#Id love to go somewhere but I can’t really afford it

[lemonynuggets]

Can i take u to england?

yeah

[kittttycakes]

Hey! Sorry for the super late reply to your reply to my last ask. Life has been v. busy.

“the set up of Grace telling Morpheus no, he can’t do that to the office creep only for Hob to be nodding and giving him the go ahead behind her is funny.” <— YES! I love Hob enabling Morpheus’ protective/vengeful side so much.

Also, speaking of, I wanting to share some of the brain rot that came to me the other day…

What if Grace and Hob were walking somewhere late at night and a group of thugs stop them and try to rob them?

Hob gets to pull out some of his combat/dirty fighting skills from his days as a mercenary. Grace is watching this appreciatively, but then a thug they didn’t see gets a hold of Grace (classic knife to neck or hand around throat maybe?) and Hob can’t reach her.

Who then shows up and goes full eldritch horror on the thug still holding Grace and the semi-conscious ones that Hob beat up? (I’ll let you guess…)

And then our favourite Dream lord whisks them both off to the Dreaming for a week where he lingers and kisses and rages over every scrape or bruise Hob and Grace received and much healing smut ensues.

I know, I’m a terrible person. Hope you’re well though!

Ahhh hello!!! Hopefully life has been good-busy and not the alternative, but if it has been, I hope things slow down nicely for you soon!

Hob is absolutely an enabler when it comes to Morpheus (and also to Grace, let’s be honest), and especially when it comes to all of the petty revenges that he’d like Grace not to think him capable of. He wants her to think the best of him, and if that means just quietly encouraging Morpheus from the sidelines in a plausibly deniable way, well…he and Morpheus both know the truth. The most he can get away with is some strongly disapproving looks and some cutting remarks but Morpheus has far more tools at his disposal. Dr. Ward can look forward to many, many nights keeping company with the “all of your teeth fall out of your mouth one by one” nightmare for weeks to come.

Oh yes, this brain rot is my JAM.

Hob would have been willing to let it go if it was just his wallet. He could cancel the cards, get a new ID. The cash is a lost cause but it’s nothing he can’t afford to lose. He’s calm, he’s collected, he’s not escalating the situation, not when it’s so much easier to try to wrap things up this way. It’s not his first time being mugged, and maybe if he was alone, it would be different, but he has Grace to think about.

It’s really not until he asks for her jewelry that it becomes a problem. The earrings are replaceable, as is her watch. But her ring—

It’s two on one, which are odds Hob is fully willing to take, until it’s not. Hob has it entirely under control, and he thought Grace was just keeping back, out of the way, probably a bit torn between running (which means leaving Hob which she doesn’t want to do) and staying (getting to watch, but in an unknown environment). But she trusts Hob and she doesn’t want to be alone at night without him, not when she’s had a few drinks with dinner, not in a part of the city she’s unfamiliar with, and she doesn’t even hear the other man coming up behind her before it’s too late.

Grace has lived a fairly privileged life. This is her first encounter like this, and she just absolutely freezes. She’s terrified. Hob wants to get to her but he’s a few feet away and he doesn’t trust the man with his arm around her, not when he’s holding a knife. She can’t die but that doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain, and she’s afraid of what it would feel like to be stabbed. The street isn’t well lit, but when the lights go even dimmer, she starts to panic—until she sees a pair of very familiar eyes in the darkness. There’s rather more of them than she’s used to, but that’s no matter.

Morpheus may not be able to physically harm a human in the waking world, but there are so very many things worse than physical pain, as all three of the men in the alley are very soon to discover. It’s the work of a moment, and then he can safely take Hob and Grace away to a place of greater safety.

The worst part, for Morpheus, is that they were human. There was nothing Hob or Grace did to target themselves, it was an entirely freak accident that they were there at all, but it means that there isn’t a anything Morpheus can do to prevent it from ever happening again. He’s less concerned with Hob getting hurt than he is with someone touching what’s his. He knows Hob can hold his own, and, in other circumstances, Grace could, too (that girl’s a biter).

This doesn’t stop him from hovering over both of them horribly (they enjoy it) or Grace from fussing over Hob’s hands (the intimacy of hitting someone with his fists, the cracked and bleeding knuckles…nobody look at me). They have so much sex about it. An alarming amount, frankly. Grace is more than a little into the idea of what Hob is capable of, and eldritch horror Morpheus? Mark her down as scared and horny, because she’s going to climb that brain melting monstrosity like a tree.

I’m doing well!! Trying to chug along and make my way through the next chapter which will (fingers very crossed) be done before the end of the month! I have so much brain rot about the three of them, it’s unreal.

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen, I just wanted to hear your thoughts on transmasc butch lesbians? I’m a lesbian and I take testosterone, have top surgery, and use he/him pronouns because it makes me feel more comfortable in my body not to be perceived as a cis woman, and rather somewhere in between instead. I’m definitely not a man but sometimes I question if I’m allowed in butch spaces. Do you know of any older butches like this?

My experience with lesbians who use or decided to use trans masc either interchangeably or in conjunction with butch in real life are younger, under 30 and usually early 20's. On line I have a few "friends" (lesbians who I have formed a connection with only via DM's and messages on tiktok or instagram) who are older, most late 30's to late 40's who are now using trans masc and on some type of transitional path, either T or surgery. The older ones are all sort of newly on the path, perhaps the last 4 years. And all but a scant few use trans masc but do not seem to view it as much different than butch or masc. I can’t say for sure, I don’t ask because I don’t really see it is my business since we aren’t close friends.

No one is my real life older friend circles uses anything but butch but some don't feel an attachment to the word so they don't use it at all. When I ask my older lesbian friends, butch or not, they seem to think trans masc is “butch with intervention or additives”. NOT my words. Several said similar things. 

Younger butch friends seem a bit more able to see the nuance of trans masc vs butch or just masc but many of them come from a space where they used to ID as some flavor of trans or non binary and don’t any more so they have a better grasp.

In my lesbian circles, older, middle or younger, in real life, as in the friends I see, hang out with and have connections to, all are very connected to being a woman and loving the comradarie and friendships that sort of relatibilty affords. Not that they always were always comfortable with womanhood, that is not the case. Many, especially butches, struggled at some point with confiusion between their internal self, public and societal opinions and the perceptions of others. Most of us definitely share stories of lamenting the onset of being seen as a woman by men or even by other women because it felt weird to go from non gendered childhood or tomboy to woman. The segue was not smooth or easy. 

A few of my younger friends share their lives, both romantically or friendshipwise, with trans masc who are either on T or plan to be. None that I know of having had any surgical intervention, but again.. not really something I would ask or be privy to. 

I don’t think many of the  lesbians I know would reject a trans masc lesbian from  a friend circle because of that single thing. Personality, compatibilty, relateablity etc might be a factor but that holds true with any relationship between people. 

I can tell you this. I know a few trans masc lesbians who are comfortable being perceived as a woman and referred to as such in closed circles of trusted women but no so in public or mixed company. 

I can’t speak for all butch spaces. Obviously every group or event is allowed to set their own boundaries and purpose and some will only want those who are firmly women. Others will be quite open.  But my advice is to build one on one trusted relationships with younger AND older lesbians who then form your circle of support. Pretty soon you find you are making your own space and they are there to love you just as you are. 

Butch lesbians, of all ages, will understand you just a tad more than others. Seek that understanding and allow for questions of good intent. Older butches can lead the way to places you will find acceptance even if they aren’t quite sure about “trans masc” and what it means to you. 

My DM’s are open. Always

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (2)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 2,987 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, and @hoebii​​ for editing this for me.

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When you woke up, the cat was nowhere to be found, and your pillow was missing. It was just your luck that the random cat you had saved would end up being a kleptomaniac. You sighed and began to get ready for your day. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it. The cat was probably scared and confused, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

As you passed your TV stand, you bent down to peer underneath it. Copper eyes stared back at you. You greeted the cat and his tail swished back and forth against the floor, annoyed. So he wasn’t into mornings, then.

Heading into the kitchen, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee. If the cat wasn’t a morning person, then you would probably get along. You were an early riser, but that was mostly due to insomnia, not because you actually enjoyed being awake.

You brought him the rest of the chicken you had cut up the night before, prepared with his morning dose of the antibiotics. Laying down on the floor, you pushed the plate under the TV stand for him.

He sniffed at the chicken, eyes not leaving your face as he started to eat. His canines were long and pointy, you noticed, and if you paid attention when his mouth was closed, you could barely see the tip of the right one poking out from his lips.

“I’m going to go shopping today to get you some stuff.” The cat didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He was a cat. “I know you’re feeling better, but please try not to jump on stuff. You’ll hurt yourself more, and I really can’t afford another weekend trip to the vet.” His copper eyes seemed to soften at that for a moment before hardening back into a glare.

You weren’t sure what you did to make the cat constantly glare at you. Maybe he had a resting grouch face. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. You hoped that, if nothing else, he would eventually warm up to you. All the pets you’d had in the past had opened up to you right away, although you supposed that was because they were babies when your family had adopted them. You’d never adopted an adult cat before.

“Eat up,” you told him before pushing yourself off the floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

The pet store was larger than you remembered it being. When you were a kid shopping with your mother for your pets, there were only a few departments in the store. There was, of course, sections for cats and dogs, as well as areas for fish, birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Now though, in addition to the old departments, there were additional sections for hybrids of all kinds--there was even a department dedicated to large and exotic hybrids like lions, panthers, giraffes, and elephants.

Hybrids weren’t a new species by any means, but it had only been in the past decade or so that people had fully started to embrace them in society. Before, shops that catered to hybrids were usually small and boutique--hybrids used to only be seen as pets or servants, and ones that lived without ownership were few and far between. But after fighting for and receiving the rights they deserved, hybrids had become more prevalent in society. There was even a hybrid serving in the president’s cabinet, and quite a few serving in other high-ranking government positions.

You wandered through the cat section of the pet store, unsure of what to buy. You had a couple toys in your cart--catnip mice and little springs and balls that had bells in them. You knew the cat was somehow going to act offended by them, but you reminded yourself that he’s a cat, and indoor cats needed something to stimulate their minds.

You also had put some cat shampoo in your cart. The cat was dirty, and you weren’t sure how much blood was going to be caked into his fur under the bandage, so you figured a bath was somewhere in his immediate future.

Sighing, you grabbed a bag of air-dried food. He would probably hate that, too, but you couldn’t keep feeding him raw chicken. For one thing, you couldn’t stand the feel of it, and the less you had to touch the raw meat, the better. But also, chicken was expensive, and while your job paid decently, you weren’t sure how well it could support an all-raw diet for the cat. This air-dried food was turkey and salmon, and would be the next closest thing to raw.

Eventually, you would probably end up getting the cat a cat tree, but you didn’t think it was a good idea right now. With his shoulder injury, he really shouldn’t be climbing or jumping, and a cat tree would only invite that more. So you left the aisle, even though they had a tree that had a little house you knew he would love to hide in.

Before checking out, you stopped by the little kiosk that sold ID tags and collars. You knew he would hate wearing a collar, but if he ever escaped, you wanted to know someone could return him to you. You would ask the vet about microchipping later, but for now, a collar would have to do. Looking at the options, you couldn’t help but laugh. Most of the plain collars were pink or had things like little butterflies on them. A few had bells, which you knew he would find absolutely repulsive, and a couple others had bowties. You considered a dark blue plaid one with a bowtie, but decided against it. As cute as he would look, you knew the cat would probably bite you if you went anywhere near him with it.

You settled on a collar covered in piano keys. It was the plainest one they had in stock that wasn’t bright pink. You grabbed a small, circular tag, too. He would hate it, but at least maybe if you picked the least offensive options, the cat would tolerate wearing a collar.

On the way home, you stopped and grabbed a coffee from the chain cafe down the street from your apartment. You were still a little tired, and when you got home, you were glad for the extra caffeine.

“I’m home, kitty!” you called into the seemingly empty apartment. You hadn’t really been expecting the cat to be anywhere out in the open, but a small part of you had hoped.

Walking into the kitchen, you deposited the couple bags from the pet store on the table. You couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Nothing was broken or in the wrong place that you could see from first glance, but the niggling feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Something had been moved in your kitchen. Your mug from your coffee this morning was washed and sat in your drying rack, along with another cup that you had thought you put away and the dish from last night that you had used to feed the cat. You didn’t remember washing the dishes this morning, but you were still a little tired, so maybe you had and just forgot.

You didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, so you let it go, choosing instead to go find your cat. As expected, you found him under the TV stand. He was panting as if he had just run under there from somewhere else in the house.

“You know you’re allowed to be in other rooms, right?” you asked him softly, pulling the empty plate out so you could take it to the kitchen. “You don’t have to run under here every time I come home.” Copper eyes met yours for a second, and you could see panic in them. Then you saw it. The bandage around his shoulder was gone.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped it securely. He must have really been running around the house to not only loosen it, but to dislodge the bandage entirely.

“What were you doing while I was gone, dude?” you questioned. The cat looked terrified. His eyes were large as saucers, his ears flat against his head. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, his long canine teeth on full display. “Are you hurt?” That seemed to catch him off guard. “Are you still bleeding? Can I see?” You reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” you said softly, waving your phone in the dark. “But can you at least turn so I can see?”

