#Which is a really sick angle. My best friend's mom used it against her.

[lipglossboy]

Disgusting holy shit

and while we’re talking abt noah schnapp as a fandom, we should also be calling out brett gelman who is a HUGE zionist and is posting increasingly troubling calls for violence, is vehemently opposed to a ceasefire, and posts pictures of normal (aka non-famous/public figures) pro-palestinian protestors to his insta story, basically saying “find them” to his almost 1 millions followers

[introvertguide]

The Road Movie

Most movies follow a general script type depending on genre, and this is used to tell a story that has a satisfying ending. It is interesting when a movie mixes up type and tone and goes against genre type. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it is terrible. Great directing and acting can make the subversion of expectations less jarring (or more depending on the end goal), but the end goal and tone allows us to attach a film to a genre. But what about films that aren't about the end goal? There are many films that are in a sub-genre that focus on the journey with little regard to the end goal. These are what are called "road movies" and can fall under many different genres since the end goal doesn't really matter. Let's address some famous road movies through the years that are also classified in a variety of other genres:

Huckleberry Finn (1931)

The OG of travel films, this was the sequel to Tom Sawyer (1930) and had the same child actors. This wasn't what you would call financially successful, but this was largely due to the Great Depression. The 1939 version of the movie did a lot better and was one of the well known films of child actor Mickey Rooney. This story of travel was an early role for many actors including Rooney, Ron Howard, and Elijah Wood. Although there were threats of death and portrayals of slavery, this film was considered a family adventure in the pre-code film era. I guess a boy escaping his abusive father in the company of an adult escaped slave where people are actively attempting to rob and kill them was considered a fun family romp in the early 30s. This was the same story that came from a book that was banned in schools during the 1980s. It is a great story and I love the works of Mark Twain; I am just surprised at the genre.

Stagecoach (1939)

This is a great movie that transcends the Western genre of which it is categorized. A group of people all have different reasons for traveling from an Arizona territory over to New Mexico. There is word of vengeful thieves and angry Apaches that threaten the small band of travelers. It is actually very intense because the threat feels very real throughout the film. The entire film focuses on the journey and the relationships forged (and broken) on the way. This was the breakout role for John Wayne and was part of an amazing string of films directed by John Ford and starring John Wayne.

Easy Rider (1969)

This is a film that really spoke to the hippie movement during the Vietnam Era. It is statement on how difficult it is to truly be free and how society fears that freedom and tries to destroy it. The film might very well have the worst dialogue of any movie I have ever seen. Actors Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper were actively using drugs throughout film production, so the real draw was the sweet rides and the moving soundtrack. This is a movie where I actually want more driving montages and less character development because I don't identify with the characters at all. Maybe it is a generational gap.

Paper Moon (1973)

This film is amazing. It is the story of a traveling grifter who takes a little girl on the road with him after her mother dies. He teaches her how to make a living cheating people and they form a father-daughter type of relationship. It is a comedy drama that won the girl an Oscar for best supporting actress when she was only 10. Some nice back story, the girl is Tatum O'Neal and is the actual daughter of the grifter, played by Ryan O'Neal. It is kind of strange, but this is a "coming of age" film on the road.

The Blues Brothers (1980)

Now this is what I am talking about. Two brothers go on a trip after being released from jail because they got a message from God. I am pretty sure that this film still holds the record for most crashed vehicles in a single movie. It is also interesting that the film is technically a musical. The brothers stop at different locations and songs break out. In between stops, they are chased by the police in an almost demolition derby style chase. I really enjoy this movie and believe that it really keeps a fast pace (literally and figuratively), but, like many road films, I can't say it is good because it is more of an experience than a story.

Thelma and Louise (1991)

This was an interesting twist on the "run from the law" type of film. Two women are friends and decide go on a weekend retreat. They get in trouble after killing a man who tries to assault them and have to run from the authorities. It has a reputation for being very feminist (despite being directed by accused mesogenist Ridley Scott) because of the negative portrayal of men. It obviously wasn't that bad since it was nominated for 6 Oscars including both leads for best actress. In fact, Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon were both nominated for best actress at the Academy Awards, the BAFTAs, and the Golden Globes. It is the quintessential road film since the end goal is constantly changing and best defined as "away from here."

Natural Bork Killers (1994)

This was kind of a strange film. It is a crime drama where the audience follows two killers with traumatic childhoods as they meet and go on a murder spree. Similar to Bonnie and Clyde, but with gory murders as the focus over bank robberies. It is directed by Oliver Stone, and criticizes the glorification of violence by the media. It is most definitely a road movie because the end goal for the two is simply to be together and enjoy the rush of breaking the law. Hm. It is actually quite a bit like Bonnie and Clyde. Interesting. I would like to make a note that my mom hates this film because of the shaky cam and Dutch angles. It made her feel sick at the theater.

Road Trip (2000)

OK. This is far and away my least favorite film on this list, but it is the most famous "boner road comedy" that I am familiar with. It is a high school/college coming-of-age film that focus on the sexual pursuits of a group of young men. These types of films are marked with gross out humor, gratuitous nudity, and boys trying to have sex. There was a bunch of films like this that came out around the early 2000s and they all had to do with boys traveling some place in search of idealized sex (the plot on this one is a little different, something to do with a sex tape) and generally they find that the best girl for them was there by them all along. It takes a nice idea of character development and throws raunchy jokes and boobs at it. I was not a fan, but it was definitely a thing.

Death Proof (2007)

This is much better shlock. It is the Tarantino version of exploitation grindhouse films of the seventies, but updated to be a women empowerment film. It was part of a double feature that was paired with a horrific zombie outbreak film directed by Rod Rodriguez, but this one is much better on its own. It is the story of an old stunt man who travels around looking for unsuspecting victims whom he can run down in his indestructible car. This is a great example of what a road movie can be because Tarantino took the concept of a slasher and put it completely on the road.

Mad Max Fury Road (2015)

Here is an action revenge film in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where most of the film is driving. The producers couldn't find a director who they trusted with remaking George Miller's Mad Max franchise so the 70 year old Miller said "hold my beer" and made this masterpiece that is arguably better than any of the first three (edit: I guess Miller always intended to direct but it took so long to go into production that he joked in interviews about giving up on it). The original trilogy with Mel Gibson presents an amazing world where most people are nomadic and traveling can be a life or death proposition. Fury Road is the further adventures of the character and his interaction with one Furiosa. The use of many practical effects on moving vehicles that was garnished with CG effects made for one of the best action films in the last decade. It was more than a simple movie about traveling; it was a land were the road was life and everything surrounded the ability to be mobile enough to get supplies in a dead world.

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

This is by no means all of the road movies. The Wizard of Oz is technically a road movie. The Grapes of Wrath is a critically acclaimed road movie from around the same time. Comedies like The Cannonball Run, Smokey and the Bandit, and National Lampoon's Vacation can all be classified in the genre. Rain Man is one of the best films of all time and it can be classified as a road movie. What it comes down to is that, when considering characters, a writer should think about the journey itself and think of how the leads interact with this entity. The road might be the best character in the whole story.

[misterewrites]

Mystery at the Salt-Irons

Hey everyone! E here with a new chapter! kept you waiting huh? Haha sorry it's been a busy few weeks. Nothing serious but I had to keep starting and stopping this chapter so it threw me off but it's here, it's ready and I hope you enjoy it!

I have some special guests in this story, some ocs made by my friends because you know what I can so I will and honestly, they were really great oc ideas guys. so keep an eye out for @hains-mae and Biz_fantasist  OC(I don’t know if she has a tumblr but it’s late so I’ll edit it later) 

That's it for me! I hope you are all stay safe, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, push to give everyone the vaccine cuz this is getting ridiculous. I hope you have a great week, thank you for reading. I deeply appreciate and feel free to share it with your friends, give me feedback. Reblog and comments all that fun stuff! Thanks and I'll see you soon!

Here’s the chapter over at Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/85394095

Here’s the story from the beginning if you’re curious what this is about

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

and here’s a list of all my work both original and the various fandoms I write for

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary:  Finnrick is called to solve a mysterious case as per his job as the city's only Private Investigator wizard but as he sinks deeper into the case, the more it seems that something is happening behind the scenes. Of course with an old friend in town and dark magic surrounding the case, Finnrick is as busy as ever. Ain't no rest for the wicked.

-----

The Salt-Iron Flats weren’t anything special on the surface: An unassuming apartment complex on the north side of Newton Haven, the only thing most people remembered about the place was how the price tag hurt their souls.

Of course, unlike the general housing market, the Salt-Irons (affectionately referred to by the locals) actually had a very reasonable reason for fetching such a high rate: The salt and cold iron baked into every single brick that formed the building.

If you weren’t in the magical know, you’d think it utterly insane that you’d be forced to pay such a large amount of cash because some weirdo decided to make a new age artistic statement with bricks. Of course, if you are aware of the greater community at large, you’d knew you were paying the insanely large sum because someone decided to make the Salt-Irons the single most protective location in the city.

Most mortals have forgotten their history, their lore and collective knowledge passed down throughout the generations: Why their ancestors used to place lines of salt in front of the door and windows, why the elders always suggested to the braver, recklessly youthful family members to carry iron whenever they ventured through the wild.

Outer beings were repelled by salt and iron. No one really had an idea why fae, angels and demons weren’t fond of salt or iron and there's been plenty of arguing about the subject but all in all the fact remained they did not do well when faced with either.

That was the main reason Finnrick didn’t find himself in the north side of town often.

Well that and the zealous Gate Keepers. Those guys were freaks but between them and the Salt-Irons being the only supernatural community up here, Finn never got a case from the area.

Until today.

The Salt-Irons were great at protecting you from any outside threats that wished you ill will: It didn’t protect you from anything you decided to bring in with you.

It was five in the morning when Finnrick got the call. The M.R.R.D representative didn’t have much to offer beyond the address and floor but he thanked her all the same.

Finnrick yawned tiredly, stretching the tension out of his neck while he sipped his coffee. He let out a sigh of relief as the sun slowly rose into the sky.

The Salt-Irons was a twelve story tall building painted a ghastly pale green that made Finnrick sick just looking at it.

“People are paying how much to live in that shade? I’d ask for discount if I were them.” Finnrick laughing to himself, making his way into the apartment complex.

Luckily the interior was much nicer than the outside: Everything was well kept and cleaned. Not a single speck of dust in sight and the wooden stairs didn’t creak when Finnrick placed his foot on them.

Which was good given Finnrick needed to go up seven flights of stairs.

Finnrick wheezed a little, wiping the sweat from his brow when he reached the seventh floor. He glanced down the hall one way then the other as he began to search for room 707 which basic deductive reasoning suggested should be around the corner.

Finnrick crushed the empty foam cup and tucked it into his coat pocket as he made his way to 707. It was a simple wooden door and immaculately spotless just like the rest of the place. He rose his hand and gently rapped on the door.

No response.

He frowned, checking if he was still alone in the empty hallway and rose his hand towards the door frame.

His eyes glowed with a blue energy as he whispered softly “Revelis”

The door gleamed with a bluish hue for a moment before fading away without a trace.

No protective spells laced over the frame so the only thing Finn had to worry about now if it was locked.

He tried the knob, unsurprised when it swung open silently.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s expecting you” Finnrick justified to himself as he pushed the door in.

He nearly staggered backwards: The air tasted thick and foul like something had been left rotting inside. His skin prickled with anxiety, a chill running down his spine with each step he took further in.

Finnrick took deep, calming breathes while doing his best to ignore the bitter taste that seem to cling the air within.

He noticed the trail of footsteps, perfectly preserved in what appeared to be black dust leading deeper into the living room.

“Hey da! You here?” Finnrick called out, carefully stepping closer “You and ma still married?”

There was a deep grunt of acknowledgment before a voice responded “Sorry son, we’re divorced now. She got custody of you.”

“Well fuck. I guess I’m going to be eating kale and poorly cooked spinach for the rest of my life.”

Garrus Valka was not in fact Finnrick’s father, adoptive or otherwise. He was actually one of the highest ranked officers of the Magical Rapid Response Department: An elf clocking in at 200 years old with richly tanned skin. His bluish gray hair was slicked back in his preferred style. Garrus’s had his back turned to the detective but Finn knew his sliverish gray eyes were deep in concentration as he took down notes about the surroundings. His beautifully inhuman features were marred with a scar on the right side of his face: burnt skin on his cheek, healed by time and various surgeries. An old war wound though Finn never got the full story.

He was dressed in typical M.R.R.D fashion: Dark blue windbreaker, jeans and a blue shirt with the words “Powered by coffee and spite” splashed across the front. His Winchester rifle was slung across his back, ready for any action that may befall the elf.

“Drift.” Garrus greeted teasingly while offering a hand.

Finnrick gave it a playful shake “Da. So is mom here or she trying to smite pigeons again?”

“THEY TRIED TO STEAL MY HOTDOG!” Garrus’s partner Eden screamed from another room “I SHALL BRING MY GOD’S WRATH UPON THEM!”

“You know when they mean justice.” Finnrick called out “I don’t think they mean against winged rats.”

Eden chuckled darkly “You know not their sins.”

“Okay.” Finnrick nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see him “If you say so. What happened Da? Aside powerful necromancy.”

“Powerful necromancy” Garrus replied cheekily “and missing persons.”

Finnrick rose an eyebrow “Persons? More than one?”

“Two: A father and son. Richard Charles and his son Richard Jr. Recluses it seems. Neighbors hardly saw them. Mostly kept to themselves.”

Finnrick pursed his lips thoughtfully “Any magical abilities?”

“They’re not on records if that’s what you mean.” Garrus answered “Never signed up in the academy, not registered with The Council. If they were practitioners they didn’t tell anyone.”

“So what was the spell? I just smell the remnants of spookiness.”

“Hadn’t noticed the rest of the room huh?”

Finnrick frowned before finally getting a good look at the rest of the room: Every inch of the apartment was blanketed with the same black dust that he found in the entrance way. Inches and inches of the substance and that wasn’t the strangest part.

Everything was bent at different and odd angles: chair with crooked legs, the wall clock warped and twisted, the fridge leaning like someone folded it in half. Floorboard reached for the sky and walls split inward.

There was a common misconception about magic. Most people thought spell casters, especially wizards, could command reality to their wills. That magic was capable of impossible feats and it was as simple as snapping your fingers.

The truth was all magic, ranging from divinity to free range nature, was performed on a micro scale. Practitioners did not alter reality but rather shortcut it. Throwing fireballs was as simple as rapidly heating the air until it combusted. Turning invisible was less about vanishing completely as it was bending the light around you to not be seen. Magic was rooted in reality and imagination. If you had the magical strength to perform the magic, the magic often followed your lead.

Of course there were spells that required much more than magical hand and willpower. Powerful magic, like summoning outer beings or raising an army of zombies, required both time and materials. Magic was like any other energy: you needed enough of it to perform what you wanted. The human body could only generate so much magic without dying and resting was necessary to replace any expended in the use of spells. Materials were guidelines for the spell. Feathers for anything with flight, ash for fireballs etc etc.

The other thing needed was to gather energy and store it for the spell’s use. There were different ways to achieve this: Wands, talismans, potions were basically magic soups. The most efficient way to gather energy was the wizards preferred way: Circles.

Finnrick eyed the room closely this time, murmuring under his breath about angles and trajectory. Garrus paid him no mind, well familiar with the private investigators methods.

“If this went like that” he gestured to the wall clock “and that went here.”

Finnrick glanced about, carefully walking about as if worried he was going to step on a landmine.

“Here.” Finnrick found himself staring at a spot in the middle of the room “Ventus.”

He gestured with a hand and light breeze filled the room. It brushed away some of the dust covering floor, revealing the outline of a half melted metal ring.

“What is it?” Garrus turned curiously

“Spell circle. The source of the explosion. I’m willing to bet it’s custom made. Copper, steel. Maybe some bits of tin couldn’t stand the surge.”

“No iron or sliver?”

Finnrick shook his head “That’s for containing or repelling monsters. Necromancy is more about drawing in the evil entities. Or sucking out life.”

Garrus sighed tiredly “Don’t touch?”

“Only if you want to live to see retirement. Might have some pent up magic ready to blow outwards.”

“Understood. I’ll call in our guys. I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Finn nodded gratefully while pulling out a vial and motioning to the elf “Mind if I do?”

“Be my guest, you might find something we’d miss.”

Finnrick smiled gratefully before scooping up some of the dust and sealing it within the vial.

“Take care Garrus, stop fighting birds Ma!”

“Flying rats!”

-----

The cafe was lively despite being early but that was no surprise given it was Mother’s. Mother’s was the single best food establishment in all Newton Haven and if anyone disagreed, they were allowed to have their opinions.

They were also allowed to be wrong.

Finnrick paused in the doorway, breathing in the scent of well cooked eggs and sweet lemonade. The pop and sizzle of heated grease brought a sense of comfort to the hard working private investigator.

“Finny Drift!” Maddie Copperstone called from behind the counter “How’s my favorite customer holding up?”

Maddie was 40 years young with tastefully curled dark brown hair. Human, little on the short side but fierce. She wore a simple red blouse and jeans, both stained with flour that the apron around her waist did not prevent.

Finnrick bounced over cheerfully, reaching over the counter to give the matron the biggest hug he could muster “I’m good Maddie. Working a case.”

Maddie’s brown eyes searched his face carefully “You always working Finny. You resting as much?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Maddie let out a disbelieving chuckle “You weren’t ever a Scout.”

“Honorary scout after I stopped that bear from eating them.”

“Thought it was a giant raccoon.”

“Yes but people don’t take giant raccoon seriously. He here?”

Maddie clicked her tongue disappointingly but motioned to the booth at the far end of the establishment “Rest.”

Finnrick rose his hand in surrender “After.”

“Never you mean!” Maddie shouted after him.

Amos Frye hadn’t changed much since last he was roaming around Finnrick’s neck of the woods: Handsome with soft gray eyes that reminded Finn of gathering storm clouds. His long black hair was tied in a messy bun held up by a golden pin, a braided strand hung loosely near his face. His beard was much shorter than what Finnrick remembered though he noted the unkempt split ends indicated that Amos hadn’t trimmed it in a few weeks. His iconic dark red sleeveless jerkin and black jean combination would look ridiculous on a lesser man but had allowed the monster hunter to show off his muscular frame. His brown skin was a bit more pale than usual so no doubt Amos had been operating at night lately.

“Finnrick, you cheeky bastard! I am so glad you came!” Amos beamed happily, his various bangles and bracelets clinking together in equally joyous celebration as the two shook hands.

“Amos! Happy to see you.” Finn beamed brightly as he slid into the booth across his old friend “Why though? Family trouble?”

Amos’s joyfully gleam turned dark for a moment.

“No. Have you…?”

Finnrick shook his head quickly “Not a word. Sorry, I hadn’t meant to…”

Amos waved the apology away “No worries cuz. I understand why you’d think that. Coming across the pond isn’t a spur of the moment thing and Os has always been the black sheep of the family. I suppose no news is good news.”

“Right.” Finnrick cleared his throat awkwardly “So what’s the trouble? I doubt you’d call me up for a nip and chat.”

“Rightly so.” Amos confirmed, reaching into the bag at his side and pulling out a folder “Hunting business as usual cuz.”

That made sense: Amos was the latest of a long family whose specialized business was monster hunting. The Fryes had been striking at things that went bump in the night for centuries ever since the first Frye defended the folk of some underground society.

Amos was an average wizard if Finnrick was being generous. That was not a slight against his old friend, it was a matter of fact: Amos spent most of his time honing the physical aspects of his profession which was obvious given the size of his arms. Any spells he knew were purely for defensive or preventive measures so he often communicated with Finnrick for higher quality and complex spellwork.

Finnrick took the folder from Amos and began pouring over its contents.

Most were quickly scrawled notes Amos had noticed about his quarry: Long sliver hairs, canine in nature. Large paw prints found in the areas it had been sighted, far too big to any natural wolf. Wulfvur and werewolf were hastily written and as quickly crossed out. A pattern of hanging out in wild areas, often forests and swamps.

There were pictures too: flashes of sliver, blurs of fangs and muzzles darting in and out of camera frame. It was always a distance away, sprinting deeper into the wildness. It was hard to tell from the photos but Finn guessed it might’ve been 10 feet tall at the very least.

“Why we hunting wolves now?” Finnrick asked curiously.

Amos flagged down the waitress “Contract given to my pa. It was hanging around the marsh lands of the jolly old isles. Someone wanted it gone.”

Something wasn’t clicking with Finn “and you followed it here? From England?”

“Nah cuz” Amos gave a cheeky grin “I tackled it through a portal and found I illegally crossed into America.”

“Ah.” Finnrick nodded in understanding “Fae.”

“Fae?” Amos frowned thoughtfully “I thought that too but I never heard of any snarling wolfie breaking into homes and snatching out wee younglings in them old folktales.”

“Fae are weird.” Finnrick shrugged “Their whole shtick is not making any sense. I had to expel a cat the size of a bus once. Double decker tall.”

Amos whistled in appreciation as he scratched his bread “So fae. Slippy fellow as you can tell. Whatcha recommend?”

“What’s the contract?”

“Banishment. It’s looking like wolfie ended up in the wrong part of town.”

“I think you mean next town over. Fixed a pattern yet?”

“Not yet but I wasn’t looking for one.” Amos admitted “Thought I was tracking some mutant. Fae changes a lot. Magical circles?”

“Easiest way to catch it.” Finnrick agreed “Sliver for sure. Iron would hurt it and based on your files, it hasn’t done anything than thin the local wildlife population. No need to anger mister big bad wolf.”

“Good call. I got some talent to handle a few circles but tracking is not really my speed.”

“I’m on a case but if you swing by the M.R.R.D, maybe they’ll loan you a wizard.”

Amos let out a disappointed sigh “I need to take care this sometime this year Finny. Bloody bureaucracy probably set me back a month at least.”

“There’s always Jaime but she’s pretty busy at work.”

