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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years ago

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I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint!

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

#Shepherds of Haven #group #group dynamic #all characters #found family #drinking #cw: alcohol #drunk #shenanigans #party #parties #long #long post

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majimemegoro · 3 years ago

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But what if... Okudera and Nishida were to fight?

oh man, what an interesting question! its a bit hard for me to think about this in general, especially because i see both mr okudera and nishida as reluctant goal-oriented fighters, who only fight for some specific purpose, and also as being resourceful, very ruthless and even willing to fight dirty when they make their mind up. so if we're deciding purely based off skill, i feel like it could go drastically either way depending on the circumstance. like if okudera decides nishida is a true threat to the villagers or something? okdera could just lull nishida into a false sense of security and cut his throat in his sleep! or snipe him as hes walking down the road! mr okudera has the moral capacity to do that! and nishida isnt above hitting an old man in the head with a pipe when his back is turned. I do think nishida is stronger and has youth on his side, but mr okudera's fighting style is probably a lot more finessed and professional. so instead of arguing the logistics at length, ill just spin a yarn for you about one possible circumstance under which nishida vs okudera boss fight could occur in-game, and what would happen there.

when does nishida fight? usually just a) for self defense, b) to protect someone, or c) if majima orders him to. mr okudera isnt the type to do a preemptive strike, so lets say that nishida is attacking on majimas orders.

when does mr okudera fight? usually just a) for self defense, or b) to protect someone. so im imagining a scenario in which majima is trying to track down saejima, who is missing, in order to help him. so he sends nishida around to try and track saejima down, with the orders that if nishida runs into anyone who even seems like they might have info on saejima but they wont share it, nishida should beat it out of them with extreme prejudice! and nishida follows orders.

So. they think saejima may be in hokkaido or something so nishida SOMEHOW encounters mr okudera and is like 'im looking for this guy, do you recognize him? have you seen him recently' and mr okudera lies like a champ. hes either currently taking care of saejima/hiding him, or genuinely hasnt seen him for awhile, but even though nishida is polite and nonthreatening enough, okudera knows that when some guy comes around asking if you recognize someone, its Bad News. (hes been the asker often enough to know that!). so mr okudera is like no ive never seen that man. get out of my town.

and nishida believes him bc mr okudera is a Perfect Liar, BUT. nishida is also very thorough at his job and he asks another villager whos like "Sure! the guy in the photo was here a few years back, he stayed with okudera-san! :)"

and then nishida knows that okudera lied. which makes okudera A Suspect. and nishida knows he has to get to the bottom of this. so he goes back to mr okudera (who considers sniping him on the way over, but decides againsst it, bc he has to be SURE if hes going to kill someone!) and nishida is like I know this man stayed with you. now where is he. tell me what you know or else.

and okudera sneers and hes like youll get to him over my dead body. and then he whips out his nagasa and he lunges.

(actually i just decided that this is from my Majima Family spinoff game, so Nishida is the player character here and Okudera is the boss)

Dynamic intro! mr okudera slashes forward with the knife. nishida, making a very shocked expression, barely manages to reel backward out of range. hes on the defensive, cauhgt off-guard. Title card: OKUDERA. matagi hunter. the okudera boss theme is inspired by hokkaido folk music plus regular video game techno and its epic.

mr okuderas fighting style is very economical. hes using the knife but theres no knife play, nothing flashy, no spins, just deadly precision. he fights like hes trying to kill you lol. also good at dodging blows. nishida auto equips a bat or can used improvised weaponry. mr okudera has two health bars (one regular, the other from having so much practice recovering from deadly bear attacks). mr okudera has a QTE thats a series of knife slashes, or something dirty like kicking snow in nishida’s eyes.

when you get mr okudera's health to zero! cutscene. nishida and okudera back away from one another, still in fighting stances, both breathing hard. nishida adjusts his grip on his bat.

nishida: I'm finding it a little hard to believe you're just a regular old man from a remote hunting village.

okudera: why do you want to find saejima?

nishida: my boss is looking for him.

okudera: you yakuza thugs are all the same. you'll follow your orders into a moral abyss. but no matter. I'll protect saejima to my dying breath.

nishida: ... Protect?

sigh. rgg characters are always getting into boss fights based off a misunderstanding.

#okudera #nishida #majima family #rgg #yakuza #meme #meta #idk #memecomradeoriginal #majimeta #sorta #this was fun but took too long lol #thank you so much anon! !!

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macbetha · 3 years ago

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below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and stay safe. and please consider following me here and on twitter! xoxo

#nancy drew #nd #nancy drew pc #nd pc #CUR #clue crew #blackmoor manor #curse of blackmoor manor #francy #frank hardy #nancy drew fanfiction

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norisxfics · 4 years ago

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NCT 127′s Dorm Maid: Ch.3 - Johnny

Title: NCT 127’s Dorm Maid

Genre: smut

Chapter: 3

Characters: Johnny x OC/reader

Chapter masterlist

Previous Chapter

Contains: fingering, thigh riding, slight choking, dom johnny, squirting

Summary: When NCT’s Dorm maid falls ill, her niece takes her place and becomes NCT’s new dorm maid. NCT weren’t unfamiliar with the girl as she has substituted for her aunt many times before. But this time it was different, this time she was going to become their permanent dorm maid as her aunt was forced to retire because of her health. NCT members quickly grow fond of the girl, but little did she know this also meant that she was going to be a hell of a lot more busy than she expected.

Authors Note: It would be really nice and appreciated if you guys could reblog this if you enjoyed it so that I can get more readers. Liking a post shows me you enjoy it but no one will ever see a content creators content if all you guys do is like the post. Especially now since I’ve heard the tags are being fucked up and not all posts are showing up in the tags

When the boys found out I also play video games on my time off we would often play together online whenever we weren’t busy. We mostly played games like PUBG and other FPS games, sometimes MMO’s. Haechan was the one who most often played with me, he would thank me for playing with him and then proceed to whine about how sometimes the boys won’t play with him even if they’ve got nothing going on. It was cute.

Often times when I’m doing my job he would ask me to watch him play or join him. I would usually tell him to wait until I finish my job but then he would whine and hug my arm, trying to act cute, as he would beg me “It’s just for a few minutes!” It never did end up being only a “few minutes” but I guess you could say those moments are like a break for me.

This time it was both Johnny and Haechan asking me to watch and play with them. I would often help Haechan out as well whenever they played games going against each other I would even lean over Haechan to show him some tricks on the keyboard he could use in the game, Johnny would call it cheating, but I would fight him back saying there was no rules against assisting.

“Noona, you play for me, show him how hard you can beat him like you did to me the other day,” Haechan got off his chair and I chuckled “don’t mind if I do, time to get wrecked Johnny,” I took my place in the chair and started a round with Johnny, and let’s just say that I totally wrecked Johnny. When the round was over Haechan high-fived me and and Johnny let out a sigh “You only won because I let you,”

“Only a sore loser would try to claim that,” I gave a wink and smirked at him, he raised a brow at me.

“I have to go, the dreamies wanna hang out, you guys have fun!” Haechan said as he grabbed his phone in wallet, sliding them into his pockets.

“Bye Haechan, have fun,” I turned to Johnny when he left and smirked “one more round?” Johnny immediately sat up on his chair and we started yet another round. Guess who won?

That’s right me.

“Hah! Get wrecked Johnny, I just made you my bitch,” I gave him a smug smirk and dusted off the non-existent dust off my shoulders. I stood up and fixed my skirt “anyway, I should get back to work, I’ll let you cry it out while I clean,” As I turned to walk away Johnny grabbed my wrist and I turned to him. He stared at me with a brow raised “hold on just a minute, who said you’re dismissed?”

“Huh? I mean, I have to get my work done...”

“You work for us so you answer to us, besides I have somethings to talk about with you,”

“Well, technically I work for SM, SM is the one sending me payche-”

He rolled his eyes, suddenly pulling me to sit on his thigh “First of all I’d like to talk about what you’re wearing today, it’s kind of inappropriate don’t you think? Wearing a short skirt while doing a job that requires bending over a lot,” I had forgotten about that honestly, I intentionally wore a skirt to catch their attention. Ever since that day with Mark my sexual demon that I’ve been suppressing as been slowly coming out. It was exciting, that night, the risk of getting caught, it excited me.

I wanted to tease the boys.

I wanted the excitement.

But I had forgotten about all that while we were playing games, so I was now genuinely surprised.

“Um...well, I can exp-”

“Who said you could talk? I’m not done,”

He gripped onto my thigh, hand slowly moving up “not to mention your actions today as well, the way you were on your knees earlier, wiping the floor in front of me, I bet you did that on purpose, you wanted me to see didn’t you?”

He was absolutely right on point, when I was cleaning the floor I lifted my ass up more when I saw Johnny enter the room, I wanted him to look at me.

I subconsciously licked over my bottom lip, biting down on it as his hand moved up my skirt and over to my ass, while his other hand moved to caress my cheek “and what was that just now hmm? Bending over in excuse to help Haechan, your ass right in my face, you’re just asking for it aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer, I was too distracted by his dark and firm tone of voice. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t wet right now.

His hand soon moved to my throat, thumb caressing against my jawline before he gave a small squeeze to my throat “Answer me.”

I tried so hard not to squirm “Y-yes,”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sir...”

He gave my ass a squeeze, his other and moved to the back of my head, pulling me closer to him as his lips lingered over mine for a moment, half lidded eyes looking down into mine before his lips finally connected with mine. Our lips moved in unison as a it slowly get deeper, and more desperate, more desperate from my side that is. My hips involuntarily began to move, grinding against his thigh in a slow pace.

Johnny broke the kiss and mumbled “eager little kitten aren’t you?” he gave my ass another squeeze as he encouraged me to continue riding out his thigh. I held onto his shoulders as my gaze went back to his lips, our lips soon connected again, resuming back into a heated kiss. He tightened his thigh muscle, pushing his thigh up against me, a whimper leaving my lips and into the kiss.

“Fuck you’re so wet right now baby girl, it’s leaking through your panties,” I could feel my cheeks turn red “such a dirty little girl,” he smacked my ass and I jumped a little, biting down on my lip “you like that huh?” he smirked and I nodded.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, kissing and softly sucking on the skin. I let out a soft quiet moan, followed by another as he spanked me again before gripping my hips, pushing my down harder against his thigh. My hips began to move more eagerly against him.

He then held my hips in place and I let out a whimper as he stopped me.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

And so I did. I stood in front of him.

“Lift your skirt up for me, baby”

I gripped onto the hem of my skirt, lifting it up from him to see me white lace panties. He tapped my inner thigh, I took that as a signal to spread my legs more, so I did. He hooked his fingers into my panties and tug them half way down my thighs.

“What was that you said earlier? That I’m you’ve made me your bitch?”

His fingers slipped between my thighs, softly grazing over my wet folds.

“I think you got it all wrong, because I just made you my bitch,”

I shuddered at his words. I was a huge sub and Johnny seemed to know that. I guess a dom will always know a sub when he sees one, right?

His middle finger slipped in between my fold as he dragged it from my entrance to my clit, teasing it a bit before he paused.

“Want me to keep touching you? To make you feel good?”

I nodded “Yes, sir,”

“Then tell me who’s dirty little bitch are you?”

“Yours, sir”

“My what?”

“I’m your dirty little bitch,”

“Good girl,”

I let out a whimper when those two small words came out of his own mouth. He began to rub my clit, pressing his fingers against it, he moved his fingers in a circular motion pressing firmly against me. I gripped tightly onto my skirt, pursing my lips to muffle my moans.

Hi moved his finger between my folds and began to tease my entrance “you’re such a little whore, getting so damn,” he pushed his finger into me, a moan escaping my lips “wet for me,” his finger pumped inside of me, pressing against my wet walls.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

He added a second digit into me, pumping his fingers faster and harder inside of me. I let out a louder moan, covering my mouth quickly with one hand.

“Even your moans sound so dirty,” he chuckled. He curled his fingers up against my walls, finding my sweet spot. I bit into my hand to muffle my moans and whimpers. My hips were shaking and it was becoming hard to stay on my feet.

“Do you wanna come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes sir...”

“Then beg for it,”

His fingers began to move painfully slow, I let out a whine in protest “Please...please don’t stop, please let me cum daddy,”

“daddy huh? I like the way it sounds coming from your dirty little whore mouth, say it again,”

“fuck, daddy please, please make me cum for you daddy,” I begged desperately, as I squirmed.

“Good girl,”

He inserted a third digit and began to roughly and quickly thrust his fingers into me, making to to curl them against my sweet spot, hitting it repeatedly I gripped onto his arm, moaning loudly, forgetting to keep myself quiet, as my body shook with pleasure, my walls tightening around his fingers as I reached my climax.

My juices squirting out onto his hand and onto the floor.

“Fuck...you’re squirter huh?”

He pulled his fingers out and I sunk down onto my knees, catching my breath. I looked up at him to see him licking his fingers clean as he grabbed his phone before pointing it at me “can I take a picture? You know, in memory of who exactly wrecked who tonight,” he smirked down at me and I blushed.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes?” He held the phone up at and angle and took a photo. I didn’t mind of course, or I would have said no.

“You should clean your mess up and get back to work,”

I nodded.

I had a feeling he was going to start teasing me about this, and I was right. The next time I played a game with him and Haechan online and “get wrecked” would be mentioned, he would text me the photo with a reminder “You mean like how you got wrecked the other night?”

#dorm maid #nct maid #nct 127 #nct #nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny smut #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #johnny suh #haechan smut #my fic #my story #fanfic #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct127 fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Alliance

Chapter 8 – The Foil

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: Outposted on Hoth while you heal, you, Cara and Grogu keep each other company. But your nightmares quickly return, and the dark forces sending them can no longer be kept at bay.

TW: Major character death (briefly), blood, swearing

Notes: Thank u all for reason still every like makes my heart go 🥺 and every reblog/comment makes me WEEP with joy! Hope y’all are staying safe! Two chapters left!!

Word count: 4.6k

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

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“What?” Din asks, noticing your face scrunch as your feet hit the ground.

“What is this?” you question, squatting down and picking up a handful of the white powder covering the planet's floor. The cold bites at your bare skin causing your hand to instinctively release.

“What never seen snow before?” he taunts, in a manner you had often used on him, as he and Cara stride ahead, each carrying bags twice the size of the average person. An impressive sight that left you feeling less than inadequate. You kicked at the snow turning around to grab a bag from the ship in an effort to demonstrate you could carry your own weight. In the meantime Grogu had managed to form the snow into a small ball which he promptly pelted towards the Mandalorian hitting him square in the helmet.

The thunk causes you to turn around in time with Din whose head was accusingly cocked towards you. You point to the kid who mirrors your movements causing him to grin underneath his helmet. He watches as you throw a bag over your shoulder, wincing in pain when you bend down to pick up the child. Anya bounds behind you, enamoured with the snow. The Mandalorian stops and begins tracing his steps back towards you.

“Here” he says reaching for the bag, any other day he wouldn't bother, he knew you could carry your own weight, hell you'd carried his literal weight before.

“If I can carry your ass, I think I can handle this bag” you roll your eyes, as the bag strap digs further into your shoulder causing you to quickly move past him. He watches you push through the snow and towards the concrete base a few feet ahead. He wished you’d let him help you. He knew you were strong; he wished you were a touch less stubborn.

“Well not the beach vacation I was hoping for, but it’ll do for now.” Cara say’s placing the sac carrying the medical supplies and food rations on a nearby table. You drop your bag the second you enter into the abandoned rebellion base. Slowly rolling your shoulder out attempting, and failing, to masquerade your pain. Din comes in behind you grabbing the bag you'd just dropped effortlessly tossing it, along with his own bag, up on the table with the med supplies.

“Looks like there's plenty of room here, enough bunks for us to have our own, amenities seem to work well enough, not sure about hot water, but at least its water.” Cara says appearing from a hallway.

“What about the camouflage? Is it still in place?” you ask as Din begins to type away into one of the dust covered computers. He grunts hitting the machine rather harshly while swearing under his breath.

“I can't tell, we need parts to fix it.”

“Should be some on the base.” Cara offers, more as a question than a statement.

“No, we need new technology to reinstate the old. I'll have to go out and get some.”

“That safe?” Cara asks

“If it's just me? Yes.”

“So I'm playing caretaker. You wanna tell her that or is that gonna be my job” she says, looking over at you as you unpack the preservatives into the kitchen area with Grogu tucked under your arm. The Mandalorian emits a low grumble. This wasn't going to go over well.

“We need food, I’m going to get some,” he states firmly, but from a safe distance.

“I'll come with you, you’re not much of a hunter” you say, placing Grogu down on the counter and brushing your hands off on your pants.

“Not hunting here, I'm going to get credits, I need to buy some parts to get the camouflage working again.”

“Alright, well I can help with that too” you say, confused as to why he was being so dismissive.

“No, you're injured,” he says, taking a cautious step towards you.

