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bluefuckboy · 3 years

Text

Feathers

Taking feather kink to a whole new level…

Pairing: Dabihawks

Wc: 2800

Cw: non con, Dabi essentially gives a feather a blow job I don’t know what else to say

Here take my gift of smut @iamtheempress

Hawks sighs as the dull voice of the man at the front of the room drones on,

“Assuming petty crime will continue to be handled by heroes on scene and not require backup, we should be able to focus our main attention on the rising threat of the Meta Liberation Army.”

The speaker is someone he should probably remember, but doesn’t. He meets a lot of people and this guy could easily be the poster child for any of the stuffy bureaucrats Hawks has worked for throughout the years. Having his own agency has its perks, one of which is being able to skirt meetings via a replacement. However this meeting has the rest of the top heroes sitting around the large table that makes up most of the room.

Even Endeavor himself has crammed his massive frame into one of the stiff backed chairs they are all seated in. Without his signature flames, he looks almost comical trying to sit comfortably while the man up front drones on. To his left, Edgeshot listens intently. Next to him, Mirko’s ears twitch occasionally as she and the others have their eyes glued to the suited man still talking about intel Hawks has known for months already.

He sighs and his eyes wander to the empty seat at his right. It’s been months since Best Jeanist publicly retired due to injuries he sustained in Kamino. To the general population’s knowledge, the fashion savvy hero is safe and sound, most likely working on the next bootcut jean trend. Hawks gets an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looks at the empty chair. Jeanist’s real location is nowhere safe and sound, but rather held in a cold container, a “corpse” waiting to be put on display.

The thought makes Hawks sick to his stomach and while he’s confidant in the plan the two of them had devised, he can’t shake the constant worry in the back of his mind that something might go wrong. It was a huge gamble to bring Best Jeanist himself before the League of Villains, but there was no other way to convince the flame crazed Dabi that Hawks was actually on their side. Dabi’s smug grin of approval as Hawks unzipped the body bag will always be burned into his memory. It was the first time he’d seen the villain smile and he had been surprised when it brought an almost pleasant look to his marred features.

The first thing Hawks had noticed upon meeting with the villain was his eyes. The brilliant blue seemed a stark contrast to the ragged, purpled skin that gave him an almost demonic look. From what Hawks eventually gathered through conversations with Twice mainly, the burns had been a result of a quirk related accident from years ago. After learning the scars were self inflicted, it didn’t take long for Hawks to understand the limits of the fire quirk that Dabi possessed. Sometimes Hawks would find himself staring at he villain. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was something familiar about those eyes and he wondered what Dabi must of looked like before suffering such extensive burns.

Hawks had gotten caught on more than one occasion staring at Dabi, trying to picture him without the destroyed skin and staples. Usually he was good about quickly looking past him, or at something else, but there had been a recent incident where it was just the two of them and things had taken an interesting and unexpected turn. He had gotten caught scrutinizing Dabi as they were in the dilapidated building the League was currently calling home base.

This time the villain spoke up, eying Hawks over the tips of his boots which were propped on the tarnished table in front of the sad looking couch he was lounging on.

“You got a problem with me, birdie?”

His harsh tone was defensive and Hawks quickly tried to brush it off, “Who me? Nah. I was just zoning. Sorry if it looked like I was starin’ atcha.”

Dabi clearly didn’t believe him as he said, “Seems you make a habit of zoning pretty often then.” He cocked an eyebrow, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were checking me out.”

Hawks hadn’t expected that to come out of Dabi’s two toned lips and it caught him off guard. His feathers puffed slightly as he tried to think of a way to brush it off as another joke, but his usually quick retorts all seemed to jumble together. He ended up just pressing his lips together lest he somehow blurt out anything that might make Dabi suspicious. The silence earned him a low chuckle from Dabi before he stood up. He made his way over to where Hawks was perched atop an old barstool that had come with from the first hideout.

Dabi stood in front of him, hands in his pockets, a look on his face as though he were messing with an annoying child, “You sure about that? We’ve had to work pretty closely for the past couple weeks and I’ve noticed your eyes on me. Makes me curious is all…”

As he trailed off he brought a hand up to fiddle with the material of the signature bomber jacket Hawks was dressed in. Having Dabi so close was making Hawks’ nervous and his wings flattened against his back as he tried to keep his cool, hoping his voice didn’t shake.

“I think you’re mistaken my fiery friend.”

As soon as he let the word friend slip from his mouth Dabi’s hand went from Hawks’ jacket to his throat. His palm was hot and Hawks could feel the rows of staples that went through his palm as he hissed, “We’re not friends.”

His breath was hot against the side of Hawks’ face. Hawks could easily send a few feathers out to make some new scars for the villain, but he found himself with a strange dropping sensation in his stomach as a chill ran down his spine. Dabi’s grip on his throat slackened and Hawks let out a shaky breath. However Daib’s fingers didn’t leave his skin. The rough pad of his thumb brushed under Hawks’ ear as the rest of his fingers wound their way in to the unruly blonde locks. Everywhere Dabi touched was hot and the rasp of his voice so close had Hawks shuddering.

“You and I will never be friends, Number Two. This is business between us, got that?”

His lips brushed the shell of Hawks’ ear slightly and Hawks replied breathily, “Y-yep. My bad.”

“Good.” was all that Dabi had said before leaving Hawks gasping for air he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

The experience had been replayed in his mind a few times since then, and he regretted thinking about it again now as he’s seated in what was obviously a very important meeting. He shakes his head a bit, trying to focus on whatever the man is speaking on now, something pertaining to the media.

A few boring minutes go by. Hawks taps his finger on the table but then a shiver makes it’s way down his spine. His feathers stand up slightly as he feels the familiar vibration through a detached feather he forgot he’d left behind at the League’s. It was a larger secondary feather meant to be a sort of back up should he need to try and get information from a meeting he wasn’t privy to. He’d placed it in an area where he thought no one would look, high atop a dusty cupboard in the dingy kitchen. But it was clear that someone had found it as his body automatically honed in on it’s unique frequency.

He tried not to twitch in his seat as he focused on the muddled vibrations that were traveling over the fine barbs that lined the shaft of the feather. Normally converting the vibration into sound and then into words was easy. But he was in the middle of a very important meeting and it was the most inconvenient timing possible. Still, he weeds out frequencies while trying to pay attention to the man at the front.

There’s something familiar about the waves of sound, and Hawks puts his fingertips together, leaning forward to make it look like he is thinking intently as he closes his eyes and focuses. Sorting out the vibrations is like trying to tune to the right radio station and as Hawks finally hones in on the voice of the person holding the feather, he feels his skin get hot.

It’s Dabi’s voice that was speaking, going a bit in and out, but clearly that familiar rasp. Hawks focuses harder until he can finally hear the villain speaking. Dabi says saying something about the feather being in an unusual spot and then his voice is suddenly crystal clear.

“I know you can hear me, Hawks. Didn’t think anyone would find this feather, hmm?”

Hawks’ wings fluff involuntarily as he feels the vibration from Dabi’s hum. He’s holding the feather so close to his mouth that Hawks swears he can feel the hot breath that ruffles the feather as Dabi blows on it.

“So is it just sound? Or can you feel this…” From his place on the couch, Dabi strokes the feather slowly from base to tip.

Hawks’ hands hit the table as he slams his palms down, eyes going wide. There’s a sensation he’s never felt before happening. It feels like his whole body is being caressed, even down to the most sensitive areas.

The other heroes turn toward him and Hawks quickly says, “Wing cramp! Sorry! Carry on.”

He sits back in his seat, clenching his hands tight in his lap as Dabi’s low voice rumbles through his head, “Didn’t know you had such pretty feathers. Hard to see em properly when they’re being used to try and stab you.”

Dabi’s rough fingers trail down the edge of the feather, separating the barbs and making Hawks’ heart beat faster. He can feel Dabi’s touch. It’s something that he’s never experienced or even considered as he’s used feathers as a way to bug a room so to speak. He’s always just brought them back or severed the connection when he was done. He would have never thought the pressure of Dabi’s fingers at the base of the feather as he twirled it would have Hawks nearly squirming in his seat.

“I hope you can feel this, Number Two. You’ve been a little too cocky from the start for my liking.” Hot breath is blown on the feather and then Dabi’s voice drops to a dangerous level, “I hope you’re not out flyin or in say, I dunno, an important meeting…”

He trails off and Hawks’ heart hammers in his chest, not sure what is about to happen. He wonders if Dabi burns the feather would he feel like he was burning too? Was Dabi about to torture him slowly? A sweat breaks out on his brow and then he feels it.

Dabi runs his tongue up the shaft of the feather, slowly, purposefully. He presses the tip against the central shaft and then flattens his tongue against it as he goes back to the bottom of the feather. The stud in the middle of his tongue pushes through the barbules and the intrusive feeling has Hawks doubling over, panting as he looks down to see he’s hard.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses.

He knows the other heroes are staring and he has to get out of here now. He stands up, awkwardly bring a wing forward to cover himself explaining in his familiar carefree chirp that he needs to go stretch his wings for a second. “Betcha didn’t know you could get a charley horse in a wing haha.”

The laugh is forced and he knows the heroes all raise their brows at him as he shuffles out the door and into the nearest bathroom. He slams the door shut to the stall and stands there, shivering as he tries to calm down. But then Dabi’s tongue is back, curling around the top of the feather.

His voice is so loud inside Hawks’ head, “Does that feel good?”

Hawks clamps a hand over his mouth as he tries not to make noise as Dabi’s surprisingly skillful tongue dips through the barbs on it’s way down to the afterfeathers, which he sucks between his lips carefully. The feeling goes straight to Hawks’ crotch, almost as though the feather is connected to each of his erogenous zones, which are many since he’s a pretty frisky guy and he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s never been pleasured like this before.

Dabi’s rough voice chides, “It’d be quite the sight to see you coming undone from merely a feather.”

He rubs the downy barbs between his fingers and Hawks whimpers, throwing a hand out to hold himself up as he feels pre starting to leak from the head of his swollen cock. His mind is everywhere at once, and yet he can’t deny the ripples of pleasure that go through him when he feels Dabi blow on the feather again.

He cries out as Dabi’s teeth bite down on the end of the hollow of the shaft and tears come to his eyes. As though Dabi can see him, he says, “Too much? Here how bout this.”

Dabi’s fingers go back to caressing the center shaft slowly and Hawks can’t stop the jerk of his hips. He’s so hard and he’s torn between trying to just make himself cum to hopefully stop things, or to see what else Dabi can do to him with a single feather.

The thought sends heat down over his shoulders and he decides to press his forearm against the stall, leaning his head on it while he brings the other hand up to cover his mouth.

He muffles what would have been a loud moan as Dabi flicks the the top of the feather. His hips rut against nothing. The drag of the fabric of his boxers pales in comparison to Dabi’s wet mouth returning to the hollow of the feather.

“Ah! Fuck…” Hawks bites his hand to stop the lewd noises threatening to spill out of him.

Dabi’s tongue somehow finds the small hole at

the end of the feather and he flicks the wet muscle against it before sucking. It’s the damp heat of his mouth pressed around the feather that has Hawks cumming with what’s nearly a sob. He makes a mess of his boxers, never even having had a chance to try and pull them down to cum into some toilet paper or something.

His legs shake and then they give out, landing him on his ass by the toilet, a panting, sweaty mess. Tears drip down his cheeks and his wings are still twitching from the aftershock of the most intense orgasm he’s had in a while. He doesn’t even know what he’s gonna say to the other heroes, let alone how he’ll be able to even look at Dabi anymore. But, maybe Dabi will think he didn’t feel it if he can play it cool.

Smoothing things out with the other heroes is easy enough. One text of a made up emergency placates them. Hawks is more than fast enough to be in and out of his loft for a shower and fresh clothes before he needs to be back at the Leauge’s that evening. He tries to calm his nerves, as he raps his knuckles on the door in the rhythm the crazed fanged girl showed him. He’s too preoccupied to notice when the door actually opens and then his knuckles brush on the solid chest of the one person he hoped to avoid at all costs.

One of Dabi’s arms drapes over his shoulders, pulling him into the hideout, which is still empty. Hawks sees the feather brought up before him, looking how he feels. Wrecked, wet in places with barbules dislocated and the softer downy curling from spit and friction.

Dabi chuckles as Hawks’ eyes go wide and his wings puff. The arm around his shoulder moves down to his back. Dabi’s broad, warm palm spreads through the middle of his shoulder blades where his wings meet. Hawks can’t help the gasp that falls from his lips and then Dabi’s gravely voice is in his head again, this time with hot breath against his ear and hands that are already exploring Hawks’ pliant body.

“If you really are so desperate to be friends, how bout we add on a few benefits? How’s that sound, songbird?” Dabi rubs the feather between his fingers again and Hawks whimpers as Dabi grins.

“Next time, I wanna hear you sing.”

#dabi x hawks #dabihawks #dabihawks fanfic #dabi x hawks fanfic #feather play #dabi #hawks #bnha #bnha dabi #bnha hawks

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become.

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later.

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something.

Well, that’s life.

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did.

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country.

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection.

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot.

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is.

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral.

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here.

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again.

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that.

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly.

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already.

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him.

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind.

#min yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fics #bts imagines #new #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #heartsforbts #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner

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gemma-collins-ily · 3 years

Note

It’s my birthday today and I was wondering if you could do Jesper celebrating the reader’s birthday?

Jesper Celebrating the Reader's Birthday

a/n - keep in mind, fics don't normally come out this quickly, but I saw this and wanted to release it on your special day! This may be a little uncoordinated but I hope you enjoy and have a brilliant day! Also, just to let everyone know, requests are closed for a few days, just so I can catch up on requests xoxo 💞

Warnings: nothing?

Tagged: @mrs-brekker15 @i-am-the-1930s @inthegistoftime

it is guaranteed

you hear me?

guaranteed

that he will try to plan you a party

it's Jesper, he has to

so he'll set up streamers and a huge poster displaying your age

for all who enter the Slat to see

he'll get Nina to distract you, taking you out for waffles probably

his words would probably be exactly like this:

"I don't know Neens, just take them away from the Slat and don't come back till, like ummm seven."

she'd look at the half hung decorations and many more still in boxes disapprovingly and ask:

"You didn't plan this out did you?"

"Are you accusing me, the Jesper Fahey, himself, of being disorganised?"

She grabbed her coat and you, covering your eyes as she went, very clearly conveying something was happening, then left without a word more.

so, by now, you knew something was happening

or at least suspected it

but would go along with it for Jesper

trailing after Nina until your feet were sore

finally having enough and asking if you could stop and sit on a bench

she agreed with a groan

so, she was obviously tired too

"How long do we need to stay out?"

"I really do not know what you're talking about, (Y/N)."

"Come on, I know there's a surprise back at the Slat, I just need to know how long I have to wait to go home."

she'd continue to blatantly refuse the very idea of a surprise until she randomly gave in

and you'd smirk, happy to get the answer

as soon as it neared seven, she'd try to drag you back to the Slat but you'd tell her they wouldn't be ready yet

Nina would not listen and take you firmly by the wrist, marching back to the Slat

when you got there you were right

of course

bestie, can you predict the future?

no, actually

you just know how frazzled your boyfriend can get

but you were surprised to see even Kaz was helping

it did not look like he wanted to be there voluntarily

but still

you take what you can get

it was an effort so you appreciated it

when Nina would let out a dramatic gasp at the sight of Kaz Brekker hanging up decor, Jes would notice you

yelling at Nina to take you out again or to your room

just go over and peck him on the lips, tell him you don't really care about the streamers and he'll relax

even if he wanted it to be perfect

you have all the calming techniques down bestie

Kaz will sigh exaggeratingly and drop the colourful swirly thing he was eyeing with disgust

it would be between his forefinger and thumb as he did so

and this meant it was twice as funny to you

oops you may have laughed

you received a glare in return

aww such a nice present

everyone say thank you Kaz

anyway

there's probably a table with gifts on it

kaz got you a new book

but left it anonymously

no message on the tag even if you know it's him

you thank him and he pretends he has no clue who gave it to you

"Awwww, thanks Kaz."

"I didn't get you a gift, (Y/N). It's obviously from someone else."

Inej would get you some sort of herbal tea I think

if you don't like tea then it's probably also a book

wow what a match for those two

thinking the same thoughts

Nina may have forgotten to get a present and would promise waffles instead

or she'd have tried to sneakily get a board game while you were out earlier

you acted like you did not notice

it's a grammy award for you

Matthias could have either gotten you some kruge because he wasn't sure what you wanted

or a new scarf, coat ect.

he has a pretty good taste in fashion

now, Jesper would either wait till later to give you his gifts

because aww, sentimentality

or he'd give you them with everyone else's to make you blush publicly

at that point, you wouldn't care

either way, he'd keep at least one spare to give to you in private

I think his gifts would be a little something like this:

a type of jewelry, whether it be a necklace or an anklet, it would have a J on it

he probably bought a matching one for him with your initial on it too

a necklace feels a little more personal but could be taken advantage of by enemies

like in finding out you were together

not like it was oBVIOUS or anything

but an anklet would ultimately be sturdier and less likely to be taken as a means of affection from a loved one

so anklet it is

chocolates that are actually quite rich in flavour and are rare in Ketterdam

he saved up some money for those

if you like to play with his rings

he'll have bought you one

again, it may be a little blander to avoid it being interpreted as a gift of love by enemies

you didn't mind it being a little more hidden

Jesper was happy with you and you with Jesper

so you felt no need to show off to the world

you would probably take it off if you had to do any good old fashioned fist fighting

pocketing it quickly

he'd also give you a nail makeover the next day

but you would have to paint on his nails in return because if he tried, he would probably mess up while using his non-dominant hand to paint the other

you could match because #couplegoals

he'd bring you breakfast in bed the day after your birthday

being so busy planning the day before, he didn't get you any

I hate to disappoint but it would not be made by him

he would burn everything

so Matthias' second present to you is the breakfast

delivered by Jesper

he'd probably be sat at the counter making snarky remarks about Matthias' cooking

until he got whacked with a tea towel

if you're an early bird

Jes would be given the task of distracting you and stopping you from walking downstairs

or getting out of bed at all

this could be easily done with the persuasion of cuddles

then Matthias would yell for him and he'd have to leave to get the tray

when he brings it up he'll sit you between his legs, leaning your back against his chest and resting the tray on your knees

may feed you bites that sOMEHOW end up like a lady and the tramp scene

even if it's a slice of french toast, he'll manage

would tactfully steal little bits off your plate

and you couldn't really be mad at him because he would just smile charmingly

(maybe with half a piece of bacon sticking out of the side of his mouth)

but charming none the less

he might have a gift hidden in the corner of a chest of drawers somewhere you find one day and he remembers he was supposed to wrap that up and give it to you

if it's almost a year later and near your next birthday

just leave it on his dresser

no words need to be exchanged

the only difference is now one of your presents is less of a surprise

oh cards

kaz would write in his a simple,

'Inej made me write this. Have a good day. You are one year closer to being dead. Congratulations.

-Signed sincerely, Kaz Brekker'

Nina and Matthias share a card

meaning she wrote it and he signed his name with an extra

'I hope you have a lovely day, (Y/N).'

Nina's message/ the main one in the card would be:

'I can't believe we're all growing so old now! Anyway, we love you, hope you enjoy the presents and your birthday. You deserve it! Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Nina'

Inej's would have a very sincere message:

'(Y/N),

You are truly a wonderful friend and person, helping everyone with anything they may need. I feel so lucky to have you as my friend and I hope you will continue to be for years to come. You deserve a fantastic day and I hope you get one, I know Jes will try to make it perfect!

-From, Inej x

p.s - I tried to get Kaz to sign a card, but he was smirking and wouldn't let me see it before he put it in the envelope, so I'm terribly sorry if it's rude.'

now to Jesper's

'Love,

I adore you with all my heart and wish you a truly happy birthday. I hope you like the gifts I bought, I wanted to symbolise my love for you through each. I know one or two presents are a little bland but I hope they mean as much to you as they do to me. You are the most amazing partner I could ever dream of having, and every time you do something, I never expect it.

You are unpredictable, my love, and I can honestly say I do not mind it. In fact, it is one of the many factors that made me fall in love with you. Have a happy birthday!

-Love from Jesper, xxx

p.s - Kaz looked terrifyingly happy when he finished signing your card so be careful, he probably pulled something.

you might have cried

yes

you, a Crow, feared on the streets sniffled over even Kaz's message

knowing if he didn't actually want to, there was no way he would have signed that card

all in all, you have a great birthday and Jesper (and everyone else) makes you feel really special

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x you #jesper fahey fluff #jesper fahey fics #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey headcanons #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone imagine

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aetherarf · 3 years

Note

HELLO I SAW YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND UHM I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS ALLOWED BUT have you listened to Olivia Rodrigo's new album??? (If not its okay you can just ignore this) BUT IF YOU DID can you do an AU with Kaeya like remember the cheating prompt that you made a while ago? Like what if S/O became a great singer and kaeya secretly went to one of S/O's concert not knowing that all of their songs is about Kaeya and when S/O was singing "happier" she had spotted kaeya in the crowd and gave him a smile which led the 2 of them teary - eyed (TURNING S/O INTO OLIVIA RODRIGO AJSNWKSKQ) IM SORRY I WAS LISTENING TO THE SOUR ALBUM WHILE READING THE CHEATING PROMPT HUHUSHSJEIDJE

I actually avoid most media/news/celebrities just 'cause it tends to be stress inducing... But oh I did listen and I did get some ideas... :) Here you go~

[[ Celebrity!Reader Summary: Once, you and Kaeya were lovers. Once, you two fought. Once, you two broke up. Twice, you met him for the first time.

