#Do you guys wanna see what happens when i throw up colors on the canvas well too late

[odd-critter]

"do you remember what happened the last time i invited you to a party?"

(I AM LORD BARGLEBROTH, COME FOR YOUR SOULS! ALL WILL KNEEL BEFORE MY STYLE!) .......... "no, not really.." "that figures!"

extra crap under the cut!!!!

im normal about him grins :-]

[brandstifter-sys]

Sonnets

Word Count: 2144 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety with some Creativitwins

Rating: T+

Warnings: Sexual themes, brotherly angst, talk of death

Roman finds a journal and assumes it’s Remus’ but when Remus says it’s not his Roman leaves him with it, so he has some time to read. Little does he know what will come from perusing that book.

-----

Remus was chaos, he didn't bend to anyone else's rules unless he wanted to. Almost nothing was off the table for him—gore, violence, monsters, pain—but he had limits. Don't steal Janus' hat when he isn't holding or wearing it, because an angry Janus meant silence, or worse being silenced and alone. Never ever get too gross with Patton, because he will scream and cry and flash those hideous puppy dog eyes! Stay at least 6 feet away from Logan or suffer through a lecture on how little influence the duke held. Never let Roman hurt himself so bad he can't heal. And never ever read Virgil's diaries. 

Remus was happily throwing shurikens at a large canvas with paint balloons, having fun despite only hitting the ones filled with red. It was just a little annoying to only have one color on a solid white background, and even more annoying when it was Roman's colors staring at him. Roman hadn't been much of a good brother in the past few years, and it stung to think about how they drifted apart. How almost everyone ran from him to Roman. It hurt to be so lonely. 

"Greetings, Your Disgrace!" Roman said as he entered the castle atrium suddenly. Remus threw another star that lodged itself in the canvas with a splash and a thump, and grinned manically at the unsettled prince. 

"Well if it isn't MacBetty himself!" Remus said and cracked his neck sharply, "What hell did I probably unleash on you today?" 

"Don't flatter yourself," Roman scoffed and held up a black journal with sparkling green trim, "You left this in the common area." 

"Did I?" he asked and righted his head with a sickening pop. He was as bad as Roman about collecting cool journals and never filling them, so it could be his, even if he didn't recognize it. Roman handed it to him and crossed his arms. 

"It would appear so. If Logan yells at me for leaving my notes lying about, he will certainly yell at me for yours." 

Remus hummed softly and ran his fingers over the cover, ignoring the jab. The trim pricked his fingers as they glided over it. It was a nice journal, but definitely not something he conjured up. He supposed it might have been a gift, but that would mean someone made something for him—someone other than Janus, and maybe just one other side, but he remembered every gift Virgil ever gave him.

"He likes to yell. Are you sure this is mine?" he questioned, still learning the rise and fall of the trim.

"I assumed, considering the design. I don't like to open other people's journals," Roman answered. Remus knew he was scared of leafing through it, probably expecting some security monster popping out the second he opened it. He didn't blame him for that one, but it stung nonetheless.

"Me neither, but now I'm curious!" Remus laughed and opened to a random page. It was all hand-written poetry. Interesting!

"It's a poetry book! Wanna hear one? It could be a hint!" Remus wiggled his eyebrows. Roman let out a short sigh but went tense. 

"I have other things to do. I came to drop off the book and now I must depart. Farewell." Roman bowed and sank out with flourish. He left far too quickly for comfort.

"Love you too, nice seeing you again, don't be a stranger," Remus pouted and went back to his room, too bummed to paint anymore. 

  He rose up and flopped on his bed with the journal open. Some angsty poetry might make him feel better. He got comfy and let his eyes traverse the page

My mouth is dry Sugary sweet and kind Choking me with my own tongue Out of everything, that saccharine isn't a lie

Remus pursed his lips. That one was really short, and with the talk of lies, he had to wonder. Was this actually Roman's? Did he want to share this with him covertly? Remus bit back a squeal at the thought and kept reading with some hope. 

Lost in translation Obstinate and selfish Get over yourself Avoidance builds pressure Never any quiet when you snap

Remus giggled, knowing exactly who that one was about! Someone pissed the author off! And he knew that that person pissed Roman off a lot! He turned the page, expecting to learn more about this author, believing they could be his brother wanting to reconnect. He was a little surprised to find a skull doodled in the corner but brushed it off.

I want to pull him from the shadows and into my heart Will he see me? Will he disappear if I reach for his hand? Am I blind and staggering in desperation? Someone like him would be better without me Someone like him deserves someone better No star deserves to succumb to a black hole

That one hurt. Remus wiped away the tears forming in his eyes. He knew that feeling all too well. The one side who made him want to obey, the side that made his heart flutter like the bats in his tummy—that side was his best friend and then he left. He missed his partner in crime and he wished that Virgil would come back, just for a visit, and spend time with him again. But that wasn't happening and he had a whole book to read about an author he could really connect with, Roman or not.

He went through several poems that were angsty and angry, full of self-loathing. With each piece he read, the more he doubted it was Roman. The language wasn't formal enough and it didn't match his style at all! It was good stuff, most of it, and Remus kind of hoped the real author would be willing to collaborate with him. He liked this guy.

Like the sun overhead, you're on fire The big man has a little golden boy Pompous and cruel with haughty desire Which one of us are you gonna destroy?

Darkness and shadow that cannot be lit Overshadowing you to make it stop Use that hubris to land another hit I'll keep fighting until the curtains drop

You think you're Hercules when you're so weak Rise like a phoenix Icarus, just try  Maybe you'll learn what it means to be meek Until that day you won't see me cry

I will rain on your parade every damn time Stopping stupidity is my worst crime

Okay so that one threw him for a loop. It would take a few minutes to piece it together. Remus decided that he could assume it was about Roman this time. Princey loved the classics and he had a pet phoenix. This author had some beef with him! Remus hoped for more anger at Roman with the next poem, because he certainly had enough pent up with the snobby, best-friend stealing, always got the spotlight prince. He didn’t get that catharsis, he got more than he bargained for.

I find comfort in breathing in his scent Even if his hands are mine for tonight If he asks, I don't know where his clothes went What I'm doing is wrong but it feels right

If I close my eyes I can taste his kiss A dream in a nightmare clouding my mind Hearing my name on his lips would be bliss To pin him down, our fingers intertwined

I long to stare into piercing jade pools So he thinks of me while I stake my claim I want him to never want to let go I always thought that love was just for fools But on his green sash, love, or something, came I almost regret that he'll never know

This was definitely not a book the author wanted to share. Remus was pretty sure that his face was going to melt off. Now he really wanted to figure out who wrote these! Someone actually liked him like that at some point! It definitely wasn't Princey in that poem—Remus still had the sash mentioned! He was just the tiniest bit turned on, but most of his hype went into his famous wiggles.

"You're so dead!" 

Remus jolted up and beamed. Virgil never stopped by anymore, so when he popped up threateningly, Remus was too happy to care or put the pieces together.

"And how do you wanna kill me? I have some suggestions!" he sang and shimmied. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms. 

"Have Janus wipe your memory and give it back." 

"What, the book?" Remus questioned and held it up. Virgil snatched it and held it to his chest protectively. Remus' eyes widened in horror.

"You wrote all that?! And I read it!? Oh no no no no no! I had no idea—I'll get Hisster Myde and scrub it away with steel wool! Dammit I am so sorry, Sca–Virgil!" Remus yelped and got up to pace. His only rule about Virgil, broken! The only rule he wanted to follow—tarnished!

"Were you about to call me 'Scabby Doo' again?" Virgil scoffed, hiding the fear and hurt he felt. 

