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foggyfanfic · 2 years ago

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Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: He turned his attention back to Reina and Cicero, immediately wishing he could look away when he found Cicero kissing her hand. He didn’t even do it right! Pepa had told Bruno that if you wanted a girl to get all flustered when you kissed her hand you had to make “sultry eye contact”. Whatever that meant.

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Chapter 18 Round Three

“Maybe I should just resort to murder,” Leandra grumbled, flopped sideways across Bruno’s cushion pile, “I mean on the one hand, sure, if I’m caught I’ll be run out of the only home I’ve ever known, but on the other… problem solved!”

Bruno nodded, he was squeezed into the little bit of cushion pile she wasn’t covering. He'd been tempted to sit close enough to her that he could lean against her, but he wasn't sure whether or not she'd be comfortable with that right now.

When she didn't continue and just kept pouting off into space, he said, “Pepa is already thinking of murdering him. I’m sure if you two work together... that- hm, that is a genuinely scary thought.”

“Yeah,” she grinned, and for a second Bruno thought she may actually kill Cicero, “It’s perfect, I’ll invite Cicero out to the old quarry, then Pepa makes it rain making a bunch of mud. I’ll hit him in the back of the head with a rock then go running into town, crying and screaming about how he slipped in the mud. We’ll take him to Julieta and she’ll give him an arepa, except it’s not an arepa she made, it’s one Rosalie made and it’s full of poison. He’ll die and we’ll be like ‘oh no, we must not have gotten him help in time’. And then everybody’s life will be ten times better, and world hunger will probably just be magically solved.”

“You are a terrifying woman,” Bruno told her with a fond grin. It wasn’t a bad plan, except for the world hunger bit.

It was the Wednesday after the picnic and Bruno was still waiting for Reina to explain what Pepa had found so funny about him saying Agustín liked music. Maybe it was because they were really good friends, so she probably already knew that? He didn’t want to bring it up, in case he actually was supposed to have figured it out by now, but he also hated feeling out of the loop.

Unfortunately, Leandra was currently distracted by her imminent date with Cicero. She had come over to Bruno’s place and had squeezed him tight to work out some of her nerves, like a child squeezing a teddy bear.

“Only one problem,” she sighed.

“What?”

“Rosalie won’t be any better off with Cicero dead,” she shook her head, mournfully.

Bruno opened his mouth to ask what bearing Cicero had on Rosalie’s current quality of life, but before he could Reina glanced at the clock on his nightstand and groaned loudly.

“It’s not even just that he’s gross and a pervert,” she groused as she rose to her feet, “he’s also boring, self obsessed, and utterly convinced that he’s way sexier than he is.”

Don't get Leandra wrong, her main problem with Cicero was that he was a rapist, but the fact that he had told her the same story about him winning a donkey in a drinking contest six times was also a problem.

“You don’t have to do this,” Bruno stared at her hand and debated taking it and refusing to let go, “you could stay and we could- I-I mean if you want to we- we could do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, hm?” she asked with a light smirk. How Bruno was single while Cicero had been able to get three girlfriends within a year was beyond her.

“Sí, anything,” he smiled warmly, completely misunderstanding what that smirk meant.

Leandra wavered then sighed, “I don’t have to do this, but I have an opportunity to make things better for my friend, and make this village slightly safer. I will never forgive myself if I don’t take it.”

Bruno frowned, “Well, no need to get all moral about it.”

She giggled, and he cracked a small smile at her. That shy little grin made it harder to leave than anything else he could have said or done.

“Rain check on that ‘whatever I want’ offer?” She raked her eyes over him as obviously as she could.

He didn’t notice, “I don’t know… I-I might decide there are things I want to do.”

Leandra’s lip twitched, if she didn’t know any better she’d think he was flirting back, but she did know better. He was probably talking about building a new maze for his rats.

“Well, I might come back anyways,” she shrugged, “to recover from the sheer misery of this date.”

“You’re always welcome,” he stood and put what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “I’m probably going to put together another maze for the gang. I- they uh. You’re definitely invited.”

Leandra pressed her lips together and shoved aside the temptation to kiss him. When it had passed she smiled, gave him a brief hug, then started to walk away.

“If nothing else, I’ll see you tomorrow?” she paused at his tent’s entrance and looked at him over her shoulder. He didn’t technically need to spend Thursdays with her, since Cicero would be at the winery all day, but he wanted to.

“Definitely,” he agreed, waving his hand at her.

“Good,” she waved back then left.

He stood where he was, waiting until he heard his door open and close, the sound echoing through the canyon. He bit his lip and stared at Tire, who was busy giving himself a bath. Bruno could stay here and build another maze for his rats, or…

Reina was being a real trooper about this whole Cicero thing, she complained about the man himself, but accepted the responsibility of catching him with a stiff upper lip. Bruno hadn’t brought up the possibility of him tailing them, but he specifically hadn’t brought it up because he already knew she wouldn’t agree.

What did Pepa sometimes tell Julieta? It could be better to say sorry than please? No…

Not important.

What was important was that Bruno’s Very Good Friend was walking into a situation she was very uncomfortable with. There was the potential of her being alone with a guy who was some form of dangerous. A guy that definitely didn’t have her best interests at heart.

Bruno still didn’t know exactly what Cicero was planning, but Reina and his sisters called him a pervert, so it was sexual in nature. He’d written a list of all the ways a man could sexually harm a woman without technically breaking the law, and it was a distressingly long list.

Bruno’s Very Good Friend was going on a date with a sexual predator, and his options were to sit here and worry, or follow her and make sure nothing bad happened to her.

He nodded slowly to no one, mind made up.

Bruno walked over to his wardrobe and opened it, he took off his usual green ruana and traded it for a brown and tan one. He put on his socks and running shoes, since they were quieter than his sandals. Finally he knocked on the wooden wardrobe and tossed a bit of salt over his shoulder.

When he was ready to go he popped his head out his door and checked for witnesses. Finding none he left Casita quickly, on silent feet. Once outside, he pulled his hood up and took the streets parallel to the main road, towards the cantina where Reina said she was meeting Cicero.

Bruno was no stranger to sneaking around, it was a valuable skill to have when getting spotted by the wrong person might lead to you being strong armed into giving a vision in which you had to watch a dog die. He stuck to the shadows and avoided the amateur mistakes that had gotten him caught in the past, like hunching too much, or walking too quickly. When he was in sight of the cantina he leaned casually against the wall, like he was simply waiting for somebody.

Reina stood by one of the outside tables, chatting with Felipe and Agustín. Agustín saw Cicero coming and he frowned, failing to hide his displeasure. She noticed and turned, smiling tightly as she greeted her “date”.

Bruno frowned when Cicero hugged her without waiting for her permission. Did he just not notice how tense her shoulders got when he was close?

Felipe and Agustín did. Felipe was visibly concerned, and looked like he might say something, but Agustín subtly put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

Brief greetings were exchanged, then Cicero pulled Reina away from her friends to a more secluded table in the shade of a large tree. Felipe turned to ask Agustín something, who grimaced and ducked his head closer, hopefully telling Felipe just enough to keep him from interfering with the investigation. Bruno suddenly wondered how much Félix knew about this whole thing, and what Felipe would tell his older brother when he got home.

He turned his attention back to Reina and Cicero, immediately wishing he could look away when he found Cicero kissing her hand. He didn’t even do it right! Pepa had told Bruno that if you wanted a girl to get all flustered when you kissed her hand you had to make “sultry eye contact”. Whatever that meant.

Cicero was not making sultry eye contact. He wasn’t even looking at her, and the kiss itself looked perfunctory at best.

Not that Bruno was a hand kissing expert, it just wasn’t how he would do it, is all.

Cicero started talking and as far as Bruno could tell, he didn’t stop for the next ten minutes. Reina was right, this guy was self obsessed, even more so than Bruno had initially realized. Oof.

Ask her a question about herself, Bruno thought at Cicero, ask her a question about herself. Ask damn you, ask.

Reina finally got a word in edgewise, but apparently she was just telling Cicero what she wanted, because Cicero got up and ordered their drinks as well as stopping by the grill to order some food. Reina looked slightly more relaxed in his absence.

She smiled when he came back, but it was the same smile she gave customers when they interrupted whatever book Bruno was reading to her in order to make inane small talk.

Bruno had never been on the receiving end of that smile. Just saying.

Cicero took twice as long to eat as she did, because he spent twice as much time running his big stupid mouth. And somehow he didn’t notice that his date had graciously donated her drink to the tree. When Reina was done, and Cicero had finished his drink, she got up and got them another round. She also got herself some water, but finished it before she got back to the table.

Her second drink went the way of the first. To the tree.

Cicero was beginning to talk louder, a few snatches of his monologue making it across the street to Bruno. He was apparently bragging about his horse riding skills.

Bruno had seen Cicero riding a horse, it wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t bad or anything, no, he was perfectly average. Definitely not worth boring your date about.

Cicero got himself a third drink but didn’t bring anything back for Reina. Bruno would have brought her something, like maybe one of the desserts the daughter of the cook was selling, but maybe it was for the best that Cicero was a selfish, neglectful dickhead.

The tree was looking a little tipsy.

Was it just him, or was Cicero putting less effort into wooing Reina than he had Pepa? What was up with that? Yes, of course, Pepa was a special woman and she deserved nothing but the best. But the same could be said about Reina.

First of all, Cicero should have brought her flowers, second, he should have taken her somewhere nicer. The cantina was ok, sure, but Encanto had two other eateries that were open for dinner and both of them were better suited for a date.

Third, Cicero should have stopped at the second drink. This was only their second official date for God’s sake! Bruno would never risk getting drunk in front of a date this early. Not that Bruno did a lot of drinking. Or dating.

Also, not that Bruno had thought about this, but Reina was a fun loving woman, a date with her should be an opportunity for her to play around a bit. It didn’t have to be elaborate, but she’s mentioned how much she’d always loved the straw bale mazes during the harvest festival. Bruno figures he could whip up one of those in front of Casita, easy. Or maybe a scavenger hunt, with a different flower waiting for her at every clue.

Again, not that he’s thought about it.

And clearly, neither had Cicero. When he was done getting himself drunk he stood and invited her for a walk. Walks were fine, totally fine, but come on! Where was the pizzazz? Where was the romance? It was still day, the moon wasn’t even out! Even if it was, Cicero was always suggesting he and his date go on a walk. It wasn’t exactly a special event.

Bruno trailed behind them, glaring at the arm Cicero had slung around Reina’s shoulder. Ugh. Again, it was fine, but Bruno would have held her hand or offered her his arm like a gentleman from one of his books. Reina would have liked that, she would have giggled and playfully called him “my lord” or something.

But yeah, sure, just lay your big sausage arms across her shoulders like the burden you are, Bruno thought snidely at Cicero’s back.

He tried to take Reina into the forest, but she resisted and instead convinced him to circumvent the town with her, citing Cicero’s curfew.

As they plodded along, Cicero talked loudly about how pretty Reina was, however he got her eye color wrong. Her eyes weren't hazel, they were brown, they weren't even bordering on hazel. They were a very cheery light brown and if they were bordering on any other color it'd be gold. Although if somebody, a completely random hypothetical somebody, wanted to wax poetic about it, it'd be most accurate to compare them to polished bronze or copper.

Speaking of waxing poetic, Bruno felt his lip curl in disgust, when Cicero began butchering a poem by Bécquer.

Bruno had handled most of the romance back when he was dating his boyfriend, and he would be the first (well, third after his sisters) to admit that his boyfriend hadn't treated him well, but even he had made a point to memorize Bruno's favorite poem.

That thought gave Bruno pause, Alberto hadn't treated Bruno well at all, but he'd still put some effort into making Bruno feel special. And he'd never physically harmed anybody, he was just a selfish dick. If Cicero was less considerate of his partners than Alberto was...?

He looked at the "couple" with new eyes, setting aside his own jealousy and reminding himself he was here in case Cicero hurt her. He wasn't watching two lovers on a date, he was watching two opponents try to outsmart each other. With that in mind he took a deep breath and steeled himself against his pettier thoughts.

Eventually, they got to the bridge and stopped at its center. He hid in the bridge’s shadow where he could hear every unfortunate word coming out of Cicero’s mouth.

She was right again, he was pretty boring.

Bruno began to zone out until he heard Reina ask Cicero if they could talk.

“Of course, princesa, you can tell me anything,” Cicero answered.

“It’s just… I have some concerns,” she sounded nervous.

“Are you alright?”

“Sí, sí… I just, I really, really like you,” she said, and Bruno felt bile rise in his throat despite himself, “a-and I… it will hurt, a lot if it turns out-. Would it be ok if I asked you some questions?”

“Uh sure,” Cicero answered slowly, “what do you want to know?”

“I’ve… heard things, and well, you know I don’t like to judge people based off of rumors,” she paused, but for once Cicero let somebody other than him talk, “I wanna hear your side of the story.”

“Alright.”

“Why did you end things with Mariana?”

Bruno blinked, that wasn't what he'd been expecting her to ask. Cicero, it would seem, was similarly surprised.

“What? Mariana? Oh, I thought you were going to ask about Rosalie,” Cicero laughed.

“You and Rosalie never dated,” Reina managed to sound confused, “why would I need to ask about her?”

“Oh, nothing,” Cicero said a bit too quickly, “I uh, I figured that you knew about my feelings for her.”

“Um, sort of? Rosalie… never felt like you were interested in her for anything other than, y’know… sex. So I always tho-.”

“What? Really?!”

“Well, yeah,” Reina somehow managed to keep her voice light, meanwhile Bruno was biting his lip to keep from asking why Rosalie would have thought any different, “you… don’t really have a history of commitment.”

“I- ok, sure, but I love her. I told her that. Why would I lie?”

Bruno raised an eyebrow, glancing up at the pair on the bridge. He expected Reina to interrogate Cicero’s slip, but she didn’t.

“Sometimes men lie to get what they want,” she said, sounding sad even as her eyes studied Cicero’s face.

“But I wasn’t lying. I would have done anything to be with her,” he was beginning to sound a bit angry, “she should have believed me. If she had just trusted me things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did, if she had let me help her when she needed it-. I don’t get why she was so determined to make me the bad guy, but-.”

Bruno gulped. Had Cicero hurt Rosalie purely because she rejected him? The thought made him feel vaguely sick, and very nervous. He shuffled his feet, he wanted to get Reina out of there, but knew she wouldn’t let him.

“But?” Reina prompted.

He just sighed, “Things didn’t have to be this way. If she would just get over her pride… things didn’t have to be this way.”

Reina was silent for a little, probably waiting to see if he would say anything else, when he didn’t she changed tact, “So is that why you broke up with Mariana? Because you still have feelings for Rosalie?”

There was another long pause, Cicero must have finally figured out that he’d messed up, when he spoke it was to reassure her, “I’ll be honest princesa, Mariana was my rebound. Being with her made me feel better about Rosalie rejecting me, but when I was over Rosalie, I realized I didn’t actually like Mariana that much.”

It was once again Reina’s turn not to say anything, only this time she didn’t eventually fill the silence, she let Cicero do that.

“I know I have a bit of a reputation, but it isn’t what you think, I’m just looking for that spark, y’know? I want to be in love again, that’s why I’ve been dating so much,” he sounded sad, but in the same way that an unsubtle actor sounds sad in a play, “it can be so hard to find The One.”

“So, you’re not just after sex?”

“No, of course not princesa,” when Bruno looked up, Cicero had his arms wrapped around Reina, “I want to get to know you. I want to explore whether or not this thing between us is the real deal.”

“Then… you wouldn’t mind waiting? You know, just until we’re sure that this is the real deal.”

Bruno grinned. Cicero walked right into that one.

“I… I don’t know,” he floundered for a second but recovered quickly, “it’s just so hard for me to feel close to someone without that physical connection.”

“Really? But… weren’t you in love with Rosalie?” she sounded so innocent, so honest to god confused, “You guys…?”

She didn't finish the question, she left it open ended for Cicero to fill in the blanks.

“I never touched her!” He said it very quickly, very emphatically, then cleared his throat and said in a quieter voice, “No, I never did anything with her. The thing is I had never been in love before, it was easier to give my heart away. Now that I’ve been burned, I need a little more intimacy before I can get there, you know?”

“Hm, I see, maybe there’s a compromise,” she said, thoughtfully, “how about… if we’re still together in one year, then we start having sex? I know it’d be a bit risky to ask you to wait until marriage, but this way you’ll know you’re serious about me.”

Bruno bit his lip, waiting eagerly to hear what Cicero would say to that. What could he say? It was so… reasonable.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait that long, you are so beautiful, I want you so much,” he sighed heavily, “this sort of want, it makes a man do crazy things.”

Ew.

“Hm, have you tried praying about it?” she asked brightly, “I’m sure the Lord would be happy to grant you more strength. Whenever I find myself burdened with lustful urges, I pray to Mother Mary and she helps me to overcome.”

She was laying it on a bit thick now, but Cicero was a bit drunk, so he probably didn’t notice. Bruno on the other hand had a hand pressed to his mouth as he tried to keep his laughter quiet.

“But don’t you want to be with me too, princesa,” Cicero whined.

“Of course I do, nene,” she said, and Bruno’s laughter immediately stopped, “that’s exactly why I want to be sure that… that if I give a part of myself to you, you’ll still be there in the morning.”

He felt bile rise in his throat once more at the pet name, even if it was the most condescending one she could have chosen. He knew she was just playing Cicero, just trying to stop him from accosting her every time they went out. But… she hadn’t called Bruno “guapo” in weeks, not without immediately taking it back and apologizing.

He fisted his hands in his ruana, reminding himself she was only respecting his request.

The fact that she slipped up every now and then meant she probably still thought of him as “guapo” in her head. Most likely, the literal only reason she was trying to refrain from using the pet name was because Bruno hadn’t reinstated her permission. He could have though, he’d had plenty of opportunities, but he’d been worried that if he opened his mouth to grant her the permission she clearly needed, he wouldn’t just grant it.

Bruno would beg.

He had become obsessed with the word, every time she slipped up a shiver ran down his spine, and every time she took it back, apologized, he felt sick with regret. He dreamt about that word on her lips, fantasized about it, even thought about checking the future to see if she’d ever call him by it freely again.

He wanted her to call him “guapo” like he wanted her to throw Cicero off the bridge and go running back to his tent. Like he wanted her to hold his hand and tell him he was wonderful some more. Like he wanted her to get along with his sisters. Like he wanted her all to himself, no more Cicero, no more stiff upper lip, no more putting herself at risk of whatever. Like he wanted… things he shouldn’t want.

“Of course I will, of course, you can trust me,” Cicero was insisting, still trying to work his way into her bloomers, “what can I do to prove that.”

“Other than give me time?” she asked, then made a thoughtful noise, “I’ll have to think about that.”

“I see, of course,” he was going for magnanimous but fell short at cloying, “just let me know what you come up with. I really think you could be The One.”

“Oh Cicero,” she pretended to swoon, “I hope so.”

Cicero suggested they continue their walk, and Reina agreed. Bruno thought about leaving things be, going home before he heard anything else that made him regret his life choices, but his worry for Reina’s safety outweighed everything else. He followed.

Thankfully, the date didn’t last long after that. Soon the sun was resting on the mountain tops, and they were saying their goodbyes. Cicero wasn’t even offering to walk her home. Yeah, sure, he had a curfew, but surely Reina was worth getting in a little bit of trouble for.

What a dick.

To Bruno’s displeasure, Cicero pulled Reina close, holding her tense body tightly in his arms as he butchered Shakespeare this time. That was a horrible translation, way too literal, most of the original meaning was lost. She did her best to look starstruck, but he really wasn’t giving her much to work with.

Then, Cicero put his large hand on the back of her head to hold her where he wanted, and kissed her.

Bruno had taken two steps towards them before he’d even realized he’d moved. Reina’s eyes were open, and his aborted movement pulled her attention to him. She held up a hand, stopping him from leaving the shadows he was shrouded in.

In a few minutes it would occur to him to feel guilty for spying on her, but right now all he felt was white hot rage as Cicero drooled all over Bruno’s Very Good Friend.

This, he realized, was what people must feel before they get in fights. He grit his teeth and white knuckled through the display, forcing himself not to do anything until Reina gave him the go ahead.

She didn’t, the kiss ended and she smiled at Cicero, wishing him a final goodbye. She watched him walk away, waving and grinning whenever he looked back over his shoulder. When he was finally gone, she turned towards the shadow he was standing in.

“Bruno,” she said, evenly.

“Are you alright?” Bruno burst forward, “Just the way he was holding you- mierda. What is wrong with him?! Did he hurt you?”

“Not even he’s arrogant enough to physically harm a girl out in the open like this,” she brushed off his concern, voice flat, “you never know who’s lurking in the shadows, watching you.”

Oh, there it was. The guilt he knew he’d eventually feel for spying on her. He chuckled nervously, then abruptly decided that guilt or no guilt, he wasn’t sorry.

“I know, you’re not happy about this, you have every right to be upset,” he held up his hands in a placating gesture, “b-but I can’t just- I don’t know exactly what sort of danger you’re facing, but I can’t let you face it alone.”

“So what? You going to spy on me every time I see Cicero from now on?”

“I- well… y-yes?”

She sighed and began walking, brushing past him.

He bit his tongue until the reflexive need to apologize passed, even as he rushed after her, “Where uh, where are you going?”

“To talk to your mom.”

“Wh- what?! You’re going to tattle on me?”

She gave him a sidelong look and for a second that stretched longer than it had any right to, didn’t say anything, then her lips quirked into a little smirk, “Tempting, but no. I want to talk to her about what I learned today.”

“What’s that?”

“His motive,” she frowned straight ahead, eyes looking through the street in front of her rather than at it.

“Oh. Right. That’s helpful, right?”

Reina nodded, “It'll go over well at trial. Can’t say I like it, though.”

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, Bruno nervously wringing his fingers, finally he took a deep breath and said, “Look, I-I can’t be sorry for caring about you, and I can’t promise that, that I won’t- well I’ve already said that I’m going to do this again. B-but I do get that it’s- you have a right to your privacy and I don’t want- I would never-.”

“I know.”

He watched her face as they walked, almost tripping over a raised cobblestone. His mouth moved uselessly over the many conflicting things he wanted to say.

“Look, just because I’m upset about something doesn’t mean you’re not right,” she glared at the ground, “I am upset, by the way, don’t get me wrong. I just… I would do the same, I have done the same. And now that I know he’s motivated by spite more than anything else… I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh,” Bruno stared at the ground moving beneath his feet. He didn’t know what to do about “I’m upset but you’re right” it wasn’t something that anyone had ever said to him before. Obviously, he wasn’t supposed to apologize, because he was right. But he probably wasn’t supposed to not apologize because she was upset.

