#last time he got five minutes of silence one boy ended up in the cooler one in the hospital n one on the roof

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

firm believer in darry who is constantly begging the boys for peace n quiet but is INSTANTLY paranoid the second he gets it

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [3] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) i keep forgeting to add that this isnt beta-rread..all of my stories arent so yeah shshs Notes: ah, i feel like this story will be lengthen more than 8-10 chapters shshshs i wanted to add a little spice anyways thanks for all the comments uwu ily all!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

“Y/N-chan!!!”

You cringe in embarrassment as soon as you hear that awfully familiar and cheerful voice, you could barely remember this man and the events that transpired the night before but here he was, acting like your new best friend. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go here but you needed clarity. Surely you didn’t just legally marry a man at an Izakaya out of all places last night?

“Oh, you actually did marry him.” Gojo Satoru proclaims as soon as you take a seat across him, he gestures around his face, “I could tell by your whole, ‘I hope this guy is messing with me’ face. You have it, signed and sealed. Even got the cute matchy rings that I had one of my assistants delivered.”

You pale at the thought of his assistant coming in with a silver ring. Wasn’t he sober? How could he not have stopped you two from doing something as reckless and stupid as this? Weren’t older men supposed to be more responsible than this?

“Why the hell didn’t you stop us?” You groaned, burying your face in your hands, embarrassment painted all over your features.

“I was just as drunk as you two.” He confessed, scratching his head, “probably even more drunk but anyways back to the topic in hand, I only remembered it when the same assistant came in and congratulated me about it. It’s good I had your number on my phone before you two bailed.”

“So you don’t really remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Gojo grinned, this guy was a maniac, how did the serious man you met just this morning have friends like this? You probably wouldn’t even last long, “I did call Nanami-”

He’s cut off by the rough sound of someone pulling a chair out, you immediately jump on your seat when you realize it’s Nanami Kento, the guy from this morning. The man you had recklessly married!

“This better be some prank you’re pulling, Satoru.” His voice was anything but kind that you almost wanted to hide behind Gojo’s back.

“Hey, hey.” Gojo raises his hands, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t force you into anything and stop scaring your poor little partner.”

Nanami snaps his gaze towards you and you notice how his eyes soften just a bit when he sees your red ears and your eyes looking away from him, “You better call Geto and fucking fix this, I refuse to bother this young-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, still shy and red, “It’s...fine...I just…Please don’t think I’m burdened by it. It was technically my fault for even agreeing immediately.”

Nanami clenches his jaw and turns away, “Nevertheless. L/N-san’s young. I hope to not be such an uncouth man like you.” he retorts, voice sharp as he eyes the white-haired businessman up and down. Gojo, seemingly used to it, rolls his eyes behind his dark shades.

“Maybe you guys should try it out.”

The blonde man looks like he’s about to smite the white-haired man out of existence yet Satoru remains oblivious to his friend’s gaze, “Don’t ya think so? It will take a while for those divorce papers to settle in so why don’t you two go out and get to know each other? Who knows…” he sing-songs the last part and Nanami is so close to chunking his briefcase towards the tall businessman, not even caring 

“Ah, he’s not exactly wrong, Nanami-san.” you try to calm him down, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually listening to this idiot’s idea.” Nanami replied, gaze narrowing.

“Not really but you have some problems I can help you out on and I have problems that you can help me out on...Of course, the last say is on you...”

“Told you I actually had a brain.” Satoru piped in.

“Shut up, Satoru.” he quips, then turns to you, “I’m thirteen years older than you, L/N-san. I have two high school kids that could pass off as your siblings, and-”

“Well, I technically did marry you.”

“You were drunk.”

“Doesn’t exactly really excuse it.” You laugh nervously, “The whole divorce process usually lasts up to a few months, some even takes a whole year. I could help you out with the boys and I can use you to ward my family off from moving back home.”

Nanami is quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it. Weighing the pros and the cons, not only would you be able to help him out but you’d also be able to get Gojo and blind-dating out of his back.

There really wasn’t anything he could loose, really.

“Or you two might fall in love.” Satoru teases, making Nanami throw him another side-eye, as if saying ‘I dare you to say another word.’

It’s a Thursday today and Sukuna absolutely loathed Thursdays     apparently because it reminded him of Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. They all were far from the weekend     Everyone seems to be happier than usual though. Maybe it was because you were there teaching some basic shit at the board or something.

“...and if we transfer this here and change the positive to a negative, you’ll end up having five as your answer.” You smile, placing your chalk down, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Echoes of no’s resonated throughout the room.

“Alright then, let’s end the lesson here so you guys can have an early lunch. I don’t think an assignment is in order since many of you were able to get a perfect score in the activity awhile ago.” You winked. A couple of whoops resonated throughout the whole class right after. 

As the kids shuffle out of the room of the class, Sukuna remains behind. The ojisan had cooked them something delicious this morning and he wanted to eat it in peace without that pesky Nobara grabbing a share from his bento and Yuuji’s annoying babbles about horror movies with his best friend Junpei (the only one who was really bearable was Megumi, really)

“Sukuna-kun?” you called out, snapping him out of his small trance,  “Are you alright?”

He notices a glint of worry in your eyes, he had to admit since his transfer here last Monday, you were the least annoying teacher in the academy     the blue-haired professor in Japanese literature was absolute shit since he loved to tease him a lot and that bald-headed teacher in science who looked a lot like Mike Wazowski was an annoying twerp who loved dawdling in him and Yuuji’s business     and you were kind of good at your job. Not only did his idiot of a brother stop coming to him and their ojisan for help in math but he could actually do the worksheets right and get an actual decent grade at it.

“Yeah.” he roughly replies.

“That’s good.” You smiled, he watched as you bind their worksheets together and clip them in utmost delicacy, “You should head to the cafeteria now, I heard they’re serving milk bread today.”

Without saying anything more, you left the room, leaving him there in the silence.

Well, the Christmas tree idiot was right.

You kind of had a motherly aura on you and it didn’t even look forced.

No wonder, everyone in this room was whipped for you despite your subject being a pain in the ass.

“You look like an idiot.” You mumbled as you slapped Mahito’s hand away in annoyance, your workmate wiggling his eyebrows like the little shit he is.

You completely forgot you did have someone like Gojo Satoru in your life and it was one of your co-workers, Mahito, a Japanese literature teacher who was too nosy for his own good.

“You’ve got a ring on your ring finger and a mailman comes in and gives you an invite for Zen’in Toji’s fortieth birthday.” he whistles, “Even Jogo-sensei gossiped by the water cooler awhile ago, saying that you had eloped with the man. Not that I’m judging you or anything...”

You choke on your saliva, clearly thrown off by the backhanded comment. That darn bald-headed fool that looked like the green eyed monster from the DreamWorks cartoon, he sure needed to lay off the gossip and actually focus on his job as the head of the science department, “You’re not denying it.” Mahito stated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “Why aren’t you denying it?”

“I’m not dating Megumi-kun’s father.” You grumbled, finishing up your paperwork, “That man is off limits.”

“Right,” he drawls on sarcastically, “...because you have a strict rule against dating hot older men with money.”

“I also teach his kids and his cousin…” You deadpan.

“We don’t even have a rule against that.” He retorts, rolling his eyes, “If we did, Hanami-sensei would’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re so secretive. If it isn’t Toji Zen’in, who’d ask you out?”

“Hey, I do have a man.” You huffed, “and he’s very kind and considerate...”

The image of the tall and lean man sleeping next to you slowly wormed its way back from your memory and you feel your cheeks start to flush. Good god, what were you? twelve? How embarrassing.

You needed to get that image off of your head, it wasn’t right.

It was all temporary, anyways and he doesn’t even see you in that sort of way-

“Yes, I’m Sukuna and Yuuji Itadori’s guardian…” a very familiar stoic voice could be heard from the nearby table, cutting your thoughts short. Wait, were you so head over heels for the man that you started imagining him here? Yuuji and Sukuna’s guardian? Wait a minute.

All color drained from your face as you snap your head behind you to find the same man you were imagining.

Oh no.

Oh no, indeed.

There stood Nanami Kento in all his glory;  crisp suit, stoic face, and eyes laced with mild worry.

“...L/N-sensei is Sukuna-kun’s adviser, by the way. It would be best to discuss this with them.” Akari somberly informed the man, turning to your direction. You don’t miss the shift of expressions when he sees you standing there.

Your mouth parts and you know you look like gawking fish trapped in a small aquarium.

“Akari-sensei’s looking at you with the new hot daddy.” Mahito mumbles next to you, eyeing him up and down, “Definitely wonder where all these old men come from these days.”

You were only half-listening to your co-worker because your head was all over the place, just what were the odds that he was the guardian of the new transferee’s? Just how awkward would everything be? Why did it even have to be at this school out of all places?

Never ending questions pop out of your head as you approached them, “Good afternoon, Nanami-san.” Your smile comes out very stiff and awkward while you hold your hand out for him to shake, clearly there was no memo on how you were suppose to act around your sort-of-fake-husband-whos-kids-you-actually-taught.

Nanami reverts back to his stoic expression as he clears his throat, “Yes, good afternoon to you too, L/N-sensei.” he greets, maintaining a straight-laced tone.

“Akari-sensei says that Sukuna has been quite...rude...in class…” you try to rack your brains up to describe his kid.

“Your son literally pointed out that the history lesson I was teaching was fake and that I should study again so he could get his tuition’s worth.” Akari looks clearly perplexed and ready to throttle the boy if it was legal. You had to admit, Sukuna went overboard with that insult.

You knew how passionate Nitta was about her job and what Sukuna just said to her was like a big ‘fuck you, you suck.’ to her.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him about this,” he sighs, bowing down, “I’d like to ask for forgiveness for that, the boy is a good and smart student-”

“Nanami-san, the school not only cares about grades but character as well.” Akari Nitta sighed, cutting him off, “I’ll let this slide once, if he does that again, it goes on the record.”

You internally bit your cheek, still trying to process everything that was going on.

“I understand. Thank you for that.”

“I’ll walk him out, sensei.” You immediately say soon after, wanting to have some alone time with him, “Let’s go, Nanami-san.”

You walk right next to him silently, some students peerlessly glancing at the tall blonde next to you but you were too immersed in thought to notice the stares, “Nanami-san?” you ask softly as soon as you reach the exit.

Nanami Kento looks at you, his eyes still laced with a bit of worry, “It’s okay.” you silently comforted him, “Just talk to him calmly.”

“That’s not the problem.” he sighed, “I just didn’t expect that the person I married would be the boy’s teacher.”

You sweat drop, “Aren’t you worried about talking to Sukuna? I mean, he literally just disrespected a teacher and you said that he and you weren’t in good-”

“It’s easier to talk to him about that rather than…” he paused, showing his ring, “this.”

You blinked.

Seemed like Nanami knew what to say about the little attitude problem his son had, “So you must be used to this?” you asked, “Him disrespecting the teacher?”

You notice the shift of expressions on his face, you had only known this man for a few days so far but he was starting to get easier to read. His eyes shed more emotion than his face, no wonder he likes wearing those funny sunglasses a lot.

“It’s something I’ve scolded him over a couple of times,” he gruffed, trying to dance around the subject, it seemed like he had such a soft spot to the point where he had a problem with disciplining them, “At times I believe it’s just because he’s way too smart for his age. The boy has read history books for fun when he was a kid and solved quadratic equations to prove that he’s better than me when he was ten.”

“It still doesn’t give him the free pass to say things like that to a teacher”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “I’ll be sure to give him a better scolding-”

“No, you see. This is why he thinks he can get away with it. He isn’t afraid of you. You’ll only probably tell him that you can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms, “You do know that not all sensei’s are as nice as Akari-sensei and he could get in trouble for that even more in the future, right?”

Silence lingered between you two for a moment and suddenly you realize that you must’ve said something way off the rails.

“I..” you turn red, embarrassed by the sudden outburst, “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

You look at him directly in the eye, the worry-filled ones are now replaced with a softer gaze. God, he really needed to stop looking at you like a kid. It would only make this set-up more awkward!

“No,” he mumbles, “It...It wasn't too much…”

“Oh.” you cleared your throat, flustered and looking away from his face, “Well, okay then goodbye then Nanami-sa-”

You needed to get out of this conversation quick.

“Kento.”

Your gaze snaps directly towards him, clearly taken aback by the correction.

“What?”

“We’re technically married now, right?” he softly corrected, “Call me Kento.”

“Oh,” You uttered again, this time softly. You looked down on your shoes, it seemed like the floor looked really interesting now, “Then bye-bye, Kento.”

“Bye Y/N.”

He leaves you standing there, cursing yourself because of your erratic heartbeat at the way he says your name in that voice. First name basis? okay, totally normal for sort-of lovers, right?

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[freddie-weaselbee]

Capture the Flag//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: Language, Cedric hate (but like loving hate)

Summary: The big capture the flag game had commenced, and Fred quickly found himself captured and thrown into the other team’s slammer. Little does he know he has a cellmate who’s willing to do whatever it takes to win, even if that means teaming up with a Gryffindor. 

Prompts: Detention/Being Detained with dialogue prompts “oh well fuck me then,” and “half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Day 6 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge --au where there’s no voldemort so Cedric’s alive and let’s say Umbridge never existed--

Fred had almost gotten away with it. If it weren’t for that meddling Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory and his band of stupid cronies. 

“You’ll pay for this, you hear me?” he yelled out, but the handful of boys dragging his body across the grounds just snickered and ignored him. 

“Oh shut it, Fred,” said Cedric, walking in front of the group. “You got caught. Rooky mistake. Now, you get to face time.”

Fred groaned, letting his shoes scuff in the dirt in hopes of slowing the boys down, or at least annoying them. It was his own fault he had ended up in this situation. He had gotten too reckless, trying to take on a group of Ravenclaws all by himself. He should’ve known it would’ve been a trap. 

The official student Capture the Flag game was a tradition amongst all Seventh Years that took place the spring right before they graduated. It was completely student-run, mostly because if the teachers found out they would shut it all down, but that did mean that the students could be as creative and brutal as they wanted. Fred, pioneer of horrible pranks and traps that attacked the opposing team, was a prime target for capture. 

The gang of opponents that had captured Fred was slowing now, having reached their destination. In front of him, Fred saw Hagrid’s hut now painted yellow and blue, the house colors of team one. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen, but Fred figured he probaby would be fine with the vandalism of his hut as long as they cleaned it up once they were done, and with magic that would be fairly easy. 

“Into the slammer,” one Hufflepuff boy snickered, opening the door and throwing Fred in. “We have one guard watching the hut. Any attempted escapes in which you’re caught result in a one hour penalty from the game, but if you manage to escape without notice--”

“I know the rules,” Fred muttered. “My older brother bloody made them 10 years ago.”

Cedric, who had been standing outside the door, smiled wryly. “See you soon, Weasley. I’ll make sure you’re the first to see us carrying your flag back to our home base.”

Fred mouthed along to what Cedric was saying with a mocking expression plastered to his face. “This isn’t over yet Diggory!”

The other boy just snickered before slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside. Fred raced to one of the windows which had been boarded up for the game. He was able to peak out a hole between two of the boards. Cedric and the other boys were making their way back into the forest, whooping and slapping each other’s backs in celebration. The leader of the group spotted Fred watching them, and before he and his friends disappeared into the trees he cupped his hands over his mouth and called back one more thing. 

“Enjoy some one on one time with the other inmate!”

Fred was confused by what Cedric had just said. Other inmate? What could he possibly…

For the first time, Fred actually looked around the small hut and was surprised to see a girl, clothed in black pants and an emerald green top, headband, and facepaint laying down on the couch, feet thrown over the armrest. “Hello.”

He stepped back for a second, hesitant and fearful. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You gave him an ‘are-you-stupid’ look before sitting up. “Same as you.”

Fred mentally smacked himself for being so dumb. When deciding which houses were on which teams, the four names were thrown into a hat and then two were pulled out at a time. This year, against the wishes of every single person in both houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin were on the same team, which meant Fred was staring at one of his teammates dressed head to toe in your signature house color. 

Still skeptical, as most Gryffindors were of Slytherins, he sidestepped over to a nearby chair, eyes never leaving you. Your face shone with amusement at his obvious fear, and it only made you all the more confident. Godric how he hated that. 

“I’m not gonna bite, Freddie, you can join me on the couch. It’s much more comfortable than Hagrid’s huge chairs.”

Fred’s face tinted red at the nickname. He couldn’t remember the last time you had spoken to him, much less called him Freddie. It made him slightly uneasy, how comfortable and self-assured you were. It always put him on edge. 

Eventually, after a few moments of silence and pondering, Fred decided that joining you on the couch would be fine. You were teammates after all, and what was the worst you could do to him? He sat down, stretching as far away from you as possible. 

You cocked an eyebrow, scooting closer to him as a test. He flinched away. 

“Bloody hell,” you said, moving back to your original position, “you really are afraid of me aren’t you?”

He didn’t say anything. What could he say? You always made him speechless, for reasons he never understood, heart beating faster whenever you were near. He assumed it was out of fear. You were sorted into the evil house after all. 

“My friends all called it too,” you continued, smiling a dazed smile. “They always said that you would get weird around me, something you never did with anyone else. Am I really that terrifying? Afraid I’m gonna bite you in your sleep?” Your eyes shone as you teased him, and he couldn’t decide if it made him want to relax and talk to you or get the hell out of there immediately. 

You leaned your head toward him again, but this time he didn’t move away. You seemed to study him, looking his face and body up and down as if you were taking mental notes of every part of his person.

“For someone so incredibly loud, you don’t seem to talk much when I’m around.”

“I…” He trailed off, words catching in his throat. 

“Well, that’s gonna have to change if we’re gonna get out of here.” You clapped your hands together and stood up, brushing the dirt off your pants and fixing your ponytail. “What’s the plan, prank man?”

He stared at you dumbfounded, even more so than he was before. You reached out your hands to pull him off the couch and he reluctantly took them, brows still furrowed in confusion. “The plan?”

“There we go, I got ya talking!” You cheered loudly, beaming at your teammate. “And yes, the plan. For how we’re gonna, y’know, get out of here and get the flag and beat all these losers.”

Fred’s throat was suddenly dry. A plan? You expected him to have a plan? What kind? He’d been there for no more than 5 minutes and you were already throwing him back into the game. 

“I...uh, I don’t h-have a plan.” 

You crossed your arms, staring down at him and biting your lip. “Really? You, Fred Weasley, don’t have a plan?”

“Why are you talking to me like we’re friends?” Woah. That came out way harsher than he had wanted it to and he regretted it the moment it left his lips, especially seeing you wince at his blow. You covered it up quickly, face becoming darker with determination. 

“We may not be friends, your words, not mine, but we are teammates. And I don’t know about you, but I like to win, and I’ll be damned if I’m stuck just sitting in here for the rest of the game because you don’t want to be partners with the likes of me. Now are you in, or not?”

He hated how quickly your tone had changed, starting as a warm playful banter and now becoming something hard and defensive. For reasons unknown to him, at that moment he would do anything to see that other side of you again, the poised and bold persona you always made sure everyone saw. But it was never a cocky confident, not how he could be sometimes. Rather, it was just assured. You knew what you wanted and what you were worth and you didn’t let anyone give you shit for anything. He envied you for that quality sometimes. The amount of time and energy he’d put into hiding his insecurities, and here you were being more confident than he could ever pretend to be. 

He realized that you were still waiting for a response. Forgetting his nerves and the butterflies in his stomach that were always there whenever you spoke to him, he sat up straighter and mustered all the charm and confidence he usually carried. “You really think I’d let you win and take all the credit for yourself?”

A smile grew back on your face, one that Fred thought he would give anything to preserve. 

“Alright then Freddie--oh, can I call you Freddie?”

He nodded, shyly at first and then more forceful. “Yeah, but I think this would be more fun with codenames.”

Your eyes grew wide at his suggestion and you started jumping up and down, energy rustling inside you just begging to get out. “Yes!” you almost screamed. “Oh perfect, ok, you can be...Eagle 1. Ooo, I like that. And I’ll be…”

“Why the 1 after it?” Fred asked, interrupting your thoughts. 

“Because it sounds cooler,” you replied immediately. You snapped your fingers. “I’ll be Mantis, like a praying mantis. That’s cool. Ok, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Mantis,” he said, holding his hand up for a high five. You had to jump to reach his hand, giggling at the use of the new nickname. 

“Alright, Eagle 1, any observations?”

Fred scanned the room, mind whirling with ideas. His eyes landed on the corner, a brick structure cemented into the wall. “Actually, I think I do have a plan.”

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

“This was a very stupid plan!” 

You had to whisper yell so the guard down below, a Ravenclaw girl, couldn’t hear you. You and Fred were currently on the roof of Hagrid’s hut, holding on for dear life and trying not to make a sound. Somehow, against all known laws of physics and magic alike, you had both climbed up the chimney and had failed to be detected so far. 

“Shh,” Fred said, looking around for a way down without being discovered. 

“What’s the next part of the plan?” you hissed, nearly losing you footing on the steep slant of the rooftop. 

Fred looked down sheepishly, glad it was too dark for you to see his ears grow red in embarrassment. “I didn’t think that far yet.”

His admission almost made you fall off the roof. “Oh, well fuck me then! How are we supposed to get down?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking! Just give me a minute.”

The hut was small, meaning that the girl who was walking circles around the bottom would do a full lap in about 30 seconds, and they would be visible in 15 no matter where they dropped down, if they could even make the drop without breaking a limb. Plus, the noise would no doubt alert her, and no matter how fast they ran she had her wand and would stun them before they got more than 10 metres away. You and Fred had your wands confiscated, which made this whole ordeal much harder, if not impossible. So the ground was out of the running. 

Fred turned his head to the sky, wishing he had his broom so he could soar over everyone. Over everyone… That was it! 

“Come here.” He grabbed your hand, yanking you away from the chimney and to the edge of the roof. 

“Freddie, if you push me off of this I swear to Salazar that I will--”

He clamped a hand over your mouth, effectively cutting you off. You glared at him but stopped trying to talk when you saw what he was looking at. A group of people wearing blue and yellow were not too far off, and they were heading your direction. If they got any closer they would most definitely see the two of you up there and you would be screwed. 

“Listen to me,” Fred said, quickly and quietly. “See that big branch over there?” Fred pointed at a thick branch that was extended toward the hut, about a metre away from the edge of the roof. “I’m going to throw you onto that--” your eyes widened in surprise “--and then I’m going to jump onto it as well. From there, we take the high road, climbing from branch to branch to make our escape. Understand?” 

Before you could say anything, shouts rained through the air. 

“Look, up there!”

“On the roof!”

“Oh fuck, it’s Fred and Y/N, they’re escaping!”

Wasting not a single second, Fred grabbed you under the armpits and tossed you with all of his might, sending you screaming through the air. You landed harshly on the branch and scrambled to keep your balance. Spells were blasting through the air, barely missing you. Fred took a few steps back in order to get a running start, but right as he was about to jump his foot slipped. 

He pushed off with all his might, hoping against all hope that he would still make it there. A spell raced by him on his left side. This was it. He was about to get caught, again. 

Then, against all odds, something grabbed him. He looked up to see you, legs wrapped around the branch and struggling to keep your balance, both on your hands grasping onto his with all of your strength. It took him a second to realize that you had caught him, but when he did he swung his other arm up to grab the branch, allowing you to hoist him up. 

“Stop them!” He didn’t have time to thank you or celebrate the victory. Still holding his hand, you shuffled toward the trunk of the tree, 

“Follow me,” you said, letting go and crawling out on another branch. You hopped from tree to tree, always finding another large place to grab onto or walk across. You both went as fast as you could without putting yourself in any danger of falling. After what felt like an eternity, you both failed to hear any more shouts or voices. You must have lost them in the thick forest. 

“I think…” Fred said through panting breaths. “I think it’s ok to go down now.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to descend down the tree first. When your feet finally touched the ground you collapsed in exhaustion, arms and legs sprawled out. Fred soon joined you, his head right next to yours as your breaths slowed and went back to normal. 

“That was fucking incredible,” he finally said. You laughed, coughing a bit as you did so, and turned to face him. 

“It was, wasn’t it.”

“I’m serious!” he said, turning on his side. “You were amazing. I thought I was a goner. How’d you catch me?”

You shrugged. “I’m fueled by fury and spite, and there’s nothing I hate more than a cocky Cedric Diggory.”

He laughed, reaching out to rub a hand up and down your shoulder. “You and me both, love.”

His eyes widened at the accidental nickname but you didn’t seem to mind. You just continued to smile before sitting up, leaning back on the palms of your hands. “Alright, love, what’s the next step?”

Even though you said the name in a teasing manner, it didn’t stop Fred’s heart from fluttering in his chest. He shook his head, telling his stupid thoughts to leave and never come back. There were more important things to deal with. 

“Now, we get the flag. We just need to find out where they hid it.”

He stood up, staring out at the expanse of forest surrounding you both in all directions. If he were Cedric, where would he hide the flag? 

“This might take a while. We’ll have to scour the West side, the East has already been checked, but I supposed we’ll have to double check just in case--”

“It’s in the tree by the Black Lake.”

Fred froze in his tracks. You had said it so casually, as if you were just telling him what day of the week it was. 

“What?”

“The Black Lake,” you repeated nonchalantly. “I followed Roger Davies as he made his rounds and he kept going back to the lake, like an alarming amount of times. And when we were being attacked at the hut, the group was definitely coming from that direction. And one of them had birch leaves all over her clothes, and the only birch tree is the one that is right by the lake. I say, who would climb that tree if not to hide something? It’s not tall enough to be a lookout tree and it’s not thick enough to hide anything or anyone bigger than, say, a flag. It’s gotta be there.”

He stared at you with his mouth hung open, completely dumbfounded. For the umpteenth time that night, you made him speechless. 

“You’re fucking insane,” he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck as he continued to stare at you in surprise. “That’s incredible.”

“Thanks,” you said, winking at him. “It’s a gift.”

You reached a hand up to him, asking for him to pull you off the ground. He did so, and you immediately linked both of your arms and started off to your right. He didn’t know how you knew which way the lake was when you were both so deep in the forest, but he decided not to question it. 

The two of you walked in silence for a little bit, you deciding to skip alongside Fred in order to keep up with how fast his long legs carried him. 

“Y’know,” he said, breaking the silence, “you’re a lot more...chipper than I expected you to be. 

Without missing a beat, you rolled your eyes and looked at him. “Why? Cuz I’m an evil Slytherin beant on world domination?” You spoke in an imitation of a dark voice, wiggling your fingers like you would when describing something as spooky. 

“Well, yeah,” Fred admitted, suddenly feeling bad that he had always assumed so much about you that was obviously not true. “You guys don’t have the best reputation, that’s all.”

“Oh and all Gryffindors are superheroes that are meant to save the world?”

“That’s not what I--”

“I know,” you interrupted, “I’m just teasing. I hear it enough anyways that it doesn’t bother me anymore. The people who care will get to know the real me, and those who don’t try just don’t matter.” You shrugged as if it was the simplest thing in the world and Fred wondered how long it must’ve taken for you to be so content with it, how long you must’ve beaten yourself up for something you couldn’t control until you were finally at peace with just being who you were. 

“I want to care,” he said without thinking. “I mean, I want to get to know you. You’re a lot more fun than I expected you to be.”

You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And how come you’ve never tried talking to me before? We have gone to school together for, oh I don’t know, 7 years now!”

Although you were just messing around, your words hit hard. He had had classes with you for 7 bloody years and not once had he reached out to you for anything other than when you were assigned together for a project.

“You kind of called it earlier.” He said, making you furrow your brow in confusion. “I was a little bit afraid of you. Well, maybe afraid isn’t the right word. Intimidated, that’s it. You’re just so...I don’t know how to describe it, but you make me feel funny.”

“Funny?” you asked, now more muddled than ever. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t kow,” he repeated. “My heart starts racing and whenever I say things to you my mouth starts to go dry. Hell, half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything! I don’t know if it’s cuz you’re a Slytherin or because you’re absolutely stunning--”

“True true, continue.”

He laughed, leaning in to you as he did so. “And so incredibly humble, it appears.”

“Ah, yes, a trait we both share,” you replied. “It was you who deemed himself the ‘Prankster King’ as well as started the ‘Hogwarts Biggest Hottie’ competition just so you could convince everyone to vote for you, was it not?”

“Yeah, and bloody George won,” Fred grumbled. “We’re identical for fucks sake!”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you beat out George on the attractiveness levels.”

Fred perked up. “So you voted for me then?”

“Actually,” you said, an evil smirk growing on your face, “I voted for Cedric.”

His jaw dropped and you took off running through the forest, crying with laughter as he chased after you. 

“You bloody traitor, I’m the attractive one! Get back here!”

You sprinted through the trees, dodging trunks and ducking beneath branches praying that Fred wouldn’t catch up to you. But before you knew it, you had been tackled to the ground, flipping your body around in the process so you were now pinned beneath Fred, heads facing each other. 

Both of you were still laughing, you wiping tears from your eyes at the chase that had just ensued. 

“Say you were lying,” he demanded. “Say that I’m the most attractive one.”

When you refused, he had to resort to a kind of torture that he only used in the most extreme circumstances. He started tickling you. 

“Ok, ok!” you screamed through your fits of laughter. “You’re the most attractive guy here, I swear it on Salazar himself!”

Finally, his fingers released from your side and you were given a chance to actually breathe. It was then that he realized how close your faces were. Mere centimeters apart. How easy it would be for him to just lean down and capture your lips in his, kissing you with all the breath he had left, letting his hands roam up and down your sides as yours got themselves tangled in his hair. How easy it would be to forget about the whole game and just spend the rest of the night wrapped around each other under the light of the pale moon. He dipped his head down, slowly closing the gap, your voice hitching in your throat as you licked your lips and closed your eyes, their color shining so clearly. 

Fred suddenly sat up. Your eyes. He could see them, and he could see them well. The moonlight was shining just enough to allow him to see the color. Which could only mean…

“We’re here.” Sure enough, Fred had tackled you right at the edge of the forest by the clearing, much brighter than it had been in the forest. You both quickly made to get up, dusting yourselves off and avoiding eye contact as much as possible. 

“Well,” you said, not daring to take your eyes off the birch tree in the distance. “Ready Eagle 1?”

Fred smiled, getting his feet ready to make the fastest sprint of his life. “Ready Mantis. On your mark--”

“No I get to say it! I’m the one who got us here after all,” you argued. 

“Ok but who got us out of the hut?”

“I saved your ass from falling off the damn thing!”

“Well I--”

A branch cracking from behind you broke both of you out of your playful argument. 