“I’m fine” you reiterate for what feels like the hundredth time since they’d saved you.

“Really?” He says rolling up your left sleeve, revealing scars still raw from the electrocutions. You push his arm away and roll your sleeve back down wincing when you graze the raw flesh. “When was the last time you slept? Really slept”

“No worse than it was before” you mumble out.

“You spent two weeks with the empire being treated like a caged animal, you need to rest.” he persuades, placing a tentative hand on your arm. The contact briefly causing you to shift away before settling into the gentle grip.

“And you’re leaving Cara here to babysit me?” you ask, eyes skirting to the side.

“ Yes. Normal circumstances you’d be fine, but you’re not in any shape to be fighting.” slightly taken aback by the honesty, but not surprised by his lack of bedside manner.

“This is crap you say.” shaking your head, if positions were swapped, sure you would be saying the same thing, but there's no way he would listen to you.

“If someone comes, you and Cara need to be here,” he states. Why he didn't just say ‘I just got you back, i'm not risking losing you again’ he doesn't know, but he’s sure it’s for the best. With no response from you he takes his leave. You watch his cape sway in the wind as he renters the ship and takes off leaving you behind once again.

“He’s infuriating.” You say to Cara who's hesitantly appeared by your side.

“Yup. But he’s also right. Common I want to see your light saber.” She says tugging on your elbow until you comply. You enter into one large open area of the base where various mismatched chairs littered the scene. You pull out the box containing the lightsaber as Cara burritos Grogu into a blanket propping him up on one of the strewn about chairs with a cushion.

“You're probably gonna want to hang back” you say, turning it on. The light purple aura shoots out vibrating softly. You move across the floor swingin it about a bit before finally closing it.

“Not bad,” Cara says, a smirk forming.

“We got anything disposable here?” you ask side eyeing her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Ya. Want me to throw it at you?” she responds, seemingly reading your mind. You nod your head excitedly. What started as a relatively safe game of toss and slice had progressed into something slightly more dangerous. You were blindfolded, three beers deep and Cara was no longer throwing soft items at you. After another piece of food smacks you in the face you rip off the blindfold only to see Cara giggling like a schoolgirl.

“You know if I was smarter I'd say you were doing this on purpose.”

“Good thing you're not any smarter.” she laughs, waking up Grogu who immediately reaches for the saber.

“No,” Cara says, grabbing him in the knick of time. You both begin to clean up the mess you had made, well at least the half that would smell bad by the morning. What would have been a 15 minute job turned into an hour long ordeal with most of the time being spent preventing Grogu from eating the splattered food and opening up the lightsaber.

“He’s got a predisposition for danger” you say, grabbing him away from the saber for the 90th time that night.

“I wonder where he learnt that from,” Cara laughs.

The next morning you wake up from another nightmare, at least it had been of the no name variety this time, nothing quite as drastic as being suffocated in your sleep. You pull yourself up onto a barstool and lean over the counter clutching the back of your head as a plate of food enters into your eye line.

“You're chatty in your sleep” Cara says, watching as you take a bite.

“Sorry did I wake you up?” you ask scrunching up your forehead and hiding your face in your hands.

“No, don’t worry I’ve got my own demons keeping me up at night. You sleep walk as well, had to turn you around or you would have walked right out the front door.”

“Well, that's embarrassing. Thanks for stopping me from freezing to death, ill strap myself into the bed tonight” you say with a chuckle.

“So what are yours about?” she asks.

“Some weirdo in a cape” you say, taking another bite. “you?”

“The war mainly,” she says “if you ever need to talk”

“Thanks, you too” it was nice to have her in your corner.

“Sorry by the way if you know, what we did to you has caused any nightmares” it was the first time you’d seen Cara look remorseful and soft.

“Ya those stopped after a few months, around the same time the bruises did. Not sure if it was thicker skin or I just got better at fighting.” Cara nods, emitting a relieved sigh.

“Who do you think would win in a fight? Me or Mando.” she asks, stopping any further awkwardness from continuing.

“Tough call, doesn't matter though i'd beat you both.” You smirk.

‘Oh please I could drop you with my pinky finger!” She laughs waving around the frying pan she’d been cooking with.

‘I’m stronger than I look” you say pointing your fork at her with a mouthful of food.

“I know that but i'm a better fighter. At least at hand to hand combat. Though from what I've heard if I give you a spear or a bow you’d probably destroy me.”

“Games were more rigged than you think. It was largely a performance.” you admit.

“Killing the devaronian part of that?”

“No, that was a fun surprise. They like to pit fan favourites against each other. Who told you about that, or were you there?”

“No, I don't take pleasure in forced fighting. Mando told me, when I asked if you were a strong fighter. He was convinced. Also told me you saved him from drowning. How'd you do that his armour weighs as much as a ranakor.”

“Gods I honestly don’t know how, could barely move the next morning between the freezing water and unexpected heavy lifting.” you respond, shaking your head.

“How’d you survive it, cold waters a killer even if it doesn't drown you?”

“Fire, thank god his cape was fast drying or I think the hypothermia may have gotten him.”

“Just the cape that kept him warm?” She asks innocently enough

“What did he tell you?” you shoot back, your eyes telling her there was more to the story.

“I don’t know what he should have told me?” she says now increasingly interested

“Is this why you made me a delicious breakfast? To grill me? You laugh

“Oh you are not getting out of answering that question by complimenting me”

“Body heat” you mumble, quickly stuffing more food into your mouth to shut yourself up.

“So you guys have..” she starts.

“No, oh my god, I don’t even think he's allowed to. No in order to survive we had to maintain body heat. Which we did with our clothes on, there's nothing more to it”

“Well from what i've heard he's definitely allowed to, and has on multiple occasions, but if there's nothing to it.” she lifts her eyebrow.

“Survival was the only thing to it.” you stress.

“Oh im sure neither of you enjoyed being cozied up to each other”

“I’ll get the saber if you're not careful” you threaten stuffing more food in your mouth in an attempt to shut yourself up.

“Seriously, him lugging around that armour all the time, he must look pretty nice under there and I mean, you’re... you so nothing to not enjoy there.” she rambles on.

“I'm getting it” you say sliding off the stool.

“Threatening to kill me, won’t get you out of this” she hollers after you

“Oh no Cara don’t worry it's for myself. Gonna use it to burn out any remnants of this conversation.”

“I'm just sayin!” Of course she was just saying, of course he hadn't told her about that because it meant nothing. Would you mind being wrapped up in his muscular arms again no of course not, you're not blind, but your also not stupid. You know there was nothing more to it than a debt and a friendship, and that was fine. F-I-N-E, fine with you.

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

The Mandalorian walks towards the base sporting a bag holding parts he hoped would patch up the base's broken down systems. The sun had set and the white snow glowed a light blue from where the moonlight reflected down on it. The grey clouds forming above indicated that a storm was brewing and the last thing he wanted was to get caught out in a blizzard. The doors whir as they close behind him preventing any cold from seeping through. Placing the bag down on a nearby table he pulls out some food and warmer clothes he'd grabbed while he was out. He walks over to the kids room cracking the door and peering in. The sound wakes Grogu causing him to start fussing only stopping when he's picked up. Din follows the trail of inanimate objects sliced and strewn across the floor until he sees Cara whose on the couch carving a wooden stick into a point.

“Welcome back” she says, not looking up from her project.

“Got the stuff, he wasn’t too much trouble?” he asks, referring to the kid and tossing her a blanket.

“Nope” she smiles, catching the quilt and wrapping it around herself.

“You two have fun?” he asks, directing her attention to the various metals that she had meant to clean up before he got home.

“You know we should really get lightsabers, it's not fair only Jedis can have them. She's something else, I can see why you enjoy her company so much” Cara says, hoping to provoke a reaction.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he spits out.

“Well it wasn’t supposed to mean anything but, I guess it's more than her company you'd like to enjoy? I heard about the cave, interesting the details you left out” She says, eyes glancing up at him as a smile spreads across her face. He's about to respond, but the distinct sound of doors opening brings about a silent truce as they shift into action mode, blasters in hand maneuvering quietly towards the door. Noticing a figure, Din takes aim, but Caras hand stays his shot.

“What’s she doing?” he asks, reholstering the blaster and moving towards you

“Sleepwalking.” Cara responds “she didn’t do this when you were around?” he shakes his head, he knew about the nightmares but this, this was an escalation he didn't see coming.

“We should wake her up, she’s going to freeze” he says

“You’re not supposed to wake them up,” Cara returns

“So we just let her wander out and die?” Din argues

“No we just turn her back in the direction of her room smart ass.'' The argument ceases when they remember the door being opened. You had managed to make your way out into the blizzard concerning both Din and Cara. He hands Grogu to Cara and trudges through the thick snow, which you were moving through with ease. Cara, not one to be left behind, follows him out sheltering the kid under the quilted blanket.

“Someones with her.” Cara shouts over the wind. She's right; he watches as you reach out for the cloaked figure turning it around to face you.

“Y/N!” the Mandalorian calls out.

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

Your name being called pulls you back to reality. You look down seeing Anya whose ears are back and emitting a sound the likes of which you’ve never heard. Your name’s called again further indicating this was not a dream, despite the surroundings feeling uncannily familiar. The figure stands before you, unmoving, still present, what the fuck was going on. Your heart races as you reach out this time your hand makes contact with a bony shoulder. Your eyes widen as you turn the figure around to face you. Your eyes flutter side to side trying to piece together the situation playing out before you. You hear the Mandalorian shouting for you, but you don't turn away.

Your hand reaches up to pull down the hood as you do a familiar buzzing fills your ears as a scarlet flash lights up the sky. A burning sensation radiating in your stomach causes you to look down just as the saber retracts back into its hilt, the red light dissipating as it does. Your hand grasps at the cloak tearing a piece off as the figure disappears into the night. You fall to the ground, it's cold, you can feel your light fading, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

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

Din makes it to you first, dropping to your side. He places a hand under your waist lifting you onto his lap scanning your body for the damage. Your hands cover your abdomen. He moves them away revealing a substantial hole where the saber had cut straight through you. There was no blood, there was no fixing this, there was nothing he could do. Too many vital organs had been hit. He watches as you try and fail to intake the surrounding air into your lungs. He can see the panic in your eyes as you try and fail to breathe. Cara’s run comes to a halt. She stares down at the Mandalorian as he cradles a body that would never heal. You’re trying to say something, but all that’s emitted is a series of bloody splutters as you cling desperately to life. You look at Cara and the child before looking back up at him. Your purple eyes bore into him as your body goes limp. Anya throws her head back howling loudly into the night as Cara continues staring down stoic as even, placing a hand on the beskar armour. The Mandalorian doesn't move, he can’t, he won’t let you go. Why didn't he say anything, why couldn't he offer you some comfort in your final moments. He had failed you. As the howl fades back into the wind the silence becomes deafening.

Cara sees them first, Dins hand moves to your chest where small palpitations seemed to be occurring. His head swivels around staring up to see Grogu’s small green hand reached out, head wrinkled and eyes squinting in focus. As quickly as it had stopped your breathing begins again punctuated by a loud cough and several gasps for air which launch you upwards. The Mandalorians arm braces your shoulder as you do. He pulls up the hem of your shirt running a hand over skin that was beginning to smooth over. Grogu collapses back into Caras arms. Din breaths out for the first time in what felt like forever, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat back down. Your hands found their way up to his helmet tracing around its edges in an attempt to ground yourself.

“It’s okay, I’m here, you’re alive, you’re safe.” he whispers, as he brings his helmet down to your forehead pressing them together lightly. Your arms quickly wrap around him as you bury your face in his chest. The metal suddenly feeling like the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Makers get a room” Cara shouts. He hears you mutter something which he eventually makes out as “the child”

“He’s fine,” he says, watching the relief rush over your face as your arm reaches out to pet Anya before your eyes start close again.

“We have to get her inside, and warm, she’ll be fine, but we have to move quickly.” Cara says as Din lifts you up carrying you back inside.

The following days blur together for Din he left shortly after you were secured back in bed in search of supplies and medicine that would help ease your recovery. In all truth it helped keep his mind off the fact that you may not wake up. Despite Grogu’s best efforts you had been dead for a solid five minutes, that's not something many people recover from. He took up a few extra bounties along the way hoping they may have some answers as to who was with you in the blizzard that night, but nothing turned up. The killing helped him feel better, and coming back with supplies made him feel useful. No matter where he was, he always made sure to return with blankets and warm gear, especially after Cara had said you felt cold to the touch. He couldn't have that.

“I think we’re good for blankets, Mando anymore and she’ll sweat to death” Cara says with a small laugh unpacking yet another massive sheet made from some type of animal hide.

“You said she needed to be kept warm” he states, as if his actions were completely normal and reasonable.

“Well why don’t you just crawl in there with her that'll keep her nice and toasty” she teases “or you could just wait until she wakes up then you’d be able to keep her really warm, at least based on what I’ve heard from some of your past lovers” she laughs, as he leaves the room embarrassed.

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

Your mouths dry, that’s the first thing that alerts you to the fact that you were still alive. You open your eyes slowly permitting the fluorescent lighting to creep through causing a dull ache to pulse in your forehead. Closing one eye you move up in the bed causing multiple blankets to cascade down from your shoulders pooling in your lap. You turn to the side reaching for the glass of water precariously placed on your bedside table. A sharp pain shoots through your body as you reach out causing your hands to jolt down to the source of the pain. The scar tissue reminds you just how lucky you were to be alive. Your hands positioning is quickly changed as Anya nuzzles her snout underneath it. You scratch her ears, smiling as she licks at your face. You're distracted by the sound of footsteps inching closer to your door. You sit up and straighten your shirt, suddenly aware of how you must look and smell. Your fussing with your hair as the door clicks open.

“You're up!” Cara exclaims “wait here there’s someone who’ll want to see you. “

“Like I can go anywhere” you respond, shifting slightly as you do. She re-enters with Grogu who she places in your arms. He stares up at you with his big eyes, his hand reaching out for your chin. You lower your head so he can touch it eliciting a small contented gurgle.

“Thanks for saving me,” you say, as he worms his way underneath the blankets.

“Mando’s off getting supplies, mainly bringing back blankets for you though” Cara remarks causing you to roll your eyes.

“Five bounties so I’ve been out what? a day?” you ask shuffling through the thick fur covers which were, to be fair, keeping you nice and toasty.

“How are you feeling”

“Like a shish kebab”

“You looked like one. Do you remember anything about that night?”

“What apart from dying? I remember taking this” you say pulling out the small swatch of fabric you had torn from the figures cloak. “Nothing after that. I figured the only way this hole was closed was because of Grogu. Did something else happen?” Cara contemplates telling you about the tender moment she had witnessed between you and the Mandalorian, but opts to let him tell you himself.

“No, nothing. Get some more rest, you look like shit.” she laughs leaving the room allowing you to fall asleep with Grogu tucked neatly under your arm.

“Fuck” you shout, shooting awake. Your eyes water and your chest heaves. Another nightmare. Whoever this figure was, it knew it had not succeeded in killing you. Whatever it was you, and your friends, would not be safe until they, or you, were dead. You maneuver out of bed, careful not to wake the child as you do. Your feet hit the floor with a light slap, the sound being enough to rouse Grogu from his slumber. He blinks sleepily watching as you grab some clothes, a blanket and the ripped fabric tossing it all into a small leather bag. You whistle for Anya who begrudgingly hops off the bed and makes her way over to you. The child, now awake and apparently savvy to your plans scowls.

“I know, but we’ll be back once it’s dealt with” you say leaning over the bed to stroke his ear.

“Once what’s dealt with?” the familiar modulated voice asks behind you. “You’re leaving.” he continues, noting the rucksack tossed carelessly over one shoulder.

“Just for now.” You say, offering him a reassuring smile as you turn to face him, “I have to deal with something.”

“We can help.” He responds. You turn back to face the wall, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Not this time I can’t put the kid at risk. It’s too dangerous. Whatever came here, it’ll come back once it feels I'm alive. I’m going to find it. See what it wants.” you unpack and repack your bag making sure everything you need is there.

“How do you know this isn’t what it wants you to do.” he poses, causing your hands to stop shuffling around inside the bag.

“I don’t.”

“And how do you think you’re getting off this planet.” he asks, a touch too smug for your liking. Especially considering you had not figured that part out yet.

“Gotta be some spare parts around here, maybe even an old ship.”

“Can you even fly?” Was that worry you detected in his voice, or amusement at the notion of you piloting a spacecraft.

“I'll be fine.” You say closing your bag.

“Let me help you.” he takes a step towards you, closing the space between you both.

“I’ll be alright” you say, turning and haphazardly throwing the bag over your shoulder. He steps in front of you, not willing to let you pass without a conversation. Not wanting to put him in danger you stand on your tiptoes and place your hands on the helmets sides, causing him tense up. You pull his face down to meet yours planting a kiss where his mouth would be.

