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quarantineddreamer · 1 year ago

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Yours to Hold

For Fluffbruary Day 13 (Choice)

To be perfectly honest: my brain is still not quite with it these days. But, I'm holding out hope that the fog will clear at some point soon (plz) and in the meantime here's a little one-shot I managed! Hope it's enjoyable 💜 (Click above to read on AO3 or see below the cut)

It had been months since Scarif. Most of it he had spent recovering from his injuries. All of it, he had spent wondering why he could face death more easily than he could face life, face her and all she represented. Hope. Happiness. Home. He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

Of all the planets Cassian had been sent to during his time with the Rebellion, Hoth was by far his least favorite.

Maybe it was because it was frigid as hell.

Or maybe it was because the loose snow sliding beneath his foot had a tendency to remind him of sand…

Or because sometimes, when a storm blew in, the horizon disappeared, a blinding white, returning him to the awful edge of oblivion; a planet devoured before his very eyes…

Already, dark clouds were beginning to encroach upon the brief glimpse of blue sky he had managed to snatch. By his estimate he had maybe fifteen minutes left in the fresh air before he would need to retreat back into the gloom of Echo Base. He dreaded the thought, his head aching in memory of the harsh halogen lighting, chest tightening as he pictured the maze of tight, winding tunnels leading to crowded and too-small ‘rooms’.

Sure, on Yavin 4 he had been forced to check his bed every night in case a poisonous Yavinian centipede had wandered in, but it had also offered places to turn to when he sought solitude–jungle trees that he could lean against instead of the frozen rock wall at his back now.

At best, Hoth could offer him a barely habitable tundra to wander onto that–conditions permitting–would host him for maybe thirty minutes before the threat of frostbite drove him back into the Rebellion’s cramped quarters.

“Cassian?”

Even through the harsh whispers of the rising wind he recognized her voice–three, barely audible syllables and suddenly the icy air didn’t seem quite so cutting.

Jyn marched towards him, head ducked low against the wind, arms crossed over her chest, hands clutching her elbows in a tight self-embrace. A gray hat covered her head and a scarf to match was wrapped around her neck, the end of it tucked into the parka she wore–standard-issue blue, and seemingly at least a size too large–the sleeves hanging well-past her hands.

She stopped when she reached him and peered up at him, cheeks turned scarlet from the burning cold, loose strands of hair blowing across her face and over her brilliant green eyes.

He’d come out here to be alone. To think. And yet, suddenly all the thoughts in his head seemed out of reach, as did any semblance of speech.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked incredulously.

Cassian cleared his throat and gestured upwards. “You just missed it.”

“Missed what? I didn’t know there were any new arrivals scheduled today…”

He shook his head. “No, not a ship. Sky.”

Jyn tilted her head back, eyeing the infinity above them skeptically. “Pretty sure it’s still there, Cass,” she commented.

“Clear sky,” Cassian elaborated. “Blue sky. Remember that?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she laughed, and the sound was meant for his ears (as all sounds are), but somehow it wasn’t something he heard so much as felt–winding its way through him, leaving warmth and energy in its wake, before settling somewhere against his heart.

“Cass? Hello?”

“Sorry.” Cassian blinked, snow from his eyelashes melting against his cheeks and blurring his vision. “What did you say?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. “I asked if it was worth it, but I think I have my answer. The cold’s clearly gone to your brain.” She turned her back to the wall and leaned against it beside him, looking at him expectantly.

It wasn’t the cold making him so addle-minded, Cassian knew it wasn’t that. No, it was something far more daunting, far more potent, and definitely not as easily shaken.

Jyn looked away from him, out onto the increasingly hazy landscape. “Were you really just out here to look at the sky?” she asked quietly.

She knew the truth, or at least part of it. She always did. He didn’t know how, but she did, the same way he knew he didn’t have to answer her–that she didn’t expect him to. His silence would say enough.

“It’s suffocating in there,” she murmured. “Not enough light, not enough air.”

“Too many people,” he added quietly.

She nodded. “Too many,” she agreed. “But out here it’s…”

“Quiet. Gives you a chance to think.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Sometimes.”

She peered at him from beneath frost-covered lashes. Lips quirked in a pensive, knowing smile. “What about today?”

Today? Today his eyes had been drawn to Jyn the moment she entered the mess hall; had followed her every step with a sort of dizzying wonder that was at once exhilarating and terrifying. Today Chirrut, sitting beside him, had nudged him pointedly and asked, ‘What are you waiting for, Captain?’

But there wasn’t a single answer, there was an entire swarm of doubts that continued to plague him.

He had come outside to think, hoping the bracing cold might clear his head and deliver an answer. He knew how he felt about her, knew what he wanted. What he was searching for was the courage to try–to choose a future that extended beyond the next mission; something permanent and lasting and full of possibilities. Something not for the Rebellion, but for himself. Something to be shared…

“Today, it was a good thing,” he said at last. It was a good thing because having Jyn in his thoughts, even if they were anxious ones, was still having Jyn there, with him–a sudden, strange, and unexpected source of strength and light.

She pushed herself off the rock wall and stepped in front of him, so close he could see the individual hairs that were caught up in her eyelashes, fixed in place by her hat and the wind. “Tell me about them,” she said. “The good thoughts.”

Waking up in the infirmary to find her there, resting at his bedside, arms folded beneath her head…

Hearing her laugh for the first time, a proper laugh as he and K2 bickered over something inane; he’d forgotten the fight the moment he heard the sound, caught himself automatically smiling in response…

Her surprising patience during his recovery, tempering his own frustrations; the way she’d always been there to sit with him in silence after a particularly trying day…

A quiet corner of the galaxy, somewhere verdant and warm and free of war; Jyn standing beside him, always beside him…

Instead of answering, he found himself pinning the fingertips of one of his gloves between his back and the rock and tugging his hand free. His breath caught in his chest as he slowly reached towards her face, gently sweeping a finger over the surface of her forehead, sliding the hair away from her eyes.

He should have dropped his hand after that, should have pulled away, but instead, his palm moved instinctively to cup her cheek, the softness of her skin serving in stark contrast to the bite of the air around it.

Jyn stared at him, something unreadable in her eyes as she searched his face. “Your fingers are cold,” she said softly, even as she slowly removed her own gloves and reached for his hands, tugged his remaining glove away. “Let me warm them up…”

Time seemed to slow down as she folded her hands over his own, squeezing lightly, before bringing his fingers to her open mouth and breathing onto them, the warmth of her seeping into the chilled surface of his skin, setting fire to his stuttering heart.

