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sidekick-hero · 5 months ago

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Here it is, the next chapter of my entry for the @steddiesummerexchange. This is a gift for my dear friend @starryeyedjanai 💜💜💜 Her prompt was 'Steve can't get his inheritance until he marries someone'. Shout out to @acasualcrossfade for being the best beta reader there is!

Pairings: Steve/Eddie, Robin/Chrissy Characters: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Chrissy, Max, Dustin, Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake Marriage, Platonic Stobin, Platonic Hellcheer, idiot4idiot, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, Humor and Fluff and a smudge Angst

Summary:

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry. Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

Read on AO3 - the fic is finished and has 4 chapters, the last one will drop June 24

Chapter 1| Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 3 (4.7k) under the cut

Luck is on his side because Eddie is home. He looks like Steve just woke him up—pillow crease on his cheek, hair a mess, and his face softer than usual, making him look younger.

It's a sweet sight, one Steve might get used to if they actually move in together. For the first time, the thought doesn't fill him with dread and sadness about losing Robin as a roommate.

"Steve?" Eddie asks, blinking in confusion. "Birdie's not here, sorry." He sounds half-asleep, his words slightly slurred.

Of course, Eddie would think he was looking for Robin. Despite what Chrissy and Robin say, Steve and Eddie getting married will change things. Like, Steve will start seeking Eddie's company and they'll spend time alone without their friends as buffers.

"No, I know she's at work. I wanted to talk to you. I texted you that I was coming over."

Eddie’s face lights up with understanding. "Oh, sorry, my phone's in sleep mode. Had a late shift at the bar and only got home around 2. Then I had to open the garage because Bernie sprained his ankle, so I was catching up on some sleep."

"Ah, shit, I'm so sorry, man," Steve apologizes quickly, wincing. "I didn't mean to wake you. It's not that important, go back to sleep, we can talk tomorrow or—"

Eddie cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. "No, no, it's okay, really. Come on in. You couldn't have known, and I should get up anyway if I don't wanna mess up my sleep rhythm."

Steve snorts. "From what I hear, you have as much of a sleep rhythm as Robin has a brain-mouth filter."

"You wound me, Harrington. Just because it's eclectic doesn't mean there's no rhythm. My sleep schedule is more jazz than pop."

Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Eddie steps aside with a playful swat to Steve’s shoulder. “I feel like you’re not taking me seriously here.”

Steve only hums in response, so Eddie changes the topic. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

They move into the kitchen, and Steve takes a seat at the highbar Chrissy and Eddie installed two years ago. Steve remembers helping with that project, along with Eddie’s friend Jeff. It was a fun afternoon—just them chatting, sharing a big pizza, and working with their hands. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve that Eddie was good with his hands. After all, he’s seen him play guitar and mix drinks expertly when he bartends. He also knows Eddie makes most of his money fixing cars and motorbikes at a friend’s garage.

Still, seeing Eddie aptly handling tools and oiling up the wood had been… an experience. One he had revisited in his mind more than once when he couldn’t sleep and was too weak to fight off the urge any longer to jack off to thoughts of his friend.

“Earth to Steve, do you copy?”

Eddie’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he realizes Eddie is now standing much closer than before.

“Uh… sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“I,” Eddie starts, speaking slowly and deliberately, “asked if you wanted a coffee. And before that, I asked what you wanted to talk about. You haven’t answered either question, so here’s a third: Is everything alright?”

Eddie's probably joking, but he sounds a bit worried, so Steve musters a mostly sincere smile.

“Yeah, man. I’m good. Just… it’s been a long day. Long days. Coffee sounds good, I haven’t slept much.”

“Sure, coming right up.”

Steve watches as Eddie prepares their coffees, his thoughts drifting again as he watches Eddie’s surprisingly broad back move under his worn t-shirt. It looks soft and thin, sporting a couple of holes, and looking incredibly comfy. He idly wonders how it would feel to wrap his arms around Eddie’s tiny waist from behind, pressing his front against Eddie’s back, with his chin hooked over Eddie’s bony shoulder and his cheek against Eddie’s.

It’s a nice thought.

“Your coffee, my liege.”

A cup of coffee appears in front of Steve, startling him out of his daydreams about Eddie. It's the second time he's drifted off today, and he really needs to get his act together.

“Thanks, man. Do you have some milk?”

“Already added it. Two sips, no sugar, right?”

And, yeah, that’s exactly how Steve takes his coffee. He just had no idea Eddie knew that too.

His surprise must be obvious because Eddie's ears turn red. He hides his mouth behind a strand of hair and mumbles, “Just noticed you always make it like that.”

Steve's heart skips a beat. It's a small thing, but it means a lot to know that Eddie is paying so much attention to him, even if it's just as confusing as the time Eddie decided to fall on his own ass to save Steve's birthday cake. Or the time he drove over to Steve and Robin's apartment to make sure Steve had actually turned off the stove that morning because everyone else was at work.

It doesn't fit with the way he rebuffed every attempt by Steve to get to know him better when they first met. Or this conversation he overheard between him and Chrissy about two months after Robin and Chrissy started dating. The one where Eddie had asked why Robin was always bringing that rich asshole jock over.

Everything about Eddie keeps confusing him, making the conversation he needs to have with him even harder, so he takes a sip of coffee to buy some time.

It's good, strong but not bitter, and just the right amount of milk. He hums appreciatively. "Thanks, Eddie. It’s perfect."

Eddie smiles shyly and sits across from Steve, cradling his own mug. "So, what's up, man? It seemed pretty urgent when you knocked on my door."

Steve takes a deep breath, knowing he has to get this right. "I, uh, told Max and Dustin about us. You know, the whole fake engagement thing. Only, I didn’t tell them it’s fake, obviously."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? And how'd they take it?"

"Well, they believed it. Max was cool about it," Steve lies, remembering how serious Max got about his issues, something he doesn't want to unpack right now. "And Dustin... well, he was a little hurt we didn't tell him sooner, but he's on board. He'll be a groomsman, just FYI." Steve pauses, rubbing his neck nervously. "The thing is, I kind of told them a story about how we got together. And I'm not sure it matches what you've been telling people.”

Eddie's eyes widen in amusement. "You made up a story? This I gotta hear."

Steve groans but feels a bit relieved that Eddie seems cool about it. “Okay, so… it had to be convincing. Max and Dustin have known me forever, so they know that I’m someone who,” Steve pauses, feeling vulnerable admitting he falls fast and hard, an incurable romantic at heart.

“Someone who…” Eddie prompts.

“Someone who usually rushes headfirst into relationships. I hook up a lot, but when I date, I fall pretty fast. Robin says I have a trigger-happy heart, whatever that means.” He knows what it means, and that Robin’s right, but Eddie doesn’t need to know that. “So I told them I had a crush on you but wasn’t sure how you felt until a movie night, where we both reached for the chips and our fingers touched, then we kissed, and the rest is history. I proposed pretty fast after that, too, because I wanted to put a ring on the guy I had been crushing on for so long. They ate the story right up.” Steve adds the last part hastily, realizing how cliché it sounds.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. "I can't believe they just bought it like that, it sounds like something straight out of a romcom. But you know what? I kinda love it."

Steve feels almost dizzy with relief. "You do?"

"Yeah, it's cute. And I haven't told anyone yet, so we can stick to your story."

Steve lets out a sigh of gratitude for Eddie’s easy acceptance before the implications of what Eddie just said sink in.

"You haven't told anyone yet?"

The hurt in his voice is more obvious than he wants it to be, but he can't help but wonder why Eddie wouldn't tell anyone. Sure, it's not like they're in a real relationship, but it still feels like Eddie's ashamed of him or something. Deep down he knows that he's way too invested, but it's hard not to get caught up in it all.

Eddie must have heard it too, because his eyes soften as they search his face. "No, not yet. I... wasn't sure you wouldn't take it back, to be honest. And I didn't want to have to explain to people why I told them I was getting married and then had to say 'oops, my bad, never mind', y'know?"

There's some color in Eddie's cheeks and he's fiddling with his rings, his eyes darting away from Steve's. He grabs Eddie's hand and stops him from twisting his thumb ring.

"You really thought that? But - why? I mean, if anyone was going to take it back, I thought it would be you. You're doing me a huge favor here, in case you've forgotten."

Eddie's hand feels warm in his, the skin under his palm softer than he expected. He squeezes it to emphasize his words and desperately wants to give in to the urge to caress his knuckles with his thumb, too.

He doesn't, figuring it's a line he shouldn't cross.

"I told you, I don't mind. And I get something out of it too, so it's not like you're twisting my arm or anything. I guess it's just hard for me to believe that someone like you would want to marry someone like me. Even if it's a scam."

"You mean someone who's a rich asshole jock?" Steve asks, his voice bitter as he remembers Eddie's words to Chrissy.

Eddie's eyes widen in obvious surprise. "What? No! What makes you..." Eddie begins, but trails off, the color draining from his face as he curses at the realization. "You heard that, huh?"

He looks pained as he asks, his hand twitching under Steve's as if he wants to pull it away but doesn't dare.

"Yeah, I did. Sorry for eavesdropping, but you and Chrissy were discussing it right in front of the bathroom I was going to use."

Eddie groans, finally pulling his hand away so he can bury his face in his hands. His voice is muffled when he speaks.

"No. Fuck, no. I'm sorry, Steve. That was... That was before."

"Before?"

"Before! Before I got to know you. Before I realized that I might be a complete idiot who prides himself on going against the grain and being open-minded and all that shit, only to go around judging people by their appearances instead of giving them a fair chance. The only asshole in this room is me." He groans again, a sound of pain and despair. "God, I can't believe you heard that crap and went on thinking that's how I fe - that's how I see you."

"Isn't it?" Steve couldn't help but ask, stunned by the sudden turn of events. He thought that Eddie had gotten over some of his resentment over the last few years, but it's hard to believe that he sees Steve so differently.

"It isn't!" Eddie almost yells, clearly wanting Steve to believe him. Then his voice softens again, "It's not. It didn't take me long to realize that you're a really good dude, Steve.”

And that is... a lot to take in. While he may need some time to let Eddie's words sink in, his heart doesn't seem to have any trouble taking this new realization and running with it, judging by the warmth spreading through his chest.

Eddie likes him. Has for some time, it seems. Maybe not in the same way that Steve likes him, but it's nice. Really nice.

"I won't," he tells Eddie.

"You won't what?"

"Take it back. I'm still all in. That is, if you are too."

A slow smile spreads across Eddie's face, the first hint of dimples adorning his cheeks. He returns it with one of his own, and for a long moment they just look at each other, the air around them thick with something. Something he dares not name, but that makes the hairs on his arms stand up.

Then Eddie breaks the moment by shaking his head with a small chuckle. "Looks like I have to make some phone calls today and share the great news."

"Great news? Did I miss something?" Steve jokes and Eddie rolls his eyes with a scoff.

"Had a clown for breakfast, Harrington?"

Right on cue, his stomach growls loudly. "Actually, I skipped breakfast."

Their eyes meet again and they both burst out laughing. When they calm down a bit, Eddie gets up from the table and claps his hand.

"Okay, this won't do. I can't let my future husband starve before he makes me an honest man. Let's go get something to eat, on me."

Steve gets up as well, still grinning happily. "You don't have to, I can pay."

"I know I don't and I know you can. But I want to. Sometimes people want to do nice things for you too, Stevie, and you have to let them. It's rude not to, y'know. Besides," Eddie adds, his voice getting serious, "I want to make it up to you. The shit I said, I mean."

He looks so earnest that it makes Steve melt a little. It's not that he needs it, he forgave Eddie long before they ever talked about it, but it feels like Eddie does.

"Okay. Thanks, Eds. I could go for some blueberry pancakes."

"Good choice, good choice. Lou's Diner?" Eddie's smile brightens again, both cheeks now dimpled, and Steve is glad he gave in, if it means he's the one causing that look on Eddie's face.

"You know how to treat a guy."

"I try."

Eddie disappears into his room to get his wallet, then rushes back, grabs his hands and drags him toward the door.

He doesn't let go until they're both on the sidewalk, walking side by side to the diner, their fingers brushing with almost every step.

"Okay, so I'm calling my uncle and the boys today, you already told Max and Dustin. Chrissy and Robin obviously know as well. Anyone else we need to tell?"

The question makes Steve falter in his steps and Eddie, who didn't notice at first and kept walking, rushes back to him when he realizes that Steve is no longer next to him.

"What is it? Is everything okay?"

Steve shakes his head. "No. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine. I just remembered I have to tell my boss. And my team."

"You think they'll react badly?"

With a sigh, Steve nudges Eddie's shoulder with his own and starts walking again. It's easier to talk about it when he doesn't have to look at Eddie's face.

"I don't know," he admits. "I want to say, no, they're good people. I mean, they are. But... back in high school, I thought my friends were good people, too. That they cared about me. Turns out they didn't. My best friend, Tommy... We used to fool around sometimes. He always said it didn't mean anything, that friends help each other out sometimes, no big deal. That's bullshit, of course. I just didn't want to admit that I liked guys as much as I liked girls. Then, the first semester of senior year, I had a girlfriend that I really liked. Loved, actually. Tommy didn't take it well. I guess he was jealous because I stopped making out with him and he told everyone how I liked dick. That I was trying to touch his.” Here Steve rolls his eyes at the irony of it all. It was Tommy who had always been so eager to get his hands on Steve. “Everything changed. My teammates on the basketball team refused to change in front of me, my friends started talking about me behind my back. Even my girlfriend looked at me differently after I admitted to her that I 'kind of like boys, too'."

It's like a dam has broken, all these words coming out of him. Eddie doesn't say a word, just walks beside him and lets him get it all out. He reaches for Steve's hand again, though, holding it in his own in silent support, his thumb stroking his knuckles in much the same way Steve had dreamed of doing to Eddie earlier.

When Steve is finished, Eddie squeezes his hand.

"Did you know that about 600,000 people go missing every year in the U.S.? Who knows, maybe this Tommy will join them soon. Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Steve can't help but burst out laughing. The grin Eddie throws his way tells him that's exactly what he hoped would happen, obviously proud of himself for making Steve laugh.

"I appreciate the...offer? Threat? Fun fact? But it's okay, I'm over it. It sucked big time, but it also made me realize that they were all rich asshole jocks and I didn't want to be one of them anymore." He winks to take some of the heat out of his words.