“You’ve helped me enough” you say staring into the visor and slowly removing your hands. He remains where he stands, giving you enough time to skirt around him. Entering the kitchen you grab some preserves and a knife out the cupboards tossing them into the bag.

“Tell her she’s not leaving,” Din asserts to Cara, who had witnessed the previous events from a nearby chair.

“You can’t go by yourself, you’re smart enough to know that. Let us help.” She says. Realizing this isn’t a fight you can easily win you agree.

“Someone has to stay here with the kid. He won’t be safe where we're going. Din you should stay with him ” you say.

“I can’t fly a plane.” Cara lies in an attempt to force you both to confront your feelings for eachother, though she wasn’t entirely sure either of you knew how deep said feelings truly ran.

“I’ll take you.” Din says without hesitation

“I know you don’t like to be away from him.” you whisper quietly, your actions from before suddenly creeping to the forefront of your mind.

“We won’t be gone long” he says, evidently unfazed by the kiss. “You know where we’re going.

“No, but she does.” You nod in Anya’s direction.

#the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #din dijarin x reader #din x y/n #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din dijarin #din djarin x you #star wars #mandalorian fanfic #alliance #chapter 8

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Long Way From Home: Chapter 9

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Meant to update this last night but forgot, whoops. The shopping trip continues, so that means one thing: more Scott&TOS!Gordon. Hope you like this duo because there’s a lot of it to come :D Also no full panic attacks in this chapter, but there are a couple of occasions where he starts spiralling before something stops him, so here’s a vague warning for that, I guess?

<<<Chapter 8

Other-Gordon didn’t start talking until the engine was running.

“You still okay to keep going?”

“I’m fine.” It came out sharper than it was supposed to, and he winced.

“If that’s what you say.” Other-Gordon sounded dubious, but didn’t press the matter, to Scott’s relief. “Can’t say I blame you. This is crazy enough for me; I can’t imagine how bad it is for you.”

“Don’t tell them.” Other-Scott had already caught him on the edge of an outburst once, and they’d all seen him explode in the hangar, but Scott needed to seem at least somewhat in control.

Especially in front of Not-Dad.

Amber eyes analysed him for a moment. “The fellas won’t think less of you for it, Scott.” The words hung in the air, Scott not bothering to respond despite Other-Gordon giving him the opportunity, and the ginger sighed. “Scott should know, in case something gets out about it. Madeleine’s discreet enough, but…”

Scott swallowed, but saw the sense in that.

“Besides, I fully intend on sending him out to collect all the clothes, so he’ll find out anyway.” There was a grin on Other-Gordon’s face that Scott subconsciously labelled trouble. He’d seen it enough on his own Gordon’s face to know that Other-Scott was in for a prank or two. “You can’t talk in public and it’d look mighty odd for the rest of us to be picking them up.”

That definitely made sense.

“So where to next?” he asked, deciding to change the subject rather than let that one linger. Other-Gordon rolled his eyes.

“We might as well get your workman’s clothes out of the way,” he said. “Luckily for you, I do know somewhere we can get those.”

He put his foot down and the car started moving, rolling out of the parking lot and onto the main streets again.

“Say,” he continued. “What was with the poke?”

It took Scott a moment to remember what he was referring to, the fiasco of the fitting rooms having almost pushed it from his mind.

“To get your attention,” he said. “Don’t you guys do that?”

“The fellas do,” Other-Gordon admitted. “But not to me.” The words were laced with an undercurrent of bitterness, reminding Scott of their discussions about the rescues he was kept off of. “They tap me on the arm.” Scott frowned.

“They think you’re that fragile?”

The man shrugged. “Father does.” There was a heavy pause. “It’s strange. It’s not as though you don’t know about the crash, but you don’t treat me any different to the other fellas.”

Scott kept his eyes on the road in front of them. “From what I can tell, you’re just as fit as my Gordon,” he said. “He’d make my life hell if I treated him like he was broken. Well, I did, at first,” he admitted. “When he was in hospital, and then through the physio afterwards. I… I was terrified something would go wrong.” He’d never told anyone that before, but Other-Gordon… Something told him Other-Gordon needed to hear it. “But he wasn’t having any of it.” A fond grin crept onto his face uninvited, but he didn’t try and force it away. “Gordon’s tough, stronger than the rest of us put together, probably. I won’t lie, it took me a while, but I trust him to know his limits. If he’s having a bad day, if he can’t go out, he tells me. Otherwise…” he shrugged. “He can handle it.”

Other-Gordon’s hands were tight on the wheel.

“I’ve only known you a few hours,” he continued. “So maybe I’m wrong, but you seem just as strong. I figure if something’s too much, you’ll say.”

“Well, I do know my own limits,” the ginger agreed. “You know, I’d almost forgotten what a jab in the ribs felt like.” Scott glanced across to see his lips pulled into a grin. “Who knows, maybe the fellas could learn a thing or two while you’re here.”

Scott laughed, unsure if the unspoken message was simply permission or a plea, but hearing it anyway. “Maybe.”

Silence lingered between them for a moment, scoring a line under that enlightening conversation. Scott was glad for it – in many respects, most respects, Other-Gordon was still a stranger. Telling him things he’d never even told his own family, even if he was fairly certain Gordon suspected more than he let on, felt decidedly weird. He didn’t regret it, though, because even if Other-Gordon was basically a stranger, he was also Gordon.

Trying to wrap his head around that idea was definitely a challenge.

The fact that Scott had got the feeling he’d needed to hear it made him wonder exactly what Other-Gordon’s relationship with his family was. Father does, he’d said. No mention of his brothers. Just how much did Not-Dad rule the roost?

“We’re nearly there,” Other-Gordon said, interrupting his chain of thought. “Custom is going to be tricky without you talking, so give me the run-down now. Blue?”

“Are you guessing that based on the last shop or on what your Scott likes?” Scott asked.

“Both. Am I right?” He was still gathering information. Then again, Scott was, too.

“You’re right,” he confirmed. “Something easy to move in, too.”

Other-Gordon let out a chuckle as he pulled into a parking lot. Scott missed the name of the place. “The fellas are gonna have something to say when they see it,” he mused. Scott raised an eyebrow at him; he hadn’t forgotten the ginger’s own reaction to the idea. “Well, we should be able to get the jeans and hoodie here.”

“Sounds good.” Scott was already impatient for the trip to be over. It had nothing to do with Other-Gordon – his company was about as good as he could have expected to get – and everything to do with the ill-timed realisation of his situation. He watched Other-Gordon get out of the car, focusing on the lever on how it operated, before mimicking the movement on the lever his side. Other-Gordon looked amused when he finished his walk around the car to see him extracting himself.

“I should have figured you wouldn’t need help a second time,” he commented. “But remember, you lost a bet and don’t want to be here. Try not to look too enthusiastic.”

“Decided on the bet, yet?” Scott asked him, and Other-Gordon sent him a look. From the gleam in his eye, he knew exactly what bet had supposedly been lost, and it was not going to be something either he or Other-Scott was happy about. That look was dangerous on Gordon, and it was no doubt equally so on the ginger in front of him. “Going to tell me?”

The grin said no, he wasn’t. Scott sighed.

“If we’re going to hit the paparazzi, it’ll be here,” Other-Gordon told him instead. “Remember, head down, mouth shut, let me do all the talking.”

Scott nodded, remembering Other-Scott saying something similar back on the island. Gordon can handle the paparazzi.

“And Scott,” the aquanaut continued, his voice quieter. Calmer, reminiscent of the fitting rooms at Lemaires’. “If you need to get out, tap me four times.” It was Scott’s turn to give the younger man a look; after the almost disaster with the shirts, a signal was a good idea, but knowing that Other-Gordon thought they needed to establish one implied that he wasn’t hiding his unease as well as he was hoping.

“Four for Four?” At least it was easy to remember, on the chance he would need it. He sincerely hoped not.

“Four for Four,” Other-Gordon confirmed, a small grin on his face, before that grin transformed back into the amused cat got the cream of a younger brother who’d got one over on an older brother and was entirely too satisfied about it.

In a way, Scott supposed he had. It didn’t make him any happier about it, and the wary looks he was sending the younger man weren’t entirely for show as Other-Gordon confidently led the way to the front door of the shop and strode in as though he owned it. Scott was left with no choice but to trail behind him and try to ignore the gawks of what looked like the entire shop.

The stunned silence appeared to have blanketed over everyone, all eyes on the two Tracys making their way to the nearest salesperson, and it was several long seconds before anyone else in the shop moved. Hissed words accompanied the hubbub as life slowly trickled back into the shop. Scott was certain he heard Tracys muttered in an astonished undertone.

This really wasn’t their usual shop, it appeared. That was a pain, because as Scott looked around, he could see that the clothes here looked the most like the clothes he liked. Polos and jeans lined the shelves, and Scott immediately flagged multiple that he’d willingly wear.

Not being allowed to talk was suddenly a real pain.

“Mr Tracy and Mr Tracy, what an unexpected pleasure!” The salesman Other-Gordon had beelined for was doing little to cover his surprise, which worked in Scott’s favour as the title put him on edge, but Other-Gordon just flashed him a grin.

“Mr Tracy would be our father. Call me Gordon, and this is Scott,” he corrected, much to Scott’s relief. He’d never got used to being called Mr Tracy.

“As you wish, Gordon, Scott,” the man – his name tag said George – adjusted. He still looked a little star struck. “What would bring the illustrious Tracys to our shop?”

Gordon’s grin widened, if that was even possible. “This fella thought it’d be smart to bet I couldn’t beat the whole family in billiards,” he announced, loud enough that the whole shop no doubt heard it. Scott sent him a glare – he was better than Gordon at the game, and he suspected that held true in this universe as well. Other-Gordon wouldn’t be so gleeful otherwise. “The loser got a wardrobe makeover of the winner’s choice.” He shrugged. “I won, so Scott here needs some new clothes, if you could help with that?”

“But of course,” George scrambled to say. “What would you be after?”

“Well, Scott’s wardrobe is lacking in jeans, for the first.” He made it sound natural, not quite alienating the people shopping there while making it perfectly clear that Tracys didn’t normally wear them. “And I think one or two of your polos would be just the thing.”

Scott started – he’d never said polos. Other-Gordon must have caught him looking at them.

“Gee, no need to look quite so horrified, Scott,” the ginger commented. “George here might think you don’t want them!” He turned back to the man, who still looked rather out of his depth. “Poor fella lost his voice last night, so he can’t make his own comments.”

Scott rolled his eyes, and the ginger beamed.

“Luckily for him, I know exactly what he needs!”

“Right, of course,” the unfortunate George stammered. “If you’d like to follow me, then… sirs?”

“Lead the way,” Other-Gordon invited, and they were led into something that looked a lot like it was normally an office, and not open to the general public. It was a far cry from the lavish customer furnishings of the last place.

“What would you like to look at first?” George clearly had no idea which Tracy he was supposed to be addressing, from the way his eyes kept flicking between them. Scott decided to have a little pity on the man and leaned backwards, effectively removing himself from the conversation. Other-Gordon helped by leaning forwards, drawing more attention to himself.

“I think the jeans would be a good place to start. Could you fetch some examples?” he prompted.

“Of course. What size would you like to try?”

Other-Gordon answered without hesitation, leaving Scott to assume he had his brother’s sizes memorised, and George all but fled from the room, leaving the two of them alone. The door closed, and immediately Other-Gordon pressed up next to him.

“Which polos were you looking at?” he asked, quietly.

Scott told him, before raising a quizzical eyebrow. “You’re not complaining?”

“Aw, polos aren’t so bad. Scott has one or two himself, you know. Besides, I’d say it makes the story more convincing if we get a full outfit or two from here.”

He had a point.

The door opened again, and George entered, one arm laden with jeans. Well, they all looked the right size at least. With any luck, they wouldn’t need fitting.

Scott could live in hope.

“Do any of these suit?” the sales assistant asked, hanging them up one after the other on a rack against the wall. Scott eyed them all, suspecting that Other-Gordon was more likely to be paying attention to his reactions than the clothes themselves.

None of them were exactly like he was used to, but he supposed that was to be expected, considering the overall differences between the universes – and he was not going to think too hard on that one right now. Instead, they seemed to be geared more towards being form-fitting, not quite ‘skinny’, but definitely a lot tighter than the ones he wore at home. A couple of styles even seemed to be flared at the hem, a design that hadn’t been in fashion since Grandma’s time, and looked completely useless for doing any sort of exercise in without tripping over them.

He dismissed those immediately.

“You know, Scott, you’ve got to pick at least one,” Other-Gordon drawled. “A forfeit’s a forfeit, you know.”

So Other-Gordon was going to let him take the silent lead on this one? That made it easier, if nothing else. Scott stepped forwards, sorting through them one at a time until he found a pair that looked like they wouldn’t completely constrict his movement, and took it off of the rail.

“There is a changing room just through that door, if you’d like to try them on,” George offered, gesturing at a door set into the far wall. Scott nodded, and started to head for it. Movement from Other-Gordon made him pause, and he glanced at the ginger to see a querying look on his face.

Right. Last time he’d been out of the other man’s sight, he’d had a panic attack. Other-Gordon had good reason to be cautious, but Scott didn’t feel any warning signs of an impending one this time, so he shot him a reassuring grin before opening the door and walking through.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Scott waited a split second to make sure he didn’t suddenly descend into panic – not that he planned on calling Other-Gordon if he did; once was more than enough – before hurrying to get changed. The jeans were infinitely more comfortable than Other-Scott’s slacks, but that was to be expected. Scott wasn’t particularly fond of slacks.

They also fit pretty much perfectly. No ankles showing, but also not falling to the floor and getting caught underfoot. Other-Gordon also clearly did know his brother’s waist size, because it wasn’t too tight or falling down. The only problem was that they were a little tighter, particularly around the thighs, than he was used to, but that looked to just be a universal difference he’d just have to get used to.

Or hopefully not, because he wanted to go home sooner rather than later. His family must have discovered his disappearance by now and-

He cut that train of thought right there. There was going to be no more breakdowns in changing rooms, so he busied himself with making one last assessment of the jeans before pushing the door back open.

Other-Gordon was looking straight at the door, George nowhere in sight, and Scott knew he didn’t imagine the flash of relief on his face before amber eyes flicked down to the jeans.

“George went to start picking up polos,” he explained. “Everything alright?”

That was an obviously double-layered question, and Scott answered both with a single nod.

“Fabulous,” Other-Gordon grinned. “You’ll need more than one pair, though. Different colours of that one or different styles?”

Open-ended questions needed verbal answers; Scott glanced at the door leading to the rest of the store – still closed – before answering.

“Mostly colours,” he said. “If there’s another style that fits, I’ll take that, but I think this is the closest I’ll get. Not perfect, but…” He shrugged.

“Alright,” Other-Gordon nodded. “The rack’s still there, if you want to take another gander.” Well, there was no harm in that, even if Scott was dubious about finding any more practical ones amongst the too-tight and flared-hem designs dominating the selection.

There wasn’t. Maybe that was Scott also just wanting this trip to be over with, even if it meant speeding up his next no doubt probing conversation with one of the Other-Tracys, but he didn’t like the look of any of the others. He said as much to Other-Gordon, who took on that calculating look that was quickly becoming familiar, and not just because he’d seen it on Gordon too many times to count. Another piece in the puzzle for the ginger. Scott wondered what sort of picture he was putting together.

He also didn’t want to know.

“You’ll need quite a few of that one, if that’s the case,” Other-Gordon reminded him. “We can get you more later, if we can convince Scott to pretend he likes the clothes after all, but I’d say you need five or six.”

Scott nodded, but hoped they wouldn’t need to get more. He knew Other-John had said it could take years – a prediction that had something uncomfortable curling in his gut if he thought about it, because if time moved linearly in both universes then that was years with his family not knowing what had happened to him, just like with Dad but worse, and he couldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t. They’d hold it together because his little brothers were strong, but it would hurt them. It would hurt them so, so much.

“So, colours.” Other-Gordon’s voice cut through his thoughts, dragging him back to the room and the jeans and away from the thoughts running rampart through his head. From the look on the other man’s face, he’d noticed that his mind had wandered. Scott still wasn’t sure if he liked how easily Other-Gordon seemed to be able to read him, but he supposed that was better than another breakdown.

He really had to get a grip.

“We should ask how many shades of blue these chaps can offer,” the aquanaut continued as the door opened. “I’d suppose there’s quite the variety.”

“We do have a variety of colours available,” George assured them, now carrying a stack of polos in various shades and colours. Some of them made Scott’s eyes water just to look at them. “Have you found anything?”

“I’d say what he’s wearing looks jolly good,” Other-Gordon said. “What shades of blue can you do on those?”

“Well, we have five shades available,” the sales assistant said. “I would have to check how many are in stock in Mr- er, Scott’s size.”

“He’ll have one of each,” Other-Gordon said. “If they’re not in stock, you can order them in, can’t you?”

