song helps Harry fall asleep. Harry finds he is desperate to know who is playing the song and Hermione thinks up a clever way to help.

Main Tags: slow burn, 8th year, romance, talent show, anonymous love

20. A Taxi, an Old Enemy, and Valentine’s Day (2.8K, T)

Summary: Harry, recently dumped, is being set up by Ron and Hermione and on Valentine's day no less. Harry of course is sort of sad and needs time to think before arriving at the Valentine's dinner, so he takes a cab which he ends up sharing with Draco Malfoy.

Main Tags: fluff, Valentine’s Day, one shot

21. Seven Minutes with Draco Malfoy (25.6K, M)

Summary: Harry was scared. Scared that he didn’t quite hate Malfoy anymore and wondered when that had happened and how he had not noticed it. Scared that he like being in this situation a little too much.

Main Tags: drinking games, 8th year, seven mins in heaven, slow burn

[lemonjoonah]

Under Fire - Pt 13

Masterlist | <Previous | Next >

Title: Under Fire Word Count: 6K+ Rating: M Genre: Gang AU/ Mafia AU, Drama Warnings: Violence, Minor Character Death Pairings: Hyung Line x Reader (Primarily Namjoon x Reader), very slight OT7 x Reader.   Pairings (in this chapter):  Jin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader

Summary: As a child you lived among the most wealthy and powerful, after the death of your mother you were shipped off to stay with her sister. Even after finishing your education you continue to live apart from the elite, but a visit home creates an unexpected disaster. You are suddenly roped into a darker world, and who better to be your guide than the infamous gang known as BTS.

Chapter 13 - Consorting with Monsters

POV (Y/N)

“That was quite the entrance Miss Park.” The coldness of Hyungwon’s tone is a drastic change compared to the greeting he had given you before.

You cough on the dust trying to catch your breath after the fall.

“Wait, the Park (Y/N)?”

“That depends,” You gasp. “Who’s asking?”

“What are you still doing here? EXO is in the building.”

You find their concern oddly placed as they dodge your question. “You think I haven’t noticed? First why don’t you tell me who the hell you are.” You look to Hyungwon, “You obviously had an ulterior motive for meeting with Henry.” You anger from find the truth about Henry seeps out. You know you should be afraid, that you should probably try and make a run for it. But no one has pulled a gun, none of them have tried to advance on you, or take you down. They actually seem just a stunned by the situation as you are.

The taller, bear like man speaks, “Monsta X, Henry was just our way in, we’re here following a trail of our own..”

Henry seems to be letting a lot of people in lately...“Never heard of you.”

“Ouch.” Retorts one of the members. “You may not have heard of us but our world seems to be fascinated by the anomaly of you. There have been a few rumours...”

“That you don’t give a shit about making money...”

“You care even less about keeping you own.”

“They call you incorruptible.”

You scoff, “Lame nickname.”

They redirect the conversation back to you leaving, “You have to go it’s not safe for you here.”

Why do they want you to flee so badly? Do they not see you as an enemy?

“Actually It’s probably safer for me to stay... with most of EXO outside.” You have several blank stares pointing in your direction.

“But Henry went to find you...”

“He locked me in a closet and lead EXO right to me... that bastard is one of them. I wasn’t crawling around in the ceiling out of convenience. I had to get away from him.” You lash out unable to keep your anger under wraps any longer.

“I knew something was off. Someone hacked us from this location a couple of weeks ago. They wanted us to think it was BTS trying to hack our server. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the style was very similar to...”

“Chanyeol’s?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

You have no immediate plans to divulge that he had hacked you too, Chanyeol must have accessed both systems on the same night. “I created a trace for Chanyeol’s tag it just located Henry’s IP as a past access point. Speaking of which I need to get on to that computer.”

“No way, this was our lead first.”

“And that computer is my property,” As you step towards the computer they start to move on you. You back down realize the stupidity of arguing when outnumbered.  “Fine, but if you can’t gain access in two minutes, I’m taking over.” It seems like all they want is the same data that you came for. You’ll have to use this to your advantage, maybe even cut a deal with...

It strikes you, that’s exactly what they want... the reason they are here is the same reason BTS is currently backing up VIXX. They want a deal for the accords, but in order for that to happen they knew you would have evade EXO and escape too. Now this is something you can work with, “Do you have an exit strategy in place now that EXO is here?”

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You laugh at their arrogance. “Right... how can we be sure that they don’t know that we’re here right now?”

“Froze the cameras on this floor.”

That’ll give you some time then, you reach for your phone off the floor and proceed to dial the last missed call.

POV IM

Two minutes to hack into this system. A difficult job under the best circumstances but now I have you distracting me too.

I can see you from the corner of my eye as you turn your attention to the phone that had given away your location. The instant you hit dial someone must have picked up on the other end. I listen in while continuing to try to find a backdoor in the system.

“I’m fine, is everyone there okay?... Status...Uhh... It’s a little complicated. I’m still in the building, Henry’s office to be exact.”

You hold the phone away ear anticipating the response, a good call considering it’s so loud that I can hear it easily.

“What the hell are you still doing there? If Henry’s compromised you should be trying to get out!”

“Relax EXO thinks that I’ve already escaped. They’re outside looking for me. They won’t think to look in here. Henry and Chanyeol used this computer, they might have left some valuable information. I can’t let them wipe it.”

You know how to hold your ground I’ll give you that. You turn away from us to whisper the next part into the receiver. I can only vaguely here the name Monsta X. You hold the phone away from your ear again.

“Fire so help me god, you are never leaving the manor again!”

“Well I wouldn’t have crashed into them if someone had just replied sooner.” You seethe back. “Right now we have the same goal.” You turn to Shownu. “Where’s your ride?”

“On a side street two blocks east of here.”

“We are going to need the east side clear. I’ll give you a signal when we’re ready to exit... No it’s better if we go unnoticed, if you send anyone inside they’ll figure out I’m still here... He is?”

You walk over to the window and look to the building opsite.

“No, tell Suga if he takes a single unprovoked shot at them, I’ll make sure that he’ll never be able to afford another bullet.”

I quake a little knowing that your sniper is watching. You turn back to me holding up five fingers, then four.

“I need you to put JK on the line.”

Three fingers, now two.

“Because he is going to walk me through a hack.”

One... You look me dead in the eye. “My turn.”

POV RM  

I pass the phone to JK at the back of the SUV. He’s confused at first but as you start speaking his eyes light up and he  pulls out a laptop begins to type furiously. We had just dropped off Suga and J-Hope and are now pulling off near your directed exit.

“Everyone keep and eye out EXO is on the ground outside. We’ll clear a path and wait for her signal.”

If anything happens to you... I punch the door next to me hoping to ease my building rage. Jin sits next to me in silence. I expect a comment from him regarding my outburst, but it seems that his concern is overwhelming him too.

V and Jimin had to hold me back from J-Hope when I read your text. Claiming that it wouldn’t help the situation.... I beg to differ. If hadn’t sent him with Suga he would have taken the doors place. Regardless of what you’ve planned, if you aren’t out in fifteen minutes I’m going in there after you.

POV (Y/N)

“JK I need access to Henry’s computer, do you think you can get me on from there?”

“I’ve hacked your foundation once before. This should be easy, it’s my system after all.”

The man next to you speaks up. “It’s not so simple, he's installed an additional login in protocol for a hidden account. If it detects any intrusion it wipes the hard drive”

“Did you hear that JK?’

“Yeah, let me think.”

“What about the main frame? If you send out software and security updates is his computer included?”

“Yes, that might work! I’ll create a dropnet override, that’ll redirect the data elsewhere, catching it, when the system tries to delete it after a forced entry. Once it’s backed up we should have access to it. It’s an easy safety protocol but we’ll only have one shot at this.

You tap your fingers anxiously on the mouse, while waiting for JK to generate the necessary code. Your eyes stay on the screen not wanting to lock eyes with the men currently watching you.

“Update sent, restart the computer and lock it down.”

The process only takes a minute, two failed attempts and the hidden account vanishes.

“The backup file should be in the admin account on that computer now. New password is Foxtrot, Uniform, Hotel, Echo, November, Romeo, Yankee.”

You chuckle at what he spells out. “I’m in thanks JK.” You hang up the phone, and hold out your hand to the man next to you. “Hard drive?”

The man next to you looks at you with frustration.

“Just give it to her Jooheon.” Another scorns. “No need to sulk about it.”

He reluctantly hands it over. The volume of files stored on the computer is surprising low, but you’re more interested in the server connections. It should only take you a few minutes. You lean back in the computer chair watching them discuss their plan of escape.

“Anyone going to introduce themselves while we wait?”  

They look taken aback at your ease.

The man who had introduced them as Monsta X takes the responsibility pointing to each member in turn.  “I’m Shownu this is Wonho, Minhyuk, and Kihyun. You already know Hyungwon, and the so called hackers next to you are Jooheon and IM.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost Leader...” IM replies.

As the download finishes Jooheon makes a grab for the hard drive, but you beat him to it.

“That’s my hard drive.”

“The contents belong to me and they’re far more valuable than your equipment.” You pull out a wad of bills from your pocket and place them in his outstretched hand. “Here buy yourself a new one.” You tuck the hard drive into your shirt as he lets out a growl to your slight.

“There are seven of us what makes you think you’ll be leaving with that?”

“You could go ahead and try to take it, but I don’t think Suga will be too pleased.” You point to the window. “Let’s make a deal, help me get out of here with this data in one piece and you have my word that you’ll get your contract at the accords.”

“How did you...”

“It’s why you’re here isn’t it? You needed to find something to use as a bargaining chip and prove your use. What do you deal in?”

“Hallucinogens.”

“Party tricks, I would imagine your market isn’t too big then. You need funding don’t you? Let me keep this and I promise you’ll get your deal.”

“We are looking for something a bit longer than an accord, would you be willing to negotiate permanent employment?”

You hesitate but you don’t have much of a choice. “Yes but I need my team to confirm.”

“Are you not their new backer?”

“I’m not about to make a choice that will affect them without their consent.”

“Good, that’s what we wanted to hear.”

Are they really fucking testing you here? Now?! “We need to go they might give up on their search soon.”

They start pulling up black cloth masks over the lower half of their faces. “Keep her in the middle, and let’s do this as quietly as possible.” Shownu directs.

It feels odd walking these halls surrounded by them, your two worlds are colliding again. Nothing about this situation is normal.

You’ve almost made it to the stairs with you come across an unwelcome face. Henry had just turned the corner and you have seem to have taken him by surprise.

“(Y/N) you’re still here?! I was so worried when I went back and I couldn’t find you.” He eyes the men around you and holds out his hand to you. “Thank you for finding her, but (Y/N) you should come with me I think I saw your security team outside.”

It was a bold move, especially when you are surrounded by seven men glaring at him.

You are polite at first, “I’m sorry I made you worry, but tell me...” a darkness creeps into your voice as you continue, “...Were you more concerned that you lost me, or that you had blown your cover?”

He tries to hold on to the lie. “What are you talking about? What have they been telling you?”

You are tired of this pretense,“You didn’t happen to grab those shoes you and Sehun saw out the window, did you? It would be nice to get those back...” You enjoy teasing him about your deception, but it costs you.

The same time Shownu pulls out a gun Henry pulls out a radio. “Objective on the fourth floor.”  

Shownu looks to you, asking for confirmation.

With no hesitation you give him the order, “Do it.”

The gun recoils as Henry drops to the floor. You feel no change, no remorse, no ease to your anger, only the drive to continue.  

There’s staircase is just around the corner along with numerous  incoming footsteps and shouts. Shownu pulls in IM and Wonho whispering to them as you hold tight to the wall.

Wonho rejects whatever plan Shownu has, “I’m not her fucking bodyguard, I’m staying.”

“Wonho!” Shownu hissed.

“Fine.”

“One... Two...”

