Fictionmarrowed (left): A term for those who are in-between being fictionkin and fictionhearted in some way; this is the fiction-aligned version of othermarrowed.
Factmarrowed (right): A term for those who are in-between being factkin and facthearted in some way; this is the fact-aligned version of othermarrowed. [edit: I totally fucked up this one when I posted it, omg, its fixed now :') ]
Possible reasons for this include:
Having had a past life as a certain character/person, but not fully identifying as such in this life.
Rejecting one's current life to the point that one feels more like their hearttype.
Experiencing frequent or highly notable shifts surrounding one's hearttype.
Becoming so connected with one's hearttype that the lines between identifying *with* and identifying *as* feel blurred.
Not fully understanding the difference between fictionhearted/facthearted and fictionkin/factkin, making one feel unaligned with either label.
And more!
The long awaited fictionmarrowed flag, plus a factmarrowed flag to go along with it. Sorry for the like............. 10 month wait š
Was just wondering for a request, a reader who has a RBF (resting bitch face), with the first years? (Or whoever youād like to do)
Maybe just scenarioās of them thinking the reader is mad or smth but they aināt - or theyāre talking abt their first interaction and one of them mentions how when they first met they thought the reader had like one sided beef with them or smth šš
IDK IF THAT MAKES SENSE but if you like the request have fun with it!!
Born to Look Mad, Forced to Explain
pair: Ace / Deuce / Jack / Epel / Sebek / Ortho x GN! reader
Funny enough, I think that the same rbf also kindaaa helped me during my makeup artist certification classes. Whenever we took photos of our finished makeup looks, my teacher would always tell me, "Don't smileāit doesn't suit you." (what an odd thing to say ngl)š And when I was the makeup face canvas for my classmates, they'd say the same thing too. The moment I smiled for the camera, they'd immediately go, "No, no, don't smile. Your neutral face looks better." LIKEā¦ HELLO?? HAHAHAHA
The first time Ace met you, you were standing outside the Heartslabyul gardens with your arms crossed, your eyes half-lidded, and a face that suggested someone had personally insulted your ancestors three generations back.
Sunlight was doing everything it could to soften your features yet it failed spectacularly.
Ace made the catastrophic mistake of assuming you were looking at him. Which meant, naturally, he'd somehow already offended you despite not remembering your name, your face, or your existence until approximately seven seconds ago. So he spent the next week mentally reviewing every misdemeanor he'd committed since birth, convinced one of them had finally caught up with him in human form.
Ace: "Okay, seriously. What did I do?"
You: "ā¦Huh?"
Ace: "You've been glaring at me since orientation."
You: "I'veā¦ been waiting for the kettle to boil."
Ace: "ā¦That's your waiting face?"
You: "That's just my face."
Ace: "ā¦I've been apologizing to you in my head for nine days."
Deuce Spade
Deuce noticed your expression before he noticed anything else about you. There was something almost judicial about it, as though you had already read the entire tragic novel of his former delinquency and reached a deeply disappointing conclusion. Every time your eyes landed on him, he straightened his posture like he was appearing before the world's sternest school principal.
Eventually, he became absurdly polite whenever you were nearby. Doors were held open. Chairs were pulled out. Homework was completed suspiciously early. Ace thought Deuce was relapsing into being weird.
In reality, Deuce simply believed you were one sigh away from reporting him for crimes both committed and hypothetical.
Deuce: "ā¦Can I ask you something?"
You: "Sure."
Deuce: "ā¦Do youā¦ not like me?"
You: "ā¦What?"
Deuce: "You always look mad."
You: "ā¦I'm thinking about soup."
Deuce: "ā¦Soup?"
You: "I really like soup."
The revelation somehow made less sense than the imagined grudge.
Jack Howl
Jack had always trusted his instincts. They were sharp and dependable things, inherited from generations that survived on reading the smallest shift in another creature's posture. So when he first met you, standing by the track field with a face carved into permanent and magnificent disapproval that every instinct he possessed unanimously agreed:
You did not like him.
It didn't help that every time he looked up during practice, there you were, expression unchanged, staring vaguely in his direction while actually watching a bird perched on the fence behind him.
Jack interpreted every accidental glance as silent evaluation. He ran harder. Trained longer. Picked up every stray water bottle after practice because maybeāmaybeāyou'd finally think he was respectable enough to stop glaring.
Jack: "Can I ask you something?"
You: "Sure."
Jack: "ā¦Have Iā¦ done something to upset you?"
You: "ā¦No?"
Jack: "Then why do you always look at me like that?"
You: "ā¦There's a crow that plans to steal someone's lunch every afternoon."
Jack: "A crow."
You: "Yeah."
Jack: "ā¦I've been competing with a bird."
Epel Felmier
Epel was taught by Vil that smiles can meant war. The polite and noble ones. The sort that looked sweet while quietly arranging your funeral flowers. So when he met youāwearing the facial expression of someone attending the execution of joy itselfāhe assumed you were exactly that type.
Every interaction became painfully courteous. He greeted you with courtesy . Thanked you for things you hadn't done. Apologized whenever you happened to exist within the same hallway.
Vil eventually noticed Epel looking like he was negotiating a peace treaty every time you walked by.
Epel: "ā¦Did I offend ya somehow?"
You: "Why would you say that?"
Epel: "Ya look like ya wanna poison me."
You: "ā¦I was trying to remember if I left my laundry in the dryer."
Epel: "ā¦That's the face ya make thinkin' about laundry?"
You: "Yeah."
Epel: "ā¦Yer laundry got the face of a blood feud."
Sebek Zigvolt
Sebek considered himself an excellent judge of character. Unfortunately, he was also catastrophically dramatic.
The first time your eyes met his, your expression remained perfectly stillāthe same expression you'd worn while eating breakfast, reading a book, and blinking. Sebek, however, interpreted your naturally stern face as a declaration of ancient hostility.
Surely you had detected some imperfection within him. Surely this was a challenge. Surely destiny had selected him for psychological combat. Silver listened to this theory for nearly fifteen minutes before deciding sleep was preferable.
Sebek: "I DEMAND TO KNOW WHY YOU REGARD ME WITH SUCH CONTEMPT!"
You: "ā¦I'm sorry?"
Sebek: "YOUR CONSTANT GLARE!"
You: "ā¦but I'm just squinting."
Sebek: "ā¦Why?"
You: "The sun?"
Sebek looked up and yes indeed that the afternoon sun was directly in your eyes. Now he refused to speak for the next twenty minutes out of pure embarrassment.
Silver, from somewhere nearby:
"I told you."
Ortho Shroud
Ortho approached your expression scientifically.
First scan classified it as Angry: 82%.
Second scan classified it as Annoyed: 76%.