"Okay, fine. The offer's on the table, though. But seriously, I get it. You're afraid your team will let you down like those assholes did."

"I guess. Which is probably unfair, but -"

"Once burned, twice shy."

"Exactly. Is that stupid?"

"No, it's not." Eddie reassures him. "I think it's perfectly normal to be cautious after what you've been through. But maybe your teammates are surprising you. Every time you talk about them, they sound pretty awesome and like you have a great relationship with them."

Steve didn't even realize he was talking about his teammates so much, or that Eddie was paying attention when he did.

"So how about this: Our apartment has this common area out back. We could have a little barbecue out there with Max and Dustin and the girls on the day you tell your team. That way, we can take your mind off of it if it doesn't go well, or, my personal favorite, we can celebrate that they took it well with a couple of burgers and some beer."

Eddie sounds sincere, his hand around Steve's as firm and sure as his voice.

"That... that would be great. You really think that would be okay?"

They reach Lou's Diner and Eddie turns to face him, his big brown eyes full of an emotion Steve can't name. "Yeah, I'm sure. All in, remember?"

On impulse, Steve rushes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie, pressing his face into his neck. After a moment of surprised hesitation, Eddie's arms wrap around him in return. He squeezes Steve tightly, his hand gently rubbing his back.

Steve doesn't let go for a long time.

Eddie is so screwed. He's not known for making particularly smart decisions, but this has to take the cake. Offering to fake marry the guy he's been head over heels for years.

Stupidity of epic proportions, your name is Eddie Munson.

In his defense, he didn't come up with the idea. No, that honor goes to Chrissy and Buckley. But Eddie could have said no when they pitched him their idea on how to help Steve get his inheritance and at the same time flip that horrible woman he's unfortunate enough to call Grandmother the bird.

As if Eddie has that much sense of self-preservation. It's like they never even met him. So of course he said yes, and when Steve told him, all earnest puppy eyes, that Eddie didn't have to do this, he made up a story about needing a loan for the record store he and Jeff were in the process of buying anyway. He's not looking forward to that awkward conversation when that particular truth comes out, but that's a problem for future Eddie.

Present Eddie is freaking out because past Eddie offered to throw a barbecue for Steve to make him feel better after coming out to his team at the firehouse. He invited Steve's little sister Max and made sure that Dustin came all the way from Boston to join them, with Robin, Chrissy, and Eddie there as backup in case Steve's team reacts badly and he needs his favorite people to cheer him up.

"Could you please stop freaking out, Edward? Robin and Steve are going to be here any minute and you looking like you're seconds away from bolting is not going to help anyone."

"I really don't like this tough love thing you've got going, Chris. Where's the sweet, innocent girl who ambushed me in the woods to buy weed from me and then never left?"

"She became friends with you," Chrissy quips back and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, still grinning.

Eddie, unable to keep up the fake annoyance any longer, cracks and, with a cackle of laughter, grabs his best friend and spins her around until her pearly laugh echoes through their apartment.

That's how Steve and Robin find them, clearly amused by the antics they've just seen.

"Did we miss something?" Steve asks with a smile and Eddie's heart flutters at the sight.

"Nope," he answers, popping the 'p'. "Just the usual occurrence of Chrissy being a menace to me."

"Watch it, Munson. That's my girlfriend you're talking about." Robin chimes in and walks over to greet Chrissy with a sweet kiss.

"Stevie, it is your sacred duty as my future husband to defend me!" Eddie cries out as Steve just stands there watching them with amusement.

"Oh no, no, no. I refuse to be dragged into this."

Robin actually cackles like some kind of supervillain. "Damn right. Steve knows I have access to his hair products and I have no qualms about using that knowledge against him."

Eddie throws up his arms and stalks off to the kitchen to get the things they need for the barbecue.

Later, he stands by the grill, watching Steve flip burgers with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times. The backyard is filled with the people closest to Steve and him, their laughter and conversation filling the common area. Eddie's heart feels incredibly full at the sight.

He nudges Steve gently. "You okay? You haven't said a word about how it went. Has me a bit worried, to be honest."

Steve nods, though Eddie can see the pensiveness in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm good. I guess it went better than I thought it would. They hated that I didn't tell them sooner, but Jim talked some sense into them. He said I didn't owe them anything and that he was sure I had my reasons."

Eddie gives him a reassuring smile. "They'll understand when you tell them what you told me. And even if you don't, it sounds like they care a great deal about you. They'll get over it."

Steve takes a deep breath and nods. "I hope you're right." Then he looks at Eddie through his lashes, a wry twist to his mouth indicating Steve thinks Eddie won't like what's coming next. "I might have invited them all to our wedding. Y'know, to make it up to them. But I'm sure I could tell them -"

"That's fine, Steve. Really. In fact, I didn't expect anything else. I was hoping Uncle Wayne would have someone his age at the wedding to talk to, and your captain sounds like the perfect guy for the job."

Eddie quickly begins to realize that he would do anything for Steve, as long as it meant Steve would look at him the way he does now. His hazel eyes are all soft and warm, the little smile that curls the corners of his mouth almost intimate. They lean in close, both gazing at each other, lost in their own little orbit. So close, Eddie can see the freckles on the bridge of Steve's nose and the swirls of gold and green in his eyes. It wouldn't take much to bridge the gap between them, just a slight tilt of his head, a few inches of space he'd need to push forward. Just a few teeny-tiny inches...

"Ew, gross! Get a room, you two. There are children present." Max's voice cuts through the thickening tension between them, startling them apart.

Steve looks at her sternly, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "Excuse me?"

Eddie, on the other hand, just sticks his tongue out at her.

Dustin, who had been talking with Robin, also turns toward them, adding his own two cents. "I can't believe I didn't call this. You two are so obvious, it's embarrassing."

Usually, Eddie would tell Dustin off for his tone, maybe even tease him about missing all the clues with that genius brain of his, but that would be risky. Sure, maybe there had been clues from his side, but he sure as hell doesn’t want Steve to know that. So instead of doing one of his favorite things in the world—teasing Dustin—he keeps quiet and just rolls his eyes at him.

Steve, however, chooses a different approach. He ignores both his little sister and Dustin in favor of continuing their conversation.

"So, how did your uncle take the news of your betrothal?"

The phrasing makes Eddie laugh. "Stevie, you sound like Birdie and Chrissy made you watch Pride and Prejudice with them." When Steve doesn’t respond, only his cheeks slightly reddening, Eddie can’t help but cackle. "They did, didn’t they? Don’t worry, I’ve been swooning over Mr. Darcy since I was a teenager. I'm happy to be your Elizabeth Bennet."

For a moment, Eddie's afraid he said too much, revealed too much. But Steve’s just smiling at him like the thought amuses him, so Eddie thinks they’re good. He really hopes so, because now that Steve mentioned his talk with Wayne, he remembers the old man’s words.

When Eddie had told him about the wedding, asking if he’d come, his uncle had been surprisingly unsurprised.

"It’s that Steve fella you’re always going on about, isn’t it?" he had asked, like he’d been waiting for something like that to happen. It had made Eddie cringe. Seems like he had talked a lot more about Steve than he thought he had.

"How’d you know?" Eddie still had to ask.

"Because you’ve been smitten with that boy for years and he would be stupid not to want you back. And my nephew doesn’t fall for stupid."

It was then that Eddie had wished more than ever that he could tell Wayne the truth, ask his advice. But just like Steve, he didn’t want to pull his only family that mattered to him into his mess. Besides, Wayne sounded so happy that Eddie finally got to have the love he deserves that Eddie couldn’t bring himself to tell him that no, Steve just needed him. Liked him, maybe, from the looks of it, but not love. Never love, not for Eddie.

"Hello, Earth to Eddie. Do you copy?" Steve asks, sounding once again like the nerd Eddie knows he secretly is after years of hanging out with Dustin Henderson.

"Yeah, sorry, just remembered that I have to put the garbage bin out tomorrow."

Steve looks a bit doubtful but lets it drop. "So, your talk with your uncle, how did it go?"

"It went well. He’s excited to meet you."

Another of those soft smiles graces Steve’s face, and Eddie learns that he’s quickly becoming addicted to causing them. "Good, that’s good. Me too. He sounds great."

Only two more weeks until the most important person in his life and the guy he’s secretly in love with, whom he’s fake marrying, will meet. What could possibly go wrong?

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddiesummerexchange #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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iepurasdepraf · 8 months ago

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Hhhhhi~ Um... this was supposed to be short, but uh...it's not. Part 2 soon. I hope you like it! Feed back is appreciated. I will likely rewrite this before part 2 or before it goes up on a03. Anyway! Here you go.

Acrid smoke stung your eyes until the oscillating fan made another pass giving you respite until the cigarette between your teeth burned down a little more. You needed it. That hit of nicotine to keep your eyes open even if it made it hard to at the same time. You were at the tail end of an eight hour shift, tired. Bone tired. It was day four of five and you had to come back tomorrow at 7pm. It was 4:47am. You just wanted to go home.To sleep. Thirteen more minutes and you were free. Just thirteen more. Thinking about it made your arms feel heavier, even counting your tips felt like a chore at this point. “Hey! You got a guy!”

You were too tired to groan. You ripped the cigarette out of your mouth and asked as nicely as you could manage “Table or VIP?” “I dunno,” The other girl said, waddling past you with one of her heels off already. “Just asked for you on my way back and I said I’d get you for him.” You snuff your smoke out a little too aggressively, but she doesn’t notice. You weren’t mad at her and didn’t want her to think that so you take a deep breath and check yourself. Whatever this guy wanted would end with a big fat tip for your efforts. Not a bad way to end the night and so you pop a stick of peppermint gum in your mouth out of the tray on the table and put on your best smile while shuffling your money and zipping it up in your bag to take home.

“Wish me luck.” You say tossing your bag back in your locker and shrugging on your ripped up black tank top on over your bra. It was enough. You weren’t going to pull out all the stops this early in the morning and you were wearing most of your layers anyway. “Good luck!” She called after you. You nearly jump out of your skin when you straight up run into the guy making him take a few staggered steps back after opening the door. He’d been waiting so close to it you were shocked you didn’t hit him right in schnoz. At least you knew who’d asked for you right away.

“Well hey there, handsome!” He was, in fact, not handsome. He was- God, he was really sweaty. Why was he so sweaty? You’d barely touched him and you felt like someone hit you with a toad straight out of a parking lot puddle.

“Hh-ih-hhh-hi.” Oh no, he was a weird one. Like really weird. He stood there in all his buck toothed glory wringing his hands, out of his element entirely in a dorky little suit with a terrible comb over and glasses that magnified his eyes to the point of comedy. Shaking. Trembling. In absolute shambles and for no reason you could see. Existing was this creature’s enemy.

Those big brown eyes blinked up at you and he said…absolutely nothing. He only got out that squeaky hi. He’d been hard to hear over the music, but you weren’t worried about Mr. Mumbles. You’d be back in the VIP soon enough by your estimation and be able to hear him just fine. You put that winning smile back on and his shivering intensified. You didn’t think his eyes could get bigger, but he responded like you’d taken your top off in front of him for the second time tonight.

He was just your type. Those sweet old nerds that never peaked fell head over heels for you and the 80’s goth aesthetic you so carefully cultivated for work. You triggered that nostalgia for that youth they missed out on, the prime they could have had. The hot girl in their comp-sci class they could never work up the courage to even wave at in the hall and for a couple of thin easily earned, for them at least, measly dollars you could be theirs for just a few minutes. To look at and, for the right price, you’d touch them and they could pretend they hadn’t been such losers.

“What can the Banshee do for you?” “Mmm…” You glanced at the clock then back at him. There was no such thing as overtime here, little man. You couldn’t say that, but you certainly thought it at least twice before he said “I-I-I was hoping wh-” He had some kind of a tic. It looked like he flinched. Maybe he had. It made your shaved eyebrow arch.

4’10, mousey brown hair. Greasy. Eyes watery and dark. The job came with it’s hazards and it looked like this guy might be one of them. You memorized his features, there weren’t any identifying marks you could see, just in case. Just like your boss had taught you. “I was hoping for a private, uh, show?” Oh, he was English. Now that he was actually managing some words you could hear the accent. That was weird. This wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. He must work in the city? “Yeah?” You say sounding more interested in it than you actually were.

Your faux enthusiasm made him perk up. “I-I-I brought money! A lot of money!” He reached into his coat and pulled out the biggest wad of cash you’d ever seen with both hands, it had to be at least ten thousand dollars. You grabbed his hands and held them down between the two of you so no one else could see. “Woah! Easy there, killer!” Was he insane?! This was Oldtown Gotham! He’d have jumped for a couple of fives down here if they knew he had them.

All he did in response was gasp when you touched him then stare down at where your hands had met his sweaty actively vibrating ones. “Let’s take this to the back, alright? You gotta be more careful.” He didn’t move at all until you moved him. Taking that huge brick of cash in one hand and his wrist in the other, you marched him to the first empty VIP lounge like he was a downright naughty boy being taken to his room.

Once the door was locked you turned to him “You could have been killed for this if anyone saw you with it.” You chastised bringing his hand up to set the cash in it. He didn’t answer, still staring at your hand on his wrist so you let him go. To his credit, he seemed to function better in the back. Maybe it had been the lights and loud music that had put him over the edge on top of whatever else he was dealing with? You didn’t know, but after a long quiet reboot he looked a little more human and a lot less like a rat that had touched the third rail. At least he was speaking up now or in the quiet room you could at least hear him better. You couldn’t tell. “I didn’t…think about it, I apologize.” He said in an awfully shrill voice making you question why was he apologizing to you? “I, ah… Well,” He held the money up again “I didn’t know how much to bring, you see, so I…well, I brought what seemed reasonable?” He poised it as a question more than an answer. Like he was asking if it was reasonable rather than explaining that it was. You squinted at him. THAT was a reasonable amount of money to him? How disconnected from reality was he?

“VIP packages start at three fifty.” You informed with good humor after crossing your arms and he gasped like this was breaking news he couldn’t have googled before coming at all. “Well,” The man counted out a few of the hundreds then fidgeted “What’s the biggest package?” He was nearly cute. “Do you have friends waiting outside or something?” “No! Why no! No, mam, just me!” You felt your hand touch your cheek as you stared at the little weirdo in absolute awed confusion. What on earth?

