look me dead in the eyes and tell me Yancy wouldn’t take one look at Eric Derekson and immediately adopt him as his little brother.
tell me Yancy wouldn’t offer to straight-up kill his dad for him. he could do it and he would. Eric just needs to say the word, and he’d do it.
Eric would never, of course, because his dad is the only family he has left. but anytime Yancy sees Eric flinch, anytime he hears the way his dad raises his voice at him, anytime he even gets a look at that smug asshole, he sees red. and he remembers his carefully thought-out murder plan that he absolutely will not carry out. he won’t. he won’t do that to his little brother. but he keeps it in the back of his mind. just in case.
201 notes
·
View notes
I DON’T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. I JUST WANTED TO JOT DOWN A QUICK IDEA. BUT HALF AN HOUR LATER, HERE WE ARE.
Yancy isn’t expecting a visitor. Especially not somebody who claims to be a distant relative.
But how could you not have marked your calendar?
Tags: Yancy x Y/N. Words: 816. Warnings: Silliness. Hotel: Trivago.
* * * * *
Yancy was startled by the sound of keys jangling at his cell door. He looked up. Gerald, the kindest and most gullible guard (who, to everyone’s confusion, somehow hadn’t lost his job in the 5 years he’d been here) was standing at his cell.
“Hey, buddy,” said Gerald with a note of excitement in his voice.
“Uh... hey?” Yancy squinted.
“Yancy, I got just the bestest news for ya.” Gerald was practically wriggling.
“They servin’ lasagna for lunch again?” That lasagna was good, and rarely offered.
“Ohhh no, even better! There’s someone here to see you!”
Gerald paused, an open-mouthed smile on his face, waiting for a reaction. Yancy just blinked. The words weren’t registering. “Didja find another pet snail? Youse said you was gonna name him Stanley Three, right?”
“Oh, I wish, but this is even better!” Gerald was doing jazz hands now. The man was truly insufferable sometimes. “It’s Visitation Day! You have a visitor!”
Yancy blinked again. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. He certainly tried not to expect it. It’s not like he was keeping track of the calendar or nothin’. But also... “And who, might I ask, is this so-called ‘visitor’?”
“Well, I didn’t quite catch their name, but they say they’re your long-lost aunt and/or uncle. Ooh, isn’t that just so excitin’? Reconnecting with old relatives you didn’t even know you had? Oh, I could just about burst with happiness for ya!”
Yancy’s breath caught in his throat. He definitely didn’t have no aunts nor no uncles who would’ve cared to see him. Not with his history. But that could only mean one thing. “They... they came back...”
“They sure did, buddy, they sure did!” Gerald bounced on the tips of his toes as he unlocked the cell door. “Now get out there and give ‘em a big ol’ hug for me! I was just about ready to hug ‘em myself, what with their mention of traveling so far to see you and all... but, you know, didn’t want to cross any lines, hugging strangers can be rude...”
Yancy barely registered Gerald’s prattling as he guided him to the visitation center. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up. He still didn’t. What if it was just one of them crazy types? Some batty old person who thought they’d traced their biological lineage or something? He tried to will himself not to think of that handsome, beautiful face that had captured his tough, manly heart. No, he wasn’t going to believe nothin’ til he saw it with his own eyes.
“There they are,” Gerald whispered, and pointed across the room. “Go say hi! I’ll leave to give y’all some privacy. Oh, where are my tissues? I’m just about to cry...”
Yancy stared where Gerald had pointed. And stared. And stared.
Sitting at the table in the farthest corner was someone wearing the most ridiculous hat he had ever seen. The brim was so wide he couldn’t make out most of their face, except for a prominent mustache. They were draped in what appeared to be luxurious furs. They tilted up their hat slightly in Yancy’s direction and gestured him over. Was this some kind of sick joke?
Finding himself, he walked to the table and sat. He peered closely at the face underneath the hat. There was a mischievous glint in their eyes.
“Uh... hey?” he said for the second time that day.
The mystery person glanced around them a few times before quickly tugging the brim of their hat down so only Yancy could see their face. Then they reached up and oh gravy that mustache just peeled right off, and... oh.
Oh.
“It’s me.”
“It’s... it’s youse. It’s really youse.”
You grinned so widely, you felt like the joy welling up in you would just about split your face apart.
“I didn’t... I wasn’ sure if... I mean, is’ not like...” Yancy fumbled, a blush creeping up his cheeks, until he finally found his voice. “That hat is stupid.”
You laughed. “Yeah. It’s really stupid.”
A snicker emerged from Yancy’s throat before bubbling into a laugh. It was infectious. The two of you laughed helplessly over the ridiculousness of the entire get-up. “And what-- what is that?” Yancy managed to sputter out, pointing vaguely at your gaudy faux fur coat.
“Don’t you know a long-lost aunt and/or uncle needs to show up in style?” you said theatrically, one hand to your chest, before dissolving into more giggles.
After a minute, Yancy got quiet. Then, “Youse really came back.”
“Of course I did.” You smiled.
Of course they did, he thought, unsure what to make of the fuzzy feeling in his chest. ‘Of course’ they did?? Of... course? ???
“Well,” Yancy said, that blush returning to his cheeks, “Next time wear somethin’ a little less tacky, y’hear? Don’ need my friends pickin’ on me about some weird relative.”
You smiled at the implication that he expected to see you again. “Of course.”
There it was again. Of course. He could hardly believe it. But there it was.
Of course.
91 notes
·
View notes
some more Yangst (Yancy Angst):
What if Yancy lost his parents to a tragedy that was indirectly his fault? Maybe he’d taken up smoking out of rebellion, and a carelessly tossed butt or stray spark landed somewhere and caught fire. Or maybe they were having an argument while his dad was driving, and in a moment of angry distraction they plowed into oncoming traffic. Or they drowned. Or he was careless with a gun.
Somehow, they died, and he made it out alive, only to be incriminated as the perpetrator of their deaths. Parricide. Life sentence.
And why would he plead innocent? It was his fault. Of course it was his fault. He shouldn’t have-- and he was angry at the time-- if only he hadn’t been-- if only. If only. And all the evidence was pointing to it, and everyone else believed it, so why wouldn’t he?
He put on the tough guy act in prison. This is his sentence, right? He might as well make it work for him.
He still blames himself. He still hurts.
He still misses them so, so much.
64 notes
·
View notes
my brain is spitting out ideas for this father/son AU faster than i can write them down and it’s times like this that my ADHD is both a blessing and a curse
a blessing because I have ACTUAL PLOT IDEAS that I could Actually make into something
a curse because I desperately need to attend to my real-life duties and this is an enormous distraction
I’m hoping that by dumping everything into a document now before returning to the real world, I’ll have enough to actually build something when I come back to it later, even if I’ve lost momentum
fingers crossed because I really wanna write this, y’all. this never happens.
31 notes
·
View notes