Minhyuk and Kihyun toss two canisters round the corner. At the same time that Wonho grabs your upper arm pulling you around the corner into a smoke filled hallway. You gasp in surprise foolishly drawing in the fumes. While the others remain in the hall as a distraction Wonho and IM guide you into the stairwell. You gasp for fresh air your lungs burning.

IM pats your back, “Sorry should have warned you about the smoke. Next time we’ll make sure to get you a mask.”

“Next time?!” You sputter.

“Keep moving.” Wonho pushes you along.

You take the stairs as fast as you can. You reach the first floor exit, but someone has jammed it in place. Wonho and IM both throw their shoulders into it but it hardly gives an inch.

Wonho takes your arm again and tugs you down the next flight leading to the basement garage. He stops at the next landing. “IM wait here with her, I think they might be trying to funnel us somewhere.”

He creeps down the last couple of stairs. Crouching as he pushes on the bar of the door, it clicks open. But what he can’t see above him is a lever being pulled from the other side. You crash down the steps after him, “GET DOWN!”

POV Wonho

I feel you collide with my back before I hear your words.

“GET DOWN!”

Fuck...

Your momentum pushes us forward, a wave of heat and pressure is accompanied by  a loud bang.

Your weight falls limp on my back. I lift myself up just enough to turn my head  to the other side to check on you. Your body is slumped over mine with your head resting on the concrete floor, eyes closed and face relaxed.

“Are you guys okay?”

“I’m fine, she’s out cold, must have hit her head.” I slowly push myself up more catching you as you slide off my back. “Run and get the van, meet us in here. I can’t carry her out there we would be too vulnerable.”

“Someone probably heard that though, it’s not safe to stay here.”

“Then we’ll hide, just go!”

As IM runs off, I pick you up and find a dark spot nestled between two cars. I pull my jacket off and place it around your shoulders before leaning you against the back wall. I crouch down next to you holding up your chin I check your breathing.

Why would you do that huh? Someone should teach you a thing or two about negotiating. You clearly need us as much as we need you. I sigh leaning my head against the car behind me.

I guess I owe you now.  Who knows maybe this would work out in the long run, but I can tell keeping you out of trouble will be a difficult task.

“Come on you with me yet?” I pat your face, no response. “Aishh, why were you alone? Where was your team?”

I’ll have to have a chat with them. If you take us on this can’t happen anymore.

The click of footsteps can be heard across the garage. They as they draw closer I pull out my gun ready to defend this spot. A few more seconds and we would be completely unobstructed from their view. I have to stop them before they reach that point.  I peak over the car, gun pulled at my target... D.O. stands before me but then dives quickly behind a pillar as I take a few shots.

IM has impeccable timing, crashing through the garage door before D.O. can retaliate. I dart out as the van breaks and drifts presenting the side door. Which is promptly thrown open by a very damp Jooheon. I hold you tight to my chest as I jump in.

“What the hell happened Wonho? IM said that she pushed you out of the way of a blast.” Kihyun rages.

Jooheon wasn’t the only one soaked to the skin, IM in fact is the only dry member in the van.

“Yeah, I fucked up. Didn’t see the trigger, but neither did IM, or at least he didn’t bother trying to save me.”

“BTS is going to be pissed.” Kihyun adds. “Speaking of which find her phone they’ll be calling again soon when they see us drive by.”

Minhyuk is about to check her pockets, I push him away. “Back away drowned rat, you don’t need to add drenched to the list of problems when we drop her off. What happened to you anyway?”

“Jumped from the 3rd floor window into the pool next door. We had no choice we were trapped. Made it to the car the same time IM did.” I guess splitting up worked out in my favour. Even when facing death I probably wouldn’t have the strength to jump.

The phone in my hand starts to vibrate. Shownu takes it and answers it. “Change of plan, there was an accident. We had to get her out in our van. We’re on our way to the Park manor. We have a few things we would like to discuss with you.”

I can hear RM’s stern voice on the other end. “Put her on the phone.”

“She’ll see you there.” Shownu hangs up.

“Are you trying to piss of their leader, fuck Shownu show some tact. We’ll be lucky if we aren’t DoA.” Kihyun scolds him.   

Jooheon leans over us from the seat behind, he pokes your cheek with his finger. “Is she still breathing?”

“Yes, and will you quit dripping on her?” I smack his hand away.

“We should try to be a bit more restrained,” Kihyun comments. “We don’t know what we’ll be walking into. She says she’ll help us with the deal now, but what will happen when she’s surrounded by her team?”

“I don’t think she’ll back down on the offer. She probably already has a plan in mind for us.” Why else would you have risked your life for mine?

POV (Y/N)

You wake with a slight sensory deprivation, your ears feel muffled, and your head is pulsing blurring your vision. You find yourself wrapped in a jacket, surrounded by a team that is not your own. What had happened that had lead to this point? It was never part of the plan for you to get in Monsta X’s van. Your instinct screams at you to get out, that maybe they hadn’t been as trustworthy as you had hoped. You lunge, reaching over Wonho for the door of the moving vehicle, willing to take the risk of injury over capture.

“Whoa, where do you think your going?” Wonho grabs you and holds you in your seat before you can even reach the handle.”

“Let me go, this wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Aissh we’re taking you home... We had to improvise we couldn’t get you out without a bit more cover considering you were out cold. Do you even remember what happened?”

“You saved Wonho’s ass, that’s what happened.” Kihyun mutters with a snort.  

Right... the snared door. Lifting your hand you rub the newly tender spot on your head.  Hoping it will help bring back the all the memories of before you stupidly jumped in front of a fucking bomb. You lean forward to get a good look out the drivers window to confirm his story. The winding road out of the city is one that you have taken many times.

You relax in your seat glancing over to Wonho as his grip lessens. “You made it out okay then?”

Wonho lets go of you completely and click his tongue as if you’ve offended him.

“You took the hit and you’re asking him if he’s okay? The only thing wounded on Wonho is his pride.” Hyungwon explains.

“Why didn’t you just stop and rendez vous with BTS once we were at a distance?”

“We wanted to discuss our deal in a safe location.  And the longer we keep around the more we get to tease Wonho.” Minhyuk bumps your side.

“Aiish, you’re soaked!” You notice the same damp appearance on almost all the other members around you. “Why are you all wet?”

“We decided to go for a swim in the hotel pool next to your building. On a somewhat related note you are going to have to replace a window on the third floor.”

“You didn’t, you actually jumped?”

“Had to get out somehow.” Shownu reasons.

As you pull up to the gate you see Namjoon, J-Hope, and Jimin on the other side. There’s a noticeable scowl on Namjoon’s face.

“Looks like they beat us back”

“I think you better let me talk to them first.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

You open up the car door as the gates slowly open. A relief spread across Namjoons face when his eyes meet yours. You can’t get to him fast enough, he obviously feels the same tugging at the gate in an attempt to make it open for you faster.

His arms reach out and wrap around you one of his hands holding the back of your head burying your face into the crook of his neck. You wish you could have stayed like that for a while but Jimin clears his throat bringing Namjoon back to the task at hand. He pulls away holding you at arms length.

“Are you okay?” He expression returns to a scowl as he takes note of the jacket and your bare feet.

“I’m fine what about you? Hope seems really worried when he got your messages.”

“VIXX backed down in time, you should head inside we’ll have a quick chat with this lot.”

“I think it would be better if we all spoke inside.” You urge, “There is a lot we need to discuss.”

“You can’t be serious,” He scoffs.

“I am. We should think about considering them an ally.”

“Maybe we should hear them out RM.” J-Hope speaks up.

“Hope don’t even start, if you hadn’t left her alone we would not be in this mess.”

“If he hadn’t left me we might not have seen Henry’s true allegiance! Monsta X knew something was wrong before we did, you need to hear them out.”

He hesitates, “Fine we’ll listen, but I will make no promises beyond that.”

“That’s all I ask.” You know he’s just looking out for everyone's safety, but you needed to be firm.

Jimin pushes the button opening the gate the rest of the way and waves the van in. Namjoon lifts you up saving your feet from the gravel path. Normally you would argue, but with the pain radiating from several spots on your body you are glad to be spared from the walk. As he takes you back to the manor Jimin spots the scratch on your forehead.

“What’s that, did you get hurt?” He leans in taking a closer look at the cut.

“I’m fine, there was a bit of an accident EXO left an unexpected present.”

“You should get Jin to take a look.”

“And have him scolding me, while fussing over it? No thanks.”

The van had reached the end of the lane long before you, and there they are... in your driveway...fucking changing...

“What the hell? Put your pants back on!” You yell at them.

Namjoon, J-Hope and Jimin don’t seem impressed by the display. You push against Namjoons chest forcing him to set you down on the doorstep

“Sorry we didn’t want to get your things wet.” Wonho smiles slyly exchanging the shirt in his hand for a new one from the trunk.

“Wonho you didn’t even jump in the pool!”

“No but the smokey smell was unpleasant.”

You roll your eyes as Wonho continues to smile.

“Fine just come in when your FULLY dressed. Hope can you override the security system for them?” He nods being unusually quiet.

The second you step in the door Jin is hounding you to make sure you’re okay, state of your forehead doesn’t escape his notice. “What...”

“Later Jin, please?” He huffs and mumbles a few choice words under his breath.

You step over to Suga and JK who are sitting on the stairs, pulling the storage device out of your shirt, you hand it over to JK. “Henry’s computer data, looks like we’ll have a busy couple of days ahead of us.”

He takes the drive, “Looking through another man’s browser history, this should be interesting.”

“I have a more pressing task for you now though. I need you to double check the security footage, Monsta X said that they froze the cameras but I need to be sure.” JK nods and heads upstairs.

You turn to Suga, “Thanks for watching out for me.”

“No problem, it had the added bonus of getting to watching most of them jump out the window.”

“But why are they here now, what do they want?” Jimin asks.

“They want financial backing.”

“Then why not wait until the accords?”

“They’re looking for a long term investor, longer than a year at least.”

“I would like to live in a fantasy world too,” V mutters.

There’s a knock at the door. V lets them in eyeing them up as they enter the foyer.

Jin leads the way to the formal meeting hall. Namjoon starts with questions the second everyone is seated, BTS on one side of the table, Monsta X on the other. “Why were you at the foundation tonight?”

Shownu takes the lead in answering, “Several weeks ago we had someone attempt to take down our distribution server. They used minimal IP protection which was easily decrypted. Too easily... the source was a computer from your building. Someone wanted us to think that you had hacked us. We wanted to find out why. We thought that this information might be useful to you and intended to use it to bargain with. Hyungwon was trying to keep Henry busy and lure him out of the office so we could investigate.  We had no idea that (Y/N) or EXO would be there.”

Suga growls, “Don’t speak of her so informally.”

“My apologies, we were hoping that we could come to an agreement with more than a few rivals in common. The problem is with the accords only lasting a year many groups like ourselves often become targeted after having made even more powerful enemies. We don’t want this to happen to us.”

“We’re not interested.” Namjoon answers.

“Wait, you said yourself we need more manpower, what’s wrong with them?” You ask despite being able to guess it was his pride getting in the way. Monsta X knew about Henry before BTS, and Namjoon doesn’t like that.

“Manpower yes. They’re just boys messing about, and getting lucky.”

“RM...” You growl back at him.

“Well these boys just pulled your patron out of a dangerous situation, placed there by someone you thought you could trust. Where were you? If you want to keep her alive you’re doing a piss poor job of it.” Wonho snaps back.  

“This is getting us nowhere, pride aside what’s the real reason RM?”

He was not happy with your accusation. “The members of Monsta X have been known for partaking in their own product. Some say they got hooked on their own drug. It makes them unreliable, how can we trust them if they’re just looking for their next high?”

“That was a long time ago, we’ve put it all in our past.” Minhyuk shouts in disagreement.