“Jaime huh?” Amos smiled mischievously “I haven’t talked to your sister in a long time.”

“I will curse you.” Finnrick playfully threatened “And not no simple hex either. I’ll make you bald.”

Amos gasped dramatically, clutching at his hair protectively “You wouldn’t dare mate.”

“Shinier than the sun.”

“Okay, okay” Amos conceded “I’m kidding. She’s with Casey anyway. Good couple. Cute couple. He still hopelessly selfless and she still trying to fast track her way to power?”

“Yep.”

“You gonna fix that?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s their lives. Their choices.”

“Idiots.” Amos chuckled “the lot of them.”

“All you need is love?”

“Spoken true the gospel of my land.”

-----

A few hours later with a brainstorm session completed and a promise to help out the next day, Finnrick left Amos to his work and continued with his own.

It was noon now and as the sun rose high in the sky, Finnrick found himself at the Grimyard.

The Grimyard was the premiere spot for all things magical in Newton Haven: Rows and rows of shops specifically catering to the magic community. The streets were paved with century old cobblestone and the buildings here were various hues of faded brick and mortar. It was easy to get lost in the Grimyard if it was your first time as the Grimyard did not spread out, it stacked downward. Layers upon layers of the Grimyard were actually underground to allow those with issues against the sun to sell their goods and services at all times of the day. Don’t let the dark fool you, anyone with worthy talent or product was here in the Grimyard.

Normally Finnrick would wander around a bit, checking out the various businesses and protective wards around the mile long patch of land but he was on the clock and the sooner he began to figure out what was going on, the sooner he could stop it.

Luckily for him, his destination was right here on the top floor of the marketplace. Specifically furthest back corner.

Knightly Ore was ran by the Knight family. Originally they only sold rare metals and ores which were necessary components for some of the more complicated magicks. At some point the owners expanded into selling more alchemical materials and eventually brewing potions, salves and such for a fee.

Despite decent business, it was the most rundown building in this part of the Grimyard: Broken window shudders with the paint faded down to the original shade when the business first opened decades ago. The humble black door was crooked and creaked whenever it moved

Finnrick knew the owners fairly well but here wasn’t here for them. He was here to see their son.

He pushed past the building, ducking into the alley that led to the lot directly behind the shop.

“Halt!” A voice called out “Who seeks the Brewmaster of the Grimyard?”

“It is I, Finnrick the detective. I got money and I need work done”

The Brewmaster was Theodore Knight, an incredibly talented alchemist who didn’t have the same opportunities Finnrick did: He was pretty tall for his age (14 or 15, Finnrick lost track once or twice) but clearly a teenager given his short lavender hair had a few strands dyed red. His eyes were an unnatural pale blue, paler than the blue of the sky. He wore the usual attire Finn often found him in: A sleeveless dark blue hoodie with a fist sized red gem clasped in front just under his neck and a lighter shade blue t-shirt. He wore black finger-less gloves gripping his brown messenger bag slung around his shoulder. A matching brown pouch hung around the waist of his gray cargo shorts and his brown boots were kept clean despite his place of business was in an alley behind his parents shop.

Theo jumped out from a hidden shadowy corner of the lot “Finn, whatcha got for me now?”

Finnrick reached into his pocket, showing the eager teen the vial that held blacken dust within.

“That’s it?” Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes “I was expecting something…...cooler.”

He took the vial and raised it to the sun. Theo gave it a rough shake and watched it carefully for any properties the strange substance would display.

Theo frowned, clearly unsatisfied by what he saw “You brought me ash? Plain ash? It’s your money but even I think it’s a waste.”

“It’s ash?”

Theo shot the detective a look that screamed how obvious it should’ve been “Yes, ash. Thicker than what I’ve seen but ash all the same.”

Finnrick bit his cheek thoughtfully.

“Look Finn, you know my rates. I dunno what you want me to do but standard fees apply.”

“I’ll paying double.”

The Brewmaster’s eyes narrowed suspiciously “Double for ash? What’s so special about it?”

“Oh nothing." Finnrick pretended to look disinterested “Aside it was taken directly from a crime scene: Necromancy and cast via a half melted spell circle.”

It took Theo a minute to allow the implications of what Finnrick said to sink in. His eyes shifted from suspicion to wild excitement.

“Really?!” Theo clutched the vial like it was his first born child “Necromancy really doesn’t like many alchemy processes. It’s not going to be easy for me.”

“I know right?” Finnrick grinned impishly “It’s almost like I’m going to have to pay double for it.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to….” Theo pouted unhappily “Ha freaking ha. Okay smart guy, pay up.”

Finnrick handed over 50 gold. Theo took it eagerly, his eyes lightening up with glee.

Theo paused for a moment, his face turning oddly serious for a teenager.

“It might take me awhile depending on what you want.”

“I want to know what’s in it. Necromancy requires specific ingredients. After that it’ll be easier to track the seller.”

“And the buyer!” Theo blurted out excitedly “Smart.”

Finnrick ruffled his hair playfully “I wish I thought of it. You keep this up and you’re going to run me out of business.”

“I’ll text you when I have something.”

“Pleasure as always Theo.”

“It’s Brewmaster.”

-----

It was 2 in the afternoon when Finnrick made his way back to the Salt-Iron. He stood outside the complex, tossing the remains of his pizza into his waiting maw and crumpling the can of soda he was drinking before tucking into his coat pocket.

“What’s this?” Finnrick asked, utterly confused by the crushed foam cup he pulled from within “Oh right my coffee. I’ve been really at today.”

Finnrick wiped his hands clean and made his way inside the Salt-Iron once more, mulling over the details of the case as he ascended up the stairway.

Blacken ash cast by a spell circle. Both father and son missing with no indication where they went too. Recluses and rarely seen. Necromancy within a threshold.

It was hard to tell how deeply the father and son were involved in spell. Someone who had access to the apartment was behind it no doubt. Spell circles were the most consistent way to cast magic but they took time to build, set and channel energy. You didn’t build a spell circle without knowing exactly what you plan to do with it.

The nature of the magic was also a mystery: Dark magic had various applications and not a single one was good. Finnrick hadn’t much experience with that branch of magic but there was nothing logical about the aftereffects: Ash spread throughout the apartment, clinging to everything like a second skin. There was no signs of an outward blast given that nothing bent in the same direction. Everything in that room decided to twist in whatever wayit felt like. If the spell was supposed to draw in something then chair legs and wall tiles would’ve been pulled directly towards the circle.

“Curiouser and curiouser Alice” Finnrick spoke to no one in particular.

He was on the fifth floor when he noticed something odd.

Finnrick raised an eyebrow as the skies outside the window darken, black and stormy.

A thunderstorm it seems.

Finnrick peered out the window, glancing upwards to see what was going on.

Dark clouds swirled directly overhead. Rain began to lightly drizzle as the skies boomed. Thunder and a moment later lightning trailing across the gathering storm.

A thunderstorm that formed directly above this building.

Without warning.

“Well that’s not ominous.”

Finnrick made the mistake of leaning closer to the window, peering around to see if he could see where exactly the storm was coming from when it happened.

“Watch out below!”

Finnrick noticed three things in that moment: First, was of course, someone shouting to watch out below. Second was the distant sound of claws scratching something wooden, the walls perhaps. Lastly was the thudding of something falling down quickly and towards him.

Finnrick rose his hand, pivoting on his heels in time to see something crash into him.

It wasn’t much of a contest: Both Finnrick and whatever slammed into him broke through the fifth story window and went sprawling into a freefall.

[angrylizardjacket]

fit by my side {Machine Gun Kelly}

@bitchylittleredhead said: Okay I hear your MGK x pastel!reader and I raise you MGK x Mother Nature!reader. Hella plants, strong love for animals, heckin soft, v kind, mom friend, sunshine child. (I just really really love soft paired with him, it’s so damn cute) also I love you I hope you are well 🧡 

Also This Concept

A/N: 3177 words. Gender Neutral Reader (they/them) ! im worried kells is OOC. also there’s no smut but it does get M rated, but there’s no genitals specified. gets quite sappy at times. also @url-under-construction i hope u like it and i hope its good.

----

When you meet Colson, he’s famous, but he’s not, you know, famous famous. You meet on the set of The Dirt; he’s one of the stars, you’re a production assistant and stand-in when they need it, and you don’t think for a second that he’ll even remember your name when this is all over. 

But he does; in rehearsals, you’re the one reading the lines for the characters they haven’t cast yet, and the first time the four main cast members see you, in your floaty, floral top, and your gentle aura, and then to hear you say, with absolute sincerity, ‘your mom’s a cunt’, it has them bursting out laughing. You smile, sweet and kind, and you step gently through the blocking that has the character you’re currently standing in for, stabbing Tommy - Colson - with a pen. 

Maybe the juxtaposition of you taking part in this whole production is what intrigues him.

When filming starts, you’re still around, and something about seeing you, amid this performance of debauchery, and yet you’re still sincere and gentle, your choice of attire making you stick out like a sore thumb amid the leather and grime. At first, he tries to play it off, that you look somewhat out of place and it’s eye-catching, but you bring the cast food and water and whatever they need, you go on coffee runs, and take a genuine interest in each of them, and by the time he realises that his mood lifts every time he walks on set and sees you there, he knows he can’t play it off as you catching his eye for completely platonic reasons.

He asks you out the week after Casie leaves from visiting set, having seen you interact with her, entertain her while Colson was in hair, treating her with just as much kindness and respect as you did everyone else on the production. It convinces him that your intentions are true, and he knows that he can’t finish this production without shooting his shot.

By the time the wrap party comes around, you’re calling him your boyfriend, at first tentative, looking to him for confirmation, but then you see the way he beams at how the words sound when you say them, and you grow more confident each time you say it.

It’s met with... confusion.

Really? 

It seems no-one saw that coming - if anyone, I would have expected Douglas - you hear, and frown. 

“What does that mean?” You ask; a frown is rare to see on your face, but you’re wearing it anyhow, and the woman your speaking to splutters her way around a sentence as she’s trying to backpeddle.

“I just- I mean, well, Kells - Colson - he’s so... Doulgas just seems more... refined? Not that Colson not, you know- you’re just -”

“I’m just what?” You ask, not accusing, more curious than anything else, and the woman’s voice dies in her throat as she looks you over; pale blue jeans and a pastel, patterned button-down that would have looked right at home in the eighties. 

“I’m just concerned for you,” she eventually says, laying her hand on yours like she’s trying to do you a favour, “Colson’s intense, I’m just worried you’ll get hurt.” You see what she’s trying to say, but her tone is so painfully condescending. 

“I’m an adult,” you tell her, tone understanding but firm, “and I appreciate your concern, but I promise I can take care of myself.”

The moment you can get out of the conversation, you find Colson, talking animatedly to one of the makeup artists, and you slot yourself into the space by his side. Automatically, without even stopping the conversation, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, and you gratefully take the moment to press your face against him, wrapping your arms around him without saying a word. It’s both strangely intimate and familiar, his thumb rubbing small circles against your side.

As he stops talking, there’s a lull, and you don’t have to look up to know the makeup artist is giving you both a strange look.

“Ignore me,” your voice is muffled against him, using one hand as if to waive off any last bits of hesitation. 

“They’re fine,” Colson assured, tapping you on the hip. He’s still oozing casual confidence

You’ve been together for almost half of filming, which isn’t exactly a short amount of time, but usually you try and keep things professional on set, so it’s nice to be able to be close to him in public. 

The rest of the cast know, of course, you’ve been out with them on several occasions, and they all have come to adore you just as much as you adore them. Something about hearing Daniel drunkenly assure you that if Colson ever hurts you, that there’d be a line of people ready to slap some sense into him. You try to brush him off, endeared by his drunken affection, but he turns suddenly to the rest of the cast.

“Hey, hey, hey - who’d throw down for Y/N?” He asks; without hesitation, Douglas, Iwan, and Colson raise their hands, eyes wide and alert, as if the offer needed to be acted upon immediately. The show of support has your heart swelling in your chest.

You find yourself fitting into his life back in LA easily; while beginning work as an assistant on a Netflix original series, you call into his house in the Hollywood Hills, delighted to be privy to demos and snippets from his next album. 

And you meet his friends, shake their hands and smile and chatter with them. They’re not sure what to make of you at first, no-one really is when you present yourself in conjunction with Colson, but soon they start to see what he sees in you. It’s endearingly genuine and thoughtful and honest and enthusiastic and -

“They’re like sunshine,” it’s Rook’s Instagram live, almost six months into your relationship with Colson, that really cements it to the public. Rook is smoking in Colson’s living room in the middle of the afternoon between recording sessions, and someone asked what your deal was. 

“I’m so sick of - and I know Kells is, and Y/N too, not that they’d ever say anything. ‘ve never heard them say a bad word ‘bout anyone, you know,” Rook hits the blunt again, his face scrunching up, “but everyone ‘round here’s so fuckin’ sick of people talkin’ shit ‘bout ‘em. For real, Y/N is sunshine, nicer than all of you motherfuckers put together,” and he laughs, but it’s clear he isn’t entirely joking, “- you know what?” He asked, eyes lighting up and standing abruptly, grabbing the phone.

“Baze, man, you seen Y/N?” He calls, and Baze responds from somewhere off-camera that you’re outside. The comments are going off, but he pays them no mind, heading out to the backyard, only to see you by the back fence, peering over into the trees, on your tip toes, one hand straining over the fence, in shorts and a singlet in sunshine yellow.

Rook calls your name.

You shush him loudly, and then, without looking at him, slowly wave him over.

As he approaches, he can hear the telltale sound of a bird chirping, and as soon as he gets close, he hears you whisper -

“I think they’re bluebirds,” you murmur, and finally look back at him, lowering yourself, surprised to see his phone held aloft. He tells you he’s live streaming, you wave awkwardly, which is when he sees the slice of banana you’re holding, “I’m not sure what they eat; do bluebirds eat banana?” You ask, a little helpless, looking at Rook, and then to his phone. 

After a moment, you step aside, and gesture for Rook to take a look over the fence, and sure enough there’s a nest with a single, rather sad looking bluebird with it’s wing bent at a strange angle, calling out pathetically, obscuring a few eggs, just out of arm’s reach. While he’s looking over the fence, also trying to reach them, and also trying to get the phone close enough to see if anyone watching the livestream could identify the bird or offer any suggestion, he hears your footsteps retreating.

“Stay there, I’m going to get Kells,” you call out to him, voice bright, “he’s got long arms!” And Rook bursts out laughing; you weren’t wrong. 

While waiting, he sits against the fence and answers a few more questions, until he looks up and sees you, expression concerned, and Colson uncharacteristically fond as he lets you lead him by the hand.

You show him the nest and ask for him to get it, worried the bird was hurt, and he obligingly reaches over the back fence to gently collect the bird nest, trying his best not to jostle the bird. The bird’s wing appeared to be broken, and Rook ends the live when you mention that you’re going to take the bird to the vet.

Already, the fandom is exploding from what had transpired. 

People are making suggestions as to what the birds should be named, people are claiming your caring and sweet personality is completely fake, people in the live managed to screenshot Colson’s expression as you’d lead him to the birds, how smitten he was with his hand in yours, and have started posting ‘get u a man who looks at u like kells looks at y/n’ all over twitter and tumblr.

“Bird update!” Several hours later, Colson posts a series of videos to his instagram story, “for those of y’all who don’t know, Y/N found a bird with a broken wing in a tree out the back of my place, we rescued it and it’s eggs, and took it to the vet,” and with that he flips the camera around, from a close up on his face, to show a large, cardboard box in the corner of the room. 

Peep Davidson was written in large, black letters on the side of the box.

The rest of the videos are outlining what the vet had told you all, and that the bird should only take about seven days to heal before you could put them all back into the wilderness. 

At that, he pauses.

“You worried about putting the birds back when you saw that cat the other day?” And he angles the camera to reveal you, laying with your head in his lap.

“The orange one?” You ask, voice heavy, as if he’d disturbed you when you’d been right about to fall asleep. You yawn, and he confirms, you give a little, lazy shrug and smile, “not sure where that cat is.”

“Fuckin’ hell, babe,” Colson laughs, “you gotta stop finding random animals in my backyard.”

“They find me,” you counter, and shift so you can press your face against his belly, humming contentedly as his free hand begins stroking your back. 

“Snow White-Cinderella-Pied Piper motherfucker,” how that is somehow the softest, most gentle words to ever leave his lips, is utterly baffling, but there’s so much love and adoration but you turn enough for the camera to catch your delighted little smile, “you’re-” he starts, “who’s that dude from that, that My Hero shit we were watching the other night?”

“Koji Koda, you weeb,” you tease him fondly, knowing exactly who he’s referring to, and that’s where the video ends.

That’s the day it’s confirmed for the rest of the world. There’s countless paparazzi photos, and hints, and speculation, but this is the first time he’d called you anything but your name, and they’d all seen you snuggling up to him, your head in his lap.

This also is the day the trend begins on his Instagram story of a photo of you, usually in his backyard, with whatever animal had decided to befriend you that day.

My partner. My backyard. No fucking idea who’s animal that is.

And he still goes out and gets fucked up, and sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not. When you’re out together, it still doesn’t quite make sense; he’s hard partying and over the top, and it seems like it wouldn’t be your scene at all.

But then there’s photos of Colson and a few of his friends standing on the edge of a roof, announcing that they’re Kings, and you’re by his side, smiling and waving at the person taking the photograph. He manages to get himself injured pulling a stunt at a friend’s house party, but you’re in the back of some influencer’s vlog, straddling his lap with tissues in your hand, him holding you secure as you clean up the scrape on his forehead; it’s kind of sickening how in love he looks, as he watches the way you concentrate. When you notice his expression, your own softens, and you lean in to give him a kiss. 

And so you start to make sense, but people still ask why.

So when asked, you tell people that you support each other, and challenge each other, and yeah, that’s absolutely why you’re together, but it’s not the whole reason as to why you make sense.

Because no-one sees the way you hook your finger into his belt loop at the back of his pants at the house party, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades, and he knows exactly what that means. He’s quick to make some flimsy excuse to leave as you step into place by his side, which everyone he’s speaking to immediately sees through. You play at being flustered, tucking your embarrassed expression against him as he slings his arm around your shoulders, and calls an Uber.

The drive back to his place has you both on edge with anticipation, his hands all over you in the back of the car while you try to hold a civil conversation with the driver. It’s killing you not to give in, but you know it’s worth it. 

“You’re such an idiot!” You announced, grinning from ear to ear the moment you get into the house, before the door’s even closed, and he slams it shut to press you against it. Kissing him feels like a cathartic release, but after a moment you shove him back, loudly admonishing him for taking part of a stunt that got him hurt.

“You could have been seriously hurt!” You keep poking him in the chest to punctuate your words, and he steps back each time, expression alight, pupils blown wide. He keeps reaching out, as if to touch you, to snag your clothes, like it’s a game when you smack his hand back every time. 

“Got a gnarly cut though,” he pointed out, as his ass hits the kitchen island. His legs open, making space for you, and you step into it.

“Gnarly cut,” you murmur, tone surprisingly derisive, and you reach up to push his hair back from his forehead. His head tips back, leaning into your touch, the look on his face almost dreamy even as you’ve got a hand on his hips, pushing him back on the counter. 

Then you’re in his lap on the counter, hand fisted in his hair, lips on his neck, leaving bruises and bite marks. He’s trying to get you naked, efficient and desperate, but the moment he gets your shirt off, you push the fruit bowl behind him onto the floor, and push him back against the granite countertop. 

“You were worried about me,” he smirks up at you, admiring you with your hands planted either side of his head. 

“Because you don’t worry about your damn self!”

“Ooh, breaking out damn tonight? Must be serious,” he teased, deliberately riling you up; he loved this side of you just as much as the sweetness. Instead of responding, you reach up under his shirt and rake your nails harshly down his chest and stomach, delighting in the way he arched up at the sudden sensation, eyes falling closed. 

With one hand still flat against his belly, the other comes up to cup his jaw, gentle at first, before your fingers move to caress his throat, and you press yourself against him. 

“If you get yourself killed, I’ll kick your ass,” you whisper, lips inches from his as you press firmer against his throat. He grins, and sighs, the sound content and syrupy and so fucking into it, leaning up, to meet your lips with his, to feel the pressure on his neck just a little more.

And you bite, and you scratch, and you ride him on the kitchen island. The location is new, but the situation isn’t; once he’d discovered the righteous, sexual fury you’d been bottling up, he’d been more than happy to let you unleash it on him. Not to say that he didn’t give as good as he got; there’s been several times he’s had you swearing a blue streak, seeing stars, desperate and blissed out in equal measure.

But then there’s your dominant moments, the mean streak, and the teasing, the sting of your nails and your teeth and the way you push him around, into the mattress, against the wall without hesitation, and that he covets. No-one else is allowed to see you like that. To be tied up or blindfolded or or punished or pushed around, at your mercy, it’s as close to Heaven as he’s ever felt on Earth, because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that your heart is kind, that you’d never really hurt him in a way he wouldn’t like.

You make him feel safe.

And it’s not just the sex, you’re never dismissive of ideas or suggestions, seemingly always ready to help if he ever needs it, rather than judgmental. It makes him want to be there for you too. 

He wants to be better for you.

Which is kind of terrifying to consider.

“I love you,” he tells you in the shower, in the afterglow, soft, pausing where he had been washing your back where you couldn’t reach. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he felt like he needed you to hear them.

“Love you too,” you say around a yawn, though the words are as genuine as they’d always been coming from you, and you lean back against him, leaning your head against his cheek in a moment of quiet intimacy. You try to kiss him like this, but turns your face directly into the shower, and end up spluttering and breaking the moment.

Colson chuckles softly, stepping back and pulling you with him, out of the stream of water and into his arms so he could kiss you properly. You’re still giggling as you’re wiping the water from your eyes, looking at him with fond adoration. When you settle your arms around him, you quiet down and bask in the moment, his forehead coming to rest against yours, warm and safe in his embrace, sensing that, in that moment, he felt the exact same way.

