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liliesoftherain · 3 years

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My Everlasting Alstroemeria

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader; Midoriya Izuku x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst?

Summary: Part 2 of Alstroemeria

A/N: Hi y’all, here's part 2!! Bakugou’s Pov. Let me know if you want a Deku pov????

-----

“Say hello dear; this is Lady (l/n) and her lovely daughter, Miss (y/n) (l/n).”

Katsuki stands there as The Lady bows gracefully with her daughter following suit, so he straightens and greets them as he’s been taught to.

The Lady smiles, turning to his mother, and converses about something he has already tuned out. He stares at you, all properly cleaned and groomed--he wants to roll his eyes. He hasn’t encountered many girls his age before, but he knows they were all too, too girly.

“Katsuki, why don’t you show Miss (l/n) around the gardens outside? I am sure she will appreciate the sights,” His mother gently shoves him closer to where you stood, grinning triumphantly and looking at your mother with a wink. “Now, friend, we have an entire tray of biscuits calling our name--shall we?”

The adults walk off to the parlor, and Katsuki knows they’ll have a perfect view of the gardens from there. Just great, he has to continue to pretend to be nice.

He saunters away, yet doesn’t make it more than three steps as he realizes you still haven’t moved. How bothersome.

“Are you coming, or not?”

“Oh, um, of course!”

Katsuki actually rolls his eyes this time, all while struggling to keep his hands from entering his pockets--he can still feel the welts of his mother’s fan as she reminded him of how improper he acted. You keep quiet, and he supposes it’s better than you talking his ear off like the other boys from his school.

The garden was nothing new to him, the same flowers and exotic plants, perfectly trimmed and on display. The marble fountain in the center of it all was always a fan favorite--even if he could care less about the structure.

Despite his feelings, he noticed that your wide eyes have settled upon it so he brings you close enough to view the detailed carvings along the sides.

“It’s beautiful!”

“I suppose.”

He huffs, sitting on the ledge as you continue to admire it. The longer you stare, the more aggravated he grows, and he can’t help as he stands to shout for your attention.

“Hey! It’s just a fountain--Woah!”

Katsuki wasn’t expecting you to be leaning down to touch the water so close to where he was, so the moment he stands and turns he ends up bumping into you--sending you straight into the water.

The fountain isn’t deep, so you sit up without a struggle, but you are soaked. Your hair is ruined, and you spit water from your mouth. Rubbing your eyes of stray droplets, Katsuki winces at the fact you will start to cry at any moment--as well as the hits he’ll receive later, although he tries not to think about it.

“I, what were you, are you okay? Why were you so close to me?”

He grabs you by the arms and tries to pull you out, sending nervous glances to the large windows to his left. He can tell you’re still processing what happened; you’re rapidly blinking and proving to be of little help as Katsuki drags you out and plops you to sit on the edge--much to his annoyance.

When your (e/c) eyes bore into his own, he knows this is it; this is the moment where you’ll start to throw a fit, and he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Don’t cry, for the love of--”

Instead of tears, he is granted with laughter that thoroughly confuses him--why were you laughing? You chortle loudly, gripping the sides of your stomach and leaning forward. Katsuki doesn’t know whether he should steady you or step back, so he just stays still, watching as your body shakes and shivers from the breeze--yet you still laugh.

“What, just what is so funny?” Exasperation tugs his lips downward, and you struggle to contain yourself.

“Sorry. I just can’t help it--I, I fell into a fountain! Mother is going to be furious.”

You stand, and Katsuki jumps back to avoid getting wet; your skirts are weighed down by the water, and it falls to the ground around your shoes. Although, it doesn’t matter much, seeing as your shoes are also soaked straight through. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists in amusement, he struggles to contain his own laughter at the full sight of you.

“You look like a wet cat.”

“I feel like a wet cat.”

“You aren’t going to cry, are you?”

“Cry?” You tilt your head in confusion, grasping the ends of your dress to ring out as much water as you could. “Why would I cry?”

“Because, um, well, because you fell?”

“So?”

“So now your dress is ruined. Don’t you girls care about stuff like that?”

“It will dry, won’t it?” You shrug, grinning brightly up at him. “Besides, these dresses are pretty itchy.”

Huh. You were strange--especially for a girl.

-----

“Katsu!”

He turns at the sound of your voice, watching as you hike your skirts up and run towards him. He faintly hears your mother yelling at you to behave, to act more proper, but you pay no heed as you continue on. You’re out of breath by the time you reach him, yet you’re still grinning wide, with a missing tooth on display.

“You’re not supposed to run like that--you act like such a boy sometimes.”

He has to look away as you puff your cheeks in protest, smoothing your dress down as if it would help. You were awfully annoying.

“How mean of you Katsu, I came for you to be nice and play with me, not for you to be grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy!”

“You are too!”

Katsuki huffs, flicking your forehead before running further off into the woodland behind the manor. The yelp of aggravation causes him to laugh, and he turns back to see you chasing after him--the bottom of your dress collecting dust and you weren’t upset about it.

Good, he didn’t want to be friends with a girl who was fussy and cry-babyish after all.

-----

“Katsu!”

He holds in a sigh, seeing the table you have set before you--the same table you have been decorating differently for the last week in fact. Why did you have to do this anyway? What was the point of setting a table--didn’t the maids do that? Who cares what it looks like, it was just for gossiping ladies wasn’t it?

He spots another occupant and the table, and this time he cannot hold in his sigh of annoyance. Of course, Izuku had to be here, the little wimp never knew how to say no to you.

“Katsu, come sit and enjoy some tea!”

Your smile was small--formal--and Katsuki found the sight rather gross. Still, he sat down. Not because you asked him to, he was just tired after having to come all the way to your home. That was all.

“Good to see you, Katsuki!” Izuku waves shyly.

“I would say likewise, but it would not be gentlemanly of me to be dishonest.”

“Behave.”

He rolls his eyes at your input, leaning back in the chair as you come close and pour him a cup of tea. He observes your side profile, the way your brows--that used to be furrow in concentration as you struggled not to spill a drop--now stay smooth and worry-free. You’re graceful and poised, something he wasn’t used to. You catch him looking through the corner of your eye, and you smile sweetly at him. He quickly huffs, looking away annoyed.

Girls were so weird--you were so weird.

Katsuki watches as you gracefully take your place in the chair across from him, conversing in idle chatter with Izuku about who knows what. You sat straight, arms perfectly crossed over your lap, with a flawlessly pressed gown, and not a hair out of place.

“I just feel as if something is missing from the décor, don’t you agree?”

“I believe it is lovely, (y/n).”

“Well, thank you Izu, but I really believe there is just, just something that I need to add.”

You sigh, face screwing up as you ponder, and Katsuki acknowledges that he prefers your face this way. Less put together, more you. It’s easier to make fun of that way, of course.

“Your face will be stuck if you continue looking in such an ugly manner.”

“Oh hush you fiend, I do not need beauty tips from someone whose frown lines are more prominent than his fathers.”

Katsuki exhales quickly, amused at your quick wit.

Time passes and they leave you, Katsuki sending Izuku off with a warning of his victory at the next fencing match. Yet before he can fully leave your tea room, he glances back and watches as you continue to fret over whatever it could be you need for your final table piece. He turns away before you notice, heading home, and finds himself in his own mother’s parlor.

Her spread is just about the same as any other boring table, and yet set in the center was a large bouquet of her favorite flowers. Petals decorated around the tins and plates that would have held the food. Scoffing in distaste he leaves for his room, muttering how boring and stupid tea parties were and how he would never understand.

On his walk home after school the next day, he takes a long way home through a field of flora. He didn’t want to go home right away, that was all, and this was the longest route he knew. It wasn’t his fault it was full of flowers, and it certainly wasn’t his fault as he spotted a vibrant shrub of sunset-colored ones that he just had to pick.

Once inside his home, he mentally cursed as the first person to notice him was no one other than his mother.

“Katsuki, what are those?”

“Flowers mother, of course.”