Wonho elaborates, “If it’s a question of trust let me enlighten you. You might owe your life to her father, but I now owe my life to her.”

You panic realizing he’s going to tell them the stupid stunt you had pulled, knowing you’ll be in so much shit once they find out. Your eyes widen trying to communicate for him to stop, but he continues.

“There was an explosive attached to one of the exits. I was being careless, not thinking about a possible trap. She didn’t have to but she saved me, and she was hurt in the process.”

You hang your head as your team looks to you to confirm the story.

“Which brings me to my next point, she needs medical attention.”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Jin sighs getting out of his chair pulling yours out from the table with you still in it.

“Wait we’re not finished here!” You exclaim.   

“If we require anything from you I’ll have someone fetch you. Go with Jin... that’s an order.” You’re unsure of what hurt more Namjoon’s cold words, or the disappointment he holds in his face.

You continue to hesitate, but as Namjoon stares back at you it becomes clear that they wouldn’t continue with you there.  

“Are you going to walk or am I going to have to carry you upstairs too?” Asks Jin.

As you stand so does everyone else keeping a formal tone as to not seem bothered by what had just transpired, “Thank you for your services tonight, I hope you can come to an agreement.”

Monsta X bows as you leave the room followed by Jin. He grips your arm and steers you to his office. He doesn’t say word until you are inside. The second the door is shut his aggression melts away, and he pulls you into a hug. “I'm so glad you’re safe. When Hope arrived we thought he had left you safe at the manor. We were so preoccupied we didn’t get a chance to check our phones. I’m sorry we took so long. What happened after he left?”

Jin sits you down on the table and lifts your chin to get a better look at the scratch on your head. You told everything, when you describe the air vent climb he examines your hands clicking shaking his head at the abrasions, he grabs a swab and cleans them.

“May I?” He holds on to the jacket you’re wearing. You nod as he reveals the ripped blouse to find your lower back swollen with scratches. He pats the table asking you to lay down on your stomach. Instead of getting you to take it off he simply rips the already destroyed fabric, tearing the shirt in two to get a clear view. While he rubs ointment in your wounds you continue your story. Your throat cracks when you speak of meeting Henry and how Shonu delivered the final blow.

“So he’s dead?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“See it? Jin I ordered it!”

Jin doesn’t respond as if pretending he didn’t hear you. Giving up on that battle for now you continue on. Your voice completely leaves you when you speak of the explosive, it takes several attempts to explain your actions and reasoning. “I saw it as he was opening the door I... I didn’t think I just ran. He was trying to get me out, if he had died it would have been my fault. My head collided with the pavement as we went down, and then I woke up in the car.”

Jin stars at you in disbelief, “Right, I’ll be back I’m going to go murder Wonho.”

“Jin.”

“I kid.” But there’s no laughter in his voice. “Are you sure you want to work with them?”

“Yes, I think we can rely them. Although the attitude in the room makes it seem like that won’t be happening.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. RM is just playing with his cards to his chest. He wants to see everything they can offer before we take them on. Life debts are not taken lightly in our line of work and now Wonho owes you his.”

“That’s ridiculous, how is it any different than them helping me escape?”

“Adding you to the escape plan wouldn’t have put them in anymore danger, and you promised them a contract. They were simply doing their job. You on the other hand, had no reason to take the hit from the charge, other than to save his life. That boy now owes you.”

You are scared to ask about the elephant in the room, fearing the answer. “How much did Henry know.”

“Quite a bit, and I’m sure even more than what we told him. JK is probably updating security codes as we speak. We never explained our end game but even if he knew of our plan and told EXO there are ways we can work around it.”

“We’ll need a new lawyer...”

“Might be able to get one through the accords.”

He hands you a fresh shirt of his to cover yourself again as he sits you back up. Jin then begins to shine a light in your eyes checking your responses, and finishes by placing a small bandage on your head.

“Can I go back down now?”

“You should get some rest instead they could be at it for hours.”

With no warning Namjoon bursts into the room.

“I take that back...”

Namjoon looks to be fuming his eyes narrow, chin puffed out, and his hair piled on the top of his head, as if he had been repeatedly running his fingers through it. “Why?! Why did you risk yourself? Do you not realize how important you are?”

“So the other members can risk their life but I can’t?”

“Not for someone you barely know! We’ve lost too much already, I will not lose you too.”

“Would you have risked your life to save Henry?” You know it’s a low blow but you had to get your point across. “We can’t always know how important someone will be to us, sometimes we just have to take that risk. I know that my father would have done the same.”

That does nothing to quell his anger. He places a hand on either side of you on the table and looks straight at you. You look back in defiance.

“You’re benched for now, pull a stunt like this again and it’ll be permanent. I need you... we need you to stay safe.” The slip of his words costs him the validity of his argument, informing you that the demand isn’t for the teams needs, but his. He pulls away taking the jacket that Wonho had given to you, and heads back to the door. “When you’re ready, the return on your risk is waiting outside. He wants to talk to you.” There is a growl in his voice, similar to that of an animal trying to keep possession of what’s theirs.

POV RM

I left Jin’s office slamming the door behind me. Wonho is leaning up against the wall. “She’ll be out in a minute.” He nods and stands a little straighter. I shove his jacket back at him before retiring to my bedroom straight across the hall from Jin’s office.

Your conversation pierces the walls of my room as if to taunt me.

“Wonho... what did you agree upon RM didn’t...”

“A month trial and evaluation after that we’ll renegotiate for a long term deal.”

“Good, I’m glad you were able to reach that.” Your words conflict with your sad tone.

“Any orders for your new crew?”

Silence fills the air for a moment.

“I can’t help them as easily in the field, and with my presence they’ll only make more enemies... Please just watch their backs for them. Keep your ear to the ground and look for those like Henry, he might be dead but I’m sure there's more.”

“Of course. Here give me your phone. This is my number call me if you run into any more trouble, or if you get bored of this lot.” The volume of his voice rises for his last comment, I can only assume for my listening pleasure.

You laugh at the idea. “Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll get bored any time soon.”

Wonho leaves, but there’s no sound of departure from you. Instead there is the distinct thump of you slumping to the floor followed by sobbing breath. I am a mere second away from opening my door when I hear Jin exit first.

“(Y/N) why are you down there... are you crying? Did he say something to...”

“It’s not enough... there’s no way it’s enough,” You whisper.

“Shhh it’s okay, what’s not enough?”

It sounds like Jin’s question is only meet with tears as you continue to weep. It wouldn’t be enough to keep us safe.That was why you shielded Wonho, why you wanted to take Monsta X on so quickly. You risked your life so you could help protect us.

A/N: If you get the chance please check out my master list. I posted an additional POV of Suga from chapter 11 (fundraiser scene) that tumblr decided to hide the tags on when I first posted it. If you like an angsty/angry Suga I highly suggest reading it.

[softwrite]

♡ pairing; amusement park worker!namjoon x reader (f)

♡ genre; fluff, romance, sorta unrequited love? high school au, summer break au

♡  wc; 6k+

♡ summary; namjoon, aka “joonie,” the sweet boy who is known for being a teacher’s pet and gaining straight A’s at school, decides to gain some money over the summer by working at an amusement park. the job is really nothing all that special, just an easy way for some cash, that is, until you come along.

The park grounds were unbearably hot.

As the weather progressed throughout the day from the beautiful, dew dropped morning to the blistering heat that everyone knew would come, the children running around were still squealing in delight, seemingly oblivious to the scorching sun that was currently pounding down on Namjoon.

His uniform consisted of a simple white button-up shirt with the amusement park’s signature sea crab with cute, large eyes printed on the breast pocket along with khaki shorts. It barely did anything to relieve him of the terrible summer weather.

He worked the infamous ferris wheel at his town’s seasonal theme park, although this was only his second year operating it, so it wasn’t like he was an expert. He typically got plenty of traffic to the ride since lots of couples like to come and make out at the very top, the exception of a few people who just want to genuinely enjoy the ride, but he doesn’t allow himself to complain.

Oh no, Kim Namjoon, or “Joonie,” the sweet boy who never lets a smile slip from his giftedly plump lips and always says “please” and “thank you” when appropriate, would never let a single complaint out. He was eternally grateful for the owners of the park for allowing him to keep this job, since he tended to be pretty clumsy with the equipment. He lost count how many times he accidentally lost the keys to the machine.

So as Namjoon stood stiff in front of the machine which controlled the ferris wheel, the pleasingly tanned tone of his skin practically glimmering against the afternoon light of the sun, he continued his usual routine.

Smiling and greeting the waiting people in line, those who were excited to catch a less-than-exciting glimpse of the town they’ve lived in for probably their whole lives, Namjoon wasn’t quite prepared for when his eyes slowly drifted along the awaiting crowd before him. What he saw sent his mind into a nervous frenzy, his palms almost instinctively beginning to moisten with perspiration.

What he saw was you.

He hadn’t seen you for about a week now, since summer break had just begun, but he was most definitely not expecting to see you here. You were the girl who was always seen with the bubbly, loud kids at the large table at his lunch period. He never dared to speak to you in person, but he has practically memorized such small, little things about you already. Like the way when you laugh, you immediately cover your mouth with the back of your hand and tilt your head back, the creases on the bridge of your nose always sending his heart pounding like crazy in his chest. Or when you get frustrated with something, such as trying to solve a problem in math class, you huff under your breath and twirl your hair around your finger as a sign of stress.

But most of all, he loved watching you talk.

You were such a loud, flamboyant talker, most people would find it annoying.

But when you talked, everyone listened. It seemed like everyone was interested in what you had to say, because you were interesting. You were fun and loud, and you always tried your best to include everyone in the group in the conversation. He couldn’t find a single damn thing wrong with you.

He remembered a single time in debate class, one of the few classes he actually had you in, the room was discussing a topic regarding the way school boards are currently handling issues. You had been expressing your own views, making eye contact with every person involved, while his own head was down, although he was desperately hanging onto every word you uttered (without your knowing of course.) Suddenly, you had shifted your attention elsewhere, and you had stopped talking. He thought to look up, to see what had caused you to stop so abruptly, when the most foreign sound passed through his eardrums.

“Joon, what do you think?”

You had spoken to him. Directly spoken to him, and even called out his name.

He still counts that as one of the happiest days of his life in school, even if the only response he managed to give was a rushed shrug of his shoulders and a rushed out “Uh, I’m not sure, may I go to the restroom please, Miss?” as he pathetically tried to conceal the glowing rosiness of his tan cheeks.

Just thinking about the memory causes his heart to drop into his stomach and his sharp features to begin turning red. However, before he could barely even bring himself back to the present, the sudden waving of a hand in front of his eyes caused him to jump, his fluffy, light colored hair flopping out of his vision.

Looking down, due to his tall stature, his throat tightened at seeing your frame standing directly in front of him, although cool iron bars that reached his hips blocked your bodies from making contact.

Your giggle filtered through his ears, your voice high pitched in a teasing tone. “Hey, are you still here? We have our tickets to ride, it’s four per person right?” You had asked, your soft lips curled upwards in a patient manner.

You always smelled so nice. He could smell your perfume with you so close - it was intoxicating, and he could breathe it in all day if he could.

“O-Oh! Yeah, s-sorry about that,” he struggled to speak, his large hands fumbling as he reached out to take up the tickets which you and your group of friends held out, each in a straight line behind the other, with you standing in the very front.

“It’s okay, it’s because of the heat right? It’s almost boiling out here today! After we ride some rides, we’re probably going to head over to Minwoo’s house to cool off in the pool,” you casually had stated to him, handing over your individual four tickets for him to take up.

Controlling his shaky hands at your beautiful, close presence, he released a nervous laugh as he stuffed them inside the box dedicated to collecting the riders’ tickets.

“Yeah, uh, that sounds nice!” He attempted to sound happy for your activities for the day, although he could barely contain the slight upset that struck his vocal chords due to remembering the one fact he hated the most.