“Jyn…” he murmured, but anything he might have thought to say to her stuck in his throat, forgotten and useless.

He leaned closer, till the breath that had been warming his hands was ghosting across his lips instead. And for a moment, that was all there was, just the sound and feel of their breathing: a whispered question so powerful, it blocked even the howl and bite of the rising storm.

Their eyes locked and held, the beginning notes of a song hanging in the air between them…

Cassian answered the call, tilting forward to press an eager kiss to Jyn’s lips.

A pleased hum buzzed against his mouth, matching the pull of her forming smile. She released his hands and leaned her weight against him as she rose to her toes, reaching to wind her fingers around his neck and into his hair.

He wrapped his arms around her, tightened the embrace, a wild melody tearing through him like thunder through spring air, full of promise.

When they parted, they did so slowly, scattering short kisses across cheeks and noses, and unable to resist one last deep, lingering kiss, before finally leaning away, just enough to clearly see each other’s faces.

The smug grin Jyn was giving him forced a soft laugh from Cassian. “What’s this look about?” he asked.

“Took you long enough,” she said softly as she stepped backwards, dragging the start of a trail in the deepening snow. “Now come on, you’ve been out here long enough–and I’ve got some ideas on how we can get warm.”

The plummeting temperatures didn’t seem capable of reaching him–not with the shadow of their kiss persisting on his lips–but Cassian didn’t bother to resist.

Jyn tugged gently on his arm, and he gladly followed

#rebelcaptain fluffbruary #rebelcaptain fanfic #rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #b writes #is this fluff? maybe? idk? this is probably as close as i get anyways #the rebelcaptain network

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fluffbruary · 1 year ago

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Do you plan a monthly prompt throughout 2024 again (like in 2023)? ��

Yes we do! More on that when Fluffbruary gets underway, I think. ❤️

#fluffbruary #Fluffbruary 2024 #extended fluffbruary #all the fluff

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fang-and-feather · 7 months ago

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Ikemen Vampire - Jean x Vincent x Reader

Written for July's Polyam Shipping Day Prompt: Ceremony from @polyamships and August's Extended Fluffbruary Prompt: Radiant from @fluffbruary

Words: 454

Summary: Jean wasn’t given to crying, but he wasn't sure he would make it through this unforgetable moment without crying, with how radiant you looked to his eyes.

Tags: Fluff, Wedding, Jean's POV

I will probably add another chapter to this from another POV later...

It's been little over three hours since I posted last fic, but I already wrote another. Just as short, but I am learning to write shorter fics these days. I think of that as a milestone for me.

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

Jean wasn’t given to crying, but he felt like he had cried a lot more since you came into his life. Mostly tears of happiness.

And once again he found these tears threatening to fall, as he watched you walk down the aisle towards him.

A wedding ceremony was something Jean thought he had to give up for loving both you and Vincent.

A small sacrifice for everything he gained from and with you.

But you had sought a way. Someone willing to help you. And you had found it. Even if Jean didn’t like or trust him very much, and he wasn’t the only one. But he was in no position to be picky, and you and Vincent were so happy.

And there you were now, in this dream that had become true.

Your eyes met his, and you gave him a smile, also struggling with your own tears. You were always his radiant light, but your smile shone brighter than ever before at this moment.

Jean averted his gaze from you, stunned by such radiance, and his gaze fell on the other groom by his side.

Vincent looked equally stunned as he stared at you, almost as if he was frozen by it.

Everyone’s eyes were on you too, some who also looked about to cry - again in some cases.

Jean looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours again, and he had to close his eyes to still keep the tears back. You were beautiful in any form, but there was something dreamy about you today. A scene Jean wished he could immortalize somehow.

Not that he would ever forget this moment.

When you were at the foot of the stairs, both of them extended their hands to you, and you held them, taking a deep breath.

Pulling you right between them, both kissed the back of the hand they were holding, and when they looked up, the three if you shared a smile.

Vincent’s smile was as radiant as yours and, for the first time, Jean had no doubt he looked just as radiant to you.

You made him glow. And Jean was no longer afraid of being, not only under your light, but also of being a bright star himself.

You made him, not only long for the light, but turned him into light. Light he would always use to bring you happiness.

And you made him feel like he was forgiven. Like the monster that he was afraid of becoming no longer existed.

And maybe, this unusual relationship would indeed be blessed.

And the ceremony started. Jean unsure if he would make it to the end of it without crying, with how your radiant love filled his heart.

Tag List:

@tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles

@bicayaya, @eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#polyamshippingday #fluffbruary 2024 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp vincent #ot3: jean d'arc x vincent van gogh x reader #polyamory #ikevamp #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

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with-a-ghost-mr-holmes · 1 year ago

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Fluffbruary: Day 14

Prompt: bubble bath.

John cursed his job the entire day for keeping him away from Sherlock for over 10 hours on Valentine’s Day.

John realizes Sherlock’s just as eager to make up for that time when he arrives home and finds a bubble bath ready, the bathroom dimly lit by a few scattered candles.

Then Sherlock appears at the door, already naked and holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He places them by the tub before enfolding John in his arms and kissing him deeply.

“Well, well,” John croons. “Aren’t you a romantic.”

“Consider it extended foreplay,” Sherlock murmurs, mischief personified.

Tags:

@fluffbruary @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @helloliriels @peanitbear @pressurepoint221 @dubiouslynamed @yellowpamonha @ehuether @lgcgjd @gomielka @kittenmadnessandtea @chriscalledmesweetie @justnerdystuffs @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @fullyouthwerewolf @chinike @iamjustreading @effulgentcorruptedpov @strawberrywinter4 @seagoing-nerd @annaofthenorthernlights @keirgreeneyes @brightbquirky @mazaherstuff @naefelldaurk @kettykika78 @whatnext2020 @dinner--starving @under-loch-n-key @inevitably-johnlocked @safedistancefrombeingsmart @meetinginsamarra @gaylilsherlock @snonkerdoodlefizzy221b @7-percent @discordantwords @221beloved @sabsi221b @khorazir @johnlockismyreligion

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

And an immense THANK YOU for reblogging/leaving comments/liking my stuff. It means the world to me, and interacting with the fandom is one of my biggest joys! 🥰

#fluffbruary 2024 #bbc sherlock #johnlock #my fanfiction #drabble #valentines day

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seekers-who-are-lovers · 7 months ago

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The light of his heart

Written for @fluffbruary Extended for the month of July: library | glimpse | trip .