Word Count: 1'902 ]]

Humming to himself, Kaeya remembered a tune he had heard from some of the female Knights, dramatically singing this song in their own, slightly drunken amusement. He, admittedly, didn't care too much for... celebrities, for those who were known for their, usually recreational, work.

But the song was... He didn't quite know. It's not that he couldn't sing, but he just opted not to... Wasn't a big thing to him. Maybe this is what people meant when they said music was a powerful emotional thing, calling to him like a siren.

Or maybe he was just trying to fill the silence. Another partner, come and gone... He was a little ashamed of himself, only a month... only a month, he lasted, before realizing.. maybe he wasn't ready?

He rushed it, he rushed a lot of things. Maybe he was too eager to forget.

Oh well.

He had things to do, anyway. He looked back over the papers tossed about his desk, cringing at the mess he ended up making, and one stood out...

It was a poster, of sorts. Another... concert, like the ones Barbara hold, and apparently such a trend was spreading, for some girl in Liyue named 'Xinyan' was also trying to create new forms of music. He didn't think much of it, but suddenly he did...

A familiar name, a familiar face...

And the title of a familiar song.

Happier.

It was... You. An old partner, but old seemed far too generous a term, for it had been a month, two at most? Time wasn't easy to recall right now. He missed you, but he understood that it wasn't time. There were many tears, a lot of pain, and a break-up. He felt like he had gotten over it, but admittedly he was afraid... You disappeared from the world. He wasn't going to stalk you, but you took it hard...

Just a hint to know you were okay. Alive.

But here it was--a crumpled, slightly dirty poster that had a footprint on the back, that somehow found it's way onto his desk.

Three days. Your concert was in three days.

He left, taking a brief break, and bought a ticket, came back, working until he couldn't see straight anymore--he'd be seeing double if he could see from his second eye, went home.

Came back, got caught up, and his whirlwind of work managed to nearly get the Knights caught up on everything.

"Jean, I'm taking a few days off."

"I expected as much, you only work like this when you have something planned."

"You're a lifesaver~" he was already leaving, ignoring whatever Jean said.

Now, with one night to catch up on missed sleep, he was going to your concern.

Just to make sure it was you. One last goodbye he never got, even if you never heard it... It would be enough.

It would have to be enough.

...

He dressed up in his finest clothes, a little bit of make-up, his hair down and pooling over his shoulders... He didn't need to dress up, but... Well, it felt good to. It'd been awhile.

As soon as he headed out, he heard the familiar cat-calling... Actually, he distantly thought he heard Lisa, but he wasn't about to go talking about it.

He wasn't the Cavalry Captain tonight. He was just Kaeya.

The crowds were smothering, and hot, an area reasonably far from the city of Mondstadt, and it was already dark, but the bright lights had dwarfed the natural light of the stars.

More than once had others tried to garner his attention, but he knew better, respectfully declining most conversations, and he navigated himself to somewhat close to the crowd... Wondering if he should go away, further back, or further up.

Did he really want to see your face again? Did he want you to notice him?

In the end, he just saw you walk out from seemingly nowhere, standing upon the stage as you waved to the crowd, a bright, beautiful smile on your face.

His heart did not flutter, but it relaxed... Oh, you were so wonderful, and he felt so reassured. You were safe... And, clearly, thriving. That's all he really came to see, but...

"Hello everyone!" You cheered out, smiling to the crowd. You looked over the faces, most of which unnoticable, but you paused--

Dark blue hair, dark skin, black eyepatch...

And he looked at you like how a puppy looked at it's first owner after a long time in the rain.

He was here? He came? You thought about him a lot, but... You never let him say goodbye.

He looked so sincere as he watched, like how he looked at you when you woke up after him, an utter mess, but he looked at you with adoration.

You cleared your throat.

"Well, we all know what you came for... So, how about a song dedicated to a special man," your eyes darted back down, "... Who I wanted to be happy."

Cheering--oh, how deafening. You heard it would be insane, but... It was a little hard to bear.

You could, you knew you could, and knowing he was there...

He always supported you, something you only realized when many had scolded you for the songs you wrote, spoiled by his endless love for you and your work.

You knew it'd go well.

Kaeya could only watch, mesmerized and proud--did he deserve to be proud of you?--as you began to sing--

"We broke up a month ago--"

A little more than a month, but how recently had you written it, when it was so close?

"Your friends aren't you know, I know,"

How you disappeared, the friends you both shared had missed you, too. Did you really believe you would have to be alone?

"You've moved on, found someone new,"

Has he really moved on?

"One more girl who brings out the better in you?"

A girl with a spark, but that fizzled away? No, no, but he did not want fire. You two planted a seed, and when it did not sprout, you left, only for it to free itself from the earth,

"And I thought my heart was attached,"

The roots of the sprout sunk so deep, growing before being seen, he could not pry them from his heart,

"For all our sunlight of the past,"

But without your sunlight, of what it only now could see, how could it grow, it could only wither, either within your sunlight without water, or drowned by his hands.

"But she's so sweet, she's so pretty,"

Nothing compared to the blossom that this was meant to be,

"Does she mean you forgot about me?"

She was nothing but a spark to burn the withering sprout, but it survived the flame and overcame it, desperate to find it's day of blossom.

"Oh, I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me,"

He had not been happy how he had been with you.

"I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go,"

He couldn't forget--he couldn't let go.

The rest of the words--they passed by him, and in the crowd, he was able to find himself crying, unable to look at you. He was unnoticed by those who cheered for you.

How could he be happy, when he was reminded of his own mistakes, his failures, what blossom he was blessed with, yet failed to protect, just as he failed to protect everything else he loved?

Finally, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, he looked back up at you, stunned as you looked right down at him,

"So find someone great, don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier."

He couldn't find someone better. He didn't want to.

He wanted you.

The rest of the music--was pleasant. But he was still reeling, and honestly, he didn't know why he stayed. Eventually, you walked off stage and he found himself standing alone against the waves of people who left.

Was he waiting for you?

Were you waiting for him?

He sighed. He did things too fast, and that's one of the many problems. It's not like he had to leave, looking at the now empty field... He ended up finding himself sitting by himself, the lights, one by one, turning off, and he was met back with the darkness again...

And the Stars showed themselves to him.

"... I didn't expect you'd come."

He jumped, jerking his head over to look at you--still dressed up, make-up on, and voice a little raspy.

"Well..." Kaeya said, buying time to think, "I guess I just... Wanted to see that you were okay. Didn't hear anything about you." That wasn't a total lie, and you sat down beside him, the both of you looking skywards... As you did many times before.

"That's... Sweet," you said, unsure, "I never thought that, in a million years, you'd want to see me again."

Kaeya looked over at you, frowning, "Is that why you disappeared?"

You shrugged, "I guess I thought I was doing you a favor. Was I?" You asked, genuine.

He looked back skywards.

"I don't know, honestly. But at least you're... Okay. That was a nasty break-up, after all."

You shrugged, "I needed to think. And... You were right. I didn't appreciate you. I didn't realize how much you were there for me, and..."

You stared at him, and he stared at you.

"You say that-" Kaeya sighed, laughing weakly to himself, "Like I wasn't always gone, and I made too many promises I couldn't keep."

"Maybe we just weren't ready at the time."

There was a long moment of silence... Neither of you willing to break it.

However, it wasn't even uncomfortable, a fitting time to think.

"... I want to start over," Kaeya said, finally, "If you're willing, of course... And you can say no, I get-"

"No, I, I mean yes, wait..." You fumbled over your words...

"Take your time." He said, sweetly... And you sighed.

"I want to start over, too. Will you... Go on a date with me?" You asked, smiling.

"We go to Good Hunter, to go..." He smiled, "And I insist on paying.

"And I tell you I invited you, so I should pay." You grinned.

"And we fight like an old married couple..." Kaeya leaned closer.

"Until we finally split it, and leave the city." You rested your hand on his knee.

"We go to Starsnatch Cliff," his hand atop yours.

"And I say your eyes are the prettiest stars I've ever seen." You twist your wrist, intertwining your fingers with his.

"And I say mine are nothing compared to yours," He rests his head on your shoulder.

"And I poke your tummy, and you giggle until you snort," you rest your head atop his.

"And we eat, it went cold, but it didn't really matter," He closed his eyes.

"We lie down in the grass, looking to the sky," you closed yours.

"I look at you like you're the moon," his hand tightened on your own.

"And I look at you like you're the entire world," You slump, slightly, relaxed.

"And it's quiet."

Both you and Kaeya lift your heads, looking at one another, smiling.

"and we kiss."

Kaeya is close, his mouth not even an inch from yours.

But you pull away.

"Tomorrow?" You ask, smiling.

"Six in the evening... I'll be waiting."

#genshin impact #kaeya #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya x reader #genshin x reader #bark writes #anonymous #request #hurt and comfort #celebrity reader #// close nuff #// THIS HAS BEEN MY DEMON FOR SO LONG #// FUCKIN HELL #// GOD #// anyway it was a good step outta my comfort zone and i hope u liked it

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feralnumberfive · 3 years

Text

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 4 of Season 1

“Man on the Moon”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ So at that point Luther had already been alone for about five years (due to his siblings leaving when they were 18 or even 17 according to Diego), and by alone I mean he did’t have his siblings with him. I’m not counting Reginald, Grace, or Pogo because I’d imagine they weren’t the best company. There was a two year gap between Luther getting the serum and then being sent to the moon. He had already been “alone” for five years before he was sent away to be completely alone for four years. He hasn’t had really any social/outside interaction besides going on missions for almost ten years, which means Luther is an awkward dude and he hasn’t been a true leader because he hasn’t had anyone to lead. I don’t think people really realize this and I think that’s where some of the hate towards him comes from

☂ We see that Luther looks into Allison’s and Klaus’s bedrooms as he makes his way down the hall, and I’m willing to bet he did that for all of his siblings. Makes me wonder how many times the siblings went to Five’s room to visit it or to even check with hope that he had come back

☂ I wish I could ride my bike around my house and chug a gallon of milk :[

☂ I can’t believe that Reginald still made him wear that leather battle suit 💀

☂ Why are there posters of animal anatomy in the infirmary?

☂ Apparently it takes between two to four months to grow a full beard, so that’s about how long Luther had been lying there

☂ *suffers through the Allison and Luther scene*

☂ “HoPe I wAsN’t BeInG tOo LoUd”

☂ Vanya and Leonard were really sweet in the beginning. Screw you Leonard

☂ It’s really sad that not one his siblings notice that Klaus is gone. Not. One.

☂ Are you telling me that Klaus and Five are certified freaks? At least I’m sure that’s who Cha Cha is referring to, or maybe it’s Luther

☂ I tried looking up tortures in Trinidad to see if Cha Cha was referring to any specific event, but I think it’s just a random thing in the show

☂ It’s only when Diego mutters “The boy” that it reminds him either of Five’s superhero name “The Boy” or his new appearance as a teen again so it finally clicks in his head that that’s who the mystery kid is

☂ Diego admitting that he doesn’t really know how to process his feelings!

☂ He’s very protective of his family and that’s something that I love about Diego. He doesn’t know who Hazel and Cha Cha are but all he knows is that they are searching for Five for some reason and that his siblings almost got killed last night

☂ Five doesn't realize the suffering that he’s putting his family through at this point since he’s only focused on finding who’s responsible for the end of the world. It’s ironic that he’s doing all of this to keep them alive and safe and yet him not being with them almost got them killed. Five buddy, you should have included all of your siblings from the start no matter how much they annoy you

☂ Also where has Five been this entire time? He left the van at night and now it’s the next morning. He’s been following the guy but why did it take him so long to corner him?

☂ Ope, and there’s a continuation error! When Luther takes his arm out of Five’s dresser, he takes part of the wood panel with him. When it cuts back to Diego talking there’s just a fist size hole

☂ “We barely got out with our lives.” Okay but where were you, Pogo?

☂ It’s funny how quickly they revert to child-like shame when Pogo scolds them. At least they still respect him I guess

☂ Is Hazel eating potato chips with ketchup?

☂ I think one reason why nobody notices that Klaus is gone is because none of them saw him that night during the attack. They possibly assumed he already had left the Academy??

☂ Looooove the “Shingaling” scene. They are straight up vibing

☂ I don’t know why Luther was frustrated with the van door being locked. It’s not like he could rip the door off or anything.......

☂ I have a two questions here:

Why did Diego know where to find Five based off of the book? Sure he saw that it came from the library, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll be there

Wouldn’t Luther and Diego have seen the smoke coming from the Meritech building? Unless they left immediately and weren’t able to see the smoke even though they probably were still in the vicinity when it began to burn

☂ Five is holding the man’s arm to make sure that he doesn’t get away (hard to tell in the pic below though). He needs that sense of security that this lead isn’t going to escape his grasp, but I’m sure that if he were to run he wouldn’t get far when you can just teleport after him

☂ I got a nice pic of Five (also the dude on the bike that was riding behind Five as he runs up in this shot just does not care that this building is on fire)

☂ When it shows Five on the ground, it at first starts off with light and slightly comedic music before it quickly switches over to something dramatic. I always thought it was funny that they play the light stuff as we see Five just laying there 💀

☂ You can see just how quickly Five’s face changes from shock to disbelief and disappointment as his only lead is literally blown away from him look, you can pinpoint the exact moment his heart breaks. Also Five definitely would have had hearing issues since we can see that the windows on the building behind him were shattered. He’s staring into your soul....

☂ There’s nothing really significant about this at all, but Whippets are racing dogs and in the comics Five goes to watch a dog race at one point

☂ “I hate sprinkles.” Hey, me too!

☂ I love that Griddy’s is still open despite the damage that was done to it

☂ Diego left home at 17 (which is illegal so I wonder if he was emancipated or maybe Diego ran away and Reginald didn’t care to look for him) so I wonder if the others left when they were 17 too or if they waited until they were 18

☂ Luther I don’t really think you’re one to talk about being “grown up” my guy. In fairness none of the Umbrellas know how to be fully functioning adults, not even Five who’s about twice the age of his siblings and is almost a senior citizen

☂ “I stayed because the world needed me.” Hey that was basically Five’s reason too, but more so for getting to see his family again. Anyways, like brother, like, uh, brother!

☂ "And things are never gonna go back to the way they used to be.” You sir just predicted the next week(s) (and technically years in the 60s) of your life and the lives of your siblings! This also applies for what happens after those weeks/years, but we haven’t gotten there yet but it’s certainly not the way things used to be!

☂ How was Luther upset enough that he wanted Diego to stop talking after he said something genuine and a bit sad?

☂ This whole relationship talk isn’t exactly relatable......

☂ He’s just chillin’

☂ Reginald can ✨perish✨ Oh wait, he already did

☂ Here I am taking any little scrap and running with it, but when Five says he’s going through puberty twice does that mean that he didn’t get his aging altered by The Commission? In the comics, Temps Aeternalis/Commission stopped Five’s aging but here it sounds like that didn’t happen. Since we haven’t heard anything about Five’s DNA in the tv show we don’t really know much about his aging alteration either. I think that they really do have to leave that part out due to Aidan himself, who is a growing teen, and for the fact that they would need to come up with an excuse for Five’s aging (Aidan already looks different in S2 and he’s taller too). I wish they would bring this stuff up in the show!

☂ Five deflects answering the question of what he’s the best at most likely just because he’s just distracted but also possibly because he doesn’t want his brothers to know at this point

☂ First the feral chimp smile and now this

☂ Five actually sounded serious when he was talking about how many people he has killed and how he’s the ”Four frickin’ Horsemen” which is more so an exaggeration but it still shows us that he views himself as dangerous and powerful. He revealed this to them while he was drunk, even though they don’t really understand, but I wonder if Five ever actually planned on telling his siblings what he did and how much blood he has on his hands. I feel like he would have told them after he had saved the world from the apocalypse, but yet again I could also see him brushing off questions in relation to what he just said to Luther and Diego to hide his past from his family

☂ ✨”Little Psycho”✨

☂ As eerie as all of those ghosts are, it’s a really neat scene

☂ It’s not really meant to be funny, but Klaus denying the duct tape just reminds me of a little kid refusing to go into timeout

☂ I guess Cha Cha got out through the door next to the bathroom when Klaus was banging his head on the table?

☂ It’s a shame that Patch died right away, I really liked her

☂ Klaus, where you’re going really isn’t any better

☂ It’s sweet that Diego puts Delores down gently and doesn’t just toss her somewhere. Even though she’s a mannequin, Diego knows that she means something to Five

☂ Well Luther I think it’s pretty self-explanatory what he meant. You just need more context

☂ Diego: *signaling that someone, possibly a threat, is approaching and to be alert*

Luther: ��👁`👄’👁

☂ Even if they did think that Klaus had left the Academy before Hazel and Cha Cha attacked it, it’s sad that it took them this long to think about him

☂ Luther patting Delores is so cute

☂ Say it with me kids, “Patch deserved so much better!”

☂ My heart breaks to see Diego so heartbroken and upset, especially when he says “I gotta go, okay? I can’t be here when they come, okay?” Ugh, that gets me

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#tra #the rewatch academy #tua #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #hazel and cha cha #eudora patch #reginald hargreeves #man on the moon

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fan-art-ic · 3 years

Text

Don't Stop Here

She's back. Anne is really back on Earth. She can hardly believe it.

(Picks up immediately after the episode ends) (ao3 link in reblog)

Anne can hardly believe it. Cars honked around her and every breath is heavy with unnatural smog. She meets eyes with a human stranger, who lifts a phone very quickly and stares bug-eyed at her. Not at her, no, at her family. She turns to Hop-pop, Sprig, and Polly, all scratched, bruised, tired, afraid, and looking at her with trust in their eyes. Hop-pop croaks and coughs and Anne notices her frog family's skin is graying. She has to get them out of here. Off the hood of the car, over five lanes of traffic, hopped over the guardrail, down the hill, through a sparse copse of trees, to the sidewalk under the bridge and-

"Anne?" A pink hand tugs on her wrist. "Anne, stop. Please." Her feet stumble to a stop and her socked foot lands on something sharp and cutting and she gasps.

"Anne!"

Two sets of hands catch her torso, and she faintly feels a wet touch pulling at her ankle. Her family carefully let her down, so she lands heavily on her butt instead of her nose. Anne's next breath is a punch of air and her lungs brighten with pain as she loses control of her inhales and exhales. Her eyes hurt and burn. When she wipes a dirty hand across her face, she winces as hot tears and snot sting her injuries. A light weight settles onto her back and rubs in a circular motion. Anne clings to the sensation. Between sputtering breaths, she begins to hear. "-in...and out...in...and out," Hop-pop's soothing, raspy voice repeats and then she can hear Sprig humming. It's a song Wally wrote about a silly snail getting lost and he had sung it at her Frog of the Year party. A laugh bubbles up into a sob and Anne reaches out her arms to pull all three of them close.

"I love you guys," she chokes out, and Polly pats her cheek.

"We love you too, Anne," says the polliwog, normally so energetic now wrung out and too bright-eyed. She needs to pull herself together. Anne releases her grip and her family takes a step back. She runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head, dust and dirt and surprisingly long twigs falling to the broken concrete.

"Alright, froggy fam," she begins, "I'm going to take you to meet my human fam." Sprig whoops, but he's clearly flagging.

"Yay!..."

Anne grimaces and looks at Hop-pop. The old, orange frog meets her gaze steadily, but she can tell how much he is missing his cane. "Hop-pop, you got Polly, I got Sprig?" He nods. "Alright. Let's make our way to the highway, follow along till we hit an exit, follow that till we hit town, figure out where we are, call my parents. Sound good?" No one protests and Anne helps Sprig up to her shoulder as Hop-pop collects Polly.

They're maybe ten minutes into their walk, and every step is a jolt to her nervous system. Her skin feels prickly, her jaw too tight, her muscles ache like never before. The pressure of her Newtopian breastplate, once reassuring, weighs her every step like a lodestone. The heron-leather straps pinch at the underside of her arms. Sprig's cool, damp skin is refreshing against the back of her neck, but it's not slimy enough and it concerns Anne. She bites her lip and tries to time her steps so that her sneaker hits the rocks and roots, while her socked-foot hits bare earth. She isn't always successful, and everything is starting to throb. Her temples pulse loudly in her head and her knees are weak and her mouth is parched.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Polly..." Hop-pop murmurs behind her. She can't see him, but she hears the dragging footsteps crunch the dry grass and the low comfortings of the grandfather to the polliwog. A stabbing pain shoots through her chest, and Anne forces her legs into a march. Focuses on the act of raising her thigh, swinging her calf forward, shifting her weight, repeat ad infinitum.

In seventh grade health class, there had been only one day dedicated to 'mental health issues' and something mentioned was meditative breathing. In multiple P.E. classes, Anne heard the teachers talk about making sure to breath while exercising. One, two, three. In. One, two, three. Out. Anne can do this.

The clouds parted a bit as they walked and the sun is nearly blinding Anne, as she squints at the sign. DALY STREET EXIT, it read in giant white text on green. Okay, so now they can get out of the weird in-between highway area they've been hiking. She points at it. "This way."

Something is mumbled behind her back.

"Huh?" She stops to turn and looks at Hop-pop. "What's up?" The elderly frog's face is twisted in a very non-confidence inspiring way.

"Well...Anne, I can't help but notice you don't have your backpack. Or...or your phone. So-" All Anne could hear was a piercing, ringing sound. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

"Right," says Anne, interrupting whatever the old frog had been saying. "Right. I don't have my backpack or phone." She blinks rapidly and Hop-pop's brow furrows deeper grooves. Her fingernails dig grooves of equal depth into her palms. "Okay, so," she claps her hands and ignores Sprig and Polly startle, "we will keep going. We will find someone kind and nice who will be willing to call my parents. End of plan."