Fred looked at you and raised an eyebrow, offering his hand out to you. “Together?”

You took his hand and nodded. “Together.”

Fred squeezed your fingers tightly in his, staring at the target ahead. 

“One..” he said slowly. 

“Two…” you followed, catching a glimpse of a blue and yellow flag at the top of the tree. 

“THREE!” You both sprinted through the clearing, feet carrying you as fast as they could as you raced to your destination. A loud whistle was being blown off to the right and shouts came from the left but you both just ignored them as you kept running. 

A huge body appeared in front of you, almost out of nowhere, wand at the ready. You screamed in surprise and hit the person square in the jaw, sending them stumbling backwards until they tripped and fell back on their ass. 

“Shit, sorry Roger!” you yelled back. Fred swore he could’ve kissed you right then and there. 

You both made it to the base of the tree, not sturdy enough for the both of you. “Give me a boost,” you told Fred. He cupped your foot in his hands and hoisted you up, jumping out of the way just in time to miss a hex coming his direction. Your hands and feet moved as if you were a monkey swinging through vines. You heard grunts and yells from the ground but were too focused on the flag to care. 

With one final push, you grabbed it, yelling triumphantly as you gripped the prize with all your might. All you had to do was get back to your team’s side and victory was yours. 

“Y/N!” You looked down to see Fred standing at the bottom of the tree, two more boys laying on the ground and holding their noses. He must’ve taken them on with no wand and still managed to beat them. Fucking legend. 

“Jump down!”

You were alarmingly high up, something that hadn’t occurred to you until just then. It panicked you to think about jumping. Maybe you could just climb back down? But even as you thought about that you saw more people coming, ready to capture you both again. This was your only chance. 

Clutching the flag with all of your might, you jumped down from the tree, screaming as you free fell through the air. You landed not on the hard ground, but in a pair of strong arms that steadied you and held you bridal style. 

“See, now we’re even. We’ve caught each other.”

“Stop flirting and fucking run Fred!”

He did as told, taking off with you still in his arms, the flag in yours. Even though he was carrying your body his adrenaline still gave him enough energy to run like the wind, just as if not faster than many of the others chasing them. 

Over rocks, through a stream, past so many others who tried to stop him. But he wouldn’t stop. He just kept running and running and running until--

“Fred!” Angelina Johnson and George saw you both in the distance. They grabbed their wands out and hexed those in your pursuit, stopping a Ravenclaw girl just as she was about to hex Fred’s legs. You could see the line you all had drawn shimmering in the distance. More Gryffindors and Slytherins saw the commotion and raced to help, slowing down as many opponents as they could. 

You were 50 metres from the line. 40. 30. 20. 10…

Fred’s legs gave out, a mere 5 metres from the line. Someone had finally hit him with a curse, sending him sprawling out on the ground. You gasped as your body hit the ground, rolling across the grass, closer and closer and--

A firework exploded, then another, and then another. The signifier of victory. You looked up to see what had happened. You were on the ground as well, your right arm laying in front of you with your right wrist and hand over the line. The hand that had been holding the flag. 

“We did it!” You didn’t know who screamed, but whoever started it set a trend of wild cries and yells, whoops of victory and laughter filling the air. Your friends were by your side in a matter of seconds, helping you up and to the other side. 

You stumbled a bit, the reality of what happened finally hitting you. “We won!” You and your friends jumped up and down, hugging each other and screaming as loud as you could. You were bombarded with questions, everyone wondering what happened and how you managed to pull this off. Ignoring them, you looked around for Fred, who was starting to push himself off the ground. 

You dropped the flag and raced over to him, grabbing his arms and putting them on your shoulders to help him balance. 

“This is Mantis calling Eagle 1,” you said, barely audible over the celebration. “We did it. I repeat, we did it.”

Fred looked up, face covered in scratches and bruises, but you guessed you didn’t look much better. “As much as I like the name Eagle 1, I think you should go back to calling me Freddie.”

You laughed, leaning your head into his chest. “Roger that Freddie.”

He removed his hands from you shoulders and moved them to your waist, spinning you around in the air before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. “We fucking did it! Suck it Diggory!”

“Suck it Diggory!” you repeated.

A chorus of ‘suck it Diggory’s reined across the grounds, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike chanting it repeatedly. 

Fred finally lowered you to the ground and rested his forehead against yours. “Go out with me,” he said. “On a date. Go out with me.”

“What, jumping off roofs and out of trees and running for your life through a dark forest doesn’t count as a date already?”

He laughed and closed his eyes, relishing this moment and thinking about how much had happened in just a few hours. “Fine, a second date then. Will you go out with me on a second date?”

You brought your hands up to his mess of hair, twisting a lock in your finger and sending shivers up and down his spine. “Only if you promise that it’ll be even more exciting than the first. Think you can top this?”

“Oh, love, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Try me,” you replied, pulling his head down to yours and sealing your lips together in a kiss. 

All of your friends as well as Fred’s just stared in awe, wondering what the hell happened that suddenly you two were snogging in front of everyone. You’d explain everything in due time, what was the rush? And you’d have to make sure to thank Cedric Diggory for locking the two of you up together. How it had changed everything.

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

​​

[the-bau-quinjet]

Nice to meet you, where you been?

Chapter 2 of In Breakable Heaven!

Summary: Reader becomes acquainted with some members of the BAU.

Warnings: none that I can think of!

Word Count: ~1900

Penny came back out to the foyer, handing you the oversized t-shirt and shorts you left here last time you slept over. You pulled them on quickly, following Penny to the living room where you instantly realized, it was more than just you, Penny, and the tall man in the apartment. You stopped moving as you took in the additional new faces. You had never met Penny’s team before, but she had talked about them a ton. You blushed again thinking of how you must look a mess right now.

“Everyone, this is Y/N! She is my very best friend and she is very sad so we are going to cheer her up.” Penny started the introductions. “Y/N, this is Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau aka JJ, and Emily Prentiss.” You took in the names as Penny went around the room. Eyes bouncing between a very muscular bald man and two of the most attractive women you’ve ever seen. “Oh, and for a more formal introduction, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, although you two met at the door.” Your eyes attempted to meet his again, but he was staring at the ground. You couldn’t help the whisper that escaped your lips “Doctor.”

 Either the profilers didn’t hear it, or chose to ignore it, along with the blush forming on your cheeks yet again. You looked around the room again and couldn’t stop yourself from speaking your thoughts. “God, is it a requirement to be hot as hell to work for the FBI?” Everyone laughed as you threw your hand over your mouth, eyes widening. “Oh God. That’s embarrassing. It’s true though, what a good looking team.” That earned more laughter form the group.

  It was clear they were all wondering why you had just sobbed into their coworkers adorable sweater vest. You waited a beat hoping someone would say something. But since they were all staring at you, and you hate awkward silences, you couldn’t help but blurt out “today was my 3 year anniversary with my boyfriend,” Not noticing the slight frown appear on Spencer’s face, you continued “but I went over to his place and found him in bed with another woman. So now I am very drunk.” Their faces all softened, offering slight words of encouragement as you sunk into the sofa and picked up the bottle of white wine from the table. Not even bothering with a glass, you started drinking again. You drank nearly half the bottle before taking a breath.

 “Woah” you heard someone say, but honestly you didn’t know who. “Why don’t we play a game or something? Maybe switch to water so you don’t completely hate yourself tomorrow?” You realized it was JJ talking. “I am always down – hiccup – for a game. I must warn you, I am extremely competitive though. Plus, I don’t get hungover so I’ll be fine.” You looked at their disbelieving faces. “Fine” you muttered, annoyed at having to explain this again, “I’ll switch to water for a bit. But only because I want to win.”

 Penny went to get the cards, confirming your statement “Y/N is right ya know. She has never been hungover. I’ve seen her drink countless tequila shots, chase them each with a wine cooler and clean her entire apartment before 8 AM the next day.”

 “Impressive.” Derek smirked as he looked at you.

 “What can I say? It really boosts my productivity.” The room chuckled as the hot doctor chimed in.

 “Your liver is responsible for breaking down all the alcohol you consume into an enzyme called acetaldehyde, the toxin responsible for hangovers. Recent studies have shown about 23% of people are able to break down the acetaldehyde much faster resulting in little to no hangover symptoms. Whether or not you experience hangovers is based 45% on genetics.” You looked over to him, wildly impressed with the first words you’ve heard him say.

 “What’s the other 55% based on?” You asked, intrigued to finally know why you don’t actually experience hangovers. He looked surprised as he met your eyes for the first time since you entered the room.

 “It’s actually a mixture of volume of alcohol, water, and food consumption.” You chuckled as he said this.

 “Well, it must be genetics for me because there are a few times I remember making very bad choices…” You felt the thought slip away as Dr. Spencer Reid smiled at you.

 “How can she even do simple math right now? Based on the story she’s had 10 drinks in the last 3 hours?” Emily whispered to JJ and Derek. They exchanged glances as Penny finally sat back down with the cards.

 “What should we play?” She asked the room, but mostly you. You could already feel your competitive edge creeping in as you tore your eyes from Spencer’s to suggest one of your favorite group games. “Egyptian Rat Screw!” It should be especially fun since you were all drinking. Nobody seemed to know the game though, so you quickly explained the rules as you took the cards to shuffle and deal.

 “Remember, whoever gets all the cards wins. Slap sandwiches and doubles. Royals have the special rules we just talked about. If you slap and there’s nothing there, you have to put a card in the bottom of the pile.” You said as everyone got situated around the table unsure what to expect. “Ready?” you asked, a mischievous grin on your face.

 --

 After winning the first two games you couldn’t help but tease everyone “I am definitely the drunkest one here. I thought a group of FBI agents would have better reaction times!” You giggled as everyone laughed along with you. You dealt the cards into five piles, one for each agent. “No cards for you?” Derek asked. “Nope.” You popped the “p” as you took in their confused faces. “I’m going to start with no cards and see if I still win.” There was a clear competitive glint in your eyes, with a matching smirk.  They seemed disbelieving that you would pull out another win, but continued along with the game.

 You hadn’t even tried slapping the table until there was only Spencer and Derek left with cards. Emily, JJ, and Penelope were chatting aimlessly, having lost interest a few minutes ago. You sat up and stared at the ever growing pile of cards. The whole game was basically memorizing the order of cards, or at least the general timeline. You knew as soon as Derek played his jack, Spencer would follow with an identical card. As you spotted the first jack hit the pile, Derek taunted Spencer “Haha pretty boy, one chance to get a royal or I’m pulling in the big pile.” The two of them seemed to have forgotten that you could get back in the game. Spencer smiled as he flipped over what you knew to be a jack. It was clear from the smirk on his face he knew it was a jack as well. What he didn’t count on was your cat-like reflexes slapping the pile before he could finish laughing at Derek’s sad face.

 The two of them looked shocked as you picked up the cards, readying them for the next set of flipping. “Damn girl, I thought you forgot how to play.” Derek laughed at the smug grin you were wearing. He only had two cards left. Easily knocking Derek from the game, he joined the side conversation being had in the kitchen as he resigned to another round lost. You turned to Spencer, almost whispering “Looks like it’s just you and me, Doctor.” Spencer looked up from his cards stating, “you sound pretty confident considering your opponent has an eidetic memory and knows the exact order of both our hands.” You stuck your tongue out as you placed your first card. “Not fair.”

 Minutes passed as the game drew on, neither player really making an advance. You yawned as you flipped another card onto the table, losing focus for just a second. Reid recognized the pattern emerging, getting ready to slap after your next card. You forgot to look at the potential for a sandwich, playing your next card. You noticed it a second to late as you slapped your hand down. Spencer beat you too it though, and when your hand landed it was on top of his. You didn’t move at first, shocked to have lost so many cards at once. Spencer was gloating as you picked up his hand and put it on top of yours.

 He finally looked down to see you pulling the cards toward you before jumping up to get them back. You held the cards close to your heart, faking the offense you felt at his suggestion that you would cheat, despite your very obvious cheating. When he reached for the cards, you backed up into the couch, holding them above your head. He knelt over you, leaning forward to reach your outstretched hand, forgetting for just a second that he really didn’t know you at all and being this close should make him uncomfortable.

 You shrieked as he tickled your sides to pull the cards in. He was gloating yet again as he pulled them from your grasp, not realizing how close the two of you had become. The two of you froze yet again as you felt that same magnetic force as earlier pulling you closer as you looked into his eyes. He cleared his through as he sat up, returning to his seat to finish the game. 

The two of you continued the game until you only had a few cards left. “It appears as though your winning streak is quickly coming to an end.” Spencer joked with you, playing a queen. He was clearly trying to ease whatever tension was lingering from your couch experience. You glanced at the cards in the middle of the table. It must have been 45 cards in the pile. You switched tactics to playing the cards as quick as possible to prevent another mistake.

A queen meant playing two cards in a row. You knew you had two sevens in a row in your hand, so you were ready to take him down. You glanced up stating “Rule 1: The Doctor lies.” You stated matter-of-factly as you flipped over your first seven. “Oh, and don’t blink.” You said, playing the second and slapping it before he finished comprehending your two Doctor Who references. You just had an instinctual feeling that Doctor Who would distract him.

 You finished the game with relative ease as the others made their way back into the room. You celebrated as you took the rest of his cards, completing the game and adding another tally to the mental scoreboard you had in your head. As everyone sat back down, you put the cards away. It was now 12:30 in the morning and suddenly you were exhausted. You rose from your seat, putting your coat back on your shoulders. “I should go home” you said, earning stares from everyone.

 “You are completely welcome to stay the night here!” Penelope said as you continued preparing to leave.

 “Thank you, Penelope, but I already feel so much better.” You chanced a glance at Spencer to see him staring right back. “I want to go home and lay in my bed and throw all his stuff out the window. Plus I could really use some fresh air right now.” Everyone started to verbally object now. Sometimes you forgot what Penelope does for a living and how much she’s seen. “No really, I’ll be fine.” You continued, “I live in The City Block, it’s only half a mile from here!” This did nothing to satisfy the worried looks on the five faces staring back at you.

 “That’s on the way to my building.” Spencer stated. “I’ll walk with you, okay?” You looked up, surprised. Slowly a small smile appeared on your face. “Okay.” Somehow that was all you could manage. Everyone said their goodbyes as you and Spencer made your way out of the apartment and started walking down the street.

 tag list:

@mac99martin​ @eevee0722​ @l0ve-0f-my-life @haylaansmi @dinonuggets15

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: okay guys, you know the drill. Thank you to the best beta, @lantern-inthenight and to my moral support and idea’s girl, @myownparadise96

MASTERPOST

taglist: @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @n1-party-anthem​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @bigblack-catattack​ @myownparadise96​

To your pleasant surprise, you had a total of three classes with Kate. Biology, Philosophy, and Anatomy, and she made sure to sit close to you in every one of them. With the first day of classes behind you, you were able to breathe a sigh of relief. You had gone unnoticed by most, which you held as a comfort in the back of your head. 

When Wednesday rolled around, Josh walked you to school, a notebook tucked under his arm this time. You had prepared some coffee for the both of you, and you had had two days to get into the swing of packing lunches - nothing too extravagant, but enough to get you through the day. 

When you reached the atrium, you parted ways, agreeing to meet up at noon again, same spot. 

Kate was waiting for you when you sat down at your lab table. You smiled at her as she stretched her arms behind her head, seemingly trying to wake herself up. 

“I’m not used to these early ass classes,” she said.  “I’ve been waking up at noon all summer long.”

You glanced down at your drink and slid the thermos across the slate tabletop. 

“You want some of my coffee? It’s my secret weapon.”

She laughed, wiping at her eyes. “I’m not sure how much of a ‘secret’ coffee is,” she teased, but took it from your grasp and popped the top. Her hair, tucked behind her ear, came to a sharp point by her chin and the dark color accentuated the movement of her throat as she sipped it down. 

“Maybe it would also help if you ate something for breakfast,” you suggested.

She licked her lips absently, seemingly working through the logistics in her head. “Yeah, I’m sure it would, but that would mean I’d have to wake up more than five minutes before I need to be out the door.”

The shrill sound of the bell swallowed your laugh.

-

Lunch came around just when you needed it to the most. Your English professor had thrown you the ultimate curveball, telling you - just three days in - that you’d need to prepare and present a piece on a book you hadn’t read yet. But reading a novel in a matter of days wasn’t the part that got you; it was the part where you’d have to stand in front of thirty people you didn’t know and talk about it at length. 

So, by the time you spotted Josh sitting on the railing by the stairs of the atrium, you were ready to breathe an audible sigh of relief. 

He looked perfectly comfortable - even happy - in a group of six other people, all standing around him in a crescent shape. They seemed to be having a lively conversation, reacting to him like the tide to the moon. One or two words and he had them all grinning. You waited patiently across the room, and a beat later, his eyes landed on you. As soon as he stood and excused himself, the other dispersed like he was the glue holding them there from the beginning. 

He greeted you with a honey-sweet smile, falling into pace with your steps as you headed out the doors. 

“How’s your day so far?” you asked, turning your head towards him to catch his answer. 

“It’s good,” he replied. “Nice to be back at it actually, even if my voice is a little rusty. How are you?”

“I’m fine-”

You went to continue, but he was sent forward an inch or two as someone punched the back of his arm from behind, knocking the breath from his lungs. You hadn’t been sure it wasn’t hostile until a guy wrapped his arm around Josh’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. 

Through a beaming grin, the man spoke. “Hey, dude! Where the hell have you been? I haven’t heard shit from you in forever!” 

You weren’t sure what to do other than to stand there awkwardly, thumbs hooked around the straps of your bag across your shoulders. When you realized the conversation would take longer than you cared to hang around for (also, you didn’t want to seem like you were eavesdropping), you made your way to a brick barrier across the grass and sat with your back against it. Josh shot you an apologetic smile, but you waved him off, pulling out your plastic baggies of food and laying them out next to you. Red grapes, string cheese, crackers, and carrot sticks - you counted it all off in your head. 

It took a couple of minutes before he could pull away, but he rushed to join you as soon as he could get the guy to stop talking for even a second.

“Hey, sorry,” he quickly muttered as he sat with his legs folded, one under the other. 

“No need to apologize,” you said, and meant it. “Here, I brought lunch.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the bag of grapes. “This is for me too? Wow, this is quite the spread.”

“Of course, it’s for you,” you said through a laugh, rolling your eyes at him. He laughed back, the sound coming out light and sunny. 

It was getting cooler. Even just in the couple of short weeks you’d been in Michigan, the weather was changing. You eyed him, dressed in a loose white t-shirt, and shivered out of sympathy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows tipping up in concern. 

You shook your head and waved him off. “Nothing, just haven't acclimated yet.” 

He huffed a laugh, giving you a sympathetic look. “Well, you’d better hurry. Winter is coming,” he said dramatically through a grave expression. 

You rolled your eyes at him, popping a carrot stick into your mouth before you could say anything stupid.

-

After your lunch period was Philosophy. Josh had left you about fifteen minutes before you were due at class, explaining that he wanted enough time to set up for the next period. You think it was Theater for him, but you couldn’t be sure - he always talked a mile a minute, and often all you could do was nod and try your best to keep up.

Kate caught you in the hall, matching your pace quickly. 

“Hey,” she said, bumping her shoulder into yours lightly like you’d been friends for ages. “So. How was lunch?”

The question was innocent enough, but her tone paired with the glint in her eyes was not. You cocked your head at her, giving her a curious smile. 

“It was just fine; why do you ask?” 

She hummed and clutched her books tight to her chest. “I just. Couldn’t help but notice you cozying up to one of the Kiszka boys. What’s up with that?”

You snapped around to give her an alarmed look. “Who, Josh?” you asked, suddenly feeling like a complete moron for not realizing you’d never even asked his last name. 

“Yeah!” she agreed, giving you a smug look. “You know - curls, dimples, teeth so white you have to wear sunglasses to have a conversation with him.”

“Oh, he’s just my roommate,” you explained simply, but she looked unconvinced.

“Ah, really? Roommate and you also have a crush on him? That’s hot goss.”

You were turning the corner into the classroom then, but you paused just before you sat at your seat. You could feel your cheeks start to warm. 

“What? No,” you denied, setting your books on the tabletop, gently enough that they didn’t make a sound, and hanging your backpack from your chair. “No, he’s just a friend.”

She looked like she still didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything else. There were still a few moments before class started - your professor was busying himself at a file cabinet in the corner of the room, shuffling papers around hastily. You glanced over at her out of the corner of your eye, opening your mouth to speak a couple of times before you gained the courage to do so.

 “D-do you know anything about him?” you asked, just under normal speaking volume. 

She looked over at you with a grin, as if you even asking was like admitting that she was right - which she was not.

“Hmm, what could I say about him. He’s kind of the life of the party,” she started. “Loud, eccentric, confident. People seem to love being around him.”

All of that seemed to check out - that you already knew. “Does he party a lot?” you inquired. 

“He used to a lot more. I’ve hardly seen him at all this summer.”  

You frowned at nothing in particular, just a little offset by that. “Any reason why?” 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted after a beat. “He’s popular enough. Loads of people want to be around him, it seems.” 

You giggled to yourself at her dreamy tone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d guess that you have a crush on him.” 

She waved you off with a smile. “There is no denying that he’s cute, right? That much is obvious.”

You realized that she was waiting for you to answer after a second of silence. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I guess he’s a handsome guy.”

You wanted to ask more, but you weren’t sure what else to ask. You were going to try and continue the conversation after class, but it had run long, giving you just enough time to make it to Economics before being late. You opted to exchange numbers instead, handing your phone over to her and that’s how Kate ended up living in your contacts with a (self-appointed) bunny emoji next to her name. 

All the questions you had intended to ask her slipped from your head the second the next bell rang. 

-

Josh had sent you an apologetic text that you’d have to walk home alone, and he’d be done around six. The route back to the apartment was becoming familiar, and you were starting to enjoy Michigan. The freedom made you feel like a character in a teen movie and you took the time to relish it. 

You were just getting out of the shower when you heard the front door open. Your hair was still wrapped in a towel when you padded down the hall, already in your pajama pants despite it being only 6:30. Josh was on his tippy-toes, peering up into the cupboard above the sink that housed all the snacks but ultimately not finding what he was looking for.

“Hey, how was school?” you asked, watching as he pulled some leftovers out of the fridge. He popped the lid and smelled the container before setting them on the counter next to the microwave. 

“Good, I stayed late to start drawing up the outline for the musical. I’m going to have kids auditioning in two weeks, so I have to be ready.” 

He beamed every time he talked about the production, something he did often. You couldn’t help but smile back. 

“That’s so exciting,” you agreed, leaning over the open fridge door. “It’s all happening so fast.”

“You’re telling me! Did you eat yet?” 

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t,” you replied honestly.

“Okay, I’ll heat some for you too,” he said, not giving you a chance to respond. When dinner was finished, you sat down together in the living room, and it wasn’t thirty seconds later that he flicked his eyes up at you. 

“Hey, so. My friend is throwing this party tonight - 'supposed to be a real rager.”

“Oh, yeah?” You met his eyes. “Are you going to go?”

He nodded at you. “Yeah, could be fun. You wanna come?” 

You tried not to look too shocked, but you couldn’t help it. The look on your face made him breathe a laugh. 

“You’re inviting me?”

“Of course,” he said around a mouth full of mushroom ravioli like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You bit your bottom lip a moment, trying to buy a little time to process. “I’m not super good around a bunch of people. Also, I have a metric ton of homework to get through.” 

Even though he was good at hiding it, you could tell he was at least a little disappointed. 

“Rain check?” you asked hopefully, making his posture perk up a little.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, nodding as the microwave timer sounded. 

“I have a presentation that I have to give on Monday and I’m not nervous about it at all.”

You laced your fingers together under your chin anxiously. 

He gave you an assuring smile. “You’re going to do great,” he promised, handing you a bowl and a fork. 

When he could tell that you still weren’t convinced, he spoke again. 

“If you’re really worried about it, you can present it to me first.” You flicked your eyes up at him, trying to gauge if he was just being polite, or if he actually meant it. You decided that the answer was the latter as you found no trace of insincerity. 

“That might help a lot actually,” you agreed, nodding your head. “I’ll let you know when it’s finished?” 

He smiled back at you in affirmation. 

+++

You had tried to work in the living room, but you kept finding yourself getting distracted. First, it was the dripping sound that the kitchen sink always made, but even when you were finally able to block that out, your eyes kept catching on the clock on the DVD player flashing 00:00 perpetually. You knew that had you been working on a subject you actually cared about, it would be a lot easier, but you were stuck working on math, so it was no use. After about half an hour, you dragged everything into your room and posted up on your bed, back against the headboard, and found instantly that being around your own belongings had helped. 

You put on some ambient music, letting it become background noise as you chipped away at your work, first finishing all your math worksheets, and then moving on to Chemistry. 

A frown set on your lips as you peered over your notes. You pulled your phone out and opened your message app.

In your first ever message to Kate, you said,

Hey, I’m a disaster human and I forgot to write down how far we need to read in Chemistry

You stood and made yourself a cup of coffee while you waited for her reply, and as you stirred the milk in, you heard your phone buzz. 

Kate     now

shit thanx for reminding me. I think it’s from pg 10 - 25. Think we’ll get quizzed on it or should i skip it? 

You flipped your book open to page ten and skimmed the first paragraph. When the topic seemed familiar, you shot her back,

I’m guessing we will honestly. But what’s more fun than Air Analysis?

Kate     now

Literally anything right?

You huffed a laugh and just messaged her back a smug-looking emoji. 

She was right. It was terribly boring. You tried as hard as you could to retain what you were reading, but by the time you got to page 25, you weren’t entirely sure you’d pass a quiz on the topic. 

You hadn’t realized how late it was getting until your stomach started growling. The clock on your nightstand read 9:45 pm.

Luckily, the kitchen cupboards were pretty full. You mulled it over for a moment before reaching for a box of pasta and a jar of red sauce. 

The water was almost at a boil when you heard the key slide into the lock on the front door. 

When it swung open, Josh landed his eyes on you and grinned. 

“What’s up?” he asked cheerily. 

You giggled at his obviously drunken state. “Not much. How was the party?”

Closing the door and locking it behind him, he replied, “Pretty fun. A little crazy.”

“Yeah?” you asked rhetorically through a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded back at you, slinging his jacket over the back of the couch. 

“Well, you picked a great time then. Spaghetti?” 

He hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge next to you. “Perfect.” 

It quiet for a moment as he watched you pour the pasta in and work the noodles until they were fully submerged. 

“How did you get home?” 

“Got a ride,” he assured with a warm look. “What did you get up to? Not just homework, I hope.”

“What else would I be doing?” you asked with a huff. 

He shrugged innocently at you, taking a swipe of sauce off the inside of the lid with his finger. You flicked your eyes over at him.

“I probably should make some friends,” you admitted, a teasing tone painting the words. 

As you went to grab the strainer out of the top cupboard, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It had taken you aback a bit; that was the first time Josh had ever touched you. You paused what you were doing to meet his eyes. 

He was giving you an honest looking smile. “I’m your friend,” he said, almost as an offering - like it wasn’t much more than a consolation prize. 

You smiled back at him, feeling suddenly very warm and happy. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just pressed your side against his and savored the moment. 

You weren’t sure if he’d remember it in the morning, but it didn’t really matter.

Author’s Note: What are we thinking? I get butterflies every time someone reblogs, likes, replies, or sends me an ask, so don’t be afraid to do that! As always, send me a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist, so you can know the second I update!

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 1/4 - A storm blows into town

(Frankie “catfish” Morales x f!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: a drive down to a friends wedding gets complicated when you fail to head a warning.

Authors notes: Hello! Another fic cause it keeps snowing here and I’m SICK OF IT but wouldn’t mind it if I was stuck with Frankie💕. Anyways hope you enjoy as always comments are welcome but be nice!

TW: mentions of dead sibling (war related), swearing, mentions of a toxic relationship (based off of personal experience)

Tagged list: @agingerindenial

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~There was nothing worse than a February wedding, well at least one that took place in the frigid northern temperatures you were currently residing in. So you were eternally grateful that your best friend Stella had chosen to have hers down in sunny south Carolina where she had just accepted her first permanent hospital position. She was marrying her first love, a fact you’d usually cringe at but, they were extremely cute together. Stella had met Genevieve through her brothers Will and Benny, well more specifically Will, who had drunkenly run his head through a window one night. This incident resulted in two things, first a nickname that would stick with Will for the rest of his life and a late night call to Stella asking her to come down to the hospital to pick him up. The boys had put Stella down as their emergency contact in an effort to keep their antics hidden from their parents who they knew would only worry. The nurse patching up her idiot brother was none other than Genevieve who was working through her university's clinical course, and the rest? Well, the rest was history

You’d met Genevieve, as well as Will and Benny, sporadically throughout the 8 years you had roomed with Stella, first during your undergraduate degree at Boston University and then again at Stanford while attending medical school. You’d choses Stella as a roommate without much thought, but after just a few weeks together you were inseparable up until the day that you were assigned to your residency. You were slightly jealous when you found out that she would be spending the next four years in the warm embrace of Carolina (and Gen) while you would be living alone throughout the freezing Chicago winters. The pagne of jealousy didn’t last long though, Chicago med was your first choice after all. So here you were, in the last year of residency and in the middle of a brutal -20 degree winter, preparing to drive the 13 hours down to watch Stella get married. You’d considered flying but you knew how fickle airplanes could be in the winter and the last thing you wanted was a delayed flight because a door had frozen shut. Your friends had tried to convince you that driving down alone was far too dangerous a venture and none were more concerned than Santiago Garcia.

You’d known Santiago your whole life. Him being your brother's best friend resulted in him spending a lot of, some may argue too much, time at your house throughout both your childhoods. Your brother, Parker, was 8 years your senior, an age gap that often resulted in an argument over which one of you was the accident. An argument which usually ended with an agreement that in all likelihood you both were. Every summer from before you were born to the time they left for the military the two boys were a constant presence in your life. Hell, even after he left you’d watched him grow as he passed through your household over Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks. One thing was for sure, if Parker was there Satiago Garcia wasn't far behind. He was also there the day you received the news that your brother had gone MIA and he was by your side at the funeral, as you watched the commanding officer hand your mother the flag your brother had died for. After the funeral, life continued to move on around you as did everyone else. You always found it funny how quickly you were supposed to recover from loss, apparently a week was long enough to get over it. At least according to the university and your employers who had started calling with empty condolences that quickly led to the real reason they were calling. Always wanting to know when you’d be coming back. After your brother's passing, Santiago took over his role of big brother to you. He read over your med school applications, scared off potential boyfriends and got all the embarrassing video footage of you at your graduations. He was a permanent fixture in your life, one you hoped you’d never lose. Even now as he continued to blow up your phone in an attempt to sway you from driving up alone, you were thankful for him. Over the past 5 days he sent you lengthy lectures in the form of voice messages and a slew of articles detailing the statistics of winter related accidents. His name pops up on your screen as does a picture you’d taken one night after he'd passed out drunk and you’d stuffed cheetos up his nostrils, an act he has yet to forgive you for. You contemplate ignoring the call, but knowing you were about to go radio silent for the next 8 hours you decide to pick it up.

