#I haven’t complained since it’s stable

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter two

⭐︎ can you see right through me?

Warnings: angst, misunderstandings, post apocalypse, gore, mentions of death, grumpy!steve, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5k+

Summary: You didn’t think that trying to get close to Steve would end up hurting your feelings — but you also didn’t expect to get a glimpse of who he once was, before the darkness of this world dimmed the light in his eyes.

Authors note: Buckle up for the next chapter y’all, it’s gonna be something. always a shoutout to @hellfire--cult who always takes her time to edit and write with me 🩷

⭐︎ series masterlist

⭐︎ prologue ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

On the first day of your official stay in Hawkins, Nancy took you to the greenhouse, you spent all day gardening, taking care of the crops, watering vegetables and fruit, picking the ripe ones and planting new seeds – it amazed you how well everything was growing, you didn’t think that it would be possible after seeing the effects this world had on nature but you suppose that miracles exist after all. 

By the end of the day, your knees hurt, your hands felt sore and there was too much soil and dirt under your fingernails, not that you would ever complain, you haven’t felt as much happiness as you did when Steve told you that you were allowed to stay since… well, since your college acceptance letter and that is too long ago. 

On your second you cooked french toast with leftover bread that Nancy had made the day before, using fresh eggs – you were surprised when you found out about the little stable with chickens behind the garden, you thought most animals had died. You made ratatouille for dinner, using the freshly picked vegetables from the greenhouse. Nancy and Eddie had complimented your cooking skills, though the reaction you were mostly looking forward to was Steve’s, he only hummed in approval and he got a second plate, you took that as a good sign. 

Today, you haven’t been assigned to any tasks yet and you don’t exactly know what to do when you walk down the stairs to find the house empty, well, mostly empty. There are no signs of Eddie and Nancy, you don’t hear him humming, you don’t hear her walking around in the kitchen or somewhere else, the only one around is Steve. He is in the living room, standing in front of the window, holding a cup in one hand while the other is propped against his hip. 

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, it must be his third cup, he already had one before breakfast, another during it. You wonder if he is just addicted to the bitterness of it – it certainly matches his attitude. Or if he is just tired and in need of something to keep him awake, you have a feeling that he doesn’t sleep much. 

“Where’s everyone?” 

Steve doesn’t even flinch, he heard you walking down the stairs, he felt your eyes on him. 

“Eddie is working on the RV,” he grumbles, still not fond of the idea of leaving, nothing will change his mind, he is just waiting for his friends to drop it. “Nancy is with him.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. You look around, still holding onto the railing of the stairs. The house is spotless, clean, not a single grain of dust lying around. Eddie is cooking dinner tonight, so there isn’t anything for you to do around here. 

Steve takes one last sip and then he puts the mug on the coffee table, not even glancing at you as he turns around and reaches for the gear he had left by the doorway. He puts the gun into his holster, secures the walkie into his belt and lastly he picks up his rifle before he starts making his way over to the door. 

“Wait, where are you going?” You ask, not hesitating to follow him. 

“Patrol.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at him, shaking your head, “I thought you said it’s a two man job.” 

He rolls his eyes and stops walking, turning around, he looks down at you, “Eddie and Nancy are busy–”

“I’m not,” you shrug, giving him a smug smile, knowing that he isn’t fond of your company. “I’m coming with you.”

“Can’t you find something else to do–”

“No, I cannot.” You interrupt him as you reach for the door knob and open it, “can’t let you break the rule and let you go out there by yourself, who knows what you might run into. I’m gonna keep an eye out for you, maybe you’ll get distracted with your shoelaces again!” 

Steve huffs, clenching his jaw. His eyes move up and down your body, eying your belt, the knives tucked into it, the gun in your thigh holster – he has a hard time believing that any of those things have been used by your hands, you couldn’t even kill the man that had attacked you when you had the chance to – he heard your conversation with Eddie that night, heard what happened, what almost happened to you, you could have killed that man, you should have, but you didn’t. 

People like you are not made for this world, it will get you sooner or later. 

“Like you’d be able to do anything,” he murmurs under his breath as he steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him. 

“What was that?” You turn around to face him. 

“Nothing.” 

Steve brushes past you, not glancing at you but motioning with his hand for you to follow him, “c’mon.” He makes big steps, fast ones too, forcing you to catch up with him when he is already past the gate and out on the road, walking down the empty street, he ignores the way your footsteps get louder as you hurry to get to his side. 

“Jesus, slow down, cowboy.” 

Steve scrunches his nose up, furrowing his eyebrows at the nickname you have just called him by. 

“Cowboy?” He scoffs as he turns to look at you to see you nodding already, a small but smug smile on your lips, though you look right ahead and not at him. “Why, cowboy?” 

“You’re so grumpy and brooding.”

He scoffs again, like you said something crazy, like you didn’t say the truth. 

“Who says that cowboys are grumpy and brooding?” 

You shrug, “there’s two types of cowboys, the flirty funny ones and the grumpy, brooding ones!”

Steve looks away from you, shaking his head a little. He can’t fight you, knowing you’re right about one thing, he is grumpy. He no longer is the guy he was before all of this, this world that has changed him, and not for the better. He was forced to kill the boy in him when he realized how much he was hurting someone he once loved dearly, he became better, he became a good guy but that guy got his heart broken – that was for the better, as much as it hurt at that time, it was for the better. He became better, he stopped caring about what other people thought of him, he found new friends, he found a best friend, his soulmate. 

Robin.

Robin made his world a better place, she fixed his broken heart, she taught him what it was like to have a real friend, an actual best friend. She taught him that love didn’t always have to be romantic, that it could be platonic and that this love could be just as strong as any other. 

They had so many plans for the future: leave Hawkins, live in a big city, get a place, figure out a future together. 

But then this happened, the world got uglier than before, evil. Their plans got crushed and they were ripped apart. She changed and he did too, and now he can’t be with her whenever he wants, too many things are in the way. 

This world had forced him to kill the person he was before all this, he was forced to kill himself a second time. 

Steve looks back at you, you don’t seem fazed by this world at all. You’ve been attacked not too long ago and not even that has fazed you, he doesn’t know you, doesn’t know half of your story and all the things you have been through since the day the world had gone to shit but from what he heard, you have seen – encountered some ugly things out there and yet there is something about you, something pure, something… good, something he didn’t think was still out there but he can see it. 

He can see it in your eyes, no ounce of hatred resides in them, only goodness, hope that should not even be a thing in this world. You are the complete opposite of him, you are bright, so bright that it almost blinds him, you are all smiles and giggles – and you are so goddamn talkative. 

Thirty minutes into patrolling and he fears his ear might fall off from listening to you jumping from one topic to another. So far you have talked about all your favorite movies, bands and books, told him of a specific cowboy character that he reminds you of before saying how much he looks like Patrick Swayze or well, how much his hair looks like Patrick Swayze’s. 

You are chattering away, not minding the huffs and sighs that keep falling from his mouth, a signal for you to just shut up. He begins to regret his decision to let you stay. 

“I think I made a grave mistake.” He murmurs as he looks around the empty neighbourhood, looking out for any signs of monsters or sick ones. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you ever shut up?” 

To his surprise, you do shut up and for a moment the only thing heard are yours and his footsteps and the leaves rustling from the wind. With a heavy sigh, he turns to look at you. You are pressing your lips together, looking down at the asphalt. He turns away again in satisfaction, enjoying the silence… the silence that doesn’t last long. 

“You called the monster demobat before, what does that mean?”

He restrains his eye roll, tries not to clench his jaw. 

“Uh…” He pauses, he keeps forgetting that the world doesn’t call the monsters by the names the teens have given them. “Eddie is a fan of a game and he used a name from there to name them…” He cringes at himself. 

“Oh!” You say in that voice, the one that pisses him off, the cheerful one. “What game?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.” He replies, hoping that answer is satisfying enough and you finally give him some peace. 

“Do you play?” 

Steve sighs, tightening his hold on the rifle in his hands. It was a mistake to let you come with him, he hates talking, hates answering questions, hates company. 

“No.”

You furrow your eyebrows, tilting your head at him. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the patience to learn all of that,” he shrugs. 

“Why?” 

Steve takes a deep breath, he is getting irritated by all your questions but he still turns to you, scrunching his face up as he shrugs again, “I-I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a nerd like him?”

You raise your eyebrows, lips parting, your head is still tilted – you look like a fucking curious puppy, he has to look away. He almost sighs in relief when he sees the house at the end of the road. 

“It’s a nerd game?”

He huffs loudly, glaring at nothing in particular, “seriously, can you keep quiet for more than two seconds!?” He snaps at you, forcing you to be quiet… for a moment. 

He counts the seconds, one… two… You are quiet, it’s almost nice to enjoy the silence again, almost. 

He hears you taking a deep breath. 

“What was your job before the world ended? Cop?” 

Three seconds. Three fucking seconds. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs under his breath and he finally stops walking, looking up at the sky, he places his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath before he turns to face you. 

You halt in your tracks and turn to face him as well, taking in the sight of his deep frown, of the irritation in his hazel eyes and the annoyance that radiates right off him. You almost get nervous, almost. 

“What the fuck,” he grumbles at you, “are you always this talkative?” He asks, stunned. He will be forced to get used to this. 

“You don’t ask me anything, so I have to make conversation,” you shrug, pulling your hands up in front of you, “I haven’t had a good talk in months, I have pent up words.” 

And you chose him out of… three people – that is… he doesn’t know what to think of this. 

“Yeah, Eddie is the best choice for this, not me.” 

The frown on your face says otherwise, your eyes move up and down before they stop at his face again, he doesn’t know what you are exactly looking at or searching for but he needs you to stop. He shifts and huffs again, tapping his fingers against the rifle that he holds on for dear life. 

“But I want to talk to you.” 

He blinks, staring at you like he didn’t understand what you just said, he tries not to look at anything but your eyes.

“Horrible decision.” 

You break eye contact, looking away to take in the view around you, you sigh at his words and shrug before you continue walking, making him follow you this time. 

“I don’t think so.” You pause and look back over your shoulder to see if he is following. “Don’t you have any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

He does. 

But he won’t ask. He can’t. He just can’t, the less he knows the better. 

He looks down awkwardly, clearing his throat, “how old are you?” 

This time you scoff and shake your head at him, “seriously?” 

“What?” He frowns, looking up to see you staring at him with a confused pout – jesus christ. 

You sigh and roll your eyes, of course he asks the most boring question. 

"Twenty-two."

His eyes widen and his lips part – this might be the first other expression you see on his face other than the constant frown. He stares like you have grown two heads. 

“You’re a fucking year older than me!?” 

Oh. 

Oh… 

You didn’t expect to be older than him either, though you aren’t as surprised as he is, he looks shocked even. He stops walking again, you do too. 

“So… what about it…?” You ask quietly, lifting your shoulders.

Steve notices the unsure look on your face, the way your eyes move back and forth between his own and the ground, the way you cross your arms over your chest, like you are suddenly insecure.

He clears his throat, straightening up as he blinks himself out of his stupor. 

“I… nothing. Nevermind.” He retorts, ready to drop that topic. 

“No, tell me.” 

For some reason, he can’t look at you when he opens his mouth again. 

“You don’t act your age.”

“Oh?” Your voice is suddenly higher than before, hopeful, “do I act older?” 

He pulls his brows together, not looking at you yet, finding the ground beneath him very interesting all the sudden. 

“...Sure.” 

You don’t reply this time, don’t say anything to it, don’t ask any more questions, you simply turn around after a beat of silence, you start walking again, giving him your back. 

He counts the seconds, one… two… three. You give him the silence that he wanted this whole time. You don’t look at him either. He got what he wanted but when the awkwardness fills the space between you both, he suddenly feels a sliver of guilt rising up in him, he knows he must’ve hit a sore spot and he can’t help but kick himself for it. 

A part of him wants to apologize, the other wants him to stay quiet – the stronger side wins though. 

“I uh–”

Though you don’t give him the chance to keep going, you pick up your pace when you see Nancy on the porch, walking away from him quickly, not wanting to spend another second beside him. 

He watches you basically flee from him, it makes him sigh and it makes him halt in his tracks. Frustration bubbling up inside of him, a voice in his head calling him ‘dumbass’. He sighs softly, brings his hand up to his head, he runs his fingers through it nervously. 

He hit a sore spot, one that made you stop talking to him, one that prevented him from finding out more about you. 

It’s for the better. 

Yeah, he knows it’s for the better. 

-

Eddie cooked dinner and Nancy set the table tonight, neither of them noticed the lack of attention you were giving to the man sitting across from you or how he kept looking at you, not with hatred or anger in his eyes but with guilt. 

He hates that feeling, he hates feeling guilt or regret towards someone he barely knows, towards someone he does not want to let in. He knows that he hurt you with what he said, with how he reacted, he didn’t mean to, he couldn’t have known either – he didn’t react badly, he thought, and yet it shut you up and it made you stop looking at him. 

It’s for the better. He kept telling that to himself, kept repeating it in his head, over and over again until he could no longer stand these words. 

He notices that your plate is still filled with food, you only ate half of it. The whole time you sat there and pushed around the vegetables on your plate, you looked a little lost, your eyes were troubled, you looked far gone, like you weren’t at the table. Nancy and Eddie didn’t notice as they were busy talking about some news Dustin had shared from the radio station earlier. 

“You’re gonna like Dustin,” Eddie says, nudging your shoulder. 

Steve watches the way you blink, the way you plaster a smile on your face before you look at Eddie. 

Nancy hums, nodding, “yeah, he was always my favorite out of my brother’s friends.” 

You squint your eyes, like you are trying to remember something, “your brother is… Mike, right?” 

“Yeah, hold on!” She gets up all the sudden, walking away from the table and out of the room, she comes back a moment later with a book in her hand – a photo album. She sits back down beside you and pushes away her empty plate before she slams the album on the table and opens it, flipping the pages, she furrows her eyebrows as she looks for a certain picture, “wait… there it is!” 

She points at the picture of a group of four boys, dressed in Ghostbusters costumes. A smile instantly appears on your face and your eyes light up, “aw! They’re little Ghostbusters!” 

Eddie chuckles at the picture, even Steve smiles but you don’t notice. 

“That’s Mike,” she points at her brother, before she moves her finger to the boys next to him, “that’s Will and Lucas, and lastly that is Dustin!” She points at the curly haired boy. 

“Adorable,” you smile, thinking of your own brother. “My brother loves Ghostbusters too, although he’s way older than they are.” You chuckle. 

Steve’s eyes are back on you, he didn’t know you had a brother… but then again, he doesn’t know anything about you. It’s for the better. 

“Well, that was a few years back, they’re not the tiny humans they used to be,” Nancy laughs sadly. She flips to the next page, “that’s them now – or well, that was them before the world went to shit, I’m sure Mike is even taller now and his hair is longer too.”

The picture shows them at a skatepark, Dustin is grinning into the camera, Mike’s arms are crossed, a grumpy look resting on his face, Will is smiling, Lucas is looking down at the girl leaning into his side. 