Thank you for the prompt. This is the continuation of the fiction: The Favourite: Fragments from the last setting. Both Wakamiya/Nazukihiko and Yukiya’s characterisation might be OOC, but reading the third novel and mainly watching the anime, Nazukihiko’s resolve crumbles when it comes to Yukiya. This is my interpretation between the lines. Hence, fan fiction.

Here I am still focusing on Yukiya/Wakamiya ship whereas the Japanese audience, who have read all Chisato Abe’s novels and collection of stories, are already hard on Yukiya/Shigemaru train.

—

Fandom: Yatagarasu: The Raven Does Not Choose Its Master

Characters: Wakamiya/Nazukihiko, Yukiya, a very brief appearance of Sumio

Rating: T to slight M

—

Oh, I beg you, / always, always stay / the light of my heart, just as you have / illuminated my way / for an entire year!

— Daigobô Toshiô ( from “Japanische Jahreszeiten: Tanka und Haiku aus dreizehn Jahrhunderten”)

As soon as Yukiya rose to his feet, Wakamiya watched his every move and marveled at how his former attendant had grown up. Gone were the baby fats on the cheeks. The prominent jawline took over a once perfect oval face, and his eyes were bluer than before. He tied his hair on top of his head that flowed down his shoulders reaching the chest. Reddish brown, the same colour like his deceased mother’s, the second princess of the North. He kept his fringe. It suited the younger man, who turned 18.

He also gained more muscles due to countless rigorous trainings at the academy—hand-to-hand combat or otherwise— shapely powerful legs that brought into the fore. He was also a proud owner of a golden sword that dangled on his left side. The dainty stubborn boy was gone replaced by a cunning young military man ready to challenge the enemies of Yamauchi.

“Are you only going to stare at me the whole time? Or are you going to ask me what happened during my absence? If I have friends… Or how am I?” Yukiya licked his lips while he gazed at the Crown Prince, who, in turn, could not take his eyes off his personal guard.

Nazukihiko thought: Which you have. I know them well. You are enjoying your remarkable intimacy with Shigemaru, a fellow Northerner. It bothers me a bit, quite to be honest. And there’s Haruma, who looks up to you as if you were his god. He invited Yukiya personally after the young man successfully took the topmost award among the graduates at Keisoin.

This is strange. Words failed Wakamiya. As a true Golden Raven, he should not feel anything, like desire, at all. Hiding the blush on his cheeks, he shook his head and laughed softly to himself then turned his back to his distinguished guest. He focused his attention instead to the scrolls and books that he was reading at the moment laid out on the mahogany table next to the wall.

No more words exchanged, but heavy footsteps that made the nightingale floors chirp.

Read the rest on AO3.

(Images courtesy of Matsuzaki Natsumi and Studio Pierrot)

*Here I go again @ynxnyx

#the raven does not choose its master #yukiya #wakamiya #yukiya/wakamiya #fluffbruary 2024 #fluffbruary #my fanfic stuff #flash fiction friday #fff263 #yatagarasu #matsuzaki natsumi

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diskaywrites · 29 days ago

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Fluffbruary 2025 Either You're Out or You're In

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟒: 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐱 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐣𝐚𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐆𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤 (𝐨𝐜), 𝐖𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟒𝟓 @fluffbruary

The arrival of the second-generation star had the rest of the Progress roster in a panic, but the moment that Spike Trivet had heard about the arrival of Elijah Bennett, the Progress World Champion knew he needed to meet the son of the self-professed king. After all, the Progress World Champion led the most dominant team on the roster in Dominatus Regnum. If they could add one more dangerous man to their ranks, Trivet would simply be pleased as punch. It was why he had sent his right-hand man, Giddeon Braddock, to collect the newcomer.

The private locker room was decorated as a champion deserved, leather seating and a quiet area away from the rest of the roster. It didn't matter to Spike how cramped the changing room of the others was so long as he didn't have to stomach the common dregs of the lower classes. Giddeon had made sure the room was flawless, as he always did. A simple bottle of red wine sat on the long black table decorated with other snacks for Dominatus to enjoy, various meats and cheeses as well as fruits and vegetables on a snack tray. Spike's black-gloved hand picked up one of the pieces of strawberry, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied grin as the door opened.

"Lord Trivet?" Giddeon's velvet voice echoed through the quiet room, "Your guest is here."

Spike gripped the cane in his hand, decorated with a silver wolves head at the top, turning to face the door with a polite grin, "Excellent. Escort him inside."

The door opened a little wide and as soon as the other man entered, Spike felt his heart catch in his chest. Elijah was a magnificent specimen up close. He was broad but short, making the muscles that his t-shirt cling to his muscles even more. That black hair that usually hung wet and stringy on his shoulders in the ring seemed to be combed out and pulled back for once. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔! Those piercing blue eyes seemed to stare straight into Spike Trivet's rotten soul. "You must be Spike Trivet," his guest spoke, those eyes raking over his own form, "your man here was adamant you wanted to see me?"

"Why, yes, I sent for you," Spike strode forward, black-gloved hand extended for a shake. When Elijah did take his hand, Spike noticed the grip of the shake. "A firm handshake for a firm man. I like that, Elijah. Please! Sit! Giddeon, pour our guest and myself some wine."

Spike and Elijah moved to the leather chairs in the room, sitting almost in unison. Spike crossed one leg over the other, tapping his fingers against the chairs arm. "It is a lovely little locker room you have here, Trivet. You must be well liked by management."

Spike let out a laugh, "Come now, Bennett. We both know your father doesn't particularly like anyone. What he does is what the rest of the locker room does. He 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 Dominatus Regnum. The whole of the roster 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 Dominatus Regnum. And that is what we offer you. It is what I offer you."

The large form of Giddeon Braddock brought two wine glasses to the table, serving both men their drink. Spike's vulturine gaze watched as Elijah picked up the glass, sniffing its contents before tossing it back as if it were nothing, "What are you offering, Spike?"

Spike picked up his own glass, sniffing the contents as was customary. It was fresh, oaky in its smokiness. He took a sip, reveling in the black cherry taste. It reminded him of the summer pudding his mother had once made when he was young. He sloshed the red liquid in the glass around for a moment before speaking up, "Allow me to be the guide to your time here in Progress. Allow me to offer Dominatus as you need to accomplish your goals."

