#I owe him better birthday art than this but look

[jellygoblin]

ITS HIS BIRTHDAY HES A BIG BOY TODAY IS HIS DAY HERES A LIL DRAW FOR MY BOY

[wishbonetea]

as a birthday present to myself and in celebration of getting new content for the first time in YEARS (nora i owe u my life), i'm posting the first sneak peak of Of Smoke & Bone Part II: Of Fear & Fury!

Full sneak peak under the cut.

Read the fic on AO3 here!

Of Smoke & Bone In general, Neil Josten managed to keep his two lives in balance. On the one hand, he was a nineteen year old art student in Prague with a part-time job in a mostly-normal coffee shop. On the other, he, Allison, and Renee worked for an inhuman creature, running errands in exchange for wishes. For the most part, these two lives rarely intersect. But it’s fair to say that the Foxes bring their own brand of trouble, and Neil’s two lives soon start to collide.

The first thing Dan registered when she woke up—the first thing she always registered when she woke up—was Matt’s arm wrapped around her waist and the warmth of his breath against her chest. She blinked fuzzily at the ceiling, trying to rid the awful taste in her mouth with her tongue. Despite the warmth of Matt’s arm and breath, it didn’t quite cancel out the throbbing headache that kept her just out of comfort’s reach.

She missed the days of waking up after a night of drinking without a hangover. She was only twenty-three years old but she already missed the days of her youth. Back then, she could wake up and get back to work no matter what happened the day before. Now, she had to deal with the consequences of her actions, and it sucked. She let her eyes fall closed again and it didn’t take her long to drift back into dreams.

When she woke again, it was to the vibration of her phone on her bedside table. She blinked until her eyes finally focused and tried to reach for it without waking Matt. It didn’t work, and her stomach turned at the movement. When Matt grumbled something incoherent as he rolled onto his side, she made a gentle shushing sound. Dan waited until her nausea subsided before trying to sit up. After grabbing for the phone, she wound her arm back around him to read over his shoulder. Matt’s only response was to tug at her arm until she wound it tighter around him, and he snuggled back against her chest and under the duvet. She pressed a kiss into his hair, and it still smelled like the branded gel he insisted was better than the cheaper alternatives. Matt was born into money, and there were some habits he couldn’t shake even when budgeting as a student.

She struggled to read the notification through her eyelashes since the screen was far too bright for a Sunday morning, yet even when she could read it clearly, it took several moments of fumbling through memories until she processed what the words meant.

@TheKathyFerdinand: Painter Kevin Day talks to us at @RAYLEIGHMAGAZINE about his departure from @EdgarAllanUniversity, finding his feet at @PSUoftheArts, and his first solo exhibition. Read the full interview here.

Of course. The interview.

The interview that was supposed to be Kevin’s re-debut and—what Dan had hoped—PSUA’s big introduction to the world outside of Prague. She knew better than to hope for no slip-ups, but she hadn’t anticipated Neil turning on Riko like that. Riko was the kind of man who’d let his popularity go straight to his head, and the worst part was that until she found out what he had done to Kevin, she had thought he deserved his popularity. Riko’s art was exceptional, so he had the right to be a little arrogant, she’d thought. Until Kevin came to PSUA, she’d even been glad that a man like Riko existed. She’d been thrilled that two men of colour were dominating the art scene in London like Riko and Kevin were. A part of her was still glad. Riko’s behaviour and attitude were unforgivable, but he still served as a good role model to kids that looked like him.

Right up until Dan remembered Wymack telling them about Riko’s connections with the fucking mafia.

She didn’t know what to think of that yet, and her current state of mind wasn’t the best state of mind to think about it for too long. She pushed it from her thoughts and pretended she didn’t know what she knew. It wasn’t going to solve anything in the long run, but it would have to do until she had a chance to talk to Wymack about it in more depth.

Reading Kathy’s article did wonders to refresh her memories of the interview. Dan had known that Kathy would draw attention to Neil’s cutting criticism of Riko and Edgar Allan, but her report made Riko’s icy entitlement look like he spent weekends at soup kitchens and environmentalist protests. Kathy had called Neil a spitfire in person, but the Neil she had written was more like a bomb going off, obliterating anything in its focus.

So all in all, Kathy’s interview hadn’t exactly been kind to Neil, but she had certainly paid attention to what Neil had said.

“Matt,” Dan hissed. “Matt. Wake up.”

“What?” he mumbled.

“Kathy Ferdinand posted her interview with Neil and Kevin.”

“What?”

“Here. Listen. ‘When I asked Riko Moriyama to join me in Prague for Kevin’s first solo show—not only since leaving Edgar Allan, but ever—I thought Kevin would appreciate the surprise. Yet when Riko entered from behind the scenes, so to speak, it seemed that I was the one in for a surprise. You’ll be surprised to know that last night’s exhibition was the first time Riko and Kevin had spoken since Kevin broke his hand in a skiing accident last month (you can find more details in January’s edition, Peonies Fall For Kings, available here). Yet it wasn’t the heartwarming reunion I was expecting. Instigated by Kevin’s new friend and potential collaborative partner, Neil Josten, Kevin soon revealed that he wasn’t intending on returning to Edgar Allan when his hand heals like we all presumed. Even Riko believed that Kevin was only to stay in Prague temporarily. The works on display were all paintings Kevin had made during his time here in London, but he certainly hinted at plans to start afresh. And it doesn’t seem that Riko is holding onto the past either. When questioned about his plans for the Ravens to continue recruiting in Europe, Riko told me that the Ravens hadn’t altered their schedule for Kevin’s injury and had no intention to do so in the future. Riko believes that Kevin has been left behind, but that he’s ready to welcome his brother home when Kevin is recovered once more. It seems that Kevin, however, had discussed his plans for his future with his new friends in Prague. Neil didn’t sound surprised that Riko expected Kevin to return to London, but was confident that Kevin had nothing to return to. Neil’s quick defence of Kevin reminds me of the earlier days of Riko and Kevin’s partnership, back when the media speculated that such a pairing would hold the two young artists back. It makes me wonder whether Kevin has founded a replacement art collective to rival Edgar Allan’s Ravens, and I personally cannot wait to see what comes of it.’”

“Shit,” was all Matt said.

Dan huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Shit.”

Matt rolled over to face her again and buried his face into her neck. “You need to send that to Neil,” he said between planting kisses that tickled her skin. “He’d freak.”

Dan was momentarily distracted by the roughened timber of his voice to process his words. She paused. “Oh my god that’s so funny, freak? Or, Oh my god we’re all gonna die and I’m gonna flee the country, freak?”

“Neil wouldn’t flee the country.”

“Neil would definitely flee the country.”

Matt rolled onto his back and Dan watched as he blinked up at the ceiling and waited for his vision to focus. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes to speed it along and turned his head to look at her. He looked as awful as she felt. She’d been the one to suggest they go to The Foxhole Court for a few hours, but there was no way the Foxes wouldn’t turn ordering in into a small party. They’d put away most of two bottles of vodka even without Neil and Renee helping them. Dan hadn’t been counting but it looked like Kevin almost had one all to himself. She didn’t blame him, considering what had happened, but it reminded her too much of Matt and Seth’s own addictions for her to feel entirely at ease with it.

“Okay, yeah, he would. But only for a week,” Matt eventually said. “He’d come back.”

“Plus,” she added, tangling her socked feet with his, “we know too much.”

Matt laughed at that. “Yeah. All that blackmail material like how he takes his coffee and what his favourite colour is.”

She prodded his chest. “Hey. That took me six weeks to get out of him.”

Matt pulled her into his side. “I know. It took me seven to get him to admit he liked cats.”

Dan huffed a laugh and raised her phone to her face once again, copying the link from the article and sending it to the Foxes’ group chat. Even though Matt was right next to her, and had already made his opinion known, he still tapped out a reply.

Dan sent a link Mattata: i’m gonna print and frame that Mattata: that belongs on the wall DamnWilds: i think we need a social media channel for us DamnWilds: look at the comments DamnWilds: ever since @im fine roasted riko to shit people wanna know who we r DamnWilds: weve got everyones attention but if we play this right we can keep it DamnWilds: if we film us working and do interviews with the student mag people might root for the underdog Catty Bitch: how can you encourage @im fine to open his mouth in public? he does bad enough 1-1 im fine: I’m not that bad. Catty Bitch: sweetie do you even remember yesterday The Gay Cousin: neil might not remember it but riko sure does Mattata: neil made riko look like a stupid asshole who sells out friends on a daily basis

Matt continued tapping something on his phone even though Dan could see the three typing indicators on the group chat weren’t showing. After a second or two he sat up and shuffled to the end of the bed, reaching over to the bluetooth printer perched on the edge of the desk. After turning it on, and waiting for it to make its usual grumbles of life, Dan heard the typical squeaks of something being printed out. She watched in curiosity until Matt lifted two sheets of A4 paper with a PDF of the article.

“I’m serious,” Matt said. “This is going on the wall.”

He was referring to a stretch of wall in The Foxhole Court’s staff lounge that had been covered in photographs of the team. Some of them were official: photographs of Wymack and Abby with famous people who had somehow stumbled in since the café opened in the nineties, and photographs and snippets of articles clipped from newspapers and local magazines. The majority of the pictures, however, were taken by Dan and Seth. These were scattered everywhere and anywhere they could fit and were held up with blutack and tape. One entire corner was a clump of photos of the Foxes turned into memes.

Dan grinned. She opened her mouth to reply when her own phone started ringing. She expected it to be Allison or Renee but was surprised when Wymack’s contact was displayed. She hit the green answer button and put him on speaker.

“What’s up?” she asked.When Wymack spoke he sounded weary and she felt heavy stones lay to rest in the pit of her stomach. “Get everyone down to Court, would you? We need to talk.”

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

22 - Answer’s Gonna Come Somehow

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter. these specific panels are from the digital zine juno posted. go buy and support!!!!! there’s so many phenomenal works in there and it’ll warm your little heart.

cw: n/a :)

Year: 1995

“And what’s that?” Bobby pointed to Dustin’s book.

“That’s a character guide,” Dustin smiled.

“And that?”

“Guide to NPCs.”

“What’s an NPC?”

“Non-playable character,” Dustin chuckled.

“And those?”

“Villains. Bobbs, did you know that your papa is a dungeon master? He knows a lot more about this stuff than I do.”

“Whoa, really!”

“Yes, really.”

“And what’s the game called again?”

“DnD.”

“Got it. Papa!”

Bobby ran from her play room into the living room. Eddie was sitting on the couch, completing the finishing details for the campaign he’d be running later that day. Bobby crashed into the couch and rested her chin on the arm rest. 

“Papa?”

“Hi, pumpkin,” Eddie smiled.

“What’s D-n-D?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open as he looked to his little girl. He set down his pencil and notepad as he slid to his knees. He braced his hands on Bobby’s shoulders and pulled her close.

“Bobby Judas, my sweet, sweet girl. I need to tell you, with every fiber of my being, that this is the best day of my life.”

Bobby smiled proudly as her father whisked her into his lap and explained what he was doing with his latest campaign. She reclined back onto him as she was sucked into the enchanting fantasy world.

“And what’s your character, papa?”

“I was initially a bard, but since becoming dungeon master, I’ve been a vampire—Kas—Vecna’s second lieutenant.”

“What’s daddy?”

“Daddy doesn’t have a character.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, pumpkin.”

“Daddy!” She yelled.

Steve’s ears rang at his daughter’s shrill shriek echoed throughout the house. He dried his hands on a rouge dish towel and wandered off to find the hell spawn.

“Yes, Bobby?”

“How come you don’t have a DnD character?” she asked.

“Because I don’t play.”

“But why not?”

“I never really understood it.” He shrugged and tussled her hair.

“Hey,” she whined.

“Oh, sorry, bug, I forgot you had hair clips in. Here, let me fix them.” He knelt to her height and unclipped her barrettes, promptly fixing them. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” She kicked her legs, accidentally knocking Eddie’s knees and shins.

“Ow, Bobbs, be careful, please,” Eddie said.

“Sorry, papa. So, do I have a character?”

“You do, actually,” Eddie smiled proudly. “On your first birthday, we threw you a DnD themed party where everyone came dressed as their characters. Since you didn’t have one yet, I made you one.”

“What am I‽” She gasped.

“You, my dear, are a first level Neutral Good Human Paladin.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are destined to be the best person you could possibly be. You’re adaptable and take adventure seriously—I noticed all that when you were a baby, and I still stand by it.”

“Papa, can I play with you guys tonight?”

“I can ask the rest of The Party, but there shouldn’t be any issue, pumpkin. Dustin!”

“Yeah?” he hollered back.

“Why’re you still in my daughter’s playroom? Come here, please!”

“What?” He asked, running down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

“No, Henderson, why would you introduce my child to DnD?” Steve asked, hands resting on his hips. “Now it’s two against one,” he teased.

“Ignore him,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Would you mind if Bee joined us during our campaign tonight?”

“No, not at all. What would she be doing?”

“Well, I’ll start her off as second in command as dungeon master, then when it’s safe enough, we’ll work her in. Does that sound good, Bobbs?”

“Yeah!”

“Wonderful.”

“Does this mean it’s gonna be more tame?”

“Please,” Eddie scoffed, “as if my hell spawn couldn’t handle my sadistic campaign. Who do you think I raised?”

By four o’clock, the entirety of The Party arrived at the Harrington residence for an early dinner, prepared by Steve. The boys (and Bobby) dug in and by five o’clock, the game had started. Eddie lugged Bobby into his lap and leaned back in his masters thrown.

“Bee, you may begin,” he said.

In the deepest, gruffest voice she could muster up, Bobby leaned forward, only eyes peering over the master guide, and she set the scene for the campaign. Her voice changed with each character, however, sputtering a bit whenever she couldn’t pronounce something. Eddie would match whatever voice or tone she was putting on and sound out the words with her.

When Eddie knew it was safe for Bobby’s character to enter, he sat his daughter down in her own chair and set the stage to introduce her. He flipped his locks back and smiled proudly at his little twin.

“As you clear the luscious green hills after conquering the stampede of trolls, you encounter a lone traveler. Human, state your name and class,” Eddie announced.

“I’m Bonnie Priest, a level one, pala… pala… papa, help, please…” She leaned forward in her chair, kicking her legs aimlessly.

“Paladin,” he whispered.

“Level one paladin!” she cheered. “And I’m ready to defeat Vecna!”

Eddie quietly chuckled as he admired his daughter’s spirits. As she continued with her opening speech, he whispered, “that’s my girl.”

Unfortunately, the night came to an end quicker than usual, as Bobby’s bedtime approached faster than most assumed. Steve entered the basement at eight sharp to collect Bobby and get her ready for bed. With much protest, he managed to get Eddie to wrap up the one-shot and persuade the spawn upstairs.

But as soon as Steve scooped her up in his arms, she was dozing off within seconds. Eddie was left to say goodbye to The Party as Steve was doing Bobby’s nighttime routine. When it came to her bedtime story, she refused to sleep until Eddie read to her.

“Pumpkin, you’ve spent all night with papa—I’ve missed you. We usually have our movie and coloring night tonight. Can’t daddy read you a story to make up for it?”

“But papa does voices,” She pouted.

“I can do voices too. What do you want to read? Just tell me what you want, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll get papa, okay?”

“Okay…”

“What do you want to read?”

“Tell Tale Heart.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again…”

“Alright, I’ll grab it.”

While Steve put in a valiant effort, Bobby still demanded to be read to by Eddie. For days to come, Bobby clung to Eddie more than usual, taking a particular interest in his hobbies.

One day, when Steve was stuck at work, Eddie picked Bobby up from school on his own. He sent her into the den to complete her homework—he was over in the next room plucking his guitar and scribbling down new lyrics. When she was finished, she wandered in and sat at Eddie’s feet.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he smiled.

“Can I play?” she asked.

“You can try,” he chuckled. “It may be a bit too big for you, but go for it.”

He handed the acoustic guitar over to her, sitting behind her to hold it and guide her hands. While her strumming was deafening, Eddie still egged her on, not wanting her to give up on any potential hobbies.

“You know, daddy used to sing to you before you were born,” Eddie said.

“Did he?”

“Oh, yeah, it was horrific.”

“Was it?” Bobby giggled.

“No, it wasn’t bad,” Eddie smiled. “God, he has loved you since day one, pumpkin.”

“You didn’t?” she pouted.

“No, of course I did, but… I dunno… I initially never wanted kids, but daddy? He wanted like five of them. He was so excited when he found out I was pregnant. But me? Lord, I was terrified. I love you more than life itself, Bobbs, but I was so, unbelievably scared at first.”