"No, 'Scare Bear,' something kinda cute but that’s not important right now!" Remus answered, "I read your stuff without asking! I might be a crazed Camus Stranger boy, but I have some standards!" 

"Remus. Breathe. You're gonna wipe this trash from your memory and it'll be okay," Virgil tried to soothe him, only for the duke to go rigid. 

"Trash!?" Remus snarled and spun on his heels and marched up to Virgil until the lumbering emo hit the wall, confused and scared. 

"It's not trash! I know trash! I eat it for breakfast! That book holds some of the best stuff my critical creative ass has read in ages!" Remus snapped and glared up at him with a fire in his eyes. 

"What?" 

"Those poems are great! I was gonna find the author and beg on my knees like a needy subby bitch to collab with him because holy shit! I felt something with each one!" 

"Even the one with the skull doodle on the page?" Virgil squeaked, his face a beautiful shade of red. Remus smiled sadly. 

"Yeah, that one hit a little too close to home. I got all teary eyed. Thinking about it now after reading that saucy sonnet, it really hurts!" 

"I uh—" Virgil stammered, "I'm, uh, 'm sorry for the sash and the whole—"

"If you apologize for anything else I am going to lip wrestle that apology away!" Remus cut him off, "Because dammit, Virgil, I love you, even if you don't feel the same way anymore. No more self-hate and no more doubting yourself." 

"Puppy," Virgil said and finally took back some control, guiding Remus back and having him sit down, "I can't promise I'll be able to stop that completely, but if you can stand a little bit of it, I wouldn't mind making that collab a date." 

"Really!?" Remus grinned making Virgil's eyeshadow turn purple, "Can we paint too? And watch scary movies? And make out? And then try and woo each other with some dark prose until one of us caves and asks the other to be his boyfriend? And then f—" 

"Yeah," Virgil cut him off and pressed a finger to Remus' lips, "Except for the part about caving. Will you–I mean, only if you want to, would you–and it’s cool if you say ‘no’ since things might be a little weird but—”

“Band-aid, Emoraptor!” Remus cut him off, like he used to do back in the day when Virgil started down one of his nervous tangents.

“Maybe be my boyfriend now?" Virgil said quickly and winced.

"Yes!" Remus cheered and dragged Virgil into a hug, tumbling on the sheets, "Loom over me like a cypress tree and stay with me until I taste death for a night." 

"Stay here and cuddle until we pass out like touch starved gremlins? Only if you visit me in the abyss until this world calls," Virge mused and wrapped his arms around the duke, curling around him protectively. 

"And then the next," Remus hummed softly and kissed his hand, “But you’re always in my dreams!” Virgil buried his face in Remus’ neck and smiled against his skin. Who would have thought that they would wind up here?

Roman sat on his bed and stared at the collage of pictures he had on the wall. In the very center was an old drawing of him and Remus in front of a castle. He sighed wistfully and stared at it, admiring Remus' work. He hoped that sneaking into Virgil's room was worth it—he wanted Remus to be happy even if he couldn't provide that joy. Maybe one day he’d be able to, but until then, he hoped he got his best friend and brother together to make some amends if not more.

[mldrgrl]

How Stella Got Her Groove Back

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 Summary: Just a little something to celebrate spring...and Stella’s birthday!

They left Connecticut in September, with a fair amount of reluctance to go, but they needed to return to the city.  Becca had already gone and though both Karen and Fish insisted they were welcome to stay longer, stay forever if they had to, at a certain point, Hank and Stella had just been missing their loft and their life in New York too much.  Of course, they knew that what they were returning to was not the life they were accustomed to, but they would have to learn to adapt to the new normal.

Winter was long and brutal.  They did spend two weeks over Christmas and New Years back in Connecticut again and that was the first time they’d seen Becca since July, and the last time they would see her until spring.  Karen had tried to coerce them all to stay again and Hank and Stella nearly gave in.  If not for the fact that Stella left a project behind she’d been working on for her classes and if Hank had brought the pages he’d been working on for his new novel, they just might have done it.

When they got back to New York, and in a cabin fever-induced moment of weakness, they hired a landscape architect to design their rooftop terrace and though the noise of construction aggravated the hell out of both of them, they were both pleased with the results.  They now had an artificial lawn of soft green turf, an outdoor patio daybed in the shape of a cube with canvas shades on all four sides, a wet bar, strategically placed heating lamps, and a wood burning fire pit.  Unbeknownst to them, when Fish had heard their plans, he’d called the company they hired, ordered them a charcoal grill, and told the contractor to keep it a surprise.  They were very surprised by the barbeque that was suddenly part of the design, but it looked nice, even if it wouldn’t get any use.

Finding ways to fill the time with nowhere to go and no one to see was extremely difficult.  Neither of them were very much into television or movies.  The terrace, as welcome as it was, wasn’t finished until the end of February.  Stella had the classes she was teaching and the child psychology classes she was enrolled in to keep her fairly busy during the days, but Hank could only write for so many hours at a time and he found that he actually missed helping Fish with the guitar lessons.  He grumbled to Stella that ‘that damn Trout’ bewitched him somehow and then begrudgingly called him up and asked if he could still help out remotely.  Fish was delighted by the request and sent him an iPad and a teaching schedule.  

The close quarters had caused a few squabbles, though nothing major.  They took a few online cooking classes together which produced some mediocre meals and a testy exchange on the appropriate amount that constituted a ‘pinch of salt.’  Beyond that, they managed not to take out any frustrations on each other.

It was April 1st when Stella wandered from the bathroom to the bedroom in her t-shirt and sweatpants, rubbing lotion into her hands and arms.  Hank was in bed, perhaps naked, or perhaps wearing jockey shorts, she couldn’t be sure.  He had his guitar across his lap and his head back so that he gazed at the ceiling while he plucked lightly at the strings.

“Hank,” she said, leaning into the foot of the bed with slightly bended knees.

“Do you think ‘oral’ actually rhymes with ‘clorital’ or is it cheating?” he replied.

“You know that next week is my birthday.”

Hank splayed his hand out on the guitar and looked at her.  “Is this a trick question?”

“Not at all.”

“So, if I say ‘yes, of course, your birthday is April 7th and I already know I’m not to mention it to anyone,’ is that the wrong answer because I’m not supposed to acknowledge it in the first place?”

“I am aware that in the past I have requested that my birthday be treated as any other day.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’ve been thinking that perhaps...I might like to celebrate this year after all.”

“Oh, I get it.  April fools.  You could’ve just put plastic wrap on the toilet or secretly replaced my regular coffee with Folgers.”

“I’m serious.”

“Ah, so the one year it’s impossible to throw a party, you want to have a party?”

“God, no.  Parties are awful.”

“Well, what then?”

“Brunch?  With Becca?  This weekend, or the next, perhaps.  There are more places opening up now.  We could-”

“Absolutely, Sherlock.  Whatever the suggestion, I am all in.”  He pushed his guitar aside and she was mildly disappointed to discover that he was in his jockey shorts after all and not naked. He scooted forward to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips.

“A walk in the park, maybe?”

“Not sure if my legs remember what walking is at this point, so it’ll be good to remind them.”  He moved his hands down to the backs of her thighs and gave them a squeeze and then cupped her ass.  “Why the sudden change of heart, Sherlock?”

“I’ve just been thinking lately that it’s perfectly acceptable to want to celebrate being alive.  After the year we’ve had.”

“I agree, but as long as I get to have my breakfast in bed in bed that day, I’ll be happy.”

“It’s my birthday, I’m not bringing you breakfast in bed.”

“Oh, honey, you are the breakfast,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her into him as he fell back onto the bed.