He would never admit this out loud, but he liked you, a lot. He always was grateful for your happiness, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to accept some of your reckless decisions you liked to make.

Such as dating the one guy he truly could say he disliked the most out of everyone he’s ever met at this school; Minwoo.

He was extremely narcissistic, and quite possibly the most obnoxious person at school. Of course, like the nice boy he is, he powered through it, and accepted his fate as the guy who’ll never be able to hold your hand or call you his girlfriend. Just thinking of your name and that word in the same sentence causes tingles to rise up his arms.

As he accepted the last ticket, the last person being Minwoo himself, Namjoon sighed, the corners of his lips begging to twist downwards, but like always, he fought it. He could never bring himself to say how he feels around you. You made him weak to the knees.

Glumly watching you and your equally as loud friends excitingly climb the level of steps that led up to the available ferris wheel pods, you and Minwoo gathered together in one, huddling beside each other, huge smiles adorning your faces as your small hands wrapped firmly around his bicep.

His dark eyes traveled across your gentle, genuinely happy face, and couldn’t help the searing want that ripped through his beating heart as he activated the ride to move onto the next pod to allow your remaining friends to scrunch together. As your figure got further away as the ride gradually kept rising upwards, taking occasional pauses to allow the riders a look around, his lips pursed together in disappointment as he realized he would never be able to be the one to be pressed against your side.

He imagined your delicate hands wrapping around his waist, palms flat against his back as you raised upwards on your tiptoes, your heated breath brushing against his slightly parted mouth, practically begging for your own to advance. He would be able to feel your chest confined to his own due to his arms having looped around your smaller body, leaning down to accept the divine sensation of both of your lips connecting in a passionate, lingering kiss. A kiss that would leave him wanting more, more of you and your taste.

Is it getting even hotter out here?

Swinging his arm up to his forehead, he compressed his palm to the heated flesh, roughly dragging his limb across his head to get rid of the faint sweat droplets that had gathered there due to the blistering sun, and of course, no other reason.

As the ferris wheel continued to slowly drift upwards, revealing more of their simple yet quaint town, Namjoon paused in taking up tickets as there was no longer any room on the ride. Thinking quietly to himself of all the fantasies he wish were true, he barely noticed when the ride had made a full loop.

Quickly pressing his long fingers into the buttons, he followed the routine, memorized movements that allowed each passenger to get off before giving the next pod a turn. With no hesitance or lack of confidence in his actions, the final pod had leveled with the staircase. However, his Adam’s apple momentarily bobbed in anxiety upon hearing your squealing laugh breaching his eardrums.

He wonders if he could ever make you laugh like that someday.

Once your group had begun to step down the steps on the opposite side of the machine he operated, he barely had began taking up tickets for the next round of people before he felt a strange sensation along his shoulder, nearly touching his shoulder blade. Blinking, his small eyes squinted against the bright rays of the sun as he turned around, craning his neck to glance behind him.

Oh god. It was you. You were touching him. He might actually pass out.

“Y-Yes?” He choked out, his eyebrows abruptly shooting upwards in a tense, surprised motion as your fingers eventually drifted away from his covered shoulder.

“I was just wondering, would you want to come hang out with us after your shift at Minwoo’s place? You look like you’ll need some relaxation after this, especially standing out here in this heat. You don’t have to if you don’t want to!” You kindly suggested, the corners of your lips turned upwards in a friendly, considerate grin.

He could barely believe what he was hearing. You were....inviting him to hang out with you guys? This is it. This is the day he officially lost his mind. Is this real life?

“O-Oh, really..? Are you sure? I-I mean my shift is over soon, but is Minwoo okay with it?” Namjoon stuttered, hardly able to keep his mind in check as it was running a million miles a minute. Your short giggle was what broke him out of his dizzying trance.

“Of course! He doesn’t mind. I’ll meet you at the front gates after your shift then?” You clarified, already beginning to twist your body to turn back towards your friends.

“Yes,” he breathed out, his pupils dilating as the situation fully registered in his brain.

“Great! See you later!” You called out, excitedly waving your smaller hand in the air, rushing back towards your boyfriend and your friends, your high-pitched voice gradually dissipating the more distance you put between each other.

“Oh my god what the hell did I just get myself into? I can’t act normal in front of her! I’m going to fall in the pool or...or they’ll think I’m some sort of square or something that doesn’t know how to talk to people and embarrass myself and then she’ll never invite me to hang out ever again-” he rambled, his lips frantically forming each word as he clutched the sides of his head, scrunching his strands of blonde hair. In the middle of his mental breakdown, he heard the deep clearing of a voice from behind him.

Swiveling around, he realized he still had a line of customers to attend to. Once again, his tan cheeks flared up in humiliation.

“Sorry about that uh- enjoy the ride,” he mumbled, keeping his dark eyes pinned downwards in order to not further embarrass himself as he took up the tickets handed out to him.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The jingling of keys was the only sound that surrounded him, the metal dangling from his fingers as he spun on his heel. This was always what happened at the end of his shift. He had to transfer the keys to the guy who worked the night shift, while Namjoon worked the morning/afternoon. He preferred it that way too.

Quickly hanging up the keys in their correct place for the other guy to come pick them up when he came to work, he lingered in the back momentarily, the clicking sound of his locker opening reverberating in the small room. There was two walls of lockers for all of the workers at the park, as well as two long benches situated in the middle. He always brought a change of clothes with him to work, thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry about wearing his ugly work clothes to the swimming pool.

Oh god, the swimming pool. He nearly forgot. Maybe..Maybe he can do a raincheck? Would that make him even more lame?

“Why am I such an idiot? Why can’t I just..speak to her for once like a normal person?” He huffed aloud, speaking to himself as he threw his shirt off, cringing at the cheesy picture of the crab. Throwing it inside his duffel back he carried, he quickly switched into a casual button-up black and white striped shirt, ruffling his hair back onto his forehead as he focused on buttoning his clothes.

As his legs now acquired simple dark shorts that reached his knees, he easily slipped his regular shoes on, slamming his locker closed as he began to hear the other workers situated elsewhere in the locker room doing the same, the shuffling around him becoming background noise.

Making his way out of the employees only area, Joon shyly glanced around, unsure if you and your friends were still out and about. Maybe you had left already and got impatient waiting on him. Although he definitely wouldn’t mind having to skip this unexpected, yet expectedly embarrassing situation, he still couldn’t help the slight disappointment at the thought of you having given up on him. Maybe you had been messing with him.

As these thoughts entered his mind and lingered there, his steps crunched along the grass and gravel walkway, passing by the other rides that were still operating, their neon lights shining against his irises, enhancing his features.

Breaching the gateway that separated the amusement parking lot from the regular roads, he blinked, hardly able to believe his eyes at what he was seeing.

You, again.

You were waiting for him, by yourself. All alone. Where were your friends?

“Oh, there you are Joonie!” You shouted above the faint screams and giggles of adults and kids alike in the background. “Everyone else got tired of waiting outside so they’re already in the car. I volunteered to wait for you!” You stated casually, shrugging your shoulders as your infamous smile continued to grace your gentle features.

His heart immediately increased in pace at your words. You..volunteered to wait for him?

“T-Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbled, scared if you had heard him or not as he began to step closer to your being, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag along his skinny yet tough shoulder.

Your teasing laugh pleasingly passed through his ears as you began to lead the way to your boyfriend’s car.

“That’s funny, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my name before! I was scared you didn’t know who I was and I was just making you uncomfortable. Sorry for just asking you to hang out so randomly earlier, I just figured you might want to have some fun with us after having to work here all day. You don’t mind, do you?” You blabbered, his mind barely able to keep up with the fast pace of your feet, as well as your mouth.

Namjoon really doesn’t know how long he’s going to last with you. This might just be his death day.

“It’s totally fine! I-uh, I was really bored so no need to worry,” he laughed nervously, trying to get into a joyful mood and not express the inner panic that poked at his brain.

Before he knew it, you two were standing in front of a large truck, conveniently big enough to fit all of them. He could see the faint outlines of your friends’ heads inside of the dark windows, moving around.

“Come on then! I hope you’re okay with getting wet in those clothes,” you reminded casually, barely noticing the abrupt movement of Namjoon’s throat at the thought of possibly seeing you in a swimsuit.

“You’ll be in the back with Mina and Hyeon, hope you don’t mind,” your voice called out to him as you stepped around the nose of the truck, maneuvering to the other side in order to gain access to the passenger door, your boyfriend situated in the driver’s seat.

“Nope,” he sighed, gripping the door handle with his right hand and tugging the door open, the sound echoing throughout the vehicle as he hesitantly lifted his legs to step inside, ducking his head to avoid hitting the roof of the car due to his tall height.

“H-Hey,” he stuttered, already beginning to feel the sweat break out along the back of his neck as six eyes immediately darted to his figure, your own too busy focusing on clicking your seatbelt around your frame.

“Guys, this is Joonie, he’s in our lunch and my mathematics and debate class. He’s hanging out with us, remember?” You reminded calmly, probably trying to get them to stop staring at him like he’s the worst possible thing that could have possibly opened that car door.

Silently climbing into the back seat next to Hyeon, his lips remained pressed tight together in a flat line as he passed the stretchy material of the seatbelt over his torso.

Feeling the movement of the tires beginning to take off, exiting the compound of the amusement park, he swallowed a rather small portion of saliva in an attempt to calm his nerves, his throat seeming rather parched all of a sudden.

“Hey man, I’m Hyeon, don’t know if we’ve ever spoken before but I think I’ve seen you around,” the teenager next to him introduced with ease, oozing confidence. Why does it seem like everyone in this car is literally the last person he would ever be seen hanging out with? His friends would never believe him when he told them about this later, Jesus Christ.

“Nice to meet you,” he responded politely, flicking his wrist upwards in a gesture of some sort of handshake, expecting it to be reciprocated only to realize that Hyeon had already turned back to his right, speaking with the equally as good-looking girl beside him.

Hurriedly lowering his hand in absolute embarrassment, his features flamed red as he sharply turned his head to view out the window, the soft notes of music playing through the speakers the only thing stopping him from sinking into his seat in utter madness and despair.

Eventually, the car reached an unfamiliar neighborhood, parking in front of a rather nice looking house with a simple yet clean front yard, the grass very kept and neat, almost looking like someone measured each individual blade. Namjoon doesn’t come from a very rich family either, so why is he still getting the feeling even this guy’s house is mocking him?

Before he could continue to complain inside his head about how terrible of an idea this is, he realized that everyone was beginning to unbuckle their seatbelt, noisily scooting out of their seats to rush towards the backyard of Minwoo’s house. Rushing to follow in pursuit, he threw his seatbelt off him, clumsily pushing open the heavy door beside him and stepping out.

Shutting it behind his tall figure, he walked towards the dark wooden gate, pushing it open as he saw the shadows of the other teens disappear around the side of the house, the sounds of cheering and their talking passing through the air.

Hesitantly coming around the corner, he peered at the rowdy group, already beginning to witness Hyeon grip the hem of his white t-shirt, his flat yet slightly muscled chest revealing itself to the setting sun in the background. With a loud yell, he ran across the pebbled sidewalk, launching himself into the pool, causing an abrupt splash to sound out and water to ripple along the edges of the designed pool. With droplets of the clear, lukewarm water scattering across the sides, the laughter of the others easily cut through the afternoon atmosphere, setting a relaxing yet comfortable vibe.

Nobody really paid attention to him, so he slowly made his way to the small glass table set off to the side, a large umbrella poking through the top to block the sunlight. Placing his black duffel bag on top of the smooth glass, he shyly sat back down, pressing his still clothed back against the comfortable chair, purposefully trying to avoid eye contact with the others.

Before he could fully disappear into the background of the loud teenagers however, another equally loud yet alluring voice snapped him back to reality, his plump lips parting in awe at what lied before him.