Tenth scan simply displayed: :(
He began quietly reviewing every interaction you'd ever had together, convinced he had unknowingly hurt your feelings. Idia found him making spreadsheets titled "Possible Social Errors (?) Of Y/N" and wisely chose not to interfere.
Ortho: "Y/N, may I ask a question?"
You: "Of course."
Ortho: "Are you upset with me?"
You: "ā¦No?"
Ortho: "My facial recognition software says you look unhappy."
You: "Oh don't worry about it. This is just my face."
Processingā¦
Processingā¦
Ortho: "Update complete!"
You: "So what changed?"
Ortho: "I have created a new category."
You: "ā¦What category?"
Ortho: Resting Friend Face (Looks Mean, Is Actually Thinking About Snacks.)
You: "ā¦I was thinking about snacks."
Ortho: "Excellent! My data is accurate!"
tw for panic attack/mental breakdown + mentions of the loss of a lover
Chapter 6
The light of Tenna's screen cuts through the darkness, a spotlight illuminating your form. Dust dances through the air, glowing like stars in the path of his light. Your breath shakes.
"_____?" His voice is small and soft. The upper edge of his casing knots in concern as he steps towards you. You tense, clutching desperately at shelves behind you as you back yourself into a corner.
"W-Wait! Stop!" You cry out, your voice hoarse. You shield your face. "Don't! D-Don't look at me!" You pull your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to squeeze them closer, your body shaking from the effort.
These actions do nothing to deter Tenna's advances. He kneels in front of you and slowly, gently, sets his hand on yours. You flinch.
"Hey, hey," he coos, carefully prying your fist apart, "it's okay." He places his thumb against your palm, sending a shiver through your arm. "Why are you crying?"
"Please...d-don't look..." You struggle, causing you to slide onto your lower back. You brace yourself with your free hand. "L-Let go..."
"_____, look at me." He cups your jaw with his other hand, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You only close your eyes tighter.
Not like this. Please, not like this.
Your mind races.
I need to get away.
Nowhere to run.
Get away. Get away. Get away.
Nowhere to hide.
GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY
"GET AWAY!"
You extend your legs, kicking against Tenna's stomach. He lets out a surprised "Ack-!" before falling back, releasing his hands to catch himself.
Regret hits you like a sledgehammer as your eyes open, realizing what you'd just done. Your breathing quickens.
Tenna props himself up on his elbows, gazing at you in awe. "W-Wow," he whispers, "I didn't know you could do that."
"I-I-I'm sorry..." You clutch your shirt, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Your vision swims. You can see Tenna's mouth moving, but you can't hear him anymore. All you can hear is your heartbeat, louder than it's ever been. Your chest rises and falls in an irregular rhythm, inhaling sharply, then exhaling before any of the air reaches your lungs. Tenna gets closer, grabbing your shoulders. He says something, his voice too muffled in your own head to understand.
"I-I can'tā!"
He pulls you close, his body nearly swallowing you whole as he hugs you. You press against his jacket, the same one he wore on stage, feeling his voice reverberate through him. You shudder. "Try to match my breathing, okay?" You're finally able to hear him speak. You answer with a nod.
His chest rises and falls in an easy, steady rhythm. His lungs fill with air, waiting before letting it out slowly, and then breathing in again. You struggle to match him at first, hiccuping and choking, fighting against your body. Tenna simply hums out consoling words, delicately brushing his fingers down your back. Eventually, your respiration calms, your heart syncing up with Tenna's. Your muscles finally relax.
A little to your dismay, Tenna lets the embrace end, pulling away to look at you. He smiles comfortingly. "Better?"
You nod weakly.
Tenna hesitates before cupping your jaw again. You sigh, leaning into his warm touch as you look at him with tired eyes. Your tail tap-tap-taps against the ground. You fail to suppress a purr.
Tenna flickers, his screen now a light pink. "You, uh, like that, huh?" He laughs awkwardly. You hum inquisitively before your mind catches up. You jolt, pulling away. "Ahās-sorry!" You stammer, turning away, "d-did I really just...?" Your cheeks burn red as your bury your face in your hands.
"No, no, it's okay!" Tenna chuckles lightly. "Really, I don't mind. I didn't mean to embarrass you..."
You muster up the courage to look at him again. His nervous smile relaxes a bit before fading entirely. He clears his throat. "Did you...want to talk about it? W-Why you were crying, I mean."
Your breath hitches. You look away again, sighing. "You didn't know," you say quietly, "but that song...it's really important to me. I used to sing it with..." You swallow down a shiver before continuing, "...with someone I used to know. It was our song." You nuzzle your chin against your knee.
"What happened?"
You wince. "They're..." You let out a shaky breath. "...not around anymore."
Tenna tilts his head. His eyes scan the floor, deep in thought. His antennas suddenly perk up, his body following suit with a gasp. "OH!" He slaps a hand over his mouth as he looks back at you. You shrink in on yourself again.
His hands find purchase on your face again. His voice cracks. "_____..." His lips tremble into a deep frown as he pulls you into another hug. "I'm so, so sorry..."
"It's okay, sir, you didn't knowā"
"No, I mean..." He holds you a little closer. "I'm...sorry you've gone through something like that. No one deserves to go through something like that...especially not someone as wonderful as you..."
Your heart hurts. Tears prickle at your eyes again as you relent, reciprocating the hug and burying your face in Tenna's shoulder. Of course I deserve it, you think.
It was my fault.
Before you can spiral any further, you're suddenly lifted from the ground, Tenna carefully cradling you with one arm. "I have decided," he declares, "you are getting the rest of the day off!" He opens the door and begins walking down the hallway.
"H-Huh?! But, sir, I c-can't justā!"
"Sorry, Dr. Tennaville's orders!" He looks down at you with a sly smile. "I can't go against Dr. Tennaville!"
"That's..." You snort, giggling into your hand. "You're very sweet, boss, but I can't just not do my job..."
"Well, you're going to!"
"Iā" You pause, a defeated smile creeping on your lips. "I'm not gonna win this argument, am I?"
"Nnnnnope!"
You sigh dramatically, throwing an arm over your forehead. "Well, if I must pry myself away from my work, I guess."
"Good!" Tenna smiles.
Looking up at him and his victorious grin, you can't help but smile back.
tw for panic attack/mental breakdown and implied loss of a lover
Chapter 5
The backstage door creaks open as you step inside the room, navigating around Pippins as they dash around, carrying props and setting up the stage for the show. A particular group catches your eye. Five Pippins stacked on top of each other, legs wobbling as they gripped the ankles of the one above them. The Pippin at the top holds a can of glass cleaner and a rag, carefully polishing Tenna's screen. Occasionally they'll stumble and bark at the others to stay still before continuing. As you walk towards your boss, he grins widely and turns to you, accidentally knocking over the stack of diligent workers. They dust themselves off and scatter.