When they reached Casita she stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose, “Bruno.”

Lantern, she reminded herself, all of this is new to him and he'll sometimes need a lantern to find his way.

“S-sí?”

“‘I’m upset but you’re right’ means that I just need a little bit of time for my feelings to catch up with my good sense,” she explained, “so basically… I still want to spend time with you, but I’m going to be quiet and sullen until I get my head on straight. As it is, neither of us has done anything wrong, and you’re not under any social obligation to help me get over this. You don’t owe me anything, but I’m still asking you for a bit of patience.”

She would probably not respond well if he kissed her right now. But he kind of, really, very much wanted to kiss her.

The tension leaked out of his shoulders, “Gracias. F-for explaining, I mean.”

Reina just nodded, then gestured at the door, “It’s your house, although I guess Casita could invite me in.”

Casita waved at them.

“Right, right,” he opened the door for the both of them, inviting her in, “Casita, could you let Mamá know we have something to tell her about Cicero? Por favor.”

There was a clatter of tiles that Bruno took as an affirmative. He tried not to stare at Reina as he waited for his mother to appear, but found it a bit hard to peel his eyes away from her face.

“Other than the whole… upset with, but not blaming, me thing, a-are you alright? You uh, you kinda dodged the question before,” he asked, cautiously stepping closer to her.

“No,” she admitted, “I hate it when he touches me. I thought… I don’t know, I guess I thought I could get him to stop, but- yeah.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Bruno reminded her, one hand fluttering around her shoulder as he tried to determine whether or not she’d be ok with his touch right now.

She glanced at his hand then took a shuffling sidestep so she was leaning on him, “You heard him, if I dump him he’ll just get petty. Try to do the same thing to me that he did to Rosalie. The only way out is through.”

Bruno frowned, wrapping an arm around her, “There has to be something we can do.”

She shrugged, then perked up when she saw his Mamá approaching them. His mother raised an eyebrow at the arm he’d wrapped around his Very Good Friend, but didn’t comment other than to ask, “Are you alright, Srta?”

Reina nodded, “I know what his motive is now. Spite. Specifically, he’s still angry at Rosalie for rejecting him and his offer to marry her.”

Bruno was surprised by the marriage offer bit, but his mother only nodded her head, “That would make sense. I have had Julieta ask around as subtly as she could. There is no reason to believe he did this to anyone before Rosalie.”

“Ugh,” Reina let her head fall against Bruno’s shoulder, “this is going to kill her. She’s already blaming herself.”

“Indeed,” there was a thoughtful pause, “could you ask her if she would accept some form of protection? If not for her, then for her son. If we do not find the proof we need soon… I fear for her safety.”

“Oh, I can absolutely ask her that, I can insist upon it, even,” she grumbled. Bruno rubbed her back a little and she groaned, calling Cicero a few choice words.

“Good, good,” Mamá nodded, apparently choosing to ignore Reina’s creative use of the Spanish language, she looked at Bruno and didn’t bother hiding the spark of amusement in her eye, “Brunito, I take it you would not mind walking Srta. Lopez home?”

He blushed crimson but managed a tight, “Sí Mamá.”

“Good,” she smiled wryly, then nodded seriously, “let me know what Rosalie says, soon as you can. Good night, and once again, gracias.”

Reina gave his Mamá a soft goodbye. She didn’t talk much on the journey home, other than occasionally cursing out Cicero, or expressing concern for Rosalie.

He held her hand the whole way there.

A/N: I want to talk about how Leandra the character was constructed now! This is the chapter where I decided to make Leandra an OC instead of a reader insert. Up until this point all of her characterization was designed to foil Bruno: he's awkward and insecure so she's charming and confident, he's a triplet with a single mother so she's an orphan with a single father, he doesn't have friends so her main motivation is her love for her friend.

The most important character traits for the story come from some debatable interpretations of Bruno's character. He seems to struggle handling long term stressors (his deteriorating relationship with his family, spends ten years in the walls instead of communicating) but makes effective decisions when he doesn't have time to worry (hides the vision, catches Mirabel before she falls into the "abyss", uses the bucket as a helmet to escape the house, confronts his mother). In contrast, Leandra needed to be somebody that handles long term stress well (spying on Cicero for a year) but doesn't make great decisions when she has to act on impulse (dumping food on Pepa instead of getting Julieta's attention). So, Leandra needs to be somebody who can't rely on her impulses, this is a relatively common character trait, and easy for everybody to relate to.

More distinct is how she chooses to respond to that character flaw; the story needed her to be both impulsive enough to throw food around, and careful enough to pull off deceiving both Bruno and Cicero. Seeing as she is in her mid-twenties (aka an adult) and has been dealing with this character flaw her entire life, it makes sense that she'd have learned to curb her impulses. She leaves arguments when she notices herself getting petty, she tries to avoid having important conversations when her emotions are high, and she makes extra sure to double check other people's boundaries before making a decision that might effect them. I imagine her to have once been a very impulsive person, but after being reckless got her in trouble enough times she became a lot more cautious and self controlled. Now she's at a stage in her life where she's trying to find the best balance between her impulsive nature and her learned caution. This is a less universal trait, and the thing that makes her a distinct character, which I realized when she explains here that she's upset but acknowledges the feeling probably isn't justified. Thus, she went from being Reina, the conveniently unnamed orphan, to Leandra, my beloved OC daughter.

(Although I kept the whole Bruno not knowing her name and feeling too awkward to ask, because seriously, the guy spent ten (10) years living in the walls of his house instead of confronting his mother.)

#Bruno Madrigal #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal x female oc #Bruno Encanto #Love and Fury

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

#BNHA #My Hero Academia #anti bakugo

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firstagent · 3 years ago

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Review: Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 61: A Place To Return To

In this episode, Takeru earns his merit badge by helping ElDoradimon cross a hill.

If the crests are all meant to represent attributes of each of the eight kids, that sure isn’t reflected in the kinds of stories we’re getting. While some of them are better at showcasing their traits than others, they’ve all fallen in the category of “needing additional power to stop the bad Digimon from doing bad things to not bad Digimon.” When you add in the variances among these bad Digimon, from evil spirits to possessed fanboys to not-really-all-that-bad pirates, it’s disappointing that the solution to all of them is still beating them into submission. That makes this story, slow and exhausting as it gets, an appreciated break from the norm, with no enemy other than physics and an outcome that still dials in on Takeru’s key attribute.

The most striking thing about this episode is that it doesn’t have an enemy at all. Or rather the enemy is a mountain if you’re into the whole “man vs. nature” brand of conflict. The fact that it’s anything other than some random antagonistic Digimon is eye-opening, to the point where you spend the entire episode waiting for someone (hey there Gravimon) to show up and try to kill everybody. That anticipation creates a sort of artificial suspense that carries you through until the end, when you realize the premise isn’t a buildup to anything. It’s just a long story about Takeru trying to do one good deed. Then it’s all kind of wholesome.

Wholesome doesn’t get far without substance, however, and along with Takeru’s unending need to get ElDoradimon over the mountain, there’s a quiet sociological examination going on with the other Digimon watching him. ElDoradimon wants to get over the mountain because his homeland or whatever is on the other side. The other Digimon in Leomon’s party don’t have homes at all anymore, refugees from Millenniumon’s destruction. Naturally more than a few of them are bitter about this. So is it worth going through the trouble of a cumbersome, maybe impossible task of helping somebody achieve the dream none of them will ever be able to realize? Not everyone’s on board immediately, and the fact that the show even takes time to ask the question deserves credit.

This is crystallized through Gravimon, a victim himself, one of the final holdouts, who even mocks the effort. Takeru wins him over with a surprising speech about how he’s in the same position. The low-hanging fruit here would have been talking about how he would like to go home at some point, a sentiment that nobody has brought up despite the length of their journey (and the fact that last we heard, this was all happening in real time!). Instead, Takeru brings up how the happy memories of his complete family will never happen again. That’s deep for an eight year old! For a series so afraid of diving into each kid’s story, it’s done an admirable job sneaking in genuine feelings over the Ishida divorce.

Takeru also gets a crest story that fully centers around hope without banging you over the head with it. After several dubious parables, Hikari and Koshiro’s certainly were about light and knowledge, but in a glaringly obvious way. Takeru’s show of hope comes in simply sticking to the belief that getting ElDoradimon up the mountain is actually possible. The task looks gargantuan, enough to make not only other Digimon, but the audience itself, question whether giving a single Digimon a spot of joy is really worth it. It’s honestly exhausting to watch. But he never wavers on this belief, and it’s that conviction that activates his power, wins over Gravimon, and leads to the miracle to make it work.

It’s not a shame that they resort to a miracle. Early on it felt like it needed one. The tragedy might be that even the most customized of stories all still amount to one of the kids digging deep and refusing to give up. Even without an actual enemy, it still requires a big show of force from a strong Digimon. It’s far too late for the show to redeem itself as far as character development or having a compelling narrative. It’s now in Hunters territory where the quality of an episode depends on its ability to tell a unique story on its own. Despite the format, we’ve only gotten a few in this arc. Its slow pace and lack of real action may not be the most exciting watch, but its success lies in doing things differently. With a show this banal, different is always appreciated.

My Grade: B

Loose Data:

It’s obvious why ElDoradimon was featured here, but his lack of vocabulary continues to make it hard to understand his thought process. He’s clearly relentless and he’s clearly happy to reach his goal, but everyone has to go off assumptions as to why.

This is now the second episode featuring the kids trying to make sure ElDoradimon gets from point A to point B without killing himself. A little strange that the emphasis with him remains his difficulty with elevation and not the fact that he’s a giant moving castle, the actual awesome thing that got him all the love in Savers.

He was first introduced on Cloud Continent. If we’re to believe this is his homeland, either this place is on Cloud or he made his way up there prior to the Devimon arc. Which means at some point, ElDoradimon somehow went from the lower continent all the way back up to Cloud. Now that’s what I want to watch.

Okay, A for effort and all, but I refuse to believe that Takeru and Patamon pushing ElDoradimon did a lick of good at the start.

Glad they started to work in ropes and pulleys and some sort of system to move him, but surely there had to be a smoother way to get to the other side of the mountain. Search for a pass or a river or swallows with string or something. You’d think it would cross somebody’s mind to consider possible smarter routes rather than straight over.

Boy, I’m already starting to cringe at how they’ll explain that the crest of courage could only be activated by Taichi bopping around from place to place helping his teammates out like original Sora in the Vamdemon arc. But man, that would have been the perfect framework for Yamato getting his crest of friendship.

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

#digimon #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure (2020)

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niksixx · 4 years ago

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Ice Cream

Requested: Nada :D

Pairing: The Dirt! Tommy Lee x Fem!Reader

Description: Best friend Tommy comforts you after your boyfriend dumps you

A/N: Reblog, comment, add tags if you wish! Thank you for reading my work.

Y/E/N: Your Ex’s Name

*GIF is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn’t even heard it from you.

While Tommy was disappointed Nikki was the first one to hear the news (it was accidental; you’d let it slip), he wouldn’t hold it against you. Y/E/N had been your first real boyfriend, the one you shared all the firsts with. And he never liked the guy, not even a little bit; Tommy never liked any man that had shown you interest because they simply were never good enough for you in his eyes. Tommy would have rather you stayed single to avoid any heartbreak, but the damage was already done after committing yourself to Y/E/N for four years and then being dumped out of the blue. Tommy wanted to do something to defend your honor; Break his nose, take a bat to his car, egg his house, something that would let Y/E/N know he was furious with him and the way he handled the situation. But Nikki had finally brought Tommy back to his senses, and the only thing that mattered was making sure he got to you as quickly as he could.

You didn’t answer the door when he knocked; He was shocked you’d left it unlocked, almost as if you were expecting him. He knew you weren’t, though. Like most people after suffering a broken heart, you just wanted to be left alone. And normally Tommy was good at listening to your wishes and giving you space when you needed it, and while you may have needed time away from reality right now, he knew you’d appreciate him coming to check on you.

In order to check on you though, he had to find you first. Tommy half expected to find you standing in front of the stove. When you were upset, you ate. Probably not the best coping mechanism, but it helped. So when you weren’t in the kitchen as Tommy predicted, he began to worry.

And to his surprise, your bed was empty. The sheets were crinkled, a sign you had laid there. He touches the linen gently, frowning at the thought of you lying alone in bed, wondering why you weren’t good enough. The pillow case is slightly damp from your tears, and Tommy exhales a breath.

A soft cry makes his head swivel toward the bathroom door that’s slightly left ajar. He knocks, announcing himself, before pushing open the door. A piece of his heart breaks off when he sees you lying in the jacuzzi tub, water and bubbles up to your neck, hair messily thrown on top of your head, mascara leaking down your cheeks.

You blink away the tears tiredly, sitting up slowly against the back of the tub. You weren’t expecting company. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

He offers you a small smile, kneeling by the edge of the tub. He’s not phased by your nudity, although most of your body is shielded by the bubbles from your lavender bubble bath. Being friends for so long, he’s seen it all. “I came to check on you.”

“I’m fine. You can leave.”

“Ouch,” Tommy chuckles, dipping his hand in the water. He flicks a few droplets onto your cheeks. It doesn’t phase you. “I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt.”

“I just want to be alone right now.” Your voice wavers and Tommy shoots you a look. “But do you? Really?”

Your bottom lip trembles, not thinking twice before throwing your arms around Tommy’s neck, softly whimpering into his shirt. He holds you tight, fingers gliding up and down the wet skin of your back. He doesn’t remember the last time you hugged him so fiercely and with so much passion.

“What did I do wrong, Tommy? After four years, why wasn’t I good enough for him?” He knew you’d blame yourself for the failed relationship. But he hoped you realized later on that you weren’t the problem. “I planned our life together. Everything. From the type of home we’d buy to the kids’ names and even the dogs’ names. And he just left. He walked away like the last four years didn’t mean a damn thing to him. How could he? They meant everything to me. He...meant everything to me.”

Tommy’s never seen you so broken, not even the time he had first left to tour with his band. The cracks in your voice pierce his heart and he’s not sure if anything he can do or say will make a difference. You’re hurt, wounded, and it’ll take time for the tear in your heart to heal.

“I don’t want you for a second thinking it was your fault,” He pulls you back, keeping you at arm's length. Wet mascara is smudged around your eyes and you know you look like a hot mess, but Tommy never cared about any of that stuff. “I’ll be honest Y/N, I didn’t like Y/E/N from the moment you started dating. Thought he was a dick then and he proved it today.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tommy shrugs. “You were happy. I didn’t want to screw that up for you.”

You couldn’t be mad at Tommy, though it would have been nice to know that your best friend had seen the red flags long ago. Maybe it would have saved you from the immense heartbreak. Or maybe you wouldn’t have believed him, thought he was investing himself in the role of an overprotective best friend, and continued dating Y/E/N anyway. No point in dwelling in the past and on things you couldn’t change.

You scrub a hand over your face, chuckling at all the mascara you cried off. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“That’s the last thing I’d call you. Hurt, upset, and heartbroken? Definitely. Pathetic? Hardly.” Tommy takes notice of your fingers, now shriveled up like prunes. “But as your best friend, I refuse to let you sit and sulk over a man that never deserved you in the first place. Now get your ass out of the tub because you and I have plans.”