“That’s okay, papa. Babies are scary.”

“Yes, they are,” he laughed.

“Hello?” Steve called, walking through the front door.

“Hi, honey,” Eddie beamed.

“Hi, daddy!” Bobby cheered, storming the door and attacking him with hugs.

“Oh, bug, it’s only been like eight hours,” he chuckled.

“I love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, pumpkin. What’re you doing? Playing guitar with papa?”

“Mhmm!”

“Learn anything?”

“Not yet.”

“But she’s getting there,” Eddie added. “Just a little more practice and she’ll be a pro.”

The family went about their evening as normal, ending with the boys putting Bobby to bed with a story of her choosing. Once she was sound asleep, they headed back downstairs to tidy up before hitting the hay themselves. As Steve washed the dishes, and Eddie scrubbed the counters, Steve let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Eds?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think… have you noticed… uh…”

“Uh? What’s wrong, Stevie?”

“Do you think Bee’s been a bit, I dunno… off lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s just been bouncing from hobby to hobby. A lot more than most kids her age do.”

“So? She’s just curious.”

“No, Eds, what I’m…” Steve trailed off.

“What?”

“I think she has either ADHD or ADD…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about it, Eddie. Her grades have been slipping a bit, she had that weird stint with a temper last year, and now she’s trying to take on a million new hobbies at once. Her brain is going a million miles a minute.“

“So? I was that same way when I was a kid.”

“And you graduated high school three years late.”

“Yeah, alright, you make a good point,” he sighed. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I think we should take her to see someone… or at least start with talking to her teachers to see how she’s focusing and participating in class.”

“If you think it’s necessary, then I say let’s go for it. After all, this is your line of work.”

“Sorta.”

“Closer than mine,” Eddie shrugged. “But, Stevie, even if she has ADHD, would you really want her to be on medication so young? I mean, she’s barely seven.”

“I mean, kids can start taking small doses of medication as young as six. There’s a lot of research in this. I think it would be more beneficial to treat her and hopefully benefit her in the long run than to keep her off it.”

“If you say so…”

Several weeks passed and after a lot of conversation with several professionals, Bobby was eventually diagnosed with combined type ADHD. To accommodate both the boy’s wishes, she was initially placed in both behavioral therapy to try and gain control over some of her outbursts, then if that failed, they’d move on to medication.

Bobby wasn’t taking the treatment as well as they boys had hoped. She always threw a fit whenever they brought her in for her weekly appointments. She said that she felt like an outcast—a freak—and that was the last thing Eddie wanted for her.

Steve tried explaining that it was totally normal for some kids needing extra help in school, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. Instead, she barely spoke or even participated in her treatment sessions, so the boys were left with no choice but to start medication.

“I hate this,” Eddie sighed. “I really, really hoped she wouldn’t get any of my bad traits.”

“Bad traits? Ed, honey, it’s not a ‘bad trait’… she just learns a bit differently than others, and that’s okay. It’s normal.”

“She said she feels like a freak, Steve,” he teared up. “I grew up as the freak. Hell, even you, my own husband, used to call me a freak. I never wanted that for her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a freak, Ed. Hell, I was labeled a ‘King’, and now I’m nothing but a lowly social worker. But you? Eds, you have albums out, you open for huge bands, and you’ve been on tour. There’s worse things to be than a ‘freak’.”

“I guess so,” he sighed. “I just know the feeling and it sucks. Kids are so mean. I just hope no one’s being mean to her at her new school.”

“If they are, then we pull her completely and just home-school her. At least that way you’ll be able to tour again,” Steve teased.

“Pfft, please. I’d rather her stay in school.”

“Why?”

“So she gets socialized and makes friends. At her age, it’s more important than traveling.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Steve took a sip of his coffee before glancing at the time and choking on his gulp. “Shit, we haven’t gotten her up yet. She’s gonna be late.”

“Fuck, I’ll get her. You start breakfast. Go, team, go!”

[1autistictacticalrefrigerator]

SoapGhost ( lil goofy prompt i made, but ignore the title bc i have no clue what to put up here. 😔 )

This was bad. This was very bad. Tomorrow was Ghost’s birthday, and Soap couldn’t get him anything. After a mission gone lopsided, Soap had been bedridden. Of course he recovered well, he even got gifts from Price, Gaz, and Laswell- which was strange, but hey, he wasn’t about to complain when he was getting free art supplies. ( Soap draws very well, and enjoys doing art. ) Soap wasn’t supposed to be too active, meaning he couldn’t go on a scavenger trip to hunt down the perfect gift for the perfect man because the doctor didn’t want him messing up the stitchings. Soap had spent the whole day trying to think of a good gift to give Ghost, since “birthdays” were a sensitive topic to Ghost. Or so Soap thinks anyway. Soap gets forcefully snapped out of his thoughts when his sketchpad falls out of his pocket.

“Oh-“ Soap jumps, startled from the sound of the sketchpad meeting the floor.

Soap picks the sketchpad which had been neglected for days, flipping through it. Scenery, plants, and other things filled the pages of the sketchpad. Especially Ghost. Definitely Ghost. Suddenly, the force of the universe and gods combined hits Soap. If I can’t buy Lt anything.. I’ll make him something. Something good. If there was one thing Soap was good at other than exploding things and making them fly sky-high, it was drawing and painting. So that’s exactly what I’ll make Ghost. Soap heads to his room, and of course, the gifts Price, Gaz, and Laswell left for him was lying around. Perfect, Soap thought to himself as he seats himself and gets to work. He spends the whole day painting a portrait of Simon in detail. Not Ghost, but Simon. Soap had only seen Simon once, but Ghost’s face was etched into Soap’s mind, and made a permeant home in Soap’s heart. At night, the painting finally dries and Soap wraps it up neatly before hitting the hay, beat from a whole day of stroking brushes.

…

Today was Ghost’s birthday. Nobody really threw a party or anything of that sort because in the previous years where there was one, it was awkward and resulted in Ghost storming out of the bar, where the party was chosen to be. Everyone had acted like Ghost didn’t have a birthday ever since. Ghost didn’t seem to mind. But Soap knew better. He could see right through Ghost. Today was going to be difficult for him. He’ll get all sorts of stares, and people would most definitely avoid Ghost more than they usually do, or just end up giving Ghost a awkward moment. Soap couldn’t fathom how Ghost handles all that. Soap just wants Ghost to be happy on his Birthday, its not a everyday opportunity after all. Soap chose to give his gift to Ghost at night, when everything was quiet, and there was more privacy. When Soap approached Ghost’s room, he felt sick to his stomach, what if Ghost didn’t like the gift..? What if Soap’s gift offends Ghost? Or maybe Ghost is going to say Soap’s art skills are straight up rubbish. However before Soap could stop himself, he was already knocking on Ghost’s door. Oh well, theres no more turning back now. Soap thought, hiding the gift behind his back.

A few beats of silence occur before Ghost opens the door, “Sergeant.” Ghost greets Soap.

“Hey Lt. Mind if I come in?” Soap asks.

Ghost steps aside, letting Soap walk into his room with a confused gaze.

When Ghost finally shuts the door and turns to look at Soap, does Soap pull out the neatly wrapped gift, cheek blooming rose red. “Happy Birthday Lt.” Soap shoots his superior a sheepish grin. Soap expected to be shooed out of the room or get criticized, but what happened next was something he never expected. Ghost pulls Soap in for a tight hug.

“I thought you forgot.” Ghost- no. Simon whispered softly to Soap.

“Never Lt. Not even if you wished.” Soap grins, hugging Ghost back. Soap winces as Simon hugs him even tighter. “Ow. You’re gonna mess up my stitches, Simon. Now open your gift, cmon.”

Soap was sure he could see Ghost’s hands falter a bit before unwrapping the present with so much care. Ghost froze when the wrapper was off. The silence killed Soap.

“What wrong Simon…? Do you not like it? I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-“ Soap started before Ghost cut him off.

“How..” Ghost started. “Why..” He was at a loss for words. Soap had hardly missed any details, it was almost as if he knew Simon’s body more than Ghost himself.

“Do you like it..?” Soap asked slowly.

“Too much, Johnny.” Ghost responds before dragging Soap in for another hug. This birthday wasn’t so bad after all. And Simon knew he’d frame and treasure the gift Johnny made for him forever.

Fin.

(Uh yeah and im half asleep while making this so forgive me if theres any spelling errors.. im gonna go AUGHHH MIMIMIMI now before i start flushing toilets for no reasons again bc im so unfocused.)

[omori-aus-archive]

OMORI oneshot for Sunny's birthday: A Sister's Support

Sunny sat on Erika's back, drawing in his sketchbook and providing extra weight for her push-ups as his sister asked, "What do you want for your birthday this year? You're gonna be 17 soon…."

The boy raised an eyebrow, before a glum expression formed on his face.

Ah….

That's right. He was…16 right now.

…He's older than Mari ever would be now….

"I don't know…." He said quietly. There's honesty in his words, as it's been so long since he secluded himself that he's forgotten what he usually asked for.

He remembered Erika getting him wash-off tattoos, but….

Did he really want to do that again…?

….

….

Maybe he should do something different.

"Can I…make a tattoo design for you?" The boy asked, causing his oldest sister to stop exercise and look behind her. Erika raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, but…this is your birthday, kitten."

"You don't need to do that for me." She explained, receiving a small nod from her brother. He looked at the sketchbook in his hands, saying quietly, "I know…. But I want to."

Erika blinked a couple times, before nodded, "Is that what you want for your birthday? To give your big sister a new tattoo?"

Sunny nodded without hesitation this time, receiving a small chuckle for the albino woman. "Alright, kiddo." She hummed, coaxing the boy to get off her back.

After standing with a stretch, Erika sat on the couch with her brother, looking over his shoulder, "So, what design were you thinking of?" Sunny, without a word, began drawing….

The older of the pair raised an eyebrow as the boy drew a black ghost-like figure with a singular eye and another with two eyes and a toothy maw.

It'd be cool to her if she didn't know what those things were….

"Pardon the assumption, but…aren't those the hallucinations you were experiencing?" She asked. Sunny nodded, before saying, "I…want them to be something different. Something better."

"Like an art piece…. Right?" Erika asked, receiving a nod.

Erika nodded, before getting up, "I'll make an appointment. Mind tearing out that page for me, please?" Sunny did so, watching Erika head to the phone.

After she finished calling, Sunny looked at her with a hesitant expression, "Mari's…been in my dreams again." "We've been talking more. She feels bad…for what happened on the day she...well...." He explained, trailing off at the mention of the accident.

Both siblings, while accepting what happened, agreed to not focus too much on it. Sunny was worried he might relapse again...and Erika wanted both of them to maintain good mental health.

The albino woman looked at her brother with a confused expression, "Mari's…been talking to you?" The boy nodded, averting his gaze as he whispered, "In a way…I got my birthday present…. Talking to Mari again."

He then looked at Erika in the eye with a soft expression, "She wants you to know...that she's sorry for letting her perfectionism get to her...and for not trusting you enough with her issues. She's trying to do better."

Erika blinked a few times, giving a slow nod.

She's honestly at a loss for words….

….

It seemed that she owed Mari an apology for her emotional outburst when she last visited….

"Sorry…. This is…a lot to take in." She admitted to her brother. The boy got up from his seat and went over to hug Erika, who just combed his hair in response.

"I'm not gonna leave you, sunshine. Not while I still go work to do in this world." Erika whispered, receiving a nod from Sunny. The boy looked up at her, asking, "Can I get an glass eye too, please? For Mari?"

The albino woman hummed with a smile, before carrying the boy outside, "I'll try to get you one, kitten. But first, we're getting you some real food."

[fayestardust]

for bob tours: was there a moment (or more than one) at a place where you felt ~connected to a scene from bob/the real events?

All the tours I’ve been on have special moments, though some more than others. Thank you for asking me about this, as I love recounting these memories. Some of this is actually what you asked for; the rest is just me being sappy.

Okay, ready? Behind the read more because it's SUPER long.

Eindhoven tour, April 2022

This was the first WW2 tour I’ve ever been on and the first of We Happy Few 506’s Band of Brothers tours. Special for that reason alone. It was a one-day tour with a Q&A the day before, and only four out of six actors who were supposed to join actually made it over to Eindhoven. First up: Matthew Leitch (Floyd ‘Tab’ Talbert), our fierce leader on all of the tours so I won’t mention him every time. He co-founded WHF506. He’s kind of a very annoying older brother to me now. Also there were Tim Matthews (Alex Penkala), Doug Allen (Alton More) and Mark Lawrence (William H. Dukeman).

I enjoyed the Q&A, though at that point was far too insecure to ask anything about Band because the room was filled with much bigger WW2 nerds (at the time, I’ve now caught up) who all seemed to ask very profound questions. I also shied away from taking any photos with the actors because people pretty much swarmed them, and I’m slightly claustrophobic.

I was making art already at that point, and for this trip had managed to draw Matt and Mark. See here a moment of joy for me.

The next day was the day of the tour, and I was pretty nervous about it because I’d never done a bus tour before, but in my experience, buses aren’t particularly wheelchair-friendly. Such was the case here, too, but the moment I approached the daunting steps of the Megabus, guests (special and not) flocked over to help me up them. All doubt evaporated. I got appointed the spacious back-of-the-bus seat, with my cousin on one side and Mark Lawrence on the other.

I’ll single Mark out for this tour because our conversations on the bus were very real and important to me. But also because one of the most moving moments on the tour happened when we visited the Crossroads. This is where Mark’s character and the real Dukeman died. If you ever get to visit... the Crossroads in the show looks exactly like the real location. Easily one of the most true-to-life set locations. And Mark had never been to the Netherlands. It tore him up. We all sniffled, watching him cry. The thing you have to realise is that he feels like he owes his entire life to the show. He met his lovely wife because she saw him on tv, and they fell in love. He has Dukeman’s service number tattooed on his body. And he’s the kindest, sweetest soul.

Later, months after the tour, he called me up to sing me happy birthday at six in the morning.

Both Doug and Tim remain my friends to this day. I’m perhaps most grateful for the connections made on these tours. Some of the other guests are now also like family.

Bastogne tour - part 1, November 2022

Bastogne is a magical place for me. I took one of my geekiest friends on this second tour. Special guests were Freddie Joe Farnsworth (military advisor on both BoB and the Pacific) and Phil McKee (Strayer). Not the most well-known people in this fandom I think. But interesting. And funny. 

This tour was led by Reg Jans, and he’s THE guide who knows everything you could ever want to know about the Battle of the Bulge. So, during this tour, I feel like I learned a lot more about that, beyond what we see in Band.

Of course, we also visited Easy Company’s foxholes in the Bois Jacques. There was no snow (stay tuned for that on a later tour), so it’s not like it is in the show. But the woods are eerily quiet. I don’t know if I believe in anything supernatural beyond things like intuition, but if I were to start anywhere, it’d be there. Freddie Joe explained the consequences of sleep deprivation for your brain to us, to help us understand the soldiers better. Sometimes, they were their own worst enemies. They were freezing, underfed, underdressed and barraged by artillery, and most of the time, could not even see the Germans.

We also visited where John Julian was pinned down by Germans for hours. It’s still unclear what exactly happened to him, or when or how he died. We only see seconds of it in the show. It's like that with many things in the show actually. All the battles took a long, long time.

This tour isn’t my favourite - there’s a better one right after this, but this did solidify the idea that I would go on these tours just to see the people I’ve met while there. 

Bastogne tour - part 2, January 2023

Here it is, my favourite tour. Barely two months after the last one. Bastogne in the very dead of winter. Let me tell you: it was COLD. But it would have been, for the soldiers of Easy.

The special guests on the second day of the tour were Shane Taylor (Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe), and Lucie Jeanne (Renee Lemaire). Doug (Alton More) was also there, and it was lovely to see him again. But as you can guess, having Doc Roe and Renee on the tour in Bastogne is pretty amazing. Eugene and Renee never actually met each other, one of the few dramatisations of the show. It serves a purpose, though, so it’s mostly seen as acceptable. Renee’s story is quite tragic, and she died very close to where she had lived with her parents and her body was wrapped in the fine silk of parachutes and brought back to them. 

There were also some good hugs at the 'Nuts' bar! But the absolutely most amazing part of the tour happened without them. Our second day started really, really early. We got up at 5 am, got on the bus, and drove to the Bois Jacques. It was still pitch black when we got out, freezing cold and fresh snow crunched underneath our sleepy feet. 