“Joon, are you coming in?” You asked, as if you weren’t currently peeling off your own shirt right in front of him, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Oh my god. You were actually trying to kill him. This was your plan all along.

“U-Um, I’ll probably join you guys in a minute. I need to go to the bathroom first. W-Where is it?” He blurted out, using his common excuse of needing to go, since it was the only thing he could ever think of to get himself out of situations he couldn’t handle.

“It’s right through that back door and the first white door on the left, next to the laundry room,” Minwoo informed him, gesturing his hand to the door that was built close to the table Joon was seated at.

“Thanks,” he quickly rushed out, compressing the soles of his shoes into the pavement of the back porch, moving too fast to witness your eyes slowly trailing along his retreating figure, worry etched onto your usually enthusiastic features.

“Come on babe, get in already. Or do I have to throw you in again?” Minwoo’s teasing voice filtered through the evening summer air,  his masculine features glinting mischievously at your distracted frame as his bottom half was already submerged in the water.

Your soft, hesitant “yeah, ‘kay,” was the last thing Namjoon heard before he breached the threshold of the backdoor, the cool air of the house blasting across his heated cheeks as the screen closed behind him.

Inhaling a shaky gust of AC air that floated through the vents above his head, Joon followed the directions in which your boyfriend had given him, his heart beating faster and faster inside of his chest as he neared the location of the guest bathroom.

Upon opening the pale door, the nearly freezing touch of the doorknob against his fingers sent reassuring chills through his body. Closing it behind him, he hurriedly faced the mirror built into the cabinet that contained most likely useful bathroom items. He barely had time to ponder on it before he compressed the smooth palms of his hands against his face, a muffled groan of distraught slipping through his lips.

“I can’t do this..I can’t do this,” he repeated, a common mantra he gave himself when he was in over his head. “How on Earth does she expect me to keep my cool out there when she...when she looks like that! Her boyfriend being here is making me feel even more guilty because he’s being so nice to me,” he whined, his eyes scrunching together in annoyance.

“Maybe I should just tell them that I’m too tired from working all morning and that I’m just going to call one of my friends to come pick me up. That’ll save me from this disaster, yeah,” he mumbled, attempting to calm himself down from the possible antisocial breakdown he was about to have inside of your boyfriend’s bathroom.

Nodding his head in determination to go through with his plan, he eyed himself in the mirror before him one last time before he twisted his torso, facing the door. Reaching outwards, he gripped the door handle, pushing his weight against it in order to walk through. However, he immediately paused upon hearing a strange ‘thud’ sound on the other side.

Blinking rather quickly in confusion, he peeked around the door, only to freeze in shock.

You were currently standing on the opposite side of the large, white door, rubbing your forehead with your fingers with a pained expression settled on your face as you groaned softly.

“Y/N! Oh my god i’m so sorry a-are you okay? Did I accidentally hit you with the door? Oh my god-,” he began to freak out, hurriedly releasing his hold on the side of the door before confusion began to overtake his own features.

“Wait a second, why were you right behind the door?” He questioned, furrowing his defined eyebrows together at the situation, noticing the droplets of water that slid down your body. Your rather revealed body as well. Gulping, he attempted to restrain himself from eyeing your lack of a shirt, the water from, he’s assuming the pool, still attached to certain parts of your small figure.

“I-I was just seeing if you were alright. You were gone for a bit so I didn’t know if you got lost, so I decided to make sure you made it back,” you eventually responded, sliding your hand away from your face, dropping it against your side. You seemed completely confident with just casually standing before him like that. He’s not surprised though, you had every right to be.

You were beautiful. You always had been. The faint setting orange light of the sun gleaming through the glass, mural like windows situated in the hallway were only heightening your attractive frame. He drank in your hair situated along your shoulders, fanning across your collarbones in a disheveled like state, the ends still occasionally dripping from your previous dip in the pool.

It’s getting hot again.

“Are you ready to come back? Everyone’s wait-,”

Before you could even finish your sentence, shock and disbelief spread throughout your body at the sudden sensation of something compressing against your slightly opened mouth due to you having been in the middle of speaking.

It took you several, slow seconds to realize the sensation against your lips was Namjoon’s desperately clinging onto your own.

“Wh-,” you attempted to speak, your pupils dilated immensely, your artery practically about to shoot out of your chest at the foreign sensation and sight of Namjoon, the typically quiet and shy boy, suddenly pressing his lithe body against your bra clad one as if his life depended on it.

Suddenly you felt shaky fingers caressing the sides of your face, slightly squishing your cheeks as the tips of his fingers dug into your flesh, nothing harsh or forceful at all by the movement. It was almost like a plea for something. For a reaction, maybe?

Namjoon wasn’t able to define your rigid movements as disgust or just shock from what was currently happening, but it was almost as if his mind just shut off. He couldn’t help himself as he hesitantly took a small step forward, ultimately causing your own to take a single one backwards, the chilling temperature of the cold window grazing your bare back.

Your eyes remained open the whole time as the kiss progressed, Namjoon hesitantly tilting his head to the side in order to devour more of your mouth, savoring the taste of the chapstick you had applied earlier in the afternoon, the soft flesh prodding against his own sending his mind into overdrive.

However, witnessing the tense squeezing of Namjoon’s eyelids, your eyes soon widened as your own brain suddenly switched, finally processing the drastic situation that was occurring.

Hurriedly fisting your smaller hands into the fabric of his neatly buttoned up shirt, you allowed your weight to lean against him as a sign of rejection, your head forcibly leaning away to separate your mouths.

“N-Namjoon stop,” you choked out, your lack of air from the extensive kiss apparent as your chest heaved up and down in order to catch your lost breath. You shouldn’t have let that last for so long. How could you let this happen..?

The dazed look in Namjoon’s eyes explained everything to you in that instant, the moment he acquiesced, slowly dragging his large hands away from your tense shoulders.

Soon enough, his eyes peeled open, the silence in the air almost suffocating him, unable to hear the group outside having the time of their lives, unaware of the situation which had occurred in the hallway several feet away.

“..Oh my god..I-I’m so sorry, I..I didn’t mean to do that, really. I really have no idea why I just did that, please forgive me Y/N,” Namjoon pleaded, the humiliation and disbelief apparent in his own features as he hurriedly distanced his body away from your own to provide you a respectful amount of space. Twisting his hands together nervously, he weakly pressed them against his chest, his heart beating erratically.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Watching your focused, yet stressed face contort as you attempted to process what just happened, Namjoon was slowly falling apart. How could he do this to you..?

“I-I have to go,” you choked out, cupping your mouth from his view with your right hand, the unusual shakiness in your voice doing nothing to relieve him of the overwhelming guilt he felt for what he just did. This wasn’t like him to act so rashly. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he kiss you?

“Y/N please..I-I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his throat feeling unbelievably tight as the urge to cry began to build up within his system.

“I-I think it’d be best..if you went home Namjoon. I’m..sorry but I don’t, feel that way towards you. I-I’m dating Minwoo, so please..don’t touch me,” you breathed out, attempting to control your emotions and gather yourself before him.

You didn’t even say his nickname like you always did. He truly messed up.

“I-I know, please, Y/N, please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to do that. I-I’ll let myself out,” he whispered, loud enough for his voice to reach your eardrums as you began to step away from him, your bare, now dry, feet sticking to the tile of the hallway.

Soon enough, you were out of his sight, the sound of the screen door loudly clanging against the wood as you were outside once more.

As he began to make his way towards the front door, opening it and stepping out into the slightly cool night air now that the sun had fully gone down, Namjoon realized he left his bag on the table outside by the pool.

“I’m such an idiot,” he choked out, containing the tears that begged to breach his eyes, whipping his phone that was luckily inside of his pocket. Texting his friend Hoseok to come pick him up, since he still was unable to drive, he waited in the unfamiliar driveway with a heavy heart, his eyes red and his throat tight in regret.

Eventually, as his long-time friend pulled up on the curb, he hurriedly climbed in, mind swirling with thoughts of how he wishes he could turn back time while buckling his seat belt at the same time.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked, beginning to drift the car along the road once more.

“I fucked up, big time.” He replied plainly, his voice hoarse with the surprising curse word that he rarely let slip through.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

A few days later, Namjoon was lounging in his living room, his parents currently out shopping. He was manning the house by himself, lazily watching the TV.

He definitely didn’t go a day without thinking about what he did to you. It haunted him every time he looked in the mirror and remembered the look on your face as he pulled away. It felt like a heavy rock in the pit of his stomach.

Groaning aloud at just briefly thinking about the crystal clear memory, he almost missed the sound of his front doorbell ringing, the chime singing throughout the house for a few extended seconds.

Figuring it was his parents coming back home from the store and they needed help opening the door, he gradually lifted himself off of the couch, swinging his legs off the edge and making his way towards the door.

However, his eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion at the lack of two silhouettes on the other side. He didn’t recognize it.

Hesitantly gripping the golden doorknob, he twisted his wrist, hearing the click of the locks inside the door before creaking it open, peering his head around the corner with his blonde locks momentarily falling directly above his curious eyes.

He almost didn’t believe what he saw.

You were standing on his front porch, almost looking nervous as your teeth dug into the corner of your bottom lip. In your hands, you held his black duffel bag he had left at Minwoo’s house.

“..Y/N? W-What are you doing here? How did you know I..lived here?” He questioned, hesitance evident in his voice due to your unexpected visit.

“Hoseok told me. I have his number,” you informed quickly, almost in a rush. “Y-You um, forgot your bag at Minwoo’s house and I’ve been meaning to give it back to you but I didn’t know where you lived, so I had to ask around first. I-I hope you don’t mind Hoseok giving me your address,” your mumbled, your shy behavior almost completely new to him.

“..N-No I don’t mind. Thank you,” he breathed out, reaching with his large hands to take up the bag, tossing it onto his shoulder as you transferred it to him.

As your two figures continued to stand in a somewhat awkward silence, it was your voice, like always, that broke the silence.

“Can we start over?” You blurted out, the question something that completely threw him off guard.

“What?-” He attempted to ask, confusion immediately taking over his expression as he was hardly able to believe you were actually wiling to talk to him after what he did to you. Before he could continue however, you spoke before him once more.

“I’d like to..formally get to know you. W-We can get coffee or something, I don’t know. I just..feel bad for how I left so abruptly that time and..I’m sure I really hurt your feelings by it,” you sighed out, almost sounding like an apology for something you didn’t even need to apologize for.

“What are you talking about? I..I kissed you without your consent, a-and you have a boyfriend-,” he stuttered, baffled by your behavior.

“Had,” you corrected quickly, Namjoon almost not having caught it.

“What?”

“..Had a boyfriend.”

It was like a line connected in his brain, the sparks flying everywhere and nearly blinding his eyes, yet he attempted to keep himself calm and collected.

“I broke up with him just a day after you kissed me. He..He found out. He could tell I was feeling bad about something and he ended up asking me about it. I told him the truth and he got really angry with me. H-He had every right to be mad, of course, but I realized in the midst of us yelling at each other in the car that I..didn’t feel all that bad about it anymore. Isn’t that messed up of me?” You weakly laughed as your voice began to drift off.

“I-Isn’t it wrong of me to want you to kiss me again, Namjoon..?” You whispered.

If his ears hadn’t been straining so hard to hang onto every word you were saying to him, Namjoon might have missed your breaking voice due to the rushing of blood through his eardrums.

“..I want to kiss you again too, Y/N,” he hesitantly breathed out, his chest constricting with mixed emotions. The only thoughts swarming in his mind right now were the night he kissed you in the hallway. How your lips felt against his own and how badly he wanted to feel it again.

At the sound of his honest words, you couldn’t help but to look up in surprise, your hair partially covering your gradually reddening features.

Slowly, it’s like every other sound and person disappeared. Namjoon felt like he was falling from somewhere high, hundreds of feet in the air. As if he was taking a sharp dip on a rollercoaster, his stomach lurching.