“Of course! It may take some time for them to arrive, but we can definitely arrange that.”

Other-Gordon grinned. Scott swallowed back against threatening thoughts about time. “Fabulous! Now, how about those polos?”

At the full force of a Gordon who knew exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get it – Scott pitied George for that; Other-Gordon was proving to be as much of an occasional bulldozer as Gordon when it suited him and was definitely enjoying the lack of a restraining older brother stopping him – the man had little choice but to lay the offerings out for the pair of them to look at.

Scott instantly dismissed the ones that hurt his eyes to look at. Unlike the jeans, which despite being made of denim and therefore technically still jeans were cut in styles that were nothing like the ones he was used to, the polos looked a lot more familiar. He had no qualms about trimming the selection by the colours of the examples he was being shown, even if that was a shallow reason.

He still didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be on the island – preferably his Tracy Island, in his universe, and not stuck here trying to find clothes for his inevitably long stay in a world where strangers wore his family’s names, personalities, and even looks.

“This one?” Other-Gordon cut in again, appearing beside him and reaching for a blue one he hadn’t pushed aside yet. Scott blinked and realised his hands had stilled on the rack. Sharp amber eyes were watching him carefully, one of the man’s arms close enough to his hand that he’d brush it if he moved his fingers the right way.

Scott purposefully didn’t touch, keeping an inch or so of air between them in a clear but silent message to Other-Gordon. He was not giving up on the trip. Instead he poked and prodded at the polo in question. It looked worth a try, so he unhooked the hanger from the rack and let the material fall over his arm.

There was a decidedly disapproving air from the man next to him, but Other-Gordon didn’t say anything. Scott didn’t acknowledge it either, dragging his mind back on task and brushing through the rest of the polos on the rack until he had a sizeable pile folded over his arm.

With no excuse, Other-Gordon couldn’t justify following him into the changing room, but it was abundantly obvious that he wanted to. Scott just wanted this to be over with, so when the ginger grinned at him and proclaimed that he wanted to see every single one, he glared at him.

Other-Gordon wasn’t perturbed in the slightest, chivvying him towards the door and ignoring George as he stood redundantly by the dismissed polos. “For your favourite brother?” he wheedled, before a grin lit up his face. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Scott could tell it was only a show for their audience anyway. “Remember, this is a forfeit, Scott!”

For my own peace of mind, that translated as. Reading the subtext behind the younger man’s words was as natural as breathing to Scott, which he put down to the similarities between the two Gordons. He rolled his eyes in an attempt to persuade Other-Gordon that he was fine and not on the edge of another panic attack, before slipping back into the room and shutting the door in his face.

A little rude, and definitely coming off as ungrateful – he wasn’t; he knew it came from care and if their positions were reversed he would absolutely be doing the same if he hadn’t just overridden all protests and taken them back to the airport already – but Scott really didn’t want to be hovered over.

The waistcoat and shirt were shrugged off, hat and sunglasses temporarily removed, before he yanked the first polo on with more aggression than the action really deserved. Scott grit his teeth. He really had to get himself back under control. Other-Gordon had good reason to be worried, and the fact that they were technically strangers was doing nothing to temper it. But then, what did he expect? He was still an operative of International Rescue.

Other-Gordon was also one of the few people in the universe that he was even vaguely comfortable around. Alienating him would do more harm than good.

With a sigh, he tugged the hat and sunglasses back on and opened the door to dutifully show the polo. It fit fine, he supposed. Not too baggy, but not restrictive, either. It was definitely better than any shirts he’d worn so far in the universe.

Unsurprisingly, Other-Gordon was more interested in his face than his clothes, clearly checking him over for signs of another spiral. Scott hoped he didn’t look too terrible; whatever the other man saw, he didn’t comment on.

“Well that looks pretty fine, wouldn’t you say?” he said instead to George, who jumped at being suddenly addressed again and nodded vigorously.

“Very good, sir,” he agreed. Scott shrugged a noncommittal agreement, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this trip – he wasn’t, but not because of the clothes – and retreated back to the changing room to try on the next.

In the end there were eight polos in the original selection, and six of them in the pile Other-Gordon was setting aside with the approved jeans. From the look on George’s face, he hadn’t been expecting quite so many purchases but also wasn’t complaining at all. Scott wondered if sales assistants still got commissions on their sales in this universe.

“That’s a fine collection.” Other-Gordon looked positively gleeful, but Scott supposed that made some sense. Even if it was all a ruse, as far as the world was going to be concerned, he’d got one over on his eldest brother. In a way, he actually had, even if it had been with Other-Scott’s begrudging blessing. “But I’d say there’s still something missing, wouldn’t you, Scott?”

Scott had started to wonder if Other-Gordon was going to try and force the shopping trip to a premature conclusion by skipping the hoodie, but to his relief it seemed as though that was still on the cards. Burying the relief behind a long history of catering to little brother whims, he just rolled his eyes and let his shoulders slump a little.

Other-Gordon beamed.

“What this needs,” he told George with enough glee that Scott almost forgot he’d been dubious about the idea in the first place, “is a hoodie. Wouldn’t you agree?” He wasn’t looking at Scott, but rather a George who suddenly looked entirely too much like a deer in headlights.

“You- you’d like to view our hoodie collection?” he stammered, clearly believing that he’d misheard. “But…” The look he shot Scott spoke volumes, enforcing Other-Gordon’s earlier proclamation that hoodies were workman’s clothes and certainly nothing that someone of the Tracy’s social standing would be seen dead in.

Other-Gordon’s smile turned the slightest bit predatory. Scott suspected that was actually aimed at his poor brother’s reputation than anyone in the room, but it didn’t stop George blanching.

“He did lose a bet.”

“Yes, of course.” Scott really hoped they were going to compensate this poor man for the mental stress he was being put through. “Would you like me to fetch some examples?”

“I was thinking something a little more unique for my brother,” Other-Gordon corrected, and Scott recalled that Other-Scott had insisted on custom made. Personally, he’d have been happy with something off the shelf if it fit and was comfortable, but as far as compromises went, it could have been a lot worse. “I heard this shop offers custom tailoring?”

“We do, but I will have to consult with my manager about hoodies,” George hedged. “If you gentlemen would excuse me…” When neither of them protested, he escaped the room. Scott winced.

“They’ll agree,” Other-Gordon said confidently. “Money talks in places like this.”

“As long as we don’t give the employees a heart attack first,” Scott muttered. “George seems… stressed.”

Other-Gordon sighed. “With any luck, the fella will calm down once his manager’s in the picture. I don’t like it any more than you do, Scott, but for the sake of appearances easing up on the guy isn’t an option.”

Cover story. Right.

“How about you?” the aquanaut asked suddenly. “Are you going to be okay for another fitting?”

“I’m fine,” Scott assured him. It came out sounding almost believable. Almost. A judging ginger eyebrow rose.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule and refuse to admit when you’re anything less than A-One,” Other-Gordon informed him. Scott got the feeling those were Other-Scott traits he was – admittedly correctly – associating with him. “You trust me to know my limits, so it would be a mighty help if you’d show me the same courtesy.”

You do realise we’re on the same side? His words from Thunderbird One’s hangar ran through Scott’s head.

“Talk to me, Scott. You holding up?”

They had known each other barely a handful of hours. Scott was acutely aware that he trusted International Rescue to do what they could to help him, but also that that same trust was not yet cemented between him and the individuals within the organisation. Other-Gordon was the closest he’d got, mostly through exposure but also because the ginger had respected the boundaries once they’d been felt out.

That trust was still a small, fragile thing. Scott could almost see the thread in front of him, barely a hair thick and easily broken. The wrong move would snap it, and then where would he be? Both sides needed that trust to maximise their chances of getting him home.

Not that Scott was going to be blindly handing it out – Other-Alan had shown nothing but distaste for him so far, and Not-Dad brought up too many conflicting thoughts and emotions for trust to be on the cards any time soon – but to Other-Gordon?

“I can handle it,” he promised. “Honestly…” he trailed off, trying to find the words and push past his natural inclination to keep the truth buried where it wouldn’t worry younger brothers, but that word was enough to get Other-Gordon’s back straightening. “Honestly, stopping and having to come back later would be worse.” He’d take panic attacks in changing rooms over going back with the shopping half finished and having to explain the failure, especially to Not-Dad.

More than anyone else, he knew that if he showed weakness in front of Not-Dad, something would break.

“Then it’s a good thing the fellas don’t need us back any time soon,” Other-Gordon said matter-of-factly. A hand rested on his shoulder, the touch light but there. “We can take as many breaks as you need until we’re done.”

Scott felt like he’d just fallen off of a cliff, hoping he had a grapple pack left to catch himself with, only for Other-Gordon to grab his hand and haul him back up. It should be disconcerting that he’d been read so easily, even with the bare bones he’d managed to share, but the overwhelming feeling of relief washed away any lingering unease.

“Thanks,” he managed.

“Thank you,” Other-Gordon replied, a gentle look on his face.

Chapter 10>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #gordon tracy

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ownworldresident · 4 years ago

Text

We Are Our Own Heroes. Chapter Two: Bayside

Book: The Royal Romance, seven years post-TRR

Premise: Six years after a tragic loss, Liam and his adopted daughter meet Cassandra, an artist with her own troubled past, and the three find in each other the friend they never knew they needed.

Disclaimer: Setting and some characters belong to Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them and will return them when they feel better.

Themes: found family, (power of) friendship, healing

The Master Masterlist (link) --- Our Own Heroes Masterlist (link)

Liam

Saturday rolled around again. Nothing could lift the heavy circles under Liam’s eyes or take away his yawns, and the coffee could only do so much. He took solace in the fact that he could crash hard later that day. Emily had a harder time against this team. He kept score in his head, crossing his fingers and sending encouraging smiles whenever she glanced his way. The final whistle blew as they started from the centre of the court. Emily looked around to find her coach, then converged with her teammates. A moment later they cheered at the score. The crowd filed out and Liam waited for Emily to take her time with her friends. He nodded to the few spectators who looked his way. Today’s game was a late one, and the court was almost bare except for a few chatting kids and waiting parents. He yawned again, and when he opened his eyes, Cassie stood beside him. He blinked, too tired to conceal his surprise. “Sorry,” she chuckled, “didn’t mean to startle you.” “No, that’s alright,” he replied, “long week.” “Here I thought being king would be easy.” Cassie folded her arms across her chest. Liam breathed a laugh, but that was all he could manage. Something had happened, in the last few weeks, to throw him off balance.

“Challenging. But rewarding.” “A standard answer.” She smiled, then sighed. Liam watched her torn expression morph into resolve. “She’s lucky to have you,” she continued, turning to Emily a moment. Liam did not follow her gaze, but watched Cassie instead. “Thank you,” he answered, wary of the direction of the conversation. "My sister was really ill years back, and I moved in to take care of her boys for a while. I was only 24 at the time. I knew nothing about children, and they were so small.” Cassie smiled, and Liam waited to see if she would continue. He was glad the courts were emptying, and there was no one within earshot. “She was living out in the country, and I’d come straight from university in Amsterdam. No one really thought I should be the one to look after them, it was hard, but it… was the right thing to do, I think. They are such dear boys.” She looked down, a little heat in her cheeks, and Liam frowned. “You knew what they needed.” He found himself saying. “Where they’d come from.” She nodded, lifting her head again. “Maybe someone knew better. But I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I’d failed my sister when she needed me most.” Liam took in her words, feeling the memory come to him again. He blinked, and remembered where he was. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked gently. Cassie turned to him, then away again, cheeks a little redder. “I’m not sure.” She sighed. “I suppose I wanted you to know. It’s hard when no one believes in you. When no one understands.” Her voice trailed as she finished, but a moment later strengthened again. “I haven’t coached Emily before, but I have seen you around. I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but if you ever need someone to talk to.” She lifted her shoulders, trying not to fold in on herself. “I’m here.” Liam pulled away from her, realising how unguarded he had been during the conversation. “Thank you,” was his final reply. What else could he say? Something more articulate if he was awake enough. Cassie nodded, then pulled something from her jacket pocket. As he suspected, the paper she handed him had her name and mobile number. “I’m not asking you to call me or anything,” she said with a more familiar cadence. “But if you need…” she smiled, “I’m here.” And with a nod, she walked away. Liam pocketed the note, and tried and failed to decipher whatever subtext he had missed. He didn't get much time to do so. A rush of colour preceded an impact against his side and he nearly stumbled. Emily wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him, grinning, eyes shining with exertion. “Movie?” she said, leaning her chin against his stomach. Liam could hardly watch her insistence without laughing. “That depends.” He raised his eyebrows, and Emily frowned. “On what?” Leaning down, Liam gently detached her from him, kissed the top of her head, and stepped back. “On whether you can beat me to the car!” He ran, but not to win. Odd looks followed from those around them, but Liam’s focus was on the small shape darting ahead.

Cassandra

The last of the kids departed, and Cassie continued to pack up. The work took her hands to complete but not her mind, and she whisked herself away to some place colourful. Somewhere she could go to create. With everything packed away, she hoisted the ball bag over her shoulder and carried it to her car. She reflected on her interactions with Liam and Emily. Had she been too abrupt with her offer? She’d only known him a few weeks and spoken to him twice, and he had seemed concerned. That was the reason she had offered it, she reminded herself. All she could do was hope that her manner wasn’t off-putting, if a friend was what he needed. And if he didn’t act on her offer, like her mother had always said, at least she had tried. Back in her studio apartment, Cassie tossed her keys in a bowl by the door and the sports bag on the ground. “Back to work,” she informed no one in particular. Peeling off her clothes, she threw them in the direction of her bed. Then she changed into old stained things, and twirled a charcoal pencil between her fingers. With soft music as a backdrop, several hours and a glass of wine passed before she admitted defeat. The line work on her canvas was approximately complete but nothing in her usual colour palette captured the feel of it. The much larger canvas nearby was as blank as the day she bought it. It taunted her lack of inspiration. There was plenty of time, she told it, and pointedly avoided the calendar on her wall ‘with exhibition’ circled two months from now. Around dusk, a miasma of sunset shades began to leak in through the window and touch her other pieces. Her stomach growled on cue as she registered the time. It occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten since midday yesterday. As good a reason as any, she reasoned, to take a break. She grabbed her jacket and keys and headed out again.

---

After dark on a Saturday, the boardwalk came to life. Cassie reclined in the corner of her favourite establishment, drink in one hand, pencil in the other. Always carry a sketchbook. And when she wasn’t in front of a canvas her hand flowed freely. The din of the bar was chatty and friendly. Two and a half walls were open to a balcony over the bay. People meandered in and out or stood or sat in groups, waving their hands in animated recounts of their life events. Warm lighting like this was perfect for sketching. Her knees were nearly against her chest at a booth in the corner and hid most of her work from prying eyes. An easy sketch sat nearby. Rolling her shoulders back, Cassie drew his outline. He hunched over the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey, denim jacket concealing muscled arms and a t-shirt. He came most weekends, she noticed -detailing the perfect frown- but never seemed to be fully here. When she looked up again he was gone. “Having fun?” The low voice resonated from the same booth she sat at. Cassie hadn’t noticed his approach. She pulled her sketchbook against her chest as she turned to him. Too late, the regular had noticed his likeness. “What gave it away?” she asked, reaching for her cocktail. He shrugged. “You’ve hardly touched your drink.” He gestured to the almost full glass in her hand, ice almost melted. She grinned and took a sip. “Likewise.” She indicated his glass. He rarely took more than a shot at a time. “This isn’t meant to be rushed.” He gazed at his drink with reverence and she tried not to laugh. “Uhuh.” Cassie took another sip and looked back at her sketch as she put the glass down. “What do you think?” “Of your sketch?” He reclined. “You’re very talented.” “Not what I was going for, but thanks.” Cassie smirked, then turned her book so he could see the drawing better. “Did I get you right?” He shrugged, took another sip, then shook his head. “I don’t frown that much.” Cassie spilled her drink on the table as she laughed, which only made her laugh more. When finally she regained control, he was waiting. “Yes, you do.” The man turned away. His attempt at a severe frown fell short as the tiniest curve of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. She picked up her pencil again and started adding the new expression. “I’m Cassie,” she said into the silence, no longer able to leave his sketches unnamed. Leaning toward her book to focus on the detail of his lips, she waited for his response. Instead, when she looked up, he had turned to her fully, and intensely. “What?” “So you’re Cassie,” he said. She frowned this time. “What do you mean?” He blinked, glanced at his drink for a long moment, then shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, sticking out his hand, “I’m Drake.”