Reg Jans was on this tour again, and he had something truly haunting in store for us. We all stood in a circle around him with our (mostly just purchased for this trip) head torches on as he recited a prayer by Lt. Col. Robert L. Wolverton, commanding officer of 3rd battalion, 506th PIR. 

Here it is.

Men, I am not a religious man and I don't know your feelings in this matter, but I am going to ask you to pray with me for the success of the mission before us. And while we pray, let us get on our knees and not look down but up with faces raised to the sky so that we can see God and ask His blessing in what we are about to do: God almighty, in a few short hours we will be in battle with the enemy. We do not join battle afraid. We do not ask favors or indulgence but ask that, if You will, use us as Your instrument for the right and an aid in returning peace to the world. We do not know or seek what our fate will be. We ask only this, that if die we must, that we die as men would die, without complaining, without pleading and safe in the feeling that we have done our best for what we believed was right. O Lord, protect our loved ones and be near us in the fire ahead and with us now as we pray to you.

And into the woods, we went. You have to remember, there are no cars at this hour. It’s dark. It’s quiet. We were told to be quiet. We were told to sit in the foxholes in the snow. We switched off our lights. No one was shooting at us, but we felt, in part, what the men of Easy Company would have felt. And then we watched the sun come up. It’s the closest thing to a religious experience I’ve ever felt.

I met one of my favourite people in the world on this tour, too. He took these wonderful photos of me and inspired me to take up photography again, myself.

Normandy tour, June 2023

This tour was a bit of an odd one out. It felt chaotic because it was scheduled around D-Day, which made Normandy really poorly accessible. It’s so busy, so our tour was mostly improvised around areas with the least amount of traffic jams. 

It did have its moments, though. Normandy is a cool place. And we had the amazing Pete McCabe (Donald Hoobler) with us. 

The day before the tour, I actually got to meet three Normandy veterans. Humbling, to say the least. I also met several more Band actors (Peter Youngblood Hills, Alex Sagba-Brady, Christian Black, Nolan Hemmings) and Scott Gibson, who played Captain Haldane in the Pacific. We still keep in touch. Christian Black is now a Still Photographer, and mostly shoots Tom Cruise’s movie stills. He also took this photo of Nolan Hemmings, this painting of him and little old me. 

I was really glad to see many friends again. And I brought my own camera and took amazing pictures (teehee). We saw most of Easy’s known landing spots in Sainte Mère Eglise, like Winters’ and Lipton’s, to name a few.  

Our guide here was Paul ‘Woody’ Woodadge, an English guy married to a French woman. He’s nice, but critical of Easy’s fame, not so much on account of Easy, but mostly because Easy was just one of the many companies that did incredible things. We visited the area around Brécourt Manor, where we learned that other company Paratroopers cleared the way for Easy’s famous mission.  It doesn’t make it less impressive, but it adds loads of context.

Another thing that I found incredibly moving was the reading of Lt. Meehan’s last letter home. It’s easy to forget how young these men were. And how wise. Meehan’s plane crashed in a field, and nearly 80 years later, you can still see where it landed because while the field is fully planted, there’s a part near a hedgerow that remains barren to this day. Haunting. 

We also visited Marmion Farm, where many famous Easy Company photos were taken (it’s where they more or less come back together after the jump).

One of my favourite stories, though, is that of medics Robert Wright and Ken Moore of the 101st Airborne. They treated 80 injured American and German soldiers and a child in a church in Angoville-au-Plain. There are still bloodstains on the pews. 

So, as you can tell, not everything had to do with Easy, because we also went to Omaha Beach, where I got out of my chair and walked. Just to walk where these brave men had walked and really feel the history.

Eindhoven/Arnhem Market Garden Tour, October 2023

My second favourite tour after Bastogne in winter. Our guest here was Mark Huberman (Lester Hashey) who was meant to come on the original Eindhoven tour but couldn’t. He’s delightfully Irish, and had the best anecdotes from the set. Also absolutely hilarious.

Many of my friends weren’t on this tour, so going on to it, I couldn’t have guessed it would rank among my favourites.

It was split between two things. Some Easy Company sites and stories (some repeats from the first tour, but often with a slightly different angle or experience), and the British side of Operation Market Garden!

By the way, did you know that Hoobler picks up the Luger that ends up killing him in Bastogne, at the Crossroads? I think they changed it in the show to let the story flow better.

Anyway. I loved this tour. We visited Schoonderlogt and the Crossroads again. This time I sat in the grassy field while everyone else did the famous run across. It’s such a long way!

But the stories of the British troops were perhaps even cooler to me. Because that all happened right on my doorstep. I knew the bigger picture, but we had Reg Jans on this tour again, which is synonymous with really personal stories. So for our British troops day, we followed in the footsteps of leaders and soldiers alike, until we met them again in their final resting place in the military cemetery. A really rewarding journey. Mark also read a letter by Ivar Rowberry, which I posted about here. There’s an audio recording of it too, which is well worth a listen. 

If you want to read more about any of these tours (I’m a bit tired of writing so much, check out my actual - non tumblr - blog over here. There is an entry for each one, there.

[joonie-berry]

I wrote something for Idia's birthday, with my Yuusona. I'll probably post my art tomorrow but for now here's this small scenario. This is also my first time writing Idia, so he might be ooc

Happy Birthday Idia!

Today was December 18th and Imani was way too bubbly than normal, that it freaked Ace, Deuce, and Grim out. When askes about it, Imani just grinned showing her small fangs, as her ears wiggled with glee.

Ace just look at Deuce confused, while the latter only shrugged. Throughout the day, she seem heavily attached to her phone, as well as a medium sized box that was in blue wrapping paper that had sudtle skulls and flames on it. That's when it clicked to the two boys. Idia's birthday. No wonder. Deuce asked curiously who she had been texting Throughout the day, and she replied with Ortho.

Once the birthday venue was set up, and Idia was dragged out of his room, and dressed accordingly, the party that the school held commenced.

Throughout the party, Imani keep a close eye on Idia, as he ate cake, and riggedly, and awkwardly spoke to his peers. She knew he'd need to recharge his non-existent social battery soon, so she grabbed her gift, and dragged him away to some secluded area of Ignihyde.

"Why couldn't we have this party virtually, or better yet not at all. Let's just cancel it, yeah?" He murmured to her. Imani only sighed before placing a kiss to his cheek. The tips of Idia's hair turned pink.

"Whoa, hold up. You can't just drop a romantic encounter on a guy like that! I don't even know if I have the right answers, let only what route I'm on currently!" Idia says nervously while raising his hands. Imani giggled. "I got you a gift, well better yet, Leona, Vil, and I got you a gift. I got to borrow money, in exchange for some favors I owed them." She says holding the box out to Idia.

Idia took it with a raise of his brow. As he popped open the lid of the box, he saw a statuette of Him, Imani, Leona, Vil, two honorary members which were Ortho and Grim, dressed as rpg classes that he had designated to them. For once, since this morning, he was quiet. He placed the present down onto a table, and before she could speak he pulled her into a hug. "Happy birthday, Idia."

[hey-michael-young-history]

Sexy Lawyer AU Part 2

🥳🥳

No longer banned. Got delicious fic for birthday. Got beautiful art that was denied to me for two days. I need an outlet for all of these good feelings. I’m not done but here’s more of that subscorp AU

Kuai Liang couldn’t remember the last time he slept in a bed. 

It felt better than sleeping on the couch. He now understood why Bi-Han was determined to find a place where he could have his own room. Kuai Liang pushed himself off of the bed. He wasn’t at home. He checked his clothing but couldn’t find his phone.

Oh no. 

He was in a hotel room. The hotel room of a man he had met only the night before, although that man was nowhere to be found. The sun was up. He had stayed in this room with that man he did not know. 

Did anyone see him? Someone had to have seen him. And Bi-Han would find out. But he hadn’t done anything with him. Not really. They kissed, but he wasn’t sure how long. He got tired. The bed was just so comfortable and he was so tired. Hanzo had stopped when Kuai Liang yawned for the third time and insisted that they go to sleep. He decided to sleep on the couch and Kuai Liang could take the bed. 

Remembering the previous night had brought a smile to Kuai Liang’s face but the reality of the day ahead had snatched it back. Today was not going to be good. He would be late to class. He wasn’t going to be able to make breakfast for Bi-Han. He had to find some way home. 

He had to find his phone. 

He pulled the sheets off the bed. Then the mattress from the frame. Not there. He searched on the couch and took it apart, carefully examining the small spaces. 

The door opened and he turned immediately. Hanzo.

He looked at the sofa and the bed. “Did you lose something?”

“My phone.”

Hanzo reached into his pocket and took out the phone. “It was dying. I wanted to get a charger but it’s a bit… old. So I needed to show the charging port. I charged it for you. Would you like breakfast?”

Kuai Liang turned on the phone and his heart thumped in his ears when he saw that he had missed a call. And a simple text. 

Where are you?

Naturally, Kuai Liang hadn’t answered and Bi-Han hadn’t called or texted again. He had never failed to answer. And now…

He closed his phone. “I need to get home.”

“Of course. Where do you live? We can get something for you on the way.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your stomach says otherwise. It was growling all night.”

He’d just have to find some food at home. It was Friday, the day Bi-Han usually gave him more money. But he probably wasn’t home…

“I can’t. I used all of my food money.” Talking to Hanzo was too easy. No one was supposed to know that. He hadn’t meant to say that, he hadn’t even told Bi-Han yet. On Tuesday, he had fallen asleep in the library and missed some of his classes. When Bi-Han picked him up, he realized that he had left his backpack. He had to buy a new calculator and replace his notebooks.

His finals were coming up and all of his notes were gone. There was no way he could pass without those notes. Kuai Liang’s stomach tightened. Bi-Han was definitely unhappy about him not answering the phone. Now he had to ask for money and explain why he was going to fail his finals. And Bi-Han would want to know what he had done, where he had been.

“Kuai Liang.” Hanzo was in front of him and turning his face. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“No.” Hanzo didn’t owe him anything and most likely, he would never see him again. Kuai Liang didn’t even know where Bi-Han would be working. “I just can’t afford to buy any food.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“I have no money for gas…”

Hanzo placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am not asking you for anything but to eat and tell me where you’d like me to take you.”

Hanzo was offering to feed him. And give him a ride. Those were two problems that he didn’t have to worry about. Relief rushed over him and before he could stop himself, he dove into Hanzo’s arms.

“Thank you, Hanzo. Thank you, thank you.”

Hanzo was patting his back now and Kuai Liang kissed him. It felt so natural. 

“Would you like for me to drop you off at school?” Hanzo asked. 

He meant to apologize for clinging but instead, he heard himself saying, “I can’t go to school today. I need to try to study. All of my notes are gone.”

“What happened to your notes?”

Kuai Liang explained as they checked out and got into Hanzo’s car. He didn’t say anything and when Kuai Liang finished telling him, he simply stared ahead. Even if Hanzo didn’t say anything, it felt so good to confess everything, to share the knowledge with someone else, even if he didn’t care.

“Perhaps someone in the library found it. Why don’t we go ask?” 

Kuai Liang stared at him. It was no one’s fault but his own. He never bothered the librarians. He came in to study. That was all. 

“We should ask,” Hanzo pressed. “Even if it simply rules out one place it could be.”

“What if they are angry?”

“They will not be angry,” Hanzo assured him. 

They drove into the city and when they arrived at the campus library, Kuai Liang was staring out the window, still trying to accept the idea that he was going to bother someone for his mistakes. 

“Come,” Hanzo said, exiting the car. 

Kuai Liang folded his arms and turned away when Hanzo came around to his side. 

“They will not be angry. And even if they are, you did nothing wrong,” he said, offering his hand. 

Even if they are? He sank into his seat. If there was a chance that someone would be angry or think less of him, no matter how small, then they would. And now, either the librarians would be angry at him for bothering them or Hanzo would think less of him for not wanting to withstand their anger. 

“No. I accept the consequences of my negligence.” He wouldn’t see Hanzo again after today. But he’d have to face the librarians or lose his sanctuary on campus. Imagining Hanzo’s disappointment constricted his chest, but he needed something in his life to remain stable. Once he returned home, Bi-Han might be disappointed as well. Or worse. 

“Then I will retrieve your bag. I will return shortly.” 

He closed the door and looked at Kuai Liang, fully aware of the annoyance he must have been showing. God, he looked terrified. What was he so afraid of? Hanzo’s eyes landed on the scar again and he couldn’t help but soften his expression. 

He stood and straightened his clothes before walking to the campus library. Fortunately , this was an open campus, so he could walk right up. Of course, there was still security, so it helped that he still looked reasonably decent. He had the foresight to remove his clothes before he slept, unlike Kuai Liang, who pretty much fell asleep the instant he closed his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled but the man himself had looked so at peace in his sleep that Hanzo couldn’t help but admire. 

He didn’t get much sleep and wasn’t pleased when he was awakened by Kuai Liang’s phone chirping. 

Where are you? 

A simple text that annoyed him. Greatly. Kuai Liang was not that much younger than his brother. Why was he being checked up on, held on such a short leash? He wondered… his brother, Bi-Han. He couldn’t be responsible for the scar, could he? Kuai Liang spoke of him so reverently. And they hadn’t been living together for very long. The scar was faded enough that he couldn’t have been the one. 

The chirping began again and Hanzo turned his attention back to the phone. Now he was calling. Fantastic. 

Hanzo turned the volume down to silent. Kuai Liang didn’t need to be kept under surveillance. 

I don’t even know this man.

That was true, but this deep need to defend him was hard to argue with. What kind of brother could Bi-Han be if he was only calling now, the day after the party? His sheltered brother hadn’t returned home and he only thought to call and try to locate him the day after. Hanzo admitted that he let his annoyance and irritation get the best of him. He responded to Bi-Han’s text. Where you left me. Be home sometime today.

He regretted it as soon as he sent it. It would stop his brother from harassing him, certainly. And it was the first step in Kuai Liang standing up for himself. But he didn’t want Kuai Liang seeing it before they had a chance to speak. 

So Hanzo deleted it and marked Bi-Han’s text as unread. 

This wasn’t deception. Kuai Liang needed peace. If he saw that his brother had stopped texting, he’d be able to relax. 

“Can I help you, sir?”

Hanzo looked down at the desk he was in front of. A young woman with a bright smile was watching him eagerly. Student, definitely. Work study assignment, from the notes and textbooks splayed out on the desk behind her. 

“Yes. A friend of mine misplaced his bag the other day.”

January 11th, 2022 10:38pm      

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

Left on Gael’s stoop is a cat tree. It is about as tall as he is, and is made of a hollowed out log that has been fitted with various platforms and even a little cat hammock that dangles from some branches. Faux leaves have been attached to give it a more lively look, and among the ample greenery sits a small treehouse. The wood on its face has been lovingly carved with images of Mexican folk art, not unlike 2D alebrijes, and the roof has even been hand-tiled. 

Sticking out of the treehouse door is an envelope, which contains a letter that reads, in Spanish: 

Happy birthday, my dear friend.

I realize that this is not a gift for you, exactly, but I figured you would enjoy it all the same. I do have something for you, though–another kitten, if you were still open to it! Also there is something else tucked father back in the house that is for you. It’s a favorite of mine. All we need to enjoy it properly is a couple of oranges and some fried grasshopper salt!

The ‘something else’ is a bottle of smokey mezcal. 

[It was evening now by the time Gael had noticed the stunning, hand-made cat tower that was left for him or rather, left for Mirabel. He took in every detail as he heaved it into the living room, running a calloused hand over the carvings gently. It smelled like labor, effort, care... these were metaphorical. And placebo, if the faint scent of Monty wasn’t lingering on pieces of the beautiful creation. 

As Mirabel became slowly acquainted with the tower, Gael re-read the note, sitting on the floor next to it as he wondered what had happened with the extra kitten. Nora was a no-go. Didn’t Mack want one? Maybe he could take the extra and offer it to Mack when she was feeling better? She’d gotten him a telescope, the least he could do was give it to someone more suited than him?

That’s how he felt about a lot of things nowadays, every once in a while, when that small demon of thought visited. Monty had worked hard on this treehouse cat tower. Was he worth the effort? Was he worth the time, all these gifts from people he hadn’t known longer than a few months? What had he done to warrant a brand new telescope, a day at the spa, beautiful creations from people, a stone hand-picked for him or even a titanium cross from Emilio? All he did was snipe and nose into people’s businesses, not able to back off and mind his own.

He hadn’t earned any of this. All he could do was be thankful as he sat among his treasures from the people he was lucky enough to have in his life nowadays. Gael sat there, next to the lovingly-carved tower, holding the note in one hand and the unopened bottle of alcohol in the other, seeing the line of cards he’d received, the trinkets and precious things he had on his bedside table.