It took you a second to realize that, again, you were talking to a cat. He wasn’t going to listen to you, despite how human his reactions to you seemed to be. In the second that it took you to remind yourself that your cat is, in fact, a cat, his demeanor changed. His ears were still pressed back against his head, but he seemed less agitated, more resigned. He crawled toward you slowly, the limp almost entirely gone.

When he was out from under the TV stand, he stood fully. You pushed yourself up so you could sit and examine him. As you reached for him, he backed away slightly. His copper eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds before they flicked away, focusing on the floor. He stood still and allowed you to scoop him up into your lap.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, scratching his head gently. “Let me just look at your shoulder.”

You ran your hand over the joint and he froze. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to bolt back under the TV stand. But he sat there stiffly, allowing you to feel for the bite marks and anything that might still be bleeding.

You found nothing. Not even a scab. The only signs of the dog attack yesterday were a ring of indents--scars, you presumed--that ran from his shoulder blades down to his chest and onto his leg. There was no way he had healed that fast.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you smiled at him. “If you don’t want to wear the bandage any more, you don’t have to,” you said soothingly, scratching at the base of his ear. His copper eyes met yours, and you pulled away at the apprehension in them.

He stepped out of your lap as soon as your hand was away from him. You nodded once, smiling at him. “I’m going to go do some work, kitty. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

You were a researcher. Always had been. When you were looking for apartments in the city, you had created spreadsheets and pro/con lists and had spent weeks researching neighborhoods. And when you decided on the right neighborhood, you had debated floor plans, after weeks of second-guessing finally settling on the single floor, three bedroom, two bathroom with the decent sized kitchen and living room.

You hadn’t done any research before taking in the cat. You loved cats, had had several growing up. You knew enough about them to not need to do any research before committing to taking home the stray living near your parents’ house.

Maybe you should have.

Although you weren’t exactly sure how researching could have possibly prevented anything. You pushed it out of your mind, though, choosing instead to focus on your next work project.

Except you couldn’t focus. Your client was a hybrid-owned cafe just outside the city, and you were trying to design their menus. Normally, it wouldn’t take you long at all. They were great clients, and they had given you all the information you needed, but your mind kept drifting to the cat in your living room. You assumed he had crawled back under the TV stand. He seemed to be comfortable enough under there, although clearly he felt comfortable leaving the shadows when you weren’t home.

And then there was the problem of his name. You had no idea what to call him, but you were sure he had a name. Though how you’d figure it out, you had no idea.

You had wanted to watch this movie for months. It had appeared on streaming services around Christmastime, but it was now April, and you still hadn’t had the chance to watch it. You curled up on your sectional in the living room to watch it, a bowl of popcorn sitting beside you. You had turned the lights off in the living room, so the only major source of light was what was coming from the TV, and it was a fairly dark movie.

Though you were invested in the plot, you still scrolled through your phone, your attention divided between social media and what was happening on the television.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a shadow moving under your TV stand. Your cat’s head poked out a second later, copper eyes watching you scroll through your social media. In another second, the rest of his body emerged from the shadows. You forced yourself to watch the movie. You didn’t want to freak him out by watching him. When you glanced back at where he had emerged, he was gone.

The movie was about halfway over when you noticed him again, slinking back into the living room from the hallway. Where he had gone, you had no idea. But he sat for a moment, staring at you from beside the wall. You had grabbed a blanket in the time that he had been gone. Your apartment tended to get chilly at night sometimes--it was old, and the insulation wasn’t the best--and you were a little cold.

Before you knew what was happening, he was up on the couch and in your lap, laying in the valley between your outstretched legs. He paused for a moment, copper eyes meeting yours as if gauging your reaction. In the dim light from the TV, you could see that hint of panic again, as if he was terrified you would shout or push him away. You smiled at him gently, resituating so more of your lap was available and going back to scrolling through your phone.

The cat was apparently satisfied with your reaction, because he readjusted himself, as well, curling up so he was taking up more real estate on your lap. You didn’t mind. His little body put off quite a lot of heat, and from what you could feel of him through the blanket, he was cold, too. Eventually, he settled in, his head rested against your leg beside your free hand, his tail flopped into the crook of your elbow, the tip flicking lightly back and forth.

After a moment, you felt him shift again, and you almost jumped when you felt his head press into your hand. It took you a second, and a few more tentative bumps from him, but you eventually opened your hand and allowed him to press his forehead into your palm. You rubbed your thumb gently over the soft fur of his cheek. He leaned into your touch and you could feel him relaxing. You heard the rumbles of a purr start to stutter in his chest. It wasn’t constant like other cats’--it sounded vaguely like popcorn, crackling and popping at random.

You sighed, resting one hand on his back and continuing to stroke his cheek. He stiffened for a moment and raised his head, wide eyes staring into your face, before he slowly started to relax again.

“I can’t keep calling you kitty,” you said softly when he was comfortable. He didn’t raise his head, but his ear swiveled in your direction to show he was paying attention. “And I’m terrible at names, so you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell me what yours is. Unless you want me to call you something ridiculous like Smudge or Shadow.” The cat grunted. Apparently he didn’t like those names, either. “I didn’t think so.”

Your attention returned to the movie, but you kept petting him. His stuttering purr resumed. He directed your hand by nudging it, up his head and down to his shoulder. He adjusted how he was laying so you could rub where the scars of yesterday’s bite marks were. You massaged the area gently, his purring increasing in volume.

His fur was soft and considerably less dirty than it had been that morning. If you concentrated, he smelled like your shampoo.

“I have to take some stuff back to the pet store tomorrow,” you said finally. “So you’ll have some time alone to do whatever.”

He froze, and despite the movie playing, it was quiet without his purring. His eyes were wide, and he hissed, but aside from his ears flattening, he didn’t move. He was scared--no, he was terrified.

It broke your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You kept your voice soft and even. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

You sighed. You still felt a little weird talking so seriously with a cat, but his reactions confirmed what your research had told you. You had questions, and you were a little concerned about the logistics of everything, but you had started to come to terms with it.

Him smelling like your shampoo. The dishes being done. The stolen pillow and blanket. The things that were moved ever so slightly. The oddly appropriate reactions to what you were saying. How fast he had healed. Maybe you’d always known. Maybe that’s why you still talked to him like he was a person.

He was a person, more or less.

Your cat was a hybrid.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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Taglist: @min-yus, @melindagrace31, @shrimpmsg, @ghostkat23, @demcreeps, @ggsmashgg, @findingourtreasure, @20emma0, @springbean​, @black-rose-29, @cuteipat, @agustneeds, @deeepvibes, @yzkyzkuniverse, @softbbyg0rl​

[wincestisasincest]

Waves on the Shore - Chapter 11: Chapter 11 Sneak Peek

Aight so first, if you have not yet heard, updates are gonna slow down a bit because my life is in shambles. Don't worry, I'm still sexy, just need to make sure I don't fail college or die. Second, thanks to everyone who left a comment or sent a sweet message, y'all are keepine me going like an IV tube. Third, something kinda funky has been going on with the tags, so lmk if for some reason you did not get a notification and should've. I love tumblr.

~Wince from the future here with an extra note: just realized that I forgot to write a kind of important part of this so this preview might not be thaaaaat representative of what coming up. Might rb with a better version soon~

WOTS masterlist // wc: 1.2k // triggers: uhhhhhhh none? // @edenstarkk, @modernamilf, @dedicated2viktor, @doctorho, @yeehawbvby, @arcaneparx, @the-lake-is-calling

Viktor could not find his pants. 

Last night, he worked through a glass of sweetmilk as he slithered out of his clothes, leaving them on the floor so he could change into clean sleepwear with maximum efficiency. He even spilled a little of the sweetmilk on them, but he figured that he could deal with it in the morning. 

Well, it was morning now, and though the red pool of his shirt was still where he’d dropped it, with the sweetmilk dried up but the smell still there, his pants had disappeared without a trace. Once again, it would’ve been a problem for later, if he hadn’t left his ID and keys in there. 

He scoured every inch of his apartment, under his bed, on top of the bookshelves, even in his fridge. Nothing. He was pantsless. He’d have to hope that the front desk believed his story until he found them. They were somewhere in his room, he was certain, as he’d used them to unlock the door just last night. 

“Yes, I have lost my ID, but if you just check the-” he reached over the secretary’s desk to point out where his name should’ve been. 

“I’m sorry sir, but with increased security on campus we can only allow entry to people with Academy-issued IDs.” 

“Helen, you’ve seen me come in every day for the past year.” 

“I know, but,” Helen sighed, “look, they’re taking this whole body found on campus thing really seriously, and I don’t blame them. People have already lost jobs because they didn’t follow protocol, so I’m sorry, but I really can’t afford to cut corners now.” 

Vikor leaned both of his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes. 

“Apologies,” he mumbled, “I did not mean to be so rude. It is a stressful time.” 

“Yeah. It is,” she rested her cheek in her hand and looked at him with her olive green eyes, “but you know where you can get a provisional one, right?” 

“Of course,” he straightened his spine, “do you think you could give a message for me, though?”

*****

“Uh... do we still have that?” 

“He said it’s in the cooler.” 

“Since when was there a cooler?” 

“Whole time.” 

“Oh,” you could barely look Jayce in the eye as you said that, “well then I’ll, uh, get ready for transport.”

Viktor had kept his word; and you really would not put it past him to wake his best friend up in the middle of the night to tell on you. But, at least for now, Jayce was none the wiser. 

Somehow, it made you feel worse, like that time you’d tried to steal blueprints. He was just so nice, and it felt so wrong, but you could bare the guilt this time. Viktor said last night that this project meant “everything” to him.

You were up in the air about whether or not Viktor was a liar. You weren’t aware of any lies that he’d said, so either he was a really good one or he didn’t bother, but you did know that, regardless of his inclinations, he could lie if he wanted to. And he protected Jayce and that work with a rare kind of fire. 

You wanted to verify. To see just what kind of foundations your bargain from the night before was built upon. 

“So where’d you get the idea for this stuff, anyway?” you tried to ask it casually when Jayce came back into the room, holding the cooler with the lab saftey-approved two hands method. 

“Uh, transporting cadavers?” he said as he plonked the cooler on the table. 

“No, no, I mean like, portals and all that. It’s not exactly what magic is known for, after all,” you carefully moved the slick, black, Noxian portal circuit that they’d used to transport the mice all those days ago onto the table, where you could wire it into the power units. 

“Hoo boy,” Jayce cracked his neck, “get ready for story time with Jayce.” 

“There’s lore?” 

“Yup. With a test, later,” Jayce cracked a grin, “But seriously, way back when I was, like, 9, my mom and I were coming back home from a trip up to Targon, and we got stuck in the weather. I’m talking the most aggressive blizzard you’ve ever seen.” 

He moved his hands theatrically, like someone telling a tall tale at a bar. But you believed him. 

“We were out there, completely lost because we couldn’t see anything, and on top of it all, my mom was getting hypothermic.” 

“Oh, shit.” 

“Yeah. Don’t worry, she lives,” he said hastily, before putting his narrator voice back on, “It’s bad, my mom can’t go any further, and then, out of nowhere, this tall, hooded figure with a staff just appears in the snow. And he offers this to me.”

Jayce undid the bracelet on his hand - the one that he wore every day - and passed it to you. Embossed in the middle was a dull, blue crystal in the shape of a tear drop, with a rune carved into it. 

“Not the whole thing, just the crystal. And at first, I’m not sure, but then I realize that if I don’t trust him we’re screwed, so I let him help us, and he-” Jayce looked up for a moment, his parted lips dispalying his gap tooth as he recalled the memory with the same awe he must’ve had as a child, “he started doing these motions. I’d realize later that it was a somatic component of a spell, which, as you know, we can synthetically create in a lab, but even then, something about how he did them was just... magical. And there was this flash of blue light, and the next thing I knew, we were at the bottom of the mountain in sunlight, and everything was okay.” 

“He sapped the crystal,” you observed, resting the leather that the crystal was in between your fingers. 

“Yup. I guess it was useless so he just... let me have it,” he chuckled, accepting the bracelet as you returned it to him, “but I swear, it was... really something.” 

He was half in the world and half in his head. It was endearing, you thought, the way that he couldn’t even describe his own devotion without dissolving into a puddle of feelings. 

“I believe you,” you said. 

“It saved me once, and I think that it can save the Ionians now,” he looked down at you, and the gap tooth disappeared behind closed, resolute lips.  

Gods, even if you were unsure of the portals, you couldn’t doubt Jayce. He literally wore his heart on his sleeve (or, under his sleeve and on a bracelet). He was... trying. You were both trying. 

And, maybe, since he had been so accommodating to you, you could accept your place in his dream. For now. Even if it didn’t feel like home.

[wizkiddx]

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.  

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something. 

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer. 

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about. 

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?” 

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard. 

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts. 

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face. 

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat. 

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement. 

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock. 

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour. 

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too. 

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face. 

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and  frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.” 

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side. 

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other. 

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?” 

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set. 

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding. 

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all  and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick.  Naturally too,  you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything. 

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat  the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot,  after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep. 

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked. 

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that. 

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth? 

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares? 

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam? 

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

[ikeromantic]

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

“And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

[queer-and-colorful]

Anamoduke Sk8ter boi au ramblings

Slight trigger warning for lowkey homophobia and maternal abandonment but it's like 2 sentences

Ok so it's highschool, Patton is very closeted, very conservative family and is in love with Remus, Remus likes him back tries to swoon him.

Patton keeps telling him no but like in a playful way.