“That’s Max,” Eddie points at the redhead, “she’s kinda scary.” 

You giggle at the serious tone in his voice. 

“I have to agree with that.” Steve snorts, earning a short glance from you. He pulls his sleeves up and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Your eyes lock with his for a moment, though you quickly look back down.

There is another picture of Mike and Dustin, both of them wearing the same shirt – The Hellfire Club. 

“What’s that?” You point at their matching shirts to which Eddie straightens up in his seat, already grinning. 

Nancy and Steve groan at him, causing you to frown. 

“I’m glad you asked, sweetheart.” He pauses, looking at Steve smugly. 

“That was his nerdy game club that I told you about before,” he rolls his eyes. 

“You didn’t tell me he had a club!” 

“Shame on you, Harrington. It was the best thing to ever exist beside Corroded Coffin, of course.” 

You know all about Eddie’s band already, he told you about it on your first night here, and showed you pictures of his sweetheart. 

“I beg to differ–”

Nancy sighs loudly beside you, leaning back in her chair as she prepares herself for their banter. 

“Dustin, my buddy, was very passionate about the club.” Eddie grins. 

“Oh yeah, that little nerd you stole from me?” Steve retorts, squinting his eyes at the metalhead. 

“I didn’t steal him, I’m just cooler than you, Harrington–”

“You– You literally play a boardgame, how is that cool? I was prom king!” 

“Oh my god,” Nancy mumbles, shaking her head. 

Her reaction tells you that she is used to this, and sick of it. 

You though, you can’t help but be amused, looking back and forth between them. 

“Cry me a river, Henderson thinks I’m better, in fact, all teens do.” Eddie shrugs and reaches for his beer. 

“Except Lucas,” Steve smirks. 

Eddie nearly chokes on his beer when he straightens up in his seat, “I apologized!” 

Steve shrugs at him this time, taking a sip of the whiskey he poured himself earlier. 

“What about you, sweets?” Eddie asks, turning to look at you, “what did you do in high school?”

Nancy turns to you, as well as Steve – and suddenly all eyes are on you and you can’t help but feel a little flustered beneath their gazes. 

“I uh… I was prom queen…” You admit shyly, not looking at the hazel eyes that stare at you intensely.

Eddie’s eyes widen, “oh, we have royalty up in here, Wheeler.” 

Nancy giggles at his reaction, more so at the look on your face. She’s not surprised, you’re beautiful and sweet. 

“You were prom queen?” 

Out of the three people around you, you least expected him to ask you anything, but just like before, the tone in his voice, his reaction leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You slowly look up at him. 

“You sound surprised and I’m kinda offended. Am I that ugly?” you joke but he notices how your shoulders fall a little. 

His cheeks heat up and he wants nothing more than to roll his eyes at Nancy’s and Eddie’s judging faces towards him. He shakes his head at you, “I– no, I didn’t mean that… I mean it’s not all about looks anyways.” 

You purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows at his words, taking a deep breath, “...so I am ugly?”

Nancy huffs beside you, glaring daggers into Steve. 

“I didn’t say that, I’m just saying that apart from looks… people vote for nice people,” he mumbles, shifting in his seat and under your gaze. 

Nancy is back to pinching the bridge of her nose, begging him with her eyes to just shut up. 

If only you looked to your right, you would have seen the stunned and comical look on Eddie’s face. 

“So you’re saying I’m nice?” You tilt your head at Steve, growing a little satisfied with the way he is squirming around. 

He sighs, clenching his jaw and turns away from you, “I’m done with this conversation.” 

“...You were a fucking asshole in high school. You got prom king because Billy was a bigger asshole.” 

“Were?” You blurt out, making him look back at you stunned. 

Nancy hides her giggle with a cough, earning a glare from him. 

“He redeemed himself at Scoops Ahoy,” Eddie smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Scoops Ahoy?” 

Steve shakes his head at him, if looks could kill, Eddie would be lying on the floor, right now. 

“Mhmm,” Eddie nods. “He was an ice cream man, and wore a sailor outfit too.” 

“Wait, what?” You ask, stunned. You can’t even imagine that. “I refuse to picture him in a silly sailor outfit, I need proof or else I won’t believe it.” 

“Too bad. Every picture of me in that outfit is burned.” Steve declares, looking very convinced until he sees the smirk on Nancy’s face.

He clears his throat before he leans closer to the table, “Nancy Wheeler… do you have a fucking picture–”

“No, I was just smiling,” she shrugs but pulls out two pictures from the album and hands them to you, giving him a smug smile.

“No way,” you mumble as you take a good look at them. There he is, the man you thought had a serious job before all of this actually worked at an ice cream shop, wearing a sailor outfit, in the first picture he even wears a silly hat as he serves ice cream to someone not part of the picture. His hair was much shorter back then, so different from the mullet he now has. His eyes are crinkled, his smile so big and bright, his cheeks slightly pink, unlike the pale color in them now. He looked so different, he looked happy, he looked like a different person. 

You glance over at him to find him staring at you already, watching you. His hazel eyes are cold, the frown on his face so deep you are surprised there aren’t any lines on his skin yet, the light in his eyes has faded. There is nothing left of the guy he was before, at least at first glance. 

You look back down and focus on the second picture, placing it on top of the other – it turns out to be a mistake because for some reason, your eyes like what they see, a little too much. With his hands behind his back, he stands against a brick wall, wearing the same sailor outfit, though this time without the hat, his hair styled yet messy, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. You don’t know what it is about that picture, perhaps it’s his broad shoulders, the blonde highlights in his hair, the tanned skin or the way the golden light shines on him but he looks handsome – it’s something you haven’t noticed before, you aren’t blind, he is a good looking man but you couldn’t really see it before, not this clearly at least. His rude and mean attitude made it impossible to see, you couldn’t look past it. 

Your cheeks heat up a little, your ears do too, you sink deeper into your seat, hoping that none of them notice how flustered you feel. 

But Eddie does, he notices the way your eyes are basically glued to that picture, Nancy notices as well – they both glance at each other, amused. And Steve, he notices too, of course he does… The Steve from back then would have loved it, the flustered look on your face. 

As you hold the picture, you notice that the sides are frazzled, like a part is missing, like something or someone was cut out of both pictures. You look over them, taking a look at all the pictures lying around, of the teenagers, of other people you haven’t anything about yet, of Nancy’s family, of Eddie and Dustin and it only now dawns on you, that you stepped into something, that these people haven’t found each other in this world but in the one before – a tight circle, a family. 

A family you don’t belong in, you intruded – and now even more than before, you understand why Steve didn’t want you here, it wasn’t only about him not trusting you, it was about you stepping into something he didn’t want you to be a part of. 

This is his place of comfort that he didn’t want to share with a stranger. 

You hand the picture back to Nancy and reach for the wine Eddie had poured for you earlier, you take a big sip. 

Maybe you should have left when he told you to, maybe you should have done him a favor, you shouldn’t have broken into someone else’s home. 

“Is your brother older or younger?”

It wasn’t Nancy’s voice, nor was it Eddie’s.

It’s Steve’s. 

Not only do you look at him in surprise but also Nancy and Eddie. He ignores them though, keeping his eyes on you. 

You blink, putting the wine glass back down, you lick your lips. 

“Uh… he is older, he’s twenty four.” 

“Is he with your parents?” Nancy asks. 

You nod. 

“Yeah, he was home from college when it all… started. That idiot broke his leg during lacrosse, I don’t know why he kept trying with it, he was never the most athletic,” you chuckle. 

“Yeah, me neither. I always hated anything sport related,” Eddie says with wide eyes, earning a snort from Steve. 

“You’d get along well, he’s a major nerd.”

“Are you calling me a nerd, sweetheart?” Eddie pretends to be offended. 

“Uh,” you look him up and down, “yeah, major nerd just like my brother.”  

He nudges your side with his elbow, chuckling at the look on your face. 

Steve hides the smile on his face, looking down at his hands. 

“I’m hoping to get home, see a big gate surrounding my house, and I bet that asshole has a semi-automatic somewhere and is pretending to be in a zombie movie or something,” you chuckle. “He always dragged dad and me to the theater and forced us to watch the goriest shit. I used to hate it, now I want it back more than anything.” 

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, smiling at you. “Maybe you’ll do it again someday, maybe not at the theater but you could do movie nights with your family.” 

And his smile slowly fades again, he doubts that you will see your family again, he doubts that you’ll find them how you want to. He thinks it’s wrong of Eddie to fuel your hope, he is doing more damage than anything else and it’s gonna hurt even more when you find your family dead. 

There is no hope for anything or anyone in this world, it’s a foolish thing to have. 

You shrug, a smile on your face as you get up from the table to rush upstairs. Everyone just sits there wide eyed, looking at each other, hearing how there’s some stumping and then, something falling, and then you are cursing. Two seconds later you are coming back downstairs with something in your hands.

“This is my family.” You put the polaroids on the table, the ones you took back to camp so you would not miss your family so much. “That’s my mom, my dad, and the idiot of my brother.” 

They all grab a picture each. Eddie’s picture was of the four of you smiling while camping. Nancy’s was a picture of a family trip to the grand canyon, but Steve’s picture was something that made his heart shrink for some reason. The four of you were laughing, surrounding a christmas tree. You were younger, probably a teen, and it made him think of how now your personality made sense. 

You were never shown anything but love. Something he never experienced from his own family. He was slightly jealous at your picture, and he knew you were the only one between the four of you that had a normal and loving family. Nancy’s parents didn’t seem to love one another, Eddie’s father was an abusive asshole that ended up in jail and his mother passed away, and then there was Steve. Even with the apocalypse happening, his parents didn’t even care to find him. Find out if he was dead or not.

His eyes moved upwards to find you looking at him, and he wondered why you had a frown on your face. It wasn’t a second later that he felt his eyes burning and you could see the glistening of tears forming. He can’t cry. It’s stupid to cry about his family now. It’s stupid to cry about something he knew all along. It’s stupid to cry over people that he knew never cared for him.

“Your brother looks like Eddie.” Nancy suddenly speaks, making him look at her as well as you and Eddie. The metalhead tilts his head as he grabs Nancy’s picture and– 

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Sure, it was a picture of you four in the grand canyon, but it was your dad’s birthday, and your dad has a fear of pigs. Your brother had the greatest idea to put a pig's head over his head for the picture, and your dad was simply screaming bloody murder while you and your mom laughed.

“I mean, my brother doesn’t play that game you do, but he is a fan of star wars, and he read a lot of books! He liked one called The Hobbit?” Nancy and Steve groaned loudly at your words, which made you confused for just a few seconds and then you realized your mistake when Eddie was talking your ear off about why your brother was so cool, and the reason for that was because the plot for the hobbit was incredible.

And he explained it bit by bit and you didn’t know how to escape him. He was still talking about it like a kid on christmas as Nancy and Steve started washing the dishes, and you wanted to hit yourself for your big mouth. In all fairness, you didn’t know Eddie was gonna get as excited as he did.

“Anyways, what matters is, your brother is cool, so is Dustin and the other teens and Steve sucks.” At the sudden insult, Steve turns around with his hands covered in soap.

“What?” Eddie opened his mouth to probably repeat his words, only for Steve to shake his hands on his face, making the soap fly all around as well as water, and getting into Eddie’s mouth.

“GOD–” He screeched loudly as he got up from the table, rushing towards the sink to try to wash his tongue with the water while Nancy screamed at him to not waste it. Steve was smirking and all you could do was just stare at him. He was being playful. He was being more than the grumpy self he claimed to be with you. You started laughing loudly when Eddie insulted Steve with his tongue out, trying to not taste the soap anymore.

Steve shrugged as he wiped his hands away, turning to look at you doubling over in laughter and it made him feel less guilty for his actions of before. You weren’t immature. Your world was just always filled with love and affirmations, and you just wanted people to feel the same exact way you felt. It was a lost cause for him, but he felt good for making you laugh like this. It’s been a while since he made someone laugh.

It’s a good sound.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry

[mocha-writes]

Were it not for my app being outdated, I’d be booping all of you

[malachitezmeyka]

I cannot believe I’m making an OC whose appearance is based on my mom’s blorbo. How did I end up here

[lale-txt]

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 (𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝟎𝟏 ; 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭: 𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚

♫ Nilüfer Yanya - midnight sun

Love is raised by common thieves // Hiding diamonds up their sleeves // Always I did it for you // Never felt so sure // You're my best machine // You're my midnight sun // Always I did it for you

word count: 4.3k

⭅ back to m.list

“And this is the secret snack drawer of our department. Bossman refills it every Tuesday so you gotta be quick if you wanna snatch your favs before someone else does.” “Alright, thanks Bokuto-san, I’ll keep it in mind.”

When they said office tour this wasn’t exactly what you imagined, but you’re not complaining. You trail behind this giant puppy of a man who can barely contain his excitement over showing you around the building. While he gives off the impression that there’s not a single thought behind these unsettling eyes of his, you can tell that he is a sweetheart to his core and you have a good feeling about working together.

It’s been an hour since Kiyoko from HR–the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on–dropped you off in the hands of your future team and so far you’ve seen: 

The half-heartedly fixed window on the 3rd floor a certain “Tsum-Tsum” broke during last month’s office party

The girls restroom where Yachi from Marketing could be heard crying (“She schedules her crying session between meetings, it’s normal for her so don’t worry!”)

The cafeteria and which vending machines there to avoid, as well as the ones Bokuto ended up being stuck with his arm in 

The rooftop where they hold events during the warmer months (and where you accidentally locked yourself out when the door fell shut behind you–thankfully a guy built like a french door fridge who introduced himself as Meian came to your rescue after twenty minutes).

The coffee shop next door where everyone goes because the in-house coffee is ass apparently and HR cut budget for a new coffee machine 

What you haven’t seen yet:

Your future cubicle and the floor your team works on

The IT department where you’re supposed to pick up your work laptop

The showrooms of the latest collection

The Bossman 

Still, your nervousness from this morning is easing slowly. When you applied for this position, you wouldn’t have thought that they’d actually hire you considering what a mess your resume is on paper. Moved overseas with your family in middle school and continued living there till a month ago. Dropped out of college to pursue a career as seamstress (all self-taught no less because an apprenticeship meant too much commitment). Then chased that promised record label deal with your band which didn’t happen before you crashed and burned out big time. 

Frankly speaking, you were tired. 

It’s as if every decision in your life was either taken away from you or led you down a miserable path. Everything you touched just crumbled underneath your fingertips. Sometimes you catch yourself thinking that maybe you weren’t built for this kind of life. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a dreamer. 

Something boring. Something stable. 

You applied for this corporate job with the hope in your heart that you can find some rest. Putting an end to worrying about bills at the end of the month, and finally knowing which bed you’ll fall asleep in at night, seeing the same old city day in, day out. Maybe a place to call home but then again you didn’t allow yourself to wish for too much. Just a change from whatever trainwreck your life had been prior to this would be nice. 