Elijah leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face, "That sounds like I am the only one benefitting. I've heard the stories about you. That isn't your motive."

Spike took another long sip of his wine, watching Elijah over the rim of the glass. Handsome and smart? He was absolutely the kind of man Spike wanted in Dominatus Regnum. Elijah was the prince to his lord and Spike hoped his offer was enticing as he revealed what he would get out of the situation, "Simple. I get to enjoy your company."

#fluffbruary 2025 #fluffbruary #spike trivet #c: elijah bennett

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fluffbruary · 2 years ago

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Part 3 of 3

@adrinetteapril Day 10: Stupid in Love @fluffbruary April: Lilac, Baking

Adrien didn’t realize how out of his way he’d been going to see Marinette until he went out of his way to avoid her.

Of course, the fact that he hadn’t even realized he had a crush on her until she refused his offer of checking out another restaurant – basically his attempt at asking her out before he knew he wanted to ask her out - was testament enough to his obliviousness.

Plagg had been torn between sympathy and laughter. Adrien had had to deal with feelings realization and rejection at the same time. If you think one is bad, try that.

“Kid, Pigtails was a total disaster around you back when you were in college,” his kwami had said sagaciously. “If she didn’t have a crush on you, I’ll eat that entire wheel of camembert.”

“I’m sure you’re going to do that either way,” Adrien had responded dryly.

“Fine! But that doesn’t change the facts. Pigtails has it real bad for you.”

“Then why did she say no?” Adrien wailed into his pillow. “Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY?”

“Please stop,” Plagg had said, looking disturbed. “First of all, did you tell her it was for a date?”

He open and shut his mouth, speechless. No, he hadn’t explicitly mentioned it. But surely, it would have been obvious? The ridiculously romantic atmosphere of the restaurant – and he really had to wonder why Andy had pushed him so much for that one once Bianca’s (he couldn’t even think of the name of the place without his heartbreak rearing its head again) had no longer been an option – aside, they had just affirmed that they were glad to be alone together and held hands!

“She held my hand!” Adrien gasped. He remembered seeing Marinette smile up at him, and just suddenly deciding he wanted to hold her hand. The way her fingers had curled into his. “Her hand in mine! And I didn’t even appreciate it!”

“And he’s gone crazy,” Plagg was commentating to the cheese he was eating. “It was only a matter of time, but still, the timing. Love and madness: always together!”

“I’m not crazy,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just in love! I’m only seventeen! I’m allowed to be dramatic.”

“In love?” Plagg had asked sarcastically. “Wasn’t it a crush ten seconds ago?”

Adrien had gasped and lay down facing the ceiling and started to panic again.

The next day of her internship at Gabriel, the panic had started to bubble up again, especially with the aforementioned realization. Timing his entry with hers. Showing her the way. Seeking her out in the cafeteria. Helping Juliet score entry with the photographer to the shoot. Wanting to go with her to the place he and Ladybug had last fought together. Offering to model.

How exactly had he not realized his feelings before? They were obvious.

And yet at the same time. . . He’d been in love with Ladybug for years. And it wasn’t like those feelings were gone. His heart still jumped in his chest every time he saw her.

So was it fair to Marinette that he asked her out while still in love with someone else and had only felt the impulse to do so because she had so fiercely defended his alter ego?

Maybe it was good that she refused him after all.

He sighed, trailing after Nathalie as she signed onto meetings and told him to take notes and that they would be discussing what was most important in the meeting afterwards.

Nathalie was scarily efficient. She was the closest thing to family he had other than Father and Aunt Amelie and Felix and the Gorilla, but still. She could be scary.

“—the interns,” somebody was saying, and Adrien’s mind immediately jumped back to the conversation going on. Marinette was like – an itch to scratch.

Okay, that was a terrible metaphor for someone he had romantic interest in. But it was the best he could come up with. He knew it was a horrible idea to fall in love with and moon over someone you’re not sure returns your feelings, especially when you’ve been in love with someone else for years and are definitely not over them. But still. Hearing about Marinette, looking for her, offering to model for her – they were pleasurable for the moment, even if bad for the long term.

Every time he even thought of her since their work date the previous day, it felt like there was conflagration in his veins.

Work date. Yeah, right.

If Vincent, Juliet, Andy and the others had come, it would have been that, sure. But he’d been alone with Marinette.

Right. Time to stop thinking about that.

“Mme. Oppenord didn’t have the best things to say at first, but the reports have improved,” Someone was saying.

Adrien frowned. What exactly did that mean?

“It’s only been a week,” Nathalie said coolly. “Mlle. Dupain-Cheng will have more opportunities to prove herself.” She sent him a quelling look.

Was it that obvious that he would have interrupted? Adrien thought moodily to himself. And he quite frankly failed to see what Mme. Oppenord would have had to complain about. Even his father had been grudgingly impressed with her designs – he’d given his approval for Adrien to model with only a single criticism about hemlines. Coming from Father, that was basically effusive praise.

“You need to be more professional, Adrien,” Nathalie said sharply as they exited the room. “You cannot impulsively interrupt a conversation, even if it’s about your friend. Especially without knowledge of what it’s about, and while contradicting someone.”

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to will the heartbreak he hadn’t felt since Ladybug had told him she was dating someone down. Nathalie was right. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

“I understand that your … feelings might be difficult,” she said, softer now.

He couldn’t believe even Nathalie had managed to see his emotional turmoil. Was she trying to give him love advice??

“I’ll be fine,” he said hurriedly, not wanting to hear it. “Thank you, Nathalie. I’ll keep that in mind. What are we going to do next? Please tell me it’s not another board meeting because the last time--”

Was word-vomit contagious? Because—

Ugh! Why did every single thought lead to Marinette?

Adrien imagined himself writing a tortured ballad about his love and despair and then flailing about on the piano like people imagined rockstars did, all brash rock, no melody. Then he imagined Luka’s reaction if he were to ever hear these thoughts.

Right. He needed to get himself together.

Nathalie may have had a point. Not that he would ever tell her that.

Adrien might be just a little bit irrationally emotional.

“As it happens, I have a meeting with Mme. Oppenord,” Nathalie said, glancing at her tablet. “But—”

“Can I do something else?” He asked instantly, openly showing he would rather not discuss Marinette at the moment. Because who else could be the subject of that meeting? Especially after his father had given approval for his modelling of her designs.