What Happened Six Years Ago

Drake

Drake found Liam in the hall of the children’s hospital. The day was more than over, and the quiet was eerie. He lowered himself to the seat beside Liam, and they sat in silence for some indeterminate time, receiving awkward glances from the few hospital staff that passed. “Li—” Drake started, realising with a cough that he hadn’t spoken in several hours. He cleared his throat. “Liam, I think…” But there weren’t any adequate words to come after that. “We should figure out what to do next.” Liam didn’t respond. He stared wide-eyed at the ground, fingers laced around the back of his head and elbows braced on his knees. How far into his mind had he retreated? “We should think about—” “It doesn’t matter.” Drake's chest tightened at the heaviness in Liam’s voice. Like he couldn’t intonate. He paused, and searched for what to say next. “You can’t sit in a hospital corridor all night. You need to decide what to do. There’s the… her…” Drake turned from his friend, trying not to imagine the view of the night before in that old, musty room. He wasn’t successful. “I can organise our trip back to Cordonia, and you can send people back to investigate, but you need to make the call about her…” he swallowed painfully past the lump in his throat. “Anna’s body.” The words came out hoarse. “Coming with us. Bastien is organising it.” New information to Drake, but he nodded. “And the kid.” “Emily.” Liam croaked, then sighed. The door closest to Liam’s other side was the girl’s room door. “She won’t be here much longer. We need to organise where to leave her.” “Leave her?” Liam looked up, finally, and Drake struggled to keep focus when confronted with the red, grief stricken eyes of his friend. “Once she leaves the hospital, we need to find a home for her.” Liam balked, leaning away from him, and the sudden movement was jarring. “Drake she’s coming with me. How could you even suggest …” Liam stood and looked down to him. “I made a promise.” “You said you’d take care of her.” “At my home, yes.” “Liam you can’t be…” Drake stood as well to be on a level. “She’s barely three years old. You don’t know anything about children.” Liam stared at him. “You still don’t get it.” Drake made a sweeping gesture but continued in an even voice. “Then help me get it. What do you owe her, after what she put you through?” “I promised—” Liam halted as his volume rose, then sighed again and lowered his voice. “I promised I would protect her. Handing her over to social care or their equivalent here, however fortunate she might be in finding a family who treats her as she deserves, is not enough.” Drake grit his teeth, struggling to find a way to bring reason to Liam’s emotional argument. He was no more prepared to raise a child than Drake was. “Three years old,” Drake repeated, hesitant. “She won’t remember what happened. Taking her away from here isn’t fair to her.” “And what if she does remember? Do you think you will ever for… forget…” Liam slumped back against the wall and down to his seat again. He raked his fingers through his hair and groaned, and when he looked up again he looked paler and more tired than Drake had ever seen him. “As I said,” Liam drew in a long breath. “I made a promise. I won’t leave her fate to chance.” No matter his grievance, Drake couldn’t force Liam to consider something he was set against. Maybe in a few days, when his thoughts cleared, he could convince Liam that finding Emily a family was better than taking her in himself. After all, there was no way he would be able to move on from Anna while raising a child who looked just like her.

------

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imagines-and-requests · 5 years ago

Text

Game Over

(A/N): My first ever imagine! I actually thought of this randomly and thought it would be fun to write. I also love Dabi and I wanted him to be the first character I write about. Please enjoy and send any requests if you guys want me to write something for you! Also I don't know much about animal crossing so please no hate if there is some incorrect information about it.

Pairings: Dabi x Female reader

Warnings: suggestive content towards end, a bit of fluff, crack, language

What made you think it was a good idea to touch Shigaraki’s Nintendo switch you had no idea. You were always a curious person and to see why the said man was almost always glued to the gaming system on days where the league didn't have much to do made you wonder what the appeal was about it. You where never interested in video games since you got distracted easily but you decided to give it a try while he wasn't home.

You flopped yourself on the seat opposite of where Shigaraki was sitting on the beat up couch. He was, as usual, playing on his nintendo switch. You scan the room to make sure no one was there and when the coast was clear a devious smirk made its way onto your lips. You quickly made it disappear and put on your poker face.

“Hey Shigi” You call out. He grunts in annoyance and you give him an innocent smile.

“Do you mind running to the store for me? I noticed that we ran out of a few ingredients that I need for tonights dinner.”

“Why can't you do it?” He asks with annoyance. Your innocent smile fades and an evil glint makes its way into your eyes.

“I’m the one making dinner aren't I?”

“Send someone else.”

“Everyone else is either out or on a mission. Come on it shouldn't take more than half an hour. The store is literally down the street.” You huff. He sighs in defeat and tosses his Nintendo on the couch. He grabs the list that was in your hand and quickly scans it.

While Shigiraki was known to have a short temper with everyone else you seemed to get special treatment from the leagues leader. While it surprised the others it was never much of a shocker to you. That is one of your many skills that made you a good spy for the league. You had a trusting and pleasing personality that can make the strongest person weak for you.

“Ill be back soon, don’t do anything idiotic.” He calls over his shoulder. You remain in your seat until you hear the door close. Once you hear it you immediately pounce out of your seat and swipe the Nintendo.

You stare at the console in your hands with a triumphant smirk and turn it on. You waited anxiously as the nintendo started up, curious to see what he was playing that had his attention for hours on end.

And what you saw made you blink in disbelief.

“Animal crossing!?” You state incredulously.

You have heard of the popular game and seen memes about it on the internet. But you would have never have thought that the leader of the infamous league of villains would actually play a game that was so adorable and innocent.

You decided to play with his character and watch it walk around. Once you started playing with the controls you began to understand how to work the game and started building some houses for Shigaraki’s village.

“Damn, he’s really living his best life in this village.” You mumble to yourself.

It was painstakingly obvious how much effort Shigaraki have put into his village. He had many crops that were ready to be harvested, the supply of food being able to feed at least 100 characters. Maybe even more. Your thumb accidentally slipped on a button and an option pulled up to create a new character. An evil smirk made its way onto your face and decided that it would be funny to prank Shigaraki by making a character that resembled you live in his village.

As you where designing the character you heard a door close. Alarm ran through your nerves until you heard your best friend cheerily call for you. You let out a relieved sigh and relax.

“I’m in here bitch.” You call out with your eyes glued to the game. Twice walks in and then notices the device in your hands.

“No way! You were able to swipe Shigi’s nintendo!” Twice excitedly ask. He then becomes calm and rubs his forehead anxiously. “If he finds out he's going to kill you.”

“Not if he doesn't find out he won't. Besides, don’t pretend you weren't as curious as I was about what he was playing. You wanted to know why he was so secretive about people seeing his screen as much as I did.” You shrug. You look up at him and gave him an innocent smile.

“Care to find out what his little secret was?”

Without another word Twice plops on the spot next to you on the couch and looks over your shoulder. His eyes widen when he sees the adorable characters on the screen.

“He was playing animal crossing?” He asks incredulously and you nod enthusiastically. Once the idea registered into his brain he began to laugh loudly.

“Who would have thought that he would be playing something like this?” he asked. You nodded in agreement and a beat of silence follows suit, you notice Twice was thinking and it began to make you nervous.

As much as you love your best friend, Twice and the concept of thinking was never a good combo. Especially because of his quirk.

“I want to play.”

“Hell no.” you immediately respond.

“Oh come on (Y/N)! I just want to give it a try.”

“No Twice. If something happens Shigi will find out and kill both of us. No offense but you're not really careful in general and I’m not in the mood to die today.” You deadpan.

Not happy with your answer, Twice grabs the Nintendo and yanks it. Due to your quick reflexes you were able to stop him by gripping the other end of the Nintendo. You glare at Twice and tug the device towards your direction. He maintains his grip on the end he had a hold of and grunts in annoyance. After a few seconds of glaring both you and Twice started playing a game of tug-a-war with the device.

“Let go Twice! You're going to break it!”

“Never!”

After a few tugs back and fourth Twice ended up to be the victorious one. He laughs triumphantly while giving you a haughty smile. In response you give him the middle finger and cross your arms over your chest, allowing the couch to sink in your pouting and defeated form. Twice turns his attention to the screen and after a few seconds you watch from the corner of your eye how he blanched through his mask.

Nervous butterflies, and not the good kind that you get around Dabi, begins to flutter in your stomach.

“Twice...why are you being unusually quiet?” You ask slowly. Without a word Twice slowly turns the device’s screen towards you and what you saw made you want to throw up.

The home screen was in view but you did not see the option to continue the game, only the option to start building your village.

From scratch.

You and Twice deleted Shigaraki’s process.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK” You chant. You swipe the Nintendo from Twice and try to see if there was an option to retrieve the data. Twice watched anxiously as you fiddled with the buttons. After a couple of minutes filled with nothing but silence and tension you toss the Nintendo next to you and flop the back of your head on the cushion.

“Thats it, we’re dead.” You sigh in defeat as you look blankly at the ceiling.

“No! There’s got to be something we can do!” Twice states. He grabs the Nintendo and begins to rapidly fiddle with the buttons.

“Twice...”

“Maybe we can ask Toga if she knows anything about it! She's always been good at stuff like this.”

“Twice-”

“Or we could ask Mr. Compress if he can come up with a plan to trick-”

“TWICE!” You yell and clap your hands on his shoulders to gain his attention. He looks at you with wide eyes and you shake him to snap him out of it.

“It’s gone. There is nothing we can do. Game over.” You tell him slowly.

As if the situation couldn't have gotten worse you hear the front door slam close. Both you and Twice instinctively spring into action. You quickly put the Nintendo where Shigaraki last left it you pull out your phone and quickly pull up tiktok. Twice immediately follows by laying down on the other side of the couch from where the Nintendo sat and threw his legs over your lap. He quickly picks up a magazine that was sitting on the coffee table and opens up to a page. After a few seconds Shigaraki enters the room and sees you two in your position. You look up from your phone and give him your usual care free smile.

“Hey Shigaraki! How did it go?”

“Boring. I got the stuff you needed and put it in the kitchen.” He says. He walks over to his Nintendo and plops himself at the couch opposite of where you and Twice where sitting. You and Twice anxiously watch as Shigiraki starts up his Nintendo. You feel Twice anxiously shift and you pinch his side without Shigaraki noticing.

After a few seconds tension fills the air. You watch Shigaraki’s body tense up and freeze. You hold your breath and watch to see what his reaction would be. He calmly turns off his Nintendo and looks over at the two of you.

“I thought I told you not to do anything idiotic.” Shigaraki darkly states. You swallow and meet his gaze.

“What are you talking about Shigi?” You nervously chuckle while Twice nods quickly in agreement at your statement.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You two really thought you could get away with it?” He asks coldly.

Silence fills the room again and the only thing you notice besides Shigaraki’s silent fury is the drop of sweat running down your neck.

After a few seconds you see his fingers twitch.

“SCATTER! ” You yell as you push Twice’s legs off your lap. He stumbles to the floor but quickly follows your lead as you dash out of the room with Shigaraki chasing after you two.

“COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT ME!” you hear him yell. You and twice run down a hallway and try to make it for the bathroom. Before you can enter Twice beats you to the door and slams it in your face. You growl and angrily pound on the door with the palms of your hand.

“Open up you traitor!” You yell.

“No way! every man for himself (Y/N)!”

“There’s no “I” in team you whore.” You growl with clenched fists.

“There is in Twice!”

Before you can retort back you begin to hear Shigaraki’s pounding footsteps from the other side of the hallway. You growl in frustration and slam the door once more with your palm.

“I’ll remember this Twice!” You threaten and with that you make a run for it. You look behind your shoulder and a small bit or relief settles in your stomach when you don't see Shigaraki until you run into something. Before your butt can meet the floor someone grabs your wrist and tugs you towards their body. Relief washes over you when you meet your boyfriends bright cerulean eyes.

“What the fuck has you so worked up?” He drawls. Before you can respond you hear Shigaraki’s heavy footsteps become louder. You gasp and hide behind Dabi, clenching the material of his coat that sits between his shoulder blades. He looks over his shoulder to see your frightened eyes and he looks towards where the footsteps were coming from.

Though Dabi doesn't have much of an external caring streak, when it comes to his girl he would do anything for her. If something is after her he would immediately jump into action and do everything he can to keep her safe.

Shigaraki stops where he is at when he meets Dabi’s gaze. He uses the time to quickly catch his breath and Dabi raises an eyebrow at the man.

“What’s up boss? Seems like your struggeling to breath there.” Dabi smirks. You peak behind your boyfriends form and meet Shigaraki’s angry gaze. You squeak and duck behind Dabi.

“(Y/N),” Shigaraki snarls, “touched something of mine and ruined all of the hard work I put into it. And for that she must be eliminated.”

“Oh come on Shigi, you and I both know that (Y/N) is one of your greatest assets in this team. Besides...” Dabi trails off and a cruel shit-eating smirk makes its way on his lips, stretching his burnt skin along with the staples that decorate his face. “You'll have to go through me first before you can get to (Y/N). And I have a feeling that finding a new place to stay for the team is the last thing you want right now.”

Shigaraki growls in defeat and glares at you pair of (Y/E/C) eyes peaking behind Dabi’s form.

“Congratulations, looks like you get to live another day. But if you touch anything of mine again I won't hesitate to kill you.” Shigaraki threatens and with that he leaves.

Once his form is out of sight you sigh and turn towards your boyfriend. You wrap your arms around his neck and flutter your eyelashes dramatically at him.

“My savior.” You coo and peck his cheek. He instinctively wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you closer to his body. A deep chuckle ghosts over your ear, making the hairs at the end of your neck stand on end.

“Anything for you doll. Now, mind telling me what you did to get Shigaraki’s panties in a twist?”

You quickly explain the story to him and afterwards he gives you a shit eating smirk. He grabs your waist and you squeak in surprise as he flings you over his shoulder and begins to walk towards your shared bedroom.

“Hey! Let me go you neanderthal.” You giggle jokingly.

“No can do sweetheart, from what I heard it looks like I truly did save your life. And for that I want something in return.” Dabi chuckles.

You playfully pinch his butt and in response he smacks yours.

“Lets play a few games of our own. How about it doll?”

~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

“bon appetite bitchachos.” You call out into the living room where all of the villains were relaxing. In Response your friends enter the kitchen and take their place around the table where the food was set up. Dabi sits next to you and gives your thigh a squeeze underneath the table. You playfully smack his hand away and give him warning glare.

“Not at the table Dabi. We may be villains but we are villains with class.” You tell him with a smirk and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Tell him (Y/N).” Toga playfully calls out and in response Dabi narrows his eyes at her.

“I don’t think anyone asked for your input nutjob” Dabi states. Before Toga can respond you grab your fork and slam the end of it on the table, making everyones conversation at the table cease. They all stare at you with wide eyes and after composing yourself you give them an innocent smile.

“I hope you all enjoy it, I put a lot of work into this meal.” At “alot” you glare at Twice and he swallows nervously. He knows your still mad at him for ditching you when Shigaraki was out to kill you both since you haven't talked to him since then.

At that everyone gave thanks and dug in. You watched as Twice picked up his glass of water and took a gulp. Once his taste buds registered the familiar bitter taste he spluttered and began to cough violently, forcing the liquid down his throat.

Once he calmed down he noticed how your figure was haunched over your seat, laughing hysterically as you clutched your stomach.

“Vodka (Y/N). Really?” Twice sighed childishly. With that everyone at the table began to laugh except Shigaraki, who continued to eat his food as if nothing happened, and Dabi, who was smirking at his girlfriends antics.

“What can I say Twice?” You hum and you pause to take a sip of your drink.

“Karma is a bitch”

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kz-i-co · 5 years ago

Text

Scream

Summary: With all the pranks going on in your small town it's hard to separate the fake ones with the real ones.

Character: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) [NCT]

Warning: language | violence »» scream au »»

Words: 1.8k

m.list ╫ dream m.list ╫ 127 m.list

A/N: I didn't proof read so I apologize for any errors and also this is strictly a one shots so sorry for the cliffhanger lol #happpyhalloween

Beep beep beep......3:59......3:58.....3:59

You buzzed your lips watching the microwave count down. You heard the first pop and it continued as you reached into your fridge grabbing a carbonated drink. Your phone started to ring and you couldn't help but feel annoyed.

"Lia if you ask me one more time to throw a party I will seriously end you." You spoke answering your phone not even looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" You heard a mans voice spoke that didn't sound familiar.

You moved the phone away from your ear and noticed the ID said 'unknown'.

"Hello?" You answered back confused.

"Who's this?" The man spoke with a friendly voice.

"Who's this?" You replied back since he was the one who dialed you.

"I'm sorry, I must of dialed the wrong number." He said with a genuine tone.

"It's no big deal." You laughed getting ready to hang up.

"Wait, can I talk to you for a moment? You have a nice voice."

You made a face from the weird vibe you got. "I'm sorry I don't know you, do I?" You didn't want to sound rude.

"No but we can get to know each other."

"No Thanks, have a good night." You quickly hung up.

"Weird." You rushed to the microwave completely forgetting about your popcorn. You opened the door and grabbed the greasy paper bag, still in edible condition.

Your phone rang again displaying the 'unknown' tag. What was with this guy? Didn't he get the message? Should you just ignore it?

"Hello?" The suspense was killing you.

"Hey, I must of dialed the wrong number again? You sure you're not the one I should be talking to?" He said with a chuckle.