*****

The Saturday before her birthday was Easter weekend.  There was no rain in the forecast and Becca was available, so it was perfect.  They took a Lyft to the upper west side and met her at a French bistro that had outdoor seating.  Stella could tell right away that something was bothering Becca, that she was putting on a false front of cheerfulness, which was very unlike her, but if she did know her stepdaughter, she knew the girl could not keep up pretenses for long.

They ordered and waited for their food over bottomless mimosas and miniature ham and cheese croissants served as an appetizer.  It wasn’t cold, but a cool breeze would drift by every so often and Stella was glad she had left her hair down so that her ears were covered.  She wished she’d been a bit more practical though and worn pants.  She’d just felt like dressing up and at the last minute, put on an olive-colored dress with small printed white flowers on it, but at least it was long-sleeved and she had a white sweater.  Becca and Hank were like twins in their matching leather jackets and dark jeans.

“Are you working on anything?” Becca asked Hank.

“Almost finished,” he answered.

“Oh.  What’s it about?”

“A couple that’s been married for fifteen years, but they’re on the brink of the divorce when the pandemic hits and then they go from spending almost no time together to all of their time together and it’s disastrous at first, but then they end up learning a lot about each other.”

“So, they save their marriage?”

“No, they end up getting divorced anyway.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“It’s fiction, sweetheart.”

“People like happy endings.”

“People are stupid.  I didn’t say it didn’t have a happy ending though.  Are you working on anything, Daughter?”

Becca sighed and picked at her nails.  Stella put a hand on Hank’s knee under the table.

“Is something bothering you, Darling?” Stella asked.

“No.  Yeah.  No.  I don’t wanna ruin your birthday or anything when it’s the first birthday we’ve ever celebrated together.”

Stella gave Becca a brief smile.  “I don’t know if your father has told you why I’ve always been rather reluctant to celebrate my birthday.”

Becca shook her head.  Hank stretched his arm out behind Stella’s chair and put his hand on her back.  She gave his knee a squeeze of appreciation.

“My father passed away on my fourteenth birthday,” Stella said.  “So, Darling, you have a high bar to overcome if you think being in a low mood will ruin my birthday.”

“That sucks about your dad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”  Stella looked to Hank for a moment and then back to Becca.  “I’ve spent many years trying to ignore the date as though if I didn’t acknowledge it, it’s like it had never happened.  I don’t think I really understood until quite recently that one is capable of being sad and grateful at the same time.  And that life should be celebrated.  Especially now.”

“I guess I’m just...when we were up at Mom’s house, everything was so easy and nice and I had a really hard time writing.  That’s why I wanted to leave.  It was way too peaceful.”

“You know if I had a dollar for every time Becca claimed my shit was fucking her up, I’d be richer than that fucking Amazon guy, and now it sounds like she wants to file a grievance that we’re not fucking her up enough.”

“Am not.”  Becca rolled her eyes.

“Don’t listen to him,” Stella said.  “He’s been so mired with boredom lately he has regular calls with Fish.”

“No!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hank protested, putting his hands up in defense.  “There was and will only be one bromance in my life and that’s with one Mr. Charles Runkle, that follically challenged motherfucker.  No better pairing existed except for maybe Bert and Ernie, or Sid and Nancy.”

“I think we should let Becca continue with what she was trying to say.”

“Thank you.”  Becca put her hand up as though she was blocking Hank from her view and he reached over and slapped her palm away.  “As I was saying, I left because I thought the serenity was blocking me in some way, but since I’ve been back, it’s like the opposite.  It felt so apocalyptic at first and desperate.  It was like impossible to sit down and put words together when there were so many shitty things happening outside.  What if...what if the next thing I finish, people will be like oh, she was just sitting inside writing while everyone else was dying?”

“There will always be shitty things happening outside,” Hank said.  

“Great advice, Dad.”

“I don’t mean to bitchslap you with reality, but the world being shitty isn’t a reason to give up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Good, because you are way more fucking talented than I could ever even hope to be.”

“I just don’t know if it matters.  If anyone should care.”

“Why should you concern yourself with that?”

Becca glared at Hank, clearly annoyed with the answer.

“I know you think I’m being facetious,” Hank said, quickly.  “But, I’m not.  If all anyone wanted to read was about things that ‘mattered’ that 50 Shades of Hot Garbage would never have sold a single copy.  You don’t know why people read what you write.  Maybe they want to escape the shitty things happening in the world.  Maybe they want to laugh or cry or be turned on.  Maybe they just need something to pass the time.”

“Five minutes ago you just said people were stupid for wanting happy endings, now you’re saying I should just give them garbage, if that’s what they want.”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking hypocrite, what else is new, but I just want you to be happy with what you’re doing.  You want me to buy you a new laptop?”

“I’m not twelve anymore.  You can’t just buy my happiness.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Becca,” Stella finally interjected.  “I think it’s obvious by now that your father may possibly be the world’s worst motivational speaker.”

“Or the world’s best unmotivational speaker,” Hank said.  “You see what I did there?  I turned a negative into a positive.”

Both Stella and Becca ignored the comment.

“I think I may understand what he’s trying to say though,” Stella said.  “I’m not a creator, but I’ve been a consumer.  When I was reading for pleasure, I certainly wasn’t reaching for mystery novels.  And I think that...popularity and quality are two different things.  Certainly, one would hope for both, but it isn’t always the case.  I know you and I know that quality is important to you, so perhaps you should only focus on if what you’re working on is the best that it can be and not on whether or not it matters.”

“Can I add something to that?” Hank asked.

“Not if you plan on fucking up everything Stella just said,” Becca answered.

“I’ve done at least a dozen online events this year and at every single one, someone has asked me when the next Rebecca Moody novel is going to be released or they want to know what you’re working on.  I’m not even entirely sure all of them are there to hear my Q&A or if they just showed up because they know I’m your dad and they think you might make a guest appearance.  And if one person takes umbrage with you for creating something during a time of utter hell, fuck them.”

“Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable,” Stella quoted.

“That sounds so much hotter when you say it than George Bernard Shaw,” Hank replied, rubbing his hand across Stella’s upper back.

“Okay, I don’t want to spend this day being miserable,” Becca said, shaking her head and shoulders like she was trying to rid herself of negativity.  “Thank you, Stella.”

“You’re welcome, darling girl.”

“Hey, what about me?” Hank asked.

“There is this jacket I saw online that I want,” Becca answered, cheekily raising one of her eyebrows and tilting her head.

“I’ll text you my credit card number later.”

“Thank you, Father.”

*****

Brunch was followed by a stroll in Central Park and it seemed that at least half of the city had the same idea.  It was interesting being in a place so crowded and yet also so open.  The decent weather and the cherry blossoms in full bloom probably had something to do with it.  What also would have felt strange a year ago, seeing everyone wearing face masks and wearing them as well, was oddly comforting.  When Stella had put hers on that morning before they walked out the door, Hank told her she looked like a sexy brain surgeon or cardiologist, whichever one was smarter or made more money.

When they came upon Bethesda Fountain, there was a small band playing salsa music and a few couples dancing.  Hank tried to imitate the steps and then grabbed Becca’s hand and spun her around under his arm.  She laughed and tried to break free of him, but he pulled her back in and tried to get her to dance.

“Da-ad,” Becca protested.

“Dance with me, Daughter.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You’re no fun.”  Hank let go of Becca’s hand and then grabbed Stella’s.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“Come on, Sherlock.  I know you’ve probably got some moves I’ve never seen.”

“I assure you that’s not true,” she answered, letting him spin her away though and then laughed as he gyrated his hips dramatically as he stepped back towards her.  “Whatever it is that you’re doing does not resemble the salsa in any way.”

“Let me see you do better.”