“You don’t need the biggest package then, sweetheart.” You were too nice. You should have just taken the money. He wanted to spend it and here you were talking him down like an idiot. “But I want the most time!” He said a little too loudly. God, he was desperate. Your manicured finger tapped against your cheek “We can work that out, but…what do you want?” Please don’t say sex. You weren’t even sure if security was even still in the building. “I-I need to give a presentation.”

What?

The look you must have given him prompted him to explain “I need to give a presentation! At work! A w-work presentation and, well, I-” He melted into nervous giggles before he finished, but managed to suppress them enough to finish after a moment “I need to practice. An audience so to speak and-” Oh, he looked miserable suddenly. “I don’t…” His voice lowered to a whisper “have any friends.” Your heart felt a little pang for him. Same, man. Well, sort of. You had work friends, but it wasn’t hard to believe this guy had no one at all. “Truly, I do need this!” He added quickly “My research depends on this! I promise I don’t mean to insult you or waste your time! I could lose funding and and and-” “I’m happy to work something out with you, but let's get you a drink first, alright?” “Alright.” He parroted back while taking quick half breaths on the verge of hyperventilating.

With peace and love, he didn’t look like a man who could hold his liquor. Nor did he seem like the type that would handle it well if he managed to so. He needed to relax. You were the complete package, you knew how to make more than a quick few cocktails. It was a part of the image. Thumbing through the Rolodex of recipes in your head you stopped on the first one that wouldn’t kill him on impact. A Friar Tuck, of course. Chocolate milk for big boys. You glanced back at him on your way to the fully stocked minibar. Big enough boys. Hazelnut liqueur, dark crème de cacao, and frangelico with, in this case, some nice cold half n’ half shaken with ice then strained in a glass.

“Sip.” You say handing the glass to… hang on a second. “Now,” You sat him down in a chair with some gentle ushering “Let’s try this again. Hello, handsome.” He giggled nervously at you and smiled a sort of odd suppressed smile over being called handsome. You realized he was trying to hide his teeth now that he as thinking about it. There was no hiding those buck teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Jervis. Jervis Tetch.”

#jervis tetch x reader #//.mywriting.//#jervis tetch x you #jervis tetch fanfic

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themaladaptivewriter12 · 4 months ago

Text

"Happy Birthday, Leona!"

Title: "Happy Birthday, Leona!"

Parings: Leona Kingscholar x Twisted Wonderland Male OC (Mirai Yuhara)

Summary:

With Leona's Birthday being tomorrow, Mirai, Grim, and the guys at Savanaclaw try to throw Leona the best surprise Birthday Party, but suddenly things go haywire with only three hours to spare. Will they make it in time, or utterly fail?

cw: A bit of crude humor, but nothing extreme. Kissing, surprise parties, flowers and their meanings, fluff and humor

a/n: It's been a while, gosh I miss writing for these two. This was so much fun to do, and it wasn't even supposed to be this long. The creative juices started flowing, and the next thing I knew, parts that I was supposed to keep short and sweet were flushed out, and the next thing i knew, this thing was twenty pages long and 7k words.

a/n: Idk why, but for some reason, the tune that came to mind while writing the rap was the tune to the Pixies rap from the Fairly Odd Parents lololol. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)

Happy Birthday, Leona! Thanks for coming home twice this month with both your SSRs! (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡ I'll also make a banner for this later.

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do! (─‿‿─)♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

Leona’s Birthday was in a couple more hours, and let’s just say, this was the calmest surprise Birthday party planning Mirai has ever done. Well, that’s what he thought. Now they were on a time crunch and he honestly didn’t know if they would make midnight on time.

Everything was going great, smooth even, but then things went downhill after the first batch of cupcakes were left in the oven to burn.

“Guys?” Jaxton, a Jackal Beastman, asked wearily, “What’s that smell?”

“I don’t know,” Garfield, a Cat Beastman, said.

Mirai sniffed the air, stopping his task of tying ribbons into bows, trying to decipher what the scent was, when suddenly it hit him. “The cupcakes!”

Mirai, Ruggie, and a group of other Beastmen rushed to the kitchen to see the oven billowing with smoke.

“Ta-Take them out,” Jack yelled.

Mirai ripped open the oven and reached in to grab the pan before a series of shouts stopped him.

“Wh-What? What?!” Mirai shouted, turning to look at the group.

“You were just gonna grab those with your hand?!” Jack yelled.

“Of course not,” Mirai yelled.

“You literally just stuck your hand in the oven,” Ruggie shouted.

“I was using my prosthetic!”

The room went silent, the look on their faces was as if they found the dumbest species on Twisted Wonderland.

“Ya’know,” Ruggie started, “I thought you were gonna say something that implied I missed the oven mitt on your hand or somethin’, but this just confirms your stupidity and my point.”

“Hey,” Mirai shouted.

“Guys,” Garfield yelled, “They’re still in the oven!”

“Shoot!” Mirai snatched the pan and whirled around, trying to figure out what to do with it. “Wh-What do I do with it?! What do I do with it?!”

“Put it in the sink,” multiple guys yelled, “In the sink!”

“The window! Throw it out the window,” others panicked.

Mirai panicked and just threw the pan across the room, and just his luck, it clattered out the window, burnt cupcakes tumbling out onto the floor, into the sink, and the rest with the pan onto the ground below.

“Why'dja throw it out the window?!” Jack shouted.

“I don’t know! I panicked,” Mirai cried.

“Y'all wanna wake the boss with all this yellin’?!” Sergi, a Serval Beastman, scolded, popping his head into the kitchen. “Keep it down!”

The group in the kitchen quieted, a shared look of embarrassment coloring their faces. It was true, if the burnt smell of cake didn’t wake Leona, their yelling sure would.

“I-It doesn’t matter,” Garfield said, after a beat of silence, “It smelled anyways! We’ll get it later. What we need is another batch of cupcakes!”

“I got it,” Mirai said, already grabbing the utensils. “There was some batter left over. We can use that, then make some more.”

“I’ll help,” Jaxton offered, grabbing the ingredients.

“Ruggie,” someone called, “We need some help over here!”

“Coming,” Ruggie answered, leaving the kitchen with a small wave.

Jack and a couple of others followed behind him, and as for the rest, they stuck around to help with the baking.

“We need to get this burnt sugar smell outta the dorm,” Azizi, a Kudu Beastman, said. “If we could smell it out there, there’s no doubt Leona can in his room.”

“Well, what do we do?” Jaxton asked, “If we spray some air freshener, all it's gonna do is mix. And Boss hates that stuff.”

“Baking soda, lemon, or coffee grounds,” Alfonz, a Leopard Beastman supplied. “I looked it up. We got any of that?”

“Baking soda! Here,” Azizi said, shoving the tin into Alfonz’ hands. “And Lemons!”

The Leopard grabbed a small bowl and dished out a couple of spoonfuls of baking soda and to top it off, shave a sprinkle or two of lemon zest on the top.

“Ima go set this outside his door and hope for the best,” Alfonz said, picking up the bowl. “You guys can set some out here and in the lounge. Be right back.”

Alfonz left the kitchen and Azizi went to litter the place with baking soda. Mirai on the other hand looked at the clock and gasped when it read nine thirty-seven.

“We’re not gonna make it,” Mirai whined, furiously mixing a bowl of cake batter.

“If ya keep on talking like that, then we definitely won’t,” Rover, a Dog Beastman, gruffed as he rushed by the kitchen with some party supplies in his hands.

“Anyone else need to add a gift?!” Ruggie asked, stacking the gifts carefully on the gift table. “Because once I finish this, your gift goes on the floor.”

“Me! Me,” Mirai shouted, rushing to put the tray of cupcakes in the oven before rushing out the kitchen.

In the Lounge things were a mess. Streamers and confetti was all over the place, balloons and ribbons hung precariously from the banisters, and there still was no cake. Grim, on the other hand, was no help at all, snoozing away on one of the vacant chairs, a pillow over his head.

“Here,” Mirai said, handing his little box over.

Ruggie smiled and placed Mirai’s gift securely on top of his gift tower. “Perfect.”

Mirai smiled looking around the room, yeah it was a complete mess, but who this mess was for made everything worth it.

“Has anyone seen the ‘Ps’ for the Happy Birthday sign?!” Luan, a Lion Beastman, yelled.

“Did you check the closet?” James, a Wolf Beastman, asked.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did!”

“Where’s Chi-Chi?” Ikemba, a Boar Beastman, asked. “I need him to crawl behind the shelf to plug this in.”

“You calling me small?!” Chiumbo, a Meerkat Beastman, yelled.

“Well, I certainly can’t fit behind there.”

“Give it to me,” the Meerkat pouted, crawling behind the thing.

“Anything else you all need us to carry,” Jack asked, entering the lounge area, a group of stronger Beastmen following close behind.

“Not that I know of,” Raphael, a Mountain Lion Beastman, said from his spot on the floor.

The fact that Leona had so many people who care for him, to plan a surprise Birthday party in the middle of the night, made the Prefect’s heart swell with joy. Thinking back on the day, Mirai couldn’t help but laugh to himself, wondering how they even pulled any of this off.

Ruggie started the day off cleaning His Royal Highness’ room. He wanted to make sure Leona felt as comfortable as possible for his big day tomorrow, and that also ensured that he could sleep undisturbed for as long as he wanted, without having to come in and clean. Also, for what was to come later, they didn’t need to be stepping on discarded homework, sweaty gym clothes, expensive jewelry that should not have been left on the floor, or Leona’s worn unmentionables. Ruggie wouldn’t do that to Leona, so to save the Lion’s pride, he picked them up and tossed them into the laundry basket at his hip.

“Whaddya doin’?” Leona groggily muttered, not bothering to open his eyes and or face Ruggie properly.

Thankfully, Ruggie was a great liar. “Heard a couple o’ guys talkin’ ‘bout how they wanna wash clothes today. I don’t wanna be stuck with having to fight over a washing machine all day, so I might as well do it now an’ get it outta the way.”

Leona just huffed a sigh, rolling over to face away from the rising sun, “Jus’ close the door on ya way out.”

“Will do, Boss,” Ruggie smiled.

The Hyena continued to clean as quietly as possible and it wasn’t until he was just about done that he noticed Leona had fallen back asleep. Once his task was done, Ruggie slipped out the door, closing it slowly.

“Alright! task one: done,” Ruggie whispered as he made his way to inform the others.

Later that day, Mirai, Ruggie, Jack, and a group of Savanaclaw students made their way over to Sam’s shop to get some supplies for the party. Jack’s group was in charge of party favors, and Ruggie’s group was in charge of food, and as for the rest, they were here to pick Birthday gifts for their Dorm Head. Mirai had already secured his gift, the present arriving in town two days prior. All he had to do was pick it up and have it wrapped. That was a little event all in itself, but at least he wasn’t like the others, rushing to find a suitable gift with only one day to spare.

“What do you need from me?” Mirai asked.

“Actually,” Ruggie started, “I forgot to tell you the Birthday tradition for Leona this year.”

“Tradition?”

“Does it involve food?” Grim asked.

“No,” Ruggie huffed. “Ya see, this year, each third year student gets honored with their own Bloom Bouquet, or Broomquet as we like to call it.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember now,” Mirai said, thinking back on Cater’s and a couple of his other third year friends on their own Birthdays

“Yeah, but the thing is, the dorm has to make it in honor of that student, we want you to make it.”

Mirai looked taken aback, “Why me?!”

“Well not “make it” make it, like we want you to assemble it.”

“Why not someone else? Like you or Jack?”

“There was nothin’ in it for me,” Ruggie supplied. “And we asked Jack if he wanted to do it, but he claimed his hands weren’t too good with small meticulous stuff like tying ribbons an’ stuff. So you’re the next best thing.”

Mirai bit his lip, deep in thought. “I can just get him one myself, it doesn’t have to be this particular bouquet.”

“I know, but wouldn’t it be nice if Leona got a Broomquet made from his boyfriend this year?”

“Gross,” Grim huffed.

The fight in Mirai dissolved. Flushing, Mirai sighed, “Alright, alright. I’ll do it.”

Ruggie smiled, “Good. Now go find your flower to add to the Broomquet.”

Mirai made his way to the Botanical Gardens and over to the flowers, wondering which one to pick. Ruggie sent him a picture of a list of flowers that were already being added to the Broomquet for reference.

“So yellow is the theme here,” Mirai muttered, looking at the picture of other third years from their dorm and their Broomquets.

“Why can’t we just pick a dandelion and be done with it?” Grim huffed.

“Because it's for his Birthday, it has to be special. You wouldn’t want some ordinary tuna for your Birthday, would you?”

“I guess not,” Grim grumbled.

“Thought so.”

Mirai wandered the gardens, looking at each yellow flower, trying to make sure none of his potential picks were repeated. As he followed the path, lost in his head, the Prefect stepped on something as he turned the corner to the next row of flowers.

“Why am I getting a sense of deja vu here?”

Mirai gasped, jumping a couple steps away only to find the man on his mind, lying between two low hanging willow trees. A single bright green eye landed on the Prefect, making the blonde’s skin prickle with goosebumps. “What was he doing here?” Mirai thought, “Wasn’t he supposed to be in gym class?”

“S-Sorry, Leona,” Mirai muttered, flushing from embarrassment.

“Are you really? Cus it feels like ya did this before,” Leona smirked.

“A-And all those times were accidents, I-I swear!”

Leona chuckled, “Calm down, I was only messin’ with ya. Whaddya doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Mirai shot back. “You’re supposed to be in gym class.”

“I went to gym class,” Leona smirked. “Vargas said I could make up for the days I skipped by running twenty laps around the field. I did, and then I left.”

“Leona!”

“What? Vargas never said I had to stay after I made up those classes. It’s his fault for not being more specific.”

Mirai sighed, exasperated.

“Well,” Grim said thoughtfully, “He’s not wrong.”

“No, he is wrong,” Mirai scolded, “And don’t be gettin’ any ideas Grim. We’re going to gym later today.”

“Awww.”

“You never answered my question, Herbivore,” Leona muttered.

“Huh?” Mirai gasped, eyes snapping back to the Lion.

“My question. Whaddya doin’ here?”

Mirai froze, he had forgotten Leona asked him that. Mirai’s thoughts were reeling as he tried to wrack his mind with what kind of story to come with. “I-I-I, uh, I wanted, I want some flowers to, to, uh, to…brighten up my room!”

“To brighten your room?” Leona questioned with a raised eyebrow, not buying a word the Prefect said.