"_____! You're here!" Tenna exclaims. His tail brushes against the floor, sweeping small bits of dust into the air. "Yeah," you reply, "I said I'd see you backstage, right?"
"Ah, you did, didn't you?" Tenna laughs nervously. "W-Well, I'm just excited! This new show is bound to draw in so many new viewers! The story, the characters, the set, it's all so well done!" He crouches down to whisper (loudly) in your ear. "But my favorite part is the music. My character has a solo at the end of the episode!"
Now that catches your attention. "Really?" you ask. Tenna nods. "An emotional lament, awaiting his lover's return!" He poses dramatically, eliciting a giggle from you. Tenna smiles warmly. "You'll...watch it, won't you?" He looks away, sheepishly scratching his cheek. "I've been practicing all week, and...I really think you'll like it."
This makes your brain stop. Tenna, your boss, wanting to have you, his bodyguard, listen to him sing a love song? The idea made your heart skip a beat.
No, no, you think, he's just excited for my feedback. The whole audience is going to be listening, it's nothing that...intimate. He's not singing it to me.
You clear your throat. "Yes, sir," you answer, "I'll look forward to it."
Tenna beams, his antennas vibrating with excitement. "Then I'll do my best for you, _____!" He twirls away, making his way to the stage.
"Don't break a leg, boss!"
"I won't~!"
He disappears behind the curtain.
An hour passes. The show is almost over by now. Since it's only the pilot episode, it's mostly been character introductions and exposition, but the script is well-written enough to still be captivating. It even had you interested at points, despite you not finding romance enticing anymore.
Tenna's performance was greatāas was everyone else's, of course. But Tenna...he was hard not to pay attention to, especially after that little request.
As the lights dim, your attention is brought back to the present. Is it time?
The gentle sound of piano answers your question. Your heart sinks as the melody meets your ears.
Oh no.
You know this song.
You know it by heart.
No no no.
You forcefully close your eyes, your hands clenching into the fabric of your pants. Time seems to slow as Tenna begins to sing, his voice clear and full.
"There goes my heart beating
'Cause you are the reason"
You wince. Memories flood your mind.
"I'm losing my sleep
Please come back now"
Memories that were once pleasant, now tainted with pain and regret.
"And there goes my mind racing
And you are the reason"
Memories from a time you would rather forget.
"That I'm still breathing
I'm hopeless now"
Your thoughts race as Tenna continues, your mind too heavy and full to listen anymore. Your breath quickens, air seemingly evaporating as it reaches your lungs. One of your hands moves to clutch at your shirt, as if trying to still your rapidly beating heart. You feel the familiar sting of tears forming behind your clenched eyelids. You try and fail to swallow.
"H-Hey, _____, are you alright? You're...shaking."
Your eyes shoot open as Mike's hushed voice cuts through the dead air. You glance at him, hurrying to turn your face away to hide your flushed cheeks and quivering lips. "I-I'm okay," you rasp, "I just...I need a minute." You almost knock over your chair as you rush out of the room.
What happened between your sprint for the exit and now is a blur. You're inside a dark, musty broom closet, curled in on yourself as you shake and sob. Electric tears roll down your cheeks, prickling against your skin. Your breath stutters, forcing a cough from your throat. You cover your mouth with a trembling hand to quiet all the pitiful little noises your body makes.
The faraway sound of applause rings like static in your ears. You pull your legs closer. The show's over...
You bury your face into your knees.
Mr. Tenna will come looking for me.
You struggle to swallow the panic welling up in your throat. What would he think if he saw you like this? Shriveled up in a puddle of your own tears on the floor over a song? The idea alone makes you shiver. I can't let him see me like this.
Heavy footsteps pound down the hall, drawing closer to your hiding place. You try to freeze, but your body betrays you, sending a shudder down your spine. Your muscles spasm, and you inhale your own saliva.
No!
You flinch as you hold an instinctive cough in your throat. The footsteps grow closer. Your eyes burn.
No no no!
You can feel the tingling sensation rising. You try to swallow it back down. Your diaphragm spasms again, your head lurching forward as youā
NO!
The footsteps stop. You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of you choking up a lung, but to no avail. Each movement is painful, sending aches down your already scratchy throat. Eventually, the coughing stops.
The air is still. Quiet.
Then, the footsteps start again. Softer this time. The light from the crack beneath the door is blocked by somethingāor, rather, someone.
"_____?"
Tenna's gentle voice makes you shiver. Your eyes widen as the doorknob twists.
The hallways of TV Studios were as busy as usual, employees preparing for another recording session. You didn't know what was being recorded exactly, but through eavesdropping in on passing conversation, you've pieced together the semblance of a plot.
Two star-crossed lovers kept apart by fate have to fight against the world to stay together. Typical sappy romance plot, nothing that particularly catches your interest.
At least, not at first.
"Oi, _____!"
You hear Mike's voice from down the hall, catching a glimpse of his gloved hand waving at you through the crowd. You swiftly weave your way to him, brushing past other employees on the way. Zappers salute you, Shadowguys tip their hats, and Pippins roll their eyes. You'd unfortunately found yourself in a bit of a rivalry with the little rulebreakers, constantly having to reprimand them for going against security protocols.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Mike," you say cordially. "Did you need me for something?"
Mike shakes his head. "Nah, but the boss wants to see you. He's in his dressing room. Just down this hall, last door on the left. Can't miss it."
You nod. "Understood. I'll be right there."
"Awesome," Mike replies, grinning. He extends his fist out to you, inviting a friendly bump. You hesitate before indulging, then make your way down the hall as instructed.
Despite your best efforts to remain professional, your coworkers had managed to break through your seemingly cold exterior. You had wanted to avoid befriending anyone, but that's hard to do when everyone here is so interesting.
There was something about him that made you nervous. Not in a bad way, though. Unfortunately for you.
His smile, his little jokes, the way his tail started wagging whenever he saw you...it made your heart melt, to your dismay.
You'd grown to hate that feeling. That soft, warm, fuzzy feeling. The way it made your face flushed red. The way your heart would start to pound. The way it made you feel so...weak.
And the way it felt when you lost it.
You shake your head, forcing your thoughts to reorder themselves. You can't think about that. Not right now.
You knock on the dressing room door. Heavy footsteps echo within the room before the door creaks open. Tenna pokes his long, glowing nose out, a smile gracing his lips. "There you are," he says, failing to contain his excitement. "Come in!"
The room is surprisingly neat, and unsurprisingly Tenna-sized. Tenna's costume for the show, a standard victorian-era coat, is laid out on the couch. The vanity is well-organized, though the objects upon it are seemingly unused.
Tenna stands in front of you, smiling. "I'm so glad you're here," he says, his voice slightly more staticky than usual. He crouches down to look you in the eye. "I need your help with something."
"What seems to be the problem, sir?"
