#and the guy who tries to save him but ultimately ends up in an endless loop of killing the one he cares for

[madbard]

Overthinking the unofficial Dusttale ending again.

The central tragedy of Dusttale, I think, is that Dust can never escape the resets. He commits horrific acts of violence to escape an endlessly looping cycle, and only makes said cycle worse for everyone while sacrificing his own ‘humanity.’ That’s part of why he’ll never canonically escape Dusttale - in his desperation to destroy the human, he ensures that he will never actually escape them.

But then we have the non-canon (semi-canon?) potential ending. Dust meets Red, finds someone whom he can trust, who cares for him despite everything he has done. Dust finally has the chance to escape the hell he created - but it comes too late. Always too late.

When Red embraces Dust that final time, judge and executioner ending that cycle of violence the only way he can, it must destroy a piece of him. Because for Red, Dust is the terrible confirmation of everything he never really wanted to believe - it’s kill or be killed. Nothing peaceful or kind can survive. When Red met Dust, I can’t imagine there wasn’t a moment of desperate hope, a flicker of possibility in his mind. Maybe Frisk was right. Maybe there is a way to be peaceful again, to be good again, in a cruel world. Maybe, if he can save Dust, he can prove himself wrong.

Dust’s death is almost enough to shatter that hope. Red staggers home and grieves not just a person, but a dream.

And that’s where things get delightfully twisted.

Because Dust comes back.

Here once again, we see the central tragedy of Dusttale - that Dust can never escape. Even if he dies, he will be reborn and make the same mistakes, over and over again. He remains trapped in the hell he made for himself.

But if Dust made it into the multiverse once, it stands to reason that he could do so again. Imagine that. Imagine Red turning to see the man he loved and killed. Imagine that new first meeting, the dreadful realization of who Dust is, the understanding of what is happening. Red has seen Reset before. He knows the dead do not always stay dead. But this… this is some new cruelty.

Because what now can Red do? Does he leave Dust completely alone in his desolate universe? Does he abandon his friend, the one he failed? The one he killed?

Red tries again. And fails again. And tries again. And fails again. This cycle cannot end. It will last as long as Red hopes he is wrong. It will last until Red truly accepts that in this world, it is kill or be killed.

And so Dust drags yet another soul into hell.

[the--blackdahlia]

Beetlejuice x Fem Reader SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is super affection, once you let him be. Holding hands, cuddling you from behind, other non pervy ways of showing his affection (though there are plenty of pervy ways too).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He is like the ultimate wingman. If you aren't dating him, he's going to try to find you the best date possible. He has a checklist and your future partner has to check each box. One not checked? They get the scary face.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves cuddling you, especially during movies. He likes to squeeze behind you to cuddle when you're lying on the couch, which somehow ends up with you on the floor and finding a new way to cuddle with him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's a little confused but he's got the spirit. Cooking is hard for him since he hasn't had to eat in years besides the bugs that he just eats raw. But he does remember some recipes from the old country that he can still get the ingredients for. As for cleaning, the man thinks spiderwebs are a year-round decore piece. Safe to say, you do most of the cleaning.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If he didn't really care about the relationship, he'd just send a note on Dante's Inferno stationary. But, if he really loves someone, really cares for them, he'll make up a big elaborate lie to try to save their feelings, even if it really hurts to do so.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I think it's pretty obvious Beej would be willing to get married if you even so much as looked at a wedding dress as you walked past a bridal shop.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

To everyone else, he's a diamond, he's a coconut. He's a diamond coconut. Pretty much closed off. But to you, he is the sweetest, softest guy you know.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He'll hug you all the time. Sometimes to show people that you're his, sometimes to remind himself that you're there with him, sometimes so he can tape a note to your back for you to find later. The possibilities are endless.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take him a minute to get up the courage. The last woman he said I love you to poisoned him and tried to eat his soul. But once he's sure that you're not a part of some soul-sucking death cult, he'll be saying it all the time.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh he gets super jealous. He knows you would never cheat on him, but he can't trust the other people who look your way. He knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but they could direct their eyes elsewhere. And heaven forbid you have to go out with a guy, even if it's your brother. You're going to have a minijuice in your purse.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He has different kisses for different things. Forehead when he wants to let you know he's proud of you. Neck kisses to spark something up. Nose when you're being cute and you damn well know it. The list goes on in on. He won't ever admit it, but he has a ticklish spot right behind his ear that if you kiss it makes him giddy.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He doesn't have a lot of experience with children, outside of Lydia. Usually, if he sees a child in the afterlife, he knows that there is a very sad reason they are there. And he just doesn't need that baggage in his life.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He doesn't sleep, and he knows you are not a morning person. He'll usually make you too strong of coffee, and he has learned how to not burn things in the toaster.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Movie nights are frequent. He likes it the best when you make the popcorn because you always add extra butter the way he likes it. He really likes scary movie night, because you usually cuddle closer to him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He's a pretty open book. There are a few things he's not big on discussing, like his ex-wife, and how he came to work for Juno before branching out on his own. He will eventually get to that. But in the meantime, you get some of the grossest details you wish he would keep to himself.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

You know that GIF of Hades catching on fire and then saying he's cool? That's literally Beej. He'll get mad easily, especially when things aren't going his way, but he also cools down quick. He rarely gets mad at you, except for the one time you accidentally put his suit jacket in with the color cycle. Not like he doesn't have magic to just bleach it or anything.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers small details that you don't even remember telling him. He has like a calendar for a brain with all the important dates. Who needs a smartphone when you have a Beetlejuice?

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment is the first time you told him you loved him. It wasn't forced, it was just you, telling him how much you cared for him. It was the moment he knew you'd be together in life and death.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is super protective. If you have to walk anywhere alone, you're never alone. You've got a pocketjuice. He has instructed you to say his name three times at even the hint of danger, and even had you record it on your phone in the event you can't talk. Nothing is going to happen to his girl if he can avoid it.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He does try really hard. He hasn't had anyone to do this for, and he's always got Lydia whom he can pester until she agrees to help him.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Eating bugs is one of your biggest icks when it comes to him. You put up with a lot, but the bugs are where you cross the line. Especially when he tries to kiss you after.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He doesn't really care what he looks like. He thinks he's hot stuff. But he still melts when you call him your handsome boy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. Whenever he gets called away on a job, he feels like he leave a part of him behind. He just doesn't feel right being without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He's a little insecure about his height, but he doesn't mind you calling him your short king, or asking him for help reaching something on a higher shelf. Makes him feel needed.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He does not like floral scents. Makes him think of old ladies that have come through the afterlife or old homes he's had jobs at. He makes sure that you don't have floral perfume. But fruit, he's ok with.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He doesn't really have to sleep, but he likes to lay in bed with you, cuddling you. It helps when it's hot out, or when your body is super achy. And he feels close to you.

[goodshipskypirate]

I had to think about it. Garl coming back, that is.

I'm excited, I'm happy. I wrote an entire essay on how unfair it was that the normal, regular guy gets to bite it when he wanted more than anything to be the best he could be precisely because he was "average." And there was nothing "average" about him; Garl had the biggest heart, an endless determination, and a sparkling charisma to carry him and his friends (and my heart) to the end. Too Good For This Sinful Earth, this man embodied. So it stood to reason he died.

And it was emotional and I was screaming and yelling because it was so unfair, even if Garl was at peace from day one, because he's unflappable and forgiving. It was bittersweet, that a man who impacted so many, got to be the one to die so young. It also felt tragic, as if Garl ultimately knew he was not exceptional, always knowing his place was as a support character, even if his very function and being proved otherwise, so he gets to die as one, satisfied that he's done his duty.

I wanted him to live all the way through the end and was just so fucking MAD about it. Oh, because he wasn't a Solstice Warrior or a soul-in-a-glass-jar or a robot ninja, he gets to die? The "regular one?" Even though he tried so damn hard to be an asset. He wasn't even trying to one-up anyone, he's just good at raising hope, but the point was that he trained and trained and trained so he could be a secondary help, knowing when to step away. By all rights, he shouldn't have died! He tried so damn hard when the cards were stacked the most against him! Yeah, I was mad!

Turns out the game knew that and pulled a fast one on me, because here he is, alive and well. Sea of Stars understood that The Normal One should not have been the one to die just because he's the most vulnerable and comparatively bland to the rest of the main party; it's because he soared beyond what most people expected of him that the narrative allowed his return, because of all people, he deserved to return.

And yet, here I was screaming, "But that means his death was cheap."

I don't like Cheap Deaths. I don't like characters being revived after they've performed a heroic sacrifice or died suddenly or whatever was deemed necessary for the sake of the plot. I'm not saying all deaths worked (either because they're just bad emotional manipulators, the death made no narrative sense, etc etc.) and as unfair as I felt for Garl's passing, I can't say it didn't do its job: utterly devastating me, even if I saw the hints coming. The dead should stay dead, especially if you have a meaning behind it. Their memories should carry on to the rest of the cast and give them the drive to save the world and/or be better people. Bringing someone back after all the tears and character journey to get to that , it's just fucking cheap. I hate it. When a character stays dead and it's meaningful, they should stay DEAD. It drives me nuts if they're revived because then it didn't mean SHIT. Graaaaagh! I don't like cheap deaths, it's literally one of my least favorite types of stories!

And I spent pretty much all of last night wondering if I felt the same about Garl's revival before realizing, ya know? I actually don't care. Because I think him returning to the mortal coil so he could have a second chance is infinitely better than letting him be. Because, again, Sea of Stars demonstrated that his short life was cut way too short and they agreed. So they allowed you to fix it.

And that's also the beauty of video games, because even if you still disagree and Garl should remain dead, you actually can! Reviving him is optional. Nothing is stopping you from going back to the Fleshmancer's castle and defeating the last boss, ignoring the Chronophage in the process. Like that option is there if people would rather choose that path. I think in different circumstances, I might have considered that my ending.

It's also freakin' brilliant because this hinged on Resh'an being an absolute, smart ass, stone cold manipulative bastard of the highest order. He knew this was going to happen and altered time in such a way that this legit was foreshadowed all the way back during the post-Dweller of Strife battle. It's another example of the kind of cosmic games and unlimited powers he and his ex possesses, a recurrence of the greater Saboverse and their direct involvement in it. There's a lot to be said on how poorly or not some of the story is affected within its own bubble because of Resh'an and Aephorul's actions, but as a greater scope, it's significant by a huge margin! And there has been a mountain of foreshadowing to get to this point, they didn't pull this shit out of a hat and called it a day.

So yeah, for once, I will embrace the Cheap Death plot. Garl deserves the world, after all. And maybe this time, he can admit that he doesn't need to think of himself as a secondary backup. He never needed to be. He was always equal in Zale and Valere's eyes.

[abyss-presence]

Could you write of Roller Ricky protecting reader from the whistling man?

Note: second person pov; can be interpreted as platonic or romantic; in this reader had to move away and then back to Gallows Creek; kinda choppy?

His second reason to act

20 years ago, he already had to protect you once. And he'll be damned if he doesn't do it again.

As you hurriedly barricaded every single entrance to the rink, Ricky couldn't help but be reminded of the same situation that happened in the past.

You ran and ran and ran until your legs couldn't move any further. You're completely out of stamina and ahead of you are seemingly endless woods, with the Whistling Man chasing close behind you. "This is it," you think, "this is where it ends for me." But just when you were about to accept your doom and let your final moments pass by, someone knocked your assaulter off his feet by bumping into him, grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you away from your death. And you may be wondering, who was your hero?

To your surprise and ultimate unsurprise, it was Ricky. As in, the one guy you managed to befriend when you first arrived to Gallows Creek, the only person you knew well enough in this entire circle, the one who invited you to this party in the first place. And now he becomes your saving grace too? Damn do you have good taste in people.

Anyway, once you were far away from Whistling Point as it is called now, Ricky doesn't stop for a second. I guess they don't call him Runner Ricky for nothing huh...

You were even more out of breath now despite not being the one doing all the work. And luckily enough for you, he noticed and stopped to allow a quick rest for both you and him.

"You alright man?" he asks, letting go of your hand and bending down with his arms on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. You tried to catch your breath as well and nodded to answer his question. You simply didn't have the energy to use your words.

Apparently, to ensure your safety, he didn't let you go home on your own. If anything, he didn't let you go home at all, and instead brought you to his place. You ended up staying for the whole night. To say that you were grateful is like to say nothing at all.

He sat down on the couch next to you, handing you your cup of hot chocolate as you sunk further into the blanket that he oh so generously gave you.

"Man, I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess... I didn't know any of this would happen," it was pretty clear that he was being eaten alive with guilt, because he was the one who brought you there in the first place, he was the borderline cause of your traumatic experience and it shattered his heart. How can someone even recover after that? You felt like no matter how much you were to try and convince him that none of it was his fault, that, like he himself said it, he couldn't have possibly known about it, it wouldn't work. You weren't a professional, so you didn't know what to do in this kind of situation. Still you tried your best to comfort him and do everything you could to make things at least a little bit better. And he remembered that for a long time, even in the toughest moments of his life, he appreciated your kindness and care for him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve it.

Which is exactly why he let you in when you suddenly showed up at the rink, terrified and exhausted just like back then. With your voice as shaky as a leaf in the wind, you tell him that the Whistling Man is after you. He felt his heart sink down to his stomach. Not again, no, this can't be happening again. Why him– no, why you? Why was this killer targeting you again? Did he come back for revenge now? Or was he stalking you ever since and you just didn't tell him? Whatever the case is, it doesn't matter. All of Ricky's doubts and fears are swiped off to the back of his mind, and the feelings of protectiveness and frustration take front row.

Just then, you heard the alarm go off, which could only mean one thing: the Whistling Man was trying to get in.

The thought of losing you to this bastard has kick started Ricky into action. He grabbed his rifle and and practically ran up to the window. Which was not a good idea apparently, since he got hit on the head. But the stress and danger of the situation didn't allow him to pass out or anything of the sort. He fired the gun and soon enough, both of you heard footsteps quickly getting away from the rink. Is... that it? Are you safe? Is this over? There was no way to tell for sure in this damned place. So he asked you to help him take care of any and all openings to his "sanctuary".

As you hurriedly barricaded every single entrance to the rink, Ricky couldn't help but be reminded of the same situation that happened in the past. He... only now could he realize that he protected you back then, saved you from a serial killer – and today he did it again. And it's not even said to brag about how amazing he is, no.

...Okay maybe a little bit. I mean, he is pretty cool after all, is he not? Either way, not the point. Just coming to accept the fact that he quite literally is the reason why you're still alive, it made him see that maybe, just maybe, he is worth more than he thinks, more useful. And maybe it's a fucked up way to find value in yourself, but shit man, he will take whatever he can get.

When you and him felt safe enough, with your successful survival reported to The Scream, you sat down, this time wrapped around each other, since you were both afraid that if you let go – the other will disappear, with Maxy laying down at your feet.

"Man... who could've imagined that this will happen again?" Ricky says as quietly as possible, looking down at Max to try and find some comfort in his best buddy.

And that made you think back to the Whistling Night 20 years ago. You remember how he apologized... And so naturally, you had to ask if he still felt guilty about it.

"I... don't think so. You know, a lot of things changed while you were away. We have quite some stuff to catch up on, don't you think?" He chuckled, bringing his eyes back up to look into yours.

Oh how fond you have grown of his laugh... you almost wished you could hear it every day.

[jannacalendar]

Jenny, traipsing after Angel, ends up in Sunnydale just in time for the Harvest. She is part of a small group set aside for the Master to feed on upon his escape. Ultimately, the Master ends up turning her and under Darla’s tutelage, Jenny becomes a vicious vampire.

As Sunnydale falls further to the undead, Enyos calls upon the Kalderash elders to accompany him to town to save Jenny. They entrap her and restore her soul. Rather than leave, Jenny decides to capitalize on her position in the Master’s inner circle to take out as many vampires as possible. Enyos stays in town and teams up with Giles and the White Hats, giving them information that Jenny feeds him (without ever revealing the identity of his informant in case it jeopardises her safety.)

Over time Jenny disposes of a number of vampires, including Darla and Luke, simultaneously avoiding suspicion while becoming a bigger asset to the Master in the wake of the deaths of his closest lackeys.

(Season Three episode by episode breakdown under the cut, it got long.)

The Wish

The remaining White Hats now include Enyos, who gets along with Giles to the point that he is the only one who knows he was formerly a Watcher. Given Cordelia was somehow aware of his past, they discuss the notion of a different world in the wake of her death. Enyos is particularly passionate about the concept as he hopes his niece will still be alive, should it be true.

Jenny, meanwhile, is sharing bloodspressos and indulging in good banter with the Master. They go over the final plans for the imminent opening of the factory. Xander and Willow interrupt to announce they’ve killed Cordelia. Willow tries to convince Jenny to come and hunt with her like she used to. Jenny says there will be no need to hunt come tomorrow.

Giles takes a panicked phone call from Enyos. The factory is opening that night. Giles says he’ll be there as soon as he can but Enyos tells him to focus on reversing Anyanka’s magic. Enyos takes Oz and Larry to put up a show of resistance, but they are captured. Jenny can see the entrapped Enyos from her vantage point. No one notices her face drop. 

Buffy arrives and all hell breaks loose. While the Slayer and Angel fight, Jenny drops her charade and rushes to free Enyos (and the humans.) A betrayed Master sends Willow to kill her. Jenny and Willow engage in a brutal fight, culminating in Jenny kicking Willow off of her and into Oz’s path, who pushes her against a splintered piece of wood and dusts her. The Master screams and kills Jenny himself.

Doppelgangland

As Anya and Willow call upon the Endless One, we return to the Wishverse where Jenny and Willow are midfight. Given their close contact during Willow’s summoning, Jenny is dragged along for the ride too. They continue to fight, with Jenny kicking her away once more, but Willow stumbles back into nothingness the second time around. It is only then they realize the factory is now abandoned. Stumped at their predicament, they form an uneasy, temporary truce to investigate.

They end up at the Bronze. As Willow starts throwing fists, Jenny exhibits some self preservation and hastily makes an exit stage left, pursuing happy hour drinks at the bar. 

Jenny ends up with a tequila slammer in either hand and is playing pool with some guys, her fun ruined when Willow and her minions arrive. Jenny keeps to the shadows to avoid getting dragged into proceedings, but Angel notices her before leaving to warn the scoobies.

Angel: Buffy, I… Look, something’s happened that… Willow’s dead. [Beat] Hey Willow. Wait a second?! Buffy: We saw her too, at the Bronze. Angel: …Okay. Does this mean you guys know about Jenny too? Everyone: WHAT?

Jenny is trying to sneak people out of the Bronze in Willow’s absence. One of the minions spots her and though Jenny wins the ensuing fight, she is ultimately outnumbered, pinned down, and tied up for when Willow returns. Thankfully for Jenny, it’s our Willow who enters the club, doing a very unconvincing job at being a vampire. 

Minion: Well boss, since that plan is out, why don’t we get with the killing? And I know just who to start with… [drags Jenny towards him.] Willow: No! Not… um, I don’t know if I feel like killing anymore. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel, where’s the fun in that. [A ‘that’s not Willow’ expression filters across Jenny’s face.] Jenny: Why don’t you let everyone go and give them a thirty second head start? Willow: Yeah! That’d be fun.

They are caught out. Willow screams, a fight ensues. The scoobies win, the bulk of the gang surround Willow while Giles runs to hug Jenny… who is weirded out by the random man suddenly squeezing her. Giles is visibly upset by the fact she has no memories of him or their relationship, but pulls himself together to focus on sending Willow back to her world.

Jenny: Do you have to send me back as well or can I stay here? Giles: What would we be sending you back to? Jenny: Nothing good. Giles: I, well, of course you can stay if you’d prefe- Jenny: Cool! Thanks, later! [She bounces. Giles sadly watches her go.]

Enemies

Giles is disappointed there’s been radio silence from Jenny who, it turns out, has got a job bartending at the Bronze.

Xander: Found your demon! Aaand found your girlfriend.

Giles heads to the Bronze to talk to Jenny. 

Jenny: Didn’t have you down as a clubbing sort of guy. Giles: We all need to drown our sorrows at some point or another. Jenny: Jeez, that bad? What can I get’cha? [She pours the drink, Giles watches her, trying to find a glimpse of his Jenny there.] Jenny: So can I ask what the big burden is or…? Giles: I wouldn’t want to bore you.  Jenny: Okay, in that case, I’ve something to put to you. Giles: Go on. Jenny: You do know that Angel guy you’re hanging out with is a seriously dangerous vampire, right?

Giles walks Jenny home from work and explains how Angel is rehabilitated and works with them to stop evil coming from the Hellmouth. Xander then shows up with the group to announce Angel is evil again. Or is he?! As they all descend on his home for a fight/acting performance of a lifetime, only Wesley notices that Jenny herself also seems repelled by the cross… 

Earshot

Seeing the lights are still on despite the late hour, Jenny visits the library after her shift for an update on ‘whatever weirdness’ is going on now. Giles informs her of what has happened to Buffy and she offers to help.

Wesley: [Sarcastically] Unless you could get us a demon’s heart, I don’t think you’ll be much assistance. Jenny: Say less. [Slam cut to Jenny fighting the demon. She’s good. But so’s the demon. Angel shows up and the tide turns in their favor.] Jenny: My knight in shining armor. Angel: It’s the least I can do.

Angel arrives at Buffy’s home with the potion. Wesley pointedly asks why Jenny couldn’t deliver the potion in lieu of a vampire, given it’s the daytime.

Angel: Buffy’s the love of my life and Jenny’s got the night shift.

Giles visits the Bronze, Jenny jokes that he’s becoming a regular.

Giles: I just wanted to thank you. What you and Angel did saved Buffy’s life. Jenny: Couldn’t have the Slayer institutionalized now could we? Giles: No, that would be rather problematic indeed.  Jenny: You still look troubled. What’s bothering you? Giles: Well, it’s just, I… um… I was just concerned for you. I didn’t want you getting yourself killed for the sake of proving yourself to Wesley.  Jenny: I am more than capable of looking after myself and I certainly don’t need the seal of approval from some bespeckled twit with all the moral fiber of a soggy slab of tofu.  [Rupert laughs at Wesley’s expense.] Jenny: Listen, Giles, maybe the Jenny you knew was a bit of a pushover but I’m not her. Giles: I know, it’s just… hard. Jenny: I’m sorry.  Giles: Don’t be. I should go. [He gets a couple of paces away, stops, then turns back.] Giles: She wasn’t a pushover, by the way. Jenny: Hmm? Giles: You. Well, Jenny. My Jenny. She took no prisoners, you'd be damned if you crossed her. She was utterly brilliant.

Choices

While Buffy and the gang try to secure the Box of Gavrok, Wesley reveals his suspicions about Jenny to Giles. Giles dismisses them for nonsense but we can see on his face he’s seriously considering it. After all he's not stupid. He only ever sees her at night, she’s now a super strong fighting machine, she wears a lot more eyeliner than she used to…

Left to make a potion by themselves, Oz and Xander panic and end up phoning the Bronze for Jenny’s assistance. She claims a family emergency to finish her shift early and head to the library. While making the potion, she firstly (to their concern) admits she’s guessing what to do herself. Then she asks them what happened to Jenny in their world. Both are very uncomfortable with answering and keep changing the subject.

Jenny: So it must be something bad if you’re keeping it from me. Oooh! Did a demon eat me? Was it gross? Like, guts everywhere? Xander: I think this is a conversation you need to be having with G- [Giles, Wesley, Buffy, and Angel all storm in.] Oz: How convenient. Giles: We thought she w- Jenny! Hello. [Jenny waves cheerfully and is about to say something but Oz has done a headcount.] Oz: Um, where’s Willow?