His tone didn’t go unnoticed, and Lady Bakugou clicked her tongue at his words.

“For whom are your, of-course-flowers, to go to?”

“No one. I simply wanted them.”

“You simply wanted an alstroemeria--a romance flower?”

“I just wanted them; I do not care what they are.”

“...What an insufferable child.” She dismissed him with a wave.

He holds his tongue, rushing up the stairs and away from her scrutinizing eyes. A breath of relief stops short as she speaks up once more, a teasing tilt to her voice.

“Would you tell Miss (l/n) I say hello whenever you present her your gift? It has been too long.”

Why were all the women in his life so aggravating?

-----

“Katsuki, can you please try to act as if you are entertained?”

“This is the fourth dance today, (y/n), I cannot be any less than indifferent now.”

You both circle each other, the music from the pianist floods the ballroom and he can tell you were counting in your head along to the beat. He brings you back into his arms, and you stare into his eyes, your own swirling with emotion. Katsuki pulls his gaze away, choosing to look around instead; pride puffs his chest as he sees multiple alstroemerias decorating the room.

“Oh, of course! You must be exhausted--do you want to stop?”

He’s drawn back to your face, and he curses how he is unable to stop sneaking peeks at your pouted lips. He wants to say yes; he wants to tell you how his feet ache, how since he had barely gotten home from his small business trip with his father a mere few hours ago he wants nothing more than to sleep.

“No. Now continue before I change my mind.”

The smile that stretches across your face is absolutely radiant, and the laugh bubbles from your lips causes his stomach to twist in ways that he cannot explain.

You really are a strange and aggravating girl--one he can’t appear to say no to.

-----

“Oh Katsuki, it is adorable!”

He watches as you trace a finger along the broaches front, your once sullen mood has now gone at the sight. When he first arrived he didn’t understand why you looked to be so upset, but the moment you realized it was him you had perked up.

A part of him wishes to believe you were happy for his return, and not just the idea of presents.

The broach pin he had gotten was something he felt as if he needed to have for you; obtaining it on another one of his trips, this one lasting far longer than most. He went away the entire summer, staying in one of his father’s estates in another area he possesses, for educational purposes. As a future Duke, he was constantly thrown around to learn lands, trade, and the people of surrounding areas--especially of the land he will one day inherit. It was rather taxing, boring, and dare he say lonely.

Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but your presence was quite missed.

“Of course it is, my taste is impeccable after all.”

“Yes, the only man who would see the beauty in a woman’s broach.” You laugh at your own taunt, and Katsuki clicks his tongue as he pretends to try and snatch it back.

“I will just keep this then if I am the only one who sees such beauty.”

“No, I am merely jesting! Please, I love it.”

You bring it close to your chest, holding it carefully as if it were the most precious thing you owned, and his heartbeat quickened. He knew that wasn’t true--you may not have been as high in social status as he was, but being the daughter of a Viscount meant you still had luxury in life. As well as being the only daughter of your line meant you were pampered, downright spoiled, and yet you were anything but a pompous brat; you were wonderful, kind, caring, and too sweet for your own good.

“I really do love it Katsuki. Thank you. I’ll wear it always, it looks just like my favorite flower! My everlasting alstroemeria.”

Maybe you were too sweet for his own good.

-----

“What are you two doing here?”

Katsuki stands beside Izuku as they both find you in the drawing-room, accompanied by your mother. You both stand and bow, and he and Izuku dismiss the gesture--they are both too familiar to want to be treated with such formalities behind closed doors. Your mother allows the boys to take her spot, and she moves to the other side of the room to grant some privacy.

“Well, we are all to be busy this season--you especially of course.” Izuku starts, soft eyes not going unnoticed by Katsuki.

He does all he can to not push him away from your side.

“We came here to wish you luck, you are sure to need it with all this prepping you must endure.” Katsuki sighs, leaning back tiredly as if it was him to be affected.

Your laugh lights a fire within him, and he can’t remember when it had switched from an annoyance to being angelic music.

“You both are too kind--I shall survive, hopefully.”

You fall into easy conversation, and Katsuki remains reserved to observe.

You’ve grown throughout the years, no longer were you the wild child who would ambush him with sticks in the grove behind his home. No longer were you the young girl who would step on his toes purposely when he would verbally complain. No, now you were a bewitching young woman, one with an enticing face, enthralling wit, and a beauty like no other.

If you weren’t the top choice for the season, he would be surprised--no doubt would the rest of the male occupants; it was something he was dreading. The chance to court you would be more difficult with the more callers you had and while he didn’t want to use his status as a flaunting point, he would hope it would keep others at bay until he could propose.

However, no one was as big of a threat as the green-eyed dimwit he called a friend. Katsuki was no fool, he knew Izuku cared for you just as much as he did. How could they not become so enchanted with you?

You were perfect.

“I am not looking forward to all the dancing, it is different than dancing at home with one of you.”

“Well, you must promise to save a dance for me then.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, attention focused on him. That’s what he liked to see.

“Yes, you must. I have been subjected to your torture for years now--I have to see if you can hold your composure while under that type of pressure.”

You snort, an extremely unladylike mannerism that he held endearment for, and roll your eyes at his taunts.

“Well then it is a promise, I shall always make sure to save you a dance,” you turn from him to the other and the illusion of being alone with you vanishes, “the both of you.”

Yes, if there was one person he’d have to watch for, it was going to be Izuku.

-----

“My Lord, this is my daughter, Miss Tokage.”

Katsuki merely greets her respectfully, not fully present in the conversation as he waits for your arrival.

When you do arrive, it is like time had stood still--no one else’s presence mattered except yours. You were ethereal; your seamstress having outdone herself as you wore a gown that did nothing but accentuate all the right traits. Your makeup--while you never needed it--brought out the color of your eyes and the temptations of your lips. Your hair was adorned with alstroemerias of the same beautiful sunset gold as he had brought to you all those years ago, and the urge to propose to you then and there was extremely difficult to hold back.

As his feet began to move toward you, a body blocked the way.

“My Lord, my dances for tonight are free--if you wish to occupy them, that is.”

His eyes flicker back to you, seeing you hanging off your mother’s arm as another suitor reaches you first. As long as it wasn’t Izuku…

He catches his mothers gaze, and she too looks as if she wants for him to turn the girl away. Yet she offers a half-heartfelt smile, and he feels his resolve crumble. That's right, Miss. Tokage was a very prestigious daughter, and it would be a good match. But that's not what he wanted--he wanted you.

He swallows down a sigh, accepting her offer as he writes his name on the first dance and pulls her onto the floor. Dancing with her is much different than with you; she's not the right height, she feels all too wrong in his arms, and the little conversation there is, is dull. Sure, he is probably the cause of that, as he merely offers polite responses and nothing more. He searches for you again, and finds you standing off to the side--the one and only Izuku standing next to you.

The song ends, and Katsuki means to take his leave to head to you but this girl follows him, and he tries to explain as peacefully as he can that he is no longer interested before he gives up and makes his leave anyways.

Katsuki searches the dance floor and sees how Izuku twists you effortlessly, and his anger begins to rise. You both are laughing, as always, and yet Katsuki knew it was different than before. This time, it meant so much more than playful banter between childhood friends.

Without another thought, he pushes himself in your direction with a simple,

“Pardon--”

Your wide eyes fall upon him and his heart stutters.

“Miss (l/n), a dance? A real dance, anyways. Seeing as the ever graceful Izuku may as well have two left feet.”

“Oh, most amusing, Katsuki.”

When you look away, his smirk loses its humor and grows tighter; Izuku’s eyes darken in return. His arm tightens around you, and Katsuki has to bite his tongue lest he say something he’d regret.

When you take his outstretched hand, he calms; you’re the only one who could soothe his soul with something as simple as your touch. He spins you round, before pulling you close--this is what he needed. You fit perfectly into his arms, there was no way anyone could ever replace you.

“How are you this evening, (y/n)?”