He chuckles nervously. "W-Well, I was getting ready for today's shoot, when I noticed-d one of my antenna is out of place. That's why my voice sounds like...this." He gestures up to his antennas. One was tilted to the left, though it was barely noticeable. "I would fi-ix it myself, but they're very fragile, and I don't want to make it worse..."
You nod. "I can fix that for you," you reply, gesturing to the couch. Tenna gives a shy grin before sitting down, hands folded in his lap. You climb up the armrests to stand on the back cushions, having to get up on your toes to comfortably reach the top of his head. "Which way should I...?"
"A little t-to the right should do it," Tenna answers.
You hum in acknowledgement before grabbing the antenna. Immediately, Tenna's whole body jolts. His antennae shoot straight up, electricity arching between the two baubles. His hands clench into fists, one digging into the cushions, the other brought up to his mouth, muffling choked giggles.
You let go. "M-Mr. Tenna! I'm so...A-are you...Did I hurt you?!"
Tenna gives a shaky, dismissive wave. "N-No, I'm okay, I promise. It's just...I should've wa-arned you, my antennas are a b-bit...sensitive..."
You feel your face heat up as you let out an embarrassed gasp. Tenna stammers before continuing, "WAIT! WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT! That came out wrong! I d-didn't mean it like that! I'm not a pervert, I sw-wear! They're just really, really ticklish!" You blink, processing, before letting out a relieved sigh. "You had me worried for a second there, sir," you say jokingly. "Thought I'd get written up or something."
"No, I would n-never do something like that! Not to you. I just haven't had t-to adjust my antennas in a while, so I guess-s I forgot how sensit-tive they are..."
You can't help but laugh to yourself. "Alright, I understand. I'll try to make this quick, okay? Just tell me when you're ready."
Tenna takes a giggle-addled breath before giving you a thumbs-up.
Quickly (and gently), you fix the tilted antenna, making Tenna's shoulders shake with laughter. Once it's back in place, you give his head a light pat, then jump off of the couch. "There," you say, "good as new."
Tenna smiles sweetly. "Thank you," he says quietly, his voice as clear as ever. "What would I do without you, _____?" He chuckles.
"Probably just get Mike instead," you shrug.
"Well, maybe, but..." he pauses, putting a hand on your shoulder, "it wouldn't be the same. You...your hands are...soft."
You freeze. Your cheeks redden again. Tenna's touch feels warmer, sending a tingling sensation through your back. You look into his screen. "W-Whaā"
The door opens, Mike peeking his head in. "Sir!" he barks. "You're on in five!"
Tenna snaps out of the trance he was in, practically jumping off of the couch as he grabs his costume coat. "S-Sorry, _____, duty calls! See you after the show!" He makes his way to the door, pausing in the doorway. He looks back at you. "Unless...you were planning on being in the audience this time?"
You hesitate before shaking your head. "I prefer to be available in case I'm needed elsewhere."
"Ah, I...I understand." Tenna puts on a smile, but his droopy antennas betray him. "I guess I'll see you backstage, then." He leaves, closing the door behind him.
You listen intently as his footsteps echo down the hall, growing quieter...and quieter...until you can't hear them anymore. You quickly bury your face into the pillows of the couch and let out a scream.
Oh Heaven no.
You had promised yourself. You had promised you wouldn't do this again. You couldn't go through that again.
Heaven, please no.
You look at the wardrobe. Tenna's usual tailcoat and tie are hung up inside the door.
tw mentions of death (+ suggestive at the end hehe)
Chapter 3
It had been a few weeks since you and Tenna made your deal. Things had been running smoothly, and you quickly integrated simple security systems. Employee IDs, assigned parking, keycards and keypads to the employee suites (though you noticed Mike had written his passcode down by the keypad), and more boring stuff. You didn't enjoy disrupting everyone's way of life, but it was necessary.
You and Tenna decided it would be best if the two of you shared an office. You'd be able to keep an eye on him and do paperwork at the same time, and he'd get some company. He did make it hard to focus, constantly trying to drum up a conversation, but you made it work.
Today, you notice Tenna is more talkative than usual. You'd done your best to keep him on-task, but as he once again started to blab on about a random topic, you put your foot down.
"Sir," you say firmly, "I'm trying to write. Can we keep the idle chat to the Green Room please?"
Tenna stammers. "Oh! Yes, of course! Sorryāsorry, I just..." He trails off, leaning his head onto his palm and drumming his fingers.
Your brows furrow. "Is something wrong, boss? You seem...tense."
He laughs nervously. "Me? No, no, I'm fine, I'm just...worried about...my car."
"Oh?"
"Yes. It's been giving me some trouble, lately." He rubs the back of his neck as he speaks. "I've checked under the hood and everything seems fine, but it's still..."
"I could take a look."
Tenna freezes. You realize what you just said, and scramble to explain. "UHāIf that's okay? I could...check the underside, to see if something's wrong there."
"You would...do that? For me?"
You nod. "Of course, sir."
Tenna pauses before standing up. "Alrighty then!" He extends a hand to you. "I'll show you to her!"
As Tenna leads you to the VIP garage (which you had segmented off while assigning parking spots), he exposits about his "beloved Cungadero." She was a gift from an old business partner of his, and he's driven her to work ever since. Recently, he had begun hearing a clunking noise whenever he drove. "I wanted to drop her off at the mechanics, but I don't know if I can trust them with my baby girl..."
The way he spoke made this "Cungadero" seem less like a car and more like a person. You couldn't help but feel a little jealous.
That feeling melted into understanding once you saw her.
She was gorgeous; a sleek, vintage-yet-modern design, elegantly minimalistic. She was a bright shade of red, matching Tenna's tailcoat. Her interior was just as beautiful, ochre leather seats and a padded floor.
Basically, she looked super expensive.
"Beautiful, isn't she, _____?" Tenna says, voice teeming with pride.
But you weren't focused on (just) her beauty. You had noticed a problem.
A major problem.
"Itāshe's...a convertible."
Tenna nods enthusiastically. "That's my favorite part! I love feeling the sweet breeze in my antennas..." He sighs dreamily.
"Sir...you really, um...really shouldn't be driving a convertible."
"What?! Why not?!"
"It's dangerous!"
Tenna rolls his eyesārather, he tilts his head in a overdramatic fashion to simulate the effect. "I know, I know, a rock could fall on my head or whatever, butā!"
"More than that, sir!" You struggle to keep your voice steady. "It's a lot easier to hit your weakest pointā" you lightly tap against the side of his headā"if they can see it!" You let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Honestly, it's a miracle you haven't been shot yet."
Tenna jolts. "Wh-Wha-?!" He lowers his head. "Oh...I didn't realize, I...I'm sorry..."
"W-Wait, that's notā" You stop, clearing your throat to organize your thoughts. "I'm not angry, sir, really. It's alright." You look towards the Cungadero before continuing, "We can fix that later. For now, let's fix what brought us here in the first place, yeah?"