"Great plan," Sprig yawns in her ear, and she can't help the yawn in return. It stretches her neck muscles and she yawns again for good measure. Polly yawns, then Hop-pop, then her and Polly at the same time. They all smile and the moment of brevity gets the family going again, the plan -no matter how little Anne believes in it herself- solidly in mind and the goal spurring them on. Not too much further now.

The sign for 7-11 flickers and there is a closed down Redbox sitting stoutly next to a ash-tray/trash can. The ad in the window advertises Berry Glam Blitz Bomb and a two for four hotdogs sale. Her stomach rumbles.

Her family is crowded together outside the storefront, and Anne doesn't know what to do. She's loathe to leave the Plantars by themselves, but maybe the cashier won't be the most cynical soul in Los Angeles. Then the frogs won't go under the risk of wandering the streets, talking to strangers. She can't bring them in though, what if the employee freaks out (like...any reasonable person confronted by talking frog people would). A clammy, orange hand taps her arm twice. She looks down.

"We'll be okay for five minutes, Anne," reassures Hop-pop. "Hand me Sprig." She doesn't hand him Sprig so much as the pink frog melts off her back and flops down next to his grandfather, but either way transfer successful. Okay now it's just time to interact with a human who isn't one of her two childhood best friends. She can't be totally out of practice right?

Marcy's eyes had been so wide when she died. Her pretty, dark brown eyes glittering from the light of Andrias' sword. From the flashing blue of the portal home. From tears.

Anne swallows roughly and steps toward the entrance. She scolds herself when the self-automated doors startle her, and she glances around the store. Someone tall and bald by the coolers, someone on the phone in the back, besides them and Anne the place is empty. Well, and the cashier. She approaches the register before she can one-eighty out the stupid doors, and she clears her throat. The cashier, a young guy with bright green and black hair and a name tag reading 'Jared', looks up from his phone.

"Hey-o, ready to check out?"

"Um, no actually," Anne starts and stops. What is she supposed to say? "I...dropped my phone and it cracked badly," she lies. "I was supposed to meet up with my mom but I can't get the dang thing to turn on." She laughs, short and high-pitched, rubbing her neck. "Is there like, a store phone I could borrow to call her?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "No, there isn't a store phone. If you buy something I could exchange dollars for quarters, I think there's a phone booth near here." The lights are buzzing really loudly, Anne notices. She takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, that doesn't work. Could I borrow your phone?" She sees how the older guy assesses her. She sees her dirty torn school skirt, her scorched copper armor, the twigs that she can't stop finding in her hair. "Or could I give you her number? Please, I just want to get back to my mom." Jared's frown softens and his mouth opens to speak, but is cut off by a voice behind Anne.

"Annie Bone-choy?" Her neck complains at the speed she turns to look. The bald person she saw earlier. Face contorted in open surprise, finger pointed in her direction, he says in a nasally SoCal accent, "Your parents have been looking everywhere for you."

"Do I know you?" Anne asks. Bald guy shakes his head. "No. I like your parents restaurant, amazing noodles by the way, and they have your missing posters all over the front. Yours and two other girls."

"I thought you lost your phone and were meeting up with your mom," Jared unhelpful interjects. Anne looks between both of them.

"Can I please use someone's phone to call my mom?" The two adults look at each other.

"Tell me your mom's number," says Jared tentatively. Anne rattles off the ten digit code with ease. She remembers sitting in the kitchen and her mom helping her arrange plastic magnet numbers in the order of her cell phone number. Jared puts the phone on speaker and the dialing tone begins to ring. Once, twice, three times, four...

"Hi! This is Madee Boonchuy. Not here right now, please leave a message!" The messaging system beeps and Anne just shakes her head at Jared. He ends the call.

"Can you please try again?" She pleads. Jared frowns, but does as requested. The dialing rings again. And gets voice-mail, again.

"I could call the restaurant," the bald guy offers. "It's not exactly rush hour but they are open right now, right?" Anne blinks away the stinging in her eyes. She has no idea what time it is, no idea what day or month or even if it's the same year. Who knows how Amphibia time lines up with Earth time?

"Can you? Please?" He nods and pulls out his phone. A minute while he finds the contact, and now for the third time, the phone rings on speaker. Anne knows what they say about third tries, and she crosses her fingers tightly.

"Hello? Delivery or pick-up?" Familiar, accented English, and Anne has to resist falling to the floor.

"Mom," Anne whispers in Thai, and the voice on the line speaks rapidly.

"Anne? Sweetheart? Oh my god, Anne? Anne?"

"It's me Mom. It's Anne," Anne sniffs and hiccups.

Some sharp, unintelligible yelling comes out the receiver, and there is a rustling and slamming sound before Anne's mom replies, "Where are you?"

Anne blue screens for a second. "I'm..." She struggles to remember. "I'm at a 7-11."

"What? Where? What street?"

"Daly Street," Jared pipes up.

"Who is that?" Her mother says sharply.

"That's just the cashier, he was, he was helping me. Well and another guy who comes to the restaurant apparently? I uh, he says he recognized me from my posters, huh, I didn't realize I'd have any," Anne rambles.

"I'm coming to you, Anne," Her mom promises. "I'm going to hug you so much. I'm coming to you. I have to hang up now, to get in the car, but do not go. Please."

"I promise," says Anne, and when her mom ends the call, she starts crying.

She exits the 7-11 once she gets the bald guy and Jared to distract each other (i.e. purchasing a bottled soda), and she spots the Plantars immediately. They're on top of a parked USPS truck. When Anne peers around the vehicle to see the other side of the street, she spies the mailman making his way towards the truck. Crap.

"Guys!" She hisses through clenched teeth. She raps her knuckles against the truck's side and hear Polly yelp. "Guys, get off the truck!" A moment later, Hop-pop and Sprig land beside her, Polly in her brother's arms. Anne pulls them over to the Redbox and huddles on the side opposite to the store entrance. She steps in front of them, hoping her body will shield enough of the frogs so nobody looks closer.

"Your mom is gonna be here soon?" Sprig asks. Anne nods.

"Yep, she'll...she'll be here soon." There's no response, and there is a take-a-tab paper taped to the trash can advertising singing lessons, and it's all Anne can do to not remember the time Sasha threw a karaoke party and they all started singing badly and together, and Anne blinks and keeps talking.

"My mom will come, and she's probably in her mini-van, oh man she's gonna tear through like twenty stop signs and scare other drivers so bad," she snorts, "and maybe there'll be a loose water bottle or a chip bag in the car, and oh man, you guys don't know what sour cream and onion chips are I can't wait to show you-"

"Anne," Hop-pop cuts her off. "Don't forget to breathe." She sucks in a deep breath and feels bile creeping up her throat. She tries to swallow but her mouth is so dry it just hurts. She can't imagine how her frog family's is feeling compared to her, they must be feeling so much worse than her, and they haven't said anything yet. Anne exhales forcefully. When a hand squeezes around her own, she squeezes back reassuringly.

They all jump as a dark red mini-van screeches to a halt in front of the 7-11. The driver exits the car, not wasting time to even park, and runs towards them. "Anne!"

"Mom!!!" Anne cries and she takes only a few steps before she's barreled over.

"Anne, oh my god, thank the heavens it's you! Anne, Anne, oh my baby," Anne's mom sobs into her shoulder before pulling back. Anne stares at her mother. Lets her eyes trace the deepened wrinkles, notice the shining, brown eyes the same shade as her own, the beauty mark on her chin. Her mom's glasses are new. Anne can't remember what they'd been, but now her mom wears tortoiseshell frames.

"I like your glasses," is the first thing to tumble out of Anne's mouth, and she nearly slaps herself. Her mom laughs wetly.

"Oh, Anne, oh, I've missed you so much." Her mother folds her back into her arms. Anne hugs back as tightly as she can for a second before her mom stiffens with a surprised grunt. "And you're so much stronger, when did that happen?"

Anne smiles. "I'll tell you about it." She steps back and grabs her mom by the shoulders. They're the same height now. "I'll tell you all about it." And that means... "Mom, let me introduce you to the Plantars," Anne steps to her mom's side and reveals her froggy family.

Her mother gasps and says something in Thai that Anne doesn't know. She would bet it's one of the worse swear words. "I know it's a shock, cuz, well, two foot tall talking frogs," says Anne and motions for the trio to come a bit closer. "But they protected me, fed me, and loved me while I was stranded in their world." Hop-pop shuffles the closes with Sprig and Polly poking their heads out behind him.

Hop-pop extends his hand. "My name is Hopadiah Plantar, it's an honor to meet you Mrs. Boonchuy." Her mom looks down at the wrinkly, orange hand and then back at Anne. She nods encouragingly and her mom steels herself before meeting the hand with her own.

She gingerly shakes it. "Pleasure to meet you...Hopadiah," Anne's mom says his name carefully. "My daughter says you kept her safe?" Hop-pop nods.

"To the best of my ability," and his face gains a wry look and he rubs the back of his neck. "When she and my grandkids weren't off chasing trouble."

Anne's mom smiles tentatively. "I'm sure. Are these your grandkids here?" Sprig comes out behind Hop-pop's back and puts out his hand.

"I'm Sprig Plantar! And this is-" A loud honk interrupts him and everyone in the group startles, moving to look at the source. A silver BMW is stuck behind her mom's mini-van and the one-way street doesn't give any wiggle around room. A shout filters out of the sports car. "MOVE YOUR CAR!" Except with a lot more swears. Anne's mom sighs.

"Introductions later, let's get in the car," she instructs and everyone moves.

All the frogs hesitate as they get closer, Sprig even flinching when Anne hauls open the back seat door with a slam. She gestures inside. "C'mon guys, it's just like a wagon," Anne says. Polly hops in first and settles into the closest middle row seat. She bounces a couple times.

"It's comfy," the polliwog reports. The jerk in the BMW honks again, even longer. Sprig and Hop-pop pile in and Anne closes the door behind them. She gets into the passenger seat and the feeling of air conditioning against her skin is like. Magic wind. Super relaxing. Like insane luxury. Oh, Anne missed technology.

"Buckle up." Her mom clicks her seat belt into the lock and starts pulling away immediately. Leaving Anne to explain what 'buckle up' means, and what a seat belt is, and no she doesn't know when they were invented. The questions continue as the mini-van pulls onto the highway, but the group soon quiets down. Anne blinks slowly and looks outside the window. The trees and billboards and other cars pass by her so quickly, so much quicker than Bessie could ever go. A pang strikes her heart as Anne realizes Bessie will be all alone. She hopes the Plantar's family snail is taken care of while they're gone. Anne looks away from the window as nausea grips her throat. She's almost home. She can hold off on falling apart for just a little longer.

"Anne, honey, are you awake? We're home."

Anne blinks and she squeezes her eyes tight and yawns loudly and long. She hadn't realized she dozed off. "I'm...home." She opens the door and doesn't let her twinging feet deter her from getting a good look at her home. The small bushes that lined the driveway, the slightly dented mailbox, the umbrella her dad always left outside the red door. Anne drinks it all in.

For the past several months she had been in a world with fantastical flora and fauna and shocking experiences every day, but Anne feels dizzy at the sight of her home. Her eyes catch on every detail, the once too-familiar not familiar enough. The bristly door mat; the unpolished brass numbers: 301; the creaky porch step; the small, pink, clay owl figurine Anne had given to her mom for Mother's Day in fifth grade and sat tucked in the corner. Her eyelashes are sticky with tears.

"Your house is SOOOOOOOOO BIG!" Anne snorts and is grateful for Sprig. She turns around to look at the small, pink frog.

"It's pretty nice! I've loved growing up here. Three-oh-one Silver Spring Lane." A gobsmacked look.

"You have springs made of silver?" Sprig's jaw drops. Hop-pop's head pokes out of the van.

"What's this I hear of silver springs?"

Surprisingly, it's Anne's mom who answers. She laughs, and it soothes Anne, before saying, "No, Hopadiah. It's just a nice name for a road." Anne tunes out what Hop-pop replies in favor of turning back to the door.

The metal door handle is hot to touch, searing from the oppressive California heat. She breathes out in a harsh whoosh and forces herself to yank the door open. It slams against the wall and the hinges squeak. Anne hears a sound of protest from her mom, but she can't acknowledge it when there's a bullet of fluff running towards the door.

"DOMINO!" The cat jumps into Anne's arms and she catches her, swinging Domino around and around and gosh, will Anne ever stop crying today? She hides her tears in Domino's soft, white belly, and laughs as the cat wiggles around to climb up her shoulders. Domino wraps around her neck and rubs Anne's check with her cute, little face.

Anne collapses to her knees and she pulls her cat around and holds her so carefully and so, so close. Domino allows this longer than ever before, but soon she does squirm and fall to the carpet on all four feet. She chirps and purrs vacuum-like. Anne's hands move on their own accord, stroking down Domino's back, scratching all her sweet spots, reacquainting herself with her Domino, her beautiful angel baby.

"Anne, could you move your reunion a few feet more into the hallway? So we can come in?" Her mom says, her tone telling Anne she's smiling. Anne kisses her baby's head one more time before standing up and moves to the side. Ugh, her knees hurt from carpet burn. That's one thing she hadn't missed.

"Sprig, Polly, Hop-pop! Remember the killapillar?" Anne scoops up Domino and holds her out. "This is Domino One!" Sprig steps closer, squinting. He pokes at Domino's paw and she mrrps! at him. He flinches back for a second before staring deep into her eyes. Anne watches this stare-off with no small amount of amusement.

Eventually, Sprig asks, "So this Domino won't kill us for dinner?" Anne shakes her head and a leaf drifts from her hair.

"Nope!"

Sprig oh so slowly reaches a finger to Domino's long-haired back. "Oh!" He says, curling his fingers through the fur. "She's even softer than peatmoss."

Polly joins her brother and jumps up and down on her new, little legs. "Let me pet her!" Anne leans back down, but Domino wriggles out her grip and runs down the hallway, disappearing around the kitchen corner. Polly pouts. "Aw! I wanted to touch Domino One."

Anne pats her yellow bow. "Don't worry. There's plenty of time for that later."

"I believe a good use of time right now," Anne's mom says, still lingering in the open door, "would be for you to change out of your dirty clothes. Go take a shower."

Anne stares at her mom stunned. "Oh my god...," she whispers. "I shall finally be clean." Sprig laughs.

"Are there no showers where you come from?" Anne's mom asks Hop-pop as Anne still revels in the very idea of pressurized water.

"I can't say I know what a shower-whatsit is, but we did bathe," Hop-pop says archly, half at Anne's mom and half at her. Her mom nods understandingly. Then frowns.

"Do you have any spare clothes with you?" She asks and all the Plantars go wide-eyed.

"We..." Hop-pop can't finish his sentence hands twisting his ascot. Sprig looks morose and he's holding onto his slingshot tightly. Polly is similar, tugging at her frayed and dirty yellow bow. Anne's heart twinges, and she cuts in.

"We didn't exactly have time to pack our wardrobes when we came, Mom," she says. "I have piggy bank money, we can go shopping guys! You guys have to see the mall. This time, my treat," she tries to cheer up the little frogs.

Sprig and Polly perk up at the mention of visiting the mall, but Hop-pop and her mom both protest at once.

"Anne, that's mighty kind of you, but-"

"Anne, that's very generous, but-"

Both stop and her mom motions for the frog to continue. Hop-pop waits a second more before saying, "Anne, you don't need to spend your savings on us. We can make do if you just show us to a wash bucket and a needle with thread. When these get worn out, we'll cross that river when we come to it." Anne's mom then lays a hand on Hop-pop's shoulder, slightly crouching to reach. Hop-pop nods at her.

Her mom smiles before saying to him, "I can certainly show you the washing machine, but we'll figure out another set of clothes for you." Her gaze casts over Sprig, Polly, and Anne. "For all of you. And Anne," her mom walks up to her and she smiles with glistening eyes, "when did you grow up so much?" She brings Anne into a tight hug before releasing her. And boops her nose. Anne squeals. Her mom smiles. "I will pay for the shopping. Now!" She claps. "Shoes off."

Everyone looked down at their feet and noticed the frogs didn't have any. "Ah well, shoes and...shoe off. Anne, what happened to your shoe?"

Anne waves it off. "Lost it a few months ago." Her mother grumbles and Anne suspects she'll be getting a new pair of sneakers in the near future. Then it occurs to her, "Where's Dad?"

"He had to stay to make sure the delivery went smoothly since Jackson quit and everyone else messes it up," her mom explains while running her hands through Anne's hair.

Anne gasps. "No! Not Jackson."

"Yes, Jackson," replies her mom. Her fingers tug painfully through Anne's hair and come away holding a handful of leaves and twigs. "Is there an entire forest in your head? Now off you go, shower. Get the dirt off," she commands. Anne rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Mom," Anne says in Thai and kisses her cheek. She looks to the Plantars. "You guys okay with my mom showing you around the house? Show you somewhere to sit and some water?"

Hop-pop nods and Polly wiggles. "I have a mighty THIRST," she yells. Anne giggles.

"Well, alright froggy fam. See you on the flip side," and she starts to head up the steps, her fingers trailing the railing, when a cough causes her to pause. She glances back.

"Anne..." Sprig says, "welcome home."

Tears spill over her cheeks and Anne half-falls down the stairs to give him a tight hug. Quickly, other froggy arms surround the two and are joined by a pair of human arms. All together, all safe, all alive. Anne takes a deep breath, and exhales heavily. She's back home.

#amphibia fic #amphibia #anne boonchuy #hopadiah plantar #sprig plantar #polly plantar #mrs. boonchuy #amphibia season three #my writing #if you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this pls consider reblogging

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

Text

They have a business now, Robin and Steve.

He’d been back in Hawkins for less than two months, crashing on Robin’s apartment, when she shook his freaking-out ass around into semi-conscientiousness at four in the goddamn morning.

“Could you please stop screaming? I’ve just had the greatest, most― life-changing. Idea”

“Let your best friend live a long, non-terrified life instead of giving him a stroke while he's sleeping?”

“Dingus. This is serious”

“As so it’s not-dying”

She rolled her eyes and then jumped into rambling, right then and there, about how they were going to ball-n’-chain their sorry, broke souls to a mortgage and open a family restaurant.

And well, yeah, not worth dying over but. Yeah.

Pretty life-changing, turns out.

So now the old, forgettable family dinner on Randolph Lane where Steve used to go for a milkshake with “Every single one of my High School girlfriends. Seriously Robin. Nobody wants to come back here, it’s like a museum” is “Oh, and that’s exactly how we’re gonna keep it” an ode to the eighties (And, in Robin’s own words “And a very tasteful one”), with its painted flaming tracks on the floor, its handmade replica of the Inferno (courtesy of Hopper and Joyce and Will’s and ―slightly reluctantly― El’s newfound family-bounding passion for miniaturism). With its fake weapons and horror masks and thrifted posters and a hundred other pieces of memorabilia. Cher’s voice rasping around the notes of “If I could turn back time” on the jukebox at least twice on any given day. The not-so-kids-anymore relaxing on one of the booths at the front, laughing and joking and reassuring Steve about how this was—yeah. Yeah. (even if he won’t ever, ever recognize to Robin) the greatest fucking idea.

It’s been five years (And one-hundred miles out. One-hundred miles back) when Billy steps inside the dinner fifteen minutes before closing hours one late September afternoon. Sun so low on the horizon half-hidden behind the line of sparse buildings that it’s almost grazing the night. And it’s not the first time they’ve seen each other since Steve came back. They’ve already said their awkward ‘Hello’s, their (heartbreaking) ‘I'll see you around’ s.

But today, that weary sun’s slicing reality into pieces with its golden light, and Billy's wearing a soft-blue, worn denim jacket, pendant sitting on his chest, curls long, long, long and ringed by fire. And Steve feels as if, when it comes to Billy Hargrove, he’s no different than one of those stones they'd tried to kill time with, at the beginning of that summer, bouncing them across the quarry’s water. No matter how long it takes, every time, or how far the stone will make it. It’ll eventually fall, seeking the kiss of the surface, as if it knows It’ll sink back, at the end. Will return. As if it’s been aware, right from the very beginning. Of the inevitability. Of its belonging.

Because Billy looks like that almost-night of their first kiss, in the middle of that summer. That almost-night when he said "I want you, Steve Harrington. No matter where you go, I’ll always want you" so close to the end. That almost-night when Steve got in his car, leaves already falling. Stuffed it a whole ton heavier (Bright red vinyl suitcase. Green plastic bags squashed at its sides. The weight of what he was about to do trying to catch his eye through the rearview mirror). Drove it to the end of the woods. To the other side of the welcoming sign. Headed out of Hawkins. Out of Indiana. Out. Out. Just to find the Camaro parked on the side. Billy waiting for him. Fists buried into the pockets of that denim jacket. Cigarette consuming itself into a fresh burn between those lips Steve wouldn’t be kissing into healing in the morning.

He parked the BMW right behind. Must have felt like a sing. But back then, it didn’t.

“Billy? What are you―?”

(It wasn’t until after. Hundreds of miles away. Hundreds of miles following the yellow highway lines in the wrong direction. That he realized―)

“What, King of Hawkins? You really thought I was gonna let you leave without one last kiss goodbye?”

(―I should’ve run to you. Run to you.

But instead I ran away from everything else, and I lost you.)

Billy heaved off the Camaro. Walked up to Steve until he could feel the warmth coming off his skin as rebellion against the cold nightfall “I don’t want you to forget about me” Warmer. Warmer than any sun “About us”

Steve huffed out a laugh. A ragged, pained laugh. Sometimes the body doesn’t know, they say. What to do. How to react. So he laughed. And it hurt. Not just a feeling but a ton worth of them, in that laugh. I don’t want to go. But I have to. I want you to come with me. But I know I can’t ask.

Even If we hadn’t ever kissed, I wouldn’t have been able to forget you, Billy Hargrove.