Nathalie seemed vaguely sympathetic for a moment before reverting to her apathetic façade. “Of course. You have an hour before you are due to start your homework, so I suggest you visit the models on the runway for the upcoming line. As the CEO’s son and a model yourself, your advice will be helpful. An employer must always—”

“I’m planning on double majoring in business, Nathalie,” Adrien rolled his eyes. “Plus the Intro to Business course I already take. I really don’t need it twice.”

“Very well,” she raised an eyebrow at him and he knew he’d be hearing little nuggets of business wisdom till the end of his life. He headed for the wardrobe, where he knew at least some of the models would be hanging around. The runway wasn’t until next week, but he knew final alterations and practices would be going on now.

“—turn around please,” he heard a very familiar voice.

Damn.

Marinette was kneeling in front of a girl in a long lilac ballgown, pencil behind her ear, and holding a tape measure against the dress with furrowed eyebrows and tongue sticking out with concentration.

She looked adorable.

“Get that lovesick look of yours off your face, kid,” muttered Plagg from inside his jacket.

“You can’t even see me right now,” he hissed back.

“Don’t need to. Say, you think boss lady did this on purpose?”

Adrien’s eyes widened. Had Nathalie done this on purpose? Even the thought seemed ridiculous. Nathalie didn’t do pranks or romance. No chance. “No way,” he replied.

“M. Agreste!” Mme. Rosalie called, looking pleased. Marinette gave an eep and dropped the tape measure in a sudden onset of clumsiness.

Adrien’s stomach sank. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who thought avoiding the other was a good idea.

“Mme. Sancœur told us you’d be here! Would you like to talk to the models?” The woman asked expectantly.

Adrien cleared his throat. “Right. I would. I’ll just … wander around?”

She inclined her head. “As you see fit.”

Adrien went in the opposite direction to where Marinette was. He talked to a couple of the models, most of whom were experienced, some even as much as he was, and stayed a bit longer with the two newbies. His father wouldn’t like it if they messed the upcoming line up. Adrien knew one of the designs being modelled would be one his mother had been the muse for, only days before she disappeared.

Father had been better about telling him about his mother, ever since the whole movie-girlfriend-Akumatized-Gorilla-nearly-dying thing. Though that wasn’t saying much.

Andy waved at him from where she was adjusting a sombrero on one of the models’ head. In the process, the hat wobbled and Kivan – the model – yelped. He grinned and waved back as Andy sheepishly went back to focusing on her work.

There was no getting around it anymore – he walked over to Marinette and the girl who were now chatting as Marinette folded up the clothes they’d been doing the final adjustments for. When his friend saw him, she blushed and started talking very rapidly to the model, who just looked confused until she spotted him.

“Adrien Agreste!” She squeaked, before she composed herself. “Sorry. It’s a pleasure to meet you, M. Agreste.”

Feeling glad that there was no more fangirling, Adrien shook her hand. “You as well, Mademoiselle.”

“I’ve been following your modelling career for a long time,” she started enthusiastically. “And can I just say what an inspiration it is to me? Especially the spring line you did in ’19.”

Adrien froze up, blinking in astonishment. Nobody had ever said that to him. To him, modelling was only a way to get some extra money for his savings and a way his father still had control on his diet and activities. The fact that he could have inspired a budding model was. . .

“Th-Thank you,” he swallowed. “Yeah, that shot was. . . definitely something.” She was right in finding that particular one inspiring, because there were very few shots in his career that had been as taxing as that one.

“That was the one that took over ten separate shoots, right?” Marinette asked quietly.

“Ten?!” The girl’s eyes widened, but neither Adrien nor Marinette was paying any attention.

“Yes,” he said quickly, too glad that she had spoken to him. It certainly was a turn from never wanting to speak to her again to being desperate for even a single word from her lips. But her looking him in the eye made his insides jump and twist themselves into knots.

Maybe she had refused the offer of a second date-disguised-as-work. Maybe he was still in love with Ladybug. But he couldn’t believe he had ever thought his feelings for her weren’t genuine or that no contact with her would have been better than friendship.

Friendship was more than enough: he had survived Ladybug, and he would survive Marinette too. To the lonely boy locked in his house after the loss of his mother, the friends he had, like Nino, Alya, Marinette and his classmates in college and lycée, were a dream come true.

“Wow, something that could make me reconsider the modelling,” the girl – Adrien couldn’t believe he still didn’t know her name – huffed a laugh. “Didn’t know that existed.”

Marinette laughed out loud. If Adrien were more of a sap, he would say it was like the chiming of bells, the sound of the calm sea waves, the press of a piano key and the chirping of a bird.

Damn it. He was that much of a sap.

“The industry of whatever you’re in has a way of doing that,” she agreed warmly. “Being a fashion designer is pretty much all I’ve wanted since I was a kid – though I did get distracted by wood-carving and architecture and furniture and mechanics and jewellery for a while,” she admitted ruefully, and Adrien made a note of the information. He’d known about the wood-carving – Nino, Kim and Max had a couple she’d made for them during that particular phase, and she’d had the jewellery phase in college, but not architecture or furniture or mechanics. “But when I found out about the politicking and the terrible prospects of some designers –” she made a face.

“I get what you mean,” Adrien said. “Lots of people have this idealized view of modelling in their head. But it isn’t all good. Like you said,” he nodded at her. “It can be really frustrating and tiring and restricting. Even still … it can be worth it.” He gave her some more advice, mulling over his new perspective over the job his father had forced onto him over the years. Marinette stacked the clothes neatly and passed them onto the person collecting them, listening quietly.

The model – to his shame, he still didn’t know her name – gave the pleasantries and then skipped away. Marinette and Adrien were left in an awkward silence.

He fidgeted with his miraculous, debating speaking up. She beat him to it. “You’re – you’re coming to Rose’s party tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Adrien had almost forgotten it was the next day. “Why?”

“Have you gotten a gift for her?”

“Yes, I bought something a couple days ago.” He shrugged, trying to indicate how dissatisfied he was with it. He knew she would like it, but he still wanted to get his friends presents that would make them as happy as his father had made him with that one-time gift of a scarf.

Marinette nodded rapidly. “I have one for her too! I made something. But. Um. I’m baking a batch of lavender and honey macarons – they’re her favourite.”