Your brows furrow. “What plans?”

~~~

If there was ever a time where you were most grateful for Tommy’s friendship, it was now. Sitting across from him at a 50s themed diner, a large ice cream sundae was placed between the two of you. He’d let you pick everything from the flavors down to the twenty toppings littered on top.

“You didn’t have to do this you know.” But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling better. What had Tommy said when you pulled up to the diner? Ice cream is the key to mending a broken heart. And while your heart was still raw, processing the range of emotions you’d felt that day, the ice cream was the bandage holding it together from completely falling apart.

“Of course I did,” Tommy responds nonchalantly. “This is what best friends are for, right? I can’t even begin to count all the things you’ve done for me. If I can put a smile on your face simply by taking you out for ice cream then I’m happy, too.”

It was such a wonder how Tommy was still single. His heart was too good for this world. In all the years you’ve been alive, you’d never come across anymore more kind, gentle, and thoughtful as Tommy. There were so many qualities he possessed that made him the ideal best friend. And maybe once back when you were young teenagers did you consider a relationship between you and the lanky, brownhaired rock drummer, but the thought was fleeting. You loved Tommy, nothing in the world could ever change those feelings, but the love was a friendly love, the kind you never wanted to jeopardize. And Tommy was okay with that, because in his mind, nothing would cause him more pain than losing you.

You pluck a gummy worm from the chocolate ice cream, pointing it in Tommy’s direction. “How did you even know we broke up?”

“Nikki. And I was a bit offended I wasn’t the first to know,” Tommy snickers around a mouthful of strawberry ice cream. He digs into the sundae with his fingers, pulling out a blue M&M, and tosses it right at your forehead. “That’s for not telling me.”

“Hey!” You swat him with the gummy worm. Tommy laughs heartily. “I didn’t even mean to tell Nikki. It slipped out! I called him to figure out where you were since I called three times and you didn’t answer.”

Tommy purses his lips when you raise a brow. “Ah. You called when my phone was dead.”

Your laughs are heard around the diner and a few waiters give you a hard look, but it’s the first time you smiled all day and felt something other than heartbreak. “You never fail to make me laugh, Tommy Lee.” Reaching across the table, you lace your fingers with his. “I hope you make me laugh forever and take me on all the ice cream dates when I’m sad.” You shoot a dramatic wink his way, chuckling to yourself when he brings your hand to his lips to lightly kiss your knuckles. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy. I’d buy all the ice cream in the world if it made you smile.”

#tommy lee #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee fanfiction #tommy lee fic #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee x fem!reader #tommy lee x you #tommy lee x y/n #tommy lee x reader #the dirt #the dirt tommy lee #the dirt imagines #the dirt fic #the dirt fanfic #the dirt fanfiction #tommy lee fluff #tommy lee angst

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timelordthirteen · 4 years ago

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Desperate Souls 2/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: A deal is made.

Notes: DON'T HATE ME. I'm not sure anyone thought that this was where this is going, but this is where it's going. Gold is a bastard, and he knows it. This is peak S1 Gold and Skin Deep-esque Belle, I hope that comes through. If there are any tags or warnings anyone thinks needs to be added to this, please let me know. I am always trying to be conscious of consent issues.

[AO3]

Alastair Gold sat in the back of his shop, scowling at the ledger on his desk.

His pen trailed along the edge of the paper, the tip guiding his eyes as he mentally added up the numbers. He wrote the total at the bottom of the column, -$450, and then, before he could contemplate what he was going to do about the debt he was owed, the bell over the shop door clanged loudly. Using his cane, he pushed to his feet and moved to the doorway between the backroom he used as an office and extra storage and the front of the shop to find a peculiar sight.

Belle French stood in the middle of the room in her red wool coat, her arms full of what appeared to be clothing. Her purse had fallen and was hanging from her elbow, and her hair was messier than usual. She looked harried and tired, and even at this distance he could see the redness in her eyes. One of his more responsible and courteous tenants, she was always ready with a smile and a kind word, even for someone like him. He didn’t understand why she went out of her way to speak to him whenever they were in the same location, or why she treated him like he wasn’t the complete bastard everyone knew he was, but the fact that she did secretly delighted and tormented him in equal measure. He might even admit to himself that he harbored the smallest bit of affection for her, a tiny crush that he buried down deep and never entertained as anything other than a fantasy.

“Miss French?” he said, folding his hands over the handle of his cane. “How can I help you?”

She took a breath and seemed to square her shoulders before she came up to the counter and dumped the contents of her arms across it. “I want to sell these.” Then she rummaged in her purse for a few seconds, and pulled out a small, black velvet box which she set down on top of the clothes. “And this.”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted as he surveyed the items. She appeared to have brought in a collection of...undergarments, and he felt a tinge of heat creep up his neck. He cleared his throat. “I see.”

He moved behind the counter and leaned his cane against it before picking up the jewelry box. Flipping it open revealed a surprise, and his eyes darted quickly to her left hand and then back to the ring.

“I presume this means you are no longer the future Mrs. Gaston?” he asked, eyes fixed on the sparkling diamonds.

“Yeah, he, uh, he left,” she replied, looking to the side at the old gramophone that sat at the end of the counter. Then she turned back to Gold, her expression hardening. “And he took our shared bank account with him.”

Gold glanced up in surprise. Though he couldn’t say he was shocked that her engagement to Garrett Gaston had ended, given that the man was an idiot and frequently a chauvinistic jerk, he was taken aback by the fact that Gaston had also stolen money from his fiance in the process. It certainly explained why Miss French had come to his shop, and it also started to form a very shameful idea in his mind that nearly distracted him from the matter at hand.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he managed.

She gave a short nod. “That’s why I’m here. I, uh, I need money.”

He smiled crookedly. “Well, let’s see what we can do.”

He took the ring out of the box and set it down on a square of padded velvet before retrieving a jeweler’s glass from behind the counter. She watched silently as he took his time examining the ring, which he made a bit of a show about, considering he had assessed the value of it the first time he saw it on her finger. It was a touch too gaudy for his taste, and he suspected it might be so for her as well, based on how she usually dressed. It was big, showy, and fake, not unlike Gaston himself, and Gold knew he would never see a return on it. He had suspected the stones weren’t real the first time he saw it, but he was willing to give Gaston the benefit of the doubt and not say anything. It was the kind of ring that would probably sit in his shop for years, and he considered that he might be better off to remove the stones and set them in something more suitable.

“Three hundred,” he said matter of factly, and set the ring back in its box.

Belle frowned. “For the ring?”

He nodded and her frown deepened.

“What? No!” She shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “That ring cost over three thousand dollars, and you’re going to give me a tenth of its value?”

Gold sighed. “Look, Miss French,” he began, “the value of a thing is only what someone is willing to pay. It’s devoid of the sentimental attachments we may have to the object, or the -”

“I do not,” she snapped, “have any sentimental attachment to anything that asshole gave me. I just want what is fair.”

“And I am telling you that what was originally paid for this ring is nowhere near three thousand dollars.” She continued to regard him with anger and confusion, and he sighed again. “Given the type of gold it’s made of, which of course is an alloy, and the fact that the stones are lab created white sapphires, albeit very high quality, that is the best I can offer you.”

Belle looked like she wanted to cry, and her loud sniffle told Gold she almost had, but she once again squared her shoulders. “So Garrett got me coming and going then.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “It would appear so.”

“What about this stuff?” she asked, lifting what appeared to be some kind of chemise from the stack of undergarments.

Gold stared at her hand and what it was holding for a long moment, and then met her eyes. “Nothing. I don’t want it.”

She dropped the silky nightgown, letting it spill across the counter. “But...it’s all new. Half of it still has the tags on. I haven’t even worn any of it yet!”

He flashed his teeth. “A pity indeed, but clothing rarely sells in my shop, even the cast off designer items from Mayor Mills, and I can hardly put anything like that,” - he nodded towards the puddle of black silk - “on display for the public.”

Her mouth hung open as she stared at him.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked, forcing his eyes away from the lingerie and curling his right hand into a fist to keep from touching it.

He wanted to feel the cool softness of it with his fingertips as it slid over his skin. It was a shame no one would see her in it, but since the only option for that had been that lummox Gaston, he considered it only a small loss.

“I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Gold exhaled and closed the ring box. “You could take the ring to another shop, or go back to the original retailer. Perhaps they would give you a better price, but I would be surprised if he paid more than three hundred for it.”

She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head. “I don’t have the receipt, nor do I have the money for the gas to get me there, and it wouldn’t be worth it anyway. The rent is due next week, I need to buy food, and I promised my father I’d give him some money...” She sniffed again. “You don’t need to hear this, sorry.”

“You’re giving your father money?” he asked, curious, and she nodded.

“Yeah, it’s just for him to buy extra stock for Valentine’s Day. The shop always does well that week, and he’ll pay me back, he always does, but I have literally thirty-seven dollars to my name right now."

She gave him a flat smile and shrugged with her arms out to either side, and then let them slap sadly against her sides as she sighed. Gold regarded her for a moment. Moe French borrowing money from his daughter was not exactly a surprise. The man borrowed from anyone who would lend to him, and in fact the four hundred and fifty dollar debt in the ledger still open on his desk was from Mr. French. Moe had even used the same reason with him, that he needed to purchase more stock for the upcoming Valentine’s Day orders. Gold suspected that the loan Belle would give her father would be used to pay the debt to him. It was robbing from Peter to pay Paul.

Her hands went to her collar and she pulled out the short necklace she was always wearing. It was gold with a teardrop shaped pearl, a simple but beautifully elegant thing, that he had always thought suited her perfectly.

“How - how much for this?” she asked, her voice shaking as she pulled the pearl up and away from her neck.

His eyes narrowed. The fact that she wore the necklace everyday had to mean it was important to her, and the waver in her voice gave it away. “Are you sure you want to sell it?”

She let the necklace drop and it settled out of sight behind the wide, thick collar of her coat. “No,” she sighed. Then she ran a hand through her hair and blew out a breath as she tried to keep herself calm. “Look, I know you don’t give extensions, but, maybe I could - I could get a loan from you to cover it? I get paid again in two weeks, and I could pay you back half out of that, or - or - shit, I don’t know. Help me out here? Mr. Gold?”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted as he met her pleading gaze. He knew what it was like to be down to your last dollar, the desperation and anxiety that came with it, and he knew what people might be willing to do in that situation. He had done things he wasn’t proud of, and he had failings as a parent that had left him with a more distant relationship with his son than he wanted, but unlike Moe French he had never lied to borrow money from his own child.

His eyes trailed down to the pile of lingerie still sitting on the counter. It was a shame that it wouldn’t sell in his shop. He might enjoy seeing it everyday, imagining what Belle might have looked like if she’d gotten a chance to wear it, knowing that each piece was something she liked, something she wanted to wear for her lover.

The sensation of the chemise against his palm when he finally touched it was a shock, and he blinked as a terrible idea formed in his mind. “Perhaps...” he started, drawing his gaze from the fabric to settle on her face again, “Perhaps we could come to an...arrangement.”

Belle swallowed and shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes darting from where his fingers were running back and forth over the black silk to meet his eyes. “What - what do you mean?”

He glanced down at the undergarments again and then up. “You said you’d never worn any of it?” She shook her head. “Would you want to?”

Her eyes widened. “How do you mean?”

Gold licked his lips. Something about the fear in her voice pulled at the darkest parts of him, the spread of silk and lace in front of him like a siren call to his deepest thoughts and desires. He was exactly as beastly and terrible as everyone said, and no amount of Belle French’s sweet conversation could change that. If she agreed to what he was asking then afterwards there would be no more of that, not for him, but for a little while, perhaps, he could indulge his baser notions.

“Would you want to,” he repeated, his lips curving into the slightest of smiles, “for a price?”

She took a step backwards and eyed him. “What? Just like - like modeling?”

He braced both hands on the counter to either side, and leaned towards her. His shaggy hair slipped forward, shadowing his face and darkening his sharp features. “Of a sort, yes.”

Her chest rose and fell steadily, her gaze scrutinizing. “For you?”

His lips twitched. “Yes.”

“For - money?”

He smiled briefly, a flash of teeth in the low light as he spoke that had her hand tightening on the strap of her purse. “Yes.”

Her face seemed to go through several expressions in a matter of seconds, from surprise to confusion to disgust.

“No!” She took another step back and frowned. “Why - what? No. No.”

“I assure you it would be quite worth your while,” he said, finding himself oddly entertained by her reaction. She was seeing the side of him that others saw, the facade she had constructed of him possibly being a good man, the one that allowed her to talk to him so sweetly when they met, falling away. “You could make up everything you’ve lost, and more.”

Belle hesitated at that, and he could see that her mind was warring with itself in spite of her immediate rejection of the idea.

“What would - how would -?” She stopped and pressed her lips together before shaking her head. “No.”

Then, abruptly, she lunged forward and snatched the ring box off the counter, followed by the lingerie, her hands gathering it up without regard for how creased it might get and tucking it into the crook of her arm. Spinning on her heel, she stalked out of the shop, leaving Gold staring after her with a bemused grin.

Belle stalked through the door of the pawn shop, trying to hold her coat closed, her purse on her shoulder, and keep the lingerie against her chest where no one would see what she was carrying.

She had never expected Mr. Gold to proposition her, not like that. His reputation varied by person, but most were in some agreement that he was a bastard through and through, ruthless and hard, inconsiderate and merciless. She had always felt they were exaggerating, that their bad experiences of late rent and unpaid loans clouded their judgement. After all, it wasn’t Gold’s fault if someone couldn’t keep to their contract, was it? She had been prepared for him to protest an extension, to threaten her with a late fee or even eviction if it came to it, and he would have been legally within his rights, even if it made him a little heartless, but to suggest that she - that she would -

Her heels skidded in a patch of slushy snow on the sidewalk, and she reached out to catch herself against the pole of a streetlight. The cold air was making her nose run and she sniffed loudly as she straightened.

She was halfway across the street when she stopped and looked up at the lights from her apartment over the library, glowing through the window in the little galley kitchen. It wouldn’t be her apartment for long at this rate. She’d have to move in with her father again or sleep in her car, neither of which were attractive options.

You could make up everything you’ve lost and more.

Everything and more. It was exactly what she needed, but the thought of parading around for him in her underwear seemed beyond the pale. What had made him even suggest it? Was it out of cruelty or some streak of perverted amusement? She couldn’t begin to understand his motivation, but now that she was standing in the cold, her bare knees battered by the wind and her arms full of what amounted to useless trinkets, she considered that perhaps she didn’t care.

Mr. Gold had always been very exacting in his words, his agreements legally iron clad and always leaning a bit in his favor. He had said he wanted her to wear them, for him, nothing else. She’d asked if he meant modeling, and he’d said ‘of a sort.’ Modeling she could do, she thought, particularly for money, especially since most of the lingerie she was holding was fairly basic catalog stuff, nothing too risque or weird. There were a couple of items that she’d considered special, but those could be easily stowed away somewhere or shoved in the bottom of the trash before she agreed.

Belle closed her eyes and turned around. The shop glowed bright in the darkness as she slowly made her way towards it. She couldn’t believe she was considering this, but her alternatives were few, and consisted almost entirely of being homeless or hawking everything she owned. Unfortunately, what she owned was barely worth anything. Her engagement ring, such as it was, might as well have come out of one of the vending machines at the Dark Star Pharmacy. Garrett could have gotten a cheap ring and a temporary tattoo in a tribal pattern for fifty cents.

The thought, sad as it was, made her laugh, but her smile faded as soon as she came to the door of Gold’s shop. This was it, a moment of truth. She was either going to accept his deal and humiliate herself, or take the two hundred dollars for the ring and starve for the next month. She reached up with her free hand and touched the pearl at her throat, her mother’s necklace which she’d actually considered selling just a few minutes ago, and exhaled.

Do the brave thing, she thought, and pushed open the door.

Gold was still behind the counter, and he looked up as the bell rang out. “Miss French.”

His voice was as smooth and even as it always was, with no tinge of surprise at her return. She regarded him for a moment and then closed the distance, her arms tightening around the undergarments she was still holding.

“How much?” she asked quickly.

His eyes widened, but his expression was otherwise unchanged. “For each time or in total?”

“Each time?”

He smiled slightly. “One item, one night, each week until it’s all been worn.”

She swallowed and took another step forward. “Each time then. In - in case -”

“In case you want to stop?” he asked, and she nodded.

Then he took a pen from inside his suit jacket, tore off one of the pawn tickets from the pad beside the cash register, and wrote something on the back of it before setting it on the counter, facing her.

“I will pay you two hundred for the ring as well,” he added. “If you still wish to sell it.”

She inched closer until she could read it, and gasped when she saw the amount he’d written. It was more than enough to cover all her expenses for a month, and if he intended to pay her for each piece of lingerie, then in all it was definitely everything she’d lost and much more.

“Is that sufficient?”

She looked up and met his eyes, his mouth curving gently as he smirked, and for a second the sickening dip in her stomach made her feel as though she was about to sell her soul. “W-where? When?”

Gold pulled the scrap of paper back and took the time to fold it neatly before tucking it away in his pocket along with the pen. “My house, say, next Thursday evening?”

Belle pressed her lips together and then nodded. “Okay, um, do I need to sign something or -?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Not necessary. Unlike some people in this town, I know I can take you at your word.”

She frowned at that and took another step forward, holding out her hand towards him. He glanced down at it, and then extended his as well. They shook hands briefly, and then she turned to leave, wanting to hurry home before she got sick or started crying again.

“Miss French,” he called out before she’d made it more than two steps. She turned back to face him, and he nodded towards the bundle in her arms. “You can leave those with me.”

“Oh...” She looked down at the now rather mangled and creased underthings as she moved back to the counter. “Uh, sure.”

She relaxed her arms and let the garments fall from her arms, in a messier pile than when she’d first brought them in. Somehow their disarray and the cramping in her arms made her feel even worse. Then she fished the ring box out of her purse again and set it down.

“If you wait a moment,” he said, taking up his cane, “I’ll get the money for the ring from the safe.”

“No no,” she replied. “I, um, I need to get home. Can I - can I get it on Monday?”

Gold inclined his head. “As you wish.”

Belle turned on her heel and hurried out of the shop, her shoes loud on the old wood floor. She heard Gold’s voice bid her a good evening as she pulled the door open, but she didn’t look back or return the sentiment. She had done the brave thing, and now she could only hope that it didn’t backfire.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #lemon fic #my rumbelle fic #fic #desperate souls #also of course i made a banner #i'm the worst

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teaplease1717 · 4 years ago

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Cheer for Me

Title: Cheer for Me

Chapter: 2 of 3

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Rating: E

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947014/chapters/74220609

Kudos to @flourchildwrites for betaing.

XXXXX

It was like Kaminari had shocked him. Electricity sizzled down Shouto’s spine and every thought in his head scattered as her lips moved slowly against his.

Her mouth was soft, and she kissed him as Shouto had always imagined. With a groan, his eyes closed as she ran her tongue along his lips and slid it inside his mouth with a soft noise. His body quivered.

This wasn’t real.

She pressed closer. Her hands curled into his jacket.

This was a hallucination. And yet, even knowing it was fake, Shouto didn’t want the illusion to stop.

His fingers twitched, and Shouto found that his hands were already around her bare waist, pressing against the small of her back, arching her closer. His tongue slid against hers as his hand lowered to the thin waistband of her skirt before skimming down the fabric to firmly cup her ass.

It was soft with just the right amount of firmness, and Shouto couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like slapping against him as he took Yaoyorozu from behind.

Tightening his grip, Shouto rolled his hips into hers experimentally. Yaoyorozu pulled back slightly with a breathy gasp, and Shouto dragged her closer.

Everything felt fuzzy. He could barely think. Yaoyorozu’s body was warm and felt so right molded against his. And Shouto’s cock was already hard and aching for her.

Kissing the side of his mouth, Yaoyorozu followed his jaw line planting slow open-mouth kisses up towards his ear. Shouto shuddered as a flood of heat shot through him, and she nuzzled the thin patch of skin underneath his ear before nipping him.

Shouto groaned low in his throat, and he realized he didn't want to stop this. He wanted to touch and be touched by Yaoyorozu, more than anything.

‘They call themselves “Heroes” and keep fooling everyone! The only ones these “heroes” protect are themselves! With all that ugliness inside, they use you people to give them protection! Approval! Admiration!’

Dabi's words cut through his foggy lust-induced mind.

Shouto froze. That’s right; this warmth that Yaoyorozu was offering wasn’t something he was allowed to wish for, even in a dream. If he wanted to be a true hero, he needed to be better than this.

The thought sobered him, and he caught her hands as they slid up to circle his neck.

“We can't.”

Slowly, Yaoyorozu pulled back to stare up at him. Her eyes were dark, and her chest was heaving as she looked at him in confusion. “Todoroki-san?”

Shouto gritted his teeth, and he pulled her hands away. “We need to stop. A hero wouldn't do something like this.”

Yaoyorozu blinked. “What-What do you mean?” she asked shakily. Her expression wavered.

Shouto inhaled deeply through his nose to steady himself. “I can't become a hero if I give in to these desires.”

At those words, something flashed across Yaoyorozu’s face, and her dark onyx eyes widened. “But you are a hero already!”

His stomach twisted. He wanted to take her face into his hands and kiss her senseless but stopped himself.

“No,” Shouto said firmly, looking away. He hesitated a moment. A tight lump had wedged itself in the back of his throat, and he swallowed thickly. “I’m not. Not a true hero at least. There is still too much of my old man’s teaching in me. I'm still too selfish and let my emotions control me.” He swallowed and forced the next words out. “This illusion is evidence of that. A true hero wouldn't have a dream of their friend this way.”

Yaoyorozu was silent a moment.

“But there are plenty of heroes with lovers or families. Are you saying they aren't respectable heroes?” Yaoyorozu asked finally, pulling her hands out of his and stepping back.

Reluctantly, he let her go as he looked back at her.

“No, but I need to be better than them.” Shouto pressed his lips into a hard line. “Since I was made for the sole purpose of becoming a hero, I have to work harder and be better than anyone. I need to be perfect.”

Yaoyorozu opened her mouth and then closed it. Her lips twitched, but she swallowed whatever she was going to say and dropped her gaze to stare down at her shoes.

“To defeat your brother?” she asked softly after a few seconds.

Shouto nodded. “They call themselves ‘heroes’ and keep fooling everyone. With all that ugliness inside, the only ones these ‘heroes’ protect are themselves.”

“Those were Dabi’s words?”

“Yeah.”

Her head jerked, and she looked sharply at him, her eyes flashing. “But Dabi isn’t right! You shouldn’t let him influence you,” she said, her voice rising as she pressed a hand to her chest.

Shouto shook his head. “Dabi may be crazy, but not everything he said is wrong. And unless I am able to achieve those goals, I don’t know if I can defeat him.”

“That’s why we’ll work together. You don’t have to do this alone.” Her eyes searched his face, her expression pleading.

Shouto curled his hands into fists. “No.” It felt like one of Mineta's purple balls had wedged itself into his mouth, making it hard to speak. “There’s a reason top heroes—All Might, Hawks, Best Jeanist—are single.”