You loved sewing and making music with your entire being, but maybe you never should’ve built a living on it–if you could even call the past few years of your adulthood that. Living. It felt more like surviving. You’ve been missing that joy over these things you used to love the most for a long time now. 

So when you got the call that you got the job last month, you didn’t have to think twice. You started packing your few belongings into boxes the same day and gave notice to quit your shabby flat. The money you once saved to go on a world tour with your band now came in handy to fund your move back to Japan. It all happened so fast. In a way it felt like an escape, like giving up; but in your heart you knew this was the right thing to do. 

Maybe you had to take your eyes off the things you loved to really see them again.

“Hello…? Yes, she’s with me. What? No, I wasn’t showing her the view from the fire escape ladder. Should I? Why am I getting yelled at?”

You snap out of your thoughts when Bokuto answers a call that obviously makes him go through all emotions in the span of a minute. He gestures something to you and you have no idea what it means, but based on context clues you assume it’s “the bossman” on the other end of the line. 

“Meeting room on cloud nine, got it. What? But ‘ninth floor' sounds so boring… yeah, yeah, I’ll bring her. No detours, got it. Not even… no? Okay.”

Bokuto hangs up the phone and you swear his hair looks a little deflated, just like his overall expression. He really was an open book. It was kind of refreshing.

“Did you get in trouble because of me?”, you ask and he shakes his head vehemently. 

“No, no! I showed you all the important stuff and Omi-Omi–I mean, the bossman–will show you the boring rest. Like where your desk is and everything. He’s back from his out-of-office appointment and booked a meeting room for you two. I’ll take you there!”

Omi. The corners of your mouth twitch a little when you hear that name, a sweet memory unraveling in your chest. Bruised knees and ice cream dripping down your knuckles, small hands pushing you on the swings and braiding flower crowns made from daisies for you. Plucked out petals. He loves me, he loves me not. Friendship bracelets and baby teeth. 

You aren’t any good with names, but you’re sure you would’ve remembered this one during the interview process. 

“This Omi-Omi…” you wonder as you follow Bokuto’s lead, “is he a new hire as well? I’ve spoken with a ton of people for my interview but if I remember correctly the team leader was someone called Miya Osamu…?”

“Ohh, you spoke with Myaa-sam!” Bokuto’s eyes seem to light up. “No, he doesn’t work here anymore, just his carbon copy! Quit the job to follow his dreams, he said. He’s about to open his own restaurant just around the corner actually! We should go there for lunch once it’s open!”

A strange emotion tugs on your heartstrings. Following your dreams. Yeah, that ended disastrous for you but still you can’t help but feel a pang of envy over everyone who does it anyway. You try to shove it deep down, far away. It’s long in the past. You’re here now, a new chapter. New faces. New routines. All new. Same old you. 

“Omi-Omi got promoted when Myaa-sam left, so that’s why you haven’t met him during your interviews,” Bokuto adds and holds out a door for you. “Don’t worry about him. He can be a bit grumpy at times but he has a sparkly heart or whatever the saying is. You’ll get along just fine!”

Bokuto leaves you alone with your thoughts in the small meeting room. You’re not sure what to do while you wait. The prospect of sitting still seems awful but you also don’t wanna be nosey and flip through the fabric samples someone left on the table or read through the flipchart in the corner, even though you’re tempted, so you end up pacing around the room and looking outside the big windows. Everything outside seems so small from up this high. It makes you feel irrelevant too and it’s a strangely comforting feeling. Being nothing but a name, a small gear in a bigger picture. Maybe if you become a blank canvas, you can find the colors in your world again. 

You twirl around when the door clicks open, flattening down your skirt, suddenly now very aware that the moving box with your flatiron is still stuck on some container at sea. Doesn’t matter, maybe you can pull it off as edgy or casual chic with the right amount of charm and charisma. 

Behind you, the door clicks open, making you twirl around. 

And freeze.

“Sorry I’m late, I picked up your work laptop from the IT department on my way, so we can get started right aw–” 

Leather sleeve holders on a spotless white shirt. A black face mask covering the lower half of his face. Dark curls, moving like the sea at night. Hands so large they’d swallow yours easily if you ever get to hold them again. Two birthmarks, right above the eye–that’s where a lover used to kiss you in a past life, you remember saying when you were both kids.

“Kiyoomi,” you hear yourself mutter. It sounds distant, like an echo from the past. It’s been over a decade since you tasted his name in your mouth and even after all this time your hearts still recognize each other. 

“Ah,” he says and then, after a pause, “you.”

He looks dumbfounded and just stands there frozen, balancing a bundle of paperworks and a laptop in one hand and two styrofoam cups of coffee in the other. For a few seconds you just blink at each other, trying to process whatever cheap trick the universe decided to play here.

Sakusa Kiyoomi. The boy you claimed you’d marry one day when you were both just eight years old. You remember being so sure about it. How the thought never left you growing up; and how you broke down crying when your parents told you about their plans to move overseas for their work during your first year of middle school, the end of a dream. 

Eventually you snap out of your paralysis. 

“Ah, you. What kind of non-reaction is that?”, you ask and shake your head, laughing. You take the coffee from his hand and reach out to slowly peel the mask off his face. Despite his brows knitting together, he doesn’t protest it. It’s strange, seeing him. The boy you once promised your heart to in the sandbox and the grown man with the same face, just sharper. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you now. 

“Well, excuse me, but the girl who I still have a bite mark from when we were kids just spawned out of the blue in front of me,” Kiyoomi huffs, rolling his eyes like he used to when he was annoyed by your antics. He cups one side of your face with his now free hand and lifts it slightly as if to get a better look at you, his thumb idly caressing your cheek. It feels awfully intimate and you find yourself leaning closer into his touch.

Omi. Your Omi. 

It’s as if time stood still between you; as if not over a decade has passed since you last saw each other. Held each other. Murmured promises in each other's ears as you hugged goodbye in the pouring rain. Of course it was pouring that day, it was as if the heavens were weeping over the two of you being separated. Maybe that's the universe's apology for this past dick move, you think, the corners of your lips curling upwards.

Kiyoomi lets go of your cheek and flicks your forehead as if he read your mind. Another habit from back then.

“Still a daydreamer,” he remarks and for the first time since he walked into the room he smiles and it’s like the sun has risen again after years of winter. 

When you sit down together, so close that your knees under the table are touching, you find it hard to focus. Kiyoomi explains the applications you’ll work with, your logins, company security policies, which meetings you’ll attend with him the upcoming weeks and the hierarchy of your team, but you don’t follow. At all. You’re too distracted by the flutter in your chest and wondering what the shaved part in the back of his neck would feel like if you ran your fingers over it, as well as what he’d been up to over the past decade, and why he never answered your letters, and… 

Your phone vibrating on the table next to you snaps you out of your thoughts. You click your tongue in annoyance when you see it’s the moving company calling you. 

“Sorry, I gotta take this. Won’t take long,” you apologize and pick up the phone, leaving the room for an ounce of privacy–it’s not like the thin walls muffle much when you yell into the speaker for five minutes only to hang up in defeat. 

Kiyoomi looks up when you return, his eyes looking you up and down with the same intense gaze like he always did.

“Boyfriend trouble?” His voice is bland, seemingly disinterested, but no matter how much he tries to hide it you can still hear the underlying weight of the question. “Or girlfriend trouble. Didn’t mean to make assumptions.” 

You slump down on your chair again and sigh in defeat, shaking your head. 

“None of that. It’s the damn moving company,” you huff, slamming your phone back on the table. “They mixed up dates and now I’m here but all my stuff isn’t.” You rub the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “It’s been almost a month and my back will kill me if I have to spend one more night on an air mattress.”

Kiyoomi drums his fingers on the table, pondering. You can tell by the furrow of his brows and the intensity of his gaze. Once again you notice what a fine man he has become. His beauty would’ve been intimidating if you haven’t known him since you were little kids. 

“Stay with me.”

You look up from your phone where you wrote down the new date they gave you for the arrival of your furniture and blink at him slowly. Not fully registering what he’s saying.

“Stay with me,” Kiyoomi repeats again, noticing your confusion. “Till your things arrive. I have a guest room. It’s a short commute to the job. I cook and I clean.” He shuts his laptop and gets up, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“And…?”, you ask, as if waiting for the condition because surely it sounds too good to be true. 

“And maybe I’m also worried that you’ll turn out to be nothing but a fever dream if I take my eyes off you again.”

In the evening, Kiyoomi and you stop by your almost empty apartment to pick up your suitcases with a change of clothes. 

Sneaking away after work together without the rest of the team noticing was surprisingly easy–Meian had clocked out early to pick up his partner from school (Kiyoomi begged him to clarify that she was a teacher to avoid any future confusion), Bokuto and Atsumu were stuck in an elevator (“They’re not my responsibility after 5pm”) and Hinata went out for dinner with some business partners from Brazil. 

When Kiyoomi saw how you were dressed for the chilly autumn weather, he wordlessly turned around and disappeared in the office building for five minutes again, showing up with a scarf that looked suspiciously like the one the mannequin in the showroom wore, from the collection that wasn’t supposed to see the light yet. Nobody has to know, especially not how tenderly he wraps it around you, making sure you stay warm. He always did. 

Some kind of protective instinct within him kicks in when you unlock the door to your place. Kiyoomi, who huffed about the lack of security of your apartment complex for the duration of the whole elevator ride and then some more when you let him in, was now checking your windows and front door. 

“You’re gonna tire yourself out from all that head shaking and tongue clicking, Omi,” you tell him while you stuff your scattered clothes across the floor back into your two big suitcases. Most of them were absolutely not fit for the season because after spending half of your life abroad. You kind of underestimated how cold Japan could get during autumn and winter. Maybe you could sew a few pieces after work and on the weekends. 

“This place is a rathole,” Kiyoomi groans after turning the dripping faucet on and off and making a face of utter disapproval. “You should just move in with me permanently.”

“I’m not moving in with you, I just met you like eight hours ago,” you snarl back and roll your eyes, but maybe, in the back of your mind, you’re considering it. 

Kiyoomi crouches down next to you, taking your chin between his fingers so you’d look at him.

“Eight hours my ass,” he huffs. “Don’t act like we spent our childhood glued together. You slept more in my bed than in yours. The memory foam of my mattress kept the shape of you long after you were gone.”

“Now that’s kinda romantic.” 

You glance at him, a small smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. Your Omi. How you missed him. His thumb traces the outline of your jaw, and for a fleeting second you wonder if he’s gonna kiss you. 

Maybe you really want him to kiss you. 

You take a cab to Kiyoomi’s apartment (“What have you packed in these suitcases? Bricks? I’m not hauling these to the other end of the city. Get in.”) and he holds your hand for the entire duration of the ride under the feeble excuse that your hands are too cold. On the outside you watch the city lights pass by, an artificial milky way that unexpectedly lead you back into your first love’s arms.

Kiyoomi’s place is clean and spacious without being cold. The scent of it is making your brain tingle in a strange way, the subtle note of an almost forgotten childhood memory resurfacing again; the boy you once loved still living here but also someone else, someone he grew into without you.

You step out of your heels and shrug off your jacket and the scarf, dropping them carelessly to the ground. Behind you Kiyoomi bends down to hang it up neatly on the coat rack while you waltz inside as if you own this place. Another thing that hasn’t changed since you both were little. 

Expensive, you think, recognizing some of the furniture brands and decorations. In one corner of the living room stands a vintage serving cart, crystal glasses and pricey bottles of various alcohols on top of it. His walls are adorned with artworks of all sizes, but otherwise they’re bare, the shelves missing trinkets and personal touches like framed photos of family and friends. 

Still, the whole place feels like a home, lived in by someone as quiet and private as Kiyoomi. 

“It’s late, I’m gonna order us some food,” Kiyoomi announces when he appears behind you, fingers tapping on his phone screen in one hand while the other unbuttons his shirt a little. He doesn’t look at you, just hands you his phone, gesturing vaguely. “Pick anything you like. My treat.”

Sitting down on the couch with your knees hugged to your chest, you scroll through the food options. Your attention span is fleeting, your eyes darting from the screen to Kiyoomi who carries your suitcases to the guest bedroom. Giving you a place to be, to stay, like it’s the most natural thing to do. Suddenly you’re very aware of the heaviness of your bones and how tired you feel.

You’ve been running for a long time. You’re home now. 

Kiyoomi returns with a towel and a change of clothes, taking the phone from you again. He frowns when he scrolls through your food picks, letting out a small sigh.

“You still have the palate of a five year old.”

“You told me to pick anything I like? Just because you were fed caviar and gold dust as a baby… You pick something then.”

“I didn’t say I won’t order it, no? Go take a bath meanwhile. You had a long day.” 

A long day. If it was only that.

But you don’t say anything, just wordlessly take the stuff from Kiyoomi’s hands and let him usher you to the bathroom. He pats the counter for you to sit on while he runs you a bath, pouring some bathing essence that causes a mild explosion of bubbles (same as you liked it back then). The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up when he checks the water temperature before turning back to you. He walks over till he’s standing between your legs, his hands coming down to rest on the sides of your thigh.

In the confined space of the bathroom, he seems even taller, wider. Nothing left from his baby cheeks and soft features. There was a time when you could see eye to eye, but now he’s towering over you with ease. Your hands find their way to his hips, subconsciously making him inch closer. 

“You don’t have to do all of that for me, you know,” you mumble as you glance up at him. 

“I want to. So please, let me,” he replies quietly. His face is so close, you could count his lashes if they weren’t endless. Endless as his adoration for you–still, after all this time. You briefly wonder if you could love each other like you did back then. Or even more. Your heart is drumming, a nostalgic melody you haven’t listened to in a while but one that’s engraved into your being.

It would be so easy, loving him. Like breathing. 

Kiyoomi pulls you into a tight hug, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Your arms around him cling tight, as if part of you is afraid that he is just a fleeting illusion, crumbling the moment you let go. It seems like you share the same fear. He shakes his head when your grip loosens slightly. 

“Not yet,” he mumbles, his lips brushing over the skin of your neck when he does. “Don’t let go yet.”

Your fingers are tangled in his curls, keeping him close, your bodies pressed against each other. Hearts beating in unison. You silently thank the sun and the moon for bringing you back home into his arms. Only when his neck starts to hurt from the way he’s hunched over you, he reluctantly peels himself away from you, patting your side. “C’mon now. Your bath will get cold.”

He holds out a hand to help you down from the counter, slender fingers wrapping around yours. 

“But I wanna keep talking to you,” you pout, earning a small eye roll from him, but the faint smile on his lips is betraying the gesture.

“Then leave the door a crack open. I’ll talk to you, doll,” he replies and flicks your forehead. Before he leaves the bathroom he turns around again, as if there was something else on the tip of his tongue, but he decides to swallow it. For now.

Immersed in the bubble bath, you tell Kiyoomi everything that happened over the span of the past decade. From your life overseas and how lonely it had been, to the missing letters and how you tried finding him on social media when you were older, how much you loved sewing and making music and how it burned you out doing these things for a living. You pour your heart out. Somehow it’s easier when you’re not looking at him, when you can’t see your own sad reflection in his dark eyes.