"Hey Santi what’s up?" you ask, as you half heartedly spread cream cheese onto a poorly toasted bagel.

"Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?” Even over the phone you could hear the layers of charm he was currently plastering on.

"What do you want?" you say, tossing the knife into the sink.

"Hey! Who says..." he starts, but you don't let him finish.

"Santi I've known you long enough to know your ‘please I need something’ tone by heart" you laugh.

"Okay well I still value you, but ya I absolutely need a favour" Santiago admits.

"Shoot." you say taking a bite of the bagel.

"I need you to pick up a friend of mine, his flight got cancelled. He's in Chicago at the moment, can you drive him down to the wedding?"

"Ughhh are you kidding me Santi? I’m just about to leave" you say through a half chewed mouthful.

"Please! He’s a great guy, Gen wants him at the wedding, he was in basic with us, so a frequent visitor to the hospital. He's usually pretty quiet so you won’t have to spend that much time making small talk, which I know you hate." He pleaded. For anyone else a last minute change like this would have gotten a laugh, and nothing more, but this was Garcia, and you knew he’d do anything for you, so you’d do this for him.

“Fine” you begrudgingly agree “text me his number, I'm heading out in 40 minutes so he'll have to wait at the airport for a bit" you say, finishing your breakfast.

"You’re a godsend! Seriously, what would I do without you?" He chuckles.

"Nothing good i'm sure, besides I figure I probably owe you like, 1000 favours after you

know....'' the phone goes quiet. Five years later and it still stung like it was yesterday, for you both. He was your family, but he was Santiago’s best friend, you knew the loss was equally as devastating for him. You also knew he'd been having a particularly hard time recently, after what he termed a mission gone wrong a few years back. Every time you'd ask about it he’d shut you down harshly refusing to share any details with you.

"You don’t owe me anything. We're family. Thank you for driving him. I owe you a drink at the wedding!" He responds, back to his chipper self. If it wasn’t for the silence he may just have convinced you that he really was doing fine. You toss the phone on the counter and rub your temples mentally rearranging your entire itinerary for the day. You'd already rifled through the gym bag that was constraining way more clothes than you’d need for the week. Everything you needed was there from bathing suits to your wedding outfit to the special lingerie you’d packed in case you ran into an old flame. If by in case you meant, for when you ran into him. You don’t know how but he’d gotten invited to the wedding reception. Stella hated the guy, so it must have been through Genevieve who likely would have felt bad excluding him, even if he was only a friend of a friend.

You’d met Jonathan in your undergrad and you had been together throughout various points in your life, though never in any official sense. He’d made that evidently clear to you at any opportunity he got. He kept you on a short leash, a retainer if you will. Only coming to you between relationships with women that he deemed worthy enough to be his girlfriends. You knew it was toxic, and your friends constant reminders of how unhealthy it was didn’t fall on deaf ears. The way he would use you and lose you always ended with you being an unstable and emotional wreck, only solidifying his claims of you being crazy. You hated it, the way he made you feel so small, but he held this strange power over you. A power not even you could explain. His redeeming qualities could only be found in the bedroom, he was the best you’d ever had, so you forgave his shitty personality. Always gravitating back towards him, restarting the cycle. You knew what it meant to do the same activity over and over expecting different results, but this was different. At least that's what you told yourself, as you’d traced your hands over the lingeries lace that morning, knowing it was bought for a man who would never appreciate it.

Brushing all thought of him aside for the time being you grab the duffle off the floor and sling it over your shoulder. Walking out into the cold February air you watch as your breath transforms into a small cloud in front. Your chest hurts and nose hairs freeze as you inhale, tossing your bag into the back seat before leaning into the car and starting it up. The engine sputters for a moment before breaking out into a loud rumble, maybe it was a good thing someone else would be in the car with you after all. You jog back inside to your townhouse and grab the cooler where you’d stored the snacks and sandwiches you’d prepared for the road, now realizing it likely wouldn’t be enough to feed two people. Tossing on your winter jacket you lock the door behind you and slide your sunglasses down over your eyes shielding them from the afternoon sun as you make your way into your car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You pull up to the departure gate still cursing at the idiot who had almost smashed into you while they were going the wrong way down a one way street. You hated driving in the city and you couldn’t wait to get out on the open road, even if it was going to be with a total stranger. You find yourself second guessing your decision to drive down state with someone you’d never met. In all reality, even if Santi was vouching for him, he could be a serial killer, plenty of people had nice things to say about Ted Bundy before he got caught.

You shake off the nervous feeling taking over your body, deciding to put your faith in your friends judgment, at least for now. Worse comes to worse you had a pocket knife stowed within reach. As long as he didn’t complain about any playlists or podcasts and understood your need for complete silence from time to time, you’d get on just fine. Besides it was only a 13 hour drive, and you could put up with anything for 13 hours.

You open up your phone and pull up the conversation you and Santiago had been having, scrolling up until you see the contact he’d sent you which read “ Catfish”. You click on it hoping to get the guys real name as a result but no luck, you should have asked Garcia for more information about this “Catfish” guy. You click on the number opting to call, not wanting to waste time wondering if he’d gotten the text you’d sent. The phone rings a few times before you hear someone pick up.

"Catfish?" you say, less confident in yourself than you had been dialing.

"In the flesh, who's this?" the deep voice responds.

"Your ride, Santiago’s friend" you offer, hoping that this wasn't some elaborate prank.

"Oh shit ya, Pope told me you’d be later than you said. I'm still downstairs" he says.

"Of course he did the little shit" you mutter, causing Catfish to laugh "Im outside now, departures second floor"

“I'll be out in a second" he says, hanging up the phone before you can say anything else.

You plug your phone back into the aux setting it back to the playlist you’d made last night during another bout of insomnia. You're checking your email to see if anything came up from the hospital when a tap at the window causes you to jump. As you look over you see the man who must be “Catfish” gently tapping on the glass. You unlock the door, popping the trunk as you slide out the driver's seat.

“You can put your bags back here. Fuck!" you exclaim when you trunk won’t open, likely having frozen shut again.

"Here" he says dropping his bag on the salted pavement and heaving up on the trunk freeing it from its icy constraints with a relative ease causing him to smile down at you.

"I loosened it" you say defensively, as he tosses his bag in the back still grinning when he

slams the trunk shut.

"Fransico Morales, though most people just call me Frankie" he says as you sit back down in the driver seat rubbing your hands together to warm them and applying some chapstick.

"Y/N, nice to meet you Frankie, seat warmers are here, use as your leisure. There are snacks in the back, but no touching the phone.” you rattle off.

“Aye aye captain” he responds, saluting you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Santiago was right, Frankie was quiet. He offered you little in conversation or any noise at all really. You’d only heard him laugh maybe twice, once while listening to a podcast episode and then again when Britney Spears made her appearance on your soundtrack. "What? She’s America's sweetheart" you say trying to sound offended, but smiling when you notice his lopsided grin. You’d attempted to open up a dialogue with him a few times, but his one worded responses told you all you needed to know, so you stopped forcing it. It wasn’t a hostile environment, it was more of a comfortable silence one that you usually only found in people you had known for years. The silence gave you an opportunity to study the man’s features, glancing away from the road every now and then to slowly piece together his profile. You had pegged him as attractive the second his face had appeared in your passenger window, but it wasn't until now that the details that made him so could be seen; relatively tall, tanned skin, soft curls, deep brown eyes. Glancing over again you notice a concerned look spread across his face.

"What?" you ask, nervous that you’d creeped him out with your excessive, and not so subtle staring.

"Storms coming our way" he says, nodding up at the darkening sky.

"We’re not supposed to get snow for another week, I checked” you reassure.

"Things change" he says

" Sky’s clear, so we don’t stop for another 3 hours" you say, definitively.

" Your funeral, well mine as well I guess" he chuckles, earning him an icy glare from you.

“It's nothing, trust me” you affirm, confident in your ability to read a weather app.

" No one likes a know-it-all" he mutters still grinning.

"Could you help me with something" you ask smiling sweetly

"Sure" he responds, eager to help.

"Pull up the map and show me when I asked for your opinion"

"Eyes on the road” he says, causing your grip to tighten around the wheel.

Well crow wasn’t your favourite food to eat, but here you were eating it. Turns out Frankie was right. A storm was heading your way and it hit hard and fast. You’d managed to make it to a hotel off the freeway just as it came into full effect. What had started as a very pleasant road trip had quickly soured when you refused to apologize for not heading his warning. This paired with the 6 hours you had already driven had left you both irritable so much so that Frankie was now refusing to be any use in respect to figuring out what your next move was going to be.

"Hi" you say to the equally tired looking receptionist. Apparently, every other person travelling through Illinois had also missed the memo about the storm and were now all stuck at the same hotel.

"Hi, so sorry for the wait" she says, forcing a smile in a way that you recognized from your retail days.

"No need to apologize! What are the odds you have any rooms available?" you ask rubbing your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

"Let me check, we have one... suite left on the... fourth floor” she says after a few moments of typing away into the computer.

"Perfect we’ll take it." you say, tapping your credit card to the machine. You walk back over to Frankie who was sitting with the bags and hand him a room key. He exhales deeply, not looking up from his phone as he takes it from you.

"There was only one room left so we’ll have to share" you say.

"Fine," he says, standing up, grabbing his bag and heading over to the elevator not bothering to wait for you. You watch as the elevator doors open and close behind him. Sure maybe it was your fault that you were stuck in this situation, but that was pretty rude. You push your way into the room after struggling with the key for a moment. Frankie must have been eager to get to sleep, or at least eager to not converse with you as he’d wasted no time in unpacking his bag and getting ready for bed. Your eyes move from the clothes on the floor, to the suit hung up in the closet, to the closed bathroom door. You hear the toilet flush and watch the door open as you drop your bag down onto the living room floor, grabbing the toiletries out of your bag's side pocket. You were far too tired to wrestle down to your pyjamas so you opted to stay in the leggings and sports bra you’d been wearing all day. Yes it was gross, but you couldn't be bothered to change at this point. Your eyes follow Frankie as he exits the bathroom in a green cotton t-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts. You continue to watch as he plugs his phone in and shifts beneath the covers. Guess you were on the floor then. The couch was far too small, and you really weren't trying to break your neck sleeping on its arm rest.

"Pass me a pillow" you huff, as you grab a glass from the nightstand, turning back around to fill it up with water from the sink.

Why?" he asks, watching you take a sip from the overfilled cup.

"So I can sleep on the floor." you state, as if it was obvious.

“No, I’ll do that, you can have the bed" he says shifting up and pushing the blankets off himself. He hadn’t realized you were so averse to sharing a bed with him, but you had just met so he guessed it was fair enough.

"I’m not the one with the bad back old man" you state, the words sounding a lot harsher than you’d intended, but you were younger and thus more likely to recover.

"Fair point, but you’re not sleeping on the floor. Santi wouldn’t allow it. We can put up a pillow barrier between us if that would make you feel more comfortable" he offers, any hostility you had felt from him earlier now turned to tenderness. In all honesty, you hadn’t realized that sharing the bed was an option.

"I need two to sleep with so no point in making a barrier" you say, begrudgingly placing the glass back down on the nightstand "Shift" you say, fanning your hand.

"No" he says looking you dead in the eye "I got here first" he’s grinning slightly, further indicating he’d gotten over his anger from earlier. You could have just walked around to the other side, but for some unknown reason you don’t. Instead, you swing your leg over him pushing yourself up onto the bed, straddling him for the briefest moment before rolling over to the other side.

"Couldn’t have just walked around?" he chuckles

"Couldn’t have just shifted over?" you parrot back, moving onto your back, closing your eyes and dozing off.

[startanewdream]

The other marauder

Summary: Harry is five when he asks what means Wormtail.

Harry is thirteen when he asks who is Peter Pettigrew.

Harry is seventeen when he tells James that Peter is dead.

(Or how James would have dealt with Peter's betrayal if he was alive)

Part of my Jily Lives AU series of one-shots! I would love to hear your thoughts about how James would react to Peter Pettigrew if he lived. 

Below the cut or over AO3 are just my thoughts (all 11k of them).

________________________

Harry is five the first time he asks about Wormtail.

It’s a September afternoon and the weather has been nice all week, so at the weekend they indulge themselves in a pool that James conjures in their backyard. It’s mostly for Harry’s sake and his son laughs as Sirius turns into a dog to jump in the pool, swimming and splashing water in them as he shakes himself dry. Harry’s happy giggles keep them all amused.

As the night falls and it gets cooler, they rest lazily in the lawn around a fireplace that Lily conjures for them, toasting marshmallows. James and Lily share a blanket, looking at the stars above them, while Sirius holds Harry, all wrapped in a towel, against his chest.

James is distracted, really, and he barely notes as Harry starts to read the numbers and phrases of the tattoos in Sirius’ chest. Harry had just started school that year and he had loved learning how to read and write - he was curious, his son…

‘Wormtail’, Harry reads out, and in the silence of the night, his high-pitched childish voice sounds louder. ‘What it means?’

He is looking at Sirius, expecting his godfather to answer him just like Sirius had explained patiently about his other tattoos, but Sirius doesn’t say anything.

Instead, Sirius looks gravely at James, who just blinks, equally speechless.

James doesn’t know how to answer that. He’d thought that Sirius had removed that particular tattoo a long time ago.

But now that he looks at Sirius’ chest, he sees the four names are still inscribed there, over his heart, like they’ve been since he was seventeen, each one handwritten by its owner. James doesn’t need to try harder to remember that cold December afternoon, when they were hanging freely in London and Sirius had declared he wanted a tattoo. He was the only one of them that was of age then, and James had watched rather enviously as Sirius got their nicknames tattooed in his skin, somehow making all of them really part of him.

James had promised he’d get a tattoo too, but he ended up forgetting and Sirius had always loved more tattoos than him anyway. In any case, James hadn’t thought about Sirius’ tattoos for ages.

Then he stares Wormtail’s name there along with the others, part of a group that he doesn’t belong to anymore.

That sight fills James with hatred beyond words.

At his side, sensing his stress, Lily touches the back of his head in a soothingly move.

‘It’s just a name, Harry’, she says dismissively, making Harry look at her.

‘Who is Wormtail?’, he asks, curious as always. Then he giggles. ‘It’s a funny name’.

‘He is gone’, James says dryly, and the tone of his voice makes Harry recoil against Sirius, clearly distressed over the idea of upsetting his father. Lily now presses his head with a little more strength, and James forces himself to relax. ‘It’s no one, Harry’, he adds more kindly.

Harry doesn’t look convinced, but he gives a tiny nod, staying in thoughtful silence then. His big green eyes are still fixed on Sirius’ chest and James sees he is reading the other words there, moving his lips silently.

James throws a shirt to Sirius after that.

Later, when he passes Harry’s room on his way to his own, he sees the light is on. That makes him frown, because Sirius had already tucked Harry for sleep, and Harry usually crashes after a day of activities.

When he opens the door, he sees Harry is on his desk by the window, his small legs swinging in the air as he busies himself writing something.

‘Harry?’, James asks, and Harry turns to him with a guilty expression that James thinks will need a lot of improvement if he wants to get away with pranks in the future.

Harry jumps to the floor, grabbing what he had written and hiding it hurriedly behind him.

‘Shouldn’t you be in bed?’, James adds softly, and Harry nods, running to his bed and getting under his blanket.

James comes to tuck him in again, passing his hands through Harry's hair to mess it, the way that always makes Harry laugh. Then his hand falls on Harry's tiny hand, where there is a crumpled paper.

'May I?', James asks. Harry bits his lips, looking very much like his mother when she is thoughtful, but he opens his hand.

James unfolds the paper to see that Harry copied Sirius' tattoo, writing in his trembling childish handwriting: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs .

He thinks of the night they signed those names on the Marauder's Map, a hundred years ago, and how, in that moment, it seemed they would all shine brightly forever.

He can feel Harry's eyes over him, apprehensive, so he forces himself to breath evenly.

'Nice letters', he says, letting the paper rest on the nightstand. 'You make your "g" like your mum's. Now, be a good boy and sleep, ok?'

'Dad?', Harry asks timidly. 'You are Prongs, right?'

James feels something heavy inside his chest, but he nods.

'Padfoot is Sirius' dog. And Uncle Moony is Uncle Moony'. James just acquiesces with his head, still silent. Harry's eyes are very big, the moonlight entering the bedroom and highlighting his young face. 'So who is Wormtail?'

James looks at Harry's face, at his curious innocent son, and, not for the first time, he asks himself what made Peter betray them.

What made him betray  James . Was that James' fault? Was it Peter's ambition?

He doesn't know and he fears he never will.

'When I was in Hogwarts, with Padfoot and Moony, we had another friend', he whispers, his voice shaking slightly. 'We called him Wormtail'.

'He was like you? A Gryff… Gryve…'

'Gryffindor', James completes for him, watching Harry beam at the word, his hand automatically reaching for the stuffed lion at the edge of his bed, that James takes to give to him, watching Harry hugging the lion. 'Yes, he was, and in our year too'.

'Then he was a lion like you!'

James closes his eyes briefly and he remembers their first transformation, when James had turned into a majestic stag and Sirius into a beautiful black dog and Peter had looked crestfallen at being a small rat. Sirius had teased him, but that had been one of few jokes that James had asked him to drop it.

Afterwards, James had found Peter and had reminded him of the great accomplishment he had achieved by turning into an animagus at the age of fifteen.

'You should be proud of being a rat', James had said and Peter had beamed, drying away the tears in his eyes.

James supposes he should have seen then. A rat.

'He was once', he says instead, because he always wondered where was the courage that the Sorting Hat had seen in Peter at age eleven.

'Where is he?'

'Gone'.

'Gone where?'

James lies down at Harry's side, his eyes on the stuffed lion, trying not to think of the index finger that was given to Peter's mother as the only piece of him they ever found.

'Do you remember when mum's cat was old? And he slept very deeply?'

'Oh. And he didn't wake up anymore'.

'Well, that is what happens when someone is gone. They sleep and they never wake up anymore'.

Harry frowns in concentration.

‘They are dreaming?’

‘Something like a very long dream, yes’.

'If I sleep now, I will wake up?'

James smiles softly and places a kiss on his forehead.

'You will', he assures.

'Mum was sad when the cat slept', Harry murmurs, still frowning in concentration. 'Were you sad when your friend was gone?'

Truth be told, James had not known about Peter's fate until two days later. The first of November had been a rush of meetings with Dumbledore then the Order then confirming everything was right with Harry and just trying to understand what had happened.

It was only on the next day that he found out that after making sure they were safe, Sirius had taken his motorbike and had gone after Peter alone.

He only had seen the pictures of the explosion in the papers the next day. Sirius had never talked to him about what happened, other than saying Peter had tried to escape and had exploded a gas pipe instead. Twelve people were killed, including Peter. A massacre and one of his best friends had turned into a mass murderer.

James had never really grieved for Peter and he had ignored all attempts of Peter's mother to contact him. He knew she would want answers he did not have.

He had felt a lot of things for Peter's betrayal and demise, but it never occurred to him whether sadness was one of them.

'I think so', he says, not wanting to lie to Harry despite knowing he won't ever fully disclose this story to his son. He thinks of happy nights in the Common Room, in the way Peter always smiled to him as if he would trust James to guide him in the dark. James wonders when that smile lost hope. Somehow, it feels that Peter died long before he blew up himself. 'Yes, I was sad'.

Harry gives him the stuffed lion.

'Here, have Godric', he says, as serious as he can sound. 'He will make you happy'.

James smiles and hugs the lion before returning him to Harry.

'I am already happy. You are safe, Harry, and that makes me happy'.

Harry yawns and holds his lion tightly. James rises, messing with Harry’s hair one last time.

'Now, good night, Harry'.

'You forgot -'

'You are right, sorry. Good night, Godric'.

Harry smiles quietly, closing his eyes and James watches him for a minute before closing the door.

Whatever else he would feel for Peter’s betrayal, he knows he can’t ever forgive Peter for risking his family.

____________________

Harry is thirteen when he asks who is Peter Pettigrew.

It's the end of July. Harry is happy, having the Weasley over for a birthday party. James watches amusedly as the Weasley twins are clearly plotting something (even after all these years James can still spot a prank miles away), when he sees Sirius has arrived.

Sirius hugs Harry and gives him his birthday present, but it's clear something is off with Sirius. Now James thinks about it, it's been over two weeks that he hasn't seen Sirius. It happens from time to time when Sirius is overcharged with his job at the Ministry, but usually, Sirius warns them before he is on a mission or if he will become unavailable.

Whatever it is, Sirius seems to be avoiding him purposely, going to talk to Remus in a low voice in a quiet corner. Whatever they are talking makes Sirius relax a little, then they both turn to look at James, who just stares back calmly. He knows Sirius will come to talk to him about what is bothering him.

They don't have secrets with each other.

So James waits and he isn’t really surprised when Sirius comes quietly to his side and requests a private word. His face is grave, without any shadow of a smile, as if James needs another sign that whatever it’s pestering him, it’s important.

They lock themselves in Lily's office and Sirius takes a deep breath, looking at James as if he wished more than anything he could be saying something else.

'Peter is alive'.

James blinks, for a wondrous second not understanding.

‘What Peter?’

‘Peter Pettigrew’.

‘That’s impossible!’

‘We have a witness that saw him early this month close to Ottery St. Catchpole. Older, balder, but, yes, it was him’.

‘Who? Who saw him?’

‘Bertha Jorkins’.

James snorts nervously.

‘Bertha? You know what she’s like, Padfoot. She can’t see the difference between a dog and a crup -’

‘I saw her memories, James, it’s really him’. Sirius sighs. ‘Don’t you think I wish he were dead too?’

‘Do you?’, asks James, because he remembers how Sirius never erased Wormtail’s name of his tattoo, but even as he asks he regrets his question.

‘I went  after him, didn’t I? I watched he blow up a whole street -’

‘But not himself, clearly!  How did you miss that?’

Sirius shakes his head, angry, though James can tell he is angrier at himself.

‘Well, he was a rat - I don’t know how he managed to explode and turn at the same time, but then again we did underestimate Peter a lot, right?’

‘We can’t do that again, Sirius! We can’t let him escape our fingers, not when…’

‘I  know, Prongs, I know. I’ve set a task force with Shacklebolt and Fudge is talking about even involving the Muggle Prime Minister this time… We’ll surround him and capture him. It’s just a matter of time’.

‘You said he was seen on Ottery St. Catchpole? That’s where the Weasleys live, we must -’

Sirius sighs heavier now, and there is a dark cloud on his face, one that looks a lot like that time when Sirius had pranked Snape into going to the Shrieking Shack. Guilt.

‘He is not there anymore, we’ve checked the city over and over - even the sewers, yes, but he is not in the region anymore’.

‘But we must tell Arthur, Ron can be in danger -’

‘Peter isn’t there, James, he… He was just probably searching for some information, Ottery St. Catchpole has one of the biggest wizarding communities and… When Bertha saw him, the Weasley weren’t even there. They were abroad’.

James remembers the prize that Arthur had won and their sunny trip to Egypt; he had been happy for them. But that…

‘That was two weeks ago!’, James cries, and Sirius flinches, but he nods. ‘You are telling me you withhold that for two weeks? What the hell is your problem, Sirius?’

Sirius crosses his arms.

‘That was classified, that’s the problem. We thought if we could trace him quietly, it would be better’.

‘Better for who? In case you forgot, your godson is a target for him!’

‘Harry was never in danger, James’, Sirius says quietly. ‘Peter was seen far from here and, well, if he’s been alive for the last twelve years, then he never once went after Harry’.

‘He is rat - he could be here or at Hogwarts and we wouldn’t -’

‘He is not here now, there is your love protection, remember?’, points Sirius, his voice much more soothing than James has ever seen him sound. He supposes years as Auror have made Sirius much better qualified to deal with stress. ‘And as for Hogwarts, once again, Harry was never in danger as far as we know. No unknown rat or crazy old man has come near him’.

‘But I can’t - Harry can’t return there, not -’

‘You are overreacting, James, and you know it. Harry will be under Dumbledore’s protection all the time at Hogwarts and there is something else’. He pauses, and then there is a tender smile on his lips. ‘Moony will be there too. Dumbledore asked him to teach Defense this year’.

‘Oh’, that brings a smile to James’ face as well. He knows how much Remus has been studying and how much he loves to share his knowledge with others. ‘ Finally. Remus must be so happy’.

‘He is excited, yes, but if you want to know the main reason he accepted was to watch out for Harry too’.

‘Remus knew too? So what,  everyone knew?’

‘Don’t be like that - we just tried to solve things before it got too complicated. But now -’

‘Now?’

‘Someone leaked it for the Daily Prophet’, Sirius admits, breathing heavily. ‘It will be on the front page tomorrow morning. And you know what that means -’

‘Panic’.

‘He got marked as one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters. Nonsense, we know, Peter was never the brightest, he wouldn’t be any better Death Eater… he was just in the right place. But it doesn’t matter, people will panic, I will get owls daily with people reporting they’ve seen him… It will be a mess’.

‘And it will be harder to find him now he knows he’s been hunted’, James muses thoughtfully. ‘I suppose none of the free Death Eaters are happy with him either’.

Sirius gives one of his bark-like laughs.

‘The traitor who helped lead Voldemort to his downfall? I bet not. They will think the traitor betrayed them too’.

‘As if…’ James sighs. Then he glances at Sirius speculatively. He knows what Sirius will say, but he can try. ‘I can help’.

‘No’, Sirius shakes his head. ‘You are too involved in this, and you know it. It will not do any good’.

‘I can’t just stay here knowing he is out there -’

‘See, that’s why I didn’t want you to know. Breathe, James. The Aurors are taking care of it, I am taking care of it and about Harry, I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to him. Not even if I need to be at his side all the time’.

‘He will love that’, James snorts. ‘But you are right, Harry will be at Hogwarts, the least we can do is… trust anything will happen’.

‘I hope not, Fudge is talking about putting dementors around Hogwarts for protection… Like I said, a mess’.

‘What good will dementors do?’

‘None, of course, but -’, Sirius flushes, looking guilty. ‘It’s not like we can just tell them about Peter, right? It would lead to too many questions, and Remus -’

‘I know’, James agrees, sighing. ‘We will just have to be careful. Harry will need to be more careful if a mass murderer is after him, he can’t be out after hours or going in his trips outside the castle - or, damn it, there are Hogsmeade trips this year - ‘

‘Don’t forbid him of going’, says Sirius, frowning. ‘Or you will just make him find a way of going without you knowing’.

‘He wouldn’t if -’

‘If you tell him what’s going on?’, Sirius challenges. ‘Are you going to tell him the whole story?’

James doesn’t say anything, but Sirius already knows the answer.

‘That boy may have Lily’s sense of responsibility, but he is also your son and I know you will be disappointed if he never finds out one of the secret passages out of the castle - do you really want to test him?’

James chuckles against his will.

‘Fine, he can keep Hogsmeade trips, as long as it’s safe. I just can’t help but think… who knows how Peter Pettigrew’s mind is after all this time? What if he thinks that getting Harry will bring Voldemort back?’

‘He was never the most brilliant, James’, Sirius repeats derisively.

‘Still, twelve years of brooding Voldemort’s fall… he bet all on Voldemort, didn’t he?’

‘He bet wrong’, Sirius says, his voice resolute. ‘Now, can we let this go for now? It’ll be in tomorrow’s paper and I just want a moment to celebrate my favourite godson’s birthday’.

‘He is your only godson’, James notes, more at ease with Sirius’ joke.

‘Only because you and Lily stopped too early’.

‘Remus would be the next godfather’.

‘You wouldn’t dare!’.

James laughs, without answering.

They go back to the party, and once in a while, James thinks Harry is looking at him, but whenever he looks back, Harry is already doing something - talking animatedly to Ron or even coaching a blushing Ginny to play Exploding Snap.

There is no talking of Peter Pettigrew for the night, until later when they are in their bedroom, and James tells Lily the news that Sirius brought.

Lily turns to him then, her green eyes full of worry.

‘We should tell Harry’.

‘There is nothing to tell him’, whispers James. ‘We don’t know if Wormtail will go after him’.

‘What does your heart tell you?’

James closes his eyes, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

‘I think it’s not a coincidence he has been sighted after all these years’.

‘That’s what I thought too. I can talk to Harry if you want’.

‘No, I will - it’s my… my burden. Just give me some time, ok?’

Lily sighs and nods. James can feel her watching him, but he doesn’t open his eyes.

‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘About Peter being alive. You never dealt with it, James, not really’.

‘He was a traitor’, James mumbles, his voice full of repulse. ‘There was nothing to deal with. He betrayed us then he died. Or so we thought, but I didn’t care he was dead’.

‘Didn’t you?’, she asks softly, and James doesn’t answer her.

It seems there are a lot of things he doesn’t want to say, so after a minute, Lily turns off the lights. She hugs him in the dark, her hand caressing his, and James pretends he doesn’t care at all that Peter is alive.

Lily pretends she doesn’t know he cares, so it works for everyone.

The next morning, when they are in the kitchen for breakfast, Harry jumps from his chair as soon as the morning owl comes with the Daily Prophet.

‘Thanks’, he says to the owl, watching it fly away. Then he opens the newspaper. ‘Wow. Who is Peter Pettigrew?’

James grabs the Prophet. There is a big photo of Wormtail, blinking at him.  Peter Pettigrew is alive and on the loose, the headline says.

He looks at the face he hasn’t seen in the past twelve years, having even stored all photos in which he was together with them. James had worked really hard to delete from his existence the fact that he was once friends with Wormtail, and still Peter managed to crawl back in his life.

‘Friends don’t leave’, he remembers saying to Peter a long time ago, and James can’t help but find the irony there.

It’s an old photo, of when Peter was twenty, young and looking so fragile. He wonders how Wormtail is now. Sirius described him as older and balder, and that thought fills him with anger. He remembers the old Order, how many of them were killed, and James asks himself - as he always does when his thoughts steer in that direction - how many died because  he was once friends with Peter Pettigrew.