“Just because they are single doesn’t mean you have to be,” she said. “You aren’t them. It’s your life, isn’t it?” Her body quivered before him.

His heart clenched at her words. They were so similar to what Midoriya had said to him at the last sports festival.

Shouto swallowed over a dry mouth and shook his head slowly. “True heroes need to stand alone. If we let our emotions control us we only hurt those people we want to protect. I wouldn't be able to stand seeing you suffer because of me.”

“But,” Yaoyorozu wavered, her eyes growing glassy, “isn't that my decision to make?”

Shouto’s breath caught in his throat.

Yaoyorozu continued, taking a step closer. “I don’t understand. You say heroes need to stand alone and that if I get close to you, I’ll suffer. But what about my feelings? Is having people who care for you truly that wrong?”

“That’s not it.” His voice was thick. “I want to be with you. More than anything I want to be with you and the rest of the class. But this is my cross to bear. Otherwise, I’ll just bring misfortune onto everyone more than I’ve already have.” His fists tightened until his knuckles were white.

He didn’t know where these thoughts had arisen from but, somewhere in the depths of his subconscious, Shouto realized he believed them. Someone like him—someone created to be the perfect “hero”—didn’t get love. Didn’t deserve it. No matter how much he wanted it.

This was for the best. Forcing himself to realize this now, in this hallucination, was just saving himself from future unnecessary hopes and desires.

“Is that truly what you think?” Her voice snapped Shouto out of his thoughts, and he looked up. She was staring at him pointedly. “That you can’t have love because you feel responsible for your brother?”

It felt like someone had hollowed out a hole in his heart as he stared down at her. Shouto inhaled unsteadily. “Love. Relationships. Those kinds of things are for other people. Heroes need to be better-”

“You’re wrong, Todoroki-san.” Her voice cut through the air in that steely, unwavering quality of conviction.

“Wrong?” he echoed, eyes widening at the look of anger and heartbreak written across her face, as if it were her that wasn’t allowed to be loved and not him.

Yaoyorozu straightened her shoulders. “Dabi’s manipulating you into believing that the only way you’ll defeat him is if you’re alone. But, if you let him do that, all you’ll end up doing is hurting yourself.”

Her gaze was intent as she met his eyes, and she pressed her hand to her chest. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, Todoroki-san. More than anyone, I’ve been watching your progression, and I know what kind of person you are. You’re kind, and despite your stoic demeanor, there is a lot to you. But, because I’ve been watching, I can also tell that those emotions you’re trying to suppress in order to meet this unrealistic vision of a ‘hero’ are slowly becoming too much for you to handle. Eventually—eventually they’ll overflow, and at that point it may be too late. All you’ll be left with is regret.”

“Yaoyorozu…” Shouto whispered.

Biting her lip, she swallowed and dragged in a deep breath, composing herself. Then, in a softer voice, continued. “Someday, you’ll see. But, until then, will you let me take some of your burden?” Yaoyorozu searched his face. The heartbreak of a moment ago was gone, and her expression was collected. But her eyes–

The way she looked at him—a mixture of longing and hope—was enough to take Shouto’s breath away. And the thought of moving away never even crossed Shouto’s mind as she stepped closer.

“If it’s in here, in this dream world, it should be okay, right?”

Slowly, as if to give him the chance to pull away, she reached up to the metal zipper of his gym jacket and pulled it down. Shouto’s body trembled as she slid her hands underneath. The heat of her palms transferred through his undershirt as she pushed his jacket aside and rested her hands over his chest.

“Please.”

Yaoyorozu leaned in and kissed the space over his heart. Shouto inhaled sharply.

“Please.” She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Shouto’s heart pounded as fast as if he had fought a nomu. She pushed up on her toes.

"Even if it's a dream..." Her lips hovered over his mouth. “...let me be your motivation. Let me love you.”

Yaoyorozu closed her eyes and touched her lips to his for the second time that day.

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #My writing #Cheer for Me #My Story #todomomo fanfiction

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reneesi · 4 years ago

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i never would have thought // CH.10

CH.10 II the walk home

A/N: GUESS WHOS BACK?? I lived hoes 😎😎. So I've been feeling a lot better and I finally got enough sleep to remember how to write and I also got an editor!! so yay! Hopefully the quality will be a little bit better writing wise :)! We will be returning to semi-scheduled programing but for my sake I'm gonna change the updates to twice a week since three time was clearly too much for me to keep up with. Tuesdays and Fridays will be the new upload days! Anyways, enjoy the rest of the chapter~

WRITTEN PORTION

“I knew you’d make it!” Tanka roared, slapping Tsukishima’s back a little too hard as the blonde took a seat beside him. Tsukishima flinched ever so slightly, and grit his teeth as he reached up to rub his shoulder.

“I only came because this is a team event.” Tsukishima mumbled, rolling his eyes as more teammates piped in with hellos and comments of joking passive aggressiveness.

When Tsukishima had initially texted the group chat that he would be skipping that night's festivities the team had erupted into light disapproval and jokes of annoyance. Although (Y/n) knew she should have been angry, the feeling that overwhelmed her senses was much closer to disappointment. She’d tried her best to hide the way her stomach had sunk deep into itself by keeping her eyes low, but her slightly hunched posture had been a dead give away. Sugawara, ever so intuitive, had taken notice.

So while the rest of the team broke out into laughter and hypothetical plans to drag Tsukishima along, Suga had wrapped an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. (Y/n) had smiled back of course, as convincing as she could muster, but had mostly kept her head down for the rest of the walk.

And while the team was slightly annoyed with Tsukishima’s lack of presence, they weren’t the least bit surprised since it wasn’t the first time he had bailed on them. Yamaguchi, especially, had tried his best to defend Tsukishima at first. That is until he’d caught a glimpse of (Y/n)’s face. One look at her frown immediately made him go silent. A few minutes later he had broken away from the group, typing away furiously at his screen.

Now that Tsukishima was sitting right across from her, (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to erase the stress that was crushing her chest. She looked down at her food in confusion, he was here.. so why did she still feel awful?

“You didn’t have to come, you know?” (Y/n) finally burst out, looking up just in time to see Tsukishima’s eyes widen ever so slightly. In the dim yellow-ish light his blush was easy to miss. Tsukishima reached up to adjust his glasses and let out a signature tch.

“Of course I didn’t have to come, stupid,” He replied in irritation, looking away to avoid (Y/n)’s heavy stare. When she didn’t look away, he added “I came because I wanted to.”

“That’s convenient.” Yamaguchi cut in, unusual smirk tugging at his usual innocent face.

“Just gonna casually leave the part out where I had to basically force you to come?” Yamaguchi teased, reaching over to poke at Tsukishima’s increasingly red face. The blonde quickly swatted his best friend’s fingers away.

“You didn’t force me,” He scowled, sending Yamaguchi a glare “I just reconsidered is all.”

The latter of his words were much quieter, so much so that for a moment (Y/n) considered they may have been just for her. A secret message of reassurance that he didn’t in fact hate her, but rather had really just been feeling lazy. She turned those five words over in her head at least seven times, staring at him intently, before receiving another glare. She came to the conclusion that it was much more likely that he hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. (Y/n) thought about what it could have meant, narrowing her eyes as her vision lulled.

“Stop staring, it’s rude.” Tsukishima said flatly, reaching across the table to flick (Y/n)’s forehead abruptly. (Y/n) shook her head in surprise and finally noticed she’d completely zoned out straight ahead. Her eyes widened as a red tint flushed across her cheeks.

“S-sorry!” She squeaked out, looking away immediately.

If it wasn’t for Tsukishima’s light chuckle drawing her eyes back just seconds later, (Y/n) would have missed what must have been the first time she’d seen Tsukishima smile in what felt like forever. He rolled his eyes before turning to ask Tanaka a question, and being pulled into a long conversation about volleyball.

Following this example, (Y/n) turned to her upperclassmen and joined their conversation, but unlike Tsukishima, she was unable to focus. And although her eyes rarely made their way back to him for the remainder of dinner, (Y/n) couldn’t get her mind to do the same.

At around 9 PM, Hinata and Kageyama announced that they would be departing early, excusing themselves with a simple mention of early training. As he hugged her goodbye, (Y/n) could have sworn she saw a blush creeping its way across her cousin's cheeks, but when she tried to ask he’d practically jumped out of his skin and laughed a little too loud.

“I’m probably just sleepy!” Shoyo had chuckled, slapping (Y/n)’s arm with more force than necessary.

(Y/n) had squinted at the pair, watching as they made their exit, wincing as she rubbed her arm thoughtfully. She would definitely have to bring this up with Shoyo later.

As for the rest of the team, most of them had stayed until at least 10 PM. After that it grew even later and people began to bid their goodbyes until only Daichi, Sugawara, (Y/n), Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima remained standing outside of the restaurant.

“I never realized how late it had gotten!” Sugawara yawned, peering at his watch. Daichi took Suga’s school bag and draped it over his own shoulder, wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Suga rubbed at his eyes sleepily.

“Hinata-chan, will you be okay walking home so far this late at night?” Daichi asked, turning to face the first years.

“I think I’ll be okay… I’d usually just walk with Shoyo but he left early.” (Y/n) giggled awkwardly, rubbing at the back of her neck with her palm. Daichi’s eyes suddenly widened as he looked at something just behind (Y/n). She turned back quizzically only to be met with a sheepish Yamaguchi. (Y/n) narrowed her eyes and raised a brow.

“Yama..?” She asked slowly.

“Yes?” He replied, batting his eyelashes innocently. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Okay, well i'm going home. Congratulations Hinata, have a good night everyone.” He raised a hand lazily, already turning to leave.

“Would you like me to walk you h-“ Daichi began before Yamaguchi, who had grabbed Tsukishima by the collar of his shirt at some point, cut in.

“Actualllllyyy Tsukishima is gonna walk her home! You guys go home! Don’t worry about it!” Yamaguchi beamed, waving at his upperclassmen in an almost aggressive manner.

“Looks like we’re being shooed away, goodnight everybody.” Sugawara chuckled lightly, following Daichi’s lead as he turned them both around and began to walk, arm still held tight around Suagwara.

“Goodnight everyone.” Daichi called back, footsteps growing distant as a silence fell over the three remaining first years.

“I’m not walking her home.” Tsukishima said, almost on cue, as he wiggled his way free of Yamaguchi’s gasp and began to walk away once more.

“Oh no you don’t.” Yamaguchi snatched him by the strap of his bag this time “You absolutely will be walking (Y/n) home! Last time you didn’t, so you still owe her.”

“H-hey it's ok! I can just walk home alone, I don’t wanna cause any trouble-“ (Y/n) tried, words wavering as her anxiety seeped through.

“Are you kidding? It’s almost midnight! No way you’re walking that entire way alone! What if you get kidnapped? Or worse! Tsukishima are you really gonna let some random killer get a hold of our teams precious third manager because you-”

“Oh shut up.” Tsukishima finally cut in, rolling his eyes in frustration. He glared over at Yamaguchi and ripped his friend’s hand off of the strap of his bag.

“Fine, I’ll walk her home…. But fuck you Yama.” He growled, turning briskly to walk in the direction of the Hinata’s house.

(Y/n) looked over at Yamaguchi in absolute horror, Yamaguchi only offered her a cheeky grin and two thumbs up in response before Tsukishima’s angry voice rose up.

“Come one idiot.”

The first ten minutes of walking were dead silent, with Tsukishima keeping a steady pace two steps ahead and (Y/n) trying her very best not to stare at the back of his head like a total creep.

“Sorry for being late.” Tsukishima eventually grumbled, not bothering to turn back.

(Y/n) was thankful for that, given that her cheeks began to glow pink almost immediately. She blinked at the back of his head for a moment too long before remembering she was supposed to answer.

“I-it’s okay!” She stuttered out, staring up at the sky in avoidance until her face finally cooled. After more silent minutes passed, (Y/n) furrowed her brows thoughtfully and asked,

“Why didn’t.. you wanna come… at first?”

Whatever Tsukishima’s face had done in response to her abrupt question would forever be a mystery, given that from behind he appeared completely unfazed.

“Reasons.” He finally said flatly, head tilting ever so slightly to indicate he was looking up at the sky.

“But I came didn’t I?” Tsukishima added after another long moment of silence.

“Thank you for showing up, even if you were late, it meant a lot.. to me.” (Y/n) replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Tsukishima’s shoulders seemed to tense, but not enough for (Y/n) to be sure. If only they were walking side by side she could gauge his reactions better… she quickened her pace ever so slightly but not enough to close the gap.

“Yeah, congrats on winning.” Tsukishima could have been smiling, it almost sounded like he was, but in all honesty (Y/n) never knew with him.

“You deserved it.” He added after another minute of silence passed.

The walk continued in quietude for a bit as the tension finally eased off of (Y/n)’s shoulders. Even if it was just one simple kind remark, (Y/n) understood Tsukishima well enough by now to know he didn’t go around giving praise to just anyone. His kindness was not to be taken lightly, even if it was barely notable at best. Maybe he had been mad, maybe not, but it had clearly passed given that he wasn’t being mean or ignoring her at the moment. If they were okay, if Tsukishima was tossing her light compliments and walking just a little bit slower until their paces matched up and they were walking side by side, then it didn’t really matter much to (Y/n) what had been going through his head earlier that day. They were clearly still friends, so she could stop walking on so many eggshells.

“You know you never did tell me much about your brother!” (Y/n)'s voice chimed up, bubbly syllables lifting her steps into light skips as she leaned forward and turned her head back to send Tsukishima a cheeky ass grin. He scoffed and reached up to adjust his glasses, breaking eye contact quickly.

“I already told you stuff about me. If anything you should be the one talking, idiot.” Tsukishima groaned, irritated brows crossing across his forehead.

“What do you wanna know?” (Y/n) asked, pestering tone vanished from her voice. Tsukishima only shrugged, eyes held taught to the sky.

“I could tell you about my family?” (Y/n) tried after neither first years said anything for a full five minutes.

“Ok.” Tsukishima said simply, glancing over as (Y/n) held a finger up to her chin thoughtfully.

She tried to ignore the way his eyes made her cheeks burn just a bit and looked up at the stars that had gradually begun to shine brighter and brighter.

“Well my parents are pretty nice people, they just aren’t so great at being parents.” (Y/n) laughed to herself softly, glancing over at Tsukishima’s confused face for only a moment. When he didn’t reply, she continued

“They love me, I know they do. The world back home is just… different. Honestly it's difficult for me to talk about this because I feel like it’s a hard place to explain to an outsider.”

“An outsider..?” Tsukishima narrowed his eyes, not in offense but in curiosity

“My parents are kind of… wealthy. The whole social bubble that comes with that is totally different from here..” (Y/n) explained cautiously, embarrassment seeping through the cracks of her words. Tsukishima’s face relaxed to an unreadable expression.

“Oh.” He mumbled, gaze drifting to the sky in tandem with (Y/n).

“Yeah. It kind of sucks..” She sighed, “And I mean I don’t wanna sound ungrateful or anything because I’m not! It’s just that everything has a price and mine was freedom.. My whole life growing up my parents were always motoring me like some kind of doll. I always had to dress a certain way and act a certain way and hang out with certain people and the more they made me the more I hated it.”

(Y/n) paused, sneaking a glance at Tsukishima, his brows furrowed again, but instead of frustration he seemed like he was deep in thought.

“Once, when I was 11, I remember overhearing them arguing about how I'd never end up happy if I couldn’t learn how to fit in. My dad wanted to send me away to boarding school and my Mom was absolutely opposed, but she agree with him that I needed to.. improve.. or I’d never find the right man and settle down and stuff. I was too young to really understand but it just seemed so unfair. I mean, I hated school. I was always having to hang out with these girls that would spread rumors about me behind my back and the guys were.. mean, and I was just so mad that my parents were blaming me for the way I was reaction to it all that I started pushing back as hard as I possibly could and-“ (Y/n)’s lips came to a halt as realization hit her

“I-I’m sorry I’m totally rambling about stupid stuff that you didn’t even ask abou-“

“Shut up” Tsukishima cut in, “if I didn’t wanna listen I would have just tuned you out.”

“H-hey!” (Y/n) protested, mortified blush still hugging her cheeks.

“I didn’t. So stop talking about pointless stuff and keep going.” Tsukishima scoffed, stretching his arms up to provide support for his head which was tilting back into his palms.

“Okay.” (Y/n) mumbled softly, embarrassment dying down to a subtle shyness.

“W-well, I ended up dying my hair brown two years later. I wanted to because I-I never really liked my hair but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do it mostly because I wanted to piss my parents off.” (Y/n) giggled out the last bit, tugging at a strand of hair unconsciously.

“It suits you.” Tsukishima said simply.

“Thanks!” (Y/n) lit up, too distracted by the prospect of talking about her hair to notice exactly what Tsukishima had just said.

“I did it by myself and I’ve kept it up all these years because I think it looks a lot better and-“

“Okay, I’m tuning you out.” Tsukishima yawned

“Hey! Don’t be rude!” (Y/n) glared, reaching over to punch his arm lightly. Tsukishima made a face of displeasure but otherwise ignored it.

“Anyways, AS I WAS SAYING before SOMEONE so RUDELY interrupted me,” (Y/n) began again, clearing her throat before delving into a ten minute rant about why dying her hair was the best decision she’d ever made.

Just as she was finishing up, the Hinata household came into view. The conversation fizzled to an end as Tsukishima walked (Y/n) all the way to the door, staying a good foot behind her. He watched her with the same bored expression as they made their way to the front steps and front yard respectively. (Y/n) paused and turned back to Tsukishima with a breath held tight in her chest, it would be rude to walk inside without even saying goodbye.

“T-thank you, for walking me all the way here.” (Y/n) stuttered, eyes trained on the ground that stretched between.

“Yeah.” Tsukishima shrugged, pausing for a long moment before finally asking “Hinata-chan?”

“Yeah?” Her eyes snapped up to him almost reflexively

“While you’re here, be yourself. It’ll be a waste if you’re not… I know we all want you to feel at home so if your other home is a bad place make this a good one.” Tsukishima’s tone was nearly impossible to pinpoint. It hadn’t been quite soft but his usual cover of aloofness was completely absent, it was the kind of comfort that was candid and honest in a way that Tsukishima rarely ever displayed. (Y/n) stared at him wide eyed, before slowly nodding. He stared back for another long moment, almost as if waiting for a reply before a look of finality overtook his features and he held up a lazy hand.

“Goodbye.” He said monotonously, before turning to leave without another word. His movement snapped (Y/n) out of her shock and she called after him,

“Goodnight, Tsukishima! Thanks again!” She exclaimed, waving a frantic hand even though she knew Tsukishima wouldn’t be turning back to acknowledge it. As she watched him go (Y/n) felt an unstoppable blush stream across her face as his words rang through her head once more. His kindness was so rare, and as a result it always ended up feeling like a special gift. She touched the heated flesh of her cheek with the tips of her fingers, why was she always getting flustered around him?

“Don’t be so loud, my parents are already asleep.” Shoyo hissed from behind her, sticking his head out of the cracked front door.

(Y/n) realized Tsukishima was gone and that she’d been staring stupidly at nothing, she turned around and offered a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” (Y/n) whispered, making her way inside once Shoyo opened the door fully and stepped aside.

“Why did you stay out so late?” Shoyo asked as (Y/n) leaned over and began taking off her shoes. After a pause she said,

“Tsukishima walks reeeeally slow.” (Y/n) smirked, lying straight through her teeth.

Shoyo’s eyes widened for a moment as he tried to do the calculations in his head, staring at her in utter perplexity. (Y/n) only snickered, slipping into her slippers as she began to walk away. Shoyo brain finally caught up and he burst out after his cousin,

“Wait, what the fuck?!”

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MASTERLIST

Tagslist: @domtamaki @kodzu-ken @clowninfortodoroki @kageyamasbabygorl @miya-yume @chaelysian @kittyddandnyla @chaseyui @it-was-just-a-ship @melanie09astrid @naorii-chan @chaoticalybiased @saltyteefff @aristatrois @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @raineedayze @freyafolkvangr @scftsugawara @genuinelytodorokisbitch @cleopatera @tskeiki @charliefredb @just-snog-already

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twokinkybeans · 4 years ago

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The Arachnoids: ROCK BAND AU [STARKER] - Chapter 9: WARY WORDS

READ “CHAPTER 9: WARY WORDS” ON AO3

Find the masterpost with all the chapters linked here!

Taglist: @crystallinecrimsonmoth & @staticwhispersinthedark (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Chapter 9: Wary Words

Tony’s gone.

That’s the first thought that crosses Peter’s mind when he stirs back to life after a short but good sleep. The room is empty and quiet, and it’s not just the man that has vanished. His bags are gone too and the sheets Tony slept under are neatly drawn up over the mattress. If it weren’t for the cologne lingering on Peter’s shirt, he could’ve sworn it’d all been a dream. It’s real, he reminds himself. It’s all real.

Peter doesn’t like the uneasy feeling that settles under his skin. He clamps his jaws together and blows into his cheeks, then letting the pressured air escape past his lips in a defeated sigh. He doesn’t know what to do. While it’s clear that something has to change for Tony, Peter wouldn’t know where to even start. He does realize it’s not his problem to solve, but he wants to help Tony however possible. It’s idle hope, though, to think the solution might come easy.

Tony’s gone, and there’s no sign of him until the live performance. It physically aches Peter’s chest to watch how freely Tony moves around the stage. No anxiety. No spiraling thoughts. Just Tony living through his music. The stage is Tony’s home. Performing is his home.

But after thanking his Finnish fans for supporting them today… There’s no trace left of where he could’ve gone. Tony’s hiding once again.

Latvia.

Poland.

Hungary

The next few days are all the same. No sight of Tony other than soundchecks and shows. No one knows where he is. And Peter realizes, horrified, that as much as everyone’s worried about Tony’s behavior, they don’t really care. Not truly. As long as Tony shows up to sing they seem awfully okay with it.

Austria

Italy

Spain

Peter still hasn’t managed to catch a moment alone with Tony. From a distance, he can see that the man looks paler. Tired. Lonely.

France

Belgium

Germany

Peter’s fed up with Tony evading everyone and he decides that he’ll do everything it takes to connect to him again. He will talk to Tony. As soon as he gets the chance.

Netherlands

“Hey, Stark!” Peter greets the man cheerfully as he finally finds the man by himself in the large Nijmegen venue. Tony’s leaning against the front barrier, looking up at the stage. “I’ve been thinking about your offer and I’ve decided to take you up on those guitar classes.” Tony tenses up and he grips the front barrier so tight his knuckles turn white. Oh no. Slowly, Tony turns around to face Peter. Tony looks straight at him but Peter can tell it takes everything the man has, to not avert his gaze. Peter’s heart clenches at the knowledge that the man’s been hurting so much lately, that it's a habit for him to hide everything.

“Hi, space boy.” Tony sniffs once and straightens his shoulders, faking a wide grin. Peter frowns at that. Does Tony still have the feeling he has to pretend so much? Tony continues talking before Peter has a chance to resume the conversation himself. “Wouldn’t you rather do another one of those sleepovers? ‘Twas quite a messy night, huh?”

What?

“That makes it sound like we had an actual one night stand,” Peter says slowly, eyebrows raised. If Tony wants to approach it like this, Peter will try to play along. Tony huffs a startled laugh at that. “That’s what happens when there’s only one bed,” he jokes. Tony’s smile falters soon after. He casts his eyes down to the floor. “I’m really sorry about that night, though… That… Wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What wasn’t?” Peter asks, tilting his head. He kinda expects Tony to cut the conversation short and make a run for it, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. “The panic attack- I never wanted to drop that on you. The hug…” Tony’s cheeks turn a little bit redder at that. He’s ashamed, Peter realizes. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony tenses at that once more. He blinks a few times, unsure of what to do. Peter swallows. The last thing he wants is to chase Tony away himself. “Hey…” Peter speaks softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” “No,” Tony pushes out. “You did. And you’re right, I guess. I have been avoiding you.” Tony glances around real quick to see if there’s no one else around. When he confirms they’re alone he sighs. “I’ve never been this vulnerable around anyone. I… don’t know how to deal with it.” Tony sits down on the floor to lean against the front barrier and he shakes his head. Peter carefully walks closer to him.

“That’s alright. It’s hard,” Peter breathes as he sinks down onto the cool metal plates as well. “I know my story isn’t nearly the same…” He continues. “But I was young when I lost everyone but Aunt May. I closed off. It fucking sucks when people watch your every move ‘cause they’re not sure what to do with you and your emotions.” Tony looks up at that. His eyes contain the exact spark of recognition Peter had hoped to ignite.