"Who are you looking for?" You asked confused.

"Someone named (Y/N)."

You grew weary. "That's my name but I don't know how I could help you."

"I guess it's meant to be then." More laughter.

"Look I don't know how you got my number but someone is obviously playing a joke on me so I'm sorry about that."

"I don't mind." Was he really trying to flirt with you. How old was this guy?

"Look I have a boyfriend alright."

"What's his name? Do I know him?"

This had to be a prank call. "Wait is this Mark? I'm really your next victim? Who paid you? Johnny? Joy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?" The man said.

"Ha that's funny. Good one Mark. Tell them the deals off." Then you hung up again. The phone redialed much quicker this time causing your ears to steam.

"Mark go bother someone else, alright?"

"This isn't Mark." The man said more stern.

"Then what do you want?"

"I just want to talk to you." He said his voice going back to his friendly tone.

"Then dial someone else." You said feeling uncomfortable.

"But I want to know who I'm looking at."

You felt a chill travel up your spine. "What did you say?"

"I want to know who I'm talking to."

"That's not what you said." You rushed to the front door making sure the door was locked as well as the dead bolt. You went to the other windows and doors to make sure they were all locked.

"Something wrong?"

"Look, I'm sure you have had your fun okay bye now-"

"You hang up on me again I'll gut you up and everyone you know."

You stood there frozen as he spoke in your ear. "Now I have your attention." He laughed. "I want to play a little game."

"I'm gonna call the police." You said still shaken.

"Now why would you want to do that? I'm sure Donghyuck would appreciate you playing my game."

"What?"

"You said you had a boyfriend right? His name wouldn't happen to be Donghyuck would it?" You could hear the sinister joy in his voice.

"How do you know that?"

"Turn on the patio lights."

You heart was beating fast. There was no way this was happening. It was some sick prank right?

You did what he said and turned on the patio lights seeing your boyfriend tied up in a chair with blood dripping from his head. You cried and opened the door.

"Not so fast. I'll just kill the both of you right now if you don't play by my rules." The man spoke into your ear.

You backed up and closed the door once again. "Very good. Now let's play our game."

"No, please stop." You turned off the light once again and crawled into the corner.

"Pass my game and I will let you and little Donghyuck alone."

"We’re gonna play a little movie trivia." He continued. "I hope you like scary movies."

"Please."

"Question one: what is the name of the killer clown that lives in the sewer."

"I can't." You whimpered.

"Come on this is an easy one." The man was enjoying your fear.

"Pennywise." You answered.

"That's correct! Question two:-"

"Please stop." You felt the tears drip down your cheeks.

"Answer the question and I will." He continued. "What is the name of the killer in Friday the 13th."

"J-Jason." You stuttered.

"I'm sorry, that is the wrong answer." He cheered.

"What? No!"

"Jason doesn't come until the sequel, Jason's mother was the first killer." He laughed. "I guess Donghyuck will have to be cut from the game."

You heard shouting and you quickly got up turning on the patio light seeing your boyfriend sit their unconscious as blood was seeping from his chest.

"No!" You cried.

"Hey we still have one more question."

"Fuck You, you asshole!" You shouted.

"Now don't be like that, this is my favorite question."

"What door am I at?" He spoke causing your throat to be parched. "You have two main doors, the front and the back, which one am I at?"

You were dangerously close to the back door that you walked backwards into the kitchen. "No guesses? Suit yourself." You heard the front door slam shut.

You quickly grabbed a knife and kneeled down. You saw a black figure run past the kitchen into the living room. You crawled into the hall and worked your way to the stairs. You reached for your phone in your back pocket but grew confused as it wasn't there. You turned around seeing a man with a white ghost face mask holding up your phone.

He suddenly held up a knife sending you screaming and running up the stairs. The man was quick sprinting behind you and you threw the nearest object towards him sending him falling to the ground. You ran into your room and slammed the door in his face. You quickly ran to the bathroom and used the other door sending you back out to the corridor and you sprinted back down the stairs. You could sense the man quick on your tail as you tried to open the front door but was caught by the chair. The man swung the knife towards you causing you to duck and turn towards the other way.

You quickly ran out the back bumping into a sudden obstacle, causing you to scream in fear.

"(Y/N) it's me." You looked up seeing your boyfriend trying to calm you down.

"Donghyuck? What the fuck, I thought you were dead." You wiped your tears.

"I'm fine it's just a stupid prank."

"What?" You pushed him away and turned around.

The man in the mask was waiting by the door and suddenly removed it revealing Mark.

"You were trying to kill me?"

"It's just plastic." Mark flicked the knife.

"You're both assholes."

"(Y/N) come on it was just a joke." He laughed pulling your arm.

You turned around and slapped him. "I thought you were really killed. I don't know how that's funny to you." You walked back inside the house. "You two deserve each other."

You threw on your backpack before you ran downstairs and out the door, surprised from your guilt ill boyfriend waiting on the other side. You rolled your eyes and walked past ignoring him.

"(Y/N) please, I'm so sorry. It wasn't even my idea. I'll do anything." He got down on his knees literally begging.

"Why?"

"We were just trying to scare you, I didn't think it would go that far."

You sighed believing the dummy.

"I promise we will never do this ever again. Especially for Mark's sake since he had to get six stitches." He got up.

"I gave him stitches?" You asked shocked from the sudden news.

"Yeah, when you threw the vase at him. We deserve much worse." He said and you quickly punched him in the arm.

"You idiot!" You yelled. "You two are bad for each other. If you want my advice...stay far away from each other because then you won't get these twisted thoughts in your head."

"But do you forgive me?" He asked reaching for your hand.

"Never. But I'll continue to tolerate you I suppose." He smiled at your answer and leaned down bringing his lips towards yours. The worst part was you let him and responded back.

You heard a cough pulling each other away. "I need to get to work." Your mother spoke, clearly annoyed that his car was blocking the driveway.

"Sorry mom."

You followed your boyfriend to his car and took off to school.

Once you got there, there was camera crew everywhere. What the hell happened?

"What's going on?" Donghyuck spoke up first.

"I don't know." You both got out and started towards the school.

"Mr. Lee, I need to see you right away." The principle said once you both entered the building.

"I'll catch up with you later." He said following the principal.

"(Y/N)! There you are. Did you hear what happened last night?" Your friend Lia came over.

"You should hear what happened to me." You started.

"Sophia Chu was murdered last night."

"What?"

"Yeah. The detectives said it was some maniac in black robes wearing a white ghost face mask." She said causing you to go numb.

No way.

"The worst part was the killer is still out there. He was long gone once her parents showed up."

"(Y/N)?" The principal grabbed your attention and signaled you to come inside. You followed pursuit and you saw Mark and Donghyuck sitting on the other side of the desk with police standing guard.

"This is a very serious matter. A student was murdered last night and they were wearing this." He held up the mask. "Now there was packaging for this costume in both of these students lockers but they claim that they were with you last night. Is that true?"

You were their only witness.

"Last night......-"

#haechan scenarios #haechan fanfic #haechan oneshot #haechan angst #donghyuck fanfic #donghyuck scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct oneshot

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yoonguurt · 5 years ago

Text

Mine

Warning:this is a Mafia!au so there is some violence. Just a heads up

Word count:2,083

A/N: this was requested by @jookyunhoevercoupshoe it got way longer than I planned so I made it a post and I'll link it in the request answer. I got a bit into it so, I hope you like it, love!

You love your husband, you really do, but lately something's fishy. He's coming home later than usual, getting more calls that have him leaving in the middle of dinner, and despite asking what was up multiple times, he just pecked your forehead and told you there was nothing to worry about. So, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

The private investigator you hired wasn't very good at his job. All he could, or would, tell you was that your husband was involved in "shady dealings" whatever that meant. You had tried to ask Jooheon about what little evidence you had, which pretty much amounted to blurry pictures of him in back alleys with some pretty suspicious looking characters. Of course, that only angered him. "Stay out of it, Y/N. Everything I do, I do for your safety." was all he had to say, before yet another forehead peck and a quick exit. Yes, this would be something you would have to find out on your own.

Following Jooheon may not have been the best idea, but it was the only one you had. So here you were, parked in the shadows of some shady ass shipping dock, spying on your husband. You really did not like that it had come to this. All Jooheon had to do was be upfront with you, but no. Nothing even seemed to be going on, just men standing around with Jooheon front and center along with another man. He looked unlike the man you knew and loved. His big smile with those beautiful dimples was nowhere to be found. In its place, a hardened scowl. Though you couldn't hear him, you could tell he was speaking in rough, deep voice, not the honey tone you were used to. When he suddenly pulled out a gun and pointed at the man opposite of him, your heart seized. Who did you marry?

You made sure to be home before Jooheon. You needed time to prepare yourself. You needed answers and tonight was the night you would get them. You were in his office when you heard the front door open, you took a deep breath, and waited. When his office door opened, your husband came in and immediately gave you that beautiful smile. It almost made you forget why you were here. Almost. "Hey, baby" he said in his usual saccharine voice and moved to give you a kiss. You quickly dodged, leaving a bewildered look on your husband's face. "Jooheon, we need to talk." was your only reply.

After hours of discussion, and a bit of fighting, you had finally been told the truth. Your husband, the sweet bubbly man you knew and loved, was the head of the local mafia family. He had between 150 and 200 men beneath him, 6 of those being his most trusted.You learned that while he himself rarely got his hands bloody, he was not above doing so. Still, he insisted that he loved you and would never harm you in any way. You were his whole world, he said. And after a great deal of thought, you believed him.

The first month with your newfound knowledge went by smoothly. Not much changed between you and Jooheon. You still had dinner every night, sometimes it was interrupted, sometimes he didn't come him until the early morning. The main change was that you had been allowed to attend family parties with him. It had taken quite a while to talk him into allowing that, something about it being unsafe, but you weren't having that. So, you were allowed to attend on your husband's arm.

The looks you got at these parties made you feel on top of the world. Women looked at you with envy, men looked at you with lust. But no look compared to the look of love you saw when you looked into Jooheon's eyes. Of course, there were people who looked at you with disgust and hate. Your husband was a powerful man at the top of his game, someone was bound to get jealous and have ill will towards him, and you by association. But of course no one would dare try anything, not wanting to deal with the wrath of Lee Jooheon, right?

Tomorrow was you and Jooheon's anniversary. He bad promised that he would be yours the whole day and you two would do anything you wanted. After some thought, you decided all you wanted was an at home dinner date. Just the two of you, cooking dinner together and just being together.

As you got ready to go to the grocery store to buy what you needed, one of Jooheon's most trusted came up to you, ready to accompany you. Lately, Jooheon had been pushing for you to have someone with you at all times. Something about a new family trying to gain new ground. You adamantly refused. You were an adult and you could take care of yourself. You very politely told Changkyun that you didn't need him today, much to his displeasure. "Don't worry, Kyunnie. You won't get in trouble. I'll handle Jooheon." you called before closing the door behind you.

You made your shopping quick, just wanting to get what you needed and get out. You said the cashier, and made your way to your car. As you put your bags in the back, a young woman ran up to you in hysterics, trying to form a sentence. You spent a moment trying to calm her and finally she was able to get the words out. "My son. He's hurt. Please help me." You immediately asked her to take you too him to see what you could do to help. She led you to an alley nearby, and as you looked around for the boy, you felt a pain in the back of your head. Falling to the ground, you turned back to see what hit you. Right before you lost consciousness, the young woman bent down to look you in the eye. "Sorry, doll. Nothing personal, just business."

Changkyun knew Jooheon would have his head if he didn't go with you. He let you get a good lead, then followed. You were already in the store by the time he caught up, so he parked and waited. After about 20 minutes, you still hadn't come out. He had a bad feeling, but he opted to give you 10 more minutes. After 10 minutes came and went, he went inside to look for you, and came back out empty handed. He pulled out his phone, dialed and waited for an answer. "Boss, we have a big problem."

Jooheon wasn't mad, he was furious. He had never been so angry, and though he'd never admit it to his men, he was afraid. The one thing he loved the most, was taken from him and he had no idea where to look. He had given Changkyun a beating for his part. He should have been with you from the beginning. The kid would make it, he'd just be bruised and sore for a while. He had sent his best charmer, Hoseok, to get the security footage of the parking lot from the store. After about an hour, he got a call from Hoseok. "Boss, she walked off with some woman. Want the photo of her?" Jooheon scolded him for even asking, and told him to send it. Once he got the picture, he had his surveillance expert Hyungwon look at it to see if he could place the woman. Hyungwon almost immediately identified her as the girlfriend of the head of the new family in town. Now knowing who he was looking for, he called for his second in command. "Kihyun! Gather Hyunwoo and Minhyuk and let's go! Send Hoseok the location, tell him to meet us there" Getting behind the wheel, he took a deep breath, whispering to himself. "I'm coming, baby"

You woke up to a blast of water hitting your face. Your head was pounding and you had no idea where you were. You tried to move your hands, only to find them tied behind your back, legs tied to the bottom of the chair you were seated in. "Rise and shine, cupcake." came from an unfamiliar voice to your left. Turning your head, neck muscles screaming in pain, you saw a man you didn't recognize. He walked closer to you, giving you the chance to get a good look at him. He was definitely handsome, you'd give him that. You could see the gun on his hip, making it finally click that you were not among friends. "Now, my name is Jackson. I'd rather not hurt a pretty lady like yourself, but I need you to tell me what that husband of yours has planned." he spoke in a voice that seemed too kind to be coming from a man who'd kidnapped you. You knew you should just answer his questions, but you couldn't betray Jooheon like that. Mustering up your courage, you simply spit at his feet. "Ok. I understand why you would do that. One more chance. Tell me what you know, or I will beat it out of you." Sill refusing to resort to betrayal, you looked him in the eyes and replied with a "Fuck. You." Jackson's smile quickly faded. "If that's the way you want this to go, then fine. I think I'll enjoy breaking you, sweetheart." His reply frightened you, but you refused to show it, spitting again before his fist collided with your face.

After what felt like hours of beatings, your whole body hurt. You were pretty sure a couple of ribs were broken, you had a busted lip, and you were confident in thinking you two black eyes. It hurt to breathe. But not once did you think of telling him anything about Jooheon. You knew your husband would be looking for you. All you had to do was stay determined until he got to you. "Let's try this again. Tell me what I wa-" Jackson started before he was interrupted by a tall, slender man. "Boss. Someone's here." the tall one managed between breaths. Hope bubbled in your chest. Had Jooheon finally arrived? Your thoughts were confirmed when you heard a booming voice "Where's my fucking wife!"

You could hear gunshots and bodies falling to the ground. All you could do was hope it wasn't any of Jooheon's men. You knew he himself was safe, his voice calling your name. While Jackson was on the other side of the room, you screamed out to your husband as loud as you could manage. Jackson quickly crossed the room, pulled out his gun and pointed it at your head. Before he could pull the trigger, 6 guns were pointed at him. "That is a really bad idea, Wang." Jooheon warned as he made his way around to untie you.

Untying your hands and feet, he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You whimpered in pain and he immediately loosened his grip. "Baby, can you stand" he asked you, only to have you reply with a shake of your head. He scooped you up into his arms carefully, and began to walk out of the room. Kihyun's voice rang out just as you reached the door, "Boss. What do you want us to do with him?" Jooheon didn't even bother turning around, just ordered his men to shoot.

Jooheon carefully put you in the back seat of the car. He drove well above the speed limit, wanting to just have you home again. Once he reached your home, he carried you upstairs, helped you undress and ran you a bath. The entire time, he kissed your forehead and apologized and told you how much he loved you. When your bath was finished, he carried you to bed, had Kihyun bring you up some food, and planted himself next to you.

For the next two months or so, Jooheon never left your side. You had healed a while ago, but he refused to leave you. Your days were filled with cooking together, watching movies, and tickle fights. He still had a family to run, of course, but he let his men handle most of it. He made sure to make you his number one priority. He had almost lost you once, from then on he vowed to make sure that it was something that would never happen again.

#monsta x imagines #monsta x angst #monsta x #monsta x jooheon #jooheon #lee jooheon #jooheon angst #jooheon fluff #monsta x fluff #mafia au #mafia jooheon #monsta x scenarios

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hey-hamlet · 5 years ago

Text

BNHA AU Ideas : Shins-bro

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: Izuku and Shinso are best buds. Thats it.

shinsou has a terrible mum and he's complaining about it "ironically"

like : "lmao my mum is gonna beat my ass for this shitty mark" and he's shocked when izuku is like 3 seconds away from tears

izuku drags shinso to his house and his mum is home and shinso is Spooked bc,, adult?? friends???

hes so scared that inkos gonna yell at him for doing something stupid but as soon as he walks in the door izuku trips over his own feet taking off his shoes and tackle hugs his mum

so izuku and inko are laughing and like, half-fallen over bc izuku is a chunky boy and shinso is so lost??? at the door and inko uses her quirk to pull him over by the shirt and join in the hug

udhihdsf she!!! picks both of them up and squishes these good heroes in the best mother hug

izuku is laughing and shinso is sh o o k bc this is the nicest hug he's ever had???

inko puts them both down and flushes a little, says sorry for hugging shinso but she hasn't seen her boy in so long! and he must be a lovely young man if he's friends with izuku

she bustles off to go stir dinner on the stove and izuku just grins and looks at shinso

"isn't my mum great?!"