‘Dad?’, Harry asks again, and James sees Harry is watching him carefully.

‘He was a Death Eater’, Lily answers for him, taking the newspaper from his hand and replacing it with a cup of tea. ‘One of Voldemort’s followers. He got famous for - ’, Lily looks briefly at James. ‘ - for murdering twelve people with a single curse’.

‘Twelve people?’, Harry repeats, astonished. ‘With one curse?’

‘Yeah, and for all these years we thought he had killed himself also. But now -’

Lily shrugs at the newspaper, folding it so Peter’s face is hidden. Harry grabs the Prophet, his eyes scanning fast the news. 

‘Sirius is after him?’, he asks, and James wakes up.

‘They are sending the best Aurors’, he says in the lighter voice he can manage.

‘I am sure your godfather will catch him in a blink’, adds Lily, in the same tone as James.

Sirius hasn’t caught Peter in the two weeks of advantage he had,  James thinks darkly, but he doesn’t say anything. With luck, Peter has left the country by now. He was never the bravest; he wouldn’t face a manhunt for him.

Harry is nodding, looking strangely excited at the thought of his godfather going after a famous murderer, and Lily looks at James as if expecting him to tell now and then that Pettigrew may be after Harry.

It’s still early August, James thinks. There is still time.

August passes by in a blink, and Lily is throwing looks at him that are more and more worried than before, but still, James can’t force himself to say anything to Harry.

Then Sirius comes to the news that Fudge has not resisted public pressure and he decided to place dementors around Hogwarts for “protection”.

‘Everyone agrees that he is after Harry’, Sirius explains in a quiet voice. He looks more tired than James has ever seen him, and he guesses easily that Sirius must be double-shifting in his search for Pettigrew.

Sirius is the only one that is almost as upset as James by Peter’s betrayal. James thinks it’s not fair; he never blamed Sirius for suggesting the exchange of Secret Keeper - it was a good plan.

James only blames himself for not seeing how excited Peter had been at the idea, how he trusted the most precious things in his life for someone he thought he was a friend.

The mistake is on James, not on Sirius.

‘It’s silly, we have no evidence that it’s more likely he may go to Hogwarts than anywhere else, and Dumbledore was furious’, Sirius is saying, dismayed. ‘But Fudge is sure that he is after Harry, and you know Fudge -’

‘He likes to show that he is doing something, yes’, James completes. He doesn’t have much contact with the Minister of Magic, but Sirius doesn’t seem impressed by him and James trusts Sirius’ opinion. ‘So what now?’

‘Now we hope the dementors at least catch Peter if he is dumb enough to bump into them. But it will be miserable at Hogwarts this year, that I give you. I  hate dementors’.

‘Me too’.

‘Every time I have to go to Azkaban... God, I hate that place. I don’t think even filthy like my dear cousin Bellatrix deserves it’.

‘Peter might’, James says quietly. ‘Or not, he won’t feel anything probably -’

‘James…’

‘What? We always protected him so it was not like he could have bad memories of school or of the war. And then what, do you think he regrets telling Voldemort? You think it’s a bad memory for him? It was probably the happiest moment of his life, delivering the Potters…’

‘James’, Sirius calls him again, louder so James can’t ignore him this time. ‘I don’t care if it will affect Peter or not, and neither should you. It’s not our problem anymore’.

‘It will always be my problem’.

‘It’s only his problem. See, thoughts like that… Lily is worried about you’.

James rolls his eyes.

‘You two have been talking behind my back?’

‘Yes’, Sirius admits shamelessly. ‘It’s what we do when you don’t talk to any of us’.

‘I am talking with you right now’.

Sirius raises his eyebrows.

‘We can talk about the map of Hogwarts you have been studying in the library’.

James flushes.

‘It’s nothing. Just a silly hobby’.

‘It’s silly’, Sirius agrees. ‘Studying Hogwarts’ pipelines? There was a bloody basilisk in them, and you think you might find Peter like that?’

James doesn’t answer.

‘You will get crazy if you try to catch him like that, James, trust me. It’s like catching smoke with your hand. Now, if you want to do something useful… Have you talked to Harry?’

‘If you’ve been talking with Lily, you know I haven’t yet’.

Sirius just looks at him, expecting, and James sighs. ‘I will talk to him tonight’, he concedes.

Still, James delays the moment as much as he can, until, right after Harry turns in for the night, he sees Sirius and Lily looking at him, both with identical reproval looks on their faces.

‘I hate when you join forces against me’, he mumbles, but he goes.

As much as James doesn’t want to talk to Harry about it, he knows it’s for the better.

He knocks on Harry’s door, opening to find Harry already with his pyjamas, lying lazily on his bed.

‘Dad?’, Harry asks, surprised. Then he smirks. ‘Coming to tuck me in? I am a little bit older for that’.

James laughs easily, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed and arraying the blanket over Harry, making his son roll his eyes.

‘You are never too old’.

‘This is silly’, Harry disagrees, moving so he messes all the work James had done with his blanket. ‘What is it?’

‘Maybe I just want to wish you a good night’.

‘You already said it downstairs’.

‘Or maybe I came to see if you want a bedtime story’.

‘I’m thirteen’, Harry notes, exasperated.

‘Even for a Marauder’s tale?’, James asks in a soft voice. Harry blinks, and James can see the interest in there.

‘I could listen to one’, Harry says in a nonchalant voice. ‘Just because you love them so much’.

‘Put on my account, yeah’, James almost smiles. Then he looks at his own hands. ‘Did I ever tell you about the Marauder’s Map?’

‘I think Sirius mentioned a map once’.

‘We lost this map so many years ago that we tend to forget… Well, it was the other half of our secret to perfect pranks. The first one you know’.

‘The Cloak’, Harry guesses.

‘Yeah… you see, this map was just as amazing, and maybe even a little more, because we created it from scratch. It was a map of Hogwarts, showing every corridor, every room, but the most amazing thing - it showed where everyone was. There were small dots with everyone’s names, in real-time’.

‘Wow!’, Harry looks impressed. ‘How did you do it?’

‘A combination of good spells, our talents, plenty of time to spare, my Invisibility Cloak so we could walk around… It was supposed to be our legacy’.

‘And how come I don’t have this map?’, asks Harry, sounding outraged. James chuckles lightly.

‘Because we lost in our Seventh Year. Filch got it - I don’t think he understood what it was, but he was smart enough to see it was important. Well, by then we were leaving Hogwarts and we had more pressing things to care about anyway’.

Harry shakes his head in fake devastation.

‘You should have thought about your future son’.

‘I was eighteen, Harry, you can be sure I didn’t think about kids’, James says playfully. ‘Well, we enjoyed the Marauder’s Map while we could. It saved us a lot of times of being caught, especially when we got separated…’

‘What do you think happened to it?’

‘It’s probably gathering dust in Filch’s office. If you happen to find an old harmless parchment lying around, that’s it… and you will see it’s signed with our names. Well, nicknames. Moony, Padfoot, Prongs and…’

‘Wormtail’, Harry finishes for him, in a low voice.

James sighs, looking back at Harry.

‘You remember’, he says, and Harry just nods. There doesn’t seem to be any special acknowledgement in his eyes, so James just adds, in the most casual voice he can manage. ‘Well, we four did it. It was the greatest Map ever. There were all these secret passages in and outside school too’.

‘The ones you don’t want to tell me about’, Harry notes, just a touch of complaint in his voice.

‘I told you to explore and I gave you my Cloak, didn’t I?’. He smiles. ‘You got to deserve knowing the passages, kiddo’.

‘I’ve explored Hogwarts’, Harry says, with a note of pride in his voice that James knows is for his father more than for himself.

‘The Marauders never found the Chamber of Secrets, I will give you that’, James agrees.  

Harry smiles bashfully. James shakes his head at the adventures his son had, then he sighs. 

‘But this year I will have to ask you to suspend your explorations, Harry’.

Harry just blinks.

‘There is something I’ve got to tell you, and I’m sorry to have postponed so much, I just didn’t want you to worry during summer -’

‘Dad’, Harry cuts him off, looking guilty. ‘It’s fine. I  know’.

‘You know? How could you?’

‘I heard you and Sirius talking on my birthday’, he admits. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I heard my name and… I know Peter Pettigrew is after me’.

Now it’s James’ turn to blink.

‘What else did you hear?’

‘Only that “a mass murderer” is after me’, Harry repeats, a little unfazed, as if it’s no big deal that he is the target of a mass murderer. In his case, James thinks, it’s not the first time. ‘Is there more?’

Once upon a time James looked at Peter’s face, at his friend’s face, and  asked him if he could do him the greatest favour of being their secret keeper.

‘It will be dangerous, I know’, James had said, not wanting to lie to Peter. ‘And I know it’s too much, Peter, but I wouldn’t ask if -’

‘James’, Peter had said, placing a hand on his shoulder, looking much more valiant than James had ever seen him. ‘I would do anything for you, you know that. You can trust me’.

James had trusted him and seven days later Voldemort had walked effortlessly into his house.

‘No, that’s it’, James whispers, knowing perfectly well what he is lying about. ‘We are just worried because he was a huge supporter of Voldemort and… well, he lost everything right after Voldemort lost to you, so -’

‘Let me guess, another crazy person who thinks I somehow can bring Voldemort back to power’.

‘We think so’, James agrees. ‘There will be extra protection in Hogwarts this year, so I ask you to just be equally extra careful, ok? Just be a good boy for once and stay inside the castle, or with people around you -’

‘I’m not scared’, Harry says.

‘I know you are not. But I want you to promise… don't go looking for Pettigrew'.

Harry opens his eyes, startled.

'Why would I go out looking for someone who wants to kill me?', he asks, and James just looks back at him, without answering. After a few seconds, Harry grins. 'Ok, I get it, I have a bad record'.

James lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

'You are notorious for acting first, think later. Hum, I wonder where that impulsive trace came from'.

Harry laughs.

'Mum, probably', he teases. Then his face softens. 'You don't need to worry, Dad. I am sure Sirius will catch him easily'.

'I trust Padfoot too'. There is a moment of silence. 'You still haven't promised'.

'Oh, you are right. I promise to behave this year'.

'Not too much, you can pull off a prank or two', James says, grinning, and Harry winks at him. 'Well, I think I will let you rest now. See if we can be on time this year in King's Cross'.

Harry flushes. They are always late because of him.

'Good night, Harry'.

'Night… hey, dad?'

'Yeah?'

'If you are a stag and Sirius is a dog, that friend of yours, Wormtail, was he an animagus too?'

James' throat is suddenly dry and he stops at the door to turn to Harry.

'Yeah, he was a rat', he whispers. 'Let me know if you see any strange rat around you, ok?'

'Isn't he… I mean, I thought he was dead'.

Harry says the last word in a low voice as if he feels guilty of remembering his father that his friend is dead.

Harry's eyes look so full of concern for him, so much like Lily's eyes, that he can hear her voice in his head, telling him to tell Harry the truth about Pettigrew and Wormtail, to explain to him what happened.

What James did.

How he didn't realize one of his best friends was a spy who sold James' family in exchange for power.

How he dared doubt Remus, while the real traitor was being cherished as a brave hero for keeping the most important secret.

How James would have died for Peter.

He can't face Harry. He can't tell him that truth.

'My friend is gone, James says at least. 'But you never know. Watch out for unknown rats, ok?'

Harry nods and James closes the door silently.

__________________

It’s not the first time the school year ends with James visiting the hospital wing in search of his son, but this is the first time he meets Sirius there.

‘Prongs -’, Sirius starts, looking guilty and trying to rise from the bed he was laying on, but James just shakes his head. Sirius’ head is all bandaged, and, from what Dumbledore told him, it was a nasty blow, along with many other cuts in his body.

Later, James will tease Sirius for being an old man that can’t even deal with a werewolf anymore, but now James is not in the mood.

‘Just rest, Padfoot’, he says dismissively. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I am, but -  he was here and -’

‘I know what happened. Dumbledore told me’. James presses his lips for a moment. ‘Where is Harry?’

Sirius winces at the tone of James’ voice.

‘He was released early this morning, but James… Come on, it’s not his fault’.

‘Which part? Going after Wormtail or almost being kissed by a dementor?’

‘Everything’, Sirius says softly. ‘He saved more than one life yesterday, you know. You should be proud of him’.

‘I will be prouder when he ends a year without me needing to pay him a visit in the hospital wing. Now, do you know where he is?’

Sirius sighs.

‘Try the lake. I think he will be there with his thoughts after last night.

James wonders what is in the lake that would particularly attract Harry, but he just nods, leaving the infirmary.

The truth is he is  mad. He woke up to a letter of Dumbledore, calling for him and Lily at their earliest convenience. James had recognized the tone of Dumbledore’s letter - it spoke of Harry getting into some adventure that he should not have.

Except he would not classify everything that had happened the night before as one of Harry’s adventures. It was much more a suicidal attempt because he could not fathom any good reason for his son to go after Peter Pettigrew - after promising he wouldn’t -, drawing Sirius’ attention, then Remus and, for some baffling reason,  Snape.

And then, as if that was not enough, even though Harry had managed, with his friends and Sirius and Remus, to catch Peter, he had slipped out of their fingers and everyone was almost kissed by one hundred dementors.

‘How?’, Lily had asked, her face pale and troubled, grasping James’ hand with such force that it was stopping his blood circulation. ‘How did they escape the dementors?’

‘They had time’, Dumbledore had answered enigmatically.

James had no time for deciphering enigmas. He had left to check on Sirius and to find Harry. He needed to understand why Harry had put himself in so much danger, over and over, and what had made him go chase after Peter Pettigrew when he knew the danger Peter represented.

And it had been all for nothing. Wormtail is still at loose, still a  danger, still unpunished for everything he did. And he got so close to Harry, whose life he once offered freely to Voldemort, even after assuring James he would protect it with his last breath…

The sun makes James blink blindly when he leaves the castle. It’s a beautiful hot day, and he sees a line of students going in the direction of Hogsmeade - it's probably the last trip of the year there.

With a guilt jolt, he thinks of revoking Harry's permission to go to Hogsmeade after there was a sight of Wormtail there. It turned out to be an unfounded rumour, but James had not been thinking straight.

He was never really able to when it involved Wormtail.

Harry had been furious at being forbidden from going to Hogsmeade and even Lily had not supported his decision then. Considering Harry had ended up meeting Wormtail at Hogwarts grounds, even if they went to the Shrieking Shack, he supposes he was on the wrong on that one.

He finds Harry easily after a few minutes, under the shadow of a tree with Ron and Hermione. They both raise when they see James approaching, and they each place a supporting hand on Harry's shoulder.

The sight fills James' heart with sudden warmth. He loves Ron and Hermione and he loves to watch them together. That trio has nothing to do with the Marauders, really - he can point out some similarities if he must, but they are altogether a different group.

And still James sees that, with Ron and Hermione, Harry has the kind of friendship that James himself found with Sirius and Remus. That friendship that will last a lifetime, through troubles and doubts.

His anger lessens a little.

Ron and Hermione whisper something to Harry and he sees his son nodding. They leave Harry, passing James with just a greeting with their heads. For some reason, Ron flushes when James waves back, looking strangely guilty.

'He thinks it's his fault', Harry explains, and James sees he was watching him from his place at the ground. Harry doesn’t raise. 'For not noticing what Scabbers was - well, that he wasn't a normal rat'.

'Nobody blames him', James whispers, sitting right next to Harry, who turns to the lake once more, seeming fixed on the sun shining in the water. 'Now - care to tell me what happened?'

'You are angry', Harry notes, with a sigh.

'Of course I am angry. I told you not to go after Pettigrew and what did you do?'

'I promised I wouldn't go after Pettigrew, but last night it wasn't him I was after. I was chasing  Wormtail'.

James feels the jab, even though Harry doesn’t sound particularly accusing.

'Harry -'

'And he had Ron', Harry adds simply. 'He knew I would go after Ron - he told me you would have done the same for him'.

James breathes heavily.

'I would'.

'Why didn't you tell me the story, dad?', Harry asks, sounding hurt, and he turns to James. 'Why did you never tell me that Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail - and everything he did?'

James presses his lips for a moment.

'It wasn't your burden to bear. This was on me. It wasn't you that he betrayed, Harry'.

'I don't think he sees that way', Harry sighs. 'He tried… well, let me tell you the whole story, ok?'

Harry waits until James nods to begin his tale of the last night.

He tells James how he, Ron and Hermione had broken the rules to do company to Hagrid because Buckbeak would be executed and how they had found Scabbers hiding in there. They had tried to return to the castle, but Scabbers had shrieked and bit Ron and then -

'He turned into a man', Harry whispers. 'It was nothing like that photo on wanted posters, I didn't even recognize him right away…'

Harry tells how Pettigrew dragged Ron to under the Whomping Willow, how Hermione's cat had helped them find the secret tunnel and then they had ended up in the Shrieking Shack.

'He said he just wanted to  talk, but he looked crazy like… he kept babbling and seeing shadows and he called me by your name more than once'.

'We do look alike', James notes dully. 'And then Sirius came?'

Harry sighs and he explains that Sirius and Remus had followed them.

'Wait, how did they know where you were?'

Harry looks guilty at that.

'Because Remus had the Marauder's Map'.

'What? He found it? He never -'

'He got from me', Harry admits, his voice dropping shame now. 'I… It came to me in December, after...' Harry stops and looks at him with deep sorrow. 'I am  sorry, Dad, I really am, I should have told you sooner, but - let me go back at the beginning…'

Then Harry tells, sounding really remorseful, how he got the Marauder's Map (though he doesn’t share names, because Harry is loyal), how he was upset that James had forbidden him from going to Hogsmeade and how he had used the Map to go to Hogsmead secretly and then he had listened to the story of how the Potters had been betrayed by one of their closest friends.

And how Harry had understood how Wormtail, whose name was written on the Marauder's Map, had been responsible for almost killing them.

'That's why you were withdrawn at Christmas', James says, finally understanding why Harry had seemed upset - he'd thought it was only because of the Hogsmeade permission and because of the accident with Harry’s broom.

'I couldn't tell you what I had heard', murmurs Harry. 'And I knew you never liked to talk about it, so… well, anyway, I had the Map until April only -'

As Harry continues his story, James thinks he will have a serious conversation with Remus about friendship coming before being a professor (though Remus will say that as Harry's teacher he shouldn't also share a Marauder’s secret - it's complicated, he supposes).

Then Harry talks about how Sirius and Remus incarcerated Peter.

'He kept telling he wanted to tell his story, that he was sorry, so sorry', Harry whispers. 'And I asked them to let him, I thought… maybe there was some excuse, maybe we had understood all wrong somehow… And he tried to explain, Wormtail, he told your story… how you turn into animagi for Remus... how he was always your friend and how Voldemort had tricked him…'

James' hand acts on its own, raising to grab Harry's shoulder. Harry turns to him with a sad smile.

'I think they wanted to believe him', he whispers. 'Remus and Sirius, I mean. Pettigrew kept talking about being sorry for everything, how he never wanted to betray any of us, and - there was a moment where Sirius and Remus lowered their wands… then Snape came'.

And with evident annoyance, Harry tells how Snape had come and had belittled them for being stupid enough to fall for Pettigrew's fake weakness again and how Sirius and Snape had fought.

'Snape cast this nasty spell, he hit Sirius… then I disarmed Snape, except Ron and Hermione did too, and he fell unconscious'. Harry rolls his eyes, unconcerned. 'I saw Snape last night, he is not happy with me. Not that he ever is -'

'So you jinxed your professor', James notes, thinking he should sound stern, even if he doesn't really understand why Snape had to stick his nose on that story when it had nothing to do with him.

'Yeah', Harry blushes, at least not seeming proud of it. 'Then…'

He tells how they revived Sirius and how Sirius had actually said Snape was right. They shouldn't trust Peter again.

'Wormtail screamed like if Sirius was giving him a death sentence', Harry whispers, his voice distant. 'And it was… he begged them, and he begged me, he said… he said you would have understood. You would have forgiven him'.

James' grasp on Harry is harder, but Harry doesn't seem to notice.

'Sirius told me Peter would have watched me die, would have watched you die, without turning a hair because he valued his life more than any of ours. He accused Wormtail of selling information for Voldemort for at least one year before his downfall…'

'We always knew there was a spy', James says, forcing himself to release his hand on Harry's shoulder so he doesn’t hurt him without meaning to. 'But I could never believe it was one of them… any of them'.

'He admitted', Harry says, with a grimace, as if he wished he was saying something different to his father. 'He confessed he was the spy and that he had been almost ever since leaving school… and he asked what he should have done, with Voldemort gathering so much power'.

'He should have died', James whispers. 'Died rather than betraying his friends, because -'

' - that's what you would have done for him', Harry finishes for James, with a sigh. 'That's what Sirius said. Then Remus told him that he should have known… if Voldemort didn't kill him, they would. They raised their wands… and that's where I stopped them. I placed myself in front of their wands, in front of Wormtail’.

'You?', asks James, surprised. He'd thought sense had come to Sirius and Remus.

'I told them you wouldn't like them to become murderers because of him. I - I thought how you once saved Snape from Sirius' prank because you didn't want any of them to feel guilty of killing someone and how… even if you never liked Snape, there are some lines you don’t cross'. Harry pauses, looking more troubled than any fourteen-year-old should feel. 'Was I wrong?'

There is a desperate need for validation on Harry’s face, but James looks beyond his son, over the lake, and if he closes his eyes he can hear the sound of four teenagers sharing a carefree laugh at the edge of the lake.

There are many questions he would like an answer to, but the one he always comes back to is “why?”. Somehow, he doubts even Wormtail really knows why he did everything and why he betrayed his friends.

And if Wormtail was right in front of him - older and weaker and alone -, James likes to think he would have felt the same pity that Harry felt. In the end, Wormtail did not win in what mattered the most. Harry is alive. 

And Prongs, Padfoot and Moony are still together.

'No, you did right', he whispers. 'I never thought if I wanted him dead or not - there was so much happening right after Voldemort fell, that the first time I thought about him was when Sirius came to tell us he was dead. I guess I was just so used to him being dead that I never wondered if... If I got the chance, if I had him at my mercy… I don't know. I like to think I would have done the same'.

He hears Harry breathing again at his side.

'I thought about the dementors and that if someone deserved Azkaban, it would be him', Harry explains. 'But then all hell broke loose’.

Then Harry finishes the story as James had heard already from Dumbledore, telling about how Remus forgot to drink his Wolfsbane Potion and how Pettigrew had escaped, but the dementors had been drawn to his presence anyway.

‘It was chaos’, Harry says in a low voice. ‘Sirius had drifted away to control Remus and it had worked because the werewolf ran to the forest, but Sirius was hurt -’

‘It was always a two-man job’, James notes. ‘Or two animals. With only one of us it was too difficult, and the werewolf was not used to being controlled after years of Wolfsbane Potion’.

Harry sighs.

‘And then the dementors came. I don’t think they cared who they were kissing, and I tried to cast the Patronus just as Uncle Moony taught me. But… I couldn’t’.

James feels goosebumps over his body, imagining the despair Harry must have felt then, with a hundred dementors upon him and Sirius - but he has no idea how they escaped.

‘And what happened? Snape -’

‘No, he was still knocked out… I was almost losing consciousness too, but then I saw…’ Harry smiles now, looking at James with nothing but love in his eyes. ‘ You. Prongs saved us’.

James blinks, confused. ‘I wasn’t there - what do you mean?’

Harry lifts his wand and points to the lake.

‘Expecto Patronum!’, he cries, and from the point of his wand, somehow brighter than the sun reflecting in the lake, comes out a beautiful stag, who runs to the lake before vanishing in a wisp of air.

A warm feeling spreads through James’ body and he stares at the place the Patronus vanished, somehow as lost for words as he felt the first time he ever saw Harry, just after he was born. He remembers looking at that tiny fragile baby, all wrapped in a blanket and crying out loud, knowing no words could explain what he was feeling then. They, he and Lily, had made that precious thing.

‘He is perfect’, was the first thing he said after several minutes, when Harry was quieter and Lily had helped him hold his son for the first time. James’ arms were trembling, but he managed to hold Harry, until his son slept in his arms.

James loves Harry ever since he knew of his existence, but there are moments where that love threatens to overwhelm and scare him a little too. He understands his love for his parents, for his friends and for Lily. But that paternal love for Harry - a mix of his desire that Harry gets to be free to live fully, but also a need of protecting him against all evil, so nothing can ever hurt him - he feels he will never be able to truly understand.

And now, seeing that Harry’s Patronus is his stag, it’s James, really, he feels that his desire of protecting Harry is being achieved. He will always be with Harry.

Harry begins talking again, explaining about Time-Turners and James refuses to think of the time paradox there, instead focusing on the satisfied smile that comes out on Harry’s face as he speaks of saving Buckbeak, and then how he accepted he couldn’t try to change time to catch Wormtail.

‘I couldn’t risk’, he says, distressed. ‘Hermione was right, if anyone saw us, if I changed anything - Sirius could be kissed’.

And so could Harry, but James knows Harry always thinks of others first. His son is too selfless sometimes, but as much as this worries James, it also fills him with a burning pride.

‘When the time came, I kept thinking you would appear, until - until I finally understood. I had seen myself - but also you too. And I thought about how you were always there for me, how much I wanted - I wanted to be like you’. Harry flushes and ignores the way James’ eyes are sparkling now. ‘Then Prongs came to life. I guess - all four Marauders were here last night’.

James hears once more the ghost of the laughs and he thinks how many times they had sat together around the lake, in September or in late spring, studying and joking and planning one of their pranks. Life at Hogwarts had been easier.

Except sometimes he wonders if Wormtail’s rupture began even at Hogwarts, when he felt left out or lesser than his friends, when he wasn’t as admired as James or as cherished as Sirius or as lovable as Remus. But this question is much like time paradoxes: James will get mad trying to understand it.

‘We never left’, James says at least. ‘The Marauders were made to stay at Hogwarts’.

Harry smiles softly.

‘Moony gave me the Marauder’s Map back. He says he doesn’t feel guilty now he is not my teacher any more’.

James sighs. He hasn’t seen Remus yet - he had left Hogwarts as soon as he could -, but Dumbledore had told him about his resignation after his secret had slipped out. This thought causes a wave of fury in him - it took Snape almost twenty years, but he finally managed to tell Remus’ secret, that git.

‘Can I keep it?’, Harry asks, and James can see the greed in his eyes, how much he wants to save the Map for himself.

The responsible part of him - the one that made him Head Boy and that drove him to hide instead of fight when Harry was being hunted by Voldemort - wants to get the Map back. But the other part - the one who helped create that Map, who is always thrilled for adventures and adrenaline - tells him it wouldn’t be fair. He’d want Harry to know Hogwarts’ secrets.

And Harry would get himself into trouble anyway.

‘It’s your legacy’, he says, making Harry beam. Lily will shake her head at the idea of Harry getting involved in even more confusion, but James will cover that for him.

At least this one. There are other aspects he can’t ignore.

‘Do you believe in prophecies?’, Harry asks suddenly, turning to him with a serious face, and James forces himself not to grimace.

‘Some people do’, he says vaguely, thinking back of that night Dumbledore had summoned him and Lily, as well as Frank and Alice, to tell them grave news. ‘I like to think we make our own destiny’.

Harry looks at him with a resolute expression, taking in James’ answer. As Lily says with half-amusement and half-exasperation, Harry always heeds his father’s words better than anyone else’s.

‘Good. Me too’. Harry sighs. ‘Dumbledore told me that someday I might be glad that I saved Wormtail’s life. That he is in debt with me, just as Snape is with you’.

James gives Harry a knowing look.

‘Let me guess, you want that debt as much as I want old Snape’s debt’.

‘I don’t want any connection with him’, agrees Harry. ‘He betrayed you. You - you could have died’.

‘I could. And even if I had, it would not change much, I hope’. He puts an arm around Harry’s shoulder, and Harry accepts his embrace. ‘Even if I were dead, I would always love and be with you’.

‘I am glad you are here’, Harry whispers, his voice breaking at the thought of his father dead, and he turns his face away from James.

James allows his son one moment of privacy, before grinning.

‘Let’s hope you still think so after this summer’, he says brightly. ‘As much as proud of you as I am, you did ignore me and went to Hogsmeade hidden, and you went after Wormtail - you are so  grounded this summer’.

Harry groans.

‘Oh, yes. We will talk about your chores - and no complaints or I will even revoke us going to the Quidditch World Cup’.

Harry throws a scandalized look at James.

‘You wouldn’t!’

‘Well, you are right, I wouldn’t. No messing with Quidditch. But if you want to go to Hogsmeade next year, then I expect a lot of work - I’m thinking of the garden and cleaning the attic  at least’.

‘You are the worst’, Harry moans, but James knows his son doesn’t really think so, and Harry knows he knows.

It works for both of them.

___________________

Harry is fourteen when Wormtail ties him to a gravestone, cuts him, takes his blood and helps to resurrect Voldemort.

That drives James very close to the edge.

Everything is stressful that summer. Harry is shut and brooding and so full of everything that for the first time in his life he actually screams madly at James and Lily, demanding to have answers even if he doesn’t even know what his questions are. Lily is worried about everything, her nerves worn thin, and the fact that they now have to live on Grimmauld Place until Harry returns to school doesn’t help her. Even Sirius, who James can always count on to be on the same page as him, is dark and sulking because he is away from work and locked inside his parent’s house most of the time.

James deals with all of them because he is good at helping other people and solving their problems. He lets Harry scream at him and he hugs him when Harry’s tired of screaming. He hears Lily’s worries and he helps her see everything will be alright. He takes Sirius off Grimmauld Place as much as he can, and if not, he tries to give him happier memories of that bloody house.

It’s his own problems that James can’t handle very well.

Lily sees through him but James doesn’t think she can understand this one. Peter was her friend, but not like he once was James, so Lily doesn’t feel particularly betrayed by the fact that it was Peter that bleed Harry and left him to die - again - despite the fact that Harry once saved his life.

That summer, finding Peter becomes an obsession for James. He can’t help but think that if he had tried to find him last year, maybe things could have been different. Every time James sees the faint scar on Harry’s arm, fury washes over him.

He searches through Sirius’ notes, talks with Kingsley and even tries to ask Snape if he knows something. Snape looks at him with disdain - nothing new there -, but for some reason, James believes when Snape tells him that whatever he’s been hiding, Wormtail is safe for now.

‘The Dark Lord despises him’, Snape explains coolly. ‘He knows your friend  is a vermin. But he was useful, so your friend is being protected’.