“Sometimes, it’d be much easier if none of it ever happened - or if no one knows. So that you can pretend it never did, even if just for a few minutes.” Peter pauses, trying to figure out the right words to continue. “But- If you never allow yourself to be vulnerable, no one’s gonna understand why you keep pushing them away. Eventually, they’ll take it as rejection. They give up. And it leaves you lonelier than you were before.” “Sounds familiar,” Tony mumbles quietly. Peter’s lips curl into a faint smile. “Yeah... And I’m not saying you always have to talk about the shit that’s going on, but you can let people know you’re not okay. Confide in them. You need that sense of community, Tony. Especially when things are bad.”

They’re both silent after that. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. Not at all. At one point, Tony’s composure softens. He goes less rigid, and his left knee falls against Peter’s right one. Peter lets it happen without a single thought; perhaps he too likes the warmth coming from the other’s body. Someone who, even though the story is different, shares the emotions Peter knows so well.

“Thank you,” Tony finally breathes. “That’s… You’re right- I-...” Tony groans when the words don’t come easy. Most likely unconsciously, he presses his knee into Peter’s a little more. Peter doesn’t say anything to give the man his time. He does press his knee back, though. Hoping to comfort Tony. Tony swallows and slowly continues. “Talking to you makes me feel like I can breathe, even if just slightly.” The words cause a gentle warmth to spread through Peter’s chest.

“I meant what I said the other night, Tony. I’m gonna be here, alright?” “You barely know me...” “Isn’t that enough of a reason to get to know each other better? I mean, we already slept in one bed after all,” Peter says, trying to lighten the conversation with a small joke. It seems to work. Tony snorts. “I think you’re my favorite one night stand,” Tony grins. Somehow, even though it’s obviously meant as a joke, it catches Peter completely off guard and he blushes. Tony notices and he grins. “Ooooooh! You liked it too!” Tony teases. Peter growls in response and leans sideways to bump into Tony’s shoulder. The man laughs, actually laughs, and the sound reverberates in Peter’s chest. Is this the lighter side of Tony he hasn’t seen yet?

“Hey,” Tony mumbles once his snickering died down. “I have to go do this stupid interview. Harley will lynch me if I don’t show up.” “Shouldn’t Bruce and Happy be the ones to do that?” “They don’t really bother with me. They’ve given Harley the most prestigious task of babysitting me.” “Harley seems nice though, isn’t he?” Peter tries. Tony hums. “For sure. He’s a good kid.”

Tony’s silent after that and Peter bites down his bottom lip. He feels like the conversation isn’t over yet. He drops his head to one side to look at Tony. Tony raises his eyebrows. “Will you be okay?” Peter asks quietly. “I…” Tony sighs. “I guess? Interviews trigger my anxiety quite badly. Nat, Steve, and Harley know about the medication shit, though. They try to help me through. They just don’t know about… Morgan.” Tony’s voice wavers when he chokes out her name. “I’ll manage. I promise.” Peter smiles and leans into Tony a little bit more, trying to bring him some comfort.

“Alright. Promise me one thing though,” Peter whispers. “Or, two actually?” “What’s that?” “I want those guitar classes,” Peter states and Tony snorts, shrugging and shaking his head. “Sure, what else?”

Peter hesitates and he clasps his own hands together, leaning forward onto his upper legs. From there, he eyes Tony carefully. “Don’t rewatch it.” Peter takes a breath. “The interview. Answer their questions and then forget about it.”

Tony takes a few moments to think about that before he swallows and nods. His eyes sparkle when he raises his head to look Peter straight into his eyes. “I promise.”

Peter mindlessly helps Ned set up his drums for tonight. Ned loves the new set, even though it’s not nearly the same quality as the one he has at home. It’s got a nice sound, Peter has to admit that. He doesn’t know enough about drums to give a solid opinion, but if Ned’s happy, so is he.

“So, what’s up with Tony?” Ned asks, fiddling with one of his drumsticks when Peter finishes tightening the last hi-hat clutch. Peter leans back, eyeing Ned curiously. “What do you mean?” “He seems… So… Nice? Today? I dunno,” he mumbles. “He’s not himself.” “Oh?” “Yeah, he-”

Before Ned can finish his explanation, the door slams open and Peter looks up startled. MJ comes rushing in and she throws herself into Ned’s arms. “Help!” She squeaks. “Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” “I- Harley, he- He asked me out,” she chokes out. “And my dumb ass said no. But when I ran off I- I realized I wanted to say yes and I don’t know what to do.” MJ groans and presses her lips together.

“Please, you gotta help me.”

Read the next chapter >> 10: Blossoming Bond

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strange-lace · 4 years ago

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I wrote a little something for my roleswapped traffic light trio AU! It’s of dubious quality and I’m posting it without any editing, but just take it!

“Guess now I know why you never talked about your family, huh?” Mei winced as Green helped her back on her feet, the numerous bruises on her body aching to remind her they exist. He had the decency to look ashamed, black hair now it’s true bright red and seemed to waver like flame with uncomfortable heat building up within his throat. Looks like using his flames after repressing them for who knows how long was like opening up a shaken soda, a sudden onslaught that was difficult to control due to built up pressure.

“Yes… I’m sorry though that I never told you Mei. I just… never knew how to broach the subject and I was…” He didn’t need to say more.

“You were worried I’d think you were faking our friendship this whole time to help your parents, weren’t you?” Green gave her a sheepish nod, words for once failing him. Mei could only give an exasperated sigh, a tired smile tugging at her lips. “Green, my dude, light of my life, my cinnamon apple… you are an idiot. Even if I had briefly thought that, you don’t go to the lengths you had to get information for parents you clearly hate. Besides, unless you guys can see the future, we’ve been friends long before I became the Monkie Kid.”

“So… you’re not mad?” Green didn’t protest as Mei leaned against him, his support a big help as they both began to walk through the woods back to the battle.

“Oh no, I’m absolutely furious, but not at you. Remind me to bury both your parents under a mountain when we’re done here. Because it means not only do they treat Demon Kid like garbage, they did the same to you, didn’t they?”

“Well… it wasn’t just them that led to me leaving but that’s a whole different story Mei. One that would take a while for me to explain and now is not the time to go through my entire tragic backstory.” Normally Mei would push a bit more but the sheer exhaustion weighing on her friend’s shoulder was enough for her to let things go… for now at least. She certainly exempt from the weariness that was just as heavy on her bones.

“It’s gonna be a pain dyeing this black again,” Green groaned as his fingers combed through his hair with distaste in a poor attempt to bring order back to the messy ponytail.

“I think red looks good on you though! Why not keep it that way? Not like anybody’s gonna connect techhead Green with the missing demon prince Red Son.” He was shaking his head before Mei even finished.

“You remember what we read in Demon Kid’s diary, he’s practically made it his life mission to find me and return me home. I don’t even want to touch the marriage thing right now. He may be nice enough to us, but we have no clue how far he’s willing to go with something like this. It’s better for everyone involved if Red Son remains missing. Preferably forever!”

Mei didn’t look impressed with this answer.

“Eventually someone’s going to find out y’know? And give him some credit, I doubt he’d go as far as you're worried. I mean… it’s Demon Kid, Green! Guy goes more out of his way to save us from other demons more times then he’s tried to kill us.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate your faith in him Mei. But please, can we drop it for now. There’s more important things to worry about.” Mei would put her hands up in surrender if she still wasn’t relying on him to keep her legs going.

“Alright, but remember what I said: secrets have a nasty way of getting out, whether you want them to or not. Last thing I want is for you to get hurt because of this. And if push comes to shove, I’ll protect you. From your parents, Demon Kid, anybody who tries to drag you back to them. Go it?”

Green remained silent before giving Mei a brief hug and she didn’t need to hear him speak to feel his gratitude. They continued walking on out of the forest, ready to wrap things up and sleep for the next couple of days and allow their fatigued selves to rest.

Their mutual exhaustion was a good explanation as to why they failed to notice a small monkey-shaped puppet hiding within the tree canopy above, her red eyes gleefully broadcasting what it just witnessed to the other side of her mental link, with her creator.

To say Demon Kid was speechless was an understatement.

His prince was under his nose this whole time, hiding among humans and working with Sun Wukong’s successor. Not even Noodle Girl had known until just now.

His prince didn’t disappear but instead ran away from home.

They read his diary.

They knew about his mission and fantasies of returning the prince home for who knows how long.

Demon Kid felt like all his hopes and dreams were crumbling around him with no one to catch him.

The anger, hurt, and betrayal were crushing him and before he knew it, he had thrown his makeshift throne across the room. It was only the sound of it crashing against it that snapped him out of it.

His breath was still ragged from his screaming but now his anger was more focused with a clear directive in mind.

He was going to hunt those two down to the ends of the Earth if he had to.

And he was going to get answers from his prince or drag him home kicking and screaming.

“Ju.” Said puppet quickly snapped to attention, her left leg decorated with an ornate painting of an orchid growing and climbing the limb until stopping around her hip.

“Y-Yes Demon Kid?” She sounded cautious, as if afraid he would redirect his rage upon her. That was enough to make Demon Kid take a deep breath and calm himself, refusing to ever stoop that low.

“Get me my outfit that we’ve been preparing for the king’s victory. Seems we’ll be revealing the number sooner than expected.”

“Oh? But we were saving that for special occasions, sir. Why the change in plans?” Ju’s genuine curiosity was sweet enough to have Demon Kid cooing if he wasn’t determined to catch himself a demon.

“I’ve found him Ju, my prince. I know where he is now and I’m getting answers. I have to show I mean business as well, you understand?”

That had Ju and the other puppets in the vicinity to briefly freeze in shock before they broke out in cheers, seemingly unaware of the tension in their leader’s shoulders.

“Oh my goodness sir, this is a special occasion! You’ve been working so hard to find him and now it’s all going to be paid off! We have to prepare while you’re gone! There’s so much to do! GIRLS, GET THE ROYAL NUMBER OUT, OUR PRINCE IS COMING HOME!” And like that, Ju was off as she began to direct the rest of her comrades to what she could only imagine was going to be a momentous occasion for the royal family.

The chaos which blossomed from the announcement was enough to have Demon Kid thankful that the other demons of his ruler's court knew better to eavesdrop on him and his puppets. Last thing he wanted was this getting out before Demon Kid could get his answers.

He didn’t have the heart to correct Ju as she alongside a handful of female puppets that formed her group dragged Demon Kid along with the excitement of getting a bride ready for her wedding.

And if he didn’t listen to the whole conversation from Muffin, perhaps he could have shared that joy. Instead, he felt nothing but stone cold determination as the girls painted his face, prepared his hair, and dressed him with the elaborate Royal Number.

By the end of the process, Demon Kid himself wouldn’t have looked out of place among royalty. He was able to muster a proud smile as he looked over himself in the mirror before turning to Ju’s group.

“You did wonderful my dears. I’ll be off now, but please don’t go overboard on the place while I’m gone.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it sir!” Ju’s tone made it obvious she would find a loophole to his request, so Demon Kid simply sighed before he vanished in a whirlwind of smoke, a man on a mission.

He was coming for his prince and if need be, he would show those two the full extent of his powers if they didn’t give him the answers that he wanted.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #red son #mei #roleswap au #fanfic #my writing

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multiharlot · 5 years ago

Text

book cover / s. reid

summary: spencer pulls some stupid shit and it drives y/n over the edge.

warning: angst, maybe with a happy ending?

masterlist

part II

y/n’s pov

we had moved in together almost a year ago. it first started when i came over to his apartment and it was an absolute mess. granted, spencer hadn’t been home for the last week and a half, but the messiness that ensued throughout his usually pristine home was an unusual sight for me. i’d assumed that he had simply left home in a hurry and hadn’t any time to pick up the empty chinese cartons on the coffee table, wash the dirty mugs in the sink, or organize his dirty laundry, let alone wash it. so i had decided to clean up the apartment. take out the trash and wash his laundry. wipe down the dusty bookshelves and soy sauce stained coffee table. crack open a window and light a candle while washing out the dirty coffee mugs. the seemingly small gesture to me hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. when he returned home, he was overjoyed with his newly clean apartment, and even more overjoyed coming home to me, sitting on his couch with my reading glasses on and my nose stuck in the bindings of one of his favorite books. overtime, we had both decided that it was time for us to take the next step in our relationship and we were ecstatic. but little by little, he had seemed less and less enthusiastic about my presence. of course i had noticed. i noticed the moment his tight hugs turned into nods of acknowledgment and the fact that our large bed couldn’t get his body as far away from mine as he’d hoped. or how typically long conversations about cases turned into short three to five word sentences and how he opted to spend his free time in his study rather than with me. today, was no exception. i was in the kitchen beginning a new recipe i had read about in a cookbook my mother had jokingly bought for me when he stepped through the doorway and i was greeted with a tight lipped grin and a comfortable sigh.

“oh hey”

oh hey?

“hi baby. how was the case?” i smile, a small breath escaping my lips as i attempted to blow away the strands of hair falling in front of my face.

“fine i guess.” he shrugged, placing his go bag on the floor and lazily throwing his jacket and scarf across the back of the armchair.

my eyebrows furrowed as i watched my boyfriend plop onto the couch with a book in his lap, not attempting to further the conversation.

“well are you hungry? i’m making pasta. i found the recipe in that cookbook my mom got me for christmas and i think you’d like it. i’ve never made homemade pasta before but i think it’s gonna turn out pretty well if i do say so myself.” i giggle softly as i continue to knead out the dough.

“sure. yeah.” he mumbles absentmindedly as he turns another page in his book.

i sigh, pausing my kneading for a moment before shaking my head. trying to rid myself of any negative thoughts that seemed to cloud my mind as of late.

it could’ve been a rough case?

have all the cases for the last four months been rough, too?

maybe he’s got something going on that he doesn’t feel comfortable talking to me about. or maybe he’s just...comfortable. you know? we’ve reached a stage where we don’t have to be so lovey all of the time.

or maybe he just doesn’t love you anymore.

my negative inner dialogue was quickly cut short and a sigh escapes my lips. i could still hear the pages of the book turning in the living room and the sound of spencer’s slacks ruffling against the black suede couch. i open up the cabinets, in search of the pasta roller, but alas i couldn’t find it.

“hey spence? do you remember where the pasta roller is? i can’t find it.”

i hear him sigh and his shoes thumping across the living room carpet and into the kitchen behind me. i turn to face the chiseled, long haired man who reaches behind me, pulling the pasta roller from the top shelf and placing it on the counter.

“thanks love.” i smile, leaning up to press of soft kiss to his lips when he quickly turns his head, causing my lips to fall on his cheek.

“no problem” he says before making his way back to the living room.

i could feel the thumping of my heart hitting the bottom of my stomach and the emptiness echoing through my chest. i continue to make the rest of our meal in silence. my negative thoughts brewing a mixture of sadness and anger in my stomach. i quickly plated the pasta and brought both bowls out towards the living room, placing the bowl in front of spencer on the coffee table.

“thanks” he sighs, placing his book down and exchanging it for the pasta bowl.

he flicks the tv on and places the remote between us. his eyes never leaving the screen as he consumes the pasta. my bowl hadn’t left it’s place from my lap as i sat on the other side of the couch, sorrowfully watching my lover eat as he continued to pay me no mind. i’m not sure if he didn’t notice my longing gaze or if he chose to simply ignore it, but his eyes never left the television screen. not even when he finished his bowl and placed it back on the coffee table.

“it was good.” he mumbles, placing the fork into the empty bowl and picking his book back up from the table.

and maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t taken notice to the fact that i didn’t eat a single bite. or maybe it was the fact that he had avoided my kiss. or maybe my thoughts had really gotten to me in a way i hoped they wouldn’t. but i had finally had enough. i slammed my full bowl on the table and snatched the book from spencer’s hands, making him finally look my way.

“y/n, what the he-“

“when?”

his eyebrows furrow as he stares curiously at me, as if within the past 20 seconds another head had begun to sprout from my ear.

“when what?”

my lip quivers slightly and an uncontrollable tear drops from my eye onto the soft cover of the book i still held in my hands.

“when did you stop loving me?”

his face softens and he uncrosses his legs, turning his body toward mine.

“y/n...why would you think-“

“you don’t touch me anymore. you can barely look at me. within the past four months, the amount of words you’ve said to me couldn’t fill up a page front to back. i just tried to kiss you and you turned away from me. you always seem a little bit annoyed with my presence. your cases lately have seemed longer and more frequent and-“ my voice trails off as i start to piece everything together in my head, one by one the dots began to connect and the lines between them cutting into my heart as they travelled from one dot to another.

spencer stares at me gently, the whites of his eyes morphing into a slight pink as the tears welled in his eyes. at this point, the tears streaming down my face had made a mess of the paperback cover of the book in my hands.

“wh-who is she?” i whimper, a small hiccup escaping my lips as i looked at the man i loved.

spencer just looks at me for a moment, and i could see his facial expression change. he was guilt-ridden and seemed at a loss for words.

“i didn’t mean for it to happen. and as soon as i realized what was going on i cut all communication. she was-“

“i didn’t ask what happened. i asked who she was.” i sniffle, my fingers clenching around the book as the anger arose in my chest.

“her name is maeve. she was the geneticist i told you i was going to see when i started having my headaches.” he says, his head hanging shamefully.

a scoff escapes my lips and i throw the book onto the table, standing from my seat on the couch and i run my fingers through my hair.

“let me guess...she intrigued you. she’s definitely smarter than i am. so you two probably had better quality conversations in your mind. she understood you in a way i couldn’t. am i right?” i say, a small sarcastic chuckle leaving my lips.

“baby please. i love you. i’m sorry i’ve been so cruel to you i just didn’t know how to look at you without-“

“god how stupid could i have possibly been? i always knew we wouldn’t work. i always knew you’d get bored of lil dummy over here-“

“y/n stop-“

“no it’s true. and you’ve always known it, too. i don’t have any phd’s. i barely have a degree. for god’s sake, i’m a choir teacher. a fucking choir teacher at a high school. sure it’s a private high school, and sure i get paid well, but a choir teacher definitely isn’t what you had in mind now was it?” i sob, staring at the man i thought i knew as the tears streamed down his face.

“y/n...no. you’re not what i had in mind, you’re better than what i had in mind. and yeah, you’re right. it was nice to have somebody understand my rambles. but that was it. that’s all it was. she just listened-“ he pleads, and a short sob escapes my mouth.

“and i don’t?”

“that’s not what i meant. i just-“ he sighs, running his hands over his face and walking over to me, grabbing my hands.

i gently pull them from his now foreign hold and bring them to my sides.

“y/n...she didn’t mean anything. i’ve never even met her. we only spoke to each other over the phone and even then nothing ever got remotely intimate. i love you. i am in love with you. and i messed up. i got caught up in the idea of another woman but...she’s not you. she may read fine literature and know what i’m talking about when i go deep into a scientific theory that i want to dissect. but she never picked up latin because she sang so many songs in it. she’s never made 8-part arrangements of my favorite classical music to have her honor choirs perform. she could never pick up a new skill as quickly as you could-“

i held my hand up to stop his speech. i took a deep breath before looking up at him and staring deep into his eyes. his ready, hopeful eyes that seemed to waver with anticipation. but i couldn’t stand here any longer. i walk past him, grabbing my purse that was sitting on the counter and fishing for my keys.

“y/n please. baby please just talk to me.” he whimpers, grabbing my arms gently to keep me from walking out the door.

“spencer, let me go.”

“no. give me a chance to fix this. to fix us. please.” he begs, falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around my legs, resting his head on my thighs.

i hiccup slightly and roughly wipe the tears from my face and i grip the keys tightly in my hand.

“did you love her?”

and without hesitation, he shakes his head.

“no. i didn’t love her.”

“so...what was it then?”

he pauses, his lost expression searching my face as if the answer was hidden somewhere between my thousands of strands of hair or scattered somewhere between the bridges of my iris.

“at best, i’d call it infatuation. not with her, but with her mind. but i need you to know that i don’t think you’re dumb. this had nothing to do with you and i know i don’t deserve it. i know i’ve treated you terribly over a mistake that i made. but please, don’t go.” he pleads, standing up from the ground taking my face in his hands.

my lips quivers as i stare into his deep brown eyes, losing myself in the pools of desperation that were spilling over. he takes one of his hands off of my cheeks and let’s it gently travel down my arm, pushing my purse and keys from my hand. my tight grip still clutching the key ring and leather strap of my bag. but as i stare longer into the face of the man i’ve loved for the last five years, i break, dropping the items onto the floor and spencer noticeably relaxes, a breath of relief escaping his lips. he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest as i let out another sob. falling apart in the arms of the man who broke me, but also seemed to want to put me back together.

“do you still speak to her?” i mumble into his broad chest as he runs his fingers gently through my hair in order to ease the anxiety that he knew followed my incessant sobbing.

“no. i haven’t spoken to her in three months. and we only spoke for about a month after my diagnosis and i cut it off as soon as i realized what i was doing.”

a large sigh escapes my mouth as i process the new information. physically, he hadn’t cheated. but emotionally...i guess he had? my brain was all over the place and i couldn’t think straight any longer. i push away from him, wiping the tear stains from my cheeks.

“i’m tired...we’ll talk in the morning.” i mumble, climbing my way up the stairs and i could hear spencer timidly following me.

we both get dressed for bed in silence and crawl into the memory foam pit that seemed to soak up all my tears like a giant sponge. i laid with my back facing him and i could hear him sigh as my eyelids fluttered closed. i stayed in that position for about ten minutes before turning to face him. my eyes never opening as i scooted into his arms.

“i think i ruined your book cover.”

he chuckles sadly as he runs his fingers through my messy.

“you can ruin all of my book covers if it means you stay just a little longer.”

but unbeknownst to the floppy haired brunette laying next to me, it didn’t matter what he did, either way, i knew he’d always have the power to get me to stay.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #x reader

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diddlesanddoodles · 5 years ago

Text

Dumpling ch. 18

Maevis busied himself for the next hour by returning the books to their proper homes while Barnaby gathered Jae and Nenani over to one side of the table. Under a green cloak, was an old wooden trunk. The wood was worn and dark with age. The metal was unpolished, but strong. With difficulty and a bit of help from Jae, Barnaby lifted away the lid to reveal the treasure inside.

Books. Human sized and bound in black leather.

He ran his finger along the spines of the top layer, scouring the gilded letters.

“A small miracle these survived,” he said. “But I believe the one I want is...ah, yes this one. My boy, would you mind to clear some room here? Those paint pots are dried so no worry about them spilling.”

Jae obediently made room on the small work table as the older man pulled one book out slowly and with great care before placing it open upon the table. He gestured for Nenani to come look. She had a little learning of letters, but had not been very studious and the years of disuse after her parent’s deaths had left her reading comprehension sorely lacking. “I’m not very good with letters.”

“Oh, well we will have to sort that out in the future. But for now, I will read them to you. These pages list the names of men who were all apart of the Thorn Guard. Listed by family. This page here is where the Family Daelg begins. And as you can see...” he flipped through several pages. “...there are many of them. Your forefathers were all in the guard for many many year. One of the oldest serving families. Protecting the King and kin.”

“Papa guarded the King? Really?” She drew up an image of her father in her mind and had no diffuculties reconciling with image. In her eyes, her father had always held all the qualities of a knight from stories he read her. Brave, selfless, and loyal. It warmed her heart to know she had been right, but it fueled her need to know more.

“No, he was not high enough in rank to be so close to the King himself. Your grandfather would have, yes. Often. In fact I do believe that was his last official post. But here, look.”

The archivist ran his finger along bottom of the page. “This your father’s entry. Hayron. Born to Hayier Daelg by his wife Maudre on the fourth of September in ninth year of King Haeral’s rule. Your Uncle, Halden was born little over a year later in the winter.”