Jenny naturally raises her hand as a volunteer to hit Wesley when Xander asks.

She accompanies the scoobies to their trade. Snyder barges in on his drug vendetta, Giles moves to hide Jenny from view. The box is opened. 

Faith: [Launches the spider thing away from The Mayor.] Jenny: [Jumping out of the way] Eww not over here. Snyder: Calendar? You’re alive? Jenny: ……..No?

Back in the library in the aftermath, Willow reveals she has pilfered them some pages from the books of Ascension. As Giles is giddy at the coup, Jenny finds herself smiling: what a nerd (affectionate.)

The Prom

Jenny visits Giles at his home and says she needs to talk to him.

Jenny: I’ve had several teenagers approach me at work expressing shock horror to see me alive, that Snyder looked like he’d seen a ghost, Angel keeps making cryptic comments… I just want to know what happened to the version of me in your world. How did she die? Giles: Jenny, it’s… well… [he takes his glasses off, wipes them, and sighs. Jenny understands.] Jenny: You loved her, didn’t you?  Giles: Yes, and my heart shatters into a thousand pieces every time I think back on that night. Jenny: Okay. Tell me about your first date instead. Giles: [Perplexed at the change of pace] What? Jenny: Where did we go? What did we do? [Jokingly] Did we fight monsters? Giles: Well funnily enough…

Jenny, bumping into Angel while picking up her blood bags, then tries to get answers out of him. She does not notice he is down about Buffy because he’s always moping around, brooding. Also she doesn’t care.

Jenny: Don’t take this personally, but I’ve put two and two together and figured out you had something to do with my death. Well, not mine, but y’know. Jenny’s death. Angel: Yes. Jenny: How? Angel: I snapped your neck. You, um, Jenny was trying to return my soul to me so I killed her. Jenny: Hang on… [Angel braces himself for a beating.] Jenny: …You’re saying she had the power to restore your soul? Neat! Angel: You aren’t mad? Jenny: Nah, just wanted some context. It’s not like you snapped my neck. [Beat] You did actually get me turned into a vampire in my universe but I oversaw your torture, so I suppose we’re even in a roundabout way. Angel: ………….Oh.

Jenny is henceforth determined to learn a bit of magic. But first: employment calls. She is on her way to the Bronze when three hellhounds pursued by Buffy run past. Jenny follows. Buffy takes one down with a crossbow.

Jenny: Well there’s two of them and two of us. I like those odds. Buffy: I’m so not used to you being a badass. 

They try to steer them away from the gym but the music draws them back. Jenny’s face shifts to her vampiric visage during the fight.

Buffy: And definitely not used to that. WHAT THE HELL?

They beat the hellhounds. Buffy interrogates Jenny about being a vampire while they drag them away from the hall. As Buffy goes to get ready, Jenny heads to the prom. Her being in her leather-y, revealing club wardrobe draws eyes, especially Giles’ who is delighted to see her. 

Giles: Jenny, what a wonderful surprise. You look… wow. Jenny: Thanks. I’m just impressed the eyeliner is still in place after taking down two hellhounds. Wanna dance? Giles: That would be nice, um, dare I ask what happened? Jenny: No match for me and Buff. Giles: Wonderful. Is she- Jenny: She’s just getting changed. I, on the other hand, didn't bring a spare outfit. I’d say about three quarters of these holes are a deliberate fashion choice.

Buffy wins class protector. Jenny and Giles are sat talking in the aftermath (people are eying her in the background like 'holy shit she's alive?') She’s gearing up to reveal she’s a vampire. Wesley interrupts them to ask them about Cordelia.

Jenny: Ewww. Wesley: I have no desire for a moral lecture from a creature of the night! [Beat.] Jenny: Okay, question, are you accusing me of vampirism or prostitution with that one? [Wesley eventually disappears.] Giles: So is it true? You’re a vampire? Jenny: Yeah, I honestly wasn’t hiding it, I assumed you knew.  Giles: You’re remarkably well adjusted. Jenny: I’m ensouled. Spent a little while being a rabid human eater before my uncle came to the rescue. [A new song comes on.] Jenny: Ooh! I love this one!  Giles: [Stuttering] Jenny? I’ve a few questions. Jenny: And I’ll answer all of them once we’ve finished dancing.

Graduation Day Pt. One

Giles is clearly a bit overwhelmed about Jenny being a vampire and admits to Buffy he has to keep reminding himself that this Jenny is different to his Jenny. Though he insists he doesn’t like Jenny romantically, Buffy is not wholly convinced, but she has her own relationship woes to focus on. Namely, Angel being poisoned. Hoping blood will make him stronger, Giles phones Jenny and asks if she could fetch them anything but her assistance is for naught as he can’t keep anything down.

Jenny is sat drinking from a blood bag like it’s a capri sun when Wesley appears to tell them the council won’t help Angel. 

Wesley: The council’s orders- Buffy: Orders? I don’t think I’m gonna be taking any more orders. Not from you, not from them. Jenny: You tell ‘em Buff.  Wesley: You can’t turn your back on the council.  Buffy: They’re in England, I don’t think they can tell which way my back is facing. Jenny: Now, go chase after teenagers or whatever it is you do in your spare time if you aren’t going to help.

Giles and Jenny stay to watch Angel. Giles confesses he is struggling to separate her from the woman he once knew. Not only that, but it hurts whenever he sees her because she’s so like Jenny but so totally different at the same time, and he’ll never get her back. Jenny herself admits she’s mindful of not ending up as a lesser replacement. They both sit there, silent, not sure about where they go from here.

Graduation Day Pt. Two

Xander and Jenny team up to impart English stereotyping jabs at Giles, because if there’s anything that unites them it’s sarcasm. Xander and Jenny’s unexpected partnership continues with leveling judgment at Cordelia’s plan to unleash the ebola virus on the Mayor. It is during the discussion about what to actually do to stop Wilkins that everyone who, thus far, has been kept out of the loop RE: Jenny being a vampire is brought into the fold.

As the Ascension begins, Jenny and Angel arrive with the muscle (and Wesley) to fight the Mayor’s vampires. The day is saved at the cost of the school. Giles runs to check on Jenny in the aftermath of the explosion and gives her a big hug. This time she does not push him away. Though their situation is a difficult one to navigate, there’s something tangible between them.

Random Notes:

Giles is very clearly pining the entire time. Jenny’s indifference soon turns towards the endeared (as we saw in the show there was instant flirtation there, I don’t think that changes here) but she’s very reluctant to pursue anything knowing he loves a version of her that she can never be.

Will this get resolved? Who knows. Bring on the angst.

On the surface Jenny is very carefree and seemingly chill with her predicament but it becomes obvious there's a bit of vampiric self-loathing there that she hasn't had the time to battle given the conditions she was facing in the alternate universe. The zingers and cool exterior are overcompensation.

Jenny doesn’t realize she may be in deeper than anticipated until she pays Giles a visit and comes face to face with Olivia instead and is seething. She probably asks Buffy if she can bite her at least seven times. Curse having a soul.

Sorry to Angel (the character) but Jenny gets the Gem of Amara. Angel (the show) will have to figure something else out.

At some point the Initiative nearly capture Jenny. She escapes but is severely injured in the process and to help heal her, Giles allows her to drink from him and it’s as charged as moment as you can imagine.

Vampire Jenny's wardrobe would be iconic.

do you ever randomly think of a potential AU concept and can't decide whether it's good or stupid? because ensouled vampire jenny in the wishverse is now on my mind.

[the-silentium]

Folded messages

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 4900 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, swearing.

Requested by: Anon

Hello!! I just recently read you 11 Five fic and I have to say it was incredible. I have no words to describe it, your writing is so good💖💖 with that, I was wondering if you did fics based on songs, if you do, would you mind doing a 5xreader based on “sway with me” by Micheal Buble? Idk what the plot could be, maybe they are in a mission from commission and have to go to a fancy ballroom. Maybe they are enemies. Maybe reader pulls him to dance around S2. The choices are endless, go crazy :”)

A/N: Finally I found time to write! I've had insomnia for too long because I couldn't write! Damn day job! 

On a better note, I really hope you guys like this little piece of fluff 💜 I swear, this started as a small idea and then it just got bigger and bigger. Sorry not sorry!

Was it even possible? The prospect of falling in love for someone of his nature was almost as high as his targets' survival rate. He wasn't an emotional man, his feelings were deeply buried in the depth of his heavily guarded heart, locked away in a three inches thick chest that was itself hidden in an impossible maze where traumas and demons were furiously protecting the paths. 

Add this to the fact that he never saw her, not even once, the only proof of her existence being the small animals made of colorful folded paper that appears in his jacket pockets whenever he crossed her path, the possibilities of developing such feelings were in no way probable. The origami aside, the woman seemingly took pleasure in throwing wrenches into his work. He was asked to assassinate a brilliant inventor who was getting too close to discovering the secrets of time-traveling? It would have been an easy job if it wasn’t that every single bullet he had in his possession suddenly disappeared, forcing him to finish the job with his knife. 

There was another time, he was tasked with the termination of a group of people meeting in the back of a bar, his guns were loaded, his knives were sharpened, he was full of juice, there was no way that this job would take more than one minute and forty-three seconds. He made his way to the door leading to the room hosting his targets when he noticed a small dark purple llama on the door handle. He pocketed the folded piece of paper for later and tried the handle to find out that it wouldn't even turn on itself. The assassin rolled his eyes at the futile attempt to keep him from completing his mission, he closed his hands into fists but his ability decided to fail at this right moment.

The door behind him closed on a loud banging noise, a delicate click following closely behind, indicating that the door was locked from the other side. Five remembers it clear as day, the moment he knew he had found his equal. He heard you giggling lightly on the other side of the door and his heart started speeding up. Not in anger, not in annoyance nor in embarrassment. He couldn't say what it was, but he knew for sure that he wanted more of it. 

It happened four times, you making his job more challenging and him receiving a small gift before Five decided to do some research. In a box carefully concealed under the double bottom of his drawer were stored every paper animal he found during his missions along with books about origami and colors. 

An olive green and lavender cat, a dark blue dragon, an orange fish and a dark purple llama were now aligned on his desk in order of acquisition. The different books were opened on different pages and then Five started his information gathering. He scribbled in his notebook the different significance associated to each color and animal and an hour and a half later, he was contemplating his findings. 

The cat was a symbol of independence and mystery among other things. Its olive-green body with the patches of lavender told him that the first gift was, in fact, a peace offering from a feminine person. Her very own olive branch that he took long enough to decipher. 

Then there was the dragon, symbol of power, wisdom, mastery and success. The dark shade of blue told him that the dragon was full of knowledge, power and seriousness. He frowned, thinking and slightly hoping that maybe this was how she saw him. 

He didn't know what to think of the orange fish. Happiness, freedom and energy. He couldn't relate to this one, having not been free for many years now as stipulated by his contract with the Commission. He was a slave, used for his ability and his will to do everything to survive one more day and save his family from their imminent doom. 

Maybe the fish was a reference to yourself. This was the only explanation he could find. You were a young adult from what he deduced of your giggles and were pretty happy and free if the folded paper was anything to go by. 

The last gift proved that Five's theory stipulating that every origami was a metaphor about yourself and himself was correct. 

A dark purple llama. An animal representing hard work, endurance under difficult situations and responsibility. His heart accelerated at the possibility that you knew that he was trying to buy some time and betray his employer sooner than later. Would you rat him out? He really hoped that the olive cat meant that you were on his side and not against him, he would really hate to put an end to the warm feeling dancing in his chest whenever he realized that you were around and ready to play a trick on him. 

Now if he followed your logic, the next one he will receive will say more about yourself and he couldn't wait to be assigned to another mission so that he had a chance to learn more about you or even possibly see you. You, his little time traveler. Five had thought about this for the longest of time and he came to the conclusion that you were indeed a time traveler. The Commission kept very close control over their briefcase so there was no way that you had one in your possession, he would know, after all, he checked the lost briefcases records and they were all reported destroyed. 

To his dismay, his next mission was uneventful. He got in and got out. No hiccup, no paper animal. Nothing. It went like this for his next six missions and with every passing success, Five found himself getting irritated. Every night he found himself chasing your shadow in his dreams and every time you managed to evade his attempts at catching you. One morning when even his first coffee of the day wasn't enough to ease his frustration, he thought of a plan that would allow him to finally see you. 

To avoid making his kills personal, Five always prioritized a long-range way to kill, meaning with guns. Guns had a way to remove all responsibilities off his shoulder and lighten his soul at the end of the day. He had enough demons consuming more and more of his conscience on a daily basis, he definitely could do without this kind of remorse. Sure, he was the one who pulled the trigger, but ultimately, it was the bullet that killed the target, not his hands. 

But tonight, Five decided that he would complete his mission with the idea that you were around. If you were, then he would finally meet you. If not, he would need something strong to accompany his coffee. Whiskey maybe. 

He abandoned his prized sniper in the deserted building next to the one his target was currently dancing in and made his way to a back door. There he space-jumped inside the building and quickly blended himself with the crowd. He found himself straightening his suit in the case you were around and made his way to the bar. 

A glass of whiskey in hand, Five turned his back to the counter and analyzed the crowd in search of his wealthy bastard who was enjoying his very last evening on this Earth. There he was, dancing around, totally unconcerned of the people around him. 

Unconsciously, Five reached into his pockets where the gifts usually appeared out of thin air, his fingers searching around as they did a hundred times before but ultimately finding nothing. With a frustrated groan, Five grabbed his glass, emptied its content in one gulp, smashed the glass back on the counter and pushed his way to his target. Another night without your little schemes meaning another night chasing your shadow in his sleep. If this was how the night would unfold, then he wanted to finish this quickly. 

Five's hand reached for his target, grabbed a hold of his upper arm and pulled him in a nearby hallway before jumping the both of them in the nearby abandoned building where his weapons were patiently waiting for him. 

Five turned around to face his target, knife in hand and ready to strike when his breath caught in his throat and every muscle in his body contracted, stopping every movement. Where his prey stood mere milliseconds ago was now an elegant woman in a beautiful gown, all smile and giggling at his reaction. He knew it was you the second he heard your giggles, causing his heart to skip a beat and his fingers to let go of the sharp weapon. 

He stopped himself from moving a stray strand of hair behind your ear, instead choosing to release his grip on your arm and take a step away. You were too beautiful, so much more beautiful than what he imagined, with your shining eyes, your soft-looking hair, your perfectly curved body, he tried to burn every detail into his memory. 

"Dance with me?" You asked, closing the distance and reaching for his hand. Your movement got him out of his thoughts and everything came back full force. The mischievous glint into your eyes caused a smirk to form on his lips.

"You just want to keep me from my job." And you were doing a magnificent job at it.

"Is it working?" You batted your eyelashes in an innocent way, making Five roll his eyes before he positioned your hands correctly and pull your body so that you were almost touching each other. 

You smiled in satisfaction, following his steps flawlessly on a tempo only he could hear. The blue-eyed man enjoyed the silent minute, savoring the feeling of your soft skin cradled into his palm and the warmth of your waist radiating through the fabric under his opposite hand. The comfortable silence was soon replaced by a soft song playing in the background, stopping Five in his tracks and almost causing you to fall if it wasn’t for his strong arms keeping you up and close. 

Five eyes finally left your face and widened at the new scenery surrounding him. The once dusty floor was now pristine and exempt of all the trash and needles that were once lingering around, the tagged walls were perfectly painted in a new shade of light grey, giving the room a nice glow under the gleam of the light strings hanging from the ceiling. 

Five didn’t know his mouth had opened in awe before you chuckled and your hand left his shoulder to caress his chin, effectively causing him to close it. 

"I take it that you like it?" Your eyes were shining under the soft lights and the pride he saw in them almost got a smile out of him.

"You made this?" He was still stunned about the complete makeover of the room. Even the lingering moldy smell disappeared, letting a pleasant smell floating around in its place. 

"You’re not the first one the Commission took a liking to, ya know. I’m kinda like an illusionist, but my stuff is the real deal. They saw my potential and offered me a job, which I refused and they’ve been on my tail ever since." You shrugged, replacing your hand at its rightful place on his shoulder. 

Five was truly amazed by the woman standing in front of him. Her ability had so many possibilities and she managed to escape the Commission for seemingly a long time. Add this to the fact that she can time-travel and play tricks on the best assassin this planet has ever seen, Five has never been so interested in someone like that before, not even Dolores who has been his everything for many years. 

"I can see why they were interested in you." He resumed his dancing, this time following the rhythm of the soft music playing around them. "Having two abilities is pretty rare."

You shook your head, before clarifying. "I only have one. I don't know where you get the second one from." You frowned in confusion, which reflected on his own face. 

"But you time-travel." He remembered finding the folded fish in the 1800s, the dragon around the 1950s and today was September 23th, 1987.

"Yeah, the same way as you. With a briefcase." You nodded toward the black briefcase neatly placed near the window. Five only got more and more confused. 

"But they were all dest-" He cut himself at your cheeky grin. "You created your very own. Impressive."

"Thank you." You were beaming at that point and Five felt proud that he was the source of your happiness. 

The slow song ended but neither of you stopped moving your feet in unison. Five was enjoying himself like never before and he wasn't in a hurry to end it. The corner of his lips quirked upward when he realized that you pressed yourself against him when the song ended, your way of saying that you didn't want this to end either. 

You silently danced the second song in its entirety, living every second like everything would disappear at any moment. Five was scared that this was a one night deal and that he would never see you again. Why did you reveal yourself tonight of any other night? 

Before he gathered the courage to ask you, the song reached its end and a completely different kind of music floated in the air. 

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

Five pulled away slightly, not much, only to be able to see the sheepish smile on your lips. "I love this song." Was your only answer to his frowned brows. 

Five laughed softly before stepping away and made you spin. He pulled you back to him, your melodious laugh bouncing around him like the greatest melody ever written. 

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

It was clear that neither of you knew how to dance on this song, but you didn't care. You were both moving around freely, Five making you spin from time to time. 

Other dancers may be on the floor

Dear, but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway I go weak

Five's heart was beating quickly, not because of the physical exercise, he was trained to accomplish way more than dancing without breaking a sweat, but because the sight of your delighted face stroked something deep within himself. A primal need. The need of a life partner. Someone who he could trust blindly and love without holding back. 

I can hear the sounds of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth, sway me now

A too-quick step made you trip on your own feet, in an attempt to keep you on your feet Five reached for your arms but it was already too late. Instead of helping, Five only unbalanced you more leading you to fall to the ground and drag the man with you. Thanks to his sharp reflexes, Five caught himself on his forearms before he crushed your small form under his larger one. 

When marimba rhythms start to play

Dance with me, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

For a moment the assassin's heart stopped in fear. He hasn't felt afraid in years and it definitely wasn't a feeling he had missed. Your laugh flicked a switch in his heart, making it beat again in an erratic rhythm that he was almost embarrassed of. He guessed that if feeling that good meant that sometimes he was going to be afraid, it wasn't a big deal. He could deal with his fears if at the end of the day you were fine and happy in his arms. 

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

"I'm so sorry Five!" You managed to say after catching your breath. Tears rolled from your eyes and into your hair, the reflection of the lights above creating stars in your eyes. 

"It's fine." Was all he could say, for his brain had stopped working when he realized that only a couple of centimeters separated the two of you. His body started heating up to his dismay, Five pushed on his arms and sit on his heels to help you sit up. 

When marimba rhythms start to play

Hold me close, make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close, sway me more

"Thanks." You muttered while passing a hand through your messy hair. 

The sound of a metallic object falling on the ground made you jump. Five frowned, confused as to why the Commission would send him another assignment right now and not wait until his return. 

"What was that?" You whispered. 

"My employer." He was beyond annoyed by the interruption. They couldn't have chosen a worse time than tonight. 

Offering you a helping hand, Five got up and helped you when your hand closed on his. He couldn't stop himself, he enlaced his fingers through yours, the tightness of your grip made him chuckle. 

"Don't worry, they are not here." He lightly hit the wall near the window with the underside of his fist, searching for a spot on the wall that wasn't hollow. When he found it, he searched for the dissimulated door and took the canister with his name written on it. 

Releasing your hand, Five opened the canister, took the folded paper and read the words. Terminate Y/N L/N. How was he supposed to terminate someone he didn't even know? This job was so frustrating! He folded back the paper, storing it in his pants pocket. This would have to wait. He turned back to you and the sight bring a genuine smile to his lips. 

You were smiling at something outside the window, the light of the moon joined to the string lights gave you an angelic glow. He would have loved to contemplate you longer, but duty called and he now had two targets instead of one. 

"I have to go." He didn't dare say it too loud, maybe time would stop and let him live this perfect night for all eternity. 

You turned around with a small smile on your lips. He could see that you were disappointed even though you nodded like it was nothing. "Well, tonight couldn't go on forever." You walked up to him, with each one of your steps Five felt himself growing weak in the knees. Oh how he didn't want to go. "It's fine. I'll find you again." At that, you tenderly reached for his cheek while your lips pressed a delicate kiss on the other one, stealing his breath. 

You giggled, surely at the blush covering his cheeks and walked away, the illusion fading along with your steps. Just as you were about to walk down the stairs, Five remembered something. 

"Wait! I didn't get your name!" He quickly space-jumped in front of you to block your path. 

"Y/N L/N." Her smile dropped when a dark expression fell on his face. Even if he tried, he couldn’t have repressed it, the surprise and the anger were too much. 

"You have to leave." He didn’t know how they found her, he always made sure he didn’t have any bug on himself before going on a mission. 

"N-not that I wasn’t doing that anyway, but w-why the long face?" His fingers twitched at the waver in your voice. It wasn’t his intention to scare you, even less to scare you off. 

"The Commission knows you’re here. I don't know how, but they know." Five was starting to get tired of them pretty quickly. Maybe one day he would get out of there with explosions resonating through the hallways. Maybe he could use grenades. Yeah, grenades were good. 

You started to walk down the stairs when you stopped and turned to him, one last time. "Be careful."

Five smirked although your concern was touching. "I should be the one telling you that." 

With one last giggle, you walked out of his sight. Five returned to his very first task of the night, took place at his spot by the window and finished the initial job. 

Back at the Commission that night, Five removed his jacket, eager to go to bed and find himself dancing in your arms again to the sound of soft slow music. A sound caught his attention when he threw his jacket on the back of his chair, the sound of crumbling paper. 

His hands searched his pocket, grabbing the grey fox that somehow found its way into his jacket without him noticing. A smile stretched his lips before he carefully slipped the fox under his pillow and went to bed. 

A whole year passed before the next animal appeared in his pocket. As frustrated as he was of being away from you for a whole year, Five knew why this was necessary. The Commission was close on your tail. Apparently, he wasn't the only agent tasked of your termination and some got lucky enough to find your location but not enough to hurt you. 

The whole year he kept tabs on the Commission's information on you and kept worrying that someday he would find a red stamp crossing out your picture.  As of today, his worst nightmare hasn't yet come true, so he pushed his worry aside and continued his job. 

He assembled his sniper, preparing himself to kill the president of the United States in 1963 when something hit him in the head. It didn't hurt or anything, it was light as a leaf. Frowning, Five pulled away from the scope of his weapon to discover a brown frog made of folded paper lying on the ground next to his feet.

Receiving one of your signature gift after all that time caused his heart to skyrocket in his chest. All those feelings he had repressed, fearing that one day you would be gone for good and that he would definitely be alone in this cruel world, came rushing back at full speed, making him drop his gun and look around for you. 

You weren't far, waving at him with a tired smile on your face, dark shadows marking the underside of your eyes. He didn't take the time to run, simply jumping to you and engulfing your body into his arms.