Gael would message Monty tomorrow, offering to take the spare kitten. It was the least he could do; he already owed the cowboy so much. He’d never be able to properly express his gratitude to anyone who was so kind to him today but he could try.]

[thenotebookwizard]

Bless Your Heart (CageBlade Week 2023 | Day One: Firsts

So. It's been awhile, right? Right. Oops. Maybe I won't forget tumblr exists after this week?

(I mean, we can hope, right?)

So a friend of mine is running a fanfic shipweek, and - despite my decades in fandom, I haven't ever done a fandom event like that. And I want to. And since she kinda got me into the ship...

So I kinda like Mortal Kombat. Martial arts. Supernatural powers. What's not for me to like, right? The characters are surprisingly complex, and there's a lot of room for me to play with things.

So I have.

Notes: I have read some comics. Seen the movies. Seen game play. Never have I ever played the games. (Surprising no one who knows me.) But I have written fics!

TITLE: Bless Your Heart (CageBlade Week 2023 Day One: Firsts) FANDOM: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types; Mortal Kombat (Video Games)

RATING: T

SUMMARY:

He'd been charming. He'd been sweet. He'd even tried to be a little bit Southern. He'd even worn a Texas tuxedo! She'd patted his cheek and said 'bless your heart' then patted Sonya's shoulder. "Well, he's definitely Hollywood. You can keep him, but he needs some manners."* In which Johnny learns he doesn't know what he doesn't know, southern manners, and maybe that he's got a chance at not screwing up after all.

The first time Johnny Cage met Sonya Blade's grandmother he'd flown down to Texas to surprise her at her great uncle's birthday party (and apologize.)

He'd been charming. He'd been sweet. He'd even tried to be a little bit Southern. He'd even worn a Texas tuxedo!

She'd patted his cheek and said 'bless your heart' then patted Sonya's shoulder.

"Well, he's definitely Hollywood. You can keep him, but he needs some manners."

Until that moment, he'd thought 'bless your heart' was a good thing, but Johnny could read a cue and knew it really, really wasn't in that case.

Before they'd flown back across the country, her grandmother had taken him aside. She'd smiled at him, and had him sit down on a cold metal bench in the airport.

She'd rested her purse in her lap and looked at him for a long moment, her dark eyes weighing and measuring him.

"You're not who I would have expected, Johnny. I'd have thought it would be some soldier or some tradesman for her. You're also not what I expected from a Hollywood boy. You tried. Too hard, maybe, but you tried. I appreciate that."

"Umm...thank you?" Johnny would be the first person to admit he wasn't very good at talking about anything serious. He could talk business. He could talk the craft of acting, the power of story, the elements of character all day long.

He could talk about props and advertising and interviews. He could talk about fashion, and he could talk about cars. Or fighting.

He could bullshit better than the best of them.

Sonia Morgan -Sonya’s maternal grandmother - huffed and tilted her head at him. Her long, iron-gray braid fell over her shoulder as she shook her head.

"Thank you, ma'am. Or Mrs. Morgan. Manners, Johnny, manners matter. I know who you are now, and it's a good thing you didn't try to tell me who you were, or I might have thought you a braggart."

Johnny let out a long, slow breath of relief. Sonya had warned him, after all. And he'd listened.

He was going to get better at that. At hearing her when she said things to him. His mind just raced ahead, and he didn't always think to slow down and listen. Not like he should.

Not like she deserved.

"Yes, ma'am." He didn't know what it meant that the word felt odd on his mouth. It wasn't the way he'd been raised. His friends growing up? Their parents had him use their first names.

So did most of his teachers, for that matter.

His own mother had never insisted he call her anything other than 'Mom' - and the less said about his his father, the better. The last time Johnny had seen him was in a court room, when the man had tried to demand Johnny and his mother owed him money since his first movie gig had been as a teenager.

Johnny's highly paid lawyers had thoroughly disabused him of that notion.

The only man Johnny had ever called 'sir' was Master Boyd.

"Better. Much better. Didn't your mother teach you?"

There weren't many things that really got under Johnny's skin these days. Being called a fake. Being told he wasn't good at his job.

Someone saying anything negative about his mother.

But this was Sonya's grandmother. Sonya loved her. Respected her. And Sonya had told him it was her grandmother who had talked her through the emotions of their fight. Helped them achieve the - somewhat stable - place they were at.

So he took a deep breath.

"Ma'am. My mother was the woman who, every morning, told me she loved me. She was proud of me. That as long as I went out into the world with energy and my whole heart, I would become great. Every morning."

For a long time, Johnny had thought it was silly. But there were some mornings, early in his career, he had called his mother first thing in the morning, hoping to hear those words.

She'd always said it before they hung up. As if she'd known why he was calling.

"My mother has always believed in me. She taught me to believe in me. She taught me to work hard. She taught me to play hard and find joy in everything."

To his shock, Sonia Morgan smiled broadly at him. A real, warm smile. She nodded.

"Good! A man who respects his mother and speaks well of her is the right kind of man. I know not all mothers are created equal, and some fail at the job, but you talk about her with love and admiration. I like that. Now, I am going to be the woman to teach you manners. Because from what I saw on the internet, you need them."

Johnny blinked. He was trying very hard not to be offended. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

Sonia sighed and the look she gave him reminded him uncannily of the one Sonya gave him when he was being particularly dense.

"Johnny, the way you act might be fine for Los Angeles and being a movie star. You might be an internet darling today and even tomorrow, and you've done the work to rebuild your career - something that's mighty hard for you Hollywood types, I'm told. But boy, you listen here. If you're serious about my granddaughter, you will be rubbing elbows with men and women in uniform who don't have patience for your guff or your attitude. And one day, you will meet her mother, and I promise you my daughter will have less patience for your lack of manners than I do. I'm old enough to know potential when I see it, but Sonya's mother raised Sonya. Which means she won more arguments than she lost. Do you want to offend her mother, or win over her mother?"

"Oh." Part of Johnny wanted to argue with her. He could be plenty charming already! Except - it hadn't worked with her, had it? And Sonya thought he was rude when he wasn't trying to be.

And the idea of meeting her mother and that going poorly put ice water in his veins.

"Yeah. Okay. I mean, yes ma'am. I get you. So how are you going to..."

"Teach you manners? Easily. You are going to call me before you have your next meeting or interview or what have you. You will tell me about it, and I will tell you what the mannerly thing to do is. You will try to remember it and try to do it. We will keep doing that until you get it right."

She handed him a piece of paper torn from a notebook with her phone number on it.

Johnny snapped a picture of it on his phone, entered it into his phone, and tucked it into his wallet.

He wasn't going to lose this phone number. He wasn't going to mess this up.

He wanted something real with Sonya. They'd fought for the fate of the world together; he'd seen who she really was, and he'd shown her more of who he was than he'd shown anyone else.

He knew he was falling in love with her, and his determination not to screw it up the way he did most of his relationships was what had driven him to fly out to Texas, rent a car, and drive to a small town to apologize face to face when she wouldn't take his calls. Texts. Emails. Or even the bike messenger he'd sent to her office on base.

(He made a mental note to tell her about that before they got back. In his defense, he'd been desperate.)

He took a deep breath. "Ummm...thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it."

She smiled at him again. "It won't be that bad. I promise. You're already learning."

\~ * \~

The first time Johnny called Sonya's grandmother he was nervous.

He knew she was right about needing to learn 'proper' manners to interact with her co-workers and superior officers. He knew he needed to learn proper manners to survive meeting her family without embarrassing them both.

He just didn't want to change who he was. He liked who he was most days. He liked being flippant. Fun. Sarcastic. Even downright off the wall.

But he'd made a promise, and he was going to keep it.

So he sat down on his lounge chair outside, coffee and pop tarts in hand, hours before his first meeting of the day - which was with his agent and the studio representative regarding casting of season two of his hit show. He'd insisted on a role in casting, because he wanted to be very careful and certain with specific roles.

And Warriors of Light was enough of a success because of him that he had the leverage to do it. Especially after he'd told the internet he planned to be.

The phone picked up.

"Morgan residence. Sonia Morgan speaking."

"Hi! Uh...it's Johnny."

There was a pause. "Hmm. Don't you mean, 'good morning, Mrs Morgan?'

Johnny winced. What was he even doing? He knew how to talk on the phone! He was good at talking. He got paid to talk!

"Good morning, Mrs. Morgan. This is Johnny Cage. I'm calling as I promised."

"Much better! Thank you, Johnny. I'm very pleased to hear from you. I don't know about you, but I do have a few things to do today. Why don't you go ahead and tell me about what you have today, and we'll discuss it."

The next hour was the most excruciating conversation Johnny had ever had. He wished he'd taken notes instead of eaten pop tarts (she'd fussed at him for eating on the phone!) and he'd also learned slurping his coffee was bad manners.

She had walked him through more scenarios than he'd even thought about. She'd told him what to say. How to say it. When to say it. How to stand, in some cases. When to sit down! As if that mattered - but apparently, walking in and just flopping into a chair was not just a blatant 'power move,' it was rude.

But Johnny Cage was nothing if not determined, and he was putting his newly discovered listening skills to use. (He'd recently discovered audio books. He'd been listening to a couple on how to listen better. He wasn't sure if they were helping, since he kept tuning out when he was listening to them, but he figured it was better than nothing.)

He told her everything the meeting involved. Everything he wanted to get out of it. Even his secret goal he knew this meeting could accomplish.

By the end of the conversation, he could hear the frustration in Sonia's voice. He was stuck on one piece of advice - be humble. He didn't do humble. He was Johnny Cage. He was a successful actor, a successful fighter. He was good at what he did. The successful show was his idea? Why did he have to pretend not to be good at what he did, proud of what he did?

She finally sighed. "Johnny, you're an actor. Can't you play the role of a man with humility for one meeting, and then call me tonight and tell me how it goes?"

Johnny almost choked on his last gulp of coffee. Why hadn't he thought of that?!

He coughed, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I can...Yes, ma'am. I can do that. What time should I call you?"

There was a soft laugh on the other end of the line. "Eight PM. Sharp. Good luck with your meeting, Johnny. Remember: be gracious. Be humble. Be sincere - unless it would be rude."

\~ * \~

The first time Johnny put Mrs. Morgan's advice to use, he was forced to admit she was on to something.

Johnny had assumed a lot of roles in his time in Hollywood, and he'd always studied for those roles. He knew he hadn't always been the best actor, but he knew he was better than people gave him credit for. He was proud of (most) of the movies he'd done, but he knew he wasn't always given the most complex or well written material to work with. Most of his movies were stunts and involved him in impractical and improbable fight scenes that just looked cool on the silver screen.

His first run at playing a man with humility wasn't easy, but he knew he'd done something right with it.

He waited for the studio rep to sit before he did. He saw her surprise when he made his agent wait to sit. His agent just gave him a look that told him they would be talking about it later.

He thanked the intern who brought them coffee. He'd followed Mrs. Morgan's advice to the letter and he had brought copies of everything he wanted to go over, including the casting sheets for the characters he wanted more creative control of. He knew he wasn't technically the showrunner - that role belonged to an insufferable prick named Albie Markson. Albie thought he was god's gift to writing, and with six cancelled genre shows under his belt, Johnny had a hard time trusting him. So far, Johnny's money and star power had let him override a lot of the decisions Albie made, but not enough of them. Johnny knew the story he wanted to tell.

About deciding to be heroes. About deciding to defend the world, even when no one knew you were doing it. About being called and about accepting the call of destiny, even when you really didn't want to or really didn't think you were the right one for job.

Because there was no one else.

It was not the story Albie wanted to tell.

He knew if he played this meeting right, he might be able to wrest more control from Albie, who was riding the high of his first successful first season and becoming something of a tyrant.

Sarah Waters, the studio rep, tilted her head and nodded at him when he pulled out his folder of papers. They were tucked into a leather folio with a pad of paper he'd never used. He'd had it for years - his Mom had given it to him at some point, and he'd never gotten rid of it.

He even had a working pen. He'd already made the mistake that morning of not taking notes. He wasn't going to make that mistake twice in the same day.

To his shock, Sarah jumped right in to what he'd been planning to slip in sneakily. There was a canny, ambitious glint her eye that both encouraged and worried Johnny, but what was he supposed to do about that?

"All right, Mr. Cage. Level with me. This isn't about casting. This is about creative control of your idea. Why should we give it to you?"

Johnny looked over at his agent, but Daniel just shrugged. Getting Johnny the meeting was his job and he was there to make sure Johnny's interests were protected, but this wasn't a question he'd been prepared for. It wasn't a question Johnny was prepared for.

He took in a deep breath. Play the role. Of himself. With humility and manners. He could do this.

"Yes ma'am. I want more creative control, but I figured I show you I deserve it by going over casting. I know how studios feel about these things, wanting to go with tried-and-true casting choices, but the audience the show is appealing to is a whole different demographic that Albie - Mr. Markson - usually writes for. I want to appeal to the demographic who watches our show and who have come to us online, telling us what they want to see."

If you can call what he does writing.

Johnny thought some of the younger writers in the writing room - chosen to work with Albie because they were young and inexperienced and wouldn't argue with him overmuch - were far, far better writers than Albie was. (Johnny was also aware his show had been given to Albie because no one believed in it like he did, and he was still smug and happy over proving them all wrong.)

Sarah nodded. That glint was back, and this time it seemed like she had a plan.

"Okay. Yeah. I saw the tweets and posts and everything you did, Mr. Cage. I saw it all, and I agree with you in principle. Numbers on the show are good, both on streaming and network. The first season has had a lot of purchases online, and there's a lot of buzz. That's great for you. Good for us. But Albie ran the show last season, and it did well. Why make a change?"

Johnny Cage would tell her it was because Albie was an idiot who blew every chance he'd had, and if it weren't for how good Johnny himself was, he'd have blown off Warriors of Light, too.

So how do I do this? Because it's not a lie. I was right, I made him do it my way, and it worked. It's my show.

He tapped his pen on the paper. "I'm an actor. Not a writer, right? There are some great writers in that room. They're brilliant. When the cast sits with them and we talk character and story, there's a groove. The highest rated eps were the ones where Albie wasn't involved. It was the writers' room and the cast. Actors aren't writers, but show me an actor who doesn't love story and doesn't love character and I'll show you a professional extra. Albie is the only one who doesn't agree with those casting sheets. Albie is the only one who disagrees with our story choices and character choices. Albie is the only one who thinks he is solely responsible for our big break last season. He wants to basically retcon the story each season and redo the story instead of continuing the story, and that's a great thing for comic books or video games, but this is a story. With arcs and growth and change - and we can create a network TV show that appeals..."

He stopped. He shrugged. "I mean, that's it, I guess. That's the pitch."

Sarah pursed her lips. "You are - unexpected, Mr. Cage. Keep talking. Walk me through some of these ideas the cast had, and convince me they're not going to sink a show we stand to make a lot of money on."

Johnny flipped through his papers and found the notes the writers had sent him.

\~ * \~

The first time Johnny admitted to Sonya he was talking to her grandmother was an accident.

He figured he was done for, because it hadn't occurred to him he should tell his girlfriend that her grandmother was mentoring him in being humble and better mannered. In retrospect, he realized it was a stupid oversight on his part. He was good at those.

He also hadn't meant to hide it. It wasn't planned or purposeful, and it wasn't like they'd gotten a huge amount of time together. They texted a lot, talked on the phone and saw each other every couple of weeks - but that was still plenty of time to tell Sonya he'd spend the last three months talking to her grandmother a minimum of twice a day.

They were leaving a military dinner - a promotion ceremony for several soldiers under Sonya's command (and about a hundred others, but Johnny only really paid attention to the soldiers Sonya pinned new ranks on.) It had been a semi-formal dinner and he'd managed to dress well enough for it.

Though, he'd foregone a tie. He hated those damn things. He was a professional martial artists and trained fighter. Who thought it was a good idea to wear a noose?

Sonya was holding his hand in front of her troops, which was a huge step for her. He chose not to tease her about it and just enjoy the moment. Especially since he'd managed to do really well at the ceremony, congratulating the newly promoted soldiers who stopped by their table and making small talk with the officer a couple of ranks above Sonya without making a complete ass of himself.

(He still couldn't help himself; he had to give Jax shit. It was a compulsion, almost, but the man gave him at least as good as he got and seemed mostly okay with having Johnny attached to Sonya these days.)

But he decided to follow other advice he'd gotten instead of teasing Sonya. Advice that, ironically, came from Stephanie Grey, the woman playing Sonya - well ‘Sasha Steel’ - in Warriors of Light.