",,,yeah"

he and shinso go to his room and izuku pulls out his old console

admits he used to make his mum play this fighting game over n over when he was little, and that she always used to pick this female hero with a big white cape because she liked her hair. he giggles and tells shinso that if he wants izuku can maybbbeee let him play allmight

he picks endeavour for a sec and asks shinso if je just wants to beat up endeavour for a minute before they really start

it turns into them setting like 6 AI to level 9 endeavours and them both playing allmight to beat the crap out of them

inko walks in w tea and little cakes she made and gasps happily bc she loved that game! so they restart the round with 2 allmights + 1 nana plus all the endeavour AI

izuku and shinso keep protecting inko's character from all the fire bc she doesn't deserve this

izuku shoves a cupcake into shinsou's mouth when he goes to ask izuku something

shinsou like, lights up bc he's never had home-baked stuff before and its sooooo good so he just kind melodramatic puts his controller down and says "i guess this is kamino ward 2.0" as all might gets crispy fried by the AI and shoves the cupcake into his face

izuku c a ck l e s

izuku and inko, melodramatically "we can't let allmight 1 fall!! protect him!!!" and they try to save this idle allmight as shinso watches w icing on his face

inko and izuku save idle allmight and shinso cheers softly. inko shoves a cupcake into hers and izuku's faces and hands another to shinso in celebration

she then ducks out to go take care of the dinner again. izuku giggles and puts dollop of icing on shinsos nose, who sneezes then looks offended that his nose dared to sneeze

shinso tries to lick the icing off he nose

but like

it's not working

and izuku is losing it laughing but shinso is stubborn and won't stop just bc what he's doing is v stupid. they end up w shinso's legs on izuku’s bed w his back on the floor, izuku leaning against the bed. shinso isn't really sure why he thought this was a good idea

and they run through English homework and shinso and izuku are both shockingly good and both refuse to admit its bc they spend too much time on tumblr/youtube

shinsou: gee izuku why are u so good at english

izuku, who has been reading self insert all might x reader fics for like 50% of his life: no reason :)))

fdguhdfghufh shinsou, who has been reading angsty fics of all his faves instead of going to therapy: wow same ,,,

also im sorry but, izuku def reads allmight self insert that isn't like "uwu dating you" but its like "what if allmight was ur best friend" or "allmight is your secret dad??? uwu"

u know all those old ass watt pad fics where one direction adopts u, that but all might and all the chapters are just

all might tucks u into bed after a hard school day and tells you he’s proud of you

all might fucking detroit smashes ur class bully into the concrete

u and all might attend the premiere of his latest docuseries and u cry bc there’s a whole preface abt how u changed his life for the better and he could not ask for a better child

izuku and shinso go through their old tumblr/wattpad/deviantart accounts and cry laugh

its all in terrible english and one of the comments is "are you 10 or can you just not speak english"

6 years later, izuku responds

"both, actually"

izuku writing vent fics but they’re like

“all might punches my classmate bc he stole my fuckign apple juice kacchan i hate u”

"all might tells me i don't need my fuckign dad i haven't seen since i was 4 and he becomes my new dad"

“all might tells me i have no bedtime and makes my mom dinner bc she’s stressed and she needs a nap”

"all might adopts me and marries my mum and has a kid who becomes my brother and best friend"

he wrote them all between 6-12 he started writing better shit when he was 12 and made a new account (better, not good.)

his first round of fics were like all in first person and shinsou’s w h e e z i n g like why’d u think this was a good idea. izuku s cryign bc hE WAS SIX HITOSHI STOP IT. its like really terrible english too

izuku is mad but then he realizes he was hitoshi's deviantart open and he g r i n s (its all shitty drawings of cats and his OC Hero ) there are like twenty pictures of his actual cat taken on a shoddy ds camera

also as like, a soft dumb thing izuku is like speed typing on his laptop and shinsou is like??

izuku shushes him n tells him he wants to finish it before dinner

what hes done

is he wrote one of the shitty self insert fics, intentionally shittily but w allmight as izukus dad and eraserhead and shinsous and they live together for no reason at the "hero apartments" and can be brothers

shinso is laughing and crying at the same time and izuku is like

",,,, im gonna send it to present mic"

"nO"

"do you think ill get extra credit?"

"nO DOnT DO IT"

izuku in retaliation sending in some of shinsou’s oldass oc comics and mics just

“i mean

it’s in english,,,”

they get extra credit but it's not really helpful bc they both had As now they both have A plus' but dont wan them

(mic sends it to all might and eraserhead but like, redacts shinso and izukus names and aizawa is twitching w either rage or laughter, all might is bright red and giggling like an idiot)

pls the teachers gc is just “all might and eraserhead tuck u in and call u a Good Boy” for the next three months

as a running joke, whenever they can, that's what izuku and shinso write for English

like in german we had to write plays and act out little skits in german. in english, they do that but like, izuku is eraserhead and shinso is a cat stuck in a tree

they have to write sentences w different words? and they get "comfort" "rescue" and "light" and its all shit like

"my dad eraserhead rescued me from homework because mic is terrible"

"all might's fatherly love lights up the hole in my heart"

"the fatherly aura of allmight and eraserhead brings me comfort on my darkest days"

izuku gives the ol puppy dog eyes to aizawa who begrudgingly lets them sleep over at inko's house

and there is only one bed! and they cant decide who gets it

neither of them sleep in it and they both stubbornly lay on the floor. it takes like 5 seconds for them to start laughing

#bnha au #bnha #shinsbro au #shindeku #mostly platonic but w/e #shinsou hitoshi #Shinsou #midoriya izuku #Izuku #Midoriya #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #midoriya inko #present mic #All Might

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shimmershaewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 25 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title: Waltzing's for Dreamers

Rating: PG?

Warnings: some adult language, angst.

Characters/Pairings: Carol/Daryl, Sophia, OC, Lily Chambler, Meghan Chambler, Michonne, mentions of Aaron, Tara Chambler, Andrea Harrison, Andre, others.

Author's Note: so sorry for the delay on this story. I've been blocked so horribly and just down in general about my writing. This isn't my best chapter by any means, and not quite what I envisioned when I first drew it up, but words have been so hard for me to come by lately that it's a relief just to put it out there. Enjoy anyway?

Waltzing’s for Dreamers

Seven years after Vegas. Middle of March. The immediate aftermath of Daryl seeing Sophia again.

“Coming to the game, Mr. Dixon?”

Daryl’s still reeling. Trapped inside one of them kaleidoscopes, inside a jumbled rainbow of colors and shifting emotions that only gets more and more distorted with each twist so he don’t answer. Isn’t capable of it really. Just lets the drone of the boy’s words go in one ear and out the other while he grips his steering wheel with blanched fingers.

“Zach. Leave the man alone.”

“Yeah, Zach. He look like he wants to watch us get our asses beat?”

“Who says we’re going to get our asses beat?”

“Coach.”

“Coach wouldn’t say that.”

“He put it in different words. But he definitely said it.”

“Shut up, Jimmy. Nobody asked you anyway.”

The boys argue back and forth, but it’s white noise to Daryl. He’s lost inside his own head, struggling to put together the pieces of a long-shelved puzzle. Just when he feels like he almost has it, has the elusive lynchpin within his grasp, the last bell rings and kids spill out of the school in every direction like ants scurrying to collect crumbs, jolting him rudely back into the moment. “Game’s near Woodbury?”

“Yeah, Man. You coming?”

“Dude looks like death, Gage. Leave him alone.”

“Pfft. Whatever. Just forget it. We’re running late as it is.”

Their voices fade the further they get away but his little girl’s rings loud and clear in Daryl’s recent memory. Carol’s joins it and another small voice, a voice he doesn’t recognize but somehow knows all the same.

“I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead ‘cause no way would my daddy leave me.”

“Sophia. Sweetheart. Not here. Not now. Your brother…”

Carol had frozen at his sharp intake of breath, her blue sky eyes stormy as she’d taken the small boy by the shoulders and tried to steer him away. Tried to distract him from the train wreck unfolding before him, the screech and ear-splitting crash of their past colliding with the painful, harsh reality of their present.

“Nobody.”

That single word, cloaked in ‘Phia’s tears as it had been, still feels like a knife lodged deep in Daryl’s floundering heart. Still echoes in his ears. Haunts him. But it’d been Carol’s softly uttered addition that’d twisted the knife and even now has his life’s blood flowing out of him in a painful torrent. Has him all out of sorts and all but oblivious to the rest of the still moving world around him.

“Nobody that you know, Baby. C’mon. Let’s get you home okay? You and Sis both. Sophia?”

“Mr. Dixon?”

“I didn’t…”

“Mr. Dixon? Can you hear me?”

Cool fingers circle his wrist, discreetly checking his pulse before moving to calmly loosen his death grip on the steering wheel, and the fog finally lifts enough for Daryl to focus. Clarity sharpens his mind but also heightens the grief—and budding anger—that he feels and he turns his gaze to the woman eyeing him with muted concern. He recognizes her as the school nurse. Has had to send more than one of his dumbass students her way in the short time he’s been at this gig. Seen her be friendly with Carol and knows where her sympathies lie. Still. He feels the overwhelming need to explain himself. “I didn’t know. I thought…”

Lily cuts him off with a subtle shake of her head and a suggestion for the young daughter that lingers uncertainly behind her. “Meghan, why don’t you run back inside? Grab something to drink for Mr. Dixon? You were right. He doesn’t look so good.” When the little girl has scampered away and the bus carrying the baseball team is gone along with most of the cars in the parking lot, she finally speaks again. “My sister Tara babysits for Carol. Our daughters are friends, Mr. Dixon. Sophia’s older, but they tell each other everything. Any explanations you think you have for abandoning your family? Sophia and Carol deserve to hear them from you. Understood?”

A ragged sigh whistles past Daryl’s lips and he blinks against the sting in his eyes. “’Phia ain’t in the place to hear nothing I say.”

Lily’s expression softens but she holds her tongue.

Daryl nods to himself and drums still nerveless fingertips against his steering wheel as he gazes straight ahead. “Tell your girl thanks for me, but I got somewhere I have to be.”

Lily stops him with a hand on his arm and an inherent plea in the way she says his name. “Mr. Dixon.”

Daryl ducks his head shamefully. “Mr. Dixon was a man didn’t deserve to be called Daddy. Guess I’m more like the old man than I thought. Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna bother them. Got more sense than that.” He doesn’t meet her eyes again, afraid of the pity that renders her voice a quiet murmur.

“Maybe she’s not ready to hear you now, but if I know Sophia at all? Someday she will be.”

“Someday. Yeah, maybe.”

Turning his key in the ignition, Daryl brings his old truck to life and its cantankerous rumble is so loud Lily almost has to shout to be heard.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Gotta be.”

“At least stay until Meghan gets back with your drink.”

“Done told you…”

“You got somewhere to be. I know. I heard you. Just. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from somebody you barely know. But don’t hurt them even more by doing something stupid.”

Daryl mulls over her words. Tries desperately to take them to heart as the truck eats up the miles between King County and Woodbury. To push the building anger he feels away with middling results. Welcome distraction comes when he passes an athletic complex halfway there. Sees the King County baseball coach running practice drills with the boys before the big game and winces because he’s gotten to know the man somewhat. Aaron’s a good guy. Another one of Carol’s friends and coworkers. Earnest. Hard working. Friendly and welcoming to a fault. Ill-suited to coaching but out there anyway, determined to turn lemons into lemonade, to make something positive out of something negative when Daryl aches for nothing more in that moment than a confrontation and some answers.

“Sophia. Sweetheart. Not here. Not now. Your brother…”

He repeats Lily’s sensible words as a mantra, even as the puzzle pieces start to fall into place. The harder the fist around his heart squeezes, the hotter his blood starts to boil. Her brother? But Andrea…

“Nobody that you know, Baby. C’mon. Let’s get you home okay? You and Sis both. Sophia?”

By the time he pulls into the Woodbury parking lot, he’s at fever pitch again. The truck has barely lurched to a stop before he’s jumping out of it and slamming the door, striding to the front entrance and a security guard that immediately diagnoses him a threat, abandoning his post to prevent Daryl from going any further.

“Sir. Do you have an appointment?”

Daryl blatantly ignores his question. Indignantly huffs a half-truth as he deftly sidesteps the man. Woman had been quick to shove those divorce papers under his nose. “I’m here to see my lawyer. We go way back. Don’t need no appointment.”

“Sir,” the man repeats calmly. “I’m going to need you to stop where you’re at and show me your hands. Keep them where I can see them while I verify a few things. Do that and if your lawyer’s receptive to seeing you without an appointment, we’ll go from there.”

Sighing in resignation, Daryl agrees and holds his hands out to his sides. “Fine. What you need to know?”

“You can start by giving me your name and who you’re here to see.”

Some fifteen minutes later, when his anger’s cooled considerably and the pain and devastation of all he’s missed has begun to sink back in deep, Daryl looks up from the weary study of his worn boots when he hears a familiar voice. It doesn’t belong to the person he expected or wanted to see. Instead, it belongs to Michonne, and one look at the grave expression the woman wears has him swallowing hard because she knows. He doesn’t know how much she knows or when she found it out, but betrayal hangs low and heavy around her shoulders too. “She too much a coward to face me herself?”

Michonne’s lips pinch into a trembling, disappointed frown before she sucks in a shaky breath. Her eyes never straying from his, she addresses the guard that waits patiently nearby. “It’s okay, DJ. Daryl’s good people. He’s just been hit with a bit of upsetting news today.”

“Sorry, Man,” DJ apologizes. “Hope you know I was just doing my job.”

As soon as they’re alone, Michonne allows Daryl only a brief glimpse of the disappointed tears in her eyes before straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat. “I understand…”

“No,” Daryl instantly interjects through gritted teeth. “You don’t.”

Nodding to concede his point, she begins again. “I know you’ve just been blindsided. It’s not exactly the same, but I have too. Be that as it may, there’s a little boy behind those doors, my little boy, and I know none of us right now understand this whole mess, but Andre? Daryl, it makes even less sense to him. Do you get that? One minute his mama and Aunt Andrea were happy and laughing. The next? The next they’re…they’re not.”

“I’m sorry, ’Chonne. But…”

“But nothing, Daryl.” Impassioned now, Michonne defends Andrea. On one count at least. “Andrea wanted to come out here. She wanted to talk to you herself. I convinced her not to. Me. Because she was the only one that could console my son. So please. Remember that. Think of him before you storm in there dead set on getting your pound of flesh. Okay? Think of him and treat him the same way you’d treat the son you just found out about.”

Daryl’s throat grows tight again and the tears that had stung his eyes earlier return with a vengeance, streaming unnoticed down his cheeks. Hoarsely, he pleads with Michonne to understand. “My boy, ‘Chonne. I didn’t know. She told me, no, she let me think he died. Even worse…I want some answers, goddammit.”

Michonne grabs his hand, offers herself up as an anchor of sorts. Something steady to hang on to in the onslaught of emotion. “And if they don’t satisfy you? We can’t go back, Daryl. Only forward. What then?”

“Got no fuckin’ clue, but don’t I deserve the chance to figure that out for myself? And to do that, I need to talk to Andrea.”

“Okay. Follow me. We’ll get you your answers.”

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6ftgirlfriend · 5 years ago

Text

Falling For Stars

Collaborators: @sweetdreamsjetaime 💝/ edited by @lovebird1517 💖

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury

Summary: Rising star, Lucas Lallemant, has no clue what’s going on. For all he knows, his costar, Eliott Demaury, doesn’t give a fuck about him. He had made that pretty clear when he got all cozy with his girlfriend, Lucille, right in front of him. So can someone explain to him why the hell everyone thinks they’re dating? or Co-Stars to lovers!AU with all the angst/fluff and French shenanigans to keep me up at night!

Episode 1 - Regret.

AO3 Link

He was falling into oblivion, willingly with no sense of control

Falling from the heavens, they would shine so bright

Falling into the ocean of his eyes,

they would pierce through the soul

Falling into the storms of his embrace, they would unravel the heart

The collision was inevitable, the comet’s end

No shooting star should feel this, to be a burning and dying wish

It was endlessly cold, infinitely dark amongst the others

He was the fallen star, forever trying to stay ablaze…

—The Little Lone Star

SAMEDI 9:12

Lucas jolts awake by a sudden noise. He’s brought back to reality when he hears the roaring echoes of the shower being turned on.