“Y-Yeah, I-” Mirai’s eyes darted around the gardens until his eyes landed on a bright yellow Lily. That’s it! “I-I-I was feeling a little down an-and I asked Professor Crewel if I, if I could have some Lilies ‘cus, because they remind me of my mother.”

“But I thought we were getting flowers for that bouq-” Grim started before Mirai cut him off loudly.

“Yes, a bouquet for my mother! I know she’s not here, but it’s the thought that counts. It’s like she’s here with me, ya’know?”

Leona’s eyes immediately softened, his ears flattening against his head. Gosh, Mirai hated that look on the man’s face. He hated lying, and he hated the fact that he just lied about how he was feeling, but that was the only excuse he could come up with on the spot. But the Lily part was true though, Mirai loved Lilies, they always made him happy, and they always reminded him of his mother. Also, now he knew just what flower to add to Leona’s Broomquet.

Leona sighed, “Hey, I-”

Mirai shook his head hurriedly, hoping Leona would let him off the hook. “I’m fine, really. It’ll pass like it usually does. Lilies always remind me of her, and they always make me happy.”

Leona sighed and after a moment of silence, Leona spoke once more, “Stay?”

“Next time?” Mirai asked, clipping a couple of yellow lilies and placing them in a plastic bag. “I wanna get these in some cool water.”

“There better be,” Leona huffed, lying back down, and this time, tucking his tail in beneath himself. “Be careful on your way out.”

“Oh? Why should I? Is a big bad lion gonna get me?”

“He might. And if ya don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of the day, I’d advise you to start walkin’.”

“Whaddya gonna do abou-”

Leona lunged forward, a playful growl on his smirking lips and Mirai squealed, grabbing Grim as he ran out the Botanical Gardens.

Back in his room, Mirai sat on the floor, trying to figure out where to put everyone’s flowers. He was artistic, but he wasn’t some prodigy. He wanted the Broomquet to look very aesthetically pleasing, but also, he wanted it to be fair. Like, he really wanted to put the lilies dead center, but he didn’t want it to look like he was putting himself over the rest of Leona’s dorm. And as much as symmetry would look pleasing to the eye, that’s just not how flower arranging was done.

“What do you think Grim? Should the lilies go here, next to the orchids, or here, next to the rosebuds?”

“I don’t even know what those are! How am I ‘pposed to know where to put a bunch o’ weeds?”

Mirai sighed, flopping backwards onto the floor. He never was gonna get this done on time. He wanted this to be special for Leona. Mirai knew Leona had conflicting views surrounding his birthday, that he often didn’t see the want or need to celebrate his own birth, and Mirai could somewhat understand that.

From Mirai’s own experience, he could understand not liking one’s own Birthday, for he didn’t like celebrating his own Birthday either. For Mirai, it reminded him of that life changing accident, it reminded him that his mother was no longer here to celebrate with him. Some days it felt as if he were the cause of it, and others felt as if he celebrated his own Birthday, he was celebrating his own mother’s passing. But since being here, Mirai’s thoughts have changed, not entirely, but slowly, and that’s what Mirai wanted for Leona.

Leona’s reasoning was light years away from Mirai’s own, but that didn’t make it any less damaging, and or unimportant. Leona didn’t didn’t have to change his view completely, because change didn’t happen overnight. One day couldn’t change twenty years worth of trauma, twenty years of feeling inferior, of feeling forgotten, hated, and like a burden, but if tomorrow made the lion reconsider his outlook on his Birthday, even by the smallest decimal, Mirai would be happy.

Mirai looked over the text message one more time, reading over their names and meanings, trying to get an idea from when it hit him.

“I think I figured out how I’m gonna arrange them,” Mirai said happily.

“Don’t care,” Grim yelled from his room.

Mirai swore he was gonna bonk that cat on the head the next time he saw him.

It was eleven twenty-two and things were still in utter disarray. The burnt smell was finally going away, the pan from outside was retrieved and the cupcakes were finally cool enough to be iced. They also decided to make a cake entirely out of cured meats. It was Azizi’s idea to use cured meats instead, saying how the smell of cooking meat would wake Leona up.

“Has anyone found the ‘PP’ yet?!” Luan yelled.

“Have ya checked your pants?” Jaxton cackled, making Ruggie and several other Hyenas burst out laughing.

Luan growled menacingly and Jaxton growled back.

“Guys,” Jack warned, “Now is not the time.”

In the lounge, things were coming together nicely. The majority of the decorations were up, but there was still much to do, not to mention all the stuff they had to clean. The snack table needed assembling, they needed to find the rest of the sign and the finishing touches to tie in the whole thing.

Mirai was slowly bringing over trays of frosted cupcakes. The white frosted ones were a vanilla cake topped with coconut cream frosting, the brown frosted ones were a spice cake topped with chocolate frosting, and the yellow frosted ones were a pineapple cake topped with a mango frosting.

Jaxton tailed him with a three tiered spice cake topped off with a buttercream frosting. It was beautifully iced, a diamond pattern etched into the cream topped off with yellow and brown sprinkles. Mirai honestly didn’t know how the Jackal did it with so much stress and such little time.

Azizi was last with the meat cake, the two tiered masterpiece made up of jerky, sausage, prosciutto, salami, and pepperoni. It was held together by caramelized maple bacon and toothpicks, the maple glaze sticky and savory sweet, and meat cake was topped off with a savory barbecue sauce that was dripped over the edge of the cake, tying it all in. The thing seemed to shimmer in the golden light of the Savanaclaw lounge, giving the tower of meat an elegant look. It almost made you forget it was made of meat.

“Found the ‘Ps’ for the sign,” Chiumbo called. “They were under the chair!”

“Give ‘em here,” Luan called, rushing over to the lost letters.

Finally the sign was complete. The back wall finally had the words Happy Birthday decorating it with its dazzling silver color.

“Time check,” Mirai called, arranging his cupcake display in a yellow, brown, and white pattern.

“It’s eleven thirty-five,” Ruggie called.

The room froze, all of their heads snapping to the nearest clock, as if to confirm the time for themselves.

“Now’s not the time for sitting around,” Ikemba chided, “Pick up the pace.”

The room sprung into action. There were things being thrown, feet scurried across the floor, tails swishing behind them.

“I need some help cleaning up the confetti,” Rover yelled.

“Coming,” Garfield.

“I’m adding the floating lights now,” Raphael said, “So no one’s allowed in the water.”

“Done stringing the lights,” Alfonz called.

“Has anyone seen my shirt?!” James yelled, running around the room.

“Why’dja take it off?!” Ikemba yelled.

“I was hot!”

“Balloons are done,” Sergi hollered from atop the banister.

“Meat cake is finished,” Azizi said, sprinkling the last touches of oregano and thyme leaves on the cake.

“The music is set,” Chiumbo chirped.

“Give me another minute," Jaxton said as he slowly placed a hibiscus flower atop the cake. “I’m almost done.”

“I’m lighting the candles,” Luan informed, casting the room in a warm golden glow.

“Whoever is done, start making your way to Leona’ room,” Ruggie called. “And remember to keep it down.”

The room began to thin out, the dorm making their way to Leona’s den. Mirai added the finishing touches to his cupcake display, placing a flower or piece of candy here or there. Once he was finished, whatever was left was added to the table display.

“You guys ready?” Jack called, holding a sleepy Grim in his arms.

“Y-Yes! I’m coming,” Mirai called, “Lemme just-”

Mirai didn’t finish his sentence as he rushed to the kitchen to grab the single cupcake that he had saved for this very moment. It was a one of the spice cake ones, topped with buttercream frosting and gold luster dust. Round pearly sprinkles decorated the top, one side encrusted with golden sugar crystals. The finishing touch was the candle, a small golden crown that took Mirai ages to find. It reminded him of Leona and Mirai hoped he liked it.

Mirai was one of the last ones upstairs with seven minutes to spare. Everyone was crouched in the hall, quiet as a mouse. Mirai couldn’t resist picking up the ghost camera that hung around his neck and snapped a photo. He wanted to capture every moment of this night, so they all could look back on this one day and smile with the same exact warm and fuzzy feeling the blonde had now.

“Alright, Prefect,” Ruggie whispered, opening the door so it was ajar, “you first.”

Mirai slowly crouched his way in, moving all the way around until he was smack dab in the middle. One by one the others made their ways in. Of course there was some pushing and shoving, and of course some tails were kneeled on, but slowly but surely, all the guys crowded the bed until Leona was surrounded by the occupants of his entire dorm.

Mirai looked over Leona’s peaceful form as he snored away under the pale moonlight shining through his open bay windows. He looked devastatingly beautiful, it was almost ethereal with how he slept, chocolate tresses cascading down strong bronze shoulders. Something about it all, all of this, everything, made something like a mixture of love and sorrow well up in his chest. Mirai didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but he swallowed the feeling down, he’d deal whatever that was later, but right now, it was Leona’s hour, his day.

“Fifteen seconds,” Ruggie whispered, pulling Mirai from his thoughts, and the room went still in anticipation.

“Fourteen,” Jack whispered.

“Thirteen,” Raphael continued.

“Twelve,” Jaxton smiled.

“Eleven,” Azizi added.

“Ten,” Luan whispered.

Leona stirred in his bed, a glowing green eye cracking open.

“Nine,” Ikemba said.

“Eight,” Chiumbo counted.

“Seven,” James continued.

“Six,” Rover added.

“Wha-What are you guys…” Leona trailed off, rolling over to sit up.

“Five,” Garfield said.

“Four,” Alfonz cheered.

Leona’s reflective green eyes darted around the room wildly, reflective eyes of many colors staring back at him. “Wha-” Leona muttered, eyes widening when he noticed the amount of people shoved into his bedroom.

“Three,” Sergi called.

“Two,” Grim cheered.

Suddenly the room was lit by a small flame, the lighter hovering over the wick on the crown shaped candle before it came to life with a near silent ‘poof.’ Everyone’s gazes honed in on the single flame, then back at Leona was sat there in shock.

“One,” Mirai smiled widely.

“Happy Birthday, Leona,” they all cheered. Confetti poppers sounded, party favors were blown, and pictures were snapped. Suddenly the bedside lamp covered the room in a comforting golden glow, and before Leona could say anything, his dormmates began a very unique rendition of the Happy Birthday song. Sound effects were added, someone was definitely off key, parts were too slow or rushed, a rap verse was added, and was someone singing in an opera voice? It was silly, it was loud, and it was goofy, but it was happy, it was loving and caring. Soon it came to an end.

“Happy Birthday! To! You,” They all finished, before cheering at their own monstrosity of a song.

“Now blow out the candle and make a wish,” Mirai smiled, handing over the cupcake.

Leona could immediately smell the spice and buttercream frosting. Taking the small cake from his hands, Leona stared at it, taking in the detailing of the clearly handmade treat. Opening his mouth, Leona went to blow, but he was immediately stopped by a series of shouts.

“What?” Leona asked, taken aback.

“C’mon,” Azizi protested.

“Make a wish,” Chiumbo urged.

“You don’t have to tell us what it is,” James reassured.

“Just wish for anything,” Rover said.

Leona sighed, “Alright, alright.”

Leona closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, and after several seconds, his green eyes opened once more, and with a breath, he blew out the melted crown candle.

The guys cheered loudly, blowing the party favors once more, confetti showering over Leona’s bed.

“You may eat,” Sergi urged.

Leona shook his head, a small smile on his face as peeled off the golden cupcake paper, and took a bite. Immediately, Leona’s taste buds had ascended. Leona groaned in delight as his tongue was met with the buttery soft buttercream frosting, not too sweet, but sweet enough to pair beautifully with the spice cake. He could taste the cinnamon, ginger, cloves and nutmeg, it wasn’t too strong, not too spicy, but it was enough to get that soft, rich and pillowy, spice cake flavor.

Leona forgot himself for a moment there, until he caught the snickers coming from his dormmates. Shaking his head, Leona scoffed without malice, “Go on, laugh. ‘S’not gonna change the fact that this cake is so frickin’ good.”

They all laughed as they watched Leona devour the last of his cupcake. Mirai laughed, snapping a picture of Leona, who had frosting on his cheek, and the corner of his mouth.

“Oi,” Leona shouted, the flash of the ghost camera alerting him of Mirai’s dastardly deeds.

“Oh, no,” Mirai smirked, “That one’s def gonna go in the scrapbook.”

“Scrapbook?!”

“Well now that that’s out the way,” Jaxton cheered, “Let’s party!”

“Woohoo! Party time!”

The mass of them pushed and shoved their way out of the room, and back down to the lounge and shortly after, loud music began to shake the floor.

“Party?” Leona asked, but his question fell on deaf ears as he was promptly pulled by his arms. “W-Wait!”

“C’mon, Leona,” Garfield said.

“Yeah,” Chiumbo agreed, “Let’s go.”

“W-Wait! Wai-O-Okay! Okay,” Leona rushed out, moving to kneel on the bed, his sheets falling away from his hips. “Lemma get dressed first.”

Mirai immediately turned his head towards the window as he had just gotten an eyeful. Mirai honestly forgot the Beastmen tended to sleep absolutely naked, especially during the warmer months.

“Yay,” the two cheered like small children before rushing out of the room to join the party.

“See ya downstairs,” Ruggie said with a chuckle, Jack hot on his heels.

The rest followed suit, giving their own waves, not a single one of them bothered the state of undress from their Housewarden.

There was a pregnant pause before Leona spoke again, “You still here?”

Mirai’s eyes darted in Leona’s direction, but his gaze never fell on the Beastman, “C-Can I look?”

“Sure.”

That ‘sure’ was too nonchalant, Mirai didn’t believe him, “N-No, are you dressed?”

“Aw,” Leona teased, “You didn’t want a show?”

“Leona,” Mirai warned, but his flush on his freckled cheeks made it less threatening.

“I’m dressed,” Leona chuckled, “You can look now.”

Mirai slowly looked his way and, yeah, he was dressed. Leona opted to wear just the top and the jeans to his dorm specific uniform, not bothering with the jacket or any of the jewelry he typically wore.

“Let’s go?” Mirai asked.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Leona muttered following Mirai out the door.

The party had just started, but yet somehow in full swing. The music was blasting, the lights were dimmed, and the food looked good. Now that Leona was up, the guys decided to grill some meat on an open flame. Yeah it was kinda smokey, but fresh meat off a grill, slathered in an array of sauces was something you couldn’t beat.