[foxymoxynoona]

Amended Ch. 1

SUMMARY: Getting into a bar fight is the least surprising part of Isabella's return home. She sure doesn't expect to run into her childhood friend turned high school enemy, now not just surprisingly a law-abiding citizen but a police officer. Things seem to be going great for him, but Isabella is struggling with more than a bar fight. A single mom with a sick grandmother, an alcoholic mother, an abusive ex, and a short fuse herself, matters are not helped that Jungkook seems to be everywhere. All the time. Especially every time Isabella messes up. Can she really believe him when he says he just wants to help?

Police officer! Jungkook x Single Mom Childhood Friend Named OC

CW: abusive parents, alcoholism, abusive exes, descriptions of childhood abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse, illegal acts, side character death, discussions/references to underage sexual activity/alcohol use/drug use, teen pregnancy, explicit sexual content

Also hosted on AO3. Not sure if I’ll keep posting on tumblr or not, but I thought I’d try it out!

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Isabella honestly couldn’t have said who threw the first punch. She was drunk, certainly, but she didn’t tend to throw punches first, though it wasn’t entirely unheard of if the other person was mouthy enough. And Brianne was definitely mouthy, and also drunk. Still, Isabella was certain Brianne had slapped her first, after Isabella had grabbed her arm and muttered a threat --but even that had been in response to Brianne’s unending cruel remarks. Those had grown louder over the evening until the whispered gossip wasn’t, was just full on taunts. And really Isabella thought she’d done a remarkable job ignoring it until Brianne had mouthed off about her children and what kind of mother she was… could anyone have expected her to stay quiet? So maybe she’d grabbed Brianne’s arm and then Brianne had slapped her and then Isabella had punched her right in the jaw and things had exploded from there.

Brianne was an idiot and Isabella was a scrappy fighter by this point. If the bar patio hadn’t been so crowded she probably would have managed to throw Brianne further away more quickly. Instead Brianne’s friends grabbed Isabella, interrupting her swings and kicking at her, only for her to twist away and throw herself back at Brianne until she didn’t even remember what was said. She was just drunk and angry and fighting.

The fight was broken up after only a few minutes, strong arms wrapping around Isabella’s chest and dragging her backwards while someone else did the same with Brianne. Isabella thrashed and struggled but the hold was crushing.

“Let go of me you motherfucker or I’ll bust you up next!”

“Careful, it’s a bigger deal to threaten a cop.”

“Like I give a flying fuck, let go of me,” she hissed, trying to bash her head back and kicking her feet, lifting them to use her whole weight to try and break free. Unfortunately the person was stronger than she was and it made no difference.

“Stop resisting or I’m going to have to take you in.”

“Stop holding me. They let her go!”

“She stopped resisting.”

“Motherfucker, let go of me--”

“Ok, she’s disorderly, I’m taking her in,” he announced, dragging her backwards.

“Let go of me!”

He ignored her, dragging her backwards still until they were clear of the bar deck, and then still in view of everyone began reciting her Miranda Rights.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” she demanded. “She threw the first punch! That bitch has been after my since we were sixteen and now I’m the one getting arrested? You can’t arrest me, I have to get home.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been fighting, ma’am,” the police officer sighed, turning and shuffling her forward to the cruiser parked on the side of the road. The lights weren’t on or anything.

“You don’t understand, I have to get home. I have to let the babysitter go.”

“Your husband will have to take the kids tonight.”

“Don’t be a piece of shit, I don’t have a husband.”

“Do I have to handcuff you or will you behave while I unlock the car?”

“Do not handcuff me.”

“Please don’t make me handcuff you…” He let go of her, which surprised her, though kept one hand clenched around her arm. He had a key fob to unlock the car and pulled open the door to the back seat, shoving her in with a muttered, “Watch your head.”

“This is bullshit,” she scoffed, glaring at his back as he slammed the door and walked around. She felt panic rising as she realized she was getting taken to jail. She was going to spend the night in jail. There was no one to bail her out unless she wanted to call-- no, absolutely not. She’d have to call the babysitter and beg her to spend the night…

She started crying angry tears as the police officer slid into the driver’s seat, “This is bullshit. She talked shit about me and my kids all night and assaulted me and I’m the one you’re arresting.”

“She settled down.”

“I’m settled down now.”

“Are you?” he asked, turning in the seat as he turned the cab light on. They both froze in shock.

“Jungkook?”

“Isabella Desmond?”

She stared, too shocked to even answer. She had not been prepared to see him, certainly not in this state, and she didn’t know which was more shocking, to find herself suddenly face to face with him or to realize…

“You’re a cop ?”

“Yes,” he answered, giving her a crooked grin. “What the fuck are you doing back here? Why are you fighting in my bar?”

“Your bar?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked her again, staring. It had shocked her sober, seeing him. She still felt fuzzy and amped up but winded now. Her face hurt. Her hand hurt.

“My grandmother is sick,” she explained. It felt silly to give him that answer when he’d just dragged her out of a bar backwards. “I came home to take care of her.”

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“You know everything that happens?”

“Pretty much, yeah. You’re staying at her place?” She gave him a short nod, annoyed that he apparently knew where that was. But of course he did, he’d lived next door a lifetime ago. When they were friends. “Isabella,” he sighed, shaking his head and looking out the window. He turned to face forward in the car. “Shit. What are you doing back here?”

“I told you, my grandmother is sick.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know everything it seems,” she retorted.

“So why are you out drinking and brawling instead of home?”

“It’s been a long week.”

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Fuck you,” she glared, kicking the back of his seat.

“It’s just a question.”

“I know what a question is, I taught you to speak English, you fucking asshole. I’m not an alcoholic, I’m just drunk.”

“Ok ok, it’s just a question.” She saw his sigh, saw the way his gaze narrowed as he stared out the windshield into the night. He was surprised to see her and even though her head was spinning with shock and adrenaline, she knew this was an opportunity.

“I need to go home,” she said again. “I’m sorry for fighting. I’m just drunk and tired but I need to go home.”

“That’s the first rational thing you’ve said.”

“Woah, you’re a cop and you use three syllable words? Jesus, you’ve really changed, huh?”

“Shut up, Isabella,” he sighed, a deeply annoyed sigh.

“Ok, I’m sorry. Just let me go home, ok? My kids will freak out if I’m not home when they wake up.”

He let his head fall back, “Isabella…”

“Come on. Let me off, just this once…”

“Isabella,” he sighed again, turning in the seat. “You fought, threatened a police officer, resisted arrest, and bashed me in the face with your stupid hard head.”

She glared, “My head isn’t hard or stupid.”

“Tell that to my bruised jaw.”

“Did I really get you? I didn’t even feel it… guess I’m invincible right now…”

“Do you feel that gash on your cheek?”

“Huh?” She shifted in the seat, trying to see in the rearview mirror but she couldn’t get the angle right. Gingerly she reached her fingers up but everything just felt fuzzy and numb as the adrenaline began to seep away, leaving her drunk and tired. “Eh,” she shrugged. “I’ve had worse.” She giggled suddenly, “Your best friend gave me worse.”

“He wasn’t my best friend.”

“Aw, shit, that would hurt his feelings.”

“Do you still talk to him?”

The question surprised her. It made her laugh even though she didn’t like the question. She leaned forward, pressing her face against the metal grating separating them.

“Not by choice,” she said. Then, “Jungkook.”

“Isabella.”

She let her voice be small and quiet as she asked, “Please just take me home. I promise I’ll be good.”

He didn’t look back at her but he looked serious, staring down at the steering wheel. It pissed her off, actually, him acting all high and mighty just because these were their seats in the cruiser. He’d been a dirtbag in high school. It ought to be him back here. It had been on numerous occasions.

He didn’t say anything, just started the car. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, so she stayed quiet, watching him as he drove. It was disorienting, actually, to see him after all this time. It would make her feel shy later, she thought, but right now she just felt curious and angry. His face had finally grown around his nose and eyes, but they were still strong in profile, his jaw still sharp, his hair still a bit unruly. Or maybe that was her fault, from the struggle, what little struggled she’d been able to maintain against him.

Without meaning to, she dozed off, leaning forward against the grate. He woke her after parking, shaking her shoulder.

“Hey. We’re here.”

“No,” she groaned. “It’s not fair, Jungkook, I was just defending--”

“You’re home,” he interrupted her. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But this is your only warning. You’re a mom. You’re better than this. Don’t pull shit like this in my town,” he scolded as she stumbled from the car. She fell on her knees and pushed him away when he tried to help her to her feet. Instead she straightened and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

“Don’t lecture me,” she scoffed. “I never lectured you.”

“I’m a cop. It’s my job to lecture you.”

“You’re really proud of being a cop, huh? You’ve said it multiple times. I’m stunned your ego fit in the driver’s seat.”

“Inside the house, Isabella,” he said with another sigh, nudging her towards it.

“I’m going, I don’t need your help. I can do it on my own.” She glared at him over her shoulder and trudged forward, reaching the door before she realized she didn’t have her purse. It was still at the bar, with her wallet, keys, and phone. “Fuck.”

“Missing something?” She turned to see him holding her purse out. She didn’t know when or how he’d gotten it, but she stomped back to him and took it.

“You’re real smug for a delinquent.”

“I’m not a delinquent anymore.”

“Yeah, I heard you’re a cop?”

“And I heard you’re a mom, so act like it.”

She glared at the sting of his words but turned away, scoffing, “I am.”

“Better than your mom, I mean.”

“Fuck you. You don’t know anything about me, Jungkook,” she said, walking back to the door. “So don’t act like you do.” She started to dig for her keys but the front door opened, the babysitter stepping out with her backpack and shoes already on.

“I heard you get home,” she explained. “Um… hi Officer Jeon.”

“Hi Tara.”

“Hold on, I’ll get your money…” Isabella dug her wallet out, grabbing the three twenties she’d set aside for tonight, for what was supposed to be a rare fun night out. She shoved the bills into Tara’s hand, then stepped inside and shut the door without a further word to either of them. Because she needed to throw up and quickly.

**

Isabella Desmond. Isabella Fucking Desmond.

Jungkook couldn’t believe it as he drove himself home. It was supposed to be his evening out but he didn’t much feel like returning to the bar. Instead he parked in front of his house and just sat there for a few minutes. Reeling.

Isabella Joy Gertrude Desmond. The first love of Jungkook’s life. The girlfriend of his best friend in high school. The arch-enemy of his girlfriend in high school. The brightest star in his sky, who he’d watched wink and twinkle and fade until she’d crashed to earth, burned upon entry, and then fled their hometown, never to be heard from again.

And now she was here again. Living with her grandmother and children, apparently. More than one, he was certain she’d said children. And she was spending her nights getting into drunken brawls at the bar.

He wondered if Landon knew she was back. Maybe not. It wasn’t any of his business but he felt stressed about it, about her being here with Landon around. It didn’t seem like things were going well for her if she had multiple children and no husband and a drunken bar brawl on a Thursday night.

Isabella Desmond. The smartest girl he’d ever met. So much potential, fucking wasted. What a tragedy. It wasn’t any of his business. But what a tragedy.

Read Chapter 2

[2sunchild2]

Maribat prompt where male!mari keeps his relationship with Damian a secret but it's revealed when Damian comes to visit his bf and Lila of course tries something, but Damian tells her he likes guys. Also male!marin who has Tom's physic.

K so I grew a pair to write and it’s back to pussyville I go

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Marino felt the other girls giggle when he and Adrien started talking. It was just about class work, he told them, honest. Alya let out a laugh, which made both boys turn to look at her. She was laughing at something Lila had said.

Marino rolled his eyes and looked down at Adrien to continue where they left off. He wasn’t at school the other day, something about him being sick. Adrien believed it (somewhat), Alya believed it, everyone believed it. His parents however, knew the truth. He had stayed up all night talk to his boyfriend from Gotham. He had been exhausted when he slept. So exhausted that he slept through his five alarms. His mom, bless her, decided against waking him up and called the school to inform them he would not be attending that day.

And Marino had a lot to catch up on.

“So I’ll see you at the library after school?” He asked Adrien hopefully. Sure, he could’ve asked Max, but Max didn’t know how to explain things. He was smart, yes, but he wasn’t capable of making someone else understand the material. That was something Adrien was good at.

“Don’t worry bug,” Adrien reached up and patted his shoulder lightly, “I am your partner after all.” And with a laugh the two boys made their way into the school, ignoring the Italian girl staring intently at Adrien.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“How long until she finds out I’m ace?” That was the question that broke the silence of the study session between the two boys. Adrien chewed on his pen, a habit Marino knew he did when he was nervous.

“Do you want me to be honest?” The blonde nodded. “I don’t really know kitty. But I do know that if she hurts you, there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

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“Dearest, you look exhausted,” the concern in his boyfriend’s voice was clear. Marino was slumped against his chair, sitting in an odd angle. Damian watched his boyfriend chug another cup of coffee through the screen of his computer. “I think it’s best that you rest,” that earned him a faint chuckle accompanied with a ‘haha that rhymes’ which only worried him more, “dearest, go sleep.”

When Marino shook his head for the fourth time, Damian knew something was wrong, “Dearest?” He looked up from his desk, looking tired and awful, “is everything okay? Are you alright?”

Marino hesitated before giving an answer, “I... I don’t know... I don’t know how to feel anymore Dami, I.... the girls.... Alya... always pushing me to ask out Adrien. I don’t want to ask him out. He’s not looking for a relationship and.... I have you,” his heart warmed a little at that statement, it didn’t stop the scowl for I guess on his face.

“I see... go rest dearest, I have some appointments I need to attend.”

Marino yawned and stretched, flexing his muscles in the process, “Goodnight, Dami,” he smiled tiredly.

“Goodnight, love.”

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“Did you see the guy outside?”

“He’s so hot, oh my god!”

“Right? I’d tap that.”

The students whispered around the halls. A crowd formed in the courtyard to see the handsome mysterious man leaning against a sleek black Lambo. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he watched the students indifferently.

Lila walked out to see the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, and by the looks of his ensemble, he was rich, very rich. She worked her way through the crowd and graded onto one of the man’s arms, fluttering her lashes to seduce him, she dragged her finger along his arm, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

The man glared at her and attempted to get out of her grip. “No I am not. I am here to see someone, and it isn’t you,” he stiffly replied, his eyes roaming the crowd for a pair of familiar blue eyes. Nothing yet.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind waiting for you while I show you around~,” she purred, leaning closely against his face, her breath fanned his ear, but before he could say anything, he gripped her other wrist and tightened his hold.

“Never get near me, or I will press charges and you will be in contact with my lawyers,” he grit out, squeezing her wrist when she tried to escape, “ now run along to your posse and do not come near me again.”

“Your girlfriend wouldn’t have been too happy to see you with another girl, a gorgeous one at that,” Lila flipped her hair and began walking away but was stopped by his voice.

“Shame I have a boyfriend,” he checked his watch, “who should’ve left the building two minutes ago.”

Lila was at a loss of words. Boyfriend? He was gay? Who is it?

“Dami?” The unmistakable voice of Marino Dupain-Cheng called from the crowd. He wasn’t hard to miss either. The massive muscular blunette was easy to spot, thanks to the height he got from his father, he was accompanied by a shorter blonde who shooed people out of the way for them to pass.

“Dearest,” he breathed, “I hope you are well... who’s this?” He nodded his head towards Adrien who blushed and looked at the ground.

Marino put an arm around the boy, “this is my best friend, Adrien!”

“Well then, Adrien,” Damian started, would you like to accompany my boyfriend and I to dinner? My best friend is waiting for us and I’m certain he wouldn’t enjoy being the third wheel.” Adrien nodded excitedly.

“Wait!” Lila called putting, stopping the three boys in their tacks, Marino took a deep breath and squeezed Damian’s hand.

“What is it, harlot?” His harsh tone made her flinch.

“You’re gay?”

“Yes? What of it?” Damian challenged the girl. Surely she wouldn’t go as far to embarrass herself infornt of the entire student council. He watched until the girl turned red and decided to leave. They drove off and weren’t seen fo the rest of the evening.

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Permanent tag list: @thyladyanput @virgil-is-a-cutie

[crimsonbluemoon]

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.> 

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.” 

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.” 

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him. 

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on. 

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country. 

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again. 

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”   

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries. 

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.” 

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image. 

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug. 

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest. 

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would. 

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan. 

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could. 

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact. 

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around. 

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy. 

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!” 

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.” 

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear. 

“So worth it.”

[flutistbyday-1]

Bury a Friend Chapter One:

Reposting my “Supernatural” AU! This story features the reader— YN— and her friend, Amanda, as they deal with the life of being a hunter. YN is in love with Dean, but we all know how Dean is. I played around with cannon when it comes to plot and ages, please don’t hate me! Lmao.

Set in season 3/4/5 so far, so consider this your spoiler warning!

Pairing— Dean x Reader (eventually)

Characters— OFC Amanda, reader, Dean, Sam, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, etc.

Word count— 2219

I will only accept 50 tags for this!

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

Dean Winchester.

What. A. Man.

No, a God.

Y/N had known Dean and Sam for years. 10, almost 11 years, to be exact.

Y/N met them when she was just 15; just a teenage girl, who hadn’t even finished going through puberty yet.

When Y/N met Dean and Sam, the girl was gangly, angled, and uncoordinated. The amount of times Y/N tripped over her own feet or ran into a screen door, was too many to count. Y/N was not a graceful teenager. She had tried activities like gymnastics to help, but she broke her arm and never went back.

She was a graceful adult, though.

Between puberty, her father’s training regime, and some miracle, Y/N had stopped tripping over her own feet and started to become a true hunter.

Her father trained her mentally and physically. Y/N could handle any weapon that dropped in her hands, She could single-handedly shove stakes through hearts, and she always made sure to have the upper hand. She was smart, too. She knew her limits and never bit off more than she could chew.

She used her small stature to her advantage: she could hide most anywhere and she could wiggle out most monster’s grips.

She was adept, daft, and cunning. She also knew to keep a low profile— nobody had been able to pin her down.

She was deadly.

Y/N had met Sam and Dean through a family friend who knew John Winchester. They were all hunters; a life that Y/N had desperately tried to escape. Her Dad would drop Y/N off with Sam when he and John would go on a hunt. Dean was resentful that he had another “kid” to look after, but Sam was grateful to have another person to talk to. Sam and Y/N were close up until the day he graduated from high school. Sam left after a huge fight with his father and never looked back.

Y/N had mourned the loss of her friendship with Sam, but Dean never gave Y/N a second glance. Which wasn’t surprising— Dean was almost 10 years her senior, nine years and 364 days… Not that Y/N has counted or anything. She was just a kid to him.

Dean and John left seven years ago and Y/N hasn't heard from a Winchester since.

When Y/N started hunting, She began to track Sam and Dean. She followed their trail through newspapers. Once they had reunited with Ellen, Y/N got a phone call every time they showed.

She had long tried to forget about her feelings for Dean, but she kept an eye on the brothers to make sure their paths didn’t cross.

Until the universe decided to pull the Winchester’s back into her life.

Y/N was at the Roadhouse, nursing a whiskey, neat, when she heard a voice She thought she would never hear again.

“Y/N?” The voice boomed from across the bar.

Y/N turned to the source of the noise. A goofy smile coming across her face when she realized who was speaking to her

“Well, I’ll be!” She said to the giant man before her.

Sam had aged, but well. Under all that bulk of muscle, the kid that she knew was still there. She could see it in the kindness of his eyes. Even though the life of a hunter was cruel, he was still good.

Y/N stood to hug Sam, but he swept her up in his arms and spun around. Y/N laughed loudly but clung to him. She inhaled his cologne and all those good memories she had of spending time with the Winchester’s came back in waves of nostalgia.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he said as he put her back on her feet.

“You too, Sam!” Y/N said, joyfully as she sat down. “Care to join me?”

Sammy nodded before turning to Dean.

“Dean, you remember Y/N?”

Dean glared at her. “Yeah, Cameron’s kid,” he grunted. “Dumped her with me. Gave me another mouth to feed.”

Y/N tsked her tongue at Sam before turning toward him. “Is he always such an ass?”

This earned a laugh from Sam. “Yeah,” he guffawed. “Yeah, he is.”

“Whatever,” Dean huffed. “Can I get a beer, Jo?”

They waited until Dean had skulked off to the corner of the bar before resuming conversation.

When Y/N was 15, their age gap made the world of a difference. But now that she was 25? 10 years didn’t seem all that bad. And Dean looked good for 35. Really good. Even though he was still an ass.

“So, what brings you here?” She asked Sam, turning toward him with a bright smile.

Sam shrugged. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had a case. Dean was getting restless, so I suggested we come here. It’s the closest thing we have to a home.”

“You don’t go to Bobby’s anymore?” It was an innocent question, but she could tell it set Sam on edge.

Sam’s eyes darkened for a second.

“Consider the question withdrawn,” Y/N half joked.

She knew Bobby had a heart attack and she also knew that neither Sam nor Dean had bothered to pick up a phone and call Bobby in almost a year— that’s why she was in town. She had hoped that the boys had long moved on from their relationship with Bobby.

Y/N had called Ellen for her weekly check in when Ellen had told her Bobby had a heart attack. Y/N rushed to Sioux Falls immediately.

Jo had gushed every detail about Sam and Dean to Y/N when Y/N and Amanda came to the Roadhouse three nights ago.

“How do you know about Bobby?” He asked, leaning closer to her.

It was Y/N’s turn to shrug. “You and Dean are famous in this world,” she said nonchalantly as she downed the whiskey in one swig. “Word gets around. My dad knew him, too,” I offered. “Said he was a drunk.”

The truth was, Y/N knew Bobby through her father as well. Her father and Bobby had been close for about twenty years before a hunt went very, very wrong.

Her father had almost gotten Bobby killed, and instead of owning up to it, Cameron pinned the blame on Bobby.

That fight created a rift between Cameron and Bobby that nobody could fix.