“Very well, My Lord.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to make of your neutral face--normally at these events you joke and tease him, talking the night away, uncaring of the scrutinizing eyes of the guests. Now, it was as if you were truly strangers, speaking formally as any other person would.

After a bit more coaxing, you relax, and even let out an adorable snigger--he bites his lip to hold back a smile. There was the girl he loved.

“May I say, your hair looks lovely tonight--alstroemerias again? It suits you.”

He spins you, slightly longer than before just so he could control his flaming cheeks, and holds you closer when you spin back. All of his life he never understood why he cared for you so much; you were some strange girl his mother had made him escort around until you were so much more.

He yearned for your quips and teases, he ached for your time and presence, he so desperately desired to spend every moment by your side. You understood him like no other, conversations with you were never dull, always full of life and warm--and he longed to converse with you until he grew old and unable.

To him you were his path to true happiness, and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to be truly happy. Yet, your happiness mattered more; Katsuki would do anything to ensure it.

He bowed when the dance finished, and his eyes looked up and locked onto green. Izuku stood off in the crowd, bottom lip caught between teeth before his attention flickered elsewhere. Maybe this was the opportunity he needed to take, to propose here before anyone else could. But fear kept his mouth from moving, what if you were to say no? What if you never spoke to him again? He could let you go if he had to, but did he really have the strength to never be able to be near you again?

“Thank you for the dance, My Lord. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

Confusion tore him from his thoughts, words caught in his throat as he watched you hastily walk away. Your tone was sharp, words final as you disappeared in the crowd.

When his eyes flickered to where Izuku once stood, he found that he too was nowhere to be seen.

-----

Katsuki Bakugou has never felt quite this hurt before; the feeling of his heart clenching in pain is something entirely new to him. His body is numb, his hands shake, and the feeling of drowning makes it difficult to breathe.

He is stuck in place, watching as another puts a flower behind your ear and brings your hand up to his lips. He cannot move as you grow shy, basking in the presence of another man's soft gaze.

“Izuku…”

“If the Lady is willing to accept, may I be so bold as to call upon her tomorrow?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

That punch to the gut is what it takes for him to come back down to reality, and he quickly turns on his heel and leaves. He aches in silence, leaving the ballroom without any goodbyes, blowing right past the juniper maiden who just couldn’t take the hint.

None of that was important, he was too focused on his need for a breath as his chest constricts with the lack of oxygen. His gasps ring out into the empty night and he’s forced to learn against a marble pillar lest he falls.

To be reduced to such a pathetic state angered him, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt at his so-called childhood friend.

The anger soon melted into even more pain, and Katsuki clenched his jaw at the way his throat constricted. He knew from the beginning he hadn’t much of a chance, he knew Izuku would be his biggest competition, and yet, there wasn’t one at all. If Izuku won your hear--who was he to argue that?

And so, he knew that nothing will ever be as good as it once was, as you were, nothing will be worth all his effort like you were, no one will ever come close to you.

But if you were happy, he could pretend to be.

For you, his everlasting alstroemeria.

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another-broken-avenue3 · 5 years

Text

Somebody to Love || part one

warning: language

word count: 3.4K

hello everyone! I hope you all enjoy this. let me know if you liked it and if you’d want to read more. thank you xxx

p.s. a special thank you to Bree (@serpentbaby) and Steph (I don’t have her url at the moment) for helping me while I was writing this. ya’ll are my faves ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

May 1981

My sneakers squeak against the ugly tiled floors of Donny’s Diner as myself and my two best friends made our way to the hostess podium. The clouds had let loose a downpour of rain and we had been soaked.

“God, I’m freezing,” Willow says, rubbing her arms to try to warm herself up.

“I told you to bring a jacket, Willow,” Julie, Jul for short, remarks while rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I’m freezing and I wore one,” I reply, pulling my leather jacket closed.

“See Jul, you don’t need to be rude.” Willow sticks her tongue out at Jul and continues rubbing her hands against her arms.

An older waitress approaches us. “Booth or table girlies?”

“Booth please,” we all chime in unison.

She leads us to a booth in the middle of the diner and hands us all menus. I immediately start perusing mine for something hot to eat. Jul just sits there popping the piece of gum in her mouth. Willow starts looking through the drink options.

“Anything to drink or do you girls need a minute?” The waitress asks. Her name tag says ‘Dottie.’

“I’ll have a coffee, black.” Jul pops her gum again.

I sigh. “I’ll have a coke please.”

“I’ll also have a coke,” Willow chimes in.

Dottie smiles, writes it all down, and heads to towards the kitchen.

Within just a couple minutes, she’s back with our drinks.

Suddenly a group of guys push each other through the door. They’re loud and obnoxious, except for one who’s trailing behind with a flask in his hand.

“Dottie!” One of them with black hair yells, drawling out the waitress’s name.

She smiles and leads them to the booth next to ours. “Nikki, good to see you doll. Vince, Mick, Tommy, always a pleasure.”

“My usual please Dottie,” the one she called Nikki says.

“Of course. Vince? Mick? You two want anything?” she asks, motioning to the blonde and black haired guys sitting on the seat directly behind Jul.

The black haired one just holds up his flask and shakes his head. The blonde locks eyes with a blonde chick barely wearing clothes across the diner and shakes his head.

“No thanks Dottie.”

“Tommy? Blueberry pancakes?” She smiles at a very tall dark haired guy sitting next to the one she called Nikki.

“Dottie, you know me so well.” He flashes a big smile.

Dottie nods and walks back to the kitchen.

“Hello? Earth to Willow and Echo??”

I snap back to reality, not even realizing I was staring at the interaction. I turn to Willow and notice she was doing the same thing.

I quickly look back down at my menu to find some food.

“That show was fucking crazy! Like when you hit that dickhead with your bass, Nikki, crazy shit dude!” I hear Tommy say.

“Yeah but when you dove into the crowd and started beating the shit out of that other guy T-Bone!” Nikki starts laughing loudly.

Jul scoffs. “If those dudes don’t chill the fuck out soon I swear I’ll snap,” she whispers.

“Jul, just let it go please,” Willow whispers then goes back to looking at her menu.

Dottie stops at our booth again. “You girls ready to order?”

We fold up our menus and put them together.

“I’ll have eggs, sunny side up, and a chocolate chip muffin please,” Willow chirps.

“I’m good with just the coffee, thank you.”

“I’d like a waffle with a side of bacon please,” I say, handing her our stack of menus once she’s done writing out order.

“All right, I’ll bring that out for you girls as soon as it’s ready.” Dottie walks back to the kitchen, and then appears with the guys’ orders.

She hands Nikki an airplane bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a glass of coke. Tommy happily takes his plate of blueberry pancakes. Nikki then chugs the whole little bottle of whiskey.

“Whoa.”

My eyes immediately shoot to Willow, as well as Jul’s and all the guys’.

Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “I um... Sorry, I-,” she stutters.

Nikki chuckles and smirks at her. “It’s okay angel face, I get that reaction a lot.”

Jul rolls her eyes.

“I’m Nikki. This is Mick,” he motions to the shorter guy with the flask.

“Vince is our blonde haired bitch,” Tommy says with a laugh as Vince flips him off, “and I’m Tommy.” He flashes a big smile.

“I’m Willow,” she touches her chest. “This ray of sunshine is Jul.” Jul raises her hand and continues sipping her coffee.

“I’m Echo,” I say with a small smile.

Dottie approaches our booth with our food and I realize how hungry I actually am.

“Thank you so much Dottie,” I say taking my plate.

“Enjoy ladies.”

It takes everything I have not to moan out loud when I finally take a bite.

“I’ll be back.” Jul gets up from the table and heads towards the bathrooms.

I eat more of my waffle and bacon and suddenly see two figures in all black slip into our booth. My eyes look up and meet the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.

Tommy flashes a killer smile and shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

“It’s good right?” he asks with his mouth full. I smile and nod.

“So what brings you girls here at this time of night?” Nikki asks, directing the question more at Willow.

“Well we work at a bar not far from here and we got off and were starving so we decided to stop in,” Willow answers.