Cake was served and it was delicious. Leona got the first slice, which he all but shoved in his mouth. His excuse, that the spice cake was “so dang good,” earned a blush from Jaxton, and teasing from the others. There were so many to choose from, but Mirai’s favorites were the chocolate frosted cupcakes he made, and Jaxton’s spice cake. Leona and the others practically ate everything they could get their hands on, especially Grim, but this was why they had seconds and thirds ready.

The music was good, the bass rattling the lounge. Mirai couldn’t understand, for a bunch with such sensitive hearing, they sure did like loud dance music. Azizi and Garfield challenged each other to a dance battle, which Garfiled lost, then somewhere down the line, they got Jack and Ikemba to dance, which turned out hilarious. Raphael goaded Leona into dancing at some point, and after several minutes of badgering and whining, Leona danced. Let’s just say after that beautiful display, Mirai was smitten even more with the Lion.

The party continued, games were played ranging starting with dorm races. Luan, Leona, Rover, Ruggie, Raphael, Jaxton, and Alfonz raced for a good while. They started from the lounge and had to make their way around the dorm and back. Leona, Luan, and Alfonz were tied with three wins, Raphael and Ruggie were tied with two, and the rest with one. Mirai remembers seeing the look of sheer determination on Leona’s face as he sprinted down the halls, the Lion and the Leopard hot on their Housewarden’s tail, and when Leona crossed that line first, Mirai remembers screaming the loudest.

Ikemba was thrown into the watering hole by a couple of the guys at some point, and after Chiumbo went on an angry tangent, and was inevitably chucked into the water after the Boar, games of chicken were played. Mirai watched from the sidelines with a couple of others while they all splashed and yelled in the water. Chiumbo was on Ikemba’s shoulders, and James held Azizi. The Wolf and the Boar kept a steady hand as the two on their shoulders wrestled for a good while, the was no give, until the Kudu overpowered Chiumbo and sent the Meerkat into the water.

When things began to simmer down, card games were played, and of course Ruggie, Garfield and Sergi cheated, which they denied with their cunning cat-like smiles. But when the others exposed their lies by pulling cards from their sleeves, seats and hair, the Servat, the cat, and Hyena just laughed. And where there were no card games being played, small conversation was being made. It was peaceful.

Mirai stood away from the group with a smile, snapping pictures here and there. This was probably one of the best Birthday parties Mirai had ever planned, this probably even topped his own Birthday party the guys threw him a month prior. Mirai was looking through his camera roll when a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder. Mirai gasped, head snapping to the perpetrator, it was Leona.

“You scared me,” Mirai sighed, his heart pounding.

“That’s because you got the heart of a mouse,” Leona gruffed.

Mirai stuck his tongue out petulantly.

“Or maybe a ferret?”

Mirai laughed, setting his camera down. “Having fun?”

“Yeah,” Leona said quietly, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’m glad. We all spent so much time trying to do this for you, so I’m happy you’re enjoying it.”

Suddenly a siren sounded, and James, Raphael, and Rover come out with sunglasses on their faces, air horns in their hands, and a megaphone.

“Weeeeewhoooooooo,” James yelled. “Are you ready for some live music?!”

“Oh no,” Leona sighed, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.”

“Oh yes,” Mirai smirked, pulling out his phone to record.

Jack grabbed Leona by the hands, pulled him to his chair. Leona couldn’t get himself together before the guys covered him in beaded necklaces and smacked a plastic gold crown on his head.

“This one goes out to you Leona,” Rover yelled, pointing at his Housewarden across the room.

“Happy Birthday, Housewarden,” Raphael shouted.

What followed after was a horrible rap about Leona and his Birthday. It was a bunch of nonsense. Rover kept howling, which triggered James to howl. Raphael was beatboxing, then when Rover continued to rap, James started breakdancing.

“Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! Today is your special day,” Rover rapped.

“Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! C’mon let me hear ya say,” Raphael continued.

“Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday,” the wolf, dog and Mountain Lion chanted, ending their performance.

The guys cheered and clapped. Dogs barked, cats meowed, others trilled, yipped, and others roared and howled. They threw confetti, hooped, hollered, and made noise with their noise makers, the works. Mirai was cackling, tears in his eyes, and Leona looked thoroughly embarrassed from his seat.

“Ay yo,” Raphael called, “Somebody send that to me!”

“Already on it,” Azizi laughed.

“That’s going on the cloud,” Ruggie laughed.

“I’m posting this and tagging every last one of us,” Luan guffawed.

“Do not,” Leona shouted.

“Alright,” Alfonz called, “I think it’s about time we opened presents.”

“Me first,” Jaxton yelled.

“Move it,” Luan yelled, shoving the Jackal, “He’s opening mine first!”

“I grabbed mine first, therefore he opened mine first,” Chiumbo squeaked.

“Hold on, guys,” Jack scolded, “You’re going too fast. We already picked the first gift, remember.”

“Oh yeah,” Rover yelled. “Where’s the prefect?!”

“Overhere,” Ruggie said, walking back into the room with the Prefect in tow.

Leona looked up and spotted Ruggie and Mirai, who was holding a distinctly shaped wrapped gift.

“I, uh, it’s uh, it’s from all of us,” Mirai stammered.

“But,” Ikemba urged.

“But they chose me to assemble it,” Mirai finished, passing over the large gift. “Happy Birthday.”

Leona stood up, taking the wrapped object by the smaller end. Leona already could tell what it was the moment they brought it in, Sevens, he could practically smell it from where he was standing. Unwrapping the gift, Leona slowly revealed what he suspected, his Broomquet. Leona stared in awe at the bright vibrant yellows and the deep reds and purples. Turning it around, Leona spotted a card, tied to around the base of the bouquet by a string.

“What’s this?” Leona muttered, picking it up.

“Read it,” Azizi urged.

On the card were all the flowers they chose and their meanings. Leona read it over carefully, taking in each and every one of them.

“You can choose whichever meaning you want,” Chiumbo reassured.

“We just wanted to convey how much you mean to us,” Garfield added.

“A thanks for being our Housewarden for these past three years,” Alfonz said.

“Thanks guys,” Leona smiled, placing the Broomquet beside his chair.

“Now that that’s over with,” Luan said, “Prefect!”

Mirai jumped, “Y-Yeah?”

“You’re up first!”

Mirai barely coughed the box thrown his way, the gold wrapping paper slipping in his hands. “I, no, I, i-it’s, it’s okay,” Mirai stammered, face flushed, “I-I can go last!”

“Nah, after that reaction,” Leona smirked, slouching in his chair, “Hand it over.”

Mirai flushed a pretty pink and slowly walked the small box over, “Happy Birthday, Leona.”

Leona took the box gingerly, and unwrapped it carefully, trying to tear the wrapping paper. Pulling it away, a black velveteen box fell into his hands. Leona looked up at the Prefect, his eyebrows raised.

A chorus of teasing ‘ooohhs’ and giggles rang out the room.

“Is that what I think it is?” Luan teased.

“Prefect,” Raphael teased, placing a strong arm around his shoulders, “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“I gotta get pictures,” Chiumbo squealed.

“I-It’s, it’s not like that,” Mirai hurried out, “I-If it was, I definitely would never do it posed as a birthday gift.”

Leona was silent as he pulled open the box. Placing it in his palm, he pulled out a gold necklace.

“I uh, I wanted to give you something you could take with you, when you leave later,” Mirai muttered, playing with his earrings, “You don’t wear earrings, and I definitely couldn’t do matching rings, a-and I know you always were a necklace, so, yeah.”

Leona put the box down, to inspect the necklace. It was a small, thin piece of jewelry, dainty, compared to the adornments the Prince normally wore, and lighter too. In the middle of the chain was a gold sun, and in the middle of it, was a small red gem.

“Put it on for me?” Leona more like commanded, running a thumb over the vibrant red gem.

Mirai shuffled over, taking the necklace from his hand and unclasped it. Leona sat up straighter, his head tiling up to look the Prefect in the eye as Mirai gingerly moved his hair to clasp the chain around his neck.

“Th-There,” Mirai muttered, flushing, pulling a similar gold chain from his pocket to show the Savanaclaw Housewarden. The necklace was an identical pair to Leona’s, the only difference being the gem in the middle. Instead of the ruby colored gem that adorned Leona’s, Mirai’s was made with a blue and purple gem instead. “And when you go back home tonight, you have a little bit of me with you, and I, you.”

Leona stared at the Prefect for a moment before standing up from his chair. Mirai’s gaze flicked up to the Beastman, his heart stuttering, thoughts reeling. Before the blonde could get a word out, Leona slipped the chain from Mirai’s fingertips.

“You can match me tonight,” Leona muttered, clasping the necklace around Mirai’s neck, “when you accompany me for my Birthday party as my partner.” Leona’s fingers trailed along Mirai’s jaw as he pulled away, his green eyes boring into Mirai’s.

“Kiss him,” Luan whispered.

Mirai flushed, his head snapping to the others.

“Kiss him,” Ikemba followed.

“Kiss him,” Alfonz chanted.

“G-Guys,” Mirai stuttered, trying to quiet their teasing.

“Kiss him,” they all chanted. “Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!”

“Guys! Seriously! I’m not gonna-”

Suddenly, Mirai was grabbed by the waist and pulled forward. Mirai's head snapped back to Leona who was looking down at him. The Prefect couldn’t even get a word out his mouth before a pair of warm lips were pressed against his. Leona deepened the kiss, and Mirai melted, resulting in hoops and hollers from Leona’s dormmates, and groans of disgust from Grim.

“I hate yall,” Mirai pouted, hiding his face behind his arm.

“Alright, who’s next?” Sergi asked.

The rest presents were given and opened, Leona accepting each and every one of them with an open heart. The Housewarden received things from new knee pads for his spelldrive uniform, to things like brushes and combs, and hair care products. Somewhere down the line, Leona received a pillow, a new blanket and an eye mask for sleeping, which the Lion greatly appreciated.

By the time they finished, the sun was rising over the horizon. It was getting close to five in the morning and not a wink of sleep was had. The air was warmed and with the brightening sky, eyes were closing, so food was put away, tables and chairs were moved, and blankets and pillows were spread out across the floor.

They all lay together like a Lion Pride that had retired for the day after a successful hunt. There was no more music, no more chatter, but the sound of birds chirping to start their day, the serene sound of the waterfall that constantly from above them, and the occasional snore or nonsensical muttering from unconscious lips.

Chiumbo lay across Ikemba, using his body like a pillow, a blanket wrapped around them. Jack lay with James and the other wolves, and Ruggie with the other Hyena. Raphael and Alphonz lay with Luan and the other lion’s and big cats, Grim sprawled out next to them as they basked in the sun. Sergi and Garfield kept Rover company in the far corner, and Azizi slept by himself, closest to the water. Leona lay at the highest part of the lounge, curled up like a house cat in the midday sun, and in his arms lay Mirai.

The Prefect laid there, his eyes tracing the hard lines of Leona’s collarbones, his gaze eventually wandering to the shiny gold sun pendant. It was beautiful against Leona’s rich skin, and Mirai swelled with joy. Leona had loved it, much to Mirai’s delight, it made all that fuss he made about finding the right gift those some odd days ago null and void.

Mirai reached up to touch it when Leona spoke, “You can’t sleep if you’re looking at me.”

Mirai gasped, snatching his hand away from Leona’s chest. Looking up at the Beastman, Mirai saw that his eyes were closed. He wasn’t looking at him, but Mirai knew that he acknowledged him with the way his ears twitched. He knew Leona knew he was looking at him.

“S-Sorry,” Mirai whispered.

“Nothing to apologize about,” Leona muttered. “But if you wanna make it up to me, you can by closing your eyes and getting some sleep.”

“Alright, alright,” Mirai sighed, but didn’t move to go to sleep.

“Whaddya thinkin’ ‘bout?”

“You. Did you have fun?”

Leona sighed, opening his eyes to look down at the Prefect, “Yeah, I had fun.”

“Are you happy?”

“Whaddya on about?”

“It-It’s just, I know you really don’t like celebrating your Birthday,” Mirai whispered, playing with the collar of Leona’s shirt, “but I wanted to do something to make you happy, even if it’s for a little bit. You guys made me happy on my Birthday, so I wanted to share that happiness with you.”

“You did,” Leona muttered, rubbing his cheek against Mirai’s.

“Was it enough-"

They both froze upon hearing movement from someone. Leona and Mirai waited until the shuffling and mumbling stopped, and only when it did did the two let go of the breath they seemed to be holding.

"Was it enough to make tonight just a little better?” Mirai whispered.

“Since you’ll be going with me, it shouldn't be too bad,” Leona smirked, “We can make fun of the snobby delegates and nobility, get drunk off of the champagne, and once the cake is cut, we can ditch the garish affair for a night to ourselves.”

Mirai chuckled, pressing his face into Leona’s chest to muffle his laughter. Leona yawned, his mouth wide, the noise deep in his throat and Mirai yawned shortly after him, seeming to catch the yawn bug. Getting closer, Mirai pulled his blanket around himself, tangling his and Leona’s bodies together, and Leona sighed contently, a quiet chuffing noise escaping his throat as he pulled the Prefect closer until his form engulfed Mirai’s smaller one.

“Night Leona,” Mirai yawned. “And Happy Birthday.”

“Good night, Herbivore,” Leona whispered, “And thanks.”

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lulublack90 · 10 months ago

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Prompt 6 - Brave

@wolfstarmicrofic January 6, word count 344

Opposite - Cowardly

He’d been in worse scrapes than this before. He was almost certain he could talk his way out of it. Remus had managed to get away, so that was one less thing to worry about. He put on his best heart-melting smile.

“Professor McGonagall, fancy meeting you here.” His voice was like velvet. Usually, these tactics worked on girls and women alike. Even on occasion, he’d turn his charms on his own sex to the same results.

There were only two people he’d met who were immune to his charms. Remus Lupin and Minnie McGonagall. But he always tried anyway.

“Mr Black, what are you doing out of bed at this hour?” Her stern voice, while quiet, carried through the deserted corridor. An idea popped into his head. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the Transfiguration essay he’d stuffed in there.

“I was trying to finish your essay before bed when I realised I’d accidentally left it in the library. I know I shouldn’t have been out of the dormitory, but I was worried it might get lost if I didn’t go and find it.” He made sure he looked sheepish and scuffed his toes a little bit. He looked down, not meeting her eyes. She sighed.