Y/N had reached out to Bobby only twice in the past seven years— once to see if he’d help her. He said he had no interest in helping Cameron’s blood, and once more just to tell him that Cameron had passed away. Even though they weren’t in contact, she still cared for Bobby. She always drove by his house when she was in town, just to make sure he was alive.

Y/N knew that if Sam and Dean found out that Bobby had been hurt, and almost killed, by her father, they would most likely turn on her. Bobby was the only family they had left, and Bobby hated Y/N.

That made Sam laugh. “That’s what they all say. But those who know him—”

“Know he’s mostly sober?”

Y/N and Sam laughed. She didn’t realize how much she had missed the younger Winchester brother. His presence was a breath of fresh air.

Jo poured another round.

“So what are you doing here?” He asked.

Y/N looked at him, debating if she should tell him the truth. “Ellen’s like a second mom to me,” she said after a moment. “She likes to think she’s checking up on me, but really, I’m checking up on her.” It wasn’t completely untrue. Ellen did like it when Y/N popped in, but only ‘cause she was a hunter and she was worried sick about Y/N.

Y/N could see the wheels turning in Sam’s mind and hoped he wouldn’t press it. Eventually, he nodded, accepting her words.

They fell into an awkward silence. They both knew that you couldn’t trust other hunters as far as you could throw. They both knew that Y/N had just lied to him for a reason.

“Y/N,” Sammy started.

She looked at him. Her heart broke when she saw the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for how I left things.”

Y/N waved her hand dismissively. “That was years ago, Sam. C’est la vie.”

Y/N moved to get out of her seat, but Sam’s hand was on hers in a second. She couldn’t help but look up at him.

“I mean it, Y/N. I was so desperate to get out that I didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. I messed up.”

Y/N could see the sincerity on his face. “Okay,” She whispered. She cleared her throat. “But I really should get going. The rowdy crowd is about to show up.” Y/N gave Sam a shit-eating grin and slapped money down on the bar.

When Y/N turned, she couldn’t help but notice Dean. Well, who Dean was chatting up, anyhow.

He was leaning against the bar, talking up her best friend, Amanda. Y/N Looked back at Sam and winked. “Watch this.”

She walked over to Dean. He either didn’t sense her presence or didn’t care. Y/N looked at Amanda, and Amanda noticed her best friend instantly.

Y/N slightly raised her eyebrows, asking Amanda a silent question. Do you want me to stop this? When one friend was being hit on by men they didn’t like, the other would come over and would ask, “Honey, are you ready to go?” Before sharing a kiss with the other to get the man to go away. Most of the time, it worked. Sometimes, the guy was a creep and wanted to “join them”. Those guys usually got a punch to the nose.

Amanda gave a slight nod, inscrutable to anyone who didn’t know the pair .

Y/N stepped in between Dean and Amanda, making herself known.

“Dean,” Y/N crooned in a voice saved for men she thought were one step above Neanderthals, “I see you’ve met Amanda.” Y/N smiled brightly, but her eyes showed a silent threat.

“Yes, I have, Sweetheart,” Dean said, with confidence dripping from him. He winked at Y/N before turning to Amanda.

It took everything Y/N and Amanda had not to laugh.

“I hate to break it to you, Dean, but you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Y/N said in a tone that indicated that he should leave.

Dean stood up straighter. He looked down at Y/N, literally and figuratively. “Is that so, sweetheart?” His voice challenged Y/N this time.

Y/N gave a small laugh. “Yes, it is Dean. You should leave before you get humiliated.”

“Ha,” he said, his signature cocky smile on his face again.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I warned you.” She wrapped her arms around Amanda’s neck and kissed her friend deeply.

Dean’s jaw dropped and Sam started laughing in the background.

Y/N pulled away from Amanda and looked at Dean. He shrunk back from the pair and sank onto a stool. He was leaning on the bar again, shell shocked from what just happened. Y/N knew he was a little turned on, too. It was in his eyes.

Y/N raised her eyebrows suggestively while leaning into Dean.

He was disarmed by the powermove and lust, so it was easy for Y/N to reach into his pocket and snag his wallet.

“I told you, Dean. Wrong tree,” She whispered seductively. Once the wallet was securely on her person, Y/N discreetly pulled out her knife.

Her lips were millimeters away from Dean’s and she could tell he wanted to kiss her.

Y/N licked her lips as one final distraction before slamming the knife into the bar top, pinning his jacket sleeve securely to the wood.

He reacted like Y/N knew he would— He tried to bounce out of his seat, but was stuck to the bar top.

By the time he had successfully removed the knife, Y/N was already halfway out the door, Amanda in tow.

“Keep the knife, sweetheart,” Y/N called as she dragged Amanda out of the door and into the night.

Sam walked up to dean. “Dude—“

“Don’t say anything,” Dean threatened as he pulled his jacket back on. He patted down his sides. “Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed as he patted down his front and back pockets. “She just took my wallet!”

This made Sam, Jo, and Ellen laugh.

“Shut up,” Dean hissed.

Ellen leaned across the bar. “She may have been just “Cameron’s kid”, Dean, but she’s not a baby anymore. Her daddy died five years ago, and she was hunting on her own till she found Amanda two years ago.”

Dean looked at Ellen, then at Sam. He had definitely underestimated Y/N.

Ellen could see the lust in Dean's Eyes so she clicked her tongue dismissively in response. “Don’t go messing with her, Dean Winchester. She’s had enough heartache for a lifetime.”

Dean stared at the door, hoping to see Y/N again, and not just because she had his wallet.

********

@kingliam2019

@princessleac1

@kimmiedoo5

[neocity-sarai]

"𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷 _____" 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

❀ chapter 2: reader x haechan

❀ enemies to lovers trope

❀ alerts: fluff, tinge of angst, language, mentions of drinking, heavy making out

❀ song rec: “tokyo” by owl city ft. sekai no owari

“Love in Tokyo”

What’s the one thing that’s the most important to you? It was always your voice, of course. Since the mere age of 4, singing was your whole world. Your dad had bought you the most expensive model of a child’s karaoke machine and it soon became something that you held onto in your sleep. Holding a microphone was like second nature to you, the way the gridded pattern on the ball of your microphone felt under your fingertips surged you with excitement. You’d hold a singing show for your family members every holiday: christmas, thanksgiving, and everything in between. When you became a senior high school student, assimilating into your school’s choir group was easy for you. The teacher showered you with compliments and always requested that you’d become the shining soprano of the girls’ choir- many of which called you “teacher’s pet” or too “arrogant for your own good”. To you, you never listened to them- your dream was to join the music program at Tokyo University of the arts. And you were sure that you would do whatever it took to get there. 

One day, your choir teacher had told you that she had been a longtime friend of one of the instructors at the university and was thinking of hosting a traveling showcase. During lunch, she pulled up the website on the projector as she animatedly talked about what kind of things students learned and the connections they would build. The program specialized in everything ranging from music theory to divine performance, it was like she could look inside your head and spell out your dream. That afternoon, you pushed your parents to sign the permission slip the moment you stepped foot in your house. Your dad couldn’t reign in your excitement as you squealed when his pen hit the sheet of paper. You waved the paper around in the air but you were careful enough  to not rip it as your mother eyed your father from the kitchen counter happily. Your father turned to you before popping a grape in his mouth, “So, what are you most excited about?”

You spun around several times, dancing light on your feet, “To have my solo at the showcase of course! I wish you guys could be there.”

“That’s why you’ll have to facetime us before and record it so we can show everyone we know!”

You run over to your mom and dad, pressing tight kisses to their heads, “I can’t believe I’m going to Tokyo!”

3 weeks later

You scanned through your list of items on the way to the airport, not that it would matter anyway since you triple-checked everything that you stuffed in your suitcase. Your mom read the list out to you: “Wallet?”

“Check!” “Passport?” “Check!” “Tampons?” “Ugh, check!” “Toothbrush?” “Check!” “Sweets, I think you have everything.”

Of course you did. Like you said, you packed everything neatly and efficiently. Your dad had helped you unload your suitcase before you caught sight of your friend Sunny and the rest of your classmates by the check-in counter. You kissed your parents goodbye before running over to her as she yelled for you, “Y/n! over here!”

You swung your arm around her, “Sunny! Are you ready to have the best trip ever?”

She smiled at you, “Sooo ready!”

Ever since freshman year, Sunny has always stuck by your side. She was a kind yet quirky girl, she always wore daisy clips in her braided pigtails. Your classmates made fun of her perkiness which is something you never minded. When it was time to finally board your flight, you couldn’t control the insane thrum of your heart, your toes curled at the thought of being on your way to the beautiful of Tokyo. Ironically, your excitement faded away during your 13 hour flight. The air of the plane was stuffy, you were sure that you were getting air-sick, and the refreshments cart wheeled over your foot about 5 times. You were not about to puke your guts out before your first day at the dream institute you’ve longed for your whole life. The pilot announced you’d be landing soon, Sunny turned to you, “How does my face look?”

You answered her, “Uh- good?”

“Really? I think I look like a mole that's been in a burrow for 13 years, I mean, look at my under eye-bags!”

You pat Sunny on the shoulder, “You look fine, it’s okay. We all look like that.”

Suddenly, the plane starts to shake from the turbulence as you both brace yourselves into your seats- you feel bile rise in your stomach. You swallow to force it down anyway. After passing the “Welcome to Tokyo” sign, it hadn’t really sunken in yet. You craved a hot shower and some fresh clothes the minute your teacher mentioned the hotel you all would be staying at. 

That’s when it hit you. Tokyo looked as if everything you dreamed it to be. You were right at the heart of Shibuya, people crossed the street in every angle possible as glowing japanese characters hung from signboards. Even though it was daytime, you could imagine how beautiful it would look in the night time. Wires were strung over every telephone pole and streetlamp, creating a web of ropes between the buildings. Even the people in Tokyo were different: from stoic businessmen with briefcases to women who darted around wearing organza skirts- the japanese animations moved across towers of screens. Your classmates oohed and ahhed at gigantic trucks that whizzed by, video game characters flashing on the sides of them. After a quick meeting about liabilities and safety protocols, the choir teacher had let you all have some free-time. You and Sunny went back to your shared room- two other girls painting their nails on the floor. You tiptoed over to your bed, accidentally knocking your classmate’s nail polish in the process, “Oh- god- I’m sorry-”

She sneers at you, “Yeah, you should be.”

You opt to lay down, scrolling through your phone for a bit. Suddenly, your classmate raises her voice, “What are you guys looking most forward to on the trip?”

You point at yourself, “Are you talking to me?”

She blows on her nails before glaring at you, “There’s four of us in here, who else would I be talking to?”

Trying to answer calmly, you say, “You go first then.”

Your classmate snickers, “I can’t wait to meet all the cute boys who go to the university. I bet there's a plethora of them.”

Her friend quirks her eyebrows up at her, “What does plethora mean?”

“It just means a lot.” She mutters under her breath, cursing at her friend. You roll your eyes to Sunny as Sunny makes a stank face at the two girls who sit on the ground. Chuckling at the sight, you’re cut off by your classmate’s voice.

“What about you, y/n?”

You reply, “Honestly, I can’t wait until we go to class and learn about music studies. I can’t wait to sing in front of them.”

Your classmate scoffs, “Studious as always. You could loosen up, you know?”

You could go on and on about how hard you’ve worked to grasp this opportunity, only part of the choir was allowed to leave for Tokyo and you weren’t about to let it slip through your fingers for some meaningless fun. You shut your mouth in contempt, letting Sunny drone about all the delicious foods she wants to try.

First day of class

Walking into your group’s classroom- you can already tell how remotely different it is from your classroom tucked away in your high school. The room is a lecture hall that could seat hundreds of university students as various instruments were propped up against the corner of the room. There’s a platform where the professor sits at, a skinny japanese man who thumbs through various piles of sheet music. When the rest of us are seated, university students come piling in as they jostle each other through the doorway. You make eye contact with a boy who enters the room first, his friends hitting him on the back. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of such a boy, his eyes are smoked with iridescent highlights, and his hair is a chestnut color accented with violet streaks that shade his eyes slightly. He wears a red bomber jacket, his ripped black jeans tightly wrapping his long legs. Oh god, were you staring? Averting your eyes, the boy winks at you playfully before taking a seat in the aisle in front of you. You hear Sunny whisper in your ear, “Who was that? Did he just wink at you?”

“No, I think he just had something in his eye.”

You don’t expect him to turn around, “You guys must be the choir group that prof told us about, right?”

You and Sunny stare at each other before you respond to him with a burst of confidence, “That’s right. We’re here to learn about music.”

The skinny japanese man stands up on the platform before adjusting his microphone, “And you have come to the right place.”

The boy in front of you whispers at you both, “The name’s Haechan, baby.”

When he turns around to the front, you find yourself interested by this stranger’s behavior. Is this what university is like? Enjoying the lecture couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt. You remembered how you intently listened to the professor talk about music structures and societal conformities and how you talked Sunny’s ear off about it all through lunch. Meanwhile, your classmates and most of the university students had dozed off in their seats. When it was the end of class, your choir teacher had hugged the professor tightly before turning to face the class. 

The professor speaks, “As you all may know, my good friend Barbra Lenor has come to Tokyo to teach her students about the art of music. I hope you treat them with respect and kindness. Haechan, Jaemin, and Chenle, you will be responsible for showing them around in exchange for extra credit.”

Haechan flashes a thumbs up to his professor, “Really, sir?”

You hear the boy called Chenle look at Haechan, “I was supposed to join the fortnite tournament tonight..”

The professor laughs at them, “ Haechan, extra credit couldn’t hurt. Chenle, find another time.”

“Class dismissed!”

After you and Sunny gather your belongings into your book bags, Haechan and his two friends stand by your desks as they gaze you up and down. You feel strangely curious yet skeptical. Your mother had always trusted you not to trust college boys- Haechan fit the perfect description of a boy anyone would tell you to watch out for. He radiated overconfidence, cockiness? Haechan scoffs at you, putting one hand at the corner of the table, “Listen girls, we’re very busy people and we won’t have time to do much. You’ll have to follow as we say.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Why would we have to do that? If you don’t want to, don’t force yourself because god forbid that you would have to.”

A mischievous smirk graces Haechan’s plush lips, he cocks up his eyebrow, “Huh interesting, when are you both free?”

Before you can refuse once more, your two roommates saunter over. Despite being in the same choir for 3 years, you never got to know their names until now. The taller girl was named Sara and her shorter friend- Chloe. Sara was also someone who seemed to fit that image of “a cat-like queen” who checked herself in the mirror every 6 seconds and her friend, Sara’s vessel to push around yet still stuck with her. Sara runs a hand through her brunette hair, “We’re free tomorrow after lecture, what do you say?”

You see Haechan scan Sara with his fiery eyes, licking his lips in the process. You grimace at the action, wondering if anyone had noticed. Haechan nods to you all, “It’s a deal ladies.”

Within the first thirty minutes of the next day’s lecture, you did not wake up to expect that you’d engage in an argument with none other than Haechan. The professor had begun a lecture topic about the ways in which music could be interpreted. He played you a love song from some famous japanese film you had no clue about, still, you explained how hard it would be to understand music in a different language. Haechan countered you by saying that music in different languages is the definition of diversity and that you weren’t trying hard enough to understand it. Before you could refute him, you wanted to wipe the smug grin that was plastered on Haechan’s voice as he chuckled devilishly. The professor stopped you both from continuing, saying that you both brought up good points but missed the central message entirely. You grumbled to Sunny all throughout class. What gave Haechan the right to show off when you had just wanted to learn from others? You doubted that Haechan was at the university to learn anyway. After class, Haechan laughed in your face, “How’s it feel to be scolded by Professor Hinama?”

You roll your eyes at him, violently shoving your books into your bag, “Can it, Haechan. You got scolded just as much as I did.”

‘Yeah, but I’m used to it so it doesn’t get under my skin like it does to you.” You wanted to punch his pretty, perfect face. You felt the tension in your heart swell angrily when Haechan asks, “You guys still on for city-seeing tonight?”

You scoff at him, “As if I’d go with you.”

Sunny begins to clutch your arm as she squeals, “Come on! This is the perfect opportunity to see the city! We have to go!”

You motion to Sara, Chloe, and Sunny, “You guys can go ahead without me, I’m gonna work on my piece for the showcase.”

Sara laughs in a superficial manner, “Fine by me- the better honestly.”

“I won’t go if y/n doesn’t.”

Your eyes widen at Haechan’s statement, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you have to come with us.”

“But why?”

“Because you’ll spend your whole time here working. You need to loosen up a little.”

The last part of his statement burns in your brain. You were sick of people calling you uptight just because you wanted to chase your dreams and had real goals. It made you especially annoyed when Haechan said it. You were never this bothered. You didn’t want him to be right.

You answer him, “Fine. Be at our hotel by 7.”

“Yes, scary lady.”

You fight the urge to slash Haechan in the neck, he had Jaemin and Chenle to do that for him. 

7 PM.

When 7 PM. rolled around, you had chosen a nice outfit no matter what Haechan and his friends had planned for you. Your mother helped you find your own fashion style, something that you’re deeply grateful for. You opted to wear tight-fitting jeans and a lilac off the shoulder top, silver crystals hung off your ear lobes. Sara clicked her tongue at you, “Wow, y/n, you’ve got style- I give you that.”

You nod at her, “Thanks.”

When Haechan and the boys arrive, you notice that they had taken the dress code just as seriously as you girls had. Haechan wore the same black jeans from before but opted for a matte leather jacket that was littered in gold chains. Jaemin wore shorts with a nice navy blue dress shirt, Chenle opting for a street style look as a white bucket hat shielded his eyes. Haechan moves closer to you, “Wow, miss uptight cleans up nice.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you huff, “I guess the same could go for you.”

Throughout the night, you found yourself enjoying running around Tokyo more than you had expected. The boys had taken you all to a three-story ramen restaurant that was insanely cheap- you couldn’t get enough of Haechan’s teasing when you powered through two bowls loaded of noodles. First, you hit Akihabara which was a neighborhood that was known as the electronic and video game part of the city as humongous robots suspended over taito gaming cafes. Tokyo seemed even more like a fantasy at night, you all would rush onto the subway right before it would leave- out of breath as you leaned back in your seats. Every hour, there was more to see: you went shopping in a nine story mall in Shinjuku, took photos with lolita girls in Omotesando alley, and picked up street-food in Mitaka. By the time you looked at your watch, it was already 1 am. Sunny kept complaining how her heels were hurting her feet so you had decided to do a more laid-back activity. Jaemin led you all to a small karaoke bar in the center of Kabuki-cho where colorful lights blurred in your vision. You felt like you were high on life, glowing sign boards dripped colors of electric blue and cherry reds as you skipped along the street. When you all finally got your private karaoke room, Haechan started to buzz over a waitress. He whispered some japanese words that none of you but his friends understood- the waitress came back with several sparkling glasses on a tray. She sent them down in front of you, you gulped it down for how much your throat hurt. Hiccuping, you and Sunny set the flutes down, you were hit with a sudden realization, “That was alcohol wasn’t it?”

Haechan leans back in his chair comfortably, spreading his legs on the cushion, “Sure was. Have fun.”

In normal circumstances, you never would ever think to drink a drop. Somehow, tonight seemed different and you weren’t about to let your friends get farther than you. Several flutes of sparkly liquids later, you couldn’t see straight. Everything felt like a psychedelic fever dream, faces laughing into yours as you danced on the couch or you belted into the microphone with Chenle.

Standing on the couch, you felt yourself lose balance, your legs wobbling from the effects of the alcohol. You fell, your butt landing on Haechan’s lap. You did the unthinkable- you booped Haechan’s nose with the tip of your finger, you said, “Hello, idiot.”

He held you, his arms wrapped around your waist, “Idiot? Don’t you think you’re talking about yourself?”

Your words slurred together, “Uh huh, yeah, nope, no, you’re a bully sir.”

You take a mental note of the slit in Haechan's eyebrow as he raises his brow at you, “Bully?”

Shoving a finger at his chest, you continue on, “You’re so mean- I just got here and I yeah, I you’re so mean to me in class- you don’t even know me that well.”

“Y/n, I know you’re tough so that’s why I do it.”

“You know, bully, I was upset about being scolded today- how could you bully me?”

Suddenly, Haechan’s expression turns sad, “You were?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t mean to make you feel that way, I-”

You shush him by pressing the pad of your finger to his lips, “Do you have a girlfriend?” You can’t even hear yourself anymore.

Haechan shakes his head, “I’ve never had one.”

You burst out into laughter, your skin feeling hot from Haechan’s fingers grazing the skin by your hip, “Whaaat? You? A playboy who doesn’t care about music at all and winks at strangers?”

Haechan’s frame stiffens, “Is that how you see me?”

Before you can answer, you laugh into Haechan’s shoulder as if his touch is your narcotic, “I don’t feel good but I do-”

The moment ends when he pushes you off his lap, placing a hand on your thigh, “Okay, time to get you home.”

You hear Sunny and Sara whine, Sara clings on to Jaemin’s arm, “Not yet!!”

Haechan stands as he tells Chenle and Jaemin to watch Sara, Chloe, and Sunny, urging them to stay longer. He lifts you bridal style, your arm slung around his neck, “I’m taking you home.”

You still protest by slapping his chest in which he had to deal with the whole train ride back. When you make it up to your room, Haechan sets you down on your bed before tucking the comforter over your body. With alcohol still running in your veins, you grab a hold of his palm, “Can you stay a bit?”

“I thought I was a bully.”

“You are but I don’t hate you.”

Haechan cards his free hand through the tufts of his hair, his face illuminated in the dim light. From that angle, Haechan looks ethereal. He stares down at you with dark eyes, his lips pursed with amusement, “That’s nice to hear.”

He sits on the ground by your head, his hand still intertwined with yours. You don’t know why this question eats up at you, why it even affects you. You whisper to him from under the covers, “Haechan, what do you even go to Tokyo university for?”

He looks at you with softened eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line, “You know, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me.”

“How so?”