Many times he thought about how much he had fallen for you after only one dancing night and five tricks followed by origamis. If it were someone else, he would have told them that they were being stupidly influenced by their primal urges that forced them to find a partner and procreate, for this was the circle of life since the dawn of time. In his case, he knew it was much more than that. It was more important to him than a need to procreate. He had found his equal, someone that sparked an insatiable interest in him and showed him that there was way more in this life than what he originally knew. 

Five tensed as soon as he heard the first sobs. Immediately he started to scan your body for wounds or blood, anything to show that you were hurt. However, his analysis was cut short by both your hands cradling his cheeks. 

"I'm fine. I'm just real' tired and I'm so happy to see you." Your arms wrapped around his neck forcing Five to hug your body closer. Not that he minded. 

He whispered words of reassurance into your hair while thinking of what to do next. You couldn't keep fleeing the Commission alone, not in your state. They would catch up to you in no time and he couldn't have that. He couldn't say that he killed you to get them off your back, the higher-ups would request physical proof of your death. It only left him with his last resort. He would have liked to find the good variable, but time was against him so he would have to deal with it. 

"I have a plan, don't worry." He dried her tears with his thumb when she lifted her head to look into his eyes. "I'll get us out of here." 

You managed a smile before chuckling. "I know. Why do you think I gave you a brown frog? A frog to ensure a safe return of your journey and brown for home." 

Five shook his head, once again amazed at how perfectly you could read him despite everyone else describing him as unpredictable. 

He grabbed your hands in his, mentally reciting the equation he passed the last 45 years developing. Before the portal appeared, Five stopped everything in a hurry, scaring the shit out of you. He let go of your hands for two seconds, enough time for him to run back at his sniper, grab the brown frog and run back at you. You rolled your eyes when he secured the frog in his jacket pocket, quickly saying that it has sentimental value, before concentrating on the portal again. 

The blue vortex appeared, its power pushing them away. It took every ounce of strength into Five's body to pull you with him through the portal, your weakened state left you helpless in front of the blue resistance. 

Five did his best to catch you during the fall, your body falling directly on top of his, stealing his breath for a moment. 

You managed to roll off of him, allowing him to take a nice bowl of air to fill his lungs. He made it. You weren't 100% safe, but he could have help now. He cou-

"Five." The worry in your voice along with your hand closing tightly on his forearm pushed him to sit up quickly and find the source of the danger. He understood your reaction when his eyes fell on his siblings who looked like hell. 

"You guys didn't change one bit." He deadpanned. His usual unimpressed face was back in service at the gaping fish-like faces of his siblings. 

"We should be the one telling you that. You haven't aged at all!" Klaus yelled, his outstretched arms moving up and down in his direction. 

Confused, Five glanced at his body and realization hit him like a brick. He knew something wasn't right! 

Your repressed giggles caught his attention, he found your 13 years old body, a hand on your mouth desperately trying to keep a full-on laugh in. He couldn't help but notice how much more tired you looked in your younger self. 

"It's not funny." Was all he said before he spacial-jumped the two of you to his old bedroom. There he guided you to the bed where he helped you get under the covers and watched you get comfortable. 

"It is funny." Five scoffed and went to the door, knowing his siblings were gathered behind it and very probably listening to their conversation. He hit the door with his foot and as expected, Klaus yelled in pain, complaining about his hurting ear. 

"I'll be downstairs to talk in a few minutes so get lost." He told them through the door. He was awarded by some angry muttering and finally, fading footsteps. 

He walked back to your side when he was sure that everyone went on their merry way, sitting on the nearby chair with your hand in his. 

"You need to rest. You'll be safe here." He kissed your hand at your tired smile. "I'll stay until you fall asleep, that okay?" You nodded, already your eyelids seemed pretty heavy. 

"I missed you Five."

You were out in less than two minutes, your breathing became deeper and slower, your facial muscles relaxed and your mouth opened slightly allowing Five to hear your even respiration. 

The boy didn't notice exactly when it happened, but the demons were now silent and the traumas shrank in size, forming a clear path toward the center of the maze that was his heart. There, the three inches thick chest that was protecting his feelings was now wide open, strings were delicately wrapped around them, not too tight as to not suffocate them, but with just enough contact so that he could permanently feel her affection enveloping him.  

"I missed you too."

[A/N] This passed SO close to having an angsty ending! So close! I figured you guys had enough angst with 11 already… and the part 2 that's coming next. 

[incorrect-lalins-curse]

Ok this has probably been thought of before but: the gang plays among us. Bonus points if there is irony (vis a vis cody being imposter Felix dying first (I'm sorry), etc.).

NO WAIT I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS OK

David

-hates being the impostor because he's not very good at lying on the spot

-"guys i got stuck in the vent how do i get out :("

-whenever his fellow impostor is about to get caught, he always does his best to defend them, often accidentally outing himself in the process. he refuses to throw his fellow impostor under the bus for any reason.

-he never sabotages unless he's a ghost. he forgets the button is there

-he's a really good crewmate though. he always stays focused on his tasks, and is great at sniffing out who the impostor is.

-most of the time his accusations will be based on purely gut instinct with little to no solid evidence, but he ends up being right 75% of the time so everyone else just goes with it

-it's for this reason that he usually dies first, especially when felix is the impostor, so that the crewmates will lose their best detective. that, and he makes himself a really easy target by never getting suspicious when people follow him.

-he always continues to do his tasks when he's a ghost.

-always apologizes to the people he kills as the impostor in the lobby once the game ends

-go-to skin is yellow with the astronaut helmet, he also has the alien pet

Felix

-LOVES being the impostor, but is not especially good at it because of his temper. he just enjoys messing with his friends.

-always goes for david or eric first

-not afraid to throw his fellow impostor under the bus to save his own hide

-surprisingly good at lying and gaslighting anyone who sees him being sus

-his favorite impostor teammate is noemi, because they both have the same desire to cause endless problems for their friends.

-will often follow people around or act suspicious even when he's a crewmate just to spread chaos

-people usually suspect him of being impostor first, and he gets wrongfully voted out a lot

-when this happens he refuses to finish his tasks

-'felix is sus' 'no YOU'RE sus fuck off'

-will often refuse to vote until the last second just to force everyone to wait the whole time

-constantly screams at people in the lobby

-if felix and eric are impostors together, felix will call a meeting and out both of them because he hates teaming up with eric and knows there's no way they'll win.

-go-to skin is black with the knife hat. if he joins a game of strangers and someone else has claimed the black and purple skins, he'll leave and find another game. he refuses to play as any other color.

Tobi

-surprisingly good as the impostor. he exudes trustworthy energy and is generally calm and reasonable during discussions, so he tends to always be one of the last suspects.

-people tend to follow him since he seems to know what he's doing, and that's how he gets them

-but once he wins as impostor? he taunts people in the lobby to hell and back. lightheartedly, of course, he just loves to bask in his victory.

-he's usually the host because he's the only one who understands all the settings and who can actually be trusted to not fuck with the character speed. he likes to randomly add a ton of tasks sometimes though, just to be difficult.

-he'll always do his best to defend his fellow impostor, but once they're proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt he'll vote them off.

-the only real giveaway for him being the impostor is if david isn't one of the first to die.

-after he finishes all of his tasks, he'll usually end up following david around.

-does his best to contribute to discussions, but he always seems to be on the exact opposite side of the ship from where all the action is, so he doesn't usually have much to add.

-tends to prioritize finishing tasks over sniffing out impostors, so if he sees someone kill in front of him he'll always finish whatever task he's on before reporting. this is problematic if someone else walks in and sees him.

-he usually ends up just trying to mediate and keep the discussion focused. he's the voice of reason.

-"Guys, stop randomly accusing people. Did anyone actually see anything suspicious?"

-if him and cody are impostors together, it's pretty much a guaranteed win for them. they're the ultimate impostor duo.

-go-to skin is dark green with wolf ears. he also has the blue dog pet.

Cody

-the first time he was impostor, he cried.

-*calls a meeting* "I'm the impostor and I don't want to be"

-it took him forever to get used to the game. when he first started out he'd get stuck on corners and get lost constantly, and it typically led to him being a very easy target for the impostors/being labelled as sus by the crewmates due to his aimless wandering

-but as time went on and he got used to the game, he slowly developed a strategy and became the best impostor out of all of them

-as an impostor, he is DIABOLICAL. i'm talking faking medbay scans, sabotaging left and right, organizing double kills, the whole nine yards. no sleazy impostor play is too low for him. it's horrifying.

-his only weakness as an impostor is that he always feels really bad when he kills someone who has a pet

-he also has somewhat spotty wifi connection in his apartment, so sometimes his game will freeze at the worst possible times, like when he's standing over a body

-he almost never talks during discussions, unless he was the one who found the body. he just follows everyone else's lead. this is another reason why no one ever suspects him, they just straight up forget he's there.

-as a crewmate, he does his best to keep to himself. if he enters a room to do a task and someone else is in there, he'll leave and come back later. it's thanks to this that he's usually among the last to die.

-he's the kind of player to call meetings just to see how many people are dead/yell at people to stop following him

-he is horrible at the emptying garbage task on the airship specifically. it infuriates him. yes i'm projecting

-always goes to watch the security feed once he finishes his tasks

-when he's a ghost, he tends to ignore his unfinished tasks in favor of following the person who killed him around to see what they do.

-his favorite impostor teammate is tobi. he works well with felix too, as well as eric. but that's only because eric is such a loud and obnoxious impostor that he's inadvertently the perfect distraction while cody does all the real work.

-his go-to skin is cyan with the devil horns, and he has the hamster ball pet. he named it hamtaro. he loves it.

Eric

-was allowed to host a game exactly once because he cranked the player speed up to max and everyone hated it

-a very trigger-happy impostor. he'll usually kill someone the second his cooldown runs out, which often results in him getting caught in the act.

-does a stack kill every chance he gets

-throws baseless accusations every which way, regardless of whether he's the impostor or not

-sometimes he'll jokingly out himself as an impostor even when he's not just to confuse people, but it usually ends in him actually getting voted out

-overall, an agent of chaos. it's hard for me to write hcs for him because the way he plays the game varies entirely on how chaotic he's feeling at any given moment.

-on rare occassions when he decides to actually try and not just mess around, he's a scarily good impostor. he can be a master of manipulation when he wants to be, and he has a lot more tricks up his sleeve than he usually lets on.

-often gets voted out or killed early on just for being annoying

-likes to run laps around the lobby

-tries to actually make friends with the people he meets in online games and plugs his youtube channel every chance he gets

-sometimes streams among us on his yt when he plays with the rest of the gang

-go-to skin is blue with the brain slug hat, because 'it kinda looks like a frog'

María

-she really doesn't like being the impostor. it stresses her out a lot and makes her feel kind of guilty.

-also she's just. not very good at it. she accidentally presses the vent/kill buttons a lot when she's meaning to press something else.

-she talks a LOT as a crewmate, but hardly talks at all as an impostor. it's a major giveaway.

-she texts really fast and turned off autocorrect on her phone, so when she sees someone kill, reports the body, and tries to say who did it, it takes her a couple tries to actually send a coherent message, and a lot of the time the impostor accuses her before she can accuse them.

'ITBWHAHDBFDHFY'

'IT WHAS HFIDY'

'CDOY'

'FFS'

'C O D Y'

-she gets lost a lot. despite how much she plays, she can never seem to remember where everything is.

-she's always one of the first to vote. much like david, she likes to throw out baseless accusations, but the only difference is that hers are usually wrong

-the CEO of 'if ____ isn't impostor, vote me next'

-likes to track down one person who she's relatively sure is innocent, and stick to their side like glue

-she also does this when she's an impostor. she picks one crewmate to spare and stick with so they'll think she's innocent and defend her during meetings.

-go-to skin is orange, and she tends to alternate between the angel halo hat, the pumpkin hat, and the flowerpot hat.

Noemí

-tends to take the game VEEERY seriously, and will sometimes give her friends (particularly cody) the silent treatment at school if they 'betray' her in-game

-constantly bugs cody in class to teach her his strategies. he just laughs at her.

-she tries really hard to be sneaky as an impostor and be as manipulative as felix and cody can be, but she tends to raise her voice when she lies and it's a dead giveaway.

-she sabotages as much as she possibly can, and overall spends more time just creating chaos than she does actually killing.

-she's not very good at defending herself, whether she's innocent or not. her defense usually boils down to "so-and-so's sus for saying i'm sus"

-"i was doing tasks!" "okay, what tasks?" "uh-"

-much like tobi and cody, she and felix are a terrifying impostor duo, but their approach is more 'mass murder' than 'manipulation and complex strategy'

-she doesn't like being crewmate, she thinks it's boring and she tends to ignore the tasks she doesn't want to do since, in her mind, there's no way they'll be able to win that way anyway.

-so she usually just wanders around and hangs out in security or admin to sus out the impostor.

-go-to skin is purple with the bat wings hat

Lucía

-hardly ever plays, and when she does she's not very good purely due to inexperience

-everyone tends to go easy on her because of this and she hates it

-really good at pointing out holes in people's alibis

-also surprisingly good at deflecting suspicion away from her

-has the potential to be a fantastic impostor, on par with cody and tobi, but doesn't have the controls down yet

-the type of crewmate to call a meeting just to say she's done with her tasks

-always finishes her tasks when she's a ghost. always.

-go-to skin is white with the pompadour hat because she thinks it's funny

Selena

-doesn't take the game seriously AT ALL

-just fucks around. all the time. never does tasks or kills anyone as the impostor, just walks around the ship following ppl around and doing fuck all

-"selena, what are you doing?" "im having a dance battle with eric in medbay, leave me alone"

-she does still contribute to discussions though. she bases her accusations on super petty things like 'eric is dark blue and i don't like that color' or 'david voted for me last round' but the funny thing is that she's usually right.

-much like eric, gets voted off early on just for being annoying. the two of them just hang out in the ghost chat and laugh at everyone screaming at each other during discussions.

-go-to skin is pink, and she switches between the witch hat and the flower headband

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” 

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better. 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield​ ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow. 

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax. 

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone. 

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning. 

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.” 

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts. 

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same. 

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that. 

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything. 

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right? 

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start. 

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting. 

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name. 

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door. 

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon. 

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful. 

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth. 

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life. 

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room. 

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him. 

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about. 

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago. 

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind. 

“I get it,” Jody finally says. 

Dean glances sharply at her. 

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told... 

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee. 

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long. 

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up. 

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders). 

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood. 

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed. 

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against. 

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood. 

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities. 

Probably. 

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this. 

 The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas. 

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off. 

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly. 

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.” 

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?” 

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger. 

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?” 

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar. 

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—” 

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods. 

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water. 

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air. 

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair. 

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected. 

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth. 

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—” 

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on. 

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead. 

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain  what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?” 

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own. 

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him. 

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough. 

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair. 

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really. 

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago. 

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.  

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again. 

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him. 

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this. 

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat. 

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is. 

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step. 

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas. 

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both. 

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists. 

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize. 

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars. 

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza. 

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room. 

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up. 

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much. 

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want. 

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face. 

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

[lostcauses-noregrets]

do you think eren’s friends are actually relieved that the ultimate evil to be defeated was ”just eren” and not some giant unknown with hundreds of adversaries? like, i’m trying so hard to understand the ending and everyone’s reaction to eren committing genocide but it’s honestly quite gross. it doesn’t help that those who’ve disliked aot because of its themes being misunderstood as pro-fascism, pro-imperialism etc etc are now celebrating because the fandom was so vocal about the ending being bad.

like have i been following a story i thought to be condemning war, genocide and fascism only to be hit in the face right at the end for actually trying to redeem eren and his actions because ~ he did it for his friends uwu ~ i did not sign up for this.

anyways i wish hanji had survived cuz at least they were very against eren’s plan. i think that might also be the reason for their sudden death. also the fact that levi wouldn’t have been livid at the truth, that he had to say goodbye to his closest friends, was guilted into saving armin because he was necessary for everything to go according to plan, put himself in danger constantly and almost got killed because of zeke like WHERE was the reaction to that? i know he was probably too exhausted and dejected to even care but still.

also i’m really hating the new eldia army logo taking the wings of freedom and slapping guns over it. like...c’mon.

I agree with a lot of what you’re saying here Anon. The reaction to Eren’s genocide is deeply distasteful, and his redemption is abhorrent.  There can never ever be any vindication for genocide. However I’m still not convinced that the story glorifies war and condones fascism.  War is shown as an endless destructive cycle and the fascist Yeagerists are not portrayed as the good guys, despite what some readers seem to think. I have no doubt that Isayama intended the manga to end on a tentatively hopeful note with Armin’s final speech:

 “When they see us all together like this.  They’ll have to want to know. About our story.  Why those who tried to kill one another for so long have appeared on Paradis to advocate for peace.  They’ll want to know what we saw.”

It’s a positive message. The big problem of course is how the story gets there. I’m minded of the meta post that @tsuki-no-ura wrote about the different ways in which war and conflict is portrayed in Western and Japanese media, where the aim of the narrative is to explore the motivations of the different antagonists, rather than pass judgment on who is right or wrong.  I’ve been trying to reflect on that as I attempt to get my head round this story.

A couple of other points I want to pick up on…I’m sure the crest of the imperial Eldian army is deliberately designed to shock and to invoke a reaction of visceral distaste.

I certainly agree that Levi would have been absolutely furious if Eren had attempted to communicate with him. He sacrificed everything to save Eren over and over again, because he believed that Eren was the best hope for humanities survival.  As Levi himself said in chapter 112, it’s almost like some big, awful joke.  

However I don’t agree that Levi was “was guilted into saving Armin because he was necessary for everything to go according to plan”.  If you’re referring to Levi choosing to give Armin the serum instead of Erwin, that’s not what happened.  For a start, Eren has no power to control Levi, he can not manipulate him or wipe his memories.  But more importantly, Levi stated quite clearly that he allowed Erwin to die in peace because of his own personal feelings. Levi didn’t choose to save Armin, he chose to save Erwin, by allowing Erwin to die.  That was the choice that Levi made, and it’s important we don’t loose sight of that, whatever else has happened since.

[444piscesprincess]

childhood friends to lovers/growing up together sterek fic reclist

uhh this kinda got a lil angsty but i recommend you pick a growing up together fic and listen to this song i promise you will not regret it 

https://open.spotify.com/track/5Dz8nrwQlPLE68WaTEIqY5?si=aogjMc1aToSALmAlfQOR7A 

anyways as usual check tags please!!

(click on the title for the fic)

you know you're on my mind

bibliosexual

Summary:

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

(hs!au + texting!au + childhood friends to lovers the ULTIMATE fluff fic)

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)   (series)

yodasyoyo

Summary:

Stiles is six years old when he first hears Derek's voice in his head.

Or what happens if you have a soulmate bond, in a universe where soulmate bonds don't exist?

Up Down Lock Unlock

isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Summary:

“Why are you going into grandma Ito’s apartment?” he asked.

Derek turned to him, key sliding into the lock. “What do you mean?” He tried to turn it, but the key wasn’t budging. Maybe the lock was sticking again, it’d been doing that the past few days.

Stiles was staring at him like Derek was stupid.

Derek did not appreciate sass from a ten year old.

“That’s grandma Ito’s place.”

“No,” Derek said calmly, pulling the key out and then shoving it back in, wiggling it a little when it continued to refuse to unlock the door. “This is my place.”

“I think you’re on the wrong floor then, because that apartment belongs to grandma Ito.”

(time travel counts as childhood friends right?)

the difference between going back and going home

thepsychicclam

Summary:

Stiles and Derek were inseparable growing up, but then college, jobs, and life happened. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills a decade later, he doesn't expect to reconnect with Derek, and he sure doesn't expect to fall in love with him.

It's Such a Gas When You Bring Up the Past

orphan_account

Summary:

Stiles finds a box of old photo albums that dredge up the sweet, the funny, the adorable, and the mildly heartwrenching parts of his and Derek's past.

(mainly a friends fic but its too cute to not include)

It's Always Been You

charlesdk

Summary:

Stiles' love life was practically non-existing, always had been. He was always terrible at picking up clues when people hit on him (it had happened, Erica had been witness to it and had been the one to let him know it was happening in the first place) because he never expected anyone to do so.

He wasn't the most desirable guy around, he knew that. He was loud, extremely nerdy, never knew when to stop talking, not exactly much of a looker if you asked him, the list was endless.

Point was, he never did know when someone was flirting with him. Which was probably how he ended up in the fight that would change his life for the better.

Lead You Home Again

GotTheSilver

Summary:

The first time Derek meets Stiles, the kid’s brown eyes are wide, and he’s staring up at him with a mischievous grin as he tugs at the arm of Derek’s first ever Batman figure like he’s trying to separate it from Batman’s body.

An alternate take on Teen Wolf, wherein Stiles and Derek are childhood friends, and things unfold from there.

Kingdom By The Sea

kilaem

Summary:

Lydia grabs his arm and pulls him down in the seat next to her. “When the hell did you find time to bag a guy like Hale?”

“We’re friends,” Stiles feels his face heat up, and then the team are running out and Derek sees him and smiles. His blush gets worse.

“Oh really?”

“Our moms were friends, okay? We’ve been in diapers together.”

“I thought you two hated each other.”

Those That Bump In The Night

bleep0bleep

Summary:

A boy’s head appears upside down, hanging off the bed. “Is anyone there?” he calls out curiously, looking right at Derek’s eyes. Caught, then. The protocol for being deliberately seen by a child is just to look as strange and fearsome as possible. No one would believe them, anyways. But Derek is tired, and he’s been running and scared, and now he just kind of flickers, curling out a tendril of dark smoke, hoping that he’s a little bit scary. No such luck. The boy’s eyes widen. “Oooh, are you the bogeyman?” “Bogeyperson,” Derek says, before he can help himself.

~

When Stiles was a boy, he had an imaginary friend named Derek. Ten years later, Derek comes back, and is very, very real.

Five Times Derek and Stiles Kissed For Practice (And One Time They Didn't)

mikkimouse

Summary:

In which Derek and Stiles grow up together and practice kissing, roughly in that order.

216 + 1: Words To Say Instead of I Love You

briggs

Summary:

Derek and Stiles have been best friends for fourteen years. They have their differences, sure, but it's never been a question for them. Their friendship has been the most solid thing in their lives -- until suddenly it isn't anymore.

Funny how just a few choice words can throw fourteen years of friendship off-balance.

OR

a collection of "Bro, That's Gay" one-shots that actually ended up turning into a concrete storyline.

hope is the thing with feathers (part of a series)

ShanaStoryteller

Summary:

Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely.

"Then he's facing a burning home, and he wraps the hood of his sweatshirt around his mouth before he pushes the door open and steps inside. There's Mr. Hale asleep - he hopes asleep - on the couch, next to - Stiles thinks that's his brother but there are so many Hales, who can keep track. He rushes over and starts shaking him, can see the rise and fall of the man's chest so he knows he's alive, but he's not waking up. He shoves away his hood so he can shout, "Mr. Hale! You have to get up, there's a fire! Mr. Hale, get up!" Nothing, he's not even twitching, both of them taking in deep even breaths like they're having the most peaceful of rests, and Stiles is going to cry. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" There's a moment, where all Stiles can hear is the blood rushing in his ears and not the roar of the flames or the creak of wood, then with a violent, silent pop it's all back and both of the men are gasping awake, eyes open and jumping to their feet. "

(one of my favourite fics like EVER)

it came from the trees

whatshouldntbe

Summary:

“Don’t worry, Scott caught me up on everything,” Kira assures with a bubbly smile via video-chat. “You and Derek, huh? I probably should have seen that coming. I always thought it might be Cora, but Derek was the one that looked at you how I used to look at you.”