Then on the day patton is finally like "im going to say yes and confess my feelings", his parents tell him they found him a nice girl from a good family and like it's clear he has no choice in the matter.

He's devastated and shuts Remus down for real, the girl happens to be with him when he doesn't and sayssome mean thing and patton is too spineless too stick up for Remus.

Like a week later in the lunch room patton is walking by with the girl on his arm sad and tired and he looks over to see Remus with his arm around Virgil. They lock eyes and Remus glares at him.

This does not help pattons sad

It's been 5 years since the last thing.

The girl has accidentally gotten pregnant after graduation, didn't want the kid. Patton did. So she left the baby with him and ran off somewhere.

Patton came out to his parents after she left, it didn't go well, they haven't spoken since.

In present times the baby is Remy and he is 3. So Patton's taking care of baby remy when he sees an ad for concert and Remus is on the poster.

He panics and buys a ticket for the show and meet and great afterwards. Immediately regrets it but he can't get a refund so he might as well go.

He gets all dressed up, but like dad dressed up, gets his babysitter (im thinking teenage elliot) and goes to the concert.

Patton is nervous as all hell. And that's multiplied by hundreds when halfway through the set remus locks eyes with him.

And patton can't help but think how beautiful he is and he's transported back to highschool when he was still working up the courage to tell remus yes. But that daydream is quickly shut down as the band bundles together in a little meeting.

Remus announces they're going to perform a brand new song for the first time.

Then like they hang out some, Virgil doesn't like patton at first,

They play Skater boy, Virgil is the lead. Remus and virgil are being very affectionate on stage, they kiss after the song, patton is crushed but not surprised.

Patton waits to be the very last person to have theyre meet and greet. Virgil and Remus are immediately hostile. Patton understand why.  Its kinda goes like "you guys had a great show tonighy it was very nifty."

"Thanks for the money what do you want, [slightly insulting nickname here]?"

Patton explains that he just wanted to come and apologize for high school and tell them he was really happy for them and wished that if the circumstances had been different back then they could have been friends

Remus says something along the lines of "dont you have a wife and 2.5 kids to get home to?"

Patton laughs sadly and goes "only one kid, no wife. Your were close though."

Re and vi are confused and shocked. Patton says its a long story and not suitable for now but they were right and he needed to get back to his baby.

Remus stops him as he goes to leave, gives patton his number like ", this is our last show of the tour then we go on break. "Maybe if's you were serious back there and really less of a prick than you were in highschool we can try to hang out"

one time eliiot gets sick so patton is forced to bring remy on one of their hang out sessions where they finally learn pattons side of everything and patton says somthing like "even though i feel guilty about it, i dont think id do anything different given the chance cause it all led to me getting him. And hes my whole world."

Queue remus and virgil suddenly being very gay for patton cause holy shit that was cute.

Maybe some tension in the middle where patton tries to start dating again but he can't find a guy that's willing to date a 22 year old with a kid so dates don't last long after that.

Maybe some paparazzi angst in there.

And he starts getting really gay for remus and virgil cause of how good they are with remy

Obvs ends with all of them getting together in the end

Misc details

-remy has so many little punk clothes cause remus and virgil keep giving them as gifts

-patton is a waiter and they live in a small one bedroom apartment

-they dont have a lot but patton is doing his best to take care of his son

-connected to the last one the reason he was able to afford the concent is partially cause re and vi try to make tickets as accessible as possible and partially cause pattons coworker gave him some money like "dude please for the love of god do something nice to yourself for once.

-little remy loves to head bop to re and vis music

-logan and janus are part of the band

- they also love little remy

-emile is virgils little brother who is around elliots age

Asfhsfgsaf if anyone wants to write this theyre free to just please tag me!

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Reasons (Donny x Fem!Reader)

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

*TW: Single mother, war/violence

Requested by @redrosewritingsstuff

********************

You'd been working with the basterds for a while now as a nurse, though you were an agent for the MI6 once. There was a botched mission, and in order to keep yourself alive, you had to leave the MI6. But, your department also happened to owe a favor to the OSS. For all intents and purposes you were considered a ghost. You did not exist in either organizations' paper work. Anything that could hint at your transfer was heavily redacted. Your aliases and IDs were burned, and you were on your way. You stayed behind the scenes as much as possible. Your mission was now  to be the basterds' saving grace.  

You didn't talk much, but you weren't quite on the same level as Hugo. But, if any of the basterds could get you to laugh a little, it was Donny.

You were sitting on your own, looking intently at a locket, enclosed in your fist. Donny sat by you, "What'cha got there?" You looked away for a moment, smiling, but shook your head.

Donny's voice was softer when he noticed the locket. To him, (and most people) a locket like that meant there was already someone out there with your heart. He respected that, but he couldn't take seeing you upset. "Shoulda guessed." He chuckled, trying to soften you up a bit. "He got a name?" You shook your head, smiling a little. You were amused. "No. It's not like that." You didn't say anything else, and for once, Donny didn't either. You just sat there together, and he wondered what that meant. In war, most of the possibilities were grim. *********** Time went by, you marched through the forest with the basterds, near the edge of a village. Things had been too quiet lately, especially knowing there was a patrol you had been looking for. You found them, as you always did. The nazis had cornered a family, threatening the life of a child, who was maybe three or four years old. You heard the mother's screams, saw the father being beaten. You didn't think twice, you jumped in between them all, blowing your own cover and that of the basterds. You acted while the boys still hadn't realized what was happening. You were nearly killed, but Donny and Hugo rushed in to help. In the end, you saved the family. Aldo had the nazi scalps to prove it. But, he wasn't happy. You had jumped in without a loaded gun, and no knife. You were the nurse, but you were also a basterd. You could not be replaced. None of them could. "Of all the stupid, wreckless shit I seen done by soldiers, this is damn near at the top of the list. And if there's one thing we ain't need way out here, L/N, it's goddamn impulsiveness." You sighed, lowered your head, and rested your hands against a dusty table top in your hideout. He was right. But you couldn't help it. You had to save that family. That kid had a whole life ahead. You couldn't stand by and wait for Aldo’s orders. Aldo sighed, knowing perhaps he had been a little too hard. After all, you did save a family, as the basterds should, granted, you could have been a little more prepared. "Y/n, there ain't many nurses out here we can trust. We lose you, we lose any chance of us makin' it to the end. Y'understand?" "Perfectly." You murmured, still not fully willing to analyze what had happened that day. *****

Not long after, you were all sharing a drink together in your hideout. After everyone had gone to bed, you hung around on your own, with your locket in your hand. "Y/n?" You needed to say it. You didn't know why. You didn't care if you sounded like a coward, or like a cliche. "I've got to get home, Donny." Donny was caught off guard. From what he knew, you were one of the best basterds. It never crossed his mind that you'd ever say something like that. But he understood. You were all only human, at the end of the day. "We all do, kid." You were silent again, and he said, "If it's about today...you did what anyone would have done. Aldo didn't mean it. We just can't afford to lose ya. We lost Andy, Simon, and Michael. We can't lose any more basterds. That's all he meant by it." You shook your head, "You don't understand..." "Let me." His hand rested on yours, and he looked into your eyes. "He was just a baby, Donny. Three, maybe four at most. What was I supposed to do?" "Y/n." He kept his voice low, warning with his eyes that there were unkind ears around. But, he was also trying to calm you. "You did the right thing." You sighed, your grip around the locket loosened, and you set it on the table. "Go ahead." Donny raised his eyebrow for a moment, then reached for the locket. The moment he looked at the tiny, oval, black and white photograph, his heart broke. It was a picture of a baby. "She'll be four years old in a month." You smiled softly, though your heart was breaking, "She ain't seen me since. This is the only picture of Abby that I have. If I go back at all...she won't remember me." "What? No! Y/n, don't say that, she will! She's...your..." Donny was still processing it, but he managed to say, "You're a fucking hero, Y/n. You're unforgettable..." Donny meant every word. "How can I be when I was never there for her at all? They took her from me, they said I was an unfit mother." You looked down, "I was young. I wasn't married. Her father was killed in the Pacific, he never had a chance to know. I had nothing. Our town was bombed, I couldn't take care of her the way she needed. I couldn't keep her safe, Donny." You looked at him with teary eyes and he shook  his head, "Hey, don't say that," as he wrapped his hands around your shoulders. "You did keep her safe. You did the hardest thing a mother could do! She's safe because of that. She's waiting for you. You'll get her back. I'll make sure. I promise." "Don't say things you don't mean." "I don't." When you looked at him you knew he meant that. You couldn't help but cry into his shoulder, and he didn't mind. As the years went on, you became closer to all the basterds, but in Donny you confided the most. You realized then, it was because  you loved him the most. It was 1945 now. Wicki and Hugo had been hurt. Bridget hardly had any hope in any of the basterds, but she asked if any of them could speak a language other than English. You spoke Italian. (A lot better than Aldo did, at least.) Donny turned around. He was going to volunteer himself. He didn't want to lose you. He couldn't imagine a life without you. He couldn't lose you, and he knew he wasn't the only one. "Y/n, you can't." "It's the only way, Donny." "No, it's not." "You promised," you didn't have to remind him. You were their only clear chance at pulling off the Italian charade. If the basterds failed operation Kino, the war would go on, maybe even for years. Donny knew that. He knew how much was at stake. So the mission went on. You went with him, Bridget, Omar, and Aldo to the cinema. Things didn't go as planned, but with the basterds, they never really did. "Donny. Don't do this." He looked at you with wide eyes, his  voice was soft for a moment, "I'm sorry, Y/n." At the very last second, he locked you out of the theater. You pushed against the door as Donny gripped it, "Y/n don't make this harder than it has to be." "Donny let me in." "You know I can't do that." He looked you in the eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "Don't..." You couldn't say goodbye either. "Donny don't do this." "I promised." He pushed you and locked the door as he ran back through the inferno to find Omar. When smoke rose to the sky and ash and glass covered the street, you thought it was the last you'd ever see of Donny. But it was only the beginning. When you gave up, you tried to force back tears as your knees grew weak. Then you saw the impossible. Omar and Donny limped out together. "Donny!? Omar!" "Promised I'd make sure, didn't I?" He chuckled as he sat down by you, as the three of you watched the war end right before your eyes. ***** Donny couldn't wait to see his family, but he figured he'd waited so long, he could wait just a little longer. It was the day the basterds were receiving the medal of honor, but Donny was standing with you in a train station somewhere in the countryside of England. He refused to be there if Hans Landa was receiving the medal of honor. Hugo was 100% planning a million ways to get rid of Hans, and a million more to get away with it, but...well, once a basterd, always a basterd. 

 Anyway, Donny figured he'd get his in the mail, though he did hope his little brother didn't open it before he got home. You wouldn't get one at all, because, well, for all intents and purposes, you were a "ghost,". You didn't mind. You didn't care for crowds.

Besides, you just couldn't wait another day. You called in every favor you could to make this happen. Donny was there for you every step of the way, just like he said he would be.  

This should have been goodbye. You were all flown from France to Britain when some of the injured basterds had healed enough. From there, they'd go to Washington D.C for the ceremony, even Archie and Bridget were going. After that, they would all go home. Hirschberg hadn't really thought things through and asked, "What could be more important than a medal of honor right now?" He figured you could at least be there one last time for them. He wasn't really that good at saying goodbye. He never had been. Omar rolled his eyed, and "Dumbass." "What?!" Hirschberg turned in confusion, and Smitty said, "Her kid, that's what!" "Ohhh..." He nodded, finally realizing as he hugged you. "At least promise to visit?" "I will," You smiled. You figured you could make it to a basterd reunion every once in a while. Besides, you'd already promised all the other basterds you would. You watched them all go. Then it was just you and Donny. He looked around excitedly at the city, "Where we headin', kid?" He grinned in excitement. There was not a hint of regret. He really wanted to stay by your side no matter what, and it broke your heart to love a man so much. He'd have to go eventually... "I thought you were just going to stay to say goodbye..." "Well....I could walk you to the train station!" You smiled, "But you have a flight at noon!" "Ah, I can just run back." He shrugged, "Come on, doll." He walked you to the train station, but then convinced you he could stay with you till you got to the country side. He convinced himself he'd just fly home some other day.

**** He looked around at the blue sky, the fluffy white clouds scattered. The incessant hum of overhead planes and military engines was replaced by the chirps of birds and wind in the trees. "Thought England's always gray and rainy," he laughed, and you said, "Not always," You smiled, but your breath escaped your reach,   "Not now..." You saw her.  You walked toward her, through the crowd. She wasn't the tiny baby you had to give up years ago, but she was still your little girl. You knew that smile anywhere. She saw you before the social worker did. "Mama!" The tiny toddler ran to you before you could even process it all. How she knew you? Well, you'd later find out she slept with a picture of you under her pillow. That picture and a teddy bear you gave her when she was a day old were the only things in the world she could call her own. "Y/n?" Meanwhile, Donny turned around searching for you. He ran through the crowd, and slowed down, and walked with a smile when he figured out what had happened. Abby was basically a tiny version of you, though her eyes were a different color than yours, they had the same light in them. Donny had told himself he wouldn't stay. You had a family to care of. You had a whole life in England. He had a life to get back to in Boston, too. He told himself that for years. It had some truth to it, but you quickly became his world when there were days the sun refused to shine. But, now that the war was over, how could he forget all that you were to him? Just like that? He told himself he'd just walk you to the station. Then he told himself he'd just stay for the train ride, remembering England being nice on the brief time he had been there before being sent to France. But now that it was time to go, he was out of excuses. "Donny, this is Abby. Abby, this is Donny." Abby giggled and saluted him, like she'd seen so many do on newsreels. Donny laughed as he saluted her back, "Cutest soldier you got there, Y/n." You chuckled as you picked Abby up, never wanting to let go, though you realized you couldn't let go of Donny's hand either. "Miss L/n." The social worker waited with a patient smile with a stack of papers. "RIght then," You explained to Abby you would only be a minute, then looked to Donny. You didn't even have to ask. He was a natural, after all, he had  a little brother and plenty of little cousins. He had Abby laughing and takling in no time while you signed the papers.

