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jedifarmerr · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 9

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical descriptions)

Rating: E (18+ blog)

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Warnings: language?

Series Masterlist

You watched as Santi tacked five pieces of paper on the wall, one for each member of Council. You would need their stamp of approval like some rite of passage to prove yourself. Without it - well, you didn’t like to think about that.

You watched Santi tack five pieces of water-crinkled paper on the wall, one for each member of Council.

Like some rite of passage, you would need their stamp of approval to get in. Without it - well, you didn’t like to think about that.

Whack.

Santi hit the wall, the middle piece of a paper with a plastic ruler. “Preston Garvey. Mayor of Sanctuary. He’s the one who’ll run the session.”

Benny leaned in and whispered, “Nice guy. Don’t worry about him.”

“Like that’s possible. I’ll be worried even if he’s wasteland Mother Teresa.”

“Who’s Mother Teresa?”

Whack.

“Kasumi, Preston’s right hand and Head of District Planning. Deacon - Trade Relations. Then, Curie, Technological Advancement.” Santi turned to Will with a mischievous smirk. “Got anything you’d like to add about her, Ironhead?”

Santi wiggled his brows, and Will swatted the ruler out of his face. It boinged, but somehow didn’t break. Even though Will was trying to act annoyed, the tiny smile on his face gave him away.

Will crossed his arms. “Curie’s easily the smartest person on that Council. Hell, she’s probably the smartest person in all of Sanctuary.”

“No joke. She’s got it all,” Benny tagged in. “Brains, looks, and funny as shit. I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

Fingers crossed. Hopefully their confidence wasn’t misplaced.

Santi took a deep breath before looking at the last paper on the wall and tapping the crusty edge. “Tom - Military Operations.” His voice dimmed out like a dying light as his gaze swept across the room.

You wondered if this could be the same Tom from their stories. Redfly. If so, why were they acting so weird?

Your fingers drummed against the throw pillow in your lap. “So, what’s the deal with him?”

Will peered up at you. Furrowed brows - ice-blue eyes.

“There’s something you should know about Tom,” he said in that steady, even tone of his. “Tom grew up in the vaults, and it wasn’t good. We’ve been friends with him for a long time, and so we know he’s not gonna be too happy about this.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. This was the same Tom who took down a monster bear, so he could easily squish you like a bug. You cocooned into the musty, dusty and mildewy armchair. The carpet was stained in swirls of brown and green.

“Hey, we’re gonna talk to him, alright?” Frankie’s eyes bore into you. Burnt-umber. Determined. “We’ll deal with him.”

You tugged at a loose thread on the pillow, twisted it around your finger. “Do you think that will help?”

Santi wobbled his head from side to side. “Probably not, but technically - you don’t need his vote. Just the majority.”

You almost chucked this pillow at his head. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why wouldn’t you start with that?”

Santi gave a guilty smile - conceded. “My bad,” he muttered with a small chuckle.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Deacon also came from the vaults,” Will added, “But he’ll come in with an open mind. He’s not - he was too young to remember it.”

“Kinda like how Piper is,” Benny threw out casually, as if you somehow would know that.

You blinked, and suddenly your conversation at Fallon’s made a lot more sense. I’m not one of those, you can talk to me.

It was a relief to think not everyone would hate you. At this point, you kinda thought they might, and if they did, you couldn’t really blame them.

After all, your family had done something incredibly fucked up.

—-

After a few days of planning and prepping her, Frankie stuffed his sleeping bag into his pack and swung it over his shoulder. He’d finally get to sleep in his own bed tonight.

Frankie adjusted his cap before walking over to her. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m ready to get this over with,” she said, following him onto the front porch.

They were back on the road and headed towards Sanctuary. It was just north of Salem, south of Lynn - a coastal town crowded into a peninsula.

“Does anyone ever go in there?” She pointed at the riled up ocean, murky and brown as boa skin.

“Not unless you got a death wish.” Benny snorted. “Whole things swarming with irradiated sharks and these giant crabs.”

“Well that’s fucking terrifying.”

“Exactly.” Frankie huffed out a laugh. “That’s one of the main reasons they chose this place.”

“And here I thought they picked it based on its charm.” She grinned at him. “I always loved Marblehead. Nora had gone to college at Salem State, so on weekends when I’d stay with her, we’d always come over here and shop and eat by the water.”

“Nora? Is that a friend of yours or something?” Benny asked and her head tilted.

Surprised, she turned to Frankie. “I thought - did you not-”

Frankie shook his head. Even though he told them about her agreement and conditions, he’d left out the part about Nora. It didn’t feel like his story to tell.

Benny eyed him with rapt suspicion before slowly turning away as if he was intruding. Frankie was willing to bet that Benny was gonna hassle him about that later.

She didn’t get a chance to say anything else before they arrived at their destination. A rundown Baptist church.

Santi checked his watch as he stepped through the large double doors. “Patrol should be here soon, so don’t get too comfortable.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she mumbled under her breath as she plopped down on a wooden pew without any cushions and threw her bag on the hard ground.

He dropped down beside her, dug two granola bars from his bags, and offered her one that she eagerly accepted. Before she could grab it, he switched the flavors.

Cautiously, she plucked it out of his hand.

“I’m not trying to poison you,” he said. “Those are your favorite, aren’t they?”

A teensy smile toyed with the edge of her lips as she nodded. “I didn’t think you would know that.”

He shrugged, and maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Silently, he ate his own granola bar.

The sun burnt through the stained glass windows, igniting the room in a burst of jewel tones. He could remember coming to this church in his early days as a lowly private when there wasn’t a lick of stubble on his chin. It was usually Santi and him on this route, their name scribbled over and over in the log book under the gangrene cross at the altar.

“Do you really think this is gonna work?” Her voice was small and timid, her big eyes peered up at him.

“I wouldn’t put you up for this, if I didn’t think so.”

She bit at the inside of her cheek - chewing on it thoughtfully. She glanced at where Benny and Will and Santi were talking, a few rows away. They seemed engrossed in their own conversation. He assumed it was about Tom.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell them about Nora?”

Frankie shrugged. “Just didn’t feel like my place, I guess.”

She smiled at that. She opened her mouth to say something, but Benny interrupted.

“Guys, they’re here.” He pointed at the shadows passing the windows.

Frankie felt his stomach twist. There was no going back, now.

—

Tom’s relief quickly morphed into confusion as the two guards shared the news.

They were back, but nobody could know.

Immediately, Tom stormed out of the Council building and towards the wall with the two guards trailing behind him.

There were no bells - no family - nobody running from town to welcome them home. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why they wanted discretion, but he knew it involved that girl.

The Diamond City caravan had come through town recently and told him about her. They didn’t know who she was or where she came from, and neither did these guards.

As he approached the gates, Sergeant Kessler saluted him. Most of the time, she was surrounded by a small army, but the majority of their soldiers were out doing rounds. Smart move. Less people, less witnesses. It had Santi written all over it.

At his command, the gates opened and they were home. Tom couldn’t help but smile when he saw them intact, every arm and leg accounted for and barely a scratch.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.” He gave each one a hug. It’d been too long.

When he finally spotted her, he stepped back and puffed out his chest. His lips formed into a flat line as he crossed his arms. He was fully aware of his size, used it to his advantage as he scrutinized her.

She didn’t squirm like he’d expect. Her expression remained unreadable, but she appeared to study him.

Blue. What a stupid fucking name.

He didn’t extend his hand, neither did she. He checked her finger for a ring - nothing. Thank God, though her nails were surprisingly clean. Enough for him to notice.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Tom curled his lips into what could translate as a smile or sneer. “Likewise.”

Frankie blinked - she glanced over at him, uneasy.

“The Diamond City caravan said there was a girl traveling with you,” he explained. “And they sure had a lot to say.”

“How much did you have to pay for that?” Santi scoffed at him.

“Couple bucks,” he lied. In fact, Molly had forced him to sleep on the couch for how much he spent.

The stupid caravan had baited and taunted him like bratty kids: I know something you don’t know.

“Well, I can only hope it was all good things.” She smirked. “Or, at least that you got your money’s worth.”

Tom’s nose twitched - what the fuck did that mean? He squinted at Frankie, who gave a puny smile.

“Why don’t we talk in your office?” Will patted him on the shoulder as if to placate him.

Tom went over to Kessler and stared down each and every guard individually. “Make sure they know one word about any of this, and there’ll be consequences.”

The Council building was a lone wolf aside from the wall. Town was over a half-mile down that dirt road, so they didn’t have to worry about anyone catching them.

Benny dragged a chair from the lobby to outside of his office for her to wait. Then, he closed the door.

“Everyone was beginning to think you guys were dead after nobody spotted you for what? A month.”

Santi sat down in the chair across from Tom’s desk, “Yeah, we got a little held up.”

“A little? I’d say that’s more than a little. I hope it was worth it.”

“I would say so,” Santi said before telling him about the vault, the hall of frozen bodies and Tom could not believe that those rumors were true.

He’d nearly forgotten about the woman outside the room until they mentioned a girl, alone in a vault suit.

Tom’s hands began to shake - his skin felt hot and stiff and too tight over his bones. They had brought the enemy into their home - into Sanctuary.

“You can’t be serious.” Tom spotted Frankie in the corner. The gray t-shirt nearly blended into the wall. He wondered if Frankie wore it on purpose, like camouflage.

“She’s agreed to help up,” Santi stated, too calmly. “But she does have a few conditions-”

Tom could not bear to hear anymore. He smacked his desk with a flat palm, rattling the jars of pens and pencils rattled, the picture of Molly and the girls face-planted. This was not happening.

Santi sighed, “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but we need her help-”

“Fuck her help. We’ll be fine without it.”

Santi’s gaze flickered to the thin stack of files on his desk. Tom almost flung it across the room.

“How long’s it been since we actually found a Vault? 6 years? 7? Come on. We don’t stand a chance without her. Think about it - she’s the answer.”

“Goddamit Santi. Don’t you feed me that bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, man,” Will interjected. “She’s our best bet. We’re fucking dead in the water without her.”

Tom stared dumbly at Ironhead.

“She’s willing to go against her own family-”

“What’s that say about her?”

“Fuck you,” Benny shot from his seat. His nostrils flared as if he was personally offended. “You don’t even know her-”

“Oh, and you do?” A chuckle twisted Tom’s lips into an ugly sneer. This was insane. None of them knew this woman. She could be a spy or a liar of a fucking lunatic. “Fish, come on. You’re not really going along with this, are you?”

Frankie’s gaze was slightly pained, but sure and steady as he looked at him. It plunged through his stomach - carved out his insides. He felt betrayed. He felt wronged and raw and he could barely stand the sight of him - any of them, in fact.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but -”

“Fucking save it.”

“Just give her a chance.” Frankie’s voice was soft, pleading and suddenly, Tom realized this wasn’t just about the vaults.

No - this was about her. They actually fucking cared about her.

Tom stared at the plaque on the wall - ten years of service. He knew this never would’ve happened if he was still out there with them. She’d be dead or, at the very least, in cuffs.

Tom picked up the knocked over picture frame of his family, and set it back into place. “If you’re looking for my approval on this - it’s not gonna happen.”

“We didn’t expect you to,” Santi answered. “We just thought you deserved a heads-up.”

Curtly, he nodded. There was nothing else to say.

The first person to stand up was Will. He came over and squeezed Tom’s shoulder, followed by Benny and Santi. As they left, Frankie stepped in front of his desk.

“Tom-”

“Do you actually trust her?” Tom interrupted. “Even after everything you know - all we’ve seen - what we’ve been through - you trust her?”

Frankie’s boots scraped over the course carpet when he shuffled from one knee to the next. His hands were firmly latched on his hips, and Tom thought he was about to shake his head. He expected Frankie to say he was overruled - outnumbered - of course he didn’t trust a girl like her.

He waited for Frankie to say no, but he nodded instead. Under the brim of his cap, his eyes were clear as he looked at Tom. It felt like a knife in his sternum.

Tom sniffed, half of his face twitched. His anger bubbled into an uncontrollable rage. “I wonder what your dad would think of that - about all of this.”

Frankie’s lips parted; his face blanched. The corded muscles in his neck tensed as if he was about to be sick. It was a low blow, but Tom didn’t fucking care. They had carelessly decided to bring her here, putting everyone, Molly - his girls - in danger.

Right now, he couldn’t find it in him to regret what he said. Not even as he watched Frankie silently leave without looking back.

—

The Council building was nothing special, despite the name. It used to be a convalescent home - Chambers was the cafeteria.

The founders of Sanctuary had created this bench by shoving two banquet tables together, casing it with red cloth, then setting it atop a small stage on the eastern wall.

Tom took his seat at the far, right end. The guys went first, Santi as the mouthpiece, and while he went into slightly more detail, it still didn’t sway him. Tom was rooted firmly in the opposition.

The double doors opened and Tom frowned as she stepped in, everyone in the room stared at her.

“Damn, she’s kinda hot,” Deacon gaped and Tom rolled his eyes.

He scrutinized her again. Just like Frankie and them, she had not bathed in days. She’d probably look much better clean because she was not ugly, he supposed. Different - but not someone who would catch his attention.

During her introduction, she added two hundred years to her age and he gagged at her attempt to be cute. Everyone else laughed, of course, but he swore Tess could’ve come up with something better and she was eight.

He tried - really, he did - to give her a chance, but every detail he learned about her only soured his opinion.

Her sister worked for the company, as well. Alice had been involved with figuring how to keep the vaults sustainable in the long-term. Hello - red flag?

Her mom was the fucking lead architect - her dad was Chief Director. One of the top dogs.

“You said earlier, you weren’t very close with your mom and sister, but what about your dad?” Kasumi twirled a pen in her hand. Out of everyone, she seemed to be the only one on the fence, though barely. These people were eating out of the palm of her hand.

Blue frowned. For a moment, he thought she was gonna turn on the water works, but she didn’t. She seemed to swallow it down with as much grace as a shot of bathtub bourbon.

“My dad and I were close. We have - had a good relationship.”

“And he never said anything to you?” Tom had to interject and she shook her head. “And you never overheard anything? Nothing?”

“Trust me, I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the same thing, trying to figure out if I missed something, but nothing has come to mind yet,” she said. “My family was pretty tight lipped about Vault-Tec. I used to think it was because they wanted me to work there - and what they could tell me was pretty limited with their NDA-”

“An ND-what?”

“A non-disclosure agreement.”

Preston cleared his throat.

“From what I’ve read, it basically prevented the person from sharing information with anyone outside the company. If you did, there could be severe repercussions,” Preston clarified for him, and Tom huffed.

Preston spent his free time reading any and every pre-war book that he could get his hands on about law and government and espionage. In another life, Preston would’ve been an attorney - or the fucking president. He was a distant relative of Barack Obama. At least, according to him.

Again - Preston regained control and asked a few bogus questions before one perked Tom’s interest.

“So, why you? Why did you get out?”

She shrugged, seemingly at a loss.

“I wish I could tell you. It had to be some mistake. There’s no other explanation.”

Shit answer. Too bad no one else seemed to think so since Preston moved on to her version of events with the guys.

“-so, once I had a few days to think about it, I decided to help-”

“Why?” Tom interfered - Preston’s eyes seared into his profile.

She raised her chin - her gaze level with his. “It’s the right thing to do-”

“And what makes you say that?” He, again, cut her off. Her head tilted in what seemed to be confusion. He scoffed. “What changed? What happened? You said it took a few days to decide, so what made you-”

“Guilt.” Her voice didn’t waver. “It became pretty clear I couldn’t live with myself if I just sat by and did nothing. It’d make me no better than them-”

“So, you think you’re better than them?”