Tenna nods hesitantly.
After setting the Cungadero up for inspectionāwheel chocks in place, jack and jack stands set upāyou lay on your back and slide underneath. Your headlight illuminates the underside of the car, though the light does little to help as you realize:
You have no idea what you're doing.
A maze of twisting and intertwining pipes and parts lays itself out in front of you. If you knew anything about cars, you'd immediately know this car is shoddily built, but alas. Luckily for you, the problem area was pretty obvious.
A single pipe laid slightly askew, using the part beneath it as support to keep it from falling off entirely. You let out an internal sigh of relief. "Pipe's loose," you say with faux confidence, "pass me the clamp wrench, boss."
You hear the sounds of various objects clinking together, then Tenna's voice. "U-Um..."
You slide back out, rustling through the toolbox and extracting the clamp wrench before going back under. The sudden movements cause your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing your midriff to the cold garage air. You shiver.
You adjust the loosened pipe back into place, using the wrench to twist it tight. You grunt from the effort, tightening your abdomen in rhythm with the motion. The air below the car is stuffy and warm, making you sweat.
Before you know it, you're done. You tap the fixed pipe with the wrench, giving a satisfied smile. You slide back out, sitting up and wiping your sweaty forehead as you pant in the fresh air. "There you go, sir," you exhale, "all better." You look up at your boss sitting in front of you, freezing when you see his expression.
His face is bright pink, a red carnation blooming at the tip of his nose. Steam gushes from the vents on either side of his head. His lips are pressed into a thin, wavering frown.
You let out a small cough. "Everything, uh, alright?"
Tenna jolts, quickly turning his face away and covering his nose with one hand, giving you a thumbs-up with the other. "Y-Yeah, I'm...I'm good. Good j-job, uh, _____. Thank you. I'm g-gonna...um, go back to work...now..." He stands and hurries out the door, closing it behind him.
this is my first time ever writing anything suggestive, so i hope i did okay :))
i also know jack shit about cars, so i had to do some researchhh
btw the car i used as a model for the 'dero is the 1997 C5 Corvette, if u wanna look it up ;) i hc that spamton built the prototypes himself and gave the first working one to tenna as a gift
i thought of a funny summary joke a few days before writing this
Guard Dog - Tenna x Bodyguard!Reader - Mini Chapter
tw for mentions of death
Meet and Greet
After shaking your hand for a little too long, Tenna clears his throat and stands, signaling you to do the same. "Well then," he says, his voice suddenly confident, "now that you're officially part of the crew, howzabout I show you around? Wouldn't want you getting lost in here!" He laughs. You're a bit surprised by his sudden change in personality. Just a few moments ago, he was shaking like a leaf, now he's back to being as showboat-y as ever. It's strangely comforting.
You nod. "I'd appreciate that, sir."
Tenna smiles. "Then let's not waste any time!" He opens the door and gestures for you to follow.
TV Studios looked giant from the outside, but the inside was somehow even bigger. Halls seemed to stretch on for miles, twisting into a labyrinth of screens and jazzy music. You stick close to Tenna, not wanting to get separated. He had offered to hold your hand at one point, but you politely declined, causing him to slightly shrink in response.
Darkners of many shapes and sizes dashed through the halls, lost in their workflow. They'd occasionally bump into you, muttering a quick "sorry" before continuing on.
Tenna leads you past the recording rooms towards the stages. Pippins and Shuttahs worked diligently, editing audio and visuals to make whatever show they were working on more appealing.
"And here is where the magic happens," Tenna says, opening a door to backstage. You follow him through.
Warm lights peak through the parted curtains, casting deep shadows through the room. The old wood creaks beneath your feet as the two of you walk. The ceiling is barely noticeable through the shadows, giving the room a never-ending look. Shelves filled with costumes and props littered the space, seemingly abandoned mid-recording. As you and Tenna reach the part in the curtains, you learn why.
A huge hole marred the otherwise perfectly waxed sheen of the main stage, caution tape lining the rough edges of the splintered wood. You tense. "That's..."
"Where the prop landed, yes," Tenna finishes.
You swallow before approaching the hole, stopping before you reach the tape. You crouch to survey the damage. Sharp blades of shattered wood gutted out from the entrance, like teeth in a gaping maw. Darkness swallowed most of the details below, though you could see scraps of paint and rope caught on the jagged wood. If the prop was heavy enough to cause this kind of damage, you thought, then Mr. Tenna definitely would... You wince as the idea finishes itself.
...Mr. Tenna definitely would've died.
Leading you through another backstage door, you feel the tension dissipate as the vibe shifts. Calming music wafts through the air, a warm feeling buzzing in your chest as you take a deep breath.
"This is the Green Room!" Tenna explains, flourishing his hands with a sparkle. "Well, one of them. We have one for each stage, and an extra for the higher-ups." He lifts his hand to his cheek, whispering to you, "(We don't use that one much.)"
Your attention is drawn to the bar in the corner. A strange darkner stands behind the counter, drying a glass with a rag. His hair (hat? ears? unclear.) is a greyish-purple color, eyes tired yet welcoming. His orange overalls are speckled with various stains. He looks at you, giving you a warm smile. "Well 'ello there," he says, "care for a drink, luv?" You take a seat.
While enjoying a few drinks (just water for you), you learn the darkner's name is Ramb, and he runs the bar in this Green Room. He has an odd manner of speaking, but he's charming and friendly enough to make you lower your guard. A curious thing, no doubt, you thought, he must be from out of town.
The sound of a door opening catches your ears. You turn and lock eyes with a new pair of darkners, held hand-in-hand, seeming to have been mid-conversation when they spotted you. The darkner on the right was quite flamboyant, cloudy hair swept back and shoulders burning (somehow?). His partner was similar, yet the opposite, her fluffier hair pulled into low pigtails.
Tenna perks up. "Ah, Lanino, Elnina!" He clasps his hands together, smiling brightly. "Just the pair I wanted to see!"
The two wave shyly before approaching you. "Morning, boss," the moon-shaped darkner says, "who might this be?"
"This is _____. They'll be working with us for the forseeable future." You give a polite salute. The cloudier darkner gasps. "Oh! Lanino," she says, turning to her lover, "isn't that that super famous Guard?"
You nod. "My reputation precedes me," you laugh.
The two shake your hand in turn, babbling starstruck sentences of awe. You can't be bothered to listen; your attention is captured by Tenna, whom is staring at you absentmindedly, a dreamy look plastered on his face. You feel your cheeks flush.
"Well," Lanino says, "it was an honor to meet you, but my amor and I must get going."
Elnina nods. "We have a recording session soon."
The two say their goodbyes and leave through the opposite door, still holding hands.