"Donny..." He was sitting on the ground with Abby sitting by him, watching the trains go by as he told her a story that had her laughing and your heart melting. He looked up at you, and his heart felt heavy. He was out of excuses to stay. "Would you like to come over for tea?" You smiled as you picked Abby up. "Tea?" He was caught off guard for a moment, but he smiled and nodded. It was a long trip back to London. Even longer counting the cab ride to your place. The war had gone by in a moment with you by his side, but he wondered, what was wartime to a lifetime with you? "That would be nice," He smiled, taking your hand, seeing a lifetime in your eyes. London, Boston, it didn't matter. In that moment, he knew if he went he would never run out of excuses to stay. You and Abby were all the reasons he ever needed.

[baekhvuns]

Bestie…. You prob right. Prob is burn out. Literally don’t know what to do about that right now cause I can’t really afford the time this year to stop. Maybe I schedule the next two-three years off in S.K. to take care of myself. Everyone’s (esp my dad) keeps pushing forward. And I usually get depressed during long seasons of nothingness 🫠 ugh. THIS is why I need Korea. Traveling? Culture? Nature? New people? ✅✅✅

And I WILL talk to my counselor if I don’t get the job *finger guns* I told her I needed to see her every week this summer cause I didn’t know how this summer would go. I 🔫 better 🔫 get 🔫 an 🔫 email 🔫 TODAY🔫🔫🔫🔫

WYM YOURE NOT PASSIONATE ABOUT ANYTHING?? WRITING?? But I know it doesn’t pay the bills easily. 😪 props to you for doing law tho. You got such a big brain 🧠😅 I’m very surprised you don’t like psychology tho

I feel like INFP’s are not meant for this world. We literally value everything that the world doesn’t and our values can’t be monetized (unless you’re like the top 1% of artists.) But at the same time the world needs us and they just don’t know it.

-🤗

hi bestie i passed out for like five hours im so sorryfbqnbdwmdbwm

Bestie…. You prob right. Prob is burn out. Literally don’t know what to do about that right now cause I can’t really afford the time this year to stop. Maybe I schedule the next two-three years off in S.K. to take care of myself. Everyone’s (esp my dad) keeps pushing forward. And I usually get depressed during long seasons of nothingness 🫠 ugh. THIS is why I need Korea. Traveling? Culture? Nature? New people? ✅✅✅

IT DEF IS !!! I think you should! maybe u need to get out and experience something in a different place to rly i guess, in the most cliche way possible, to find yourself and your comfort! even if not sk! go to the neighbouring countries maybe it’ll be a refresher for you!! EXACTLY TRAVEL TRAVEL TRAVEL !!!! highly rec u watch this youtuber named elena taber, her travel videos rly put u in a different world,,, i think u will absolutely love it! it gives u a sense of freedom!

And I WILL talk to my counselor if I don’t get the job *finger guns* I told her I needed to see her every week this summer cause I didn’t know how this summer would go. I 🔫 better 🔫 get 🔫 an 🔫 email 🔫 TODAY🔫🔫🔫🔫

YES AS U SHOULD !!! UR COUNSELLOR IS UR BESTIE !! THE EMAIL BETTER COME IT BETTER IT MF BETTER !!!

WYM YOURE NOT PASSIONATE ABOUT ANYTHING?? WRITING?? But I know it doesn’t pay the bills easily. 😪 props to you for doing law tho. You got such a big brain 🧠😅 I’m very surprised you don’t like psychology tho

iM RLY ONLY PASSIONATE ABT TRAVELLING JVDKWCK i want to capture certain places in the most beautiful way with my camera,,,, with writing i don’t mind it bc its fun to write so i do it,,, idk if u can tell but i self indulge myself in my fics in ways i want to experience things i project it in the fics bc ik someone out here feels the same 😭😭 idk how to put it but i need to get out somewhere and im sure ill find something to be rly passionate abt but with law i can help ppl and thats i guess a rly big + for me BDMWBDMW bestie i do not have a big brain at all YEAH NO FUCK PSYCHOLOGY I FAILED A INTRO LEVEL PSYCH CLASS, INTRO, FIRST SEMESTER I FOREVER HAVE A GRUDGE AGAINST IT EHFJD what are u passionate about? id love to hear!

I feel like INFP’s are not meant for this world. We literally value everything that the world doesn’t and our values can’t be monetized (unless you’re like the top 1% of artists.) But at the same time the world needs us and they just don’t know it.

that, is so true. i think infp’s r extremely misunderstood but they are so extremely artistic,,, their brains are so highly intelligent i don’t think ive met a infp who’s not an intellectual or someone who’s got a magnetic personality and passion,, truly so good, they don’t complain and do their work quietly unless they absolutely have to complain BDNWBDNS

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.16

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2759

SERIES MASTERLIST

As soon as they’re back, Dean places the groceries into the kitchen and Y/N was right about her period because it starts to kick in as soon as the stress level wasn’t that high anymore. 

It’s not long before she finds herself cramping up a little so she uses her first tampon and plants herself on the couch, lays her head on the pillow and pulls the blanket up to her chin. 

Dean walks in, grins a little before he scoops her up and sits her on his lap, still with the blanket and all. She curls up above him, presses her face into the crook of his neck. 

“You need anything?”

“Nuh-uh,”

“Nuh-uh?” Dean kisses her temple, and then he whispers, “Okay, I know you’ve been dying to ask. Shoot, I’ll answer all your questions.”

Y/N actually doesn’t really know what she could ask, she doesn’t want to come across as jealous, when that’s actually what she is. 

“The boy looks like you,”

“Yeah, but I can guarantee you that I’m not the father.” Dean’s voice rumbles underneath her. 

“How do you know?” 

He shrugs, his one hand rubs along her thigh over the blanket, “I came back from an eight month deployment. And after two months she told me that she’s pregnant. Turns out she was already four months along, so no, I don’t really think it was possible that I’m the father. Unless she kept one of the condoms in the freezer and kind of houdinied the semen out and injected it into her uterus.”

“You used a condom?” She raises an eyebrow, she’s curious, not because it’s supposed to be a dig at him.

“She insisted we always use one. Because she didn’t trust me and according to her, I could technically be having sex with everyone while I’m over there.”

“Wow,”

Dean lets out a soft chuckle, “Yeah,”

“She wanted you to trust her but she didn’t give you her trust in return?” She looks up at him, his scruff rubs along her forehead before he tilts his head down to look back at her. From this angle, Dean’s has a double chin but he looks cute with it and that again, is not really fucking fair.

“Apparently, trust in a relationship is not a two way street for her.” Dean just shrugs, “It’s in the past. I don’t even know if it was love at that time or just the comfort of having somewhere to stay with, and someone to be comfortable around with without having to pretend and hide. It took a big chunk of burden off my shoulders too, because I couldn’t afford rent and paying for Sam’s education at the same time.”

“You two already lived together?” 

“With her parents,” He says with a chuckle.

“Oh my god,” 

“Her parents were nosy,” Dean’s laughing now, probably thinking back to the memories, “The thing was, we were young, I was maybe too comfortable with what I had, too tired from war to make a change, and that’s why I stayed with her and then when she said that she was pregnant, I kind of rolled with it. I didn’t even think that I ever wanted kids. We never really talked about it. Looking back, I don’t think I did love her and I’m glad that I could walk away from it. I don’t think that I was ever really truly happy with her. And I have proof that she wasn’t really happy with me either. We were two cowards who were too scared of what was out there, and we were afraid to leave our comfort zones.”

“Were you ever truly happy in your life?” It’s not meant as an offense but the more he tells her, the more she gets the impression that Dean’s life was hard. Full of responsibilities and making choices that he shouldn’t make from a young age on. 

“I am,” He smiles a little when he cradles her face with one hand and pushes his thumb under her chin to make her look up at him, “You don't see it, do you?”

“See what?” She frowns a little.

“Baby, you make me happy,” He kisses her nose, “Yeah, there are some minor inconveniences along the way but the truth is, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years when I’m with you.”

“Oh,” She really didn’t know.

Dean chuckles and kisses her and she grins against the kiss. She wonders if he feels it too, feels the butterflies fluttering around in his tummy, feels the stinging in his heart that hurts so good. 

Their kiss gets more heated, gets deeper, and she really wishes that she’s not on her period. But there’s something that pulls both of them back to reality. 

“I think that is really your phone in your pockets,” She jokes, mumbles the words against his lips and Dean chuckles while he pushes her off his lap playfully to take the phone out of his pants. 

He stops and frowns when he looks at the caller ID, shows it to her before he picks it up.

Chuck.

“Mr. Winchester, where the fuck are you?” Chuck’s so loud on the other end. 

“Uh, we moved,” There’s no sir at the end. She can tell that Dean’s sick of pretending.

“I know that. Where did you take my fucking wife?”

Oh, now she’s his fucking wife. 

Dean places a hand on her shoulder, somehow it soothes her. It would feel a lot better if he wouldn’t be shaking himself, though. He’s visibly upset and the crease on his forehead deepens. 

“I took her somewhere safe. Because that’s my job.”

Chuck laughs, it’s loud and mockery, “That’s not your fucking job anymore, is it? I haven’t paid you to do your work for over a week! Now tell me where she is or someone gets hurt.”

They hear someone whimpering, it’s a female voice. She realizes that she knows that voice. 

Oh god, no.

“Why do you want her? It was you wasn’t it? It was you who sent that hitman after us!” Dean growls, his voice is deep, he’s angry. She’s never seen him like this. 

He has Meg, She mouths to Dean and Dean’s frowns some more at that.

“I knew I shouldn’t have hired an ex-marine who left on his own will. I should have gone with an army outcast, someone who’s paid to do what they should and not fucking second guess everything I say!” Chuck snarls, “Look, Winchester, fair trade. You bring her to me and in return, I won’t kill off her best friend, how does that sound?”

“Yes,” Y/N whispers.

“No,” Dean’s voice is louder, it’s a deep growl, it makes her flinch. 

“A life for a life, sounds fair to me!” Chuck says and he must be doing something to Meg because she cries out. It’s a terrible sound. Something hurts inside of her when she hears it. 

“I’ll text you the address and I give you 12 hours, because I know that you’re far away and traffic is a bitch. Don’t even tell me that I don’t give you a fair chance.” Chuck sounds proud, “No police. Just you and me, Winchester. You pull something, she’s dead and I have friend in high places, Winchester, so don’t fucking play with me or I’ll send someone else, every fucking day.”

He hangs up before Dean can even answer.

“No,” Dean says and gets up to pace around in the room. She opens her mouth to say something but he holds out his finger, repeating himself, “Don't even start, the answer is no!”

“But—”

“—I’m not fucking losing you!”

“We have to! He’ll hurt Meg!” She argues and stands up too. 

Dean’s phone pings with a message. It has the address on it and a picture of Meg. She’s been beaten black and blue. 

Y/N feels nauseous and needs to sit down again after seeing that.

Dean moves over quickly to sit down on the chair, typing in the address into google maps, “Okay, we need about six hours to get there. We still have time to form a plan.”

“You’re going to help Meg?” She walks over to stand next to him and then he looks up to her.

“Of course I’ll help Meg,” He pushes his chair back, pulls her into his lap, “I’m not happy about it but I’m helping where I can. She’s important to you and you’re important to me, so.” 

“I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

Dean sighs, “We’ve been over this, haven’t we?” He says, places his chin on her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist, “We’re in this together. And now we need to see how we can all get out of it, Meg included.”

 *

 They arrive at a record shop. It doesn’t look like anything impressive on the outside to be honest, but they found out through google, that it has a recording studio in the back. Of course it would. That’s Chuck for you. He knows that it’s soundproof, he probably rented it out under a false name, either. 

Y/N gets off the bike, takes off her helmet and waits for Dean to do the same. 

He’s standing before her, “Remember what we said, okay?”

She nods.

“And here’s your gun,” Dean hands it to her too, “Just, this time, if you shoot, try to hit what you’re aiming for, alright?” He chuckles but it’s not a light-hearted or funny chuckle, it’s more sinister. 

“Okay,” 

“Right,” Dean takes a step closer, weaves his arm around her waist, pulls her into him, “Try not to get shot at, alright?” 

“And you don’t get dead. Promise?” She stands on her tip toes, their noses touch. 

“Cross my heart,” Dean smiles a little, seals his words with a kiss. 

 *

 She watches Dean leave with a nod.

The plan’s for him to go in first and that they’ll improvise on the rest. 

There was no time to plan anything else ahead because they didn't know what would be waiting for them once they arrived. 

Of course they contacted Benny because Dean hasn’t heard from him yet. But since it’s now a pressing matter, Benny’s doing his best to inform the local authority, and even drives here himself. It would take him longer to get here from wherever he was, she never asked, but Dean’s phone is on standby with Benny and the call is recorded.