You can hear him moving around on the outside, not peeking, but always near enough to give you short answers, ask questions or to simply hear him laugh through the small crack you left open. It is strange. Life is strange. One night you’re selling your bass to have something to eat for the rest of the month, then a heartbeat later you’re sitting in your puppy love’s bathtub while he orders you fries and waffles. 

That night, you fall in love again.

Or maybe you never fell out of it. But it’s there, tangible, glowing. You're tucked under a thick blanket, a photo album in your lap, and Kiyoomi is hand feeding you nuggets while you look over the slightly faded photos from when you were kids, some you have long forgotten about. 

The one where you lost your first baby teeth, grinning from ear to ear to show off your tooth gap. You cried horribly that day and to comfort you, Kiyoomi bought you a small plushie from his pocket money. It still sits next to your pillow when you fall asleep every night.

The one where you wore your middle school uniforms for the first time, not knowing you would be torn apart a year later and never got to graduate together. It’s also when Kiyoomi had another growth spurt and you realized you really, really liked this boy.

The one where you played dress up in your mother’s wardrobe, her wedding dress way too big on you, the veil awry on top of your hair, but Kiyoomi looking at you like you’re magic. It was all play pretend, but maybe in another life he really became your husband if life hadn’t torn you apart.

“I really missed you,” you sigh quietly, your head resting against his shoulder as you shuffle through the photos. The nostalgia is leaving a bittersweet taste in your mouth, the what if’s getting harder to swallow. It’s like the words are clawing in your throat, begging to be let out. Kiyoomi wraps his arm closer around you, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head. 

“Missed you too. More than anything.”

It seems like everything leads you back to him. In his arms, his home, his heart. You have a feeling that maybe this could be the beginning of something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

a/n: i rewrote this chapter SO many times to a point where i wanted to rip my hair and my eyes out so here we are. omi loving demon and me are shaking hands rn, WE MADE IT. thank you so much for reading and loving omi as much as i do. this chapter is for YOU 🌷 ps: meian's partner mentioned is y/n from dodger's oh captain, my captain

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

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taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[s0fter-sin]

rewatching s1 and in ep2 w*ndigo, dean makes a joke about not bringing provisions into the woods just to pull out a bag of peanut butter m&m’s and stick with me here, it’s why the later seasons’ “goofy dean” loses me

this moment is clearly a joke but if you think about it too much, it also makes some sense; a family size bag of peanut m&m’s is calorie dense and even the high sugar is good to keep you moving which they need on an overnight hunt. it also shows how due to their upbringing, they’ve had to eat lower quality food, things they always had access to that was cheap and also in bulk

what does dean eating ghost pepper jerky then tipping water on himself exist for other than to be a cringy joke? what does smelling old chinese food, testing to see if it's still good then shaking his head with cabbage hanging out his mouth when it isn't serve? it's just to make him look stupid and contrast sam's healthy/clean diet (and superiority but that’s another conversation) which has always existed but it used to be nuanced and natural

we see dean as a child give up the food he wanted to eat so sam could eat it. (“i’m sick of spaghetti-os,” “you’re the one who wanted them,” … “i want lucky charms!” “… there’s only enough for one bowl and i haven’t had any yet!” proceeds to give them to sam, 1x18) we know he hustled and stole food to ensure sam ate. (“so, what’d he take?” “get this- peanut butter and bread.” 9x07)

we also see throughout the early seasons dean teasing sam about his salad or healthy choice while he eats some form of burger or other fast food (or notably, cheerfully eating prison food that sam won’t touch, 2x19). it's typical sibling teasing but it also shows that it isn't new for sam to eat like that and for dean to know he eats like that

sam being picky isn't just a character trait they chose for him, it's a result of how dean raised him; he raised him to like and want healthy food and be food secure enough to reject food he didn't want

but dean eats anything he is given and seeks out unhealthy - cheap, plentiful, filling - food

he is the opposite of picky to the point of it being a consistent bit; they show him multiple times eating when it's socially frowned upon to do so eg. questioning a grieving victim when they're trying to be discreet (1x14, 2x15, 2x18)

a similar moment to the chinese food is in 4x19; dean wakes up in the car while sam brushes his teeth outside and is hungry. sam says there's a sandwich in the backseat, dean smells it and recoils bc it's an old tuna sandwich. the moment is funny on its own but it also exists as a comparison of their lives to adam's; he has a loving mother, goes to school and importantly, a steady stable childhood

it’s a joke with a purpose

it also supports dean's food insecurity; he wakes up and is immediately hungry, enough to complain about it and seek out food before anything else

dean is always hungry bc he never has access to nutritionally rich foods bc he got used to using the money he earned to buy sam's more expensive food. he got used to his cheaper, denser foods and grew up with (and continues to live with) intermittent access to said foods. think of how long it takes to drive from one state to another; how many hours it can take to see another town that offers food, if you arrive at a reasonable enough time for anything to be open. also think how they can’t keep any food beyond what fits in an esky; nothing that needs defrosting, nothing can be heated up. it’s bags and jars and take out for as long as they can trust it

then they get the bunker which has its own kitchen

dean even describes himself as "nesting" when he decorates his room, something he hasn't had since he was four years old, and he uses said kitchen to cook a burger from scratch that he is proud of. he is food secure for the first time in his life and it shows in how often he cooks for both himself and sam

so these moments where they have him acting goofy regarding food are no longer character driven and only exist as a joke which is why they come across as cringy and out of character compared to similar earlier moments

a lot of my issues with dean's characterisation started when they introduced the bunker. the argument can and is made that the reason these jokes happen is bc he feels safe in the bunker, that bc he now has a home he can relax and unmask but that still doesn't feel sufficient. they crank up these sillier moments for both of them, giving them a sort of playing house comedy vibe of two roommates with completely different personalities but it doesn't feel like an authentic progression. it feels forced; an attempt at humour for humour's sake

food stopped being an informed part of their characters and their trauma and instead became flanderised; sam is the judgy vegetarian health nut and dean is his borderline slovenly carnivore counterpart

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[gyuslcve]

02:47am

genre: angst, fluff if you squint

rq: not a request (i’m just in my feels rn)

word count: 382

not proofread!

notes: first write here, hmu if u wanna be moots <3 p.s. i really need myself a wonwoo

the door clicked and you were curled up on the couch, eyelids threatening to close. rubbing your eyes, you slowly stood up and walked towards the figure at the doorway.

wonwoo gives you a tired yet genuine smile as he outstretched his arms, allowing you to launch yourself into his embrace. “missed you s’much.” you mumble as your cheek pressed against his chest. “hi, my love. have you been waiting?” wonwoo whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you hum in response, “mhm, was watching netflix anyways.” pause. “i’m sorry, love.” you swore you heard a sniffle. pulling back slightly, you reach your hands to cup the boy’s cheeks.

“hey.”

“yeah?”

“don’t be sorry.”

it’s been months since you’ve seen wonwoo because of seventeen’s world tour, and although you haven’t been showing it, wonwoo knew it was difficult for you. he noticed how the smiles you gave him during facetimes weren’t as genuine as before. he noticed how you’ve slowly started to unintentionally space out during conversations. he knew it wasn’t fair for you.

yet, you never blamed him nor complained. of course it was difficult. but you loved him. and it made it even harder than it originally was for him because there was nothing more he could ever ask for.

“i am, though.” wonwoo’s dark orbs look into yours, and tears spill. wonwoo has never been good with words, but he’s always made sure he’s given enough to you. he leans into your touch, and your heart swells with affection.

“c’mere.” you whisper, wiping his tears with your thumbs. your foreheads touch, and you feel wonwoo’s breath slowly becoming stable again. it wasn’t easy for any person to show their vulnerable side to anyone, and you make a mental note to that.

“woo? you here?”

“yeah.”

“my love,” you pull him in gently, kissing him softly on his lips. his arms are still resting comfortably on your waist, but he holds you closer. “it’s okay. and don’t be sorry.”

“i’m trying my best, i promise.”

“i know, and that’s what matters my love.”

wonwoo lets out a sigh and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. dropping a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, he murmurs,

“what did i do to deserve you, hm?”

author’s notes: hope you enjoyed my first writing here !

[callsign-songbird]

Trauma Bond Ghoap X Reader PT 3

BACK FROM THE DEAD!! If anyone is still here for this, I'm sorry it took so long to get out. But, the story has continued, and probably won't get a part 4. If it does, it won't be until after Christmas. The final word count is 3,998 words, so close to 4k! Hope this is more acceptable for those of you who wanted a better less "lazy" ending. ;w; (Insinuations of smut, but nothing too specific)

“Hey, bird. That radiator giving you any more trouble?” The chime of a bell rang out from above the door of the small coffee shop you had taken to tending to. In all honesty, it was John’s. Apparently being a landlord just wasn’t keeping him busy enough, and the only hobbies he had actually been able to stick to were working out and whittling out in the woods. You had tried making a joke once, calling him a “bushwacker” for the way he seemed to like to rough it. But you missed the way his eyes crinkled at the edges just a bit too much, a bit of brightness behind them that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Doll? You there? Has he been working you too hard?” Kyle’s gentle voice and concerned expression brought you back to the present, snapping you back to reality as your eyes focused in on his beautiful face. You weren’t supposed to feel things for clients, especially repeat customers, but Kyle… Well, things could happen behind closed doors, and you certainly wouldn’t complain. “Sorry, I just, uh… Haven’t been sleeping the best lately.” You admitted with a sigh as you turned to make his regular, shaking your head softly. The nights had been becoming colder, and with that came the chill of paranoia down your spine. It should have been a familiar feeling at this point, especially since this was coming up on your third month away from them. Your feet were under you without them, you had to remind yourself all the time. You had a good place to live, a stable job, and even a couple of friends here in town… Well… You had Kyle and John, really. But they were your friends, right? Your landlord slash boss and favorite regular?

…

You really needed to get out more…

The coffee you slid across the bartop was nearly the same burnt caramel color as Kyle’s skin, and sometimes you swear you can smell the sweet scent mixed in with his natural musk after a long day of being your small towns only repair man. You lean against the counter, elbows propped up on the polished veneer while your chin rests on your palms. “Aww, now that’s a shame, love. Been watching too many of those scary movies? You don’t have to watch them just because it’s that season, doll.” He picks up the large ceramic mug with one hand, though, it may as well have been a teacup compared to his giant mitts. He takes a sip of the still steaming drink, taking an exaggerated sip and getting a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of his nose simply to amuse you. His smile is blinding when your own nose scrunches up in turn, a soft giggle pouring past your lips as you lean over, taking one of the diner’s cloth napkins and wiping the cream from his nose. Maybe you hallucinate it or it’s just been way too long since you got any physical affection, but you almost swear that he leans into the touch, his eyes lidding just on the sweet side of sinful as a hum leaves his lips. “It’s not that, I just… I don’t know… Maybe I just need to get out more, get some friends, you know?” Kyle’s eyes narrow just slightly at that, but he hides it by looking down into his cup, letting out a noise of interest as he lifts the cup to his lips once more, taking a normal smooth sip. “Well, y’ got me an the captain, right? And I heard we’re gettin’ a couple of new guys in town.” The prospect of new people piques your interest, but you try to hide it as you stand and make your way over to do a wipedown of the espresso machine, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Is that so?”

Kyle nods, reaching up to fiddle with the brim of his baseball cap  while his eyes sweep the diner as if looking for anyone who might be able to overhear what he's about to say, as if it’s some big secret. That alone intrigues you. He leans a bit closer, trying to look casual as he braced his forearms on the counter, and you have to focus on the machine you’re wiping down to keep from staring at the way his jacket has to stretch to accommodate the beautifully sculpted muscles lying just below that you had been blessed enough to see before the fall chill had set in.

“Yeah, a coupla’ fellas who-” You jolt and turn around as Kyle is cut off, John’s hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture as he takes the barstool beside him, giving you a mirthful smile and a polite nod of greeting. You can only blink at him with wide eyes for a moment, wondering how he had gotten there without either you or Kyle noticing. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so reassuring, you might have noticed the flash of hesitation in Kyle’s eyes as he took another swig of his drink, effectively shutting himself up. “Hello, lovely. How has it been today? Slow? Sorry to leave you to mann it alone today, someone had a bloody busted pipe, so I had to go play landlord for a bit. But I'm sure it wasn’t too much, that right, lovie?” His eyes are always so warm, and his smile puts butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You’v ehad a lot of butterflies these past couple of months, especially since both men refuse to call you by your real name, insisting on a barrage of pet names instead that practically make you melt inside. Near every day has turned into a battle to keep your face from warming around them, and you can almost swear they make a game out of it some days. “Yeah, it was fine. Gibbs was pretty upset not to get his eggs since the cook was out, but he’ll live and told me to whack you upside the head for him.” You say with a bit of humor to your voice, sliding a black coffee across the counter to John which he takes with a grateful wink and immediately lifts to his lips. Kyle shifts a bit in his seat before getting up with a soft groan and stretching his hands above his head, his spine letting out a couple of cracks before he rolled his shoulders, settling back into his posture, hands finding their way into his pockets as he turned towards the door.

“Well, lunch break is almost up. Got an appointment in twenty and I wanna grab a sandwich beforehand. Don’t miss me too much, dove. Be back tomorrow.”

You sent Kyle off with a bright smile and a small wave, only wondering momentarily what he was going to say before being interrupted by Price once more, sipping away at his small coffee with an almost worried smile on his face, looking too tight to be on the face of the man you had come to know. “That Kyle, he’s a good lad, loyal to a fault. Well, I should probably head out too before my shoulder starts acting up. Some days, I wish the bastard had shot me anywhere else that wouldn’t get me booted from the service. But, oh, listen to me prattle on. Young bird like you doesn’t have time for the whinging of an old man like me.” And with that, he was out the door before you could even bid him farewell. It was almost… Odd. why was everyone acting so weird today? Shaking there was nothing to do except get back to your job and daydream about the two. Of course, opening your heart was completely off of the table at this point. You had been hurt too much for that, and it was way too soon. But a good lay certainly wouldn’t do you any harm. Especially since you had two more gorgeous ex-military men seeing you on what was basically a daily basis. You spent the rest of your shift daydreaming about sweet words murmured in your ear, thich corded forearms barred across your throat, hips snapping up into yours and forcing your back into a delicious arch while your lips- “Hey, you about ready to clock out?” Gaz’z voice startled you from your daydream, nearly making you drop the mug you were putting away at the end of your shift. THere he was, leaning against the door frame of the open diner door. You must have been deep in thought, because you didn’t even hear the bell ring. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just gotta hang up the apron and clock out.” You laughed out, pulling at the ties behind your back and sliding the apron off over your head. Lately, Gaz had taken to walking you back to your apartment. Something about not letting a lady walk alone in the dark even if you only lived a couple of blocks away. You had tried to invite him in multiple times, but he always gave you that same boyish smirk and told you that he might some other time. But this time was different. When you made your way up the steps of the building, Gaz’s hand stopped you, resting on your shoulder and bringing your attention back to is gorgeous face. He looked worried. “Hey, doll… Y’know… If any dogs ever come ‘round yappin… Just give me a call, k’? I’ll be over quicker than you can say ‘fuck off’, got it?” Your brows furrow in confusion, but you nod along nonethe less, which is apparently enough for the sweet guy, because he walks off without another word, leaving you to head back to your apartment and curl up into your old T-shirt and shorts  on the couch with a movie. A knock at the door stops you right before you can get really settled in, pulling a soft groan from your lips. Was John doing his rounds to check the smoke alarms? This late? It couldn’t be. Maybe it was Gaz finally taking you up on your offer? These thoughts ran through your head like a lazy river, pulling a small smile to your lips as you open the door, looking up and expecting to see one of the two ment that you had come to adore over the past few months of freedom. But your face fell immediately, taking step back from the door as the entire room seemed to shrink in on you, eyes widening and lungs tightening in your chest.