Soon enough, all he could feel and sense was your body taking slow, hesitant steps towards his own, your shoes beating against the hollow wood of his front porch. Despite his towering height, your aura regained confidence as you leveled yourself on your tiptoes, bringing your face closer to his desperate yet anxiety filled one.

Was this a dream?

As that thought entered his brain, he felt a gush of warm, comforting wind engulf his body, rustling his clothes as the chimes on his top porch jingled, the sounds surrounding him and filling his body with a giddy-like feeling.

The moment your soft, pink lips brushed against his own, giving each other equal amounts of time to pull away, Namjoon felt like he was truly experiencing the most heavenly feeling on Earth.

The sensation of your fingers delicately tracing the faint muscles lining his arms, stepping even closer to his body, he inhaled through his nose, leaning further into your warmth as he accepted the gentle, sweet kiss.

He ignored the sensation of the sun’s rays breaching his already tan skin. Your fragrance that you applied every day was the only thing he could breathe, and you were suddenly the only thing he could think of in that moment.

You reminded him of the delicate sunflowers that grew in the field across the amusement park. The way the sunlight shined on each individual petal. The vibrant color of yellow, and how it always caught his eye. You made him happy. 

You were happiness. 

You were summer, and he hoped with every electrified and buzzing fiber in his being in that moment, that it never ended.

a/n: GHJFKDSKGHJFKDL;S it took me way longer to write this than i was hoping, since this was an idea i randomly came up with at like 3 am one night like a week or two ago. I RLY HOPE?? THIS WAS OK??? im sorry if its like rly short or cheesy or idk i hope it was enjoyable in some way for u. i haven’t written in a long time and this is my first official like..story? in years. so i hope this didn’t suck too much! i look forward to writing more ❧

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello beatlechicksteph and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many of our members will know your story “Fallen from the future”.

We’re grateful you can spend some time with us today.

Okay, so let's jump into it!

What’s the story behind your pen name?

My favourite band is The Beatles, I’m a chick, and my name is Steph. That’s basically it. I just shoved all those things together. I needed a name for AOL Instant Messenger (yes, I’m old) and when I started writing fanfiction, I just used the same screen name for my pen name.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

It’s a total cliche, but Hermione

Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general)

I love Romance novels. They always have a happy ending.

Do you have a favourite “classic” novel?

Jane Eyre. Hands down.

At what age did you start writing?

YOUNG. I have always dreamed of being a writer, so I started writing stories from a very young age. I want to say around 8 or 9

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I was REALLY into Roswell in High School, and that’s when I discovered fanfiction was a thing. And then my friend and I just started writing what we wanted to happen in Buffy. In college, I decided to write a Happy Days fanfiction, and that’s the first I ever published.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I’m a huge sucker for time travel where Hermione goes back and then returns to her time and the man has waited for her. And they have a happily ever after. Such. A. Sucker. And if you’ve read “Fallen From the Future,” I have obviously used that theme.

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

Supernatural and Marvel

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

One change? One change only? I would have Severus not get killed by that bloody snake. My favourite piece of fanon is that Hermione uses her magic bag and helps Severus live.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I prefer to listen to music. Peter Hollens is a favourite right now. And then when I’m writing a Supernatural crossover, I have a specific playlist for that to get me in The Winchesters’ heads

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Post Tenebras Lux and Chasing the Sun by Loten

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I’m a complete pantser. It makes my writing process a little bit slower.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Romance. I write it in fanfic and I write it in my original stuff

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

It’s actually my Peter Parker/Hermione crossover one shot, Time and Space. I was able to convey everything into it that I wanted to in such a short amount of space. I got the characterizations just right, and I made people cry in the end LOL

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

It is the only fanfic that has unfolded EXACTLY how I imagined it. EXACTLY. I learned that I can write a satisfying love story in less than 6k words and still be able to break people’s hearts in the process.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

It is not a personal story. That’s probably what made it SO easy to write. I wrote it in just a couple hours during one of my writing sessions with my writing group. I swear the room we write in is magic.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Probably JR Ward and her Black Dagger Brotherhood series. If anything it’ll show in conflicts I create for the couples and in the smut, I write.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Yes. And they vote for me when I get nominated for awards in the fandom. I write with a group every Thursday so I bounce a lot of ideas off of them since they’re familiar with the fandoms I write for.

How true for you is the notion of “writing for yourself”?

Very true. I love Dean Winchester/Hermione. They are basically my favourite ship, but there are just not enough stories out there. So I have been writing the stories I want to read. Same with my Marvel crossovers.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I don’t really interact with them. I’m super busy. I push out the story and then I basically move on. Or I update a fic and move on. I’m a mom, and that keeps me crazy busy, so I don’t respond to reviews unless they ask a specific question or raise a specific concern. Sometimes I’ll engage in a facebook group, but I’m really not on social media a whole lot anymore. I’m too busy. It probably makes me a bad author, but I barely have time to write and update my fics.

What would you most like your readers to take away with them when they've finished your stories?

I want them to feel like they haven’t wasted their time. I want them to feel like they’ve read a complete story. And most of the time, I want them to feel happy. 90% of the time I have my fics end on a happy note. Readers who have read “No Hero” and “Time and Space” will likely disagree with this, and I apologize, blame Marvel and Infinity War.

What is the best advice you’ve received about writing

Ignore what people say, and just write what you love.

What do you do when you hit writer’s block?

I read.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Motherhood. People will notice I end most of my multi-chapter fics with Hermione becoming a mother.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? 

I am currently 2 chapters into a new Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover, “Stuck Inside My Head.” It’s a Dean/Hermione pairing. Here is the summary: Dean is running out of time to get Michael out of his head, and Sam and Cas are getting desperate. When Rowena comes to them with stories of a natural born witch with mind-healing capabilities, the trio hits the road and travels to Boston. Can this woman help them, or will Dean need to spend eternity on the bottom of the ocean?

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Just keep writing. Write. Write. Write. Get your words on the paper, because you can’t edit a blank page.

Thanks so much for chatting with us beatlechicksteph.

[brohood-assassins-imagines]

So We Endure - Chapter 2: A Push Forwards

A/N: I completely forgot to post the second chapter here. What’s wrong with me? Way to go. Either way, please have this and now that I’ve quit my current graduation (Journalism) to start a different one (Psychology), I’ll have lots of free time in hands until possibly January. The fics are coming. I had a big ass inspiration streak for this fic, so bear with me. Wow I suck at keeping check with the requests. Again, there is a playlist to that fic! (x)

Word Count: 6k+

Tagging (due request): @ryuumaru-chan​

You made quick count of the coins on the table as the grey light of the early Sunday morning filtered lazily through the dirty windows of your flat. There were a few loose pennies, nearly a shilling!, thanks to the unexpected help from the man of yesterday, Mr. Frye — you hadn’t forgotten his name, and couldn’t be sure if you were to any time soon, really.

And if you had to be even more honest, you thought to yourself, you’d need even more time to forget what had almost happened yesterday. Breathing out tiredly, you sort out the rent money and quietly placed what was left of the lonely coppers back into the rusty tea can, shoving it expertly at the back of the cabinet. You still had to mend Charlie’s shirt and find out what had happened yesterday, pay your landlord and most likely go to the market since there wasn’t really much food left.

Peeking around the doorframe, you watched as Charlie slept soundly on the bed. You still had to find out what had happened yesterday and why he came back home with his shirt tore nearly to pieces — and you guessed Tommy wasn’t much better. You’d have to ask Mrs. Dolloway later if she knew anything about it. Sighing again, you pressed your lips into a thin line and turned around to gather the rent payment; and you couldn’t help, really, but stare at the two shiny shillings, gleaming as if brand new in contrast to the others you had in hand, dirty and covered in soot.

It was hard to remember having received that kind of help in a really long time — because, well, it had been mostly you and Charlie for as long as you could remember and you were keen on keeping that up. As hard as it was to get by alone, you grew used and hardened on the face of it, maybe even getting proud of what you had accomplished on your own. The coins were a token, a reminder of what you couldn’t do by yourself, and you ached to get rid of them as fast as possible.

Knowing it was Sunday and you had the day off — since Sunday nights were slow on business and Mr. Jackson gave a flimsy excuse about you needing to rest just so he wouldn’t have to pay for your working day —, you were ruminating about what to do after the market. Maybe you could take Charlie to the park? But did you have enough money for the bus?

You’d have to figure that out later.

A knock on the door halted your motions as you fixed your hair in place.

Maybe Mrs. Dolloway had come back from church and wanted to talk about the kids' fight yesterday?

“Mummy, are we going now?,” Charlie pulled at the skirt of your dress with a whine as you shushed him gently and headed towards the front door.

You had dressed him in his best clothing — a donated and barely used shirt which Tommy had outgrown of and the new shorts you’d managed to sew him from the ruined brown dress skirt you had. You fared a little worse, of course, but not that far behind with a relatively nice although simple burgundy skirt and a white half-sleeved shirt that used to have a thin black ribbon to be tied around the neck a long time ago. You folded the torn shirt, sticking the needle into the fabric as you got up.

“In a minute, Charlie. The park isn’t going anywhere, you know that. And remember, mummy has to fix your shirt, then we’re paying the Church a visit and only after that the park.”

Charlie pouted and followed you as you walked towards the door like any impatient child would. “But I wanna go now!”

“And we will, just be patient. It’s still early,” you chided, although gently, with a kiss to his head.

Turning around, you opened the door with an easy smile before fully processing what was in front of you — not Mrs. Dolloway as you had expected and were halfway through a greeting, but the man from yesterday. Mr. Frye, with a nervous smile, top hat and wool longcoat, as he held a paper bag filled with what seemed to be food, looked away briefly before shrugging apologetically. Charlie came behind you, peeking around your waist to look at the stranger as you stared at him in utter disbelief.

“Good morning is in order, I suppose,” he said in a rush with a sheepish smile that settled oddly upon his face.

“I… Mr. Frye, what in God’s—“

“Please,” he said quietly and adjusted the bag in his grip and the sheer absurdity of it all had you at a loss of words, “I’d rather if you call me Jacob.”

“Mis— Jacob,” you tested the word, trying not to think of how out of place the man felt in that corridor with that hat and how equally out of place the name sounded in your mouth as he shifted nervously in front of you, “what… can I help you?”

Jacob blinked slowly at you. “I… brought you food.”

Charlie frowned at the man, clutching tighter to your body as he eyed him up. “Is he a magician, mummy?”

With a smile and before you could say anything at the absurdity of it all, the man leaned down and whispered as if sharing a dark secret, “maybe I am? Would you like that?”

Your son coiled, scowling before pressing his face to your clothing, to which Jacob only chuckled and you frowned deeply because this still wasn’t throwing any light onto the situation. “My apologies… Jacob. But you still haven’t explained why you’re here and why…,” you gestured vaguely to the bag he was holding.

Jacob laughed half-heartedly at your bewilderment. “You wouldn’t take my money,” he explained as if it were obvious, “well, at least not all of it.”

“That’s because—“

“I understand,” he cut in and you could see the gentleness in his hazel eyes. “But it just didn’t feel… fair. It didn’t feel enough, is what I mean,” the man shuffled, still nervous and his voice softened. “… I only had my dad when I was a kid, you know?,” Jacob frowned briefly and a cloud covered his expression briefly, “and I only met him at six. If I can make this any easier on you and if you’d allow me, I just…,” he trailed off and looked up at you once more.

With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your son’s arm and stepped away from the entrance to allow him in. You didn’t like this — but there was something in his voice, the way he spoke and kept to himself… it was more than you had seen in most men. Or perhaps less of what you were used to.

Jacob nodded quickly in thanks and headed towards the table to put the groceries on as you closed the door. Charlie scurried away, curiosity getting the best of him as he investigated what was it that the newcomer had brought. “Mummy! Look! Ham!”