“Alright, Mr Black.” He looked up at her hopefully. “Go straight up to Gryffindor Tower. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow morning.” He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Yes, Professor. Goodnight.” He smiled shyly at her and was just about to turn away and escape to the dorm room when Remus came barreling down the corridor yelling.

“It’s my fault, Professor. Sirius didn’t even want to come. It was all my idea.” Sirius groaned audibly. Stupid, brave, idiot.

“20 Points from Gryffindor and a week of detention for the pair of you.” Professor McGonagall told them. “Now go to bed.”

They both nodded when a huge ‘Bang’ sounded down the corridor. They turned to look at McGonagall wincing.

“Two weeks.” She said so quietly they didn’t dare argue. Neither was that brave.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #sirius x remus #brave #professor mcgonagall #marauders era #marauders #incorrect marauders quotes #marauders incorrect quotes #mauraders #the marauders’ era

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whispering-ways · 1 year ago

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•♡✷ matched hearts (pt. 1) ✷♡•

✷ summary: shinsou downloads a dating app and starts talking to you

✷ pairing: hitoshi shinsou x reader

✷ tags: no warnings, just fluff!

✷ notes: slanted texts indicate actual text messages (purple is shinsou, white is reader) :)

Shinsou wasn’t a big fan of dating apps. He wasn’t even a big fan of talking to the people around him nevertheless new people. It’s not that he didn’t like people, he liked his friends of course, it was just hard to maintain a conversation with people is all.

But seeing all the couples on campus did honestly make him feel a bit lonely, leading him to download Hinge. He honestly never took it seriously; it was fun to swipe through profiles but he never took the time to have any sort of deep conversation with anyone. That is until he saw your profile.

He’d seen you around UA a couple of times and thought you were pretty, but Hinge let him see you in a whole new light. Apparently, you really liked crocheting, which he found interesting because he always wanted to learn how to do it, but never quite found the time to actually learn. You were a huge movie buff which was yet another plus since he was too. You also seemed to be really smart; UA didn’t just choose any old student to be part of the Department of Support after all. Something about you just carried this bright aura that pulled him in. Soon enough he was liking your profile and sending you his best pickup line in hopes of talking to you more.

You’d just gotten home from a long day of tinkering with a new gadget you’d been working on recently when you saw that someone liked your Hinge profile. At first, you were going to ignore the notification; you were way too tired. But even after you took a shower, ate dinner, and took a melatonin gummy, it seemed like you’d never be able to fall asleep. So you opened up Hinge, thinking that if you were going to be up, you might as well look through some profiles.

That’s when you saw that Shinsou liked your profile. You didn’t know him too well, but you had seen him pop into the support department a couple of times. You definitely thought he was cute, but you’d never really gotten a chance to talk to him since he mostly just talked to Mei when he needed repairs. But his pick-up line?

“‘Is your name yarn? Because you’ve got me all tangled up in your stitches’?” you said with a laugh. It was for sure one of the cheesier pick-up lines you’d been told, but still pretty sweet. You thought about it for a second and then decided to reply. I mean it’s not like you were falling asleep anytime soon anyways.

Lol that’s really cheesy, but you’re in luck bc cheesy pick-up lines are my fav :)

After a few minutes, you thought you wouldn’t hear a reply back till tomorrow morning so you started scrolling through Instagram. But after looking through a couple of posts, you saw that Shinsou sent you a reply back.

Haha, well I’m glad you like it. How has your day been?

Its been a little tiring tbh, I’ve been working on this one gadget for who knows how long and I just can’t seem to get it to do what I want it to do lol. How’s yours been?

This time the reply was instantaneous.

Tiring as well. I’ve been doing nothing but training all day today. What sort of gadget are you making?

That surprised you; most people thought making gadgets was boring and didn’t want to know too much about it. But as you gave him more details about what you were building, he seemed genuinely interested. It was refreshing, to say the least. That question lead you both into talking about your careers and the passion he had to be a hero was evident. It was inspiring to see how much he cared about quirks that were looked down on in society. To you, it was certainly admirable and made you want to work harder in your own career.

Shinsou thought your dedication to the support department was amazing. It was good to talk to someone who was equally as ambitious as he was, but not actively trying to be competitive, which was a big issue between students in the hero industry. As the night carried on, the both of you kept texting about anything and everything.

There was just something so comforting and natural when talking to you. It was just simple. Before you two knew it, it was 4 am and you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. You’d felt yourself drifting off a couple of hours ago, but the conversation was just too good for you to end it then. You and Shinsou said goodnight and you hoped that this wasn’t the end of the both of you talking.

When you woke up the next morning after talking to him, you were greeted with a text from Shinsou which immediately put a smile on your face.

Good morning. I hope you have a nice and hopefully less tiring day :)

It was simple, but sweet and lead you both to continue talking throughout the rest of the day. It had been now about three days since your initial conversation and you both had been texting the entire time. Getting texts from Shinsou had now become one of the most delightful parts of the day. Whenever you saw a notification from him, you felt a wave of giddiness flood through you.

Shinsou, although he didn’t want to admit it, also found himself grinning at your daily texts. Every time he heard the chime of his notifications, he secretly hoped it was you texting him back. And while he knew he shouldn’t be so quick to answer, he couldn’t help texting you back instantaneously. You were one of the only people he enjoyed talking to after all.

It took a lot of courage out of him, but after an hour of hyping himself up and drafting out the text in his mind, Shinsou finally asked you out on a date.

Would you happen to be free this weekend? I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and I’d like to take you out on a date if that’s okay with you.

When you saw that text, you squealed and threw your phone on your bed in excitement. After a moment, you realized that you’d actually need to settle yourself and reply to him.

I’d love that! Are you free on Saturday around 11am?

Shinsou’s nerves instantly settled; he was absolutely elated reading your last text. He took a minute or two to think of some places he thought you’d enjoy and then sent his reply.

Yeah, that works for me :) there’s a cat cafe nearby UA, would you like to go there?

That sounds lovely! I love cats, so thats acc perfect!

Great! I’m a big cat fan myself. I guess its a date then ♡

Soon after you two had set up your date, you both said your goodnights. But you were far too excited to fall asleep any time soon. You were already laying in bed, planning your outfit, and thinking about how you wanted to do your makeup even though the date was two days away

. A couple of blocks away, Shinsou was thinking about the date too. The more he'd talked to you, the more he truly felt this connection with you. It just felt like kismet. All he was hoping for now is that you weren't any different in person.

You spent most of the night thinking of different scenarios of how you thought the date would go in hopes of calming you down enough to fall asleep. However, it did the exact opposite, the lovely thoughts keeping you awake. After a while though (and with the help of a melatonin gummy), you were able to fall asleep and you dreamt of your date the whole night.

#mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bhna fluff #bhna x reader #ao3 shinsou #shinsou fluff #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #mha shinsou #shinsou x you #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x y/n #mha hitoshi #mha shinso x reader #my hero academia #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha fluff #hitoshi shinsō #hitoshi x reader

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i-like-anything-water · 1 year ago

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(Smashes in through the window) OW GLASS! Also, ONCE MORE I HAVE RETURNED!! WITH CHLOENETTE!! Sorry about the window...

Anyway, I thought I'd share my take on the Reverse world and Emonette in terms of Chloenette: Essentially, my thought is that Reverse!Marinette is a gang leader who took over the streets due to her parents neglecting her, and came to enjoy the fear and pain she inflicts on others. Reverse!Chloe, on the other hand, is the spoiled sweet and beloved darling of Paris who believes the best in everyone. They end up a couple due to Reverse!Chloe seeing Emonette as a wounded soul who just needs help and understanding, and Emonette falling for her HARD due to Reverse!Chloe being the first time EVER that anyone has been shown her genuine kindness. Sure, there are a little hiccups like Emonette using her criminal connections to beat up anyone who stands in the way of Chloe's desire to make the city a better place and people start thinking Chloe is deliberately ordering the attacks, but who cares, they love each other!

"I'm only refraining to smash everyone's faces because of my girlfriend. If she and I were to break up, I'd suggest you dig your own grave before I do."

That's what the small piece of paper read. Every gang leader in the city of Paris shuddered as the familiar handwriting left a fear only one person can instill.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

If you've ever asked any members of the gangs occupying Paris, they'd beat you up before you can even finish. If you're unlucky. If you're lucky, they'd beat you up after you finish asking.

Of course, that was of the past. Nowadays, they've moved on to better ways. Such as beating up people but only after asking and considering the question. Old habits die hard.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not like most leaders and it's not just because she calls herself Shadybug. No, she was not like most leaders because unlike any gang leader you'd stumble upon because you're shit at directions, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had one thing they don't.

A girlfriend. That's right, suckers. A girlfriend.

And not just any girlfriend, she has THE girlfriend. The beloved darling of Paris and Mayor's daughter, face of every charity that's ever popped up in Paris and gives free pastries and helps people cross the street by sometimes carrying them bridal style if you asked.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was dating Chloé Bourgeois and that was both surprising and horrifying.

Her gang members were widely amused and supportive, of course. Sometimes they can even be found helping in some charities and when asked, they shrug, point a thumb to a familiar looking blonde and say, "Just helping the boss's girl."

How the ended up dating? It depends on the news agency you follow, the story gets changed every few weeks. But the consistent part is because Chloé saved Marinette from something. Half of the population thinks it was from another gang, while the other thinks she saved her from the authorities.

They are all correct, but only half as well. Chloé actually saved Marinette from herself, both metamorphicaly and literally after she almost bled to death on a random alley.

From then on, the gang leader took it upon herself to watch over her savior, insisting it was to repay her and not because she was lesbian.

"Boss, you might be gay for her."

"You might just be fucking dead tomorrow too."

For everyone's sanity, they didn't oppose the couple. After all, why would they? Seriously, why would they.

Anyways, everything has been going fine. Until the small piece of paper came which made everyone, minus the ones non-gang, confused.

That is until they flipped the paper.

"I'm going to propose to my girlfriend this week and if any of you shitheads ever decide to have a fight, I will have you claw your way out of my hands until you are nothing but actual pieces of shit. Also, wish me luck or else."

Everyone was quiet, and for a moment Paris seemed to stop, then everything came undone.

"Holy shit."

"That's what we'll be if we don't follow her instructions, Dylan!"

#chloe bourgeois #chloenette #marinette dupain cheng #i suck at writing threats lol #anyways this was cute #kinda crack i think #emonette #reverse chloe #they deserve everything

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monsterswithimagines · 2 months ago

Text

Undisclosed Desires- Part 8

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 1000

Masterlist

I waited a while to ask you on a second date. I did that on purpose. For one, I knew you were busy and I didn't want you to have to say no to me. But also, I was busy myself. A new Stephen King book came out last week, and Mooney's has been a never ending parade of idiots who don't even read, but want to own the newest King, anyway.

It's three weeks later. We're in the back of a cab.

You're nervous, which is understandable.

I kept a book to the side, just for you. I was going to give it to you when we met up earlier, but then I realized you'd have to carry it around all day, so I decided to give it to you later.

We never ended up walking through New York together. We got too distracted just talking to each other. So when I texted you last weekend, my plan was to ask you to go on a walk with me. I had it all planned out. I know which routes you've walked, mostly, and was pretty confident I’d come up with a route you'd never think to follow on your own. But before I could bring up this plan, you said:

YOU: i kinda have a work thing soon

YOU: we're allowed +1s tho

YOU: wanna come?

ME: …Well, what kind of work thing?

A music festival, is what kind of thing. Apparently, your boss is one of the main sponsors.

Festivals aren't your kind of crowd, and you don't want to go, and I think you're regretting inviting me along.

It's not even your kind of music, this festival. It's not Guns ‘n Roses or Muse or Prince, which is what you put on at the café when the crowd finally started to thin. You smiled at me meekly and told me you're a poser - “I kind of only know Purple Rain, I'm that kind of Prince fan” - and I told you I consider Prince to be one of the great poets of our generation.

“Prince was born in 1958,” you'd said to me. I was surprised you knew that. “I wouldn't say he's ‘of our generation’.”

A poser wouldn't know that, (Y/n). You give yourself far too little credit.

Anyway, the music at this festival is mostly new pop, which I hate and which I know you hate. You're fiddling with your beanie (not black this time but mustard yellow) like it's your armor and you're wearing black jeans and a red knitted top (no bra, I can tell, and you want me to notice this) and red converse. Your nails are painted black, but the polish is already chipped because you keep picking at it.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I hate that this is happening on a Sunday,” you tell me. “Like, hello? We all have to work tomorrow.”

I nod.

“I'm sorry. I promise I'll be more fun, later,” you say. “I'm just not great with this stuff. I don't exactly go out to parties or anything.”

Which is the truth. I know this about you. You spend your weekends at home, reading or watching Netflix. Last night, you stayed up until three am and watched the old Planet of the Apes movies on your laptop. I could hear the sound from across the street, because you had your windows all the way open again.

“Was going to this thing mandatory?” I ask.

“I guess not, but I'm still sort of new and I feel bad saying no.”

“That's understandable.”

“Are you into festivals?”

“Not at all.”

“We don't have to stay very late, if we don't want to.”

NADIA: Omg good luck 😭

You take out your phone. You're texting someone and laughing and I don't like it, but then you lean over to show me and it's just Nadia. She's sent you a photo of a T-shirt that says ‘Sorry, I'm overstimulated’. I love that you are involving me.

You answer back: me and joe have to survive loud music today wish us luck

I like Nadia. She doesn't even hesitate to reply to your English message in English, because she knows I'm reading along.

“She seems like a good friend,” I say.

“Best friend in the world,” you answer. “We basically grew up together.”

“How does that work? Isn't she from Belgium?”

A pause. You're trying to remember if you told me that. You haven't, but I don't say anything and eventually you come to the conclusion that you must have.

“So, we lived in a border town,” you explain to me. “When we were kids, she lived on the Belgian side and I lived on the Dutch side, but we also lived on the same street.”

“Huh,” is all I say.

“Yeah.”

You shoot off another text and then you put your phone away. You turn your body to me to show me I have your full attention, and you take my hand.

I could kiss you right now. You'd let me.

“My coworkers can be a bit much,” you say.

“Understood.”

“They're all very opinionated. Especially when they've been drinking. It's best to just agree with them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you say.

You fiddle with your hat again. I put my hand on top of yours to stop you, then fiddle with your hat for you.