"Alright!" Tenna claps his hands together. "That's everyoneāeveryone important, anyway." He whispers to you again, "(I'd introduce you to everyone, but that'd take all week.)"
You chuckle. "Yeah...just how many darkners work here, anyway?"
Tenna thinks for a moment, counting on his fingers before shrugging. You snort and get out of your seat. "Well, thank you for showing me around, boss. I'm sure you have many things to do, so I'llā"
"Wait!"
You stop, looking up at Tenna. He stares at you for a second, his screen shifting to a light pink hue. "I-I mean," he stumbles, fiddling with his tie, "I'm not particularly busy. And I've been so busy talking about myself, I haven't gotten to...get to know you, _____. So..." He looks towards the stool you were sitting in before. He clears his throat. "Why don't we...chat over some drinks?"
Your heart flutters for a second before you shake the feeling away. You smile. "I wouldn't mind that, sir."
Tenna's office was...not as extravagant as you were expecting. Your old clients had big rooms, big windows to view over the city, awards covering the walls, usual over-confident CEO type stuff. But Tenna's office was quaint, in a way. His desk was (understandably) huge, but not super fancy, looking to be made of some sort of hardwood (maybe pine?). The working surface and drawers were clean enough, but the front and sides were covered by a thin layer of dust. His chair looked comfortable, like the kind of seat you'd slightly sink into when you sat on it. Two standard-sized windows framed the back wall, golden-yellow curtains draped at their sides. A swivel chair was positioned in front of the desk, which you assumed was for visitors, though it wasn't tall enough for anyone to look over the desk while sitting in it. Any other furniture was covered in white sheets, only vaguely suggesting the shape and size.
"Hello? _____?"
Tenna waves his hand in front of you, snapping you from your trance-like state. You shake your head. "I apologize, Mr. Ant Tenna," you say, "I got lost for a second there." Tenna smiles down at you. "No worries, I understand my office is a bit..." he snickers, "larger than life?" He puts his hand on his hips and leans towards you, a silly grin plastered on his face. You notice his plug-like tail wagging excitedly. You have to clear your throat to hide your giggle. "Very funny, sir," you reply.
Tenna's expression falters a bit at your curt response. "A-Ah, well, you know me! Always a...a jokester! Haha...ha..." He straightens his posture and slicks back his antennas, which bounce back to their slightly drooped pose. He then gestures to the visitor chair. "Please, take a seat."
You oblige. The chair is firm, but not uncomfortable. The wheels creak under you. Tenna sits in his chair, reaching for something on his deskāwhich you currently cannot see.
"Excuse me, sir," you say, "Do you have any taller chā"
The seat suddenly raises itself higher, high enough to see the top of Tenna's desk.
"There you are, dear!" Tenna says sweetly. "Sorry, were you saying something?"
"Uh...nevermind."
Tenna smiles and rests his chin in his hands. "So," he begins, "what sort of business did you wish to discuss?"
Finally, you were at the topic of your visit. You take a deep breath. "Well, Mr. Ant Tenna, sirā"
"Please, just call me Tenna."
"...Mr. Tenna, sir. I wanted to talk about what happened last night."
Tenna flinches. "Oh, th-that?" He stammers as he fidgets with his tie. "That little thing? Please, that was just..." He waves his hands as he talks. "...an accident! A slip-up! Silly little piano wasn't rigged properly, it dropped a little early, that's all!" Tenna laughs nervously. Despite his lack of eyes, you can feel him avoiding eye contact with you. You squint. "With all due respect, sir," you say calmly, "I don't think that was just an accident. I believe someone attempted to kill you."
"What? Kill me? No way!" Tenna flaps his hands dismissively. "Who would ever want to kill me? Everybody loves me!" His smile was becoming obviously forced as a bead of sweat appeared on his screen. "I mean, c'mon! I'm Mr. Ant Tenna! I'm TV! Always groovy, never glooby!"
"Mr. Tennaā"
"And besides, even if someone did try to...kill me, they missed! No harm done! E-Even though they did destroy the stage, but that doesn't matter! That's fine!"
"Sirā"
"Really, it's not a big deal! The press is just blowing it out of proportion for the ratings! It's fine, nothing happened, it's fiā"
"SIR."
You slam your hands on the desk, interrupting Tenna's desperate rambling. He looks down at you, his antennas pinned back and hands shaking. You glare at him for a second longer before relaxing, letting out a long sigh. "Look," you say quietly, "I understand your fear. This is...a lot to come to terms with. But rationalizing it and brushing it under the rug isn't going to change the fact that...whether you like it or not, you almost died last night."
Tenna swallows, his fists clenched on his desk. His foot taps nervously as he looks away, lip trembling.
You continue. "Even if your attempted assassin failed, they still tried. And you got very lucky. If you hadn't moved when you did...you wouldn't be here right now."
Tenna flinches again, his shoulders tense.
You pause. You lean forward, keeping your voice as quiet and comforting as possible. "And you know that...don't you?"
"I...I don't want to think about...it." His voice shakes.
You feel your heart pang with sympathy. You reach out, lightly brushing Tenna's knuckles with your thumb. He jolts, looks at your hand, then at you. His screen is slightly dimmer than you remember. You give him a comforting smile.
"But you don't have to be afraid, sir," you hum, "because I'm going to protect you."
Tenna perks up. "You...you mean," he replies, voice quiet, "you want to...be my bodyguard?"
"If you'll allow me," you answer. "You're a very...high-value individual. The leader of TV World, Lord of Screens, and the owner and star of a successful TV network. And a high-value individualā" you gesture to himā"deserves a skilled protector." You gesture to yourself before setting your hands in your lap.
Tenna taps his thumbs together, deep in thought. "What are the conditions?"
"Nothing much. I simply need quarterly payment for my services. Benefits and insurance are already covered by the GPA, so no need to worry about that, sir." You extend your hand, giving a confident smile. "So?"
Tenna ponders for a moment. "A-And if I agree," he says, "you'll keep me safe?"
You nod. "I will protect you with my life, Mr. Tenna."
He hesitates at that comment. Whoops, you think, might've said that last part a bit too casually.
Finally, Tenna gently takes your hand in his, forefinger wrapping around the base of your wrist, and shakes.
wow. only 2 chapters in and we already have some angst lol
i dont want to write this fic too fast, so ive come up with a solution!
from now on, main fic chapters will be published once a week. however, mini chapters will be posted in between to satisfy my urge to write more of this fic >:)
these mini chapters will mostly be little slice-of-life skits, fleshing out the characters a bit more and building up the world. they'll all be completely canon, but may or may not be referenced in the main chapters.
ill probably tag the mini chapters with #guard dog mini, to make them easier to find. in case you want to just read the funny little stories bouncing around in my brain ig.
aaaanyways enough rambling from me. feel free to put ideas for mini chapters in the comments, ill tag you if i write your idea :)
Your boss'sāor rather, ex-boss'sāfinal words still rang through your head as you walk down the streets of TV City. Citizens clogged the sidewalks, captivated by their own lives as they moved around you. Some noticed your presence and sheepishly removed themselves from your path, casting a fearful glance towards you as they hurried their pace. You couldn't blame them for being wary; you were one of the best Guards in TV World.