“Tom.” Preston hissed, but Tom’s eyes remained glued to her face.

She swallowed - her fingers curled at her side. “I’m not perfect, but I’m not a bad person-”

“But you’re not helping us for free, right? Don’t you have conditions?”

As she let out a huff, Preston pounded on the table, a single strike of his gavel.

He pointed the gavel at Tom’s chest and warned him, “Don’t push it.”

Tom’s nostrils flared. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and he grimaced.

Preston nodded at her.

“I do have some conditions, but they’re not what you think.”

“Go on,” Preston encouraged her, then shot Tom a pointed look.

“I’m not just gonna hand over all the information at once. As much as you may not trust me, I don’t trust you,” she said, looking directly at him. “We don’t know each other. So, we’ll start with one vault and go from there.”

“Would you be willing to tell us how many locations you know?” Curie thoughtfully pursed her lips as she twirled one of her box braids around her finger.

She agreed, “Let's say around 20.”

“The exact location?”

“Yeah and I could get you within a mile or so of a couple others. I believe there are two, possibly three more vaults like mine, as well.”

That was a lot of intel, but it still didn’t change his mind.

“Okay, what’s your second condition?”

Her feet shuffled along the gritty cafeteria tile - black and white checkerboard. “Everyone in those vaults will receive a fair trial-”

Tom jolted, nearly shooting from his seat. “No fucking way-”

“It’s not just Vault-Tec employees down there. It’s families - kids - people who might be innocent.” Her jaw started to tremble. She rubbed at the center of her chest as if it burned with acid. Then, she took a deep breath. “There has to be others like me. I can’t be the only one who didn’t know. I can’t.”

“So, you’re leaving it up to us to decide whether they’re guilty or not?” Kasumi asked, her brow arched, pen stalled above her notepad.

“Just as you’re doing for me, today,” she pointed out. He hated that she was actually kinda smart.

“Anything else?”

“I want immunity for me and anyone else found innocent. They’ll get a chance at a new life.”

“Is that it?”

She hummed - nodded.

Preston looked down both sides of the table, and with no further questions, he dismissed her.

“The Council will now convene and we’ll call you back once a decision has been reached.”

—

You were in the lobby, waiting - pacing. Everyone, but Frankie, was knocked out. There was a soft snore coming from either Santi or Will.

For a moment, you lingered around the double doors leading to the Council Chambers. Perhaps, if you got close enough -

“Don’t even try - soundproof.” Frankie leaned forward in the chair that must’ve been taken from a waiting room at a doctors office. It was shocking that he could fit in the space between the armrests. His legs were stretched, open wide - arms draped across the two empty chairs beside him. It was like he was purposefully taking up as much space as humanly possible.

Groaning, you flopped onto the worn loveseat that stank of dust motes and elderly, forgotten ghosts. The ceiling tiles above you were bruised with water stains. After a moment, you rolled over onto your side and traced along the coarse, tufted buttons on the cushion, examined the pattern - maroon and amber florals, olive leaves.

You let out a long sigh. “How much longer?”

Frankie snorted, likely finding you dramatic. It felt like you’d been out here for hours, but it’d probably been somewhere closer to 45 minutes. If even that.

“You’re so impatient.”

“And you wouldn’t be?”

His head ticked to one side - fair.

Behind those doors, there were five strangers who were determining your future; a fact you were trying very hard not to dwell too much on. Easier said than done.

“Would it help if I told you how great you did, again?”

You hummed, slowly tapping your chin. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt.”

The corner of his lips twitched with a smirk. “You were perfect.” His voice dipped low - you couldn’t tell if he was taunting you or not. Either way, it made your stomach feel warm.

Immediately, you sat up and petted your shirt. “I was, wasn’t I?”

He huffed out a laugh, then looked away. For a long moment, he stared at an oil painting on the wall - a lighthouse under a dark, stormy sky. He bit down on his cheek, nibbling it pensively.

You figured he was likely thinking about Tom. Their early conversation in his office didn’t seem to go well.

“What about you, Frankie?”

“What about me?” His head rolled back in your direction.

“How’re you doing?”

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Too late.”

The words had slipped out so easily, it seemed to surprise both of you. His eyes met yours and the double doors opened. It jolted the guys awake.

“We’re ready.”

Again - you entered the room with a pit in your stomach. The Council’s expressions were as blank as the King’s Guard, except for Tom, who appeared annoyed and slightly disgusted. Same as earlier.

Despite the pounding of your heart, you managed to smile. Under the can lights, you wondered if they could see the sweat on your temples. Your hands were equally as damp as they twitched at your side.

Preston rose from his seat.

“After much deliberation and based on majority vote, the Council has reached a decision.” He paused and a smile spread across his face. “Blue - welcome to Sanctuary.”

#frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales #frankie x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au

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redrosesandforgetmenots · 1 year ago

Text

Through Your Eyes

All Grown Up (Chapter 1)

2,677 words

"Five more minutes," Craig groaned as his sister shook him awake. It was too early for the sun to be up yet, but the early spring air was brisk. The window he had left open last night was a far better alarm clock than his sister. Said sister threw a pillow at him.

"You said that ten minutes ago! Get up, get up! You're gonna make me late!" Tricia shrieked. Craig rolled over, letting out a heavy sigh.

“You could walk you know,” He mumbled, only to somehow, despite the angle, be hit with a pillow to the face. “Okay fine, I’m up!” Craig sat up, throwing Tricia off the bed. “Now get out of my room!” Tricia flipped him off before running out and slamming the door shut. Craig sighed, finally getting out of bed. His normal getting ready routine consisted of throwing on the least crusty pair of jeans and the least musty t shirt on his floor, (today, the black shirt emblazoned with the album art for Green Day’s “Dookie” was the best smelling, ironically enough.) On his way out the door he threw on a blue hoodie, his signature blue chullo hat, (the yellow puffball had fallen off a few years ago, the stars hanging down now secured by a few threads,) and a pair of blue converse, now held together by silver duct tape. The sharpie doodles he had given them in class had faded to mere smudges.

Craig grabbed his keys, rushing out the door. “Get your ass in the car,” he said, “we’re gonna be late again.” “It’s your fault!” Tricia was tying her red hair up into a ponytail, “now my hair’s gonna look like shit! Thanks asshole!” Craig rolled his eyes as he unlocked the car, hurrying into the driver seat. At least he had left his backpack in the car last night. The rest of the ride to school was accompanied by music blasting so hard he could barely think, but it was mostly a deterrent from his sister trying to talk to him. He wasn’t ready for this shit so early in the morning…

After everything, the two were five minutes late. Tricia scurried to the office for a late pass, but Craig had more pressing matters. He made his way to the school’s basement where the gym was held, down to the one vending machine in the school that still sold certified junk food. He pressed the half glowing, half broken buttons to get himself a monster, nearly dropping it when a familiar voice snuck up behind him.

“Late again, Tucker?” Mr. Mackey, the school counselor who had somehow followed them all since elementary school, stood behind him. “Let’s prioritize getting to class, mmkay?” Craig turned on his heels, raising his middle finger to the old man before absolutely booking it past him. There was 50/50 chance he’d be given a detention slip mid second period now, but flipping off Mr. Mackey was always worth it. He ran all the way to his first period, barely having time to open the energy drink he’d bought.

From: Little Hellspawn

Tricia: The office lady said you need to get over your senioritus and get me to school on time.

Craig couldn’t help but scoff as he put his phone back in his pocket and made his way to his seat, making his teacher turn around. She gave him a look, but said nothing, turning back to the white board. It didn’t matter to him either way, sitting down and finally getting to have his drink. Oh, sweet battery acid, how he loved thee.

The blonde next to him threw him a judgemental look. Normally, he’d brush it off, but this blonde’s piercing green eyes had a way of getting under his skin. “What?” he asked in a whisper. Tweek folded his arms over his chest, his oversized sweater sliding off one shoulder.

“That stuff is disgu-disgusting…” Tweek replied, sneering at the Monster can on Craig’s desk.

“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot your parents meth coffee was so much better.” Craig hissed back, wiping the look off of Tweek’s face. Tweek sunk down in his chair, mumbling something about how they didn’t do that anymore.

Admittedly, Craig did feel slightly bad. He wasn’t a complete asshole, as much as people liked to believe that. It wasn’t Tweek’s fault his parents were arrested for lacing their coffee with meth. It wasn’t Tweek’s fault they did that in the first place… Craig just hated people thinking they were better than him. That was all, he didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. Still, he knew he was punching up in this situation.

Tweek was popular… sort of. Being the only openly gay senior at South Park High School, he had been claimed “Gay Best Friend” to head cheerleader Bebe Stevens, and student council president Wendy Testaburger. If Tweek really had a problem with it, he could have Wendy beat the shit out of him, or have Bebe completely dismantle his reputation, not that he thought he really had one. Tweek had the power here, so he could give him a little bit of shit, right? Still… Craig also sunk down in his chair slightly. He didn’t care about Wendy or Bebe, but Tweek seemed genuinely upset.

Whatever… it wasn’t his problem.

*****

Although there was no detention papers given in second period, or third for that matter, no day in the cursed grounds of Craig’s high school would be easy. He had barely entered the cafeteria when he was cornered by Wendy Testaburger. Wow, this day just couldn’t get anymore fun… sarcasm. “What did you say to Tweek? He won’t talk to me and I know you two have first period together!” “What the hell? You’re just gonna assume I said something? That’s a stupid thing to think-”

“You are an asshole Craig Tucker! Just tell me what you said!” Wendy said, backing the taller against the wall. She wouldn't physically lay a hand on him, but there was no way she didn't know that this many eyes on him wouldn't overwhelm him to the point where he felt like he was choking? He felt his breathing begin to pick up in pace.

"I told him his parents meth coffee wasn't better than my fucking monster okay? Lay off!" Craig raised his voice- he hadn't meant to, this was just stressing him out. Wendy did immediately back off, however, a disgusted look gracing her normally gentle features.

"You are a fucking asshole…." Wendy said, before finally heading back to her lunch table. The eyes on him pointedly turned away, and a low murmuring started back up again. With the buzz of the overhead lights, all the noise made Craig feel dizzy. He ignored his friends calling for him, turning out of the cafeteria and heading for the blissful quiet of the art hall. His final class of the day was AP art history, so at least he had an excuse to be there. He made his way up the short steps, almost not noticing a familiar fluff of blonde hair buried in a sketchbook.

From this angle he couldn't see Tweek's face very well, but it was one of the few he could actually point out in a crowd. He hadn't meant to memorize the other's features, but something about them was so intriguing.

"...Hey." Craig said softly, making Tweek jump. He clutched his sketchbook to his chest, before looking up to glare at Craig from where he was sitting on the steps.

"What do you want, Craig?" The other hissed, his normal stutter absent with his menacing tone. Craig resisted every urge to roll his eyes. If this was such a big deal, he should at least say something to make the other feel better.

"... Just wanted to say sorry. For what I said. It was pretty uncalled for." Tweek suddenly looked confused, an expression Craig mirrored. Why was Tweek confused? Had he forgotten what Craig said?

Tweek sat, dumbfounded for a few beats. He released his sketchbook from his chest, closing it with the pencil still inside. "Oh.. I-I mean, it's not… it's not a big deal.."

"Seems like a big deal if Wendy says you won't talk to her. Can I sit here?" Craig was actually hungry, thank you very much, and genuinely needed to sit and eat. And if it was with Tweek around, he might as well get it over with. Tweek nodded, gesturing vaguely to the stair above him. Craig sat, pulling out his lunch box from his backpack. Shit… he had forgotten to actually pack a lunch after leaving his backpack in his car overnight. All that was in there was a bag of goldfish crackers. He dug into his bag to try and find one of the protein bars he kept at the bottom.

"Is that a R-red Racer lunch box?" Tweek asked, eyeing him warily. Craig looked back, just as wary, before giving a small nod. "... I like that show a lot. S-so… ha-have you heard about the l-live action movie?" Craig immediately relaxed. Finally someone who could appreciate Red Racer beyond it being a kids show.

Craig finally found the Cliff bar at the bottom of his bag, two of them, even! "Yeah, I'm not super excited about the casting. I don't know if Margot Robbie would make a good Tracy."

"Oh man, I e-expect this movie to bomb so bad! None of the casting makes any sense!" Tweek had a bright smile on his face, actually showing his yellow teeth. He had a gap between the two in the front that made Craig smile for some reason. "H-honestly I'm probably gonna hate watch it! Di-didnt they already make a live action in 2008 anyways?" Craig nodded to confirm, before holding out one of the bars to Tweek, who's smile immediately dropped.

"Oh- sorry… I-I don't take food f-f-from other people." Craig took note of Tweeks lack of lunch, having only his backpack and sketchbook, and then looked at the overly prominent collar bone sticking out from under the neck of his sweater. He shrugged

"Makes sense." Craig would probably need to eat both of these anyway if he wanted to make it through the rest of the school day. "Did you eat lunch though?" Tweeks eyes suddenly went wide

"I-I mean- not today? B-but I'm eating later with W-Wendy and Bebe an-and I bring one almost every other day I swear-"

"Woah… I'm not like the food police dude. You just didn't seem to have one today. It's okay, Tweek. You're not in trouble." He saw Tweeks shoulders relax, and he readjusted his sweater. Before Craig could say anything else, the bell rang, and the other absolutely booked it up the rest of the stairs, dropping a few papers in his wake. Craig shrugged to himself, picking them up before anyone else could step on them.

The memory of Tweek absolutely beaming at him, gap between his teeth and all was now burned into Craig's memory. Tweek would make a really pretty girl.

****

"I just said if he was a girl he would be really pretty, I don't know why you keep insisting that's gay! I said if he was a girl!" Craig found himself defending his stance to Kenny and Clyde. They were smoking weed in Craig's garage, the smoke filling up the space and turning it hazy. Thankfully his mom and dad were at work still.

"Dude, you think a guy is pretty! That's gay!" Clyde said, while Kenny nodded in agreement. He didn't know when Clyde and Kenny became such good friends, but it was getting on Craig's nerves.

"I'm not gay! I just think Tweek would make a pretty girl!" This was why he should just shut up when he was high. He always said dumb shit that made the other two laugh at him.

"You think Tweek fucking Tweak is pretty?" Kenny asked, taking the joint from Craig. "Like, pretty like a girl pretty?"

"I said he'd make a pretty girl."

"So you think he's pretty? Dude! No offense to your tastes but Tweek kind of…" Clyde pursed his lips, choosing his next words carefully.

"He looks like a tweeker!" Kenny said, "Sorry, man, it's not his fault and everything but he looks like he's been on meth for years." Craig made a move to zip Kenny's parka back up. He always talked too damn much when his mouth was uncovered. "Woah, no need to try and undress me, hot stuff! Take me out to dinner first!"

"I'm trying to zip your fucking parka up you dumb ass!" Craig replied, successfully zipping it up all the way to Kenny's mouth.

"Woah, Craig putting more clothes on a guy? Guess he's not gay…" Clyde said, eyebrows raised in fake shock.

"I keep telling you dick wads that! I'm not fucking gay."

"I mean, it's not a problem if you are," Clyde said, Kenny nodding in agreement, "But there are so many other popular guys who are… more in your league?"

"What about Tweek is not in my league? Are you calling me ugly?"

"He's calling Tweek ugly," Kenny clarified in a muffled voice, leaning back in the camping chair he was sitting in.