(Even when I got away, I kept on chasing you. Got lost running around in circles trying to find you)

When the laugh faded, Billy was smiling, and Steve knew it was a reflection. Crooked and painful: he didn’t know, back then, Steve was afraid one last kiss would make him sink. Rolling stones getting him stranded.

(Steve didn’t know, back then, how stranded he already was)

“Didn’t want to make it harder”

Billy― took him by the waist. Tugged him in and. Steve’s breath caught.

“Don’t know about you, pretty boy but. For me, there’s no way for this to make harder” Billy’s nose bumped against his, their lips brushing, a permanent burn splitting Steve’s life in two, all the kisses he was leaving behind, the last day of summer fading behind the dark treeline “And I’m gonna kiss you now, so it is worth it”

And then Billy smiled at him. No with hurt, but for real. Bright eyes and cold-red lips and he was right. One last kiss. Was worth it. Couldn’t ever make it harder than already was.

Billy was already an open wound. And Steve could never close it.

(‘Cause. It happened there, in the middle of the road. In the middle of running away or staying. Steve knew. Bleed it out as they kissed. I’ve fallen and fallen and fallen. I’ve fallen in love with you.

But he was leaving. Leaving it all on the other side of that sign)

“I’m gonna be a good friend, and remind you to play it cool, Steven” Robin tiptoes to his ear. Whispers “So, play it cool. You’re staring”

“Wh― What?”

“You’re drooling, Dingus. Stop. Looking at him”

Billy nods him a hello. Goes. To him. Tina and Caleb barely spare him a glance. The few late-afternoon regulars too absorbed into stretching the last few sips of their pre-night-shift coffees or finishing their Outtatime specials to pay any attention to them. And spoons click and stools drag and nobody seems to realize Steve’s both here and five years back, Billy’s presence eating up all the space of the Dinner. And his curls smelled of sunscreen, the overheated leather seats of the Camaro, the fallen leaves of eucalyptus, as they laid together on the shore of the quarry at night. The water as sleepless as they were. Turbulent. Restless with life.

“Steve?”

“Hey. Hey. Hi!― I”

It’s not easy but, Steve moves. Rushes into the back room. Breathes in shallow. Broken gulps. Lungs full. Won’t let him get any air. Crammed with goodbye kisses before welcoming signs.

It’s the sun, he thinks, it’s the fucking sun. Carrying him back. Overlaying the past upon the here and now but that’s a lie. That’s a lie: a long time ago, Steve Harrington made a home for Billy Hargrove on the inside of his heart. And it's still there. Vacant. Unoccupied. Billy Hargrove-shaped. Waiting. Longing. Hoping for him to come back.

(I wanna run to you. Run to you)

(Wanna run back)

“Steve. Are you alright?”

Robin's hand caresses his back. Steve feels it stiff under a touch so tender. He’s so close to breaking in half.

“Steve?”

“Fuck. Robin. Fuck”

His voice’s shaking. His whole body’s shaking from the inside out.

“Maybe–” she starts, pauses. She’s so careful. Steve closes his eyes “Why don’t you go back and talk to him. This– acting like you don’t want to is. Is not gonna go right”

Is not. Is not even the worst he’s felt. Five years. He’s had time to regret but.

It's a risk, and he doesn’t want to. Play with Billy’s heart. Break it again. Or know, maybe. That it wouldn’t. That’s Steve’s no longer there. It's shaped like home for himself anymore. Close and sold and forgotten. That Billy’s moved. On and Away. Steve’s so afraid. Of never getting him back. Of being this selfish. He needs. Needs―

He says it out loud.

“I can’t do that to him” needs Robing to tell him it’s ok. Or not ok or “Again. Can’t do it again” just that’s― ok. If he can’t help it. Want it. Been the egoistic asshole who took and took and took, even though he already knew he was leaving, knew it was bound to end right from the start.

Needs to know because―

The light’s the same. The color of Billy’s eyes the exact shade of clear-blue the sky wore throughout all that summer’s days. Lashes falling dark and heavy as those nights. And Steve wants to take the hand their story’s offering. Step with him into this late-afternoon light. Better sorry than safe. He’s got a home in his chest nobody else fits into, anyway. Spent a whole summer trying to carve himself inside of Billy with lips and greedy hands. Would do it again.

Needs Robin to tell him what’s right.

“Maybe he wants you to”

Needs Billy to know he wouldn't run away, this time.

“How would he want that?”

Needs and needs and needs and―

Robing shrugs. Her cherry-red lips crinkle out, corners round, they hold a smile. There’s love in there and Steve clings to it as in the midst of the tempest. And. He’s such a fucking asshole. Already got so many things back, but,

“I just. Got the feeling he does. You know, Dingus, you might’ve not been around but, I have and I” she brings her hand up. Cards it through his hair “Don’t think there’s any version of this story where he wouldn’t” and her voice is firm and her touch is soft and Steve’s been seeking for absolution since the day he came back “Ok, there. Magic’s on. I’ll close this. Now run”

And it’s selfish. And wrong. A he shouldn't but. Steve’s mortally wounded. He’s got a Billy Hargrove-shaped hole instead of a heart. Has been going around in circles for so long, trying to find his way back. And Robin’s looking at him like she knows. Like she understands.

Like she believes he’s gonna stay, this time. So.

He runs.

#harringrove #the house #a house (is a home)#xharringrove #xfluffy

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redrobin-detective · 4 years

Text

hope is the promise of future happiness

its 11am, I’ve not dressed or done anything and I got hit with The Feels

XxX

Izuku had walked by the shop, stopping and staring and wondering, for almost two weeks. He stopped again, as he had most every day walking home from school, to stare at the new sign that had recently been hung up in the window.

‘Takazawa Fortune Tellers: now offering precognitive services! Temporarily transport your mind into that of your future self! By Appointment Only, inquire inside.’ He mulled around the words in his head as he let the crowds carry him away again. Izuku kept his head low so the conflicting emotions weren’t obvious on his face. There was a decent amount of precognitive quirks but most were vague and not helpful in the long run. Any quirks that were useful were immediately snapped up by heroes and other government agencies. The chances that a small town psychic could tell him anything useful was low but...

Izuku rubbed lightly at his red and peeling palms where Kacchan had blasted him 2 days ago. Most days all he felt like was a pile of burns, bruises and depression. He was 13 years old and he was miserable every day of his life with no end in sight. If only he could find something, anything, to tell him that tomorrow would be better than today.

He nervously pulled at his lip as he muttered quietly to himself. But what if the future was worse than the present? What if he was still alone, still unhappy, still a stupid, quirkless Deku? What would he do if there was no future for him, some future him deciding enough was enough and-

Izuku shook his head, to clear it of such dark thoughts. He walked past a store filled with TVs, all bearing All Might’s grinning face as he gave a brief interview following a villain attack early this morning. The sound was off but Izuku knew the steady rumble of his hero’s voice better than his own. Watching that smile, that easy care and confidence All Might radiated eased some of the tension off Izuku’s shoulders. As long as All Might was there to spread peace and joy, the future couldn’t be all bad. No matter what, he would be Izuku’s future, a guiding light to lead him to where he needed to be.

It took him another week to work up the courage to enter the shop. The little bell when he opened the door might as well have been a blazing alarm, it almost caused him to run right then and there.

“Welcome to Takazawa Fortune Tellers, you’re here for the precognitive services, correct?” The secretary at the front said with a small smile.

“Oh well I uh how did you-”

“Mild telepathy, lets me know people’s intentions,” the woman explained, tapping her temple. “That and I’ve seen you stopping and staring at the sign for almost a month.” Izuku ducked into the collar of his uniform and considered running again. He could find a new way home from school, possibly change schools altogether, maybe a new country?

“Please don’t go,” the woman said with a light laugh, “in fact, you picked the perfect day to stop by. We’re booked up for months but our last appointment was a no show so we have an open slot right now. We’re not supposed to take walk-ins but, well, you’ve been waiting for this a long time, haven’t you?”

Izuku flushed but the woman stood up, “I guess destiny brought you at the right time, I’ll let Kenma-san know you’re here. Please sit and fill out these forms while you wait.”

It took all of his inner strength to shakily grab the clipboard from her and begin signing his consents, each making him more nervous than the last. Waiving liability in case he didn’t like his future. Accepting trauma from anything unpleasant he may see. Paying the full amount in the event he was dead in the future and thus could receive no predictions.

“She’s ready for you now.” Taking a deep breath and summoning All Might’s brave smile in his mind, he handed her his completed forms and made his way to the back room. It was a small, almost claustrophobic room with heavily scented candles and dark mood lighting. A woman dressed in elaborate robes with a veil over her face was sitting at a small table. She gestured to the empty chair.

“You’re younger than my usual clients,” she said in a weathered voice, it was hard to tell if she was old or simply worn down. Izuku found himself sympathizing. “How old are you, young man?”

“13,” Izuku squeaked.

“A good age, you have your whole life ahead of you,” she nodded holding out both of her hands. “Now, here’s how this works. My quirk can transport you into your body at twice your current age so when you are 26.” Izuku tried to wrap his mind around being 26, an adult with a job but found he couldn’t. His palms began to sweat. “You will be transported to a time, 13 years from now, when your adult self is asleep so there’s no struggle over dual consciousness. You will be able to see, hear and feel your immediate surroundings but not interact much. The more you try to assert control the more your future self will awaken. Once they’re awake, you’ll be transported back to your current body. You don’t need to worry about privacy, I will only be facilitating your transfer and won’t be able to see anything you do. Understand?”

Izuku nodded, he wouldn’t be able to see or do much if he was confined to wherever his future self was sleeping. It was seemingly innocuous and yet...

“You do understand that, if between now and then, you’ve died that the transference won’t work. Are you prepared for that possibility?” She said cautiously. Having already come this far, he nodded. “Alright then young man, lets see what the future has in store for you. Take my hands and let your mind go as blank as possible. Close your eyes and the next time you open them, you will be in your future.”

Izuku grasped her hands, supple and firm leading him to believe he was correct that she wasn’t as old as he first believed. He tried to quiet his thoughts but it like wiping a white erase board in permanent marker. There was so much to fear, so much to worry about in his future. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed, for once in his life, his hopes weren��t painfully crushed.

He opened his eyes and saw All Might. Specifically a really nice framed All Might poster featuring the hero back to back with a skinny blonde man hung on a wall. It looked like it was signed by someone but he was too far away to read what it said. The date at the bottom of the poster was 6 years from the current year. Well, he was alive in 13 years which was nice to know. The relief that echoed through him was surprising, had he really believed- No, no time for that. He didn’t know how long this would last so he had to make his observations now.

Izuku was in a large bed lying on his side facing a wall, the All Might poster was the biggest and most obvious but the whole wall was covered in various pictures and posters. A smaller poster with explosions on it caught his eye and he couldn’t help but smile. Looks like Kacchan made it as a hero after all, he felt bitter, just a bit but overall was happy for his well former friend. Another had a girl in pink floating standing next to someone who looked like Ingenium. It’s not surprise he maintained his fanboy habits even as an adult. It was comforting in its familiarity.

Speaking of which, he observed what he could see of what was most likely his home with some surprise. It was clean but still comfortably lived in. It was also quiet large with some nice, traditionally Japanese furnishings. Much more than a quirkless salary man could probably afford. The bedside table next to him had a clock, which flashed 0547 in bright green letters, a cracked phone he assumed was his and a worn and ripped notebook. It read Hero Notes vol 25.

Izuku instinctively reached for the notebook only to falter. His shoulder hurt, it ached and pulled from what felt like a recent injury. But that didn’t surprise him nearly as much as the scars covering his right hand and forearm. They ached, the way old wounds did, something he would always be aware of but would get used to. What the hell did his future self get up to? He briefly latched onto the idea that he had become a hero but quickly discarded it. Quirkless people didn’t become heroes, he probably got a career as a quirk analyst or something which is why he could afford such a nice place. It wasn’t a bad life from the looks of it.

He clenched his scarred right fist hard, not a bad life still wasn’t anywhere close to his dream. Izuku felt a stirring in the back of his mind and he carefully relaxed his hand. Right, he couldn’t wake his future self, not until he was done. Before he could wonder what else he could do, an arm brushed against his back before draping over his side as another body pressed close to him.

“Too early, go back to sleep,” a soft voice mumbled sleepily into his back.

Izuku froze, so conditioned to hands hurting him but the arm instead just held onto him lightly, like they didn’t want to let him go. It was cool to the touch but it felt good, like chill breeze on a warm day. Oh. He stared down at the pale arm gently embracing him until his vision became blurred. Oh. Izuku had been so prepared to accept a miserable future, even one where he didn’t exist. The idea that he was happy, that he was loved? Even more than being a hero, that had seemed too impossible to even dream about.

He grasped the cold hand and intertwined their fingers like it was his only lifeline. Izuku sniffled, holding onto the hand until he blinked and found the only hand he was holding was that of the fortune teller. She let him grip her fingers as he composed himself, re-orientating himself back into his small, unscarred body.

“Are you alright, my boy?” She asked gently.

“Yeah,” Izuku said through his tears which probably didn’t help his case. “Really yes, I saw-” his breath hitched. “It was good, it was so good and I never thought- I couldn’t imagine someone like me could have that.” She relaxed and gave his hands a squeeze before letting go.

“I’m glad, most people who cry during my sessions don’t do it for happy reasons. Take your time to calm down, Nami-chan will help you when you’re done. After that, your future awaits you.”

“Yeah,” he cheered, sloppily wiping his tears. No matter how bad things were now, they would eventually lead to the cozy home, the wall full of pictures and comforting hand around his side like it belonged there. He would wait a lifetime for that, 13 was nothing.

(luckily he didn’t even need to wait that long for his future to begin with a fated encounter, a question and a promise that his dreams could be reached)

13 Years Later

“‘zuku, you okay?” Shouto asked sleepily from behind him.

“Yeah, why?” Izuku questioned as he blinked himself back to awareness feeling a bit muddled and out of it.

“You’re gripping my hand pretty hard,” Shouto said pushing himself up onto his elbow, “also you’re crying.”

“Aren’t I always crying?” Izuku joked turned to look at his beautiful sleep rumbled boyfriend. Shouto just gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m fine, look,” he responded wiping the tears away. “I just, I think I was dreaming and you know how emotional I get.”

“Was it a nightmare?” Shouto asked settling himself back down into the bed, cuddling close on one of the rare days where one or both them wasn’t patrolling.

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Izuku said shaking his head. He can’t be sure but he thinks he’d been dreaming of his past, of that sad, quirkless boy he’d been. If only there was some way he could tell that kid that things would get better, better than he could have possibly imagined. With the feel of Shouto’s dual temperatures pressed up against him, Izuku looked over at what Shouto called his Wall of Worship as if supporting his friends and colleagues was a bad thing.

All Might’s poster, the exclusive one of a kind poster his mentor had presented to him upon Izuku’s graduation as always drew his gaze. Too far away to read it properly Izuku still had memorized the words from the moment he’d read them, etched onto his heart.

To my boy,

Your bravery and kindness have inspired me from the moment we met. I cannot wait to watch you shine. Your future begins now.

All Might Yagi Toshinori

#i had this thought driving home last night and i cannot stop thinking of it #sad children getting a glimpse of a happier future??? I Eat That Shit Up #my writing #this made me happy might put it up on ao3 #future Izukus gonna be at breakfast and all of a sudden be like ADFGHJKL THAT FORTUNE TELLER I WENT TO WAS RIGHT #he was sleepy and cuddling with his icyhot bf #cant blame a clueless idiot for forgetting for a mo #teen izuku sauntering into school the next day: fuck you Kacchan *I* get a boyfriend in the future

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

Any alive! Skulduggery hcs that you haven't shared? I live by your version of him tbh

Hi anon! I think I covered skug's backstory up to when he signs up to fight and then skipped ahead to when he meets his wife, so you can have the Early War Years

- so when we left skug, he'd been on the pirate adventure and essentially moved in with ghastly's family at age 16, and that's where he stays for the next three years. Ghastly's father introduces him to taking pride in his appearance, Ghastly introduces him to Hopeless, and Ghastly's mother Saoirse introduces him to three things: motherly love, household chores, and the back of her hand for swearing in the house. He settles into the family, flirts with the prettiest local girls, develops an allergy to manual labour, and starts Experimenting™ with Ghastly, who's absolutely besotted with him.

- at 19, he has his surge, and it's bad. Ghastly has his a few months earlier, and it wasn't pleasant, but Ghastly was always going to be an elemental. He was sick and achy for a few days and howling in pain for just one or two. Skug expects much the same: he hasn't used necromancy in years, and he's had the best elemental tutors his parents could find.

- But he's inherited an insanely strong necromancy gene from his biological father, and an insanely strong elemental gene from his mother, and his surge ultimately comes down to two branches of magic trying to destroy each other to be the last gene standing. His temperature skyrockets as the elemental gene tries to burn the necromancy out of him. What looks like black blood seeps from his eyes and his nose and the corner of his mouth. His veins go black as the shadows retaliate. It goes on for days. Ghastly's mother is beside herself trying to get water into him so he doesn't die of thirst.

- If he hadn't also inherited the extremely rare genetic abnormality responsible for magical ambidexterity, his surge would've killed him. But he did, so it doesn't, and eventually he comes out of it and spends the next six months or so just recovering.

- at this point, the sanctuary is pushing recruitment. Ghastly doesn't look twice at the posters, but skug does. Ghastly's whole world is his family, their farm, and his father's tailoring business. But skug's father is a diplomat, he's got extended family involved in the war, he was supposed to go to a fancy French university that ended up being burned down during an attack by some pro-Mevolent riots, he's had to field questions from smaller siblings about when - and if - their dad would be coming home. He's highly educated, politically savvy, and emotionally involved. He decides he wants to sign up to fight.

- Saoirse does her best to talk him out of it, but skug is skug, and he digs his heels in and insists this is what he wants to do. He's going to join the war effort.

- Ghastly and Hopeless think it over and decide to join up with him. Hopeless, because he's an idealistic young man looking for glory, and Ghastly because someone has to watch skulduggery's back and keep him out of trouble, or he'll get himself shot long before he gets to set foot on a battlefield.

- honestly, ghastly isn't expecting skug to last long in the army. Skug is a pampered spoiled rich brat, and he's about to be surrounded by people who will scream in his face and make him do drills and expect him to obey orders, and he thinks it will take a few weeks tops before skug wants to desert

- that is. Not what happens

- like. none of them like it very much to begin with. hopeless has never had to do this much exercise in his life, and he hates it. ghastly is lonely and homesick and just wants to go back to dublin. and their first CO decides he hates skug on like, their first day of training, because he's a smart-mouthed arrogant asshole who's never had to be afraid of anything but his own father, and he does not react well to being ridiculed during drills. skug's ego takes a good solid battering because the other enlistees don't appreciate being given extra chores as punishment for him mouthing off, ghastly has to crack some skulls to make sure he won't be bullied for his scars, hopeless doesn't quite fit in and gets some nasty ribbing over it

- but also? they've got untapped talent, all three of them. they end up black ops fighters for a reason. hopeless tops the class for intelligence and undercover operations, because he can become anyone. ghastly is strong and level-headed and does well under pressure. and skulduggery is a natural leader, a ruthless tactician, and has a tendency to pull off insane plans that would go horribly for anyone else.

- they survive basic training. they get sent into the field. and ghastly and hopeless find that they're actually pretty good at this. they earn the respect of the rest of their platoon. and skulduggery? he starts to thrive

- this is the era of wealthy aristocrats buying their way into leadership positions they don't have the experience or common sense to do well in. almost none of the lower-class soldiers have any patience for it, but as a fellow aristo Skug has the social standing to call them out on it, so he still has a habit of making enemies of his commanding officers. he resents being handed orders by men who are less than he is, less clever, less observant, less capable. he goes out of his way to prove that his way of doing things is better.

- and? it works for him, sort of. he gets promoted several times - first he's pulled out of the enlisted ranks to be trained up as an officer, then he makes lieutenant, then captain - partly because he's Challenging to deal with and partly because he's becoming incredibly competent. it's fairly common for skug to get a flogging (for disobeying orders) and a promotion (because it worked out well for him) simultaneously. he has quite a few stripes by the time he meets wifey. when he starts being given command of a squad of his own, he takes ghastly with him as his number two, and hopeless comes along for the ride.

- at some point, skug gets palmed off on then-colonel corrival deuce. it's phrased as "oh here i'll give you some of my best men", but corrival is experienced enough to recognise "god please take this one off my hands im begging you" when he sees it, and sure enough, he butts heads with skug almost as soon as they're introduced.

- by this point skulduggery's men have developed a reputation for being a bit wild, and they're very loyal to him, so corrival has his work cut out. but? he's got a bit of a different approach to a lot of his fellow officers, because he came up through the ranks himself. so instead of locking horns with skug and trying to flog him into compliance, he turns skug into his pet project, his protégé. he gives him a loose rein, defends his decisions to the higher-ups, and doesn't interfere too much with how skug runs his team, but he also doesn't tolerate backtalk, bullshit or cheek. he's the stern-but-fair mentor figure - the Captain Holt/Captain Pellew/Lord Wellington to skug's Peralta/Hornblower/Sharpe. and skug's never had a very involved father figure, because ghastly's father is massively introverted and his own was short-tempered and perpetually disappointed in him, so corrival trips his "kids want boundaries" switch and actually wins him over.

- corrival hangs onto him after that. as he gets promoted and moved around, skug goes with him, and by extension so do his team. corrival learns to use the sensible members of the group - ghastly and hopeless, then erskine - to triangulate skug and stop his temper getting the better of him. he's incredibly proud of his chosen men, and all three of them really come into their own under his guidance. skug turns down promotion a couple times because it would mean a change of CO, and he knows there aren't many people he'd take orders from anymore.

- and then skug meets wifey.