“As a kid, my dream has always been to enter a celebrity training program in Seoul. I’m not that good to be so high level yet so my parents sent me to study in Tokyo first.”

Suddenly, you feel incredibly sober. You sit up on your bed, the cover falling away, “Really? Aren’t those programs really hard physically and mentally?”

He nods, his fingers picking at his chin, “If it wasn’t a challenge, people wouldn’t become asia-based singers. I haven’t given up yet.”

You stare at him in awe, his voice hard with determination and strength, “Wow, I had no idea.”

“What about you?”

You answer him, “I’m my choir’s lead soprano. Like you, I feel like I was destined to sing. My dream is to study here in Tokyo and then balance singing with becoming a music professor.”

Haechan muses, “I’m not surprised, you’re a bright girl. I’ve seen your passion for music, the way you talk with confidence in class. It’s amazing.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck and your cheeks at his compliment, you clear your throat, “Do you write?”

“I do, I’ve been working on my own piece for the showcase.”

Haechan goes silent for a moment before he whips out his phone from his pocket, “Do you write?”

“Of course.”

“I-uh- I’ve been stuck on one verse for a while and I was wondering if you could help me?”

When you look at Haechan’s sparkling eyes, you sense his uncertainty. You sense his conflict. You nod at him, ushering him to read you his song. When he does, you see a different light in Haechan. You take note of the way he taps his foot into rhythm, humming and clicking his tongue to illustrate the flow of the song. You see the makings of an artist. He’s just like you. When he’s done, he looks up at you, “So, this part- here. I’m stuck.”

Immediately, you snap your fingers to the beat as you scat to the song, “I think you should add a b chord here and a f sharp chord there. I think it would highlight the chorus well like playing down the notes before the bridge.”

Haechan scribbles your comments onto his phone, his finger gliding all over the screen. He pauses before ad-libbing the song once again, your advice in account. All of a sudden, he jumps up from his chair before attacking you into a bear hug on to your bed. 

“Oh my god, y/n, you did it! My song is done!”

Staring at him with wide eyes, you rest your hands on his shoulders, “Congratulations, Haechan.”

Without a moment to spare, Haechan leans forward to crash his lips onto yours. You pull back in surprise, eyeing him with affirmation. Haechan pins your wrists to the wall as you press your back flat against the wall, allowing him to kiss you fervently. You shiver from the way your lips mold over Haechan’s, his hands intertwined with yours against the wall. Slowly, Haechan drags his lips down to the hollow of your neck, he presses burning kisses to your skin. You sigh with pleasure, a whimper coming from your lips when he straddles your lap. You hear him grunt when you release his hand and press your hand to the back of his neck. He pulls away briefly to look at you, “I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.”

You gaze at him, his eyes half-lidded and drunken of the feeling of your touch, “Me neither.”

He lets his leather jacket fall to the floor before lifting the hem of his white tee over his head. You pause at the sight of him being shirtless in front of you, you drag your fingers across the toned muscle of his chest and his stomach. He’s not extremely ripped but he’s not without muscles either. You hear Haechan’s breathing get heavy when he places his hand over yours. Your bodies are extremely hot now, the temperature rising when Haechan bites your bare shoulder. You whine, feeling the fabric slowly slipping down from your shoulders. You resort to taking it off entirely, it lands by Haechan’s jacket on the floor. When he sinks his teeth into the area near your collarbone, you let out a yelp only for Haechan to whisper in your ear, “Baby, you can’t be too loud.”

You decide to try something new by tugging Haechan’s hair back before pressing your lips to his neck. He laughs at your attempt to be stronger than him, stroking your cheek when you pout, “Don’t laugh at me! See, this counts as bullying!”

He shakes his head before allowing you to pepper kisses down his chest, your hair looped around his fingers. Becoming impatient, he raises your chin to meet his lips again as his tongue parts through your mouth causing you to squeeze his hip bone from the reaction. He wraps his hand around the curve of your thigh, his nails digging into the fabric of your jeans. He starts to whisper in your ear, “I think I’m-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you hear your friends’ voices echoing from down the hall. You push him off you, “oh shit!”

He laughs as he watches you to scramble to put your shirt on. When you do, you turn to see Haechan who isn’t moving at all. He sits on your bed, his shirt and jacket still on the floor, “What are you doing?! They’re coming?!”

He gives you a playful smirk, “And?”

It’s too late. The girls walking in see Haechan shirtless on your bed, red marks all over both of your necks. Sunny gasps the loudest, “Were we interrupting? Oh sorry- jesus-”

Sara and Chloe smirk beside her. You grab Haechan by the arm, pressing his t-shirt and jacket to his chest, “Get out!”

Haechan stammers over his words, clutching his clothes against his body, “Wait- I -Hold on-”

You slam the door in his face, “We have class tomorrow, go home already!”

“Come on, y/n! We were just-”

“I said go home Haechan!”

You hear him waddle away, Sunny and you roommates scampering into bed. You turn off the light, laying back into your pillow- your thoughts plagued with heated moments of Haechan’s lips on yours, blushing at the thought of what could’ve been if you weren’t interrupted. 

Your next couple weeks were memories made with your new friends along with Haechan, especially Haechan. You and Haechan made it some secret game to sneak around when your professors and classmates weren’t looking, ransacking the bread stand during lunch. You snuck up on to the roof, Haechan’s warm hand enclosed in yours as he draped his uniform jacket around your shoulders. He’d giggle at your dumb jokes, resting his head on your lap as you’d run your fingers through his coffee-stained hair. It felt like bliss, breathing the cold Tokyo air- alone with a boy who still didn’t cease his teasing during class. You didn’t mind it as much anymore, knowing that Haechan wouldn’t say words with bad intentions. Professor Hinama had scolded you both because Haechan kept trying Chenle to pass you notes that he wrote you, lines of cheesy poems comingled with some crude insults about how you had bedhair or how your breath smelled bad. Of course, you wouldn’t let him win so easily. One night, Haechan decided to take you to a arcade in Shibuya, it was a night that was to be written in the books. Haechan raided you tokens, shoving them into the claw machine because you told him you thought the stuffed bear in the case looked like him. He was determined to win it for you no matter how much you screamed at him for wasting your tokens on one game. You both danced together on the rainbow-colored pad of dance revolution, Haechan pushing you over so you would lose. He might’ve won then but he was not to beat you at mario kart. You concentrated on the spinning track, surging past the finish line at 1st place as Haechan pouted at you, begging for another try. You shook your head, “I won fair and square, end of story.”

“But, y/n, I was distracted!”

“Sucks to suck, doesn’t it?”

Haechan continues to whine at you, you pull him into a hug, “Let’s go play another game!”

By the end of the night, Haechan finally managed to win you that stuffed bear- a souvenir of the newfound feelings you two shared, the fondness of each other. 

Many nights were filled with city outings with your friends. Once, Jaemin tried to balance a teppanyaki stick on his nose was Sara and Sunny recorded him at the same time. Little flashbacks of when Haechan grabbed your hand, your friends darting out of the restaurant in order to prank Chenle who was a poor boy who was just in the bathroom, his confused face making you all laugh. It was the little moments and the memory of staring up at Haechan’s bright eyes amongst the colorful lights that made you wish you could stay in Tokyo forever.

Day of the showcase

If you could see inside yourself, you were sure that you could see your nerves bouncing around- darting back and forth in your stomach. You and Haechan spent the last week practicing your pieces- sometimes he would lie to you, claiming that he needed help on averse but pressed a firm kiss to your lips when you leaned in close. You hit his arm, “What if someone walks in?!” 

Haechan raises an eyebrow at you, “They should enjoy the show.”

You shove him off his chair before he attacks you with more pecks all over your face, your cheeks tinged with a shade of pink. Once you both were confident in your skills, time seemed to fast forward to the day of the showcase. That evening, you slipped on your favorite dress that your mother packed in your suitcase before you left. Sunny and Sara helped do your hair and your makeup as you wished them luck on their performances.

Walking into the auditorium, it was like everything you dreamed of. It was a grand hall that glowed golden as red, cushioned seats lined the room, a stage at the center under the spotlight. You made your way backstage, thumbing your flashdrive anxiously as your heart beat out of your chest. Was it getting hard to breathe? You felt a sigh of relief when Haechan trotted up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “We’ve worked hard, we got this.”

You nod at him, playing with his fingers in the process when you both take your positions in line. Watching from backstage, it’s just as beautiful as watching in the audience. You got to see what each student felt before they stepped out into the light and how they felt after the standing ovations. When it was Haechan’s turn, he straightened his satin tie, giving your hand one last squeeze. You felt your breath hitch in your throat when Haechan sat at a grand piano, his back faced away from the audience. He sighs before meeting your eyes, “This is a special piece I wrote when I was searching for my purpose. Someone has taught me the meaning of music and why I do it- why it connects people.”

You smile when he winks at you as he starts the ballad he had first showed you. The spotlight dims into a shade of periwinkle blue and the screen on the floor blooms as an ivory lily under Haechan’s feet. The whole time you practiced, you admitted how you adored the rawness of his voice. This was on an entirely different level. The way he raised his head when he belted the high notes or the way he would scrunch his nose with emotion made your heart swell. The cheers were ear-deafening, people threw a few flowers at him when he finished. Making his way backstage, he pressed a firm kiss to your lips before gazing at you, “You’ll do amazing.”

Walking past him, you take your place on the center of the stage- the spotlight changing into the rosy pink. You felt a weight sink into your chest. Why were there that many people? You never usually got stage fright, your legs wobbled with anxiety. You looked to the side, Haechan leaned on the stage beam as he nodded at you. Taking a deep breath, you let yourself go. You sang harder than you ever did before, your heart soared every time you remembered your family, friends, and Haechan as the words fell from your lips. When you were done, the crowd screamed for you. Feeling a sense of pride, you bowed to them- your dress basking in the pink spotlight. 

The show finished with outstanding performances, each one had a different genre and a unique voice to go with their performances. Haechan lifted you in the air, spinning you as your classmates (now friends) tackled you with happiness. You all felt a sense of achievement, an experience that seemed the most valuable in the world. That was until a tall asian woman dressed in a white suit motioned Haechan over. You watched as he gave you a look of confusion- in your heart, you knew what she was about to say. You didn’t have to hear her words to know. Running back to you, Haechan down-played his enthusiasm of getting a scout letter to Seoul, Jaemin and Chenle pulling it out of his hands to read it. Of course, you were happy for him. Did you have a right to stop someone from chasing their dreams in exchange for your short-lived crush? No. You wouldn’t if he had stopped you. Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around his waist as you whisper to him, “My flight leaves back to the states tomorrow morning.”

You physically feel his body sink with disappointment as he peeled you off his body, “Can’t you just stay here?”

You sweep his hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek, “You’ll be in Seoul, you should take this opportunity to fulfill your dreams and I- well, home is back there..”

Haechan hesitates, stammering over his words, “I-I don’t even know if I-I’m sure about Seoul. What if I can’t? What if-”

You press a lingering kiss to his cheek, “You’ve shown me you’re capable. I know you can.”

Haechan buries his face into your shoulder hastily, you freeze when you hear Haechan let out a sob. All you can do is rub his back comfortingly.

When you head back to the hotel with the girls, Haechan, Jaemin and Chenle make sure to see you before driving to the airport. A tear falls from your cheek, taking in the last few breaths of the sweet air of Tokyo- the city that would always hold a special place in your heart. Haechan pulls you in for one last hug before whispering in your ear, “Promise me you won’t give up on you dreams either.”

Smiling at him, you say, “You won’t see me doing that.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, “You’ll always be the first one to me. No matter what the future is, you’ll always be the first.”

A tear slips down your cheek, you wipe it away quickly, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

As your taxi bus drives down the narrow road, you and the girls press your faces against the back window, the three boys pretending to run after the bus. You meet eyes with Haechan, a bright smile on his face as he waves you one last farewell.

Bonus:

Years later

“Hey! y/n! Get downstairs, you’ll be late for school!”

“I’m up!”

Running down the stairs, you slip your jacket over your shoulders before taking a seat at your dining table. You hear your father’s radio playing, a beautiful voice drifting from the small box. 

“What’s that song dad?”

Your dad sets down his newspaper, a grin plastered on his face, “I don’t know but some new band released this gem! I can’t stop listening to it!”

You pull out your phone to shazam the song, a profile of a band swiping up on your screen. You don’t believe your eyes. You hold your breath for a moment, Haechan’s photo rotates on the app. 

“Do you know them?”

Smiling at your dad, you say, “Something like that.”

In your mind, you’re proud of him. He finally achieved his dream.

[srhlsx]

Rewritten & Reposted March 23, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 8 | CHAPTER 9 | Ch. 10

The short ride to the Fukurodani campus was loud and bumpy across the city. The small bus was alive with the chatter of twelve teenage girls, excitement brewing in anticipation for the challenge that was ahead of them.

The Fukurodani girl’s volleyball team, while not as highly regarded as their boy’s team, was not an opponent to be taken lightly. You knew this well as you had gone to middle school with a handful of the girls on the team and learned to play the sport you loved with them. Most of you had fallen out of touch over the years, your parents were never going to be able to afford the tuition to the academy even before your mom got sick - but that sense of competition was always going to linger whenever you were forced together.

The music that had been blasting into your ears through your headphones was suddenly ripped away and you looked next to you at Rumi who was waiting with an expectant face. “Huh?” You said, pulling the second earbud out.

“Good Gods,” She chuckled. “I asked if you wanted to get food after the match? Coach said we don’t have to ride the bus back if we don’t want to.”

You remembered the vague plans you had already made with Bokuto when you responded to your friend, “I’m meeting up with Bokuto after… actually.”

“Oh shit?” Rumi mumbled, shifting in her seat and growing more excited with the passing moments until she was yelling over the conversations on the bus. “Oh shit!”

“Shh!” You hushed her, clasping a hand over her mouth. “It is not that serious.”

“Oh it’s serious alright,” She said after prying your hand away and turning to fully face you. “How much do you guys hang out? Do you talk all the time? What is going on? Have you-”

“Whoa, whoa,” You held your hands out in front of you to calm your friend and teammate. “Slow down, Rumi.”

She noted your mild embarrassment, the use of her real name rather than the nickname you usually used, and actually settled down a few notches. Rumi leaned towards you, her face inches away and her voice much lower than it had previously been as she spoke to you. “Is this like a date?”

“What?” You jerked your head back in surprise. “No! No. He just… asked to walk me home after.”

“Bit of a long walk, definitely out of his way.” Rumi mused, giving you a skeptical look. “You’re actually going to let him walk you home. Like, home home.”

Of all the people in your life, Rumi knew the most about your situation and how you actively did your best to not let people know how much had changed over the last year. You weren’t embarrassed, a home was a home - but you didn’t need or have the mind for the sympathy that would come with seeing the way your family now lived.

“If he had asked for a real date-”

“Rumi.”

“What?” She had the audacity to look surprised at your stern reaction. “I mean, a blind person could see the sexual tension between you two. Plus what was that the other day when you just totally disappeared from the corner mart?”

“I do apologize for that, by the way.” You added quickly, realizing you two hadn’t even talked about the disappearing act you pulled a few days earlier. “We just got… caught up, I guess.”

“Caught up in what exactly? Your loins?”

“You’re disgusting, oh my God.” You quickly looked around to make sure none of your other teammates, and especially not your coaches, were listening to your conversation. “No, we were just… talking.”

“You were so into just talking that you both forgot to say goodbye. What happened to I don’t have time for this?” Rumi responded with a roll of her eyes, not seeming to believe much of what you were saying. When she noticed that you had looked away from her, gazing down at your hands in an uncharacteristic show of shyness from you, she spoke up again. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled, looking up. “I think I am.”

*

The floor of the main fieldhouse at Fukurodani was one step below that of a professional facility. So, when you rolled out of the way after a diving save from a quick up the middle, you hardly felt the burn that would normally eat up the skin of your elbows.

You got up just in time to see Rumi toss the ball in the air across the court to another third year on your team who was already three steps into her approach. A moment later the scoreboard changed in your favor.

Hana reached out to you and slapped your hand while another teammate ruffled your hair just a little bit, complimenting you on your save. The practice match was about halfway into the second set, the score was 14-18 with your team winning, and having secured the first game with a score of 21-25. Fukurodani had improved since the last time you had all played together and the challenge was exciting.

“Damn,” You sighed, wiping the sweat from your hairline. “Number ten is not making things easy to read. Was she that good last year?”

“She was about seven centimeters shorter,” One of your teammates mumbled from her position next to you, hands resting on her hips. “Add that to her already high vertical, they’ve got a good offense set up around her.”

You let out a huff and also got back into position as Rumi stepped up a spot over from you to serve. As she dribbled the ball, you licked the tips of your fingers and swiped at the bottoms of your shoes, then crouched slightly to prepare for the next rally.

Practice for the boys team was ending, and being the curious teenagers they were, some of them wanted to check out the girl’s practice match next door. Bokuto was not going to pass up that opportunity regardless, but knowing you were there he was especially excited to get a peek.

“Your lady is playing, yeah?” Bokuto looked over to see Konoha looking at him with a sly smile and his hands propped up on his hips.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bokuto smirked, scratching at the side of his head as he followed a few of his teammates down the hall towards the school’s main gym. Practice matches for any sport always took priority, which was why the boys had been bumped to a different gym than they normally practiced. 

“Sure,” His teammate drawled out. “You just have that giddy look in your eyes for no reason.”

“It’s not every day you get to see the Interhigh champions in a practice match,” Sarukui added thoughtfully.

Bokuto wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t excited to see you, he’d been looking forward to it all day. He was distracted during class, enthusiastic during practice. He had to stop himself from running past his friends, bursting through the doors to the gym, and interrupting the match just to get your attention once more. He hoped he didn’t look as desperate as he felt.

When he did finally get to the gym, Bokuto got the same feeling he did when he entered his own matches. A thick feeling of competition hung in the air as the sound of voices yelling and skin contacting leather echoed in the large space. He saw the score was at set point for your school, though he wasn’t sure who had taken the first. 

He could tell you hadn’t noticed that he and his teammates had peeked in, at least from what the look of  concentration on your face said. You had tightened the top-not on your head and squinted your eyes as you studied the team of girls from Bokuto’s school as they moved with precision to get the ball over the net in an offensive attack.

You silently pushed one of your teammates in the direction you anticipated the attack to come from and took a few steps back to prepare to receive the ball. It took a weird angle off the hand of the middle blocker on your team and deflected in the opposite direction from you and instead went directly at Rumi. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it and jerked her hands up immediately to catch the ball and send it upwards.

Not allowing your team to be rattled, you nodded at Hana who braced herself a few steps in front of you and prepared for her own approach.

Then there was you. Bokuto watched like it was in slow motion - you took a few graceful, but powerful, steps and swung your arms in a backwards motion. You planted both of your feet, chest heaving in a deep breath, and focused all your strength on the balls of your feet as you leapt into the air from behind the attack line.

Your fingertips only barely brushed the ball and sent it up with such precision, placing in such a perfect position, Bokuto almost ran out and hit the ball himself. 

It shot straight through the hand of the outside blocker, her fingers bending back almost unnaturally, and smashed into the wood floor with a loud thump. You pumped a fist as you landed, letting out a thrilling yell, your team winning the set and the match.

“Guess we know why you like her so much~”

*

New Message: 6:27 PM

Bokuto: outside when ready!! no rush :p

Bokuto was waiting for you outside the gym at a picnic table on the lawn of Fukurodani’s campus. He, much like you, was dressed in a set of warm-up sweats and had his backpack casually draped on his shoulders. Damn, he looks good.

“Hey killer, saw the last bit of your match.” Bokuto smiled down at you as he stood up from his seat on the picnic table. 

“Ah, you saw?” You looked up at him with big eyes, a little embarrassed but also a little excited he got to see you play. You hadn’t even noticed there was much of an audience during the game.

A few girls from Fukurodani were walking past you, huddled together and speaking in hushed tones as they eyed both you and Bokuto. You couldn’t hear anything they said, and you frankly didn’t care. You waved politely to the girl you recognized as their libero and complimented her on a well fought game. Knowing full well she did not play as well as you had, she simply waved back and ushered the rest of her team away.

Bokuto silently reached out and grabbed hold of the duffle-bag you were holding in your right hand, the brush of his fingers against your skin felt like an electric shock rushing up your arm and hit you straight in your chest. Your attention immediately snapped over to him, catching his eyes as they sparkled down at you.

You nodded to him slinging your bag over his shoulder as the two of you started walking towards the entrance of the school campus, “Is this part of your aggressive chivalry?”

“Part one, yes.” He smiled, walking with just the slightest hop in his step. “Part two is…”

As he trailed off, you felt another shock as his slender fingers slid down your inner arm. They grazed the skin of your wrist and stopped when they had intertwined with your own. You smiled at the contact, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze when you had looked up and saw just the smallest hint of fear in his golden eyes. Something told you that this momentary lack of confidence was not something Bokuto was used to.

“I very much like part two,” You said.

The two of you carried on through the streets of the city, joking and laughing as your clasped hands swung lightheartedly between you. Bokuto was charming, it felt good to be around him, and from the way his eyes would look down at you it was clear he liked being around you too. 

You talked about the obvious things, volleyball and school, but also about things you hadn’t covered in your many conversations through text. He talked about his parents, his older sisters who were away at college, and the family dog who really only liked his mom. 

You mentioned your siblings and the funny ways they kept you on your toes each and every day. How you were getting ready to apply to Kitasato for vet school and how overwhelming some of your classes were feeling.

The conversation was surface level at best, but it was comfortable and easy. The easiest you had been able to talk to anyone in a long time, it felt. 

Your feet had been on autopilot, distracted by the tall boy next to you, and sooner than you anticipated you were rounding the corner on your own street. You were glad you had broken out of your little stupor long enough to realize that you were walking straight home, but still needed to stop at Baba’s house before.

You paused, pulling Bokuto back with a light tug which made him dramatically spin on his heels to face you. “This is my stop.” You nodded your head in the general direction of the house.