Stella looked past Hank to the other dancers and mimicked the forward and back steps.  She put a hand on Hank’s chest to keep him at arm’s length and prevent their knees from colliding as he tried to fall into the same step with her, moving forward when she stepped back, and back when she stepped forward.  What he lacked in grace, he made up for with enthusiasm.  As soon as they fell into sync, he grabbed her hand and lifted her other arm in a more formal dance frame like the other dancers had.

What followed was probably the worst and most amateurish version of a salsa that had ever been danced, but Stella laughed so hard it brought tears to her eyes.  When the music ended, Hank stopped and pulled Stella’s face mask down under her chin before lowering his own and then kissing her through both of their laughter.

The dancing couples broke apart and drifted back into the crowd.  Becca went over and dropped some money into the cup on the ground in front of the band and thanked them for playing.  Stella took Hank’s hand and then Becca linked her arm with Stella’s as they continued on.

Later that night, when Stella came out of the bathroom as she rubbed lotion into her hands and arms, she stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Hank read over the latest pages of his novel.  When she was finished, she climbed onto the bed and walked over to Hank on her knees until she was straddling his lap.  He threw his pages down, took his reading glasses off, and pulled her close with his hands on her ass.

“Thank you,” Stella said, as Hank kissed the side of her neck.

“For what?”

“This truly was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Your birthday’s not until Wednesday.”

“Perhaps next year we’ll even be able to invite Karen and Fish to town.”

“We’ll make The Trout christen that barbeque he forced on us.”

“It does look nice though.”

“It really does.  You want your present now, or should I wait until Wednesday?”

“I might be interested in a preview,” she said, sliding her hand down his chest and then into his shorts.  “A little peak at the package ahead of time.”

“You just assumed I was talking about fucking when I said I had something for you?”

“Weren’t you?”

Hank paused and then grinned.  “Yeah, I was.”

The End

[atlafan]

Jordan I have an idea... what if college Harry wants y/n to be his model so he can practice his nude drawing or painting?!? 😉😘😘 and maybe they get caught?!?

a/n: okay, okay, okay, I got inspired by something else so I’m tweaking this a bit, but let’s goooooo. This just ended up being a quick fluff, I’ll put smut in the next blurb! 

Lock the Door - Blurb One - Harry Ran Out  of Canvas

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Harry groans while he searches under his bed. 

Y/N had her headphones and was studying on her own bed. She pauses her music when she notices his clear frustration. 

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“I’m all out of canvas, and I’m supposed to paint something for class tomorrow...it’s late and all of the stores are closed. Shit, how did I not notice? Now I’m gonna have to go down to the fucking studio and it’s freezing out, and-”

“Slow down, what do you need to paint? Couldn’t you just use paper?”

“No, that’ll just get messy.” He sighs. “Fuck, I don’t have time for this!” He looks at you and squints. 

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Harry.” She scoffs. “I don’t think now’s the time to-”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I have to paint this scene of like a field or some shit. I can throw some tarp on the floor and you can lay down on it. Let me paint your back. Then I can just take a picture of it and show my professor. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she’ll admire the creativity or some shit.”

“Why did you wait to do this until the last minute?” She asks, already taking her shirt off. Harry blushes and clears his throat. 

“Because I’m an idiot, okay?” 

Harry lays a tarp on the floor and gets his paints out. He gently sits on Y/N’s bottom while he begins to make strokes with the brushes. She shivers underneath him. 

“Sorry...paint’s a little cold.” 

“Just a little.” She giggles. “Feels kinda nice though...” 

“Shh, if you talk you could move and mess it up. Just relax, alright?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Thanks for doin’ this, I owe you.” He leans down quick to kiss her cheek. 

“I think I know how you can make it up to me later.” She turns to look up at him, and he shoves her face back down, making them both laugh. 

Harry dips his brush in a new color and continues making gentle, yet precise strokes on her back. 

//

Liv and Chris were hanging out in the living area doing some homework. Liv’s stomach growls. 

“Was that you?” He laughs.

“Think so. I’m starving, I didn’t eat much today.”

“Not many places are open right now, but I bet we could order a pizza from Keith’s.”

“Oh! Good idea, baby. I think Y/N and Harry are still up, let me just ask them if they want in before we order anything.”

“Sounds good. They’ve been spending a lot of time together, huh?”

“Yeah, they’ve gotten really close. I guess they cuddle platonically sometimes.” 

“Aw, that’s cute.” 

Liv goes up, and then up again to the few steps that lead to Harry and Y/N’s room. Their door was open, so she goes right up. 

“Hey guys, Chris and I are gonna order a pizza, do you want...” She stops short when she sees the scene in front of her. “Uhhhhhh...”

“I ran out of canvas.” Harry says bluntly. “This was the next best thing.” 

“Okay.”  She swallows hard.

“Pizza would be great, Liv. I’m actually pretty hungry.” Y/N says.

“Oi, I said no talkin’, I’m almost done.” He scolds her and looks at Liv. “Yeah, order some pizza. I’ll give you some money later.”

“Alright...I’ll just go do that...” Liv practically sprints back down to Chris. “Oh my god.”

“What? Do they not want pizza?”

“No they do.”

“Cool, I’ll order online. Their delivery is faster that way.” 

“I think something more is going on between them.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Y/N was laying on the floor topless, while Harry was sitting on her painting on her back. He said he ran out of canvas or something, so maybe it’s for a class, but isn’t that a little weird to do with someone?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I mean they’ve clearly gotten close and comfortable with each other. Maybe it’s no big deal.”

“Either way it wouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, say they were hooking up or something, I don’t think you or I would care. I don’t want them to think they need to sneak around.” 

“Well, if something more is happening, maybe they’re just trying to figure it out before they start telling a bunch of people. You and I probably aren’t a factor in all that, Liv.”

//

“Done! Okay, let me just take a few pictures.”

Harry gets off of Y/N to grab his phone. He snaps a few shots, close enough that one couldn’t really tell whose back it was he painted on. He crouches down next to her.

“Look, it came out pretty cool.” She smiles at the photos and then at him.

“It’s a shame to wash it all off.”

“It’s okay. My professor will either accept this or have me paint it again on canvas.”

“Will you paint it either way? It’s really pretty.”

“Sure, when I have a little bit of time I could try to recreate it. Gimme your hands, I’ll help you up.” 

Once Y/N is on her feet she looks over her shoulder in the mirror.

“This is really cool, Harry.”

“Thanks.” He blushes. “You know...” He circles around her. “For one of my finals we have to sketch a live nude, and I could use some practice.”

“Oh no, no way. This was plenty.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I wouldn’t draw your face, come on, it would really help me out.”

“Mhm, and how come I always seem to be helping you out. What do I get in return?”

“Multiple orgasms.” He smirks.

“Oh, right.” She giggles. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Fair enough. Come on, grab a bathing suit or somethin’, and I’ll you rinse all this off. S’not good to have that on your skin for very long.”

“I can just shower alone.”

“But you might not get it all off.” 

“You can’t fuck me in the shower with them home, Harry.”

“Not where my head was at, but I like that that’s where yours went.” He smiles.

She rolls her eyes and grabs a bathing suit top from her dresser, and a bottom. Harry watches as she wiggles into the swim shorts and they both head downstairs. 

“Do you guys wanna see what Harry did to my back before he washes it off?” Y/N asks Liv and Chris brightly. 

She turns around and they both gasp.

“That’s so cool!” Liv says. “The detail you were still able to get is awesome.”

“Yeah, you’re really talented.” Chris says. 

“Okay, okay.” He blushes. “When’s the pizza gettin’ here?”

“Should be any minute.” Chris says.

He nods and leads you into the bathroom. Liv and Chris can hear them giggling while Harry washes the paint off. Later on they all settle in with the pizza. 