The plan was also for her to wait until Benny or the police is here but she can’t because she hears a dull thud and fuck—

—She runs in as fast as she can, almost trips over a stack of records but she keeps on going and pulls the heavy door open, her gun drawn. 

She sees Chuck, and Meg’s next to him on her knees.

“Oh, hey, wifey.” Chuck greets her with a fucking big smile on his face. 

The shot was only a bait to lure her in. Chuck has a gun in hand too and he waves it in her direction. 

“Let Meg go,” She says with the calmest of voice she can muster up. 

Chuck raises his eyebrow, pouts a little, “Where are your manners, Y/N! Say please,”

She looks at Dean and they exchange looks. He’s on edge, is ready to launch forward. There’s so much tension in the air and she doesn’t think that she’s breathing at all. 

With a sigh, she says, “Please,”

“Was that so hard?” Chuck mocks, “I only give Meg to Winchester and you’re coming to me.”

“No,” Dean whispers, it’s faint but she hears it nonetheless. 

Y/N knows that Dean doesn’t want that, but also she wants her friend safe. It’s the only other person in the world who she trusts next to Dean. She loves Meg. Meg was always here, even when she had a hard time herself with her failed business ventures. Y/N was always there for Meg and vise versa. 

Looking at Dean, she nods, and she sees that he doesn’t like it one bit but he nods back. 

“Lower your gun and I will, too.” She tells Chuck and that might be the first time in ages that they agree on something.

Chuck lowers his first, Dean follows and then her. 

“Now Meg,” Dean says, holds out his hands, beckons her over. 

Meg’s still blue in one eye and she walks over, she’s wearing an oversized sweater, something Y/N’s not used to seeing on her. Meg’s always dressed so good. She wonders what happened in the short time that she was away. 

Her friend nods at Y/N in passing, and goes to stand next to Dean who’s a couple of feet away from her. And Y/N turns to nod at Dean one last time, sees Dean nodding back, holding Meg up with an arm around her.

Y/N takes a step closer to Chuck, then another one. 

On her third step, a shot rings in her ear, it makes her jump. She turns around to see the source and sees Dean on the floor.

“Dean!” She calls out, wants to run back but Chuck’s voice interrupts her train of thought. 

“Ah-ah, you stay.” He says calmly and he draws his gun when she sees her drawing hers. 

She looks at Meg, sees that woman smiling. She can’t believe that she’s been played by her best friend, “Why, Meg? Why?” She starts to cry. 

Dean’s grunting, he’s clearly in pain, blood seeps out from his stomach wound. She knows that she has to stop the bleeding but she’s caught between a rock and a goddamn hard place. 

Meg’s smile dies down, “I’m sorry, I really am, Y/N.”

“Did he pressure you into doing this?”

“He offered me a million! Imagine, Y/N! A fucking million! I can start anew! I thought about it long and hard. I love you, I do, but I would also love a new start. You understand, right? I’m sorry but I gotta look out for mysel—”

Meg didn’t get to finish her sentence because Chuck shot her right in her face.

“I never liked her,” Chuck says, “She always talks too much. And she really thinks she’d get away with it.” He scoffs. 

Y/N’s full on sobbing, she can’t stop even if she wants to. “So, you’re going to kill everyone? What are you going to tell them, huh? Three dead people?” She knows that she should get going, that she should help Dean, she knows that time is fucking running out.

“I’ll tell them that I’m a hero. I tried to save you from your crazy friend who wanted to take away everything from you. Not even your bodyguard could help protect you. So it was me, the loving husband who has to rush in,” He pauses for the dramatic effect, “But it was already too late.”

Dean’s still grunting, he’s still alive. Oh thank god. She risks a glance. Dean’s visibly pale, the blood starts to pool. His eyes are on her. 

She nods at Dean and takes a deep breath before looking back to Chuck who has his gun cocked and ready. It’s really now a matter of who shoots first. His finger is tight around the trigger, but hers is, too. 

“Go to hell, Chuck,” She mumbles and pulls the trigger, sees Chuck staggering and losing balance. His gun is still tight in his hand and he pulls the trigger, shooting into the ground before he kneels on one knee. She has shot him in his thigh, right above the knee.

Ready to pull again, a sound of someone barging in stops her, and then, everything happens so fast. Someone’s pointing a gun at Chuck and she sees him raising his hands. Someone has an arm around her, asking her if she’s okay. She hears it faintly, “Ma’am, are you okay? Ma’am, can you hear me?” 

But she can’t, she can’t talk, she can’t hear, she can’t see. 

She needs to get to him. 

Y/N falls on her knees, crawls over the body of Meg to get to Dean. Someone’s already working on his wound. Dean’s face is the palest of pale she’s ever seen in her life. There’s sweat on his forehead and his eyes look empty. But he’s still looking at her. She’s crying, leans her head against his, kisses his cheek, his nose, “Please don’t leave me,” She begs with every fiber of her being. 

CH.17

[excaliefur]

Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better

Hello yes, i am posting this late i meant to post it a few days ago but whatever.

Also alcohol tw.

On AO3 just because I can :)

Wilbur, Niki and Jschlatt, the three of them had each other and their kids, that’s all they needed right?

The question lingered in their minds, will they ever be free if they don’t run?

“To the kids” Wilbur toasted, raising his glass. “The kids” Niki and Schlatt replied in unison. As Will drank, feeling the wine go down his throat, he thought about the kids.

It was always for them, god knows, without them, Niki Schlatt and will would be nowhere near this hellhole. Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo. The three of them were too young to fend for themselves, too young to be left alone without guidance, much like Wilbur was. But if Will ever did to Tommy what Phil did to him, he’d urge the gods to strike him down immediately.

Hell would freeze over before Will ever even though about leaving Tommy to fend for himself. Will was ready to walk through hell for Tommy if that’s what it took to have a happy life. They didn’t need Phil or Technoblade. Phil was never a real dad and techno stopped being Wilbur’s brother when he stopped sticking up for Will. Nobody knew where they were, to be honest, Wilbur didn’t care.

Niki was slightly different. Wilbur resented Phil, that was easy to see. It was harder to see that Niki resented Eret. Sure, he had a good reason to be gone, but that doesn’t mean it was ok to leave Niki, a traumatised child who could barely survive on her own, in charge of another traumatized 5 year old. Ranboo was an angel and Niki couldn’t hate him if she tried.

Eret however, was a traitor to her. Yeah he maybe king and he maybe the best one this land has ever had, but if he was so wealthy and good why couldn’t he afford to help Niki. Niki lost her childhood raising one that wasn’t hers, much like Wilbur and Schlatt, maybe that’s why they got along so well.

Neither Niki or Wilbur knew if Tubbo was Schlatt’s son or sibling. It didn’t really matter though, he was stuck taking care of him just like Wilbur and Niki were. Schlatt seemed really intimdating, and he could be if he wanted to. Deep down, though, both of them knew how much he cared about Tubbo.

Both were there to comfort him when Tubbo got a deadly illness, both of them knew how worried he got. He didn’t leave his brothers bedside for days until Niki managed to get him to eat and rest, promising that neither she or Wilbur would leave Tubbo alone. Both celebrated with him when Tubbo said his first word, his first word was Schlatt. That was the first time they ever saw him cry.

From that day, all three of them promised that they would raise the kids well, and they’d raise them together. Their household was chaos, naturally. 3 toddlers with 3 teenagers left alone is bound to be chaotic. They still had their moments of peace though. It was a family, a real one, one none of them had ever had before.

It still got out of hand though sometimes, so once a month the grownups- ironic, isn’t it, calling themselves grownups was ironic. Schlatt had just recently turned 18 and yet he was so much more mature than Phil. No time to worry about Phil though, Phil didn’t deserve his attention.

Once a month, the grownups would have a night to themselves, kids around, just games, junk food and alcohol. Secretly, it was the night they all looked forward to. Yeah they love the kids but its nice to have a break once in a while. That was this night.

Schlatt looked old enough that they didn’t ask for his ID when buying the wine, and Niki bought the snacks while Wilbur got all the kids to bed. It was a nice night. Singing old songs from a time where they weren’t burdened by this responsibility, playing games and messing around as teenagers do. Telling tales of sorrow and misery over a cup of wine, telling secrets they couldn’t tell anyone else. It was nice. It was a breath of fresh air after everything.

“Why don’t we just leave?” Wilbur murmured. Niki was humming a old tune under her breath and Schlatt was getting more wine. “Sorry?” Niki inquired. “Why don’t we just up and leave this town? Go on an adventure?” He repeated, louder. Schlatt sighed.

“You know we can’t leave them, we’d be just as bad as them” He said, a trace of venom could be heard when he said them. Wilbur nodded, growing more confident and standing up from the rickety plastic table. “Yeah I mean, bring them along! All 6 of us just leaving and making it somewhere else, somewhere better!”

Schlatt looked thoughtful at that proposition, while Niki shook her head. “We don’t have the money for that, and besides that you know we can barely afford school here anyways, imagine how bad it’d be somewhere else”

Wilbur paused, he didn’t think of that. Feeling dismayed he sat back down. Schlatt stopped him though, with his hand on his shoulder. A frown on his face, not at Niki but, thoughtfully. “Do they really need to go to school though? Before you say anything hear me out”

He hurried to stop Niki who opened her mouth. She closed it and nodded. “Right so, Wills a geography nerd, he’s amazing at English and other languages, and also learns super quick. I have resources that will help us teach them, and you yourself did great in school, and can definitely help in maths and sciences!”

Niki thought for a moment. “Isn’t it illegal for them to drop out though?” Schlatt hesitated and Wilbur quickly swooped in. “We can apply for homeschooling them, and when we move, its probable we won’t need much of that, probably just survival skills” He said, looking at Schlatt for backup.

Schlatt nodded. “Exactly, and we won’t even need to pay for schooling.” Niki nodded “I, I think that’s smart” Niki smiled.

“Where would we go though?” She pondered outloud.

Will, feeling confident again, moved over to the window. “You remember the joyride we had when I turned 16? When they were at Sally’s place?” Niki nodded, joining him at the window. He raised his hand and pointed in the distance. “Around 50 km there, there was this large unoccupied territory, in Esempee right? So that’s where I’m thinking. It was completely untouched, a beautiful area where nobody could ever bother us, and we could build a home for all of us, a real one.”

Schlatt nodded as he spoke. He handed Niki and wills glasses to them respectively, and grabbed his own.

“So? What do you say?” He asked.

She hesitated, “Ok it might just be my drunk brain but, I say lets do this, lets get out of this hellhole” Niki said, raising her glass. Will cheered, high-fiving Schlatt who had a wide smile on his face. Will set down his glass and pulled Niki into a hug, inviting Schlatt to it too. Schlatt hid the smile on his face as he grumbled and joined.

After a moment, they broke apart, and Wilbur raised his glass. “To a new beginning” he said softly, a small smile on his face. Niki smiled and raised her glass, Schlatt following suit. “To a new beginning” they crooned.

As Niki drunk, she felt herself hoping that this wouldn’t fall through. Maybe for once she could be optimistic about this again. Maybe, it would be ok. For the kids and for them, they were just teenagers after all.

Maybe they would get the freedom they craved

Hi hello yes. If you made it this far, thank you :D

Uh remember to drink water and sorry for the quality of this, not my best work but i haven’t written dialogue in forever. 

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK]

The restaurant they ended up going to wasn't in Dell Valley. Anna wasn't sure if it was because it was a nicer restaurant that the ones her town offered, or because Elsa wanted to go somewhere they wouldn't be recognised. Or, it may even have been a combination of both. Either way, she wasn't going to complain.

They were seated by a window with a view over the garden behind the restaurant, which also had tables but it was a bit chilly to dine outdoors. Elsa ordered a single glass of white wine, and asked for white grape juice in a similar glass for Anna.

"We can pretend, at least," she whispered once the waiter had left. Then she sat back and picked up the menu. "Hmm… linguine?"

"Mom, I'm not a little kid; I can just get a soda."

"But I wanted you to have something similar so we can toast each other. I just don't want to go to jail when they ask to see your ID for ordering us both wine. Besides…" a slight smirk, "who is 'Mom'?"

Anna rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "You're right, Elsa. Sorry. Not playing my part."

Their drinks were brought soon after, and they ordered. Anna got spaghetti because she was too distracted by the whole situation to think of anything specific and panicked when asked, and Elsa did end up ordering linguine. They also got an order of breadsticks, and a platter of stuffed portobello caps to share.

"Where did you even find this place?" Anna asked.

"Oh, a client took me to lunch here once. I think he was hoping to close a deal of another kind, but I wasn't interested, and he was still a gentleman so the evening wasn't a total loss."

Anna looked aghast. "Elsa!" she cried, though still low enough not to carry to another table. There was a grin on her face as she continued, obviously joking, "I'm offended – do you take all the 'never gonna happen' dates here?"

"Please," Elsa snorted. "Just the one. Plus, the food is quite good – I've been saving this place for a special occasion. Even Kristoff's never been here."

Perhaps the intention was to continue joking, but Anna found that she couldn't. Not when Elsa was – unintentionally or not – being so sweet. She hadn't even told her husband about this place. Aside from a lunch date that happened who-knows-how-long ago, Elsa hadn't brought anyone else here, either. Just Anna. The very thought filled her up with bubbly warmth, and she was grateful when the breadsticks arrived because it saved her from saying something stupid.