Stiles goes a little pink. “It’s still kinda new but, yeah. I really like him. He’s...” Beautiful. Patient. Smart. Painfully honest. Sweet.“...a total dork.”

Kira laughs and laughs. When she gets herself together, she replies, “Yeah, those little hearts and stars in your eyes definitely say different."

or

Stiles moves from the shiny, fast-paced lifestyle of Los Angeles to the foggy, sleepy town of Beacon Hills so his dad can become the new sheriff. Newly fifteen, he does his best to finish out his freshman year of high school (by staying under the radar) when he suddenly becomes the Beyoncé of the Supernatural community. And, without much prompting on his part, he ends up catching the eye of one of the most prominent Werewolf families in all of North America. It literally all starts with a stuffed animal(s).

(oh god this fic is the literal best even though its abandoned it ends at okay-ish place. this is one of the best hale family characterisations ive ever read. if you squint it can be a childhood friends to lovers fic but im including it anyway bc its amazing)

Promises aren't Meant to be Broken

paradis

Summary:

“Thanks for saving me,” Stiles blurts out, staring up at Laura, wide eyed.

Laura grins. “I like you,” she says, “we’ll be friends.”

(more laura and stiles besties centric but totally worth a read)

The Things We See

MelodramaticSalad

Summary:

Stiles grew up in the life of knowing that there was always more to life than what others saw with a first glance. Even as a child he saw things that no one else seemed to and always had a fascination with the unusual.

Some considered him an unusual child, but Claudia welcomed every single quirk her son displayed. His mother had a few special talents of her own and thrilled her to see it in her son as well. She'd raised Stiles to always keep his mind open and as grew and started to display his powers, she began to teach him how to use them. She even taught Stiles about werewolves at a young age, his infatuation with them growing once he had learned the truth about her closest friend.

Stiles spent nearly every possible moment that he could roaming the Hale house, following after the middle child most of the time. Derek was three years older than Stiles, but the bond they developed with each other was something their mothers considered out of a story book. Like Derek, Stiles was sensitive to his emotions, but unlike Derek, Stiles didn't need a scent to figure it out. He could feel it.

take me back

matildajones

Summary:

“I dare you to kiss me,” Stiles taunts, and he’s not expecting the way Derek says a naughty word under his breath and then leans forward.

Stiles yelps. He just dodges Derek’s mouth before he’s laughing wildly and running through the trees, calling out a series of ew ew ew as Derek chases him back home.

[phoebehalliwell]

Ok I’m curious, how would you fix season 8? Which is objectively the worst season IMO but had the most potential

i mean like there were a lot of things wrong with season eight but i think by far the worst thing was their villains like. for starters. making billie and christy our big bad was. bad. and then there was dumain? the triad? the source came back for a second? it was sloppy, at best. like. like!! i think s8 would have benefitted best from a clear-cut villain from the get go, something that was evil with an agenda, that offered a couple one-off plots rather than like. a girl who was kidnapped an emotionally manipulated into believing she's right by older powerful men exploiting her and wrapping up her plot by literally(!!) incinerating her. she burnt to death i'll never be over this she was literally human lmao what the Fuck. so instead of doing a billie manipulated by christy manipulated by dumain who's like. the triad's bitch. Don't. the underworld is currently in chaos what with the source dying and then the avatars stint and the zankou bit. they need leadership. have someone vy for the throne. forget the ultimate power. leave that shit in the dust. we could still potentially have billie, but billie was just a really bad character for charmed where we were. like we just watched the girls go thru endless shit for a near decade and now we have some knockoff buffy like i know more than you!! like it doesn't matter that in some cases, billie is right (hello?? scrying with a laptop????), like, we’ve been with the charmed ones so long like it's so hard to read billie as anything other than annoying. and then both henry and coop were done So Fast like. those could stand to marinate a shade longer. every tho paige and henry's wedding is my fav out of all the weddings on the show (bc it was the cutest) um. it's very ooc. like they can just be in a long term committed relationship. moving in together could be their big thing. maybe getting engaged. but like the speedrun in three months? two months? unbelievable. and then i've mentioned this before coop entering phoebe's story of his own volition as a passing cupid who senses a blocked heart and tries to fix it and then ends up in way over his head when phoebe summons him and threatens to vanquish him. like way more believable than the elders just sending coop down as a sorry present girl what. other people have also pitched work rivals to lovers phoebecoop as two rival pop culture cupids. there are options. skip over dex obvi. i will give a shout out to the way they got rid of leo. the um. mechanics of it were stupid, as previously stated. but i'm always a fan of bringing in death, and i thought it was a good loophole for getting rid of brian 2 save money. oh you know what else i didn't like? agent murphy. fuck that guy he was both boring uninteresting bland and also a dickwad. so. :\

okay. so to salvage s8 on a budget. here's what i'd proposed: focus on seats of power. sets you already have: magic school, the manor, the underworld (presumably). first thing under siege so 2 speak is the manor, now that the charmed ones are dead. paige keeps trying to help charges on the dl, phoebe still practices magic and intervenes in like. letters that warrant it from the advice column. piper and leo are living that domestic life and maybe we get a quote from wyatt just like from melinda in s2 don't worry mommy i promise not to use my magic and like all these girls kinda hit the conclusion hey. this is wrong. we are the charmed ones. let's own up to it. they're back!! we give paige two relevant charges: speed, a future whitelighter who just graduated high school in the spring. no he's not going to college, despite henry's insistence, and later paige's. he'll hit that epiphany later. billie. wicked smart, independant, freshman at berkeley with a tragic past. they r gonna be each other's love interests, giving us a plotline off the sisters so the actresses can have a break because evidently that was a requirement as well. speed's first 2 notice, but billie's first to put the pieces together: there's something demonic afoot in san francisco. and up-and-coming demon clan have been like. like giving mortals demonic powers, granting them magic in exchange for fealty. this can lead for kind of a big final battle, with the charmed ones vs like an army that can easily be disarmed once they find the necessary magical pathway. we can also have the sidequest of magic school, which will soon be falling into the hands of the charmed ones. in fact, we can have the demon clan going for a "magical seat of power" which the girls interpret as the manor but realize almost too late that it is magic school. from there, all the mortals who went demonic can like. be knocked unconscious have their memories wiped and place back in the world like nothing ever happened, wrapping that up in a neat bow. the girls finish the fortification of magic school, resealing its protections and confirming its place as a haven for the next generation of magic. speed almost dies and you think he's gonna die fr fr because he's a future whitelighter and you're like oh that's how we're gonna wrap that plot up but psych! billie saves him at the last minute. they get to stay in a healthy normal relationship together <3 piper gets leo back after the great battle, phoebe and coop get married in the manor and take the place of the paigehenry wedding because like. again they should also hold off on that (maybe we just include it in the flash forward montage) but we kinda do need at least one wedding to wrap this motherfucker up. and paige and henry get a domesticity beat and also maybe a roadtrip we give them a literal drive off into the sunset symbolizing how piper gets the domesticity the white picket fence life she's always wanted phoebe gets true love and the ability to feel whole again and paige gets freedom and independence symbolized by her road trip, which also shows us how magic has reached such a point of stability that each of the charmed ones can actually live on their own. paige drives off into the sunset And Then we get the flashforward montage of everyone's individual happy endings. fin <3

[to-star-lake]

re: untitled [ pt. 3 ]

pairing | jjk x reader genre | ceo!jk, arranged marriage word count | 4.5k rating | M, 18+ pt. 1, pt. 2, end

You opened your eyes to the blinding light of the sun shining high and bright in the sky, and blinked a few times to adjust yourself to the brightness, rubbing them with your fingertips. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes to go back to sleep when your brain began registering your surroundings. You shifted your legs under the sheets and noticed that this was not your bed, and opening your eyes wide, you looked around and realized this was not your room. 

Images of the night before began flashing back to you and you felt your body tense up, remembering everything that happened. Under the sheets, you felt Jungkook shift beside you, and noticed his arm was around your waist and was pulling you backward, your bare skin pressing against his. 

You waited until his movements stopped and turned very slowly, trying not to wake him. You turned to see him, still fast asleep, long strands of his hair falling down over his eyes, his shoulder and the dark patterns and lines of his tattoos exposed over the edge of the blanket. 

Shit.

Despite the ringing hangover in your head, you were able to recollect everything that happened last night. How Jungkook burst into Taehyung’s apartment. How he cornered you in the elevator. How he pulled you into him to pose for photos at the benefit. How the two of you got into a drunken spat at an event full of your clients and colleagues. How Namjoon made both of you leave only for the two of you to continue the fight at home. The fight that led to this. 

Your head spun with all of the thoughts swirling through your mind. You slept with him. Oh god, you slept with him. Was it because both of you were drunk, filled with adrenaline from fighting, and needed an outlet for the pent up frustration you both felt? How did this happen?

Jungkook shifted a little, snuggling his face into the pillow and you felt his arm around your waist pull you closer. You took a long breath in in an attempt to calm yourself, but the lingering scent of the cologne on his skin made your eyes heavy and you remembered in excruciating detail how he touched you, the way he held you, the way he made you feel. How good it felt. 

You reached a hand out slowly, gently brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes. You’d never seen him this close before. Or maybe you have, but you weren’t really looking. You traced your fingertips softly over his brow bone, across his cheeks, your eyes catching the little moles on his nose, under his lower lip, and wondered how long he’s had these, why you’d never noticed them before. 

He stirred at the movement and mumbled something into the pillow and you retracted your hand quickly, not wanting to wake him. Not wanting to face him. 

Slowly and carefully, you slid your body out from under his arm, and slipped out from underneath the covers. You tiptoed quickly from his room, quietly picking up the pieces of your undergarments trailing to the living room. You moved quickly to your side of the penthouse and shut the door quietly behind you. Once the door was closed, you leaned your head back against it, feeling your tense muscles relax as you took a deep breath. 

You stepped into the rain shower in your bathroom, turning the water on as hot as you could tolerate, hoping a little bit of pain might distract you from all the thoughts running through your head. You doused yourself in soap and shampoo, wanting to wash his scent from your body. 

You felt ashamed. Not because you slept with him. You felt ashamed because you were finally registering the few words you exchanged before you drifted into the deepest sleep in his arms. 

I’ve never slept with any of those girls, you know. 

You put a hand up against the marble wall of the shower, trying to hold yourself up but your legs felt like they were giving out under you. You lowered your head and let the hot water spill over your body.

I haven’t slept with any other girl. Not after that night at dinner with our parents. The month before our wedding.

You felt your hand clench into a fist, your cheeks grew hot and you felt a warm liquid building along the bottom of your eyes. 

Because I’ve only ever wanted you.

You slid down to the floor of the shower, curling into a ball, leaning against the marble, tears flying from your eyes. You held your legs close, head buried into your knees, making a concerted effort to focus on taking deep breaths to stop crying. 

After a few moments, you were able to stop the tears flowing and the adrenaline seemed to fade. The steam from the shower helped clear your head, but when you stepped out and wiped the fog from the mirror, you saw how swollen your eyes were from crying. And you saw the darkened patches of clotted blood underneath the skin of your neck and shoulder. You wished you could wash these marks he made away too. 

Think, you thought to yourself, closing your eyes and bracing yourself against the counter. Had he given you any indication that this was how he felt? Why didn’t he say anything earlier? Why didn’t he just tell you how he felt? Why didn’t he, at any point during the engagement, try to reach out and just talk to you? Or anytime during the last two years?

And how could he feel this way? How could he be like this? Sure, you were childhood friends, but you never saw him as more than that. In fact, although he liked to follow you around as a small child, when both of you grew to be teenagers he became increasingly distant and standoffish towards you. 

You tried to shake your thoughts away, taking a seat at the vanity and began dabbing foundation over the marks on your neck. You got dressed, ultimately choosing to tie a silk scarf around your neck because no amount of foundation was going to do any good. 

Carefully opening the door to your bedroom, you peaked out to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You heard no sounds in the living room or kitchen and you silently tiptoed back down the hall to his side of the penthouse and lingered in the open doorway to his room for a moment. He was still blissfully asleep, his dark hair a wavy mess on the pillows. 

You thought of Taehyung on your drive to the office. You remembered that tonight was his art show. That about two months ago he told you that for the first time, he would actually open a gallery and exhibit his work for the public, something you’d been encouraging him to do for a long time. And he wanted you to attend. 

You knew you needed the day to clear your head, and getting some things done at the office would be the perfect distraction. And then tonight, you would call Jungkook, and get to the bottom of how this happened. And you would text Taehyung, and inform him that you can’t make it to his art exhibit after all. You thought you didn’t want to see him, at least for a while, until you have everything figured out. 

You heard a soft, wry laugh from yourself. There was a bit of poetic irony in the events of last night, you thought. That on the night you told your husband you wanted to divorce him (though you didn’t mean it), it was also the night the two of you finally consummated your marriage. 

Miya, your secretary, greeted you at the elevator the way she does every morning with a latte and your calendar for the day to review with you. And as you made your way through the open floor space to your office, she sat down across from you and mentioned that the security team was doing a full sweep of everyone’s hardware storage, and that their remit to everyone in the company is to go through their cloud drive and emails and delete anything that was not needed or should not be saved, even the CEO needed to comply. 

You glanced over your schedule and thanked Miya for the coffee, glad for the mindless task of deleting emails because it would make for a good distraction. As you were flipping through endless pages of emails in your various work and personal mailboxes, you came across one folder in the junk category you didn’t recognize. 

The folder was labeled with only a single dash and you can’t remember if you created this, or if this was a standard folder that the email drive provided. 

You clicked on it, and more than 50 unread emails loaded. You furrowed your brows, confused, but found your eyes opening wide in surprise and confusion when you read the ‘from’ column. The email address that sent you all of these messages was jjk1997, and every email had the same generic subject - 

re: untitled. 

You scrolled through the pages until you found the very first email from this address, simply denoted as ‘untitled.’ And this email had been opened, as opposed to all the others that came after. When the message itself loaded, you saw that it was a photo of Yoongi, your first crush from middle school, kissing one of your friends. 

The memories of how this happened came crashing back to you. 

Years ago, way back in middle school, when the two of you still attended school together, you remember there was an older boy that you had a crush on. You remember revealing who that was to Jungkook and a few of your friends during a game of truth or dare at one of your parents work events; one of those events where all the children of the executives in attendance banded together. 

And you remembered that a week later, Jungkook sent you this photo, without a subject, without an explanation. And you remembered being furious with him for sending it. You didn’t understand it. You supposed his intention was to inform you that you should not go for this guy, because he was making out with one of your friends after school. But you felt so embarrassed that he’d taken action on this personal information he knew about you. You felt exploited. 

And so you had clicked the filter messages like these button at the top of the page. The site had asked you to name the folder you wanted to filter these messages to and in the absence of wanting to give Jungkook’s emails any meaning, you simply typed -. 

That’s why you never saw these, you thought to yourself. Upon receiving any correspondence from Jungkook, your email automatically filed them away into the folder nested under the Junk category. And he’d sent you so many. You scrolled back again through the pages and found that the latest email from him was sent over two years ago. In fact, the date on it was the date of that night with both of your parents when they announced your engagement. 

You clicked on the email to open it, and realized it was part of the same chain that originated with the first message. You took a deep breath and read it. 

‘You didn’t seem too happy about what happened tonight. I’ve known that we were betrothed for a long time, my parents told me about it when I was 7. You looked so taken aback, I can only assume your parents never told you about the arrangement. 

You can tell me if you really don’t want to do this. 

You should know, I’m okay with this. I’ve known about it for a long time. But I guess you must feel differently. If you don’t wanna go through with this, I’ll talk to my parents, I’ll make up something. Im not gonna let our parents to force you into this if it’s not what you want.

But before I do that, I want to see you. There are some things I want to say. 

I’ll be at the cafe on 52nd, a couple blocks up from the restaurant tomorrow at noon.

- JK’

You sat frozen at your desk, eyes glued to the screen, unable to look away. 

Finally, you were able to restore movement to your hand over the mouse and you frantically clicked through the rest of the emails from him and you found the contents to be very similar. They were all mostly photos from his travels. 

Photos of a fishing boat, crossing a wide river in misting rain to a small island in the distance. Below those photos he wrote the word Patagonia. Photos of impressionist paintings from Monet to Seurat, old architecture and towers of petite cakes in candy shops, blue and white ocean waves crashing onto giant rocks, titled Cote d'Azur. Photos of vast, open fields of green, snow capped mountains in the distance, sheep grazing, titled Milford Sound. Aquamarine waters, sailboats, and an ivory city on a plateau that rose above the sea, titled Malta. 

These weren’t just photos of all the places he’d gone. They were also all the places you have always dreamed of visiting if you weren’t so busy and stressed with school, with work. 

You referenced the dates on these, and they began the summer after he was sent away to boarding school, extending through when both of you had gone away to college. 

You leaned back in your chair, stunned. 

He had tried to keep in contact with you all these years. 

You sprung from your chair, grabbing your purse and turned to fly through the doors to your office when you saw Seokjin at Miya’s desk outside, a frantic look in his eye, a stack of papers in his arms. 

He turned, making eye contact with you as you were walking out and you held a hand up, “Not today, Jin, I have to go-”

“Y/N, please, this is urgent,” he said. You examined the panicked expression on his face and turned back toward your office. 

“Ok, let’s make this quick,” you said, holding the door open for Seokjin as he stumbled his way to the chair across from your desk, dropping the stack of papers down with a thud. 

“Okay, well, um-” he mumbled.

“Jin, just, tell me what’s going on, succinctly please.” 

“Well, ok, here,” Jin grabbed a manila folder that sat at the top of the stack and opened it to a long document with a table on it that looked like a bank statement. “Look at this,” he said.

You glanced through the line items, confirming that it was in fact a bank statement from your company’s corporate account, and all the deposits and withdrawals were from your clients, from investors, and out to all the vendors and expenses the company pays. 

“This is just our bank statement, Jin, this is what you wanted me to look at?” you asked, impatient. 

“No, this is what I want you to look at,” he responded, flipping through the pages until somewhere in the middle of the stack, and pointed to a single line item of a transfer of twenty thousand dollars from the company’s corporate account. 

“I don’t recognize this vendor, do you?” he asked, “And I realized, I’ve seen this line item before. At first I thought it must’ve been something to do with when we moved to the new office, the admins might’ve contracted some designers or architects for the office. But transfers to this company have been made regularly, every month, for the same amount, for the last two years. I thought this couldn’t be right.” He looked at you intently, waiting for your response. 

But you had none. You stared down at the line item he pointed to. And at the stack of other bank statements he brought in. The twenty thousand dollar transfer was made to a company called Vante Studios, LLC. 

“Maybe I should bring this to Taehyung instead, surely the CFO knows what’s going with this-” he continued impatiently. 

“No,” you stopped him abruptly. “No, I will look into this personally. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Jin, have you told anyone else about this?” 

He shook his head, a confused expression manifesting on his face. 

“Ok Jin, this is very important, this does not leave this room.” 

“So you do know what this company is?” He inquired. 

“No I don’t, so I will look into it.” you lied through your teeth and motioned for him to leave your office. 

Once Jin left you just sat there, staring down at the sheet of paper. You knew exactly what this company was. Vante Studios was what you and Taehyung always joked he should name his art gallery if he ever opened his own. And now he has. 

“Miya?” you called from your desk. She stood from her desk and poked her head through the opened glass door. 

“Yes?”

“Please call down to the showroom and bring up that black dress and heels I’m wearing to the gallery opening tonight,” you said. Miya nodded and a short 30 minutes later, you had changed into the little silk slip dress and strappy heels, and you were on your way to the gallery. 

You needed to confront Taehyung. 

The gallery was packed when you arrived. Undoubtedly thanks to your contacting all the local journalists and photographers to cover the event ahead of time and help build anticipation for the gallery opening on Taehyung’s behalf. 

Walking through the front door, you looked on in disbelief at the tall concrete walls of the gallery, the exposed piping and brick, the glazed marble floor, the gilded wallpaper accents, the waiters and mixologists in three piece Gucci suits, carrying endless glasses of Moet through the crowd. You knew the money was for this. Because in looking at the way this gallery was designed, there was no way Taehyung afforded this on his own. 

You often wondered but never thought too much on how Taehyung was able to afford his lavish lifestyle - the first edition books on the mahogany bookshelf in his apartment, the authentic Marie Antoinette tea set in his china cabinet, the Van Goghs hanging from the walls. 

You navigated your way through the crowd, finding Taehyung standing before a photograph he’d taken, printed in black and white. He was waving his hand around, steeped in drama, explaining the photo in artistic detail to his audience. You stood at the periphery of the room, observing him. At how he could act like everything was ok. At how he smiled, the smile you thought you adored but now revile. 

You were about to make your way through the crowds to him when you saw a valet open the front door of the gallery and Jungkook walked in. 

You tried to duck away, attempting to blend into the crowds but you couldn’t help glancing over at him as he looked around the groups of people, looking for you. You couldn’t help looking at the long strands of his dark hair, tucked behind one ear, the other side hanging over his cheeks. At his chest and shoulders under a pressed black shirt and black coat, stitched with silver tinsel. At his long legs in a pair of perfectly fitted black trousers. He looked in your direction and your eyes met for a moment. 

You saw the corner of his lips lift in a soft smile, and he moved to walk towards you but you turned, averting his gaze and walked quickly towards the back of the venue, finding an empty storage closet. You quickly shut and locked the door behind you, hoping that in the midst of the crowds of people, he didn’t see where you went. 

You weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. You still needed to confront Taehyung but you knew there would now be two confrontations if you let this go on. So you decided you needed to find a way to leave the venue, and save these confrontations for another day. 

Taking a deep breath, you let out a sharp exhale and turned the doorknob to leave and as you stepped out, bumped directly into someone. 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that-”

An arm reached out and slid down around your waist, and he took a step forward, pushing you back into the supply closet, closing and locking the door behind him. You felt your own breathing become shallow and the air around you grow thin when you smelled the familiar scent of amber and patchouli radiating from the heat of the body in front of you. 

In the dark, tiny, confined space, the only light source was a sliver of orange glow from the crack underneath the door. He pushed your back against the metal shelving on the wall and pushed his lips onto yours, his arm holding onto your waist tightly, crushing your body against his, his other hand gripping onto your jaw, refusing to allow you to move away. 

“JK..” you mumbled weakly against his lips molding into yours, his tongue forcing your mouth open. You felt your cheeks growing flushed, a dull aching building in your core and his hand slid down to your hips, his fingertips digging into your skin. 

You lifted your hands up into small fists against his chest, completely ineffectual in pushing him away with any meaningful force. You thought you couldn’t do this. Not again. Not here. 

But your body refused to stop as his tongue glided over yours, his hands now sliding down to your legs, fingertips brushing softly at the exposed skin under the lace hem of your dress. He kissed at the corner of your mouth, your cheeks, and ducked his head under your chin, clamping down onto your neck, making you gasp as he pushed his thigh between your legs, the pressure making you feel like you would turn into a puddle, melting into him. 

“You left me without a word this morning,” he whispered into your skin, hands brushing the straps of your dress from your shoulders. 

“JK..I, wait..I need to..” you were struggling to obtain enough air to get the words out you needed to, and you could hear his breathing becoming more ragged as he bit at your ear, his breaths hot against your skin. “I need to talk to you,” you managed to choke out as his hand found the lace material of your panties under your dress, hooking his finger underneath the ribbons that held it up. 

He pressed his lips to yours, “Ok, go ahead,” he moaned into you. 

“No...no I can’t talk like this..” you panted. 

“So tell me to stop,” he whined, his tongue rolling into your mouth. 