“You look great,” I say.

You're flattered. You're blushing.

“Thank you. So do you.”

I'm wearing jeans and a white shirt, and an old belt I got from a thrift shop. Nothing special. Yet you really mean it. You put your hand on my arm and you look at me and it's not just that I could kiss you. I want to. I really do. I want to say fuck this festival and take you home and watch old movies with you and fuck you until you forget your name.

The cab stops. We're here.

“Here goes nothing,” you say.

#penn badgley #you netflix #joe goldberg #joe goldberg x female!reader #joe goldberg x y/n #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg imagine #x reader #you #you s1 #imagine

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justanotherfanwriter · 2 years ago

Text

And they were ROOMmates, cht 2

cht list: (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n: thank you to everyone who left such encouraging messages on the first part of this. Ah ha, so like I said, I lost the rest of the outline for this story, and can’t remember where I was supposed to be going with it, but people said they would be interested in more, so here’s more! I’ve got a general idea of where I want to take this, but im writing without much of a plan! sort of how soul eater was fking written anyway Hopefully, it’s still enjoyable!

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

Above Soul, there was a fluorescent light that needed replacing. The light flickered off-beat with the high-pitched buzz of the dying bulb, and at odd intervals, the room would dim before filling with an irritatingly bright, white light. He stared absently ahead, slouching in his seat. For the most part, the white walls, white light, and now, what he accepted as a white noise stood in the peripheral of his attention.

His eyes flickered to the clock nailed to the wall above the door before leaning over the hospital bed to rest a hand right below Maka's chest. He had been conscious of her breathing since the fight, checking it on the hour almost every hour. He sat completely still, holding his breath, afraid he'd somehow steal the oxygen away from her, as he felt her diaphragm rise and fall. He counted three slow inhales and three slow exhales before he allowed himself to suck in a greedy breath of his own.

He had no reason to be doing so. Logically, Maka was quite alive and hooked up to a monitor here, at one of DWMA's clinics, but there was this little needling voice in the back of his mind that would whisper differently, the tone of which was almost as high-pitched as the buzzing lights above him.

"You're touching my boob."

"Can't touch something that isn't there." He shot back without startling, "How are you feeling?"

Maka groaned, her eyes fluttering open, "Just kill me."

He didn't bother hiding how he smiled as he shook his head, "Drama much?"

"You'd think with everything we've been through, they'd, you know," She waved a bandaged hand in the air, "go easy on the bed rest stuff. I'm fine."

"You'd think after everything we've been through, you'd go easy on the almost dying stuff."

"Okay," She let her head fall back onto the pillow, "noted. I'll admit this hasn't been my…best moment, but death do me in, I was dealing with Oxford!"

He also didn't bother to hide the way he rolled his eyes, "Yeah, he's a brat, Maka, but he's not worth two ribs, a leg, and, well, I guess there was never any helping that face of yours, was there?"

"Har. Har." She sighed, then said, "Noise isn't so bad anymore, but I could do without all the light."

"They won't let me turn this shit off," He grunted, glaring at the door where the nurses popped their heads in from time to time, "but I'll bring your eye mask with me tomorrow. On your nightstand, right?"

"Hanging on one of my bed posts," She corrected, covering her eyes with the crook of her arm. "Sorry, I can't remember which one."

"Don't worry about it." He stood up, placing their duffle bag on the bed, "I've got your book still. Do you want that, or…?"

She shook her head, "It'll just give me a headache."

"Right," He nodded, toeing the ground. "Do you want me to go to the café, get you something not-disgusting to eat?"

"If you did, I'd probably love you forever."

"Pfft, is that all it takes?"

She smirked, lifting her arm off her face, "What can I say? I'm a woman of simple tastes."

After a three-beat pause, he fixed her with a look and asked, "Can I get that in writing?"

"Hey!" She huffed, chucking a pillow at him.

He dodged it easily, "Good luck picking that up by yourself."

"Soul!" Maka called out after him as he walked out of the room, snickering. He was halfway out the door when she spoke again, "Uh, hey, wait, Soul?"

He poked his head back into the room, and his smile faded when he saw the way she had crowded in on herself, "Yeah? What's up?"

She fiddled with the blankets in her lap, "Well, are you alright?"

"I'm not the one in a hospital."

She snorted and looked up. She had that look on her face, still kind but closed-off, staring at him like he was a puzzle she couldn't quite figure out, "I know that, but I mean, in general? You've been a little in your head lately." She pressed her lips together as her eyebrows furrowed, "Wanna…wanna talk about it?"

His heart dropped.

"I'm good, Maka. I'm okay."

"It's just with Harvar—"

"—he just pissed me off, that's all. He's an ass, and 'sides," he shrugged, "I was worried and stuff about you." Her face softened, and he glanced away, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden, "Sheesh, don't give me that look. Are you seriously surprised?"

He didn't stick around for her response. Instead, he shoved his fists into his pockets and stalked down the hallway. Guilt did a number on his gut. Lying to Maka, even the innocent 'no-we're-not-throwing-a-surprise-party-for-you' kinda shit always messed him up, but he didn't know what else to say or do.

A short elevator ride later, he stepped into the clinic's café line, gnawing on the inside of his cheeks in thought. This was all Harvar's fault, or not so much Harvar, but the shit he had said was all Soul could think about. And usually, he did such a good job of not thinking about it that all the thinking about it was—

"Hey, aren't you that kid?" The guy behind the counter asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Soul blinked. The line had moved quicker than he had expected.

"Hm?" He looked at the large guy looming before him, "Sorry, what?"

"That kid! You're that kid, right? The new Death Scythe? I've seen you on the news with the Death Lord and the pigtails girl, you know, the one who was involved in all that moon stuff. Nasty business, that moon stuff. I was committed for a few years after all that, got some of the moon crazy." The man's eye twitched as his smile spread just a little further than humanly possible up his face, "I'm good now, of course."

Soul eyed the guy carefully, "And you're working at a clinic?"

"Applied for that program, you know, the Death Lord initiative helpin' with all the moon—" the man circled a finger next to his head, "—got this job with it!"

"Well, I can't see how that'll backfire on us," He drawled, mostly to himself, before uttering a small "congrats."

The man preened, "Real nice seein' a Death Scythe, never got to thank anyone, you know, none of my letters ever made it past censor for some reason. Say what you doin' here?"

"The ambiance, I guess," He pointed to the menu, noticing how he was holding up the line, "listen, can I just get a—"

If possible, the man's smile grew wider, "I like it too. Good energy. Death and sickness. That girl, she's here, right now, isn't she, pigtails? That's—" He laughed, "—that's probably why you're actually here. I heard the gossip this morning! Nasty business dealing with that monster! If it wasn't for pigtails, I'd just be another version of that guy! I'll have to stop by her room, huh? This morning when I heard what all the buzz was about, I asked, I said, hey! What room's she in, and they all said, that's inappropriate, but I just want to say thanks, you know, for what she's done! That's not so bad, is it?"

Soul narrowed his eyes but chose not to respond. He knew this guy's type. Madness was hard to recover from, and most people couldn't do it. Many people were like this guy, half there, half not, living a convincingly everyday life until something pushed them over the edge. Anything could do it, but from Soul's observations (and experience), it was always some sort of invocation of fear.

Thanks, of course, to Asura for that. A real cool guy, that one.

A lot of times, these people didn't know they were still under the heavy effects of madness until they were standing smack dab in the middle of their living room, surrounded by the bodies of their dead loved ones. To say the least, it wasn't a good time for anyone involved, and for the past few years, it had been his and Maka's line of work, given that she thought Crona, and therefore the Moon, was her doing and responsibility.

"I mean, she fixed everything! Can't say anything was ever broken," The guy behind the counter laughed harder, pounding his fist onto the prep counter off-beat with his belly laugh, "but hey, you know, I ain't no shrink! But seriously, it's got me all frazzled," The man leaned completely over the plastic display window so his face was close enough to Soul's that he could no longer politely ignore his breath, "cause she's here, but no one's fucking telling me where she's at. Guy can't live like that, you know, me and her, we've got something special, and I can't even see her!? What the fuck is that all about?"

Soul pushed the man's nose away with the tip of his finger, "Back up—" He peered at the nametag on his left breast pocket, "—Marc, you're starting to really piss me off."

Marc slid back to the other side of the counter, and the faux-jovial expression fell off his face. Soul studied his eyes closely, watching his pupils dilate at odd intervals. A violent twitch shook his whole body, and then, the face-splitting smile reappeared as if nothing had happened.

"Oof," Marc shook his head, "ha! That got a little intense, didn't it? My bad. We're all good here, aren't we?"

"Are we?"

"Course we are! Say, you know pigtails, and I, obviously, would like to know pigtails. Maybe put in a good word for me, yeah? I mean, she was your meister, right, and no need to lie, you know, 'cause I already know. Maybe she could make me a Death Scythe, too? I'd like that a bunch! You're through with her, right?"

"You got a manager or something I could talk to?"

"It's not like you need her anymore," Marc kept going, "you're already a Death Scythe, and I think it's only fair I get a shot, right? I mean, that little bitch ruined my fucking life. I think she owes me one." He said this like he was making a casual remark about the weather, "So, just tell me her room number."

"Yeah, I want to talk to that manager now." He reiterated, "And your counselor. They're not gonna like this."

Marc threw back his head with a short laugh, which ended rather abruptly, and he continued looking at the ceiling as he talked, "I just don't get it. Why won't you just give me her room number? I mean, just give it to me, you know? What—" His head snapped down, and he gave Soul a look that would have made him flinch if he weren't so used to it, "—you fuckin' her or something?"

He picked some lint off his shirt and, watching it float to the ground, asked, "Why are you freaks always asking shit like that?"

"Give me her room number."

He mulled over an answer before returning to Marc, "No."

An ear-piercing scream seemed to erupt right from Marc's gut as he lunged over the counter. Soul stepped back, transforming his arm into a scythe as the man jabbed his own spear-like arm in his direction. It was always interesting, in Soul's opinion, at least, when a demon weapon was under the control of madness. Soul knew what it felt like firsthand to be under the effects of madness and how fucking hard it was to shake the feeling, so seeing another weapon's reaction to its' influence made him feel less othered in some twisted way like he wasn't the only one.

On the other hand, it was harder for him to sympathize with these people. If he could overcome it, why couldn't they?

He blocked Marc's attack, pushing the older man back against the counter he had just hopped over. Then, with a spin kick, he moved the scythe of his arm to his leg, slashing at Marc's center. He made contact, could literally feel the way Marc's skin split in two for him, but he didn't dare go any deeper than a surface-level cut.

He pulled away quickly, putting some distance between them as he prepared for the counterattack, but was surprised to see Marc slump to the ground with a grunt, falling to his knees.

The fact that someone his size—and a weapon at that—was already on his knees because of a little graze was odd. Sure, most weapons didn't choose to work as a weapon as he had, so Marc's lack of stamina wasn't totally unexpected, but regardless, it was surprising.

Unless of course—

Soul tilted Marc's head up, so he could see his eyes. They continued to dilate at impossible speeds, like his sanity and insanity were playing tug-o-war with his consciousness.

—he was internally fighting himself. People who made it this far in the Program didn't make it this far without trying.

"Bad idea, coming for a Death Scythe. I guess I freaked you out, huh?" Soul spoke to the groaning, mumbling man, "Don't worry. I won't take you out. The people in this room have enough problems as it is."

Soul looked around at the frantic individuals and families cowering over each other, still likely scarred from all those years ago when this sort of happenstance played out on a near-daily basis. People from Death City weren't usually the "cowering" type as in some way, shape, or form they had walked the halls of DWMA, but visitors, like the family wearing the matching sports jerseys from some team in Georgia, weren't probably as used to this, especially in a hospital setting.

He gave them a weak smile and muttered, "Fuck, what a drag."

"Hey! What's going on out here!" A man in the same uniform as Marc scrambled around the corner, coming from the direction of a supply closet.

Soul flashed his badge, and the other man—Clay, he assumed from the nametag, at least—came to a halt.

"Shit, you're a Death Scythe!"

"Is that what that badge says?" He sniffed and then jerked his head at Marc, "You got his counselor's name and number?"

"Uh, I'm—did he attack you? They said—my supervisor said this one wouldn't do that!"

'This one,' Soul felt offended on Marc's behalf. How demeaning was that shit, 'this one.' It wasn't like any of this was Marc's fault.

"Well, he pulled it, sorry. That number, though? Kind of time-sensitive. I think he's trying to—" Soul paused. Explaining exactly what this guy was going through would just take up more time, "—stop himself, let's go with that."

"Can't you do something!" Clay exclaimed, "Aren't you, like, supposed to be doing more? Is he gonna go ballistic? I thought this guy was messed up! I told them!"

"Did my badge say Program Counselor, or did it say Death Scythe?" He snapped, "Get the number!"

Clay's eyes widened a fraction as he scrambled around in the front pocket of his apron, "My supervisor told me I had to keep it on me at all times. He said it was just some dumb rule and that we had to follow it or the cafeteria company—it's not the hospital, it's like some third party—they wouldn't get some grant or something, but he said it was just a precaution, nothing bad was supposed to happen. Is his arm a knife! Is he a weapon! They never said anything about him being a—"

Shock did a lot of things to people. Evidently, it turned Clay into a talker. Fan—fucking—tastic.

"—Looks more like a spear to me. Now, Clay, dude, the number," He demanded, making a grabby hand at him.

"Right!" Clay squeaked, passing it over with a shaky hand, making Soul lousy.

He took the number and pulled out his phone. As he dialed, he looked back at Clay, "Hey, you're not from around here, are you?"

Clay's large eyes bounced away from Marc. If Soul could guess, he'd say Clay was maybe five-ish years older than him. He had the Death City aesthetic down, but anyone could wear a pair of gauges and combat boots and have the Death City aesthetic down, and his reaction to a weapon was telling. Obviously, weapons lived worldwide, but unless they turned into a weapon, non-weapons tended to forget they existed, which had its perks from time to time. Other times, it did not.

"Uh, well, I'm from Las Vegas, but they pay better down here."

"Heard that." Soul nodded as a woman on the other end of the phone picked up, "It's gonna be okay, though, alright? We'll get this—"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Dropping his phone, he pulled Clay into his chest and turned, shielding him with his body as Marc sprang up from his spot, his spear arms stabbing into the tile floor where Clay had just been standing.