“That’s a really nice gift,” Adrien commented, torn between admiration for his love’s gift-giving and envy for it.

“Y-Yes! I mean, thank you!” She stammered, and it was like a flashback to their college days. “I was wondering, maybe you wanted to come help me make them? Today?”

Adrien gaped for a moment, before Nathalie’s Public Comportment lessons took a hold. “Yes! That would be lovely!” The olive branch she’d clearly extended was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Well, except being Chat Noir. If he said otherwise, Plagg would kill him. Or maybe only maim him, to keep his cheese supply going.

Marinette’s eyes brightened and she looked him in the face for the first time since the model had left. She opened her mouth to say something.

—— And right then there was a loud scream from the other side of the building. Alarms began flashing and a cool voice called over the sound system: “There is an Akuma in the southern part of the premises. We request everyone to evacuate calmly. . .”

Adrien didn’t bother listening to the spiel. “I have to go,” he blurted out to Marinette, cringing at the thought of what she would think of him and this, before shoving his way to a closet and transforming.

“MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG!” The Akuma - whom due to a distinctively female style he would refer to as ‘she’ – bellowed.

Chat Noir’s heart fell to his stomach. The Akuma was clearly aware of where his friend was, because she was headed straight for the wardrobe. He saved a couple civilians from the carnage she was wreaking on the way, and hurried forward, for once not worried about when Ladybug would arrive.

All that was on his thoughts was Marinette.

Ladybug swung onto the scene, eyes calculating. “Chat! What’s the scene? Do you know where the Akuma is?”

“Er – no. She’s after a civilian. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” When Ladybug shot him an odd look, he wondered if he was doing a bad job at hiding his terrified concern.

“Well, we’ll have to stop her before she gets to her then. Come on, kitty, let’s go!”

He had to smile. His Lady always had a way of showing determination and fierceness even through the worst times. “Right behind you, m’lady.”

The fight wasn’t particularly hard: Hawkmoth must seriously be running out of good Akumas. At least it hadn’t been a repeat of Mr. Pigeon.

As Ladybug tossed her Lucky Charm into the air and fixed everything, the Akuma swirled and the black smoke left her, revealing the person underneath.

“Mme. Oppenord?” Ladybug sounded as taken aback as he was. Why was Marinette’s mentor so angry at her?

“Oh, my God.” The woman whispered. “I – I can’t believe—I have to find my daughter! And Marinette! I need to apologize to her!”

Ladybug’s earring beeped. “Chat, can you take her?” He nodded, but frowned as his partner pressed the charm into Mme. Oppenord’s hand. She had some time left. He wondered why she was in such a hurry.

He escorted her to the wardrobe and hid to reappear as Adrien. He came out to the woman tearfully explaining something to Marinette.

“I’m so sorry!” She was saying. “My daughter is – she’s an intern here. And this was after so much effort on her part, after she had to spend so many years working odd jobs to get into university. When you just – swanned in here with your connections, I – I thought it was favouritism. And I got so angry. . . .”

“You’ve been giving unfavourable reports about Marinette,” Adrien realized in disbelief.

Mme. Oppenord looked down, eyes closed, aloof façade entirely gone. “Yes. I’m so, so, sorry. It was just the one. Right after. . .”

“I complained about you,” Juliet stepped out of the shadow. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

“Juliet? You’re – You’re Mme. Oppenord’s daughter?” Marinette sounded astounded. “And you complained about me?”

She winced. “It was about—” her eyes flicked to him, and he frowned, confused. “Your … wasting our effort. You know.”

Marinette clenched her fists. “I can’t believe you dragged personal problems into a professional setting,” she said coolly. Mother and daughter flinched back. “I will be requesting a different supervisor, Mme. Oppenord.”

Mme. Oppenord looked sad, but only inclined her head. “Of course.”

“And Juliet—”

“She only complained once,” Andy pleaded suddenly. “I swear. It was only a casual comment. You’re our friend. We resented you in concept, you know, only lycée, connections with the CEO, but as soon as we met you it was all disproved. Instantly. We would never harm you, personally or professionally, Marinette. I promise.”

Marinette hesitated. She had a long record of forgiving friends instantly, Adrien knew. Especially after the Lila fiasco. “You’re my friends too. Alright. We’ll see.”

Juliet and Andy practically collapsed in relief. “Thank you, Marinette.” Juliet said weakly.

“Thank Andy.” She replied dryly.

“You’re the best best friend ever,” Juliet told Andy earnestly. “Thanks so—” She couldn’t finish. Andy went to her, threw her arms around her and kissed her.

“You’re welcome,” she gasped, as they separated from their rather passionate embrace. She noticed Adrien and Marinette’s lack of surprise. “You – guessed?”

“I knew,” Marinette corrected, laughing. “You guys act just like our friends who’re dating. Juleka and—” A look of horror crossed her face. “Oh. Oh no.”

“What happened?” Adrien asked immediately, concerned, looking her over for injury, readying himself to kill whoever had distressed her.

“Rose! Rose’s birthday party! I should’ve been home fifteen minutes back to start on her macarons!” She exclaimed.

Adrien looked at his watch. “If we get in my car right now, the Gorilla can have us there in ten minutes.”

“You’ll take me?” His friend asked, surprised.

“Of course! We are baking together, aren’t we?” He winked, and saw her blush. She recovered quickly, though, sticking her tongue out at Juliet and Andy, who were smirking at her for some reason. “Let’s go?” He held out his arm for her, only later realizing the parallel to their disastrous sort-of date.

This time, she took it without hesitation, smiling up at him. “Let’s.”

This car drive was different.

The last time he’d been bubbling over with anticipation and nerves for something he didn’t even know he wanted, filled with an adoration he’d called platonic. This time was … more awkward.

They reached Marinette’s home soon enough, conversing only for slight small talk and discussing the Akuma. Apparently Marinette had locked herself into a cupboard when she’d heard it was after her, which was smart, as Adrien told her.

“Not cowardly?” She’d asked with a laugh.

Adrien had been ferocious in his defense of that decision, which had obviously shocked her, but then she smiled at him, eyes and the lines around them softening. They’d smiled pretty dopily at each other until the Gorilla coughed and held the car door open. Also, why was everyone smirking at them like they knew something the two of them didn’t?