Snape always likes to remember James that Peter was once James’ friend, probably enjoying how this hurts James, even though James never takes his bait. He learned a long time ago that ignoring Snape annoys him much more than answering back and, in any case, he has bigger problems than worrying about a school feud that he really thinks Snape should be over by now.

‘Let me know if you learn anything useful’, it’s all James says, and he ignores how Snape seems affronted at this.

‘He could be dead if your son hadn’t been so noble’, Snape whispers softly, and he leaves before James can say anything.

It doesn’t matter. Even if James sometimes agrees with him, he wouldn’t say anything. Most of the time he still believes Harry did the right thing. He doesn’t want a murder in Sirius or Remus’ consciousness.

On his own, James thinks he could deal with.

But despite his best efforts, he never gets any closer to finding Wormtail. A rat always knows how to hide.

Still, his obsession almost cost him Lily and Harry,  and James promises to himself that one day he will find Wormtail, but never at the cost of what Peter almost took away from him once.

_________________

Harry is seventeen when he tells James that Peter is dead.

It’s in April. They know they shouldn’t, but James and Lily keep visiting Shell Cottage to assist Harry as much as they can before he leaves again, even though Harry isn’t asking for any assistance.

He looks more reserved than ever, vanishing for hours with Ron, Hermione and the goblin Griphook of all beings, and James has planned enough pranks in his life to know they are plotting something about that mysterious mission that Dumbledore left for them.

The one that Harry absolutely refused to tell his parents about.

James sees the impact of that mission on Harry. His son looks much older than his age, much graver and sorrowful than James would like. They all look like they've been through hell - they have cuts and they are thin and they look scared, but that trio refuses to speak of where they’ve been and what they’ve done.

‘Not yet’, Harry says, when James asks him. ‘When this is over, we will talk’.

James wonders when it will all be over, but he knows Harry wouldn’t answer that either. At some point, Harry grabbed the world, put it on his shoulder, and decided to walk carrying it on. He wishes that Harry would not give himself so much responsibility - or that he would share the weight at least.

On the last day of April, James is in the living room of Shell Cottage when he sees Harry, Ron and Hermione descending the stairs from another of their talks with Griphook. They all look more serious; while Hermione goes to check her things, Ron drifts off in search of his brother and Harry stops in front of James and Lily.

He looks first at his mother, and James sees they are in one of their moments of silent communication, that sharp understanding between them that James could never grasp really.

Lily sees more things in Harry's face than James ever could, and whatever she sees, it doesn't make her happy. James is about to question what this is about when Harry turns to him.

'Can we talk alone?'

Harry's face is grave, so James only nods. He raises, following Harry as he leaves the cottage, passing Dobby's grave and walking until they stand at the edge of a cliff overseeing the sea. He saw Harry in that spot before, looking all contemplative, but Harry never shared his thoughts with him.

It hurts a little to see his son so distant, as if Harry doesn't trust his father anymore, as much as it makes him satisfied that Harry is an adult now, able to make his own decisions.

He only wishes Harry got to be a kid before growing up.

Harry turns to him and now James can recognize the expression on his face. It's the same he had over the summer before he vanished at the wedding.

The face of someone who is leaving and doesn't know when - or if - will be back.

'We are leaving tomorrow', Harry announces and though James already expected to hear it, this sentence still fills him with despair and fear.

He can't ask where Harry will go and he can't ask when he is going to return. And he can't ask Harry to don't go. They had fought over this all summer (at least James had because Harry had just looked at him as if he had lived a thousand of lives and he had listened and looked sorrowful, but Harry had refused to say anything about his mission or to give up his idea of going).

His brave marvellous son is too stubborn sometimes.

So James ignores all his deep urge to grab Harry and run, choosing to respect his son, and asks:

'Will you be safe?'

'I think so', Harry answers and James loves and hates that he is being honest instead of promising something he can't control. 'We've planned this over and over'.

'Like you planned that break in the Ministry?'

Harry flushes at this, but he doesn't say anything. That adventure of his was in the newspaper, for Merlin's sake, and still, he refuses to say a word about why they did it or what they accomplished.

'Better, I hope', James says for him. 'Just tell me I won't hear about it in the newspaper again'.

Harry almost smiles at this; it's just a shadow, but it's a Marauder's smile, and it fills James' heart to the brim to know that Harry is still capable of it after everything he has been through.

Then Harry sighs and looks at the sea again.

'There is something I need to tell you before I leave'.

Just in case I don't return, Harry doesn't say but James hears it anyway.

'Pettigrew is dead'.

This is not what James expected to hear. He blinks, astonished, and hears as Harry explains mildly what happened at Malfoy Manor.

'His silver hand killed him?', James repeats in a low voice. 'The one Vol - You-Know-Who gave him?'

'Yeah. I think he always knew…'

'Of his debt?'

Harry shrugs.

'I don't think he minded that. It's the kind of thing he wouldn't believe in, like love and fairy tales or life debts'.

Harry speaks with a gloomy perspective of Voldemort's feeling that makes James shivers.

'I think he knew that some part of Wormtail regretted it. A tiny part, but it was enough'. Harry sighs heavily. 'We were struggling and I told him he owed me his life and… that you would be ashamed of him'.

James grabs Harry's arm, but Harry still looks far away.

'He didn't release me exactly, but for a moment, a fraction of a second, he hesitated. And then the hand turned against him. There was nothing we could do'.

'Of course not', James agrees absently, just following his instinct of comforting Harry. Then he registers what Harry said. 'You tried to save him'.

Harry doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. James knows his son and, God bless him, his heart is always in the right place.

‘Why did you never talk to me about Wormtail?’, Harry asks, and James thinks that’s a question that has been bothering his son for many years now. ‘You told me once about Pettigrew, and you told me about Wormtail, but we never really talk about what he did’.

In the end, it did not matter because Harry had discovered in any case, but James feels suddenly ashamed.

‘I was embarrassed’, he says in a low voice. ‘Too ashamed to confess that everything that happened with us - your scar, the prophecy coming true - was because I put my faith in the wrong person, that I was too blind to believe my friend -’

‘It was not your fault, dad. You know, Remus once told me I was like you, too quick to consider dishonour to believe that a friend would betray me, and… he was right, but I’m proud of being like that. It’s better than living with fear. And if people don’t correspond to what we believe of them - that’s their loss. Not ours’.

Harry is looking at him with so much serenity that for an instant James feels more like the son than the father. In fact, now he sees, he realizes they are the same size now; there are differences of age and, of course, in the eyes, but they could be twins if seen from afar.

He wonders when Harry grew up so much and how much he really influenced his son. He hopes it was a lot, because he is really happy and proud of the man Harry is becoming.

James approaches him quietly, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder and for a moment they both stay looking at the ocean, watching the waves crash below them.

'Are you glad?', Harry asks in a whisper. 'That Peter died?'

James thinks of when catching Peter was a desperate need as if that somehow would solve all the problems that Peter had caused.

He remembers that fury he felt when Sirius told him Peter was still alive.

He remembers that trembling first-year boy in their dormitory, who wanted to be their friend, who looked up to James.

And he feels a longing for a time that was good, but he can't go back and he can't change what happened. Peter made his own choices, just as everyone else did.

And he had made the last choice of feeling guilty for a split-second and had died because of it.

But the fact is that Harry is here, alive. That's all he ever asked of Peter.

'I’m not glad', James whispers at least. 'But I’m also not sad. My friend was gone a long time ago'.

Harry gives him a long look and James thinks he doesn't agree totally with him, but Harry doesn't say anything. Lily would probably know what he means, and James never learned how to read Harry that well, but he doesn't mind.

Someday Harry will explain to him what he is thinking. Harry always tells him in the end.

'Be careful tomorrow', he says. 'And after that. Send us some news if you can - just to let us know…'

Let us know you're alive, James thinks, but he doesn't finish. Harry seems to understand, however. He nods and takes a deep breath, before turning to James with a hopeful smile.

‘Let’s go back for dinner?’

James almost says no. He thinks he can’t endure the feeling of sharing a meal with Harry and Lily and wondering if this will be the last meal they share; but the last time Harry went away, the feeling of not even remembering what was the last thing he’d said to Harry had been worse.

He wants a - not last, not ever the last one - dinner with Harry, and to hug him - not goodbye, but a good night - and to remember Harry that no matter what, they will see each other again. And, as Harry’s Patronus won’t let them forget, James is always with his son.

So James puts a brave smile on his face, messes with Harry’s hair in that way that makes Harry look pleasantly annoyed, and they return together to Shell Cottage.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Found Out

CW: Not much! Just some brief references to death and to pet whump

“Remind me why I’m watching fucking youtube videos of fucking gymnasts today?” Will asks, laid out on the couch with his legs over Mari’s lap as she fiddled with her phone. Brooke and Laken have half the carpet in the student lounge for their dorm covered in papers, markers, and pens, working on some kind of poster for a party Brooke is throwing. 

“Because,” Becka - she’s in a bunch of Will’s classes and is doing printmaking for her major, which makes her officially cooler than Will himself - says, sitting legs-crossed on the floor looking up at the lounge TV, then down at the laptop open in front of her. “Akio Nakamura literally grew up like two hours from here, he trains right near here!”

“I have no idea who that is,” Mari says without looking up, huffing a hint of soundless laughter. Will sits himself up a little on his elbows and turns to look as Becka finally gets the cast to work. Youtube pops up on the TV screen, the video frozen right at the start, with AKIO NAKAMURA, 20XX Musical Floor Routine  just underneath.

Paused and ready to begin is a screenshot from the video, of a short, heavily muscled teenage boy grinning over his shoulder at someone off screen. 

“He’s the favorite for the U.S. team for the Olympics this year! I always follow gymnastics and figure skating, basically that’s all I care about, but Akio is the best. He is definitely getting the gold this year.” 

“Oh, definitely,” Brooke says, with an exaggerated nod. “Definitely the gold, uh-huh.”

“Yes,” Mari cuts in. “I care very deeply about this and also agree that he will get the gold. Um. Whoever he is.”

“Fuck off, guys.” Becka flips them off over her shoulder without looking back and clicks, a narrator - presumably Nakamura himself - explaining the floor routine he’s about to do, that when he’s not competing he’s always liked to build himself a music-based routine, and this recording has been around for a long time and he’s just getting around to loading it up.

“For a long time I never touched these old recordings - you know, it just, you’ll see why later - but I think it’s probably time. And I really liked what we did.”

“We?” Mari asks.

“Sssshhhhh.”

The same teenager from the screenshot steps out onto a large mat in a gymnast’s leotard, taking position. His team is lounging in the background, talking to each other, to the coach, practicing their own moves. They’re a mix of blondes, brunettes, redheads, and people with black hair, a bunch of kids of varying ages, heights, weights, and looks. 

Will squints at a redhead in the corner of the screen, watching Nakamura take position from just in the corner, bouncing on his toes, rolling his shoulders, in a constant nonstop motion. Something about the redhead looks vaguely familiar, but the video is a little blurry from casting larger onto the TV and hasn’t settled into crispness yet. 

“Wait, I thought dudes didn’t get to use music,” Ben says from the table over in the corner, where he’s been steadfastly ignoring everyone else while reading a book and claiming it counts as hanging out if I’m physically here, okay, trust me, I’m an introvert. He looks up, now, with some vague hint of interest. 

Becka sighs and hits pause again. “They don’t,” She explains, patiently. “Male gymnast floor routines are all about strength, and rhythm isn’t really important. But Akio likes to use music and he does these videos where he does the same kind of floor routines the girls do? I think just for fun. But he has a whole youtube channel and there’s a bunch on here, and he’s been putting up old ones from way, way back. I guess some friend of his who died is in them, so he just got around to looking at them again.”

“Lovely. And you’re inflicting this on us because…”

“Mari, seriously, it’s so cool to watch. Just fucking deal with it, or keep scrolling.”

Mari grins, nudging Becka with her foot. “Kidding, Becks. I’m watching, I promise. Hey, where’s Chris?”

Laken shrugs without looking up from their current work very carefully gluing an intricate paper cutout down to the posterboard. “Dunno. Had something to do with his brother, I think.”

“I swear, I’m a twin and I don’t like my brother as much as he likes his,” Brooke says, rolling her eyes, and Laken snorts, eyes slightly crossed as they very carefully pull a small line of glue in a perfect spiral with the paper.

“Guys, for the love of fuck, just shut up and let me watch this.” Becka waves her hand backwards, and Laken and Brooke share a look and an eyeroll, but the room goes quiet. Becka hits play again, and the music kicks on, something bright and upbeat nobody in the room recognizes immediately. 

Akio rolls his neck, gets a grin on his face, and takes off across the mat, tensing at the last half-second before he seems to jump and fold forwards at once, backflipping once, twice, before he spins in the air and lands with his feet in perfect position, arms up - then he winks at the camera and rocks his hips, and Mari, Will, and Brooke all let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and laughter.

“Good God, that boy just had fun with his pelvis,” Mari says, mock-scandalized.

“Watch, just, just watch-” Becka waves her hand again and the group watches Nakamura dance across the mat, matching the rhythm of the song exactly, dropping into a split and then back up again like gravity is something he can simply turn off whenever he wants. He folds himself over backwards and walks on his hands before he’s back up on his feet, with a quick spin and another hip-rock, backing his way into the marked-off spot in the corner. There’s another running set of flips and jumps and Will is watching, and it’s crazy as hell, sure, but his eyes keep getting drawn to that boy in the corner.

Wearing the same leotard, the boy is dancing along with Nakamura, matching all his in-between-moves perfectly, a bright, shining smile on his face, clapping every time Nakamura nails a flip or a jump, edging his slow way up to just at the other corner on that side.

“Hey,” Ben says, but his voice is too quiet, and the drums are louder suddenly, like someone just turned the speakers up. Will hears him, though, and looks over to see Ben making the exact face as what Will is feeling.

Except…

Ben swallows so hard Will can see his Adam’s apple move.

“All right, so in this one, one of the kids I used to train with, Tristan Higgs, and I had kind of planned out a bit at the end - okay, watch Tristan right… about… now.”

Nakamura lands a jump, moves into a dance, and the redhead runs up onto the mat, takes his own position with his arms up, and shoots Nakamura a brilliant smile before he takes off himself. He’s short, and heavily muscled, but that smile is unmistakable.

While the redhead runs, Nakamura dances to the side, watching him with a grin.

“What the fuck?” Ben says from the corner, slamming his book shut and standing up, walking closer to watch the screen. “Do you guys-... do you see that?”

“They can’t do this in competition,” Becka says, misunderstanding the sudden silence to be awe, confusion at the routine itself. “It’s too dangerous. But nothing happens, they just have fun.”

The redhead does three backflips and then spins, hits his landing perfectly - the team throws up a deafening cheer - and he launches into the dance right as Nakamura is back in position for his next run. 

They move around each other fluidly, for a while dancing nearly together. The group watches them move back to back, the redhead’s hair flashing coppery in the gym’s lights as he briefly drops it back onto Nakamura’s shoulder before spinning away, the team cheering them on and singing along with the song.

Ben’s eyes meet Laken’s. “Do you-... do you see-”

Laken looks away, shifting around, staring back down at the poster they’re working on alone now. “Yeah,” They say, voice slightly husky. “I see it.”

“But-”

“Let it go, Ben.”

“Laken, that’s Chris.”

“Holy shitballs,” Will says, “You’re right. It is Chris. Becka, fucking-... fucking pause next time they get his face on screen.”

“No worries, they’re almost done.” Becka blinks, puzzled, and the group watches Nakamura and the other boy do simultaneous flips across opposite sides of the mat, finish with a spin, and salute each other, before collapsing into laughter. “Does Chris do gymnastics?”

“No,” Laken says, before Ben can answer. He glances over at them and they shake their head, minutely, barely a motion.

The redhead starts to jump up and down, his hands flapping in the air, spinning in circles, as Nakamura laughs and runs over to him, saying something. The two high-five and hug before the redhead starts bouncing up and down again, clearly proud of himself, proud of Nakamura, just fucking thrilled.

“Laken-”

“I said let it go,” Laken snaps, and Ben’s mouth snaps shut.

Mari says, hesitantly, “Chris never said he did gymnastics.”

“Chris’s name isn’t Tristan fucking Higgs, either,” Will points out.

On the video, Nakamura’s voice is back. “We used to do that all the time. I’ve got about three more I’ll probably post. For the longest time I couldn’t even look at them, but… I don’t know. He was so fun. Rest in peace, man. We still miss you.”

“That can’t be him,” Will says, pulling his legs off of Mari’s lap and leaning over. Becka pauses with the screen stuck on the jumping, happy teenager, his hands blurred mid-motion. “That can’t be. Chris isn’t named Tristan.”

“He’s also not fucking dead,” Mari says, breathless. “But-”

“But it looks just like him, he even does the, the thing with his…” Will hesitantly flaps his hands by example. “When he’s happy. Just like that.”

“His hair’s red at the roots, too,” Brooke says, a little thoughtfully, nervously. “Um. Chris is adopted, right? Maybe…”

“Nobody changes a fucking teenager’s first name,” Will says, shaking his head. “I’ve met his brother, he wouldn’t do that. He’s like a giant teddy bear person. If Chris wanted the fucking Ritz that guy’d try and buy it for im. But, like, what do we know about Chris?”

“Not much,” Ben says, staring at the screen, stomach flipping. Ben knows more than anyone but Laken, thanks to Dylan being a fucking piece of shit about the pet thing. And he knows, he thinks, what he’s looking at now. “But-”

“I’m done with this,” Laken says abruptly, pushing themself to their feet. “You guys keep playing fucking detectives all you want, but that’s not Chris. I’m out.”

The group stares after them as they leave, and there’s a long, long moment of silence that draws awkwardly out, everyone trying to see if someone else will be the first person to speak next. 

“Um, I’m-... I’m gonna go talk to them,” Ben says, grabbing his book on the way out, catching Laken just outside the elevators. “Hey, wait-”

“No,” Laken says, hands in their pockets, jammed in there like they’re trying not to choke someone. “Go back in there, Ben.”

“That is Chris,” Ben says, soft and insistent. “That’s him before they-... before he was-”

Laken doesn’t answer him. Their jaw sets, and the black eyeliner seems to make them look flintier, hardened. “We don’t know that.”

“Yeah, Laken, we absolutely do. You telling me that smile isn’t one hundred percent your boyfriend’s smile? You going to tell me there’s some other identical fucking redhead who stims like that when he’s happy who was at a gym literally across town, whose friends from then think he’s fucking dead, and it’s not your fucking boyfriend, who was oh just coincidentally a pet for some rich asshole-”

“Don’t say it,” Laken snaps. “Don’t you fucking dare say it.”

“We should show him the video, Laken.”

“No.”

“What if it-... what if it helps-”

“What if it doesn’t?” The elevator dings and the doors open. Laken pushes away from Ben and steps inside, turning to stare at him, their expression baleful and oddly vulnerable, both at once. “What if it just makes shit worse for him? He’s-... he already has these nightmares… Don’t you think Chris has had a hard enough fucking time without us throwing that shit in his face, Ben? His past doesn’t belong to us.”

“Show his brother, then,” Ben says, and Laken looks away from him as the doors start to roll closed. “Show his brother, okay? Please? Promise you will, it might help Chris to see-”

Laken doesn’t look back up. The doors cut them off from view and Ben watches the floor count tick down as it moves, before he turns and goes back to his room, flopping bonelessly on the bed.

“God damn it.” 

That was definitely Christopher fucking Stanton in that video.

Wasn’t it?

Ben pulls his phone up, lying on his back, and types into the search bar, Tristan Higgs gymnast. Some old scores and meets come up, but no pictures. Nothing he can use. Then he deletes that search and types instead, Tristan Higgs death.

What pops up first is an old news article from fucking years ago about some kind of double-homicide after a break-in. Ben reads it, staring at the words, but something like dread slowly closes its claws over his heart.

The sole survivor of the attack was the couple’s fifteen-year-old son, Tristan, who has been placed in the care of relatives while law enforcement follows a series of tips…

Ben finds a Facebook page for the gym that was in the Nakamura video. Now that he’s started, he can’t stop. They have an Instagram, and he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. He must sit there for a goddamn hour looking at fucking gymnastics bullshit he doesn’t care about. But then he finds it-

Throwback Thursday: the whole crew has pizza at Vanni’s Pizzeria after a great meet back in 20XX!

There he is, right there towards the front with Nakamura’s arm around his shoulders, shorter and significantly more muscular, with a bit of red hair flopping over one eye.

Christopher fucking Stanton, smiling at something just to the left of the camera, just like Chris always does.

He screenshots the photo and sends it to Laken. They send back, pretty sure I told you to go fuck yourself Benji.

Ben waits. Thirty-five seconds after that, Laken sends another text.

Okay. I’ll show Jake.

Ben tells himself to close the apps. That he has reading to do, and other things to care about. Then he spends the next five hours learning everything he can about Tristan Higgs, anyway.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

[manananggal]

Written for the 13_Cases Prompt on the Trese Discord server by seductivevenus. Theme: Déjà vu + College. It's written in taglish and i’m too lazy to tanslate rn so... hehe. kinda follows the headcanon (?) from the fic Mumoo, Mumoo, Paano Ka Ginawa? that Alex went back to college to finish her degree. (naol! char graduating na din naman aqu)

..

Back when Lily was in second grade, she was seated to a girl named Alex.

Which, in her seven-year-old mind, sounded pretty cool. In a classroom full of Maries, and Annas, and Jennys, a girl having a boy’s name is unheard of. Her own name is pretty common too. She didn’t dislike it per se, but Alex (especially for a girl!) sounds waay cooler than Lily, so…

Alex was new to their school. She is fair-skinned, with shoulder-length hair with the darkest shade Lily has ever seen. She finds herself stealing glances at her new seatmate, her hair being a source of wonder for Lily.

The girl with a boy’s name is quiet. She doesn’t speak unless she’s called for recitation – she never raises her hand, but she knows the answer each time Teacher Evelyn calls her. Alex doesn’t speak until she’s spoken to and sometimes, she wouldn’t even answer then. Her being quiet is okay with Lily, though. Their house in Damka is noisy enough for her. Even their classroom is noisy enough for her.

The other kids, however, didn’t like Alex’s silence very much.

“Yabang naman neto,” Jen-Jen says, arms crossed as she walks back to her seat in the first row. Alex declined Jen-Jen Cruz’s invitation to play in their house afterschool . “Kala mo naman maganda,” She added, her upper lip curling in distaste.

Alex's demeanor didn’t change at all as she continued to eat her corned beef pandesal in silence.

Lily was confused, and maybe even slightly jealous. Jen-Jen was nice enough to her, but she was never invited to join them – not even for recess. Or even when they’re let out in the playground for PE. When she’d approach their group, Nicole, one of Jen-Jen’s friends, would say, “Puno na kami eh,”

“Alex, ‘bat ayaw mo sumama?” Lily asked, turning slightly to face her seatmate.

“Para saan? Marami naman sila dun,” It was the most Alex had said to her.

“Diba mas masaya kung madami? Classmate kami nung grade one. Mabait yun si Jen-Jen. Saka… maganda yung mga Barbie niya,”

“Kung mabait siya, bakit hindi ka nila sinasali pag nag-lalaro kayo?”

Others might assume Alex’s question as some sort of comeback, but even Lily’s young mind could understand the logic...? Sincerity...? of her words. Lily fell quiet as she chewed on her Square Lemon cheesecake.

Whispers started to spread that Alex is mean, and that she’s maarte for someone studying in a public school. After all, there must be something wrong with the quiet girl who turned down the chance to be friends with Jenny Cruz.

But when Lily’s too frustrated from having to squint at their teacher’s too-small handwriting on the black board (Kung sino man ang naka-isip ng alphabetical arrangement sa upuan, ang panget niya!), Alex would slide her own notebook closer to Lily, letting the other girl look from her notes. Alex’s writing is nice, especially for a second grader. A lot nicer than Lily’s Ate Camille, who’s already in grade six. The letters stay between the lines, and the pages of Alex’s notebook are clear of smudged eraser marks.

That day when Lily lost her Hi Catty pencil case, Alex lent her a spare pencil (newly sharpened, eraser on the other end intact, and without chew marks!). Lily looks up and gives her seatmate a grateful, teary smile. Alex gives her a smaller smile in return before resuming writing in her notebook. (Lily hoped that using the same pencil will make her own handwriting neater. It didn’t, but that doesn’t matter.)

When she opens her lunch box and sees that she’s having hotdog for recess for the third time that week, Alex offers to give her some of her baon. Lily took a single pandesal, and she swears she could hear the angels in heaven sing after she took a bite.

They’d sit together under the huge mango tree in the middle of the playground. Alex taught her to say “Tabi-tabi po,” before sitting. When it’s time to go back inside the classrooms, Alex would place a single, unopened chocnut in the base of the tree. Lily looked back once, and she could swear she saw a tiny person with skin as brown as tree-bark waving at them. She blinked, and the person was gone. She asked Alex if she saw it too, but all Lily got was a small smile.

Lily liked to think they were friends. Maybe even best friends. Which is why it hurt when one day, Teacher Vivian announced that Alex won’t be attending school anymore. She wondered if it’s anything she did. Maybe she annoyed Alex by being too chatty, or by eating her favorite corned beef pandesal one time too many. She didn’t think to ask for Alex’s telephone number – they didn’t even have a telephone at home. Besides, Aling Remy who owns the store in front of their house charges five pesos for five minutes. Her mom prepares her meals, and her dad picks her up from school, so there’s no need to ask for money.

Their class seating arrangement was changed, students were moved around, and Lily finds herself sitting next to a boy named Patrick who watches the same anime she’s seen and tells the same jokes she heard from yesterday’s Ang TV episode. As weeks turn into months, and months turn into years, Lily moved from using pencils to ballpens and intermediate papers and formal theme books, the girl with a boy’s name slowly faded from her memory.

Years later, when she enrolled back in college after taking LOA for a few years, Lily finds herself sitting in the back. It was the first day of classes, and she’s starting to regret taking the 9:00 am – 10:30 slot for Managerial Accounting, but the professor is highly sought after, and students are said to be lucky to be in his class. A girl wearing a long, black coat takes the seat next to hers.

Lily steals a glance at the person sitting next to her. The girl is staring straight ahead, her mouth set straight as she focused on what their Prof is saying. Her bangs (or is it a bang - singular?) looks cool, and while the long trench coat is way too hot for the Manila weather, the girl seems to rock it. She seems to disappear after class, and so Lily spent the next few weeks sitting next to someone who’s name she doesn’t know.

But that’s just college.

There’s something familiar about the girl, however, but Lily can’t place where she saw this girl before. Surely, someone with that distinct style would stand out. That’s the least of her worries, however, since Sir Lara had announced that there’s a quiz and she seemed to lose her only working pen.

“Shuta naman ‘bat ngayon pa…” Lily groans, as quiet as she can as she rummages through her bag for anything. She doesn’t really know anyone in this class. Within her circle of friends, she’s the only one who took this early slot to accommodate her work schedule. Being an irregular student, and an older student at that, she’s hesitant to approach these younger kids. 

She'll take this quiz with a crayon if she has to.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see her seatmate handing her a pen. “You can use this,” The girl offers. 

Her voice is a little deeper, but it suited her perfectly, completing the Queen of the Underworld vibe she has going on for her.

There’s something very familiar with the moment Lily finds herself in. It made her feel as if she’s forgetting a piece of a puzzle. But she could solve that for another day. Right now, the quiz is her priority.

“Mars, thank you!” She says, taking a relieved sigh.

Sir Lara started going around the room, reminding them to take one seat apart from their classmates before he hands down the answer sheets one by one. Lily was just thankful that she was able to study for this quiz last night.

When the bell rang signaling the end of that day’s class, she all but shoved her things inside her bag to be able to catch up with the other girl.

“Ate girl, yung ball pen mo!” Lily calls out.

The girl was already out in the hallway. Lily wondered just how many pockets her coat has, since she didn’t think she ever saw this girl carry a bag. “Uy, thank you ha.” She says, fishing the pen from her pocket.

“Wala ‘yon.” She regards Lily with a small smile. There is something that’s really, really familiar with the way her mouth quirks upwards.

“Teh, kung ‘di mo ‘ko pinahiram ligwak si watsung sa quiz. Ano palang name mo ulit? Ako si Lily,” She smiles, holding her hand out.

“My name is Trese,”

Wait… Lily heard that name before…

“Alexandra Trese.” The girl who introduced herself as Alexandra took Lily’s  hand and shook it.

“Wait, teh, parang kilala kita…”

“It’s been years, hasn’t it, Lily?”

[alpacaparkaseok]

7 Secrets <pt. 6>

GENRE: Soulmate!au BTS!

WARNINGS: maybe a bit of anxiety

WORD COUNT: 5446

I rewrote this part a few times, I wanted to get it just right. I hope you enjoy! Stuff is about to go down lol 

**Song rec for this chapter: “So Will I” by Ben Platt 

Thursday begins with a bang.

More specifically, it begins with the sound of Ichika falling off of her bed from the upper floor, and me waking up at the sound and wondering for half a moment what I’ve got going on today.

Ignorance is bliss.

The house is oddly quiet, and I lay there for a lot longer than I thought I would be able to. I eye my shopping bag at the foot of my bed, eager to get ready. Like Himari said last night: we’re going to look good today.

It isn’t until a light knock sounds at my door that I realize I’ve been dozing off again. Ichika peeks inside, her face lighting up in a grin when she sees my bedhead.

“Good morning,” she chimes before padding over and flinging herself onto my bed. We lay there for a long while, quietly chatting about the day and how we’re going to get ready and style our hair.

Next comes Aera, her bedhead even more impressive than mine. She doesn’t say a word, simply sliding in under the covers.

Minsuh and Seohyun appear later on. My bed isn’t nearly big enough to accommodate us all but I don’t mention it, opting to bask in the lazy morning that feels like the calm before the storm.

It’s nearly noon by the time Himari and Kyung-soon show up, the two of them cracking up at the scene.

“Wait, let me grab my phone!” Himari runs to get her phone and snaps a photo of the five of us buried on my bed.

“Alright,” Kyung-soon sighs, a light in her eyes that I haven’t seen there before. “Let’s eat. We can’t be hangry when we meet our soulmates.”

It’s like she said the magic word, because soon enough my room is empty with only Himari left behind.

“Wow, they only wanted me for my bed. How rude,” I joke, earning a light laugh. “Are you ready for today?”

Himari smirks at me. “You know, I’ve had three years to prepare but somehow this morning I woke up feeling just as unprepared and giddy as I did three years ago. Isn’t that strange?”