Though it also meant that a silence grew between them as they nibbled on the sticks. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but Anna wasn't quite sure how to break it. This wasn't a date – Elsa had made that clear with her "I can't take you on a date". The thought was a little souring, despite it being in the best interests of them both.

However, just when she was about to make up an excuse to hide in the bathroom, Elsa raised her glass. "Ahem."

"Hmm? Oh!" This was the first time Anna had been expected to take part in any kind of official toast, so she didn't catch on right away. In her haste to pick up her wine glass, she almost knocked it over, but caught it in time.

"Oh, Tori." The tone was fond and affectionate. Elsa's eyes were only for her. "I know this is more difficult than we wish it were. But I'm happy you're back in my life. And that we can begin moving forward together."

Clinking her glass with her mother's, she beamed and whispered, "Me, too." They drank deeply before she asked, "You're really sure we have to go back to 'familial only' after tonight? Not trying to be a butt, just like, it seems like it's gonna be hard."

"Yes. Like I said, I'm not comfortable parenting you and dating you at the same time. And since I can't stop parenting you for another few months, we have to sacrifice the other thing." But she was still smiling. Which was explained when she added, "For the time being."

Anna felt giddy. Dating! Elsa was completely willing to give it – give them – a go. Even if they had to restrain themselves for a while, at least it wasn't a hard 'no'. She had something to hold onto.

They both made the effort to enjoy the night, and each other's company. It was all relatively chaste, too – even if Elsa's reaction to Anna's foot accidentally nudging her seemed a bit extreme. But they could do things like that with no expectations of it going further. Anna was unsure if she would ever be able to fully accept that, but that was okay. It didn't matter what kind of relationship they had, or how far they were willing to go, because it was always going to be infinitely better than what Anna had in her old life.

And she still had Punz. Throughout it all, perhaps the most surprising thing was that, not only did she still have Punz, but she also loved her as much as she ever had. More, actually, if she were entirely honest. Her heart ached for her girlfriend in the same way it ached for Elsa, and that… wasn't a bad thing. Just new.

On their way home, Elsa smiled over at her. "I hope this was as fun for you as it was for me. Probably not, but…"

"Elsa, it was great," Anna told her right away. "Honest. I don't want you to ever think I don't like just hanging out with you! It's… I get frustrated, because now I like you in a different way and we have to… y'know, conceal that."

"I know. But we can, and we will for a while yet." Biting her lip as they got back into Dell Valley proper, she was silent for a moment or two. Then she said, "You're the most important person on the planet to me. I know, I know, you're supposed to love all your children equally, but I don't. Because you're the only one I love two ways."

Snorting, Anna joked, "That's probably for the best."

"I agree. I can scarcely handle how our relationship has changed since you came back from your trip; I don't want to think about anything more."

Still, Anna glowed with pride at being the most important person to Elsa. She snuggled down into her seat and looked out the window, watching the scenery move past. "We should do something tomorrow morning," she said. Elsa lifted an eyebrow in question, and Anna felt compelled to shrug. "I mean, I get a day, right? But I didn't see you until after school so it's been less than a day…"

Elsa smiled. "I technically said a night, not a day."

Anna shrugged again. "Okay, how about… you owe me for making me worry?" she tried. It wasn't true – the mere fact that Elsa had come back more than made up for the fact that she left in the first place. Anna tried to tell her this with her tone, and the small smile, but Elsa seemed oblivious to both.

When her mother pulled up to a red light, she actually let out a sigh. It was a sad sound that had Anna's ears pricking up because Elsa should never be sad. Not because of Anna.

"Elsa…?" she asked softly, lips wrapping around the word. Elsa turned to her, and though she smiled, it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You're completely right, An- Tori. I owe you. We can keep this up into tomorrow if that's what you like."

The words sounded so stiff and formal that they actually cut Anna a little bit. Which was silly and not fair, but they certainly did make it sound like Elsa wasn't really that into what they were doing. Which was a total lie.

God. She had no right being this sensitive. None at all.

"Nah, I was just kidding," Anna lied. And the lie felt even worse, so she followed up with, "Well, I wasn't, but… you said one night, and I shouldn't be a brat about it."

"I already said I don't mind."

Now Anna felt like a bitch. Elsa kept telling her over and over that she wasn't comfortable with them doing anything besides being mother and daughter for now; she liked it, sure, but those weren't the same thing. And now she was guilting her into extending a night that was already probably making Elsa as nauseated as it did happy.

"Just sleep with me tonight," she compromised. "N-not in the sexy way; I mean, I want to sleep next to you, wake up with you. Not just because we fell asleep on accident, either. A-and then we can say we had eight-ish more hours, and… call it done? Is that okay?"

Elsa turned to glance at her, a little surprised. As it turned out, not by the words as much as by Anna's tone. Her smile turned quite watery, but she didn't reply right away. It wasn't until they passed through another green light that she did.

"Despite all this, sometimes you can still surprise me with how much you've grown up."

Instantly feeling less grown up because of that phrase, Anna blushed and smiled down at the floorboard, heart beating a little faster. It was the kind of tenderness she had always wanted from her mother. This moment was no longer about Elsa and Tori, even if the night was.

"Can you say something for me? It's dumb, but…"

"What?"

"Just… 'I'm proud of my gay daughter'. Please?"

Elsa let out a light chuckle – but it cut off rather abruptly. And was quiet for a moment. She waited until she had pulled up at a stop sign to turn fully and look at her.

"I'm so proud of everything about my beautiful, courageous, intelligent, lesbian daughter. And that's the God's honest truth."

Tears started immediately, and Anna felt silly for not realising they would. She had been waiting so many years to hear those words, and hadn't really convinced herself that she didn't care anymore.

Elsa pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek and the side of her head over and over, not letting go until someone honked for them to move. It took her a few seconds to let go, and by that stage the car had driven around them. Luckily it was so late, there was barely anyone else on the roads and they could afford to take a little more time.

Never before had Anna felt so completely… beloved. Accepted. She tried to wipe her eyes without it being obvious to Elsa, but she doubted that she succeeded. It didn't really matter.

Once they trundled in through the front door, and before Anna could even speak, Elsa had bundled her up again in a tight hug. It was what she needed. The sexual stuff and teasing was nice – the complimenting and the yearning. But this?

She needed this. Was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. There truly was something to be said about just… being held. That skin-to-skin contact that came with no expectations or potential for a 'further'. And as Anna was held, she came to another realisation: now that she was in this moment, she didn't want it to change. Earlier she may have had something else on her mind other than just 'sleeping' next to Elsa, but now, her whole body just craved comfort and reassurance.

She just wanted her mother.

"Mom…" she sighed. Elsa didn't comment on the name. Instead, she just sighed and buried her face in Anna's hair.

"My baby girl…"

They took their time getting ready for bed, but did it together. Her mother never left her side as they took each other's makeup off, got into a nightgown and PJs, brushed teeth. It was a weird middle ground between mother-and-daughter bonding, and coupley behaviour; they shared private smiles about briefly seeing each other's bodies, but didn't pursue anything. Then they were curled up in Anna's bed.

"You sure you don't want to move to your room?" Anna asked her softly as they snuggled in.

"Not at all. That room is where your father and I sleep, and I think he would appreciate me keeping it separate from where you and I sleep."

"Makes sense."

Yawning, Elsa nuzzled her neck. It took her a moment to whisper, "I've had so many dreams about this…"

"You have?" She felt the nod, and her cheeks bunched with a satisfied smile. "Oh… wow, it's… you know, sometimes I forget that for me, this is a new crush, but for you it's a love that's been burning for…"

"Right. Thirty years."

"Sorry, Mom… I really am sorry this happened. And like, that I let it hap-"

"Shhhhh." Anna calmed, snuggling closer and trying to release her hangups, her anxiousness. "Just rest. We both love each other, and we both did our best. And we'll keep doing our best. That's… all that matters."

"It's all that matters…" Anna echoed. It wasn't until this moment that she realised how truly tired she was. Snuggled next to Elsa, she was asleep within ten minutes. Elsa was asleep within five.

~ o ~

Elsa had never been more grateful for it to be a weekday. Granted, it was a Friday, but it still meant Anna had school and she had errands.

They had awoken almost at the same time. Much to her relief – and Anna's dismay – there had been no sleepy groping or half-awake make-out sessions. Both had very much felt the pull, but at the same time… the night was over. And Elsa was a woman of her word and Anna respected her enough to even try.

Instead they had a pleasant breakfast of fruit and yoghurt before Anna got dressed for school. Elsa didn't bother getting changed – she had nowhere to be this early in the morning.

"See ya, Mom," Anna said, placing a tender, but chaste, kiss on her cheek. Then she headed out the door. Elsa remained in that spot until the sound of the truck vanished down the street.

"Right… I can't put this off any longer."

Elsa took her time getting ready, taking a longer shower than usual. Letting her mind be distracted. She still had the day off, given that she had taken the time to deal with the situation regarding Anna. Now that she was back in 2015, she felt no compulsion to resume daily life.

In fact… she had a question regarding the whole situation. One better put toward an old friend.

Before lunch, she was at Doc Pabbie's home, knocking on his door. At first, he didn't seem to be home, until she wrote a note and began to stick it to the front door. At that instant, it was jerked open.

"Ah, right on time. If you could just add the current time to the note you were writing?"

Blinking at him for a moment, she almost asked why… but then shook her head. She had long ago learned to simply do as Doc asked unless it felt like a step too far. This was a minor matter, and she was only too happy to add the time to her note.

"Thank you." Taking it at once, he put it by the phone and turned to her. "For myself to find in three days. It's much easier to check in with this present day timeline at spaced-out intervals, then backtrack to the moments in time that I was needed. What might I do for you?"

"Ah. Well… I've been mulling this over. The situation; we've discussed it before."

"Between you and your daughter? Yes, yes. My own hubris is to blame, I'm afraid." With a sigh, he turned in the general direction of the kitchen. "Yoohoo?"

"No, thank you. But I'll take a glass of water if you don't mind." Nodding to her, he swept off to the kitchen for his chocolate drink and she followed, having no need to linger. "It's about the time machine. Would you be willing to… loan it to me again?"

Emmett didn't look nearly as surprised as she thought he should. He just turned to her as he opened the fridge, blinking slowly at her.

"And may I ask why you need it?"

Elsa understood his need to ask – he wasn't doing it to be nosy. This was his baby; his greatest invention. She had been lucky that he let her borrow it the first time. Moreover, he had impressed upon her only too well the dangers of time travel before he let her venture forward, promising not to visit the past.

Despite this, she didn't answer straight away, and Doc sighed, "Mrs McFly-"

"Elsa, please."

He looked at her, then turned back to the fridge to pull out two bottles: one Yoohoo, and one of supermarket brand water. "Elsa, yes. Well, Elsa, I would be willing to loan it to you again. I've observed no marked disruptions of the timeline after your last venture. However, forgive me, but I am allowed to be concerned with what your plans are for whatever time you find yourself in."

The scientist was right, as usual. It was no surprise. When he held out her bottle, she took it gladly because it meant she could take a few moments to drink, gathering her thoughts. He didn't seem to notice – if he did, he kept his mouth shut about it.

"It's hard to talk about," she tried at first. "I'm sure you understand…"

Instead of nodding or agreeing, though, Doc's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure I do," he said. "Surely everything you have is right here now, anyway? Wasn't that the purpose of your last visit?"

"Well… physically, yes. I have everything I ever needed. Or wanted. But… there's something else that only time can give us: me."

"I'm afraid that if you want to go back and interfere with-"

"Not back!" she hastily reassured him with a gentle, nervous little laugh. "No no, I have no interest in further interfering with the past. Too worried about ruining the good things about the present. Here's what I was thinking…"

Elsa spoke for several minutes, laying out her hypothesis and her proposed strategy. It was quite a lot for either of them to take in; Elsa herself had half-convinced herself not to bring this up because it sounded insane. By the time she was finished, they had returned to the living room and the Yoohoo was gone, as well as half of the water bottle. Doc's expression moved through several stages, some of which included sharp interest.

"Well… first of all, the procedure itself is one that I had been considering," he told her after her words had come to their end, and he had a minute or two to digest. "But the rest… I will have to give it some thought. After all, in a way, this is thwarting the natural laws for personal gain. On the other hand, I'm not sure how much water my viewpoint holds when you likely wouldn't need this if the natural laws hadn't already been fractured by our young Anna."

"Did you have to say 'young'?" she sighed, rubbing her temples. Then she shrugged helplessly. "Alright. Take all the time you need. For now, I mostly wanted your thoughts on if it's doable, and if it would work without hurting anyone… and to ask whether or not the machine itself could handle that."

"Ah, yes, absolutely it can. Now that it has the Mr Fusion unit to generate its nuclear reactions, all it will require is ordinary gasoline and routine maintenance; no further plutonium necessary. But while I'm considering, I would urge you to do the same; this will mean a huge change within your life. One that I will not be able to undo once you've finished it; that would run far too high a chance of creating an irreparable paradox."

Nodding her understanding of his warnings, she pushed to stand. "Thank you. For listening, even if you don't decide in my favour. I'll… be talking it over with her, and Kristoff, too, but I didn't want to offer unless it was possible."

"Ah!" he said, holding up an index finger to punctuate the word as he also stood and reached to guide her arm toward the door with the other hand. In some ways, he was still a bit old-fashioned; a product of the time period he grew up in, she supposed. "A wise precaution. You're quite sharp, and I've truly enjoyed our chats over the years."