“Well I’m certainly glad you all did.” Nikki winks.

“What are you guys doing here? Did you guys catch a concert or something?” I ask.

“What makes you guess that?” Tommy retorts with a smirk.

“The leather jackets, the all black clothes, the hair; I just assumed.”

Tommy laughs. “I guess you have a point there.” He takes a sip of his drink. “You were kind of right when you said we were at a show.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Kind of right?” I question.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled up flyer. I flatten it out the best I can and read over it.

Mötley Crüe

Whiskey A Go Go

3 Nights Only

Then they had a picture of the four of them at the bottom. Holy shit.

“Wait, you guys are a band?” I ask, still a little in shock.

“Hell yeah we are!” Nikki says high-fiving Tommy.

“Tonight was our first show there. It started off with us fighting a couple guys and then it ended fucking great!” Tommy starts twirling a drumstick between his fingers.

I smile. “I assume you’re the drummer.”

He smiles wide. “I am.”

I watched him twirl the drumstick. “Where’d you learn to do that?” I ask.

He sighs and stops twirling it. “High school marching band,” he kind of mumbles.

I giggle. “You were in marching band? You’re lying. You definitely don’t seem like the type of person to be in a high school marching band.”

He nods his head. “Nope, I was in my high school marching band.”

“Echo was too!” Willow interjects.

He glances at her then back to me with a look of surprise. “You were in marching band too?”

I smile and nod. “I wasn’t a badass drummer though.”

He laughs. “Bet you were still a badass. What’d you play?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I didn’t play anything. I did flags.”

His eyes go wide. “No fucking way. You did the throwing and spinning and all that shit?”

I nod. “Yes I did. Tossing and spinning and doing all that while moving in between people and trying not to hit them.”

“That’s fucking badass dude!”

I smile wide. “You think so?” I laugh a little.

“Yes!” He shows off his wonderful smile.

My cheeks heat up a little, no doubt a light red from the compliment.

“So you girls have any plans for the night?” Nikki asks.

“We were just planning to go home and relax,” Willow replies.

“No no no no no. You girls cannot just go home, there’s a whole night scene out there!” Nikki says throwing his hands in the air.

“We work again tomorrow,” Jul pops up next to me.

“Come hang with us, we’ll buy the drinks and everything.” Tommy looks at me with puppy dog eyes.

I sigh and smile. “Jul, they’re paying so you can get all the tequila and vodka you want.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

She cracks a small smile. “Okay fine, you got a deal.” The four of us all cheer.

“First I’m finishing this great food,” I say as I shove a piece of bacon into my mouth.

Tommy laughs a little.

We finish our food, leaving money for the bill and a great tip for Dottie. We all file out the door and into the street. At least the rain stopped.

“So where are we going exactly?” Willow asks.

“A bar right down the street,” Nikki replies slinging his arm over her shoulders. I notice a slight pink hue spread over her cheeks.

Tommy walks next to me. “So what’s your poison, Echo?”

I shrug slightly. “I’ll drink anything really, except tequila.” A chill goes up my back and makes my body shutter at the thought of the sharp taste.

He smiles. “I’ll remember that.”

I pull my jacket closer to my body and shiver.

“Are you cold?” Tommy looks down at me.

“A little. We got caught in the rain earlier and my clothes are still damp,” I reply and look back at him.

“Here.” His jacket is draped over my shoulders. Man how is his jacket so warm?

“But Tommy-“

He cuts me off. “No buts. You’re cold and my jacket is warm.” He smiles down at me. “Plus it looks better on you.”

I giggle. He’s incredibly sweet. I slip my arms into the sleeves, which go at least two inches further than my fingertips.

Tommy chuckles beside me. “What?” I ask, holding his jacket against me.

“You.”

I look up at him, confused. “Me? Me what?”

He laughs and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You’re fucking adorable.”

We finally get to the bar and the boys lead us to the front of the line.

“But the back of the line is back there,” I say pointing behind us.

“Sweets, Motley Crue doesn’t wait in line,” Vince says walking past the guard and into the bar.

Tommy holds up his hand, making devil horns, and sticks his tongue out. I laugh and follow them all inside.

The music is loud and I can feel the bass thumping in my chest.

“You want a drink, beautiful?” Tommy says in my ear.

I nod and smile. “Surprise me.”

He walks to the bar and comes back handing me a drink. “Bottoms up!” He clinks his glass against mine.

I throw my back and cringe a little at the strong taste. Vodka, good but burns like hell.

“Woo!” Tommy cheers after drinking his.

I hear the opening chords for Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar. “Oh my god!”

Tommy looks at me. “What?”

“I love this song!” I yell over the music.

He smiles at me as I start mouthing the words with the music.

“Well you’re a real tough cookie with a long history, of breaking little hearts like the one in me.” I bounce my head to the beat and tap my foot.

Tommy hasn’t stopped smiling. “Wanna dance?” he asks.

I look at him with wide eyes. “I can’t dance to save my life.” I laugh.

He leans in, talking into my ear, “I can’t either, but after a couple more drinks I’m not sure what’ll happen.”

I laugh. “Well then let’s have another, rockstar!”

He leads me to the bar and motions to the bartender. “Get me a couple shots of jack please.”

“And I’ll have vodka and ginger ale please,” I yell over the music.

Tommy downs both his shots as I sip on my drink.

“Fuck that’s good!”

I laugh and continue to move slightly to the voice of Pat Benatar.

After a couple more vodka and ginger ales for me and probably a dozen shots for Tommy, we were pretty tipsy if not drunk.

I hear one of the best musical voices in the world, Freddie Mercury. Somebody to Love, my favorite.

“Oh my god Tommy we have to dance to this song please!” I say in Tommy’s ear.

“Let’s do it!” He throws his hands up.

I laugh as he takes my hand and leads me to the middle of the crowded dance floor. We start to dance. It’s most certainly sloppy and probably not the greatest, but we laugh and just enjoy ourselves.

He starts pulling me closer and quietly singing the words to me. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. He’s swaying with me and smiling down at me. Holy fuck I didn’t realize how tall he really is ‘til just now. He’s so close I can smell the jack on his breath but I can also smell his cologne and it’s so nice. His hands find my hips as I look up at him. I want to say something but my already hazy mind can’t form a sentence.

“Fuck,” Tommy mumbles.

“What? What it is?” I ask, worried I did something wrong.

“You.”

“Me? What’d I do? Goddamit, I fucked something up didn’t I?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down.”

I look up at him. “Okay. What is it then?”

He smiles and shakes his head a little. “You, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

I feel my cheeks instantly heat up.

Then I suddenly feel very lightheaded and hot and my hearing makes it sound like everyone else is miles away.

“Echo? You okay?” Tommy looks down at me concerned.

“I need some air,” I say, stepping away and making my way outside to the patio area.

The cool air hits my skin and my dizziness fades. I lean against the railing and hold my head.

I hear a cat-call whistle. Oh fuck me.

“Well look at what we’ve got here.”

I groan as a couple of tall, broad, and sweaty looking guys step towards me.

“Looks like a pretty little drunk thing to me,” the black haired guy replies to the blonde one.

“Leave me alone assholes.” I wave my hand at them, hoping they’d go away.

“Fiery little thing, isn’t she?”

“I like ‘em fiery.”

The blonde grabs my wrist and tries to pull me close. “C’mon baby, we know exactly what you need.”

“You don’t know shit.” I rip my wrist out of his hand and turn away from him. “Now keep your disgusting hands off of me.”

“That’s what you think now,” the black haired one grabs my hips and whispers in my ear, “but we’ll have you screaming our names later.”

“The only name she’ll be screaming later is mine.”

I turn to the sound of Tommy’s voice. “Tommy.”

He smiles at me, then turns and glares at them. “I believe I’ll be taking my girl now.”

The guys laugh.

“You’re not man enough for a girl like her,” the blonde spits at Tommy.

“Yeah, she’d be much more satisfied with a couple of guys like us.”

I feel my blood boiling. “You guys are right. I need big strong men to satisfy me.”