“Er. . . Can you remind me what colour lavender and honey macarons are?” Adrien asked nervously, shuffling from foot to foot as they entered the family kitchen. M. Dupain and Mme. Cheng had been very happy to see him, exclaiming over how tall he’d gotten and asking about his school and commenting that he needed to eat more. They were very nice people. He liked them a lot. (They’d smirked at him and Marinette when told they were baking together too. It was beginning to get irritating.) (Adrien was absolutely not imaging them as his in-laws. Definitely not.)

“They’re lilac. You know, the colour of the dress Addison was trying on?”

“Who?” Adrien asked blankly.

She cast him a deeply amused look. “The model. To whom you were preaching the wonders and terrors of modelling?” Adrien blushed and stammered ala college Marinette. She laughed and teased him as she got things out and he stared. “So, why do you want to know the colour?”

“Honestly, to know which of the ones you used to give out it is,” he admitted, making her laugh again. He smiled himself. Marinette was so nice to talk to. Even past the awkwardness, she was so sweet. He bet even macarons weren’t as sweet as her.

Wow. That came out wrong.

“Have you never baked before?” She asked as she started whisking the egg whites. “Also, can you raise it to medium high heat and hold the pan over it?” She nudged her head toward the pan in which she’d poured syrup and some sort of sugar? Into.

“Not really,” he admitted, unsurely executing her commands with frequent reassurances. “Only with you and your parents those couple of times. We have a chef.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed. “I probably wouldn’t get up to cook or bake if I had a personal chef.”

“No, you would,” Adrien said earnestly. “You’re too kind and hard-working and curious to not want to know what they’d do and try to help them.”

There was a pause in conversation. He looked up to see Marinette having stopped whisking, her cheeks bright red and eyes shining as she stared at him. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, heart fluttering. “What next?”

She snapped out of it. “It’s reached soft ball stage. Hand that over to me. Since you’ve never baked before, you can start on the ganache. I’ll work on this.” She gave him clear instructions, and he followed them with a thrill after begging for supervision: Marinette was very like Ladybug when she ordered him around.

“Will they be alright for tomorrow’s party?” He asked after nearly an hour of grueling work, as she kicked him aside to perform the final steps herself. She looked very cute with her mouth pinched in concentration and covered in butter and almond flour and lilac colour.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Macarons actually are better a couple days later – because they’ve had time to set.” She looked very satisfied with her work, which made her even more beautiful, in his opinion. And that had seemed impossible only a couple seconds ago. “Adrien? Are you okay? You’re staring.”

He started. “I’m fine. Just, er. . .” He was not saying what he had actually been thinking. “Just wondering if we’ll sign these as a joint present!”

That had not been what he’d meant to say.

Marinette stiffened. She clearly understood the implication – only couples typically gave joint gifts. “I’m going to put these in the refrigerator,” she said hurriedly.

“You do that,” he replied, disheartened. Then he went up and took a tray because he was a gentlecat and he couldn’t let his Princess do all the work.

“Why did you want to go to Bianca’s with me?” Marinette lasted only two minutes before giving in and asking.

“Because—” Adrien’s heart felt like it was thumping out of his chest. “Because I wanted to.”

Her face fell, and she turned to hide it. “Another work dinner?”

“What?” He asked, bewildered. “Marinette – I asked because I wanted to be with you. Work was an excuse. As long as it was with you, I don’t really care what we define that as.”

She nodded as though vindicated. “So. . . You want to go out as friends.” It wasn’t a question.

“No! I mean yes! I mean, maybe!” She stared at him in befuddlement. “If you want to go as friends, we’ll go as friends, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she repeated dully.

Adrien was oblivious, he knew that, but certain things fell in place as he watched her turn to take another tray in. How she always had cautious hope right before asking and it crumbled when he hedged his bets to keep the friendship of the love of his life.

Yes, she’d been upgraded.

Adrien took a deep breath, reminded himself he was a hero and saviour of Paris, and threw caution to the wind. He stormed over, took the tray from her hands, very much to her astonishment, and kissed her straight on the lips – no mistaking.

She gasped. He wrapped his hands around her waist slowly when she didn’t pull back, and dragging her in where her arms circled his neck. It was sweet, it was clumsy, it was beautiful, it was messy.

It was Marinette. It was perfect.

They parted, breathing heavily.

For all of Adrien’s angsting and moaning and bitching these past days, this was a rather quick resolution.

Then the doubts entered.

“So, you – you do like me romantically then?” He whispered before he thought better of it.

She laughed, sounding bewildered. “Adrien – I’m in love with you!”

He gasped. Her eyes widened, as though she had just realized what she’d said. “I love you too,” he said hurriedly before she could take it back. It settled into his heart as the truth. “I mean. There were others. Kagami. Luka. Definitely Ladybug. But it’s you. It was always you.”

She laughed dazedly, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb. He wanted to mewl and nuzzle into it. “Same for me. Luka. Kagami. Chat Noir. But – ever since college, ever since the umbrella, it’s been you.”

His heart skipped a beat at the mention of his alter ego. But there were more important things. “That long?” He asked in sheer shock, head spinning. That someone loved him that long – boring, polished Adrien Agreste. It was unthinkable.

“That long,” she replied quietly, and he couldn’t help it: he leaned in and kissed her again.

“Out of the kitchen!” Came a bellow, and both of them jumped apart, frenzied. M. Dupain was half glowering, half smiling, which was weird, and frankly, intimidating. “I’m glad you’re finally together, but honestly! Not in my kitchen.”

“Dear, what is going—” Marinette’s mother poked her head in and gasped in shocked pleasure. “I believe I win our bet.”

M. Dupain sighed theatrically and muttered something under his breath. “Shoo! Shoo! Out you go! No losing me my bet and defiling my kitchen!”

“I cannot believe my parents bet on us!” Marinette was saying furiously. “I’m going to kill them—”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, not wanting to get arrested and ruin the best day of his life (sorry Plagg, this one wins. Hands down.) “It’s fine. Really. It’s sweet, honestly.”

Marinette stopped pacing and threw him an exasperated look. “No, it’s not. Only you would think that.” But her tone and face were endeared.

“I am one of a kind,” he said in an attempt at Chat Noir flippancy.

“Of course you are,” she said softly, and the defenses fell away as she kissed him.

“So,” he said when they came up for breath. “We’re together now, right? Officially? We’re going to give the macarons to Rose jointly? And go for dinner at Bianca’s?” A thousand terribly cheesy ideas for romantic dates swirled in his head, and he waited for her response, heart in throat even after all this.