It couldn’t be…

“... Simon?...”  Your voice trembles to see the man you had once loved and devoted your entire life to standing awkwardly in the doorway, but something was off about him, different. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with that thinly veiled confidence of a skilled predator, maybe it was the way that his eyes weren’t as hollow as they had been before you left, maybe it was the way his entire face lit up at the sight of you in your grungy pajamas and mussed up bedhead; practically glowing beneath the familiar skull mask and striped balaclava you hadn’t seen in so long.

…

Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t seen him like that in years…

When you left, Simon had practically been a shell of the man you had loved. He was unmotivated, never left the house unless it was to run or he was drug out by Johnny, he never made those stupid jokes you had loved so much, and he treated being alive as if it were a chore. He would tell you every time you could spare a moment just the two of you that being with you was the only time he felt happy anymore. But still he stayed with Johnny. And that still hurt. Speaking of… Where was Johnny? The man who so normally clung to Ghost’s heels like an eager mutt was nowhere to be found, sparking just the smallest bit of hope in your chest that maybe, just maybe, he had chosen you. Better late than never, right?

Or was that just wishful thinking? “We need to talk.” He said, that same blunt nature that you hated to admit you had missed pouring from behind his lips. As if he needed to tell you that. You stand there for a long minute, debating whether or not to let one of the men that had hurt you so much into your apartment, back into your life. But you were still weak to SImon, and he knew it. With a low sigh, you shake your head and allow the huge man into your apartment, ducking his head so as not to knock it against the doorframe. Jesus, you always forget just how BIG he is… He makes himself at home on your couch without wasting any time, looking as cool and collected as ever, like a king on his throne. But you know better, you know Simon. His hand is twitching towards his hip, his eyes are sweeping the room to check for all escape routes, his boot isn’t tapping against the plush rug you have laid out over the floor. He’s nervous. You stand before him, arms crossed over your midsection as you wait for him to start talking, explaining why he’s here. “We got help. Mentally. Me an’ Johnny…” He starts, and you’re almost ready to kick him out when he speaks of the other man as if he were still in the picture. Of course. How could you have been so damn foolish? But Simon raises his hands in a show of peace, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out before flipping your lid, even though it was very well deserved. But damn if you weren’t weak for those pathetic brown eyes of his when he was pleading with you. “I’m listening.” Your curt words may as well have been knives from the way Simon flinched slightly. That wasn’t like you, not his sweet Angel. He had really fucked up. “So… It turns out that I was incredibly depressed… clinically… Had to do with some fucking implant I had gotten back in the SAS to regulate emotions, it was supposed to be a couple year test that would get removed once the blokes in jackets had their damn info… I had it in for seven years…Seven years, lovie. Got a call about a month after you headed off from one of my old buddies. Some bloke apparently fucked up my discharge papers and that little detail had been overlooked. So, I headed back to base and got ir removed… And, oh, lovie… It’s been so much better…” His voice actually cracks at that last part. It didn’t make any sense to you though. Military emotional regulators? Trying to make super soldiers? And his had expired? It was hard for you to believe. But you couldn’t deny that seeing Simon like this again, looking more like himself than he had in years? It was doing things to you that you hated and tried to push down. “And Johnny?” You asked, keeping the same cold tone to your voice, trying not to give him even an inch to work with. He wouldn’t dig his claws into you again, not this time. You could see a deep look of regret and remorse in those deep mahogany irises of his, along with understanding. He couldn’t even blame you for treating him so coldly and keeping him at arms length. “Actually, lovie… That’s kind of why i'm here… I was gonna leave him, really I was. Was gonna kick his arse to the curb and hope that you would take me back. Even got m’self an apartment in the next town over. But in the middle of moving was when I got the call, and a lot of shit happened and then I was just… I was standing in an apartment surrounded by my things and I just…” Simon drug a hand over his face, pulling the damn thing off and revealing the face you hadn’t seen in so long. Damn, you wish he had just left the thing on so you wouldn’t have to see just how pained he looked.

That was your Simon alright. Silvery slivers of raised skin littering across his face and over the bridge of his crooked nose, indents in his face where flesh had been gouged out, and the most gorgeous blonde lashes framing those deep mocha eyes that always sucked you in down to your very soul and melted you like chocolate in his warm hands. But not this time. You wouldn’t let him just have you back, he had to earn that. “Lovie… We were wrong…” What? Wrong? A single quirked brow was all the question for elaboration that Simon needed, taking a deep and shaky breath before continuing. “We both… We both blamed him for so many things, because it was easier to blame him than admit our own problems… I was standin’ in that nearly empty apartment, and all I could think about was somethin’ my ma used to say whenever she thought of leavin’ my pa’...”

Information about Simon’s past was hard to come across, more rare than a penguin in a desert, but you knew some of the basic things. Knew about his brother, knew that his dad beat them all, knew that he was the last Riley left. But that was about it. So for him to suddenly open up like this… It raised your guard just as much as it lowered it. “She used to ask herself, would she be happier without him than she was with him? Sure, he was a drunk, he was an asshole, and he beat us all… But my ma’ could never answer the question. And lovie… Neither could I… I was in that barren excuse of a home and I just… I had nothing… Not Johnny… Not you… And I didn’t know if I could ever get you back…” His shoulders were shaking now while he buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t crying, no. This was still Simon, this was still Ghost, after all. But this shuddering breath and trembling was the closest he would ever let himself get. Here he was, practically rolling over and bearing his belly to you, and all you could do was stand there.

Sure, you wanted to tell him it was okay, to pull yourself into his lap and surround yourself in him again just like you used to… but how could you? This was your Simon again, but you weren’t his anymore. Even still, his broken voice continued. “Tried for so long… hunted you like a fuckin’ bloodhound… but captain wouldn’t let me anywhere near you until we got help… until I got help… And I didn’t want to… But Johnny said that he would if I did, and… I’m not askin’ you to take him back, or take me back… but please… I can’t live without you, lovie… at least… at least let me exist in the same world as you… please…” Kyle’s cryptic words of warning made a lot more sense now, telling you that he would fend off any dogs that came yapping where they weren’t wanted.

But this was Simon.

Maybe you had judged Jonny too much? After all, sure you felt ostracized, but was it all just in your head? Simon had admitted that he was complacent and part of the issue, but maybe you had been too. After all, when your relationship had been falling apart and Johnny stopped inviting you out on dates or to hang out with them, he was still the one who picked up your favorite snacks and drinks on a whim because he was thinking about you, and the one who payed attention to the new movies you liked. Johnny was the one who kept you from SImon’s ire when you forgot to do dishes or the like because he would do them for you, or take the heat off of you by doing something dumb.

Maybe you had been so focused on Simons and your own misery that you hadn’t seen the man cutting his own hands open to pick the pieces back up for both of you. What you thought was ostracization might have actually been him trying to give you space, taking up all of Ghost’s time might have been his way of trying desperately to distract SImon from his own head, and he was just shit at juggling people.

“Love?” Simon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, realizing that tears stung your eyes and flooded down your cheeks. The arms crossed over your midsection had turned into clutching at your elbows, trying to keep yourself from tearing at the seams while your smaller frame trembled and wracked with silent, shaky sobs. “Oh, lovie…”

Simon’s voice was gentle as he stood, looming over you and reaching out a broad calloused hand the size of your face to gently cup your cheek and wipe away your tears like he had so many times before. So many whispered nights spent curled up on his chest, so many nights beneath the stars filled with giggles, so many days where it didn’t matter what you were doing as long as you were with him. All of them gone. His eyes were flooded with silent agony as you stepped back, recoiling away from his touch as if it were a live wire that had hurt you. SImon had hurt so many people, and Ghost had hurt so many more, and they often kept him up at night with memories of the screams, of his own death, of his brother and nephew. But the look on your face as you backed away from him was an image that would forever be seared into his brain as one of the worst. His angel had fallen from grace, his goddess had cast him from her temple, The very breath from his lungs stolen in the midst of an ocean and left him to drown.

And who was really to blame?

You? Johnny? Himself? The Russian bastards who had captured him and Soap in the first place? The lab coats wo had stuck the fucking implant hin him in the first place? There were to many people he could blame, too many places it could have home wrong.

But it didn’t matter, not when you looked at him like that. “I see.” He said, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders back, going dangerously cold, dangerously numb. A coping mechanism, the psych had called it, dissociation. Simon called it whatever fucking works. He turned on the heel of his boot and scooped his mask off of your little worn-down couch that must have come with the apartment from the way it was much more suited to Price's taste than your own. “That’s that then.”

“Wait.” A small trembling hand on the sleeve of his shirt made Simon pause his stride to the door, looking down at you with eyes that were all too cold so you wouldn’t see the anguish running through his veins. He had lost you, and he was the only person he would let himself blame.

“Friends.” That one whispered word, so soft that Simon had almost missed it over the demons berating him in his own ears was like a godsend. You were allowing him into your life again. Not back into your home or your arms or your heart. But Simon could work with friends, He could live with friends. He nodded, reaching a big hand up and ruffling your hair gently before gently tugging out of your grip and leaving your small apartment, leaving you alone to process and feel what you needed to.

He would wait any amount of time.

You were worth it.

[torscrawls]

DP x  DC - Mad Scientists

Summary:

The Justice League is investigating a pair of evil scientists in Amity Park. Danny is panicking over a pair of new villains in the area and over the fact that he has no idea who they are.

Hopefully his parents will stay out of the whole mess since they have nothing to do with it.

…Right?

Words: 2 872

Can be read on AO3!

-

Danny's phone rang, but it wasn’t his usual one with a cracked screen and case decorated with several planet-stickers. No, the phone that was ringing was his sleek black one, the one he had gotten from the Justice League just a few months ago, the one he had gotten after he had started working together with them. They had said something about wanting a stable way of contacting him outside summoning circles.

Danny supposed that was fair.

They were nice enough and Danny had actually even started to relax a bit around them. Hanging around people who didn't hate him just for what he was could be nice, who knew?

Even so, they usually didn't call him for a friendly chat.

He picked the phone up and fumbled with it for a few seconds before he managed to answer it, still unused to handling it. “Hello? Phantom here.”

The voice that greeted him was smooth and self-assured, impossible to mistake after hours of missions together. Red Robin. “Hey, Phantom. We have a mission in Amity.”

Danny blinked in surprise, looking down at the town spreading out in front of him from where he sat high above on top of one of the few skyscrapers in the small city. “Here?”

“Yes. Have you heard anything about a pair of mad scientists in the area?”

 Mad scientists? Danny shuddered. There were some new crazy scientists in town? He didn’t even think to question the validity of the claim; if the Bats said there were some crazy scientists in the area, then there were. But how had he missed them? He tried to keep tabs on all the players, old and new, that were involved in the mess that was Amity Park. They really didn’t have room for any more players. “No I haven’t. Where?”

 If they were here, he had to stop them.

 Red Robin’s voice didn’t allow for any argument as he said, “Don’t act on your own. We’re not sure of their exact location at the moment but we’re working on it as we speak. We plan on carrying out the mission next week. Can we count on your help?”

 Uh-oh, that was Red Robin’s serious voice. Best not to antagonize him, and it didn’t really matter who these people were or where they came from, they couldn't stay. Not if they threatened the strenuous peace he had fought so hard to achieve between humans and ghosts over the years. So he simply said, “Of course I'll help.”

 “Great!” Red Robin said, and Danny could hear the smile in his voice, “We'll keep you updated. Stay out of trouble!” And then he promptly hung up.

 Danny stared down at the silent phone with pursed lips. The people in the League were—almost—always very down to business, especially the Bats. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t been able to joke around with a few of them, especially Red Robin, but  Danny still felt a bit intimidated by all the planning and thought that went into all the League's missions. Not that he was complaining; he hadn't been mortally wounded even once since starting to work together with them.

 Not counting what he did in his free time, of course. 

 But their planning and cunning was also part of the problem; most of them were scary smart and Danny wasn't a huge fan of the League coming to his hometown since it severely increased the chances of them figuring him out. 

 Still. He had considered telling them more about himself anyway. Maybe even the whole truth. It was just a matter of time before they figured him out anyway and he would rather the information came from him. But that could all wait for now; he had a job to do.

 He pocketed the sleek black phone before fishing out his own as he took off over the city. He sent out a quick message simply reading, Meeting in five outside Nasty Burger. He might not be able to act, but he knew two people who could. Besides, they hadn’t said anything about some light investigating.

 No matter how much he had come to trust the League, he wasn’t about to just sit around doing nothing when his own town might be in danger.

—

 A week later, exactly as Red Robin had said, he got a text to his sleek black phone that simply said that they were waiting for him by the park.

 So much for a heads-up, Danny thought with a sigh.

 A downside of people thinking he was a full ghost; they didn’t even consider the fact that he might have a life…Which was only half-true.

 Luckily, his parents had run out of the house half an hour ago screaming about a ghost and for once, Danny had been happy to leave them to it.

 Unluckily, he had actually been trying to get his homework done for once.

 He grumbled as he put his pen down and changed into Phantom, sending Tucker and Sam a quick text to let them know what was going on.

 Their own investigation hadn’t turned up anything on the new scientists; no one seemed to know what they were talking about, no matter how thoroughly Tucker dredged the internet and no matter how many people—and ghosts—Sam “persuaded” to talk.  It had almost been enough for Danny to start doubting Red Robin’s words.

 Regardless of whether they were right or wrong about the existence of these villainous scientists, he guessed it would be settled tonight.

 Danny arrived by the park to see Red Robin and Batman standing on the street outside the entrance. How they arrived, Danny didn’t know, but he trusted them to not have attracted attention as they did.

 It was… bizarre to see them in his hometown and Danny found himself grateful that it was dark and consequently not that many people out and about. Amity might see more than its fair share of strange things, but he doubted that seeing the Batman and Red Robin standing ominously beneath a birch tree would go completely unnoticed, even here.

 The Bats were always slightly intimidating; giving off the impression they knew more than they let on, that they were always at least one step ahead. They probably were.

 Batman nodded to him as he landed next to them and greeted him in his usual gravelly tone of voice, “Phantom.” 