The black haired one smirks and turns to me. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

I put my hands on his shoulders. “There’s just one more thing.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“This.” I knee him right in the groin, causing him to fall to the ground. I smirk at Tommy who’s smiling ear to ear.

“What the fuck?! You dumb cunt!” The blonde raises his fist.

Just before he goes to hit me, Tommy grabs his arm. “Don’t you ever raise your hand at her!” Tommy’s fist connects with the blonde’s jaw. The blonde hits the floor and spits out a little blood.

“C’mon gorgeous.” Tommy holds out his hand. I take it, smiling.

I turn back to the two pieces of shit on the ground. “That’s what you get for being scumbags.”

Tommy laughs and leads me back into the bar. “You were fucking amazing!” He hugs me tight, picking me up a little in the process.

I giggle loudly. “Tommy, you were the amazing one!”

He smiles and puts me back down.

“Thank you for saving me.”

He chuckles. “No problem, beautiful.”

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks, smiling ear to ear.

“I would love to.”

We head back into the bar and search for any of the other Motley boys or one of my friends. I spot Jul sipping from a Jack Daniels bottle and passing it to Mick.

“There’s Jul and Mick,” I say in Tommy’s ear.

He nods and leads us over to them. “Hey, Mick, we’re heading out. You staying here?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna hang out here for a while, drummer.”

“Jul, are you staying too?” I ask.

“Yeah, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” She smiles.

I smile at her. “Okay, just keep an eye on Willow please? She seems like she’s having fun too.” I point to a corner where Willow and Nikki are all over each other.

She laughs. “Yeah we’ll be home before too late.”

I nod and wave. “See you at home.”

Tommy and I leave the bar and walk down the mostly empty street.

“Tommy.”

“Yeah?”

“I really appreciate you coming to my rescue at the bar. You’re my hero,” I look at my hands.

“Hey,” he tilts my chin up using his index finger, “I’ll be your hero any day.”

I blush as he flashes his amazing smile.

The sky lights up and a loud crack soon follows.

“Shit. Come on, let’s hurry and get you home before the rain starts again.” He places his hand on the small of my back.

We make it onto my street when the rain starts to pour. I laugh and start running, Tommy following behind me. I quickly pull my keys from my jacket pocket and unlock the front door, flinging it open. Tommy stumbles in after me. I close the door behind him and take off his jacket and then my own.

“I’m so sorry Tommy. You’re soaked now,” I say, noticing his shirt clinging to his torso. “Hold on, stay right there.”

I run to my bedroom and start digging through my dresser for some clothes. I finally find a t-shirt and sweatpants that just might fit him. I come back out, seeing Tommy shiver a little.

“Here I have some sweats and a t-shirt for you.” I hand him the clothes. “If you want you can change in the bathroom, it’s right down the hall on the left.”

He smiles. “Thank you Echo, you’re a saint.”

I watch as he walks down the hall and into the bathroom.

I make my way back to my room and search for clothes for myself. Finding a pair of shorts and a long sleeve shirt, I slip off my wet clothing.

“Echo?” I hear Tommy just outside my bedroom door.

I slip on my shorts and adjust my shirt. “I’m in here.”

He slowly opens the door. “Are you decent?” he asks, his hand covering his eyes.

I let out a giggle as I see him peeking through his fingers. “I’m dressed, you silly man.”

He smiles and leans against the doorway, looking at me.

“What?” I throw my hair into a ponytail.

“You look sexy in shorts.”

I laugh a little. “Well thank you. Wanna watch a movie or something?” I ask, switching on the TV.

“Fuck yeah!” He flops onto my bed and pats the spot next to him.

“I don’t have a lot of movies though,” I say, lying next to him.

“That’s okay. Let’s just watch TV.”

“Okay.” I smile and flip through the channels until we find something that’s not horrible.

I shiver a little.

“You cold?” he asks. I nod a little.

He pulls a blanket over us. “Better?”

I smile up at him and nod. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“You’re welcome, beautiful.”

A yawn escapes my lips. “Fuck, sorry.”

Tommy chuckles. “It’s okay baby.”

We continue watching the TV show and my eyes start drooping shut. I feel Tommy’s arms snake around me and my body instantly relaxes.

“Goodnight sweetness,” Tommy whispers in my ear.

#the dirt #the dirt fanfic #tommy lee #nikki sixx #mick mars #vince neil #my fanfic #somebody to love fanfic #i'm really sorry if it's terrible #tommy x oc #mgk!tommy #motley crue

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chaosmagetwin · 7 years

Text

The Wild Adventures of Ashley and Paul: Prologue

Ashley stared at the empty bowl in the sink, one green eye twitching. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Despite the calming action, her tail twitched angrily. After a few more moments, she finally yelled out loud.

"WHERE IS MY FUCKING! PUDDING?!"

Silence followed, and it took a few moments before a heavy step sounded just outside the kitchen door. "I ate it." She snapped her head to look at the man standing in the doorway, his too wide shoulders taking up half of it, even though one of the shoulders wasn't even visible yet. The rings in her horns jingled for a moment and she propped her fists on her hips. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, he spoke again. "You used butter in it. You know I can't resist that."

"You don't even have a stomach anymore!" She ranted. "I made that pudding for me! It was vanilla and strawberry!" Her tail swished through the air, and she winced as the tip accidentally clipped a cupboard handle. "It's my favorite..."

"I thought we agreed to never use butter for that reason again? I thought we were going healthy?" He stepped through the doorway the rest of the way, and carefully slid a chair so he could sit in it. She glared at him as he sat down, but waited. "I might not have a stomach anymore, but I still have tastebuds." He smirked at her as her rage deflated. "Besides. I won't gain weight. I've got an... iron stomach." He sniggered as she rolled her eyes at him.

Ashley sighed and picked up the bowl with one hand. Not even a little bit left. She jumped as the doorbell rang. "Who the hell?"

"Hey, Language, potty mouth. Keep the cursing for the humans." He stood up again as the two of them headed for the front door. The moment they opened it, Ashley burst out laughing. "Well, if it isn't the guy who never shuts up about toilet paper!"

The large man in a business suit outside her door sighed, and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "That was one story, Ashley. How is The Wild House treating you two?" The Author stepped inside, looking around, a pen tapping his clipboard. "I see there's no damage yet. Surprising, considering your heritage and Paul's size..."

Paul sighed. "Yes, please, come on in. Would you like some vanilla pudding?" Ashley shoved her elbow into his ribs and winced as it hit hard steel. The Author looked up at their nervously grinning faces and shrugged.

"I'm afraid I don't have that sort of time today. I'm just here to inspect the house and make sure you two havn't killed each other. I need my characters alive, after all. How is high school?"

"Apparently, Character High School is terribly racist. Being part demon kind of sucks. or a cyborg." Ashley spoke slowly at the wall, choosing not to look at The Author.

"Yeah. Apparently, half demons should be slutty and sucking out... 'souls'... and cyborgs need to have laser beams, have no emotions, and no sense of humor. I literally cannot pun or joke in class without everyone staring at me and trying to figure out if i am being dead serious or not. Sarcasm is literally impossible."

"Yes, those are the stereotypes... And you are fighting against them?"

They both nodded, although Ashley gave a shrug too. "Apparently my anger is because I'm a demon, and not because I'm pissed that they are both objectifying and demeaning me. Also, Paul is hilarious. Usually." The Author scribbled furiously on the clipboard, nodding. He walked past the two of them without even looking up. "And have you been following your character arcs?"

"You mean... studying?" Authors are so difficult to understand. Why can't they just talk like normal people? Ashley thought. "I mean, yeah. It's school."