“How was the free skate the other night?” Chris asks, making Harry almost choke on his pizza. “Liv and I were thinking of going this Saturday, was it worth it?”

“Yeah! We had a lot of fun. It wasn’t too crowded, and they played music.”

“And Y/N fell on her arse a few times, which was pretty funny.” Harry says and she nudges him. “I would definitely recommend going.” 

“Maybe the four of us could go.” Liv says.

“Definitely, that would be a lot of fun.” Y/N says.

//

“Y/N, Y/N!” Harry barrels up the stairs to their room. 

She was laying on her stomach on her bed, doing some reading for class, legs bent and feet swaying to her music. 

“Y/N!” 

“Jesus!” She takes her earbuds out and sits up. “You scared me, what is it?”

“I got an A on my painting, the one you helped me with. My professor wasn’t even mad that she didn’t have a physical piece. She said it was very resourceful or some shit. Either way, I got an A.” He hugs her and kisses her a few times.

“I’m so happy for you!” She giggles. “We should celebrate.”

“I agree.”

“Go lock the door.” 

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 11

The Art of the Crash

CW: bbu and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol (explicit), noncon drug use, aftermath of drug use, vomit mention, food mention, discussion of noncon, dubcon kissing, conditioned/trained responses from whumpee, brief mention of suicide (vague), dehumanizing language/themes (let me know if I missed anything!)

Gio slept well into the afternoon the next day. Nicko let him, he knew from experience with Rory that there was an inevitable crash that followed the highs, and he'd spent quite a few days ignoring her sleeping body on his bed, usually it ended in her getting up only to vomit and then cry to Nicko about how shitty life was. So this time, with Gio, he waited in the bedroom with him until that happened. He finished the painting he'd started the night before. He had to refrain himself from waking Gio up to see it. Then he sat on the floor and sketched more, using Gio's face pressed against his dark pillow case and the dull light of sun through snow clouds dancing across his face as inspiration. He didn't draw the bruises or the hickeys, found himself strangely jealous over them both. He kept the tattoos, because those belonged to him, and Giovanni's adorable crooked tooth, and his messy, wavy hair that splayed out across the pillow and his face. Nicko couldn't wait for him to wake up so he could draw him with bed head.

When Gio finally woke up, it wasn't to throw up or to complain about the nightmare of his life crumbling around him, not that Nicko would've blamed him, but to the sound of some music that Nicko had put on quietly to help him focus, deciding to work on some long put off art assignments. Nicko didn't notice that he woke up, and Gio rubbed his eyes just a little and glanced over Nicko's shoulder to see the bright array of colors across his page, dark marker scribbling purposefully against the paper. He was enthralled for a moment, then he turned his focus up to the large canvas he'd caught a darkened glimpse of last night, and he gasped sharply.

Nicko swiveled around to look at him, eyes blown wide like seeing Gio conscious was jarring. It made him wonder how long he'd been out. "Oh. You're awake."

Gio glanced at him for a second, then turned his attention back to the painting. The painting of him, sleeping in bed, lost in a world of blankets. He pushed himself up to his elbows with a wince. "Is...is that me?" He whispered.

Nicko looked back at the painting in question, smiling bashfully to himself. "Uh, yeah. Yeah you were just...you look nice in my bed." He fought the blush creeping up his cheeks, the embarrassment was uncomfortably new. He didn't know why he was embarrassed, just that suddenly he was the one who couldn't make eye contact with Gio. The switch in dynamic was painfully tangible to both of them, with Nicko on the ground, cheeks rosy and face turned away, and Gio sitting on the bed, looking down at him. With a yawn, Gio pushed the blankets off of him and stood up.

Nicko watched him closely, surprised that he hadn't hurled already. Then, as if on queue, he closed his eyes and swayed forward, bringing his hands up to his head with a groan. Before he can tip over, Nicko is up on his feet next to him, placing strong hands on his shoulders to hold him steady. "Are you ok?"

Gio dropped his hands, blinking a few times before squinting up at Nicko. "Dizzy." He looked a little dazed, his face pale, and Nicko crouched down on the floor, gently pulling him down with him. Gio easily knelt, body soft and easily movable, as always. Once Gio was all the way on the floor, hunched over just a little to make himself smaller, as if he wasn't already pathetically tiny already, Nicko ran his hand up his neck, across his jaw.

"I'm gonna go make you something to eat. Ok? You wait right here."

Gio nodded eagerly, towards Nicko's hand, his huge vacant doe eyes gazing up at him through his curtain of hair. Nicko had been right, his curly hair was framing his head in a dark halo, and he had a sudden sense of urgency to get some food in him so he could draw him. Nicko smiled at him, patting his head softly as he stood straight.

Salem was in the kitchen when Nicko came out, and they both froze awkwardly in their places when they saw each other. Nicko nodded at him as he passed, opening the fridge and grabbing a bowl of fruit and a protein shake, then deciding last minute to also palm a bottle of water. When Nicko shut the fridge, Salem was standing a couple feet away watching him.

"He woke up?" Salem asked.

"Yeah. I think he's ok, just hungry." Nicko hesitated, they both looked at each other, then away, then Nicko sighed. "You wanna come? I think he'd like to see you."

Salem lit up just a little, straightening his posture and smiling to himself. "Sure."

When the door opened, Gio flinched upright from where he'd been leaning over just a little, looking at Nicko's sketchbook, at the cartoonish portrait of a woman he had been drawing. He turned to see Nicko standing in the doorway, Salem a couple steps behind him. Gio couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

They both came in and joined him on the floor. Nicko opened the bowl of fruit and set it in front of Gio, but he wasn't paying much attention, watching Nicko's face apprehensively. He knew from observing that Salem and Nicko weren't particularly fond of each other, he'd heard them fighting before, and he was a little worried to show any attention to Salem in case it came across as disloyal. He couldn't afford anymore mistakes, when it came to Nicko.

Nicko sensed it, and opened the water bottle and forced it into Gio's hand as he said, "Salem was waiting for you to wake up like a kid on Christmas. He missed you."

Salem laughed awkwardly, shifting where he sat. "Yeah. It sucked not having anyone to show my lame music to."

Gio was grinning ear to ear at them both, but he said nothing. Truthfully, he didn't really understand what they were talking about, didn't remember what Christmas or lame meant, but he was happy to have them speaking to him anyway. Salem only stayed for a few minutes, then he told them he had to get to class. When he said goodbye to Gio, he gave him a soft pat on the top of the head, like Nicko kept doing, and Gio smiled up at him as he left. Nicko wondered why Salem wasn't Gio's favorite. He was at least nice.

Once he was gone, Nicko picked up a block of fruit, mango maybe, and gently coaxed it into Gio's mouth since he hadn't eaten any yet. Then he reached for his sketch book and his pencils, moving so he was squared up to Gio, who looked a little nervous when Nicko's pencil started scratching across the paper.

"So you were with Rory, huh?" Nicko asked. He kept his tone light, he knew that Gio was anxious enough around him already, could see his face get a little more horrified every time Nicko's voice was a little too loud, too harsh.

He nodded stiffly, only once, then moved very slowly to eat a strawberry. He knew Nicko was drawing him, he was trying to be as still as he could be. He was too cute.

"And how was that?"

Nicko thought he heard Giovanni huff in disdain at the question, and he looked up to see his face screwed up in a tight frown, like it pained him to think about. Nicko sighed, then kept drawing.

"You can tell me as much or as little as you want, Gio. It's just...you don't look too good. I just want to know how she hurt you so I can help." His pencil froze on the paper when Gio reached up and covered his eyes for a second, then he hastily dropped them back to his lap like he remembered he was supposed to be sitting still.