- when skug gets married, neither his mother or father attend. they don't approve of wifey or her pitiful dowry. they assume, as does kenspeckle, that he's marrying her to Do The Decent Thing because he's knocked her up, and his father reassures him that he doesn't have to marry the girl, just send her somewhere far away and send her money to support her brat, and this whole sorry indiscretion can be put behind him. skug is. furious. he was smart enough not to take wifey with him to announce the engagement, and he ends up having a screaming match with his father that ends with him a) walking out and b) getting disinherited. he marries her anyway, and despite mr and mrs pleasant senior snubbing the whole event, he's got a full complement of parents there all the same - ghastly's parents turn up, and so does corrival.

- it's a military thing - skug's in his military dress uniform, they cut the cake with his sword - the parade sword, at least, the one he's never actually used, they walk out of the venue through the sword arch and skug's team do the rifle salute. ghastly's mother drags him to one side, pulls him down by the shirtfront to fuss over his hair and try to make it lay flat, licks her thumb and wipes a smudge off his cheek, embarrasses him in front of all his friends. then corrival snags him while they're waiting for the bride, tells him off for not having perfectly shiny buttons, redoes his collar for him, and tells him, "You'll do" like he isn't about to cry a lil. he offers skug some whiskey from his flask "for courage" and without really thinking skug says he doesn't need it because he's never been so sure about anything in his life and corrival is just. he's fine. he's not choked up at all. stand up straight, boy, for god's sake.

- he also makes a speech ghastly still brings up hundreds of years later, because it's the soppiest the old man ever got with any of them. along the lines of "i never had a son, and if i had, i like to think he would've turned out absolutely nothing like you, because you are single-handedly the reason i am going grey several hundred years ahead of schedule. that being said, i couldn't be prouder of the man you've become; you are at least half as stubborn and annoying now as you were when i met you, and i think i can claim at least some of the credit." and then, to wifey, "as to you, my dear, you have freed me, this monster is yours now. to your health, and my heartiest hopes that your future children turn out like you, because one of him is plenty."

- wifey laughs until her sides hurt and she's wheezing. skug pretends he's offended. ghastly wolf-whistles noisily and gets clipped round the ear by his mama. corrival tears up a little in the middle of his speech and clears his throat to hide it. and when it's all over and they're about to leave, wifey thanks him for coming because she knows it meant a lot to skug, and he promises her he'll do his best to bring skug home safe and sound until this damnable war is over.

(he wishes he'd been able to keep that promise until the day he dies)

#Anon #fire message #skulduggery pleasant #sp headcanons #skugwife #skug #corrival deuce #long post

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radiantroope · 4 years

Text

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two – Coming Home

chapter summary: You return to Kildare and find out just how sick your mother is. You visit a friend who’s harboring a damning secret.

warnings: familial cancer, mentions of familial death, swearing, a teeny bit of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.6k+

author’s note: another filler chapter lol. i want to make the chapters longer but i don’t want to rush the story. they’ll probably get longer after this one. chapter three is gonna be a doozy y’all, i hope you’re ready. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. i write for myself but if no one’s interested what’s the point in posting? i hope you like it!🥰

read chapter one here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

You didn’t think twice about catching the first flight to the Outer Banks. Your father’s haunting, solemn voice echoed in your head. He sounded distraught and you knew he needed you. He didn’t want to discuss your mother’s condition over the phone so he bid you goodbye and promised to be waiting at the airport for you. You packed every bag you had — the three Louis Vitton suitcases displayed on the top shelf in your closet and the two large duffel bags stuffed under your queen sized bed. As much of your belongings as you could fit were haphazardly stuffed to the brim in each of them.

You didn’t sleep that night, it was no use since you booked your flight for five in the morning. Your stomach bubbled nervously as you watched the hours tick by, finally deciding to head for the airport at three. Your Uber pulled up outside your building and the driver kindly helped you get your bags into the trunk. The highway was almost completely empty in the early hours of the morning. You arrived at LAX in record time, thankful you didn’t have to deal with the dreaded California traffic.

After making your way through security and checking your bags, you found a chair at your gate in the corner away from others. You sat numbly, staring out the window as other planes took off and landed. You were preparing yourself for the worst. Your father wouldn’t have told you to come home if your mother’s condition wasn’t serious. For a fleeting moment you let yourself worry about classes and what you were going to do about school, but you quickly shoved those thoughts away. School would still be there in the end, your mother might not.

The five hour flight felt like an eternity. You tried your best to get even an ounce of sleep, but you could hear the hum of the aircraft over your music and a baby sitting a few rows behind you was crying every fifteen minutes. You ordered a rum and coke from the flight attendant to numb you a little bit more, take some of the edge off. One turned into three and finally you were landing in the Outer Banks, patting yourself on the back for not snapping at the poor mother who couldn’t console her child the whole flight.

You exited the plane, grasping your carryon tightly as you scanned the people bustling about. Your eyes landed on your father and a grin spread across both of your faces. You walked to him quickly, arms wrapping tightly around his waist as you embraced each other.

“Hi, princess,” he whispered into your hair.

Tears sprang to your eyes and a shaky sigh left your lips as you responded, “Hi, daddy.”

The two of you walked to baggage claim and collected them, your father lightly teasing you for how many you’d brought. You simply rolled your eyes and followed him out to the car. The sweltering North Carolina heat had sweat collecting along your hairline in an instant. The humid air made you regret wearing joggers and a sweater on the plane ride. You would have rather froze on the plane than be overheating at that moment.

“How’s momma?” you asked once you were in the car, blasting the air conditioning in your face and rolling up your sleeves.

Your father hesitated, letting out a heavy sigh. He reached over the center console and took your hand, giving it a squeeze as he replied, “She’s tired, but you know her. She acts like she’s fine but I know this is taking its toll on her.”

You nodded and settled back in the seat, staring out the window as your father drove home. The island still looked the same as you remembered. It looked like they’d added a new hotel and expanded on Figure Eight, a few larger, newer houses standing out against the rest.

Your house came into view and you breathed a sigh of relief. You smiled as the car pulled into the driveway and you saw your mother’s figure sitting on the wrap around porch. You jumped out of the vehicle, making your way up the cobblestone path quickly. The older woman pushed herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around your neck once you were close enough. The floodgates in your eyes opened as your arms wrapped around your mother’s fragile body, quiet sobs muffled against her shoulder as you embraced.

“Hey, hey,” your mother shushed your cries, pulling back enough to hold both sides of your face and get a good look at you. She swiped the tears off your cheeks with her thumbs and gave you a warm smile, “No crying, you hear me?”

You nodded slightly, small sniffles escaping you as you blinked away the burning sensation in your eyes. Your mother pulled you to sit in the chair beside her as your father took your bags inside the house. She waited until you’d composed yourself a bit better before speaking, “Why don’t I go grab us some tea so we can talk?”

A brain tumor, a Glioblastoma multiforme, to be more specific. It had been growing and spreading for some time now within your mother’s head. She played down her symptoms to your father, not wanting to worry him, until she had a seizure at the Cameron’s the previous Sunday. They rushed her to the hospital via ambulance and spent hours doing scans and bloodwork. The prognosis wasn’t good, since the tumor had already grown so large. Even through chemotherapy and radiation they were giving her a year at most.

You stared at the mug in front of you, watching the steam rise into the air and dissipate in front of you. You had tried to argue surgery, insisting it would at least give her more time. Your father had joined the two of you and gently told you it wasn’t an option. She likely wouldn’t survive the surgery and if she did, she could be in a coma for the rest of her life.

“This can’t be happening,” you whispered, voice breaking as you put your head in your hands. “I should have come home more. I should have gone on those vacations. I should have been here with you.”

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, you look at me,” your mother’s voice was stern as she reached across the table and grabbed your wrist gently. You lifted your head and met her gaze through blurry eyes.

“Now is not the time to blame ourselves. This is out of our hands, pumpkin. You can’t waste your time wishing to change the past. You need to be here, live here, in the present. We’re together and you’re here now, that’s what matters.”

Your father rested a strong hand on your shoulder from where he stood beside you, giving it a gentle squeeze. You slipped your hand into your mother’s, holding onto tightly as you choked out, “I love you so much. Both of you.”

You spent the afternoon unpacking your bags in your old bedroom. It was the same as you had left it, walls painted your favorite color and bed neatly made with the crisp white sheets. Some of your old posters still hung on the walls and your eyes drifted to the photo album you’d left last time you visited. The contents inside used to make you smile as you basked in the memories the pictures held, now they brought you heartache every time you looked at the smiling faces inside.

With a sigh, you forced yourself to take a long shower. You were drained emotionally and physically, having gotten no sleep the night before and the amount of crying you’d done took everything out of you. You skipped dinner and passed out early in the evening.

—

The next morning you woke up to the smell of bacon wafting through the house. You pulled yourself out of bed and trudged down the stairs with heavy steps. You’d gotten almost twelve hours of sleep but felt as though you could sleep twelve more, rubbing your eyes as you entered the bright kitchen. You greeted your parents with a soft ‘Good morning’, making a beeline for the coffee machine.

Your father plated bacon and eggs for you and your mother, setting them at the table in front of you. You hummed as warm coffee settled in your veins before digging into your breakfast. Back in California you didn’t cook for yourself much, opting to eat toast or pre-prepared meals. You missed the home cooked meals provided by your parents almost everyday.

“I spoke to Topper’s mother this morning,” your mother interrupted the comfortable silence, eyes trained on you. Your attention turned to her at the mention of your friend’s name. “You should swing by their place today. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

You and Topper had grown closer since Rafe stopped speaking to you. When you’d visit, the two of you often ran around the island together. He’d take you to the Boneyard ‘For old time’s sake’ or out on his boat with Kelce. The two of them never brought up Rafe to you, unlike Janelle. You didn’t see her much visiting home either, as she chose to stay in South Carolina most of the time. If you weren’t with Sarah or your parents, you were often with Topper. He filled that void inside of you with some warmth, but it was never full. There was still an emptiness there.

“Are you sure?” you asked, feeling reluctant to leave your parents.

Your mother scoffed slightly and waved her hand with a smile, “You can’t spend every second with us. You need to see your friends.”

As much as your mother would love to spend every second with you, she knew how important your friendships were. They were the people who would be there for you when she no longer could. It brought her comfort knowing you had people close to you to confide in. It made her proud that you developed such close relationships. Though, there was a storm on the horizon, and she wasn’t the only one who felt it.

“If you insist,” you hummed and stood from the table, placing your plate in the sink then pressing a kiss to your parent’s heads. “But you better call me if you need anything!” you called as you ascended the stairs to get ready.

You threw on a green bikini, in case you found yourself at the beach. You put on a pair of cut off shorts and a loose crop top then slipped some sandals on your feet. You grabbed the keys to your father’s car and made your way through Figure Eight to the Thornton house. A soft smile graced your face as you pulled up and saw the woman of the house stepping out the front door.

You climbed out of the car and the older woman’s face lit up as she spotted you. The two of you met in the middle of the driveway and she wrapped her arms around you tightly, “Y/N, honey, it’s so good to see you. How’s your mother?”

“She’s in good spirits. She’s as good as she can be,” you replied, pulling back and giving Mrs. Thornton a smile.

“That’s good to hear,” she gave your upper arms a squeeze before pulling away and moving to her car, “I’ve gotta run. Topper’s out by the pool. Don’t be a stranger!”

You walked around the large modern looking house and went through the gate. You rounded the corner and saw Topper standing at the bar built into the patio, presumably putting together a drink. There was music playing softly from the outdoor speakers and you couldn’t help but smile. He must have heard the gentle pat of your sandals against the cement because he looked up and audibly gasped when he saw you.

“My God, Topper, could your outfit be any brighter?” you giggled as he set whatever was in his hands on the counter and raced over to you. His orange polo was almost neon in the sun and his swim trunks were a similar shade.

“Shut up, come here,” he laughed as he reached you and scooped you up under the waist. You stood on your toes, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your eyes slipped closed, basking in the warm and inviting hug.

Topper pulled back and looked down at you, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the noticeable flush to your skin. He smiled softly and took you by the hand, pulling you into the shade where he had been previously, “How are you?”

You sat down at one of the bar stools and sighed heavily, putting your elbow on the counter and resting your chin in your hand. You tapped your cheek with your index finger as you pretended to think deeply before spewing, “I just up and left California a week before classes were supposed to start, I found out my mom has cancer and I came back to an island that I had no intention of ever returning to.” You paused and painted a wide smile on your lips, “I’m great, Top!”

Topper laughed softly and shook his head, grabbing a glass to make you a drink as well. “Dumb question, got it. You hate it here that bad?” he asked, staring at you as he passed the glass across the bar to you.

You took a sip of the drink and grimaced slightly at the amount of spiced rum the boy had used, overpowering the orange juice mixed in. You sighed again and played with the straw, avoiding his eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, I miss my parents and Sarah and you guys.. There’s just a lot of things I’d rather forget. People I’d rather not see.”

“How long has it been?” Topper questioned, the look on his face telling you exactly what he was talking about. He didn’t want to outright say it. He didn’t know how deep those wounds still ran. It took him over a year to get over Sarah’s infidelity and they weren’t even together all that long. He couldn’t imagine losing a friend of almost twenty years.

“Five years,” you said through a dry laugh. “Can you believe that? Five fucking years.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded genuinely. It was a lame response and he knew it, but there was nothing else he could have said. Nothing could change how the last five years of your life had played out.

You shook your head and leaned back in the chair, running your fingers through your hair, “I don’t even want to think about it. When I think about it I get angry, and I’m so fucking tired of being angry.”

Topper dropped the subject after that. The two of you finished your drinks and he took you to the island club for lunch, knowing you loved the food even though you talked shit about how prestigious the organization was. After that he took you to the beach and you watched the sunset from your favorite lookout. It was near a cliff but you preferred to sit down below, atop the large and cracked rocks where the waves crashed. The ocean spray cooled off your warm skin and the blinding sunlight reflecting off the water was your favorite. You felt at peace there. The roaring sound of the ocean drowned out even your darkest thoughts.

Topper watched you, the way your mouth would twitch as you thought of something subconsciously. He watched you close your eyes when a particularly large wave would crash and water splashed at your feet. He felt a pit growing in his stomach because he knew you wouldn’t be like this for long — so at peace. You were unknowingly a ticking time bomb, ready to blow everything and everyone close to you to pieces.

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

The Wonders of Ohio P.6

masterlist (catch up on parts 1-5 here!!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: my original idea :))

summary: y/n’s senior year was going to be great, but her British exchange student is a little weird. this is NOT a non-magic AU. draco’s still a wizard in this fsjifkszfjkd

warnings: language, fainting, bad driving, mentions of drinking and drug use

a/n: eeee this is such a fun bit to write. thank you all so much for being there for me. this is definitely one of my favorite fics i’ve written since it gives me so much creative liberty and the fact that i get feedback and readers for it...just warms my heart. if you’re reading this: thank you so, so much for sticking around. i might come around with more oneshots soon. anyways i hope you enjoy the initial descent into the real real plot. also fluff will be coming soon i promise but i wasn’t lying when i said this was slowburn

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @icintliviinyiniilsiji @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural

word count: 3.4k

song recs:

a pearl -- mitski

movement -- hozier

revival -- deerhunter

Draco was crying.

Or, at least, someone was. The gasps coming from just a wall away were apparent, but Y/N could hear a voice that didn’t quite sound like Draco--which had to be a trick of the mind, because there could be no one in there but him.

She rapped on the door against her better judgement to be met with a flurry of movement--fabric rustling, and a soft pop that echoed through the air.

“Draco? Are you alright in there?”

Y/N found herself wishing that he wouldn’t open the door. After the Homecoming ask, the last thing she wanted was to see his stupid pretty face again, but she was a good host sister. Emphasis on sister.

To her shock, the door swung open. Just a few inches, just enough for her to see the pile of black shredded paper in the middle of his room and a drained looking Draco glaring back at her.

“Can I help you?” His once pristine white shirt was gray in some places, like he had rubbed ashes on it.

“I just thought--did you burn something?”

“No. What is it?”

She looked at him a bit closer. His eyes didn’t look red rimmed with the dead giveaway of a crying session, but they looked close. The furrow in his brow was from worry instead of his usual sternness and he kept nervously pulling down at his left sleeve.

Draco wasn’t crying, but he was about to.

“I…” There was something deeply unsettling about seeing Draco so uncollected and fidgety--almost like seeing a fish out of water or an American conservative with an adequate understanding of class struggles.The air was charged with something yet again, so much so that Y/N could feel the hair on her arms stand up. She decided to avoid damaging his masculinity any further. “Nothing. It just smelled a little like smoke. I wanted to make sure you weren’t burning a candle or anything. You know how my mom is about that.”

He continued to stare at her.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?”

“Please.”

Well, that was embarrassing thought Y/N as she made her way back down the hall and to her backpack. I get rejected twice in one day. Smooth.

The days following were profoundly more uncomfortable. Breakfasts became uncomfortably akin to the Silent Game and Draco stopped coming out for tea in the evenings. The drives to and from school were decorated only by occasional bits of small talks or grumbles of exams. In short, Y/N knew that she had overstepped a boundary and Draco was pulling back.

School had finally become crazy. Y/N’s life became so entrenched with letters of recommendation and 200 word supplements that the Draco shaped hole in her life was bearable. After all, she was fine before he came, and she was fine now. She’d been silly, allowing herself to fantasize about a kid with some serious trauma and family issues that clearly had personal things that handle before he thought about getting all cozy with someone who was not in the slightest compatible with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

oOo

If someone turned a glass of whole milk into a human, that person would be Chad. He was the poster child of an “American” boy--tall, warm blonde hair, slightly tanned skin, and cornflower blue eyes.

But his personality? Not so much.

“My beloved husband!” Y/N called out as she saw him speaking to her mother in the foyer while Draco glowered in the corner. She bounded down the stairs in record time, leaping into his arms as her strappy heels swung from her hands. He smelled of cotton and laundry detergent.

“Hey nerd,” he said, swinging her around in a circle before setting her down. “Did you finish the Econ homework? I was hoping I could take a picture before I leave…”

Y/N drew back to smack him on the shoulder. “You disgust me.”

“You abuse me.”

“And I’ll do it again,” said Y/N. She had forgotten how funny he was.

“Oh, you two,” Mrs. Y/L/N cut in, stepping between the two and pressing the boutonnière into Y/N’s hands. “Always bickering like a married couple.”

Lizzy snorted from the top of the stairs where she was struggling to stuff a light jacket into her purse. “Hot take.”

“Hold still,” commanded Y/N, holding the pin and attempting to attach it to his lapel. “I’m literally going to accidentally stab you. Cut it out.”

He made a face down at her. “Do it. You won’t.”

“Oh? I won’t?”

“Y/N,” Mrs. Y/L/N’s exasperated voice warned.

“I’ll refrain, but only because the rug we’re standing on was my Grandmother’s,” Y/N said to him, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Consider yourself lucky that you’re not on the tile.”

“I’ve never been more thankful that my late grandmother-in-law had such impeccable taste.”

“Suck up.”

“Oh, because you’re such a rebel.”

“It’s called motivation!”

“Honey, I want a divor-”

“For Christ’s sake, stop flirting or I’m going to puke,” a cool voice cut in. The group turned to see Sylvia standing in the doorway, clad in a flowing black dress that just barely ghosted over the top of the floor.

“You look radiant, darling,” Mrs. Y/L/N said.

“And we weren’t flirting,” said Y/N.

Sylvia sent her a little wink before walking to sit down on the couch across from Draco, who was currently perched cross legged and looking profoundly uncomfortable.

Sylvia, Lizzy, and their dates all opted to take Lizzy’s car to the city while Chad, Y/N, and Draco took Chad’s. The plan was to drop Draco off at the school with ample time to prepare him for the uniquely traumatic experience that was ASB sanctioned after school events, and to the plan they stuck.

“Yeah, go ahead and treat me like your chauffeur, “ scoffed Chad as Y/N slid into the backseat next to Draco. The sports car was surprisingly narrow with hardly any space between them. If she wanted to, she could easily rest her thigh against his.

“It’s called being polite, dear,” said Y/N, flicking the back of his head before turning to face Draco. “You’re really gonna commit to this? Major props, but, like...you really don’t have to go to this if you don’t want to. You can even stay home. I know how to sneak you back in.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m here for the American experience, right?”

“Hate to break it to you, but there is no uniform American experience. It’s all personalized, and I don’t know if you want yours to be seasoned with 14 year olds T-posing in a circle to...I don’t even know. Chad, what kind of music do they play at those places?”

“Fuck if I know. I don’t go to them either.”

“It’s fine. I told Heather I’d be there.”

“Ooookay, whatever you say,” Y/N said.

They rode in silence for a few more beats. The wind outside was uncharacteristically strong for an early October day, and it looked like a storm was brewing. In their rush to get to the dance on time, they had neglected to take precaution against the wind and ran outside to Chad’s car without a second thought. Draco’s suit, while posh and put together, had clearly bore the brunt of this choice. His tie had become slightly rumpled and his hair mussed, a look that was all types of wrong on him.

“Draco?” she asked. He snapped to attention. “Your tie is all undone. Can I…?” Y/N motioned to his neck.

Wide-eyed and frozen, he met her with, “er...sure.”

Y/N leaned forward, trying to think past how her thighs were just barely touching his. Her corsage (a tasteful red, thank you very much) bumped against his chest, flattening a bit. She wasn’t very familiar with ties--she’d never had to be in her past experiences--but whatever his was made of, it was expensive. The fabric felt silky and impossibly smooth in her hand as she carefully untied it.

Chad took a sharp turn into the school drop off lot, prompting Y/N to nearly topple into Draco’s chest. His arms shot out to steady her and retracted so quickly that she was left wondering if she imagined the whole ordeal.