"Mhmm." He passed by the kitchen and stopped to stare inside for a few moments. He made some sort of noise as the two of them stared inside as well, wondering what he was seeing.... or not seeing. "Show me to your bedrooms?" he had phrased it as a question, but it was toned as an order. The two of them sighed. Dealing with The Author was never easy. When Ashley had first saved Paul, neither of them had thought they would be recruited by The Authoritative Agency and forced to live together. Phrases like 'incredible backstory' and 'fascinating characters' were thrown about as a house was purchased for them and the short yet large Author was assigned to them to study and learn... for something. The AA wasn't exactly understood by anyone outside of it. They'd been placed into a highschool filled with people like them, although they were a little more human. Some were going to grow up to become 'hard boiled detectives', while others were already working as 'magical girls'. What any of that meant to Ashley or Paul was unclear.

The short walk up the stairs to visit the bedrooms was punctuated by The Authors' 'hmm's and 'aha's. Ashley opened her door for him and watched his face as he looked in. She bit her tongue as his face lit up with delight. "Ah, yes, perfect, quite perfect indeed." Her eye twitched dangerously, and Paul put a hand on her shoulder before she spoke. "I quite like the decorations. Girly, yet dangerous. Fitting."

She looked into her room as Paul and The Author moved to his room. For a moment, she wondered what exactly he meant by 'dangerous'. Her wall's were a nice neutral beige color, and most of the floorspace was taken up by a simple wooden dresser, a desk, and her red blanketed bed. The floor was not as clean as she wanted, with some books lying about here and there, a pile of clothes shoved into the corner, and a plate of old food half hidden under her bed. The only 'dangerous' thing was the pulsating flesh telephone she used to keep in contact with her mother, or, more likely, for her mother to keep in contact with her. Even the window had a bland look outside.

Her thoughts were interupted by The Authors cries of "No, no, this is all wrong. Wrong! This can't be here! Ah, you need you get rid of this."

She looked over at Pauls room and watched as now Paul's face twitched with anger. He had better control over his emotions than she did, but obviously this was bothering him. "What's he complaining about?" She asked casually.

"The books. Apparently, since I choce a muscle-bound body, I can't be intellectual."

Paul's room had quite a few more books than hers did. In fact, it was where she got her books; four bookcases lined the walls, with a desk shoved between two of them, and half of the other acting as his dresser. His closet was impossible to access with a bookcase in front of it. All the shelves, except those holding the few clothes he wore, held books. In the center of the room was the bed, with a simple blue blanket covering it.

The Author harrumphed and stomped out of the room, then glared at Ashley. "Show me to the bathroom."

"Wow, jeeze, can't you date a girl first?" She asked automatically, her eyes flicking to Paul’s face to see his reaction. She grinned as Paul's face lightened and broke into a smile as well. "It's this way." She led the way, and opened the door. "Shouldn't you know where all this is anyways?"

"Of course I know where all this is. It's polite to ask." He stepped into it and jotted a few notes down as she sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She didn't know exactly how he did it, but The Author was in control of how her life went now; how good her grades were, what happened during the day, whether a cute boy would hit on her, or an ugly one. He was like a god she despised who was also a mortal.

"How do you two entertain yourselves?" Paul was the first to answer. "Books and jokes. Occasionally T.V. and video games."

Ashley gave a shrug. "Video Games, occasionally books, and trying to cook. Depending on your mood, it sometimes even turns out well."

"You aren't supposed to be good at cooking. Those were just strokes of dumb luck." She glared at him as he revealed the truth.

"Well, I like to! Can't you change that?!"

"No. Show me where you play." She clenched her hands behind her back, but her tail and face gave away her real emotions. Paul stepped in front of her, his massive back taking up her view for a moment.

"It's right this way, Author, Sir. Just down the stairs. Out of curiousity," he asked as they moved downstairs, "How are we supposed to eat?"

"With forks and knives, of course." For a few moments, everyone was silent, before he corrected himself "And you're supposed to go out to eat. Sorry, i work with many strange creatures. Some of them ask me that question, and I have to take it seriously."

Oh, fuck, he wasn't even joking, thought Ashley. "Isn't that expensive?" She said outloud.

"The two of you don't have to worry about that. Your background gives you leave for that sort of expense." He looked in the living room, and made a 'hmmm' noise again. "Show me the games you play." Ashley sighed and entered the living room. It was decently sized, yet rather empty; a card table took up one 'half', even though it was no where near actually taking up that much room, while the television and couch properly took up their half. Next to the mounted flat screen they had saved up their allowances to buy were two dressers that held all their games, while a coffee table below the mounted TV held the console and the controls with long cords. She headed to her dresser and opened it. Most of her allowance went to the games, with a solid portion dedicated to food. "These three are my favorite." She tossed them to The Author, who read the names out loud.

"Seraphim's War, Call of Guns, and Final Fiction twenty seven? Why these?" "... I like fighting games, shooting games, and I like the main character in the last one." She said carefully. She put her hands behind her back and wrapped her tail around one leg. She didn't want it to smash into the TV if he said something that angered her again.

"And yours, Paul?" She glared at The Author as he completely ignored her choices. Not even a compliment for taste!

Paul moved to his dresser and opened it, pulling out his favorite three. "Uhh, Love-Love Dance Machination, Cyberspace, and The Dating Sim GrandMaster." Ashley rolled her eyes. So did The Author

"Well, at least both of your tastes are unique. Should have had your genders switched." He muttered. "Oh well. It's written now. I have to go, now. Alien House calls." he waddled for the front door. "I'll see myself out. Be careful in the coming days. Your story is about to get Wild."

#The Wild Adventures of Ashley and Paul #Prologue #Female Lead #Male Lead #Creative Writing

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rebeccathewinterqueen · 4 years

Text

Awakening: Jiro the Jorogumo

Title: Awakening (The Samaya Court Book 1)

Characters: Yuugi Mutou, Jounouchi Katsuya, Anzu Mazaki, Miho Nosaka, Honda Hiroto, Officer Junsar, Eevee, Spinarak, Jiro the Jorogumo (Prisoner 777)

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon

A/N: Sorry this is late. I got stuck on how to write this chapter. Couple things: First, this took an unexpectedly dark turn. Trigger warning for a Pokemon's death. Second, the first major deviation in canon. If you aren't familiar with Season 0 or the manga, you may not recognize it. Also, a fun fact: In the manga it is Prisoner 777 who escapes, and he’s never given a name. In Season 0, this character is split into two characters: Tetsu the Hedgehog and Jiro the Jorogumo. This always seemed odd to me, so I made Tetsu (Prisoner 777) Jiro the Jorogumo and returned it to just one character.

Read Chapter 4: Megumi-chan here

The restaurant staff were very kind about letting them bring Megumi inside with them, as long as she didn’t try to jump up on the table. They ordered drinks and fries to share and settled into a booth near the door—Yuugi really wanted to try one of their hamburgers because they already had such a great reputation, but his mother would kill him if he ruined his dinner. Though he did order her a hamburger and picked off the bun so she could eat with them.

Yuugi leaned back against the booth, the Millennium Puzzle a comforting weight against his chest, and smiled. It was good. His friends laughed and joked and traded cards and they knew about Megumi now, so she was included. Could be included from then on. The Puzzle had really granted his wish in every possible way—he and Anzu had truly reconnected, and he had new friends in the way of Jou, Honda, Miho, and Megumi. He had friends he could count on. Happiness bubbled in his chest, and the Puzzle felt warm even through his shirt.

After they had finished off the fries, they all settled back in their seats. Megumi was curled into a ball under the table, right between Yuugi and Miho’s feet, working in a post-meal nap. The restaurant door slid open to admit yet another customer. They should probably go soon, Yuugi thought. It was almost time for the dinner rush.

A commanding voice made Yuugi turn, curiosity getting the better of him. A tall, stern-looking man in a brown overcoat was talking to BurgerWorld’s manager, flanked by two police officers. The man in the brown jacket looked familiar. Yuugi frowned, trying to remember where it was he had seen him—ah, the news! That was it. He had seen the man on the news. He was the chief of police. But what was he doing here, Yuugi wondered.

The manager nodded and stepped back. The three police officers turned to look at the half-full dining room and the chief stepped forward.

“If I may have your attention, please,” he called, his voice calm and clear. “We are searching for a suspect who was last seen in this area. The suspect sustained a leg injury. I must ask you all to sit with your legs facing the aisle so we may search for this suspect.”