"Fuck off… He's actually nice looking, unlike you assholes." Clyde laughed, and Kenny did too. "You just don't get it…"

"Yknow what? You're right, we're being totally unfair," Kenny said, unzipping his parka again. "What do you see in Tweek, Craig?"

"I don't know, he's just…" Craig bit his lip, playing with one of the stars at the end of his hat. "He's got really delicate features… his face is heart shaped, and his nose is like… elegant I guess? And he's got these huge eyes… he looks like a painting."

"Tweek definitely has big eyes. He kinda looks like a bug…" Clyde replied, before Kenny held up a hand to stop him.

"No, I kinda get it… Tweek definitely has a deer in the headlights kinda look. So he's pretty like a deer is?"

"No, Kyle looks like a deer… or a moose, maybe," Kenny laughed, nodding, "Tweeks kind of like…A rabbit. Or something." That effectively made the other two bust out laughing, and Craig leaned back with his arms folded. "Fuck you guys…"

*****

That night, as Craig's star protector drifted it's lights lazily across his ceiling and he had actually closed the window, he decided to pull the papers Tweek had dropped out of his back pack to look at them. He was going to hand them back either way, but he might as well see how important they were so he'd know if he could hand them over first thing in the morning or if it could wait until after lunch. A few assignments covered in doodles, a few blank sketchbook pages, and…one portrait.

Craig held the paper, absolutely stunned. It was a drawing of him, his profile captured with gentle pencil strokes and hatch shading… Tweek had to be some sort of artistic genius to not only make him like himself, but also… beautiful, somehow. Maybe it was the lighting in their first period class, there was no way he looked like that in person…

Most of the assignments didn't seem that important, but the sketch was only half finished. He'd wanna finish it, right? Craig pulled his phone off his nightstand. Tweek didn't have Instagram, but Wendy did. And thankfully her dms were open.

Messages from RedRacerFan98 to wendytestaburger

Craig: hey tweek dropped a bunch of papers at lunch can you ask him to meet up with me before school tomorrow. they're assignments and stuff

Wendy: Fine, whatever. Where do you want him to meet you?

Craig: in the art hall is fine

Wendy: Okay, I'll text him.

Craig turned his phone off, carefully slipping the papers back into his backpack. He'd make tomorrow a good morning, try to be as bright and early as possible. After all, now he had an actual reason to try.

#creek #south park #tweek tweak #south park fanfiction #craig tucker #Through Your Eyes

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summoningflames · 2 years ago

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whoever reblogged my crusty dusty musty old black butler art i hope ur pillow is warm on both sides…

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breastmaster64 · 2 years ago

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i love how twitter fucking dying and burning down to the ground has little to no effect on average twitter users who doesn't care about the site's bullshit. like yeah elon is absolutely fucking everything up and is currently suffocating that god forsaken site with a musty, dusty, crusty pillow, but why care about that when my friend's feed is filled with tweets about coffee dates and flowers

#stfulee.txt

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legal-lost-boy · 3 years ago

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Soul Searching.

Word count: 851.

Warnings: Descriptions of the boys deaths/corpses.

Pairing(s): Slight Michael/David (might expand more later).

Summary: Michael feels a strange tug at his soul ever since the night they defeated the vampires. Eventually, he can't take it anymore and goes to find out why he's feeling this way.

Notes: My first published work in this fandom! Short but I might just continue it 😌 please rb and comment if you like it ❤️

Tags: @halosandseeds

---🦇---

Ever since The Night, Micheal feels a pull to go back to the cave, an ache that gets stronger and stronger every day until he can't take it anymore.

And there he finds David, looking tired and hungry but smug,

"Took you long enough Michael." David says, perched upon what was once his throne, but now just looking like an ordinary wheelchair for a sickly, pale boy.

Michael is surprised to find his very first thoughts being that of concern, instead of anger like he expected.

He felt the pull of the platinum blonde in his heart and soul, so he made his way over to him before subconsciously lifting his sleeve.

With bated breath he watched and waited for the sharp sting of fangs, draining his body of all its blood.

When he didnt feel a bite he opened his eyes, when had they closed? He looked at David, and saw an honest expression on his face before a cold hand pushed his wrist away.

"Save that for later, there's a few other who need it way more than me."

Michael's eyebrows shot up.

"What do you mean?"

There's no way.

David slowly stood up, almost rickety like a marionette on broken strings.

He looked most like a child in his fathers clothing, his coat sagging around his shoulders.

"Come." Was all the vampire said, before encasing himself in the shadows of the rocky walls and moonlight coming down from the ceiling.

Michael followed him further back into the cave.

Sam had seen this part of the cave and so did the Frogs.

After the final battle, or so Michael had thought, the three young boys never liked talking about what happened down there.

Now seeing it for himself, the cave got more narrow and tight, making Michael feel claustrophobic.

Eventually he and David pushed through until they got to an open room within the bowels of the Santa Carla Resort.

It was dark, so dark. Michael couldn't even see his own hands before his face.

Suddenly, with a snap of his fingers, David lit a variety of candles in the room.

An old vanity on the right hand side of the room was covered in them, all of them dripping down the old polished wood covering it in thick layers of wax.

Some other candles were attached to the walls, rising up high above where Michael stood.

In the middle of the room, on the floor, was a collection of musty pillows and dusty blankets.

Very high above it, mounted near the ceiling was a long iron pole.

"Is this where you all.." Michael trailed off,

"Yes, this is our nest." David said as he turned around to face Michael, the candlelight showing off how gaunt his face actually was.

David limped his way towards the pile of pillows and blankets, which Michael now noticed was not empty of occupants.

With a large swoosh, David lifted one of the larger blankets away, showing Michael a gruesome sight.

Laid out across the nest were the three bodies of the other Lost Boys, or what was left of them.

Marko was on the far left, his almost angelic face stuck in an agonized expression.

His body was fully intact, save for the big hole from front to back in the place where his heart should be. His body was the least mutilated of the three.

In the middle was Paul, or moreso the molten skeleton that was left of him.

Crusty and stiff his molten bones stood stark against the muddled silk of the sheets and pillows.

His skull looked as if it was screaming, fangs glistening in the candlelight.

The last to be seen in the nest was Dwayne. His body was torn to pieces, laying together in a position that only slightly resembled his former self.

With a decapitated head and arms and legs torn from sockets he was but a visage of his former beauty.

The skin on his face was torn, and he almost looked blind.

Michael's breath left his lungs in a gasp,

An overwhelming surge of pain bloomed in his chest. Love, longing, loss, pain, they all swarmed in his chest and belly like a colony of angry wasps.

"You feel it, don't you Michael?" David's voice shocked him out of his trance, Michael subconsciously put his hand to his chest and stomach.

David was looking at him with a solemn gaze, his baby blue eyes looking glassy,

"You can feel their pain, their agony, their voices screaming at you in betrayal. They aren't truly gone yet, and I know how to bring them back Michael."

Suddenly David stood before him in a wisp of wind and the sound of flapping wings but no bats were to be seen, just the intense blue turning yellow of David's eyes and the scruff of his beard almost touching Michaels cheeks.

Michael could feel David's mouth morph into a smirk, sharp fangs barely grazing his lips,

"Now is the time to give me your wrist Michael, because you are gonna help me.

You caused this, so now you're going to fix it."

#lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys movie #jeordies art #my art #my writing #jeordies writings #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys

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slasherpegger · 3 years ago

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Requesting some nasty with All American Massacre era Choptop, or... Notchop at that point? Maybe him going out to find some dinner at a bar before he actually sees reader and is like "Nah I can think of some better things to do with this one" flirting, which then ends with them messing around in that combination fairylight torture chamber we have seen in the trailers? Obviously there is not really characterization of him at that point so I encourage you to go as headcanon as you would like. Just.... God, Mosley looking like a crusty ass punk in the few pictures we got really does it for me and I need to get rained by THAT version of the character specifically.

It's Been Years, Love. (AAM!Chop Top fic)

Pairing: All American Massacre!Chop Top Sawyer x AFAB!reader Word Count: 0.9k Warnings: Knives, weaponry. blood hint, unprotected sex, just some weird smut A/N: I set this up in case of a sequel, so if anybody enjoys this first one-- feel free to request a description of what went down that night!

Alone in a bustling bar… this wasn't how you planned your Friday night to go. You let out an exasperated sigh, eyes glancing down in sorrow. Around you are laughing, conversing bar goers whomst seem to be having the time of their life-- but not you. That was until a greasy-appearing man slid into the unoccupied seat next to you, staring at you expectantly. He adorned a pair of purple sunglasses and an outfit that screamed hippie. His silver headplate glimmers under the bar’s lighting.

"I wouldn't expect somebody like you to be all alone in a place like this." The man comments, chuckling nervously. You cock an eyebrow.

"Somebody like… what?" You ask, confused if he meant an insult or a compliment. It could've meant anything.

"Somebody so… deliciously attractive." He answers with a lick of his lips. He slides his arm around your shoulder and orders you a drink, demanding the bartender put it on his tab. As you wait you take in his looks. He screams bastard with his slouched posture but warrior with his exposed head plate.

Drink after drink, the two of you start to become closer. You learn his name is Bobby Sawyer, but you can call him Chop Top. You learn his experiences in Vietnam, you learn about his years in prison. With every word, his hand slowly slides across your body and gropes your breast. You stumble on your words, trying your best to not let out a moan.

"Do ya wanna go back to my place?" Chop whispers into your ear, licking up your neck and onto your lobe. He grunts into your ear, giving it a gentle nibble. Your answer is an immediate yes, allowing Chop to lead you out of the bar.

You arrive in a musty truck, various bones hanging off the front mirror. What kind of animal could these possibly come from?

"Oh! M'brother Bubba made these for me." Chop explains as he sees your confused glance, "My brothers are… butchers."

The two of you arrive at Chop's place, surprising you at its messy state. The air chokes your lungs, a thick level of dust covering everything. The house looked like somebody hadn't been there for ten years, Chop was being genuine about his stay in jail. You'd think he'd clean up once arriving home. On the counters are various weapons and tools, some clearly used with some type of dried red substance on them. Your gut screams to question it, but the man seducing you seemed too good to pass up. Chop guides you to a suspended blanket fort, fairy lights strung across to provide romantic mood lighting. Inside are various pillows to provide comfort. You lay down, Chop sitting on top of you. Then it begins.

Chop leans in for a kiss, his hands holding his body above your shoulders. Your lips meet, beginning a passionate dance. You fight for dominance, kissing harder and harder. His wet tongue slips into your mouth, letting him win this battle. You gasp, panting for air as his fiery energy takes your breath away. Chop pulls away, taking his personal hunting knife and pointing it at the collar of your shirt. He cocks an eyebrow in question of consent, your longing eyes approving. He begins cutting off your top, then your bra. Your bare chest stings in the anticipating air.

"I could do anything to you…" Chop groans, gently tracing the knife down your exposed skin. "You're just my prey."

"If you could do ANYTHING…" You begin, grasping the excited bulge in his pants, "then show me what this can do."

Chop eagerly begins undressing, pulling off his tie-dye shirt and custom stitched jeans, along with some colorful boxers. Out flings his erect member, long and slender. He's dripping with precum in pure excitement. Chop tugs off your pants and panties, throwing them off to the side. His long fingers slide across your entrance, feeling your yearning wetness. Then he enters- out of your lips escapes a moan. Chop takes his time, slowly pulling in and out of your expectant sex. A plea emerges from your lips, a moan of "please, Bobby". Then he ravages you. His cock thrusts aggressively, speedily, filling you with wild pleasure. His lengthy cock pushes against your g-spot. Your back curves, your feet push into the floor, your head digs back into the pile of pillows. The aura of the room is lust as all the two of you can hear is your bodies coming together and sapped moans.

"I'm gonna-- I'm gonna!" Chop grunts, speeding up his pounding. Your sex fills with his warmth. He pulls out, droplets of his slime spilling from your pussy.

He flops down next to you, breath heavy from pouring his energy into you. Your sex is empty now, lonely. You sit atop of Chop, grasping his knife and pointing it at his chest.

"I never finished…" You pout, twirling the hunting knife in your hands, "Why should you be the only one having fun?"

Under you, his member raises against your sex. His erection throbs impatiently in a matter of seconds. His longing eyes gaze upon you, leaving him speechless.

"Maybe use that knife a little bit more and you'll get it." Chop growls, a shit eating grin spreading across his flushed face.

The night is full of passionate embracing, countless amounts embracing, now including various items and weaponry. The two of you are like rabbits, switching who's on top and who uses what. It seems the knife really excited him.

#chop top sawyer #chop top sawyer x yn #chop top sawyer x reader #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2 #all american massacre #smut #smut fic

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thembo-for-anime · 4 years ago

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Unwritten Rules

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1.2K

TW: mentions of su!c!de, angst, but then some fluff

Summary: Reader Insert, You find out about what Bakugo suggested to Midoriya involving a swan dive and a building. This makes you want to take matters into your own hands regarding his punishment but Izuku tries to stop you.

When being friends with someone, there are some things that are a given. Unwritten rules you should follow, that if you don’t you’re a shitty friend. Like always having their back. Always. Even if that means putting yourself in an uncomfortable situation.

So when Izuku told you what Katsuki fucking Bakugo suggested to him in middle school regarding a swan dive and a building, you were ready to rip his disgusting fucking head off.

Who cares if you had started to like him a little bit. Any feelings you had were eaten away by the acid threatening to rise in your throat.

God who could just say that to a person? Not to mention a person as sweet and genuine as Izuku. Just thinking about it makes you see red as you continue your warpath to Bakugo’s room.

“Pl-Please don’t, you don’t understand! It was just a stupid comment when we were kids-” Midoriya tries to explain but stops himself as you spin around on your heels.

“Just a stupid comment? Izuku, he told you to kill yourself. That is the furthest thing from okay,” you say watching his fear stricken face. His eyes were wide and fleeting, presumably looking for Bakugo as if he would jump out at any moment. Your gaze softens a bit watching his expression that you knew all too well from your time before UA. “Please tell me you know that’s not okay,” you question, trying to catch his shifting gaze.

“I mean, it’s not. I know it’s not but we were kids an-and,” he trails off, not able to grasp a good excuse out of the air.

You place your hands on his shaking shoulders finally getting him to look at you. “Whether you were kids or not doesn’t excuse what he did. Not to mention, to my knowledge, he’s never tried to apologize to you has he?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Midoriya hangs his head before shaking it from side to side. Though dejected he still had a tense hold on his shoulders that crawled down his back and shook him. Looking from him to the first level dorms and back at him you decide that Bakugo can wait for now. Pulling him into a hug you feel as his shaky arms slowly begin to snake around you and hug you back.

You give him a squeeze and realize one of two things. The first was that his shirt was surprisingly wet and the second was that the wetness was from your own tears.

Not wanting to be caught crying in the middle of the dorm hallway, you open the door to your room and waddle inside with the shaky boy still in your arms.

As soon as the door shuts he lets out a small sob and then another a little louder. Not long after he lets them out freely as you two slowly slide onto your carpeted floor. It greeted you both with it’s plush hold, easing the pressure on limbs that were awkwardly tangled but too stubborn to readjust. Your own tears sting your eyes causing you to shut them tightly as you cling onto him, like he might disappear into thin air.

“You are so- god you are so important Izuku, I ho-hope you know that. To me, to Iida, to Uraraka, to Tsu, hell even to Shinso.” His hands grip you tighter but you continue. “We love you so much. I- I wouldn’t even know what I’d do without you. You push us to be better than we could ever hope to be and I just- I love you so much. You’re so important and I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” you get out in-between hiccups and tears.