“I..” you gasped. “I don’t want you to stop..” you reached down to his belt, hastily tugging at it, tearing the zipper open, gliding your fingers underneath the hem of his briefs. 

He tugged at your hips roughly and spun you around, pushing you against the wall. His hands glided up the back of your thighs, and you could feel the soft silk material of the hem of your dress being pulled up over your hips. You arched your back, pressing your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressing into your drenched panties.

You gasped, clawing your fingertips into the wall as he ran a finger down the soaked material on your clit, massaging you. 

“JK..please..” you begged. 

You felt his fingers pull your panties to the side, and felt the tip of him rubbing against your entrance and you felt like you were melting around him. 

He slid a hand around your neck, pulling at your jaw, pulling your head back to lean against his shoulder. He leaned over and bit at the skin of your neck, and you whined to him, begging for more of him, and he gently pushed only a little more of himself inside you, denying you full satisfaction. You felt yourself trembling against him in need, your wetness dripping down all around him.

“Did you come here to see him tonight?” he growled into your ear. 

“I..” you were completely out of breath, seeing stars behind your closed eyes. 

“You still want him after last night?” he tilted your head back with his hand, forcing his tongue into your mouth. 

“Mmm, no...that’s not..” you couldn’t breathe. “Fuck..JK..what are you doing to me...” you begged as he was grinding against you at an agonizingly slow pace, continuing to deny you the full length of his cock. 

He bit at your lower lip, pushing a little more of himself into you. 

“I’m making sure you never even think about another man again.” And with that, he thrust all of himself deep inside you, his hand moving swiftly over your mouth, covering the scream that escaped your lungs as he pushed into you. 

“No one else can ever make you feel like this, do you understand,” he whispered into your ear, thrusting into you harder, filling you to the absolute brim. He slid a hand over your neck, closing around your throat with the gentlest force and you felt all the muscles in your body begin to tense. 

“JK..I..” you were losing all control as he pushed you to the edge. 

“Go ahead, love,” he commanded, his hot breath against your ear, sliding his arm around you, bracing you tightly against him. “Show me how good I make you feel.” 

“Fuck, JK-” 

Your body shook against him, in little waves at first, then violently as he held you tightly against him, burying himself deep inside you and you could feel his own climax pooling warmly in your core, his hand pressed firmly over your mouth to cover your gasps and screams, and you reached back to cover his. 

His head collapsed onto your shoulder and you fell against the wall, both of you fighting for the little bit of oxygen in the room. He waited for your body to find stillness and pulled himself away gently. He tugged the hem of your dress down, and with gentle hands, guided you to turn to face him. 

He planted soft kisses on your lips and cheeks and your forehead, his hands cupped around your flushed cheeks. 

“Let’s go home,” he whispered, leaning his forehead down to yours. 

You closed your eyes, and as the little stars started fading, you were again being hit by reality. You remembered Taehyung. You remembered you were still at his gallery. 

Jungkook could sense this chaos in your mind and pulled his head back to study you for a moment. But his lips curled into a smile, a little scrunch forming on the bridge of his nose, little lines appearing at the corners of his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before. 

“Come home with me,” he said. 

You took a deep breath in. “I will,” you answered. “Just, not yet. There’s something I have to do first.” 

He looked into your eyes for a moment, confused, but nodded. He leaned down and gave you a long kiss, breathing you in. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

A/N: we have read more cuts, bitches. also iroh is the ultimate wingman lmao. enjoy this pt it is very soft and fun ~

⏎ MASTERLIST // PART I « PART II » PART III

Zuko found himself walking down the seemingly endless corridors of the Fire Nation palace. He caught sight of his reflection in a window pane and stopped to look. He quickly reached up to touch his face when he realized he no longer had his scar. The skin that was usually rough and dry and cracked was now as smooth as the rest of his cheek. His hair was longer, pulled half-up in a top knot that held the Fire Lord’s hairpiece. He moved his fingers away from his face to touch the golden flame but stopped when he heard a voice.

“Hey, over here!” the voice called. He turned and saw the familiar girl from the tea house standing at the other end of the corridor. She giggled before running off, rounding a corner.

“Wait!” he shouted, chasing after her. He was only barely keeping up, just catching glimpses of her long braid or her clothes whipping around a corner before she disappeared again. He stopped when he saw her standing still in front of a doorway, smiling. “Who are you?”

Her face immediately fell and her eyes filled with tears. Guilt squeezed his chest, making it hard to breathe. “You mean, you don’t remember me, Zuko?”

“I- I’m sorry. You’re so familiar, I just can’t place you-“ he stammered.

“You forgot me!” she roared, face contorting with anger now. He took a step back, frightened by her distorted features. “You killed me, and now you forgot me! How could you?”

“I d-didn’t kill anyone,” he whispered. The girl opened her mouth wider than should’ve been possible and let out an inhuman wail, running into the dark room beyond the doorway. Against his better judgement, he followed.

Zuko’s heart raced when he looked around and found himself in the Agni Kai room he’d been burned in. Three figures stood in the middle of the room with their backs to him, one on their knees between the other two. Cautiously, he approached. He felt sick to his stomach when he saw his father and Azula were the two standing figures. On her knees was the waterbending girl from the infirmary he’d known as a child. Ozai was holding her by her hair as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, forcing her to hold her head up.

“Let her go,” Zuko demanded. Ozai and Azula both laughed.

“Or what, Zuzu? You can’t fight both of us and protect the snow savage,” Azula purred. She crouched down and grabbed Kena’s face roughly, her sharp nails digging into her skin. Kena whimpered helplessly and Zuko felt like he’d been hollowed out. The poor girl’s whole body was trembling with fear.

“Zuko, help me. Please,” she whispered desperately. He tried to move to reach her but his feet were rooted to the spot. Ozai yanked her hair and Kena swallowed a yelp.

“Look, little girl. He’s not going to save you. In fact, he gave you to me.” He forced her head back up to make her look Zuko in the eye.

“I didn’t! Kena, please-“

“Beg, savage, and maybe he’ll help you,” Ozai snarled, throwing her onto her face at Zuko’s feet. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t move. He felt like he might fall apart when he and Kena made eye contact just as she started sobbing openly and loudly.

“Zuko, please! Don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt me again!”

“I- I would never-“ he started but was cut off by Kena’s desperate cries as she dropped her head again. “I’m trying but I can’t move.”

She tilted her head up and suddenly she was older — the girl from the tea shop again. With a rush he realized he could move again and immediately dove down to scoop her up. As soon as he touched her, she screamed like she’d been burned and scrambled away from him, looking terrified. Ozai laughed again and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up off the ground so her feet barely skimmed the floor. She desperately clawed at his arm but Ozai was entirely unbothered. She was struggling to breathe, chest heaving while she choked and sputtered.

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher,” his father said and Zuko’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

Azula approached Kena with her hand engulfed in blue flame. The waterbender thrashed and fought but couldn’t get free, not before Azula brought her hand to her face-

“Kena!” Zuko sat bolt upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart racing. His blanket was tangled and twisted around his legs and his pillow was somehow across the room. When he realized what he’d seen had just been a nightmare, he started trying to calm himself down with deep, uneven breaths, holding his head in his shaking hands.

Kena. She was here. She spoke with him. Hell, he had a date with her in less than twenty four hours. Sana had told him that she and her mother had escaped from the palace before being executed, but he had never been sure whether or not she was lying to spare his feelings. To see her here, alive and seemingly happy... he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak to her again without blowing his cover. She didn’t seem to recognize him, what with the scar and all the time that has passed. He didn’t know if he preferred that over her knowing it was him or not.

Sighing, Zuko slipped out of bed and started to dress himself. He needed to get out for a bit and take a walk, maybe pick a fight, to clear his head. He slung his swords in their sheath over his shoulder and tied the ribbon of his mask around his head before creeping out of the apartment, careful not to wake Iroh. He wandered down the empty streets, sticking to the shadows cast by the shoddy buildings of the Lower Ring in the moonlight and slipped into small alleyways to avoid running into any late-night stragglers.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned into an alley see someone else at the other end. There stood a woman in a flowing white dress with a large black bag across her body. Most peculiarly, she also wore a mask — a black base painted with white detail to depict a smiling koi face. She cocked her head curiously as they studied each other silently. He briefly considered pulling out his swords, believing he’d found his fight, but changed his mind when he realized she didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. If she had, surely she would’ve drawn it by now.

Slowly, she nodded to him in acknowledgement before turning and disappearing around the corner. He hurried to follow but she was nowhere to be seen when he poked his head out of the alley. Maybe she really was a spirit of some sort. Ba Sing Se was certainly weird enough for it.

Kena woke up late in the morning, sunshine streaming in through her small window and directly across her closed eyelids. She sighed and turned over, burying her face into the pillow to maybe sneak a few more minutes. That, is until whoever was at the door started banging on it again like they had been when they’d woken her. She continued to lay there, listening for Fera. They knocked again. Clearly Fera wouldn’t be answering this morning. She had probably already left for her job as a maid for a wealthy family in the Upper Ring. Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her robe around her body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Spirits, just stop banging on the door before you break the damn thing!” She yanked the door open only to immediately be trampled by four raucous girls rushing into the apartment.

“Morning, sunshine!”

“Are you okay? You just left us yesterday!”

“Yeah, you looked like you’d run into a spirit or something!”

“Did he reject you for some reason? Do we need to go knock him around for a bit until he finds his sense?”

“Because we totally will.”

“Yeah, we can take that skinny kid, easy.”

Kena laughed at her friends. “Guys, it’s fine. Last night I just remembered that Fera had asked me to pick something up for dinner from the market and I’d totally forgotten so I had to hurry. Sorry I didn’t say anything, you know my one-track mind.” She went to the kitchen to put on some tea while the rest all settled down in the living room.

“But you did ask him out, right?” Jin pressed and Kena rolled her eyes, cheeks heating up.

“Yes. You guys shoved me back in there.”

The girls looked at her expectantly. “And? What did he say?” Mona gestured for her to continue, raising her eyebrows.

“He said yes,” she answered quietly and her friends immediately started hooting and hollering. “Shut up! The neighbors are gonna make a noise complaint again!”

“Aren’t you excited, Sola?” Kyali sighed dreamily, clasping her hands. “I don’t think you’ve been on a date in the entire time we’ve known you and now you’re going out with this hot, brooding, mysterious guy.”

“I bet he writes poetry,” said Oma. “Maybe he’ll write something about you!”

“You guys are insane,” Kena laughed, shaking her head. “All of you need to stop reading those garbage romance books.”

“Look, we all already know you’re Miss Independent and you don’t need a man or whatever. You can be excited about your date tonight,” Jin said pointedly. Kena rolled her eyes as she carried over the pot of tea and five cups.

“Fine, okay; I’m a little excited,” she said, pouring everyone a cup before sitting on the mat next to Mona. She was more than a little excited, but for different reasons than her friends thought. She was also incredibly nervous, unsure of whether or not to confront her childhood best friend.

Mona took a sip and smirked. “Is this jasmine?” Kena shook her head exasperatedly, hiding a smile, as her friends all laughed.

Zuko sat on the floor in front of his uncle, who by all appearances was attacking him with a small comb. He winced when the teeth pulled through another knot, grumbling.

“Nephew, when was the last time you combed your hair?” Iroh tsked as he gave another mighty pull.

“I’ve had bigger things to worry about recently, in case you forgot,” Zuko responded. Iroh sighed dramatically.

“Often, we only feel inside as good as we look outside,” he said. Zuko rolled his eyes.

“This seems like a little much.”

“It’s your first date with this girl! You need to make a good first impression.”

“I’ve already made a first impression. She knocked me over and cut her hand open.”

“And that was very kind of you to help her!”

“You kind of gave me no choice.”

“I could tell you liked her, I was just pushing you in the right direction,” Iroh said smugly and Zuko grimaced. “But you’re still working on your first impression. A first impression only ends when the relationship does.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Uncle.” Zuko made a strangled noise of protest as Iroh started slicking his hair down with some sort of slimy paste.

“I used to be very popular with the ladies in my prime. I can give you some tips, if you’d like.”

“I would not,” Zuko interjected quickly but his uncle steamrolled ahead anyways.

“First, you should compliment her as soon as you see her. Tell her she is more radiant than the first fire lily of spring.”

“Talking about fire lilies seems like a bad move,” Zuko said. His cheeks tinged pink, however, remembering the fire lily he gave her that night in the palace — the last time he’d ever seen her until the day before.

“Perhaps you’re right, Nephew,” Iroh mused, looking thoughtful. “Instead, tell her that her eyes are more captivating than a moon flower during a lunar eclipse. Or, perhaps that her presence is as warm and comforting as a fresh cup of tea on a winter night! Remember, this could be your future wife!”

“That’s enough, thank you.” Zuko stood quickly, having heard enough to be sufficiently embarrassed. “You’re going to make me late if you keep messing with my hair.”

“I suppose that will be as good as it’s going to get, then. Do a turn so I can see you properly.”

“Uncle, honestly-“

“Turn, Prince Zuko.” Exasperated, Zuko turned in a quick circle, shoulders tense as Iroh scrutinized him. “You look very handsome! But you would look much better if you smiled.” Iroh beamed as if to demonstrate and Zuko gave him a sour look. “I said ‘smile,’ not ‘scowl.’ Don’t do that in front of her.”

“I’m leaving now,” Zuko said flatly, walking towards the door.

“Be nice! Pay for dinner! Don’t frown! Stay out as late as you want, I won’t wait up,” Iroh called after him as he hurried out.

Kena felt her heart start racing when she caught sight of him outside the Pao Family Tea House, hair combed and flattened into a middle part that she had to swallow a laugh about — surely Iroh’s work.

“Hey, Lee,” she said as she approached. “You look so cute.” She laughed and she ruffled his hair. He gave her a pained look and caught her wrist in his hand.

“It took my uncle ten minutes to do my hair.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a soft smile, surprising him as she laced their fingers together. He willed himself not to go red in the face. “Come on, the festival’s already begun!”

She dragged him through the streets, talking excitedly about the food she wanted him to try and a few performers that would be on the stage in the middle of the Lower Ring later. He didn’t say much, just enjoyed her presence and the fact that she was alive and here and somehow with him. Any chance he got he stared at her, analyzing every detail of her face and comparing it to what he could remember from childhood. She still had the same medium-brown skin, dark hair, and grey eyes of course, but it all felt new and exciting again; her hair was longer and flowed freely down her back and her eyes, though still kind and sparkling, held something deeper that had not been there before. He also noticed a long, thin white scar that trailed down the left side of her face from her forehead, through her eyebrow, and down to the corner of her jaw. The thought of someone hurting her made him angrier than he’d anticipated, but he tried not to focus on it. Instead he fixated on how she was almost always smiling or laughing, how casually and comfortably she touched him when she held his hand or grabbed his arm when he made her laugh or brushed her fingers against his forehead when she put a goofy hat she’d won in a game on top of his head. It had been a long time since he’d let himself just be around someone, and it felt incredible. She was still, despite everything, so unabashedly Kena that it made his heart squeeze in his chest. He didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized her as soon as he laid eyes on her, because it seemed overwhelmingly obvious now.

Kena, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to get him to slip up. Something had happened between that night and the day before, because she saw immediately from the way he looked at her that he knew. She figured it was only a matter of time before he misstepped somewhere.

“Lee is an interesting name,” she’d mentioned casually as they watched two contortionists on stage twist themselves into impossible positions.

“I really have to beg to differ on that one,” he’d said in response.

“It’s just a very common name in the Fire Nation, you know? Before I came to Ba Sing Se, there were at least a dozen people named Lee in even the smallest villages. But oddly enough, I’ve never met anyone named Lee here except for you.”

He’d simply shrugged and said, “my village was colonized by the Fire Nation decades ago. I guess the name bled into the local culture.” She’d hummed noncommittally at that and went back to square one with a new plan.

“So, you mentioned you and your uncle traveled around a lot,” she’d started. “Why?”

He hesitated just a beat too long. “We were... uh, part of this traveling circus.” She couldn’t believe he didn’t have a better lie ready.

“Really? What did you do? Actually, let me guess.” She tapped her chin for dramatic effect as she considered something Zuko would likely be awful at. Her face split into a wicked grin. “You juggled!”

He looked at her, slightly annoyed. “Yeah, you got me. I juggled.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to juggle. Can you show me something?” She handed him a couple small fruits from a cart they were standing near, looking up at him expectantly. He looked ashen as he slowly took them from her. Awkwardly, he threw them up in the air and they flew in wildly different directions, one landing directly on his head.

“I haven’t practiced for a while.” He cleared his throat, a deep red creeping across his cheeks as she laughed.

“Ah, I understand.”

When they stopped for food at a noodle cart, she’d mentioned they offered supposedly authentic Fire Nation fire flakes. He’d nodded in acknowledgement and then ordered the blandest thing on the menu. The prince was certainly going to give her a run for her money.

Zuko didn’t understand why she kept bringing up the Fire Nation throughout the night. Did she know? He didn’t think she did. She hadn’t at the tea shop, why would she now? Did he do something to tip her off? She’d been in Ba Sing Se for many years; she most likely had heard nothing about his banishment or his hunt for the Avatar and had yet to bring up anything about his scar. He hoped that she didn’t think he was here to hurt people — surely she wouldn’t have asked him on a date if she thought that, right?

Night had long since fallen, but the streets were still bursting with light and life from the festival. He had a small grin on his face while he watched Kena start an argument with a man running some rigged betting game. She accused him of cheating and he shouted at her to leave immediately or he’d call in the Dai Li. Grumbling, Kena grabbed his hand again and stalked away. He was still smiling as she pulled him along and she sent him a (mostly) playful glare.

“What are you grinning at? I just lost ten silver pieces!” she huffed.

“You,” he responded without thinking. Realizing what he said, he quickly shut his mouth. They both flush and looked away from each other.

She took in a deep breath to regain her composure before turning her head to look at him again. “Do you want to see something cool?” There was no way he would’ve been able to refuse that excited look in her eye, even if he’d wanted to.

Zuko followed as she lead him into an alley and started climbing up a fire escape. He watched as she nimbly maneuvered herself higher and higher. “Are you sure this is... legal?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s not,” she called down to him, peeking her head over the railing, “but it’s alright! We’re crafty. Now hurry up or we’ll miss it!”

“If you say so...” he trailed off as he gripped the side of the ladder and started making his way up. When he reached the top, he found her sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the flat roof and staring at the city skyline, holding her chin in her hands. He sat down next to her and took the opportunity of the quiet moment to examine her profile illuminated by the festival lights below. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. At first he tensed but then he slowly relaxed, slowly wrapping his arm around around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the view. Well, she was taking in the view; Zuko was trying to ignore the goosebumps running across his skin from her warm breath dancing across his neck.

“Lee,” she started quietly, “I know we just met yesterday, but I think I really like you.”

“I really like you, too,” he agreed, surprising himself a little. He rested his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. She still smelled the same — something fresh and pleasant and clean that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Kena was tired of dancing around what they both knew. Throwing caution to the wind, she cleared her throat and spoke. “You know, I used to be a servant for the royal family in the Fire Nation.”

He cursed himself for the way his whole body flinched. “Yeah? How was that?”

“Terrible. I was taken from my home when I was young and kept there for years. It was just my mom and I.”

“No friends?”

“They don’t exactly let the help just make friends all willy-nilly. That’s a good foundation for a staff revolt.” She rolled her eyes. “I did have one friend I managed to make though.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, except he was the prince.”

She heard his breath hitch. “Oh. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. That’s why we had to leave, actually. Ozai found out and was not happy his firebender son was making nice with someone like me. Apparently he wanted to execute us to make some sort of point, but Ursa and the other servants helped us sneak out of the palace before we were taken to be killed.”

“I’ve heard a lot of good about Ursa,” he said softly, tenderness in his voice.

“She was a wonderful woman. There was a lot of her in the prince, too. I guess that’s why I liked them so much.” He said nothing, so she continued. “It broke my heart to leave. I never even got to say goodbye even though I pinky-promised to see him again the night before Ozai found out.” She thought for a moment. “I always wondered if he ever thought of me, because I thought of him all the time.”

“I- he did. Probably. I don’t know,” he huffed. “I mean that I think, if it were me, I would’ve thought about you every day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a long time before Kena finally spoke, smiling faintly. “You and your uncle stick out like two sore thumbs here.”

His shoulder shook under her cheek when he chuckled. “I know. I think it started out as a joke, and then we actually couldn’t think of anything better.”

She sat up straight now and cupped his face in her hands. Gently, she brushed her thumb over the rough, gnarled skin on his cheek. She wasn’t sure why, but a few slow tears rolled down her cheeks. “We match,” she said softly, meeting his eyes when he used his fingertip to trace the scar that ran down her face.

“It looks much better on you,” he joked and she gave him a watery smile. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Suddenly, she lunged at him to squeeze him in a tight hug, knocking them both backwards into a pile. “It’ll take a lot more than your awful father to kill me,” she murmured into his chest from her position on top of him. Hesitant at first, he wrapped his arms around her. It just felt so right to be with her again. He couldn’t help tightening his grip and burying his face into her cascade of hair. In the background he could hear fireworks going off, but he didn’t care about anything that wasn’t her.

“I missed you, Kena,” he said, so quietly the wind almost carried the words away. His lungs ached because her name on his lips felt like a long, full breath of fresh air after years underwater.

“I missed you too, Zuko.” Her cool skin against his warmth felt like a wave of water over the flames inside of him. He finally, for the first time he could remember since losing his mother, felt safe. He clutched at her clothes to pull her in as close as possible, breathing her in deeply. She smelled like the first monsoon after a lifelong dry season; she smelled like petrichor.

A/N:

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito @dancerslovelife @justab-eautifulmess

[animatedminds]

Let’s Get Dangerous Review!

It’s dangerous. In a good way. <cue dramatic music> Okay, obviously there’s more thoughts than just that. I’ve been waiting for it for weeks, and it arrived just as awesome as I hoped. For the first time, let’s give my full movie style review to the double length Ducktales special: “Let’s Get Dangerous.”

The spoilers are open and widely discussed, so maybe don’t look past the following image if you haven’t seen the episode yet.

To note, I’m not entirely convinced that this was actually meant to be a pilot. It definitely does introduce a new status quo for the Darkwing trio of characters (minus Honker for now, here’s hoping they haven’t forgotten him), but it’s also a very remote story that still tries to take place within the context of Ducktales’ universe, so it really depends on what they choose to do.

But let’s just get down to it.

First off, as I mentioned in my earlier post… Taurus Bulba. He was maybe the biggest and most eye-catching aspect of the first part of the episode, as one of the few elements we hadn’t already seen yet, and his reputation as a really, really bad guy has quite preceded him. As I may have gushed somewhat about, he’s one of the best parts of the special.

James Monroe Inglehart, for those living away from the Disney scene for a decade, is an actor and voice actor most famous for being the original Genie on Broadway’s Aladdin. A grand, bombastic presence, he generally plays characters who - much like the genie himself - a big, jolly, kind but maybe a little mischievous souls that take the attention of a room and brighten up the characters’ day - like Lance, in Tangled the Series. The most interesting thing about Bulba is that Inglehart brings that exact same energy to the role, and so Bulba keep that jollity and lofty personality in a package that becomes increasingly less nice as the story goes on. As someone who keenly remembers Taurus Bulba as cruel monster willing to hurt kids and capable of crushing Darkwing like nobody’s business, the contrast was immediately fun to watch - and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In this story, Bulba is recast from a crime lord intending to use a super weapon go on an endless plundering spree to a FOWL scientist with a respectable reputation who intends to use a super weapon to take over the world, and the transition goes off fairly well. The end result is a pretty standard mix of superhero fight and Bond plot, as Bulba ends up holed up in his lab with his squadron of elite supervillain minions - all plundered a particular fictional universe - with the heroes having to break in / escape from his captivity and stop him before he destroys everything. It’s very Silver Age, with Bulba in the role of maniacal villain, and he’s contrasted very well with Bradford - who is as always an antagonist who prides himself on pragmatism. This contrast leads to some great moments: Bradford’s increasing frustration with the cavalier attitude of both the heroes and the villains gives him the best stint of characterization he’s had since the beginning of the season - he basically spends the whole episode arguing with everyone about how badly thought out their actions are, while also badly hiding his own secrets.