Bokuto glanced at the name plate in front of the house, then at the house itself, before looking back down at you with a dreamy smile on his face. “Damn, I wanted more time.”

“Well, I’ve got more time this weekend.” You said casually, looking anywhere but at him while he continued to swing your hands between the two of you. 

“Saturday?” He asked.

You silently nodded and looked up at him as he reached to brush a few flyaway strands of hair out of your face. Like he had in that moment days ago, Bokuto cupped your cheek with his hand. He leaned in slowly, closer and closer -

“Neeeechaaaan!”

The two of you froze, Bokuto’s eyes closing as he leaned his forehead against yours and let out a laugh and a curse. You too laughed, turning your head to look at your little sister as she bounded down the steps of the house and launched herself at you. Luckily, you caught her in time and hoisted her weight onto your hip. 

“Hello, my chibi.” Your sister suddenly became quiet when she noticed you weren’t alone, looking up at Bokuto with wide eyes while clinging to your neck. “Aw, don’t be shy now. Say hi to Bokuto.” 

“Hi.” She mumbled into her hands, letting out a giggle.

“Hey hey, it’s very nice to meet you,” Bokuto smiled, reaching out to ruffle your little sister’s curly hair. “I’ll text you later?”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, smiling and shifting your weight to carry both your sister and the duffle-bag Bokuto handed back to you. “Thanks for walking me.” 

Bokuto smiled and reached up again to brush his thumb across your cheek gently. You leaned into the touch, a feeling of happiness and warmth spreading from your chest as he started to walk back in the direction of the train station.

“Neechan,” You heard Yua ask as you walked the steps up to the house to collect your brother.

“What is it?”

“Does Botudo love you?”

You laughed out loud at the way she pronounced his name and squeezed her a little tighter into your side. “I don’t know about that, chibi. But I think he likes me.”

“Hmm, do you like Botudo?”

“Yeah,” You answer her back with confidence. “I think like him a lot.”

*

[fangirl-imagines]

Miss America and the Heartbreak Prince//Teen!Eddie Kaspbrak

A/N: Requested by @lover1307

Prompt: Based on the song “Miss, America and the Heartbreak Prince” by Taylor Swift on her new album Lover. In this imagine Eddie, the reader, and the rest of the losers are all in high school. 

Warnings: Bullying, name calling, and slut shaming

“Whore!” 

You winced but kept your head held high as you walked through the hall ways with all the grace of the pageant queen you were. Beverly, who had been walking next to you spun on her heels and flipped the offending boy off with a hard glare before whirling back around and squeezing you wrist. You kept walking, trying to look cool and uncaring at the petty insults of seventeen year old boys. Except it wasn’t just senior boys saying these things about you. It was boys in every grade and the girls too. The girls were worse actually. 

“Just ignore him Y/N. He’s a creep.” Beverly reminded you with a concerned glance. You turned your head to face her and smiled weakly. 

“Thanks Bev.” The bell rang for class and you stopped in your tracks causing your fiery haired best friend to stop and turn to look back at you. “You can go ahead to class Bev. I forgot something in my locker.”

She raised her brows but you just brushed by her and into the stairwell, leaving her standing there. Alone in the stairwell you leaned your head back against the cold brick wall and lowered yourself into the floor, tucking your skirt under your legs gently and closing your eyes. Oh how far you had fallen in just a year. 

You use to be one of the most popular girls in this school. You’ve been competing in pageants since you were in middle school and had won most of them. You had your eyes set on being Miss.Maine after high school and maybe even Miss.America one day. You still do actually. It was your looks that got you in with the popular crowd in the seventh grade and had kept you there until last year. Until you broke it off with David Sanders for cheating on you with Caroline Silver, who you had considered a friend. It had been messy and painful in a way only high school breaks up could be and in the fall out they said things about you that stuck, things that people believed coming from your boyfriend and best friend. Your reputation was ruined and you suddenly realized your so called friends didn’t care about you at all. 

But Beverly Marsh knew what it was like to have people call her a slut for things she had never done. You had never even talked to her before but she remembered that you had never talked about her either. She sat down with you at lunch one day and the two of you talked about how much you hated your town and 90% of the men in it. She introduced you to the rest of the Loser’s Club and the rest was history. You found it hard to believe that a year ago you didn’t know who Beverly Marsh, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon, Stan Uris, Bill Denbrought, or Eddie Kaspbrak were but now they were without a dought the most important people in your life.

The first pageant you did after you met them they all came to and sat in the back row cheering loudly and in Richie's case, catcalling for you. You lost the contest but afterwards Eddie gave you the roses they brought you and you all went out for celebratory milkshakes leaving you with a better feeling than winning ever did. 

That was the night you and Eddie started dating. Eddie was different than the guys you dated in the past and you loved that about him. He was sarcastic and witty, vulnerable and anxious, chatty and always present, loyal and loving. Good or bad you loved being with him. But you never wanted him to see how badly the rumors affected you. You knew the losers all knew the truth and that was what mattered but even after a year it hadn’t gotten any easier to hear the whispers when you walked down the halls or the names thrown at you by the particularly brave. Your mother told you to ignore them, keep your head held high like a queen but it was much easier said than done. Breaking down in the girls bathroom or the stairwell wasn’t a new occurrence for you but you refused to let yourself cry in front of your friends or your classmates that tried to break you down. 

“There you are!” You stiffened and looked up to see Ben standing by the door on the stairs above you. He turned his head and called out into the hall, “Guys, she’s in here!” 

You hastily wiped your eyes and stood up, trying to keep what was left of your dignity. The rest of the Losers suddenly appeared behind Ben but it was Eddie that ran down the stairs and stopped in front of you. “Are you okay?! Beverly told us some guy yelled at you and you ran off.” He took your hand and squeezed it but his face kept its worried frown.

“Yeah, she pulled us all out of class to come hunt you down!” Mike added from the top section on the stairs.

You smiled weakly. “I’m sorry guys, you shouldn’t have left class for me. We don’t all need to get detention over this.”

“She’s right, we shouldn’t have.” Stan added deadpan only to get shoved by Bill. You laughed lightly knowing Stan was joking.

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. “Seriously though, are you okay? What did that guy say to you?”

You shrugged your shoulders which was enough for him to know it was the same type of thing everyone called you lately. Eddie’s frown deepened. “I’m really sorry we go to school with a bunch of idiots Y/N. You’re too good for them you know.”

He stressed, squeezing your hand again. You forced a smile and nodded. “Thanks Eds.” He rolled his eyes again making you burst out laughing.

“Hey, how come she gets to call you Eds?!” Richie pointed at you with mock jealousy. “You homewrecker!”

“Beep beep Richie!” You laughed which made Richie smile with pride.

The bell for next period interrupted you all and signaled it was time to head for lunch. Together you all walked back into the hall and made your way to the cafeteria. You were walking through the crowd, holding Eddie’s hand and listening to Mike tell you about a new book he read when suddenly you felt a rush of wind pass you and almost knock you down, pulling up your skirt as they went and laughing. You stumbled into Mike with a squeal and he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady. That’s when you looked up and relived that it wasn’t a gust of wind but Jamie Carson, Brian’s best friend. He was laughing so hysterically at the “joke” that he was leaning against one of his buddies for support. He was pointing at your skirt as he laughed. Your cheeks went red as you quickly readjusted your skirt, pushing off of Mike’s shoulder. You opened your mouth to yell at him but before you could say anything there was a high-pitched scream from beside you.

You had never seen Eddie in a fight before. You were almost possitive he had never actually fought anyone besides the time he told you he and the other losers pelted the Bower’s gang with rocks. So you weren’t surprised that everyone around you seem to pause simultaneously at the sight of Eddie Kaspbrak, anxious,hypochondriac, and founding member of the Losers Club racing across the hall and throwing his body into Jamie Carson’s. He straddled the taller boy’s chest and grabbed Jamie’s shirt in one hand and swung his other fist wildly and without a clear direction. The first blow broke the spell that had been cast over Derry high school and the hall broke into chaos. 

Jamie tried scooting back from Eddie but got clocked in the jaw while doing so. Mike and Bill grabbed at Eddie’s shoulders and arms trying to pull him off Jamie. Beverly looked like she wanted to jump into the mix, but Ben wouldn’t let go of her hand, keeping her back. Stan watched the fight with wide eyes, frozen in his spot. Richie stood by your side, cheering proudly with enthusiasm for his boy.  Eddie was yelling too, a string of obscenities in Jamie’s face. Mike and Bill got hold of Eddie pulling him back by their grip on his arms. He didn’t try and fight them. Jamie sat up, blood pouring from his nose that sat at a crooked angle on his face. He touched it gingerly staring at Eddie in shock. Eddie glanced over at you and your open-mouthed stare, then down at the floor.

Someone in the crowd yelled teacher and the rest of the day became a blur. Jamie disappeared from the crowd, if he got in another fight he would be expelled, while you and the rest of the Losers made a barrier around Eddie to hide his disheveled form. The next few hours were a blur before you found yourself kneeling on the bathroom rug with Eddie sitting on the tub edge, wincing as you cleaned the blood off his busted knuckles.

“You don’t think that I could get hepatitis from this do you? Or-, Or what about AIDS? You don’t think some of Jamie’s blood could have had AIDS in it and gotten into my hand do you?!”

You applied more alcohol than necessary making Eddie wince and glared up at him. “Is that really what you’re worried about right now?! You just got into a fight with Jamie Carson, he could have killed you, and you’re worried about AIDS?”

Eddie shrugged softly, “It’s better than worrying about what my mom’s going to say when she finds out I got into a fight.” He admitted sadly.

Your heart softened; you closed your eyes with a sigh. “Why did you have to hit him Eddie?”

Eddie was quiet, watching you apply a bandage to his hand gently. “I’m sick of seeing them pick on you Y/N. You don’t deserve it, any of it.” His voice was soft and sad. You hadn’t realized how much what was happening to you affected him until now. “You were crying today in the stairwell and then as soon as you felt better some dick tries to knock you down again. And I’m sick of it. I just lost it.”

You kissed the bandage on his hand gently and then kissed his lips softly. “I love you Eddie Kaspbrak.”

He smiled at you, “We’re going to get out of here Y/N. As soon as we graduate. We’re getting out of here.”

You wrapped your arms around his stomach and pulled him into a grateful hug. You felt him kiss your head and you nodded.

“Together.”

“Together.”

[violet-knox]

Enough is Enough

Year 4 - Chapter 6

Summary: Furious at Severus, you decide to confront him one last time and end up opening up to him about your past.   

Word count: 1562

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

~

After watching Severus walk away from you, you made your way to your dorm in a fuming rage. Walking right past the celebration in the common room unnoticed, you stepped into your empty dorm and buried your face into your pillow as you began to sob. After everything, after bonding for so long, he still didn’t consider you a friend. 

You felt your anger bubble to the surface again as you recalled the last few words he’d said to you which lead you to think of all the other harsh comments he had previously directed your way. Unsure of what you should do next, you ran through all your options in your head. You could ignore him and pretend like you didn’t even know him. You could attack him the way he did you, or you could confront him and demand to be heard. 

You finally decided to talk to him after Potions class tomorrow and give this friendship one last shot, or at the very least, get some closure. Third time’s the charm right?

Packing up all your stuff, you quickly prepared yourself to corner Severus as he emerged from the classroom shortly after you. Pulling him into an abandoned hallway, you pushed him to the wall harshly. He shot you a dirty look before reaching for his wand defensively. 

“You won’t need that,” you said furiously. “Not unless you’ve finally decided to act like the rest of your rude housemates.” 

“What do you want,” he snapped back.

“To talk. I’m sick of the way you’re treating me and I won’t have it!” you exclaimed. 

“I told you to leave me alone. It’s better this way,” he went to turn away from you, thinking he’d made his point quiet clear but stopped in his tracks as you continued speaking, determined to teach him a thing or two about manors.

“Why? Just because you’re a Slytherin and I’m a Gryffindor? That’s no reason to be rude!” you were frustrated with his stubborn views. 

“You just don’t understand-”

“No, it’s you that doesn’t understand!” you shouted. Severus stared at you in shock before deciding he no longer wanted to partake in this conversation, feeling as though nothing he said would sway your perspective.

“Whatever,” he mumbled as he shook his head and turned to walk away from you.

“I grew up in an orphanage,” you blurted out. He stopped and turned to look at you, surprised at what you just shared with him. Neither of you ever talked about anything non-Hogwarts related. “My-My mother was a muggle. She left my dad when she found out he was a wizard shortly after I was born. And my dad, he didn’t have a lot of money so he ended up in a small muggle village with poor health care. He was weak and had a really bad case of Dragon Pox. He died a year after my mom left.” You didn’t know why you were sharing all this with him, but you kept going anyway.

“I had no one growing up. No family, no friends. No one. I thought that you understood me, that we could be friends. I thought maybe if I was patient, you would understand that it doesn’t matter what other people think.”

“Why-Why would you tell me this?” he asked nervously, feeling it difficult to abandon you now that you’d spilled your life’s story onto the floor in front of him. 

“Because-I-I… I don’t-know,” you said throwing your hands in the air feeling yourself let go of any left over frustrations towards Severus. “Maybe because I want you to understand how I feel when you treat me so harshly.” Neither of you said a thing for a while, as neither of you really knew what to say. 

“Do you-” you started, “Without-without thinking about what house I’m in, do you want to be friends Severus?”  You decided to try approaching the situation from a different angle. Perhaps this way, Severus could see that your house is no reason to give up on your friendship.

He thought for a moment, recalling all the talks you’ve had and how much you bonded over your love for books. He had to admit to himself that he did enjoy your company, something he had to admit he hadn’t felt since he’d met Lily. He enjoyed the company of his Slytherin friends of course, but it just wasn’t the same.

“Yes,” he finally whispered making you smile in satisfaction. “But-” he was about to argue that what house you are from does affect the situation, but you interrupted him. 

“Then can we at least try to ignore this house nonsense and be friends? Because I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you in the library these last few months,” you said. He shifted uncomfortably at first before nodding his head in agreement. If he’d managed to stay friends with Lily this long, perhaps extending his hand in friendship to you wouldn’t be as bad as he imagined. Despite your interest in Quidditch, he could tell that you both had a lot in common already, something he lacked with Lily which did cause the air to stiffen a bit when he spoke with her.

You both made your way to the library in silence after that, hoping the awkwardness would fade and settled into your usual spot to resume your study sessions. Over the next few weeks, you both slowly began to feel comfortable around each other again and Severus learned to ignore any comments thrown his way from his housemates. 

Neither of you brought up your personal lives after you shared your story, but you didn’t mind as thinking about your life outside of Hogwarts was hard enough and you had no interest in being pitted. What you didn’t know was that Severus understood how you felt far more than you imagined as his own home situation was not as quaint as everyone else’s. You indeed do have a lot more in common than he thought, but he had reservations when he thought about opening up to you as he had gotten so used to keeping his guard up around others. 

Nevertheless, he had begun to feel a sense of familiarity and home, a feeling he hadn’t felt since he met Lily. This scared him as he was frustrated with the current status of his friendship with the girl he had grown up with and come to love. He wanted to see more of her, but the fact that she had been sorted into Gryffindor had rendered it rather difficult to see one another. Would the same thing happen with you, or would this time be different?

One afternoon, during your session in the library, you thought you would try for a change of pace as you had grown tired of only spending time with him huddled over a stack of books.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you said, an hour into your study session. 

“What?” Severus looked at you puzzled.

“I’m bored!” you said exaggerating your tone a little. “I want to do something other than sit at this table and read. Come on! It’ll be fun!” you said as you got up and tugged on his arm.

“I highly doubt that,” he said pulling his arm away from you. You stood there and put on the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

“Please?” you pouted. “Just this once? And if you don’t like it, we’ll lock ourselves in this library forever.”

He scoffed at your proposition as he looked down at his book before closing it and began to pack up. You’d already advanced so far in your classes over the last few weeks, what was the harm in taking a short break. “Fine,” he said. “Just this once.”

You smiled as you quickly packed up as well and threw your bag over your shoulder. You lead the way out of the library and began to make your way towards the black lake. As you walked, your fingers accidentally brushed against his and your eyes immediately shot to look at him as your cheeks tinted pink, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. To your surprise, you didn’t find him disgusted or angry, in fact, you couldn’t read the expression on his face but it almost looked nervous. You gave him a small smile as you continued onwards. 

Moments later you felt his fingers brush yours, but he didn’t jerk back like you did and when he found no protest coming from you, he curled two of his slender fingers gently between your own. Smiling, you returned the gesture as you intertwined your own fingers around his. Soon after, you arrived at the black lake and you turned to face him.

“So, is walking as bad as you thought?” you said smugly.

“No,” he said smirking back at you. Giggling at him, you continued your walk around the lake as you gestured for him to follow you. 

Eventually, you suggested sitting under a tree, a bit remote from the rest of the castle, but still within sight of the lake. He accepted your request and sat beside you. You both stayed there a while, enjoying each other’s company whether in silence or over small talk. It had been a rollercoaster getting to this point but you finally felt like Severus had accepted the possibility of being your friend.

~

Next Chapter

~

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin 

[darkpoisonouslove]

Hi! Valtor×Griffin highschool!AU headcanons if you don't mind. I think It would be pretty interesting🤭

This took some time because finals left me unable to use my poor fried brain. But I’m recovering so let’s do this!

I was thinking of keeping magic in this but then I thought that it will be more interesting, actually, if they were ordinary people who didn’t have magic. They’re high school seniors.

Warning for mentions of parental abuse and sex.

- Griffin is sort of an outcast. She’s friends with Ediltrude and Zarathustra but mostly everyone else hates her, and the ones who don’t are simply dismissive of her. She’s a straight A student and teachers like her despite her outspoken attitude and tendency to contradict authority which definitely does not help her likability. She pretends not to care but it does bother her. Not that she’d ever admit it.

- Valtor is the playboy of the school. All the girls are sighing after him except for Griffin, Ediltrude and Zarathustra (Ediltrude had a brief thing with him but that’s what it was - brief; she’s over him (not that there was anything to get over except for hurt pride)). He is also a good student but a bit of a troublemaker too. However, for some reason the teachers don’t really like him. And you’d think that his mothers being so powerful and scary would save him the trouble with the teachers but it doesn’t. His mothers are eager to know when he misbehaves so that they can have reasons to punish him. So he’s doing his best to stay out of trouble and have good grades.

- Griffin and Valtor are partnered together for the project they need to do in their Biology class which they’re in together. This isn’t exactly the best news for Valtor because out of all the girls, Griffin is the only one he can’t charm with his words. He’s watched her remain completely impassive and serious during all the lessons, even when other people were laughing at things that were very sexual. She must be a robot so charm won’t help there. But luckily for him, there’s another angle he can exploit. He knows she’ll want an A and won’t fail just because he refuses to help. So she’ll do his work for him. (He’s usually not one to wait for others to get his job done but he has so much shit on his head that another assignment will be the death of him.)

- However, in the day when they have to present their project, it turns out that Griffin hasn’t done anything and they get an F. Valtor is furious and drags Griffin outside when class is done to argue with her. She tells him that he can’t have expected her to do his work for him. It’s a partnership because they have to partner each other. Valtor basically growls at her but agrees to work with her this time so that they can fix the mess because they both want a good grade. And the teacher is willing to give them another chance. Just because of Griffin, Valtor knows, but because it works in his favor, he’s not complaining.

- Valtor shows up unannounced at Griffin’s doorstep. She gets angry, of course, because this is violation of her privacy, not to mention probably illegal since who knows how he got her address but when he reminds her that they can’t fail again. she lets him inside so that they can start working on their project that is about how lizards survive and adapt to their environment (Valtor’s idea and she went with it because she didn’t want to argue even though she’s not big on animals and would’ve preferred to do a project about plants.)

- Valtor doesn’t miss any chance to make a terrible joke or innuendo, though. Griffin: What are you, ten?Valtor: Oh, yes, I’m definitely a ten.Griffin: Should’ve chosen another number.Valtor: Then I’d say “No, but I’m definitely a ten.”Griffin: *shakes her head* You’re terrible.That suddenly has Valtor shut up and retreat in himself and Griffin feels bad and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder and comfort him but he recoils with a terrified look in his eyes and the pieces click for her. He’s being abused. That’s why he was so mad for the F. His mothers must punish him for bad grades.

- Valtor figures out that she figured it out and asks her to just stay out of it. He says that he’s not a victim and he doesn’t want anyone treating him like he’s one and he asks her to just help him get through this assignment and then he’ll be out of her way. That’s not what Griffin wants anymore but she agrees because what she wants is to help him. And making sure he doesn’t get punished because of his grade is a good start.

- They do the project and fix their grades. And Valtor tries to stay away from her but he can’t. She’s the only one who knows so she’s the only one who can even begin to understand. And she seems to be helping him and standing up for him whenever he gets in trouble with one of the teachers and he finds himself feeling more and more gratitude even when he tries to push it out of his heart. Feelings only lead to hurt but he can’t stay impartial to the fact that she seems to care.

- So when his mothers abuse him once again, he finds himself at her house. Griffin makes him some tea that she says will help him calm down and begs him to let her tell her mother so that they can get him some help but he refuses. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be free from those monsters but he knows they can’t do anything against them currently. His mothers are rich and influential and if he lets Griffin and her mother get involved, his mothers will run through them and he can’t let that happen. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for to just have her in his life as someone he can confide in. He’s never been a talker but it turns out it’s because he didn’t have anyone to talk to. And Griffin listens. She listens and she cries the tears that he couldn’t have no matter how much he’d wanted. And it pains him that her heart hurts for him with the pain he’s been put in but it also makes him feel cared for for the first time.

- He kisses her one time they’re out on the lawn stargazing (she loves that, loves it so much her whole eyes light up and it feels like she’s set something inside him on fire, it makes him alive and he wants to know that that flame is free to burn and not threatened constantly by his mothers). They end up having sex and it is incredible. (He kind of expected her to be a virgin just as much as he expected the opposite but it turned out that she wasn’t which may or may not have made him a little jealous.) Griffin kisses every scar she can see even if the only source of light is the moon. She sees all of them, even those that remain invisible at all times. And he feels loved. For the first time in his life.