Soul cursed, ignoring Clay's cry of surprise as he pushed him toward the family from Georgia. He hoped they'd all get the fucking picture and book it out of here, but fear made people do stupid things. He was a living testament to that.

He didn't have much time to react as Marc freed his arms from the ground and made another lunge at him. He'd be able to dodge one of those spears, but no matter what, thanks to his own stupidity and timing, the other was going to land its target. He braced himself for the inevitable. It wasn't like he hadn't been stabbed before, but this was really the cherry on top of an already shitty week.

At the same time he dodged one of Marc's arms, a gunshot echoed throughout the cafeteria. Marc's eyes went wide, staring into his own as a bullet hit the shoulder of the arm Soul wouldn't have been able to dodge.

Marc fell with a cry, the blast of the shot sending pulse waves through his body until he collapsed. The convulsions were semi-unsettling to watch. Kid's wavelength manipulation reminded Soul of a cartoon character getting hit with a taser, but Marc didn't immediately bounce back like a cartoon. Instead, a moment of clarity flickered through his eyes, and Soul wished he could look away. Genuine, non-madness-induced fear was there, and it was like Soul could read his every thought.

I've been shot.

Then, I'll be recommitted.

It turned Soul's stomach. That could have been him. He could have been Marc.

"I said!" Black*Star screamed, and Soul jumped in surprise, looking up at the ceiling where Black*Star hung from a light fixture, "I had it!"

"You were taking too long," Kid rolled his eyes, brushing invisible dust off his jacket while Liz transformed back into her human form.

"Too long! Too long!" Star continued to scream, dropping from the ceiling with a thud right in front of Clay and the terrified family from Georgia. He regarded them as he pointed at Kid, "This guy says I took too long. Can you believe it!? He took my—" He turned back to Kid, "—it isn't just about the shot! It's about the suspense! Dammit. Where was the flair?"

"Upsey-daisy!" Patty appeared in front of Soul with a giggle, forcing him to look away from the argument brewing between Star and Kid.

"Oh!" He blinked in surprise, staring at her outstretched hands, "I fell?'

"Like a sack, man," Liz appeared, "what's up with that?"

He took Patty's hands and was yanked up at such an incredible speed Tsubaki had to reach out to steady him.

"Are you okay, Soul?" She hummed, tilting her head in concern, "You—" she frowned, "—well—"

"—You froze!" Patty finished with a laugh, mocking what he assumed his face must have looked like, "Like a deer!"

He rubbed his head, "I—it's…this week has been absolute shit."

Liz looked around the room, first at Marc, then the cowering bystanders, and nodded, "Nothing ever good happens in a hospital for us, that's for sure." Then, she spoke up, yelling in the direction of her—their—meister, "If only there had been someway to prevent this!"

Kid got the hint, loud and clear, and froze mid-argument with Black*Star.

"B-but…they weren't...even…," He whimpered, ducking his head.

"Even…did he just say—" Soul muttered to himself, Kid's words relighting the fire under his feet as he put two and two together, "—you piece of shit! I was right!" He took off after Kid, "I'll show you even!"

#soul eater #soul x maka #maka x soul #fic #my writing #canon compliant with the manga #FYI I take what I need from N.O.T. but I wont be tricked into reading that dumpster fire more than I have to #Think of this cht an intro to the c-plot // im not very good at action and wanted to practice!#In the next cht I introduce the nonsensical b-plot :))))

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year ago

Note

I just wanted to pop in and say that I hope you know that we are all rooting for you to be your best self and you should never feel bad for taking time for yourself! I know that it can be a lot of pressure to be constantly productive—especially in the fanfiction community— but you are ALWAYS your most important reader. You do this for you, and the enjoyment that others get from it is really just a bonus ☺️ I adore your work and think that you capture the tone of the characters just perfectly. I can’t wait to read what you post as soon as you post it but ALWAYS know that this should never make you feel guilty. Life happens, and the people on here aren’t always going to be your #1 priority. We will always be here to celebrate you and your work, no matter when you get to it. Love you so much JJ. ❤️🥹

I LOVE ALL OF Y'ALL SO MUCH I CANNOT EXPRESS TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE EVERY MESSAGE THAT WAS SENT TO ME.

If I reply to every single one then I'll be flooding y'all's timeline with the same sappy words over and over again, but I just want y'all to know that I've never felt so loved and honored 😭 I know the fanfic community does have the reputation of being high pressure to be productive, but I have never ever felt that way with you guys. You're always so loving and understanding and sweet and that means so much to me.

These last few days have been rough, and I'm still struggling a bit. Long story short, I have a high stress job that no longer offers any reward. I used to be able to put up with the awful stuff b/c at the end of the day I felt like I was making a difference but as of late that has not been the case. [it's part of the reason why I've been working so hard on my original stuff b/c if I can somehow wiggle my way into the professional writing world then I can spend more time doing what I love.]

Anyways, all the stress exhausted me to the point where I didn't have the energy I usually dedicate to writing and I only wanna give y'all the best of what I can do rather than half ass a chapter or drabble.

Tonight, I'm hoping to update the Sugar Daddy!Joel story b/c that's the closet update to being done (and I'm in a 'handsome cowboy millionaire takes care of a down on her luck woman' lol) Then tomorrow I'm hoping to make it a Din Djarin day and get updates on all his stuff out!

#feel free to ask me about anything!!#asks #jj makes announcements #jj gets serious #i love all of you so much #im so serious #i am giving all of you a virtual hug #i'm so grateful for all of y'all

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philtstone · 1 year ago

Note

some pairs: peter/gamora, bucky/sarah, han/leia, aishwarya/vikram

some words: literary, aromatic, windswept, proximity

sarah/bucky, windswept

Two Boots River was not ever a river but in fact a marshy channel that got bogged up by water reeds and slime in the summer season. The residents of St. Bernard’s Parish had called it such before there was a parish for St. Bernard anywhere in sight, and at this point it was a long abandoned fisherman’s route; the overnight shacks lining dotting the route were decrepit and all the best spots for crab traps were infested. No one knew by what, but nobody went there anymore anyway, if they were smart. Unless they were taking a shortcut home, to get back in time for a meeting with a potential investor, which Sarah Wilson had scheduled for tomorrow.

“Fuck,” says the woman in question. “Shit damn. This is what I get for being an idiot.”

She isn’t leaning over the side of the boat because that would be terribly unwise in a gale. It could be a hurricane. Nothing about one in the news, but Sarah wouldn’t bet against that just being her luck.

“Maybe I’ll find those boots,” calls out her companion, over the roaring rainstorm.

“You will not,” Sarah says. She keeps having to swipe water out of her eyes. God, it is terrible out here, and the St. Grace is stuck. She is in one of those positions where she cannot be thankful that they made enough money in the last quarter for her to be able to buy a second boat – not when they could possibly lose it in a freak storm of her own idiocy. “You’ll find a bunch of ghosts, that’s what those boots belong to.”

He eyes the churning muck below them with a detachedly contemplative precision that doesn’t make sense given the hurricane. “It’s not a hurricane,” Bucky says.

“I’m gonna lose my house,” says Sarah, wiping her face again and holding down a rope for dear life, lest the whole thing pick up and fly away. “Please God let my children be in the neighbour’s storm room. You haven’t lived here.”

“I can do ghosts,” he says instead of answering her, and then jumps into the water.

If Sarah were a better person she’d have stopped him, for the sake of his general health. This kind of bog muck in the middle of a storm can kill a person, just as sure as it can get a boat stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere. Sarah throws the line down anyway and swears a bit more to herself because there is no one there but God and the ghosts to hear. After three minutes of the wind’s interminable howling she is sure Bucky Barnes is dead and she has killed him. Then the line goes taut and St. Grace lurches and Sarah nearly falls so hard she breaks her nose.

“Jesus,” she says. They are moving forward, by inches. The braken sludges away around St. Grace’s hull. She’s gonna miss her meeting for sure. “Bucky?” she calls out into the howl of the storm. “James?” They’re moving forward in earnest now. But she can’t really see him. If they’re moving he hasn’t drowned. Sarah is being practical about it.

“James B you better not be dead,” she says.

Bucky pops out of the water about a yard away, black with mud. He’s the wettest equivalent of windswept, like the gale winds were going at him under the water too.

“Fuck,” he says, and spits out muck. The rope is wound tight around his left arm and she can see the strain of exertion in his neck, under the muck. His eyes look frightened by something that is not the storm. Ghosts, probably. The fool. He didn't think, did he. Regardless, Sarah wets her bottom lip, unnecessarily given the storm, and doesn't know why she didn’t fully believe him when he said he'd pull them out by hand. Wildly, for a moment, Sarah wonders: if were her house really to be blown away, could Bucky build her a new one?

But just now his eyes still look frightened -- they are the only part of his face she can really make out -- so she puts that thought out of mind and calls directions out to him over the wind, so they can find safety together.

Blessedly, he hears her.

An hour later they are sheltering in one of those abandoned fisherman’s shacks. Except it’s not abandoned, as there was a can of beans in the pantry and wood for a fire by the stove, also non-moldy blankets closed up in a pretty modern plastic bin.

“I feel like I’m camping,” Sarah says. “Guess I’m not the only person stupid enough to take Two Boots. My meeting …” she sighs, trailing off. She is wrapped in one of the blankets but still has her shorts and t-shirt on, as they didn’t take too much damage under her parka. Bucky’s across from her on the other side of the table, wrapped in the two remaining blankets, which he’s mostly using to cover his left side and damp boxers. They watch his sopping clothes drip slow slow slow onto the floor by the stove fire, together.

“Those are gonna be gross tomorrow,” he says.

“It’s okay,” says Sarah, tired, rubbing one eye and not thinking about it. “I don’t mind you being a little naked.”

She cringes then, because that’s not really fair or appropriate. Bucky came with her because he is technically her employee or something. She’s not sure. Of course he is family, and he isn’t out there superheroing with Sam at present, which he has not called retirement but certainly hasn’t talked much about in a different capacity either. He just showed up one day and Sarah started giving him things to do because Lord knows they needed to be done, and she liked having him around.

She chances a glance at him and he looks mildly amused, save for the traitorous pink flush on his neck, which she figures he can’t help as a white person. Poor thing.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It’s fine,” hasty. “I’m just – the mud brought back bad memories.” She realizes he is trying to apologize for being quiet, which she now realizes could have maybe been read as taciturn or even completely dissociated, but she was so caught in her own worries she really didn’t notice.

“Oh, James,” she says.

“The house will be okay, you know?”

“Will you?”

He grunts. Looks at her a long time. The fire goes on crackling. She looks at the crates in the corner, which hold the engine parts they’d gone to pick up for a little skiff that’ll help St. Grace with the fishing. Sarah is terrible at delegating; someone else could’ve run this route. At the same time, she seems terrible at refusing help lately, too, specific help from a specific person, and it is making her skin itch. Neither of them should be here right now. What if the house blows away? As if to drive this point home thunder cracks outside, so loud it makes itself known through the wind.

“You better not be here because you’re running away,” Sarah says abruptly. Maybe the thunder scared the words out of her. Or the reminder of his ghosts. It’s very hard suddenly to stop herself from climbing over the table and touching him. It would be a grabby touch, the kind that would hold him in place. The thought is embarrassing but Sarah is grown enough to admit to it, and to be righteously angered by the evidence that compels her in that direction, too.

“Running?” Bucky asks. His hair sticks up at the top, in a tuft, where he dried it roughly with the blanket’s edge.

“Cause you’re not out there, you know, but I think you still like superheroing. I think you’ve always been that kind of person.”

That's not the full truth, but the full truth would be callous. And anyway, he can think and understand what he likes about Sarah, too.

“Is this because I said to come with you on this trip?”

“Yeah, Mr. Helpful. Not just me though. Everyone in town. If it was just me I’d say sure, I know the way you look at me, whatever. Men show they like you with all kinds of stupid. But everyone else, too.”

“I’m not a superhero, Sarah.”

“Then what the hell are you, Bucky Barnes?” To me, she means.

He tilts his head and stares at the floor. The light from the fire carves out his cheekbones and lashes and the smudge of bog muck still covering his temple. Sarah is overcome by the urge to cry.

He shrugs. “Family man, I guess.”

“You guess.” Oh. The tears do come.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“I think I love you.”

Sarah wipes hard at the wetness on her face, annoyed that it is persisting even now that she’s safe from the gale outside. She takes a few deep breaths. “You mean, not just like family.”

“Oh. No. In love, I guess.” His voice has gone terribly soft. “In love with you.”

The fire crackles. The wind gales. They can hear the bell on St. Grace dinging outside where she tosses a bit, even tied down so nicely.

“Yeah? I’m halfway there.” Sarah is surprised by the tenderness in her own voice, considering how this has complicated her world. “Maybe two thirds.”

“I know.”

“So why’d you say it? You could’ve waited.”

“I didn’t know I could. Felt good to say it, I guess.”

“What?” She realizes, “love somebody? Oh my God, Bucky, a blind crab could’ve told me you could love someone.”

He frowns, but there’s humour in his voice when he says, “Yeah, but you could tell ‘cause you’re good at it. I haven’t been any good at it in a while.”

And you just thought to try with me? Is Sarah’s next thought, which is more hateful than he deserves. The wind picks up outside quite suddenly and it feels the shack is about to fly away with it.

“Sarah,” he says again. She does love how he holds her name in his mouth. Sarah gets up and goes over and sits beside him on the chair. It’s not really big enough to hold both of them and their blankets, but they make it work. They both smell. And his left shoulder is uncomfortable to lean her head against, so, after a moment of contemplation, she kisses it instead.

“I’m gonna miss my meeting,” says Sarah, almost in a laugh, and then doesn’t think about much else: the hungry yearning in the room has stopped existing as a ghost. One too many acts of tenderness have breathed life back into it. "Boots are still wet though," she adds, tugging his urgent hands around her waist. The blanket has slipped mostly away from his shoulder now, "yours I mean. Maybe we can split my clothes between us tomorrow."

And it is a silly thought, so they both do laugh, properly this time, like a brighter version of the St. Grace's bell being tossed around in the storm.

#my writing #finally wrote something i like prose wise!#sarah x bucky #fleur de louve #fatws #sarah wilson #bucky barnes #marvel #one word prompts #to this day that last prompt KILLS me. tumblr user ewoktreehouse do u know how many times i have laughed reading it over

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