The Fearsome Five (of which Quackerjack is voices by his original actor) are great to see, though used minimally. If you’re expecting to see classic show dynamics between the villains and Darkwing, that’s not really what they’re used for. Mostly, they’re minions with personality, and they’re more there to establish both to the audience and to Drake the character himself that he is ready to take on really big threats even with his lack of superpowers.

But enough about the villains, on to the heroes!

A couple episodes ago, with the Halloween episode, I criticized that story for not balancing its A and B plot all that well. This episode does not have that problem. The story is actually maybe about three fifths Darkwing’s story, and the rest of it is Scrooge and the nephews as they figure out what Bulba is up to independently of Darkwing and try to stop him themselves. It’s somewhat similar to Timephoon, where they’re there constantly and are doing their own bid to solve the story but the focus isn’t primarily on them. Instead, we have some of the best “HDL actually matter to the story” bits of the show, where they escape Bulba’s prison on their own and lead Bradford out, all the while slowly figuring out that something is shady about the guy. Meanwhile, Scrooge gets stuck in the original Ducktales universe’s most memed scene, which was a fun gag (but not the best gag - that would be the one and only Bonkers D. Bobcat as the Harvey Bullock-style cop in the Darkwing show).

Which I suppose can lead to a digression about the mad science bit here. The alternate universes here are… interesting. I always pay special attention to how things like time travel or other dimensions or alternate universes work in a series, and this one reminds me the most - I think - of DC’s Dark Multiverse: a collection of universes that are both explicitly fictional but made real because people created them. Ultimately, it’s less as if the OG Darkwing universe exists independently of the Ducktales universe and more that the in-universe Darkwing show as a world based off of it that the characters can reach into. I wish the episode had delved into that more, and now you’ve got people trying to use it to look for more establishment of OG Darkwing elements (though I was fine with it being separate, perceiving anything else as rather needlessly inexplicable), but ultimately that is not specifically what the episode is about, and is kept rather separate.

So what is the episode about? Like you didn’t already know…

As always, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer is a little girl whose grandfather was done away with by Taurus Bulba, and who falls into Darkwing’s lap over the course of his adventure with him. Here, her grandfather is (possibly) still alive, just lost in the ether a la Gravity Falls’ Grunkle Ford. And like the mighty glazed McGuffin, Darkwing’s goal in the episode is less strictly defeating Bulba as it is helping her get her grandfather and her home back. Gosalyn here is self-sufficient and action oriented (it may be my inner Brooklyn 99 fan talking, but I loved Stephanie Beatriz as her, and kind of wish she had gotten a wider range of lines), taking on her own crusade against Bulba until she realizes she can go to Darkwing for help, and is constantly trying to pull him into the fight - even while he is reluctant, and no matter what the danger - so that they can win and she can get justice. But in the end, she has to accept that they might not be able to.

As a longtime Batman fan, I immediately recognized a plethora of Robin references with Gosalyn. She’s a kid who’s family was taken from her by a villain, given a surrogate home by the hero - like Dick Grayson. She’s a street tough who originally met the hero committing a crime, and who is both skeptical of his heroism and heavily critical of his flaws - like Jason Todd. And she’s a young genius with a lot of scientific knowledge, tech skills and common sense - just like Tim Drake. There’s even elements of Carrie Kelley or Terry McGinnis there, in her determined if not gung-ho approach to heroism despite her circumstances and the hermit-like behavior of the hero.

And in the end, this is a fairly apt comparison, because Gosalyn essentially ends the story more as a Robin figure than previously, now as Darkwing’s more of a ward and official sidekick alongside Launchpad. The story does not, to note, involve her being adopted by Drake or becoming Gosalyn Mallard. Indeed, they don’t really end up having that sort of relationship. They’re distant and don’t really know how to relate to one another, and not about to broach the subject of family except in distant terms. There’s ultimately far less emphasis than before on Gosalyn and Drake being similar and hitting it off on a personal level, or even really Drake keying into Gosalyn’s potential and spirit as a person vs an element in his adventure. Throughout the story he regards her as a victim to be saved, then ultimately as an ally with potential to be respected, and in the end he gives her an offer to take up the mantle along side him while they search for her family… which ultimately creates something very different.

For people expecting something a little more akin to the implications the show made with Gyro and BOYD, Gosalyn here. The implication that they could be a family is brought up by Launchpad, but neither Drake nor Gosalyn are really there at the end of the story - I want to say they’re not there yet, but the way the story goes gives off the impression that the dynamic duo dichotomy is the relationship for the two the writing is most comfortable giving them.

Again, I’m a longtime Batman fan, so I understand and appreciate the nod. It gives them a really cool status quo that’s distinct from what came before it. Still, the strong father/daughter relationship between the two was very much the heart and soul of the original show, an endearing quality that created the character traits we love about both characters, and ultimately one of the primary characteristics that set the Darkwing family apart even from most comic book superhero stars - so even if they made something great out of it, it’s a shame to see Ducktales ultimately keep that relationship at arms’ length.

But that’s less a criticism and more just something I wish they had chosen to do differently - and it makes sense for the 2017 team’s take on Darkwing, which has always been more focused on “irrepressible hero who doesn’t give up” - a pluckie rookie growing into his competence - than “former fool whose great potential is unleashed through the people around him.” The latter is there, sometimes, but it’s not prominent. Original Darkwing was a man made better by his daughter, while the modern Darkwing doesn’t quite need that to find the hero within.

The only (and I mean only) criticism I have is the way the characters kind of jump around in how they respond to things. Drake wanting more crime, and then freaking out when super crime shows up and it’s way more than he thought he can handle is fine, and is one of the better character bits in the special. It being unclear whether Drake is against fighting supervillains because he thinks they’re too powerful vs because he doesn’t want to risk Gosalyn’s safety is another thing, though - it seems the show intended to imply the latter but forgot to include the line somewhere, so it’s not inferred until later and Drake suddenly benching Gos towards the end lacks set-up.

For her part, Gosalyn is suddenly and quickly afraid to fight for a brief moment so Launchpad can inspire her to face impossible odds, even though it was hardly the first time she had done so in the special. The ending I think wanted the characters to be somewhere that the rest of the special hadn’t gotten them to yet. But it’s all good - it ends well, so all’s well. Best gag of the episode, btw? Fenton, who is awful at keeping his secret identity secret, has hooked up Darkwing with his own hi-tech hero lair. Darkwing, despite supposedly being a detective (or at least an actor playing a detective), ends up as one of the two or three people remaining on Earth who hasn’t figured out that Fenton is Gizmoduck. Darkwing considers himself good friends with Fenton, despite hating Gizmoduck. It’s actually very funny.

It’s as of now unclear what is coming up for Darkwing. We know the St. Canard characters are going to factor in more as the FOWL plot progresses, and this episode kicks that plot into high gear - the characters now know about FOWL and their intentions, and are preparing themselves for a far more dangerous fight than usual. In short, with the midseason comes the renewed focus on the primary plot of the season, as per the usual. Like I said before, while I’m not as on board as most with the idea that this was a pilot, St. Canard was definitely established here - with series regular Zan Owlson as it’s new mayor, and a general aesthetic and set of protagonists. It wouldn’t be remiss for a future episode this season to take place there (though we know Negaduck isn’t happening this season).

The new few episodes, however, are focused more on the quest for Finch’s treasures and FOWL, so that’s going to have to wait for a while. We’ve been promised, as I recall, an episode that brings all the kids together (unless that’s part of the finale), which is nice - I may have mentioned before that the best episodes of the series have been the ones that put the kids (who are the characters with the most focus throughout its run) together and let all their personalities run through an adventure together - and with the cast growing somewhat constantly, it’s nice to know that no one is being forgotten.

Either way, I give the episode a great deal of recommendation - I only had a couple things that bothered me, and a few wishes for different choices, and ultimately I’m planning on watching it a ton of times just like I did the first Darkwing episode. From a classic Darkwing fan, and in the words of Bat-Mite, it’s a different intepretation to be sure, but not at all one without merit.

So thanks to Frank Angones, Matt Youngberg and the Ducktales crew! I hope my virtual thumbs up reaches them somehow, but either way, it was a good day to be dangerous.

[archivingspn]

Entertainment Weekly Special Edition: The Ultimate Guide to Supernatural 2017

SAM AND DEAN WINCHESTER KNOW "WEIRD." Their entire life has been weird, ever since the moment a demon claimed their mother's life. In case anyone has forgotten over the course of the show's past 12 seasons, Supernatural tells the story of the Winchester brothers, portrayed by Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, who fell into the family business of hunting creatures after their mother's murder. What began as their father's journey for revenge has evolved into endless monster slayings, near-death experiences and more than a few actual deaths.

By this point the Winchesters have been to Hell and back, killed Death himself, come face-to-face with God and prevented the Apocalypse. But perhaps more impressively, the series has survived three network presidents, five showrunners, a writers' strike and five different time slots. Turns out the only thing harder to kill than the Winchesters is the series itself. "It's one of those shows that has moved a lot, and yet each time it has found that core audience and built on it," Warner Bros. Television president Peter Roth says. "It's been an unsung hero."

If anyone knows about being an unsung hero, it's Sam (Padalecki) and Dean (Ackles), who've dedicated their lives to saving others and asked for nothing in return. Seriously, how many nights have they spent sleeping in their car?And yet that on-the-road lifestyle has paved the way for a number of the show's riskier episodes, which play a crucial role in keeping the audience engaged. In 2015 "Baby" was told entirely from the perspective of their beloved 1967 Impala, and that's not even close to the craziest thing the show's tried.

Aside from the rules the show creates within its canon—yes, they have a historian in the writers' room to keep them honest—not even the sky is the limit when it comes to story ideas. “[Show creator] Eric [Kripke] used to say, 'Smoke 'em if you've got 'em,' which meant: Anything crazy, don't be afraid to run it by us," executive producer Robert Singer says.

That motto led most famously to season 6's "The French Mistake," in which Sam and Dean found themselves in an alternate universe where everyone mistook them for Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, the stars of a show called Supernatural. "Our show's not bound by reality," Ackles, 39, says. "We're rooted in reality, but we're not bound by it. That gives us a fifth wall almost."

But Supernatural's season 12 finale managed to raise the stakes by somehow introducing the boys to something they'd never seen before: a world in which they don't exist and Heaven and Hell are locked in an eternal war. By episode's end, their allies Castiel (Misha Collins) and Crowley (Mark Sheppard) were dead, and their mother, Mary (Samantha Smith), who was resurrected-by God's sister!-in the season 11 finale, found herself trapped in this new reality with the Archangel Lucifer (Mark Pellegrino). If that doesn't seem bad enough, the birth of Lucifer's son is the very thing that opened the rift to this apocalyptic realm. "The world in which Sam and Dean were never born is not a good world," showrunner Andrew Dabb says. "It speaks to the importance of our guys. The world Sam and Dean live in is certainly not perfect, but it's a whole hell of a lot better than the alternative."

Dabb describes the new run of episodes as more melancholy than last year's, with new threats including some long-dead characters. And somehow Scooby-Doo has a role to play. (More on that later.)

"Last season was, in some ways, a very upbeat season for us," says Dabb, who goes on to explain that season 13 will be "darker." In their grief the boys will butt heads when it comes to both Lucifer's son Jack—Dean wants nothing to do with him; Sam thinks he's worth trying to save— and Mary, whom Sam refuses to give up on despite Dean's having lost hope that she's still alive. "The Apocalypse world hangs over our guys a little bit like a sword of Damocles," Dabb says of the season's beginning. "We're definitely going to spend a little time there."

And of course Sam and Dean have this new responsibility thrust upon them before they've had the chance to properly grieve their many losses, including Castiel, who Dabb says will appear, though maybe not the way fans are expecting. "We're not looking to hit the reset button," Dabb says. "We want to give both our guys an opportunity to react to that and ask the question: How would that affect them if their closest friend sacrifices himself for them? There is a certain amount, especially when you look at Dean, of survivor's guilt."

That being said, there will be at least one (animated!) moment of levity, though it's in the season's back half. Episode 16 will be a much-anticipated Scooby-Doo crossover, for which Ackles, Padalecki and Collins have already recorded the audio. "They've often talked about Supernatural crossing over into something." Ackles says. "I love that it's Scooby-Doo."

But even with exciting new ideas on the agenda, there's always the lingering question of how much longer the show can continue. According to CW president Mark Pedowitz, the answer is as long as the guys are happy and the ratings are relatively stable. As for Ackles and Padalecki, they are focusing on the next milestone: hitting 300 episodes (something that would take them 13 episodes into season 14). However, if Sam and Dean have taught the actors anything, it's that Death can be lurking around every corner (and he's usually eating pizza). "If we don't make it to 300, I think Ackles and I will both be truly bummed," Padalecki, 35, says.

Ackles adds, "They're paying us to bring that little bit of magic to what they wrote, and I still feel that magic. The day that I don't feel that magic will be a very sad day, and I hope that day never comes. I'd like to get to 300 before that day comes."

One thing everyone can agree on is that they want to know when the end is nigh. "I think it would be bad for this show to just ride off into the sunset without a finale," Singer says. "I think we've earned that." Ultimately the only thing that's certain about Supernatural's eventual end is the fate of Sam and Dean's Impala, Baby. "He gets Baby," Padalecki says of Ackles. "I get Baby Two." Ackles makes one correction: "No, you'll get Three. Two is a stunt car. It's beat to s---.”

But nobody gets Baby just yet. For now they'll need all the Impalas they can get as they try to solve the problems of not one world but two.

[pg 10-12]

LIFE IN THE FAST LANE

Stars Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki and Misha Collins have rolled with rapid changes and some surprising detours during the series' remarkable run. BY SAMANTHA HIGHFILL

JARED PADALECKI CAN STILL REMEMBER THE exact pitch for Supernatural's first season: “Route 66 meets X-Files, brothers on the back roads of America hunting things that go bump in the night.” That was how he and costar Jensen Ackles were told to promote the show, which, in its first year, was just that-Sam and Dean Winchester chasing urban legends from state to state.

But over time that original pitch added a few sentences. Much like with any good road trip, there have been quite a few turns—and the occasional crossroads along the way. Although the show remains about two brothers on the back roads of America hunting things, those "things'' now include everything from vengeful spirits to imaginary friends and even Lucifer himself. After all, a show doesn't last 13 seasons without adjusting its game plan. For Supernatural that has meant an ever expanding mythology, some shocking deaths, resurrected characters, breaking the fourth wall and so much more.

Yet all the while, one thing has remained true: Sam and Dean Winchester will do whatever it takes to save the world and, even more so, to save each other. And they'll do it while navigating those seemingly endless back roads in their 1967 Impala.

Finding John Winchester (portrayed by Jeffrey Dean Morgan) was the boys' goal in season 1, though that ended up being about as difficult as getting John to stick around once he was finally discovered. The Winchester family reunion was short-lived: Season 1 closed with a car crash and the fates of all three men up in the air. And then there was that demonic deal John made with the same monster they had been hunting.

JENSEN ACKLES Everything up until that point was about finding Dad. We found Dad, we continued to fight as a unit, and then we lost Dad, and now we were two orphans.

JARED PADALECKI And I think that was the first time we ever brought back somebody from the dead, and it was you [to Ackles].

ACKLES I died in the car crash, and he traded his life with Azazel.

PADALECKI I think that was the first time we ever saw a major character die and come back. And that was a total leap of faith. So we told the story of Reapers and the veil and what happens to your soul.

ACKLES That's when we got into afterlife.

PADALECKI That was a big title shift in what Supernatural could do...

ACKLES With the introduction of Hell and making deals with demons—which is funny, because you think about that now, and [creator] Eric [Kripke] must've always known because Mom made the deal with the yellow-eyed demon.

The next shift would come later in season 2, laying the groundwork for the introduction of angels far before Castiel spread his wings in that abandoned barn in season 4.

PADALECKI "Houses of the Holy” was the first time we ever talked about angels on Supernatural. [Jensen] and I both were like, “Whatever your religious beliefs, whatever ours, we're not here to proselytize. We're here to make a serialized television show, but we want it to be universal.” So we actually had a conference call with Eric Kripke, and we were like, "Hey, man, we don't know how we feel about this.”

ACKLES We didn't want to be a mouthpiece for writers' religious views, because it wasn't the show that we had signed up for. Our argument was: “We trust you. You've done good by us so far. However, this is our one concern, and we're just bringing it to the table so that we can discuss it.”

PADALECKI And they heard us out, and I think that's why they waited another year and a half before introducing our second and most famous angel. I think it's the one time we've ever called them together with a complaint. Because I'm not a writer. I don't want to be a writer. I enjoy my job as an actor. But that was legitimately like, “Listen, if you're going here about religion, I don't want to be a part of it.”

MISHA COLLINS And now amazingly, 11 years later, so much of the show has been hung on biblical lore and mythology that is actually drawn from the Bible. One interesting thing for us is that we end up talking along the way to priests and pastors and ministers, or even nuns, who love the show.

(...)

ACKLES It was amazing, but my point being that we're in one of the most religious places on earth, and they're catering to people from a show that deals with religiously inspired story lines.

PADALECKI But not telling the story that the Bible tells.

ACKLES That's the out. That's where we get a pass is that we're not trying to tell the story of the Bible. The writers take inspiration from biblical elements and then elaborate on them. So when we got into that original discussion, Eric came back with: “We're not here to tell the story of Jesus Christ. We're here to take that element and use it as inspiration for the story.” I think that alleviated any concerns that he and I had. And at the same time we really trusted Eric and still do to this day.

Another leap of faith came with season 2's "Hollywood Babylon,” which can be considered the show's first meta episode. It opened the door for everything from season 6's “The French Mistake” to the upcoming season 13 Scooby-Doo crossover.

ACKLES “Babylon” was the first time we took the piss out of ourselves and were poking fun at the industry.

COLLINS That has been a huge [help to know] that you can go to these absurd lengths and break conventions. Reading the script where we are doing a Scooby-Doo episode makes me feel proud. Where else can you do that?

Padalecki What other show does that and has the fandom at large excited that they’re going to do that? Can you imagine if JAG or NCIS did a Scooby-Doo episode? People would be like, “What?” Not only do we break the fourth wall, do we go meta, but those end up being some of our best episodes.

The season 5 finale holds the No. 1 spot on EW's episode ranking, but that hour was important for many reasons, one of which being that it was creator Kripke’s farewell.

COLLINS “Swan Song" was another milestone because that marked the culmination of Eric's original vision for the show. He had a five-season arc in mind that tied up perfectly with a bow, and then he moved on and handed the reins over to Sera [Gamble]. That became, “Okay, guys, now let's figure out how to start a new chapter or a new volume in a series of chapters.”

PADALECKI It's the story that we were all born from, those of us who were introduced in the first five years. So to have the creator step away? I would argue that it was the largest shift.

Gamble served as showrunner for seasons 6 and 7, the latter containing another major show moment: the death of Bobby (Jim Beaver), Sam and Dean's father figure.

PADALECKI Bobby was such a big part. Jeffrey Dean [Morgan] was never as much a part of the show. He was obviously a huge part of the story, but he did [just a few] episodes, and Jim Beaver did 60 or something. And there was something about his death that we knew it was final...or final for Supernatural.

ACKLES Because his character said, “I'm done.” So it wasn't like he got killed accidentally and we found a way to bring Bobby back. He was like, “I'm hanging it up, guys." It was heavy.

PADALECKI That probably was the first big death of someone who'd been there for years...

ACKLES [Interrupting] A fan favorite...

PADALECKI Yeah, and I remember [CW president] Mark Pedowitz saying something to the effect of “As a fan, I hated when Bobby died, but it was great television.” That's how I feel. 

ACKLES Like when Sam Winchester dies for good, it's going to be good television. But when Dean Winchester lives on, it's going to be great television. [Everyone laughs]

The season 12 finale saw the introduction of an apocalyptic alternate world in which Sam and Dean Winchester were never born and Heaven and Hell are locked in an eternal war. And with that world comes the possibility for a number of character returns. But does it feel like a turning point? 

COLLINS Well, I think the rift and the fact that you can go into the apocalypse world and you can all of a sudden revisit every character in a different iteration—there could be a different version of every character—it opens up this incredible panoply.

(...)

PADALECKI And if an alternate universe exists, then how many alternate universes exist? It's hard to say, because I feel like it's impossible to identify a turning point during the turn. In hindsight it will reveal how this story will affect the show, the canon at large and the way we move forward. But I certainly feel like we're opening up doors with the rift and with the son of Lucifer.

(...)

[pg 20-26]

THE CORONER'S VAN JUST PULLED INTO THE driveway. It's the middle of August in 2016, and Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles are filming a scene for Supernatural's 12th season at a farmhouse in the Vancouver countryside, which is standing in for Iowa. Sam and Dean Winchester have ditched their flannels and jeans for sweaters and slacks in order to pose as social workers. They're doing what the two brothers do best: lying about their jobs in order to solve mysteries and kill monsters—in other words, saving people, hunting things.

When Supernatural premiered, Sam and Dean Winchester were born into the family business of hunting creatures, and it's a lifestyle that, over the years, has left them with very few people they love. Turns out, when you spend your days battling shape-shifters, witches and the occasional angel—they're not all nice, you know—nothing is guaranteed, especially not tomorrow.

But no matter how crazy the Winchesters' world gets—or how many worlds they have to face—one thing remains unchanged: At the center of it all are Ackles and Padalecki, whose Dean and Sam are the beating heart of the show (whether theirs are beating or not).

(...)

(...) even pulling up their favorite scenes on their phones to watch at the table. Padalecki can easily name the scripts that made him cry—“Heart,” “Sacrifice" and "Baby" all land on the list. The common thread is a heartfelt moment between the brothers where they get to talk about their crazy life as if, say, having visions of Lucifer is normal. “I feel like those situations where we treat the abstract and the fantastical as just part of life is where the show thrives,” Padalecki says. Ackles adds, “I think the show is truly at its best when it doesn't take itself too seriously, then it does take itself seriously, and it gets scary as s---,”.

But whether Supernatural is making fun of itself, scaring the living daylights out of its fans, or just letting the brothers have a moment on the hood of the Impala, it all works because of our central heroes. “It's about the Winchesters," says Crowley actor Mark Sheppard. “We really do care, and it's a testament to the boys that we still care."

(...)

As the sun sets on the Vancouver countryside, Sam and Dean ditch their slacks for jeans and send the coroner's van on its way. It won't be needed—this show, and the brotherly bond that holds it all together, has a lot of life left in it. Not that death has ever stopped it before.

[pg 32-34]

(...)

DEAN WINCHESTER Jensen Ackles

He was always the good son. Dean embraced the hunter's lifestyle, and he idolized his father despite John's many faults. But with the senior Winchester devoted to tracking down demons, it fell to Dean to help parent Sam, and he went to great lengths to protect his younger sibling-at one point even making a deal with a Crossroads demon (at the cost of his own life) to resurrect Sam from the dead. The two have had their differences, but throughout, Dean's brother was his first priority. "Watching out for you, it's kinda been my job, you know? But more than that, it's kinda who I am." Cynical and initially skeptical of the existence of God, Dean has nonetheless managed to become best buds with the angel Castiel (and on first name terms with both God and God's sister Amara). His self-sacrificing nature means he would do literally anything for those he considers family-and that's a short list: Sam, Mary and Castiel.