 “Big Bat, Red Robin.” Danny spread his arms wide with a smile to match. “Welcome to my crib. Do you need a tour?” 

 Batman simply scowled, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. 

 Red Robin on the other hand laughed as he shook his head. “We're good.” 

 Danny leaned to the side to look behind them. “It's only you two? Where's the rest of the gang?” 

 “Are you saying we're not enough for you?” Red Robin asked in mock offense. 

 Danny held up his hands in a calming gesture, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. “No, no, of course not! I wouldn't dream of it, I love you guys. Cross my heart and hope to die! Oops!” He broke down cackling, quickly joined by Red Robin.

 “Enough chit-chat,” Batman cut them both off, “Let’s focus.”

 Danny straightened up with a mock salute. “Yes, sir, Double B, sir.”

 Red Robin rolled his eyes so hard that Danny could tell even from behind his domino mask. Batman himself didn’t even twitch, but Danny refused to lose hope; one day he would get Batman to react to his nicknames.

 For now though, he was unable to keep his curiosity in check any longer. “Sooo… Where are these crazy scientists you were talking about?”

 “They were last seen downtown,” Batman said gruffly.

 Danny clapped his hands in delight. “Ooh! So I'm the one getting the tour?” 

 “This is a mission,” Batman deadpanned, but Danny had been around him enough to pick up on the exasperated tone underlining the clipped words. He was getting to him.

 Danny waved him off. “Yeah I know, but that doesn't mean we can't be civil to each other.” 

 Red Robin snorted. “He’s right, B.”

 Danny held his hand up for a high five from Red Robin as Batman scowled. “I’ll investigate downtown. You two can investigate their house. Stay focused.”

 “Sure thing!” Danny agreed with a smile and wave. “See you later Batguy.” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get a response. I will get him next time, Danny thought with a grin as he watched the man disappear more effectively than most ghosts he knew.

 “Alright, let’s go,” Red Robin said as he gestured for Danny to follow.

 They chatted as they walked—or in Danny’s case hovered—down the street, even as both of them kept their eyes peeled for any potential trouble. Even so, it wasn’t long before Red Robin stopped and Danny frowned in confusion. “Why are we stopping?”

 Red Robin gestured across the road. “That’s where the villains live.”

 Danny followed his gesture even as he knew what house was on the other side of the road. Knew it intimately. “But that’s my—” Danny hesitated, then decided to take the plunge. “That’s my house.”

 Red Robin stopped. Slowly turned to face him. “What.”

 And that was the moment it really clicked for Danny. “The scientists we’re here for… Their names are Jack and Madeline Fenton, aren’t they?”

 “Yes,” Red Robin said before turning the full force of his attention on Danny. “I thought you said you didn’t know who they were?” And there was a hint of suspicion in his expression as he said it.

 Danny couldn’t bring himself to care. And it was too late to back out now. He had given them enough; they would be able to put everything together with or without his help. So he said, voice sounding strained even to his own ears, “They’re my parents.”

 The suspicion was replaced by shocked surprise. “But you're a ghost??” 

 Danny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? I still have parents? I was still born??”

 Danny didn't think he imagined the red that dusted Red Robin’s face at that. “I just didn't think—Right, sorry. Of course.” 

 And then he could see Red Robin pause and really think about what he had said; the implications of it. Making connections that Danny really would prefer that he didn’t.

 The ghost hunters and the ghostly son. The lab that they no doubt knew about after their investigations. The hazmat suit that Danny always wore.

 Red Robin stared at him with his mouth slightly open before breathing out, “Your name is Danny.” And Danny knew he wasn’t talking about his identity as Danny Phantom, but as Danny Fenton.

 Of course they had looked into the family of the people they were here to investigate, he should have known.

 He still forced a smile on his face and said, “I thought you were supposed to be a great detective! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my name!”

 “But then you—” Then Red Robin cut himself off as he abruptly touched a hand to the side of his face, to his comm, Danny realized. After a few seconds of silent listening he spoke quickly into the comm, “Wait for us. Something new has come up.” Then he tapped at his ear and turned to face Danny. “We have a situation, we’ll have to continue this conversation later.”

 Danny had a sinking suspicion of what the situation could be. Or who. His parents had been away an awfully long time and that never resulted in anything good. Still, he could think of several things he would rather be doing than continuing this conversation. “You can continue this conversation over my dead body!”

 And then he cursed his big mouth. Maybe Red Robin didn’t want to joke around with him anymore, maybe he didn’t—

 Then Red Robin barked out a short laugh. “No different than usual then!” before taking off down the street at a run.

 Danny reluctantly followed, mainly because of the relief that flooded him. He was almost glad for the distraction this new situation provided. The keyword being almost.

 As they moved down the street Danny found himself asking, “Sooo, what’s going on exactly?” He might know who was going on, but not what.

 Thankfully, Red Robin took pity on him and accepted the change in topic. “The two villains are wreaking havoc down by the city center. Apparently there are a couple of ghosts involved as well.”

 “They’re not villains!” Danny instinctually argued.

 Red Robin held up a hand to stop him, but didn’t slow his pace. Danny was both jealous of his stamina and very grateful for his own ability to fly. “Okay. Okay. Just— Let me get this straight.”

 Danny nodded, but couldn’t keep the frown from his face as he said, “Sure.”

 Red Robin held up a finger. “Your parents? They are consistently the cause of massive amounts of property damage to the city?”

 “I mean… Yeah.” His admittance was ironically underlined by a massive boom a few blocks down. They were getting close.

 Red Robin didn’t bat an eye at the noise as he continued, another finger joining the first, “And they have a lab underneath your house?”

 “Yes.”

 A third finger. “And they experiment on sentient creatures in said lab?”

 Danny winced. Evidently, they had done their research well. “Sometimes. But not for the last few years. I’ve been able to stop them bef—”

 But he didn’t get to finish as Red Robin abandoned his counting and threw his hands in the air in frustration. “How are they not mad scientists?”

 Danny hated how unsure he sounded as he said, “Their hearts are in the right place?”

 In the background they could hear the booming voice of Jack shouting out, “Get back here you ectoplasmic scum!” Immediately followed by Maddie screaming, “We’re going to disintegrate you! Strap you to the table and see what makes you tick! We’re going to dissolve you into base components!”

 Red Robin crossed his arms and sounded decidedly unimpressed as he asked, “That them?”

 Danny just gave an unconvincing smile before flinching as another explosion rang out between the buildings. Of course it had to be his parents causing problems today… But, really, what day weren’t they? Danny let out a defeated sigh as he said, “Let’s just go.”

 They rounded the corner and arrived at what looked like a war zone.

 This in and of itself wasn’t strange for Amity on a Saturday night, but what was strange was the sight of Batman in the middle of it all, hunkered down behind an overturned car as he watched the chaos unfold.

 And of course Danny’s parents were in the middle of it all; guns blazing, hazmat suits on, screaming themselves hoarse as they chased after a madly cackling Johnny and Kitty on their motorcycle.

 Ectoplasm was everywhere; splattered on the street, the shops, the cars, even on the edge of Batman’s cape. Everywhere except for the duo of laughing ghosts.

 There were a couple of holes blasted in the road as well as the side of a building. The GAV was half-embedded in the glass front of a clothing store, because of course it was.

 Kitty and Johnny had managed to tie a long string of shirts to the back of their bike and were dragging them around like a colorful banner. Jack had a pair of jeans tied around his head as he blindly shot the Fenton bazooka at anything and anything, like a deadly game of piñata with a gun.

 Danny could see the way Red Robin took in the chaos with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. It wasn’t worse than a typical Saturday night, but that didn’t mean that it was good.

 Red Robin slowly turned to face him, his face unimpressed and a single eyebrow raised in challenge.

 …Maybe his parents actually were evil scientists.

 But he would never admit that out loud so Danny just groaned and started making his way over to the chaos. “Not a word. Let’s just go stop them before they try and capture the big B.”

 “Why would they do that if they’re not mad scientists?!” Red Robin asked with a decidedly unwarranted amount of snark in his voice.

 Danny thought back to countless heated family discussions over literally animated dinners about the Gotham vigilantes and then admitted, “…They might be convinced that he's a ghost.”

 Red Robin groaned. “Of course they are.”

[princelylove]

Hii, prince may i please ask how yandere Johnny would react to a darling who the moments they get brought held hostage at home they start cleaning and cooking like a housewife just because they are fussy about germs and food?

… He ain’t that dirty, and they can afford maids. And cooks. What the hell are you doing? 

It’s not that he’s displeased, it’s great you’re not just sitting around waiting for him to get home. Fantastic, even. But why that? Are the maids not up to code? You can just tell him to fire them and he will. He guesses it makes sense, living on a ranch and all… but you’re in the main house, not the stables. He wouldn’t make his wife sleep in a barn or- don’t even joke about this- with the ranch hands in the bunkhouse. 

Are you worried about him tracking dirt inside? Johnny will adapt if you want him to switch shoes when he gets inside, but he complains, initially. What, you want him to wash his hands and face every time he wants a kiss? You’re being ridiculous. (He will, though. It’ll just take some getting used to.)

If you do it the moment he takes you, he might think you’re mocking him or rejecting him. He’ll explain that, hey, we have people to do that for you, no need to work yourself up, but if you insist it’s not personal and you’re not resisting, he’ll just let you. Happy you, happy him. 

If you ever disobey him or try to get out, forget about it. He’ll do everything you hate to the extreme, or if you really piss him off, he’ll take you outside to where they break horses and toss you directly into the dirt. If you’re lucky, it won’t be next to a very frightened horse. Get up on your own and deal with the consequences of being bad.

He’d bring dirt inside, but that’d be a pain in the ass to clean. He could just toss you outside in general, but he’s not gonna just give you a ride to freedom. He might let you watch what goes on if you’re good, but since you haven’t been, have fun getting the horse treatment. Don’t worry, he’ll be your only handler. If you were very well behaved and curious about what exactly he does all day, he’d let you follow him around, as long as you cling to him. He jokes about putting a lead on you, but as long as you hold his hand diligently, he won’t really consider it. Johnny will just pick you up when you have to pass through unclean areas, and he’ll shield you if a horse is coming by fast enough to pick up a lot of dirt.

[charliewrites-stuff]

Unexpected Friends

Prince Caspian x oc (Lillian Monroe)

Slight Peter Pevensie x oc

Words: 2.1k

Chapter 3

Series masterlist

Back at the castle Glozelle and his men have just got back with two prisoners, one covered with a blanket and the other sitting on a horse with her hands tied behind her back. Glozelle catches the eye of Lord Miraz up on the balcony holding his newly born son before riding into the stables. By the time everyone is off of their horses the Lord had made his way down to the stables believing that the covered figure was his nephew.

“Wait, my lord!” Glozelle exclaims, stopping Miraz from checking under the blanket. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

“We’re not exactly sure.” 

“It’s a Narnian you idiots” the two men turn towards the girl who is currently sitting on the floor from where she was unceremoniously thrown not too long ago, almost forgetting she was even there before she spoke up.

“Impossible” Miraz claims before pulling off the blanket revealing a dwarf who looks quite pissed off from the night that he has had. Miraz shares a look with Glozelle before turning his attention to the girl threatening “'I’ll deal with you later. Someone take her to a cell.”

“Yes, my Lord” Glozelle responded, turning towards Lillian grabbing her arm and dragging her towards the dungeons.

“Since when do you do Miraz’s bidding?” Lily spits out struggling in the man's grasp.

“Shut up, traitor.” 

They end up in a room with a chair which he shoves the girl into before tying her wrists to the arms of the chair, giving the rope a quick tug to check that it is secure before making his way to the nearest wall leaning against it whilst they wait for Miraz to come down.

They sit in silence for about 10 minutes before footsteps are heard and Miraz enters followed by a guard who is holding the dwarf.

“Put him over there.” instructs Miraz and the guard does that, throwing him on the floor.

“What is wrong with you?” The sixteen year old shouts. Looking at the dwarf in concern.

“Shut up” the guard dismisses her before leaving the room.

Miraz turns towards the girl, finding the state she is in quite amusing.

“Where’s Caspian?” he starts, taking a step closer.

“I haven’t got a clue what you are-” she doesn’t get to finish her sentence before he hits her in the face making her head snap to the side.

“Do not lie to me. I haven't got time for your games, where is my nephew?” he shouts.

The girl turned back towards him, laughing a little as she spat out the blood that started to pool in her mouth.

“I. Do. Not. Know.” she calmly says again and it’s not technically a lie, she was knocked out the second her head hit the floor earlier, Caspian could be anywhere by now. “Why don’t you ask him?” She gestures towards Glozelle."He's the one who tried to kill him.”

“I don’t have time for this, you can either tell me where he is and live or you can stay quiet and die along with the dwarf.” 

“Why would I go through all of the trouble to get him out just to tell you where he is now? Seems pretty pointless to me.”

The man who has already had enough of the teen turns to Glozelle, instructing him to gather a few men to deal with the two prisoners. Before storming out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

So that’s how Lillian ended up trapped on a boat with two soldiers and a dwarf with her hands tied tightly behind her back and a piece of cloth tied around her mouth to prevent her from talking. They have been on the boat for quite some time and Lillian is running out of time to do something to stop her and the dwarf from meeting a not so pleasant death. She notices how the man who is rowing the boat keeps glancing down at the dwarf who hasn’t stopped glaring at the man, making the soldier very uncomfortable to the point that he starts to complain to the other man.

“He won’t stop staring” he complains, and Lillian lets out a laugh that is stifled by the gag in her mouth.

“So don’t look” but this does nothing as the first soldier can feel the dwarfs' glare burning though his skin.

The man rows the boat for a little longer before stopping and saying “here’s fine” he then turns to Lillian and suggests “let’s drop her in first, less chance that we will have any problems.” and they do just that, both grabbing the girl from each end and lifting her up, despite her struggles and pleas to leave her alone, throwing her into the deep water. Immediately water fills the girl's lungs as she had her mouth open from screaming at the two men, she thrashes around for as long as she can before she gives up sinking to the bottom of the lake.

Meanwhile the men turn towards the dwarf with the intention to do the same, but before they could throw him over they are interrupted by a red arrow hitting the side of the boat. The three look over to where it came from spotting four figures running towards them.

“Drop him” the girl with the bow shouts, however that wasn’t entirely helpful because they take that as an opportunity to throw the dwarf into the water. 

Peter and Edmund immediately jump into action running towards the water and jumping straight in whilst Susan takes care of the soldiers. Peter rescues the dwarf whilst Edmund grabs the rope attached to the boat pulling it to shore.

When Peter puts the dwarf down on the ground Lucy wastes no time in cutting him free and as soon as he removes the gag he's shouting  “the girl, get the girl” between coughing up water. The four look at him in confusion for a moment before Peter realises that there must have been another person and sprints towards the water diving in and swimming towards the bottom where he spots a girl who looks to be almost lifeless. He quickly grabs her before kicking up off of the ground and making it out of the water in record time. Once he gets to solid ground he lies the girl on her back putting his ear by her mouth to see if she is breathing, she’s not. Completely forgetting about his sister's healing cordial he starts to push down on her chest, starting CPR and after a few seconds he pinches her nose and blows into her mouth. He keeps doing this until his siblings reach him and Lucy stops the boy and gives the girl a drop of her healing cordial.