"Tell her when she does something that makes you proud or happy, doofus. Don't just tease her about it. Women like that."

He took in a deep breath. He always had to brace himself when he tried things like that.

Whether it was the manners and humility Mrs. Morgan was drilling into his head or the 'active listening' he was teaching himself, or just trying to be a better partner to the amazing woman who was putting up with him.

"You looked good up there." He swallowed. Why was it so much harder to say these things instead of just teasing her or flirting? What was wrong with him? People did this sort of thing all the time, right? "Those guys you promoted. It really meant something to them, you being there. And, you know, it was awesome seeing you like that. Doing that part of your job. Thanks for, well, letting me be here for it, I guess."

Oh yeah, Johnny. Great job. Brilliant delivery.

Sonya bumped his shoulder with hers, which was as close to serious affection as she got on base - holding his hand right then notwithstanding.

"You know half those ‘guys’ were women, right? But," Sonya also took a deep breath, which Johnny decided not to read too much into. "Thank you. I'm glad you were here for it."

Johnny felt a surge of warmth through him. They were both trying to do better, and even though they didn't see each other as much as they wanted to, when they were together, things were - better. Not always easier, not yet, but more honest. More - intimate. He liked it. A lot.

He bounced on his toes a little, excited he hadn't fucked it up after all.

"And I wasn't a complete, ass was I? I'm doing better not - embarrassing you?"

Sonya laughed and Johnny felt that surge of warmth again, because it was a genuine laugh. A happy sound. A relaxed sound.

"You know what? I almost forgot you were you for a few minutes there, until you asked Jax if he knew how to say 'please' or 'thank you' to anyone who didn't outrank him."

Johnny shrugged. "What can I say? He brings out the best in me. But I'm glad I didn't screw it up for you tonight." Another deep breath. "That was important to me, you know?"

Sonya might have rolled her eyes. He knew that little twitch of her head all too well, but she was still smiling, so he took the win. "Look at you. Learning not everything is about you." She took her own deep breath and bumped his shoulder again. "And...thank you for taking it seriously. It meant a lot to me, sure, but also the soldiers who got promoted."

Johnny grinned. "Hey, I'm trying! In so many ways! Man, when I call your grandma tomorrow and tell her I actually made it through an entire dinner without pissing off anyone but Jax, she might actually admit I'm learning!"

Sonya froze.

Slowly turned to face him - but she didn't drop his hand. He was going to cling to that - literally and metaphorically as it suddenly hit him he hadn't told Sonya about his ongoing conversations with her grandmother.

Oh. Fuck.

"My grandmother? As in, Sonia Morgan, my grandmother?"

Johnny's mouth was suddenly really dry, and he found swallowing harder. Unfortunate, because he'd just stuck his foot in his mouth and was about to have to swallow his pride and his stupidity and beg forgiveness.

"Uh...yeah. Great lady. She's got a lot of good advice." His free hand rubbed the back of his head as he frantically searched for a way to dig his way out of the hole he suddenly found himself in.

Sonya put her free hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows at him. "You have some explaining to do, Johnny Cage."

He took a gamble. A risk. A complete abandonment of good sense, propriety, and self-preservation and stepped a little closer to her. He wasn't going to say any of it loud enough for anyone else to hear, and finding excuses to be physically closer to Sonya was a hobby of his.

If he was going to fuck this up, he'd at least do it as close to her as he could get.

"She's...well, she gave her number at the airport in Texas and told me to call her and she was going to teach me manners, and she didn't sound like she was taking no for an answer! But it's good, right, because she actually has been teaching me stuff, and has me call her before meetings or events and whatnot and now I kinda just call her to talk sometimes and..."

He trailed off. He sounded like an idiot, but at least he was being an honest idiot. That was better, right?

Sonya was glaring at him. "You could have mentioned that to me. Told me about it, maybe? My grandmother giving you secret lessons in what - how not to be an ass? For almost* four months*!"

Johnny resisted the urge to groan. "Yeah, I guess. It's more - I don't know, okay? She told me to call and I did. She's - teaching me, yeah. I'm still an ass, Sonya, and I like some of those parts of me. I'm proud of what I do and what I'm good at, but maybe I need to learn to show it differently. She's teaching me what you learned growing up, teaching me how not to piss off everyone I meet. I'm the showrunner now, and that happened because she told me how to work the meeting. I need the help sometimes if I want to make my career more than what it was. I'm sorry. I should have told you and I didn't mean to keep it a secret - I just didn't say anything. It's...fuck me, it's embarrassing, okay?"

All the air and fight rushed out of him as he finally figured it out. Why he'd never told anyone about his conversations with Mrs. Morgan.

The conversations had gone well beyond teaching him manners, too. He sometimes called her just to talk. Just to vent. (She called him to do the same, sometimes, too. He always took her calls.) She listened. She gave great advice, and some of her commentary about the people he dealt with was hilarious - and incredibly validating. Her scathing commentary on Albie's passive aggressive flounce from the writers' room was the stuff of legend. (And there was at least one younger man back in Exeter Johnny had plans to find a way to ruin, because he kept treating Mrs. Morgan like a doddering old fool, and Johnny was not okay with that.)

She never failed to tell him like it was. Tell him he was wrong. Or give him support when he needed it, even when he was wrong. She was as sharp edged and stern as any of his martial arts teachers and wiser than just about anyone he knew.

He'd even gotten her to start messaging him.

And now he had to admit to Sonya he had a secret friendship with her grandmother. Why he hated how much he needed Mrs. Morgan.

He refused to let go of Sonya's hand. Refused to step back. Refused to give up any of his connection to her, however small. He felt a lump in his throat he savagely ignored.

"It's humiliating." He couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, and his head dropped. "I'm Johnny Cage. I'm successful. I'm good at what I do and I've only gotten better. I'm a showrunner. I've made a fucking miracle comeback, but I could have thrown it all down the drain because I didn't learn how to fucking talk to people. I spent my whole life being larger than life, pushing through every wall and every obstacle by force of personality until I couldn't anymore. Now I'm having to to be taught what other people learned as fucking kids, Sonya. Unlearn what my father taught me, learn the shit most kids learn at their goddamn dinner table. Admitting that? To you? That your grandmother is the one having to take me by the hand like I'm some kid again and teach me to use my fucking manners?"

His eyes stung. He wasn't going to talk about that. Or think about it. Or admit it. He'd admitted enough for one night, hadn't he?

Sonya tapped his chin. "Look at me, Johnny Cage."

Her voice wasn't hard anymore. The anger seemed - gone. He lifted his head slowly, and her hand cupped his cheek. He didn't care and just let himself lean into it.

"I knew."

His breath whuffed out in a rush. "You knew?"

She nodded. "I knew. She told me what she did in the airport and she told me when you called. She never told me what you talked about, and I admit - I was mad at you that you never told me. I talk to grandma once a week since Texas, because I realized I didn't talk to her enough. And I kept hearing 'Johnny said this' or 'Johnny said that' or 'did you see Johnny's interview.' I even told her I was going to light into you for it and she told me not to. She told me never to shame anyone for learning new things and - well, look. I'm not mad anymore, okay? I just wish you had told me, but I think I get why you didn't."

Johnny just nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak yet, and he wasn't sure what to do with that. He felt like he was going to cry, and that was not something Johnny Cage did in a parking lot on a military base. Where people could see.

Sonya pressed her forehead against his, her hand threading through the hair on the back of his head.

"Part of me wants to thank you. Grandma is - lonely, I think. Most of her close friends are gone and she just won't move out of Exeter to Austin to be near Mom, and Mom will never move back to Exeter. Ever. You calling and messaging all the time means a lot to her, and she sounds happier. Just...no shame, okay? It takes a strong person to admit they need to learn something new and grow. A really strong person to take advice they don't want just because it's right and..." she drew in a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, but I think I'm trying to say, I'm proud of you, Johnny Cage."

Johnny put his free hand on her hip. He wanted to say something flippant, but he wasn't going to dismiss the moment, he wasn't going to dismiss Sonya reaching out that way.

Or dismiss how much he liked hearing that from her.

"Thank you." The words came hard, pushing past the lump in his throat. "I should have told you, I just...it feels bad. Needing to learn something simple."

Sonya laughed and both of her arms were around his neck. Johnny slid his arms around her waist, soaking in the closeness. The smell of her hair and the warmth of her cheek against his. He felt the tension drain out of him.

"Silly boy. Southern manners are never simple. Sounds like you still need more lessons."

Johnny decided he could be proud of himself for resisting the urge to nibble on her ear and settled for just running his fingers along her lower back.

"Yeah, well, nothing worth it is really ever simple."

Like being with you.

[bravevolunteer]

@offier asked: Did Abigail go a little overboard? Maybe, but what's the point of having money if not to do something nice for her friend? Besides, she has a suspicion not many people will be buying for Michael's birthday. So, with a wide smile, she hands him the delicately wrapped gift. Inside, a variety of art supplies. "I hope this is okay, I tried to go off what I've seen you with and what the person at the store suggested." It's not like she knows that much about art supplies, after all. // BIRTHDAY

MICHAEL IS UNCHARACTERISTICALLY QUIET when she hands it to him, unsure how to respond— it’s not that he didn’t expect her to remember ( well… he didn’t really think much about that ), but he didn’t expect anything this… nice. Even the wrapping is perfectly done to the point where it almost feels wrong to tear apart, but that doesn’t last long. Issues with accepting gifts aside, Abigail seems so excited, he caves without protest.

“Holy shit, Abigail.” His jaw drops at the amount and quality of the supplies and his head whips back up to look at her, wide-eyed, enthusiastic. “What’re you talking about— ‘course it’s okay! Even better than what I had! It’s— this stuff’s not cheap.” Stupid thing to say to the person who bought them, but he didn’t think she would spend that much on him. “Thanks, seriously. I owe you, uh… whatever you want drawn, I guess.”

[curseofaphrodite]

Modern Art

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary: inspired by Reckless by Madison Beer and All Too Well. Angst because all of us have pain kink (yes I'm looking at you.) requested by @buckyjbarneswhore | masterlist

Peter had fallen in love with you even before asking you out. It wasn't much of a surprise, that boy was always a hopeless romantic.

He loved the way you laughed, loved how he made you laugh. He loved how you hummed the songs he never understood, your voice, your kindness, how you doodled nonsense on his papers, how you hugged Aunt May whenever you saw her — he loved anything and everything about you.

Then one day, he went to Oscorp. You knew he saw something there, but he wasn't keen on saying what it was.

That was the first secret he hid from you.

You thought you were imagining things. Sure, he didn't spend much time with you anymore, but he was busy. You told yourself he was busy even though the two of you had the same classes and the same workload.

You ignored the feeling at the back of your head, the one that told you to be careful.

————

"Hey, we're going to a party tonight. Wanna come?" Aimee asked, smiling wide. "Trick question. You have to."

"Then I guess I'll be there." You returned a smile, knowing you didn't need much persuasion anyway. You didn't have much work and anything's better than sitting around doing nothing.

"I need to do a beer count. Is Peter going to be there?" she asked, taking out the little pink notebook she carried around. You had gifted it to her on her birthday and she hasn't parted with it since.

"He's uh, busy." You were suddenly interested in the book in front of you.

"Oh man, you're dating Peter Parker?" One of your other friends, Mark, looked up from whatever he was reading.

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason. He's a chill dude. Saw him yesterday. He bought me coffee at Helsey's after I was drunk off my ass," Mark said, laughing. "Owes me skateboard lessons too."

"Wait, wait," you sat up straighter. "Helsey's cafe is near your house."

"Of course it is."

"Your house is nowhere near the public library."

"Okay...?"

"Peter said he was at the library," you said, sounding worried. "He said he had a personal project or something."

"Why would he lie?" Aimee asked, closing the pink notebook.

"C'mon guys, you're overthinking this," Mark interrupted swiftly. "In fact, I'm pretty sure his friend mentioned something about going to the library too!"

"His friend? He was with someone?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, Gwen Stacy."

————

"I'm thinking we should go to that little restaurant they opened up?" Peter asked, handing over the flowers he had hurriedly bought on his way over. "Sort of as an apology for my absence the whole week?"

"I'm not feeling good. I'd rather stay inside," you said, hoping you sounded normal. You put the flowers in an empty vase and threw the bag into the bed, then opened your laptop.

Peter frowned. He had off days too, when he wanted nothing more than to disconnect from the entire world for a while, but your demeanor said something was wrong.

You running through whatever you're looking for on the laptop and ignoring your boyfriend standing awkwardly near the door was the closest thing you had done to giving him the cold shoulder.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, sitting down on your bed.

You laughed forcefully. "Don't be ridiculous, Peter. Why would I be mad at you?"

"I mean, if you are- that's totally justified. I know I wasn't the most attentive guy last week. I blame it on my project—"

"Speaking of," you interrupted cheerfully, slamming the laptop shut and turning to him. "What's this project about?"

He was taken back. "Uhm, arachnology."

"Arachnology?"

"Yes?"

"That sounds like a question."

"I mean, yes. Definitely," he said, nodding. "I'm researching on arachnology. Why the sudden interest?"

"I feel bad for not knowing what's going on in your life." You replied, waving it off.

You had hoped he was a better liar, just so you could comfort yourself that it was all okay like your rose-colored glasses made it out to be. Apparently not.

"I appreciate that." Peter held your gaze, both of you knowing there was something more. Something he wasn't saying.

"Are you doing the research with Gwen Stacy?" The question had slipped off your mouth before you could think about it. He seemed even more surprised.

"Why would I study spiders with Gwen?" he laughed, not meeting your eyes.

The way her name fell from his lips said he knew her, and the affection behind it said he was fond of her. You bit down your lips and told yourself that you were being crazy. Friends care for each other, and you needn't worry about that.

If there was something going on, Peter's not the type to hide it. Then again, you thought he wasn't the type to lie at all, but isn't that what he just did?

————

The story wrote itself from there. So now here you are, alone at your birthday party, having everyone around you but him. You were pretty sure he had forgotten about it altogether.

When everyone left for home, you went to your room and swallowed the resentment. It felt like a statement on his part. He used to write little notes for you during class, with small lines that made you smile even though they were sappy. He said he'll never hurt you, but here you are, close to tears on your own birthday.

There was a knock on the window.

You didn't need to turn to know it was him.

"Hey, I got us pizzas!" he said energetically, then noticed your red gown, the slumped shoulders, the irregular breaths. "Y/N...?"

You turned around, wiping the first tear that had shamelessly slid down your face. The last thing you wanted to do was look broken in front of the man who broke you.

He took in your makeup, or rather the smudged edges of it. You looked so utterly strong yet cautious, as if you had just built a brick wall over your emotions.

"Oh!" he connected the dots, leaving the pizza on the bedside. "Your birthday- holy shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

"Where were you?" you asked calmly.

He blanked. What was he supposed to say now? That he was so consumed with a bogus research that he forgot his girlfriend's birthday? Or the truth? Both would hurt the same.

"Gwen Stacy," you said the name slowly. "Why did you tell me you don't know her?"

He took a deep breath in. "I didn't say that. I just didn't tell you she was just doing the research with me—"

"If that was the case, why did you lie?"

"I thought you wouldn't understand! If I told you I had something super important to research with another girl, especially my childhood crush, don't tell me you wouldn't have gotten jealous!"

"Fuck you, Parker," your voice rose louder. "You know I'm not that type of overprotective partner. You know you could have just told me. But you didn't. Why?"

"There's a lot of compli—"

"Why?" The word ricocheted off the walls, making Peter almost take a step back.

"Did you cheat on me?" you whispered, biting down your lips so you wouldn't yell again.

"No," he shook his head far too quickly. Yet he looked guilty. You quickly connected the dots.

"Are you in love with her anyway?"

Peter's face fell. "I didn't plan to."

Tears freely started to fall now, but you didn't care. You took a deep breath in.

"You could have told me that from the start."

"I love her now but I loved you first," he said defensively. "I did. But then I was spending more time with Gwen and somewhere along the way, it just happened. I never wanted to hurt you, but would you really blame me for loving someone?"

"You're honestly asking me that?" you asked, your voice shaking. "All I did was love someone and where did that get me?"

"You don't understand—"

"What the fuck don't I understand?"

"I'm Spiderman!" He interrupted, raising his hands in surrender. He began rambling even without seeing your reaction. "Gwen works at Oscorp. She helped me. I knew you wouldn't have approved if I told you I was fighting for my life everyday. Not like she does."