She smiled, and it was her beaming smile, brighter than the sun, sweeter than the sweetest taste on earth, lovelier than the moon, kindness and childhood and love all at once. “Of course.”

#fluffbruary 2023 #extended fluffbruary #diana-bookfairchild #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #reblog the fluff!

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a-forbidden-detective · 11 months ago

Text

Colluding

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial with the prompt #FFF252 Spill the tea and @fluffbruary April 14 prompt : coffee | florist | vision

Fandom: Kamonohashi Ron no Kindan suiri/ Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective

Pairing: RonToto, Ron & Kei Moore Kikuma

Words: 1148

Sprinkled with spoilers from Chapters 122 to 129, please tread carefully.

—

RON didn’t think of seeing Kei ever again. He wished it could have happened when the younger man was not in danger. Would it be nice to have a conversation about the past and the present times without someone being killed or gravely hurt? So many things to catch up, so many things to talk about.

So when Ron’s phone rang and registered an unknown number, it made him raise his left eyebrow. It also made him a tad bit excited, truth to tell.

“Ron-senpai.” It was Kei, his voice a bit croaky, Ron surmised, from not speaking much. The forbidden detective made a sigh of relief. A gesture that seemed to encourage the other party to extend an invitation, to continue the acquaintance.

The Detective Alliance’s Japanese branch director was released from the hospital after the attack from Alice Moriarty’s men. Ron and Toto found out that Tiger Daniel Moriarty was still alive, who masterminded the attempted murder. Kei’s recuperation took place somewhere away from Tokyo, a place that no one knew except for the Detective Alliance insiders.

“I would be delighted if I could see you again …Ron… Senpai. Alone.” Out of the blue, Ron clutched his chest. His heart beat so fast. He turned his gaze to the door, any minute from now, Toto would return from the police briefing.

“Fine, tell me when and where can we meet up.”

When Ron turned 13, he and his mother did a road trip together heading to Akita. The town was teeming with onsen but they went to a particular place. A man was waiting for them at the gate. There was a boy next to him, clinging to his side, a boy much younger than him.

“Kiku!!!!” Ron ran up to the man whose familiarity urged him to come to him. He was a frequent visitor to his grandparents’ house and a confidante of his mother for years.

“Ron-kun you haven’t met my son, Kei.” Like him, the boy seemed to have a foreigner mother, judging from his features. What made him stand out was the copious amount of acne that began to build up on his forehead. Otherwise, Ron found him attractive. His black eyebrows reminded him of a samurai character he once read as a small child. He wanted to be acquainted with that boy someday.

And so here they were in the cafe inside the Detective Alliance’s secret headquarters in Japan. A car picked him up and brought him to Kei, who had already taken his seat waiting for him while drinking his English breakfast tea and was about to spread cream and strawberry jam on his scones.

“Care to join me for an afternoon tea?” There were lemon and carrot cakes and egg, cucumber and salmon sandwiches laid out on the two-tier silver tray apart from the newly baked scones the younger man was consuming at the moment.

“Only coffee for me, Kei. I had lunch with Toto.”

“Ah… of course.” Kei said. “How is he dealing with all of this? How is your … partner?” He tried hard not to show the disappointment tending to break onto the surface.

“You mean Toto?” The question bewildered Ron. The police officer would take it as a responsibility as it was a personal matter, a task that must be solved. Like always.

Who else?

Kei sensed his Senpai’s confusion and attempted to change the topic. After all, he didn’t know anything about the Japanese police investigator other than it was his father who was the couple’s matchmaker.

“He matters to you a lot, ne Ron-senpai?”

The question might seem daunting. Toto never advertised their relationship at all but everyone knew that they were partners in every sense of the word. There were of course some misunderstandings at first but somehow it was already resolved after the situation with Kawasemi-san and then later the fire at the Plateau Auberge that cemented their relationship. If Ron were honest to himself, he was not so sure of the former. It was true that the incident at the burning hotel confirmed that they were ready to die together, but when it came to Kawasemi-san he was not at all convinced Toto wanted to give up the Aichi police investigator and his affections. Toto was consciously avoiding the possibility of crossing paths with him and it made Ron uncomfortably suspicious. In his mind he gave Toto a carte blanche of his trust. No way Toto would betray him, would he?

“Yes, he is very important to me.”

As soon as Kei cut the telephone conversation, Toto began to speak. His eyes fiery and questioning.

“Spill the tea. What happened between the two of you? There must be something that you’ve done in the past that made him hate you.”

Ron looked at Toto then brought his attention to his lap, which seemed to be much more important than his partner’s concern.

“Like what he said, youthful indiscretion,” Ron said.

Toto surmised that he was avoiding the topic. So, he tried again.

“Excuse me? What did you mean by that? There are so many types of youthful indiscretions.”

“Before l headed to England to study at the BLUE Academy, Kei asked me that once we were finished, we should team up like my legendary ancestor and his companion had done.”

“And?” Toto knew that there might be more to it.

“It did not happen, of course. I told him that it would not do. I wanted to work alone.”

Ron took a bag of black sugar from the table and started to drink it then he stood up and opened the blinds. He usually never did, but something bothered him when he did not know the answer. Toto sensed his partner’s uneasiness. Kei was now a case he had to solve. A big one at that.

“That was the only reason?”

“What else should I tell you? What else is there to reveal? His immaturity will cause him his life! And the Detective Alliance is not much of a great help!” Ron hit the wall next to where he was standing that nearly gave Toto a heart attack. This show of emotion was out of character.

Toto shook his head out of frustration. Forcing Ron to be truthful was a perplexing task that Toto avoided if he could.

“After this, you must discuss whatever misunderstanding you two have. This cannot go on forever. One way or another we must continue cooperating with him, not only because of your detective license, but also knowing that he is Kiku-san’s son and a higher-up from the Detective Alliance, he could also be helpful to us.”

Ron smirked. “Somehow you begin to think like me, Toto. I like that.”

Toto went up to him and embraced him from behind, hoping that he could calm Ron down, even for a short while.

(tbc)

#kamonohashi ron no kindan suiri #ron kamonohashi #totomaru isshiki #ron et toto #ron kamonohashi: deranged detective #my fan fic #rontoto #flashfictionfriday #fff252 #spill the tea #fluffbruary 2024 #fluffbruary #my fanfic stuff #ron x kei #already began this polycule #sort of story #hopefully i can keep it up #rkdd fanfics

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