“So it’s true,” said Chad from the front. “Nerds do have bad upper body strength.”

“Shut up,” she responded. Her cheeks felt unbearably hot as she tried her best to focus on tightening Draco’s tie and ignore the fact that she was close enough to smell his cologne--a soft pine, she observed--and feel the shadow of his breath on her face. His hands were clasped together lap, tight enough to turn the knuckles white.

It was an odd feeling, getting butterflies in her stomach while she was touching a boy that wasn’t her date as Chad careened towards a parking spot and pulled in so violently that Y/N almost went sprawling into Draco again. She looked up at him, getting ready to crack a joke about the absurdity of the situation or the questionable driving; instead, she found herself staring up into his eyes.

His normally pale eyes looked darker than usual--his pupils were insanely dilated--but that was because it was dark in the car. Obviously. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see his chest rising and falling with an urgency that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want me to uh..fix your...your hair, too?” Y/N said, mentally cringing at how she stumbled over the sentence. To be fair, his hair was ruffled and out of place. It wasn’t like she was making an excuse to touch it or anything.

To that, Draco jerked away from her, his back brushing up against the opposite car door. “No. No, it’s ok. I’ll fix it myself.”

Y/N was sure that her face was tomato red.

“Alright buckaroo,” Chad said from the front, his nonchalant demeanor never more appreciated. “Your hot date is here. Get out of my car. We have a busy day of antiquing ahead.”

Any semblance of casualness left Draco’s body as his eyes widened. “Antiquing?”

“Yeah, remember the place I took you to right after you came here?” asked Y/N.

“Er...don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Excuse me?” She sat up straight so quickly that she felt her hair come slightly undone at the nape of her neck. “That’s rich, coming from the kid going to a school dance as a senior.”

“It’s probably not going to even be open. It’ll be late by the time dinner’s over,” he said.

“Since when do you care? Honestly, quit acting weird,” Y/N responded, scootching away from him as he made no effort to get out of the car.

“I’m not--it’s--erm, nevermind, forget about it.” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and brushed off his lapels. “Heather must be waiting for me. Goodbye.”

After a little struggle, Draco managed to best the slightly confusing door handle of Chad’s car and was out the door. Y/N slid across the seat and out with him, shutting the door and grabbing the handle for the passenger side.

“Y/N?” Draco’s voice called before she had the chance to fully get in and tell Chad to book it.

“What’s up?”

He took a few steps forward, pausing just a couple feet away from her. His eyes were cast to the rain puddle ridden cement. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I should be telling you that, king,” Y/N quipped. “Your first real American dance. If you go to any after parties, make sure to watch your drink. Don’t take any substances from strangers--or, anyone, really--”

“Y/N, he’s not a chick.” Chad, his hands still perched on the steering wheel, turned to peer out at her. “He’ll be fine. I think they have beer in Britain.”

“Well, whatever. Have Heather text me if I need to pick you up anywhere. And don’t get in any cars with someone who’s been drinking!”

“Y/N!”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming.” She slid into the car, turning one last time to say bye. Draco was already gone. “Only if I drive.”

oOo

“So Heather and Draco, huh?”

Y/N scowled at Lizzy as she speared a piece of her salad particularly viciously. “I don’t know if it’s like that. I think he’s just being polite, or whatever. I think British people are just like that.”

“Why are we even talking about that boy?” Chad asked. “He’s got that whole Timothée Chalamet dying Victorian toddler aesthetic if Timothée was blonde and had a perpetual stick up his ass.”

“In a hot way, though,” said Lizzy, her eyebrows wiggling. Jonathan scowled at her side. “Oh, don’t be so jealous. As if I’d ever go for a kid who doesn’t even know what Snapchat is.”

“I don’t understand what Heather sees in him,” Chad continued, his fettuccine plate long forgotten. “He’s got the personality of a wet rag, and she’s so bubbly and...I don’t even know. Do you guys get what I mean?”

“Draco’s got personality,” said Y/N.

“Not like Heather.”

“It’s not his fault he’s reserved. He’s actually really funny.”

“And that’s what I like to call rose-tinted glasses,” Chad said, gently poking her cheek.

“Hey! I’m the one who lives with him.”

“Whatever. Let’s just call for the bill. I’m not hungry anymore.” Chad folded up his napkin, placing it on top of the tablecloth and ignoring Y/N’s protest as he got out his wallet and placed a credit card on the table. “It’s on me, guys. You know how my parents are. They’re just happy that we’re all getting together again instead of holing up in our rooms.”

“Thank god junior year is over,” Sylvia added. “That’s really kind of you. At least let me get the tip?”

As the group bickered over the payment options and flagged down the waiter, Y/N noticed her phone lighting up with a notification.

Heather, 6.48pm: Hey girly! Sorry to bug you on your night but Draco wanted to check in and ask where you guys are/what you’re planning on doing tonight.

“Who’s that?” Chad asked, looking down at the little paragraph in the gray message bubble.

“Just Heather. Draco wants to know what we’re doing. Probably because he’s realizing how sucky dances really are and is about to beg us to come pick him up.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Poor kid.”

Y/N typed out a quick “we just finished dinner and are heading to the antique place now. lmk if i need to pick him up earlier” and tucked her phone away in her purse. As much as she resented it, she couldn’t help but wish that Draco wanted to join them instead.

“Are you guys ready to beat it and hit up that antique place?” Marvin, Sylvia’s date, asked. She rolled her eyes and sent him a lazy smile.

“You sound like a dad.”

“Off like a herd of turtles, baby,” Y/N offered, gathering her things as they made their way out the restaurant door. “Not gonna lie, this place doesn’t show up on Google Maps or anything. I think I know how to get there but none of you guys are allowed to make fun of me if I take too many wrong turns.”

“No promises,” said Chad, winking down at her and giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

As they walked, it became profoundly obvious that Chad and Y/N were the only two who weren’t officially an item. Lizzy and Jonathon were walking hand in hand while Sylvia and Marvin whispered in each others’ ears when they had to wait for crosswalk signals. While she had great chemistry with Chad, nothing ever felt real with him. It always felt like an act.

Perhaps the tension between them was because of that one time they kissed and never talked about it again in freshman year after a particularly nerve wracking competitive math round before she quit--something that she wasn’t exactly going to shout off the rooftops for the masses to hear. Or maybe because he pushed her away right after and said it was a mistake.

Whatever it was, Y/N and Chad were decidedly not romantically involved. She had been shocked when he’d even bothered asking her for the night. Granted, they were always pals and it shouldn’t have been awkward, but drawing the comparisons between her and the other girls was making the evening very uncomfy. Y/N couldn’t help but pray that Chad was going to be the one to break the ice.

“Where the fuck is this place?” he finally said, much to Y/N’s glee. His grace and manners were absolutely unparalleled. “It’s cold and I’m sure it’s going to start raining again.”

“It should be just a few more blocks and then to the right,” she responded. “Sorry. It’s cool as fuck, though. I promise it’s worth it.”

“This is just her ploy to lure us all away from civilization to off us,” Sylvia said, turning around from a few feet in front of them to raise her eyebrows at Y/N. “Eliminate the competition before college apps even begin. I’m impressed, honestly.”

“Now you’ve gone and ruined it all,” she fired back. “Thanks, Vy.”

She was relieved to see that the antique store couldn’t be missed, even if she tried. The sign, a worn and friendly gold, was illuminated by large lights. The words “My Grandfather’s Attic” had never looked more welcoming as Sylvia gripped the door and ushered them inside.

The moment Y/N stepped inside, something felt...different, kind of like the hair-raising feeling she got when she was around Draco. The electricity in the air she felt with him could easily be explained away by the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, the most stunning person she’d ever seen, but perhaps she was slowly getting over him. Perhaps…

She turned to see Chad, his honey blonde hair spilling over his forehead as he focused on a basket of vintage buttons that seemed to glimmer in the light. The furrow in his brow--the same one that she’d been so familiar with after seeing him solve countless math problems--appeared as he examined the basket, turning a red button around in his fingers, soft and and sprinkled with writing calluses.

Maybe it had been Chad all along. Maybe Draco was just a detour.

Before she did anything she regretted, Y/N turned and made her way back into the store. The set up was the same as she remembered--interesting and foreign objects hanging from the walls, ceilings, and congregating in baskets and overflowing shelves. She didn’t even realize that she had migrated over to the opposite side of the room until she felt the solid, cool wood of the black box from her dreams pressed into her hand as she turned it over and traced the strange white sign that was etched into the front.

“Y/N!”

The sound snapped her out of her trance to see...Heather and Draco? He was jogging towards her despite the fact that he was wearing a full suit. Y/N made an absent note to make fun of him later.

“Why are you--”

“Put that down!” He stopped a few paces away, his eyes darting around the store at a frantic pace. “We need to leave.”

“Why? Honestly, if you wanted me to pick you up, all you had to do was…” She had to take a breath to steady herself. Her body felt like it was filled with static. “All you had to do was ask.”

“That’s not...ok, just put it down,” he commanded. “Please. Just put the box down. We need to go home.”

“No! This is my last homecoming. I’m sorry your experience wasn’t great, but I don’t...I don’t, uh, appreciate…” The lightheadedness hit, so suddenly that she almost fell.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Draco was right in front of her in an instant, his eyes scanning her face.

“I feel...” She took a shaky breath. “I feel...starry?”

The last thing she remembered was Draco trying to tug the box out of her grip, his other hand warm on her shoulder.

And then everything went black.

final a/n: so draco got a howler and some wack stuff happened, huh? tell me what you think.

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x you #draco malfoy x you

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mirkysconcubinefiction · 4 years

Text

You Know

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader (****), Bucky

Summary: What Steve walked into was a catacomb of missed chances, squandered love, utter betrayal, and regret plastered on the walls. Poster sized prints weren't taped to the walls, oh no, **** glued reprints of him fucking another woman on whatever space she could manage.

Tags: Angst, Cheating, Broken Engagement, Drunk Texting/Video, attempt at Humor

AO3: Mirkys_Concubine

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You didn't need or want a boyfriend... Or girlfriend for that matter.

One minute you were fine and dandy wiping down a table and the next your tray whizzed through the air and smacked a perv in the head.

And again.

If someone gropes your ass the logical reaction would be murder. At least that's what your mama had taught you.

Kill them like the roach they were.

Maybe that's when he saw you more than a random part time human he interacted with? He had swooped in, plucked the tray out of your hand, and broke it in half over the guys head.

Of course you politely said thank you before landing a solid kick into the perv. Not the face. If there weren't cameras you'd have stomped on his head.

Twice.

The way your mama had taught you.

That was then.

Before routine.

When he had to stalk you for a date in his goofy bashful self. When his best friend would get a kick of the 'old Steve' that was a mess around girls. When he had... no... there was no sense in getting nalstagic.

While you didn't want a boyfriend you never expected to get married. Steve's friends had been more excited than you, magazines and samples had taken over the small breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen. You lit them on fire on the roof in one of the communal pits and lounged with takeout and wine. It's where you sat and made the decision to leave.

You couldn't stay.

God what would your mother say if she had been alive? She'd be disappointed in you.

The ring was rose gold, shaped like an octagon, and while pretty you had been afraid you'd lose it. Tempting as it was to flush it down the toilet you left it in the freezer atop a bag of sweet corn.

You packed your clothes - the ones you had purchased - into one luggage, another luggage was your shoes and intimates, and your carry on bag was large enough for your toiletries and kindle.

The car you purchased - with cash and registered under an alias - had enough space in the trunk for the luggage. The lovely security guard had helped you - bless him - and then you drove off. You refused to look back and you refused to shed another tear.

Well planned and as thought out as one could get considering their ex was an avenger with questionable access to the interwebs. You waited until the Avengers were on a mission.

A friend of a friend helped with your makeup and prosthetics to make you look like an elderly man, and you had enough cash on you to fund a bank. No paper trails, no cell phones beyond a simple Nokia that had no internet access, and once you made it outside state lines and to a safe house you'll disappear.

Again.

No more chances at romance.

All men were the same.

Even all american test tube super hero's weren't immune to cheating and lying.

✖

Home.

It used to be warm, smelled of dessert, savory meals, music played in the background, **** off tune voice singing along, there was a garden scattered throughout the condo, fruit always filled a basket, and more importantly **** was there to make him feel human.

Less lonely.

Alive.

Loved.

Cherished.

That was home. One he worked hard to obtain.

What Steve walked into was a catacomb of missed chances, squandered love, utter betrayal, and regret plastered on the walls. Poster sized prints weren't taped to the walls, oh no, **** glued reprints of him fucking another woman on whatever space she could manage.

The glossy original prints hung from the ceiling right over their bed like a weird still mobile. With that thought Steve remembered the birth control pills and hoped she would never catch on as to how insane he really was over her.

The doorbell rang.

Had it been anyone else, Steve wouldn't have opened the door but instinct fueled his hand and trust didn't make him flinch as a fist hit him in the face and he was down. Dropped on his ass in his own home with an incensed soldier grabbing him by his shirt and tossing him like a rag doll before shutting the door and locking it.

✖

The island held an empty fruit basket and a ring. A frozen mockery of a promise he remembered in great detail from months ago. Bucky had found it as he had been gracious enough to offer a bag of frozen peas only to find a bag of sweet corn and a ring.

Steve wanted to cry.

He wanted to get angry.

He wanted to call Tony for a favor but he could do nothing but sit on a stool his fiancee, future wife, future mother to his children, now 'ex', had picked out.

Only Bucky would probably kill him if he so much as sniffled.

The bag of sweet corn smacked him across the face none too gently and Steve winced. The other stool creaked as the crack and hiss of a Fanta soda being opened. Yet another check against him, **** made a point to stock the fridge with his and Bucky's favorites.

"Hope she was worth it."

"Buck..."

"Blond, green eyes, fake tits, didn't know desperate was your type."

Steve shut both eyes and slouched, "It was a mistake."

Bucky's brows lifted, soda can midway to his lips. "Fucking her for two months is now a mistake?"

"Look... I tried to stop it. Every time we met it just... Happened." It was stupid and in a way so true. He had tried stopping but some how they always end up fucking and every time he promised himself it was the last.

"Bullshit!" The can bent as it was slammed onto the counter. "You don't commit to marriage and then run off to fuck some floozie from legal!"

"I'm sorry!" Steve snapped, "I know I fucked up! It's on all the fucking walls!" Which was true. Even the fridge door had a blown picture of his face between slender legs and the freezer door a blown up shot of his cock being sucked. "I need to find her, apologise, and fix this." Bucky snorted, "I can fix this."

"**** has more respect for herself than you do of her."

"I love her." He did. Steve loved **** more than he'd love Peggy.

"You don't love a woman like **** and then fuck a bitch behind her back."

"It was a mistake." Steve grit out, irritated.

"Two months isn't a mistake. That's a fucking affair. Litteraly. You fucked like rabbits."

Steve stared, a frown tugging at his lips. "How do you know?"

Bucky stood and went for another soda only to stare at the woman splayed out for the world to see, "She is hot. Better looking than ****. It would've hurt more if you'd downgraded."

"**** is perfect!" Steve spat, throwing the bag of mushy corn where it burst as it hit a well.

"Look at her though." Bucky tapped on the breasts, "Nipples are spaced perfectly, more than a handfull, kudos to her surgeon."

"Kudos? When do you say kudos?"

"Must be on a low carb keto diet or those green smoothies, and even her belly button is worth cumming over."

Steve stared. Horrified. What was going on?

"And look at her skill!" A metal knuckle tapped at where the womana nose pressed against Steve's pubes. "Porn quality. The type of girl you want to teach you some shit."

"You know where she is." It wasn't a question. Bucky didn't talk like that. The man was a storm of swears, stares, and threats. Not... this. "Where is she?"

"Wish I knew so I could tell you to fuck off."

"She couldn't have gone far if she met with you, I might have time..."

"I haven't spoken to **** and i don't expect to hear from her again actually." Bucky ignored his friend's glare as he rummaged through the fridge for another soda and snagged a bag of cookies because only **** would hoard cookies in a refrigerator. "She left her phone in my apartment and instructions to watch her video."

"What?"

Bucky pulled out **** phone tucked on the inside of his jacket and tossed it to the other man. He returned to his seat, opened his soda, and munched on his cookies.

The phone wasn't password activated and a quick search proved most of the personal stuff like pictures and apps were deleted except for a single video.

Hey Tiny.

**** personal nickname for Bucky who had lost a bet but secretly was amused by it. The phone shook as **** had nearly dropped it with a swear. She looked as if she had been crying and she was chugging from a bottle of plum wine. Her favorite wine.

Just wanted to say i will miss you and i love you. Like, really, really love you. I'd give you my kidney sorta love.

She giggled and sipped at her bottle, eye's roaming the room. Tears slipped from her eyes and Steve felt his own burn. **** was a mess. She used a sleeve to wipe at her nose and her smile was shaky.

I redecorated, Steve will love it.

The camera flipped and **** showed off the wallpaper of porn. The condo looked trashed and luggage was open on the living room floor half packed and takeout piled on the coffee table.

I figure since he loved to fuck random pussy he'd like this theme. I call it *Whore of Narcissism*

The camera swivels and zooms into a familiar picture of the woman laid out and the hand holding the bottle points at the woman.

Not her. She not a whore Tiny. Ok!

The camera swivels to another portrait of Steve's face.

He's a cunt faced whore.

The camera switches and **** is giggling again.

Shhh. Look what I did. Put it it on the fridge door, that's where I keep the fish sticks.

Bucky snorts and Steve barely refrains from giving the man the finger.

See. Cunt whore faced.

**** giggles

Don't tell him but he can't eat pussy. He can't, he misses the clit. Like how do you miss this?

The phone tilts and Steve swears as she's wearing practically nothing. It wasn't her sexy underwear but the shear laced thong left little to be hidden.

It's right there, see it pokes out a bit too.

**** bumps her pussy with the bottom of edge of the wine bottle.

How can he miss it?

"It gets better." Bucky happily munches on a cookie.

"Fuck you."

Look. Just look.

There's a thunk as the bottle was set down and **** shoves aside her underwear and it was a crooked close up of her manicured pussy.

How is this not buffet worthy? My pussy tastes like sin yet he treats it like a McD's drive through. My pussy is not a Big Mac! It's MSG!

The phone jerks up back to her face and she's angry.

Chinese buffet MSG quality. My pussy is it's own zodiac sign ok!

Bucky's shoulders are shaking and Steve is mortified.

Maybe he likes her sauce though?

The camera points to his head between the girls legs.

He never spends forever with me but with her... I got so many pictures of her and he is just there. I have a buffet he can eat from and he chooses this...

Her hand smacks on a breast.

She's hot Bucky. Look at her. She's fucking perfect and her tits are fucking perfect. You see them? Nipples spaced perfectly, bigger than his hands, kuddos to whoever worked on her, she's a fucking art piece, I wanna know her surgeon, I want tits like hers.

The camera shifts and **** holds the camera up at an angle downward as she unhooks her bra with one hand and slips one arm out while it dangles from the other and she's touching herself.

See one's smaller.

"Did you..." Steve couldn't get it out as he watched his fiance complain about her breasts on camera to his best friend. Brother.

"Fuck her?" Bucky crushes his empty soda can, "I'm not you. If I had that in my bed I wouldn't get complaints about my mouth."

... at least she's hot you know. If he's going to fuck another bitch at least she's beautiful. I'd die if he downgraded you know. He fucked her in the office you know. Her office. She's beautiful and educated and I'm a mess.

The wine bottle was back in her hands and she took a long swallow uncaring that she was half naked.

I'm sorry Tiny. Bucky. I'm... This... I should delete this one but my battery is gonna die so fuck it. I'm leaving. When you see Steve punch him. I can't be there when he gets back. I'll kill him.

She sipped her wine and her brows furrow.

She has to be on some low carb keto diet... I don't think I can drink those green smoothies but I would have. I could look like a porn star! I can look plastic too!

Her eyes go wide before she blinks and frowns.

I can get wigs and wear those waist thingy's and change names... We could have role played. I would have called him daddy or - or - dirty stuff. I could have been his whore you know. I'm not a basic bitch Tiny. If she were my friend she'd teach me to not choke!

**** shakes her head and takes another swig.

I want to hate her but she... Bucky she was crying. He lied to her, for two months he lied to her, and she brought me ice cream Bucky. I couldn't hit her. She got me chocolate.

Her eyes narrowed and the sadness was swept away.

I want to hurt him. Rip his heart out through his ass and shove it down his throat! I planned it too, killing him. Got explosives... was gonna put a trigger thing on it and boom. Take out the whole floor.

**** makes a boom noise before flopping on the couch atop folded clothes, her wine bottle gone from her hands.

Neighbors got a kid downstairs and... Kids... No kids.

She rubs her face, tears leaving tracks and her breadth hitches and she's doing her best to not break down.

I was right. I told you there's no such thing as happily ever after. I told you they're all the same. I'm...

Her breath hitches and she's staring into the lens. Broken.

I'm not perfect Bucky, I'm not her but I loved him. I believed him. You said... Said he was good and I be-believed you cuz I trusted you and I want... Wanted... I deserve to be loved. I am good enough... I'm good... Right? Bucky... Why... Why am I not good enough? what did I do wrong? I... I... I'm sorry.

The phone tumbles and the screen goes dark but Steve can't hold back his own tears as he hears her sob before it cuts off completely.

What had he done?

How did he fix this?

Can he fix this?

End...