He leans back and looks up at you with a watery smile. One that fills you with ease. One that says he wasn’t thinking of going anywhere soon.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” he says as you take your sleeve to wipe away some tears from his cheeks. He tries to protest, saying that he doesn’t want to ruin your sleeves.

“Izuku I think I did a worse number on your shirt,” you say before he looks at his shoulder and sees the darkened spot. “They really gave the class crybabies trauma and said have fun figuring that shit out didn’t they?” you joke, earning a small laugh from Izuku.

“They really did,” he affirms as you get up and reach out a hand for him. He takes it with a smile as you lift him up to you. “About Kacchan,” he begins before wringing the hem of his shirt. “Please don’t do anything about it. I’ll deal with it when I’m ready.” Looking back up at you he lets out an airy laugh. “And based on the size of the stain on your shirt, I don’t think I am right now.”

You sigh heavily, the weight of the evening loosening it’s grasp on your chest, before nodding your head in response. “Okay I won’t, I promise. But I can’t promise I’ll be nice to him anymore,” you huff before grabbing his head in your hands and giving him a kiss on the forehead. This causes a bright crimson blush to spread across his freckled cheeks.

He tries to sputter a ‘thank you’ out causing you to laugh. Classic shy Izuku, everyone loves him for it.

An idea pops in your mind causing you to stop everything you’re doing to start grabbing blankets and pillows and putting them on your floor. “Hey Izuku go get your pajamas and some snacks but be sure to be back in ten minutes,” you say, sending out a text to Dekrew (Deku Crew and yes you were all proud of the name).

“Uh, why? Is this an emotional intermission?” he asks, tilting his head with an equally confused and amused expression.

“Not exactly, I just signaled our friends for an emergency movie marathon,” you say grinning from ear to ear. At this his eyes start welling up with tears again. Hopefully happy ones this time.

“You didn’t have to,” he says as he starts getting choked up.

“I know but I wanted to and I remember how you talked about how being around friends helped ground you. We all wanted to help as much as we can,” you say before he pulls you into an unexpected hug. It was unexpected because usually he was too nervous to be the one to initiate platonic affection. Being caught off guard however didn’t stop you from returning with as much care as you could. You could feel your own tears start to prick the corner of your eyes. “Izuku we just stopped sobbing, you're gonna make me start again,” you say with your voice full of water.

He just laughs holding on just for a moment longer before detaching and looking at you. “Thank you, I really really appreciate having you in my life,” he says.

The tears you futily tried to keep at bay spill against your will. “Izuku what did I just say!” you respond with a wet smile showing you feel no real anger.

“I know, I know I’m going,” he says reaching the door.

“Ten minutes,” you remind him, “Not a minute later.”

He smiles, a genuine Grade A Izuku Midoriya patented smile before repeating, “Ten minutes.”

The door closes behind him and you try to wipe away all the evidence that you had spent the last what? Fifteen, thirty minutes crying? But you couldn’t be bothered to try and look presentable aside from throwing on a jacket to hide the tear stains. You honestly didn’t care if your red rimmed eyes and knotted hair made you look like the most busted musty, dusty, crusty troll under the goddamn bridge because all that matters was that Izuku knows he’s loved.

When being friends with someone, there are some things that are a given. Unwritten rules you should follow, that if you don’t you’re a shitty friend. Like being there for your friend and reminding them that they’re always loved. Always.

Author’s Note: dammmn I am RUSTY! but this is something that I’ve wanted to write ever since I saw the anime because that part struck a chord with me. I know Bakugo is growing and I want to clarify I don’t hate him and I do believe that you can grow from things like that. however Bakugo hasn’t apologized and I’m sure he won’t ever apologize (at least where he is rn) so Midoriya doesn’t have to forgive him. ESPECIALLY for something he was never given an apology for.

also do I simp for fanon Bakugo? absolutely. would I also fist fight canon Bakugo given the chance? without a doubt.

(also also loosely inspired by @/dinomight’s “if you’re standing (if you’re bleeding) fic on AO3)

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #izuku #izuku midoriya #midoriya #mha #bnha #mha izuku #bnha izuku #deku #deku x y/n #dekusquad #bnha deku #deku x reader #bnha midoriya #midoriya x reader #izuku midoria x reader

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alonelytinywriter · 4 years ago

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Oh Hush You

touya-is-dabi said to alonelytinywriter:

Heyy if I send an ask for some Zeni x Dabi thirst is that allowed? Take it as far as you see fit. The thirstier the better . . . I need some Jealous dabi in my life. So maybe make shigiraki flirt with Zeni or something?

I got chu doll! I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it. Lots of love <3 <3

Warnings: There be soft smut here, Dabi being a soft guy, even if he is kinda a twat for a itty bitty, bitty bit . . . and then Dabi being a not so soft guy if you get the idea! Cursing, Jealousy, soft! Dabi . . . Enjoy!

Dabi / Zeni Devi ~ Lovely baby of @touya-is-dabi

Playlist - Love Songs, Drug Songs - X Ambassadors

Name: Zeni Devi ~ Birthday: December 6 ~ Age: 21 ~ Hair Color: White ~ Eye Color: Sea-foam Green ~ Gender: Female ~ Height: 5’4’’ ~ Quirk: Permafrost ~ Occupation: LOV Member

Appearance:

Zeni is five foot four, but everyone comments on the way she seems taller in the same way that ballerinas do, with a long neck and willowy limbs, although not many ballerina’s would have hundreds of freckles scattered across their body, nor piercings in places such as their tongue or belly button. She is slender with long legs and long bright white hair and deep azure roots - which grows blue naturally only a few inches away from her scalp - and large sea foam green eyes surrounded by thick lashes that curl and seem to brush against her cheeks when she blinks. If one were asked to describe her, they would say that she was bright and radiant, like her face was truly alive, despite the sour attitude she might show those around her. ~ She typically dresses in jeans and sweaters or coats, and always wears boots, in which she keeps small weapons hidden for when her quirk becomes to much to handle in battle. Due to the nature of her Quirk, Zeni commonly looks as if she is ready to take a trip into the snow - even during the middle of the summer - and her quirk causes the skin around her fingers, elbows, knees and ankles to constantly feel chapped. The band-aids she uses to cover the cracks and sores have steadily grown more and more ridiculous over the years and she currently goes out of her way to find the most brightly colored Hello Kitty band-aids whenever she can . . . if only to annoy Dabi, not that he needs to know that.

Quirk: Permafrost ~ Zeni’s Quirk allows her to replace her bodily fluids (spit, tears, sweat, etc.) with liquid nitrogen, allowing her to use it as both defence and weapon during attacks and missions with the LOV. The longer Zeni actively uses the power, the stronger the liquid nitrogen becomes. If Zeni over uses this Quirk, a layer of frostbite begins to seep across her skin and lungs, freezing any natural moister in its way, and due to the nature of the Quirk, her body is constantly freezing, and crying can become a horror for her as the liquid nitrogen will turn to dry ice and she’ll begin crying blood because dry ice blocks her tear glands. The only way Zeni is able to combat against the drawbacks of this Quirk is by warming up, though she finds it very hard to do so.

Power - 5/5 ~ Speed - 3/5 ~ Technique - 4/5 ~ Intelligence - 6/6 (S) ~ Cooperativeness - 1/5

Oh Hush You

~ “This isn’t right! You shouldn’t be winning! It isn’t fair! Isn’t fair! Isn’t fair!” Rolling her eyes, Zeni continued to skid her fingertips across the buttons to the controller of her Switch, even while Shigaraki tried to elbow her into messing up. “How are you winning?”

~ “I already told you that you should just do what I’m doing. It’s not like anyone actually knows how to use her yet. Everyone else is gonna be button mashing too.” Zeni laughed as she watched Shigariki’s character fly from the screen once again and snickered, racing after the dropped power-up.

~ “I am not mashing the buttons.”

~ The power up pushed Shiggy’s character from the platform once again and Zeni watched as the screen flashed GAME OVER again. “Well, then, you’re going to keep on loosing.”

~ “ . . . Shut . . . Up.”

~ And so it continued, and even though it was well past three in the morning, neither Zeni nor Shiggy were willing to set their game consoles down, and one game turned into five then thirty, and then they lost count and it became a challenge to see who would come out on top. Even though Zeni found Shigaraki annoying at the best of times, it was nice to relax and fight in a way that wouldn’t end in bloodshed but in laughter instead. And Dabi was away on a mission, so it wasn’t like she had anything better to do without him there. She knew it was getting late, but she wanted to wait for him to arrive, wanted to be there to greet him when he came through the doors. What she didn’t want to do was fall asleep with her head on Shigaraki’s lap. Specifically not long enough that she would still be in that position when Dabi came home.

~ That was the only explanation Zeni could come with with, eyes wide open as she stared around the empty room. Shiggy was still asleep up above her, his breath steady, completely unaffected by whatever it was that had woken Zeni from her sleep. Maybe it had been Twice, Zeni mused, as she forced Shigaraki awake and directed him to his bedroom so he wouldn’t bitch at anyone when they started coming into the room in the morning. Turning the television off, Zeni yawned and began to make her way to her room wondering if Dabi had made it to the base yet.

~ The question was answered for her as she walked past the hallway leading to Dabi’s door and she could hear him cursing and tossing things in his room. It seemed strange, that Dabi hadn’t woke her when he arrive home, that he hadn’t let her know how the mission had gone. And why was he locked in his room, clearly breaking one thing after another? He doesn’t even pause the first time she knocks, or the second or third. It’s not until she literally slams her hands against the door, rattling it in its frame, that Dabi’s rant inside the room seems to calm.

~ Red light filtered into the hallway when Dabi throws the door open, and his glowering stare is nearly enough to make Zeni shrink back. “What’s your problem? Why didn’t you tell me you where back?” Dabi continued to stare down at her for a moment before scoffing. “Why don’t you just go on, huh?”

~ . . . “What did you just say to me?” Zeni has never had problems laying hands on people to get her way, and when her hands land on his chest the steam the rises nearly creates a cloud that neither can see through. “What is your fucking problem Dabi?” “Not a fucking thing!” Rubbing her eyes, Zeni laughed. “Yeah, try again. You’re acting like a jerk. What did the mission not go well? Did you not get to show off or something?”

~ “Why don’t you just go to sleep, Ze.” “Because I’m not tired.” Breathing heavily, the two stare at each other for a long moment. His room wasn’t trashed, Zeni realized once she looked away. Sure, there was a broken lamp against the far wall, and she was pretty sure she could smell smoke, which meant something had been on fire at some point. “Fine, you’re not tired? Then why don’t you go talk to Shigaraki, since you’re such good friends?” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before he throws himself down onto his bed, mumbling into the pillows about how he was tired, so if she didn’t mind, he was going to be going to bed.

~ Zeni couldn’t believe it. How dare he? What an ass! Huffing, she slammed her way from the room. Who did he think he was, talking to her like that? He never talked like that before so why would he . . .

~ The door was still open and she was able to slip in soundlessly, the thick socks on her feet covering any sound of her footsteps when she moved to stand next to his bed, but Dabi does startle when she throws herself onto the bed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Her lips were on his neck when she answered, but the words were soft and Dabi nearly didn’t hear her as she threw the question back at him instead of properly answering. He wasn’t happy about it, and he tried to show her by shoving her from the bed, away from him, but she straddles his waist and frowns down at him while her hair creates an snowy curtain around them.

~ “I figured it out, you know. What woke me up earlier. It was you, wasn’t it? You didn’t get jealous because I was asleep with Shiggy, did you?” His Quirk flaring to life at his fingertips was answer enough and Zeni laughed, quickly putting out the flames with her own Quirk. “You’re joking right? You’re jealous of crusty, musty Shiggy?” He denies it of course but Zeni can’t help herself - “You are so! You’re so jealous I can see your eyes turning green!”

~ Growling, Dabi flips them over and straddles her the same way she was him just a instant before, his voice gravel as he tells her over and over that she is his, and no one else could have her. To Zeni, it shouldn’t have even been a question, but to Dabi it seemed a mantra he needed to repeat again and again, even as they rolled and fought to be on top, lips and teeth marking necks and exposed collar bones, flames and frost flashing to counter one or the other. “You were jealous.” Zeni scoffed lightly, her breathing coming in short panting gasps as Dabi’s teeth continued to scrap across her skin. “You were mad that I was asleep with Shiggy -”

~ “You belong to me.” Dabi snarled. “Maybe if you weren’t getting so chummy with Shigaraki, this wouldn’t be a problem. I wouldn’t have gotten so fucking -” Zeni cuts him off with her lips, her fingers threaded through his hair as steam rises from their mouths, the heat so intense, Zeni wondered if kissing the sun would feel similar. Her shirt was gone between one breath and the next, and so was Dabi’s. Their hands were not soft as they felt each other, their teeth sharp against the others skin. “You know I only want you.”

~ Steam fogged the windows and mirror above the dresser, and their clothes were scattered around the room when Dabi finally entered Zeni in one sharp thrust, groaning her name like a payer. He’s not gentle by any means, and deep down Zeni knew that he wouldn’t be when she walked back into the room and instigated this. Moaning into his mouth, she felt her hips begin to rock against his, her fingers threading through his hair. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, bleeding into the steam throughout the room with the sweet scent of burnt sugar and caramel. “You’re mine, you know that. Mine and only mine, Ze.”

~ “I know. I know. I know.” Zeni threw her head back, nails scrambling for purchase against Dabi’s back, as she felt the coil within her tighten. Dabi’s growls softened to a hum when he moves to palm a handful of her ass, his hips jerking when she pulses around him in response. “Dabi, Dabi - please, Dabi -” Dabi groans, whispering quite words of nonsense into her ear as he finds his thrusts growing shorter, filled with purpose as he chased their high together. Zeni looked as if she were a goddess in the darkness of his room, and her tits, heavy and perfectly sized for her body, bounced with each rantic thrust.“Dabi, Dabi, Dabi -”

~ “Mine.” Dabi growled as he felt her fluttering around him, her back arching from the bed as he was thrown over the edge as well, his nails carving into the slope of her spine as he forced her closer. “You’re mine.”

#dabi #my hero academia #bnha #bnha dabi #my brain isn't working #I don't know how i feel about this #but ive been working on it so long #and it doesn't get better #please enjoy

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neptunesnxpple · 5 years ago

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Shigaraki x m!reader

You move in to a new apartment in a country new to you- only to find out it's the leagues base! This is Part 1.

Requests are open btw and anon is on!

Part 1 ;; Part 2 ;; Part 3 ;; Part 4 ;; Part 5 ;; Part 6 ;; Part 7

You didn't mean to join the league. You just didn't know that this apartment was still in use, and the fact that it was musty in appearance lead you to believe the previous owners had just left some furniture behind in the move. No matter, you were a foreigner and could use all the furniture you could get. You rolled your suit case in and left it by the door, making a beeline for the windows- it sure was musty in here and had some residual stank attached to it! You had a decent idea that there were parts of the living room that had never been touched by the sun until this moment. You wrinkled your nose at the left behind candy bar wrappers, dirty dishes and take out containers decorating the room. Whelp, at least you'd be getting to know your apartment a bit better. A short trip to the local convenience store and you returned with an abundance of cleaning supplies. Just because you weren't loaded didn't mean you couldn't make this small standard apartment cozy and comfortable.

The first day was spent bagging up the unsalvageables: trash, broken glasses, tooth brushes and partially depleted shampoos. The following, you tackled the kitchen, scrubbing it top to bottom. In a real fit of energy you deep cleaned the the couch and tackled the bathroom. When all was said and done the room was notably brighter, the dead bulbs replaced, a couple of posters and tapestries strategically placed in spots with odd reddish brown stains. You weren't sure who lived here before or what they did, but it wasn't your problem. You even managed to get the leftover junker of a tv to hook up with your laptop so you could stream movies.