It seemed odd, Yuugi decided, that they were going about it this way. He almost wanted to say no just on principle. But the other customers didn’t seem to have much problem with it…he looked at his friends, his discomfort mirrored in their expressions.

“Bad idea to tell them no,” Anzu murmured.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jou sighed. He looked distinctly unhappy, though. “We should spread out a bit.”

Yuugi nodded and slid out of his seat. He was on the end of one booth, while Jou had been directly across from him, so they moved to the booth next to theirs so the officers would have an easier time searching. The sooner this was over with, the happier they would all be, Yuugi thought.

The officer that approached them was a young woman with hair so dark it appeared blue. Yuugi had no idea if it was natural or dyed like his. She smiled at him as she checked, probably to take the edge off an already tense situation, Yuugi thought.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, before moving on to the next booth.

The only hiccup in the search was a loudly-dressed young man near the back of the diner, his feet propped up on the table top, hands locked behind his neck.

“Sir, please cooperate,” the manager begged him. “You cannot have your feet on the table—it’s a health violation, we could be shut down!”

“Why should I care?” the man snorted, grinning sharply. His jacket was bright red, his head was covered by an equally brightly-colored beanie, and he wore sunglasses even though they were inside.

“Sir, if you would be so kind as to put your feet down, we can continue our search and move on,” one officer said, her voice polite but still firm. It was the officer who had searched them, Yuugi realized.

“And what’re you gonna do if I don’t?” the man said, sneering at her. He didn’t move.

She pursed her lips and propped one hand on her hip…then smiled. “What’s the matter?” she asked slyly. “You aren’t hiding anything, are you? Because right now you’re interfering with a police investigation, and we’re trying very hard to capture a very dangerous man. You saw the prison escape in the newspaper? Jiro the Jorogumo? It’s him we’re looking for. And if you don’t want to be searched, that just means you’re hiding something. Like a bruise. Should we take you to the station?” The man froze, mouth slackening. “No? So let me tell you how this goes—first, you put your feet down, like a civilized person. Next, you lift your pant legs so we can check for a bruise. If you don’t, I have to assume you’re hiding something and take you in.” She leaned forward slightly, eyes hard. “Got it?”

“Fine, you insufferable bitch,” the man snarled, slamming his feet onto the ground.

“My name is Officer Junsar,” she said sharply, her smile dropping away. “You’ll remember it.” She nodded at his legs. “Now, lift your pant legs. Please.”

“String Shot.”

“What—?”

Something scuttled out from under the hem of the man’s jacket, something green and with too many legs, and shot a thick white streamer at Officer Junsar’s face with an odd hiss. She barely got her arms up in time to block it, but it still wrapped around her arms, shoulders, and head. She flailed, but the rope-like substance didn’t break.

It crawled onto the table, where it was more easily seen, and customers started screaming.

“What is this?” The police chief turned. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the green spider, which immediately set about entangling him and the other officer.

Not a spider, Yuugi thought numbly, heart thudding in his chest. A spinarak. He recognized the markings on the large green body from a teaser in a magazine about the upcoming expansion. The artwork had made it look almost cute, but in reality it was way too spider-like—!

And how were the police supposed to even deal with this? Less than a minute, and all three were completely disabled and incapable of reaching their guns.

The stranger grabbed Officer Junsar’s gun with one hand and her upper arm with the other, shoving her down. She hit the floor with a dull thud. He fired into the ceiling. “Everybody on the ground, now!”

Yuugi froze, only moving when Jou grabbed his collar and tugged at him. He lowered himself slowly down next to his friend, eyes wide. He could just see Megumi, still under their original table, crouched in a shadowy corner. Clearly the noise and commotion had spooked her. She looked at him and started to go over to him, belly so low her fur swept the ground, but he shook his head, making her pause.

“Today’s a good day,” the man boasted. He laughed, gun still pointed up, and walked down the aisle. “Got a drop on the police and everything!” The spinarak clicked its pincers together. “Let’s see, now…” Heavy boots stopped in front of Yuugi’s face. “You, short stack. Get up.”

He started to push himself carefully upright, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. There was a muffled squeak somewhere next to him.

“What’s the matter, girlie?” Please don’t let it be Miho or Anzu, Yuugi prayed. He glanced over and swallowed a groan; Anzu had Miho’s hand slapped over her mouth. “Don’t like him getting the attention?” The man grabbed Anzu and dragged her upright. “Don’t worry, cutie. Your friend is gonna bring us a couple drinks, and then we can get to know each other.” He pointed the gun carelessly at Yuugi. “Go to the kitchen and bring me back the strongest vodka they have. I wanna celebrate my good fortune.” When Yuugi didn’t immediately move, he glared. “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Scram!”

Yuugi fled to the kitchen, his heart pounding in his chest. What should he do now? He was fairly confident that Megumi could take on that spinarak, but that guy had a gun. He could shoot her before either of them made a move. And the spinarak stacked things in his favor, as well, since he could now incapacitate anyone who got too close.

He quickly found a tray and the alcohol. Right now his best option seemed to be to play along…but he didn’t particularly like that, either. The terrified look on Anzu’s face flashed in front of his eyes, and he felt sick. What to do, what to do—

Somewhere between that thought and reaching for the bottle of Everclear, his vision went black.

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

He woke up in completely unfamiliar surroundings. He looked around, frowning. Everything was shiny metal and there were several bottles of alcohol in front of him. He poked at Yuugi’s most recent thoughts and scowled.

Yuugi and his friends had gone out—what on Earth was a BurgerWorld?—and someone with a weapon was holding everyone hostage. And a spinarak, he amended. The spinarak would be more of a problem than the gun, to be honest—he could use shadow magic to jam it, whereas Pokemon had always been somewhat resistant to direct damage from spells. But Megumi was also there, so she could probably take care of it. He made a note to cast a diagnostic spell the next time he had Megumi to himself—if his hikari had a habit of attracting trouble, Megumi would be able to keep him safe, but they would need to know what she was capable of.

No wonder his hikari had been so worked up, though. The man had picked Anzu to “get to know,” on top of the hold-up and having a gun pointed at him. Yuugi had a soft spot for her, the type that came from knowing someone a long time and having them be your closest non-familial relationship.

Well then, he decided, he would fix that. He picked up the bottle he had woken up reaching for—the label said it was “Everclear,” what was that? A brand of vodka, but what was that?—and set it carefully on the tray, along with a shot glass. He turned his thoughts on what to do, thinking through his options lightning-fast—should he call a Shadow Game? The Shadows shivered in delight at the possibility. But would it be safer to just call a battle? There were so many witnesses, after all, who would have no idea what Shadow Magic was. Maybe make the battle a Shadow Game? Not ideal; the Shadows were unpredictable at best when it came to Pokemon.

Actually, maybe his original thought was the best one. He picked the tray up carefully and carried it out, trying not to let the bottle wobble too much. He didn’t want to provoke the man—Jiro the Jorogumo, according to the paper Yuugi had read—into doing something drastic just because the bottle fell and broke.

Jiro was sitting in a booth, scowling in his direction when he walked out, one arm resting on the table while the other, the one that held the gun, was slung around Anzu’s shoulders. She sat at the end of the bench, hunched in on herself, her eyes covered in a sticky layer of Spinarak’s webbing. He wrinkled his nose slightly—he remembered having it catch in his hair during a training session, remembered how it had pulled and someone finally ended up cutting it out (who? When? Where?).

He set the tray on the table. Jiro’s lips twisted into a snarl. “The hell took you so long, pipsqueak?”

Anzu looked up. “Yuugi?”

“You requested the strongest vodka the restaurant carried.” He slid into the bench opposite them. “It took a moment to find it.”