Part 2 of 1/2

#fanfiction #fanfic #avengers #mirkysconcubinefiction #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #marvel #bucky #cheating #affair #broken engagement

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underworldobsessed · 3 years

Text

Can I Get Through? ll Bo-Katan Week Day 6 Bo-Katan and Korkie

Title: Can I Get Through? Rating: T Ship: None Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Korkie Kryze, Satine Kryze (Mentioned), Obi-Wan Kenobi (Mentioned) Series: This Life is Mine (Bo-Katan Week 2021) Summary: Not long after finding one another, Bo-Katan leads Korkie through the battle torn streets of Sundari as they searched for a secret pathway Satine had taught Korkie about in a way in and out of the palace. If they find this, they may have a chance to succeed and reclaim Mandalore. However, the remains of those loyal to Maul still roam the streets and will do anything to stop the two of them from accomplishing their goal. ll Bo-Katan Week Day 6 Bo-Katan and Korkie Author’s note: The missed chance of seeing Bo and Korkie together for more than three seconds will bother me through the end of time. I love the idea of Bo-Katan being a protective Aunt to Korkie, so I hope you guys enjoy! And maybe we'll get lucky and in Season 3 of The Mandalorian, we'll see Korkie.

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Read here or under the cut

Finding Korkie after her sister’s death was definitely difficult, but standing with her nephew as they worked to reclaim and rebuild Mandalore was worth the time it took. He had an understanding of how the Mandalore her sister had built that she did not, which allowed them to go places pretty well unnoticed. Unlike her sister, he wasn’t afraid to defend himself if necessary, which meant she didn’t always have to look out for him.

But it didn’t mean she didn’t do it anyway. He was her last tie to her sister after all, he was family.

They slipped through the destroyed streets of Sundari, the battle between Death Watch and those loyal to Satine left the city scarred and damaged. She knew that she would be up to the task of rebuilding if she could only get her hands on the dark saber and take down Maul. From beside her, she heard Korkie let out a shuddering breath and she stopped to look at him. Her heart broke when she saw that he was staring at a slightly burned poster of Satine, the words on it lost but it was meaningful all the same.

“It’s okay to mourn her loss, Korkie.” Bo walked up behind her nephew and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If this is too hard for you, we can turn back and do this another day.” Her sister would have forgone her vow of pacifism and killed her if she had forced Korkie to do this when he wasn’t ready. While it had been some time since Satine’s death, she knew the boy had taken it harder than he let on. After all, he had learned after her death that the woman he had always called auntie was actually his mother, and so he mourned her not just as a nephew, but as a son as well.

“No, we have to continue forward.” His words were slightly cold towards her and Bo nodded, continuing on. She knew that somewhere, deep inside Korkie, he still blamed her for being a part of Death Watch and leading to the moment that Satine was killed. And truth be told, she couldn’t blame him. She still blamed herself as well, for not being there for Satine, for joining Death Watch, and for not trying to dissuade Pre from using Maul in the first place.

The two of them continued on in relative silence, neither speaking as they looked through the rubble for a hidden entrance that Korkie mentioned existing near here which was supposed to be an exit for an escape tunnel from the palace. This could be their key to get in and finally get ready to launch the attack that they had been planning since her sister’s death.

The sound of a blaster being pulled out caught Bo’s attention and she immediately pulled her own out in turn. “Korkie, get down!” She pushed him out of the way and stood in front of him as the blaster fire rang out. She shot back, making sure every since shot counted. There were only two men against her and she was able to take them down with relative ease.

“We need to move,” Bo grabbed Korkie’s arm and took off back towards their ship. The sighting of the guards was a good thing, it meant that they were close to that underground entrance. Unfortunately, being attacked meant word would spread of their attempt, meaning they might have to rework their strategy a bit and they definitely would have to retreat right now.

Her heart hammered in her ears as she ducked through alleyways and stayed out of sight to get back to their ship. If anything happened to Korkie because of her, she would never forgive herself. Thankfully, their trip back to the ship managed to remain uneventful, avoiding the soldiers from Death Watch as they got onto the ship and started the flight back to their base.

Once autopilot was engaged, Bo stood from the captain’s seat and went to go check on a few things when she heard Korkie’s concerned voice.

“Auntie Bo… you’re bleeding.”

She reached and touched her side, feeling her hand grow sticky with her blood. How had she gone so long without realizing that she had been hit with Blaster Fire. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, her head spun from blood loss and she felt her body start to crash to the ground. They had hit one of the points where her armor was not, dealing a lot of damage to her.

She felt arms wrap around her to try and catch her as she fell, and Korkie led her to her bed, laying her down. Her vision swam and she could feel her eyes flutter. Maybe she could just rest a little bit… Korkie was a fine pilot and he could land her ship once they got to the Nite Owl base.

“You need to stay awake.” Korkie sounded like he was underwater, but she forced her eyes open to try and appease him, despite how tired she was. “Auntie, where’s the medkit here? You need medical attention.”

Medkit? Where did she keep those again? It was so hard to think and focus when she was so tired.

“In the cockpit,” Her words slurred slightly “There’s a locker there where I keep medical supplies.”

She was certain he said something, but she couldn’t hear him, just saw his lips move as he got up and ran out of the room. He was so much like her sister. She smiled at the thought and felt her eyes start to drift closed again. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for her to get a little bit of sleep. She was certain that Korkie would understand…

When she next opened her eyes, she almost didn’t recognize her surroundings. It took her a minute to realize that she was in the Nite Owl base, in their medcenter. She jolted up, gasping in pain as she held at her side, wrapped in bandages. “Haar’chak!” The curse slipped through her lips, not realizing that she wasn’t alone in the room. Korkie, who had been sitting in a seat beside her bed, jolted at the sound of her curse and stared at her.

“Auntie Bo, you’re awake.” She could see the relief on his face when her eyes opened. “I was… you were so badly hurt, Auntie. I did what I could but, you… I was so worried about you. The medical staff here was working on you for a while.” His eyes filled with tears and she moved to wipe the tears from his face. She could tell he was weighing what he was going to say next, and she didn’t want him to worry.

“You did a good job, Korkie.” She reassured him, brushing a finger against his cheek. No one besides Korkie, and before her death, Satine, had seen her be this gentle, this loving. She wasn’t heartless like many thought, but she wanted to keep her emotions below the surface. “I’ll be fine, thanks to you.”

“But you almost weren’t,” Her heart broke and she adjusted to sit up, carefully this time so as to not aggravate her injury. “I came back with the medkit and you were unconscious. I thought… you” Bo felt the burn of tears in her own eyes, knowing what was coming next. “I saw Buir in your place. You’re my last… you’re all the family I’ve got left. If I lost you, I’d be alone..”

“You wouldn’t be alone, Korkie.” Bo tried to reassure him, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Ad’ika,” He looked up finally at the affectionate nickname that she directed towards him. “You’re not going to be alone, not just because you have my owls, but… I’m pretty certain your father is still alive.”

She couldn’t be certain, but rumors were hard to ignore from her Nite Owls, who may have seen a man who looked like General Kenobi, alive, before the purge, and his name was on the most wanted list… It had to mean that he was alive somewhere. She just didn’t know where. She would search for him, for Korkie’s sake.

“No I-I…” Korkie’s breath hitched and he took his Aunt’s hand. “Ba’vodu… I don’t know my father. I may have met Obi-Wan Kenobi, once? Maybe twice? You’re my family. He’s my buir, of course, but he’s not really… I don’t know him. I know you and I know the Nite Owls. This place is my home and my family… I don’t want to lose you.”

Bo’s heart broke, and she looked away for a moment. She didn’t think her loss would have affected him like this. She had assumed that he still blamed her for Satine’s death, but they were family, and it was more important than anything. Family and clan.

“You won’t lose me, Korkie.” She tried to reassure him. “If you worry that much, I promise I will be more careful. I don’t want you to worry about me anymore.” She knew Satine also wouldn’t want her son to worry about Bo either, to not have any worries. She would want them standing together, as a family. So standing together she would ensure they would.

“I will always worry about you, Ba’vodu. Mother would want me to.” Korkie mumbled “She would want me to make sure you were okay. Perhaps… we can look out for each other.”

Bo gave him a smile, before allowing her eyes to close again. She remembered when her sister would look out for her when they were younger, and she would look out for Satine in her own way after she left Mandalore. Perhaps it was time she had someone to look out for, and someone to look out for her in turn.

“I’d like that.”

#Bo-Katan Kryze #Bo Katan Kryze #Bo-Katan #Bo Katan #Korkie Kryze #Jen writes #Bo-Katan week

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authenticcadence18 · 4 years

Text

Can’t Help Falling in Love Ch. 5

THE CHAPTER IS BACK UP, WOO!!!!! (it accidentally got deleted...but I’m finally fixing it, yay!!) Pls enjoy!!

Warning: the next line contains a minor trigger warning which contains a minor spoiler.

(minor trigger warning for an injury in this chapter. It’s nothing serious...and mostly just in there as an excuse for some fluff...but I wanted to let y’all know just in case!)

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

AO3

...

Darling, so it goes…

Some things are meant to be…

...

“Alright! Before I let you and your partners discuss your projects for the last fifteen minutes of class, who can tell me something about dominant chords?”

Since the beginning of March, Ms. Chase had made a habit of asking her students one review question a day as a “pre-pre exam review.”

Unfortunately, the blank stares she got in response to today’s question seemed to indicate no one had a response.

Ms. Chase allowed the silence to linger for a few seconds, giving her students the opportunity to think critically about her question before determining she needed to move on. “Alright, I’ll review them again!” she said warmly. “There’s no point in waiting an eternity for someone to answer a question if no one knows the answer or wants to answer...we would just be wasting time.

“Dominant chords are built on the fifth note in a scale, and they create instability! Whenever you hear a dominant chord in a song, you instinctively wait for it to resolve. It sounds like it’s holding its breath! And, that resolution, or the exhale of relief, is typically found in a tonic chord!! Remember, the tonic chord is built on the first note of a scale, so when you go back to it, it’s like you’re going back home.”

Perhaps now that she’d reviewed the concept, the class would be able to answer a question!

“Can anyone think of a song that ends with a dominant chord resolving to the tonic?”

A student raised his hand.

“Yes, Django?”

Django’s answer was hesitant. “...‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’?”

“Excellent!!!” Ms. Chase replied with a grin. She wrote out the lyrics to the first verse of the tune on the whiteboard and gestured to them to elaborate on the lesson. “Imagine the words ‘what you’ being held out for an extended period of time instead of immediately being followed by the word ‘are’ and the final tonic chord....hear the unresolved dominant chord in your head…..FEEL the mounting tension that is DESPERATE to finally be resolved…...can you hear it? Can you FEEL the aching, burning desperation for resolution???”

A few particularly musically-inclined students—Isabella and Phineas included—nodded their heads enthusiastically. The majority of the class, however, seemed primarily caught off-guard by their teacher’s passion for chords (especially while discussing a children’s nursery rhyme).

Ms. Chase chuckled at their reactions (and her heart sang at the few students who DID seem to grasp the inherent beauty of dominant and tonic chords.)

“Look, I know this might seem boring and irrelevant now, but you’ll need this information to understand a simile in a couple of chapters!!”

“....don’t you mean to understand our exam review in a couple of weeks?”

“Yup! That’s what I said!!”

...

“Alright, by class time tomorrow, you and your partner need to decide whether your final project will be live, recorded, or elsewise! No matter what you decide to do, you will have to turn in your project along with your essays next Monday, exactly a week from today. You can turn in a scratch recording if you intend to do a live performance. And, just a reminder, presentations will start next week on Tuesday. Alright, you have the rest of class to discuss with your partners! Go!!!!”

Isabella and Phineas nodded at their teacher before facing one-another. Isabella opened her notebook and thumbed to a blank page, scribbling the words “Presentation Ideas” on the top.

“I’m sure glad we already got the essay out of the way!!” Phineas exclaimed as she wrote. “It was a great idea to do that first, Isabella.”

Isabella smiled sweetly (and maybe she blushed a little, but who could blame her?) and replied, “AND, just like you said, we have a better grasp on the song’s themes and structure now! That’ll make the presentation easier.”

“Easier,” of course, was a relative term for their situation. Understanding the themes and structure of their assigned song didn’t change what the lyrics meant to them personally.

Isabella and Phineas quite literally couldn’t help being in love with one another.

No amount of analysis could top that for inspiration.

“OK!!” Isabella shook her head to clear it of thoughts about her feelings for Phineas and the inherent irony in their song assignment. “Ideas for our presentation!! What do you want to do? Make a poster? Sing live? Record a video?”

(One would think two individuals as motivated and driven as Phineas and Isabella would have come to a decision about this by now. But they’d both been putting this conversation off for as long as they could.)

“Well….” Phineas rubbed the back of his neck and tried to hide the faint blush warming his face. “...I think it would be fun to sing together again. I mean, live. For the class. We haven’t done that—you know, sung together—in years.”

Deep down, Phineas knew singing with Isabella was perhaps not the best idea. Singing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” for their presentation—as opposed to making a poster or something about it—would almost CERTAINLY result in sly looks from the rest of their classmates as they performed...not to mention be difficult on Phineas himself.

But he loved singing with Isabella.

Some of his fondest memories from when they were kids involved musical numbers—be they spontaneous or rehearsed—in which they shared a melody.

Phineas also figured it would be less risky to sing live than make a video. If he and Isabella chose the latter option for their presentation, they would likely have to spend time editing footage together after recording...and Isabella could catch him gazing fondly at her in one of the videos...and his secret would be out. It would be better to just record the audio of their song once or twice for Ms. Chase and then sing it in front of the class.

And...there was one final reason Phineas wanted to sing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” with Isabella.

Doing so would be the safest way to say “I love you ” to her.

He didn’t expect her to return his feelings or even UNDERSTAND just how deeply the lyrics resonated in his heart while they sang together, of course.

But he wanted to tell her he loved her. Even if it was just through the lyrics of a half-a-century-old song. Even if it didn’t mean anything to her.

It would mean something to him.

Isabella smiled fondly as memories of singing with Phineas washed over her. “You know what? I think you’re right. That WOULD be fun. We should sing together. ...you know, live!”

(She also didn’t trust herself to film a video without making heart eyes at Phineas and potentially give her feelings away. Maybe he wouldn’t notice but...it was better to be safe than sorry.)

A bright smile unfolded over Phineas’s face, and Isabella giggled.

“It’s settled then!!” he exclaimed excitedly. “We’ll decide on some instruments to play and come up with an arrangement for the song, and then….” He gazed at her lovingly and took her hand in his. “All we’ll have to do is…run away together!!!”

Isabella beamed at him.

And then she blinked. And frowned.

Because what had Phineas said, exactly?

…and why did it feel uncomfortably familiar?

A bit of closer inspection revealed that Phineas wasn’t actually holding her hand. Or gazing at her lovingly.

...this didn’t bode well.

Isabella took a deep breath. “......can you repeat that?” she asked hesitantly. “I think I zoned out for a second there.”

“Sure!” Phineas replied cheerfully. “I said, we’ll decide on some instruments to play and come up with an arrangement for the song, and then all we’ll have to do is record it for Ms. Chase and sing for the class!”

Isabella offered Phineas a thumbs up and a strained smile for the clarification.

On the inside, however...she was not smiling at all.

When Isabella was younger, she’d had a bad habit of occasionally falling into romantic daydreams about Phineas when he spoke to her and missing whatever he’d actually said. The rest of the Fireside Girls had lovingly dubbed this phenomenon “going to Phineasland.”

Isabella hadn’t been to Phineasland in years. Even now, though her feelings for Phineas were stronger than ever, she figured she’d outgrown it.

...except she apparently HADN’T outgrown it.

And she was going to scream.

Because if such daydreams became more frequent, Isabella had no idea how she’d be able to perform a love song with Phineas!! How was she supposed to discern between fantasy and reality while singing a romantic duet with him if she apparently couldn't even do it in regular conversation now??

...Isabella was just going to have to focus extra carefully whenever they interacted from now on. And take anything Phineas said (or sang) that could be interpreted as more than friendly with a grain of salt.

Several grains of salt.

“So. Do you want to get started on the song after school today?” Phineas asked.

“Sure!!” Isabella agreed quickly, eager to put thoughts of Phineasland out of her head and focus on literally anything else. “I have soccer practice till 4:30, though. Do you have any meetings today? If not, I can come over to your house once I’m finished.”

“I don’t have any meetings today, but don’t mind hanging out here until you’re done!” Phineas replied. “Maybe I can sit outside on the bleachers while you and the team practice!! That way, you won’t have to walk home by yourself afterward.”

Isabella grinned, already looking forward to strolling home with Phineas (and maybe accidentally brushing her hand against his a few times as they walked).

(She could totally do that without going to Phineasland. Totally. 100%.)

“That sounds great!”

...

Phineas smiled as a light breeze ruffled his hair.

It was a beautiful afternoon to sit outside and watch one’s crush play soccer.

It had been awhile since Phineas witnessed the soccer team in action. Their season ended back in autumn, and all their spring practices were primarily held to keep the team moving and prepare the underclassmen for next year’s season.

(Phineas hadn’t missed a game, of course. He loved supporting Isabella in any way he could...and watching her play soccer and lead the team was pretty awesome.)

His gaze gradually drifted away from the soccer field and down to the notebook in his lap. He added a bit of shading to the design for an invention he’d been ruminating on for awhile: a generator that could create any image in fireworks. Such an invention could be used for quite a few things, but Phineas had a particular idea in mind for it….

On the opposite page, he sketched out a horizon and penciled the phrase “Gitchee Gitchee Goo!” into the sky. A lopsided grin unfolded over his face as he absently doodled small hearts and sparks around the lyric.

...now that song was stuck in his head. He hummed a bit of the refrain.

Gitchee gitchee goo means that I love you!

Phineas smiled fondly at the familiar melody, one he and Isabella both knew very well. He wasn’t planning on confessing to her anytime soon...but it was still fun to daydream up different ways he could do so.

(Well. It was fun to daydream up different ways he could do so in a hypothetical scenario where confessing couldn’t result in their friendship being ruined forever. But that went without being said.)

“Hey, Phineas! Whatcha drawin’?”

Phineas’s pulse skyrocketed, and he nearly fell off the bleachers.

He’d been so wrapped up in his daydream, he didn’t realize Isabella was sitting next to him now.

And it was too late to shut the notebook. She’d already seen it.

...this didn’t bode well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Isabella said with an apologetic smile. “We’re taking a short break, so I wanted to see what you were up to.” She moved a bit closer to Phineas so she could admire his handiwork better. “Oooooh, that looks neat!! Is that a generator that makes custom fireworks?”

Phineas managed to nod, hoping his face didn’t look as red as it felt.

Isabella smiled as she read the familiar lyric scrawled in the paper sky. “Are you planning to use this to promote some sort of Phineas and the Ferbtones comeback concert?”

Some of the tension left Phineas’s shoulders.

Isabella had provided a perfect explanation for the fireworks he’d drawn!!

“YUP!!!” he replied quickly. “I’d use it to promote a comeback concert!! Or, well, a comeback-comeback concert, I guess. But probably not anytime soon. I’m in no rush to revisit being a one-hit wonder...there’s too much other stuff going on right now. But I bet it could be fun to do someday!”

“Well, whenever you schedule that concert, let me know! Being a Ferbette was tons of fun.” Isabella smiled and quietly sang a bit of the aforementioned one-hit wonder to herself. “Gitchee gitchee goo means that I love you!”

Phineas let out an inaudible sigh of relief (and tried to ignore the way his heart leapt to hear Isabella sing the words ‘ I love you ’ in his general vicinity).

THAT had been a close one.

“Isabella, Isabella!!!”

A younger soccer player—perhaps a sophomore—ran over to the bleachers, an excited smile plastered to her face and blond hair flying behind her.

“What’s up, Mel?” Isabella asked. “We’ve still got a few minutes before we start the next drill. Is everything okay?”

“Is this—" Mel paused to catch her breath (running across the soccer field in one go was no easy feat!) before starting again. “Is this who I think it is??” She gestured to Phineas excitedly.

Isabella smiled proudly. “It sure is!!

“Phineas, meet Mel, soccer-extraodrinare! And Mel, meet Phineas!!! He and I are working on a project for a class together, so he’s hanging out here until the end of practice.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Phineas said kindly, extending a hand towards Mel. “I’ve seen you play before: you’ve got great form!!”

Mel, in response, squealed elatedly.

Which kind of freaked Phineas out.

Isabella couldn’t help but laugh at his confused expression. “Your reputation precedes you,” she explained with a grin.

“You built a Football X7 stadium in your backyard when you were just a kid!!!!” Mel elaborated. “Isabella told us all about it last semester!!!”

“Well, TECHNICALLY, my brother, Isabella, and the rest of our friends also built the stadium,” Phineas replied with a smile. “It was a team effort!”

Football X7 was once a purely hypothetical concept. In the 1950s, a man named Professor Ross Eforp developed plans for a fully-enclosed football—or soccer, for any Americans reading—stadium in which players could run on walls and shoot goals from virtually anywhere! Unfortunately, he was never able to bring his dream into reality, and it was deemed impossible.

Fortunately, for Phineas, Ferb, and the rest of their friends, the only thing that was impossible was impossibility! They built the world’s first fully-functioning Football X7 stadium to play a match with Ferb’s cousins one summer day and gave it away to a popular football team once they were finished with it.

Mel grinned before taking a deep breath and shyly asking, “...have you ever thought about building another stadium sometime? Playing soccer on this field is great and all, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to play Football X7. Isabella told us it was tons of fun!”

Phineas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It had only taken a few hours to build the stadium when he and Isabella were kids, but they’d had the help of Ferb and the rest of their friends then (and no other responsibilities to tend to, since it had been the middle of summer). “Well, I don’t see why not!” he said. “That would be really cool! But, we might need some extra hands to build it quickly.”

Isabella’s eyes lit up. “Why not recruit the robotics club to help?” she suggested excitedly. “We could all work together to build it!! With so many people lending a hand, it wouldn’t take long at all!”