Not a week later you were cutting vegetables in the kitchen for dinner, your favorite band blaring over the portable speaker you brought from home, soft pajama pants and all when the door to the apartment swung open. You froze, knife in hand as a questionable cast of characters froze in the entry way, their chatter ceasing as they filed in and saw you in the kitchen. You slowly reached over, pausing the song. There was five or six of them from what you could tell. You hadn't requested maintenance...

"Um, I'm sorry I think that you might have gone in the wrong apartment, this is 306," you stated, not letting go of your knife just in case. You knew this was a rough area- but you didn't expect to be robbed a week in! You nerves started to swarm as they said nothing. A tall, lanky figure with a spiky black hair and what had to be the most realistic scar make up you've ever seen groaned and rolled his eyes,

"Are you serious? Did you forget to pay rent? Or is the league that broke that we can't even afford this hole in the wall," he threw himself on the couch, legs and all, "gotta say, I like what you've done with the place."

The league...? Like for baseball? You continued watching the scene unfold in front of you,

"Shut up, where did you put my video game system? It was all here when I left," a shorter guy with a more gravely voice made his way to the crusty television set, as if looking at the empty area would make his consoles suddenly appear. His hair was shockingly white, lips cracked.

"Ah right, I didn't know if you’d be back for them so I put them away, over here in the closet-" you moved quickly, still gripping the handle of the knife as you fetched the box you'd filled up with what must have been this strangers things.

"Wow are these real curtains? And throw pillows, I've been telling the league to get these for ages! Really brightens up the place," when you turned around you saw a girl with messy blonde buns touching everything as she darted about the room. All of this was beginning to be to much. You shoved the box into who you assumed was the old owner, the one who forgot to pay rent and was glaring at the wall for answers.

"Alright y-you have your games now I'm gonna ask you all to leave, I'm not sure who you are but you can't stay here," you stuttered, sure that some of the words got lost in translation. Japanese wasn't your first language and you got even worse at it when you were nervous.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #reader x tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #posting this on mobile so no read more sorry #dabi #toga himiko #dabi bnha

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sweetheartjeongguk · 6 years ago

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salvation (m)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: zombie apocalypse au, e2l au, smut, angst, fluff

rating: nc-17

warning(s): mentions of blood and gore, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, brief mentions of vomit

word count: 7.1k+

summary: it’s a wonder what six months can entail, especially amidst a zombie apocalypse.

masterlist

When you were 13 years old, you told your mother that you would never like Min Yoongi even if you were the last two people on Earth.

She must be rolling around in laughter in her grave at your present situation - stuck in a dirty, abandoned motel room with your arch nemesis.

“Stop touching me.”

“I’m not even touching you.”

“Then what’s on my foot?”

“It’s probably that rat I saw earlier.”

“What?!”

Correction: your entire family are probably laughing their asses off as they watch you jump a hundred feet in the air while smacking at your ankle at the nonexistent rodent. Yoongi’s eyes are closed, but the smug smirk on his face says it all.

“Oh, you must think you’re so funny, don’t you?” You sneer, wincing slightly when you lean on your other leg for balance.

While the injury from six months ago has healed up completely, leaving behind a thin scar, your leg hasn’t been the same since.

“Oh, I know so.” Yoongi doesn’t even open his eyes.

He just keeps his arms crossed his chest, head nestled in the hard-as-rock motel pillows while his body is protected from the uncomfortable draft with the scratchy blankets.

“Lay down, you’re giving me anxiety.” Yoongi grumbles. “Your leg’s gonna get worse.”

“Why do you care?” You scoff, still standing a good three feet from your side of the bed.

“I don’t.” He opens his eyes, squinting tiredly at your figure swaying from side to side. “More room for myself then. Enjoy the floor, I’m sure the rat is happy to share.”

To this day, you’ve kept to your word. Now that you and Yoongi are the last two people on Earth, you’re 100% sure that you don’t like him.

There are many reasons why you hate Min Yoongi, but there are three that you hate the most.

First off, he’s a know-it-all asshole. During your junior year of high school, you were practicing your presentation for AP Biology when he came bounding in your living room and proceeded to pick apart your essay while laughing his ass off with your brother. He just watched as you brushed past him and your brother in tears with a sodden copy of your essay on DNA replication in your trembling hands.

Secondly, he’s the pickiest man to ever roam the planet. Even after you escaped from a horde of the undead just an hour before, he still found time to go through every single room of the abandoned motel and took nearly half an hour testing the springiness of the mattresses. You nearly had an aneurysm each time you dragged your bags into the room only for the man to say “Nope, too stiff!” or “Hmm, too itchy!” or his ultimate favorite “Let’s be honest, can we see each other in here?”

Last but not least, Min Yoongi cares for no one but himself. Even after the world went to shit and it came down to just you and Yoongi, you know the look in his eyes whenever you catch him looking at you. He didn’t want to be here, same as you. If he didn’t want to spend even five minutes in the same room as you when you were teenagers, you don’t doubt for a second that he regrets his decision to stay with you for the rest of your indefinite future.

In his eyes, you’re just the annoying little sister of his high school best friend. In your eyes, he’s the dickhead who would eat all your Hot Cheetos you stored away in a specific place in the kitchen pantry and brag about his college hookups and drunk episodes with your brother while you’re still in the room.

You glare at his back when the darkness of the motel room settles in. “I hope the rat bites your dick off in your sleep.”

“Kinky. Now, shut up and go to sleep.”

The next morning is no better than the night before. You end up sleeping on the small couch in the corner of the room near the front room, your upper body twisted in an odd pretzel shape while your legs hung off the arm. The amusement on Yoongi’s face when he wakes you up with a single shove to the shoulder is blatantly obvious, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Get up, they’re gone now. Probably got distracted by some other poor guy outside.” Yoongi mutters as he grabs his backpack from underneath the bed. “Wash up a little before we leave, you’re looking a little crusty and smelling a little musty.”

You send him a dark glare. “Sorry for not smelling like sunshine and roses in the fucking zombie apocalypse. Next time, I’ll be sure to stop by Bath and Body Works later.”

Yoongi mirrors your unimpressed look but says nothing else as he watches you trudge forward and lock yourself in the bathroom to freshen up. To your luck, the entire plumbing system has gone to crap - both literally and metaphorically - so instead, you rely on your several bottled waters in your backpack and the miniscule amount of toothpaste and soap left to wash up and brush your teeth.

“There she is, Miss Universe 20-whatever the fuck year it is.” Yoongi drawls sarcastically when you finally exit the bathroom, slightly freshened up and smelling like mint and the cheap motel soapbar left in the shower cubby.

“Let’s just get the fuck out here.” You brush past to open the door, but you’re instantly stopped by Yoongi’s hand that prevents you from it fully swinging open.

“Are you fucking insane? Where’s your weapon?” Yoongi berates you, eyes searching your body for the pocket knife that you usually carry on you. “Didn’t your brother teach you not to open shit if you’re not sure what’s on the other side?”

“You just told me that they’re gone, so what?” You hiss, attempting to pull the door open again, but Yoongi’s a lot stronger than you think. “Let. Go.”

“I’m going first.” You let out a “Hey!” when he pushes you away with a small shove. “Get your knife out and stay behind me.”

It’s a good thing that Yoongi’s completely focused on peeking around the door for stray zombies or else he wouldn’t be so pleased at the number of mouthed curses and grimaces you send at the back of his head.

“Come on.” He nods forward, and you follow behind with your knife grasped firmly in your palm.

“Where to next, Min?” You yawn as you begin your journey down the road, twisting your neck from side to side in an attempt to rid your body of its soreness.

“I’m not sure yet.” He answers shortly. “Last time I checked, there’s nothing really around here. Just a bunch of cabins and trees.”

“Should we try to find a cabin then? Safer bet if we want some food and shelter.” You suggest, but you’re not surprised when Yoongi shakes his head.

“They’re probably occupied or swarming with crawlies.” Yoongi scoff. “We’re better off on the road.”

“Or we could just take out the dead and then take over the house.” You add, getting a little too excited over the idea of a warm cabin with semi-clean sheets and the possibility of food. “Or maybe if there’s people, we could-”

“I said no.” Yoongi snaps, sending you a sharp glare. “Can you listen for once?”

You feel your chest sting. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“Well, you need to wake up and understand that no one is going to help us out here. It’s time to put your fantasies aside or else we’re going to end up getting killed all because of your suggestion.”

“And yours is any better? Walking around aimlessly until we may or may not find something.” You grit your teeth. “Sure, that’s a much better idea.”

“For a girl whose life was saved by me on multiple occasions, you sure love to act like an ungrateful child.” Yoongi scoffs. “What would your brother think?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?!” You bellow. “He’s fucking gone, just like everyone else. But you wouldn’t care because all you care is about you and your large fucking ego.”

Your shout echos through the trees, sending birds flying out of their nests in fear. Yoongi stops in his tracks and stares back at you, ignoring your tear-filled eyes and quivering bottom lip. It’s not the first time you’ve snapped on him for being a complete dickhead, but this is the first time since you joined his one-man survival group that you’ve mentioned anything about your brother and your family.

He knows how much your family meant to you and how devastated you were when they were slowly picked off one by one, your brother being the last one to go. It had been the week before Yoongi found you with your leg caught in a barbed wire fence after you were running away from a horde that ambushed you on your way to your friend’s house in hopes that they were still alive. He never asked about what happened to him, and you never mentioned why you were alone.

The two of you aren’t friends, and you both know better than to act like you are.

“Let’s just go.” Yoongi sighs in defeat.

He starts walking away, gripping onto the straps of his backpack with one hand with the other hovering over the gun tucked away in his jeans. He shrugs off the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, marking it off as nerves from yesterday. It isn’t until a few minutes later when he notices the lack of footsteps behind him that he turns around and is greeted with an empty stretch of road.

“Y/N?” His voice is barely a whisper, but he feels as though he’s shouting out to the sky.

“Y/N, I’m not kidding, where the fuck are you?” Yoongi calls out again, a nervous stutter threatening to build up in his throat.

He’s met with silence. Fury builds up inside of him as he dashes down the road with his gun clutched tightly in his right hand. Sure, you could say dumb stuff and do something incredibly stupid from time to time, but you weren’t that idiotic to go off by yourself but nothing but a flimsy pocket knife and two days’ worth of food.

Weren’t you?

Running off by yourself with practically nothing to protect yourself with isn’t the smartest idea, but here you are, wandering down a dirt road with no map or guide to show the way to civilization - well, anything resembling civilization.

The rageful annoyance that coursed through your body half an hour ago has dissipated into a dull ache in the center of your chest - a constant reminder of the pain that brought you to where you are today. You were quick to think that Yoongi was a complete asshole for mentioning your brother like that, but in the end, you know that he was right.

What would your brother think?

“You know, you could say hi to him every once and a while when he comes over.” You ignore the voice at the entrance of your bedroom as you continue pouring over your homework. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice for a millisecond.”

“He annoys me.”

“You’ve only talked to him once.”

“And that was enough for me.”

Your brother sighs. You expect him to close your door and leave you be like all the other times he came to confront you about Yoongi, but you’re unpleasantly surprised when he pulls up the chair from your computer desk and plops down in front of you without a care in the world.

“Listen to me, Yoongi’s not a bad guy once you get to know him. I know he teases you a lot, but he only does that to his friends or people he likes.”

“We’re not friends.” You frown.

“Well then, maybe he likes you.”

“Ugh, gross!”

Your brother cackles at the disgusted grimace that contorts your face. “Just give it a couple years, and you won’t mind.”

You’ve never taken your brother’s words to heart. Even if they were as close as they were, you hardly believe that someone like Min Yoongi would ever like you platonically or romantically. As an angsty teen, you liked to think that Yoongi was a robot created by the government to learn how to act like a human, therefore magically explaining his lack of emotion and general unpleasantness around you.

Whenever you would go off on your daily Yoongi rants, your brother would pinch you on your shoulder with a roll of his eyes.

“Trust me, Yoongi is anything but. You’ll see.”

Oh, you’d definitely like to see that.

It’s been an hour, and you’ve gotten nowhere. There’s an urge to turn back and hope that you end up meeting Yoongi halfway, but you’ve been making too many U-turns and criss-crosses that you aren’t too sure that you’re on the same road anymore.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You mutter up to the sky, hoping that somewhere, your brother is watching and is nice enough to lead you back on your path.

In reality, he’s probably shaking his head along with your parents and praying that you don’t make another dumb decision that ends up with you joining him in the afterlife.

“Yoongi?” You whisper sharply, silently hoping that the quiet wind carries your voice to him. A long shot, but still worth a try. “Yoongi, are you there?”

Snap.

You twist your head in the direction of the noise. “Yoongi?”

No response. Your heart starts to race out of control, and you curse yourself as you slowly begin to hyperventilate.

Breathe, stupid bitch!

Another twig breaks in the distance. You begin shuffling backwards, holding back the urge to simultaneously shit, piss, and throw up everywhere. This is your karma, isn’t it? Maybe Yoongi isn’t a robot at all but is, in fact, a powerful wizard who’s cursed you to die a most painful death.

Well, you’re certainly a second away from finding out the truth.

Once you hear a louder crunch of leaves and branches, you book it, not caring if your footsteps make an even louder noise and attracts every bloodthirsty creature in the woods to come after you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why did I do this?” You try to catch your breath while running for your life, but you’ve never been great at multitasking.

Sure enough, the low groaning and bone-numbing shrieks behind you tell you everything you need to know - you’re going to die today, and it’s completely your fault.

Tears stream down in thick rivulets as you continue running, ignoring the sharp stinging pain that shoots through your bad leg. It wobbles with every step you take, and you just know that you’re about to call it and give yourself up once your leg gives out.

But once you start dropping to the floor, you’re surprised that there are arms to catch you before you could hit the asphalt.

For once in your life, you’ve never been so happy to see Min Yoongi’s face, even if it’s full of fiery anger.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Yoongi practically screams. “You’re lucky you’re not fucking dead! What are you-”

Yoongi yelps when you pull him into a tight embrace. You’re sobbing loudly, snot and spit dripping down your face like nobody’s business. Yoongi gulps awkwardly, wrapping his stiff arms around your waist before retracting quickly and pushing you away. He’s quick to motion to your snotty face in disgust.

“Wipe your face, and let’s go!” Yoongi pulls you up by the crook of your elbow. “I’m trying not to die today. How about you?”

Instead of sprinting down the road, Yoongi cuts across into the woods with you in tow, cringing as his feet stomp noisily on the ground below. You’re definitely going to attract more undead, but you no longer feel a wave of anxiety anymore.

Instead, you just feel overwhelming relief as Yoongi grabs your hand until you’re neck and neck with him.

“Come on, I saw a building up ahead.” Yoongi grunts breathily.

There’s no time to argue. You simply follow Yoongi’s lead and hold onto your pocket knife for dear life. All you could focus on are the sounds of your heart thumping closer to a heart attack and the rushing blood in your ears, but the jarring sound of a zombie mob becomes even more deafening.

“Up here!” You cry when you notice the white stone building ahead, a door just within your reach.

Yoongi grabs the door knob with both hands and pulls with all his might. Your heart stops for a second when it doesn’t budge, but one more yank and the door’s groaning open.

“In, in!” Yoongi all but shoves you forward, promptly slamming the door shut and bolting it shut.