There was not much more about her father or uncle in the book and very little revealed itself in the other tomes. But Barnaby was gracious enough to tell her stories her remembered about them when he was still the archivist for Silvaara. However, she was able to get a better picture of her Grandfather, Hayier. As captain of the Thorn guard, his name repeatably popped up throughout the pages.

“They use to call him Old Ironwood, because he was so straight and unyielding,” he told her. “He was a fierce fighter, your grandfather.”

“You should come to open call and see Rheil break in the new recruits,” Jae suggested. “It’s in a few days, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Seeing as she’s got Thorn Guard blood,” Jae grinned at Nenani and poked her with his elbow. “Maybe she’ll pick up a few things.”

Barnaby looked as though he were about to protest, but was cut off by Maevis. “Oh dear. My friends, we may have a problem.”

The three humans looked to see the magician standing near one of the windows with a small stack of books in his arms, one arm still holding one out as he was slipping it into an empty spot on the shelf. He was looking down at something below.

“What’s wrong?” Jae asked.

“Just now, I noticed Hev leave the west side corridor.”

Jae’s face fell. “Oh….oh, that’s bad.”

Nenanmi turned to Jae and asked, “Why is that bad?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair before giving her a sympathetic glance. “Because that means he’s coming back from the kitchens.”

Nenani felt her insides turn as understanding settled in. “Maybe he was just getting a snack?”

Barnaby placed a hand on Nenani’s shoulders. “I am afraid my dear that the proverbial cat, as they say, is out of the bag.”

“So that means...” She trailed off with a groan.

“Yep,” Jae replied. “Farris knows you lost your marker.”

………………………

They had left the library, saying their goodbyes to Maevis and Barnaby, and made the slow trek back through the tunnels towards the kitchens. Jae tried to reassure her that they could still potentially come upon the marker somewhere along the tunnels in a fortuitous turn of luck. Grateful as she was for his continued optimism, she knew without giving it concrete consideration that it would be a fruitless venture. It was gone forever. Plain and simple. And she felt sure that facing Farris was a much better direction to take. How could she ever explain to Jae or to anyone what she had seen? How could she ever find her way back, even if she wanted to prove that she had not been making the whole thing up?

The moment they stepped into the dark, she had expected to hear the voices again, to feel dizzy, or to feel anything beyond the norm. But it was as it had been before. Just a tunnel illuminated by Maevis’s orbs. Nothing strange about it. As they moved along the path, she kept a close eye on the light, worried that any second they were disappear and the heat-less flames would come back, beckoning them both towards the catacombs. But they did not. She decided in that moment that it had never happened and she never needed to waste another thought on what lay deep inside the walls of Vhasshal.

Jae sensed her anxiety and gave her a cheeky smirk.

“If he’s that mad, you could always stay here in the tunnels with me,” he offered. But his grin faded when he received no reply. “It’ll be OK, y’know. I promise. Farris will yell for a while and maybe make you sweep the kitchen by yourself or something like that. Make a tiny broom for you or something.”

“Yeah,” she replied lowly as they rounded the last corner and could see the door to the kitchen. A faint string of light outlining its shape in the dark. “Maybe.”

Drawing nearer, they could hear Farris hollering nearly twenty feet from the door.

“Oh,” Jae said with a frown. “He’s pissed, alright.”

Nenani grimaced and groaned, not looking forwards to what was to come. She hoped she wouldn’t go deaf. As they approached the tunnel door, Farris’s words became that much more audible. “...COULD YA BE THAT STUPID?! ONE SIMPLE THING!”

“Well, old Hev did mention the request came from Keral,” Yale’s voice, much softer and muffled by the stone, replied. His words were barely heard. “Wouldn’t be shocked if he’s also the reason why.”

Jae glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Nenani to stand behind him and then slowly eased the door open a few inches. It was quite heavy, however and despite his best efforts to make a quite and inconspicuous entry, the hinges creaked. A high pitched shriek of old and oil thirsty metal.

“I COULDN’T GIVE A..” Farris’s voice abruptly cut off at the sound and Jae froze, eyes wide and mouth grimacing. They both stood silently behind the ajar door, waiting for something to happen. Perhaps the two giants would continue on speaking and not notice anything. However, when Farris’s voice struck up again, it had lost almost all of its previous volume and was replaced by an irritated snark. “Well? Ya just gonna skulk behind the fucking door or ya what?”

With a resigned groan, Jae pushed the door open the remainder of the way. Hesitantly and with an uneasy smile, he stepped through and onto the mantel’s surface. Nenani was on his heals, pressing herself behind him as if to shield her from the sight of the giants. Farris loomed over the pair, a severe scowl plaster upon his face. One hand was clenched at his side while the other was planted firmly on his him.

“Farris, I can explain-” Jae began, but he was completely ignored and without even allowing him to finish, the giant reached out and slammed the door to the tunnel shut. The same hand then turned to grab up the young man and plucked him from the spot where he stood. “WHOA-hey!”

“Yale!” Farris barked while holding Jae out away from his person, never averting his eyes from Nenani. Behind gritted teeth, he hissed, “Find somewhere more fitin’ fer this one to be that ain’t in m’face.”

Yale started, hastily lowering the crock he has been holding onto the table before moving to Farris’s side with alacrity and reaching out for Jae just as Farris’s fingers released their grip. Jae cried out in alarm as he dropped the three feet before landing in Yale’s outreached palms.

“As ya say, Boss!” Yale replied, giving Jae no time to recover or add his own commentary, and promptly sprinted out the archway and into the courtyard.

“Saen!” Farris barked, his eyes still not wavering from Nenani. On the other side of the kitchen, Saen was elbows deep in flour. Upon hearing his name, the young giant jumped, sending a small plume of flour up into the air.

“Uh, yeah?” He asked tentatively.

“Leave it be fer th’moment and go see Bart.”

“Aye, will do.” Same as Yale, Saen quickly made his exit through the archway, leaving Farris and Nenani alone. In that moment of silence, she was reminded of just how imposing a figure Farris was and being the focus of his ire was truly a terrifying experience. It was not wholly dissimilar to their first meeting and though she was absolute in her confidence he would not harm her, she could help but shrink away.

“Don’t suppose ya have some shit of a’reason fer not having yer marker, eh?” he began sternly. His voice strained as he struggled to maintain his tone. He waved a hand at her before crossing both arms and staring at her expectantly. “Well then, let’s have it.”

Her tongue felt twice its normal size and all she managed was a few false starts and stutters.

“Yer gonna just gap at me like a fucking lipper or is that all ya got?”

“N-no...” she managed to mumble out quietly.

“Gonna have t’be doin’ better than that, Dumplin,” said the spice master. He opened one palm to reveal a small scrap of leather at the end of which dangled a piece of struck metal. Her new maker. “You remember at all why these are important?”

“So...so other Vhasshalans leave me alone,” she replied, swallowing thickly against the growing tightness in her throat.

“NO!” Farris roared. “ITS SO THEY DONT FUCKIN’ EAT YA!”

Nenani jumped, stumbling back until her shoulders hit the wall and she stared wide eyed up at the giant. Hot tears fell rolled down her cheeks. Farris was red in the face and snarling, his anger open and on show. It was too hard to meet his gaze and she averted her eyes to stare at her feet.

“Thrist aint’ th’only fucker that would try t’gut n’ roast ya if he thought he could get away with it. Are ya soft in the brain t’ave forgotten that?”

“No, I-I just...I’m sorry...” Nenani whimpered.

“And ya’d be even sorrier if...”

“Farris,” said a voice from the archway, cutting his words short. Farris turned to glance over his shoulder, giving Nenani a clear view of the doorway. Captain Rheil, dressed in his red boiled leather armor stood under the entryway, and wearing a somber and serious expression. “Forgive my interruption, but I need to speak with you.”

“Can’t ya see I’m busy?” Farris growled in annoyance, but the gray haired giant’s steel gaze never wavered.

“Believe me, you will want to make time for this,” he replied. “This matter concerns the humans.”

Farris turned fully face Rheil, head tilted in interest. “Alright, on with ya then. What other trouble have these wee brats managed?”

“Nothing like that,” the captain replied, taking Farris’s affirmative response as invitation to enter, and he stepped into the kitchen proper. “This matter involves all the humans on castle grounds, I am afriad. There have been several troubling reports.”

“Reports? What reports?”

“You’re familiar with Queen Rosanna’s personal guard, Creag, correct?” Rheil asked. When Farris grunted an affirmation, he continued. “I’ve also been fielding complaints about him since the Ibronian procession arrived last month. Harassing wait staff and some of my men for the most part, but he has also made several threats against both Sawyer and Connar. There has been a sharp uptake in his behavior and the Ibronian has been outright violent since the wedding, but today both Maevis and Keral came to me about him explicitly trying to kill Jae near the Royal apartments. Your ward was reportedly with him at the time of the incident.”

Though she could not see his face, Nenani watched the muscles of Faris’s back pull taught and his fits ball up.

“That fish nosed fuck tried t’murder two children right under the King nose?” Farris’s demanded. It was a tone Nenani had not heard him use and it felt much more dangerous than his normal level of anger. A deep, guttural growl with real vehemence behind it. He fixed the captain with a razor edged glare. “Rheil, yer lot better be doin’ somethin’ ‘bout this fucker. ‘Cause I can’t be promisin’ ya that me and my boys won’t.”

The captain seemed to have anticipated this reaction and held up a placating hand. “My men are escorting him to an audience with the King as we speak and I have plenty of witnesses to attest to the event. My main mission in coming to you was to let you know to keep a short leash on the lil’un for a while. Keep her down here and out of sight while things are taken care of upstairs.”

“Aye.”

“And since the brat’s already down here as well, that makes my task all the simpler. The King requests the same of Jae. Don’t allow him to squirrel away some place of his own choosing. The King has ordered him to remain down here and under your supervision until his Majesty comes to collect him in person.”

Farris cursed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Gods piss on it all. It’s fuckin’ Baynor all over again.”

“Luckily for us, the Ibronian does not posses nearly the political currency as my predecessor,” Rheil replied. “However, the Queen has an ample supply and my observations have been that she is heavily reliant on him.”

“Ya expectin’ any trouble?”

“No,” Rheil replied. “Nothing so bad as when Baynor was ousted. But I would rather be prepared in any case and his Majesty was very clear. Jae is to remain here.”

For a long moment, no one said anything and Nenani wondered if she had been forgotten entirely.

“Aye,” Farris said finally and nodded. “They’ll be watched well and good.”

Rheil hummed in approval and tilted his head to the side to look passed Farris to fix Nenani with a warm smile. “Haven’t see ya in a good long while, lass. Hope that walking boulder didn’t hurt ya none.”

Nenani shook her head. “No. He wasn’t really going after me.”

“So I’ve been told,” Rheil said. “Jae does seemed to have been th’ main target, but I have no doubt he’d have just as well treated ya to the same had he caught ya. Keral mentioned he found ya wanderin’ ‘round by yerself. Lost in the halls without yer marker.”

There was a teasing nature to Rheil’s words.

“S’that how ya lost it then, eh?” Farris asked, pinning her with one green eye.

She shrugged meekly. “I don’t remember it falling off. I had it and then I didn’t. I was running a lot.”

Farris sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to her and walking up to the mantel. He held her new marker aloft between two fingers and as she reached out to take it, he told her firmly, “Best be learnin’ to take better care of it, Dumplin’. ‘Cause if yer ever needin’ another anytime in the next ten years, I’ll be tying one end of a short lead to ya and th’ other to a lipper barrel and ya can live in the yard.”

She stared and then nodded fervently before quickly clipped the leather around her neck. The metal was almost hot from being clenched in Farris’s fist for so long, but there was a measure of comfort with the now familiar weight being back along her collar bone. She peeked up at the kitchen master, cautiously optimistic.

“So...does this mean I’m not in trouble anymore?”

#g/t writing #dumpling #Giant/tiny #Fantasy Story #Nenani #Jae #Barnaby #Maevis #Kera #giants #humans #Vhasshal #Rheil

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togafukagiftexchange · 5 years ago

Text

pinlc-candy here with my exchange gift for @alumort! i tried to incorporate your prompts as much as i could with this. hope you enjoy!

***

"You know," said Monobear in a tone one would use to address those at a funeral, “when I trapped you all in here, I did so with higher expectations."

None of the six students glaring at Monobear replied. Not Makoto. Not Kyouko. Not Byakuya, Touko, Aoi or the other guy. They all frowned, sat around the same table in the cafeteria with plates of breakfast at various states of completion in front of them. Cutlery no longer clinked, and the smell of hot food had since waned. Monobear held its paws behind its back and as it peered up, none of them offered any sympathy. No smiles, no tilts of the head, nothing of the sort.

In fact, they gave the opposite. At one end of the spectrum, Makoto regarded Monobear with a creased brow, lips tight, nostrils flared, face all contorted, while on the other, Kyouko barely had a wrinkle on her face, but her lilac eyes were as cold as the morgue refrigerator. As for everyone else, they hovered somewhere in between those extremes of expression, or lack thereof.

Despite the silence, Monobear flourished a paw in front of itself and carried on talking to them.

"I know this isn't an island in a tropical climate,” it said. It bowed its head forward and tapped its paws together. “If it was, there would be a supermarket, a beach lodge... heck, even a music venue with a snort-worthy name. But you have to make do with what you have. I would have loved a sarcastic protagonist with a dark forgotten past or a plucky pianist. I'd even restrain my grumbles if I got a naive young girl running around with a speakerphone, even if she was wearing a short skirt that kept flashing her - "

"Get to the point," said Byakuya bluntly.

Monobear gave an exaggerated start. It almost tipped over backwards, flailing its arms, but instead of overbalancing, it uprighted itself, placed its paws against its cheeks and squirmed.

"Wah!" it went. "So curt! Alright, alright. I'll tell you."

It stopped thrashing about and eyed the other six, who all waited uneasily for it to elaborate.

"I've decided to set you some chores. You've been mooching off me long enough, and it's time you repaid me,” Monobear told them.

Aoi flinched her head back. "Repaid you?"

"But you're the one who locked us in here in the first place," Makoto pointed out.

Monobear slanted its head to one side and scratched its chin.

"Yeah, and I feed you everyday. And I give you clean water... yet I'm getting nothing back.” It shook its head. "Nope, you've gotta start earning your stay here. Starting next week, you’re gonna be doing chores. If you're not going to kill each other, you could at least help out around here. Unless you want to continue the killing game...?”

Aoi gave a little shriek. Yasuhiro winced, and Touko clutched her braids. The other three shifted. With a cackle, Monobear covered its mouth with its paws.

“I can throw a bone your way, if you want,” it offered. “I've got lots of them. Idol bones, gyaru bones, baseball player bones... and lots of different motives..."

Everyone turned to each other, exchanging glances in a silent conference. After several seconds of this, everyone fixed their eyes back on Monobear, and Makoto nodded.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked on behalf of his friends.

Monobear's red eye gleamed.

"Well, two of you have to do stock checks of the science labs and the infirmary, two of you need to treat me to a spa day, bath and massage included, and two of you need to train those chickens in the garden,” announced Monobear.

No one responded immediately. Then Kyouko lifted her hand. That simple motion drew the attention of everyone in the room.

She deadpanned, "I'm not giving him a bath."

"Me neither," Touko chimed in.

Byakuya pushed up his glasses in that supercilious manner of his. "I refuse as well."

Then, at the same time, Makoto, Aoi and Yasuhiro said, "Not me!"

They twitched and looked at each other. If the tension in the room had been any thicker, it could have been cut with a knife. Anyone peeping in would have thought one of them had murdered someone and the others were trying to figure out who did it.

“W-Well, two of you have to give that bear a bath,” said Touko.

Yashiro jabbed the air with his finger. "I want to train the chickens!”

Aoi pulled a face.

"I don't want to go to the science lab,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Or give him a bath...”

"I wouldn't mind carrying out the stock checks," said Byakuya. "I have no interest in livestock."

Aoi turned to him and raised her eyebrows.

"But chickens are so cute and fluffy!" she said, then she shrugged. "Well, it’s your loss. I don't mind training them.Teaching them tricks sounds fun!"

Just the idea of it brought a cute smile to her face. Her bright aura was in stark contrast to the gloomy cloud hovering over Touko, who scowled at her across the table.

"Well, you and Hagakure can't both tend to the chickens. Three of us already said we're not washing Monobear,” said Touko. Aoi broke out of her daydream.

"So?" asked Aoi.

Touko rolled her eyes. "If us three already said we’re not giving him a bath, that means two of you have to wash him still. It’s common sense."

Aoi only managed to open her mouth before Monobear burst out laughing. Whatever she planned to say, if anything, never came out, and everyone turned to Monobear.

"Sorry, sorry!” apologised Monobear. It wiped a nonexistent tear from its red eye. “I got carried away. You're all acting like I'm giving you a choice when I've already decided who's doing what."

Before Monobear had even arrived in the cafeteria that morning, it had already known who would be doing what. Each choice came with its own reasoning, which Monobear didn’t feel inclined to share, not even with you, the reader.

Aoi and Yasuhiro would have the honour of carrying out stock checks in various rooms in the school. Kyouko and Makoto would have the pleasure of treating Monobear to a spa day. Which, then, left a certain two individuals in the garden, with its beds of dirt, jungle-like greenery and patchy-planked chicken coop with wire fencing.

Those two individuals were Touko and Byakuya, of course.

That night, an hour before Monobear’s nighttime announcement was due to play, Touko paced her dorm room floor back and forth, back and forth, muttering, not once looking up at Kyouko and Aoi, who both perched on the end of Touko's bed. Kyouko sat with her shoulders pushed back and her arms folded over her chest, formal and stiff. Next to her, in contrast, Aoi slouched forward, elbows on her lap, cheeks propped up in her hands as she tried not to fall asleep.

Touko didn't usually allow visitors into her room, so one could deduce out how major a deal this was. She was going to be working with Byakuya. Together. With him. With. Him. Byakuya.

And Monobear could watch the whole thing play out through the surveillance cameras.

"... how many cheeses do we have in the kitchen?" asked Touko, as she battered her palm with her stubby-nailed finger.

She didn’t wait for anyone to reply. Didn’t give them the chance. Her pace didn’t falter. Back and forth, back and forth, she went.

"Byakuya-sama needs to be able to choose the cheese he wants.” Then Touko pursed her lips, wavering only in speech. “B-But is it not better to have a few cheeses that he likes, rather than have everything that’s available? Wouldn't that impress him more? Quality, not quantity, after all... It would be more thoughtful if I brought only cheeses he liked to our picnic..."

Aoi and Kyouko let Touko make a few more laps of the room.

“What about the chickens?” asked Aoi. Touko hesitated midstride.

“Huh? What do the chickens have to do with our date?” asked Touko blankly. Aoi straightened.

“You know... the chickens?” said Aoi in disbelief. She flicked her wrist. “The ones that Monobear told you to train?”

Touko picked at the corner of her lips. “Well, how hard c-can it be to train chickens?”

Written down, Touko’s response may have seemed confident, but in reality, she mumbled her words, not making eye contact as her gaze sank to the floor.

Oh, this was going to be hilarious.

Kyouko swept some hair behind her ear without a single crack of amusement on her face. “I hope your confidence is warranted, because I can’t imagine Togami-kun being pleased if you turned up seeming unprepared.”

For a few seconds, Touko didn’t move. Then she blinked once. Twice. Her slack features screwed up, warping in anger, and she came back to life - and flung herself toward the door so vigorously that she almost cast herself prostrate on the floor.

“G-Get out!” Touko hissed, gesticulating wildly. “I... I have to go to the library right now!”

As the three trooped out of the room, Monobear made a mental note to force Kyouko to give it a back massage.

For the next few days, Touko set up camp in the library, reading any book even remotely related to training animals. She did very little else, assiduous in her research like this was a final exam. Fortunately, Monobear stocked the library with books on the topic shortly after giving out the task, at the time claiming to be good friends with The Supreme Overlord of Ice who was also apparently an animal breeder. Occasionally, Touko’s classmates took pity on her and brought her something to eat, and other times, Byakuya would demand she leave the library and not return until she showered.

By the time the first day of their chores rolled along, Touko had drained the library’s resources, and after breakfast, she marched to the garden with Byakuya striding ahead of her. She fixed her eyes on him as they journeyed up the building, admiring his slender frame and the curve of his behind, bathing in his radiance until they stepped out into the garden.

Maybe Touko should have wondered what Monobear had in mind when setting such an innocuous task. Maybe she would have wondered had she not been preoccupied with the thought of spending time at Byakuya’s side even if they were training a bunch of chickens.

The ceiling and walls, painted blue, gave the illusion they had finally emerged outside after weeks barricaded in the school, but in reality, they were as caged in the building as before. However, while the sky was indeed fake, the plants spread throughout the indoor garden were real. Tufts of grass and weeds grew from the soil, and harmonious colours freckled the flowerbeds.

Largest of the plant life was a flower that towered above all else, its face rimmed with red petals. On one occasion, Monobear referred to it as a Monobear flower, claiming that handling it would infect the victim with a deadly, fast-acting poison. At its base grew speckled corpse lilies and unnaturally big venus fly traps. If one had a suicide wish and wanted to climb up the Monobear flower, they would have to wade through them first.

That is, if one could stomach such a stench. The surrounding flowers, as cute and fragrant as they were, couldn’t mask the odour of decaying flesh that one fell victim to if they ventured too close to the Monobear flower.

Neither Byakuya nor Touko wore their high school uniforms - that morning, they had woken up to find a box at the foot of their bed addressed to them. Inside wasn’t anything macabre like their parent’s skull, as funny as that would have been, but a baggy polyester one-piece outfit, right half white, left half pink. With long sleeves, pants legs, and an emblem on the chest that resembled Monobear’s head, they looked absolutely clownish.

No one said that specifically at breakfast, but their outfits invoked several smirks and snorts disguised as choking.

Monobear stretched out its arms in front of itself, positioning its paws in a way that created a rectangular frame, and within that frame stood Byakuya and Touko.

If its expression could change, its smile would have widened. Instead, the lighting on its face shifted.

“I’ve left some feed for you by the coop,” said Monobear. It motioned toward the aforementioned structure with one paw, where a cloth sack was slouched against it. They could hear the chickens clucking within the coop, even if they couldn’t see them from where they were.

Byakuya adjusted his glasses.

“What training are we supposed to give these chickens, exactly?” he asked.

“Oh, you know,” went Monobear vaguely.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Monobear placed its paws over its mouth.

“Come on, use your brain, Togami-kun! Coming on command, herding them... Make them jump through flaming hoops if you can.”

Byakuya’s eyes widened for a moment, then his eyebrows lowered as his features hardened with determination.

“For some reason, they don’t seem to like me,” Monobear remarked, sounding downcast. It kicked at the floor, but it couldn’t keep up its saddened facade and burst out laughing. “Upupu... I’ll leave you two to it!”

And with that, Monobear left. To them, it seemed to disappear around the corner before vanishing into thin air. Really, though, it entered a trapdoor, one of many around the school, each leading to a cubicle that could fit a Monobear unit inside. At the same time as it stowed itself away in there, another Monobear appeared in another area of the school, coming out of a similar trapdoor, ready for its spa day.

But that was somewhere else. Not here.

Right here was the garden, thrumming with the sounds of wildlife playing over the speakers. There were insects, alive and everything, but they didn’t create enough noise by themselves to fill the garden. Byakuya approached the coop and peered through the wire meshing. Five chickens greeted his vision, fluffy white things with red features on their head, scraping the ground with their hard orange feet. His nose wrinkled as he studied them, and he didn’t turn his head as Touko sidled up to him. With one hand, she loosely hooked her fingers through the gaps in the wire, while her other hand gripped the handle of a picnic basket.

A few days prior, when she had rummaged through the storage room, she hadn’t really expected to find a basket in there, but indeed there had been one, hidden behind cans of beans. What she didn’t know was that Monobear left it there for her. After all, with a joke, one had to set up the punchline in order for there to be a punchline.

Touko glanced at the sack by the coop. It was filled with brown slithers. She read about them during her research. Mealworms. Her eyes strayed. Wooden batons sat next to the sack, with brightly coloured ribbons attached to them. Beside those, she noticed, were similar cylinders, only they had nails protruding from them instead.

She stiffened and forced herself to look at the sack again.

“That must be the feed,” she said.

Byakuya turned away from the coop to follow her gaze. Unlike Touko, he didn’t so much as quiver, strong and intense. He pushed up his glasses.