She slings her arm around me and we make our way downstairs to the chaotic kitchen. “No, I get what you mean. I feel really chill right now, but it’s like I can feel the storm coming.” A couple of the other girls hear my comment and are quick to agree.

Seohyun lets out a shaky breath, the girl showing the first signs of nervousness. She says something that surprises me a bit, seeing how she’s always been the most vocal about her soulmate. “Well, I guess that no matter what happens today, everything will be alright. At the end of the day, we’ll still have each other.” She smiles at us as she takes a bite of her toast. “That’s more than enough for me.”

“Aw, so sentimental, Seohyunie.” Aera coos.

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to get us all emotional this early in the day.” Ichika says.

“It’s literally already the afternoon,” Seohyun fires back, her cheeks red.

“Well, bicker all you want, but I’m going to go get ready!” Minsuh has already devoured her breakfast, the excitement prominent on her face. I’m glad to see that her worries from the other night have subsided.

“Minsuh!” Himari shouts after the fleeing girl.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll pay for your meals for a month if you wear your pajamas to meet Jungkook!”

“Not a chance!”

↔

5 pm has come all too soon.

I fidget in my room as I take one last look in the full-length mirror. My hair falls around me in long curls; the time it took to perfect them definitely paid off. There’s a bit of rain falling, so I don my new trenchcoat in preparation for the cooler weather.

I smile at my reflection, amazed at the power a beautiful (but cozy) outfit has on my mood. My reflection portrays a young woman who looks like she’s ready to take on the world.

I only hope that confidence doesn’t abandon me.

It’s currently 4:45, the van should be here in 15 minutes. I take the moment of peace to close the door to my room and settle down on my bed, hesitating before picking a song to listen to.

I pluck up the courage and click on the song. “Forever Rain” from Namjoon’s playlist “Mono” plays, the light pitter patter of the rain from outside creating a surreal atmosphere.

Closing my eyes, I allow the song to wrap around me. Namjoon’s soothing voice both calms me and makes my heart race as I wonder for the fiftieth time today what he’s doing right now.

As the song comes to a close, I open my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I can do this.”

With the final boost of courage, I double check that I have everything I’ll need (which is really just myself, purse, and phone) and head downstairs. Kyung-soon is already down there, standing by the window in the living room as she cranes her neck to see if the van is coming. She looks beautiful, the simple sweater and jeans only bringing more attention to her delicate features. Her long black hair is lightly curled, and her berry-colored lips turn up in a nervous smile when I enter the room.

“You look amazing,” she says. “Seriously.”

“You do too, Soon-ah. Absolutely stunning. I’m glad that I’m not the only one who went with a more casual outfit. We’ll have to stick together.” I wink at her, and she laughs before turning back around to look out at the street.

Himari enters the room, the queen of casual style that she somehow manages to pull off like she’s at the red carpet. She carries a jacket in hand, prepared for the rainfall.

“Hey,” she greets me. “Looking good.”

“Right back at ya.” Himari stands beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. She’s unusually touchy today, no doubt due to the nerves. I don’t mind the extra contact, it helps to soothe my own nerves.

“Are the vans here yet?” Seohyun lights up the room in her yellow skirt, another queen of casual style. “Wow, you were right Himari. We do look amazing today.”

“We do, don’t we? No, no vans. They should be here any minute. Do you have everything?”

“Yeah, ready to go. I’ll go check that the others are ready.”

Soon enough Seohyun returns with Minsuh, Aera, and Ichika. All three look amazing, Aera’s professional background in design and fashion showing through as she is definitely the most well-dressed out of all of us. Minsuh looks adorable, her jean skirt making her look more youthful than me. Ichika reminds me of Taehyung, her layered top bringing out the artsy vibe she always has.

“Oh, oh!” Kyung-soon looks like it’s Christmas morning. “I think that’s the van, coming down the street!”

We all rush over to the window, honing in on the large black van that makes its way down to the apartment. It comes to a stop outside, and a man in a black suit and earpiece steps out.

“Wow, I feel like we just became famous,” Minsuh whispers.

“Alright, does everybody have everything?” I pipe up. The last thing we need is to forget something important. Everybody double checks, and by some miracle we’re ready. Just in time. A knock sounds on our door.

“You get it, Beth.” Himari nudges me.

“How did I know you’d say that?” I open the door, the bodyguard waiting for me outside with his umbrella up and ready to shield us from the rain.

“Hello everybody, Bang PD sent me. Are you ready to go?” I nod, my stomach doing flips. “Alright. I’ll escort you to the car, go ahead and step under my umbrella.” With my head in the clouds I step out, remembering at the last second to tell the other girls to lock the door behind them. I double check my purse, making sure I have the house key.

Before I know it all seven of us are packed into the van, and we’re off. Ichika sits on my left, holding my hand so tightly I think I’ll lose feeling in it before long. On my right is Kyung-soon, her arm looped through mine.

Our chauffeur is kind enough to play some music so we don’t drown in the heavy silence. None of us say much, each too lost in their own world to focus on a conversation. With each passing block my heart pounds faster and faster, and I fight against the tears that are pricking my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I can’t cry yet, but my inner whirlpool of emotions threatens to take over.

It’s already been a long day. And now, we’re just getting started.

What only feels like five minutes turns out to be thirty, because we’re suddenly pulling up to the BigHit building.

I manage to croak something out before we come to a complete stop, speaking for the first time the entire drive. “I’ll hold your purse while you go run laps, Kyung-soon.”

We laugh a bit, easing the tension. “How kind of you.” We begin to pile out of the van, and we’re escorted to a side door by the kind bodyguard. In a blur of movement we’re inside the building and led to an elevator. It’s only when we’re passing the fourth floor that I even realize that Ichika is still holding my hand.

“You alright?” I whisper to her, even though everyone can hear me in the small space of the elevator.

She looks at me, her eyes wide with anticipation and the anxiety that comes with it. “What was the code word for if we think we’re going to pass out?”

Aera’s voice pipes us from behind us, I can hear the grin in her voice. “It’s ‘holy cow’, isn’t it Beth?”

I can’t help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the entire situation making everything funnier. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Ichika squeezes my hand again. “Well, holy cow Beth. Holy cow is pretty much the only thing I’m thinking right now.”

“Are you telling me that you’re not even thinking about Taehyung?” I raise my eyebrows at her, the teasing making me feel better. Less likely to throw up, at least.

“Oh, shut up.” Ichika rolls her eyes, but the nerves seem to lessen a bit at the banter.

The doors slide open and the bodyguard ushers us out. “Alright, right there is Mr. Bang’s office. He should be inside waiting for you.” He points out a door just down the hall.

I make my way to the door on shaking legs, unsure of what to expect. Surely the boys aren’t inside the office, right? No, it’s way too small to fit all of us in there at the same time. That would just be cruel.

A quick glance over my shoulder shows everybody else trailing behind me. Himari gives me a thumbs up, prompting me onward. I level with a look that says ‘why must I do everything’ before I knock on the door.

A few seconds pass and then the door is swinging inward and Mr. Bang’s smiling face greets me.

“Well hello! I’ve been waiting for you all!” His eyes sweep over us, doing a mental count. “I’m glad you could make it. Come inside.”

The inside of Mr. Bang’s office is filled with photos, awards, and a leather couch with a few chairs. I all but collapse into one of the chairs while everybody else chooses their seats. Nobody speaks, but I notice them looking to me, Mr. Bang included. Clearly he’s waiting for my usual sarcastic remark.

“Well, here we are.” I say, struggling to even think straight enough to come up with a decent comment. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Mr. Bang leans back in his chair, observing us. “Let’s get right down to it. There’s a lot we need to go over today, some can be done now with just the seven of you, the rest will have to be done with the boys.” My heart skips a beat at the mention of our soulmates. For some reason I’m surprised that we are actually going to meet them today. Maybe part of me simply expected a meeting with Mr. Bang. At least I didn’t buy a new outfit for nothing, right?

“Ok,” I nod slowly as though to clear the fog in my head. Right now I’ve got tunnel vision and I know I won’t be able to retain much information. “That’s fine. What do we need to know?”

“First off, are you all doing alright? Breathe. I can tell you that the boys are just as nervous as you are, so just breathe and try to relax. Today is meant to be enjoyed, and I promise that my staff and I have tried to make this day as calm and normal as can be.”

I almost laugh, wondering what part of normal includes a bodyguard and meeting the most famous band on the planet. I guess we’re playing by Bang PD’s rules now, though.

“The boys are nervous?” Minsuh pipes up, sheepishly looking down at her shoes.

Mr. Bang chuckles, nodding his head. “Extremely. I nearly had to give Jungkook a paper bag earlier because he was so close to hyperventilating.”

This merits a laugh and a sigh of relief from everyone, especially Minsuh as she blushes thinking about her soulmate.

“Anyways, I’ll try to get through this so you can meet the boys.” He now has everyone’s full attention. “I first wanted to thank you all for being so patient over the past three years. I know this hasn’t been easy, and you’ve had to sacrifice a lot of things. You’ve handled yourselves with grace and dignity. Even without the soulmate tests confirming your bonds with the boys, I would have been sure that you are meant to be simply by observing you over the years. I cannot thank you enough.”

He smiles at us, an adoring look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Kyung-soon mutters.

“Now we’ve finally made it. It’s been a long journey, and this may seem sudden, but I believe that the timing is right. Today there will be a couple of doctors on hand who specialize in soulmate bonding, as these first meetings can be draining on both your emotions and energy. Don’t be afraid to ask for a breather if all of this is too overwhelming. There is no shame in that.”

My stomach turns to rocks hearing that. I’m reminded of my conversation just a couple of days ago with Aera. If meeting my soul sisters, who I’m not directly bonded to was so intense, what will this be like? Namjoon is only one person, whereas I have six soul sisters.

I voice my thoughts aloud. “I understand that this will be more...intense than it was meeting the girls. Will it really be that bad?”

Bang PD smiles at my question. “That bad or that good?” A blush creeps up my cheeks. “It will definitely be much more intense than your first meeting with the girls. Direct bonds are powerful. There is also the fact that you will be indirectly bonded with the other boys, like you were with the girls. Not quite as intense as the soul sister bond, but similar to it since they are your soulmate’s soul brothers.”

I exchange looks with Himari. This is news to us. It makes sense, and I’m happy about the fact that I’ll be gaining a lot of new friends today.

“Due to the fact you’ll be going through various levels of bonding today, we have taken precautions. You each will first meet your soulmates privately, and given sufficient time to bond and recover.” My stomach grows more and more uncertain as Mr. Bang explains the process. “After that, each individual couple will meet a different couple one at a time until you’ve all finished meeting. Like I said, doctors will be there to support you and we encourage you to take a break if you’re too exhausted. However, I’ve been told by the specialists that your soulmate will be the best support to you. So don’t be afraid to rely on each other. Understood?”

Mr. Bang smiles as us like he’s suggesting a place to grab lunch, not explaining the details of soulmate bonding. I give him a weak smile in return, a couple of the others grunting in acknowledgement.

“Wonderful.” Mr. Bang stands up from his seat, the simple action making my heart begin to pound again as I know that can only mean one thing. “Let’s get to it. I hope you don’t mind, but I discussed this with the boys earlier and asked them what order they would like to go in. Surprise, surprise: they’re going in order of age. That means that Jin and his soulmate will go first.”

I turn to look at Kyung-soon, who looks deathly pale. I wonder if the first thing she’ll say to Jin is a string of curse words for making her go first. Better first than last. Poor Minsuh will have to wait a long time for her turn, only making the nerves worse.

“Well, shall we?” Kyung-soon has gotten a hold of herself again, rising from the couch and smoothing out her sweater. “I’ve got to give my soulmate a piece of my mind for making me go first.”

Bang PD bursts out into laughter, having never seen the feistier side of the normally docile Kyung-soon. “Oh, I have a feeling the two of you will get along great.”

↔

I feel like I’m at the waiting room in the doctor’s office. Kyung-soon just entered a room at the end of the hallway, waving at us as her eyes lit up with that same light I noticed earlier today. I can only pray that I’ll be just as good at masking my nerves.

Seohyun paces in front of where we sit, awaiting her turn. We were told that we would each be given about 5 minutes of initial bonding before they would clear the room for the next pair. Apparently after the first five minutes the intensity starts to wear off, and then each couple is escorted to a recovery room on the same floor somewhere.

My blood is humming in my veins and I can practically feel Namjoon, wherever he is. Probably just on the other side of this floor. I fidget in my seat, desperate to just get it over with but dreading it at the same time. In my head “Forever Rain” is echoing, and I can’t tell if that’s helping or not.

5 minutes pass. Seohyun is waved over by a friendly looking doctor who pokes her head out the door.

“You’re Min Yoongi’s soulmate?” The doctor asks, her smile unwavering as Seohyun prances down the hall.

“I am, yes.” She waves at us. “See you on the other side!” I can hear the shaking in her voice, but she looks excited. We wave back, calling out words of encouragement.

Himari stands up, stretching. “Do I look alright?” She’s up next. Just a few more minutes before she disappears through that door.

I nod. “You look perfect. How are you feeling?”

“Like I could run a mile in 3 minutes flat but also like I might throw up at any second. You?”

“Pretty much the same. Not sure I could do 3 minutes though, maybe 4.”

Himari laughs, fiddling with her shirt and making sure it’s tucked in correctly. I stand up, helping her in the back where she can’t see.

“Everything will be perfect,” I reassure her, hoping that my smile looks the part. She sighs, wrapping me up in a hug. I’ve received a lot of those since I landed in Seoul.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Suddenly it’s been five minutes, although I have a sneaking suspicion it’s been less. Leave it to Seohyun to bond quicker and more efficiently than anyone else.

“Gotta go,” Himari salutes us as she makes her way to the door where the same doctor awaits her. I hear her voice as she confirms that she’s Jung Hoseok’s soulmate, but it sounds distant and quiet as the din in my head turns up to full volume.

5 minutes.

I remain where I was before, staring at the wall as I sway from one side to another. It’s so loud in my head, “Forever Rain” is on repeat and I swear my heart is trying to break out of my chest.

“...ok?”

I blink, looking at Aera who has concern written all over her face.

“Did you say something to me?”

“I just asked if you were going to be ok.”

I swallow heavily. “Y-yeah,” I manage to get out. “I’ll be fine. Just freaking out a little bit.”

“Ok,” Aera doesn’t look convinced.

“Do I look alright?” I fidget with my necklace.

“Bethany,” Aera’s voice cuts through all the noise in my head. “You are absolutely gorgeous. You’re also the most courageous, capable person I know. You can do this.”

I can do this. I think of Namjoon, so close by. We can do this.

“Bethany?” The door at the end of the hallway opens up, the doctor peeking outside.

I look back at Aera, and she offers me a thumbs up. Minsuh and Ichika smile up at me, words of encouragement spilling from their lips.

“That’s me.”

“Kim Namjoon is your soulmate, correct?” The doctor’s kind eyes are assessing me as I walk over on surprisingly steady legs.

“Yes,” I nod. My eyes focus on the doctor’s name tag as she gently ushers me inside the room. It says her name is Dr. Kim, which must be a good sign, right?

“Ok, Bethany. How are you feeling?”

I nod, the nervousness must be written all over my face so I don’t try to hide it. “I’m fine, I think. Just a little nervous.

Dr. Kim smiles at me. “That’s completely normal. If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

I’m about to thank her when another voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Oh,” it comes out as a gasp, and my head feels like it’s swimming through concrete as I turn to look who it is. Even though I already know. I’ve heard that voice countless times.

Kim Namjoon is already looking at me by the time I drag my eyes to his face. I hardly register Dr. Kim’s nudge as I start moving forward, a male doctor on the other side of the room watching us intently.

Namjoon looks how I feel- struck by lightning. His eyes are alight with something akin to adoration and curiosity, and I can feel my heart skip a beat as I realize that look is for me.

He takes longer strides than me, but he stops just a step away from me. I take a moment to take in his appearance. The denim jeans he’s wearing nearly steal all of my attention before I manage to look up at his shirt, a simple white button down.

Perfect is the only word I can think of as I finally look back up at him. Once again, his eyes are already on mine and I jump at little at the sudden eye contact. His mouth opens, another little gasp leaving it.

His cheeks are flushed when he finally speaks.

“I-can I…” He stops, eyes drifting to his feet before looking back up at me again. “Can I just hug you?”

I nearly sob at his sweet question, and I silently step forward to press myself into my soulmate’s chest. He reacts immediately, his arms wrapping around me like a starving man. And it’s there, as my head nestles into his neck, that I feel the bond.

Namjoon holds me steady as what I imagine what lightning feels like courses through my body. With it comes a flurry of emotions, each one passing so quickly that I hardly have enough time to identify it before another comes. A pang of sadness hits me, and I can tell Namjoon feels it too because his already impossibly tight grip grows tighter. He rests his cheek on my head, and I nearly melt at the touch. With it the sadness fades, a calming balm coursing through us. Love, joy so tangible I nearly reach out to touch it, giddiness and trust wrap themselves around us.

By the time everything subsides, a single thread of the bond hangs invisible between us that I can almost tug it. I feel like I’m coming up for air after being submerged in water for too long.

We separate as a final shock hits us, both of us panting even as we wince at the loss of contact.

Dr. Kim and the male doctor make their way over to us, Dr. Kim attaching a blood pressure cuff to my arm before I even realize what’s going on. I notice the other doctor doing the same to Namjoon.

Namjoon sneaks a glance over at me, his cheeks still a deep red. My mind is still spinning and trying to understand what just happened. And the fact that I’m literally 5 feet away from my soulmate.

“Are you ok?” I flush as Namjoon asks me the question, Dr. Kim grinning up at me knowingly.

I nod. “Y-yeah. I think so. Are you?”

“Feeling great,” he responds even as he glares down at his blood pressure cuff. My eyes trail down to it too, before I decide against it as his bicep tends to make my giddiness grow. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.” He gives a sheepish grin, his dimple just showing up.

I return it, and his eyes drift down to my mouth. “I’m Bethany.” I chew on my lip for a second, my blush only growing stronger as I watch Namjoon force his eyes away from my mouth and red color his cheeks. Good to know I’m not the only one struggling. “You can call me Beth, though.”

Before we can continue our small talk, the cuffs are released. “Ok you two, feeling alright?” The male doctor asks us. We both nod. “Great. I know it’s intense and you might be feeling a little weak, but don’t be afraid to rely on each other. Namjoon, go ahead and hold Bethany’s hand while we take you to the recovery room. It will help to steady you both.”

Namjoon looks at me hesitantly, clearly embarrassed, but he slowly extends his hand out to me. So slowly that it looks like he’s trying to not scare away a skittish animal.

His hand engulfs my own, and the doctor was right. I feel much better already, more steady. Namjoon gives my hand a squeeze, looking down at me. I nearly swoon, a giggle escaping me at the situation.

“What are you laughing about?”

Hearing him speaking to me only makes me laugh again. “I just can’t believe how freaked out I was before.”

“Oh, me too.” My surprise must be evident at his confession. Was he really nervous too? “I don’t think I’ve slept for the past three days.”

We’re led out of the room to another room with a couch and some water and snacks. Just before the doctor leaves I remember to ask him something.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon grins at my politeness, not releasing my hand as he grabs water and offers it to me.

“Yes?”

“How long did we take?”

The doctor smiles. Everybody is smiling, me included. How could I not?

“Do you have a bet going on with the others or something? I hate to break it to you, but you guys are dead last. The bonding lasted six minutes.” My eyes widen. It certainly didn’t feel that long.

“How long did Seohyun take? She’s with Min Yoongi.”

“Oh, yeah, how long did they take? They were fast.” Namjoon mumbles by my side.

The doctor chuckles at us. “They only took 2 minutes and 42 seconds.” With that he leaves us alone in the room.

“Wow,” I whisper, sipping on my water. Namjoon still holds my hand, his fingers interlocked with mine. I try and fail to not let the small point of contact take over my senses. “I should have known Seohyun would be quick. She was by far the most prepared out of all of us.”

“And you were the least prepared.”

It isn’t a question, and I glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Namjoon laughs as I yank my hand from his, feigning offense. I collapse on the couch and he follows after me.

“I watched the docufilm,” Namjoon explains, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. I groan, hiding behind my hands.

“Like, all of it? Everything over the past three years?”

He chuckles, growing more comfortable by the second. “Yep. Everything.” His dimple reappears and I admire him from behind my hands. “I’m just glad you didn’t go to Antarctica.”

I laugh, pointing at him accusingly. “So you were watching the Facetime a couple of nights ago!” Namjoon has the decency to look flustered. “How dare you?”

“We-I just-” he stutters, “Can you blame me?”

I assess him from where he sits a respectable distance away. I still hardly even know the man, but I already know I could never harbor a grudge. Not that he needs to know that right now. I get up, heading over to the snack table again before deciding on a bag of chips. Now I’m starving, after hardly being able to eat over the past couple of days. Namjoon sits in silence, awaiting my response. I almost laugh again at the whole situation, until I realize that we are very much alone in this room. I shake off the tension I feel, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“I was freaking out the entire call,” I admit, settling back down on the couch. “I kept thinking I could hear people in the background, but I thought that I must be going crazy. So I definitely blame you.” I open the bag, offering some to Namjoon. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his smile. “Now tell me. What was your favorite part of the docufilm?”

Namjoon ponders for a second, the red coming back to his cheeks. I wonder what he’s thinking. He finally settles on something, his face going serious as he looks back at me. I find it hard to breathe beneath his gaze.

“My favorite episode,” I had no idea they broke the film up into episodes, “was when you got lost at the night market.”

He doesn’t crack his serious expression, and I get up and move as far away from him as possible, settling for a chair on the far side of the room. If he’s seen all the episodes, he must know how much the others make fun of me for that night. Evil man, I think even as I fight the grin on my face.

Nearly thirty minutes later Dr. Kim knocks on the door before entering, finding Namjoon mid-sentence about how I obviously tried to hide my face from the cameras most of the time and how the boys would make fun of him because of it.

We look up at her from the couch to see her looking pleased. (Namjoon dragged me back to sit by him about fifteen minutes ago when I was accusing him of making me wait for three years, the bold action making him obviously embarrassed. His excuse was that he felt like he had to yell at me from across the room, but I think there might have been more to it.)

“Looks like you two are doing well.” Dr. Kim observes, jotting something down on her clipboard. “Ready to meet the others?” I jump up from the couch, Namjoon observing me with an amused look in his eyes. It’s not everyday I get to meet all of BTS in one day.

“Let’s go!” It’s my turn to drag Namjoon, tugging him out the door. When we leave the room I go to remove my hand from his, the intensity of the bond having faded and my awkwardness has returned full-force. He doesn’t let me, though. Instead he intertwines his fingers through mine, refusing to look at me when I looked up at him with my eyebrows raised.

Following the sound of several voices from up ahead, my soulmate and I go to meet the rest of BTS.

Previous - Next

Get ready to meet the rest of the boys! It’ll be fun, I promise. Remember that the taglist is open for whoever wants to join, just let me know! Thanks guys!

@mae-musicbitch @taylorroe3​ @heartblackerthancoffee​

[heyheydidjaknow]

What is this witchcraft? Me? Not posting after midnight? I’m shocked to my very core. Anyways, this is one of my longer chapters. If you have any feedback, do not hesitate. As always, previous chapter (and next when applicable) is at the bottom.

Chapter 5

“Dude, hear me out here.” You are vibrating like a kid on pixie sticks. You slide your hands apart as if to display written words. “Lightsaber.”

“What’s a—”

“Donnie.” You put your hand up before he can continue. “Imma stop you right there. I am going to take your hand and kindly ask you to tell me that you know of, or at least have heard of, Star Wars.”

“I do not.”

“That is a fucking crime.”

You have been sitting with him for approximately an hour, watching him dismantle a “Kraang bot” as you register for school and start ordering supplies. You are quickly starting to realize his knowledge of anything outside the bounds of science is limited to whatever he read by virtue of his father, which consisted of one book on Greek mythology, one on the Italian renaissance, one on ancient Japanese history, and one on Japanese folklore, or anything he learned via the interests of his brothers. Because of this, he seems to know exactly jack-shit about things you consider common knowledge, such as the concept of foreshadowing or Poptarts or Hitler outside of a general association with the name and emotion of some sort, leading to interactions like the one you’re having right now.

“It’s not a crime,” he defended. “It's just I was never really interested in that kinda stuff.”

“But it’s Star Wars!” You throw your hands up. “How do you not know of Star Wars, at least?”

“Look, you’re saying it’s really good, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Your voice lowered.

“Why would somebody throw out a good movie?”

You sigh. “Yeah, that’s fair. But!” You point at him. “But I need to watch it with you, if only out of principle. Besides,” you settle down, “it’s a very… traditionally plotted story. I still have to give you that lesson.”

“Yeah, but after I finish this.” He pushes his laptop to the side, picking up the soldering iron and moving back over to the pile of metal you know will become Metalhead.

You nod in agreement, leaning forward in your chair to watch him fuse wires. “You know what?” You smile. “I may give you shit, but it is really cool watching your whole process.”

“Hm?” He looks up at you from his lean forward.

“Well,” you shrug, folding your legs on the chair, “I just mean that it’s cool seeing how you go about building all this junk that is just… what’s the word?”

“Untraditional?”

“Revolutionary.”

He has a funny look on his face. “You think so?”

“Oh, totally.” You nod eagerly. “I told you that I thought you were one of fiction’s greatest minds, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.” His face is turning red.

“Really? I swear I did the day I met you…” Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember.

“You said something about inspiration.” He smiled softly, voice airy.

“Oh, then I—well, it kinda is the same thing.” You rub the back of your neck, feeling your own face heat up. “Must’ve—uh—misspoke. I do that,” you trail off, “kinda a lot.”

“I think it’s cute.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. ‘Oh come the fuck on. Really?’ “See,” you hear your voice rise a register, “that is so not fair.”

“Huh?” The color drains from his face as he tries to remember what sounds just came out of his mouth. “What did I say?”

“You’re not allowed to just say shit like that.” You cover your face with your hands, feeling your heart swell. “You’re not my boyfriend or anything.”

“Wait, what did I say?”

“Nope. Shut up.” You try to calm yourself down. “You didn’t mean it, whatever it was. It’s fine.”

He blinks, very confused. “You sure?”

“Totally.” Your voice is tight. “One hundred and ten percent sure.”

“You can’t be one hundred ten percent sure.” He looks back down at his project, writing your behavior off. “It’s mathematically impossible

“You wanna bet?” You start looking around the room, prior embarrassment now replaced with a desire to win this artificial conflict. “Got graph paper?”

He scoffs. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding right now?” You lean across the table, tilting his head up to face you properly, determination burning in your eyes. Your voice lowers. “I am going to show you one hundred and ten present sure right here and now as a matter of principle.”

He swallowed, face going red again. “One moment, please.” He fumbles around for a piece of paper and hands it to you, along with a marker.

“Thank you.” You smile sweetly, acting as if nothing happened as you start to sketch. “Give me a bit of time and I will show you one hundred and ten percent sure.”

He rolls his eyes, a smile coming back to his face as he calms down. “Sure you will.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Go back to your transformer while I blow your freakin mind, kay?”

“What’s—”

“Don’t even.”

“Gotcha.”

You chew on your tongue absentmindedly, remembering how much you love spacing out pixels when you hear a notification on your phone. You pull it out, read it, sigh, slide out of your chair. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, heading for the door. “I gotta make sure plot shit happens.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Always do.” You shoot him finger guns as you drag the door closed. You walk over to the brothers, currently engaged in their digital hockey match. You watch, waiting for Raphael’s inevitable victory— ‘Wow, my life is getting pretty damn predictable.’—before clearing your throat to catch their attention.

“So,” you smile, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

They seem to not understand the question. “Yeah, Leo,” Raphael prompts, shooting a look at him, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

He paused. “Is there some sort of sport thing happening?”

Your heart drops. “Leonardo,” you ask again, voice lowering, “you have a plan for the thing happening tonight, right?”

“What thing?”

You grab his shoulders. “The spill,” you clarify, voice quiet and sharp. “The mutagen spill. The spill I told you about three days ago?”

His eyes widen. “You said that was happening Friday!”

“Today is Friday!” You let go, throwing your hands in the air out of pure frustration. “That’s why I told you today is Friday! What, did you think I just liked talking about days of the week? That it’s my hobby to keep track of how many days I haven’t died?” ‘I mean, it is, but that’s not the point.’

“Well, it can’t be that important if you forgot about it.” Raphael leaned against the machine. “We’ll just go in and bust some heads. No problem.”

You groan. “Do you guys just have something against planning? I swear everything with you guys has to happen at the very last minute.”

“We don’t need the time to plan. I dunno if you noticed, Y/N, but our ‘plans’ aren’t exactly plan worthy.” He shrugged. “You just have to beat the Kraang out of them and that’s the end of it. It’d be like planning to raid a trailer home.”

You sigh. ‘They’re teenage boys. This is only episode six. Deep breaths.’ “Just… please try to heed my warnings in the future, alright? The last thing we need is for something to sneak up on us.”

“Alright, alright.” Leo focuses his eyes on you. “When is the mutagen getting spilled?”

“Tomorrow. The show wasn’t very specific on times, but some time tomorrow.”

“Then let’s air on the side of caution and assume they mean midnight. What’s the time?”

You pull out your phone. “Seven forty-five.”

“That should be enough time to get there, scope out the place, and be home before dinner.”

You feel the ground shake under you as a metallic clang pierces the air.

That is your cue to leave for fear of getting hit with a laser. “You can’t beat Metalhead. Also, Mikey calls him Metalhead.” You start heading out. “I’d stay and watch you guys waste time trying, but I haven’t eaten today, so I’m gonna grab food and meet you there.” You run out before they can ask any more questions.

If nothing else, all the running has been helping you get in shape. You are not typically the type to take runs, but you also are not typically the type to be pressed to see people. Loneliness is one hell of a motivator, as it turns out, and you were starving in more ways than one. You stop by the first place you see, grabbing some food item with a name you already forget—some sort of burrito, you think—and climb a fire escape belonging to a building overlooking the warehouse in question. You sit on the edge of the building, dangling your legs over the side as you wait for them to get here.

‘Do I like him?’ You pause at your question, mid-bite. ‘I mean, I had a crush on him when I watched the show, but this attachment isn’t romantic affection, is it? I’ve had crushes before, and I’m acting too suave for this to be that.’ You swallow, taking a drink out from your nameless cup. ‘Considering my emotional state? It’s highly likely I’m just latching onto him for lack of anyone or anything truly familiar in my life right now.’ You sigh. ‘But, then again, if that were the case, this feeling what be more familial, wouldn’t it?’ You conclude, whether you are attracted to him romantically or not, it is entirely unfair to both of you to pursue a romantic relationship with him unless he makes the first move. You have more faith in his critical thinking skills than in your own, anyhow. Besides, he acted irrationally enough around April as is; introducing a proper romantic relationship into the mix sounds a bit too risky, especially at such a vulnerable time in his development.