For extra measure, the two of you shove a nearby shelf in front of the door. You pray that it won’t end up biting you in the ass later in case you need to make a quick escape, but the sight before you vanishes the thought immediately.

“Oh. My. God.”

First, it’s a disbelieved chuckle. Then, it’s a noticeable giggle. After that, it’s full-on cackling until your sides hurt and your eyes burn with tears.

Out of all the places you and Yoongi could wander into by mistake, you manage to hole yourself up in a supermarket. Semi-trashed and looted, but a supermarket all the same.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.” You wheeze, leaning forward with your hands on your knees as you try and catch your breath. “You practically brought us to the zombie apocalypse promise land.”

Yoongi chuckles. It’s weird to see another emotion other than annoyance or disgust (emotions thanks to yours truly), but you don’t mind it.

Going by the warmth spreading through your veins and the unconscious smile that ticks up your lip, you certainly don’t mind it.

“Check the doors and windows.” Yoongi suggest, pointing to one direction of the store. “You start there, I’ll be over here. Let me know if you find anything.”

After a quick search to make sure there were no walking carcasses hanging around the store waiting for a bite of your flesh, you meet back in the middle.

“We can practically live here forever.” You exclaim, your voice carrying across the floor. “This is literally the dream life, and we’re living it.”

“Do you really want to spend the rest of your days stuck in a grocery store with me?” Yoongi asks sardonically.

You shrug. “I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

It’s quiet. You’re still surveying the store with your eyes, gaping at the rows of foods and alcohol practically whispering your name. You fail to register Yoongi’s expression - blown out pupils, hanging jaw, flushed red cheeks.

“I’ll be right back.” You singsong as you disappear into one of the aisles.

Yoongi has time to shake himself back into reality when you finally come back with a shopping cart filled with cereal, canned soups, and bottles upon bottles of alcohol.

“I’ve always wanted Captain Crunch with vodka in the morning.” Yoongi jokes, picking up the clear bottle of Grey Goose. “Brings back good ol’ college memories.”

“Nothing screams a balanced breakfast diet like sugary cereal past its expiration date and alcoholic potato water.” You grin teasingly.

Yoongi goes to retort, but he closes his mouth as he watches you crack open a bottle and chug it down like it’s water. He laughs to himself - he should probably tell you that it’s a better idea to drink water and eat something first before drowning yourself in alcohol.

To each their own.

“Want some?” You hiccup as you break free for a breather. “Tastes like rubbing alcohol and death.”

“Two of my favorite things.” Yoongi accepts the bottle, taking a moderate sip unlike your atrocious glugging.

It’s going to be an interesting night.

Yoongi’s dealt with prepubescent you, he’s dealt with emo high schooler you who was obsessed with spoken word poetry and had a goth boyfriend for one semester of your sophomore year. Hell, he’s even dealt with college freshman you who practically lived, breathed, and slept homework even during holiday breaks.

But Yoongi can’t say that he’s had to deal with drunk, adult baby you. Well, until now.

“I still don’t know where he went though, he just went off and vanished.” You slur, back pressed against the cold tile of the supermarket wall and butt seated on the hard linoleum floor. “Mr. Fluffers...you are missed.”

Yoongi giggles drunkenly. For the past hour, you’ve been ranting about your childhood pet, Mr. Fluffers, and the utterly tragic story of how he ran away when you were seven years old. Since then, you’ve never had another pet, still traumatized by the sudden disappearance of your beloved.

Yoongi laughs because he’s heard this story from your brother. It turns out that your father accidentally left the cage open when he was cleaning it out and forgot to close it again for the night. When he found the next morning, he decided that the best way to cover up his tracks was to give you a complete bullshit story about Mr. Fluffers returning home to his wife and kids in their home in the forest.

“We lived in the city, where the fuck was Mr. Fluffers gonna go?” You grumble, taking another swig of the half empty vodka bottle.

“Well, he must be in a better place now.” Yoongi offers.

“Define better place.” You shake your head. “Everywhere’s a piece of shit. Name me one good thing left in this world, I dare you.”

Yoongi hums to himself, putting on a thoughtful look while even stroking an invisible moustache. You roll your eyes playfully until he finally gives you his answer.

“You.”

You have the urge to smack him on the knee and shout out “Good one, you dick.” The look on his face stops you before you reach over and hit his leg. Never in your life have you seen Yoongi’s eyes glisten before, features softened and wilted like a beautiful dying flower.

“You’re ridiculous.” You hiccup a laugh. You go to grab the vodka bottle from his hand, but his reflexes are still faster than yours.

“I’m serious.” Yoongi replies gently, contrasting his hardened expression. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Uh, because you’re you?” Yoongi frowns. You sigh to yourself. “Yoongi, for most of my adolescent and adult lives, you’ve done nothing but taunt me and be mean to me. You just tolerated me because you were friends with my brother, but...that’s it. That’s all I am to you.”

“That’s not true.” His cheeks twitch before settling into another serious look. “Fuck, that’s beyond the truth.”

“Then, what is the truth?”

You wait patiently as Yoongi drags a hand through his hair, entangling his fingers in the messy tufts. He looks extremely conflicted which prompts to open your mouth to tell him that it’s okay, but he beats you to the punch.

“I’ve never hated you, not even once. I mean, how could I? You’re so fucking perfect in every way, shape, and form. You’re smart, kind, beautiful, and funny. God, the amount of times I had to pull myself together whenever you walked in the room. Your brother probably thought I was constipated every time I came to visit.”

You want to laugh with him, but it’s as if the muscles in your face have been glued together. All you can do is sit back and listen in awe as Yoongi goes into a drunken ramble.

“Your brother could already sense that I liked you, but he didn’t say anything. Probably because he wanted me to look like a fool most of the time. I did that a lot, haven’t I?” Yoongi glances down at the tops of his knees, simply interested in the spare thread dangling from the rip in his jeans. “I don’t expect you to believe me or even like me back. Hell, you’re better off that way. It’s just that I l-”

Yoongi’s speech is interrupted when you press your lips against his. Your lips are both chapped, and you both taste of vodka and stale breakfast cereals, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your hand draws closer to Yoongi, slowly making its way up the firm plane of his chest to the side of his face. He draws you closer with his hands on your waist, and you’re too out of your mind to pull back and think clearly.

All you know is that you wanted this. You wanted him.

“You feel so nice.” Yoongi whispers, his breath caressing against your lips before he nudges them apart with his. You let out a whimper when the tip of his tongue brushes against yours.

“God, why am I such an idiot?” Yoongi moves to lightly kiss against the column of your throat, stopping to lick the skin and suckle a mark across the surface. “All this time, I could have had you in my arms like this.”

Pulling back to stare back into your equally fucked-out expression, he seems to hold you tighter.

“All this time, I could have been fucking your tight, little pussy instead of dreaming about it.”

Yoongi smirks when you hold back an obvious whimper, squeezing your thighs together as your heated center throbs in want. His hands smooth down the back of your shirt and to your hips until they reach your back of your jeans. You whine in surprise when they round back to land two firm smacks to your bottom.

“Does my baby girl like that?” Yoongi teases lowly. “She’s so desperate to have me touch her, but little baby’s too shy to admit it.”

You have the urge to shove your hands in your face and shield yourself away, but Yoongi brings you closer to his chest, still grasping the globes of your ass in a firm grip.

“What do you want me to do, hm?” Yoongi whispers, peppering tiny kisses on your face. A soft gesture for such obscene intentions. “I really want to be inside you, but I kinda want to taste you first. What do you think?”

You barely have the courage to answer him. His words bring a violent flush to your face, and you begin stammering your words. Yoongi saves you by placing his index to your wobbly lips.

“Suck.”

You spoke too soon.

You pout against his fingertip, but the determined look on his face tells you that he isn’t fucking around - at least not yet. True to his request, you draw the finger into your mouth, enclosing the digit in the wet heat of your mouth. You begin a back-and-forth movement, unable to keep your eyes on Yoongi’s as you practically fuck your mouth on his hand.

“O-Oh, fuck, that’s sexy.” Yoongi groans, the sensation of your mouth on his skin building up a different kind of heat in his body. He knows that if you keep this up, he’ll end up coming in his pants instead of inside you.

“Sit back, baby.” Yoongi plucks his finger out of your mouth.

Ignoring your cute face when he pulls away from you, he drags you closer once you lay flat on the floor. You’d normally feel grossed out, but you’re too far gone to care about where Yoongi had you. All you know is that you needed him inside you right now.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” Yoongi holds back his juvenile excitement as he tugs your pants down along with your panties. He’s greeted by a small tuft of curly hair and sleek wetness - the vision of complete perfection. “God, you’re so fucking wet, I need to taste you right now.”

You barely have enough time to prepare yourself when Yoongi pushes your thighs apart and dives in, tongue licking up your dripping folds and mouth forming a tight suction around your swollen clit. It’s hard not to rock against his face and grind your slit against his tongue, but once he notices your growing dilemma, he drapes his arm across your front and holds you firmly to the ground. Endless streams of moans and whimpers leave your mouth as Yoongi continues to suck, indulging in your sweet wetness.

“I-I’m so c-close.” You bite your lip, a hand trailing down to grip onto his hair. “P-Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” Yoongi tugs on your clit for a bit before replacing it with his thumb, rubbing half-circles around the nub. “I couldn’t hear you, baby. You have to speak louder if you want to get what you want.”

“I-I want you inside me. I-I want your fucking cock now.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Yoongi chuckles devilishly.

If you were in your right mind, you’d have no problem replying with a snarky comment. Right now, your brain feels as though it’s filled with millions of fuzzies, sending your ears ringing as you fall closer into your approaching climax.

“P-Please, baby, hurry.” You surprise both yourself and Yoongi by flipping onto your stomach and pushing your ass up against his lap, drenching the top of his pants with the dribbling wetness of your cunt.

Without wasting anymore time, Yoongi unzips his pants and use the come dripping down your thighs to sleek up his length. Lining himself up, he finally thrusts inside, moving slowly as inch by inch is engulfed by your unbelievably tight pussy.

“O-Oh shit.” Yoongi curses when he finally bottoms out. “Baby, you okay?”

You hold back a sob as Yoongi’s hand tenderly caresses the side of your face. The stretch has been bearable, but having him draped over your back with your cunt wrapped snugly around him is teetering on too much too quickly.

“It’s okay, baby.” Yoongi kisses your cheek - a small but sweet act to comfort your nerves. “God, you feel so good around me.”

You take a few moments to get yourself used to the overwhelming sensation, circling your hips now and then to adjust to his length but stopping every few seconds whenever Yoongi whines in your ear about you being a “fucking tease”.

“You can move.” You whisper almost inaudibly, but Yoongi hears you loud and clear. You go to whisper something else into his ear, but you’re cut off by a loud moan when he pulls out only to slam back, hitting your sweet spot with ease.

“F-Fuck, I love this tight fucking pussy.” Yoongi hisses when you clench down every so often between his rough thrusts. “God, you’re so wet for me. You gonna come for me, princess?”

You simply nod, not having the energy to whimper your answer. You brace yourself on your elbows, your back arched to Yoongi’s liking and the knot in your stomach ready to snap at any moment.

“C-Come…”

“What’s that, baby?” Yoongi breathes.

“C-Come inside…”

You both fall apart together, him relishing in the spasming of your pussy on his cock and you enjoying the warm come filling you up as he continues thrusting slowly until he’s too tired and sensitive to keep up the pace.

“You did so well, baby.” Yoongi sighs as he kisses you again.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until you fall asleep on top of the makeshift sleeping bags on the floor, covered in a mix of your come and sweat.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You blink slowly as the light of the sun peers through an open crack of the blinds. Looking down, you notice that you’re covered in a thin throw blanket that Yoongi must have found in one of the aisles. You smile to yourself, heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

“Yoongi, I-”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I said get dressed and hurry up. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Just like that, your rose-tinted world is shattered.

“W-What?” You’re afraid that if you raise your voice higher, you’ll end up bursting into tears. “Yoongi…”

“I’ll go check around again while you change. Try to be fast, we don’t want to get caught up in another swarm again.”

It’s like you’re talking to a complete stranger. The Min Yoongi you talked with last time and wrapped your arms around as he held you when you sleep is not this man.

No, this man is worse. You’re back to square one, back to silence and obligatory distance.

Robotically, you head into the bathroom and dress yourself in the clothes you found in the $5 section of the supermarket, shedding a few tears as you clean out the remaining come from your body and wipe away any trace of the Yoongi from last night. Your head throbs from your hangover, but nothing compares to the throbbing pain choking you from the inside out.

“Good, you’re finished.” Yoongi nods when he notices you return from the bathroom. He doesn’t even blink when you shove past him to grab your backpack from the ground. “I snagged a couple walkies so we can use that in case we lose each other- What’s so funny?”

Yoongi frowns as he notices you start to laugh.

“Nothing.” You sigh, shaking your head. “Let’s just get out here already.”

You don’t look down, especially when you pass your makeshift sleeping quarters. You don’t need anymore reminders of your mistake, and you know Yoongi doesn’t either.

You continue forward, heart breaking with each step. If only you knew that with every step you take away from him, the more Yoongi wishes to pull you back to him.

“A few months after everything went to shit, I heard from someone that there is supposedly a sanctuary in the next town over. Apparently, some guy and his family just knew something was up and decided to use their house as a welcome center.” Yoongi scoffs. “Don’t know if that makes them stupid or what.”

“Putting blind faith into someone else, hoping that they weren’t like everyone else.” You blurt out, making Yoongi turn his head in surprise at your harsh tone. “I wonder what that feels like.”

“Y/N…” Yoongi starts softly, but you have had enough.

“You’re not obligated to treat me as your friend anymore, Min.” You drone. “Hell, you’re free to leave and do whatever you please. Didn’t stop you when you were in college, shouldn’t stop you now!”

Yoongi frowns. “Y/N, if you would just listen-”

“No!” You spin on your heel. “The last time I did that, I actually thought you were someone else! I thought for once, you didn’t think of just yourself and that for a split second, you actually liked me for me and not because I’m the last remnant of your friendship with my dead brother.”

“No! You-”

“Whatever, I’ve had enough.” You face your back to him. “Let’s just find a place to rest for tonight, okay?”

Yoongi says nothing. With a heavy heart and downturned stare, Yoongi walks beside you in a mechanical fashion. His hand is a mere two inches away, and he wishes to grab your hand, pull you to his chest, and kiss the pain away.

Instead, he shoves his hand inside his coat pocket and avoids eye contact with you, preferring to keep quiet and drown in his thoughts from the night before.

The journey is long and seemingly fruitless, but Yoongi finally spots a motel across the way. How ironic, you think to yourself. Now, you’re truly back at the beginning.

“Let’s settle for the night and regroup tomorrow.” Yoongi opens the door, motioning for you to walk in before him. You ignore him completely as you push through, dropping your bag on the floor and rummaging through for an extra set of clothes and your toothbrush.

“You can take the bed if you want.” Yoongi adds awkwardly. “I know your leg’s been hurting for a whil-”

“I’m fine.” You send back sharply. “You take it, I’ll take the floor.”

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “You should-”

“No offense, but who sleeps where is the least of my concerns.” You roll your eyes.

Yoongi wants to argue some more, expertly convince you that you’re more deserving of the bed and its semi-comfortable mattress when it happens.

You should have checked the perimeter before you came in, but your frustration with the man a few feet away occupied the entirety of your thoughts for the entire journey. A loud raspy scream escapes your throat as it launches itself at you, knocking you to the floor and latching its teeth around your arm of your jacket.