“We’re supposed to be training them, not feeding them,” he said, and he returned his attention to the chickens.

Touko licked her lips and glanced at him. For a moment, she seemed to forget what she was about to say, relaxing her body, beginning to melt into a puddle. Even the side of his face was mesmerizing. The shape of his nose. How he carried his pout. Everything about him. It took great strength to pull herself back together. She couldn’t let him down.

“It can be used to train them too,” she explained while he watched the chickens do nothing of note. “The c-chickens will see the feed and come to you like an otaku when a new figure of their fantasy girlfriend comes out, and while the chickens are eating from you, you’re meant to make a certain noise or signal. Then they will start coming to you whenever they hear the noise, expecting food, and eventually they will approach you without you having to make any signal at all.”

As she spoke, the chickens continued idling in the coop, none-the-wiser. She glimpsed them briefly before training her eyes back onto Byakuya. At no point during her explanation did he look at her, examining the chickens with his lips pressed together in thought.

That didn’t deter her though. Touko stood taller. Gripped the wire a bit harder.

“U-Using different signals, you can make them do other tricks, like flying onto your arm or walking across tightrope-like surfaces,” she added, prompting Byakuya to give a minute nod and stroke his chin.

“Ah. Positive reinforcement,” he remarked. “And that will work for everything we need to train them to do?”

That sounded almost like he didn’t know the answer.

“Mostly,” said Touko, her face surprisingly serious. The handle of her picnic basket slipped down to her elbow as she rubbed her hands together. “W-With herding them, if you aren’t able to make the signal, you can herd them using your arms or things like the sticks by the coop. You simply position yourself behind the flock, clap your hands and if they start to wander from the herd, you block their path.”

She paused, then pressed the tips of her index fingers together. A smile blossomed, bringing colour to her face.

“Dogs are handy for herding, but we don’t have one, and I’m only going to be a d-dog for you, Byakuya-sama,” she added.

Byakuya took a few seconds to process what she said.

He glowered. “Shut up.”

She jolted and slapped her hand over her mouth. His brow remained knitted as he looked over at the batons.

“Why do some of them have nails in them?” he asked.

Touko dropped her hand from her mouth, no longer grinning, and quietly said, “In case you want to use them instead of the other ones.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue, eyeing the spiked batons with scorn. She stooped her head. Hunched her shoulders. Shuddered as she inhaled.

“Pain... can certainly be a teaching tool,” she said in a low voice, and then she elevated her chin, like about to give an important speech. “W-With the right person - ”

“Stop,” he interrupted, showing his palm to her, and she did. He rested his hand on his hip and faced her. “Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Fukawa, you seem to know what to do. I will give you the honour of working under me.”

Her heart swooped. Almost stopped. Byakuya may as well have handed her the key leading out of this place. Or his underwear. She jerked her head back.

“U-Under you?” Touko spluttered. He glared, and she twitched into a salute, beaming. “G-Gladly! Roger!”

“It’s Togami,” he said. Either he didn’t notice any innuendos or chose to ignore them. He pointed at her before dragging his finger toward the feed. “Now off to work with you!”

His arms folded over his chest as he watched Touko spring into action. She put down her picnic basket, picked up the sack of mealworms and heaved it away from the coop. Once she had put some distance between herself and the coop, she reached a hand unflinchingly into the sack and lifted out a fistful of mealworms.

However, when she looked at Byakuya, she hesitated.

“Um... would you please open the hatch?” she asked, cringing as she spoke.

Byakuya cast her an annoyed look, but after a beat passed, he strode over to the hatch and unhooked the lock. Soon after he creaked the door ajar, one of the chickens poked its head out, while the others seemed content pottering about inside, plodding around in sudden movements like an animation with a low frame rate.

Touko squatted down, held her hand out, offering the mealworms, and let out a series of cheeps. The chicken in the entrance of the coop turned.

She shook her extended hand, and the chicken trotted toward her. Within seconds, the rest of the chickens emerged, and they followed the first one over to Touko. A smile tweaked her lips as she tipped the worms onto the floor in front of he. They began pecking at the ground. Byakuya craned his neck and couldn’t help from raising his eyebrows.

“Was that noise supposed to be the signal?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” she went with a bob of her head. She scooped up more mealworms and spilled them onto the ground so the chickens had more to eat.

He grimaced.

“I’m not keen on that,” he said. “It’s a ridiculous sound. I refuse to utter it.”

Touko looked up at him in shock.

“Y-You could never sound ridiculous!” she assured him.

Byakuya didn’t answer. Just narrowed his eyes. She lowered her gaze and clasped her hands together. While she was distracted by the chickens, Byakuya shuffled closer to them, keeping his body turned away from her. Soon he was standing only a few paces away from them, yet she still hadn’t noticed him move.

Seconds passed. A small pout tensed his features. He looked away pointedly and presented his hand to her.

“Give me some,” he said.

Touko snapped her head up. Her shoulders jumped, like she hadn’t noticed him draw closer, but once she got over the moment of surprise, she tilted the opening of the bag toward him. Wordlessly, Byakuya grabbed some mealworms and walked away stiffly, putting a bit of distance between them before he squatted down, holding out the mealworms.

The chickens ignored him, even when Touko pinched the opening of the sack shut. They nattered to themselves, taking in the spectrum of green surrounding them as they stepped about on the tessellating, brown pavement underfoot.

Byakuya sucked in air. His face darkened. Then, in monotone, he went, “Cheep, cheep, cheep.”

He shook his hand, and finally, one of the chickens acknowledged him. Him, the great and dignified Byakuya Togami, crouching down with some mealworms in his hand. The chicken strutted over with the others soon in tow. Once they had closed in on him, he dropped the mealworms by his feet.

Most would have found it amusing. Touko placed a hand over her heart. She found it endearing.

“Y-You’re such an expert!” she said, swooning, and she shot up to stand, to better marvel at him.

“I’m a fast learner,” he replied, unable to stop himself from grinning.

He studied the chickens for a couple of seconds before meeting her gaze. The joy on her face absorbed his smile, and he was back to looking serious again.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he said, and he stood up. “Have you trained animals before?”

“Not chickens, or anything this size,” she said, wringing her hands together. “I tried training my stinkbug once... b-but she didn’t want to learn, so I stopped.”

“A stink bug?” he repeated, squinting at her. She didn’t correct him, so he must have heard her correctly. “You’re joking, aren’t you? Training a stink bug? They don’t have a brain. It will be that it couldn’t learn, not that it didn’t want to.”

Her face spasmed, like he slapped her. Even her cheeks reddened like he had.

“S-Stink bugs aren’t stupid!” she blurted. It came out louder than she intended. He blinked. Hiked up his eyebrows.

“What did you say?” he asked calmly, and she tensed, but she didn’t stumble back, double over into herself, fall to her knees or anything. Her feet remained firmly rooted to the ground.

Touko trembled and her face had flashed hot. She opened her mouth, like she was about to shout something, but she quickly buried down whatever noise was brewing in her and squared her shoulders, seething instead.

Though he had seen her mad before, heard her grumble and grind her teeth, heard her cutting quips and death wishes, she never aimed this fire at him after he revealed Syo’s presence to everyone some time ago.

Byakuya stayed stony as his clear blue eyes surveyed her, sapphires embedded in a marble statue. When he raised his chin, his gaze glinted. A sliver of teeth showed as he parted his lips. Touko found her voice.

“T-Their brains don’t play as important a role as a human’s brain, but they’re still intelligent creatures,” she explained in a low, level tone, and her elbows tucked into her sides, hands kneading together below her chin. She didn’t quite meet his gaze, her eyes flickering between his mouth and the coop. “I f-found Kameko on my backpack when I came back one day from elementary school. Kameko followed me home, and up until I woke up here, she remained by my side. She understands me. She’s unlike any other...”

Well, either Kameko followed Touko home or someone put Kameko on Touko for a prank. One of the two. Byakuya’s lips curled, but not into a smile.

“Seeing as many insects can survive a few days without their head, I agree their brains aren’t that important,” he said. He nudged his glasses into place. “These are chickens, however. Not insects... but there is a case of a chicken surviving without most of its head for a year and a half. I believe it choked.”

Only she could see the disturbing image that he had conjured of Kameko. Touko shoved past it. Kameko was okay. Kameko had to be. Her lips twisted, with her brow crumpling too. She let go of her hands and seized her onesie’s trouser legs, taking two handfuls of fabric into her palms, and breathed.

Byakuya inclined his head to one side, regarding Touko with interest. “After we escape this place, I may have to see this stink bug for myself.”

When she made eye contact with him, her heart leapt. Her breath caught. The image of Kameko decapitated flooded out of her mind as his face took over.

Even though he wasn’t touching her, it was like his hands were skimming across her body. Touko could feel the air move around herself, causing her to shiver. This time, it wasn’t because he had insulted stink bugs. It wasn’t anger, frustration, offence or anything like that. She basked in his glow.

“Chickens are quite easy to train,” she said to him, beginning to perk up. Touko couldn’t stay mad at him. In fact, she appreciated his honesty. “I don’t think it will take too long to teach them to come on command.”

“And how do you know this if you’ve never trained them before?”

“I read some books in the library,” she said. “I spent hours researching. D-Didn’t you?”

There was no accusation in her tone, no hard glint in her pale eyes, just an innocent look and an innocent voice, yet he shifted with a defensive expression on his face.

“... I didn’t think I would have to,” he admitted. He slapped on bravado, placing his hands on his hips. “And it turns out I was right. After all, you are doing a fine job.”

Touko gasped, blushing, blinking a lot. “T-Thank you!”

“Yes, everything is going smoothly,” he mused, bringing up a hand to cup his chin. His eyes clouded with thought. “After they’ve learned to come on command, shall we get to training them to jump through a flaming hoop?”

She didn’t understand what he said for a second. Then she did.

“W-What?” she said, raising her arm in front of herself.

Byakuya continued cradling his chin thoughtfully.

“There must be something we can use as a hoop lying about. Perhaps there is one in the gymnasium?” he pondered aloud, all the while Touko was gawking at him. When his arm sprung forward to point a finger at her, she yelped in surprise, like he shot her. “Hey, Fukawa...! Fetch me a hoop. You have five minutes.”

Touko mumbled, “I don’t think Monobear was serious...”

“Get it for me!” he demanded a little louder. She straightened sharply.

“Right away!” she said, and she sped off with speed that her frail frame gave no indication of possessing.

Even if Monobear hadn’t meant for them to actually teach that, Touko couldn’t pass an opportunity to spend more time with Byakuya. As he said, the gymnasium had some hoops in its closet, and she returned with one within four minutes.

“Plastic,” he remarked, shuffling it around in both hands. His brow furrowed. “We won’t be able to set this alight. It will melt.”

“We can still use it for practice,” she pointed out. He looked at her and she elaborated, keeping her hands in front of herself. “We reward the chickens for interacting with the hoop, then we train them to go through it when they’re on ground level. If we do that while making a certain noise, we can train the chicken to go through the hoop whatever level the hoop is on... with or without snacks... and with or without the signal...”

The gears in Byakuya’s head spun. He nodded.

“Yes,” said Byakuya slowly. “We can do that easily. Alright, let’s begin.”

Byakuya took one step before Touko darted in front of him.

“B-But we should have a break first!” She waved her hands and added quickly, “W-Why don’t we have the picnic I prepared?”

“Picnic?” he repeated. He turned his head and laid his eyes on the basket by the coop. “Ah, so that’s what is in that thing you brought.”

As opposed to what, she didn’t know.

“Have you never been on a picnic?” she asked him. Byakuya glared.

“Of course not,” he retorted. “Those only happen in novels. Have you ever been on one?”

Now that was an accusatory tone. Touko cringed.

“N-Not with another person,” she told him, fidgeting. She hurried over to the basket and scampered back with it. “But that’s alright! I m-made it specially for you.”

He eyed it warily. “I don’t want to eat anything you’ve touched. Your germs will be in it.”

“No, they won’t be!” she insisted, as romantic as she might have found that, and she set down the basket, straightening up quickly. “I washed my hands before, and I even took a shower. See?”

Touko thrust her hands at him, showing her palms a bit too close to his face for his liking. Byakuya receded an inch and hesitated, but rather than command her to distance herself, he pushed her arm down gently. Though he only touched one, both fell at the same time. Her fingers curled into her hands and she held her breath.

His face filled her vision. Long lashes, pursed lips and all. Then he bent down, gradually. Leaned toward her. Touko nearly choked on her breath. She swallowed and tilted her head back, fluttering her lashes as she shut her eyes.

The world faded away around them. All she could see was the pink aura radiating from her body that surrounded them, sparkling as it engulfed them in its cloud. Only they existed. Only they mattered.

This was really happening. Byakuya was getting closer. And closer.

He sniffed her loudly.

“So you have bathed,” he remarked. She opened her eyes.

Her vision came into focus and she found him right in front of her. When she opened her mouth, a strangled whine escaped. Byakuya moved back, but his face conveyed no surprise or signs of being startled at the weird noise.

“I suppose we should replenish our energy,” he said, turning away.

Touko took a few moments to return to reality. The pink aura around them had dissipated, plonking them back in the garden where chickens clucked nearby and she caught a whiff of fertiliser mixed in with the floral blend. Not exactly romantic.

“Well, what did you make?” he said impatiently.

“Ah! Right! Sorry!” She flipped the basket lid open and extracted the blanket. Once she laid it out, she unpacked the rest of the picnic.

Initially, Byakuya remained standing up, but when she had got most of it out, he knelt down on the edge of the basket, his eyes trained on something.

“Is that winnimere cheese?” he asked, pointing at a pie-shaped block of cheese. A ring of brown crust covered the cylinder’s curving side and an off-white surface rested on top, with grooves in it.

“Yes!” Touko said as she was about to take out a plastic tub containing a salad, consisting of different greens with shreds of red and orange. Her eyes sought his pair. “Do you like it?”

Byakuya picked up a knife. Every second that he didn’t answer dragged on. “It’s no Caciocavallo Podolico, but it will do.”

He cut a slice, revealing the yellower insides of the cheese to be creamier than let on. While he spread it over a cracker, one of the chickens approached their blanket, bobbing its head. Touko gritted her teeth.

“N-No, Byakuya Junior, this isn’t for you!” she hissed, shooing at it with both hands. It stopped where it was and looked around, like it didn’t know where the voice had come from.

Byakuya stared at Touko.

“Did you just say Byakuya Junior?” he asked. She turned her eyes to him and wiggled.

“Y-Yes... I named him myself,” she said, simpering. “Do you like it?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“A chicken!” Byakuya scoffed. “How would you like it if I named one ‘Touko Junior’?”

“T-T-!” Touko melted. Not physically, obviously, but her body went rather limp.

Byakuya scowled and presented her with a napkin so she could wipe the drool beading on her lips, which after a short delay, when she didn’t respond, he fitted into her hand instead.

He clicked his tongue. “Look at you. You’re far too scrawny... Don’t you know how to eat? Or do I have to feed you myself?”

At that moment, her brain short-circuited, and after a spark of life pulsed on her face, she tried to speak only for garbled nonsense to come out.

Ever since she had been young, even when she had been pressured by society to present and identify as a boy, she had imagined a scene like this. A picnic lunch with her true love. And now it was happening. Byakuya huffed, his features tinged with annoyance.

“I’m only doing this so we can get back to work sooner,” he said as he brought the cracker to her lips. “And... because you did do a good job with the chickens, so I suppose I owe you. But, tell anyone about this and I will...”

Byakuya trailed off. His lips drew together petulantly and he tried feeding her. Fortunately, though rendered incapable of speech, her mouth at least functioned enough to eat, even if she wheezed a bit and he sometimes had to massage her cheeks to help her chew. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she ate, much to his displeasure.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “You’re looking at me in a funny way.”

“S-Sorry!” she squeaked, and she obliged. She couldn’t see him anymore, but now as she felt the food push against her lips, she could imagine the food being something else. Like his lips...

“Actually, keep them open,” he said, for she had been betrayed by her face. “And don’t say anything. I want some peace and quiet for the time being.”

They ate the rest of the picnic in mostly silence. Neither talked. It could almost be called a date. An awkward one, but one all-the-same, and afterwards, Byakuya stood up and clapped his hands.

“It’s time to resume our training,” he said. When Touko didn’t reply, he flushed redder and said louder, “Today, Fukawa.”

The sound of her name brought her out of her trance and she rose, pressing a hand gently against her cheek.

“Y-Yes, Byakuya-sama,” she said with a happy sigh.

While the pair trained the chickens to jump through a non-burning hoop, Aoi and Yasuhiro fumbled with boxes of toxic chemicals, and elsewhere in the school, Makoto and Kyouko fanned Monobear as it lay motionless on a sunbed, with cucumbers over its eyes.

As they pampered Monobear, it did not stir, and this was because Monobear’s mind was somewhere else entirely. Literally.

Hidden in the school, in a small control room, was a cockpit like something out of a science fiction movie, full of monitors and buttons all flashing, and the blue-green tinted room came fitted with a throne. Normally, when Monobear was active, someone would be sitting there. That person would be pressing buttons. Cackling into a microphone. Tugging on levers. However, right now, no one occupied the room.

No one was stowed away in there, but someone did stand in the adjoining room - the data-processing room, where an entire wall housed monitors showing different pockets of the school. A lone figure was in the centre of the room, within its blinking, glowing walls.

One of the many monitors on the wall broadcasted the garden, where Touko and Byakuya coaxed chickens through a hoop. They were a curious couple. Very curious. During the killing game, Touko had latched onto Byakuya. Sure, the guy was intelligent and good-looking, if someone was into that sort of thing, but he also had a repugnant personality, though admittedly he had been easing up lately. It was a good thing that Mukuro Ikusaba had died because she had bet Byakuya would still be alive at this point.

Ah well, her winnings could go to her twin instead.

The figure watched Touko and Byakuya. After Byakuya revealed Touko’s secret to everyone, if someone thought Touko would go off him, that he would have become like one of the many people in her life who betrayed her, their assumption would have been understandable. It would be wrong, but it would be understandable.

Instead, Touko’s feelings intensified.

Lots of reasons could be used to explain Touko’s feelings for Byakuya. Masochism, because he had a sharp tongue and little restraint and some people got off on that. Relief and gratitude, because now she didn’t have to hide that part of herself from everyone. Greed, because he was a rich, powerful, handsome man.

Of course, the figure knew better than that.

A small hum slipped out of the figure’s raspberry pink lips.

Ah, and it wasn’t just Touko’s feelings. Byakuya’s too.

Only someone who had known him for two years, or someone whose Super High School Level involved a prowess in analysing, would know the scope of it all. Or someone with both. On the surface, there were his cruel remarks, his snarls and leers at others, but those had lessened after the last trial humbled him. Made him question his outlook on life.

Even before that point, anyone else could easily have missed how Byakuya always seemed to be assured of Touko’s safety before he claimed to desire her demise, or how he often let her be near him for a while before sending her away. When he wanted her gone, he most certainly made it known every time, like with everyone else, so that was interesting. Or when he accompanied her to the incinerator after she stood up to him when he wanted her to burn her birthday present for him, and even then, in the end, he had kept it.

Even if he hadn’t, the walk would have been a treat enough for her. A reward. A reward for standing up to him.

Then there were other things, things only people with access to the footage from the surveillance cameras would know, like their conversation when she revealed her alter, or when they met in secret after the second trial, or what happened the night before Byakuya and Syo turned up to breakfast together and he defensively told them they weren’t together.

After that, Touko started calling him ‘Byakuya-sama’.

On top of that, there were things that only the figure knew. Things not even Byakuya and Touko knew, despite it involving them. Things like interactions in the library that gradually grew longer. Lessons where he sat in front of her and she daydreamed, drilling holes into the back of his head. Things like the first time she revealed Syo’s existence, and Byakuya’s promise that lasted until some time after they became locked in the school, when he made the same promise again. Or like how he told her about the conglomerate, how she told him about what led her to write, or about books or their classmates or the world around them and more. Much more.

Then there were the small smiles. Lingering glances. Accidental hand brushes. Skipped heartbeats. And then a meeting in Touko’s dorm room, after the Togami Conglomerate fell, after they chose to barricade themselves in here, where they held hands and pressed close and breathed as one.

All forgotten. Wiped away.

Of all the people for Touko to choose, it was Byakuya, someone who before they lost their memories, she had chosen. And she had chosen him again.

Along with Kyouko’s nosing around the school, perhaps it was time to move the game forward.

For the next week, the figure continued with their observations. It was nice having Kyouko forced to stay put rather than have her flit in and out of out-of-bounds areas lacking cameras. It was funny seeing Yasuhiro and Aoi struggle and grow frustrated with the stock check. And it was interesting watching Touko and Byakuya train the chickens.

Interesting, but also useful.

Every night, the lights in the garden switched off to make it appear like it was night time. And so, one night, it was dark when the door to the coop opened. A quiet set of cheeps woke up one of the chickens. It poked its head out curiously.

A distance away, a figure in a mask cooed at it, holding out mealworms.

As the chicken approached, it didn’t see the knife the figure held behind their back.

#togafuka #touko fukawa #byakuya togami #danganronpa #2019 #zenonaa #togafukagiftexchange

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whitefoxed · 4 years ago

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Little Wonders

Thread with @algrimthestrong | Written to this | Chapter 2

Algrim flashed Lise another smile, nodding encouragingly at the boy as the little one followed the elder’s lead and began to eat. Foxes, as Algrim knew, were de facto omnivores, though it was hardly a surprise to him that young Lise favoured meat over vegetables. In fact, it pleased him to see that the boy did not hide his preference, yet made an effort to add some variety to his meal. As Algrim was eating, he watched Lise carefully from across the table, hoping the familiar taste and textures would help ease the child’s fears a little.

Noticing Lise’s wandering gaze, Algrim helped himself to a second serving, eating slowly and in silence to grant his young guest an opportunity to study the room and his mentor-to-be in peace.

“I hope the food was agreeable?” Having cleared his plate at last, Algrim rose from his chair and rounded the table to stand by the seated child. When he noticed a smear of gravy near Lise’s chin, the elf reached out a hand and gently dabbed at the stain with his sleeve. “There.” He smiled down at the boy then held out his hand to help Lise hop off the chair; Algrim could feel elven magic saturating every cell of the small body, shackling him to the realm.

“Perhaps you would enjoy a nice, hot bath?” he suggested, locking his gaze with Lise’s. “And then we can get you fitted with a more appropriate attire.” He nodded towards the bed where a set of finely-tailored clothes had been laid out for Lise, a grey tunic embroidered with intricate, ornamental flourishes of silver thread at the hem, sleeves, and collar, a pair of matching cotton trousers, and soft leather slippers.

Being shy, Lise never did directly stare at Algrim but started with focusing on the minor details he previously missed in the room. Details such as the more intricate designs rather than what the furnishings were, the carvings and style of abode. Then very carefully, he peered at the elf’s white hair to the make of his dark robes, stealing glances at Algrim’s face as if he was trying to figure out the other’s age. For most part, he did so while hiding behind his pretence of drinking water.

When Algrim spoke again, Lise’s reply was as quiet and clear as a brook’s babble. “Yes, I liked it.” He answered as he watched the elder walk to his side, surprised momentarily by the dabbing before realising something must have smeared on his face. Still, Algrim’s smile was disarming and the child took his hand without hesitation, hopping off the chair onto his own two feet. Feeling heavier than he was before the meal, Lise only assumed it was because he overate, rather than magic binding him to the realm.

Innocently meeting those dark eyes, Lise nodded to the bath, before following Algrim’s line of sight to the set of new clothes on the bed. Instantly his eyes lighted up with interest, recognising its quality and beauty that would surely match himself. But a moment later, those bright eyes became blinks as a hesitant expression crossed his face. His hand in Algrim’s tensed and he turned his head to look up at the elf, tightening his little grip with the faintest, most careful tug for attention and sympathy. “Can I keep my clothes?…” They were, after all, his last belongings from home.