"She told me she was gonna bring me back," he whispered, voice trembling painfully as he thought back to that day, how stupid he was, "she wouldn't tell me where we were going, but she just kept saying she would bring me back before anyone noticed I was gone."

"Ben called me right after you left, I think."

Gio frowned at him. The entire time he'd been wishing that Ben would come out and stop Rory from taking him, and he had called Nicko right after he left? Why did he wait? Gio bit back his frustrated tears, then continued on.

"We went to this guys house. Oscar." Gio flinched as the name passed his lips, then shook his head to himself. "The entire time we were driving she was drinking and smoking, and so I was too. I tripped at some point and made my nose bleed, so he let us in so Rory could clean me off. Then she was talking about...about buying something. From Oscar."

Nicko knew the name, he'd met him only once before, but he knew that he was huge and even more of an asshole than Nicko was. He was the one Rory always went to for her hard shit, which Nicko hated so he hadn't accompanied her after the first time. He stopped drawing altogether, setting his sketchbook down and moving closer to Gio, who was now shaking all over.

"She didn't have enough money, I guess, and uh...um." He couldn't look at Nicko anymore, turning his head away from him completely. He couldn't bare to see Nicko's face when he admitted to the horrible, unfaithful things he did. Giovanni knew he belonged to Nicko and only Nicko, and he was absolutely disgusted in himself for having allowed Oscar or Rory or the motel owner or any of the others to do what they did to him. "He wanted her t-to pay a different way."

"Oh, shit, Gio."

"Only she didn't want to," he continued, "and she was scared, and I didn't want her to be scared so...so when she asked me to do it instead, I-I did."

Nicko was stunned into silence, eyes instinctively dropping to the mess of hickeys all over Gio's frail neck. It was heartbreaking, thinking of Gio feeling the need to protect Rory like that, especially when he was the one that needed protection. It was even more heartbreaking to think of him under Oscar, who Nicko had no doubt had ripped Gio to shreds with their size difference.

Gio was only more frightened at Nicko's lack of reply. Silence meant anger, silence meant that Master was thinking very hard, something Gio was too stupid to do, and more often than not, silence meant brutal, meticulously planned punishment. So Gio did what he was best at: he started to beg.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, I know I'm yours, I shouldn't have ever let them touch m-me." He looked up at Nicko, then his composure broke and he let out a tiny whimper before crawling over to him. "L-Let me make it up to you, sir. Please, use me, let m-me be good for you. Please le-let me-"

"Gio, stop." Nicko was flustered by Gio crawling right up between his legs, trailing his trembling fingers over Nicko's leg suggestively. But all of it was happening rather quickly, too quickly for Nicko to react well, and Gio was freaking out, for whatever reason, so all he could do was sit still. And what was this "them" that Gio was talking about? Had it not just been Oscar that Rory handed the box boy over to? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't form the words, not when Gio was on his knees inbetween Nicko's legs.

"P-please! Please, sir. Wan-wanna be useful." Now his hand was brushing tentatively at his belt, over his zipper, and then Nicko reached down and snatched his wrist up tightly in his hand before he went any lower. Gio gasped, snapping his head up to look at Nicko. He was closer than either of them had realized, now that they were face to face they were inches apart. Gio's eyes were glazed over with something Nicko hadn't ever seen before, something that made them soft and dulled down more so than usual, but simultaneously had a sad glimmer of tears over it. Nicko had thought the huge, spaced out gaze Gio did at him sometimes was his version of puppy dog eyes, but that paled in comparison to the way he was looking at him now. Nicko would never admit it out loud, but it drove him absolutely crazy, to have someone looking at him with such gentle desperation.

"Stop calling me sir." Nicko instructed after a moment of silence. Gio didn't break his gaze, he only blinked a few times, and then he nodded. "I want you to say my name, when you beg like that. Alright?"

Giovanni melted in Nicko's grip, leaning forward just a little closer. "Nicko..." he breathed, and that was all it took. Nicko dropped his wrist and took his face in both of his hands, drawing a small whimper from him.

"I don't want to take your clothes off or use you, or anything like that." He whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against Gio's. "I just want to...try something. For one second. Ok, Giovanni?"

"Please, Nicko."

Gio held his breath right before Nicko kissed him, focusing on keeping himself still and soft and good for Nicko, but it all went out the window once their lips were actually pressed together. Gio had been burning for this since the first time Nicko had kissed him, but he was too afraid to ask and Gio always seemed to make him regret it anyways, so he didn't think there was much use hoping for it. And here he was, with Nicko holding him close, kissing him, just kissing him, and he was so nervous he was going to mess it up and not be good enough at it to make Nicko want him.

Nicko pulled away from him after only a couple of seconds, he laughed when Gio huffed in obvious displeasure. But he was calmer now, not panicking and calling him "sir" and saying all of those...other...disturbing things. So Nicko was satisfied.

"I seriously think you should eat, darling." He trailed his fingertips over Gio's jaw as he spoke, slowly pulling his hands away. "I'm worried you're gonna blow away if we go outside."

Gio sank back to sit down where he had been, picking up the bowl of fruit again and watching his hands tremble as he picked up another piece of the sweet orange-ish fruit Nicko gave him earlier. He couldn't force himself to put it in his mouth, knew he wouldn't be able to chew and swallow over the huge lump in his throat. Why didn't Nicko want him? Why wasn't Gio good enough for him? Maybe it was arrogant of him to think he was good enough, he should be humble, he should just keep trying harder until he actually was. But truthfully it wasn't hurtful because he thought he felt deserving, it was hurtful because he was scared. He wasn't good enough for his old master, he wasn't good enough for Rory, he wasn't even good enough to keep his old life. And he loved Nicko so, so, painfully much, he had finally found somewhere mostly safe and his master was perfect and if he wasn't good enough again then maybe Rory was right, and he should just give up, find a way out, like she said.

Nicko got a little freaked out at the way he could physically see Gio's crash start, he was a little unnerved to see his posture sink in a little, his throat bobbing up and down as he tried not to cry. He could see his thoughts spiraling, realizing that, damn, life kind of sucks, and it kind of always has and what if always does? By now, Rory would be a blubbering mess.

As if reading Nicko's mind, Gio started to sniffle, trying again to press the fruit to his lips, still unable to bite. If he opened his mouth, he might make a noise, and he just wanted to stop messing up already. But then, Nicko was sitting in front of him, gently grabbing his hand and taking the mango away from him, setting it back in the bowl for him. Then he grabbed Gio and pulled him into his lap, holding him close.

"You're ok, Gio." He told him. "I know, it hurts, I know, but I'm here, I've got you."

Giovanni let out a soft mewl, trying without much strength to squirm out of the comforting arms. He was terrified of the gentleness he so obviously didn't deserve, knew it could easily be used against him later. "I was so soft with you earlier," the warm body would say, "Don't you want me to do that again? I will, if you do this for me."

But this wasn't just a warm body, it wasn't his old Master, it wasn't the couple of guards who would visit his cold, concrete cell late at night long after training was over, it was Nicko. And Nicko didn't even want him in that way. Why didn't Nicko want him that way? "Nicko, please please u-use me. I-"

"Shh, Gio. I don't want to do that to you."

"Why?!" He sobbed out, fingers tightening into tight fists around Nicko's shirt. "Why d-don't you w-wa-want me?!"

Nicko gasped at his outburst, reflexively tightening his grip around him just a little. "Giovanni...I...shit. It's not about what I want, it's just that it would be, uh, different, with you. Like it wouldn't be the same as sex with a regular person cause you're uh...trained for it."