“Y/N!”

You nearly call it quits. In a bright flash of light, you nearly decide that it’s it for you, that your time on Earth had been just as limited as two-thirds of the population who fell to the same fate. Grimy blood and dirt coat your face and neck as the creature keeps gnawing away at the fabric of your jacket. You fight to knock it off your body, but he had been a heavy one in his previous life. Despite decomposing at an alarming rate, it’s still carried a portion of his human strength with it.

Whimpering as its bony knee digs into the tender scar on your leg, you attempt to whack against its head to knock it to the side, but you’re beaten to it when a hand darts forward to drive a long blade into its temple. Gushes of blood drip from its skull and onto your face, but you’re still simultaneously relieved when it drops dead - officially dead.

“Ugh, gross.” You wipe the blood off your cheeks with your clean sleeve. “Can this day get any worse?”

It’s when you try to shuffle to your feet that you hear it.

First, it’s a whimper. Then, it’s a choked cry. Then, Yoongi’s crashing into your side and burying his face in your neck, sobs wracking his entire body like an unending earthquake.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Yoongi wails, globs of tears soaking through the collar of your t-shirt. “I love you, please don’t leave me. P-Please!”

You’re shocked into silence. Never in your ten years of knowing Min Yoongi did you ever see him break down into...this. But his tear-smeared face is not what shocks you the most.

“I love you, please don’t leave me.”

“Yoongi…” You try to push him back to look him in the eye, but he refuses to budge.

“I-I know I don’t have much time left, b-but I needed t-to tell you.” Yoongi sniffles, his nose rubbing up against the side of your neck and his arms still in a vice-like hold around your waist. “I c-can’t lose you. Not you, dammit.”

Lose you? Wait…

“Yoongi...look at me.” Yoongi wants to shake his head like a child, but he listens. You would laugh at his face - drenched with tears, dried blood, and snot - but you know it’s not the time or place.

“Honey, what do you mean I don’t have time left?” You ask, a little amused but still full of concern at the sight of his distress.

Yoongi hiccups. “You’re...going to d-die.” His face contorts as though he’s going to break down into more tears,but you shush him.

“Yoongi,” You shake your head with a chuckle. “I’m not dying.”

He furrows his brow. “W-What?”

You lift your arm, showing him the aftermath of the zombie’s bite mark. His face falls even harder at the sight of the blood and torn material.

“Look? It didn’t go through.” You wiggle the arm in front of his face. “I’m fine.”

Yoongi’s face is blank for a moment, and you worry that he’s going to go back to his old self - the same one who left you naked and heartbroken on the floor while he packed his things like nothing even happened.

He doesn’t. Instead, his face crumples again, and he lets out another loud sob.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Yoongi kisses you, uncaring if he gets your whole face wet with his tears. “God, I love you so much. You scared me so much when you went missing. Fuck, I don’t want to lose you again.”

You smile. “You won’t, I promise.”

There are many reasons why you love Min Yoongi, but there are three that you love the most.

First of all, Min Yoongi is a know-it-all asshole. One night when you were scouring through another grocery store on a food run, you argued with him that the food item you had in your hand wasn’t expired but simply “not in its prime” and therefore semi-okay to eat. He was adamant about it being spoiled, but he let you win and watched you take one bite with a teasing grin. Needless to say, he didn’t enjoy holding your hair back while you vomited your guts out of the side of a deserted convenience store.

Secondly, he’s the pickiest man to ever roam the planet.

“Ugh, there are too many options!” He exclaims from his side of the store.

“Just pick one already!” You answer back, not knowing what he’s looking at.

“But it has to be perfect.” You can hear the pout in his voice. “Otherwise, we can’t leave yet.”

“Oh my god, what are you even-” Your voice dies when you finally drag your tired body to his location and realize what he was looking at.

“I told you it has to be perfect.” Yoongi gazes at you, his eyes softened and full of love.

Thankfully, you brought yourself over to him on your own. After all, he needed your help measuring your ring size.

Last but not least, you used to think that Yoongi cared for no one but himself, but now you know that it’s not true at all.

When you were presenting for your AP Biology class, he made sure to quiz you on all your facts and correct you on the little errors you made here and there. Sure, you cried your eyes out that night and may have looked up “different curses to use on your enemies” on Google, but at least you got a 100 on the essay. When he would take a million years testing out the “comfort levels” of the motel mattresses, he was really surveying the perimeter and making sure that whatever creature’s lurking in the shadows would be attracted to his noise and not you.

That, and Min Yoongi had a thing about comfy mattresses.

You used to think that you were truly alone in the world, but as you lay here curled up next to the love of your life in a shitty motel bed with no AC and a cheap $25 wedding band on your finger, being the last two people on Earth doesn’t seem so bad after all.

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letswritefanfiction · 6 years ago

Text

Pokémon Alphabet Challenge: T is for Trees

A/N: Can also be read on ffnet here.

AU as if Ash won the Kalos League.

“Ash, this is all your fault!”

“Me? This was your idea!”

“Yeah, it was—oh crap, it’s cold—but it was because of you!”

“That’s not—wow, my teeth are actually chattering. How far is the Gym?”

“Too far. Way too far.”

Without words, both Misty and Ash stopped running, pausing in the grass as the rain pounded on them, the whole world a streaky gray.

“Okay,” Misty huffed as she struggled to get her breath under her. “We left the water, one of the stupidest places to be in a storm, and now we’re in the open. The actual stupidest place to be.”

“Town is too far away,” Ash added. “Here, Pikachu, get in my jacket.”

A soaked Pikachu didn’t have to be told twice. He scurried into the opening Ash made in his jacket and burrowed himself.

Crack!

Ash and Misty both jumped as a booming slap of thunder rippled through the air, followed immediately after by a flash of lightning, sparking the world white.

“Also, I love Pikachu, but those electric sacks are making me feel even less safe at the moment.”

Ash looked down at Pikachu. It was true that the Electric mouse had the ability to draw lightning towards him—though Ash wasn’t sure what the extent of Pikachu’s control over that was. Nevertheless, he zipped his jacket up further. “Okay, you’re the one that’s from here. Do you know of anywhere, anywhere we can go?”

Misty closed her eyes, mostly to keep the rain out of them, but also to think. But Ash could see she was shivering, convulsing almost. She was shaking from deep within her abdomen and Ash noticed that her lips were turning blue. They needed to get out of the storm.

Crack!

Now.

Her eyes flew open and Ash looked at her, hope widening his eyes. He could barely see her through his hair plastered to his cheeks, forehead, and neck—he hadn’t realized before how long it really was. In places it wasn’t much shorter than Misty.

“I have an idea,” she said slowly. “But it’s probably a really bad one.”

Usually Ash would have jumped at the opportunity that line gave him. He would have made a joke about how her ideas were usually bad or what else was new or something equally predictable—she would have done the same. But they were in a real crisis now and more than that, he was so cold it felt like his actual brain was freezing.

Through shudders, Ash asked, “What is it?”

Misty hesitated for a moment, then she pointed to the forest. “In there.”

Ash deadpanned. “Are you kidding? It would have been safer back on the water!”

“No, I have an idea—well, half an idea. Just come with me!”

Ash didn’t fight her. They began running again, their hearts still pounding from the last mad dash off the river, this time to the river north of Cerulean.

They didn’t stop when they hit the edge of the forest. Misty led them in and they darted between the trees. Ash kept looking up at them, trying to ensure that they were never under the tallest one. He’d been shocked by Pikachu many a time in his life, but he wasn’t keen on finding out the sharp contrast between one of Pikachu’s shocks and a real lightning bolt.

On the bright side, the rain was battering them a little less. The tree cover lessened the downpour itself, but it did lead to them being splashed by big, scattered drops from the trees. Still, it was better than what they faced in the open.

“Are we almost there?” he called, still having no idea where ‘there’ might possibly be. All he knew was that he didn’t want to end up deep enough in the forest that they couldn’t quickly get out. Or worse, end up lost like they usually did.

“Yeah, it’s right up here!”

As Misty began to slow down, they came up on grouping of shorter trees, much to Ash’s relief. It wasn’t perfect, but the odds of lightning coming down on one of them was much slimmer with all of the taller trees not too far away.

Meanwhile, Misty was trekking toward a strange pile between three of the trees. “I’m kinda surprised it’s still here.”

“What is?”

“My old hideout.”

As they got closer, Ash saw that Misty was pointing to a number of tarps all tied to the tree trunks. The ropes were ragged and nasty and the tarps were still sporting some old leaves from fall, even though it was now getting into spring. There was also quite a bit of poop from the Flying Types of the forest on the top tarp.

“Misty’s Gim,” Ash read aloud from a carved scrawl on one of the trunks, putting a hard G on the misspelled word. “Wow, that’s deep in the tree.”

“I was an angry kid,” Misty explained as she tried to brush the leaves off. They were wet so they landed on the ground in clumps with wet slaps.

Ash chuckled. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”

Another thunderclap sounded, as if it too was reminiscing over Misty’s past violence and temper tantrums. Ash felt Pikachu shiver against his chest.

He went up to get a better peek at the “Gym”. There were so many tarps on top and hanging down the sides that it didn’t seem as though the years had done too much damage. There was some sun-bleaching on the colored tarps and everything was stained from the leaves and Pokémon activity. But any holes seemed to match up with other layers of tarp.

“I stole them from the Gym,” Misty explained of the tarps. “When I was mad at my sisters.”

Ash touched one of the draping “walls” of tarp and cringed at how crusty it was. Even wet from the rain, it was so stiff that it felt like it could crack if he bent it in half.

“Okay, let’s get in here.”

Misty moved the tarp Ash had been fingering aside and began examining the interior. The tarps on the ground had probably been completely surrounded by rocks at some point in time. Over the years, however, some had slipped out of place, but enough had remained to hold the tarps down. Like the ones on top, they were covered in old leaves, so Misty knocked the rocks to the side and took the top tarp and pulled it out, flapping it so everything was knocked off. It was still dirty, but it was better.

What surprised Ash the most was to see that the base was slightly elevated. As he helped Misty put the top tarp back, he touched the bottom and felt that it was hard.

“Is this on a rock?”

“Yeah, a big flat rock,” Misty answered as she began replacing the stones around the exterior. “That’s why I made camp here. Let’s get inside.”

The two of them crawled in and Pikachu immediately jumped out of Ash’s jacket and sputtered, shaking his fur off and creating just enough static in his fur to dry himself.

“Hey, watch it, buddy!” Ash said as he threw and arm up to block him face from Pikachu’s dampness.

It smelled musty inside. The old tarps themselves held the smell of dust and sun-warmed plastic. Ash supposed they were lucky that mustiness was all they had to worry about it and that it didn’t smell like Pokémon urine. But they were safe from the water, and hopefully protected from the lightning.

Ash looked over and noticed that Misty was hugging her legs to her chest and shaking slightly. She was wearing only a slight variation of what she had worn when they’d traveled together—short denim shorts and a sleeveless, yellow sweatshirt both soaked to the skin. No wonder she was cold.

He scooted across the tarp to Misty and put an arm around her shoulders, pressing his side into hers. Suffering through wet clothes was something that any Trainer had to learn to get used to on a journey, but Ash never had gotten over how uncomfortable his fingerless gloves were when they were damp. Nevertheless, he rubbed Misty’s arm up and down, hoping that the friction would do something to get rid of the goosebumps he could feel on her bare skin.

“Thanks,” Misty said quietly, her voice giving a slight tremble.

“No problem,” Ash said. “You were right; it is my fault we’re out in the rain anyway.”

“Hey, you’re gonna battle the Kalos Elite Four. And I don’t care if it kills me, but I’m going to make sure that you defeat Siebold. And so we needed to get on the water to seriously train with Gyarados.” Another crash of thunder. “Of course, I would prefer it if it didn’t kill us, though.”

Ash chuckled. “Right; me too.”

They fell into silence as Ash’s motions on Misty’s arm became slower and more languid. It was relaxing, and combined with the rapid pitter patter outside, accentuated on the tarps above them, it was enough to get Ash feeling sleepy. His heart rate was slowing down after their mad dash from the river where they’d been training and here with Misty and Pikachu, it was easy to relax.

“I always wanted a tree house,” Ash softly offered.

“This isn’t a tree house, Ash.”

“Or, like, a clubhouse. Close enough,” Ash conceded.

“Well, Pallet doesn’t have much in the way of forests,” Misty said. “It’s mostly grass. You didn’t have many options.”

“Also, my mom was always worried that if I had a tree house I would accidentally fall out and hurt myself.”

“She was right to be worried about that.”

“You suck. Anyway, the best I ever got was pillow forts. Which wasn’t bad, especially when Gary and I did it at Professor Oak’s, because, you know, there was so much more stuff than what Mom had.”

“That was still probably better than this,” Misty said. “That was fun with your friend. This was just, I don’t know…an escape.”

“But you lived in a Gym!” Ash exclaimed as though it was the best thing ever. He knew he was lucky to grow up so close to Professor Oak’s ranch, but that was different than living in an actual Gym with a bunch of cool Pokémon every day. “A big one at that! What did you need to escape from? Your sisters?”

Misty gave a little nod that Ash could only see out of the corner of his eye. “Mostly. Sometimes they got on my nerves. Sometimes I would sneak out during one of the water shows—I used to hate those. But I guess sometimes it was just to play. Pretend that I was a real Gym Leader or whatever.”

By that point, Pikachu had fallen asleep on Ash’s lap and Ash’s hand had come to a stop on Misty’s shoulder.

“So you always wanted to be a Gym Leader?”

Ash could feel Misty shrug. “I want to be a Water Pokémon master. Gym Leaders aren’t masters but they’re on the way.”

“And here I was worried that you hated being stuck in the Gym.”

Misty’s giggle shook through both of their bodies. “Oh, please, Ash. By now you should know that I never hated being Gym Leader. I just missed traveling with you.”

“Missed?” he echoed. “As in past tense? You don’t miss me now?”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Of course I do, you dummy. It’s just that…”

Ash didn’t try to coax the words out of her. Generally, if Misty wanted to share something with him, she would. And, being known to put his foot in his mouth as he did, sometimes it was better for him not to interfere. Instead, he began rubbing his thumb on her shoulder.

“Don’t you…Did you notice that I, you know, didn’t really do much while we were traveling together?”

“What are you talking about?” Ash asked. “You did tons of stuff! You helped us find firewood and collect water and take out Team Rocket a bunch of—”

“No, that’s not what I mean, Ash,” Misty interrupted. “Just, like…I wasn’t really training a bunch. Or catching many Water Pokémon. Or even studying. I mean, hearing stories about how your other travel companions were all following their dreams…It makes me think that I wasn’t doing as much as I should have been.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair, Misty,” Ash argued. “You traveled all over three regions and you got to meet a lot of Water Pokémon, even if you didn’t catch that many. And you got to meet a ton of cool people! You met Prima, remember?”

At that, Misty let out a little contented sigh. “Yeah, that was awesome.” She wouldn’t allow herself to get sucked into the reverie, though. “No, but, like, you said that Dawn made Top Coordinator this year and that May the year before. And in her first year of competing, Serena got to go up against the current Kalos Queen! I don’t know anything about Pokémon Performances, but even I know that’s impressive!”

“But—”

Misty put a hand up. “I’m not fishing for compliments right now, Ash. I’m proud of myself and the things I’ve accomplished now, I just wonder how much further I might be if I had pushed myself more throughout those years.”

“But Mi—”

“I know, I know, it doesn’t help me to think in what ifs, but I just can’t help it. I hate to think that I wasted such an opportunity.”