He squints up at a pale ceiling that was not his own. His was made out of glass that allowed him to gaze up at the stars whenever life got too rough. He’s always found comfort in them, but they are not here right now to calm his beating heart. Where the hell is he? The bed sheets curled around his torso are definitely not his. They are soft and comforting yet suffocating at the same time. The tidiness and luxury of the bed are a sharp contrast to how messy and average he remembers his to be. He feels out of place. Seriously? What the hell is happening? The grey curtains hanging loosely against the glass frames barely prevent any sunlight from seeping through. Lucas almost goes blind while trying to blink his heavy eyes open. He feels dizzy, disoriented and worst of all; like total absolute shit. Fuck! How much did he drink last night?

The hangover reduces Lucas to nothing but a living corpse. He tries his hardest to sober up, but every single one of his brain cells is screaming at him to stop overworking them. Not only is the sun trying to blind him, but the birds outside are chirping loudly to God knows what tune. The sounds of bustling cars and productivity outside rang through his ears and intensifies his headache. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs at the absolute mess it is. Suddenly, a cool breeze grazes his exposed skin sending a shiver through his whole body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. He curls up in the bedding once more but sits up in surprise when he notices that he was completely naked and space next to him is empty. He truly loathed his existence at the moment.

Lucas looks around the room with a big frown. The scattered clothes on the floor and the lone ripped condom packet by the trashcan don’t leave much to the imagination. Fuck, he had sex with someone yesterday in his drunken daze, didn’t he?

Lucas groans from the realization. He reaches for his clothes by the bed and tries to get dressed quickly. The sooner he gets the hell out of where ever the fuck he is, the quicker he would feel sane again.

He stops halfway through putting his shirt on when he hears the shower turn off. He turns to see an unfamiliar figure step out of the bathroom. Lucas chokes on air. The guy in front of him is half-naked, and Lucas’s brain short circuits. Droplets of water slowly drip down the man’s body, and Lucas uses his remaining self-control not to combust on the spot.

The nameless man seems unfazed by Lucas’s presence and proceeds to shake his damp chocolate curls into a small towel; his arm muscles flex with every movement. He looks unreal with a lean body that’s as tall as the door frame and broad, muscular shoulders. His skin is pale, and the yellow tint of sunlight makes him look as if he’s glowing.

Lucas snaps out of his daze and mentally scolds himself for thirsting over a stranger. The shame he was feeling a few moments ago comes back to hit him once again at full force.

Lucas doesn’t properly look at the guy’s face, but he knows.

It’s not him.

This man, as hot as he is, is not the one he wishes him to be. The one he dreams he could wake up to every morning. The one he wants is not his to take and keep. Lucas can’t even fantasize about what it would feel like to be with him. Yet, there’s an invisible pull that always leads straight to him.

Him, who, ever since the beginning, would send his heart running for the hills whenever he made eye contact with those steel blue eyes. God those eyes.

Lucas is too hungover to handle all this shit this early in the morning. He feels like an avalanche is submerging him. His whole body is frozen, and his heart is heavy. He fucked up. He really fucked up this time.

It hits him out of nowhere as the events of last night clear up in his head.

Regret.

***

YESTERDAY NIGHT, VENDREDI 21:41

The camera lights are flashing and lighting up the night. Lucas scoffs at all the people dressed in big fancy gowns and expensive suits. He wants to tell them that this is The César Awards and not a fashion show. Lucas lets it go because he won’t allow any negativity tonight.

He’s rejoicing because Je T’aime won Best Film. It’s the first movie Lucas played in that gained so much success. He even got nominated for the award of Best Actor because of it, but sadly he lost it to his costar, Eliott Demaury.

Lucas’s not even mad about it because anyone that has ever worked with Eliott knows that the man has a natural talent in acting.

Lucas remembers how shocked he was when he received the news that he would be staring along Eliott. Around that time, Lucas’s career in acting was starting to pick up after the public loved his performance in La Honte. His portrayal of a struggling teen with Tourette’s syndrome blew the masses away because it was the first time they saw mental illness depicted in a positive light. Two days after the news, he got to read over the script and instantly fell in love.

The film was based off a best-selling novel; about a Canadian teen, Hugo Babineaux, sent to study abroad in Paris, France. While there, he falls for his host family’s eldest son, Julien Favre. Julien is a devout Catholic, but couldn’t resist falling in love with the Hugo. Their forbidden love is passionate and bittersweet, as the film touches on the issues of homophobia and religion—the journey of coming to accept one’s sexuality and owning up to who you want to be.

Lucas practiced day and night to make sure he matched Eliott’s talent and did the role of Hugo justice.

But no amount of practice could have prepared him for the first time he met Eliott. Because fucking hell, the guy was beyond gorgeous in person.

Eliott’s icy gaze left Lucas breathless.

And I’m falling so hard for you.

He almost broke his neck from having to gaze up at him.

Would you be there to catch me, too?

He couldn’t be real. Those luminous caramel locks had to be made from strands of silk, entwisted, like a storm. He looked like an angel among men.

Maybe I should keep this to myself.

It was honestly intimidating to be working first time with such a renowned actor.

Waiting ‘til I know you better.

Lucas could only hope his weak, stupid heart could take it.

I don’t wanna be something you can throw away.

The film was a massive hit; the fans went crazy for the chemistry that Lucas and Eliott shared. They were the perfect duo. Lucas had come to understand everyone’s fondness towards Eliott, especially when he smiled so big that it reached his eyes. Or how his kind and bright demeanor would light up the room. But those little things shouldn’t matter. Why should he care that Eliott made his heart flip every time he enters a room?

It’s nothing but stage fright jitters. Lucas would reassure himself.

Eliott is an enigma. His happy-go-lucky attitude is a starch contrast to the vivid and dynamic characters he plays. His first role was that of a blind prodigal genius painter who had to adapt to life after a tragic accident flipped his whole world upside down. His performance in the movie landed him many awards, and he became one of the youngest actors to win the prestigious award in France.

Despite the unworldly harmony between Lucas and Eliott on the big screen and during interviews, it’s an entirely different story behind the scenes.

Anyone who knew these two could see the tension between them. Eliott loves to tease, calling him a hedgehog because of his wild spiky hair, and Lucas tries very hard not to blush every time he touched it. He also tends to sneak up on him and whisper random things in his ears, and that makes Lucas lose his mind. And Eliott’s answer to his flustered face is to outright laugh at him. Why did he let this guy get to him so much? Every time they would touch even by accident, Lucas would feel breathless.

Eliott must be doing it on purpose; he must enjoy seeing Lucas reduced to a complete mess.

But Lucas is done with these little games.

He plans to confront Eliott tonight and ask him exactly what the hell they are.

Lucas tried his best to avoid doing relationships, only settling for one night stands. He’s too scared of the paparazzi invading his privacy. Besides, Lucas isn’t out to the public yet. But he feels something for Eliott and is willing to risk it all for the chance of being in a relationship with him.

Lucas makes his way backstage to Eliott’s dressing room where the talk will take place. If everything goes well, they would be boyfriends by the end of the night. He abruptly stops when he sees Eliott in front of the room arms hooked around the small waist of a brunette. Lucas has seen her before. Her name’s Lucille Dubois; a supermodel, singer, and songwriter. She’s famous and loved by everyone. Lucas swallows the lump in his throat. They look good together. Perfect.

Of course, they would be dating. Lucas turns away, and his heart clenches at the reality that nothing could ever happen between Eliott and him. All the sneaky touches and stolen looks were for nothing. He can’t believe he let himself think that there was a chance Eliott would like him back.

He needs a drink. Now.

He heads straight out for the bar.

***

After only a few shots, the world around Lucas starts to spin, and he feels the adrenaline pumping through his whole body.

That’s when he sees it: a pair of long legs striding towards him in determination. Muscular and veiny hands pull him wrap around his waist and pull him in a tight hug. There’s barely any space between them, and Lucas shivers when a deep voice whispers in his eyes.

Lucas wishes the nameless hands buried in his hair belong to Eliott. But the reality hits when the man says in a low and raspy voice.

“I’m Étienne.”

Lucas looks away from his lips to his darkening eyes. Lucas is sure he won’t remember the name for very long, but he nods and presses his lips against his in a heated kiss.

He doesn’t know how they got to the apartment. Which wall he’s currently pressed against, but Lucas doesn’t complain. Their clothes are gone the moment they get to the bedroom.

Behind his closed lids, Lucas sees red flashes of visions. Is it another daydream? A memory? All he sees are familiar dark eyes piercing through him. Not now, please. Lucas runs his hand through Étienne’s hair in hopes of distracting himself from thinking of Eliott.

Why is he in my mind right now?

Étienne’s warm lips trace Lucas’s collarbone, and Lucas wonders what Eliott’s lips will feel like on his skin. He hates the fact that he’s so jealous of Lucille. All Lucas wanted to do when he saw Lucille wrapped in Eliott’s arms was to replace her. He wants to be the one that gets to kiss Eliott every time he wants and feel his beautiful hands on his body.

But that would never happen because Eliott doesn’t love me.

PRESENT, SAMEDI 9:31

A voice fades in,“…—cas, Lucas? Hello? Still with me?”

Lucas blinks at the waving hand in from his face. He cranes his neck up to look into a pair of concerned onyx eyes.

“Great, you’re back. You scared me.” Ethan? Elias? Says with a sigh.

His face immediately lights up when he locks eyes with Lucas.

“How was the view from up there? Did you catch any stars?”

His deep voice brings Lucas back to reality. Lucas must have been mentally gone for a long time because the man was now dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie. He was also holding a coffee cup in each hand. The aroma of the drinks makes him crave the caffeine he needed to wake up.

Lucas quirks his lips because he’s suddenly feeling shy. He’s still half-naked and is in desperate need of a shower. He stares at the wall behind the boy trying to find his way out of this shitty situation.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s been fun.’ No, too passive. ‘Look, this can’t happen again.’ Too insensitive. ‘It’s not you; it’s me?’ What a fucking cliche.

“Uh, ahem—No stars, just really tired.” He settles avoiding eye contact at all cost.

“Yeah, I get that.” The pretty stranger chuckles softly with a coy smirk.

“I mean we didn’t get much sleep last night. Are you sure you are okay?”

Lucas nods shyly, cheeks heating up.

“Good. How about some coffee? Croissants?” The guy smiles brightly and gosh, why does he have to be so lovely? It only makes him feel ten times worst for what he’s about to do.

“Coffee should do, thank you…?” Lucas dragged it out, waiting for a name as he takes the cup of coffee. The handsome stranger seems to get the memo and answers quickly. “It’s Étienne, Étienne Calvet.” Étienne’s smile grows wider when Lucas almost spills coffee on himself.

Étienne Calvet. The name rings a bell; he’s a famous model in Paris. He has soulful eyes and perfect features that are often present on brand names such as Givenchy, Lanvin, Prada, and YSL. Lucas heard a lot about him because Étienne is also a writer and openly bisexual. Lucas mentally scolds himself for not realizing who he is sooner.

“No need to thank me. Listen, last night, we didn’t have time to introduce ourselves, but I know you. Lucas Lallemant, right?”

Lucas could only nod, still in shock. Étienne squeals.

“Wow! I can’t believe it. You almost won the César Awards. Congratulations on the nomination! The movie was beautiful. That scene where he dives into the ocean when he found out—” Étienne goes onto praising Je T'aime in great detail.

Lucas wants to dig a grave and bury himself in it. Étienne sounds genuinely interested and excited like a fanboy meeting their favorite celebrity for the first time. Lucas is not sure if he should be flattered or creeped out.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it. He needs to come clean to this guy. He swallows his guilt down and proceeds to grab the sheets around his waist, giving Étienne a stern look as he gets up from the bed.

“Look, thank you, Étienne.” Étienne’s smile only gets brighter.

“For everything but I’m sorry this…” Lucas gestures between them. “It can’t happen again…” Lucas feels like vanishing into thin air when he sees Étienne’s eyes dime slightly. He gazes downward for a few seconds before bringing his face back up with his signature smile.

“As I said before, no need to thank me. But could we at least be friends?” Étienne is now looking down at the ground again, resembling a kicked puppy. He has a way of making Lucas feel like a total dick.

Lucas knows it’s not a good idea. He should decline and spare Étienne the heartbreak, but he’s not thinking clearly right now. So he holds out his hand with a small smile.

“Okay. Just friends.”

***

SAMEDI 10:19

After almost an hour or so, Lucas finally steps out into the streets of Paris. After running through the shower and exchanging numbers with Étienne, they said their goodbyes. Étienne’s hopeful expression is going to haunt Lucas forever. But for now, Lucas pushes all that away and focuses on getting home.

Lucas has always loved mornings the most out of all the times of the day. Fresh air, dew on the pavement and the calming ambiance are precisely what he needs at the moment to relax.

Which is why he decides to take a short walk around the city. He still can’t believe he slept with a complete stranger. A part of him gets it; he was heartbroken and miserable. For fuck sakes, the guy he loves is dating another person. He had every right to act on his emotions. He fell for Eliott like those shooting stars he sees every night before falling asleep. Ugh.

He shakes his head to snap out of his negative thoughts. This needs to stop. Seriously. He needs to focus.

Lost in thought, Lucas doesn’t notice a group of suspicious men following him. The men were discreetly taking pictures of Lucas, trying to figure out where he was last night. According to the rumors, Lucas left with a special someone. They were vultures preying on the carcass of any previous night’s drama.

They wanted to be the first one to get the scoop, and so they hurriedly make their way to an unsuspecting Lucas.

“Lucas Lallemant! Monsieur Lallemant! Can we ask what your whereabouts were last night!?”

Fuck. My. Life.

Lucas mentally curses his luck. He knew this was going to happen eventually, but why now? Lucas knows he looks like complete crap right now, and that’s not an appropriate look for the cameras. Great fucking timing. The universe must be laughing at him.

“Monsieur Lallemant, are you aware of the rife speculations that you might be seeing someone? Can you tell us who!” One of them urges boldly. What kind of sick question is that? Lucas is shaking; not only from anger but also from fear.

His fears of being outed. He’s afraid the world would criticize him, and people would label him as just another “gay icon.” He didn’t want to be a label. He’s just a man named Lucas that happens to like other men. That should not be a reason for people to criticize him.

Did they see us? Who else saw him leave the party?

Lucas is usually really good at dealing with the mobs of paparazzi, but today, he is beyond exhausted. Not wanting to start a scene, he quickly covers his face and flees from the scene. He vaguely hears them say something about a hickey at the back of his neck followed with the sounds of cameras flashing.

His eyes widen in panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Lucas can’t breathe because his lungs are now filled with dread. His heart is drumming quickly in his chest.

Flashes of this father’s disappointed scowl washed over him. He feels sick to his stomach. His dad hated his existence already, so what would he think when he founds out Lucas is gay?

He would probably say with a disgusted face that he was disappointed in Lucas.

No!

Why should he even bother if he’s going to be a disappointment anyway?

Shut up!

Why can’t he be like the others? He just had to end up being the unwanted gay son, didn’t he?

Stop it!

Lucas starts running; becoming one with the wind. He is running away from not only the paparazzi but also all his problems. His heels are clicking on the stone pavement as he zooms past pedestrians and street performers.

Could this day get any worse?

And the universe gladly accepts the challenge. Within the next moment, his phone starts vibrating from a message. Lucas abruptly slows down and hesitantly pulls the device from his pocket, unlocking the screen.

It’s from him.

Eliott.

Eliott: “Mind telling me why people are saying we started dating?”

Eliott: “You could’ve asked me first, Lulu. ♥️”

The next text sent makes his heart drop. It’s a slightly blurry picture of himself leaving the bar. He looks extremely drunk and is holding hands with someone. Lucas is a hundred percent sure it’s Étienne dragging Lucas to his apartment. Thank fuck, the picture is so blurry no one could see anything but Lucas. However, the headline reads, “WHO WAS THIS MYSTERIOUS NEW FLAME?” And the article goes into details of webbing lies out of the photo.

It’s like time had stopped and the world froze. Lucas’ head is pounding from everything that’s happening at once.

This was it — the biggest mistake of his life.

He wishes for a falling star to crash upon him. He just wants it to end it all.

TO BE CONTINUED…

(A/N: Oh.My.God. This is my first time writing fanfiction, guys! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Special thanks to @sweetdreamsjetaime and @lovebird1517 for helping me!

Additional info: I’m thinking of making this into a tv show format about these two soulmates having to work for their love (the angst, the drama!) but it’ll be worth it by the end. There’s going to be behind the scenes content too (meaning; covers, magazines, and social media content?), so watch out for those (SKAM style��). I would also love to read your feedback and any thoughts you have on the story! ☺️ Thank you so much for reading! Best wishes!🌠)

#skam france #skamfr #elu fanfic #elu fic #myedits #elu aesthetics #ffs fic #falling for stars fic #i can't believe i did this #this was so fun!#I hope you enjoyed this #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu au #elu au fic #skam elu #elu

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