You understood why he was saying that. Peter Parker was in his core, nothing if not kind. He didn't want to deal with how he hurt someone, so he threw a half-assed excuse at your face, hoping you'd agree and let him go. He didn't need your pain on his conscience so he resorted to wallowing through excuses.

Steady breaths, that's what he used to say when you were having a bad day. Steady breaths and a steady mind. Can't be all bad, right? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere.

Despite everything, you smiled. Steady breaths it is.

"I knew you were Spiderman, I knew it from the start," you said, almost amused.

He blinked, surprised yet again. Maybe he was more stupid than he gave himself credit for. After all, you were his girlfriend. If there was someone in the world who could figure it out, who else would it be if not you?

"You wouldn't have loved me anymore," he finished his ranting, desperately hopeless. "No matter what you say now, you wouldn't have!"

"I would have loved you any way you wanted me to."

He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, realizing he had just run out of excuses. Nothing to give, nothing that you'll ever trust again.

"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely meaning it. "I'm so fucking sorry that I hurt you. You are a good person and—"

"Get out."

"Let me just-"

"Get the hell out!" you pointed to the window.

He didn't want to cause any more of a mess, so he did as you asked, though hesitant as ever.

And as he climbed that window down one last time, you looked at the vase in the corner, the one which had the flowers he bought for you; all of them completely wilted now.

————————

second and final part here!

————————

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[fandom-smut-shots]

Keith Kogane - I’m Not Going Anywhere

Not Going Anywhere

A/N: Modern life AU.

Also, any genders and pronouns are acceptable to request. If not specified, I default to female, because that’s the majority of reader inserts in my experience.

Summary: You’ve been dating Keith for about six months, but you’ve only recently met his group of friends. He’s worried that they each have more to offer you than he does, and his insecurities eat away at him until you calm him down.

Words: 2,063

           “Your girlfriend is coming to the party, right?”

         Keith froze, glancing up at Shiro where the older man stood beside the stove, preparing a pot of spinach artichoke dip. He was a disaster at cooking actual food, but he’d managed to learn to prepare dips like a boss.

         “Uh…” was all the black-haired boy managed in response, shoving a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

         “Come on, Keith,” Shiro chided gently, employing his best Older Brother voice. “You’ve been seeing this girl for, what, six months now? I think it’s time I met her. And what better time to introduce her to the gang than at your birthday party?”

         “Do I have to introduce her to everyone?” Keith whined, glaring down at his breakfast. “Can’t she just meet you and be done with it?”

         Shiro sighed, turning to argue when he caught sight of his brother’s expression. Keith wasn’t one for expressing his emotions, so Shiro had learned early on how to read the arch of his brow and the shine of his eyes. Keith currently looked crestfallen, which given the circumstances meant that insecurities were buzzing around inside his head.

         “It’s going to be fine, Keith,” the older boy commented, taking a seat across from Keith at the table. “Everyone is going to love her, and she’s going to love your friends.”

         “That’s what I’m worried about,” was all Keith murmured before he stood, setting his cereal bowl in the sink before turning to skulk down the hallway towards his room.

           “I’d love to go to his birthday party!” you squealed into the phone, balancing it between your ear and your shoulder so you had free use of your hands. “I’m almost done decorating his cake. I could bring it with me!”

         “He’d love that,” Shiro chuckled on the other end. “We’re not a baking-inclined family, so it’s always store-bought cakes for us.”

         “He told me he just wanted to do something simple to celebrate with me,” you returned, swirling icing atop the cake to add calligraphic decoration to Keith’s name. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me you were throwing him a party.”

         “He doesn’t like being the center of attention,” Shiro reasoned.

         You hummed in agreement. “That’s true.” Setting the piping bag on the counter, you paused, a frown forming on your lips. “It’s not… He wants me to come, right? He won’t be mad that you invited me?”

         Shiro sighed into the receiver, and you bit your lip nervously. “He’ll be upset that I went behind his back, but I know him very well, and I think he’d enjoy the party a lot more if you were there. He’s just nervous about you meeting his friends. They can be a handful.”

         “If you’re sure,” you replied. The last thing you wanted to do was upset your boyfriend while trying to celebrate his birthday. “I’ll be there. With a cake.”

         “Perfect,” the man on the phone replied. “I’ll see you tonight. It’ll be great, I promise.”

         You hung up the phone and set it on the counter, admiring your handiwork on your boyfriend’s cake. Exhaling softly, you tried to believe Shiro’s words. Everything would be fine.

           Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached the front door of Shiro and Keith’s shared house. Carefully balancing the cake with one hand, you raised the other to knock on the door, waiting patiently but anxiously for someone to answer. The door opened to reveal Shiro, smiling widely upon seeing you on the other side.

         “(y/n)! It’s so great to meet you!” he greeted enthusiastically. “I’m Shiro, Keith’s older brother. I apologize if I startled you with that phone call earlier – I wasn’t sure Keith would actually follow through and invite you.”

         “He didn’t,” you giggled. “I don’t mind at all. I’ve been wanting to meet you for months.”

         “Let me take that for you,” he offered, easing the cake out of your hold. He headed inside, nodding for you to follow him. You closed the door behind you, following the tall man- like seriously, how was he that tall?-  into the kitchen. There stood a thicker boy, nearly as tall as Shiro, stirring and chopping like a professional chef.

         “That cheese sauce smells amazing, Hunk,” Shiro complimented the cook, placing the cake on the counter.

         “It’s almost done- ooh, where’d the cake come from?” the cook inquired.

         “Keith’s girlfriend.”

         The spoon being used to stir the cheese sauce fell to the floor with a clink, gooey cheese splashing all over the tile.

         “Keith’s what?!”

         The tall, tanned cook spun on his heel, a grin splitting his lips as he caught sight of you. “She’s real!”

         Shiro laughed softly, stepping closer to you. “Hunk, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is Hunk, our resident chef. He shares a few classes with Keith.”

         “I’m an engineering major,” Hunk explained, offering his hand. You placed your comparably tiny hand in his, giggling softly.

         “It’s nice to meet you. Keith has mentioned your cooking.”

         Hunk’s eyes sparkled at the confirmation that the emotionally constipated raven appreciated his food before he turned back to the stove.

         “Hey, Shiro, what-“ Keith stopped in his tracks as he entered the kitchen, his eyes widening as he stared at you. “(y/n)? What are you doing here?”

         “I invited her because I knew you wouldn’t,” Shiro explained.

         “It’s okay that I’m here, right, babe?” you questioned, brows furrowing with worry as you took Keith’s hands in yours.

         “Babe?” teased an unfamiliar voice. “Keith lets someone call him babe?” A tall, thin brunet sauntered into view, resting his elbow on your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Hey, who’s the hottie? She’s- ow!”

         Keith’s elbow collided with the brunet’s rib, and he stepped away.

         “Yeah, it’s okay,” Keith murmured, lacing his fingers with yours, but you could hear the uncertainty in his voice. You stood up on your toes, pressing your lips to his, and he melted into the gesture despite having an audience. The brunet from before whistled at the sight, and Keith pulled back with a glare in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks.

         “I’m (y/n,” you introduced, offering your hand.

         “The name’s Lance,” the tan brunet grinned, taking your hand in his and lightly kissing your knuckles. You simply raised a brow in response, unsurprised when Keith ripped Lance’s hand away from yours.

         “She’s taken,” he growled, wrapping an arm around your waist. You giggled softly, resting your head on Keith’s shoulder.

         “Is that everyone?” you inquired, looking towards Shiro.

         “Hunk!” another voice called from the hallway. “Are the nachos done? I’m starving- oh, hey.”

         Finally, someone not insanely tall.

         “I’m Pidge,” they offered, lifting their hand to their head in a salute. “You must be Keith’s girlfriend.”

         “(y/n),” you countered. “Are you another friend of his?”

         Pidge stole a chip from the bowl on the table, popping it into their mouth. “If that’s what we’re calling it. I’m friends with Lance and Hunk, and they kinda forced Keith to join the group.”

         “I encouraged it,” Shiro replied. “My brother needs social skills.”

         “I have plenty of social skills,” Keith grumbled in response.

         Lance snickered loudly, Pidge choked on a ship, and Hunk chuckled from his place at the stove.

         “I got myself a girlfriend without your interference, didn’t I?” your boyfriend defended, his grip around your wait tightening.

         “How did you two meet, anyway?” Pidge questioned.

         “I’m an art major,” you replied. “We met in Interpretive Painting.”

         “Keith takes art classes?” Lance gasped, his voice raising several octaves.

         “Makes sense,” Pidge shrugged.

         “Interpretive Painting?” Hunk repeated. “That sounds like fun.”

         “Ah, someone who will encourage my brother to keep working on his art,” Shiro smiled. “I already love her.”

         Keith used his hand on your waist to guide you away from the others, leading you to the living room. He sat on the couch, pulling you onto his lap, securing his arms around you. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers toying with his thick raven hair. His nose nuzzled into your neck as he inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of your body wash.

         “Why didn’t you want me to meet them?” you inquired softly. “They seem nice.”

         “Too nice,” he murmured against your skin. “They’ll take you away from me.”

         You pulled away from Keith just enough to lift his head, caressing his jaw with your hand, gazing softly into his violet eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

         His gaze dropped somewhere behind you – a tell that the current situation made him vulnerable and insecure.

         “You heard them in there. I’m not social. How many times have you told me I suck at texting back? If you hadn’t been so friendly, I wouldn’t have even been able to ask you out.”

         “So?” you questioned, brushing your thumb across is cheekbone. “I’m dating you, aren’t I? If you being anti-social was an issue, I wouldn’t have said yes.”

         He sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Lance is better at romance and dating. Pidge is smart, and you like a lot of the same games. Hunk can cook actual meals. They have more to offer you.”

         Your heart broke at his honesty. You knew how hard it was for Keith to be so open, even with you. He must have been dreading the day you met his friends if he was this concerned about it.

         Taking his face in your hands, you lifted his head until you can access his mouth. You gently pressed your lips to his, pouring your emotions into the kiss. He sighed softly against your lips, his arms tightening around your waist. You let one hand slide back to tangle in his hair, gently tugging on the strands.

         “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised between kisses. “I love you, Keith. Befriending your friends means I get to spend more time with you and learn more about you. They’re not going to take me from you, I promise.”

         “Dinner is done!” Hunk’s voice called from the kitchen.

         You slid off of Keith’s lap, much to his dismay, and offered him a hand. “Come on, babe. Let’s go eat.”

         He took your hand, lacing your fingers and squeezing softly as he followed you into the kitchen. Chips, cheese, meat, and vegetables decorated the table as a homemade nacho bar for everyone to dig into. Keith’s amethyst eyes danced around the kitchen, landing on an unfamiliar container on the counter.

         “What’s that?” he inquired, turning his gaze to Hunk.

         Hunk grinned. “(y/n) brought it.”

         “It’s your cake,” you replied, shoving a fully-coated nacho into your mouth.

         “You made me a cake?” Keith questioned, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

         “The plan was for us to have a private party after you were done here,” you shrugged. “When Shiro invited me, I figured I might as well bring the cake.”

         Keith dipped his head, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. Lance and Pidge cat-called from somewhere behind you, but Keith didn’t seem to mind. Shiro smiled from behind Keith, shaking his head softly.

           After dinner and cake were thoroughly enjoyed, you followed Keith and his friends to the living room to watch movies. He sat on the couch and you reclaimed your place on his lap, snuggling into his chest. His hands intertwined with yours, his fingertips brushing your knuckles, and you peppered soft kisses to his jaw, reminding him that you were his.

         While everyone was enthralled in the movie, you turned to face your boyfriend. You untangled a hand from his in order to lift it to his face, cupping his cheek. He turned his gaze from the movie to look at you, a soft expression in his eyes that only you were allowed to see. You shifted in his lap, pulling his lips down to yours. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, gently nipping at your lower lip with his teeth. You were tempted to give in until you recalled your company, reluctantly breaking the kiss and settling back against his chest.

         “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand as you watched the movie. The kiss he pressed to the side of your head told you that he understood, and while you knew his insecurities wouldn’t be magically washed away, you also knew that he was trying and that was more than enough for you.

[v-hope]

Fall Out, 9:47PM — Belong

Warning: Familiar argument/fight and violence (nothing major).

Feeling his pocket vibrate over and over as Jimin kept spamming him with texts for him to go back downstairs where the party was taking place, he kept on walking, completely ignoring his best friend’s pleads, as he knew all too well that Jimin would not make a scene, which would definitely happen if he ran after him to stop him.

It wasn’t like he was trying to start a fight or anything. He had just seen you talk to your parents by the other side of the room — neither of you looking precisely happy as you made your way upstairs, where Jimin had pointed out your bedroom was. And, although he was dying to know what was going on, he knew he could always ask you afterwards. It was watching Sungjin going up right after you, what made him decide he was joining whatever was happening up there as well.

After all, he was your boyfriend. Not Sungjin. Even if the entire world believed otherwise.

It took him a good couple of minutes to find your room, for the mansion you used to live in was way bigger than he had expected — the music downstairs being barely audible anymore as he kept walking deeper into the second floor. He would probably have ended up giving up and going back down with Jimin to keep on drinking his feelings away, if it weren’t for the fact that he caught a glimpse of Sungjin after having turned right into what he thought, and hoped, was the last hallway.

Lee remained outside of a white door that Taehyung supposed belonged to your bedroom — palms lightly pressed to it as he tried his best to listen to what you and your parents were talking about inside.

“Stalker much?” Taehyung couldn’t help but call out once he reached his side, voice quiet as he tried his best for you not to listen to them from the other side of the door.

Sungjin rolled his eyes, taking a step back from the door. “Just worried”.

“What’s there to be worried about?”

“Y/N’s trying to talk them out of going on the trip, that won’t end up well”.

Taehyung frowned, clear panic mixed with confusion in his eyes. “What trip?”

Sungjin froze, petrified eyes locking with Taehyung’s to try and find out whether he was playing dumb or not.

“Yah, what trip are you talking about?” Taehyung pushed it.

“She… She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head no. And for a moment there, staring into the dumbfounded and quite worried expression on Sungjin's face, he forgot that he didn’t know about your relationship to begin with. He seemed way too aware not to.

Nevertheless, even if Sungjin didn’t know you and Taehyung had been a couple for a good amount of months by now, he was not stupid — the chemistry between the two of you, and the way you cared for one another, were too much for him not to notice. Therefore, he was indeed taken aback over you not telling Taehyung you were going on a family trip with him.

Before Sungjin could even begin to try and give him an explanation, however, both their heads snapped back to the door — the voices inside becoming louder and closer to where they were standing. Just enough for them to be heard through the door, even more considering both guys pressed their ears to it without a second thought.

“You never listen to me!” your exasperated voice was the first one they heard. “I don’t want to do this anymore, just let me go already”.

“You can still change your mind, dear” your mother spoke up. “We said one year and we’re not giving up on showing you that you belong here until the last second”.

“Will you ever leave me alone after that?” your broken words made Taehyung feel uneasy. “Because this one year was supposed to be for me to show you I could survive on my own, which, by the way, I already did. It was never for you to convince me to stay”.

“We would be morons not to try and make you stay, dear”.

“I’m starting to believe the two of you will sabotage my life until I come crawling back here with you”.

“All we’re asking is for you to consider your choices until the year is done. We’re not monsters, darling” it was your father the one to speak up this time, causing Taehyung to roll his eyes right as you scoffed quite loudly.

“Lately that is all I can see you two as”.

“Excuse me?”

“What I just said,” although your voice trembled, it was confident enough. “I love you both so much, but all you’ve done this past year is make my life harder. I loved my life here, with its ups and downs, until the Jimin incident happened and you guys became even more controlling than you ever were”.

“We just want what’s best for you” your mother tried to make you understand. “All we want is for you to have the best things in life, Y/N”.

“And I have everything I need back home with Taehyung”.

Sungjin’s eyes snapped up to Taehyung, who bit the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to smile at your words, as your relationship had apparently been exposed to your fake fiancé right then.

“Please, that is not your home” your mother laughed, in a way that made your boyfriend’s blood boil. “You belong here, dear. You’re a Kim. You have always been and will always be a Kim. I know you will come to your senses and marry Sungjin so you can take after our business with your brother. You’re coming with us and that’s final”.

“Watch me. I’m not going on that trip”.

That’s when the doorknob turned and you came out of the room, stopping in your tracks when you stood face to face with the two nosy guys who didn’t know where to hide right then.

“What are you doing here?” your father’s voice was heard over yours — threatening eyes not on Sungjin, but on Taehyung.