At Lise’s question, Algrim fell silent for long moments, his face turning pensive, sombre even, as he considered the boy’s request. With Lise having passed over into the world of the dark elves, all ties to his former life were to be severed. Memories, or the longing for a life irrevocably lost, would only hamper his assimilation into Svartalfar society. His clothes he would outgrow eventually, though Algrim understood the child’s wish to keep a memento of his old life - of the family he would have no choice but to leave behind. He could feel Lise’s wish resonate within himself, a poignant echo of his own past, and Algrim, who cherished and treasured what little material keepsakes remained of his beloved wife and dearest children, could not bring himself to deny the sweet boy’s request.

“Yes,” he told Lise, squeezing the child’s small hand softly in return, “you may keep them. But,” he added as a condition, holding up a single, slender finger, “this must remain a secret just between the two of us. Sentimentality is not something the king approves of…” For the briefest of moments, his expression wavered, the solemn look on his face slipping away to reveal but a fraction of the pain and hurt he carried within his heart before another smile, this one being flat and strained, quickly took its place.

The bathing chamber, like the rest of Algrim’s quarters, breathed subtle elegance, dark, muted colours dominating the room. Drawing a bath for young Lise was a matter of minutes, and soon a tub of hot water was waiting for the boy with the soothing scents of lavender and lilac filling the air.

“Will you be fine on your own,” Algrim asked, stepping back from the tub and motioning for Lise to come forward, “or do you require assistance?”

Apprehensively waiting for Algrim’s reply, the young pup bore with his best patience in hope of the best answer, despite the elder’s rather pessimistic expression. As fates would have it, his little hope was not disappointed, drawing out a smallest smile from the child. Algrim’s finger however, held his attention with worry, which only eased after he heard its accompanying words.

Watching the elder’s expressions change, Lise followed Algrim into the bathroom and digested what he heard thoughtfully while listening to the clear sounds of water filling the tub. Looking up at Algrim, Lise nodded and shook his head to both questions respectively as he made his way closer to the bath. “I can bathe on my own.”

Then with just a little hesitation, the boy started to undress, folding his clothes as he did so to find a nice place to put them. Somewhere, preferably within his sight. The culture he grew up with was open with bathing among their same gender, especially as a child. But with his mixed heritage, came the slight pause before. In the end, the child figured he would find out if it was appropriate or not if the elder left and proceeded to get in the tub.

Only once he was in, did he quietly speak up. “Was the man who brought me here… the king?”

Stepping back to let Lise undress, Algrim made a point of keeping his gaze fixed on the window until the boy was shoulder-deep in the water. Usually, he would have allowed him his privacy, but he thought it better to remain in the room with him in case Lise needed anything. To all appearances, the child seemed to take well to his new surroundings, though some homesickness was to be expected and would surface sooner rather than later once the full realisation sank in that there was no returning to Midgard. By accepting the food that had been offered to him, Lise had passed over into the realm of the fae, making it impossible for him to leave without their consent.

After taking a large, soft towel from its hook on the wall, Algrim pulled himself a stool to sit on. He folded the towel and placed it on his lap, ready to pass it to Lise whenever the boy was finished bathing. Lise was not the first changeling to grow up in Svartalfheim, and he would not be the last. He was, however, by far the most promising child to have ever been stolen from his parents - which was why the task of Lise’s education had fallen to Malekith’s right-hand man. While Svartalfheim’s natives preferred to fill their need for warriors and mages out of their own ranks, they were not above recruiting outsiders if they thought them a valuable addition to the realm’s forces. As a nine-tailed fox spirit, little Lise was one such addition.

“Yes, that was the king. His name is Malekith - Malekith the Accursed - and he rules over all of Svartalfheim. The Wild Hunt answers to his call. Beware, though, for he is not a merciful king,” Algrim warned, seeking to instill some healthy fear in his young charge. “I imagine you will not see much of him until you are older. He may call for you to be formally presented before the court, but aside from that you will spend most of your time studying and training with me.”

Absentmindedly, Lise started playing with the bath water, although he did so discreetly. It felt nice and warm, and the child wanted to stay in it. Looking up at the elder answering his question, relief flickered over the boy’s face when he heard he would spend most of his time with Algrim instead. The terror Malekith struck upon him by forcefully removing his glamour would not fade anytime soon.

Chewing Algrim’s words, Lise noticed the soap and only began bathing with it as he spoke again. “Is the Wild Hunt like the one on Halloween?” Lise thought the phrase was similar, shampooing his hair and rinsing with a ladle he found. “I thought fae don’t speak of names.” He continued, before pausing and looking at Algrim again, silver orbs flickering to those pointy ears. Obviously, the boy had derailed from the original topic of getting to know Svartalfheim better.

Taking his tails in hand, he carefully soaped the wet fluffy mop. By now his gaze had fallen onto the task at hand, but its lack of focus spoke of how he was lost in his thoughts. There were many different kinds of fae, and though he knew of those from western myths, he was personally more familiar with those of the east. Hence it was a little troublesome not to mix the traits and details of those he learned together, trying hard to recall what little he knew of European fae. After all, tales of the Nine came from the same region.

Algrim watched the child carefully for his reaction. Lise did not strike him as the least bit rebellious or troublesome. The boy seemed as docile as a lamb and as innocent as a newborn pup, accepting Algrim’s guidance with a readiness the elder had not expected from a child who had only recently been taken from his parents, but which pleased him all the more. Of course, there was the possibility that this would change once Lise entered the troubled waters of puberty. For the foreseeable future, though, Algrim was confident that the boy would prove to be a model pupil.

“Samhain, or Halloween as you know it, is the night when the veils between the worlds are at their thinnest and those who wander into the realm of the fae may find themselves trapped forever, never to return to the mortal world,” he explained. “Malekith is the leader of the Wild Hunt, and woe betide those who cross their path as they wreak havoc on humankind. But this need not concern you, young one. You are safe here, with me. Who knows, perhaps one day you may even join them in the hunt,” he mused.

The advisor nodded sagely when Lise pointed out that elves ought not to speak of their names. “You are right,” Algrim confirmed, astonished by Lise’s keen knowledge. “But who said the names we told you were our true names?”

Taking Lise under his care filled him with both hopeful purpose and a sense of underlying dread, for whatever happiness the boy would shine into Algrim’s heart would only last till the day on which Lise came of age and took his intended place among Malekith’s forces. But that day was still far away…

A smile took his lips as he watched Lise soap his tails. Hoping that it would amuse the child, Algrim took from a shelf a small, ornate metal container that was filled with a sparkling grey powder. He sprinkled some of it into the water, which began to bubble and fizz as iridescent clouds of whirling colours started to spread around Lise.

Samhain. Lise recalled reading that too. But it was reassuring to know he wouldn’t have to be close to that scary king, having little interest in joining some kind of nightmare parade. The boy was now rinsing the soap out of his tails in the water, rubbing at his own soft fur.

Speaking of names, Lise looked up again. “Then how does anyone know what their true name is? Eomma said we’re fae.” And he doesn’t have a true name or anything like that. It was something he had always wondered about. “Humans forget their own names if it’s not used too.” Won’t fairies and elves forget? Most people did not have the same capability to remember things like he did, as the boy understood.

Lise’s attention was caught when Algrim took the small metal container though. Its decorative design was enough to entrance a child, much more so when the powder in it sparkles. And upon contact with water, brewed rainbows around him. Distracted from whatever conversation they were having, the young fox’s mouth hung open in wonder and surprise and was soon playing with the water and colours, swirling them with his hands to make patterns. “What is that? Is it a bath bomb?” He had never seen such colours from a bath bomb before, his natural curiosity taking over once more. Then he scooped it up to wash over himself, trying to see if he could get the colours on his body. He had always liked art.

Eomma. Lise’s mother, most likely. Algrim nodded, watching the boy. “That is true – you are fae - as am I - but not all of us are alike. There are many different breeds and they take different shapes and sizes, some of whom are extinct now, others are regarded as mythical creatures, and some are worshipped as gods. True names can be forgotten, though it is a rare thing to happen and all but unheard of. They can also be stolen – or yielded up. Revealing your true name means giving another person power over you,” he explained, his voice turning sharp with warning, “which is something you must never do. As for you, little fox—” He reached out to gently pat Lise’s head, seeking to put him at ease, “—you are still so young. You may yet discover what your true name is.”

As Algrim had hoped, Lise’s reaction to the powder was instantaneous, captivating his attention and holding him rapt with wonder. “It is fairy dust,” Algrim explained, smiling. For the time being, he was content to simply watch Lise absorbed in play as only a child could be as he rubbed the glittering particles onto his skin, turning himself into a living canvas. It would not be permanent, though; the bath water would wash it all away again.

“Well, I think it is bedtime for you,” Algrim anounced after some time. “We do not want you turning into a prune, after all.” Standing up, he put the towel he’d been keeping on his lap down on the stool and went to retrieve a pair of soft cotton pajamas from a nearby shelf, which he set down as well. “Finish your bath. I will be waiting for you outside.” He’d already decided that he would stay the night with Lise, to fend off bouts of homesickness and keep the bad dreams at bay.

Listening to Algrim, the little boy learned more about true names on his first day in the faerie realm. While his mother taught him many things of their kind, not everything was in detail as he was still so young. Lise’s attention was held when the elf’s meandering words turned sharp, and he learned yet another new rule today.

Except, he still didn’t know what his true name is, if he had it.

So he played with the water and colours while he ‘bathed’, enjoying watching the brilliant hues stain on his skin - which made him all proud thinking it looked lovely and showed his favourite parts to Algrim. When the colours started fading back into the water however, and the water itself was cooling from lukewarm, Algrim spoke again.

Looking up, he caught sight of the towel and pajamas, and watched the elf leave the room. The boy dallied in the tub a little longer, he wasn’t afraid of the cold. Rinsing himself with the ladle one last time and washing off the remaining colours (which he was worried about staining the new clothes), Lise climbed out of the tub and began to wipe himself dry. Eomma always used a spell to get him nice and warm again, but he still haven’t learned it. Remembering that brought water to his eyes instantaneously, and a small whine sniffled out as he wrapped himself in the towel. But he still kept in mind that Algrim was waiting for him outside, so he started to get dressed too.

By the time he exited the bathroom with the towel around his neck, his tails and ears had gone ethereal (intangible), with a little red around his eyes.

Letting Lise finish his bath in peace, Algrim went back into the main room to busy himself with his work until the child would be ready to join him. When the boy emerged from the bathroom a little later, his tails and fox ears had vanished, leaving him looking much like an ordinary child. Seeing the tear tracks on Lise’s face, Algrim’s heart ached with sympathy. Other children would have been screaming and bawling until their tears ran dry, but Lise bore his fate with an outward dignity one would not expect from such a young boy. But that did not mean that the separation from his mother did not affect him, as evidenced by his red-rimmed eyes.

Sliding from behind his desk, Algrim crossed to where Lise stood. “Shall we put you to bed then?” he suggested gently. “It has been a long day for you.” To think that only hours ago Lise had been playing in a park on Midgard… It was best not to linger on that thought. Had it been wihin his power, Algrim might have sent him back to his mother, but that was not for him to decide. After consuming the fae food, Lise would not be able to leave the realm unless the king allowed it, and even if he managed to sneak out of the castle unseen, the Accursed’s hounds would quickly track him down.

Algrim scooped Lise up in his arms and carried him to the bed, where he set him down on the fur-covered mattress. He then went to retrieve a silver tray a servant had brought in earlier, on which sat a steaming mug of tea, a herbal concoction that would help calm the child. After blowing on the tea to cool it to drinking temperature, he held the mug up to Lise’s lips. “Here, drink this. It will help you sleep.”

After helping Lise settle in bed and pulling the covers up to his chin, Algrim drew himself a chair and sat in it. In the years to come, he would be both teacher and guardian to Lise. “Go to sleep, dear one. I will stay with you tonight.”

Dressed in a grey tunic and pants that felt very much like pajamas with too long a top, the little boy hugged the damp towel around his face just in case… his face got wet again. When Algrim came closer, he looked up and found some comfort in the adult, especially when he was picked up once more in his arms. Lise clung, even as he was set down on a furry mattress that he wasn’t used to. But he didn’t insist when Algrim moved to leave, letting go and sitting all forlornly on the bed till the elf returned.

The mug that was brought to his lips looked hot and his nose wrinkled at the foreign scent. It didn’t smell bad, just new. Lise sipped at it carefully. It didn’t taste bad either… he drank it all slowly but obediently. By the time he finished, the concotion was already working and he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. A gentle nudge and he was curling on the bed, burrowing into the furs. But still he didn’t want to sleep. The child tried to hold Algrim’s hand when it brought the covers up. He didn’t want Algrim to leave. It was scary otherwise.

If he slept, would he wake up to find himself back at home? If he slept, would Algrim be gone and the scary king be back? He should say good night to Algrim, but he really didn’t want to sleep, even if he was told to. Blinking at the blurry sight of Algrim sitting next to him, he couldn’t fight the tea any longer and soon his breaths became steady rise and falls of the covers.

#algrimthestrong #t.algrimthestrong #t.algrim.little wonders #t

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endless-vall · 5 years ago

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I already found the one - Kenna/Raydan fanfic

Summary: After months of convincing by the other advisers, Raydan finally approaches Kenna to wonder to why she haven’t found a husband yet.

Author’s note: Kenna and Raydan remains one of my top OTPs. No matter how much time passes, or how many stories I’ve already come up with about them, I can always find new muse to write about their epic love story.

While this fanfic isn’t something as epic, It still brings a smile to my face, and I hope it’ll do the same to you.

Tell me what you think! 😊

Tagging: @endlessflame @frugalchoicer @regina-and-happiness @stopforamoment @mariamulroney @indiacater @wolverinesbeer . Let me know if you wanna be tagged as well ^^

It’s been months since the war with the Iron empire ended. Months since Kenna took her role as a queen back in Stormholt.

Not just a warrior queen leading an army anymore, but a queen who led her kingdom on a daily basis, helping it get back on its feet.

The truth was, the entire realm was still getting back on its feet. The war with the Iron empire took its toll on everyone.

And Kenna was managing. She’s been managing all these months, despite the constant nudging from all of her advisers to find a worthy match and secure the throne with a heir.

Constant nudging from all of her advisers but one.

Raydan.

Raydan, who was now about to end that cycle. Who was finally convinced by the rest of the group he was ought to say something.

And while it truly pained him, he knew it was the right thing to do. To encourage the love of his life, the only woman he truly loved to this day to find and marry another...

But if this was the fate he was destined to, he gladly embraced it. At least he got to be by Kenna’s side, up until now. It wasn’t a bad life. Not bad at all...

“May I speak with you, my queen?” He caught her after a meeting about crop management. Not something Raydan usually had complaints about, but Kenna didn’t waver with her answer. “Always.”

She said it such simplicity, such sincerity it made a shiver run undetected throughout Raydan’s back.

She always reminded him how he could talk to her. ‘You can always talk to me.’ ‘You can tell me everything’. As if they were still two rebels fighting for a cause, and not the Queen and a commoner they were now.

They started walking together, Kenna motioning for him to talk to her, her smile radiant as ever.

He swallowed. “The other advisers have brought to my attention that you’re not seeking a match.” He truly tried to sound genuine, even though he forced himself to speak those words into the air.

“Yes, they’ve brought it to my attention as well.” She noted, pulling at her shoulders. “Several times.” Adding, she chuckled.

“Very persistent, but not very efficient, are they?” She continued joking, and while her tone was still very Queen-like, the banter reminded Raydan of older times.

“No, I suppose they aren’t.” Did he just fake that laugh, or was her charm still working on him?

Who was he kidding, her charm never stopped captivating him at all.

“But I guess I’m lucky you’re my senior adviser. You’re opinion is different than their’s.” She said, stopping in her tracks. “Isn’t it?”

Putting him on the spot like that wasn’t fair. But he was doing what was right for the country, the kingdom, the people...

“I’m afraid I’m in agreement with them, this time.” He grimaced, maybe for the wrong reasons.

“I see.” Kenna didn’t meet his eyes for a while, before eventually resuming walking.

Raydan quickly caught up, but he didn’t dare speak again until he could sort out his thoughts.

He and Kenna... Were lovers. During the war.

They’ve spent countless nights in each others arms, and countless morning kissing each other’s injuries away.

He’d told her he loved her, something he never found easy doing... But was so easy with Kenna, since it was true.

She never said it back, and he was fine with it, really. He didn’t expect it from her. Nor he said it to hear it back.

He just wanted her to know that, to know how he felt about her. To know that she was loved.

After the war... They never truly resumed their relationship. Maybe it was Raydan’s fault, since he put some newfound distance between them.

He was a thief indeed, but he never dreamt of stealing a queen or her heart.

They never defined their relationship as well, not during the war and certainly not after...

But it couldn’t possibly be the reason Kenna haven’t gotten married?

“You’ll need a heir-” “I just don’t see why-” They started speaking at the exact same time, catching themselves just when they realized the other person started talking.

A slightly tense silence spread between them, before both burst into a heartwarming chuckle.

Raydan finally started to ease up. Realizing... The only person who put distance between them was only ever him, never Kenna.

“You were saying?” Kenna asked, raising an eyebrow.

Raydan cleared his throat. “It’s just that... You’ll need a heir. And they suggested some good candidates for a husband...” Raydan trailed off. “Are none of them to your liking?”

“Who do you have in mind?” Kenna asked, in an innocent voice that wasn’t truly working on Raydan, but for the sake of Kenna (and his sanity) he played along.

“Well, obviously Diavolos is a strong candidate, and he’s expressed interest in you in the past-”

“I don’t want Diavolos,” Kenna threw his suggestion aside, shaking her head, even before he finished talking.

“Tevan is also a good match. He’s kind and gracious, and was always charmed by you-”

“I don’t want Tevan as well.” Kenna shrugged, as if disappointed by Raydan’s suggestions.

“Well, with his newfound heritage and lifelong adoration to you, Dominic could also be a good match. Maybe Noah... Since he’s the Regent of Ebrimel. He’s quiet but he’s also very intelligent, and he’ll never let you down-”

Kenna was starting to become amused, but only slightly showing it. Her lip quirked a tiny bit up, but her eyes were still serious. “I don’t have an interest in Dom or Noah, as well.” She told him.

“I guess there are a few noble families left, spread throughout the realm, but there aren’t that many matches for you out there, Kenna... It would be easier if you’d told me what you’re looking for, to be perfectly honest.” Raydan was helpless by now.

“Oh, I’m done looking, actually. I’ve already found my match,” She said, as a matter of fact.

“Really?” Raydan would be lying if he said he didn’t miss a beat.

Did Kenna really find someone else without him ever noticing? Was he even a good spymaster and an adviser if the most important woman in his life could do something like that right under his nose?

“U-huh,” She nodded a yes, now not even trying to hide the amusement on her face.

Raydan hesitated for a mere moment. “Is he a nobleman I know?” He tagged at the collar of his robe.

“Oh, he is noble,” Kenna started.

“Great!” It took everything in him to fake happiness of Kenna’s new relationship.

“Noble, and strong, and kind, and gracious, admirable and intelligent, he has a good heart and would never let me down, and all those other qualities you’ve mentioned.” Kenna’s eyes practically glowed when she described her loved one.

While Raydan’s heart was hurting, he couldn’t not be happy for Kenna for finding true happiness, even if it was in the arms of another.

“It’s truly great then. I’m sure he’ll be good fit and an even better king to our Stormholt.” He nodded, confidently, not even forcing himself this time.

“I’m sure of it too, but he on the other hand...” She bites on her lower lip, and Raydan almost swears under his breath.

“What about him?” He asks, as if his eyes aren’t glued to her lips at the moment.

“He’s a little bit shy, maybe timid, but only ever so with me. He’s a great fit, I’m sure... No - the only one who could ever fit the role of my husband, my king... but he doesn’t see it. Sometimes I think... Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way about me...” She shies away, looking down at her feet.

This isn’t like Kenna, at all.

“Impossible.” He takes a step forward, taking both of Kenna’s hands in his own. “You’re the most radiant, brilliant, and kindhearted woman I know. If you speak so highly of him, then he’s must done something really right. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, you should just talk to him.” Raydan assures her.

“You really think so?” She looks back up, meeting his eyes. She’s glowing, radiating. The way she’s looking at him right now... Raydan could never deny it... He loves that woman. Maybe he’ll always will... Even when she chooses another.

“Of course I do.” He smiles, his tone warm and confident.

“Well...” The cheekiness comes back to Kenna’s tone, as if some sort of plan of hers just worked out. “I believe I just did.” There’s a glint in her eyes, as the realization downs on Raydan.

“Oh.” He lets out a sound, and Kenna lets him process it. “OH.” His eyes widen and the broken pieces of his heart mend back together.

“Kenna, I-” He can hardly believe it... But it does all make sense now.

“Do you really feel this way about me?” He asks, taking one of her hands closer to his chest, placing it right over where his heart it, letting her feel how fast it was beating right now... For her. Only for her.

Kenna beams, giggling shortly before replying. “Obviously.” She nods. “I always have.” She admits, now more sincerely.

“But you never-” Raydan starts, only to be cut off by her.

“Never said anything?” She asks, her eyebrow rising to a worried frown. “Well, yes, obviously. We were in a middle of a war. We had danger looming over our shoulders every minute of every day. I didn’t want to tell you I loved you just because we might’ve died the next day.

I know you deserved to know it, back then, since I felt it, but... I didn’t want you to think it was just in the heat of the moment. I always thought, deep down... You knew. You must’ve felt it too.

I wanted to tell you when the war ended, and the sky were clear again. When we were out of danger and could live our lives the way the were supposed to be. But just when I gathered the courage to tell you... You pulled away.

I thought maybe you didn’t feel this way anymore, or maybe you wanted different things in life than I...

I just... Love you, Raydan.” Kenna pulled closer, now merely inches away from Raydan.

“Kenna... I’ve always loved you, and I’ll always will. I’ll follow you into the lion’s den. I’ll follow you back to face my deepest, darkest demons. Do you really think I wouldn’t follow you to the best thing that could happen to me? To marry the woman I love and to live by her side for the rest of my life?” Raydan felt like melting in front of her, not believing she was in love with him all this time, just like he was with her.

“But you said you wanted to remain a spymaster, to become my adviser, you never said anything about being a king or leading a country...” Kenna mentioned, shrugging. “I thought I might lose you if I pushed you too hard.” She admits.

“I wanted to remain by your side.” He explains. “And if I can rule by you, and bring good to the world, then I’ll gladly do it. I’ll let you lead me, though. You’re so much more experienced than I am.”

“We can argue about who’s more experienced, but I’m not about to argue with that.” She winks at him, her tone flirty and playful and Raydan feels a rush run through him, adding color to his cheeks as she pulls him closer using his shirt.

“I love you, Kenna Rys.” Raydan blurts out, as if he was holding it in for too long.

“Yes.” Kenna smiles brightly.

“Yes?” He repeats, bewildered.

“Yes, a million times yes.” She leans in, giving him a kiss. Just a peck, at first, but then they join together, seeing stars after being apart for so long.

That kiss is passionate, but also tender, and full of heart and warmness and feelings.

“Did I just propose to you?” Raydan asks, when they finally break apart.

“I don’t know, did you?” Kenna raises a playful eyebrow at him.

“Yes.”

#playchoices #the crown and the flame #kenna x raydan #kenna rys #tcatf #raydan lykel #My writing #playchoices fanfic

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