They all wait a few seconds before the girl's eyes shoot open and she starts to cough, choking on the water in her lungs. Peter helps the girl roll onto her side and hits her back a few times to try and help get the water out. Once she had recovered she rolls back onto her back and notices that she had gathered quite the crowd. It was at that moment that Trumpkin decided to question the Queen's choice of words.

“Drop him? That was the best you could come up with?” he shouts glaring up at the girl with a bow.

“A simple thank you would suffice.” 

“They were doing fine drowning us without your help.” 

“Maybe we should have let them” Peter snaps, only to receive a pissed off look from the girl lying down on the ground below him. “Sorry” he mutters.

“Why were they trying to kill you anyway?” Lucy wonders, a little disturbed by what she had just witnessed.

“They’re Telmarines. That’s what they do.” The dwarf explains, pushing himself up off of the ground before offering a hand to Lily which she takes gratefully, getting up and making her way towards the boat to search for her weapons.

Edmund looks at the dwarf in confusion asking “Telmarines? In Narnia?”

“Where have you been for the last few hundred years?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.” Lucy responds whilst Susan turns towards Peter handing him the sword he discarded when he ran to go and rescue the dwarf and the girl whose name they have yet to find out, from drowning. Trumpkin takes notice of the hilt and looks up towards Peter before taking in the four of them. Suddenly he is hit with a wave of recognition and lets out a loud drawn out groan.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re it? You’re the Kings and Queens of old? He asks in disbelief.

Peter holds out his hand before introducing himself as “High King Peter, the Magnificent.”

His oldest sister rolls her eyes before saying “you probably could have left out the last bit.”

The dwarf lets out a little chuckle, repeating “probably.” 

And at the same time the five hear the voice of the nameless girl shout “oh he definitely could have.” from where she was sitting in the boat watching the interaction.

Peter looks over at the girl before saying to the dwarf “you might be surprised.” Before drawing his sword.

“Oh, you don’t want to do that, boy.” the dwarf taunts.

“Not me. Him.” Peter responds, gesturing towards Edmund before giving his sword to the dwarf. Trumpkin takes the sword in his hands, which suddenly drops to the floor and the girl in the boat gets up and walks towards the group curious about what was going to happen next. After all she had grown up reading tales about the Kings and Queens of old and knew that this was about to be very interesting. Edmund takes out his sword whilst smiling at Peter, getting ready to duel the dwarf. Suddenly, Trumpkin swings his sword towards Edmunds, knocking the blade away from him before swinging again. Edmund ducks which gives Trumpkin the opportunity to whack him across the face which causes Edmund to back up a few steps and Lucy to shout his name in a warning.

“Awe, you alright?” the dwarf mocks, which Lillian finds quite funny.

The two continue to fight, circling around each other before Trumpkin slashes at Edmunds feet which he doges by jumping over the blade. Edmund retaliated by delivering one final blow which caused Trumpkins sword to go flying out of his hand and onto the ground. The dwarf stumbles back in disbelief, falling down onto the sand.

“Beards and bedsteads! Maybe that horn worked after all.” the dwarf mutters the last part under his breath.

“What horn?” the High Queen asks and the dwarf and girl start to explain the very long story that was the last two days off their lives.

“Wait so let me get this straight, because that was a lot of information to process,” starts Peter. “Lillian, you had to rescue a Prince because his uncle gave birth to a son and you thought that that meant that he would be in danger, which ended up being correct, so you and his professor broke him out of his room and stole a horse and the professor sent you to protect him, which obviously didn’t go too well-”

“Hey”

“Sorry, and then he gave Caspian a horn which happened to be my sisters which he told you guys to only use at your greatest needs, which judging by the fact that we are here means that he ended up using it at some point. You guys then ran away from the castle on a horse but were followed by Lord Miraz’s men through a mystical forest until Caspian rode into a tree and you were separated. Then the two of you were captured by the Telmarines and sentenced to death because one, he’s a Narniain, which they didn’t even know existed until a few days ago and two, because you wouldn’t give up the location of the Prince?”

“Yeah, that just about sums it up.” Lily confirmed before suggesting, “we should probably start to make our way to him, before it starts to get dark. We don’t want to be here when the Telmarines come looking for their missing men.”

“You’re right” he responds before the six of them make their way towards the boat setting sail to their next destination.

[wizardofarles]

For the ask game -

LYKMC and the LYKMC bonus christmas story!

💙 thanks for playing, here are your snippets!

LYKMC ch17:

It seemed that the longer he practiced, the worse he played. His fingers started to feel clumsy, and he found it more and more difficult to maintain the speed at which he'd begun playing. An ache was blooming in his neck, and in the wrist of his bow arm. Laurent knew that he needed to relax his muscles, but found himself unable to. Since Loyse had pointed it out, he couldn't stop noticing how tense he was when he played. And the more he noticed it, the more he tensed, and the worse his playing became.

He furrowed his brow and kept going, convinced that he just needed to push himself harder and eventually a breakthrough would come. As he had been doing for days, Laurent practiced for hours without pause. He didn't stop to eat, he didn't check his phone; he didn't allow himself a moment that wasn't dedicated to practicing. He hadn't even been to the stable to see Pyrrha all week. Messages from Torveld, Ancel, and Damen piled up on his phone as the days melted into one another, and Laurent ignored them all. Only the shifting light outside his windows and his occasional need to use the bathroom tethered him to the passage of time and the world outside his bedroom.

~~~

LYKMC Bonus Christmas Chapter:

“Laurent!” his mother called from the kitchen. “Would you get the door?”

Laurent skated down the hall in his socks, sliding to a stop when he reached the front door. He threw it open and was blasted by the frosty breath of winter. A man stood on the step with his hands shoved inside his pockets, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold. His breath was a white cloud in front of his face and snowflakes dusted his brown hair and the shoulders of his coat. He smiled at Laurent.

“Uncle Berry!” Laurent leapt, and Berenger scooped him up into a hug as he stepped into the house.

“Merry Christmas, Laurent,” Berenger said with laughter in his voice as he set him back down on his feet.

Laurent giggled when Berenger unbuttoned his coat. “Did you just come from an ugly sweater contest?” he asked, pointing his chin at the cable-knit monstrosity that couldn’t seem to decide if it was brown or dark green. “You look like a grandpa.”

Berenger threw his head back and laughed heartily. “I never did have an eye for fashion. I suppose that hasn’t changed.” He ruffled Laurent’s hair.

“Berenger,” Hennike greeted him with warmth as she stepped into the foyer, wiping her hands on a towel. “Thank you for coming.” A red apron was tied around her waist, the straps looped double around the front. Laurent could see the bones of her hips outlined beneath the fabric.

He turned back toward Berenger. It was easier to look at his Uncle Berry in his ugly sweater and plain brown pants, looking much the same as he ever did, than it was to look at his mother’s bony frame, or the festive green and red beanie on her head that Grandma had knitted her to cover her baldness. Though Laurent was only twelve years old, he wasn’t stupid. He knew his mother was dying.

“Thank you for having me,” Berenger said as the doorman, Huet, took his coat. “I hope I’m not late.”

“No, not at all. The turkey is still in the oven, and the Fortaines haven’t arrived.” Hennike gave Berenger a quick hug, then glanced out the window where the wind was thick with swirling snow. “Is it getting terribly bad out there?”

“The main roads are still being well-plowed, but it’s getting messy on the back roads.”

“Oh, dear,” Laurent’s mother clicked her tongue in distress. “I hope the Fortaines are close. Laurent, would you text Aimeric?”

“I texted him when you asked me ten minutes ago,” Laurent complained. “He said they were on their way.”

“Did he say if they were on the road?”

“He just said, ‘we’re on our way’.” Aimeric’s response had actually been, we’re on our way, buttface, calm ur tits, but Laurent thought it better to paraphrase for his mother.

Her brow wrinkled in worry. “Okay. Well, tell him they should be careful. Have him tell his father to stay off the back roads.”

Laurent rolled his eyes, but sent the text.

“Where’s Clarence?” his mom asked Berenger. “Did you two take separate cars?”

Berenger bent to pull off his boots. “No, I’m sorry, Hennike, but my husband won’t be able to make it after all. It turns out he had a prior engagement. He sends his regrets.” He handed the snowy boots to Huet and offered an apologetic smile to Hennike.

“Oh,” she said, “that’s too bad.” Her bony fingers fluttered over the hand towel like the legs of a restless white spider.

“Uncle Berry, is that you?” called a voice from the living room. The three of them walked in to meet it. A Christmas album was playing on the stereo and a log burned merrily in the fireplace, filling the room with warmth and the rich scent of burning pine.

“Where’s my godson?” Berenger smiled and spread his arms wide. “Come here, you.” Auguste crashed into him and they wrapped each other in a fierce hug.

Laurent went to stand beside his uncle—his true uncle by blood, unlike Berenger who wore the title as an endearment. Dressed all in black with a stiff white clerical collar around his neck and his thick brown beard neatly trimmed, Uncle made a handsome figure, Laurent thought. He smiled down at Laurent and slid a pale hand onto his shoulder. A ruby glittered on his finger, red as the blood that bound them to each other.

“You look well,” Berenger told Auguste as they broke apart with laughter and claps on each other’s back. “How’s the mechanic job treating you?”

“Good,” Laurent’s brother said, beaming. “It’s good work, and rewarding.” He glanced at their father, who was sipping champagne on the couch beside Grandma, and his grin faltered. “But I don’t know if it’s what I want to do forever. Actually, I’ve been thinking … Dad and I have been talking about it, and I think I’m going to enlist.”

~~~

(Fun fact: I intended to post this bonus chapter last Christmas but didn’t finish it in time. Hopefully I’ll have it ready to post by next Christmas!)

[astroyongie]

Formis 9 August Reading 2023

note: please take it lightly 

Saerom

Love: She isn’t entirely in a relationship but she is starting to built something with someone. Saerom has spent a lot of time talking with this person and they still flirt a lot through text and phonically. She is quite all giddy about this person and definitely wants to turn it into something serious

Career: Everything seem to be doing okay for her, she is very determinate to work hard for her career and for her own good. She is also not worried about what the future holds for her

Self: Her energy is very bright, very joyful (quite nice to be around), she is being spontaneous about things and doing all sort of activities that she wants and that brings her joy

Hayoung

Love: I believe that Hayoung has been cheating on her partner and haven’t been honest with them nor about what she does with other people. For some reason she doesn’t want to lose the person she is in a relationship with, which is the reason why she cheats and doesn’t want to tell them

Career: Everything is okay, she has been working on herself and on her appearance to reach a more ‘idol like image”. She is very positive about her career and her future at the moment

Self: She is rather stable on her self and on her life, nothing worries her, her health is all okay and she isn’t suffering form anything that is disturbing her peace

Jiwon

Love: She is single but Jiwon spends a lot of time with her friends and partying whenever she can. Her social life is very important to her and she is trying her best to open her social skills and agenda in order to secure her idol place in the industry

Career: I believe that she suffers quite a lot inside the company but she hides it very well. Jiwon tries her best not to complain and do what she is told but there’s a lot of things that happened to her inside that industry that scare her

Self: at the moment she is rather on a calm energy, doing a lot of self introspection about herself, on what she wants for her life and what she wants to become

Jisun

Love: She is in a relationship and for now everything seem to be going well. She is quite an helpless romantic since she believes that her person will be hers forever and the person she ends up her life with (or at least that’s what she hopes)

Career: not the best energy around here either, I believe that Jisun is very dependent on her sponsors to everything and she hasn’t the freedom to do what she wants without their consent. Her idol life is also everything she has, without it she feels like she is no one

Self: other than that, she is rather happy with her life. She is having fun and luck, she feels that the money she has is enough for her expenses and she is just happy overall

Seoyeon

Love: she too, is in a relationship at the moment. Seoyeon however is the one that takes care of her partner financially, she pays for their rent, for their things and she believes that she is being nice and taking care of the person she likes. I wonder if she is being gaslighted or if the person is truly honest

Career: she doubts herself a lot, she believes that she doesn’t have the most perfect image for an idol and she wished to be pretty like most visuals of other groups. She also doesn’t have her place inside the group it seems

Self: she is very calm, and pretty smart if I may say. Seoyeon self is currently in a soft mood, I don’t have much info on it

Chaeyoung

Love: She left her partner a few time ago, because their schedule and hers weren’t the same and they spent too much time apart which annoyed her a lot. So she ended up breaking up with them and moving on with her life

Career: I don’t understand very well what’s happening in her career at the moment, it seems like there’s a lot involved concerning shamans and managers and sponsors and it’s honestly way too weird to interpret it

Self: she has been focusing herself on meeting other people, spending time with new people and just making new friendships. She is on a social mode

Nagyung

Love: she is definitely seeing someone but they aren’t on an official relationship yet. Nagyung is full of seduction, like she flirts a lot with this person, she puts a lot on her seduction tactics to get them close to her. She is delivering her feminine energy in all ways and really playing a “libra” energy on that person

Career: everything seem to be doing alright, she is very well supported by her company and her sponsors and she has the strength needed to survive in the company. It also feels like despite being young she holds a strong authority among her teammates

Self: she is definitely in love with her person and right now everything on herself and her energy is just screaming love.

Jiheon

Love: she is single and all by herself and in no mood to find someone or to share her love side. At the moment she is mostly focused on herself and on her career and her heart is kinda close

Career: I believe that Jihoon wants to leave the company and go somewhere else, probably someone has contacted her for some projects because she doesn’t want anything dealign with the group

Self: she has a high self esteem and she trusts herself a lot when it comes to being an idol. She knows what she has to do in order to get what she wants.

[wangsejabin]

Chapter 113

In the East Pavilion of the Qianqing Palace, there was a silence of ravens.

   Only the unlucky Pan'er and Fulu were there, Fulu staring at the gold tile floor beneath his feet, Pan'er sitting on the large bed by the south window, sighing silently.

As for Zong Cong, he sat across from him, his wrist strings snapping loudly.

   But it was only a snapping sound.

   "Why don't you say anything?" Zong Cong also seemed to react and looked at Pan Er. If it was any other time, she would have spoken out long ago, but today she was unusually quiet.

   Usually, Pan'er had received a lot of convenience from Fu Lu, and at this time, she naturally had to facilitate with others. She made a gesture to Fu Lu for him to step back, before bringing her own tea to him.

   As for the one he had, it had long since been knocked over by him.

   "What would Your Majesty like to hear from this concubine?"

   He frowned and glanced at her; if she usually brought the word concubine with her, it meant that she was about to start putting on airs again.

"I don't usually see you treating me with respect, but now you're acting like a concubine." He was so hateful that he pressed her on the head, although it was not heavy, it made Pan'er cry out in pain.