Your boyfriend, however, did not take one step back. “Trying to find out what’s going on here”.

“I will tell you what’s going on here, handsome” your mother interrupted, unintentionally using the pet name you had for him — in a despective way, of course. He hated it. “Our daughter deserves better than you. She will come with us on a family trip with Sungjin and his family, so she can spend some quality time with her fiancé and realise how much happier she would be if she just married him and stayed here with us”.

“I’m not staying”.

“Whether you like it or not, this is reality” your mother kept talking to Taehyung regardless of your addition. “Did you really think a heiress like her could fall for a cheap artist like you?”

“Don’t you dare talk to him like that” you defended him in a heartbeat.

Taehyung, on the other hand, stayed silent.

He knew that was not what you thought. He had heard you only one minute ago tell your parents that you wanted to be with him, that your home was with him. Nevertheless, it hurt. Hearing all those things hurt, because they were exactly what he had been thinking when he saw you act ever so happily with your guests downstairs as your birthday gala went on.

No mater how many actual proof he had of you wanting to stay with him, he couldn’t help but think that there was still a chance, as small as it could be, of you coming back here with your parents and leaving him. Maybe it was the trauma of having lost all his loved ones before, he wasn’t sure. But, whatever it was, he couldn’t help but feel like he would lose you in the end.

They were right, in a way. You were used to this lifestyle. And he wished he could give you this kind of life. But he couldn’t. He could not afford it. He would never be able to afford it.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that” your mother fought back. “You still are my daughter, dear. Know your place”.

“Please,” you let out a breathy laugh. “I’ve known my place all along. Now you should take a hint and know yours, mother. Taehyung is my boyfriend”.

“And I am your mother”.

“I don’t care who you are! I love him! I love him and I’m staying with him, whether you like it or n—”

Your words were cut off by a burning feel in your cheek, one that a second later you learned had been caused by your mother’s hand colliding with it.

That was all it took for the two guys present to run next to you. Taehyung was faster, though — warm, familiar hands cupping your face and checking up on your already swollen cheek, his worried eyes silently asking your teary ones if you were okay, only glaring at your mother once you had nodded your head.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m her mother, she owes me respect”.

“She owes you nothing!” he pulled you to him. “She is an adult, why can’t you get that?”

“We do not owe you any explanations” your father said, so calmingly it was infuriating.

“I would like an explanation, though” Sungjin mumbled. “Since I could possibly be marrying into this family”.

“Sungjin-ah…” your mother warned him.

“You just hit your daughter. In front of our eyes. You cannot possibly believe that is alright”.

“I believe the two of you don’t have a say in this”.

“As her possible future husband, I think I do”.

“And as her actual boyfriend,” Taehyung’s low voice caught their attention. “I will be taking her away from you now”.

Before they could stop you, his hand travelled up to your shoulder, securely keeping you by his side as he turned around and guided you away from the dramatic scene you had been involved in.

“I wouldn’t stop her from going on the trip with us tomorrow if I were you” your father spoke up as the two of you walked away from them. “Wouldn’t want your precious art to go downhill”.

“Whatever”.

You stared up at him, not being able to hide just how much both your father’s threat and Taehyung’s careless answer had worried you. Daring your parents was like playing with fire, and you didn’t want him to burn — especially not when he had found himself involved in this whole situation because of you.

All the confidence you had once felt about not going on the trip no matter what card they pulled on you, gone. For they were no longer using a card against you, but on him. You could not drag him into a fight that wasn’t his.

But he didn’t seem to mind. And, if he did, he was hiding it very damn well. With his eyes fixed ahead of you, he did nothing but keep walking aimlessly.

Although his first thought had been to take you home, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the place was filled with paps waiting outside so they could pester with questions and picture whoever it was that left the gala. Definitely not the way to go when you’re trying to keep a relationship secret. So, instead, he took you to one of the bathrooms on the second floor — informing you where he wanted to go and having you point out for him where the closest bathroom was.

Once inside, he made sure to lock the door, later lifting you up by your waist and sitting you down on the sink. Turning the hot water on, he wet a small towel and gently pressed it to the swollen skin on your cheek, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth at the contact.

“Are you really okay?” his eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile curving up the corners of your lips. “Should’ve seen the one she gave me after finding out about Jimin and I”.

“It’s not funny” he shook his head, eyes just as worried as before.

“Sorry” you lowered your head. “I’m okay, though. It hurt me more what she said to you”.

“It was nothing” he lied, pressing the towel to your face one last time before he put it down next to you on the sink.

“None of it is true” you reassured him.

“Even the trip bit?”

You bit your lip, feeling your chest tighten as you knew you could no longer keep this from him; not when you had not managed to make your parents change their mind. You shook your head no. “That part is true…”

“So you’re truly going on a ‘family trip’ with them” his voice let you know just how bad he was not having it. “When?”

You said nothing, staring down at your hands resting on your lap as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

“Y/N?” he pushed it, your silence alone letting him know he would not like the answer he was looking for. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow”.

Silence.

And then, a breathy laugh escaped his mouth — an incredulous one, with no signs of humor in it whatsoever.

“Tomorrow?” he repeated. “You’re leaving tomorrow for God knows how long, on a trip with the one guy you’re possibly marrying, and you’re only now telling me?”

“I’m not marrying him” you mumbled.

“Were you even planning on telling me at all?” he asked, not seeming to care about your quiet correction. “Or were you just leaving tomorrow and letting me know once you were in a hotel room on the other side of the world?”

“Don’t be like that…”

“Then how do you want me to be, Y/N? Don’t I have a right to know my girlfriend is going on a trip with another guy?”

“I was trying to stop the trip altogether” you tried to explain. “That’s why I was talking to my parents. I do not want to go, Taehyung. I was trying to make them change their mind”.

“Well, that surely worked” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry” you held his hands in yours. “I tried, I really did”.

“So that’s it?” he asked coldly. “You’re going?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes!” he took a step back, hands slipping from yours. “You do. You’ve had a choice all along, yet you’ve decided to still follow your parents’ orders even after all this time”.

“My father literally threatened your career if I ended up not going”.

“I don’t care what he does to my career. I can go back to work part time and keep it as a hobby for all I care”.

“I won’t let you do that”.

“I told you I don’t care about it,” his voice turned stern. “Why do you?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason your life is sabotaged”.

“My life is being sabotaged right now and it’s got nothing to do with my art”.

That had you furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This, right now” he pointed to you and back at him. “I want to be with you, Y/N. But you’re not letting me, you’re making all the decisions for me”.

“I’m not making any decisions for you”.

“Yes, you are” he threw his head back in exasperation. “You’re choosing my career over you right now and I’m not even getting a say on it. It’s supposed to be my decision and I’d choose you in a heartbeat”.

“Taehyung…”

“Just stay here” he pleaded in a small whisper, his forehead faintly resting on yours. “With me”.

You bit your bottom lip, in a poor attempt at stopping it from trembling as your eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t…” you managed to whisper. “I can’t risk it. Even if I did stay, you would end up hating me for having ruined for you what you love the most”.

“I love you the most”.

You shook your head no. Your heart hurt more with every passing second. “It’s only going to be a couple of days. We won’t be there for longer than a week, an—”

“I don’t care how long it’s going to be,” he once again withdrew from your touch. “I don’t want you to go”.

“Taehyung, they have contacts in every single art gallery in the country” you pointed out, letting him know what he would be facing.

“I don’t care” he repeated, growing more frustrated by the second. “I’ve been very understanding when it comes to keeping our relationship a secret and you going out with Sungjin and acting like a couple all the time we’ve been dating, but I am not letting you go on a romantic trip with him”.

“It’s not a romantic trip”.

“No, you’re right. It’s a family trip” his words sounded venomous. “Do you know how much more that hurts? You’re supposed to be my family, not his”.

“I am!” you cupped his face, pulling him close enough for your forehead to rest on his. “I am your family, handsome. I’m never going to be his. But it’s just this once,” your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks. “Just this once, and then the last month will be gone and I won’t ever have to go out with him and act like a couple again”.

Taehyung shook his head, defeatedly closing his eyes. “It won’t end there,” he sighed. “You know that, right? After the trip there will be a family dinner, then maybe another gala, then a proposal, th—”

“No” you cut him off. “No, that won’t happen. I won’t let it happen”.

“They threatened us with my career, Y/N. They won’t let that card go” he reminded you. “And although I don’t care about it, you seem to do”.

“I just can’t bear to be the reason your dream goes to waste. I know my parents” you tried to explain. “This one month left will be over soon…”

“Why not stop everything now then?”

“They won’t let me. The deal was one year, they won’t let me give the remaining month up, don’t you think I’ve tried already?” your voice broke. “If I had known I would fall for you three months in, I wouldn’t have agreed to one year”.

He sighed, feeling his own eyes well up with tears, yet doing his best to stop them from falling. “I don’t want you to go…”

“I promise it will be just for a few days”.

“Just a few days are enough for you to change your mind”.

You froze at his words, a part of you understanding what he meant, yet not wanting to believe it. “What?”

Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek. He had said it out of spite, out of hurt, but it was done, and now you were waiting for an answer. So, he gave you one.

“I saw how happy you looked tonight. The way you would talk with those girls you’ve always said are not your friends. The way you would lock your arm with Sungjin’s and smile next to him all night long”.

“There are cameras everywhere, I was acting”.

“Didn’t look like acting” he mumbled.

You sighed, fixing your hair as you tried to come up with the right words. “I admit I did enjoy myself every now and then, but that doesn’t mean I want to stay here”.

“Try saying that after multiple nights having caviar and champagne for dinner”.

“You’re being unfair”.

“I am being unfair?” he scoffed. “I’m not the one going on a trip with the person I could end up marrying”.

“I won’t end up marrying him!” you repeated what you had been saying for over a year now. “I love you, not him. I won’t leave you and I will not marry him. You just… don’t trust me at all, do you?”

“Don’t try to turn the tables” he warned you.

“No, I know I hurt you and I know I’m in the wrong, and that you have all the right to be mad at me right now. But you should know better than to believe I will just drop what we have over a fancy life”.

“Well, it’s been nearly a year and you still haven’t let this double life of yours go. Plus, you didn’t move out because you hated this lifestyle, but because you didn’t want an arranged marriage, so…”

“So that’s what you think? That I will fall right back for this lifestyle’s charms and end up leaving you?” you tried to look for his eyes, only to have him stare intently to the wall on the side. “Do you think I changed from the way I was when we first met at all?”

He shrugged, and it was the fact that he stayed silent for a few seconds, actually considering his answer, what hurt you the most. “They’re your parents after all. Your family… or at least your biological one. You still love them no matter how bad they treat you, and I guess I get it. You just don’t seem ready to let them go”.

“I just told my parents that I love you and am staying with you” you pushed it.

“Words mean nothing when you’re showing the exact opposite” his words felt like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown at you. “If you wanted to stay with me like you say, we wouldn’t be having this argument right now”.

“It’s not that simple, you know that” you whispered.

He shrugged, saying nothing else as his eyes remained fixed anywhere else but in yours.

“I don’t see this conversation going anywhere anymore” you managed to quietly say, when you could no longer take the overwhelming silence that had taken over the room.

“On that we agree” he stated, taking another step back. “I’ll head back home”.

“I’ll be there once we’re done here”.

Taehyung nodded, reaching for the door and stopping once his hand was on the knob. He took a deep breath. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight”.

Your chest tightened, finding it hard to both breathe and speak, but you managed to do so nevertheless. “What’s the point of me going back home then?”

“Don’t you have clothes to pack?” his head turned to you.

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I can manage with what I have here”.

“Right. You can manage” his jaw tensed, the same way his hand tensed around the doorknob. “Stay here then”.

And without another word, he left.

[katsukikitten]

Hello friends! Here is my contribution to the Bakugou Birthday Bash! The master link will be linked here ! Please enjoy my bit of an angsty fic! And all of the other art and works that are on the master list! Enjoy the big bakugou blow out and remember to leave a comment on your favorite pieces! Happy birthday ya shitty man! (Lowkey become 3d please)

Warning: he's 28 btw 😂 (my fic says so also)

It shouldn't be this fucking hard to get groceries and booze. It's a quick and easy errand. Everything already pre-ordered for an important birthday that just needed to be picked up. And yet here you were crying in your car trying to get it together before the attendant asked for the order name. Honestly you had texted out "I can't do this today. Sorry." Several times before deleting it, telling yourself not to hit send. But you would have to be having the worst mental day of your life wouldn't you? Today of all days, how fucking selfish of you.

Especially with the amount of time and effort you and Kirishima had put into this idea. Since New Year's actually, months and months of planning after the two of you had gotten shit faced at Denki and Mina's new years party, creating the brain child. All after bonding over switching patrol partners six months before, you had gotten Bakugou and he had gotten Ashido. Kirishima and yourself giggle over stupid things to the side of the party, people watching as you took shots. Kirishima points towards a normally grumpy blonde.

"Wow I think he's actually having fun." You snort, as you watch Bakugou hide his rare cat smile behind a sip of his beer as Mina makes Denki the butt of a joke.

"He actually loves parties. He never says it so people just think he's a wet blanket." Kirishima laughs, pouring the two of you another shot. Bakugou lets out a particularly loud laugh after 'Dunce Face' proves Mina's point. I guess that would be the time that it started.

When you started to fall. His laugh makes your cheeks deepen in hue and burn, to want to hear it again, to watch it again and learn all of the other sides of your patrol partner that he obviously only reserved for his closest friends.

"Let's throw him a great birthday party." You say, holding up your shot as a devilish smile spreads over sharp teeth. The mountainous man clinks your shot glass before he adds.

"Let's." In unison the two of you down the burning liquid as the plan comes into fruition.

Four months, four months and nineteen days of you thinking of nothing but your patrol partner with whom you got extremely close with since New Year's. So why? Why today of all days were you struggling? Why would normal everyday tasks feel more as if you were wading through mud than the breeze they should have been? You flip down the visor, looking yourself in the eye through little square mirror as you grit your teeth hissing

"Get your shit together."

Your little pep talk helps you get the several cakes and the cart full of booze that everyone requested, planning to make this the best birthday ever. Helping Kirishima set his house up with decorations, setting out the snacks, catering and even pouring some drinks as guests began to arrive to set down their gifts and help with the last minute touches before hiding. Masking through the pit in your stomach as you smiled at all of your friends as they poured in through Kirishima's door. Through the weighted emptiness you felt as each one wrapped you into a tight hug, already praising you and Kirishima for the amazing effort, that Bakugou would be so surprised when it was more than just you and Kirishima here. . Finally you had to go and get the guest of honor just before sundown to catch him before he went to bed. A much needed breather from the constant smiling and forcing a laugh that everyone thought sounded genuine.

Enjoying the silence of the evening train as it pulled you across town to the unsuspecting blonde. And maybe you could have made it through the night from your shitty pep talk or at least through getting the freshly 28 year old to his party but instead you catch your reflection in the window. Your facial features weighted with exhaustion, shoulders hunched allowing your body to continue to produce cortisol. Tears prick your eyes as you deep low, too low. Remembering everything and nothing all at once, steeping in guilt as you beg yourself for just a few more hours. That the depression episode can happen when you're home and alone, after the party goes off without a hitch. Tears fall anyway and they do all the way to Bakugou's until you finally get enough control to step out of yourself for a moment. Ringing the doorbell several times as a smile is plastered on your face, the door swings open. Bakugou's eyes narrow as they take you in, he notices that something is off. Your smile is a little too wide, your eyes rimmed red but he says nothing about it. Instead he lets his initial anger come forth.

"Oi! I told you to fuckin' text me when you were on the train so I could meet you at the station!" He growls, slamming his door shut and pocketing his keys. Deadly and sweaty hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as his palms itch to hold onto something else. Garnet eyes track your own hands as you reach over your head stretching.

"Yea yea, I hear you Dad." You tease giving him a look, "I still made it okay."

"Kirishima should have come instead of you that fuckin hair for brains." He snarls keeping pace with you as he always does on patrol.

"I know Dad must be sad cause his favorite didn't come to pick him up." You try not to sound dejected, nudging him in the ribs to distract from the crack in your voice, "Happy birthday ya big lug."

Bakugou cuts you a glare, mind racing before his barks out a "Thanks."

Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you before you two hit the train station, passing a corner store.

"Was shitty hair burning dinner? Do I need to stop for back up?" His thumb hooks over his shoulder towards the neon as he stands idle waiting for you to jog your memory. Kirishima had burned the last friend's dinner making Bakugou so angry he walked six blocks to make something that was 'FUCKIN EDIBLE!' while you tried to air out his apartment. You laugh loudly, genuinely for the first time that day causing Bakugou's shoulders to sag with relief. In the ten months he had been working with you he had only seen you faking a smile or laugh once or twice. Then the time after that you were absent from work the next day or two forcing him to patrol with Denki but worse yet...making him worry.