[pg 38]

Sympathy for the Devil

EVERY HERO NEEDS A HELL, BUT SUPERNATURAL HAS JUST TWO PROTAGONISTS AND HUNDREDS OF VILLAINS. HERE’S HOW THE SHOWRUNNERS APPROACHED SAM AND DEAN’S MANY FOES, FROM WELL-KNOWN URBAN LEGENDS TO SATAN HIMSELF. By Samantha Highfill

[pg 51]

Stairway to Heaven

SAM AND DEAN MET CASTIEL. AN ANGEL OF THE LORD, IN SEASON 4, AND IT CHANGED THE COURSE OF THE SHOW. BECAUSE ANGELS WEREN’T ALWAYS THE PLAN— AND CASTIEL WAS ONLY THE FIRST. By Samantha Highfill

(on page 57 there’s a small box of print on the corner that says: In what executive producer Robert Singer calls one of the series’ most “iconic images,” Castiel (Misha Collins) is introduced as the show’s first real angel.)

WHILE OTHER CHILDREN WERE LEARNING multiplication tables, Sam and Dean Winchester were hunting monsters. “When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45!” says Sam to Dean in the Supernatural pilot, recalling an episode when he was 9 years old. Clearly creature encounters were par for the course in the Winchester way of life. And when you grow up battling all the evil in the world, it's hard to believe in the good. But in the show's season 4 premiere, Dean would come face-to-face with the one supernatural entity he didn't think existed: angels.

“[Show creator] Eric [Kripke] wasn't in love with the idea of doing angels,” executive producer Robert Singer says of the early days. “But as things went on and we were getting into demons, I would say to him, 'I don't know how we do demons without doing angels.’”

The show tested the waters in season 2's “Houses of the Holy,” when Sam and Dean worked a case that appeared to involve angels then went in a different direction. It wasn't until late in the next season that the seraphim were finally embraced. When Dean was dragged to Hell, they needed to get him out. And if there's a Hell, it stands to reason there has to be a Heaven. "[The season 3 finale] was the gateway into this whole other world of angels and demons," executive producer Andrew Dabb says.

When it came time to spring Dean from Hell, it was Castiel, the show's first angel, who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. But Castiel quickly established that he wasn't a typical cherubic angel. Many of the show's angels were, as Sam and Dean would put it, real dicks. “We have our own brand of angels and the idea that they were these warriors of God,” Singer says. “We introduced Castiel, and we just went from there. Heaven opened up different levels of angels.”

The moment Castiel spread his wings, the show expanded its universe. Castiel came bearing news of something much bigger: the Apocalypse, the ultimate showdown between good and evil-or more specifically between Archangels Michael and Lucifer. “We started with archangels and the idea that Lucifer was an archangel and was cast out of Heaven,” Singer says. “We certainly took some license, but it was all biblically grounded. We just took those things and went a step further to make them work for our story.”

From there the show explored all kinds of angels, from Zachariah and Naomi to Gabriel and Metatron, and, of course, it eventually arrived at God-or Chuck, if you prefer. “We didn't really know that Chuck was God when we first started with him," Singer says of introducing the character in season 4. (He wouldn't be revealed as God until season 11.) “That evolved. We wanted a relatable God, a God with foibles.”

Nine seasons later, what started as one angel in a trench coat has evolved into Lucifer, God, Leviathan and even a sister for God. “We play a little fast and loose with religion, but no one has really complained about it,” Singer says with a laugh. “So we'll just keep going.”

[pg 56-58]

CASTIEL Misha Collins

What can you say about the only member of Team Free Will who wears an overcoat? Cas has become a true member of the Winchester family.

[pg 61]

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Chronosaurus” One-Shot

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (SKZ)

Genre: Science-Fiction, Back to the Future AU

Warnings: Lots of angst, fluff, and many life lessons

Word Count: 9K

Summary: Despite what everyone believes, Y/N enjoys spending time with Dr. Park, the town’s self-proclaimed mad scientist. She’s especially interested in his idea for building a time machine, an experiment Dr. Park has been researching for many years! One night, he attempts to test the machine, but is disappointed when nothing happens. Y/N tries to investigate for herself, but inadvertently succeeds in starting the machine, finding herself in the year 2035! She decides to take advantage of the rare opportunity, but is disappointed to discover that her future self is nothing more than a front desk receptionist at a hair salon. To make matters worse, she’s married to Han Jisung, the nerdy guy everyone always picked on in high school! 

Thankfully, Y/N has a reliable time machine to help her rectify those terrible mistakes...

In a rare moment of unpredictability, I had decided to visit Dr. Park before enduring another day of mind-numbing lectures and the endless political debate between our Student Council representatives. You see, once upon a time, I tried to run for school President, but I lost to Bang Chan because everyone thought he had really cool hair (Jesus, he was unbelievably hot) and I was just Y/N, the girl who thought visiting the future was possible and spent way too much of her time around the town’s self-proclaimed mad scientist. Ultimately, I had decided that the outcome was rather favorable for my situation because I could spend less time trying to negotiate with our principal for new gym equipment and more time analyzing Quantum Mechanics. 

Dr. Park lived on the opposite end of town, which meant that I was constantly gambling with the possibility of another late slip when I finally found my way to school. However, Dr. Park was on the verge of an imminent breakthrough and I didn’t want to miss a single moment of his genius at work. Thus, I found myself retrieving the spare key from under the mat before walking inside the messy living room, greeting his dog in the kitchen. Dr. Park spent most of his time in the basement since he claimed it was nice to have some kind of separation between his work and private life. Subsequently, I was also well-acquainted with the musty basement smell and the impressive equipment with names that I couldn’t remember.

“Dr. Park,” I said, finding the man in question hunched over his desk. “I’m here.”

“Y/N,” Dr. Park grinned. “Perfect timing!”

I paused next to an odd display of bullfrogs. “What’s going on?”

“I think I’ve figured it out!” Dr. Park exclaimed. “I need you to make sure that you can be here tonight because the invention of time travel is ours for the taking!”

“Tonight? What happens tonight?”

“We unveil my newest invention!” Dr. Park said, knocking aside a few boxes to properly introduce a rather large object obscured by a white bed sheet. “The culmination of my research!”

“That’s great, Dr. Park,” I said while checking my watch absentmindedly, but my eyes widened in horror when I realized the time. “I’m late for school!”

I was instantly sprinting up the stairs, stumbling against the door-frame, and Dr. Park was yelling at my retreating figure. “Did you hear me say midnight, Y/N? And remember to bring a hat!”

The industrial disaster known as my high school was nestled on the opposite end of town in the furniture district aptly named after our town’s founders who made their fortunes selling rocking chairs. It was perfect considering the interesting band of characters who came in after the founders, forming the upper-class suburbs for the eclectic combination of inventors who were once the envy of the scientific world. These days, all we had left of that great renaissance was Dr. Park and their great-great grandchildren, AKA, my darling classmates who proved to be more inept with each passing day. 

Thankfully, for the most part, I could use that to my advantage when alluding the students who were supposed to hand out late tickets to the kids like me who waltzed in after the first bell. However, on this morning in particular, I had the misfortune of accidentally running into one the school’s hall monitor. Of course, upon second glance, I realized that it was just Han Jisung which meant that I could probably convince him to let me off the hook. “Hi, Y/N,” he said, shoving his ridiculous glasses further up his nose as he looked directly at the ground. “I like your shoes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, Jisung, just pretend you didn’t see me, okay?”

Jisung managed to make eye contact for a split second before he was nodding his head. “I know you were probably just with Dr. Park.”

I paused, studying him for a moment. “You won’t tell anyone?”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Jisung said and that was all the confirmation I needed before I was sprinting down the hallway. 

Subsequently, classes passed by like one of those lazy summer afternoons when my mind was occupied by my daydreams, thinking about my impending meeting with Dr. Park. You see, he had dedicated most of his life to the research known as time travel and he was determined to reign supreme over the explorations of the past, present, and future. Most of the town thought that he was crazy for believing such an idea, especially when most of his early inventions ended quite prematurely, resulting in property damage that once nearly gave our mayor a heart attack when he saw the total cost of repair.

Regardless, Dr. Park was still adamant about the possibility of time travel, forgetting about those early inventions and focusing all of his time on his crowning achievement. I was grateful to come along for the ride, even if most of my classmates often mocked me for my efforts. However, I really didn’t care about their opinions, with the exception of one student who had always held my attention...

When the afternoon bell rang, I trudged to my locker while ignoring the congregation of girls surrounding Lee Minho. I sighed, choosing to watch Minho from the safety of my locker. He was, without a single doubt, one of the most attractive men I had ever seen in my entire life. I often sang his praises to my friends, even if Changbin and Felix would roll their eyes at my behavior.

One of those aforementioned best friends stopped next to me at my locker, following my gaze with a tired sigh. “You’re drooling,” Felix scoffed, handing me a tissue which I gratefully accepted. 

“Why is he so beautiful?”

“Lee Minho? Are you still crushing on him?”

“It’s more than a crush, Felix,” I sighed impatiently. “I think we have a real connection.”

“Yeah, it looks like it,” Felix grumbled.

“I’m asking him to the dance this Friday!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “You and the rest of the student population.”

I frowned. “Why shouldn’t I be any more likely than the rest of those girls! At least I don’t swarm him for an autograph!”

“That’s true,” Felix mused thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to wait and find out.”

Despite his cryptic words, I still held my high head in determination.

It was bitterly cold that evening, and I tried not to think too much about the ice forming on the sidewalks as I hurried to make my appointment with Dr. Park on time. He was quite meticulous about maintaining a tight schedule, and I knew he would be less likely to tolerate my tardiness as opposed to someone like Han Jisung, our school’s residential nerd. The same kid who I once saw attempting to save a slug trying to cross the street.

I snorted at the memory, finding Dr. Park’s spare key under his mat before letting myself in the front door. The heat inside was welcomed, and I followed the sound of a power drill into his basement. “Dr. Park!” I gasped, squinting my eyes against the unexpected light show emanating from what looked like a phone booth straight out of Dr. Who, but with far less CGI effects.

“Y/N!” Dr. Park exclaimed in return, beckoning me forward with his usual over-zealousness. “Isn’t it beautiful?

“It?” I repeated.

“My time machine!” he proclaimed, eyes wild and exhilarated. “You’re here to help me test it out.”

“Really?” I grinned, rushing down the remainder of the stairs to get a better view of the machine. “You figured it out!”

“Of course, I did!” Dr. Parked chirped, pulling back the blanket on his work station to reveal a pile of what looked like pure gold. “I found the fuel fairly easily.”

“Fuel? Dr. Park, is that real gold?”

“Of course,” he huffed. “Do you think it would run on fake party supplies?”

“The time machine runs on gold!”

“That’s what I said!” Dr. Park groaned while running his hands across the pristine glass of the machine. “It requires a substance of immense value.”

“But, Dr. Park, it’s actually real gold?!”

“Oh, come now, Y/N, since when does something as superficial as profound wealth bother you?”

“I guess you made your point,” I remarked, watching as he continued to tighten the bolts running along the top of the machine.

“Alright,” Dr. Park laughed, tossing the wrench onto the table before opening the door. “Go ahead!”

I carefully followed his direction, forcing myself into the unexpectedly small interior of the bright red phone booth. “It’s small.”

“The measurements are meant for one person,” Dr. Park explained. “Did you remember to bring a hat?”

“Sure,” I managed, pressing myself against the glass when Dr. Park joined me inside, turning around to make further adjustments. “Why do we need a hat?” I asked, trying to ignore my uncomfortable position.

“Well, we may encounter our future selves!” Dr. Park explained. “It’s best to try and disguise our faces before anyone can notice.”

“Right,” I said, nodding my head as he started typing something on the small computer screen drilled into the glass next to the door. “Let’s try...2035? I heard theories that flying cars will be widespread by then!”

“That’s what they keep saying,” I remarked, whining in pain when he accidentally stepped on my foot.

“Okay!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Hold on tight!”

I shivered in anticipation, closing my eyes because I was hoping to open them again and discover the city of the future. However, as more and more seconds continued to pass by with only the distinct sound of the machine’s buttons providing background noise, I began to wonder what was happening. “Dr. Park,” I whispered. “Is this supposed to take this long?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, typing something furiously. “After I press this button...” he trailed off and I held my breath, fully expecting for the machine to start moving, but I opened my eyes again to the same grim basement.

“Did it work?” I asked, realizing the question was really stupid only a moment later when Dr. Park turned around to glare at me.

“No, Y/N, it failed.”

“Well, maybe we can re-check the wires?”

“No, that’s not the problem,” Dr. Park sighed. “I’m a complete disgrace to the name of science.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, sir!” I said, cautiously squirming around the glorified phone booth. “Maybe you just miscalculated something?”

“I never miscalculate,” Dr. Park scoffed. “It’s more than that.”

His downcast features made me wonder if Dr. Park was actually considering the idea of giving up on his dream. “Sir, this is everything you’ve been working on for years!”

Dr. Park shook his head, opening the door and pushing us both out at the same time. “It’s just a piece of junk,” he glowered, already trudging for the steps. “Feel free to stay the night, Y/N,” he said. “I need to sleep.”

“Sir?” I tried again, pouting when he made no move to return.

However, despite Dr. Park’s suggestion, I decided to take matters into my own hands, comparing his meticulous hand-written notes lying on the work station to the machine itself as I slowly surveyed the outside. “It looks right,” I said, opening the door to step back inside. The diagrams were quite complicated, and they probably wouldn’t make much sense to the common eye, but I had been studying under Dr. Park for years and he demanded perfection. “Ah! The turbo muffler isn’t plugged in,” I noted, reaching down to rectify the problem.

I glanced at the computer screen, watching the loading screen analyze the solution before taking a spare tissue from my pocket to scrub away at the fingerprints alongside the glass. It was easy to lose myself in a rhythm, until I suddenly became aware of a strange vibration from underneath my feet. I froze in place, looking down and realizing that the intricate panel of lights were blinking rapidly, and a strange noise was emanating from every corner that faintly reminded me of an over-sized fan. The whirring sound grew louder and I realized that the edges of my vision were growing darker, watching the room spin around faster and faster before I completely lost consciousness.

2035

An unexpected bright light infiltrated my line of vision when I slowly opened my eyes. Everything was hurting, and I realized that it was because I was still cramped inside the time machine, legs curled uncomfortably beneath me. “Why would I do this to myself?” I groaned, gingerly rising to my feet before pushing open the door to allow myself to stumble into the basement.

I felt unusually dizzy, watching the ceiling rotate before settling back into place. I groaned at the feeling. “I guess I just overworked myself or something and passed out.”

There was a newspaper on the table that I hadn’t noticed from earlier and I reached for it without really thinking. The headline was blurry, but the topic of a general store theft wasn’t what caught my attention. I re-checked the newspaper over a dozen times before I was shaking from head to toe. “2035?!”

I quickly dropped the newspaper, reaching for my phone in my back pocket only to nearly lose my grip on the slim case when I realized what was displayed across the screen. “Impossible.”

However, like a sudden dam had been released, I remembered last night’s events, including starting the time machine without meaning to activate the switch. I quickly ran to the window, lifting the blinds only to gasp when something impossibly fast sped by the window. “Flying cars!”

It was like a dramatic transformation had taken place overnight and everything was suddenly monochromatic, bright and pristine as people walked along the sidewalks in strange clothes and talked to holograms projecting from their phone screens. “Dr. Park did it!” I squealed. “I’m in the future!”

For the first time since I discovered the concept, I was convinced that the future was actually going to be extraordinary. “Look at all this cool shit!” I exclaimed, skipping along the sidewalks with my hat tucked low over my face.

I paused at the corner of the street, admiring the traffic of the flying cars, before noticing someone on the opposing sidewalk. “She looks like me,” I noted before I felt my eyes fly open. “That is me!” I gasped, looking both ways before crossing the road, and I continued to follow Y/N, watching as she greeted several people along the sidewalk. “It’s good that we grew out of our social anxiety,” I nodded.

Eventually, Y/N halted outside of a salon, studying something on the phone screen in front of her. I waited cautiously, startling only when I realized that a familiar face was walking in our direction. “Is that Han Jisung?” I groaned, rolling my eyes because, of course, he would still be involved somehow with my future. 

Of course, the even bigger surprise came only moments later when Jisung leaned in to press his lips against my unsuspecting person. “What is he doing?” I seethed, only to realize that Y/N was reciprocating his affection. “Why the fuck am I kissing Han Jisung?” I gasped, sprinting around the corner so that I could have my mental breakdown in privacy. “What the hell is going on?”

I took a few deep breaths because I’m sure that the incident was just some kind of futuristic greeting. Everyone must enjoy kissing other people in the future, and it was certainly a better alternative to the idea that older Y/N wanted to actually kiss Han Jisung. “It’s fine,” I reassured myself, bowing politely to a couple who passed by with suspicious frowns. When I looked around the building again, I watched as Y/N waved in Jisung’s direction before entering the salon. “Oh, is this something I do in my free time?” I questioned because I certainly hated going to the salon despite my mother’s best efforts.

I carefully made my way to the large glass panel at the front of the salon, peeking in through the clear display to find my older self standing behind the counter. “What are we doing?” I asked, especially when Y/N answered the phone, speaking into the other end with a bright smile that made me grimace at the exact moment of understanding. “I’m a receptionist?” I groaned, wondering if the universe had allowed me to visit the future only so that it could laugh at my disdain.

“It can’t get any worse!”

However, contrary to my expectations, when the salon finally closed, I decided to follow Y/N home to make sure that I wasn’t living somewhere ridiculous considering the measly salary I probably made at a hair salon. I huffed in irritation because my older self insisted on walking fast down the street as if she was eager for something that I didn’t understand. “Slow down,” I wheezed, seconds away from collapsing when I finally noticed us standing on the front porch of a fairly modest house.

I waited until Y/N was inside before rushing to the door quietly. It was locked, but I quickly found the spare key under the mat which made me roll my eyes considering that I had copied Dr. Park’s tendency to hide his house key in the same location. Regardless, once I was inside, I heard voices coming from the kitchen, so I decided to walk upstairs to avoid the possibility of someone finding me.

The hallway was cramped, and I checked several rooms before finding a larger offering at the end of the house with pictures of myself displayed across the dresser. “No way,” I said, snatching one of the photographs when I noticed Han Jisung standing next to me. “Ugh,” I groaned, returning the picture before looking around the room.

It was becoming clear to me that I had a more complicated relationship with Jisung that went beyond casual strangers meeting in the street outside the salon where I conveniently worked. Eventually, my answer came in the form of an incriminating wedding photo stationed directly next to the queen-sized bed on the nightstand. Jisung and I stood side-by-side in the picture, and I was holding out my hand where a bright silver wedding ring proclaimed my commitment to the entire world. “What the hell, Y/N?” I sighed. “We married Han Jisung?”

Of all the possible scenarios I had once envisioned for the future, Han Jisung was never involved with any of them. He was the class nerd who all the older boys picked on while the girls decisively ignored him. There was simply no explanation for why I was so heavily involved with him in the future! 

I snatched the wedding picture from the nightstand, searching for the date in the lower corner. “November 5th, 2030.”

The date was from five years earlier, and a small light bulb suddenly went off in my head. “I know when I married him,” I grinned, taking a step back. “I can stop it from happening!”

I studied the picture one more time, gasping when I realized where we were both standing. “We got married at my parent’s house!”

I slammed the photograph down onto the nightstand because this was my chance to secure my future. Subsequently, I managed to leave my future home without disrupting Y/N who was busy in the kitchen, even though I couldn’t cook to save my life. I shook my head at the strange situation, finding myself back on the streets before retracing my steps to relocate Dr. Park’s house where it still remained after all these years.

The time machine was still waiting inside Dr. Park’s basement, and I only briefly wondered where the man in question was in this bizarre future before I was checking the necessary equipment. There was still some gold left in the fuel gauge, and I typed in the corresponding wedding date and watched as the computer started to process my request.

“I can fix this!” I said, wrenching aside the door of the phone booth. “I’ll just go back a little further in time and stop myself from marrying Jisung!” 

I crowded myself into the corner when the machine started to vibrate and groan as the gears rotated in response to the ignition running. It all sounded good, and I stumbled backwards against the glass in anticipation. Suddenly, I was spinning rapidly through the air, unable to focus as I fell to the ground and closed my eyes to forget the unpleasant sensation.

2030

I gained consciousness once again in Dr. Park’s basement, checking the time on my phone. “We should be close,” I said because the picture had taken place during the early evening based on the setting sun in the background. “I need to hurry.”

Thankfully, I had grown up near Dr. Park’s house during my childhood and nothing much had changed regarding our living situations. Likewise, I found myself standing outside of my childhood home, frowning at the sight of guests gathered outside along neat and well-organized benches. I even saw Han Jisung himself standing at the altar while talking to the future versions of Changbin and Felix who certainly defied aging expectations. “Why couldn’t I marry one of them?” I whined because fantasies about my ridiculously attractive friends had been commonplace back when we first started high school.

Still, I was on a mission, and it seemed fate was on my side because the side door was unlocked and I rushed upstairs, determined to find Y/N before the wedding could officially begin. I checked several bedrooms, sighing irritably when each one was left empty. Finally, I paused at the entrance to the attic, wondering if it was possible that I decided to get ready in the same space that I once feared when I was a kid because my father jokingly told me that aliens lived in the rafters.

I shook my head at the memory, carefully opening the door to be greeted with the sight of an older Y/N studying her reflection in the vanity mirror. We wore a beautiful white gown, straight out of my imagination, and it was obvious that great effort had been put into our appearance despite the fact that I usually didn’t care for that sort of thing.

I cleared my throat, attracting Y/N’s attention who turned around only to gasp and drop the make-up brush she had been holding. “What the hell?”

“Hi,” I said, startling when Y/N jumped back from the mirror, eyes wide as she looked at me.

“What’s going on? Am I going crazy?” her shoulders dropped up and down with several deep breaths. “This can’t be happening!”

“Look, can you stop freaking out for one second? I came here to warn you! I’ve seen what our life is like in the future, and it’s nothing like what we dreamed!”

“W-What do you mean?” she stuttered. “How can this be possible?”

“Don’t think too hard,” I grumbled. “Look, I came here from the past. I used a time travel machine that Dr. Park invented.”

“How? The time machine never worked?”

“Sure it did,” I grinned. “I fixed it! Aren’t you proud of us?”

Y/N slowly sat back down in front of the mirror. “Okay, let’s say that I’m not going crazy for a moment.”

“What a good idea,” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You aren’t dreaming, so can we just admit that I came here from another time and move on?”

Y/N eventually nodded her head, regarding me warily despite the evidence of time travel success standing right in front of her. “Okay, like I said, I’m here to warn you. I’ve seen our future and it’s horrible, Y/N, and I think it’s because of this moment! You’re making a huge mistake by marrying Han Jisung!”

Y/N gasped, eyes widening as she quickly shot over to the window, looking down at the reception where a sweaty Han Jisung stood at the altar nervously, wringing his hands together while he waited for his future bride. “How is that possible? Jisung is so sweet to me!”

“Are you really not going to believe me?” I asked, taking a step back. “It’s me, er, I’m you! Shit, if you can’t believe yourself, then I must be more stubborn than I thought.”

Y/N frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“To stop you from making a mistake! You need to leave him!” I insisted. “Find Changbin or Felix and get the hell out of this shithole town!”