You sigh as you feel a familiar ache in your legs, one caused from hours of standing and walking by your clients' side. You make your way to the nearest bench and sit, crossing your legs habitually. You tip your head back as you daydream.
Seven years ago, all magic in the Dark Worlds disappeared. No warning, no fading away. It was there one second, and it was gone the next. Chaos enveloped the world at large, TV World included. Once darkners realized that their leaders were almost helpless without magic, people started getting ideas. Bad ideas.
Luckily for some, King Spade and Queen were just as powerful without magic. They had a staff of goons that were obsessed with their leader's every move, whether that be through fear or dedication. Any attempted assassins quickly met their end.
Unluckily for TV World's denizens, Tenna was well known for being quite fragile, despite his size. While he did have employees, very few of them actually liked him. He was eccentric, loud, and desperate for attention. Not to mention he was a big target.
A vibration from your pocket broke through your thoughts. Your dinner alarm, simply labeled: 'Don't forget to eat, idiot.' You stuff your phone back into your pocket and begin to make your way home.
You open the door to your scrappy apartment. Unfortunately for you, freelance bodyguard work didn't pay muchāusually. Just enough to rent out a cheap, rundown apartment at the edge of town. It wasn't much, but at least it was warm.
You make dinner and eat on the couch, since you don't have a table. Remote in hand, you begin to absentmindedly flip through channels, not looking for anything in particular.
Suddenly, TV World News stops your surfing.
BREAKING NEWS: Attempted Assassination!
You nearly drop your fork.
Just a few moments ago, TV World's one and king of only, Mr. Ant Tenna, had a close encounter with death! An unknown individual was spotted in the rafters of his set during recording...
The news segment continued, showing a recording of Mr. Ant Tenna's live show. You notice a figure scurrying above the stage, just barely in view. Just a second later, a propāseemingly suspended above the stage for a gag laterācame crashing onto the set. Unluckily for the attempted assassin, Tenna had shifted in the same second, avoiding the prop by a hair. The room was immediately consumed by panic, as audience members screamed and ran. Tenna stood there, one leg lifted in surprise, as he scanned the rafters for his assailant.
The identity of the assassin is still unknown. Stay tuned for more updates!
Your phone rings. "This is _____ speaking," you answer.
"Ah, perfect! Just who weese needed!"
The voice on the other end had an odd manner of speaking.
"Listen, da boss wanted to speak wi' youse."
"And who might this 'boss' be?" You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You really did not want to deal with another corporate bigwig with more arrogance than brains andā-
It's been a while since I've written anything, so this was a good way to stretch my legs, so to speak. I already have so many scenes planned in my head, can't wait to emotionally scar y'all :)
Might post Chapter 1 tomorrow, depends on how I'm feeling.
Standing outside of TV Studios, you're taken aback by just how large the building is. You crane your neck as far back as you can, and yet you still cannot see the top. You swallow your nerves and take a deep breath before raising your hand to knock on the front doorā
āwhen that door suddenly swings upon, nearly knocking you over instead.
The darkner on the other side notices you immediately. "Ah, shitāsorry!" The microphone-esc man hurriedly straightens his hair (or...his head?) and clears his throat. "The name's Mike! Motormouth Mike!" He extends his hand, and you take it, giving it a firm shake. Mike continues, "And you must be _____. Truly, a pleasure to meet someone as renowned as yourself!"
You shake your head. "No need for all the pleasantries, Mr. Mike," you explain politely, "I'm just here for the job."
"Straight to the point with you, ey?" Mike chuckles. "I get it." He turns and motions for you to follow him. "I'll take ya to the boss."
Mike leads you through winding hallways bustling with activity. Employees rushing around, holding clipboards or props, barking orders at each other. A group of Pippins run by, holding a broken prop above their heads together. You immediately recognize the mangled object. The prop that nearly killed Mr. Ant Tenna last night.
"Yeah, last night wasn't pretty," Mike says, pulling you from your thoughts. "That prop dropped live. Hit the stage so hard it broke through the wood. We'll have to call someone out to fix it later." He shakes his head. "Could've been way worse, though. The boss got very lucky."
You nod. "I saw the news last night. Funnily enough, right after the story ended, I got the call."
Mike laughs. "Wow, what a coincidence that I called you right then, huh!"
Your mind starts picking his statement apart, a habit you gained after working as a Guard for so long. He called me last night, you thought. Strange...his voice sounded different on the phone...very different...
"Here we are!"
Mike's voice brings you from your thoughts again. The two of you stand in front of a large, ornate red door. The doorway was asymmetrical, the top of the door frame slanting harshly downwards on one side. The door itself, while mostly red, had a gold outline. The doorknobs were gorgeous, clearly recently polished. The name plate on the door read:
Mr. Ant Tenna - Executive Producer
Mike straightens his bow tie before knocking on the door. "Boss!" he yells. "You got a guest!"
"One moment!"
Another voiceāyou assume Mr. Tenna'sācalls out from within the room, followed by a...concerning noise. Like a groaning bang, akin to someone slamming a drawer way too hard. You tense instinctively.
A few seconds later, the door opens, revealing the manāor rather, TVāof the hour.
"Well, hello there!" he says, bowing. "I am Mr. Ant Tenna, Lord of Screensāand lovable host of TV Time!" You flinch. Angel, his voice is loud. He tilts his head to look at you properly. "And who might you b-"
He stops. In his moment of surprise, you finally get the opportunity to examine him. His CRT head was shiny, freshly polished. His antennas stood straight up, the baubles on the ends twitching slightly. Dials and buttons lined the sides of his head below his air vents. On his "face", which glowed with an electronic hum, was the visage of a mouth and a long, pointed nose. Despite his lack of eyes, he was emotive enough to read like a book.
"Oh! OH!"
Tenna's exclamations make you jump. Not that he caught you off-guard, rather his loudness startled you.
He leans in close. "Forgive me if I'm wrong," he says, tilting his head curiously, "but are you _____?"
You nod and extend a hand. "At your service, Mr. Ant Tenna, sir." He quickly meets your hand with his thumb and index finger, the two of them alone nearly enveloping your hand whole as he gives it a gentle yet firm shake.
"Wowza! It's really you!" His excitement forces you to hold back a snort. "I...wow," he continues, "I-I'm honored to meet you!" Pink spots appear on his cheeks, as his mouth bends into a wobbly smile. "Did you really come all the way from the Central Guard Station to see lil' old me?"