“That’s a great idea!!!!” Phineas replied with a grin. “Ferb and I have been trying to think of something we could build with the robotics club for the betterment of the school, and a Football X7 stadium would be perfect!! How about I bring it up at our meeting tomorrow afternoon, make sure everyone is on board and that it’s okay with the school administrators, and then we can decide where and when to build?”

“That sounds great!!!” Isabella said.

“And, once it’s built, we can play a match together, for old time’s sake,” Phineas added.

Isabella smirked, a competitive glint emerging in her eyes. “The robotics team against the soccer team? You’re on!!!”

Mel squealed excitedly before taking off across the field, loudly exclaiming the recent development to the rest of the team. A ripple of cheers spread amongst the players as the amazing news—Phineas Flynn was going to help build them a Football X7 stadium!!—sank in.

Their shouts of joy nearly brought tears to Isabella’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so happy….” she whispered.

Isabella cared deeply for the members of the soccer team. Throughout high school, in all its ups and downs, they’d always been there for her—and she’d made it a top priority to look out for the younger players (both to pay it forward to the upperclassmen who’d looked out for her when she was just a freshman and because she loved helping others, period).

To have the opportunity to give back to them like this, to see them so excited...it was amazing.

...and it wouldn’t have been possible without the brilliant, kind-hearted boy beside her.

Isabella turned to Phineas with a warm smile, gratitude momentarily overriding any qualms at expressing affection towards him, and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you, Phineas.”

And then she stood from the bleachers and started jogging across the field and towards the rest of the team—both to join their celebration and finish up their practice.

Isabella didn’t fully register that she’d kissed Phineas on the cheek until she was about midway across the field. This realization made her stumble, doubts and possible ramifications of the spontaneous gesture suddenly spinning about her skull.

Had that been too much? Had she given her feelings away??

A small, slightly-jaded voice in Isabella’s head whispered, “Please, Isabella. Phineas is perhaps the most oblivious person on this planet—nay, in this GALAXY. He wouldn’t be able to figure out you have feelings for him just by you giving him a thank-you kiss on the cheek. He probably thinks it was a friendly gesture.”

The small, slightly-jaded voice was right. Sort of.

Phineas couldn’t move.

Had that really just happened? Had that been real??

The pinprick of warmth, the signature of Isabella’s kiss, still glowing faintly on his cheek seemed to indicate it had, indeed, been real.

He told himself she’d just been expressing her gratitude. That kiss did not mean—COULD NOT HAVE MEANT—anything more than “thank you.” After all, friends could kiss each other on the cheek, couldn’t they? They did that in other countries, right? Like, in France? That had to be what Isabella had intended by kissing him.

But this perfectly logical explanation couldn’t stop Phineas’s heart from racing in a perfectly illogical way. Or his face from flushing in an equally illogical way.

Because Isabella had kissed him.

Even if it had been a friendly kiss.

She’d kissed him.

A dreamy smile unfurled across Phineas’s face.

Today was a good day.

...

The walk home was relatively uneventful.

Isabella didn’t dare “accidentally” brush her hand against Phineas’s now, not after the stunt she’d pulled during soccer. Attempted hand-holding probably would have been pushing it...even for someone as oblivious as Phineas.

And Phineas didn’t dare bring up Isabella’s kiss. But he thought about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The duo simply walked home, chatting about school and their project and ideas for the Football X7 stadium.

When they arrived at the Flynn-Fletcher household, they settled in the living room to develop a game plan for their song.

“Alright, Isabella,” Phineas began as they sat on the ground. “Are there any particular instruments you want to play when we sing?”

“I’m just not sure…” Isabella replied, pursing her lips in thought. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I can play tons of instruments! I’m not sure how to choose just one.”

“Same here!!” Phineas agreed. “There’s so many great options to choose from! Only playing a couple of guitars or something for our performance would be boring.”

“Wait…..” Isabella’s eyes lit up with inspiration for the second time that day. “....what if we didn’t HAVE to choose? Didn’t Candace used to use the spare room upstairs as a music room??”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with….WAIT A MINUTE.”

“We can turn it into a recording studio!!!!” Isabella exclaimed excitedly. “And record our own accompaniment track with as many instruments as we want!!!!”

“Isabella, you’re a genius!!!!!!!” Phineas declared brightly.

“I know I am!” Isabella replied with a playful shrug. She opened her laptop and pulled up a music notation website. “Shall we get started on an arrangement then?”

“Yes, yes we shall!!”

...

The next few days passed by in a flurry of productivity. Isabella and Phineas divided their time between their own individual commitments, working on plans for and leading the construction of Danville High’s new Football X7 stadium, and working on arranging and recording the instrumental track for their project. Now, it was Friday, and they were headed to school to unveil the newly-completed Football X7 stadium and play the ultimate game of football—er, soccer. Ferb walked beside them, listening amusedly as they argued over who would emerge the victor in the evening’s match.

“My team’s totally going to win,” Isabella gloated. “We’re literally the SOCCER team. How could we lose a soccer match?”

“You forget, our team developed the blueprints for the stadium!!” Phineas replied matter-of-factly. “We have the technical know-how. AND, we have Ferb!!”

The two brothers exchanged a fist bump.

Isabella rolled her eyes with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, talk all you want. You’re so gonna lose.”

“No, YOU’RE gonna lose.”

“YOU ARE.”

“NO YOU.”

“I’M going to lose my appetite if you two keep flirting with each other,” Ferb chimed in.

Phineas and Isabella exchanged flabbergasted glances before shooting identical glares at him.

“FERB!!!”

“We are NOT flirting!!”

“Right!! We’re not!!!”

“That was just...friendly trash-talk!!!!”

“Yeah!!!!!!”

Ferb rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Whatever you say!” he conceded.

Phineas and Isabella eyed each other before frantically looking in opposite directions, both trying to hide their burning faces.

…..they hadn’t actually been flirting, right? Ferb was just messing with them...right??

The direction Phineas chose to look happened to line up with where Ferb stood. “....why do you hate me?” he mouthed, a steely look in his eyes.

Ferb just shrugged cheekily, pretending he didn’t understand his brother’s retort.

Someday, Phineas and Isabella would understand he did these things because he loved them.

(And because they loved each other but were really bad at figuring it out.)

...

After a rousing opening ceremony, the Football X7 match between the soccer and robotics teams was underway!!!!

(There wasn’t much room for seating within the stadium itself—the only non-athletic space inside was a small observation deck suspended in its middle—so any onlookers were allowed to sit and watch the match on a screen set up outside.)

So far, Isabella’s prediction had proven true: the soccer team had a few points on the robotics team! She grinned from her position guarding her team’s goal, eyeing the trajectory of the ball as the players kicked it around the stadium. She had a great view of the action from here, since the goals were elevated!!

Though Isabella didn’t think he’d played in years, Phineas was still pretty good at soccer. He kept up with the rest of the players easily and even managed to move the ball a few times!

(She was a better player than him, of course. That went without being said. But he was still pretty good.)

Isabella moved from foot to foot impatiently: she wanted the first period of the game to end. Playing goalie was definitely fun, but she was ready to run along the ceiling!! Kick the ball!! Really get her legs moving!!! Run next to Phineas and maybe trash-talk him some more!!!

And then, towards the bottom of the stadium, an enthusiastic member of the robotics team kicked the ball a bit too hard...and it crashed directly into Phineas’s head.

Phineas crumbled to the ground.

And Isabella didn’t need to wait for the next period to start running anymore.

“PHINEAS!!!!” Isabella leapt off the goal, sprinted down the nearest wall, and frantically ran to where Phineas lay before kneeling next to him on the ground. “Phineas, are you okay?? Can you hear me??”

Phineas groaned, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Ferb crouched opposite Isabella at his brother’s side. “He got hit pretty hard….” he voiced quietly, an unfamiliar edge of worry in his tone.

“Oh no!!! I’m so sorry!!!!!” The aforementioned enthusiastic player took a hesitant step towards the three of them before burying his head in his hands. “It was an accident!!!”

“It’s okay, these things happen,” Isabella replied, though she wasn’t really paying attention to him.

She looked up at Ferb and said, “When I was younger, I earned a Concussion First Aid patch. Hopefully Phineas doesn’t have one...but, if he does, I can help.”

She took a shaky breath and tried to stay calm.

Phineas was going to be okay. He had to be.

She’d make sure of it.

...

Phineas blinked slowly as reality gradually returned to him. The world was a blur, and a dull pain throbbed in the back of his skull. He could only make out the green haze of the Football X7 stadium all around him, and the green haze of Ferb’s hair to his right….and Isabella. She hovered right above him. She was smiling at him.

Gosh, she was beautiful.

Isabella couldn’t hide the relieved grin that unfolded over her face as Phineas opened his eyes. “Is your head okay, Phineas?” she asked gently. “You got hit with the ball. Do you remember that?”

“I...think I remember…” Phineas managed to say. “And...my head’s fine...”

Sure, his head hurt, but he was alright. He’d never been better, actually, because Isabella was right here, gazing at him kindly and looking as pretty as ever. He smiled softly before reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear.

“I’m still seeing stars, though.”

Isabella’s breath caught, and her face—already slightly pink from playing soccer for the past half hour—flushed crimson.

...had Phineas just tenderly brushed the hair from her face and said he was seeing stars while looking at her?

…..or was this another daydream?

……..it was probably a daydream.

“Now is NOT the time to go to Phineasland!!!” Isabella told herself sternly. “Phineas might need your help!!!”

She needed to be completely focused right now. Not lost in an ill-timed fantasy!!!

“Ok, I’m going to take him up to the observation deck to make sure everything’s alright!!!” Isabella announced loudly. She looked at Ferb. “I’ll take care of Phineas, you hold down the fort here.”

…why was Ferb smirking at her?

…..he could probably tell she’d been in Phineasland.

This was so embarrassing.

“Alright, Phineas! Ready to go?”

“...I think so.”

Isabella slowly helped Phineas to his feet and, together, they walked towards the elevator that led to the observation deck. She’d be able to assess any damage more thoroughly up there—and give herself time to refocus on the way up.

(She couldn’t BELIEVE she was daydreaming about Phineas at a time like this, when she needed to be level-headed for his sake. It was absurd. It was MORTIFYING.)

Phineas didn’t say anything: his head was still a little fuzzy. But he was more than glad to follow Isabella wherever she went. He’d follow her anywhere.

The remaining students exchanged apprehensive glances as Isabella and Phineas disappeared into the elevator.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” someone asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Ferb assured them with a smile. “He’s in good hands. We can keep playing for now and check on him later.”

Another student chuckled behind her hands. “So like….are they dating or something?” she asked.

Phineas’s “seeing stars” comment—and Isabella’s reaction to it—had been hard to miss.

“Unfortunately, they are not,” Ferb replied. “But who knows? That could change soon.”

...

Phineas regained his bearings on the way up to the observation deck. He’d been a little out of it when he first woke up, but the fog in his head was finally clearing.

And here, beside Isabella in the elevator, he was having a bit of a crisis as he remembered the events of a minute ago.

“ .....did I tenderly brush the hair from Isabella’s face and say I was seeing stars while looking at her??

“….oh my gosh. I tenderly brushed the hair from Isabella’s face and said I was seeing stars while looking at her.

“. ...this is so embarrassing. ”

Maybe Isabella understood he’d been out of it. Maybe she wouldn’t ask him to explain why he’d done what he had.

…..maybe Phineas should stop thinking about this before she noticed he was blushing.

“Alright, here we are!” Isabella announced as the elevator stopped. She took Phineas’s hand (and Phineas blushed even harder) and guided him to sit in a chair near the wrap-around window overlooking the stadium. “How does your head feel now?”

“Not as bad as it did when I first woke up, I guess…” Phineas replied. “But it still hurts a little.”

“Are you nauseous?” Isabella asked.

“No.”

“Dizzy? Fatigued?”

“Not really, no.”

“Do you remember what happened right before and after you got hit?”

It took Phineas a second to think of a suitable response to that question.

“.....yes? I was running before I got hit and fell down, and then...I opened my eyes and talked to you.”

Isabella nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Okay, you probably don’t have a concussion. But if you start feeling weird tomorrow or the next day, you should probably see a doctor. Just in case.” She examined the back of his head. “You’re definitely going to have a gnarly bruise back here. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Phineas replied. “That’s a part of the game, you know?”

“Yeah, it is….” Isabella agreed, finally taking a seat beside him. “I’ve been knocked in the head with a soccer ball at LEAST three times. It builds character.” She chuckled before tilting her head at Phineas with a gentle smile and quietly voicing, “...I’m really glad you’re okay…”

“How could I not be okay?” Phineas said. He grinned. “I’ve got you to take care of me!”

Isabella rubbed the back of her neck with a shy smile. “I’m just doing my former Fireside Girl thing, that’s all!”

“...so, now that you know I’m alright, are you gonna go back down there?” Phineas asked. “I think I’m done with Football X7 for today, but you can still play!”

(He didn’t WANT Isabella to leave, of course. But he didn’t want to keep her from playing, either.)

Isabella didn’t need time to consider her answer. “Nah, I’d rather stay here with you. I can’t leave you up here all by yourself! And we’ve got a great view of the match...so we’ll both be able to see it when the soccer team wins!!”

“You mean when the ROBOTICS team wins,” Phineas stated matter-of-factly.

They held tense eye contact for a moment before bursting into laughter.

It felt so good to laugh together.

Isabella’s smile faded a bit as she looked out over the stadium. “....we should have built this for Danville High years ago….” she mused, a hint of melancholy coloring her voice. “Maybe if we’d hung out more when we first started high school…if I hadn’t been so busy...” She winced, unsure if she should be hinting at this to Phineas at all.

After all, SHE was the reason they’d drifted apart in the first place. It was her fault they hadn’t thought to build something together for their peers until a month before their graduation...her fault they’d missed out on years of spending time together.

“Hey.” Phineas placed a hand on Isabella’s shoulder and squeezed it gently, unwilling to let her stay sad. “The important thing is that it’s built now, no matter how long it took.

“And, we’re hanging out again!” He smiled softly at her. “...we’re going to keep hanging out from now on, right?”

“Definitely!” Isabella agreed with a grin.

Phineas always knew just what to say to cheer her up.

...

Isabella and Phineas watched the rest of the match unfold from their seats. The soccer team remained in the lead for the rest of the game, much to Isabella’s delight (and Phineas’s chagrin). At last, the game ended, and Isabella shot up from her chair with a shriek of joy.

“WE WON!!!!!!!!! I told you we’d win and WE DID!!!!! WOOOOO!!!!!!!! Who was right??? ME!!”

She plopped back into the chair with a contented sigh.

Phineas frowned and pouted.

“....ok, you know what, you don’t have to rub it in.”

They were so busy reacting to the outcome of the match, they didn’t hear a third party enter the observation deck.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Ferb exited the elevator and strode over to where they sat.

And Phineas and Isabella blushed and pretended they hadn’t heard what he said.

“Nice playing out there, Ferb!!” Phineas exclaimed. (He was eager to change the subject). “Even though we lost. You looked great!”

“Thanks! How’s his head, Isabella?” Ferb asked.

“It looks alright!!” Isabella replied with a smile. “I think he’s just going to have a bad bruise.”

Ferb patted his brother on the shoulder. “I think he’ll survive that. Nothing can keep this guy down.”

Phineas grinned. “How’s the stadium holding up down there?”

“It’s holding up well!” Ferb replied. “I did think of ONE modification we could add, though.”

“You did? What is it?”

“A skylight.”

Isabella and Phineas both cocked their heads at Ferb, momentarily confused.

“...not that that’s a bad idea, but why do you want to add a skylight?” Phineas voiced. “Wouldn’t that get in the way of the players’ mobility?”

“Perhaps, but it would make the stadium feel less enclosed, let the players see the sun and clouds during the day and the stars at night.” Ferb explained. He rubbed his chin pensively. “Although…

“I suppose you didn’t need a skylight to see stars earlier....right, Phineas?”

Isabella’s heart practically leapt out of her chest.

“. ...did he just say Phineas didn’t need a skylight to see stars earlier? But...if Ferb said that...then that means….Phineas actually tenderly brushed the hair from my face and said he was seeing stars while looking at me?? That was real????”

Phineas didn’t condone acts of violence.

…..but at this point Ferb was ASKING to be pushed. Or shoved. Or pummeled with an entire arms’ worth of pillows.

“FERB!!!! I was out of it when I said that, okay???” Phineas exclaimed, trying to save face as best he could (and failing, because his face was beet red). “I didn’t know what I was saying!!!”

“....Phineas actually tenderly brushed the hair from my face and said he was seeing stars while looking at me. That was real. Oh my gosh. Ohhhh my gosh. Ohhhhh mY GOSH.”

Phineas dared a glance at Isabella and winced because she was staring at him with wide eyes.

Perhaps she’d forgotten about the “seeing stars” incident until Ferb reminded her of it, and now she was remembering just how weird it had been. She was probably embarrassed. PHINEAS was certainly embarrassed.

…..for the second time that day, he wondered why Ferb hated him.

“Isabella...I’m sorry….” Phineas rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to move past this awkward hurdle and pretend it hadn’t happened at all. “I honestly don’t know what came over me down there, my head was so fuzzy after I got hit. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Waaaaait that didn’t sound right.

“I MEAN. Not that you aren’t as beautiful as the stars! Which is what I meant! You are!! I meant that!! That’s true!!! But—I just—"

He was making it worse.

He needed to stop.

“......maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.”

At this point, Ferb deduced the situation had escalated too far for Phineas to handle it alone. It was time for some damage control.

“Alright, Phineas. I think we should head home. You should probably get some sleep.” He nudged Phineas out of his chair. “Isabella, are you walking with us?”

Isabella nodded numbly as she stood. She didn’t trust herself to speak at the moment.

“ .....PHINEAS THINKS I’M BEAUTIFUL?!??!?!??!”

...

The walk home was quiet.

Ferb didn’t usually talk much, so said quiet wasn’t unusual on his end.

But Phineas and Isabella weren’t saying much either. Which was very unusual.

Ferb knew he was probably to blame for that. So he’d decided to give the teasing a rest for the night.

When they arrived in front of Isabella’s house, Ferb said goodbye to her before taking his leave and crossing the street.

(He wasn’t sure whether or not she and Phineas wanted to talk alone, but he wanted to give them space in case they did.)

“So! Uh…” Phineas rubbed the back of his neck. He and Isabella hadn’t really spoken since they left the Football X7 stadium. “Do you want to come over and put the finishing touches on our song tomorrow?”

Isabella blinked and nodded. In all the commotion of the past couple of hours, she’d nearly forgotten about the project. “Yeah, yeah...we should probably do that....we don’t want to put it off until Sunday.”

“Alright. I guess, uh...I guess I’ll text you tomorrow. And then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That sounds good. ...I’ll see you then.”

Isabella didn’t look at him as she said goodbye. Her eyes were instead cast upward at the sky and illuminated with starlight.

“....they really are beautiful, aren’t they?” she whispered softly.

Phineas followed her gaze...and his heart stuttered when he realized what she must have been thinking about (and when he realized she didn’t sound embarrassed or flustered at all but rather...somewhat awestruck).

A few seconds ambled by.

Phineas bit his lip and steeled his courage...and then reached out for Isabella’s hand.

“.....they sure are…” he agreed.

Except he wasn’t looking at the sky anymore.

Isabella glanced down at their hands, and then up at Phineas...who was already gazing at her.

Her pulse quickened.

“And...you’re beautiful too…” Phineas whispered gently. “Inside and out….”

He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks for taking care of me earlier. Goodnight, Isabella.”

(Isabella had given him a thank-you kiss a few days ago, after all. If she asked, Phineas could say he was simply returning the favor.)

Isabella couldn’t move. She could barely even stand. Her knees were going to give out any second now.

She watched as Phineas crossed the street, as he made it to his front door, as he waved at her.

She should probably go open her own door.

But she couldn’t move.

Her stomach was in knots and her head was spinning and her heart was pounding so loudly the entire neighborhood could probably hear it.

….she wasn’t in Phineasland again, was she?

She blinked and shook her head, just to be sure.

The rosy warmth on her cheek didn’t fade away. Phineas’s words still echoed clear as day in her mind.

That kiss had been real. His words had been real.

Phineas had said she was beautiful. Twice.

Phineas had kissed her.

…Phineas was still standing outside, waiting for her to go inside.

Somehow, Isabella managed to make it to her front door and open it. Phineas waved in her direction again before shutting his own door (and subsequently melting into a puddle in the foyer, though Isabella had no way of knowing that last bit).

She gazed out across the street and then up at the stars for a few moments as a tentative grin blossomed over her face.

Isabella wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring...but after tonight, she had a pretty good feeling about it.

“....goodnight, Phineas.”

Ferb chuckled as he stared down at his brother, who lay sprawled out in the middle of the foyer with a lovestruck grin on his face.

“I take it things went well out there?”

Phineas beamed.

“...yes, yes they did.”

...

Thanks so much for reading, and thanks as always to @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for being a lovely beta!!!!

I posted doodles of a few scenes (you can probably guess which ones, lol) for this chapteron my blog if you’d like to check them out!!

(also @dragonairice drew an AMAZING digital version of the “I suppose you didn’t need a skylight to see stars” scene that you can find here!! pls go check it out, it’s fantastic!!!!)

Thanks so much for reading, and I’ll see you soonish for chapter 6! It’s gonna be a good one!!! ;D

(also, if there are any music theorists reading this, pls don't hate me for the barebones theory lesson at the beginning of the chapter. I tried to explain dominant and tonic chords as simply as I could, but I know there is a lot more to them than what I wrote! LOL)

#cadence writes #can't help falling in love #phineas and ferb #phineas and ferb fic #phineas and ferb fanfic #phineas flynn #isabella garcia shapiro #phinabella #phinbella #phineas and isabella #isabella and phineas #tw: injury #I FINALLY FIXED THIS POST!! WOO!!

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