- He ends up not calling her but not because he thinks he may have feelings for her. He knows he does and he’s scared. If his mothers understand, there’s no telling what they’ll do to her. So he does his best to stay away and only approaches her at school. She’s not even waiting for an explanation (and it hurts him a little bit with the possibility of her not caring even if he knows she cares deeply and is the only one who does) and says she knows when he lays out his motives.

- They do their best to stay away from each other but when it’s time for prom Valtor asks her to go with him. He has to take someone anyway and he can’t stand the thought of taking anyone but her. So they’ll have to risk it. If she agrees, of course. He’s prepared for her denial and knows it will be the smarter move. Griffin accepts, though. She’d been thinking of not going at all but now that he’s asked her, she’s happy to be his date.

- His mothers arrive with him when he comes to get Griffin on their prom night and they are every bit as intimidating as Griffin imagined them and more. (Valtor lied to them that the project failed the first time because Griffin was really sick and they couldn’t work on it. She was a bit mad at first but when she remembered what the consequences had been for him even that way, she got her temper under control and was ready to play her role.) They act like they’re better than her and her mother and they say directly in her face that Valtor should’ve chosen one of the popular girls to take to the prom. Griffin can barely stand the ride to the school in the same space as them as they’re making her not just anxious but downright afraid and she has the feeling they can snap her neck like a twig any moment and get away with it. She doesn’t know how Valtor’s lived with them for so many years. Not that he’s had a choice.

- They dance at the prom and it is an unforgettable night. Griffin knows she’s in love and wants to get him out of that nightmare that is his life. She asks him to run away with her but Valtor says that is a foolish move. His mothers won’t even try to find them. They’ll frame her for a crime and let the police find them or they’ll threaten her mom and force them to come back. They can’t run away now. But he’ll find a way. They have to part for now but he’ll find a way to get rid of his mothers and he’ll find her when he has. If she’ll just wait for him, he promises he’ll find her when he’s free.

- They part ways and Griffin doesn’t see him again until it’s time for the class reunion. She can’t find him among all the other people and she thinks he didn’t make it but just then she hears “Looking for your ten?” and when she turns around, Valtor is in front of her. “I hear you have a lizard named V. I appreciate the gesture but there was no need.” “He was taking after you, going after all the females. I thought it’d be a shame to ignore the similarity.” “There’s only one woman I’m after now that there are no longer any monsters. Have you seen her?” “I don’t know. What does she look like?” “Like the woman of my life.” He pulls her into a kiss that is just the start of their happily ever after.

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Not to be 'that bitch' but I'm gonna be.......Part 10 of the foursome? Perhaps sometime soon? I KNOW you were finishing it up earlier K I LOVE YOU BYEEEEEEEE 💛💛💛💛

Aren’t you just the luckiest little bug! I’ve been on a writing spree since I have finally been a good girl and charted out the entire end of the foursome. Clap and a half for meeee! 

Here is part 10 for you all! 

——————————————————————————————

PART 10

Y/N

While she would never admit it to any of the boys, especially Duncan…Jerome was an absolute dream. There was nothing that grossed him out or was too much of an inconvenience. He helped Y/N with her morning sickness, made her whatever she was craving to eat and even gave her a foot-rub last night. 

For the most of it, Duncan held his tongue. His hours had only increased as the Media Mogul worked overtime to make-up for the hiatus he took. Y/N would often find Duncan slumped over a stack of paperwork, the man only stirring when she runs her fingers gently through his hair, took his hand and led the way to bed. Y/N slept with Duncan. That was a non negotiable agreement and sometimes the only moments when they would see each other in the day. Y/N would be curved into Duncan’s chest, the little spoon while his hand rests protectively over her stomach, which was only getting bigger with each passing month. But despite Duncan’s best efforts, Y/N saw the resentment in his eyes last night. The way his eyes roved over her bump, her smile lazy with ease as Jerome worked out the tension in the ball of her foot. 

He’d gone straight to bed without a word, forcing Y/N to sneak in after him in the middle of the night. The bed was empty when she woke, as usual. But unlike every other morning, the was no breakfast wafting from the kitchen. 

Making her way into the kitchen, there sits Duncan at the breakfast bar, a coffee in one hand and the paper on the counter. He’s got his reading glasses on, a new development from staring at screens too long. 

They suit him. Give him that wise boss look as Duncan smirks at her, ‘Morning.’ 

‘You’re not at work?’ 

‘Took the day off.’ Duncan’s clearly proud of himself, ‘You have a big appointment today.’ 

Y/N grabs a croissant, ‘Jerome is happily taking me. You didn’t need to cancel work, I know you have a big deal closing.’ 

‘I want to be there.’ Duncan has that stubborn tone in his voice, the one you cannot argue with. 

Y/N takes a seat opposite him. ‘It won’t be pretty. They’re going to have to check me everywhere. Do the ultrasound and if things have taken a bad turn…’ 

Duncan’s hand slides across the table to take hers, ‘I’ll be right there with you.’ She can feel the tears welling in her eyes. Duncan regards her with such open honesty, such love in his eyes. ’Don’t you dare start feeling guilty again.’ He continues, ‘I’m okay. I’ve…dealt with it. Our arrangement is pretty good at the minute, wouldn’t you say.’

‘I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a while, yes.’ Y/N squeezes his hand, ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss seeing Jim playing Xbox in the mornings, or Michael walking about in just a towel, his hair in a bun-‘

‘It’s just not the best idea right now.’ 

Y/N has to agree. While Michael and Jim are more than eager to spend time with her, to keep her company and dote on her every need, them together is just a powder keg. Jim is still hurting, badly. His lips spit vitriol every time they crossover, his eyes dark and full of snide comments. Michael does his best to let them all slide off, but Y/N still caught him crying in the elevator on his way out of the lobby. He never saw her, but Y/N’s heart aches every time she thinks of him, alone with his thoughts. 

Both of them…cannot really be alone. 

‘This appointment has to go well.’ She murmurs, seeking Duncan’s eyes. 

‘Have faith then.’ 

‘A croissant is not nearly enough for a Mom with two babies on the way.’ Jerome breezes into the kitchen, still in his pyjamas. He sets to work turning on the hob and cracking open some eggs. ‘Now I can do scrambled, poached, fried or an omelette. We’ll go omelette, more protein there for you.’ 

‘I don’t think we’ll have time, Jerome.’ Duncan watches him, ‘We’re leaving in twenty.’ 

Jerome wheels round, only just realising Duncan is in the room. ‘You’re….home?’

‘I do that sometimes.’  

Jerome nods, ’It’s fine, I just…’

‘Wanted to make Y/N an omelette.’ Duncan leans back on his stool, ready to play the game. ‘You’ve been a great help, Jerome. You’ve really been there for Y/N.’

‘Duncan.’ Y/N’s voice turns to ice, ‘Do not.’ 

Jerome takes the pan off the heat, ‘She’s a good friend. I want to give her all the support I can.’

‘She has plenty.’ 

‘Of course she does.’

Duncan stands at once, ‘What does that mean?’

Y/N dumps her croissant in the bin and heads to grab a coat. The macho fight was inevitable, but that doesn’t mean she has to stick around to hear the egos go at it again. The voice fade away as she buttons up her Rain Mac, the buttons straining from her large bump. Y/N rolls out her shoulders a couple times, feeling the usual nags and aches from carrying so much extra weight and returns to the kitchen. 

‘You’re all fighting over Y/N like she’s some prize to be won. You’ve even divided up the damn apartment, there’s visiting hours for the daddies, but who’s stopping to think about what Y/N wants?’ 

She stops dead upon entering the kitchen. Duncan and Jerome are inches apart. 

‘Say that again.’ Duncan’s practically spitting in Jerome’s face. 

‘We’re leaving.’ Y/N calls over, ‘Now. Duncan.’ 

Duncan extracts himself from the situation, his eyes never leaving Jerome. The Salesman stands tall, his arms folded over each other. ‘You think about that.’ Jerome calls, ‘You start putting Y/N first or I’m taking her out of this shit-storm.’

‘No one is putting me anywhere I don’t want to be.’ Y/N wheels back to glower at Jerome, ‘Thank you for your honesty. You’re right, Jerome. But I need them while I’m going through this. After the babies are born…that’s a different matter.’ 

Y/N swings her bag over her shoulder and calls the elevator. She steps in, not bothering to wait for Duncan. HE slips inside just in time, eyes wide and out of breath. ‘What the fuck do you mean by that?’ 

————————————————————————————

JIM

He rolls the car keys between his fingers. Jim’s focus is on the penthouse apartment, and then back to the streets. He didn’t miss them did he? 

No. He’s been vigilant. 

Jim checks his phone and there’s nothing. No new texts or missed calls…not even a software update. 

He has to know and Jim is already highly offended no one has bothered to call him. His stomach has been in knots for weeks, he can’t eat, he can rarely sleep. Not while that monster could be sucking the life out of his child. 

Jim will not let that happen. 

The car pulls up and Duncan steps out first. He offers his hand to Y/N who struggles to emerge gracefully from the car. She stumbles a little, but Duncan’s got her safe. 

He always does. 

They talk for a moment outside, perhaps discussing their next move. Jim’s fingers itch towards the door handle, to surprise them and demand to know the outcome of the appointment. But he bides his time as Duncan kisses Y/N’s cheek and then makes his way into the lobby. 

Y/N seems to dawdle, as if waiting for someone. 

Michael.

Jim holds his breath, waiting for the Antichrist to skulk out of his shadows and speak to her. But no one comes, Y/N pulls her coat tighter round her and Jim notices it’s new. The old one was just beginning to strain. Of course Duncan noticed something like that. He can’t have Y/N looking like she’s struggling at all, not when he can pour handfuls of money down her throat. 

Y/N’s head turns and looks directly at him. 

Jim swallows.

Shit. 

She makes her way across the road and knocks on the car window. Jim rolls it down, trying his best to remain cool. ‘You gonna hide in your car all day?’

‘I thought you were waiting on someone else.’ 

Y/N rests a hand against the car for some leverage, ‘I know you, Jim. You’re desperate enough to stalk the house and you have every right to.’ 

Jim hates her calling him desperate, but he can’t help himself. ‘So…?’

‘Michael’s child is larger at the moment.’ Y/N reports, ‘Our baby is the…runt I guess you could call it.’  

‘Fantastic.’ 

‘But the danger doesn’t seem to be there.’ Y/N continues quickly, ‘We’re just…going to monitor it. I’ve got appointments every two weeks just to be sure. The Doctor thought we were a little crazy but Duncan gave him enough money to schedule us in.’ 

Y/N’s leaning over so her hair spills down her chest. God he’s missed her. It just isn’t the same when Duncan or Jerome are around to supervise their visits. Jim just wants an hour alone with Y/N. Is that too much to ask for?  

‘Do you…regret it?’

Y/N takes in a deep breath, ‘No. Michael….I think he needed this. After everything he’s been through, family should be something positive for him. I’m not taking that away from him.’ 

‘I meant joining this.’

‘This?’

‘Whatever the fuck we are,’ Jim emphasises. His fingers tighten on his car keys. He’s running out of time if he wants to do something. Y/N searches him with those eyes he adores. The way the light catches in them from this angle… 

She pushes away from the car, ’Don’t you dare start spouting this shit. You didn’t have to join either, you could have turned me down flat at the beach. You didn’t have to pay for my ice-cream or agree to meet Duncan and Michael. You made those decisions yourself, Jim. And I am done feeling guilty and responsible for just trying to live my life.’ 

Her fingers run through her hair, Y/N anger distracting her just enough. There’s no one around. If Jim is going to act, he needs to do it now. Jim opens the car door, ‘No I didn’t have to do any of the nice shit I have done for you over the years. I didn’t even have to take you to PV. I panicked, okay? I saw Duncan’s shit and I just panicked and did what I do best. I run. I ran from my Mom after rehab, I ran from University when I couldn’t afford it. That’s what I do.’ Jim’s hand slides into his back pocket, for the cloth ready and waiting. ‘I wanted to get to know you, not the others. But we sat in that diner and we all got close, we all got on and they reeled me in. Despite everything I’m here, completely dependent on you. You’re the mother of my child, my baby who is in danger, Y/N. I’m here still trying to make things work with you because I can’t ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’ 

He takes a cautious step forwards, right as Y/N steps back. ‘I’m going upstairs.’ She says, ‘I am going to run a bath, put on some damn candles and get some Taco Bell with Duncan and Jerome. If you can join us and be okay with this situation…maybe there’s a chance for us. But you do what you want Jim. I’m not gonna tell anyone what to do.’ 

Y/N crosses the street quickly, looking over her shoulder once to check if he’s going to join. 

Jim hesitates, the fabric tickling the pads of his fingers. He tosses the cloth back into the car and locks up, quickly running over and sliding his arm round her waist. Jim calls the elevator, hoping to God he made the right decision. 

No more games. 

No more underhanded tactics. 

He’ll pour the chloroform down the sink the second he gets back to the hotel. 

———————————————————————————

DUNCAN

If there is one good reason for having Jerome around, it would be his cooking. For a guy on the road, the Travelling Salesman can make a mean steak. Duncan heaps Bordelaise sauce on top, nearly drinking right from the gravy boat itself. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you went to culinary school.’ 

‘Who says I didn’t?’ Jerome replies, the corner of his lip tugging. 

‘It’ll be that time spent in France.’ Y/N concludes, ’Though what you were doing there-’

‘I’d be in breech of many contracts if I told you.’ Jerome answers quickly, his eyes twinkling. 

‘Government shit?’ Duncan concludes. 

‘Maybe.’ 

‘Black market goods,’ Y/N guesses. 

Duncan could swear that twinkle just grew slightly bigger, ‘Now that’s more like me wouldn’t you say?’ 

Jim has hardly touched his food. He seems incapable of communicating much at all, he just watches Y/N most of the time. He’s addicted, drunk on her and the news of his baby is only cementing Jim’s psyche. If Y/N wasn’t Jim’s world before, she is now. 

In the three months that have passed, Duncan has been Switzerland. The go between. He’s listened to Jim’s rants, the pent-up rage and witnessed just how carefully he helps Y/N. Duncan has caught Jim talking to Y/N’s bump when she’s fallen asleep on the couch, unable to detach from her. On the other hand, Duncan has talked Michael off the ledge, stopped the Antichrist from using him magic. Duncan has had no choice but to placate Michael, to promise him that no matter what, his baby will be born. 

But where does this leave him? 

Y/N’s hand rests in his atop the table, a fact Jim has been eying throughout the night. Jerome continues to tell story and story of his time in Venezuela, Morocco, Haiti. He gestures wildly, an entertainer and Duncan is reminded of the circus at once. Jerome is quiet, poised and observant but when he’s talking about what he loves, the man comes to life. For the first time in a while, there’s peace at the dinner table. 

About time too. Duncan couldn’t take another fucking takeout. 

He cleans up the plates, pushing his reading glasses back up his nose. He checks the stack of work emails for anything urgent, but it seems fate has smiled on him tonight. A night in with the people he loves, such a rarity these days. 

‘If you leave the plates to soak for a while in hot water, it’s easier to get the food off.’ 

Jerome stands in the doorway, watching Duncan with a smirk. 

‘I know how to wash up.’ Duncan says, ‘Not incompetent.’ 

‘No you aren’t.’

Duncan’s getting slightly more used to Jerome’s presence round the apartment. Ever since their bust-up Duncan’s been doing some thinking. He had nothing else to do while in the car with Y/N. But that doesn’t mean he likes having him here. ‘Don’t you have something better to do than critique how I do things? Isn’t there a hot water bottle for you to prepare, a bed to make or something.’ 

Jerome chuckles, ‘I got all that finished earlier. Unlike most people I find housework rather…relaxing.’ 

‘You’re so weird.’ 

‘It focuses me.’ Jerome explains, ‘De-stresses me so I can think about better, more exciting things.’ 

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Duncan bites back, ‘I had a maid all my childhood.’ 

‘And you’ve got a Nanny now.’

‘Apparently.’ 

Duncan drops the plates in the sink, eager to be out of the awkward environment. He needs to talk to Jim, to clear the air or…make-up for lost time. He needs to do something to make the Beach Boy feel more at home while he’s here. 

‘If you’re asking for his blessing, you’d better lift his mood a little.’ 

Duncan freezes. 

‘I’ve done an alright job.’ Jerome continues, ‘But I’m not family.’ Duncan remains glued to the spot. His heart has jumped up to his throat, gagging any word from coming out. His glasses slip again and he shoves him into his pocket as Jerome approaches. ‘I truly didn’t mean to see it, sport. Y/N wanted one of your shirts to wear and I found it in the bottom drawer.’ 

‘My boxers are in that drawer.’ 

Jerome nods, ‘My mistake.’ 

He can’t say anything. Duncan’s mortified. He had it all planned out, the perfect moment and the perfect setting. All he had to do first was speak to Jim, Michael had already given his permission the last time they spoke. He takes a shaky step, before Jerome calls him back again. ‘Out of the three of you…if it had to be one of you, I’m glad it’ll be you.’ 

‘She has to say yes.’ Duncan’s voice is a murmur, a terrified little whisper. ‘Jim has to be good with it.’

Jerome sidles past him, ‘Well…I think Y/N’s going to do what she wants. No matter who is upset, or who gets hurt along the way.’ He pats Duncan on the shoulder, ‘I wouldn’t worry, sport.’ 

There’s a horrid feeling of something hanging in the air. Jerome leaves the kitchen and launches into another story; Duncan can hear him from where he stands. He sags against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jim’s laugh rises into the air, so distinctive, so full of life. 

Duncan misses that sound. 

He always thought if there would be anyone Duncan would commit himself to, it’d be the floppy-haired, bronzed boy in the other room. But over the past months… 

Michael has a child coming.

Jim has a child coming.

The least they can give him, is Y/N hand in marriage. 

—————————————————————————————-

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[remmiesaloser]

13 Years | 4 Weeks

honestly, I dont know which of the two have been longer in my life. 

so recently I ended a 13 year long relationship with the guy I've been dating since my freshman year of high school. it took me this long to understand, acknowledge, and accept the relationship was emotionally (and borderline physically) abusive and thanks two my two best friends and a very nice therapist I asked him to move out.

I thought the overwhelming life style change would be the hardest. I haven't been alone since I was 14 and it took me a long time to build up the courage to end things because I am terrified of change and had little to no idea what to do without him. to my surprise I've adapted to being alone pretty well. the loneliness does get to me sometimes - I miss those moments we had where we could have a conversation without speaking. I miss over a decade’s worth of inside jokes, and it still hurts when I see something and instantly think of him cause it was our thing.

its a daily struggle to remind myself why I did this because its frighteningly easy to minimize the damage he did when he’s not here to do it every day. the gaslighting and emotional manipulation isn't something that just switches off or diminishes with distance. somehow, in some super shitty, unfair way, it gets worse. because im left alone with my thoughts that he’s managed to turn against me and they’re still working angles for him that catch me off-guard sometimes. I still battle with guilt for making him move out, because I feel terrible that now he’s stuck living with his mom and all his things are in boxes. and I hate that it’s gonna take a long time for that to go away. 

but I digress. because all of that isn’t the hardest part. the hardest part is getting him the fuck out of this apartment. we 'ended things’ April 5th. there are quotes around that because we haven’t officially broken up. like, I told him I needed a break till he gets his shit together, and he’s all but moved out, but I haven’t even changed our relationship status on Facebook (yay, guilt!) and we haven't really agreed that we’re broken up. Jesus, again I digress. ANYWAYS. I knew it was gonna be a process to move him out because our lives are so intertwined that we’ve had to go through rooms and drawers and boxes one by one separating our shit. and this process has been fucking agonizing because he is dragging his goddamn feet. 