"As have I. To be honest, I'm surprised you're not a cousin or uncle of some kind to me; you feel like family."

"Hmm, destinies that are intrinsically linked? Could be that, could be any number of factors. Something else to ponder." Then he gave her shoulders a brief pat as she readied to leave. "Give Anna my best. She's still welcome to stop by, of course; anytime. Though I have been sidetracked of late."

"Of course. Take care, and… thank you."

He gave a genuine smile and a tip of his head. "You're quite welcome." With that, Elsa took her leave.

So. Her plan was possible – and, not only that, but it was also entirely doable. She had to bite her lip to stop a wide grin from bursting forth, at least while she was in public. As soon as she slid into her car, she found she couldn't contain it any longer. Even her heart swelled, more than in recent weeks – and that was saying something

Of course, she had to talk to Anna about it. And Jennifer, too. After giving it more thought because now that she knew she could enact her plan, she also knew that she had to fully consider the consequences. Doc had said this decision was final, which meant that everyone had to be really sure it was for the best. Elsa already knew what she wanted; after all, aside from the five or six years halfway through, this was something she had been wanting for three decades.

Thirty years was a long time to carry a torch for someone who had vanished. She was one of the lucky few to get a second chance. No way she would be wasting that.

                                           To Be Continued…

[nsheetee]

when it rains, it pours

pairing: mafia boss!taeyong x mafia boss!reader

genre: mafia au || angst

summary: after unexpectedly running into lee taeyong, your childhood friend, you keep meeting up on small dates unknowing that you are both rival mafia bosses.

warnings: mentions of family troubles and poverty, depictions of guns, some swearing

seeing taeyong for the first time since elementary school felt like being splashed with a bucket of cool water

refreshing, eye-opening, and terrifying

everyone wants to forget something, and for you, that something is your childhood

taeyong is a reminder of that time in your life

the time when you walked the long way home from school to avoid your parents, the time that you would stay away the cafeteria at lunch time  since you couldn’t afford food, the time when every day felt like a battle in a never ending war

and taeyong was next to you in that period of your life

so that’s why it hurt when he all of a sudden disappeared

your one anchor, your trustworthy rock, was gone without a reason

and now, 20 years later, you’ll get your explanation

“taeyong?” you ask

the sandwich shop is bustling around you, but he still hears you from his spot in line and turns around

“y/n?” he repeats back in the same tone, looking just as shocked as you

his features are so sharp and cunning, you almost think this is the wrong taeyong

but his big eyes and soft voice assure you, this is your childhood friend

“wow, you look so different- good, different.” he stumbles over his words, still looking starstruck 

“what have you been doing?” taeyong laughs at your straightforwardness, moving with the line as people step up to give their order

“somethings really don’t change, huh? you’re still as direct as ever.”

“I was hardly direct that last time we were together,” you rolled your eyes, “I was 10. and you haven’t answered my question.”

the line keeps moving, you and taeyong eventually order and pay, then move to the side to continue your conversation

“I run a business now, something my dad left me...” the look on taeyong’s face paired with his tone in the last part of his sentence makes you soften

“I'm sorry.” you remember that taeyong’s dad was all he had left when you were younger

he’s an orphan now

it must be emotionally draining, no matter how old he is

“listen, I have to be somewhere soon, but I don’t want this to end here. how about I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

for a second, you don’t remember how to breath

and then taeyong gives you his digits, written on his receipt, and rushes out of the door with a wave

you find some air after he’s gone, his last words turning your stomach with nerves and excitement

-----------

one date turned to two, and two dates turned into weekly froyo dates, and soon taeyong was one of the top contact in your phone

tonight, you have another date planned

unlike all the others, this date seemed to have a different vibe to it

taeyong told you to dress up nice and that he’ll pick you up at 6

up to this point, all your dates have been pretty casual

you can’t help but think he’ll ask to be your boyfriend

you learned early in your life that assuming things like these will almost always end in you looking like a fool

but taeyong is just a bit too predictable for you

light rain sprinkles outside, some warm light illuminates your room as you check out your outfit in the mirror, putting on a jacket and anxiously playing with your hands

you practice saying “no” to his question in your head a million times, the thought of his hurt expression already sending pain to your heart

you truly enjoyed all the time spent with taeyong, and you wish you could get to know him better as more than a friend

but your line of work doesn’t allow for that type of luxury

suddenly, your phone rings, startling you from your spot in front of your mirror and prompting you to walk over and pick up the call, glancing at the caller id 

“what is it, doyoung? I told you not to call me tonight.” you grumble at your left-hand man, your partner in crime when it came to your job

“sorry, but this is important. it’s about that leader of the new mafia that came into town a few weeks ago,” you perk up at his words, “we’ve got some intel about who he is.”

some time ago, a mafia moved into your town

previously, everyone knew that this city is your territory, but apparently these new people don’t care about that

ever since, you and doyoung have been trying to figure out who their leader is, since the identity has been kept a tight secret

“and?”

“the leader goes by tyong, and he inherited his position from his father. not sure what their reasoning for moving here is yet.”

you let doyoung’s words sink in

tyong?

inherited from his father?

this all sounds too familiar to you

and you hate that your mind is immediately pointing fingers to your taeyong

“hello?” doyoung asks on the other side of the line, and you promptly hang up when you hear the sound of a car pulling up to your place 

your phone dings, no doubt taeyong texting you to say that he’s outside

you try to think fast

how do you face taeyong with this new information?

do you go on this date with someone who is potentially a rival mafia leader, or do you go on this date with your old friend

in the end, you think he’s one and the same

grabbing a handgun from your bedside table, you load it as you walk out of your place

the light rain has turned into a torrential downpour, but it doesn’t bother you as you walk through it and slide into taeyong’s passenger seat

“woah, where’s your umbrella? it’s raining cats and dogs-” taeyong shuts his mouth when you hold up the gun to his chest, the muzzle poking through his jacket

yes, you are pretty direct

“tyong?” you ask, and the look on his face proves your thoughts from earlier

part of you is glad that taeyong is tyong, or else you really would look like a fool right now

and a much bigger part of you hurts to know that your childhood friend, someone you trusted years ago and up until now, turned into your rival within a few seconds

“so, you were going to toy with my feelings and get close to me? was that your plan for taking over my city?” each word feels like it weights 100 pounds

but the truth weights a ton

“no. I had no idea who you were when we met in that sandwich shop. you were just y/n, my friend.” taeyong looks calm for having a gun aimed at his chest, his eyes not leaving yours as he speaks

“later, I found out who you are, but I couldn’t stay away. I missed you, a-and I fell... in love.”

“and what now? is love going to make everything okay?” you ask, pushing the gun further into his chest, beads of rain making your hair stick uncomfortably to your face

“it could. we could rule this town together. you don’t have to be alone.”

taeyong sits up straighter and leans in, a dangerous move for someone who is one pull of a trigger away from dying a bloody death

you actually take a moment to think about his preposition

what would working with taeyong be like? 

could you take the chance to share everything you have worked for by your own blood, sweat, and tears with someone who just inherited it from his father?

call yourself selfish, but you deserve everything you have now

and even if taeyong’s intentions are innocent (as innocent as you can get for mafia business) you still don’t feel like sharing your hard earned wealth

“no thanks. I work better alone.”

taeyong thinks you might pull the trigger now

if you had taken a moment to look into the future, you would’ve realized it would make your upcoming endeavors in business a lot more smoother

but, damn it, taeyong planted himself in your heart

not just in the past few weeks

but years and years ago

so you put down your gun, not knowing how much you’ll regret it in the future, but not being able to bare the weight of killing your childhood friend, and give taeyong one last look

“it was nice meeting you, tyong. I hope I never see you around again.”

and with that, you open your car door, slamming it shut behind you and walking into the pouring rain, out of his sight and towards your divided future as rivals

[kinglazrus]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @ave-aria: Valerie Gray is Danny Fenton's Bodyguard AU (*can be Modern AU, Medieval AU, Corporate AU, Full Ghost AU, whatever)

Summary: Valerie knows Danny Fenton, everybody does. Youngest of the family, son and heir, future owner of Fenton Works. Notable for all those reasons and infamous for none of them. Where Maddie and Jack are the local quirks, Danny is the tragedy. And, for the next week, he's the Red Huntress' newest client.

Chapter One: Local Tragedies

Word count: 1988 | [ffn] [ao3] | [next]

Valerie doesn't know what to expect of the Fentons. She knows about them, everyone does, but she's never met them. At least not face to face. The Fentons aren't just citizens of Amity Park, they're a feature of it, like the statue of the city's founder on Main Street, or the novelty billboard that welcomes people into town. Amity Park wouldn’t be the same without them.

They send her a town car. At this point in her career—which admittedly isn't that far—it's standard practice, at least when dealing with richer clients. The aggressively middle class can't afford the car. The lower class can't afford her, which is why she does those jobs for free. No point robbing good people of their money when the Amity elite already pay her extravagantly.

The Fentons aren't exactly the extravagant type, but they're nothing to scoff at, either. On the outside, the car looks fairly normal. Sleek, black, freshly polished and so clean she could probably eat off the hood. It pulls up to her office building, stopping right outside the front doors, snug to the curb.

Valerie doesn't wait for the driver to get out before opening the back door herself. She thinks it's such a ridiculous practice. Are rich people so needy they can't open a door for themselves? With a shake of her head, she picks up her suitcase and slides into the car. She freezes.

Inside, it's nothing like any town car she's been in before. It has the standard four seats, two against the back, two against the front, turned to face each other, but otherwise, it lacks all expected luxuries. Instead of plush leather, the seats are basic vinyl with neoprene covers on top. The carpet is stripped away, replaced with metal panels. Computer screens bearing the Fenton Works logo cover the windows on the left side of the car. The small drink stations Valerie has grown used to over the past couple years are gone. In their place stands a compact computer console on one side of the car and a fully stocked weapons' rack on the other.

Valerie stares at it all, mouth gaping shamelessly, wondering what all of this says about the Fentons themselves. Are they showy? Practical? The number of guns—she counts six—seems unnecessary. But, thinking of her own arsenal compacted into thick bracers on her wrists and cuffs on her ankles, she knows there's no such thing as too many guns when it comes to ghost hunting.

The partition separating the driver from the passengers goes down. The driver turns to face her, and Valerie's mouth falls open even wider. There's no mistaking that red beanie, those bulky half-moon glasses, the impossibly turquoise eyes.

"Tucker Foley?" Valerie exclaims.

"The one and only!" Tucker grins. Turning all the way around, he leans over the partition, elbows braced on the seats facing Valerie. "Haven't seen you since graduation. Feels like yesterday."

"It was two years ago."

Tucker sighs wistfully. "Yesterday."

"You work for the Fentons now? As their driver?" Valerie asks. She always thought Tucker would go big into technology development, coding, something like that. Or become a wanted cybercriminal.

"Me? A driver? And waste all these good looks? Please." Tucker scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "I run the computer division at Fenton Works. When I heard Mr. and Mrs. F were hiring you, I just had to come get you myself."

"You're twenty," Valerie says.

"Hey, cool, you still know how to count. That's a great skill."

"You're twenty, and you're running a whole division at Fenton Works?"

"You're twenty and you have your own security company," he points out.

"One person company.

"One person division." Tucker grins. "It's really just me and my computer. Cyber security against ghosts isn't a big field yet."

Valerie eyes Tucker, unsure how to respond. Whatever she expected, Tucker wasn't it. Now, she feels off-balance, like she's missing something important, and she hates that feeling. It shouldn't matter that much. Amity Park isn't a huge city; the chances of her running into a former classmate are rather high. But Tucker was prepared for Valerie, and she wasn't prepared for him. Childishly, she feels like she's at a disadvantage. Which is ridiculous because she's here to fight ghosts, not Tucker. But his sudden appearance has disarmed her so completely that, if a ghost were to attack right then, she would be too stunned to react.

"You should see the look on your face," Tucker says.

Valerie purses her lips and scowls, wiping away whatever amusing expression has Tucker giggling under his breath. "You should drive."

Tucker's laugh balloons into gleeful cackles as he turns back around. "Whatever you want, Ms. Grey!"

Valerie, fuming, slams her thumb on the partition button, rolling it back up. To her annoyance, she can still hear Tucker's infuriating laugh through the glass.

—

When Valerie says the Fentons are a feature of Amity Park, she really means their laboratory, Fenton Works. Don't get her wrong, Maddie and Jack Fenton are a sight all on their own. On any given day, they can be seen tearing down the street in their bulky weaponized RV, guns blazing, wearing their brightly coloured jumpsuits. Seeing them for the first time is quite the experience. You can easily spot nearby tourists by checking people's reactions to the Fentons.

But Fenton Works. Fenton Works is a monolith dedicated to every crackpot idea the Fentons have ever had. When Valerie was in high school, Fenton Works was a single townhouse standing proudly at the corner of Lady and Red, bearing an obnoxiously neon sign. Above it loomed a massive saucer-shaped structure covered in more satellites than the local news station. Back then, Valerie thought the townhouse was a leering giant. Nowadays, it's dwarfed by the massive warehouse that takes up the rest of the block.

"Damn," Valerie whispers, peering out the righthand window as they turns onto Lady Avenue.

Tucker lowers the partition. "Pretty cool, right?"

Valerie eyes the mural of ghosts decorating the side of the building. "It's something."