Anzu’s face twisted in confusion at his voice. Did he really sound so different from his hikari? He had never heard the boy’s voice for himself, so he didn’t know. “You’re not…”

“Shut up, girl,” Jiro growled. “What are you doing, beansprout?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He tilted his head, ignoring the pathetically weak insult. “You seem interesting.” His Shadows laughed at the blatant lie, sparking an almost alien amusement in his belly, but the insect didn’t seem to notice. Hm. He knew the Shadows had been locked away with him, but had it really been so long that no one had any kind of sensitivity to them? How long must that take?

“If you got something to say, then spit it out and leave.”

He glanced at Jiro’s gun. A Shadow rose up and wrapped around it, stuffing itself into various crevices and thickening into an almost glue-like substance, brushing Anzu’s arm in the process. She shivered at the brief contact. Interesting. He sent another to brush against Megumi, tugging her at gently until he had her attention.

“You have a spinarak.”

“A—what?” Jiro shook his head and snapped, “What about it?”

He held Jiro’s attention completely, using a just a touch of Shadow Magic to make what he was saying irresistible to listen to. Megumi crawled forward. He glanced at her, then flicked his eyes to the spinarak that sat on the back of Jiro’s booth.

“Do you know what someone is called when they train a Pokemon for battle?” Jiro cautiously shook his head. “The term, once upon a time, was ‘beast master,’ but I believe the modern game calls them ‘trainers.’ Do you know what happens when two trainers meet?” Another head shake, and he smirked. “Their Pokemon battle.”

“Veeee!” Megumi took the hint and threw herself at the spinarak. Several of the patrons screamed, including Anzu, who ducked down.

“The hell?!” Jiro ducked, then straightened and leveled the gun at his face. “Now you fucking die!” He cocked the gun.

Or tried. He smiled as Jiro tried again and again, the insect’s face slowly sliding from rage to horror. He slid from his seat, took Anzu’s hand, and tugged her up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Like hell you’re leaving!” The insect grabbed her, pulling her back, and smashed the handle of the gun toward his face. He leaned away from the sloppily-executed move, but it still forced him to let Anzu go. She flailed her arms to get her balance, hitting Jiro in the face. He steadied her and pulled her out of the insect’s reach.

A glance toward Megumi showed she was doing alright—not exactly well, she didn’t seem to have any battle experience at all, but instinct had her dealing as much damage as she received, at least. And, judging by the splotches of web on the floor, she was managing to dodge at least some of the attacks, but she was tiring; she was panting and her movements were slower.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, leading her a bit further away. Anzu nodded, cheeks reddening. He fought the urge to cringe and hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be one of those simpering girls who always—he mentally snorted when the memory cut off. Eventually, he would have to investigate that—every time he got close to remembering something, anything more concrete than the vague thoughts that popped up automatically, it disappeared. “Let’s go—”

Of course, the insect wasn’t about to give up. Apparently having realized the gun wasn’t going to work, Jiro had abandoned it on the table and launched himself at them, swinging for his face.

The hit connected, and all he saw was darkness.

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

Yuugi stumbled back, his ears ringing. A few moments later and his face started to throb. Anzu screamed from next to him—he looked to make sure she was alright, and it looked like she had hit another table pretty hard.

What had happened? The last thing he remembered was being in the kitchen, getting the vodka. But now he was in the dining room. He yelped and dodged the next hit almost automatically, his experiences with bullies fueling his reaction.

“Hold still, shrimp,” Jiro snarled, chasing after him. “Shouldn’t’ve played the fucking hero, brat!”

Yuugi’s breaths were fast and shallow, his chest too tight, too tight! Darkness ate at the edges of his vision, and he shook his head to clear it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Shut up!”

The darkness swallowed him whole.

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

He hissed as his eyes opened back up, his right cheek aching, just in time to dodge another hit. Like hell was he going to let Yuugi face this insignificant insect!

Still, insects were capable of biting, as this one proved, even if ultimately they were only a mere annoyance. He narrowed his eyes. The best way to deal with a biting insect, much like the bug-type Pokemon that sometimes attacked the fields, was with fire.

He dodged the next attack and, his body acting before he could consciously decide his next move, shoved Jiro backwards at the same time he swept the insect’s feet out from under him. The man landed in a pile of webbing left behind from Megumi and Spinarak’s battle. Jiro struggled to get upright, his face twisted with fury, cursing him with every horrible name and misfortune he could think of, but it held Jiro fast, covering his back and arms and holding like glue.

The Shadows hissed and snapped, a reflection of his own fury at Jiro’s attacks. They were hungry—Ushio’s punishment was entirely psychological and hadn’t allowed them to feed—and this man was a danger to him. Their fury deepened his own until it ate at him, leaving him trembling, but he still held back.

He is a danger, they insisted, displeased with his hesitance.

We are angry that he attacked you, our lord, they whispered, snapping in Jiro’s direction.

We are so very hungry, they whined pitifully, brushing against him like a begging purrloin.

“Insects like you deserve to burn,” he hissed. Feed, he told them, finally relenting. Burn his soul away. Slick, dark gratitude rose in his chest, a reflection of his Shadows’.

A multitude of Shadows, each tinted a different color, rose and engulfed the trapped man, worming their way in through eyes and ears and nose and mouth. Jiro gagged, briefly able to feel them just because of the sheer volume, before taking a deep, ragged breath.

Then the insect started to scream.

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

Yuugi’s vision cleared, and he stumbled, this time from the sheer overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. His vision was blurry.

“Help!”

He shook his head to clear it, vaguely remembering having to do that earlier. His face ached. He reached up to touch his right cheek, hissing when pain flared under his fingers.

“I’m on fire! Help me, someone, please!”

His eyes snapped to the man who was screaming—Jiro, who was lying on the floor, thrashing. He seemed stuck.

Yuugi stumbled backward. The man wasn’t on fire, didn’t even look singed, but his screams and desperate pleas made him feel sick. He needed to-to—he looked around desperately, searching for something or someone who could help. Muffled cursing drew his attention to Officer Junsar, who was still wrapped in webbing, and he rushed over to her, helping tear the webs away.

“Officer Junsar!” Once he had gotten some of it off, she was able to tear through the rest herself.

She looked at him, then at the screaming, twitching form of Jiro. “Kid, what happened?”

Yuugi flinched. “I don’t know.”

“Yuugi!”

Anzu grabbed him in a hug. She still had traces of web on her face, around her eyes, and a few gummed-up strands of hair, but she didn’t seem to care about that.

“Was that you?” she whispered, as Officer Junsar stood to check on Jiro. He was vaguely aware of her calling for an ambulance.

“Was what me?” he whispered back. His stomach twisted.

She never got a chance to answer. The others ran to them, and she didn’t seem to want to ask with them there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

“Wh-where’s Megumi?” he asked, eyes widening when she didn’t come out from under the table.

“I think she jumped that spinarak,” Jou told him grimly. He nodded to a space past Jiro and Officer Junsar.

The eevee stood, panting, over the spinarak. Her fur was dirty, and a particularly bad cut dripped blood down her leg, leaving a thin trail across the floor, tracing the path of their battle haphazardly down the aisle.

The spinarak laid on its back, its remaining six legs curled inward, covered in scuffs, dents, and scratches. One detached leg lay in the middle of the floor, while another poked out from under a table, and its head was partially separated from its body.

He stumbled over to her, his legs refusing to work properly, and carefully picked her up. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to run away screaming. He wanted to cry.

He petted her carefully, running one hand over her to find any other major wounds that might be hidden by her fur. She slumped against his chest, clearly exhausted and hurting, and he fought back the sob that threatened to break free.

In the game you fought until your opponent was unconscious, and there were even cards that could revive your teammate to fight again. It was always specified in the rule book—unconsciousness. He had thought, somewhere in the back of his head, that if Megumi had to fight it would be the same way. Fight to unconsciousness. Wake up and heal and fight another day.

But this…he hadn’t expected this. Fighting to unconsciousness clearly wasn’t the default, and he could tell very well why she had ripped her opponent apart like that. He wasn’t a fool; he had seen the placement of some of the cuts and felt the others, all in areas that were vital—several around her neck and along her spine, and a shallow cut on her belly.

He almost lost her, and he didn’t want that to happen again.

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