“But how can it be a waste if we ended up where we are now?”

He moved his hand down so that it was more intimately on her hip and he tried, rather impossibly, to scoot even closer to her.

“Sometimes I think about how I didn’t know anything about Pokémon when I started out. You remember? I didn’t know their names, their types, or even what types were all about. But Gary knew all that stuff and maybe that’s why he was so far ahead of me throughout Kanto. Maybe I could have challenged the Elite Four in Unova or Sinnoh instead of now if I had started learning stuff younger.”

Misty was quiet for a second before saying, “It’s true; you didn’t know anything.”

Ash might have fought back some other time, but he decided to take the dig and keep going. “But then again, if I had known that stuff, there wouldn’t have been so much for you to teach me. And then our friendship would have been different. Would it have been better? Maybe, I don’t know. But we’re together now and I am finally going against the Elite Four so if I could go back and change things, I definitely wouldn’t.”

“Even if you could just change us checking the weather before we left the Gym today?”

Ash chuckled. “Definitely not.” He took his arm off of Misty and put both behind his head as he lay down on his back, careful not to disturb Pikachu too much. “Then I wouldn’t have been able to see your ‘Gim.’”

“You’ve gotten smarter, Ash Ketchum,” Misty admitted as she leaned back and rolled onto her side so she was facing Ash.

“Heh, I hope I have.”

“Maybe I couldn’t see the forest for the trees,” Misty mused as Ash wrapped his arm around her once more. Misty scooted in so she could rest her head on his chest.

There was quiet, save for the drumming of the rain. Ash noticed that it had been a while since he’d heard any thunder, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he said, “Gary says I’ve gotten nicer too, but I think I was always nice.”

Misty scoffed. “You were always caring, Ash. But you weren’t always nice.”

“What about now?”

She looked up at him through her light eyelashes and said, “You’re the nicest person I know.”

“You’re the nicest person I know.”

Misty snorted. “No, definitely not. It’s probably May. Or maybe Brock. Or, like, anyone else.”

Ash grinned. “Maybe it’s just that all my friends are nice.”

“Probably,” Misty agreed. “People tend to befriend those who are similar to them.”

“But then again,” Ash said with a tone of teasing. “None of my other friends are helping me train to beat the Elite Four.”

“Literally Iris is helping you against Drasna.”

“You’re my only friend helping me against Siebold!”

Misty lifted her head a couple inches and looked Ash straight in the eye. “Did you just friend zone me, Ash Ketchum?”

Ash didn’t blink as he stared back at her and tried not to laugh for Pikachu’s sake. “What? I’m just here, sitting in a ten-year-old makeshift tent with my friend.”

“Go to hell, Ash,” Misty said as she snuggled back on his chest.

“You know, you’re right. You’re not my nicest friend.”

“Stop calling me your friend!”

“Okay,” Ash said, leaning in to kiss the top of Misty’s head. By then, it was almost dry right on top, scraggly from having dried in a ponytail. “We might not be friends.”

“Finally.”

With one last deep breath of contentment, Ash closed his eyes; he had a feeling that Misty’s were closed as well. The rain had just about stopped. Now the only raindrops they heard was the residual water falling off the leaves above them and landing loudly on the tarps. But for now, they were warm, drying, and together. And as their breathing steadied, Ash figured they wouldn’t be leaving until the storm was long gone.

#pokemon #pokeshipping #ash and misty #aaml #fanfiction #pokeani #anipoke #pokemon fanfiction #oneshot

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soup-du-silence · 6 years ago

Text

spoilers for the Shadow War

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725133

It's been two days since…..since.

There's so much to do, the bin is crumbling down the hill, the mansion is a disaster, the city is in shock. It's all hands on deck!! Which is good because it's good to keep busy, to keep your hands occupied, to be distracted with the rushing and yelling and laughter of your family (!!) when otherwise you think you would probably just sit down on the ground and cry. But there's no time for that, there's work to be done. Work, work, work!! Work is good. It's good to be working. Uncle Scrooge would be proud.

But Granny notices you trying too hard, moving to fast, maybe a little manic, struggling with trying to haul bin-wreckage so large even you can't lift it without seriously hurting yourself, and makes you go take a break. You try to argue, but she's Granny, and only a few people can argue with Granny, like Uncle Scrooge, or-

Her.

There’s a Lena-sized hole in your heart. If anyone heard you say that, they'd probably try to correct you, and say it was a Lena-shaped hole, that's how the saying goes. But you'd both be right, because it's Lena-shaped AND Lena-sized, it's bigger than you, a Lena-sized black hole that threatens to engulf you if you think about it for more than a 15 seconds which was fine when they let you help work until you passed out on the ground from exhaustion and Granny had to carry you to bed but now you have to take a BREAK and now you have to think about how your best friend is gone and how she's gone because when it came down to you or her she wanted you to still be here even if it meant she wasn't and thats like something noble and heroic and tragic out of a book but the thing about books is that you close them when the story’s over and move on and Lena’s story is over but yours just keeps going and going and going and it's not fair that you should have your story keep going without her in it anymore.

(This is why you didn't want to take a break.)

You’re at Lena’s amphitheater. This wasn't intentional, and it hurts to look at, to be here knowing what you know about her now. But this is the single most Lena place there is in all of Duckburg, maybe the whole world, and if you want to keep her in your story, even a little, maybe this is a good place to start.

You think about the little room under the stage and you feel sick. But everything that's left of her is down there too, so. Maybe.

You trigger the trap door and descend the stairs to Lena’s home-apartment-room-cave. No wonder she always wanted to sleep at our place, Louie had said. No wonder. If you'd known, you never would have let her leave. If you’d known she was living on cereal and -- you check the mini fridge, and, ugh, gross, of course the milk is spoiled -- energy drinks you’d have made sure she got better food more often. If you’d known, if you'd asked, maybe this could have all been prevented. Maybe if you’d insisted on getting to know her a little better instead of trying so hard to get her to like you and fawning over her like a love-sick puppy, she would still be here, maybe Uncle Scrooge could have kept her safe and stopped all of this before it started--

But maybe not. Maybe Magica was just stronger than anything you could have done, even if you'd known how to help.

Magica said Lena was never real, but you know that's not true, because you held her hand and hugged her, so you know she was solid. And Lena decorated this room with teenager stuff, posters and pictures, she tried to grow plants down here even if there wasn't any sun, so you know she had a personality. And she ate food like she needed it, not just because she could, and there’s a small stash of toilet paper in the corner and that's, oh god, that's so awful, that's so bad, no one deserves to live like this, no one, not ever, oh, Lena, so you know she was alive.

She stood up for you, defended you, sacrificed herself for you, so you know she loved.

Lena was real. She was real and she lived here.

Past tense.

Lena is gone.

You sit on the edge of her bed. She slept here. The mattress is disgusting, musty, lumpy, but she needed sleep, because she was real, and this is where that happened. All the nights she wasn't with you she was here, and you wish she'd spent every night with you instead, because this is terrible. You lie down and sink into a Lena-shaped indentation in the mattress.

Under a certain amount of dampness and mustiness and stale cereal, you can smell her. There’s an oversized hoodie on the bed, and without even really thinking about it you sit up and pull it on. It smells like her too. You pull the hood down low and tuck your knees up into the waistband, and try, really, really, really hard not to cry.

It doesn't work.

You hug her pillow like it's the only thing between you and drowning in your sorrow, like it's her, and you cry until you fall asleep in her bed.

She’s there in your dream. Kind of. She’s misty, translucent, and keeps evading your eye when you try to look at her, she moves around you in circles with the smooth mechanical regularity of a second hand sweeping around a clock face and you're the hour hand, too slow to keep up with her.

“You're safe,” she says. Her voice is threadbare, weak, and a galaxy away.

“Thanks to you,” you say, sad and happy at once. “Why’d you save me? Magica said-”

“You’re my friend,” she whispers as she passes, and you can see her face, sort of, and her lazy smart-ass smile and dreamy eyes punts your heart right up into your throat. “You beautiful idiot.”

You’d kiss her, probably, if you could only reach her.

“I didn't know,” you say, about….everything. About Magica, about her, about the spoiled milk and the stash of toilet paper.

“That was the point, dummy.”

It's killing you that you can't turn your head to look at her.

“I'm dreaming,” you tell her and regret it instantly because now you'll lose the dream!! If you go lucid you’ll wake up and maybe never see her again. “Lena I’m in your room at the beach, it’s bad, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't try harder, that I didn't make you eat more pancakes or offer to do your laundry, or that I ever ever let you leave, that I didn't ask about you more--”

Lena makes a sound like an audible wince. “Oooo, you saw that, huh? Sorry.”

“I’m sorry! Lena, I'm so sorry, I know if I’d asked you wouldn't have told me anyway because you had to lie about everything but I don't blame you for that because I know it wasn't your fault but I like you so much and I know that seems shallow because I realize I know so little about you-” boy it's a good thing you don't have to breathe in dreams “-but you’re my best friend and I miss you so much, Lena, it's only been two days! It’s been two days and it hurts so bad.”

You’re crying now, hard, and the dream is losing shape. The ghost-Lena stops her orbit directly behind you as the dream melts into bright white, a roaring, blazing sun, cresting the horizon five feet in front of you.

From behind your head, but in barely more than a breath, she says, “We have time. I got your back, Webby.”

And she's gone.

When you wake up the first thing you do is empty her fridge. The energy drinks can stay, but the milk and the stale cereal have to go. You throw out the dead plants, the crusty dishes, the slightly damp toilet paper, burnt down candle nubs, and anything else that doesn't seem personal, important or irreplaceable. Some of her posters are just destroyed with moisture and mildew. You’ll replace them another day with something else. You gather up all her clothes and bedding and take them to a laundromat -- you’re not sure you could explain it to Granny, though you think she'd understand and help you with it if you did, you're just not ready to talk about any of this yet. You launder everything, even the hoodie. You wish you didn't have to, that you could keep some element of her on them, but they're dirty and they stink and just knowing they were hers is enough, and if she were here you think she’d be grateful to have fresh, soft clean clothes and sheets.

You try and clean her room, but there's only so much you can do when the paint is chipping and the walls are crumbling. Maybe it’ll be an ongoing project. Maybe you’ll sneak down here and see what you can do with some whitewash? Maybe you’ll ask the boys for help, that could be fun! In the meantime you wipe down what you can, you polish her mirror and dust her creepy bric a brac and chase spiders out of corners. She has a lot of bones in here, like you needed a reason to miss her even more, you didn't know she collected bones, you could have been comparing bone collections this whole time?? The greatest tragedy of your young life.

You drag her mattress out up onto the stage into the sun to air out.

You don't know why you're doing this. She's gone, and even if she wasn't, you wouldn't let her come back here ever again. It wouldn't need to be clean, because she wouldn't need to live here anymore.

But, just the same. It helps you, right now, in this moment.

You shuffle off along the beach while the mattress airs to pick some flowers and toe the shore for sea glass or shells or, just. Anything nice to brighten the place up. Maybe that's not Lena’s aesthetic, but it's yours, and Lena liked you well enough, so you think she would have appreciated it. You’re working your way back to the amphitheater with an armful of Queen Anne’s lace and mountain lilac and a pocket full of worn smooth beach glass in blue and green when something catches your eye, a shadow-

You drop your flowers and assume the position, instinctually ready to knock someone's block off. But it's just a large black bird, a crow, pecking at something shining in the rocks by the water. When you get closer you can see it's a gold coin, undoubtedly Uncle Scrooge’s, and you smile thinking how happy he’ll be to have it back, just one lousy coin out of billions. You stoop to pick up the coin and with it comes a tangled string of sea grass and with the sea grass comes-

Oh.

It’s Lena’s friendship bracelet.

You rinse it off in the water and tie it around your wrist, next to yours. They look like they were made to be worn together, which is a silly thing to think because you made them, after all. Of course they match.

Of course they belong together.

You pocket the coin, gather up your flowers and head back to the room under the amphitheater. After dragging the mattress back downstairs, you make her bed with the fresh sheets, and arrange the flowers and the little bits of glass around the room so that it almost looks like a place you could spend some time in, the two of you. Maybe not to live in, but a secret club house of sorts. Somewhere to run away to for the day, or camp out at for just one night so you could sneak up to the beach in the dead of night and curse at the tide knee deep in the ocean or some other silly girlish fantasy.

Or maybe it's just a slightly less depressing tomb. Because Lena is gone and will do none of those things with you now.

The only other thing you want to do right now, that absolutely can't wait, is change the light bulbs. The black light is creepy, but you think you know why she had it. For now it's just a light bulb, but when you come back another time with more flowers and some other nice things maybe you’ll bring a new lamp altogether.

When you replace the lightbulb and the room fills with something far closer to daylight, you see the space is going to take a lot more work that you expected. It’ll definitely need that white wash, and a more thorough cleaning, but that’s okay! You like a project.

Also, it casts a much more vivid shadow than the black light did. It surprises you for a moment, and there's another moment where you have to blink your eyes against the change in light and you swear, it seemed like….but no. That's silly, right? You thought you saw your shadow ripple, like splash rings in a pond.

You swear you saw it move.

You are thinking maybe there's a gas leak down here or something when your shadow opens its eyes.

You are about to yell, or start swinging, when the eyes are gone and it's a regular shadow again. You wait, patiently, holding your breath, for the shadow to make another move, but it doesn’t. Nothing else happens.

You don't know how to feel about that.

You raise your arm, the one with the friendship bracelets, above your head, and your shadow does the same, but when you lower it,

your shadow arm hesitates.

Only by a second. It's like a lag. Not even like it's trying to keep up a facade of being your shadow, but like it's trying to NOT be your shadow. Like whatever's in it is weak and struggling to gain autonomy.

I got your back.

“Lena?”

It’s presumptuous of you, it COULD be a trick, it could be Magica, but you know what Lena is and you saw her protect you at the bin, and she came from you, from the magic you made with her that one time-

The shadow ripples again.

“LENA!”

You do what you would be doing if she were here in the flesh, you throw your arms around her and give her a BIG KISS, which, in this situation, amounts to body checking the grimy wall so hard you bounce off it and land on your butt. The shadow’s edges wobble in what might be concern or laughter, you don't know, but you love it and you love her and you’re definitely going to cry again.

“Lena what can I do?? How can I help? Can we get you out?”

The shadow doesn't respond for a long time, either because she doesn't know or she can't. Then, finally, slowly, she raises one arm and points. You try and track the two dimensional gesture in three dimensional space and land on a spooky looking chest on the far side of the room. Inside are half a dozen well worn if not literally ancient texts in just as many languages. Magica’s stuff, probably, and if you leave them here she’ll almost certainly come back for them. They’re safer with you then they are here, and if they can help you get Lena back, then there’s not a single question about it. You wrap them all up in Lena’s newly clean hoodie, which you were absolutely planning to steal anyway.

“I’m going to save you,” you tell her, reinvigorated, full to bursting with something bright and golden. “And you’re going to live with us and we’ll take care of you and we’re going eat chocolate chip pancakes for dinner every night for a week. For the rest of your life, if you want!” You lean against the wall, right into her. “I mean it, Lena. I’m not giving up, no matter what.”

And you kiss her, sort of, or the closest you can manage in this weird, wild situation. You clutch your bundle tight to your chest and scurry off, mildly embarrassed but mostly giddy and triumphant. She’s with you, of course, everywhere you go now. She’s got your back.

You have a lot of work to do, but that’s okay.

You like a project.

#weblena #welena #webby vanderquack #lena de spell #ducktales #ducktales spoilers #the shadow war #fic tag #first draft

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