“That’s…,” expensive, you thought to yourself, “yes, I see.”

“I wasn’t sure of what you liked,” he explained as you settled on the other side of the wooden table, “so… yeah. There are… apples, bread, ham,” he said with a tap on Charlie’s head to which he looked vaguely annoyed of, “a few eggs, tea, a piece of cheese, some tomatoes… Now, I tried to find milk, but—“

“Mr. Frye,” you interrupted him as the food kept pouring out and you could tell, somehow, that he was somewhere halfway through. Jacob stopped and looked at you wide eyed; inquisitive, yet politely waiting for you to continue. You shoot Charlie a quick glance as he seemed to be too distracted by all the kinds of goods he never had a proper chance to take a closer look at — and at that, your heart skipped a beat. Sighing, you turned towards the man standing in front of you and offered slowly, “it is... very nice of you, sir, I truly don’t know what to say—“

“Oh, please,” he dismissed you briefly, a nervous edge to his voice you didn’t remember listening to from last night. “Jacob is completely fine. I like it better, if you don’t mind? It makes me feel old whenever you call me sir.”

A part of you were thankful for the way he held himself — politely holding his hand to show he wanted to speak before starting, the slight nod of his head, how he kept his hands close to his body and on top of that the sheepish smile on his lips. But another part, one more callous and untrusting, whispered that he was trying to gain an edge on, that he would ask for something in return, if not now, in the future, and screamed at you to make that man leave your home.

“I… Yes, Jacob,” you acquiesced and his smile broadened a little at it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jacob commented while taking his top hat off and folded it to put it away inside the pocket of his coat, voice tinged with light-hearted humor — and something told you that this was how his voice sounded most of the time, “but I swear to you. I’m here with the best of my intentions.”

Biting your lower lip, you crossed your arms and watched Charlie as he picked up a ruby red apple — and by God, it was fresh — and examined it with childish wonder. The boy looked up at you, then at the man and back at you. “Mummy,” he called, almost too low to be a whisper, hurrying to your side with a bashful expression, “can I have it?”

“I think you have to ask Jacob, sweetheart,” you proposed and the boy frowned, turning to look at the stranger and back at you.

“But I’m asking you,” the boy answered with a tiny voice, trying to avoid the other’s look.

“Of course you can,” Jacob called in, voice laced with softness, drawing everyone’s attention to himself, “because it’s yours.” Charlie eyed him suspiciously, glancing at you and at the food scattered across the table. “Do you want me to cut the apple for you?”

“No,” your son replied way too quickly, hurrying to clutch at your skirt with a somewhat sour expression, “I want mummy,” he pushed the fruit into your hand insistently, rounding your waist and trying to get as far away from Jacob as he could.

Your eyes widened just as quickly as your cheeks heated at your boy’s demeanor towards your benefactor and you cried out in embarrassment, “Charlie, son, this wasn’t polite!”

“It’s fine,” Jacob intervened, “I sure gave my father enough embarrassment for a lifetime when I was a kid myself, very unlike my sister,” he offered a smile to you and sounded slightly uncomfortable. “I was what you could consider a ‘problem child’.”

You smiled softly at his confession, prying away Charlie’s hands from your dress as you pulled an old dulled knife from the drawer and opened the top cabinet to find a plate for his snack — you didn’t know he was hungry and would have to tell him to let you know the next time — before answering, “I apologize anyway, Mis— Jacob. He’s a very sweet child, just a tad bit shy, unpredictable like any other, but I’ve never seen him be rude before,” you finished slicing the fruit and took it to the armchair where Charlie had found refuge, next to the rusty stove where you did the cooking and acted as some sort of heater for the small flat. “You should apologize, sweetheart,” Charlie pouted at your words, taking the clay plate from your hands and mumbling something about not having been mean.

Jacob chuckled, looking a bit off place as he shuffled a bit and scratched the bridge of his nose, “quite spirited too, from what I can see?” You huffed a laugh as Charlie scowled at his general direction.

He seemed nice enough, you thought to yourself. Hadn’t made any unfortunate comments on your situation and seemed to understand your position as he shared bits and pieces from his own life when young and you were— well, you were curious. And thankful, even if still with your own reservations, you still hadn’t forgotten how quickly he had pushed a man at least a head taller than himself against the wall that easily.

“I assume that’s how your father usually described you?”

“Oh, no,” he smirked at you, “father was way less subtle. He usually referred to me as ‘lost cause’, sometimes ‘problematic’. But I never minded it much,” Jacob was quick to add, “sometimes would even go out of my way to live up to it, just to hear him yell ‘Jacob, come here this instant!’,” his voice was cut by a short laugh, “ah, those were the days.”

Feeling more at ease with his openness, you offered meekly: “would you like staying for a cuppa? It’s the very least I can do to thank you for this. You really did go out of your way for it, I’d be most grateful if you joined us,” behind you, Charlie sighed audibly and mumbled something about the park and you had to fight the urge not to turn around and chide him for it.

Jacob watched you for half a heartbeat before breaking a smile. “Yes, I… I’d very much like to,” he fumbled for a second, somewhat embarrassed at your invitation, “thank you.”

Nodding, you put the water to heat and set the unmatched mugs on the counter — as much as you hated to admit it, you did miss the china mother had; the fine white porcelain, a disarray of colorful roses painted to it and rimmed with a golden line. It was meant to be yours, she had told you one day, but you had a hint that it wouldn’t come to be.

“Were you going anywhere?,” Jacob asked casually, shedding his coat and hanging it on the back of the chair, “you both seemed to be headed somewhere, if you don’t mind my prodding.”

Charlie mumbled some gibberish at the back about “a good day ruined” and you sighed before answering, “yes, we were planning to go to the Church for the morning after mending Charlie’s shirt,” you explained while putting the kettle on the stove, “but if I’m being honest, I’m perfectly fine with it. Didn’t fancy going to the Church today that much, you understand?” At your side, Charlie exclaimed in delight, putting the plate aside — dangerously inclined on one side of the armchair — and leaning over to grasp at your arm.

“That means we’re going to the park?”

You smiled and smoothed your son’s unruly hair and saving the dish from its predicament, “yes, but we have a visit for now. We can go afterwards, okay?”

In a second, Charlie’s face turned sour and he eyed Jacob rather begrudgingly before leaning in and whispering, “can’t you ask him to leave, mummy?”

Sighing, you turned around, “Mummy would appreciate if you were to be nice for now, you know?”

“But I—“

“Maybe that’ll make the visit leave quicker, I wonder?,” you interrupted, not paying any mind to his antics for now and he seemed pleased at the idea. “What do you say you fetch me my sewing kit? This way I can fix your shirt too, how does that sound?”

Your boy nodded briefly, hopping off of the armchair and making his way to the bedroom as you turned around to pay attention to Jacob.

“Children, right?,” he said with a rather pensive edge to his voice.

You reached for the clay teapot on the table, settling it over the counter and pulling the brass infuser from the drawer, proceeding to put a few pinches of tea mix into it, “too honest for their own good,” is what mother used to say, but you hesitated on sharing that bit of information. He had no need to know. “You have kids of your own?”

Jacob huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, “good heavens, no. My life wouldn’t allow for it, way too chaotic as it is for now; I’d rather settle down when I’m… not as tangled up.”

Nodding, you tried to figure out what the man did for a living. “Work, then?”

He smiled, cocking his head to the side, “I suppose, yes.” He watched you for a second before smiling, “work.”

You fiddled with the polished clay teapot, turning on your back with a pleasant smile and splashing some water into it from a bowl you kept near the sink. The answer wasn’t exactly clarifying and you didn’t know how the keep the conversation flowing. Charlie came back from the bedroom, eyeing Jacob suspiciously as if the man would suddenly turn into a monster right there in the living room/kitchen.

“Thank you, my dear,” you kissed his head and took the metal box from his tiny hands. “Do you want to eat anything else?”

Charlie bit his lip nervously as he eyed Jacob, “chocolate?,” he whispered hopefully.

“I—,” you shoot the man a look and he seemed ashamed of himself, shaking his head slowly. “Maybe later, mhm? Behave and we’ll see.”

The boy nodded eagerly and headed towards the bedroom where most of his toys were kept — mostly stitched together dolls and some old wooden carts —, and your throat knotted tightly. You hated to lie to him. Maybe you could spare some coin, but—

Jacob sighed, slightly frustrated at the exchange. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry about that, dear. Maybe next time—“

“It’s alright,” you pressed your lips together, trying not to think about how you’d have to postpone the new pair of mittens you wanted to buy; mother’s were ruined already. “You shan’t worry about us, I’m truly thankful, really am, but—“

“I want you to know I did this because I wanted to,” you turned around and held his gaze, eyes as serious as his voice, “not because I expected gratitude or a medal. I’m not that kind of person, you know?”

Feeling suddenly nervous and slightly bothered, you fidgeted with the uneven surface of the teapot. You didn’t need his help. You could manage. “Yes, I… I understand.”

“I wish to keep helping, if you’d have it,” he continued, already raising his hands and coming to a halt in his speech as your head whipped at his direction, “but I’m guessing you won’t.”

The audacity. You huffed, settling the teapot on the table and making your way to the oven rather exasperatedly, “with all due respect, I don’t know what you expect of me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m most thankful, but you’re…”

“A man,” Jacob offered.

So he wasn’t oblivious. Good. “Yes. And one I haven’t seen before, save from… an unfortunate event,” you saw Charlie lying on the bed, belly up, with one of his favorite playthings in hand as you took the kettle and poured the steaming water inside the teapot, dipping the copper infuser in and stirring lightly. “And I’d very much appreciate it if you could understand, Jacob, that I can make a living and take care of my child on my own, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

Jacob frowned, voice a bit more on the edge than before, “I did not say such thing—“

“You implied, which was enough,” you cut in, picking up Charlie’s folded tunic and settling the teapot on the table. “We’ve been well enough up to now,” you completed, pulling the spool of thread and fixing it through the needle hole.

“I have no doubts nor critiques about how good of a mother you are,” Jacob spoke slowly, fiddling with one of the mugs as you both waited for the tea to brew. “I can see that you do your best, any way you can; and that’s a great accomplishment, really is—“

“But?,” you cut in, eyes whipping up and towards his own hazel ones.

“But nothing,” the man smiled crookedly, “like I said before, I mean well and my only wish is to help, however I can.”

Soon, your teeth found your lower lip, gnawing on it impatiently. He did seem caring and honest, but you weren’t born yesterday; or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You fidgeted with the needle, unfolding the shirt, fingers following the almost imperceptible patched clothing. When you looked up, you saw that Jacob had been watching you.

“Just hear me out,” he spoke calmly, as if explaining something to a stubborn child. “I require nothing, only that you accept my help.”

“Jacob—,”

“I know there is a chance,” the man cut in, leaning over the table with a playful smile, “or else you wouldn’t have invited me for tea.” He gazed at you, eyes bright and defiant.

You frowned at his words, readying the needle upon the clothing and hesitating for a moment. Deep down, there was some kind of truth in his words, even if you wouldn’t admit such thing out loud. Drawing breath to deny once more because, absolutely no, this was too much and you couldn’t possibly expect anything more from a man you’ve only saw twice and properly talked to once; even if the little something in his face — something in his eyes — whispered that it would be okay, that as hard earned as trust was, you could place yours upon him; that betrayal and demands and humiliation wouldn’t become a part of the bargain.

Sighing, you picked up the teapot and poured the drink into the ugly mugs before settling back in place, thumb rubbing over the top of the teapot. It wasn’t fair. It was wrong.

“Charlie hasn’t been eating much lately,” you confessed quietly, avoiding the hazel of his eyes and twisting your lips resentfully. “With winter approaching, work just… gets harder. It’s too far and daylight doesn’t last as much as I’d like, but I make enough to keep a roof over our heads,” you stopped, pulling the mug into your hands and allowing it to warm you up. “It has to be, either way.”