"Guess I'll grab something just in case." He gave you his back so you wouldn't see his face or the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

"No, no! I ordered out this time. From that famous chef you like." Bakugou glares your way, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

"How much." He demands through gritted teeth while you show him the palms of your hands in surrender.

"Woah woah! It's your birthday gift! You can't pay me back for dinner! I'd sooner burn the money before I'd accept it from you!" Your watch dings with a message from Kirishima asking for an ETA. You grab onto Bakugou's hand pulling him along into a run as you shout over your shoulder.

"We're gonna be late!"

Oh how Bakugou wished you hadn't done that, he was already struggling to keep his heart beat even when you were around and now to grab onto him. To pull him along in a hurry like those cheesy insta posts that couples did on their "grand adventure" together. He swallows the lump in his throat as he reminds himself that you are nothing more than his patrol partner. His friend at best.

Even though the train was mostly empty Bakugou stood closely by you, as he always did when the two of you were in a crowded space. He had seen how most men took advantage of the situation and he hated the idea of that happening to you although he knew you were more than capable of handling it on your own. Hell you could kick even his ass but he would die before ever admitting that. Instead he watches you talk about what you ordered for dinner and how you got the cake from that bakery Sato works part time at, the same one he got your birthday cake from but he doesn't hear a word. Instead all he can see is the golden light from the setting sun worshiping you. Kissing your skin to make it glow, giving your eyes a hue that makes his heart fall into his stomach and illuminating you in a true light. A radiant ethereal thing is what you were and Bakugou was just lucky enough to be standing by you. So out of it he doesn't realize the two of you are at your stop.

"Uh Suki?" Your voice is soft paired with the setting sun has him acting weird. He leans closer to you, pulled by some invisible force before he stops himself as he watches you look up at him beneath long lashes.

"You okay?" You ask almost nervously from his proximity, the smell of spice and caramel wrap around you making you feel warm and fuzzy. Temporarily making you forget that you were trying to act on the train, making you relax as you just talked to Bakugou. He sucks his teeth as he picks up your bag to sling over his shoulder.

"Yea but you were gonna forget your whole damn purse like you always do." He huffs, this time he was the one pulling at your hand in a rush before the doors closed to trap you two on the train. His hand feels warm in yours, his grip tight as he drags you along before pulling you within his sight, another habit of his you happened to notice. Almost reluctantly he lets go of you hand as Kirishima's house comes into view.

"We better have a good time tonight patrol Princess or you owe me a special birthday gift." He laughs causing you to roll your eyes at his stupid nickname that stuck after your first day with him, adamant that the two of you take your route instead of his it was a huge argument. But it was a good thing he listened to the "princess", it put the two of you smack dab in the middle of a robbery. You stick out your tongue.

"Trust me. You're gonna have a good time!" You push him up the steps as he bats away your hands. Opening the front door before everyone jumps out of various and bad hiding spots.

"SURPRISE!!" All of the alumni of class A and some of B shout, a select few already slurring their words. Bakugou's scowl turns into a smirk before he looks over his shoulder at you.

"Aw you did this to me?" His voice is teasing but his eyes almost sparkle, you nod encouraging him to go deeper into the party. As he does people flock to him laughing and yelling out happy birthday until he's sick of hearing it. All the while your smile wanes with the night. Until an hour in that heavy episode hits you full force. Numbness setting in where happiness should be, rotting as it turns to shame and guilt as you watch your friend, your crush, enjoy his night. Bringing a glass bottle to his lips as he talks with Kirishima, who then presses a shot into his hands. Bodies dancing to the house music that beat out of the speakers competing with chatter and laughter.

It felt weird to watch everyone truly enjoying themselves while you felt low. It felt more as if you were standing outside of the house, looking in through the window to see everyone enjoying themselves, no one even knowing who you were as you stared in.

You felt distant, alone. What a shitty way to feel in a room full of people, none of it being their fault and so the guilt pressed harder. Eyes watering as they lingered on the blonde who deserved this celebration and more. Making you decide to give the best birthday gift of them all.

To slip away upstairs and onto the roof, to give the room space to breathe when you felt like suffocating.

Crying to no one but the moon.

And no one noticed. Two hours slip by before Kirishima insists that Bakugou make a wish and eat cake before everyone gets too drunk too. The entire house drunkenly sings happy birthday but Bakugou notices a voice missing. Yours that's just a touch off key, not to mention he didn't hear you say the stupid nickname 'Suki' where his name should be in the song. Plus you weren't one to miss out on dessert. For as long as Bakugou has been working with you, you never turned down the opportunity for sweets. Whether that was taking the long way back to the agency to try to catch a certain street vendor or to hover by the deserts at a party to pick the very best treat.

And if it was a birthday party, you never could shut up that y'all could not leave until after they blew out the candles and made a wish.

His eyes linger for a second longer, making sure he didn't miss you before his heart sinks. He takes in a sharp inhale, thinks on his wish and blows out the candles.

Meanwhile you hear the cheers of everyone down stairs and sob into your knees. You missed your favorite part of birthdays. Of hoping they make a wish that comes true, of watching their face as they think of something quickly or how some people tear up when they finally realize just how loved they are on their birthday.

It isn't long after that do you hear the sound of combat boots on shingles. Whipping your head up in the direction of the sound. Stomach clenching with guilt as you watch Bakugou walking towards you with a slice of cake.

"Brought ya some cake, since I didn't hear you sing off key to me." He says sinking down beside you as you furiously wipe at your tears.

"I'm-um."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me." He snarls as you stare dumbly at your cake, "You know that."

"I know…" Silence passes slowly, the moon shines overhead and the party carries on below.

"Well, I'm waiting!" Bakugou says dramatically, "You gonna sing or am I gonna have to sing to myself?"

"Oh." It makes you giggle a bit before you blush, realizing he is serious. You take a deep breath before singing "just off key" when you don't, to him.

"Sukiiiiii!" Relief washes over his features when he hears the dumb ass name, "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

"Okay, now you can eat the damn cake." He grunts, his smile never wavering as he looks to the empty street below. You follow his eyes, chewing the inside of your lip, setting the cake down.

"What'd you wish for…" Curiosity gets the better of you and earns his intense gaze. He smirks, scoffing at the end.

"You always say you shouldn't tell or it won't come true." He laughs at your pout, before he finally admits "I wished for courage."

With a furrowed brow you give him a puzzled look, he just holds your gaze.

"Why? You're like the bravest hero I know!" Bakugou can hear the truth in your voice, you aren't saying it just to fucking stroke his ego.

You actually meant it, making this conversation that much harder.

"Yea except when it comes to this one thing I want to do. Its fuckin easy and I've done it hundreds of times just as I'm about to do it I fucking back down cause I'm probably fuckin reading into things too much." He leans in closer, again his smell mesmerizes you, causing your body to visibly relax, "Too much of a fuckin bitch, thinking she doesn't want me like I want her. So I wished for the courage to follow through. To fuckin' just do it."

Your heart is racing out of your chest before one of his hands finds the nape of your neck pulling you into a feverish kiss. Teeth gnashing from the passion, lips perfectly modeling to the other before tongues lightly dance around one another. Lengthening seconds into hours with just a few head tilts and plush lips. You moan into his mouth, he pulls away, eyes clouded with lust as a string of spit connects your tongues. He pants, face flushed and his hand warm, almost burning at the nape of your neck, the shingle by his hand charred from restraint as he pants out.

"I wished for you."

[engie-ivy]

Remus is the uptight, swotty Prefect who's always getting the popular and beloved troublemakers Black and Potter in detention. Remus doesn't care what people say of him, and he absolutely doesn't care about Black's blinding smile.

A Book By Its Cover

Remus pulls his jumper closer around himself against the draught in the large, empty halls. The corridor is dimly lit and he hears nothing but the sound of his own footsteps. Everything is quiet. Too quite.

A loud clang suddenly sounds from behind one of the tapestries. Remus almost smiles to himself. Bingo. In a swift motion, he pulls away the tapestry.

Startled, Black whirls around. He’s surrounded by what appear to be paint cans and rope. His shock only last a moment, though.

“Lupin!” He exclaims, a beaming smile appearing on his face. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. He makes an effort to keep a firm expression on his face, to show he’s not affected by Black’s notorious, blinding smile, like everyone else is. “Only pleasant if you like detention. And as for a surprise, I am a Prefect. I am supposed to be here making my rounds. So what are you doing here?”

“Preparing a prank,” Black says simply.

Remus doesn’t know whether he should be insulted Black doesn’t seem to take his authority very seriously, or glad that he doesn’t insult his intelligence by coming up with an excuse.

“Right,” Remus says, before taking out his notebook and pen. “Out of bed after curfew and engaging in illegal activity,” he scribbles down. “And where’s Potter?”

“Aw, am I not enough for you, Lupin?” Black pouts.

“I figured you could use some company in detention,” Remus replies smoothly.

Black clicks his tongue. “So thoughtful.”

“If you’re here setting up some prank, then it’s a given Potter is setting up that prank somewhere else in the school as well. So, where is he?”

Black shakes his head. “For you’re own good, Lupin, you don’t wanna put James in detention right now. People won’t be too pleased with you if the school’s football star misses the upcoming match against Slytherin thanks to you.”

“So thoughtful,” Remus repeats Black’s words, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But please, don’t concern yourself over me. I’ve never cared what others think of me, and I don’t plan on starting now. And you basically just admitted Potter is currently doing something that would warrant me giving him detention, so you might as well tell me where he is.”

Black sighs. “This is why people call you uptight.”

Remus’ expression hardens. “If people care so much, they should be mad at Potter for risking the football match in the first place by playing some stupid prank.”

Black gasps dramatically and clutches his chest. “Stupid? Our pranks are not stupid! They’re works of art! Jumping out of a cake on miss McGonagall’s birthday? Hilarious! Making a zip line to go from one floor to the other? Brilliant! Filling the gym with stray cats, many of whom were eventually adopted? Genius! People love our pranks. They make people laugh and bring some excitement in their lives. Much needed excitement, because let’s face it, school is boring. Sitting there, listening to old people tell you things you already know.”

“For you maybe,” Remus mutters.

Black scoffs. “Don’t pretend you’re not one of the smartest people in our class, Lupin.”

Remus just glares harder at Black, to show that no, he doesn’t care that Sirius Black, whom people are always falling over themselves for to get even a bit of his attention, has apparently noticed Remus’ academic achievements. No, he doesn’t care at all.

“Even the teachers love our pranks,” Black continues. “They put some life into this place!”

“We’ll see what miss McGonagall has to say about it when I report you tomorrow,” Remus says calmly. “I’ll go finish my rounds, and when I get back, you better have cleaned up this mess.”

As he turns around to leave, Black suddenly grabs his wrist. “Join us!”

“Wha...” Remus turns back, and his traitorous stomach flutters at how close Black is suddenly standing.

“Join us for one prank,” Black says.

Remus blinks at him. “Why in earth would I do that?”

“Because it’s fun! And honestly, Lupin, to me you always look like you can use a bit of fun.”

That catches Remus off guard. It’s true. Between struggling to get top marks, doing everything he can for extra credit, making sure he has a spotless record, excelling at his Prefect duties, and worrying about his sick mother, lately he often feels like just throwing his hands in the air and say ‘screw it all!’, and just do something crazy, something dumb or irresponsible. But he definitely never wanted for Black to notice that.

“Come on, Lupin,” Black says, as Remus stays silent. “Be part of the fun for once, instead of putting a damper on it.”

“Your childish pranks aren’t my idea of fun,” Remus bites back, feeling himself getting defensive.

Black just grins. “You won’t know that unless you join us for just one prank!”

“Why would you even want me to join you?” Many people would be lining up to be a part of one of Black and Potter’s infamous pranks. It’s beyond Remus why Black would ask that one stuffy guy who puts them in detention almost every week.

“Because I like you,” Black shrugs. “I like how hard you work for everything and how you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. And I think you secretly have a talent for it,” he adds with a wink, that absolutely does not make Remus’ knees go weak. “I bet you have a wicked side to you underneath all that swotty stuff.”

“But I’m a Prefect!” Remus argues. “I’m supposed to discipline rule-breakers, not break them myself!”

Black rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t take that job so serious.”

This rubs Remus the wrong way. “Not everyone can afford to treat everything in life as a joke,” he says coolly.

Black folds his arms over his chest and stares. “A fancy title and a badge and suddenly you’re better than us?”

“It’s nothing like that!”

Black huffs. “Then why is that bogus job so important to you?”

“Because some of us can’t afford to have even one note on their record if they ever want to get anywhere in life!” Remus snaps. “Because some of us need perfect scores and every bit of extra credit they can get if they want universities not to immediately bin their applications! Because some of us don’t have a last name they can flaunt, a daddy who can make a phone call, a mommy who can throw some money around, and suddenly you’re top of the list! Because some of us can’t just look at their rich parents and rely on them to always give them everything they want!”

The change in Black is instant. He takes a step back, and instead of his usual easy smile and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, his face becomes an ice-cold mask. “Fuck you, Lupin,” he hisses. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

He pushes past Remus as he storms off, leaving him behind feeling very confused. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Yes, the system is unfair and Black is privileged, but Remus supposes that isn’t really Black’s fault. He knows Black isn’t actually a bad person. His heart is in the right place, and he’s usually kind, only ever mean to people who, quite frankly, deserve it.

Remus just wishes Black would stop with those bloody pranks.

Remus just wishes Black would continue with those bloody pranks.

Or do anything really that makes him seem more like his old self. Remus never thought he’d miss that loud, barking laugh, that infuriating smirk, those lame puns so much.

Ever since everyone returned from Christmas break, Black has completely withdrawn. He hardly talks to anyone, he just sits silently, his eyes staring off in the distance and his expression blank. Potter is always by his side, softly talking to him or just throwing him worried glances.

Since then, it has been the talk of the school, and even in the papers and on the news: Sirius Black has been removed from his parents’ custody. It was a messy affair, the police has even been involved. Black’s father was arrested on grounds of child abuse. Apparently, Orion Black, the noble and well-respected patriarch of the prestigious Black family, has a habit of beating his son. It must’ve been going on for a while, but over the break it escalated. People just can’t get over how Sirius Black’s life wasn’t as perfect as it always seemed to be.

Remus feels bad for Black, and especially feels like an idiot, having said the things he said. He knows he owes Black an apology. It has been a couple of weeks since the break ended, and the apology is beginning to be long overdue. Though he also knows that Black has probably not been waiting for an apology from the uptight twat that always gets him detention.

Maybe it’s more to ease his own consciousness that he hesitantly approaches the table where Black is sitting. Potter glares at him the moment he sees him, and half gets out of his seat, probably to tell him to piss off, and rightfully so. However, after a quick glance at Black’s face, who’s looking up at Remus, he sits back down, as if he sees something on his friend’s face that makes him chance his mind.

“Bla- Sirius,” Remus says, realising a tad late that Sirius might nor want to be reminded of his family name right now. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I said some shitty things to you, and I shouldn’t have. You were right, I didn’t know anything about you.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius says softly. “You had good reason to be angry, it’s a rather fucked up system. And you didn’t know. Didn’t know that I would’ve gladly given up all that privilege to just have parents who... who love me...”

Sirius’ voice falters and he trails off. Potter is staring at him wide-eyed, and also Remus is surprised. He knows Sirius hasn’t talked about it to anyone, and he feels almost guilty he’s saying it to him of all people. He’s also surprised at the overwhelming urge he has to pull Sirius into a hug, hold him and tell him they never deserved him anyway. He has to leave before he does anything stupid.

“I should go,” Remus says quickly. “If there’s ever anything I can do...”

As he turns around to leave, Black suddenly grabs his wrist. “Join us!”

Remus turns back to look at him.

“Join us for one prank.”

“Why would you want me to join you?” Remus asks, much like the first time.

“Because I like you,” Sirius replies, much like the first time, only where he had then sounded nonchalant and slightly amused, he now sounds pleading and vulnerable.

“Yeah,” Remus says hoarsely, because his Prefect duties suddenly don’t seem so important compared to helping Sirius come back to his old self. “Yeah, I’ll join you for one prank.”

And then the most amazing thing happens: for the first time in weeks, Sirius Black smiles. It’s only a small smile, but the room already seems a bit brighter. In a moment of vivid clarity, Remus knows that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that boy smile.