Just like that, the boy grew rigid and stopped shaking, leaning away from Nicko as much as he could. He just had to be reminded of his place, that was all. Nicko didn't want him because Nicko was a person, and Gio wasn't. Maybe Nicko just wanted him as something to practice art on, whether it be with the tattoo gun or painting him on a canvas or sketching him in his little notebook. As much as that hurt Gio, to know that he wasn't human enough for Nicko to want him back, he could live with being useful in that way for him.

"I'm sorry," Gio looked away from Nicko and up at the huge painting of him a few feet away. Nicko had done a wonderful job on it, he made Gio look small and pale and broken, like he was and felt he always would be. But Nicko had also done a good job of showcasing Gio as alone, swimming in an ocean of black fabric, isolated and untouched and useless. Like he was, and felt he always would be. "That was...out of line. I'm sorry."

"Gio, c'mon. Don't... Don't be all sad now. I do like you, I really do. I think you're the cutest thing ever." He reached out and grabbed onto a piece of his hair, twisting it somewhat playfully. "And you're a real good kisser, too. Honestly." Gio looked up at him, and Nicko grinned at him, trying to elicit some sort of positive reaction. Finally, Gio cracked a small, halfhearted smile, dropping his shoulders from how tense he was. "But I don't want to have sex with you cause it...you know, it means something different to us. You understand?"

Gio nodded slowly, forcing himself to take a deep, ragged breath. "Yeah, I understand."

Nicko leaned forward just a little and placed a soft kiss into his hair. "Good boy," he mumbled, "now eat your fruit so I can finish drawing you, yeah?"

The smile on Gio's face was genuine that time around, and he sat a little straighter. "Yes, Nicko." So Gio sat still, he watched Nicko scribble against his paper while glancing up at him every so often, and he ate his fruit. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but that didn't matter, he did it because he was told to, because Nicko wanted him to. Gio had once been told, in training, that as long as his master is happy, he should be to. He was seriously starting to wonder if he was broken, because it was seeming like he couldn't be happy at all, even as Nicko smiled at him over his notebook.

[ajaxctrl]

static space lover — oikawa tooru [the kissing booth reference]

track 01: helena beat

A/n: I'm planning to mix in with a little more written parts since writing is fun as well haha. The socmed part will kick in soon!

Hi. The name's y/n l/n. Classic run-of-the-mill partially pretty junior high schooler who apparently is one of those from the 'normal' section of high school popularity. Fairly normal life. Fairly normal group of friends — ah, how about I rephrase that one? Moderately normal group of friends. Yup. That sounds about right.

I'm best best friends with your resident blond, Atsumu Miya, basically since diapers. Same interests. Same amount of brain cells. Same foolish agenda. We have matching nintendo switches. We have matching marvel jerseys. Our families are like one and two. We were inseparable.

He's my go-to person. Partner in crime? Nah, far too cliche for my liking. He's probably the only jerk I could stand. And...here goes his twin, aka Atsumu Miya with a brain, Osamu. If our friendship is in question, we aren't that 'intimate' safe to say. More like acquaintances divided between a distinct gray line — maybe because Osamu Miya is far too close with a certain Oikawa Tooru — their older step brother. By 'close', I mean 'dissing Atsumu and y/n from a corner' close.

Oikawa Tooru. If one were to give me the chance to describe this idiot...I'd answer handsome right away beyond doubt. That is, if my hormones were speaking for me. But all in all, Tooru is just an evil, conniving jerk who would slam a volleyball right at your face if you even so much as think as pissing him off. Keyword: think.

Jokes on you. This jerk has been my childhood crush ever since and I'm not even denying it. Sucks to be me alright. But anyhow, life seems fine and is going pretty smoothly. No setbacks nor heavy burdens so far—

Yeah, about that, it seemed like fate jinxed it.

"Why the fuck do these stupid slacks need to rip out exactly when I don't need them to! Ugh! Kill me already!"

Growing bit by bit isn't exactly my strong suit. First year fresh from middle school then to my last year in junior high — wow, girls indeed grow the most speedy. Right. Then here are my fresh black slacks tearing off out of my butt on my very first day after summer break. And the only back-ups I got are ones from my first year.

Fate has favorites and I'm not on the list.

"Jesus, y/n, really?" Atsumu, in all his annoying glory, flashed his default hideously smug smirk as he grips on his tesla's steering wheel.

"What? My slacks ripped! You wanna stare at my strawberry cheesecake undies all day, Miya?" In a slightly irritated look, I challenged.

"What about your back ups?"

"These are my back ups!"

Stockman High, unlike y/n l/n, isn't your dime a dozen high school. It isn't one of those academic-centered high schools all about elitism and educational pressure. I, for one, can say that Stockman is particularly like those from your usual netflix teenage romance trope — it's fun.

"If the last season of How to Get Away with Murder doesn't come out this month, I will and I swear, cancel my netflix subscription right off the bat."

"As if. Alex Strangelove is far too temptin' for ya. Ya ain't gonna survive a day without netflix."

"Try me, 'Tsumu!"

"Yeah yeah. Hop out already!"

Today seemed pretty normal. Your conventional high school post-summer break day at Stockman with no troubles so far.

"What in the world — is that y/n l/n?"

"Oh my god, you go girl."

"What is she? From middle school?"

Why the fuck does this have to happen now.

"Tsumu! Why is everyone — and if I say everyone, I mean the whole Stockman High populace, is looking at us like we grew out a second head???"

"If ya say 'us', it's particularly just you, y/n. Nice ass."

"Fuck you. Come behind me 'Tsumu! I hate it here."

"Hmm. Gladly."

Basically everyone's eyes were ogling at me and it's probably too early to say that post-summer break is doing 'fine' 'with no troubles'. At least I attached a 'so far' at the very end, regarded as certain.

How could this day get any worse? Not so much, right?

"Terushima! What the hell?!"

Great. The other blond jerk from the football team just touched my butt. Really great.

"Just measured your bum size, y/n. No hard feeli—"

And so chaos ensues. "Yuuji. I swear to god you say another fucking word I'll bust your face right this instant." Atsumu fitfully challenges with pride and glory. Anger seething from his core

I gripped on his arm, attempting to stop the trade of punches from getting any more catastrophic, and yet...fate really had favorites. y/n l/n, unfortunately but not surprisingly, is not one of them.

Oikawa fucking Tooru just had to butt in throwing his stupid ball at Terushima Yuuji. Hitting the blond with force stronger than what shall we believe constitutes the highest degree of 'strong'. And that added salt to injury.

"Tooru! No! No! It's alright! You can stop now!"

Yet nada, he wasn't listening. He beat the guy to a pulp. Lip busted violet beat, almond orbs almost unobtrusive. Tooru just beat Yuuji like how he hits his killer serves and it terrifies me to no end.

"Why does my brother always have t'make a hideous example for the citizens of America..." Says Atsumu.

I strained to grab Tooru's shoulders and pull him away but he was to fixated on landing a punch on the other guy, it deemed as if the very world around him faded like canvas.

"Yes, alright Oikawa, that's enough. Get off of Terushima. We have a long day ahead of us." Very early, the principal butted in at last minute, fortunately snapping Tooru from his punching spree and violent daze. "You three! My office!"

"Why do I have to go!?"

Great. No troubles so far alright.

-

"Great going Tooru, fantastic." I rolled my eyes, flashing him one last glare before I close my [eye color] orbs in immediate stress, not the slightest bit amused of the events unfolding right this very day.

"No one has the right to treat girls like that, y/n. Especially if that girl has to be you." Tooru mumbled under his breath, pouting as he fiddles with his phone, the senior high school uniform polo almost dry from faint sweat.

If that girl has to be you. All in good time, on the face of it, there is no good time, Tooru's eyes see me as his little sister. Nothing more nothing less. Just his baby sister. The plus one in the family tree. His normal childhood acquaintance.

"Really, Tooru? Me?"