Jacob didn’t seem all that satisfied, taking a quick sip of the tea and setting it back on the table as he ran a thumb idly over the metal handle. “Do you seriously need only food? I can give you money too.”

You frowned at his words. “You can’t expect to buy me, Jacob.”

“I’m not trying to,” he quipped back, smirking slightly.

You stared him down across the table, a stark contrast between your beaten up flat and his too-new woolen coat with the top hat in the pocket. All too akin to a fantastic beast in a world ruled by men, you thought to yourself. “What do you have in mind, then?,” you asked, swallowing the building anxiety in your chest.

Silence settled in for a heartbeat or two before Jacob cocked his head to one side as if in deep thought. “Let’s make it like this,” he started, clearly pleased with your question, “I can bring you food around once a week,” he raised a hand to stop your protests, “and I’m compromising myself with, say… a pound each week?”

Bewilderment took over and you couldn’t help but protest, because with that kind of money you’d be able to move to a better off neighborhood, “you cannot be serious!”

Jacob clasped his hands together over the table, like a proper businessman negotiating a deal — only he was bargaining for paying more instead of less — and smiled. “Cross my heart.”

Hearing the commotion, Charlie came out of the bedroom; horse toy clutched in his hand as he looked at both adults sitting by the table. You drank a small amount of tea, barely tasting the enriched flavor — a quality tea, not the already boiled dried-leaves you were used to buy in market —, as the boy approached you with no reason in particular; eyes switching nervously between Jacob and yourself every now and then.

“Let us shake hands on this,” Jacob prompted.

“Half of it,” you spoke sternly.

“Wha—“

“Half a pound, no more than that,” you repeated, looking down and threading the needle through the shirt as you closed the gap expertly, “It’s as far as I’ll go on taking other people’s money.”

Jacob held his gaze for a long a while, watching you with something akin to amusement in his eyes. “Make it 15 shillings, then,” and he held one hand up, index and middle finger in the air, “and take two days off work. I’d be happy to see you around the tiny man a little more.”

You eyed Charlie quickly, watching as he circled around the table, as if appeasing the man in front of him; and before you could speak up and say that staring wasn’t polite, he piped in:

“Are you really a magician?,” your son asked, still much too suspicious around the intruder ruining his Sunday morning.

Jacob looked at you, smiling as he turned around on the chair to look back at the boy, “so you’ve come to see the greatest magician in all of London?,” he asked, leaning forwards in a flourished motion and Charlie looked at you with uncertainty as you shoot your eyebrows up, making a show of being excited for him. “Tell me your name and Jacob, the great, shall perform a trick for you!”

The boy blushed slightly, a tad bit too flustered with the attention and still not used to him, but managed to mutter out, “Charlie.”

“Charlie!,” he gasped, looking over at you with a smirk, “my, my! That name!”

“What about it?,” your son asked promptly, coming closer with childish curiosity.

Jacob squinted playfully, looking around as if searching for imaginary dangers before leaning down and whispering, “do you really want to know?”

“Yes!,” Charlie shrieked, still not daring to touch him, but much closer now. “Tell me!”

“I had a feeling earlier this morning,” he confided, “that I’d meet someone named Charlie and they’d help me find something I lost.”

The boy turned towards you again, a look of bewilderment in his eyes as this new stranger proved to be way more interesting than before. “Really? What was it? Who told you?”

Jacob cocked his head to the side, closing one of his eyes. “That’s a magician’s secret,” he spoke much too seriously than the situation demanded, starting to pat his pockets as if in search for something before looking at your son once more. “What have you got there behind that ear?”

Charlie’s eyes widened and he scratched a little hand behind one of his ears at Jacob’s words, finding nothing, but then the man leaned closer and pulled a shilling from behind the other one and flipped it around.

“Wow!,” the boy gasped, grasping at the coin he was offered, the horse you had stitched together still clutched in his arms. “How did you do that?!,” he inquired quickly, double checking his ears and even the messy mop of hair for another missing coin.

You giggled at how easily Jacob had swayed your son’s temper with just a few words and a silly trick. “Oh, but with magic, of course!,” he exclaimed with the utmost surety. “I knew that name was special, and there you are, sprouting my lost coin from behind your ear!”

Charlie gawked at him, looking at you again with the most adorable childish smile you had ever seen, “that’s amazing!,” he shrieked, thrusting the coin at Jacob. “Another one!”

Jacob smiled, shaking his head, “how about you keep that copper and buy a piece of chocolate on your way to the park?”

The boy hesitated, watching him with suspicion and shifting closer to you; although his eyes betrayed how much he was willing to jump at the opportunity headfirst. He grimaced a bit, turning his face to press it on your side in frustration and Jacob smiled fondly, rolling the coin between his fingers.

You patted his back, trying not to giggle in face of his flustered retreat. “It’s okay,” you whispered, “you can say yes this time.”

Charlie’s head whipped up, brown eyes staring at you in disbelief, “really?”

“Really,” you reassured, “but only because mummy knows Jacob, okay?”

The boy nodded eagerly, gaze resting on the smooth movements of your benefactor’s fingers as he slid the shilling between them in an easy, well practiced manner. Noticing that he was the source of attention once more, Jacob offered the coin to Charlie again; only this time he took it with a tiny “thank you,” before getting himself flustered again and shifting towards you once more.

“He’s a bit shy,” you told Jacob once more, sipping at the almost lukewarm tea and doing your best to ignore how the man seemed so willing to give money away. Once more, you wondered what his job was. “He warms up after some time, like all children.”

Jacob watched him for a while with a soft smile before looking back at you, “I’m just glad he stopped scowling at me, felt like I was gonna be kicked out of the flat at any minute.”

You stifled a small giggle, watching as he drank a bit more of his tea. “Care for more?,” you asked, ready to get up and serve him; but Jacob shook his head instead, leaning over and serving himself before offering to do the same for you. Caught off guard, you simply nodded, poorly concealing your surprised frown as he filled up your mug.

This wasn’t what mother had taught you. Most gentlemen, especially at the first time interacting properly, wouldn’t budge to serve themselves or their host. Seeing the consternation upon your face, Jacob simply chuckled and leaned back on his chair as Charlie moved to the armchair; toy in hand.

“I’m not as fancy as you might think I am,” Jacob confessed with an amused lilt in his voice. “Never cared much for etiquette, think it’s terribly boring. My sister always did most of the talking, either way.”

“You said she moved to India?,” you inquired, goading him on, hoping you weren’t being as obvious as you felt asking about the man.

“Ah, yes,” he nodded, looking down into the amber liquid inside his cup. “She did. Got married and moved, far away,” scoffing, he took another sip. “I couldn’t believe it when she told me. Felt like I was being left behind, barely looked her in the eyes when the train departed.” His eyes shifted to the side and he sighed, “she hugged me either way. Sometimes I regret not having done so, but thankfully she has always been the smarter one. Good thing Greenie snatched her up before it was too late.”

You smiled sympathetically, thumb smoothing the unruly surface of the polished clay of your mug. “I’m truly sorry things turned out like this,” you offered quietly before asking again, “are you two on speaking terms?”

Jacob gave a lopsided smile, gazing at you with a look that you couldn’t pinpoint. “After a dozen unanswered letters from my dear sister, I cast the pride aside and came around it. Pity they take a dreadfully long time to make their way to her,” he sighed once more, looking terribly tired for a moment. “But I always knew we’d end up finding our own ways eventually, just didn’t expect Evie would stumble upon hers so soon.”

Feeling a painful squeeze upon your heart, you broke courtesy once more and leaned over to take a hold of his shoulder; squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m sure she is glad you’ve come to write letters for her. The way you spoke made it sound like you two are very close and I’m sure Mr. Greenie—“

Jacob burst out a loud laugh, stifling it against the back of his hand and you felt at loss. Had you said something wrong? “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not…,” he coughed, face growing red in his effort to hold back the laughter, “his name is Henry Green, actually,” Jacob explained, voice lilted with amusement, “Greenie is a nickname I came up with. Evie tells me I tend to do that a lot. Sorry for not letting you know beforehand.”

That man.

You huffed in disbelief, taking another sip of your drink. Jacob seemed easy enough to get around, perhaps a bit too trusting; like an open book, you thought to yourself, but kind. “My mother used to do the same,” you confided, “I learnt most of my singing from her, too. She came from a relatively well-to-do family, but married my dad against their wishes and was taken off the will.”

“They did not!,” Jacob exclaimed.

“Believe me, they did,” you giggled at his bewilderment, “I never got to meet my mother’s parents. Society might’ve started thinking less of them for commuting with the strays,” your voice showed off indifference, even if you still felt bitter over what your mother wouldn’t allow herself feel. “But mother did her best. She taught me most of what she had learned in whatever spare time we had. She worked in a cloth factory. I started there with her around 10, I think.”

“What of your father?,” he asked.

“Father worked at a construction site,” you explained, “he usually slept there on workdays and would come home on Sundays for church and to spend some time with us,” you reminisced in your childhood memories. Blue dress and black shoes, your Sunday best, waiting beside door for the knowing knock you had long since learned was your father’s. Mother’s food after the preaching, walking around the park and throwing pieces of bread in the lake for the fishes and ducks; going to sleep with each of them beside you in bed. “It was nice,” you muttered more to yourself.

Yes, it was nice, until one day he didn’t show up.

Jacob stayed silent for a second, watching you before asking: “where is your family?”

“Mummyyyyyy…,” Charlie cut in, leaning dangerously from the edge of the ruined padding of the armchair. You offered an apologetic smile, abandoning the tunic and needle over the table as you made your way towards the boy; and he stretched out a hand to you. “Can we go?,” he pleaded, pouting a bit. “I wanna have chocolate and see the ducks.”

It had been enough, you supposed. No child was good at waiting, even if Charlie was overly patient at times, much to your surprise; and you were somewhat thankful for not having to answer the man’s last question.

When you turned around to offer an apology, Jacob was already on his feet, pushing the insides of his top hat up. “I should get on my way,” he offered simply, fixing the hat on his head. “I already took enough of your time.”

“Are we going now?,” Charlie asked excitedly, hopping beside you.

You smiled politely, rubbing your son’s shoulder and pulling him closer to your hip. “Thank you for the help, Jacob.” He looked at you and you couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to figure you out. “It really means a lot.”

The man shrugged, as if embarrassed, and buttoned the coat. “It’s nothing,” he dismissed, jumping at the opportunity to change the subject. “I can accompany you both to the bus, if you’d like.”

Before you could answer that no, it wasn’t necessary, you could manage—

“Will you do magic on the way?,” Charlie inquired, looking at the man suspiciously.

Jacob huffed a laugh, lolling his head from one side to another. “I can think of something.”

The boy looked up at you, eyes big and pleading, and you sighed. At least his spirits were kept at bay. “There is no harm to it, I suppose.”

He smiled, then. “Shall we, then?”

The three of you left the flat with sunlight barely peeking from behind the heavy clouds that accompanied most of England’s autumn alongside the harsh wind. Jacob performed silly coin tricks you had tried to learn a million times, played word games and the such; successfully keeping your son’s attention long enough for you to think.

You felt nervous, for some reason, as if people were staring at you and— they definitely were, you remarked grimly. Men and women, society’s rabble — pickpocketers, thieves, muggers and the alike —, casting their eyes downwards; some defiantly staring you down or at Jacob, faces bitter with hatred.

And, funnily enough, none made a move — even if, by rough standards, the man accompanying you was dressed as if on his way to catch the Opera or whatever it was the rich did for entertainment. It only made you wonder even more what the hell it was that he did for a living. Your mind itched curiously, but you chose not to think about it for the time being.

When you got back home at the end of the day, there were 15 shillings neatly piled together at the top of your kitchen table.