You hear the distant sounds of mechanical joints approaching. ‘Already liking this better than ninja silence.’ You spin around, hopping off the ledge and onto the roof proper as you go to properly admire the metal wonder.

It looks infinitely cooler than the show would have you believe, if possible. Each piece of its hull has a past and you can see it in every scratch, every dent. It wasn’t anywhere near perfect; you can easily see where Donatello had hammered out the shell of the artificial terrapin, where he had had to settle for using concrete, even the faintest ghosts of the pennies making up its chest piece. It was a glorious collage.

You run over, going down on your knees to look it over. “This thing is so fucking cool,” you gush, shuffling around it. “Like, totally fucking awesome!”

You can hear the pride in his voice, the excitement. “I know, right?”

You hop back to your feet, keeping yourself from jumping up and down for the sake of pride. “That is the coolest shit ever!” You grin, sitting back down and taking a drink from your soda. “You never cease to amaze, Hamato.”

“You think?” He sounds almost like a puppy, excited as he is.

“Dude, totally.” You sigh, feeling yourself mellow out a little. “But, more importantly,” you continue, clapping your hands together once, “we should be properly watching the warehouse in case they need backup.”

“Oh, right!” The robot stomped over to you, standing slightly behind you as you dangle your feet over the edge.

You take another drink of soda, feeling the excitement in the air dying down as you look out over the buildings. ‘It’s oddly peaceful up here. Must not have started the attack yet.’ You swing your legs back and forth as silence settled between you two.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I meant to ask you before,” he said stiffly, “but how did you know this was happening today? You never explained it.”

You silently thank him for cutting the tension, turning around to face him properly. “Well,” you start, lacing your fingers together around your cup, “remember when I said that the show Leo watches shows up a lot in episodes?”

“Yeah.” You are not exactly sure why he sounds so interested in a detail like this.

“And you know how you watch on cable?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as it turns out,” you dig into your jacket pocket, “they release television guides, telling people when certain shows are playing, what times they’re playing, shit like that. So,” you conclude, admittedly smug that you had reasoned this part out, “as long as I know what episode is playing during that episode, I can accurately predict any actions that happen during the periods in which you guys have cable access.”

“So, you map out what episodes are scheduled to play on what days and create a timeline around that?”

“Exactly. Not a bad plan.” You pull up a document, showing him the timeline you’ve created with this information. “As long as you guys are on the grid, and as long as Leo sticks to watching that specific channel, I’ll be able to predict the movements of every major player in the series, which means I’ll be able to determine who we can and can’t fuck with based off how they act later down the line, and I’ll be able to give you proper foresight when the situation—”

Your plan is interrupted by a section of the ledge directly next to you to gain a new hole. You leap to your feet, quickly backing up and almost tripping on Metalhead as you regain your senses and hear Mikey’s panicked yelling.

“That doesn’t look good.” You watch the machine starts backing up. “I’m gonna go in and help.”

Something strikes you. “Donnie, real quick, be careful not to run into anything. The technology you’re using is susceptible to Kraang influence.”

“Relax. I got this.” Metalhead gives you a thumbs up before running and leaping off the building, crashing through the glass roof feet first.

You sigh, getting to your feet. ‘Theme of today’s episode is not to rely on technology. Granted,’ you muse, starting to climb down the fire escape, ‘this probably could’ve been solved by adopting a more intuitive controller and having a bit more experience, but I digress.’ You hop the last few feet down. ‘In any case, I’ve done all I can. If that isn’t enough, so be it.’

You hear the explosion as you start walking back to your apartment. ‘He should be coming here in about three or so minutes.’

If you did not know how this would end, you would be much more concerned. As it stands? You know the score before the game is even played.

You wave hello to the doorman as you walk to the elevator. You tap your foot absentmindedly to the elevator music, walk to your apartment, unlock the door, and step inside, picking a large box off the ground in front of it before locking the door.

You walk over and set the box down on your bed, walking back to the kitchen. You pull a Tupperware box from on top of it, pulling a red velvet cupcake from the container and setting it on the counter.

You had died the first time you had made cupcakes. When you had tried making them again from your mother’s recipe, you had found yourself surprisingly unintimidated as you slid them into the oven. Of course, you had sat directly in front of the oven and stared at it during the entirety of the baking process, but you were hardly going to let the worst experience of your life separate you and the most nostalgic, joy-inducing feeling there was. Who else was going to make cupcakes?

You dry your hands, not realizing you had washed them as you pick the confection off the counter. You peel off a portion of the wrapper, biting into the savory and sweet bundle of joy in your mouth. You moan softly in satisfaction, licking the icing off your lips as you walk back over to your bed, sitting down and reaching for the knife under your pillow. You slice the tape, sliding your baby out of its packaging with a soft smile. You reach back in, taking another bite as you pull out a smaller bag. You set the box on the ground, tossing the now-empty wrapper into it and wiping the excess frosting on your jeans, pulling the instrument from its packaging.

Your father had taught you how to play a couple of years back. You never thought you would get weepy over a musical instrument, and yet, here you are, cradling a hunk of wood costing a little more than one day’s allowance. You purse your lips, running your fingers along the neck as you check for any defects in its construction. You crack open the bag and, after about half an hour of fiddling and research, manage to get the strings onto the violin bass without snapping it. It wasn’t an exact replica, but it was close enough that you feel comfortable holding it, feel joy hearing it come in tune.

You play a scale. It sounds like heaven to you.

You put the rest of the trash in the box, laying down next to the first item you have bought. A stand for it would be arriving tomorrow. That makes you smile.

This is the start of something healthy for you. Ironically, it has started with you eating a cupcake, but, still, you have begun to come to terms with your situation. Granted, you have a long way to go; you still have not deleted your social media, wanting to look out for photographs and clips from the funeral, but this is a step in the right direction. You have to believe that.

One small accomplishment: you have kept your apartment sparklingly clean. It is not as if you have much to do, but none the less.

You find your fingers playing an almost lullaby. You stop yourself, not wanting to fall asleep before getting yourself situated. You set your instrument to the side, getting up to close and shelve your cupcake box for future use. You wash your hands again.

You slide your jacket off and throw it onto a seat, knowing you will likely need it tomorrow. You make it a habit to at least get outside once per day, now. You understand that, even if it is not vital, you need to establish a routine. You must keep moving, if only for your sake of mind.

You check to see the curtains are closed, strip, put your clothes in a hamper. You take a shower, comb out your hair, brush your teeth. You do these things consciously, now. You change into a shirt for sleeping, crawling into bed and turning off the light. Tomorrow, you will have to go down to the laundromat to wash your few changes of clothes. You will eat three meals. You will drink eight glasses of water.

You set your phone on the nightstand, plugging it in. You reach over, fingers curling around the handle of the kitchen knife as you slide it under your pillow.

You close your eyes, feeling your heart pang again tonight.

“Goodnight,” you call to no one. “Love you.”

Silence.

It is better than it was. You do not cry tonight, wrapping your arms around your pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” you mumble, feeling yourself drift into unconsciousness. “Love you too.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 4 Chapter 6 part 1

[dirtykpopsnaps]

The Cute Swimmer — Moon Bin

Warnings: None

Contains: Cute, swimmer Moonbin

Requested: no

Words: 2, 465 (ugh...why can I never make my requests this long😖😭)

————————————————————————

The rays of the slowly lowering sun shine brightly through the open blinds of our window. My eyes flit down to the bottom of my computer screen and I press back on my chair, looking over at my roommate, Mina. “You ready for dinner?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. Mina looks up and checks the time on our digital clock, then nod her head.

“Sure, we can head over,” she shrugs.

Calmly, we both get up and start gathering our stuff for dinner. I throw on some socks and shoes, grabbing my wallet with my school ID and phone off the bed. I grab my winter jacket and wait by the door while Mina does up her boots. When we’re both ready, we head out the door. I lock the door right afterward and we both head over to the dining hall.

In the dining hall, everything is already in motion. Kitchen workers are at their stations and students are waiting patiently in line at the buffet style food lines. Mina and I grab a table before walking back to the line and grabbing plates. While we wait in line, Mina and I talk about the assignments we have to get done. “Ugh, my stats professor gave us so much work and I’m actually pulling my hair out over it,” she groans, leaning against the palm of her hand.

“I’ve already finished all my work,” I smile softly. Mina narrows her eyes at me, scowling in annoyance. I just giggle, grabbing some meat and moving it onto my plate.

When we’re finished in line, we head back to our table and begin eating. A few minutes later, someone else sits down at our table. I lift my eyes and smile softly when I see him. “Hey, Soobin,” I smile. Soobin smiles back, waving slightly and setting his plate down.

“Feels like I haven’t seen you guys in forever,” he chuckles. Mina shrugs her shoulders lightly.

“Well, you know...college,” she chuckles. Soobin rolls his eyes lightly.

“Don’t I get that? So much work and then I still have other activities,” he sighs.

“Oh, yeah, how’s swim going?” I ask, tilting my head.

“It’s...going. I still really enjoy it, so I’d never think of dropping it, but I have a lot of work, too,” he explains. We nod our heads lightly at his statement.

“Do you guys have any swim meets coming up?” Mina asks. Soobin takes a bite of his food, then nods and swallows.

“Yeah. There should be one this weekend,” he says.

Honestly, Mina and I always try to make it to Soobin’s swim meets, but it rarely happens. It just never really works out. I really do wish we could see him swim more often. A short silence falls between us, so we all dig into our food. During dinner, the conversation changes around a lot. We talk about school and things we have planned, plus activities we’re gonna do over the weekend. “Maybe I’ll try and join you for the comedian. It might be nice to have a break after the meet,” Soobin says. I nod my head happily.

“That would be great! It would be nice to hang out with you,” I say happily.

After about half an hour, my plate is clean. “Alright. I’m gonna head out, okay?” I say. Mina stands up with her plate and Soobin follows soon afterward. Soobin walks with Mina and I to our dorm, but separates and waves ‘goodbye’ before we get there. Mina opens the door with her keycard and we both walk inside.

“Any plans for tonight?” She asks.

“I’m gonna head over to the pool for a while,” I tell her. She knits her eyebrows together in confusion.

“Why didn’t you ask Soobin to go with you?” She questions.

“Uh...because I didn’t feel like getting shown up by a swimmer?” I giggle lightly. Mina rolls her eyes, a smile playing on her lips.

“Alright, good point,” she laughs.

When we get back to the room, I grab my book bag off the floor. I grab my bathing suit and towel out of the closet. Quickly, I also add my goggles to the collection of things. Once everything is inside, I throw the bag over my shoulder. I grab my wallet and phone again and wave to Mina. “See you in a couple hours,” I say, waving and I head out the door. I don’t bother to lock the door behind me.

The walk over to the sports center isn’t that eventful. The sun is setting even lower and throws reddish-gold rays across the clean, campus lawns. Students walk along the sidewalks, chattering happily with their friends and roommates. When I get to the sports center, I swipe my keycard and head inside. There’s a woman sitting at the desk inside, so I wave at her as I head into the hallway that leads to the pool locker rooms. Inside the girls locker room, the large fluorescent lights splash bits of light here and there. As I walk inside, they slowly start turning on.

The locker room is a little on the cooler side, but not too cold. Calmly, I walk into one of the bathroom stalls and change into my swimsuit. I shove all of my clothes into the bag and step out when I’m done. I put my bag in one of the lockers and put away my wallet and phone before pulling out my towel and goggles. I leave the towel on top so that I can grab it easily when I’m done. With that, I close the locker and leave the locker room, heading for the pool.

Walking into the warmth of the big pool, I breathe in deeply. The sharp smell of chlorine stings my nostrils, but I smile and hum softly. The smell of chlorine has always reminded me of swim lessons when I was little. Across the pool, the lifeguard sits lazily in their seat, looking out over everything. There’s one other person in the pool swimming laps, but I can’t tell who they are. Shrugging, I brush off the thought and head into the water.

When I get in, the water is very chilly. I gasp in surprise, but force myself to stay in the water. Slowly, I get myself lower and lower until I’m almost fully submerged in the water. My body is rigid, still getting used to the chilly temperature of the water. Taking a shaky breath, I put my goggles on and start to swim laps. My laps are pretty slow, but they’re able to warm me up fairly quickly. Soon enough, the water doesn’t feel as chilly anymore. I swim back and forth along the large pool, letting myself enjoy the activity of swimming.

After a few laps, I take a little break and stand at the same end of the pool I got in on. I move my goggles onto my head, rubbing my eyes a little bit. My wet hair is clinging to my neck and I scold myself for not having pulled it back. Shaking my head, my eyes shift over to the lane next to me. The other person is quickly swimming back and forth. Water is splashing into the other lanes, creating little ripples on the water. I tilt my head, watching as the person starts to slow down. As they near the end where I’m standing, they come out of the water and I have to hold back a gasp.

Now that I can seem them clearly, I’m able to tell that the person is a boy. He’s very tall, his shoulders and chest are broad. His arms are strong and veiny. His whole body is sculpted to perfection and it’s all I can do not to stare. Honestly...he’s rather intimidating, especially to someone who is several inches shorter than him. Say...someone like me! My eyes trail over his body, up and down. When my eyes move up again, our gazes meet for a few seconds. He has a playful smirk on his lips and I gasp, hiding my face. There’s a few seconds of silence between us before...“You know...there’s no shame in staring,” he chuckles. His voice is deep, yet melodic and it sounds absolutely beautiful.

“I...I know. I’m just...I...I don’t know,” I laugh nervously.

“A little flustered?” He chuckles.

“...maybe a little bit...but, that’s for me to deal with,” I giggle.

Without another word, I pull my goggles back into place and start swimming laps again. It takes me a few seconds before I realize that he’s joined me. He’s swimming a lot faster than me and it only takes him a few seconds to overtake me. However, I just let him and don’t turn it into a competition. i allow myself to fall back into the rhythm of doing my laps. Granted, I’m not the most amazing at swimming, but I’m definitely not the worst. I can hold my own and I know it. I do about five more laps before I decide to take another short break.

As soon as I stand up at the far end again, the boy is standing there. He flashes me a sweet smile. “You know, you’re pretty good,” he tells me. I roll my eyes at him.

“You literally overtook me in seconds,” I point out, laughing. He laughs lightly, rubbing at his neck.

“Not on purpose, I promise. I’m a swimmer, so...” he says. I knit my eyebrows together in confusion. He’s a swimmer? I definitely would have remembered him if I saw him at one of Soobin’s swim meets.

“Wait, you’re a swimmer? I don’t remember seeing you on the team,” I say.

“Oh, I only joined last semester,” he explains. “Wait, do you swim, too?” He asks in confusion. I shake my head vigorously.

“Oh, no, no. My friend Soobin does,” I say. He nods his head lightly.

“Well, what I was *saying*...you’re a pretty good swimmer. You should think about joining the team.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’m not *that* good. I just like it,” I say.

“Just think about it. It would be nice to see you,” he smiles.

“Ooh, someone’s confident,” I giggle. He shrugs his broad shoulders lightly.

“Well, when someone’s staring at you, you get a bit confident,” he chuckles.

Immediately, I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Instead of responding, I move my goggles back in place and start swimming again. I hear his loud laughter filling the pool area before my head goes back underwater. During our time, that’s how we talk. We each do our laps and, during small breaks, we talk. After a couple short conversations, his confidence falls away a little bit and I get to see the true him, I think. He’s a little shyer, very nice, and very silly. I’m giggling up a storm at some of the things he says. I also learn his name...Moon Bin. “Some people call me Moonbin, other’s just call me ‘Bin’. Either one is alright,” he shrugs lightly, shaking his sopping hair out if his face.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Moonbin. I’m Y/N,” I smile, holding my hand out to him. He chuckles, shaking it firmly. We go back to our laps soon afterward.

Coming to the end of the pool again, I hear the lifeguard call out. “Hey, you two. Pool’s closing soon,” he calls.

“Thanks!” I call, pushing myself out of the pool and onto the tile floor. A few moments later, Moonbin joins me on the tile. I stand up and start making my way towards the girls locker room. Just before I head into the locker room, I look back over my shoulder. Moonbin is standing a little further away from the pool, toweling his hair dry. I chuckle to myself and head into the locker room.

The chilly air of the locker room hits me and I shiver. I clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering and quickly hurry to the lockers. I grab my towel out of the locker, drying off my hair and making sure to get all the water off my body. Once I’m dry, I head into the bathroom stall and start changing back into my other clothes. I wrap my wet bathing suit in my towel and throw my goggles into the bag. When I’m all dressed and ready, I pull my winter coat back on and head out into the main hallway of the sports center.

I walk out into the hallway and catch a glimpse outside. Immediately, I bite my lip. Night has fallen and I don’t really feel comfortable walking by myself. Calmly, I pull my phone out of my bag and open my contacts. I’m just starting to write a message to Soobin when I hear someone call my name. Turning towards the voice, I see Moonbin coming out of the locker rooms. “Is something wrong?” He asks.

“No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just dark. I’m texting Soobin to see if he’ll come walk back with me,” I explain.

“You know...I could walk back with you,” Moonbin suggests softly. I stare at him in surprise, my messaging app still open on my phone.

“You would do that?” I ask curiously.

“Sure,” he shrugs, “I mean, I was headed back to campus, anyway.” I smile widely at him and nod, closing my phone.

“I’d really like that, Bin,” I smile. He flashes me a sweet smile and the two of us head back to main campus together.

Outside, the cold winter air gives me a sharp slap to the face. I shiver lightly, pulling my coat tighter around me. “So, what dorm are you in?” Moonbin asks, sticking close to my side.

“Greene,” I respond, trying to force my teeth not to chatter.

“You’re in Greene?! I am, too! What floor?” He asks curiously.

“Uh, basement. My roommate, Mina, and I are one of the only rooms down there,” I say.

“Ahh, my roommate, Rocky, and I are on the third floor. You should come visit sometime?” He smiles sweetly. I chuckle, smiling up at him.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe I could drag Mina along,” I giggle.

On the walk back to campus, we just talk calmly. At the door to Greene, Moonbin presses his ID card against the scanner and the door clicks. We both head inside. “Well, I’ll see you around. Don’t forget to come visit,” he smiles jokingly, winking at me.

“I won’t, don’t worry,” I giggle. I watch Bin turn the corner that leads to the stairs, then I hurry down to my room. As soon as I throw the door open, I stare at Mina. “Alright...I’ve decided that we need to go to more of Soobin’s swim meets.”

[gingrrfrog]

golden [request]

request for @seriousballoon ...I also made it long wtf fdhsj

[part two! :D]

Johnny + 27: “I’m going to die. I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!” 

The clock ticked endlessly in the office, almost driving you insane.

Most of everyone has already left, save for you a few other workers, one of which being the rookie, John Seo.

He became quite the hot topic around the office, earning high fives and your superiors affection faster than you could’ve. You rolled your eyes at their high fives and at their masculine energy, finding solace in your solitary corner of the office, far away from moronic men and their water cooler talk.

But John, or Johnny, as everyone in the office called him, seemed to be interested particularly in you. You fascinated him, the cold shoulder you gave almost every man, and the glare you sent through your glasses anytime they looked at you. He was embarassed to admit it excited him the same way it saddened him...why did you hate him so much?

The truth was you never hated Johnny. You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate anyone, especially the company’s golden boy. It was difficult for you, if you were being honest, to see your bosses dote on the rookie for simple achievements after you had carried your department on your back just to receive a passive raise that was just barely considered an improvement.

It took nights just like this one, full of hard work and strained eyes, the blue light from your computer shining against your glasses. You sighed and twist your neck back and forth, looking to your right and jumping out of your seat to see that Johnny had situated himself next to you.

“Holy shit—“ you gasped, clutching your chest. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry,” he smiled. Johnny lifted his hand to show you a random beef jerky stick, “need a snack?”

“Vegan,” you said quickly. It was a lie, but you weren’t interested.

“I know. I heard. They’re vegan.”

You narrowed your eyes. So he had heard of your vegan lie before from someone it seemed. You shook your head still, looking back to your screen, “no, thank you.”

“well, i’ll leave it here. just in case you get hungry.”

“No need,” you slid it back to his side. “Thank you.”

You heard Johnny sigh and you try your best to keep from rolling your eyes, going back to clicking on your computer. You watch from the corner of your eyes to see if he had left, but he stayed, watching you tap against the keyboard. You pull away from your desk, crossing your arms.

“What?”

“I’m just...trying to keep you company.”

“I don’t need company,” you snipped, dropping the passive polite façade in exchange for an assertive one. “What I need is to be left alone, so I can finish this report and go home.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You scoffed, staring at the rookie in disbelief, “excuse me?”

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“I’m really sorry, John but—“

“Johnny.” He corrected, a smile on his lips.

“Johnny, whatever,” you roll your eyes. “I would really, I mean really, appreciate it if you left me alone. Go back to your desk, take your plant jerky with you and have a nice night.”

“I actually do need something,” Johnny started gently, clearing his throat before he scooted closer. “I...I’m actually having trouble with my report...I was wondering if you could help me.”

“There are other people here.”

“Everyone left thirty minutes ago.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked around the now vacant office, all computers shut off save foryours and Johnny’s. You sigh heavily, ripping the hair tie from your ponytail and letting it fall against your shoulders. You could feel the headache creeping behind your sinuses.

“Fine. Show me.”

Johnny’s face lit up as he rolled his chair back to his desk, smiling brightly up at you as you leaned over his desk and took a look at his report.

He tried to ignore you the best he could, but it was difficult now that your hair was flowing freely past your shoulders, giving you a hint of your shampoo as his cheeks flushed. Perhaps he made his crush on you a little more obvious what with the question into your love life, but he didn’t care.

Speaking of which, “you never answered my question.”

You gave the rookie a side eye before continuing to look over his screen, “which one?”

“If you had a boyfriend or not?”

“What does that matter to you?”

Johnny shrugged dumbly. You bit on your lip, flicking your hair back and accidentally hitting him in the face with it. He secretly loved it.

“I don’t,” you replied curtly. “I don’t have time for one.”

“You have the weekend.”

“I like to relax on the weekend,” you defended. “Plus...I haven’t found anyone yet.”

“Are you looking?”

“You’re pushing it, John.”

“John-ny,“ he corrected. “John makes me sound like an old man.”

“You’re not exactly the picture of youth.”

“Ouch,”he winced, grasping his chest and smiling when you finally cracked the tiniest of smiles. Johnny thinks it’s the first time he’s ever seen you show another emotion.

“Your report looks fine to me,” you replied, looking at your watch. “You should turn it in now, before it’s too late.”

Johnny nodded, watching you walk back to your desk as you began to pack up your things and turn off your computer. Johnny quickly did the same, clicking off and following you towards the door, causing you to raise another eyebrow.

“Are you following me?”

“Friends always leave work together.”

You laughed, a sardonic sarcastic one, but a laugh nonetheless, “sorry, friends?”

“I made you laugh, we’re friends.” Johnny beamed, pressing the elevator button and standing next to you while you waited.

“Hardly friends.”

“You didn’t say we weren’t though.”

You roll your eyes and walk past him, entering the elevator as he did next, giving you a goofy smile as he stood next to you.

“Let me buy you dinner,” he said quickly, turning to face you as you were taking off your jacket. “That’s what friends do.”

“I have no interest in being friends with you, John.”

Okay, ouch. That one hurt. Johnny swallowed his disappointment, “why?”

“I just—“

Your response was interrupted by a jolt in the elevator, making you tumble before a strong arm caught you. You looked around in confusion as the elevator came to abrupt stop, the light from the emergency lights flashing red on both of you. You looked around in confusion, panic rising in your chest.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, his arm around your waist. You pull away from him, nodding as you paced around the elevator. “It looks like they got stuck.”

“Oh my god—oh my god...” you swallowed as you pressed the emergency button time and time again, the bell ringing every time before Johnny took your hand off.

“Chill out—“

“I’m not going to ‘chill out’!” You snapped, slapping his hand away, “we’re stuck and no one is here!”

“I’ll call the fire department,” Johnny pressed his lips in a tight line to keep from laughing. He did as he promised, alerting emergency services. They were lucky enough to have phone service, calming you down just slightly as you sat on the floor, knees hugged to your chest.

“I’m going to die,” you gasped, feeling trapped in the small encounter. Johnny rolled his eyes and squat down next to you.

“You’re not going to die.”

“I’m going to die,” you cried out again, “I’m going to die with an absolute idiot!”

Johnny huffed, crossing his arms before he fell on his butt, “I’m going to ignore that. Only because I feel bad that you’re claustrophobic.”

“I’m not claustrophobic.”

“You’re also not vegan.”

Your head snapped to turn to him, your expression confirming his claim as you bumbled a response, “how did you—?”

“I saw you eating pork belly last week with your friends,” he grinned. “You were either enjoying a really dark tofu or you were lying about you veganism.”

You narrowed your eyes, “are you stalking me?”

“I have friends too, you know.”

Johnny watched as you ignored him again, your chin resting on your knees as you stared blankly in front of you. He felt a guilty that you were in such an uncomfortable situation, but he also couldn’t help but to swoon at how tiny and cute you looked curled up in a ball. It was refreshing, to say the least, to see a new side of you that no one else in the office had the privilege of seeing. Johnny bit his lip, a question itching as he cleared his throat to ask it.

“Can I ask you something?”

Even throughout your fear, you still managed a way to feel snarky, “what now?”

Johnny ignored the attitude regardless, “why do you hate me?”

You blinked, turning your head to watch his reaction, “huh?”

“Why do you hate me? I promise to leave you alone if you tell me why you are so cynical in the office. I’ve never been the type to be silent though, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Then why are you…”

“…like this?” You finished, a laughed tacked at the end, but Johnny couldn’t find the humor. You shrugged, playing with your heel buckle, “you have no idea what it’s like being the only woman in the office that isn’t a secretary. I don’t expect you to understand, but I hope you understand why I felt so bitter when everyone treats you like a prince for doing the bare minimum when I’ve been working my ass off for this company.”

“Oh…” Johnny trailed off. “I’m…sorry.”

You shook your head, “you don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault that I had to protect myself.”

“I understand. Even though I’ve never gone through it before, I understand, and I’m sorry all the guys in the office are a plague.”

“Not all of them,” you smiled. Johnny was glad that it was dark in the elevator, his blush hidden as he laughed.

“I guess not. Doyoung is pretty nice.”

You joined him in laughter, naturally basking in the silence before Johnny gathered the confidence to ask you just one more request.

“I know we’re not friends, but, I’d really like to be your friend, if you’d let me,” he started. “I was serious about taking you out for dinner. A vegan one, if you’re into that.”

“Even after being an asshole all night you still want to take me out for dinner?”

“I know why you’re an asshole now, and it’s justified. Plus…I want to know what you’re like outside of the office. Away from the sausage party of directors and executives.”

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I’d really beg to differ,” he argued, swallowing as he watched you relaxed your knees to cross your legs. He smiled widely when you extended your hand, taking your tiny hand in his.

“Alright. We’ll go out for pork belly.”

“No to the vegan?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “yeah. No vegan.”

Johnny shared your smile, relishing in your touch before you pulled your hand away. You both turn your heads when you hear people talking on the other side of the elevator, the emergency response finally arriving and opening the door to let you both out. Johnny lifted you up to get out first, turning his head to the side as his strong hands lifted you up. Johnny was let out next, wiping dirt off of his pants as you thanked the emergency staff.

Now outside in the cold, you covered yourself in your coat, watching Johnny follow you to the car garage.

“Do you have a preference on when you want to go out to eat?” He asked you, stopping when you reached your car.

You shook your head, “not really. We can go tomorrow, if you want.”

Of fucking course I want to go tomorrow, Johnny thought to himself. He kept his cool, smiling and nodding, “sure. Tomorrow.”

“Okay. Tomorrow,” you smiled, opening your car door and stepping inside.

“Have a good night.”

“Have a good night,” you smiled, “Johnny.”

He couldn’t help the wide smile that slipped, waving at you as you pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street. Once you were out of view, he jumped in the air, clenching his fists in victory.

“Yes!” He cheered, skipping to his own car as he stepped inside. Johnny put his hand over his chest, smiling at the rapid rhythm of his heart with lidded eyes.

Maybe he might’ve friend zoned himself on accident, but this was all part of the plan. You would be friends today, but Johnny wasn’t going to stop until he called you his, as he was already yours.

[mercedesamayajones]

Hiking Fun || Samcedes

Who: Mercedes Jones and Sam Evans

What: Sam and Banner join Mercedes, Aiden and James as they go hiking and enjoy a picnic. 

Notes: @sammy-d-evans

Mercedes zipped up the last sandwich and placed it into the bag, glancing out the window and smiling at Aiden and James ran around in the backyard. She went over her list of things they needed for the day, ensuring that she didn't forget a thing. Since they were going on a hiking trail and having a picnic, she didn't want them dragging coolers around, so she made each of them a lunchbox with sandwiches, chips, drinks, and a treat. Brownies were chosen by the boys. Grabbing the ice packs and frozen water bottles from the freezer, she loaded up each bag and smiled. Mercedes zipped up the last sandwich and placed it into the bag, glancing out the window and smiling at Aiden and James ran around in the backyard. They were ready, now all they needed was Sam.

Grabbing her hiking boots, she debated if she should go with tennis shoes but thought against it, then grabbed them just in case. Worst case scenario, she would leave them in the car. Throwing her hair into a messy bun. she glanced at herself once more, smiling at the oversized purple shirt that hung off her left shoulder and pair Capri leggings. There was a time when she would dress up to try and impress Sam, but he friend-zoned her one too many times, and she finally gave up any notion that they would be anything other than friends. No matter if she did still like him as more. Shaking off her thoughts, she called the boys in and smiled. They were going to have fun, she was sure of it.

As he made his way to the back of his truck, Sam couldn't help but smile as Banner greeted him with a wildly wagging tail. "Someone's excited to go on a hike," he spoke as he helped the dog out of the back of his truck. Sam checked if the backpack harness was still in place before he told Banner to follow him. Sam had bought Banner a backpack for hikes like this. The St. Bernard loved to work and help out, so he had him carry treats and water on most of their walks.

He reached the front door of Mercedes house and rang the doorbell, patiently waiting for someone to open the door.