   "Ouch!" She rolled her eyes and complained, "This is a matter between you and the Empress, what can I say? If I speak in favour of the Empress, you will definitely be unhappy, and if you are unhappy, what can I do? If I don't speak in favour of the Empress, what would that make me? In the ears of others, I would be the demon concubine who instigated the conflict between you and the Empress."

   "If you're angry with her, you can just be angry, it's none of my business anyway, I'll just watch from the sidelines. I'll just watch from the sidelines so that the gods don't fight and mortals don't suffer.

Her words made Zong Cong laugh and cry.

   "Are you so pitiful as you say? Not even enough for a finger of mine?"

Pan'er leaned over and took his finger and gestured, "Haven't you heard that the emperor's wrath will make a million corpses fall? I am a small prawn in that million."

"That's not as pathetic as you make it out to be, you're still my precious concubine, how come you're not enough for the Empress to have a fit of rage?"

   "That's what it means, and you're getting serious." She said.

Zong Cong grunted and took her in his arms, taking his hand and rubbing her shoulder twice and patting it again.

   "If the Empress Dowager finds out about this, she might even punish Aunt Nianci."

   "Then you mean that Nianci should not say anything to me and let the Queen Mother suffer?"

   Pan'er also looked at him with her eyes, almost explicitly saying 'look, look, look, what did I say, it's no good to get involved in this matter'.

He said, "I don't mean to blame or be angry with you," and then he sighed slightly, "Mother's life has been very hard, I just don't want her to have finally become the empress dowager and still have be angry with others."

An unpopular empress, surrounded by wolves and an unreliable husband who wanted to abolish her at all times, how hard it was for Zong Cong during his years as crown prince, he knew how hard it was for his own mother, even harder than him, because when he was still young and unable to protect himself, he all relied on Empress Fu to protect him.

   Now that he had become emperor, he was like a son who had suddenly risen to greatness and wanted his mother to enjoy her wealth and prosperity in peace and quiet, and his feelings were the same, even if he was no different from ordinary people.

   Pan'er understood all this, which is why she felt that Empress Chen was not too smart.

   Empress Chen seemed to be really bad at pleasing Emperor Jianping, every time she was asked to do a very simple task, she managed to mess it up.

   Maybe she didn't want to please him at all? After all, wasn't Empress Fu an example of how, as long as she didn't make any mistakes herself and her maternal family was stable enough, she couldn't be easily dethroned even if the Emperor didn't like it?

   If Empress Chen really thought so, she would be short of a son to be crown prince.

Pan'er thought this with boredom, but she didn't think too much of it; after all, Zong Cong was still in front of her and had a rare look of long-suffering, so naturally she had to console him.

   "Your Majesty may be overthinking things, but who can give the Empress Dowager a hard time? If you really feel that the Empress Dowager is unhappy, why don't you go to the Kunning Palace and have a dinner with her? As a parent, you can give her a thousand treasures, but it is not as sweet as being at her knees."

"At her knees?" Zong Zong repeated.

   "The Empress Dowager is alone in Kunning Palace, and it looks like there are many people in Kunning Palace, but they are all palace maids and eunuchs, so I'm sure she is lonely, right?" Pan'er also knew that asking Zong Cong to accept who's knee, he certainly couldn't do it, he could only say it in a different way.

   "A meal?" He looked out of the window and after some thought said, "Then go and have your meal, it's late, it's just as well that you accompany me there."

   Pan'er, who had been dragged into the fight, would have to go with him.

   --

Perhaps because he was going to Kunning Palace with a certain purpose in mind, Pan'er could see that Zong Cong's steps were a little hesitant when he stepped into the Palace.

   But at such a time, one could only pretend not to see it, and save him from embarrassment.

Once inside and seeing Empress Fu's reaction, Pan'er could understand why Zong Cong was embarrassed, perhaps this mother and son had very little time to spend together.

When she heard that Zong Cong was staying for dinner, Empress Fu probably used all the self-control she had in her life to keep herself from losing her composure. She busily ordered Nianci to prepare the meal, and although she didn't say anything out loud, she could see that she was surprised with a touch of happiness.

   But it was only for a moment, and soon Empress Dowager Fu regained her usual poise.

She placed her eyes on Pan'er for a moment and smiled as she said to Zong Cong, "I didn't expect that Guifei would accompany the Emperor to dine with me. I'm afraid that the dishes will not be to the Emperor's liking."

This is obviously a message, and the target of the message is not Zong Cong, but Pan Er.

It was a pity that Zong Cong, who was usually quite shrewd, was like a son in front of his mother today, not even noticing the implication of the words, but seriously thinking about the answer: " Son can eat everything, don't worry, Mother."

Pan'er, however, understood and winked at Xiang Pu, who busied herself and went off. Before she could go out, Nian Qiu followed her and led her out with a smile on her face.

   Before she knew it, Nian Qiu followed her and led her out with a smile on her face. In a short time, the two of them returned without alerting anyone, as if nothing had happened.

   When Empress Dowager Fu saw the look Nian Qiu passed over, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

   She was busy fighting with the concubines and Gao and Zhou, while he was busy with his studies and his brothers and all sorts of things inside and outside the court, so mother and son had grown apart.

   Until he became an adult and got married, it was not appropriate for him to come to the Kunning Palace, and even when mother and son met, they mostly talked about business, and rarely talked about family matters, let alone having meals together in private.

The mother had no idea what her son's tastes were and had to ask his consort to help her.

   Thinking of how distant she had been from Pan'er before, and how she had never changed her attitude in coming to pay her respects, although she did not talk as much as she used to, but still, as always, not overly attentive, but not distant either, Empress Dowager Fu could not help but look at Pan'er occasionally with a complicated look in her eyes.

Her own child, she still knows his personality well. She knew about Nianci's talk earlier, so she could understand why the emperor had suddenly come over to have dinner with her, and who had played a role in it.

   Perhaps the mother and son were not really good at small talk, and the atmosphere afterwards was somewhat stiff, so Empress Fu could only turn to chat with Pan'er, but because they had been together before, they were not too rusty, and the atmosphere did not become too awkward after all.

   When Nianci came to report that the evening meal had been served, both women could not help but sigh with relief. At the same time, they glanced at the man at the side who did not show any impatience, but rather listened to the gossip with great attention, and exchanged a look that did not need to be said.

Both froze for a moment as the glances met.

After that it was time to go for the evening meal. Seeing the dishes on the table, Zong Cong could not help but feel a lot of emotions in his heart, thinking that he did not know what his mother liked to eat and what she did not like to eat, but she knew what he liked.

In fact, Zong Cong's appetite for food is not heavy, he is the kind of person who eats more if he likes, and less if he doesn't. Even if there is not a single dish he likes on the table, he will eat one or two bites of each dish, so it is difficult for people to know what he really likes to eat.

It's hard to tell what he likes to eat unless you've spent a lot of time with him and are observant, and it's only thanks to the blessings of her past life that Pan'er has been able to find out.

The meal tonight was not very rich, compared to the usual imperial meals served by Empress Dowager Fu and Zong Cong, there was not even enough room on the table, and several bars had to be used to help set it up, just ten simple dishes and two soups.

Zong Cong did not notice the familiarity of the arrangement of the meal, and assumed that it was because, as Empress Dowager Fu had said, people ate a simple dinner when they were older. When Nian Qiu asked her what His Majesty liked to eat, she picked out more than ten dishes that Pan'er usually arranged.

   She also told Nian Qiu that His Majesty didn't like to make a fuss, and that he liked simple dishes.

   In fact, Pan'er didn't like the idea of having a bunch of dishes for a meal, which would be too much to eat and too much to waste. She was not accustomed to it even after two lifetimes, so she tried to keep things as simple as possible.

Fortunately, Zong Cong was quite receptive and never made any comments about it, so it became a common practice in her courtyard.

   The meal was extremely quiet, not even the sound of dishes clashing, which is a common problem in the palace. But they were all extremely happy, at least when Pan'er saw that Empress Dowager Fu was happy on her way out, and Zong Cong also seemed happy when he left Kunning Palace.

   It was already dark, and Fu Lu led a few eunuchs to follow behind.

   On the way from the Kunning Palace to the Qianqing Palace, there were palace lamps hanging from the corridors, so there was no need for anyone to beat the lanterns in front of them.

Zong Cong walked very slowly, seemingly thinking about something, and seemingly enjoying the soothing night breeze.

   Suddenly he stopped and looked sideways to see her smiling.

   The halo of yellow light and the stillness of the night, the so-called looking at beauty under the lamp and enjoying beauty under the moon, was just like that.

   He couldn't help but take her hand and rub it in his. He had a lot to say, but it only turned into a single sentence: "I'm sorry for your trouble."

As clever as Zong Cong was, he might not have reacted for a moment, but how could he not have understood all along, and he naturally knew how much thought she had put into this matter today.

   "In the future, I will try to make time to come and spend more time with my mother, who I only found out today already has grey hair."

   "You go more often too, I see that Mother likes you quite a lot."

"Mother has been alone for too long, and I have been negligent, Wan Yin and Lin'er are both lively, you bring them more often, and let Mother enjoy her children and grandchildren at her knees ......"

   Walking all the way, he talked all the way, just some fine language.

   He spoke and she listened and took it to heart.

   --.

   The atmosphere was so good that Pan'er could not afford to spoil the fun.

Turning her head to see that Zong Cong had actually urged her to take more children to Kunning Palace, she couldn't help but feel a little headstrong.

   When they were young, she always took them to the Kunning Palace, but at that time she wanted to use the children to find support for herself, and then she did not. Even if she goes, she rarely takes the children over.

The children of the Eastern Palace are more than just a few, it was easy to calm down in the backyard of the Eastern Palace, we all live our own lives without interfering with each other, Pan'er knows that in fact a large part of the reason is that they have their own children, have a future to rely on, naturally do not fight.

   But what are you trying to do by using your children to compete for favour?

   She was already too popular in the Eastern Palace's backyard, and any move she made could provoke a reaction from others. Especially when it comes to the children, and especially when the children are getting older.

She could not say such things in front of him and could only remind him of what happened to Wanyin last time, which probably meant that it was their business whether they went or not, but whether they said it or not was a matter of your eccentricity as the father.

   The two subsequent family banquets he also mentioned this matter.

   He didn't say anything explicitly, but just talked about filial piety and so on. I don't know if he was too subtle or not, but afterwards Pan'er observed that there didn't seem to be any movement.

   In the meantime, there was a Dragon Boat Festival, after which Empress Dowager Fu finally moved the palace.

[liveblogsandthots]

this is my official coming out as a dean winchester girly post so here it goes

okay so something that i saw a while ago and has been bugging me since was a dean anti being like bla bla bla dean winchester is so pathetic for being upset and sad for his dad leaving him and doing his own thing when sam when to college like he was in his twenties he should have been fine it wasn’t a big deal whatever

im not going to come on here and say that dean was perfect and never did anything wrong or anything like that because boy howdy did the writers give him some questionable lines/plot points (kicking cas out of the bunker, how he first interacted with jack, three of the cheerleaders are legal) but jensen plays him in such a compelling way and his character is just really interesting but i just cannot get behind this take that he shouldn’t have been fucked up by this

we all know that if you look up codependent in the dictionary sam and dean would show up and john winchester is responsible for that. they grew up hoping from town to town barely staying long enough to make friends much less figure out how to keep in contact especially without social media and texting being what it is today. there were some other semi stable presences in their lives like bobby and pastor jim but they were still always temporary. now. when sam leaves for stanford he takes half the people in deans support system with him and he’s not good at staying in contact as we know from the pilot when they mention they haven’t talked in two years. also! deans not upset because his brother is leaving for college, he’s upset because thanks to john winchester’s a+ parenting he’s leaving for good, he’s not coming back for some weekends or for any other breaks, he’s leaving as in gone and planning on staying gone. but anyways when sam leaves that leaves john as the only person in deans life that he knows and is in contact with. he is not some normal twenty something living away from home for the first time and his complaining because he has to figure stuff out on his own, he is a deeply traumatized and lonely young man who literally has no one else in his life after his dad starts going on hunts without him. the only people he sees and talks to are strangers and it’s always small talk or maybe comforting the occasional victim and doing the occasional interview

he’s not being overdramatic for being hurt by being left by the only people he has left in the world. his experiences are not the same as a normal persons and obviously he’s not going to react the same way and that is okay! it is completely justified! also even if i did have a normal life with friends and coworkers and aunts uncles and cousins i would probably also be upset and a little depressed if my dad and my brother walked out on me and then barely contacted me after they left at pretty much any age??

anyways that was my little rant not sure if it makes sense to anyone else but just wanted to put it out there

[nicromancytarot]

For the moodboard game🤍

I'm t.d and here, have my fabulous intuition😊💅🏻

Your fs will bring out your nurturing and soft side. I'm getting you'll be more stable and willing to give, esp emotionally, and outwardly you'll look very peaceful, warm and content(although, slightly defensive of them and the relationship in a stubborn/ fierce way) when you'll be with them. Idk if you're familiar with vedic nakshatras but it's giving Purva Ashadha on your part. They(your fs) will be VERY CHILL, for some reason I'm getting warm toned, lighter, curly hair, skinny build(with slight muscles and abs if they're a male, yeah I'm getting a male) and pale skin. You'll feel safe to be soft with them, esp in private. You guys seem like a couple from fiction that everyone might say is underrated because of how lighthearted/chill you guys' story/relationship/overall vibe is. It's interesting tho, like, sometimes you guys might act(around each other) in a way that seems adorable/comedic to others. I'm also getting you being moody/wanting to cry/complaining and overall being in a triggered state and him(yeah I think they're a he, idk your preferences 😭) holding your face and saying sweet, reassuring words in a calm tone and instantly grounding you.

Oh wow, well, let me know if this sounds like it might be true for you? 😭 I'd also like a moodboard on my fs please🤍

Thanks and have a good (rest of the) day 🤍

That was so cute omg!! Thank you so much for choosing the exchange option, it resonates well 🫶🏻

I think your future spouse has been through a lot so far during this lifetime, this is a very heavy session so warning here!! TW: Sexual assault.

I think they may have had their innocence stripped from them at a young age, and possibly experienced something in which someone who they trusted took advantage of that trust. That scene in Maleficent where she has her wings stolen from her (symbolising assault) is something that comes to mind. This may have been their first relationship, or first person they felt some sort of seriousness for. If you haven’t already, you may resonate well with pile 1 of my “All about your future spouse 18+” reading, it brings up the same themes as I will here.

When making this moodboard for you, I kept saying how they are a fallen angel since I feel as though that situation ruined them mentally, it messed up their trust, made them more angry and standoffish. But I feel like they are currently working on it and bringing themself back up.

You’ll feel as though you have to protect them, and this could make them feel very disappointed in themself for making you feel that way. It could also take a lot of time and perseverance to make this connection into a committed relationship, you may need to have a fair amount of patience.

They are frail and damaged, but they are working on healing those past wounds.