At first, you're taken aback by his words. You then glance at Mike, giving him a 'does he not know?' kind of look. Mike clears his throat. "Actually, sir," he interjects, "_____ is here to talk to you."
Tenna gasps. "Really?!"
"...about professional matters."
The CRT darkner stops. "Oh. Oh! I see!" He quickly straightens himself, adjusting his bright yellow tie. He steps aside, clearing the way to his office. "After you!" He gestures to come inside.
You glance at Mike, who gives you an encouraging thumbs up, before entering Tenna's office. Tenna follows suit, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
FLUFFCEMBER request!! Day 7, Theme polar bear with the Character Deuce Spades- I've heard so many astounding things about this restaurant from my friends who eagerly want me to also place a request; Coral Sugar Parfait and Velvet Mousse with Berry Coulis and the scenario could be Deuce and us, who is similar in energy to Ace, have a very cool and mysterious encounter with a polar bear.
A kind of simple planning, getting ready, meeting and all sorts revelations and twists that is very full of laughter and yearning. A duo that's always together that others don't know aren't together together so they take matters into their own hands; Trey's in a elaborate polar bear costume.
(-ā)
Ah, esteemed patron (āļø)! Welcome, welcome!
To come recommended by friends is a high honor, but to come with such a hilarious and heartwarming plot twist? You have instantly become a favorite of the kitchen!
You have placed a Fluffcember reservation for Day 7: Polar Bear, featuring Monsieur Deuce Spade.
A "Chaotic Duo" dynamic (Deuce + an Ace-like Reader) is always a delight, but adding the secret ingredient of Trey Clover in a mascot suit trying to play matchmaker via terror? Chef's kiss. It is the perfect recipe for disaster, laughter, and accidental romance.
We do hope this meal is to your satisfaction!
Serving: Polar Bear
"Iām telling you, Deuce, it was huge! Like, gargoyle huge! But fluffier!"
"A polar bear," Deuce repeated, his brow furrowed in serious concentration as he adjusted his scarf. "In the middle of the island. That makes no ecological sense. Are you sure Ace didn't just paint Grim white?"
"Ace is lazy," you scoffed, kicking a pile of snow at Deuce's boots. "He wouldn't put in the effort. Come on, Spade! Where's your sense of adventure? Are you scared?"
Deuce stiffened, his "delinquent pride" instantly triggered. He puffed out his chest. "Hah?! Scared? I'm not scared! I'm just... being logical! But if there's a beast threatening the school, as a student of Night Raven College, I have to investigate!"
"That's the spirit! Let's go hunt a bear!"
You and Deuce were the terror of the first-year class. You were loud, you were chaotic, and you were inseparable. Everyone assumed you were dating. You weren't. You were just... you two.
But apparently, the upperclassmen were tired of waiting.
You trudged into the woods behind the campus, the snow crunching loudly underfoot. Deuce was trying to act the part of the "cool protector," walking slightly ahead, checking bushes. You were busy throwing snowballs at the back of his head every time he looked too serious.
"Focus!" Deuce hissed, dodging a snowball with surprising agility. "If this thing is real, it could be dangerous!"
"Or cuddly," you grinned. "I bet I can ride it."
"You are not riding the wild beaā"
CRUNCH.
A massive, heavy footstep echoed from the clearing ahead.
Deuce froze. He threw an arm out in front of you (a classic, chivalrous move that made your heart do a weird, traitorous flip).
"Stay back," he whispered, his voice dropping to his "serious mode."
Out of the shadows emerged... The Beast.
It was white. It was furry. It was... surprisingly round? It stood on two legs, lumbering toward you with a gait that looked less "predatory" and more "uncomfortable."
"Holy..." you whispered. "It's real."
Deuce summoned his magical pen. "I'll handle this! Back off, bear!"
The "Polar Bear" stopped. It raised two large, fluffy paws in the air. Then, it let out a roar.
"Rooooaaar."
It was the flattest, most unenthusiastic roar you had ever heard. It sounded like a man reading a tax return.
Deuce blinked. "What?"
The bear took a step forward, then seemingly tripped over its own massive foot. It flailed, did a surprisingly graceful pirouette to regain balance, and then... adjusted its head?
You squinted. The bear raised a paw to where its eyes would be, making a gesture that looked suspiciously like... pushing up glasses.
You looked at Deuce. Deuce looked at you.
"Deuce," you whispered, shaking with suppressed laughter. "That bear wears glasses."
"ROAR!" The bear tried again, louder this time, waving its arms in a 'scary' manner. "BEWARE! I AM THE... UH... TERROR OF THE ICE! RUN AWAY... TOGETHER! CLING TO EACH OTHER FOR SAFETY!"
Deuce lowered his pen. His face went from 'battle-ready' to 'deadpan realization.'
"Trey-senpai?" Deuce called out.
The bear froze. Its shoulders slumped.
"...Is it that obvious?" The bear's voice was muffled, but unmistakably Trey Clover.
"You adjusted your glasses," you howled, doubling over with laughter. "Through the suit!"
The bear sighedāa heavy, full-body motion. The head of the costume was pulled off, revealing a flushed, sweating, and very resigned Trey Clover.
"Cater put me up to it," Trey admitted, wiping his forehead. "He said you two needed a 'Suspension Bridge Effect' moment. A scare to bring you closer. He's livestreaming this from a tree somewhere."
"Hi Cay-Cay!" you waved frantically at the nearest tree.
Deuce turned a shade of red that rivaled Riddleās hair. "You... you guys dressed up as a bear... to make us... cling to each other?"
"Look," Trey said, tucking the bear head under his arm. "Everyone is tired of the pining. Just... talk. I'm going back to the dorm. This suit smells like mothballs."
Trey lumbered away, a headless polar bear trudging through the snow.
Silence descended on the clearing.
Deuce wouldn't look at you. He was burying his face in his scarf, his ears burning.
"So," you grinned, nudging him with your elbow. "Suspension Bridge Effect, huh? You feeling scared? Need to cling to me?"
"Shut up," Deuce groaned, but he didn't move away. He looked at you, his blue eyes frantic but honest. "They... they really think we're pining?"
"I mean," you shrugged, your own cheeks heating up. "Aren't we?"
Deuce choked on air. "Iā Youā"
He looked at the retreating form of the polar bear. He looked at you, laughing in the snow, looking chaotic and beautiful.
"Yeah," Deuce muttered, suddenly brave (or maybe just reckless). "Yeah. I guess we are."
He reached out, grabbing your hand with a clumsy, firm grip.
"So... since the bear didn't work," he mumbled, refusing to make eye contact, "do you wanna just... go get hot chocolate? As... you know. A date?"
You squeezed his hand back, beaming. "Lead the way, Spade. But watch out for polar bears."
A "dish" served with laughter, meddling friends, and a very clumsy confession! The kitchen is delighted to confirm your reservation.
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