Mercedes heard the doorbell, but Aiden and James ran to the door before she could get it. "Don't you boys open it unless you know it's Sam!" She yelled after them. They quickly looked out the window and yanked the door open. Smiling at Sam but going right to Banner.

Mercedes grabbed the bags and smiled, seeing the kids and Sam. "Hey, Sam! We are ready."

Sam grinned as James and Aiden forgot to greet him in favor of hugging Banner. "Be careful, he drools," Sam jokingly warned before turning his attention to Mercedes. His eyes wandered over her statue. He arched a brow in silent question when he noticed the bags. "Hey, hi. Are you bringing a whole restaurant with ya," he inquired as he reached out to take the bags from her. "I thought we could walk to the start of the trail; it's only like 10 minutes or so."

Mercedes cleared her throat. "Gentlemen! Banner didn't drive himself here. Say hi to Sam!"

"Hi, Uncle Sam." The boys said in unison, and she laughed at Sam's words. "Hardy har har very funny. It's just water and snacks and a picnic; you do realize these boys eat every five minutes, right?" She teased as she grabbed the other bag. "That's fine with me. And I am pretty sure the boys want as much time with Banner as they can get."

"Feelin' the love, guys," Sam snorted as he put his head through the straps of the bags and let them hang over his shoulder. "I know, I know, growing boys and all that...  We should be at a great spot to take a break in like 40 minutes or so," Sam mentioned as he led Mercedes towards the boys.

She laughed as she gave picked up her phone and keys, putting them in her bag. "As long as we make it fun and take breaks for the boys, I think this will be great! It's the perfect weather for hiking too. Is it true that one of the trails has a waterfall?" She handed each boy their bag. "We have extra water just in case." She said, making sure they had everything.

Sam snatched the bags from the boys and put them in his own, nodding his head in reply. "There is, but that one is a lot longer than the trail I planned for us to follow today. Maybe another time?" Sam put Banner on his leash and handed it to the boys. "Alright, all ready for an adventure?"

Mercedes smiled. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan." She locked the door as James and Aiden grabbed the leash.  Taking out her phone, she smiled, taking a few photos of the boys and Banner. "Okay, so how are you doing? How are the store and everything." She asked Sam looking at him for a moment before looking back at the boys.

"I'm good, and so is the store. People really found their way there, and I managed to build a steady stream of loyal customers," Sam started as he led the way outside. Then, after telling Banner to follow him, knowing that the dog would keep the boys from running off, he turned his attention back to Mercedes. "Met up with Quinn yesterday; it was nice getting to catch up with her after all this time. But enough about me, how are you?"

"That is really great! I mean, your store is pretty impressive, so it makes sense you would have a loyal following." As they walked towards the trail, she listened to him speak. "Really? I am so glad she is back for good. We talk so much, but it's been a while since we lived in the same place."

"You've talked to her while she was away," Sam inquired, the surprise of hearing Mercedes say that evident in his voice. "But yeah, it's nice she's back." Sam looked over his shoulder to check if Banner and the boys managed to keep up with them. Then, satisfied that they were, he turned the corner, bringing them to the start or the trail. "And how are things with you? What's this thing you needed a second opinion about?"

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, we try to talk at least once a week, sometimes more, but now that she is here, I am so happy." Mercedes let the kids move in front of them as they moved to the trail. "Okay, guys, do any of you have to go to the bathroom before we get started?" They shook their heads no, and she nodded. They did go before Sam got there. As they started, she worried her bottom lip. "Umm, well, it's pretty big, and I don't know if it's a good idea."

"I always thought she just disappeared without a trace and didn't have contact with anyone," Sam wondered out loud. The feeling that washed over him stung. He felt somewhat hurt and left in the dark about how his friend had been doing all these years by another one. He swallowed and decided to shake off the feeling. Sam looked at Mercedes. "Sounds serious... what's this big thing?"

Mercedes sighed. "To her credit, she tried, but like with you and everyone else, I made sure we kept in touch." She let them walk in silence, feeling the weight of his stare. Finally, after a few more moments, she cleared her throat. "I want to give Aiden a sibling. I am thinking of using a Sperm Donor."

"It's a little hard to keep in touch when you don't know their number," Sam thought to himself while he nodded in understanding. He almost stumbled over his feet as her words sunk in. "You... oh wow, yeah okay, that's huge."(edited)

Mercedes studied Sam for a moment and waited for his response. She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "I have even looked into possible donors, but it's daunting. What if I choose the wrong one? What will people think of me being a single mom with two kids? But I love Aiden and James, even if he is just my Godson. I am ready to have another one.

"I don't think they'd think any different of you being a single mom of two or just one now," Sam rushed to tell her, trying to take some of her fear of other people's opinions away. "Why a donor, tho? Why not adopt one? There are so many kids out there that need a good place to call home."

Mercedes sighed. "I thought about it, and I do want to adopt; I had always planned on doing it when Aiden got older. Like what my parents did with Cam. But for right now, this is what I want, what I need."

"What brought it on, this sudden need to have another kid now? Is it Aiden starting kindergarten," Sam asked, letting his eyes wander to the front to check if the boys were still walking along the path. "So you might still adopt in the future? That's cool." Then, remembering how Mercedes started the conversation, he circled back to that. "Have you looked at donors already?"

Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "Honestly, it's been in the back of my mind for a while. We always..." She sighed. "The plan before Aiden... the plan was when he was three we would give him a sibling. When he was 8, we would adopt at least one child that way he could understand and help his sibling understand." She looked at Sam but then back to the boys. "I have felt so guilty for so long about moving on, but it's time to stop feeling guilty and start living again...love may or may not be in my future again, but at least I can have my family." She nodded. "Yeah, I could use some help, though."

Sam nodded in understanding. "Life can throw you a ton of curveballs along the way," he said. "I didn't really know Aiden, but I'm sure that he would have wanted you to be happy in the end. And if this is the way to do that, he'd totally understand that you're moving on. And still, kinda keep with the plans you two made when it comes to kids." Sam slightly tilted his head to the side as he looked at Mercedes. "What kinda help?"

Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "He was a lot like you if I'm honest. Not as funny; he couldn't do impressions to save his life." She glanced at Aiden.  "I know he would; I'm just sad about it. His parents didn't accept me, and so they didn't accept Aiden, and he will miss out on knowing that half of his family, he deserves to have us here." She stopped talking, not wanting to make things awkward if Sam was just being nice and not really wanted to talk about him. "It's overwhelming trying to find a donor."

"So he was ruggedly handsome, got it," Sam joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. "You know, it's their loss. Yeah, Aiden's missing out on knowing that part of his family, but they won't get to see what a great kid Aiden fathered. And they're missing out on getting to know their grandson. Maybe they'll come around one day when they realize what they are missing." Sam told Mercedes. "I bet it is. Especially if the donor wants to stay anonymous and they only let you know the basics."

"Oh, for sure!" She laughed. "So handsome." She sighed. "I know you are right, and I know that he is gonna ask, and eventually I will have to tell him the truth; it's just...sad." She looked at Sam, grateful that he let her talk about Aiden; it had been a while since she had been able to do that. She nodded. "All of them want to stay anonymous, which does suck, but at least Aiden won't wonder why the baby gets a dad, and he doesn't..."

As Sam listened to Mercedes, he couldn't help the confused look that washed over his face. "The baby gets a dad, and he doesn't...? That doesn't make any sense. Aiden has a dad, and he knows that. And the baby kinda will have a dad in the same way... I mean, the baby wouldn't know their dad, won't even have a picture of the dude. But, at least Aiden knows who his dad is and what he looked like."

Mercedes shook her head. "That came out wrong. I mean, if the donor wasn't anonymous and wanted to be in the baby's life, there is no way to guarantee that he would want to be in Aiden's life. And at this age, Aiden might wonder why the baby's dad is around, and his isn't. At least this way, all they know is me." She sighed. "I am sorry, I am just trying to make sense of all this, and I am afraid I am not making sense at all."

"Not really, no," Sam admitted, sounding as confused as he was feeling. "Do you want to know who the donor is, and you want them in not only the kid's life but also Aiden and yours, or do you want them to be anonymous? I think that's what you need to figure out first. And go from there. If you want to have a donor that is involved or at least one that you know, then go look for one that also wants that and wants to be in Aiden's life."

Mercedes watched the boys for a long moment, laughing and playing with Banner. "I can't be selfish, Sam. I am the one who wants this baby; I don't know any man who will gladly give me his sperm and want to not only be a father to our child but be one to Aiden, that would be like making this man have an instant family which isn't fair to him. It's not fair to want more than what I am supposed to get."

"So you want another kid, but you also want the whole family thing with the donor?" Sam asked. "You're not selfish; you just need to be clear upfront with whoever you end up asking. Because it sounds to me like you don't really want your donor to be an anonymous one."

She laughed. "I want the family, I want Aiden to have a dad, I want the new baby to have one, and I want a partner, so I don't have to do this alone." She looked at Sam seriously. "That being said, unless I find someone who wants to be with me, I am not gonna get the whole family vibe. Like this, this would be perfect." She gestured around the trail. "But it's not happening.  So If all I can get out of this is a baby, then that is what I will take." She wanted more than anything for days like this, family walking together laughing; it would be easy to hold Sam's hand and pretend,  but she wouldn't.

Sam scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, not sure how to react to all Mercedes just said. "I'm sure you'll meet someone that wants to be with you for all the right reasons one day, but yeah, that will take time. And if you really want a baby now, then a donor is your best option."

She sighed. "Yeah." She glanced at Aiden. "I may not be able to get everything I want, but I can do this. But you have to help me pick a donor; I could use the help."

"Who says you won't be able to get everything you want? Yeah, it will take time to find someone that wants to be with you and give you that family you so want, but in the end, that's the same for everybody that's looking for someone to spend their life with." Sam nodded. "I can totally do that. Set aside the ones that sound interesting to you, and I can look over whatever information you have about them."

She shrugged. "I am just not gonna focus on that. And focus on the things I am in control of. Looking for someone to spend your life with is too much a gamble." Especially when the only candidate in your life friend-zoned you. She thought to herself. She gave him a soft smile. "Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate that."

Sam looked at her, a frown on his face. "Never say never, love, find a way to sneak up on ya when you least expect it." He spotted the clearing he had in mind for their picnic and sharply whistled to get Banner's attention. "Break time," Sam called out to the boys. "So are you going for an anonymous donor, or do you have people in mind you might want to ask, so you at least know the person?"

She watched the boys running to keep up with Banner as they ran back to her and Sam.  She didn't say anything because if it happened, great! If not, then she wouldn't get her hopes up. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like I can ask someone like you to be my baby daddy. That would make for an awkward conversation, and I would say we have had enough awkward times." Her mind went to when she tried to kiss him a few years back, and he firmly placed her in the friendzone.

"Why not? If you can't even ask one of your best friends something like that, who else would you ask. I'd need some time to seriously think about it and talk to Even and my folks if it ever came up because it's not a decision to take lightly tho." Especially since he hasn't even thought about having kids himself. Sam shrugged when Mercedes mentioned them having awkward times. He had a feeling that she meant the time when he friend-zoned her. Right when most people in town were convinced that they would end up together.  Sam friend-zoned Mercedes because he couldn't give her what she wanted. He didn't feel the same as she did.  "We managed to stay friends through it all, didn't we? And that's what matters most."

Mercedes spread out the blanket and sat down. "Sam, I wouldn't ask you that because I have never even heard you mention kids. Though you are great with them. I wouldn't ask you something this big and have you feel obligated to say yes." She sighed, wanting so much to push all her feelings for Sam away, but some lingered for sure.  "Yeah, we remained friends, and I wouldn't want to lose that."

"Who says I'd feel obligated to say yes? I just told you that I would have to think about it and talk to my folks and Even about it before making any decision. So don't say I'd only say yes because I feel obligated to help out a friend." Sam sighed softly, letting his fingers run through his hair before he looked at Mercedes. "Look, this maybe isn't the time to talk about it; I mean, the boys are almost within hearing distance. If you want my help to find a suitable anonymous donor, I'm here for you. And it's up to you to make up your mind which of your friends you want to ask if you want the donor to be someone you know and who can maybe play a role in the baby's life. I think any of your friends would ask for time to think about things before agreeing to become your donor. It's not something you should rush into; that's all I'm saying. "

Mercedes nodded. "I know you better than that, Sam. I am just. I just wanted to get that out there. But you are right, how about we just table this, for now, you really have given me a lot to think about. And I do appreciate it." She watched as the boys came close. "For now, let's enjoy this beautiful day, which, thank you for doing this."

"If you really did know me better than that, then you'd know not to put words in my mouth or assume that I'd react one way or the other. You know I hate that." He gave her a slight smile. "No problem, it's my pleasure. I like spending time with you and Aiden and, of course, James as well."

She didn't look at him, sometimes she just said what she was thinking, it happened, but it was no point in dwelling on it. She nodded. "We like spending time with you and Banner, though pretty sure Banner is coming out on top right now."

"as usual, feeling the love," Sam chuckled as Banner sat in front of him. "I've got you, buddy," he said, opening one of Banner's backpacks and taking out some food and water for the dog. "It's a shame the weather is getting colder; else, we could do this more often."

Mercedes laughed, grabbing the wipes out for the boys to wipe their hands. "He's a dog, but trust when it's time to hear a story, they choose you." She nodded, looking around. "I know, but maybe there is some indoor thing we can do."

"We can always look into that climbing wall thing Billy is setting up," Sam suggested.

Mercedes smiled. "You know, Billy was saying he could set it up for Aiden's party; maybe we can check it out to see if it is something A and J like." She said, handing the boys their lunches. She reached in her bag and handed Sam his. "Made your favorite Sandwich and got your chips too."

"Yeah, we can do that.' Sam took the sandwich from Mercedes, setting it aside for a bit. "Thanks."

She looked at him. "Not hungry?"

"Uhh, oh no, I'll eat in a bit. Want something to drink first." Sam replied, digging up the bottle of water he brought with him.

She nodded, watching the boys laughing and whispering. She was glad James and Aiden got on so well; it would have sucked had they not. And it just made her want to give him some kind of sibling in the future.

Sam was actually enjoying the small hike and watching the boys play. It reminded him of the days where it was just Even and him running around all over their grandparent's farm. He finally took a bite from the sandwich. "This is good."

Mercedes offered him a small smile as she ate her own sandwich. "I know the boys are going to sleep very well tonight!"

"That's the outdoor air for ya; it totally has a relaxing effect," Sam told her. "Plus, by the time we're back, they'll have walked at least 3 miles. It's why I brought Banner along. If they get too tired, they can always climb on his back, and he'll walk them home."

She smiled. "I spent so much time on buses and in venues now I like to be outside as much as I can. Plus, it's a great way to keep Aiden entertained." At his words, she looked to Banner relaxing on the ground. "Thanks for that. I am sure at least one of them will need it."

"and that's why hiking would be a good hobby to have," Sam told her. He chuckled softly as his eyes took in Banner. "He loves helping; it's like in his DNA or something."

Mercedes smiled. Staring at the scene before her. This was what she wanted; she knew Sam just saw her as his friend. And she was okay with that on most days... But moments like these, she wished for more. Wished she could lean on him watching the boys talk and chat. Hold his hand. And that brought a look of sadness on her face for the briefest of moments.

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Two.)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood imagery, injury, mention of death.

Context: The reader helps out Paul with his little problem, and tries to figure out what another Hunter is doing in Santa Carla.

A/N: I know there has been quite a gap between this and the last part, but I think I'm gonna try and get a new part out every Sunday, so that I have time for requests, school work and other fics. I apologise if this is a bit short 💛💛

Masterlist.

Yet another strangled whine of pain escapes the shirtless vampire propped against the fountain before me, his slick blood already coating my hands generously after only five minutes of working the barbed splinters of wood from his muscular abdomen, the tweezers slipping in my grasp as I pull at one of the more deeply lodged pieces. Dimly, I am aware of the others watching me work, Marko biting his thumb so hard the skin has probaby broken by now, Dwayne silently eyeing my every move from his position beside David, whose face is etched with anger and frustration. Thankfully, I'm pretty sure there aren't that many left, maybe one or two, meaning that the vampire's discomfort should soon be over, something which I can tell will be gratefully appreciated.

Finally, the splinter I'm working at comes free, drawing yet another hiss of pain from Paul, whose head falls back against the fountain with a thud, blue eyes squeezed tightly shut as the wound starts to stitch itself closed, his natural healing ability kicking in pretty quickly. I drop the piece if wood on the floor beside me and wipe the tweezers clean on my shirt, seeing as it is already covered in blood, trying to pat away some of the crimson substance from the vampire's skin as I go, locating the next couple of places I need to pick clean. Biting my lip, I place a hand beside the wound and use two fingers to gently pry it apart, inserting the tweezers as I find the end of the splinter, clamping down on it even as Paul moans again, blood oozing out of the incision as I start to pull. This one eases out pretty smoothly, leaving only one more that needs removing, one which is right beside where his heart is.

"One more." I reassure him, cleaning the tweezers again before leaning forwards and inserting them into the hole in his skin, trying not to prod around too much as I search for the offending splinter, swiftly locating it and going to try and pull it out. Instantly, the tweezers slip off, the small piece of wooden shrapnel barbed and stuck in the flesh, meaning it'll be much harder to remove. Gritting my teeth, I carefully pull the hole open further, trying not to wince as Paul's hand instinctively comes up to grip my wrist, nearly crushing the bones there as he tries to get me to stop, his grasp only tightening as I finally manage to yank it free, one last cry of agony escaping him as he relaxes back against the fountain, nearly sobbing in relief. Sitting back on my heels, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, shaking my hair from my face as I wipe my hands on my shirt, slowly standing up from my kneeling position.

"All done, they should heal now." I say to him, turning to the others with a grim smile, knowing that my appearance is not the most impressive, what with my hands being covered in blood and all.

"Thank you, (Y/n). I don't honestly know what we would've done." Dwayne thanks me, smiling gratefully to me as he goes to help Paul up, Marlo going to aid him in that as the tall vampire continues to whine to himself.

"I don't know, pulling splinters out with tweezers is not the most technical thing in the world, is it?" I point out, watching as they help Paul to his feet and over to a sofa, where they give him back his shirt and jacket.

"No, but still. You didn't need to help us, so thank you." David speaks up, looking at me in earnest as he adjusts his gloves, body still tense.

"It's no problem, just don't tell my boss." I reply, grimacing at the last part, being able to imagine his face if he found out already.

"We won't." The platinum blonde smirks, lifting an eyebrow at me, well aware that what I'm doing could get me hunted to my death if I was ever caught.

Smiling at him, I look to the entrance of the cave, noting the lightness of the sky outside with a sigh, knowing I'll have to return home now, so I can deal with the Hunter tied to my floor. The vampires seem to realise this, too, all of them quickly saying goodbye as I make my excuses, leaving the cave with the tweezers slipped into my pocket, my jacket pulled tightly around me as I start the long walk home, thinking up a story to tell the man in question. It shouldn't be too hard - I can make something up about him being attacked, and then found by me a little while later, somehow left alive by the vampire. I iron out all the details as I trek through the forest, enjoying the slightly cooler temperature of the early morning, glad now that I live in a more natural area, rather than the lousy motel I was required to stay in before. With my head in the clouds, it doesn't take me as long as I thought it would to reach the ramshackle shed, the sounds of someone calling out from inside already audible from my position behind the tree line to its left. The Hunter must be awake.

Sighing, I go over to the door and unlock it, swiftly finding the Hunter on the floor when I've done so, his rugged face twisted into a scowl of annoyance, only for it to turn into an expression of confusion as he takes in my appearance, his legs pulled up to his chest in a defensive gesture, ready to kick out at me if I provoke him to do so.

"Thank God you're awake! I thought you might've passed in your sleep!" I sigh out, starting the charade immediately, smiling at him as I close the door behind me, making sure to show him the insignia on my shoulder as I turn.

"Who are you? How did I get here? And why the hell am I chained to the floor?" He growls out, clearly not too pleased with the situation. I frown at his reaction, as if annoyed that he's rejecting my "hospitality".

"I'm (Y/n), an SRS Hunter like you, and I dragged you here after you got attacked by vampires in the dunes. You're chained to the floor because I don't trust you not to steal from me and then run off." I inform him, going to the table and replacing the tweezers, "Now, you'd better not prove to be like that anyway, or I'll report you to a superior officer, and we all know how that will end. You should be thanking me, I saved your life after all."

At this, he looks up at me in surprise, sitting forwards slightly as I bend to untie him, rubbing his wrists gently as he climbs back to his feet, revealing his height to me - he stands a good head above me. Smiling tightly, I offer him my hand, only to realise it's covered in blood, swiftly withdrawing it with a soft apology.

"Why are you so...bloodied?" The Hunter asks me, watching as I go to the bucket of water in the corner, rinsing my hands and arms in the icy depths, "I'm Archer, by the way."

"I spent the rest of the night chasing down your attackers. I got them in the end, but they put up one hell of a fight." I explain, lying through my teeth as I straighten again, drying my hands on a cloth nearby, "Do you mind just stepping out as I change?"

With a nod, he leaves the shack, going to stand outside as I hastily remove my filthy shirt and trousers, replacing them with clean ones as I grab my jacket again, inspecting the damage, noting that it isn't too bad overall. Relacing my boots back up, I take a cereal bar from the small cupboard in the corner and go out to see if Archer is still there, glad to find him sitting on the log outside. As I exit, he looks over to me, watching as I walk over to where he is, smiling and thanking me as he accepts the cereal bar from me, carefully unwrapping it and eating it.

"So tell me, why did you come to Santa Carla?" I break the silence, looking over at him as he shrugs.

"I was told to by one of the superiors, someone called Elijah, I think. He said he wanted someone to come and check on the Hunter over here." He chews his food before continuing, "At least now I know who that Hunter is."

"Yeah, I guess." I muse, troubled by his words. Elijah is an old friend, I never knew he'd become a superior whilst I was away. But the fact that he wants to check on me? That doesn't bode too well for me.

"I just got a bit caught up with some vampires that were on that attraction thing, the Broadwalk or something." Archer says, finishing up the food.

"The Boardwalk." I correct him, smirking a bit at his attitude, finding him quite pleasant to be around, "You think you're gonna stay?"

"Nah, I don't like it here. It's too small and weird for me. I'll go back to New Orleans and say you're doing fine, I reckon they'll be ok with that." He assures me, looking around at the surroundings.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Do you want me to show you back into town?" I offer, eating my own cereal bar quickly, standing and going to the door of the shack, closing it and drawing the chain across in order to lock it.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks."

Smiling, I gesture for him to follow me, leading him the quickest way possible back into town, glad that he's not looking into my residence too much.

A week passes before I receive the one thing I've been dreading, Archer's recount of events apparently not quite satisfactory.

A letter from the SRS, announcing the date of a visit from a senior officer, the situation here apparently needing assessment. When I find this, I try my best not to panic too much, knowing full well that I'm at risk of being found out.

Part Three.

[larinah]

August 20th, 19—. I HAVE HAD what I believe to be the most remarkable day in my life, and while the events are still fresh in my mind, I wish to put them down on paper as clearly as possible.           Let me say at the outset that my name is James Clarence Withencroft.           I am forty years old, in perfect health, never having known a day’s illness.           By profession I am an artist, not a very successful one, but I earn enough money by my black-and-white work to satisfy my necessary wants.           My only near relative, a sister, died five years ago, so that I am independent.           I breakfasted this morning at nine, and after glancing through the morning paper I lighted my pipe and proceeded to let my mind wander in the hope that I might chance upon some subject for my pencil.           The room, though door and windows were open, was oppressively hot, and I had just made up my mind that the coolest and most comfortable place in the neighbourhood would be the deep end of the public swimming bath, when the idea came.           I began to draw. So intent was I on my work that I left my lunch untouched, only stopping work when the clock of St. Jude’s struck four.           The final result, for a hurried sketch, was, I felt sure, the best thing I had done.    

      It showed a criminal in the dock immediately after the judge had pronounced sentence. The man was fat—enormously fat. The flesh hung in rolls about his chin; it creased his huge, stumpy neck. He was clean shaven (perhaps I should say a few days before he must have been clean shaven) and almost bald. He stood in the dock, his short, clumsy fingers clasping the rail, looking straight in front of him. The feeling that his expression conveyed was not so much one of horror as of utter, absolute collapse.     

There seemed nothing in the man strong enough to sustain that mountain of flesh.

       I rolled up the sketch, and without quite knowing why, placed it in my pocket. Then with the rare sense of happiness which the knowledge of a good thing well done gives, I left the house.

       I believe that I set out with the idea of calling upon Trenton, for I remember walking along Lytton Street and turning to the right along Gilchrist Road at the bottom of the hill where the men were at work on the new tram lines.

       From there onwards I have only the vaguest recollection of where I went. The one thing of which I was fully conscious was the awful heat, that came up from the dusty asphalt pavement as an almost palpable wave. I longed for the thunder promised by the great banks of copper-coloured cloud that hung low over the western sky.

       I must have walked five or six miles, when a small boy roused me from my reverie by asking the time.

       It was twenty minutes to seven.

       When he left me I began to take stock of my bearings. I found myself standing before a gate that led into a yard bordered by a strip of thirsty earth, where there were flowers, purple stock and scarlet geranium. Above the entrance was a board with the inscription—

CHAS. ATKINSON MONUMENTAL MASON WORKER IN ENGLISH AND ITALIAN MARBLES

       From the yard itself came a cheery whistle, the noise of hammer blows, and the cold sound of steel meeting stone.        A sudden impulse made me enter.        A man was sitting with his back towards me, busy at work on a slab of curiously veined marble. He turned round as he heard my steps and I stopped short.        It was the man I had been drawing, whose portrait lay in my pocket.        He sat there, huge and elephantine, the sweat pouring from his scalp, which he wiped with a red silk handkerchief. But though the face was the same, the expression was absolutely different.        He greeted me smiling, as if we were old friends, and shook my hand.        I apologised for my intrusion.        “Everything is hot and glary outside,” I said. “This seems an oasis in the wilderness.”        “I don’t know about the oasis,” he replied, “but it certainly’s hot, as hot as hell. Take a seat, sir!”        He pointed to the end of the gravestone on which he was at work, and I sat down.        “That’s a beautiful piece of stone you’ve got hold of,” I said.        He shook his head. “In a way it is,” he answered; “the surface here is as fine as anything you could wish, but there’s a big flaw at the back, though I don’t expect you’d ever notice it. I could never make really a good job of a bit of marble like that. It would be all right in the summer like this; it wouldn’t mind the blasted heat. But wait till the winter comes. There’s nothing quite like frost to find out the weak points in stone.”        “Then what’s it for?” I asked.        The man burst out laughing.        “You’d hardly believe me if I was to tell you it’s for an exhibition, but it’s the truth. Artists have exhibitions: so do grocers and butchers; we have them too. All the latest little things in headstones, you know.”        He went on to talk of marbles, which sort best withstood wind and rain, and which were easiest to work; then of his garden and a new sort of carnation he had bought. At the end of every other minute he would drop his tools, wipe his shining head, and curse the heat.        I said little, for I felt uneasy. There was something unnatural, uncanny, in meeting this man.        I tried at first to persuade myself that I had seen him before, that his face, unknown to me, had found a place in some out-of-the-way corner of my memory, but I knew that I was practising little more than a plausible piece of self-deception.        Mr. Atkinson finished his work, spat on the ground, and got up with a sigh of relief.        “There! what do you think of that?” he said, with an air of evident pride.        The inscription which I read for the first time was this—

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES CLARENCE WITHENCROFT BORN JAN. 18TH, 1860 HE PASSED AWAY VERY SUDDENLY ON AUGUST 20TH, 19— “In the midst of life we are in death.”

FOR SOME TIME I sat in silence. Then a cold shudder ran down my spine. I asked him where he had seen the name.        “Oh, I didn’t see it anywhere,” replied Mr. Atkinson. “I wanted some name, and I put down the first that came into my head. Why do you want to know?”        “It’s a strange coincidence, but it happens to be mine.”        He gave a long, low whistle.        “And the dates?”        “I can only answer for one of them, and that’s correct.”        “It’s a rum go!” he said.        But he knew less than I did. I told him of my morning’s work. I took the sketch from my pocket and showed it to him. As he looked, the expression of his face altered until it became more and more like that of the man I had drawn.        “And it was only the day before yesterday,” he said, “that I told Maria there were no such things as ghosts!”        Neither of us had seen a ghost, but I knew what he meant.        “You probably heard my name,” I said.        “And you must have seen me somewhere and have forgotten it! Were you at Clacton-on-Sea last July?”        I had never been to Clacton in my life. We were silent for some time. We were both looking at the same thing, the two dates on the gravestone, and one was right.        “Come inside and have some supper,” said Mr. Atkinson.        His wife is a cheerful little woman, with the flaky red cheeks of the country-bred. Her husband introduced me as a friend of his who was an artist. The result was unfortunate, for after the sardines and watercress had been removed, she brought out a Doré Bible, and I had to sit and express my admiration for nearly half an hour.        I went outside, and found Atkinson sitting on the gravestone smoking.        We resumed the conversation at the point we had left off.        “You must excuse my asking,” I said, “but do you know of anything you’ve done for which you could be put on trial?”        He shook his head.        “I’m not a bankrupt, the business is prosperous enough. Three years ago I gave turkeys to some of the guardians at Christmas, but that’s all I can think of. And they were small ones, too,” he added as an afterthought.        He got up, fetched a can from the porch, and began to water the flowers. “Twice a day regular in the hot weather,” he said, “and then the heat sometimes gets the better of the delicate ones. And ferns, good Lord! they could never stand it. Where do you live?”        I told him my address. It would take an hour’s quick walk to get back home.        “It’s like this,” he said. “We’ll look at the matter straight. If you go back home tonight, you take your chance of accidents. A cart may run over you, and there’s always banana skins and orange peel, to say nothing of fallen ladders.”        He spoke of the improbable with an intense seriousness that would have been laughable six hours before. But I did not laugh.        “The best thing we can do,” he continued, “is for you to stay here till twelve o’clock. We’ll go upstairs and smoke; it may be cooler inside.”        To my surprise I agreed.

WE ARE SITTING now in a long, low room beneath the eaves. Atkinson has sent his wife to bed. He himself is busy sharpening some tools at a little oilstone, smoking one of my cigars the while.        The air seems charged with thunder. I am writing this at a shaky table before the open window. The leg is cracked, and Atkinson, who seems a handy man with his tools, is going to mend it as soon as he has finished putting an edge on his chisel.        It is after eleven now. I shall be gone in less than an hour.        But the heat is stifling.        It is enough to send a man mad.