Initially I thought we were gonna bang this out in a weekend, get all the shit out and be done. A month later, and there’s still a pile of his shit at the top of the stairs, a handful of things in the corner of the living room (including the giant china cabinet filled with his things) and his grandmother’s dishes in my cupboards. but that’s a post for another day. because right now im just gonna vent about him taking his sweet ass time, being insanely petty, and still somehow fucking manipulating me when he doesn’t even live here anymore. 

honestly the pettiness and inconsideration for my own time and requests is the biggest thing that’s getting to me, what’s driving me to write this. most of the time he’s been here for his shit, his mom’s been with him, and I was chalking up a lot of the pettiness to her. because he’d be here to get the things from the living room, and hours after they'd left I’d notice small things had been taken from other parts of the house. now some of the stuff he’s taken was his, just something I was using with him that I’d assumed he’d at least mention he was taking. im a lot of things, but selfish isn’t one of them and honestly unless it’s something from my family or something that I bought that was expensive, I don’t care. he can have it. It’s more the fact that, when I need something all of a sudden I cant find it and realize he took it. 

like, his nana’s pots and pans. They’re a really nice set his mom let us have and I fully expected them gone. my only request was that he give me a heads up so I could go out and get my own set when he planned to take them because with them gone, all I’d have left is a few frying pans. This is our conversation from that weekend:  

This was Saturday afternoon. He never told me he wasn’t going to come by Saturday, and gave me a 15 minute heads up he was on his way over on Sunday - which did me no good because I wasn’t even home. That meant I couldn’t clean out the dressers (I didnt want to do it until the day he was going to get them because I would have to leave my clothes on the bed until I could get my own dresser from my parent’s house once his were gone). When I got home, all of my clothes were thrown on my bed and the ground.I had to rewash a bunch of shit, refold everything, and then clean the entire room from the mess that was made. 

fucking on top of that, his mom decided to take the pots and pans. I’d specifically asked him Saturday because I was going to Walmart and could have bought a new set for myself while there. I didn't want to buy them until I needed to because I’m trying to save money and didn’t get paid that weekend, so I figured if he’s not taking them I don’t need to get things until I get paid next weekend. Wrong. I had to go out that night again and get a set because, as I said, all I had were 3 frying pans and a skillet thing. Oddly enough, she didn’t take the dishes. They were her mom’s, just like the pots and pans, and for some reason she didn’t want them... don’t worry, I already plan to pack them up this weekend and give them back because lord knows what’ll happen if I dont and she decides she wants them six years from now. 

honestly though the biggest level of petty was the Tylenol PM. I know, it’s not a big deal. But it’s just one of those little things that I stopped and was like, are you fucking kidding me. I noticed that, after taking his bed and dressers, the pack of tissues he’d got us from Sam’s was gone. Again, he bought them, whatever. would’ve been nice for him to tell me so I had a heads up to fucking get them when I was at Walmart but whatever. he also took a 6-pack of toilet paper he’d gotten literally the day we ended things (because he’d gone to king Soopers with his mother instead of talking to me about the fight we’d had) and he’d initially told me to keep it, it was for me anyways. I noticed just last weekend it was gone. 

but the fucking Tylenol PM. I'm not one to buy brand name medicine. if I can get store brand, I will. Almost all my medicine is store brand except that Tylenol PM because I was really sick one year and wanted the good stuff. Y’all know how expensive Tylenol is. I sprang for it, and I used it sparingly because I didnt want to have to buy more if I didn’t really need it. Well, two weekends ago I fell down a fucking mountain. I was running a trail down a mountain, tripped, flew through the air, and landed on my shoulder and kneecap. It still hurts, and that day I was in a lot of pain. The regular Tylenol and Ibuprofen that I’d been switching back and forth with all day just wasn’t doing the trick and I was like, okay. this is a Tylenol PM kind of pain. That night, right before bed, I went to grab it from the bathroom cabinet. 

it was gone. the rest of my medicines, the store brand acetaminophen and store brand ibuprofen, those were still there, but the Tylenol PM was gone. It has exclusively only lived either on the dresser/nightstand in the bedroom, or the bathroom cabinet. as he took the dresser and nightstand, and it wasn’t in the cabinet, it had been taken. I cannot tell you how livid I was. it still pisses me off. because of all the things to take he took that. Not the rest of his bathroom shit, not even all his shit from the bedroom. but he took the Tylenol PM. I even asked if he knew where it might be - thinking he’d come across it at some point. he told me “it’s always been in the linen closet” where the rest of our medicines are. It was never there, but I checked the entire closet just in case - nothing. Again, I know it’s small. it’s just a bottle of pills. but it’s the whole damn thought behind it. 

there’s more things too - the fact that no, he doesn’t take all his things from a certain room, and I have to then box the rest of his shit up, move it out of my way, and clean the room that he trashed. 

It’s the fact that 90% of the things on our walls were his (which helps show me how little say I had on my own things in the apartment I exclusively pay for) and now that he’s taken them, he’s left the walls, hooks, and nails behind. most of them are up way above my head - he needed a ladder to put them in - and now they’re littered all over the wall. today, as he worked to get the shit from our front bedroom (hopefully the last things he’ll need to get) I asked him if he could also get the nails and hooks out of the wall because I can’t reach them. he asked me, “did you try using the step-ladder?”. I answered no, and he simply said, “that should work then”. Like, no. you put those up, so you could display all the things of yours YOU wanted to display (3 out of 4 walls in the room were covered with his things) and now he can’t even take the tacks down even though he took the hangings down. 

and then of course, it’s the fact that he just leaves a mess in his wake. when he first moved things out of the living room it was a mess. I spent hours rearranging shit, packing up the rest of his shit that he left behind, and then cleaning up everything because I still have to live here. it was the same with the bedroom. and now it’s gonna be the same thing with the front room. I told him today that everything needs to be out by next weekend because I can’t do this every weekend. He asked what I meant by ‘this’ and explained that I was tired of having to clean up everything that got messed up. He told me simply “it’s not being destroyed. I’m just taking my things”. At the moment the entire room was in shambles, everything askew from him digging his things out and leaving my stuff lying in piles. It’s cleaned up now - save the pile of boxes and junk at the top of the stairs - but I told him I have to clean up the mess that’s left behind. He didn’t have an answer for that. 

Honestly there’s really not a point to this. I’m just pissed, I’m annoyed, and I’m angry, and I’m sad. I’m just tired. And I wanted to vent. So if you stuck with me through this, I wanna thank you for listening. I appreciate being heard, because I haven’t been for so long. your time means a lot to me. 

[once-upon-a-ouat]

“Teach Me to Fly”

Summary: Mal, Regina and Lily are on the open grounds outside of Storybrooke where Mal is teaching Lily to fly. However, when they hit a roadblock, it turns out that the problems that are holding them down have deeper roots than it might appear. Canon Divergence post season 6. Regina and Lily bonding with a side of Dragon Queen and Lily and Mal.

For my 100 followers celebration on tumblr I got a request from @theonceoverthinker for a Dragon Queen fic in which Regina and Lily bond. I've never written Lily before so this was a fun experiment (although it got a little out of hand with the length). I loved writing this story and I hope you'll like it as well.

Word Count: 3485 words

Read on FFN or AO3

Lily was making circles in the air above their heads as she was readying herself to perform the maneuver she was trying to learn. Mal had showed it to her earlier and the two had made it a few times with Lily following her mom’s every move until she seemed to perfect it enough to try it on her own. And that was why Regina and Mal had their necks craned up, their gazes following the dragon in the sky.

Lily lowered herself down as she headed for the trees that were a couple meters away, having her wings at the precise angle Mal had shown her so that she’d be able to make a swift turn without slowing down. They’d tried the maneuver in the free space without anything they needed to avoid in the way and Mal had deemed her ready to try it with real obstacles. And she seemed to be doing great, executing everything just the way her mom had taught her, but when it was time for her to make the turn, she lost height and barely managed to avoid colliding with the tree trunks. She hit them with her wing, though, and the strong impact caused the thick branches to tear through her wing.

Mal immediately dissolved into thin air to reappear at the place where Lily made her abrupt landing, and Regina followed suit, letting her magic engulf her in a cloud of smoke and teleport her next to the two of them.

Lily’s own magic kicked into motion, too, and she turned back into a person. She was sprawled on the ground, clutching at her left arm and grunting in pain.

“Let me see,” Mal dropped down on her knees and helped her daughter to a sitting position. She pushed Lily’s right hand away, revealing the tear on her forearm. It was a deep wound–Regina could swear she could see the bone–that had Mal gasp in shock. “Are you okay?” she asked, her gaze jumping from the wound to Lily’s face and back again. “Regina, will you, please?” Mal barely looked at her before focusing her attention back on her daughter. She pushed the hair out of Lily’s face and stroked her cheek soothingly as if she was a small child in need of comfort.

“Yes, just splendid,” Lily let out through gritted teeth, crouching as if she was trying to hide from her mother’s worried stare. “Why don’t you heal it?” she managed to make it sound tart despite the amount of pain she was most certainly in. Still, she readily extended her hand, hissing in the process, when Regina knelt down next to her, her palm glowing in purple.

“Regina’s magic is more powerful,” Mal explained, ignoring Lily’s sharp tone. “It’ll heal it quicker.”

In support of her words, Regina’s magic did its job and healed the wound in no time.

Regina’s hand hovered over Lily’s forearm for a few extra seconds. She wanted to make sure everything was properly healed. “There,” she said when she assured herself she’d done everything in her power.

Lily nodded without raising her head to look her in the eyes, “Thank you.”

Despite the attitude, Regina knew she meant it. Things between them had been a bit bumpy when Lily had first learned about Regina and Mal’s relationship. The bad blood from one of their first interactions and the compromising position in which she’d caught Regina and Mal, thus learning that they were dating, were probably a big part of the reason why she hadn’t been keen on the idea at first. She’d stormed out that first night when she’d found out and hadn’t come back until the next afternoon. Mal had been worried sick and Regina had barely kept her form turning into a dragon and flying over the town to look for Lily.

Lily had come around, though, and the three were living together now in Regina’s mansion. Mal and Lily would have their late night talks during which Lily often times ended up braiding her mother’s hair since she was an expert in that area. She and Regina would go shopping – sometimes for clothes, other times for groceries, which would inevitably end in Regina buying the most sugary cereal they could find per Lily’s insistence and against her own will, but, at least, in exchange Lily had agreed to take some cooking lessons from Regina. It was beyond her how someone who lived alone could not have any cooking skills whatsoever, but when she first saw what a disaster Lily was in the kitchen, she realized why the girl preferred to stay away from all activities that could be considered cooking. Still, with some help from a professional she was able to get past both the darkness put in her and her mom’s genes and had learned to do some basic things. Unlike Mal who insisted that her dragon side was getting in the way of cooking and simply refused to try.

And what really warmed Regina’s heart was that Lily and Henry got along so well. Although she had to admit that Lily had a point when she stated how weird it was to be sort of a big sister to her best friend’s son. But they played video games and showed each other me... memes? Regina was never quite sure she’d gotten the word right, but they seemed to have a great time together. And she was happy to have such a loving family.

“What happened?” Regina asked while Mal was looking her daughter over for any injuries and used her magic on even the smallest scratches she could find. Regina could swear there weren’t even scratches at some of the places Mal was “healing”.

Lily was looking at her hands in her lap, fidgeting with the ring she was wearing. “I lost control,” she admitted quietly as she moved away from her mother’s touch.

“This is why I’ve been insisting on practicing more often, Lily,” Mal said calmly but with a certain firmness to her voice as she took her daughter’s hand in her own.

Lily had been doing her best to avoid practicing control over her abilities ever since she’d decided to stay in Storybrooke. She’d seemed excited at first, but had soon started avoiding the lessons with her mom, finding various excuses to do so – looking for an apartment, looking for a job, looking for her father. It seemed like the only thing she wasn’t looking for was the ability to control her magic. Mal had decided to give her some space but the spontaneous transformations that had become more and more frequent necessitated practice. Still, Lily had only agreed to learn when things had really gotten out of hand after she’d wrecked a building. Luckily, no one had gotten hurt.

“You need to learn to control this,” Mal said as softly as she could while also trying to get her point across. She was always extremely self-aware when it came to her daughter, afraid that anything she did could make Lily jump into a car and drive away, never to return.

“Well, excuse me if I didn’t grow up in a magical land and don’t have twenty-eight years of uninterrupted experience in being a dragon,” Lily snapped and pushed herself up, causing a piece of the torn sleeve of her shirt to rip off and remain in her mom’s hand.

“Lily,” Mal jumped to her feet, too, calling after her daughter who had already distanced herself from them, running through the clearing. She was ready to summon her magic again in order to catch up with Lily when Regina put a hand on her upper arm, giving her pause which she knew would last only a few seconds.

“Let me,” Regina said, keeping it short for she could feel the tension in Mal who was ready to bolt and chase after Lily if she had to.

“I’m her mother,” Mal almost snarled at her with viciousness that Regina had rarely heard from her.

“And you’re doing great,” she reassured, knowing exactly what dark thoughts were swirling in Mal’s head. “But right now she’s agitated and might find it easier to talk to someone who’s a bit more removed from the situation,” she laid out her reasoning. She had no doubt that Mal could handle the situation. But sometimes the best way to handle something was to step back and give yourself time and space to process your emotions. And she wanted to give the opportunity to do so to both Lily and Mal.

The coldness drained out of Mal’s gaze as it softened and she nodded. “Okay.”

“Everything will be fine,” Regina rubbed her arm soothingly.

Mal nodded again, not convinced enough to confirm it verbally, but Regina could understand that. She knew what it was like to worry about your child and the relationship between you. She hadn’t expected her words to have a profound effect on Mal and would’ve been surprised if they had, but still, she wanted to offer Mal as much comfort as she could.

“Here,” Mal took her free hand and pressed the piece of Lily’s shirt in her palm as if she was entrusting her her most precious treasure. And, in a sense, she was. “In case you need to track her.” That wouldn’t be necessary and they both knew it– there wasn’t anywhere for Lily to cover herself since they’d found the most open space that Storybrooke’s grounds could offer to practice–but Regina still took the piece of clothing in hopes that it would do Mal’s nerves some good.

She removed her hand from Mal’s arm when she made sure that her girlfriend wouldn’t fall apart if she let go of her and headed after Lily.

She found her sitting on the ground behind a bunch of trees, her back rested against one of the trunks and her thighs pressed against her chest.

Lily looked up at her, ready to start a fight, but paused when she saw it was Regina and not her mom. “I’m not going to apologize,” she said as she looked at her knees and started picking at her jeans.

“I haven’t asked you to,” Regina said as she moved closer now that she knew Lily wasn’t going to run away again. It was a start. And Lily’s language had changed a lot from when she’d first arrived. She’d lost the “shove off” for which Regina was grateful. Not that it would’ve deterred her, but it was good to see the positive influence life in Storybrooke had had on Lily.

“Good,” Lily said, not showing any reaction to her approach. “Because I’m not going to.” She did look up when Regina came to stand next to her, though, and could do nothing to hide her surprise when Regina sat down on the ground.

“Okay,” Regina said. “Do you want to tell me what happened with your magic?” she used the opportunity that Lily’s shock provided to ask.

“No,” Lily gave her curt response before she’d even finished her question, looking away again.

“Okay.” Regina readjusted her position to make herself comfortable. It looked like they’d sit there for a while which was fine with her. Her only concern was Mal who was probably going out of her mind already. But there was nothing she could do about it. Pushing Lily wouldn’t get them anywhere. So she prepared to wait as long as necessary and hoped that Mal had enough patience and faith in her to do the same.

She made sure not to look at Lily, giving her space, but also quiet reassurance that there was someone there for her if she wanted to talk. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she noticed Lily giving her a nervous glance from time to time.

That went on for a while before Lily finally spoke. “Will you stop that?” she demanded.

“Stop what exactly?” Regina asked, looking at her. The sight was concerning. Lily looked somewhere between throwing a fit or bursting in tears. Possibly both at the same time.

“Both you and mom are always so understanding and I just can’t stand it,” Lily said, her hands colliding with her knees in frustration.

“Why is that?” Regina turned towards Lily fully, inviting her to continue.

“Because I’m always left wondering if this last thing I did will finally make you explode, if this is the thing that will make you so mad at me... you’ll never want to see me again,” she finished in a hushed tone and angrily tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Well, I can help with that,” Regina said, putting a hand on Lily’s own, thus causing her to look at her. “There’s nothing you can do–do you hear me, nothing–that will make either your mother or me give up on you.” They’d been through different versions of that a couple of times in the past. The wounds still seemed to resurface every time something went even slightly awry. But both she and Mal were ready to see Lily through every last one of her episodes of doubt.

“Just wait until I do something truly outrageous,” Lily chuckled, but it sounded more like a cry of despair. “I always do something outrageous,” she added quietly, staring at her knees. She looked like she was remembering all the horrible decisions she’d made and Regina couldn’t watch her walk herself down that path.

“Lily,” she said, “look at me and your mom. We’ve done more than a few outrageous things in our days of villainy. We’ve killed people.” She’d never thought she’d bring that up during a pep talk but there was a first time for everything. “You couldn’t possibly push us away.”

“I want to believe that, too. I do,” Lily said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than Regina. “But mom always looks at me like I’m the most perfect thing she’s ever seen, and I just... I’m not.” Her voice was getting shakier by the second. “I know I’ll do something that will disappoint her. Enough to push her away forever,” Lily was on the verge of tears. Regina could see them gathering in her eyes, waiting for the smallest push to start falling. She’d never seen her cry before.

Regina took a deep breath before asking, “Do you know what the price of casting the Dark Curse was?”

Lily looked at her and the confusion in her eyes seemed to force the tears back. She shook her head.

“I had to crush the heart of the thing I loved most,” Regina said slowly. It was painful to bring back the memory. But if it had even the smallest chance of helping Lily, she was willing to do it. “And that was my father,” she continued, feeling her own eyes welling up with tears.

Lily was looking dumbstruck at her. She’d already pieced together what was coming next.

“As you know, I cast the Curse so you can figure out what happened.”

Lily nodded, barely. But she still hadn’t run away so Regina supposed that was good. It was what gave her the strength to continue.

“I found him when we went to the Underworld, and do you know what he told me?” she asked, wiping away at the tears that had started falling down her cheeks at the memory. “He told me he forgave me.” She managed a smile as the tears kept coming. “I crushed his heart out of vengeance, and he found the strength and love to forgive me.” She looked Lily in the eyes. “Because he’s my father.”

Lily squeezed her hand while Regina conjured a tissue to wipe away the tears and her smeared mascara.

“Listen, Lily,” she shoved the tissue in her coat pocket and took Lily’s hand in both of hers, holding it tightly. “I know it’s hard to believe that someone can love you unconditionally when no one ever has. Because every time you let your guard down, life would slap you in the face.” She herself had had her fair share of that, losing everyone she loved over and over again. Hell, she was still scared to death that she’d wake up one morning and Mal wouldn’t be lying next to her and would be ten feet underground instead, leaving her with another gaping hole in her heart. “It’s hard to take a leap of faith when you’ve broken your bones time and time again because there was no one to catch you. But I can promise you that this time there is someone to catch you,” she said looking at Lily to see that the tears were filling her eyes again but there was also hope in there. And a dash of courage. “Your mother will never give up on you because that’s what parents do. No matter how hard you try to push her away, she’ll be there for you. And so will I.”

The tears started falling from Lily’s eyes, making room for the relief that flooded her. “Thank you,” she whispered as she squeezed Regina’s hands with her own once more.

“Always, dear,” Regina smiled at her and pulled one hand out of Lily’s death grip to conjure a tissue for her.

Lily took it from her, ending the hand-holding, and wiped her tears away as she laughed nervously. “I’m so glad I got over my jealousy of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Regina knitted her brows.

“When I found out you and mom were dating, I was acting like a real bitch because I was jealous.” She started bunching the tissue in her fingers. “I was scared mom would stop spending time with me because of you.”

“That’s-”

“Stupid. I know,” Lily nodded, the self-deprecation hitting Regina harder than she would’ve expected.

“Not at all,” she said, drawing Lily’s attention back to her. “When Emma first came to town, I was so scared that she would take Henry away from me. I would stop at nothing to make sure that wouldn’t happen.” She hated to think of those times. They seemed like another life that she had no desire to revisit. It’d been painful enough to live through it once. All the hatred, desperation and fear had made her more than a real bitch. “I understand,” she said, wishing to put a stop to the stroll down memory lane. It was pointless anyway. Things had changed for the better and she had people who loved her now, people she had to take care of.

“I’d just found my mom,” Lily added, feeling the need to further justify her actions or simply to share. Regina wasn’t certain. “I didn’t want to lose her.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Regina patted the back of her hand. “Your mom was ready to end our relationship for you.”

“I know,” Lily nodded. “That was what changed my mind, you know? I realized you weren’t a threat to our relationship and I wanted her to be happy. And you make her happy.”

Regina smiled at Lily’s words.

“How did you react when she told you she was ready to end things between you because of me?” Lily asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

“I understood completely,” Regina said without hesitation. “I would’ve done the same if Henry had asked me to and your mother knows that. You and Henry are the most important people for me and your mother.”

That seemed to reassure Lily. “I’m so happy mom has you.” She smiled at her.

“I’m happy to have her, too,” Regina admitted. “But we’d better get going because she’s probably completely out of her mind by now,” she stood up and dusted herself off. They’d been gone a long time. She was surprised Mal hadn’t come looking for them. She knew she would have if she were in Mal’s shoes. But then again, she’d never had much patience.

“You’re right,” Lily got up as well but didn’t bother to clean her clothes from any dirt that might have stuck to them. “She was already freaking out before I even left.”

The two headed back in comfortable silence.

“Can I ask for advice on magic?” Lily spoke hesitantly.

“Of course, dear,” Regina was ready to jump into magical lecture mode right away. “Tell me what happened before.”

“Well, you and mom were watching and I got scared that I’d fail and disappoint you,” Lily said, pushing her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

“Magic is emotion,” Regina said. She thought Mal would’ve mentioned it but even if she had, it might have slipped through the cracks. Either way, it was worth repeating. “When you fear that you’ll fail, that’s exactly what will happen.” She remembered her own countless fruitless attempts to master even the simplest of spells. Self-doubt definitely hadn’t helped. “Instead of putting your energy towards worrying, try to focus it on the task at hand. I know it’s easier said than done, but with some practice you’ll learn in no time.”

“I feel like that won’t be a problem anymore.” Lily grinned at her.

The two soon saw Mal pacing around like a caged animal. She immediately rushed to them when she spotted them, even forgetting to use her magic and teleport in her haste.

“Lily,” she threw herself at her daughter, wrapping her in a suffocating embrace. “Are you okay?” she asked as she pulled back to look at her. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, mom. I’m sorry,” Lily said as she held onto her. “You were only trying to help. I was out of line,” she said, causing Mal to give her a surprised look. “But I’m ready to practice again. If you want to?”

“Are you sure?” Mal asked, instinctively glancing at Lily’s arm to make sure the wound wasn’t there anymore. “You got injured.”

“I’m fine,” Lily said. “And I know you two have my back,” she added as she turned to look at Regina.

“Okay then,” Mal agreed. Her smile was as wide as it could get.

“Great.” Lily disentangled herself from her mom’s arms and took a few steps back before turning into a dragon and rising in the sky.

Mal followed her with her gaze before looking at Regina. “Thank you,” she said as she caught Regina’s hands.

“Of course.” Regina smiled. “Now go join your daughter.”

“Want to come?” Mal offered. It would hardly be the first time Regina had ridden on her back.

Regina shook her head, “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

Mal gave her a grateful look and a quick peck on the lips before turning into a dragon herself and joining Lily.

Regina watched the two dragons glide through the sky. She had no doubt that Lily would soon master all the moves. Soon she’d be able to fly without needing neither Mal, nor Regina’s help. But they’d still be there for her even when that happened. Because it was what family did for each other.