Rather than stopping in front of the townhouse, Tucker turns onto Red Crescent and loops around to the back of the facility. Along the avenue, the warehouse is built almost right up to the sidewalk. On this side, however, there's a wide parking lot and, oddly enough, a lush garden surrounding a pond.

"I'm not the only one who thinks that looks weird, right?" She points to the pond.

Tucker cranes his neck, following her finger, and chuckles. "Jazz asked her parents to put that in so that employees have somewhere 'calming' to go. There's a greenhouse up on the roof, too,"

Pressing her cheek to the window, Valerie tries to spot the aforementioned greenhouse, but they're too close to the building now for her to see it.

Tucker pulls into a reserved parking spot just across from the homely picket fence that surrounds the townhouse's backyard. Valerie officially has no idea what to think about the Fentons.

"Come on," Tucker says, throwing open his door. "Everyone's waiting for you."

Valerie grabs her suitcase and climbs out of the car, nudging the door shut behind her. "Everyone?" She looks over the car at Tucker.

He twirls the keychain around his finger. "You'll see."

Valerie expects him to head for the townhouse but, to her surprise, he pivots right and starts walking to the warehouse doors.

"Come on," he calls over his shoulder.

Valerie jogs after him, easily hoisting her suitcase in one hand, and ponders on what the inside the facility looks like. Crates of weapons stacked one on top of the other. An arsenal of ghost hunting vehicles, everything from their patented RV design to their one of a kind all-terrain bus. All-terrain meaning it flies in the human realm and the Ghost Zone. The ground can't stop you if you never touch it. She pictures an honest to god warehouse and prepares herself for exactly that sight when they reach the front doors.

The moment they go inside, however, Valerie promptly decides to never assume anything about the Fentons and how they operate ever again.

"Something wrong?" Tucker asks when he sees Valerie stuck in the doorway.

"No," she says honestly. "It's fine." She steps into the foyer, complete with a receptionist's desk, comfortable armchairs for waiting, and a few potted plants. Looking behind her, she sees floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the pond. Valerie could have sworn the walls were solid from the outside.

"Hey, Octavia." Tucker waves to the receptionist. Pulling a lanyard out of his pocket, he shows her an employee ID card. "I've got the nine o'clock."

"It's four in the afternoon," Octavia, a modest middle-aged woman, says without looking up from her computer.

"Time is relative. Val." Valerie stops gawking at the room and looks to Tucker. "You can leave your suitcase here, unless you need anything from it. Octavia can take it to the guest room."

"I can, but I won't," Octavia says. "They're in the Boom Room."

"Love you too, babe." Tucker clicks his tongue, shooting Octavia double finger-guns, and ducks through a doorway at the back of the room.

Valerie stands awkwardly in the middle of the foyer.

Octavia finally raises her head, giving Valerie a critical look. After a moment, she sighs and holds out her hand. "I'll take your bag. Trust me, Tucker'll be halfway across the building if you don't follow him now. That kid never looks back."

"Thank you." Valerie rushes over, passing her bag across the desk, and follows Tucker. On the other side of the door is a long plain hallway. She looks right, then left, but there's no sign of Tucker. She debates her chances of choosing a random direction and finding him by pure luck. Before she can decide, a long ding rings out. The noise draws her attention to a set of elevators down the hall on her left.

The doors open. Tucker pokes his head out. "Hurry up, slowpoke.

Valerie wonders if punching Tucker in the face will affect her paycheque. Just once. Just a small jab. She won't even break his nose. In the end, she decides not to risk it, settling on a fierce glare as she reaches the elevator.

"This is a big place, you don't want to get lost," Tucker says.

"Then don't leave me behind."

"Not my fault you're slow." Tucker hits the button for the third floor—third out of five.

What on Earth the Fentons need all this space for, Valerie has no idea. She tries to picture it, then remembers how her expectations keep getting smashed to pieces and thinks better of it. There will be lots of time to find out.

"Why Fenton Works?" Valerie asks, filling the silence.

Tucker rocks back on his heels and hums. "Ghost stuff is kind of cool. I get to pioneer a whole new area of cyber security that no one even realizes we need, and I'm not even done college yet. Working here helps me pay for my online classes, too, so I don't even have to leave Amity."

"Why? Sounds like you'd still have a job waiting for you when you graduate." She can't imagine Tucker spilling his cyber secrets to someone else before he can cultivate the field himself. Surely, then, the Fentons would need him on board, no matter how long he puts off working for them.

"Yeah," Tucker nods, "I would. But I'm staying for Danny."

The elevator chimes when they reach the third floor, the doors sliding open. Tucker glides through them without looking back, but Valerie hesitates once again. Danny—Daniel Fenton. She knows Daniel Fenton. Youngest of the lot, son and heir, future CEO of Fenton Works. Notable for all those reasons and infamous for none of them. Where Maddie and Jack are the local quirks, Danny is the tragedy.

[barsformars]

Someday, Somewhere

undercover cop!mingi × mafia boss!yunho ft woosan

t.w - death, suicide, blood, guns, slight violence

g - angst, mafia au

w.c - 1.6k

a/n : aaaaa ok remember when i said i was working on a mafia au thing…. it didn’t work out, obviously. but i was planning to give them such endings anyways so i decided to just compress them into one short imagine.

//

“Drop the gun, Jeong.”

His heart dropped, not at the sound of metal clicking close behind him but at the familiar voice that accompanied along with it. Gun still aiming at the man on the floor, Yunho took a heavy step to the side and pivoted around to face the person that he thought he could trust with his whole life.

Mingi tightened his grip on his gun, his left hand holding onto his right wrist to steady it as his breaths became shaky at the sight of crimson red spotted across the pale skin of the black haired boy. This wasn’t new to Mingi, no. He has seen this side of Yunho - or who he would much rather call Jeong in situations like this - countless of times. 

Yet this time was much different.

Mingi was no longer by Jeong’s side like when he broke fingers, plucked teeth out with bare hands, or plunged his thumb into his victim’s eye sockets and more that were much worse, torturing them until they succumb and tell him information he wanted before he finally ended their pain by murdering them. This time, Mingi was holding Yunho at gunpoint, a lanyard containing his police ID hung around his neck making Mingi feel so sick and suffocated. He hates that he feels this way.

He had already known right from the beginning when his team leader had prepped him to enter the KQZ as an undercover cop that everything would lead to this. But betraying someone he had spent most of the last two years with was a punch to his guts, especially when he knew first hand that there was more to Yunho than a cold hearted mafia boss. There’s no excuse for murder, really, but Mingi’s heart aches for the older boy because he understands. Jeong didn’t want to do what he did either but he had to if he wanted to stay in power, to protect himself.

“Yunho, you don’t have to do this,” Mingi said, barely managing to complete the sentence without his voice cracking.

“He killed my friends,” Yunho seethed through his gritted teeth, the once soft edges of his brown eyes now sharper than ever as he glared at the slightly shorter boy. “Our friends.”

Mingi shut his eyes as the memories from the shootout at the casino came flooding into his mind for the umpteenth time, the pain never lesser than the previous. While most of it was a haze with all the running and crouching as the bullets rained from every direction, the aftermath was something that he remembered in such great detail that it was almost as if he was reliving it everytime he was reminded of it. Mingi doesn’t think he will ever be able to erase that harrowing sight from his mind and he knows Yunho can’t either.

-flashback-

There was San, kneeling beside Wooyoung, his black jeans visibly damp from the pool of blood surrounding the both of them. San didn’t bawl hysterically as he held onto Wooyoung’s torso to let him rest in his arms. Instead, he had broken into a hauntingly beautiful smile that revealed his dimples as he gazed lovingly into Wooyoung’s eyes.

“Damn, you’re dying but you still look so fucking good.” Mingi had heard San choke out, followed by a weak chuckle from the boy that had been shot in the chest. Mingi and Yunho watched in silence from afar as the couple exchanged cheesy words like they usually would, as if nothing was wrong, both of them clinging onto the other equally tightly, desperately trying to find comfort in each other.

“I can’t do this anymore.” It had only been mere minutes before Wooyoung breathed out shakily with tears streaming down his face. “I’m scared.”

“Shhh….” San hushes as he brushed the blonde strands to the side and tucked it behind Wooyoung’s ears lightly, a faint smile still present on his face. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I’ll always be with you.”

Mingi gulped, fully knowing what San’s words meant and hence Yunho and him stood there silently as they see a single tear rolling down his cheek, the smile fading slowly when Wooyoung goes limp in his arms. They knew that there was nothing they could say or do at this point to force San into breaking the couple’s promise to each other.

They were too crazy in love.

The only thing Mingi could do was to cup his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out as San pressed the muzzle of his gun against his temple.

They were indeed insanely in love, Mingi realised only when San pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation. Yunho wrapped his arms around Mingi’s head and buried his face in his shoulders as the gun went off, not wanting him to witness as San slumps over Wooyoung. The older boy held onto Mingi as he tried to breathe, his lower lip quivering as he stares at the corpses of two of his closest friends, wide-eyed.

-end of flashback-

“They won’t come back to life,” Mingi replied, trying his hardest not to break down. “But if you pull that trigger, I’ll lose you too.”

Orders to shoot to kill if Yunho ever harms the president’s son had been given out and Mingi cannot disobey as much as he wanted to.

“Ye-yes, don’t shoot me. It’s not worth it.” The man thought he was making a point but Mingi wanted nothing more than to shoot him in the face too. He was a scumbag who often dwelled in criminal activities but got away with everything because his father could afford to bury all the evidence for him.

If he hadn’t fired first that day and triggered a fight, it wouldn’t have came to this.

Wooyoung and San would still be alive. They would still be bickering with each other as they scrolled through Netflix, unable to decide which show to watch. They would still be happily eating takeouts as they wait for their next job. They would still be living their lives just like normal people their age would, outside their mafia activities, of course.

They were only young boys who were handed the bad cards in life and had no other choice but to play it that way.

None of them wanted this.

“Yunho, I’m begging you.” Mingi pleads when he hears over the in-ear that the special forces were already charging in.

“Did you mean it?”

Yunho’s voice was small and broken.

“When you told me you loved me. Or was it ju-”

“I meant it, Yunho. And I still stand by my words.”

The first time those three forbidden words ever escaped Mingi lips was when they were lying in bed, their sweaty naked bodies tangled under the sheets as the cold night breeze came through the open balcony, leaving goosebumps on the exposed parts of his arms. It had already been slightly more than a year since Mingi had joined the gang and caught Yunho’s eyes but it was the first time he ever felt safe enough to be vulnerable in front of the mafia head. Yunho had said that plenty of times before him so when Mingi had finally reciprocated his feelings, he had sworn to himself to keep him by his side forever.

Yunho had always been alone, his father too busy running the mafia when he was still alive and his mother too sick in the hospital bed to keep him accompany. He couldn’t go to school because his father was insistent on training him to be the next leader, saying that the Jeong family should always be right at the top.

Like Wooyoung and San, Yunho didn’t choose this life. He doesn’t want it.

Yunho wants to meet new friends in college like other people his age, he wants to learn about things not related to money and murder, he wants to be able to live without being in fear that someone in his mafia would backstab him.

Yunho wants to fall in love. And Yunho wants Mingi more than ever now that his identity has been exposed. It hurts to know that Mingi was another cop waiting for him to slip up so that he had evidence to turn in and lock him behind bars but Mingi was also the only person who truly accepted every part of him.

But it’s too late.

As the special forces stood behind Mingi and surrounded Yunho, Yunho only knows one easy way out.

Mingi sees Yunho’s face darkened as he turned his attention back on the begging man sprawled on the marble floor of his own mansion, his finger pressing a little harder on the trigger.

No, no, no, no, no….

No!

Everything happened so fast.

Mingi sees the hole in the president’s son’s head and the next thing he knows, Yunho was already collapsing onto the floor as dozens of bullets flew at him, hitting him everywhere.

Yet everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Mingi hears nothing but the deafening ringing silence in his ears even when Yunho’s head hit the cold floor with a loud thud.

Yunho’s vision’s a blur but he sees Mingi throw his gun to the floor as he ran forward in a futile attempt to catch him, his jaw agape.

“Y-yun…Yun…h-ho..yunho…yunho..yun…no no no…yunho…y-yunho.”

That’s all Yunho hears as Mingi shook his body, trying to keep him conscious.

As the uncontrollable gut-wrenching sobs tore through Mingi’s chest, Yunho let his tears fall, his heart shattering into a million pieces.

It’s the only way Mingi would get over him. What was the point of holding onto him when he was going to be locked up for life?

It’s for the better, Yunho tells himself.

“Mingki.” Yunho whispered softly as he lifted his hand up to find Mingi’s bloodied ones, wanting to hold them in his one last time.

As Yunho rests his hand on Mingi’s, the latter began quaking violently as he gazed back into Yunho’s eyes that were already slowly turning into empty voids.

Even in his last moments, Yunho is on the run, the ticking seconds chasing close behind him. Mingi just wants him to rest.

“Shhh….” All Mingi manages to push out of his dry throat are hushes as he took Yunho’s hand and brought it up close to his face, wanting to feel the warmth one last time before his blood drained out. “Shh…”

“Someday, somewhere…” Yunho breathed out as he fought his heavy lids, using all the strength he had left to stretch a finger out to brush against Mingi’s hot skin.

Mingi shook his head as he shushed the older boy again and again, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to handle his last words. He knows that it will haunt him forever just like Wooyoung and San.

But maybe this was the punishment he had to bear for being a traitor. He deserved this much.

“Let’s meet again.”