Y/N looked at me with eyes that were suddenly a lot less bright in comparison to when I first entered the room. “I just- I can’t believe that we don’t work out in the future.”

“Trust me,” I said again. “This is our last chance to make things right.”

“B-but what if you’re wrong? What if there’s something else I can do-”

“I’ve been there,” I interrupted her. “Ask me anything about the past. I can tell you things about us and that should prove that I’m you.”

Y/N was hesitant. “The name of our imaginary friend?”

“Cleopatra,” I said. “He looked like a dog, but he could also fly.”

Y/N covered her mouth as the truth finally processed. “Fine, if you are from the past, then I guess you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Why would I sabotage my own future?” I asked, reaching out to take her hands. “I know it might be hard to believe, but I’ve seen everything with my own eyes. This is the moment that changes everything.”

“What happens?” she asked with sad eyes. “Why is it this moment?”

“It’s...complicated,” I managed. “We’re very unhappy, though. I mean, you remember the things we once imagined, right? What if they never came true?”

“And it’s because of Jisung?”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Why else would I be here?”

“It’s just hard to accept,” she admitted. “We’ve been together for years.”

I wrinkled my nose at the unpleasant thought. “What? Did we get a concussion somewhere along the way?”

Y/N frowned. “You came from a time before Jisung.”

“It still doesn’t negate the fact that I’ve seen the future!” I said. “I was so happy when I saw it for the first time, there were flying cars and holograms and the streets were painted with silver! But, when I found our future self, I couldn’t reconcile that wonderful vision of the future with the life we were living.”

Y/N wiped away a single tear that had fallen during my explanation. “Okay,” she said, suddenly appearing a lot more confident than before. “I’ll leave through the garden.”

“Yes!” I nearly exclaimed, reaching back for the door to the attic. “You have to go now while everyone is still waiting!”

Y/N obeyed instantly, hurrying down the stairs while I followed from behind. I watched her from the living room, waiting until her white dress disappeared into a field of green before returning to the reception outside. I found a good hiding spot in the bushes, kneeling down while I waited for the inevitable discovery that future Y/N had somehow disappeared from the attic.

It didn’t take long as an older woman ran outside with a bouquet of flowers. “Y/N is gone!” she eventually announced to the gathered crowd of family and friends.

“Gone?” Jisung repeated, eyes widening as he froze in place next to the altar.

I watched from the bushes, smiling when everyone started to stand at once, murmuring among themselves and wondering where the bride-to-be had gone. Thankfully, she had taken my advice before it was too late and I resisted the urge to pat myself on the back for a job well-done.

2035

I waited until I was certain that everyone had abandoned their search for Y/N before returning to Dr. Park’s basement. The time machine was still waiting for me, and I shuffled inside for my return to the future with a satisfied smile. “Now, I can return to the future in peace,” I declared, tuning on the ignition before closing my eyes and dropping to the floor. “Maybe this will help,” I whispered, holding my breath until the sounds of the engine finally subsided.

It only felt like seconds later when I stepped out of the time machine and froze, realizing that an older Dr. Park was actually standing in the middle of the room wearing a similar expression of disbelief. “Impossible!” Dr. Park exclaimed. “You look like you did when you were still in high school!”

I rolled my eyes at his observation. “I’m from the past.”

“Well, that’s also impossible!” Dr. Park shouted. “I destroyed this thing years ago!”

“Yeah, but I came from a time when you had just invented the machine,” I reminded him. “Actually, why the hell would you destroy it?”

Dr. Park shook his head. “It ruined so many futures.”

“Really?

Dr. Park nodded sadly. “I learned my lesson about time travel, Y/N. It never amounts to anything good.”

“Oh,” I said, shifting nervously while he continued to look at me as if he were seeing a ghost. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What a minute!” he finally said. “That means you came from the past to interfere with the future.”

“Not necessarily,” I grumbled, but he could clearly see through my lies.

“What the hell did you do?”

“I just changed one little thing,” I assured him. “I was supposed to get married to this guy, but I made sure that it wouldn’t happen.”

“You did what!” he gasped. “Y/N, you shouldn’t mess with a timeline like that! You have no idea what effect you could have on the future!”

“Fine, but can you blame me? My future was terrible!”

“But it still doesn’t give you the right to interfere.”

“I couldn’t let it happen,” I insisted. “It wasn’t what I wanted, especially considering the fact that I was a stupid receptionist! Can you imagine? I’m meant to study Quantum Mechanics not shampoo bottles!”

“It doesn’t matter!” he sighed. “The future isn’t something that you can just mold and shape to whatever you want! Changing one thing will set off a chain reaction that might impact other people and their futures!”

“I didn’t know, okay?” I cried, suddenly anxious with the way he was talking to me.

He ran his hands through his untameable hair. “Well, I guess it’s done now. There’s nothing more to be said.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, suddenly feeling very small standing in the middle of the room.

“It’s only natural,” he sighed. “But let's see what you’ve done.”

Dr. Park held tight to my wrist as we navigated the busy streets. Thus far, I didn’t see any changes around me, but that didn’t necessarily mean that something wasn’t amiss. “I kept up with you through the years,” he explained. “I remember the wedding you visited, and I always wondered why you changed your mind.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I might’ve convinced myself.”

“Nevertheless,” Dr. Park said. “You live in an apartment now in the city.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling a faint glimmer of hope that Dr. Park had overreacted and everything was fine with my future.

“We can take my car,” he said, fetching the keys before pausing next to a sleek, silver sports machine. 

“Wow!” I gasped, admiring the delicate paint job before joining Dr. Park inside. I immediately startled when the car suddenly left the ground, hovering above the street before joining the traffic. “When did flying cars get invented?”

“Oh, not too long after the time you just came back from,” Dr. Park said. “I invented them, you know.”

“You did?”

“What else was I supposed to do when I gave up on time travel?” he shrugged. “Besides, it runs mostly on solar power which is a big plus for the environment.”

I nodded my agreement. “What else has happened?”

Dr. Park smiled, glancing at me with a knowing look. “Oh, Y/N, the future is something to behold.”

Subsequently, for the remainder of our trip, I listened to Dr. Park talks about the inventions that defined the future, everything from flying cars to holograms and the small gadgets in between. My personal favorite was the automatic sock warmers that dispelled water and kept your toes safe during the winter months. However, above everything else, I was glad to hear that society was advancing with new technology and medical practices. It was nothing short of exciting, and it only made me want to return to my own time so that I could experience it happen as I started to explore the world around me.

“Here we are,” Dr. Park eventually said, dropping his car onto the street next to a fairly modest building. “These types are the current rage. Most complexes come equipped with doors that open after scanning your fingerprint.”

“Really?” I wondered, following him outside onto the sidewalk.

He opened the door to the lobby, allowing me inside first before he nodded towards the elevators. “10th floor.”

The building wasn’t very busy, and most of the residents ignored us while we stopped outside of the door to my future apartment. “Y/N,” Dr. Park said, rapping lightly against the frame. “It’s me.”

The door opened slowly and I found myself looking into a familiar pair of eyes that widened when they recognized me. “It’s you from the wedding.”

“Well,” I said hesitantly. “I am you.”

Y/N frowned, but opened the door wider to allow me and Dr. Park inside the small apartment. I took one glance around before feeling my stomach fall as I recognized the sad condition of the property. “What happened?”

Y/N sniffled, looking at me with sad eyes. “Our future is nothing.”

“Well, where is everyone else? What about Changbin or Felix?”

“They left years ago,” Y/N said. “Everyone left me after I ran away from the wedding.”

“What?” I gasped, falling back onto the ground. “Why would they do that?”

“Because I broke his heart,” Y/N groaned. “I’m so stupid!”

“Stupid?” I repeated, glancing at Dr. Park anxiously who could only shrug in response. “Tell me everything that happened after the wedding.”

“My mom found me,” Y/N explained. “She told me that Jisung was moving someplace in the city with Changbin and Felix. He told her that none of them wanted anything else to do with me after what happened at the wedding. I was so sad, and I decided to move back home, but I lost the passion to want to do anything. Jisung had always been my muse, and without him I stopped feeling inspired.”

“When did we move here?”

“A year ago,” Y/N said. “I have an office job in the city, but it gets really lonely out here with nobody around.” 

“Oh,” I said, aware of Dr. Park’s stern gaze burning into the back of my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Actually, it was you who told me to leave because our future was so bad,” Y/N reminded me. “What happened? Did Jisung do something?”

“Well, not exactly...”

“It had to be something! You said the future was horrible, but I can’t imagine anything worse than this!”

“Okay, look,” I finally relented. “When I went to the future, I saw us with Han Jisung and I thought that it was unfair that we ended up with him. I decided to try and change that, but I didn’t understand what I was doing until it was too late.”

“You had no idea,” Y/N said with a frown. “I guess you came from a time in the past before we knew who he really was.”

“Well,” I sighed. “I mean, who is he?”

“Han Jisung is one of the best people in the world,” Y/N said with tears falling freely. “He was the best thing that ever happened to us.”

By the time we returned to the basement, I was traumatized from my meeting with Y/N, falling against the couch unceremoniously while Dr. Park examined the time machine with obvious scrutiny. “What have I done!” I groaned against the pillows.

“Well, you destroyed your future,” he replied, ignoring the glare I aimed in his direction.

“Dr. Park, I have to go back in time again! I need to undo the stupid shit I’ve done.”

“Is that so?” Dr. Park chuckled, wiping his hands clean as he stood next to me. “You think it’s that easy?”

“Why not?” I frowned. “I know the time and date when I got married.”

“That won’t matter anymore because you altered the timeline!” Dr. Park exclaimed. “At that precise moment in time, you created an alternate reality! It’s impossible to go back now and change everything.”

“Why? Can’t I just go back and stop myself from interfering with the wedding?”

“No! That’s not how time works!”

“Well! What the fuck? I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do! I can’t just stand aside and do nothing!

“Y/N, the delicate aspects of time are extremely convoluted! You should’ve never messed with the timeline in the first place.”

“Don’t you think I realize that now!” I cried. “I know that I ruined my future because I didn’t think it was important enough to understand everything that had happened before 2035. I just...I was surprised because it wasn’t like anything I had ever dreamed about. I mean, Dr. Park, I wanted to be a physicist, not a stupid receptionist! I thought I would marry Lee Minho and we would, like, completely takeover the world together or something.”

Dr. Park was silent for a moment, watching me as I completely broke down in front of him full of regrets for everything I had done. “Y/N,” he finally said. “Can I offer you some advice?”

“I guess,” I grumbled, ignoring the way his gaze grew sympathetic.

“The future is whatever you want to make of it,” he said. “If you want to make it a future that involves Jisung, then you need to make sure that he stays in your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know the original story,” Dr. Park continued. “But if you create a new narrative where you met Jisung even earlier and started dating him before that predetermined time...”

“Then I can fix it!” I gasped. “I can change the timeline!”

Dr. Park smiled. “Good girl! It’s all up to you now because you're responsible for the future you decide to make.”

His words were incredibly wise, and I could only hope to follow his advice and reclaim the future that I had so painstakingly changed without fully understanding the consequences.

2020

Hopefully, for the final time, I stepped outside the time machine after returning to the past where I belonged. However, this time I was determined not to interfere anymore, deciding that Dr. Park was right when he explained the fine semantics. After all, the future was whatever I wanted it to be, and I already knew that I was more determined than ever to succeed.

“I’m back!” I exclaimed, looking around the mostly vacant basement. I checked my phone with a gasp because school started in less than an hour. I would need to find Jisung as soon as possible because I had an idea of how I could fix everything that I had broken.

I quickly dialed a familiar number, holding it up to my ear as a tired voice answered from the other end. “Hello, Uber?”

Ten minutes later, I saw a car pull up to the sidewalk next to Dr. Park’s house. “Y/N?” the driver asked, looking at my from behind a dark pair of sunglasses.

“Park View High School,” I said, joining him in the backseat before the driver took off while I searched my pockets for any spare change.

I managed to make it to school on time, just five minutes before the first bell. Still, I knew the chances of finding Jisung before class were slim, so I needed to be patient. “Here,” I said, shoving the cash at the disgruntled Uber driver.

“Gee, thanks,” he grumbled because he was probably dissatisfied with the fact that I didn’t tip properly.

In any case, my perfect opportunity finally arose during lunch when I found Jisung lingering in the hallways as he exchanged textbooks. I took a deep breath to steel my nerves as I hesitantly walked in his direction. “Jisung,” I said, cautiously approaching him at his locker. “Can I ask you something?”

He wore his signature jeans with a loose t-shirt that was way too big for his narrow form. I frowned because my taste in men had apparently evolved at some point in the future. Of course, as I considered him more closely, I realized that there was also a charming aspect to his boyish features.

In the meantime, Jisung had froze in place, eyes wide as he turned around to face me. “Y-Y/N?”

I offered him a smile. “There’s a dance on Friday,” I started, searching his gaze imploringly. “Would you like to go with me?”

His eyes widened, breath hitching as he looked at me. “You want to go with me?”

I nodded. “I think it might be nice to go together. You can even come over this afternoon and we can make our plans!”

“Really?” he asked, appearing doubtful despite the way I had suddenly leaned in closer.

“Please?”

He finally nodded his head and I released a sigh of relief because my plan was starting to formulate right before my very eyes.

Later that afternoon, I opened the front door to my house to find Jisung ten minutes early wearing a much nicer pair of clothes. “Hi,” he said, nervously shuffling in place.

“You made it,” I grinned, reaching out for his hand to pull him inside. “We can go to my room.”

Jisung nodded. “Is this still okay?”

“Of course,” I said, grabbing onto his jacket sleeve to guide him up the staircase. “What do you want to do?”

Jisung didn’t respond, gazing around my room with a look of astonishment written across his expression. “Huh?”

“We can watch a movie,” I said, patting the space on my bed while turning on my laptop.

“Okay,” Jisung agreed, settling down next to me while finding it very difficult to tear his gaze away from me while I pulled up my Netflix account.

“Did you need something?” I teased, enjoying the way he blushed as a result.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, scrunching his nose when he noticed what movie I had picked. “Romance?”

“My favorite genre,” I said, leaning back to tilt the screen in our direction. “I think it’s good.”

Jisung still seemed reluctant, and I found it amusing that he was so willing to accept this unfortunate decision. Nevertheless, I relaxed next to him on the bed, watching the characters on-screen with far less attentiveness than I usually allowed for movie viewings. Because my eyes kept wandering over to Jisung, watching as his expression transformed from disgruntled acceptance to active fascination as he started reacting to the action on-screen.

Still, it only made it that more interesting to watch him blush during the more scandalous scenes, shifting uncomfortably from next to me. “What’s wrong?” I asked, enjoying the way he jumped in reaction.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head aggressively in response.

“Are you sure?” I asked before turning around to properly face him.

Jisung paused and I decided to make the first move, leaning in closer to where I could smell his cologne on the collar of his jacket. “Y/N?” he questioned, but I pressed my lips to his before he could protest any further. And it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate the kiss with a feverish desire that made me realize that I had been overlooking Han Jisung for far too long.

It was almost midnight when I let myself into Dr. Park’s house. Despite the consequences of time travel, there was something inside of me that wouldn’t quite settle unless I determined whether or not I fixed my future relationship with Jisung. I knew the risks, but I needed reassurance that everything would happen the way it was supposed to before I had mistakenly intervened.

I jerked off the sheet hanging over the machine, wiping my hands on my jeans when the sudden flickering of the light overhead forced me to spin around. “I see that you fixed the machine,” Dr. Park said, watching me carefully from over his coffee cup.

“Oh, right,” I started awkwardly. “I guess I did.”

“Well,” he sighed. “Were there any visits involved with your tinkering?”

I knew that I couldn’t lie to Dr. Park, so I explained everything to him, including the advice from his future self and the revelation of the destruction of the time machine. “That’s really all that happened,” I assured him at the end.

“Then why are you going back?”

“Ah,” I pursed my lips. “I think it might be necessary to ensure that everything works out...”

“So you learned nothing from your mistakes?” Dr. Park said. “If you did, then you’ll help me destroy this thing instead of using it again.”

“But...Dr. Park!”

“We should believe me!” he protested. “I’m the smartest person that I know!”

“You don’t even know your future self, yet!”

“Yes, but you’ve met him and he sounds perfectly reasonable.”

“I need to make sure!” I insisted. “I promise, Dr. Park, this will really be the last time.”

He looked perfectly ready to protest, but he continued to study me with that close scrutiny that I had started to associate with him when he was discovering something particularly interesting. “I guess this means a lot to you,” he eventually conceded. “Despite all logic, I suppose that one more time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Really?” I grinned, glancing at the time machine from the corner of my eye. “Do you mean that?”

“But no more interference after this,” he grumbled. “You’ll get your answers and we’re leaving as soon as possible.”

“I agree with you,” I said. “100 %.”

“Well, I suppose it’s also a good time to try out my newest invention,” he said, holding up something that resembled a walkie-talkie. “It’s a tracking device. All it needs is a sample of DNA and it can help you locate your future self.”

“That’s awesome,” I gasped, clutching tightly to the device while Dr. Park started to prepare the machine.

“Are you ready?”

I nodded enthusiastically, waiting next to the machine while he loaded another gold bar inside the fuel tank. “Let’s do this right,” he said. “The way I intended: observation and nothing more.”

“Okay,” I agreed, closing my eyes when the door was firmly shut and the machine started to rotate rapidly as the very space-time continuum was warped to accommodate our travels to the future.

2035

“This is very dangerous,” Dr. Park remarked when the machine was silent once more and a very different version of his basement greeted our arrival. “Hopefully, we won’t run into my future self.”

“Maybe you could stay behind with the machine?” I suggested. “I’ll find myself and make sure everything is back to normal.”

“Fine, but please hurry,” he said, desperately looking around the silent basement like he expected an explosion at any moment. “I might also gamble a chance to look outside, but it’s only for scientific purposes!”

I rolled my eyes at his comment while I lowered the brim of my hat and left the house through the side door leading into the backyard. It was incredibly sunny outside, and I watched several flying cars soar past overhead before I was running along the hedges supporting the fence marking Dr. Park’s property. I pulled the tracking device from my back pocket, watching the screen load before rushing off in the direction of the bustling city scape.

It didn’t take long for the tracking device to lead me into a mostly-deserted park. There weren’t many people around, and I took a deep breath, following the increasing sounds of the beeping before pausing at the edge of a pond. Because sitting on one of the benches next to the water was a very familiar face.

“Y/N,” I said, but she didn’t look surprised to see me.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Y/N said, smiling brightly while she patted the bench next to her.

You have?” I immediately questioned.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ve been expecting this moment.”

I tentatively sat down next to Y/N, shaking my head to try and clear the confusion. “But? How is that possible?”

“I’m you after the new timeline we created,” she explained. “I know everything that happened.”

“Ah,” I nodded. “Well, then I guess you know what I did.”

“I do,” she confirmed. “I can also tell you that our curiosity only gets worse instead of better.”

“Isn’t that what got us into trouble in the first place?”

“Yes, but we learn to make the best of it,” she replied. “Now, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

“I don’t think we have enough time to answer them all,” I joked. “Of course, there’s only one thing I’m really concerned about.”

“Our marriage to Jisung?”

I swallowed hard. “Well?”

“I won’t keep you in suspense,” she said. “We married him, and we’re very happy together.”

I sighed in relief. “I thought I ruined everything.”

“We came close,” Y/N admitted. “But I think that some things are destined to happen.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? After all, you should already know this, but isn’t Jisung great?” Y/N grinned. “Where did you come from in the past? I’m assuming that we’ve already met him for you to be at this point?”

“He’s still the hall monitor,” I said, wincing when Y/N squealed like it was the greatest thing she had ever heard.

“Wasn’t he so handsome?” Y/N asked.

“The best,” I offered, watching Y/N swoon like she had married a celebrity or something. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Y/N smiled.

“Why did we marry Han Jisung? No offense, but he wasn’t exactly...normal?”

“Yeah? But what qualifies as normal?” Y/N asked. “I think a young girl who spends way too much time with Dr. Park trying to invent a time machine isn’t exactly normal either.”

“That’s...surprisingly a good point,” I conceded.

“Actually, I think I should tell you about him,” Y/N continued. “Han Jisung is the type of person who looks after other people before himself. He’s the thoughtful kind of person who once spent an entire paycheck just to buy me a new jacket after I accidentally left mine behind at the theater.”

“All of that happened?”

“He cares a lot about us,” Y/N said. “Jisung had a crush on us for a long time.”

“On us?” I repeated, eyes widening in disbelif.

"You might naive now, but I think you’ll find out for yourself just how wonderful he really is.”

“But...that still doesn’t explain why we never amounted to anything? I mean, a receptionist wasn’t high on my list of accomplishments.”

“That list was superficial. Our life with Jisung is anything but ordinary. I think you’ll come to realize that sometimes we never understand what we truly want until it actually happens.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I shrugged.

“By the way, the receptionist gig is only temporary,” Y/N smiled. “We’re waiting for a grant to start our research into Quantum Mechanics at the University.”

“No way!” I gasped. “If I had known-”

“Exactly,” Y/N interrupted. “We aren’t supposed to know because it takes the excitement out of life. Isn't it more interesting to think that the future is a blank canvas?”

“Okay, I get it,” I said. “But the temptation was hard to resist.”

“I understand,” Y/N nodded. “However, I’ll also be the first to tell you that even now your future could change. Because nothing is ever set in stone.”

“That’s something like what Dr. Park said,” I remarked, sharing an easy smile with the older and wiser version of myself.

“In any case, being a wife and a mother is my greatest adventure. Trust me, Y/N, our future is nothing short of extraordinary.”

I knew she was right, and I took her hand with a firm squeeze. “I’ll always remember that.”

“Good,” she smiled. “Because I don’t want you to mess this up, okay?”

I laughed. “I think I can manage to create a good future for us.”

“But you might want to hurry up before Dr. Park decides to leave you here.”

I took one more look around the park, admiring the gentle elegance of the calming water. For the first time ever, I was nothing short of ecstatic when I thought about living every second to its fullest. Because life was far too short to worry about what could’ve been when I had the rare opportunity to understand what my life will become.

2020

Upon my return to the present, Dr. Park decided to dismantle the time machine. “It seems necessary to avoid any further mistakes,” he nodded.

“But...what will you do now, sir?”

“Anything’s possible, Y/N,” he said. “We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

“Maybe you should think about cars,” I suggested, offering him a sly smile to which he rolled his eyes.

“What did you see?”

“My lips are sealed,” I chirped, ignoring the way he continued to call my name while I ran upstairs in a rush to finally arrive at school on time without the assistance of an Uber. Graciously, traffic wasn’t as chaotic, so I was able to waltz through most of the crosswalks with little difficulty, waving at the cars passing alongside the road. My adrenaline was pumping, and I had never been so enthused to see the familiar outline of my school building in the distance.

Fittingly, I was actually unable to report to my class on time, but I couldn’t be more satisfied to meet a familiar hall monitor stationed near my classroom. “Y/N!” Jisung exclaimed, eyes widening as he checked behind him. “You can go inside before Miss Adams arrives.”

“Thanks,” I said, but I still paused in front of him. “I want to talk to you about the dance.”

“You don’t want to go with me anymore,” Jisung frowned and I quickly shook my head.

“Why would you say that? I can’t wait for the dance.” 

“Really?”

I smiled at Jisung who was blushing furiously. “I’m looking forward to our date,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Jisung.”

“Y-Y/N,” Jisung stuttered. “What are you doing?”

“I just want you to know that I think you’re pretty great,” I said, enjoying the flabbergasted expression on his face as I walked inside my first-period classroom, satisfied that my future was truly secured.