Our eyes met. His molten chocolate ones falling on mine. His plump lips folded into a thin line. Sweat trickling down his forehead. Finally, the words I've expected for years come rolling out from his tongue. "Yeah. You're my little sister after all." And so he threw his head back upfront. Not caring for the slightest.

"Afraid so." I heaved out a sigh. Disappointed mood cascading my gut.

"Y'know, y/n-chan~ if you didn't just wear that skirt right now, we shouldn't be having this conversation."

I can't believe this guy. "Really Tooru? You're going beyond that line?"

He ran a hand through his hair, moaning in disbelief as he then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just wrap my jacket around your waist for the whole day, y/n. Don't fight me."

Huh. Oikawa Tooru isn't that bad.

Masterlist | Previous • next.

— HERE COMES your generic high school sweethearts tale wherein y/n has to deal with her prolonged admiration for a certain oikawa tooru — who apparently is her childhood crush since diapers. so the story goes, atsumu miya, tooru's stepbrother, has every say in it.

TAGLIST: (send an ask)

@virtualshoujoanimeartmaker @weisztineo @ccccprej-blog @kiralovesyoongi @elesiatargaryen2 @elsword-euronoia @athenabelserion @tsukishukkie @danariceelliot @malariatyrell @miravonzachary @minaminapark @missusmustang @dimariashermes @moonprismpowerfilo @chichikagari @reinayamamoto @starstruckshouyou @denkiyeee @roaringcrows

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 11

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8 ; Chapter 9 ; Chapter 10

Masterlist : here

AN : It is wednesday, my dudes! This part and the next ones are like 90% fluff, 10% angst... like bittersweet. You’re still heartbroken but try to keep your friendship with Jake, while doing all of your homework... A lot to handle. Actually I had to cut the chapter in half because it was too long (9-10 pages). I really hope you’ll like this chapter because I liked writing it! Feel free to tell me what you thought of it, send me dms or questions, and thanks for reading me x

Chapitre 11 : Would you cook for me ?

Ignoring Jake's texts or avoiding him was useless. But hanging out with him was a challenge I wasn't ready to handle, never asked for, and yet was pushed into. Pretending I didn't see him when we crossed paths in the hallways, or that I didn't receive any of his texts was petty, there was no point in doing so. I couldn't avoid him without giving him any reason, and I couldn't tell him why I needed some time far away from him either because it meant revealing the truth and 1) I wasn't ready, 2) he'd be the one avoiding me like the black plague if I did. It brought me to the conclusion that I would simply pretend nothing happened at all. Jake hadn't noticed the whole situation anyway, so to him it'd already be like everything was normal, just like it always had been between us. It was the best I could think of. For him, for Josh, for anyone. For me ? Not so much. Of course I was still heartbroken, of course it'd take me some time to get over him, and staying by his side would be like rubbing salt on a wound while demanding for it to heal. But I wouldn't risk to break our group's dynamic for selfish reasons. So I sucked that in, everything. The sadness, and painful pang of my chest every time I saw his face, while repeating myself it was for the best.

That aside, I had some other things coming. For the worst. My useless self got so into self-pity and deprecation that I had totally forgotten about homework... And my drawing teacher would be less than pleased as we were all supposed to hand her five new portraits on Monday. Realization hit me during breakfast with Josh who had slept here, when I saw Mandy pack her things and idly noticing out loud that I wasn't carrying a lot of stuff for once. This. This was the cue. But it was too late now, I thought as I walked down the halls by their side. On our way to the amphitheater we saw Jake, waiting in front of the door for the teacher to come. Other students were here too, chatting and yawning with their backs against the walls or sitting on the floor. Josh looked at me like he wasn't sure if he should greet him but the brunette was the one spotting us, gesturing us to come join him. My eyes were probably still a bit puffy but with the makeup it could pass for lack of sleep. Of course he knew Josh stayed at our place last time, I had made sure the boy texted him, and the jerk had taken this opportunity to ask his brother to bring him all his school supplies, backpack included. Unbelievable.

- Your stuff, said Jake handing Josh his bag.

- Who's the big brother again ?, I jokingly asked with a raised eyebrow.

- He's 5 minutes older, replied Jake.

- You'll never live it down !

We all chatted quietly, and I never felt more conflicted in my entire life. My heart didn't know if it should beat faster or hurt like hell, so it seemed to do both, making me feel weird just by being next to Jake. My body was in total contradiction with itself. I couldn't hold back the smile that crept across my face, but at the same time wouldn't meet Jake in the eye, disguising it by cracking joke after joke while my stress level kept rising the more time passed. My thoughts were running wild. In a few hours the drawing teacher was going to yell at me in front of the whole workshop and I couldn't handle it. I'd surely burst into tears and feel even more ashamed. I'd probably-

- Hey, you alright ?

A soft touch caressed my back and I involuntarily jerked forward, out of its grasp, before realizing and suddenly feeling bashful at my reaction. I could tell Jake was surprised by it but it lasted only a second before his face showed concern.

- Yeah, I just didn't finish my work on time... That witch is gonna murder me and ask the others students to draw a perspective of my corpse I'm sure.

I heard his chuckles before the tutor cut him off, passing by us with the keys in hand to unlock the door, separating the sea of students in half like an artsy Moses. Jake was at the other side when the crowd engulfed through the small door, letting us no choice but to keep our bodies to the walls.

- Do you wanna sit together today ?, asked Jake above the loud stomping noises.

Because of the students between us I couldn't really see his face, but was glad because it meant he couldn't see mine whitening. Josh and Mandy on the other hand were just next to me and clearly witnessed my expression change. To think that a week before I would've been on cloud nine being able to sit next to him for two whole hours... Oh how things could change fast.

We were now the three last people left outside and Jake held the door for us, continuing speaking.

- You guys are always exchanging notes, we should just, ya know ? Sit next to each other and... quietly chat.

As backup to his words, he murmured the last part in a very exaggerated fashion, in a failed attempt to make me smile. I couldn't just say no to him without looking weird because I had no reason to. Even if I knew he wouldn't push the matter, there was no way he wouldn't question it, right ? Josh came to the rescue, playfully elbowing him.

- But then where's the fun in that ? Right girls ?

Both agreeing, we rushed to our usual seats, letting a dumbfounded Jake close the door behind him. In their habitual fashion, Mandy and Josh threw paper balls at each other, while I was for once too focused on the lecture to participate in their shenanigans. I needed to get my mind to focus on something and right now Gilgamesh sounded like a good deal, so I took as many notes as possible. A task proven even more difficult because in the corner of my eye, I could see Jake staring at me.

Saying my drawing teacher killed me was a little bit of an understatement. She scared the shit out of me with her scolding. To be fair, even in a normal mood she was a scary woman. The already quiet   class went completely still and silent when she barked at me, admonishing me with charming names such as « useless », « disappointing » and the timeless « lamentable ». A classic. Truth to be told it hurt much less than I previously anticipated, mainly because I was already half dead inside, with the emotional range of a cactus, and my self-esteem nearly reaching zero. Nothing much to attack, really. Nevertheless, she demanded that I hand her all five portraits plus the five others we had to do this week by the next monday. Meaning I had ten to do in a week. It physically hurt just thinking about it, and I could hear a quiet « oof » escaping some of my classmates' mouths. It's with a huge relieved sigh that I found my bed this afternoon once school was over. This day had been a catastrophe so far, so there was no other thing I wanted to do more than put on my Pjs, put some music on, and slowly work at my desk, thinking Tuesay will be a better day.

Tuesday was not a better day. Wednesday either. All my homework slowly started piling up on my desk to the point where it was starting to be difficult to keep track of it. And sleeping four hours a night wasn't doing my mental health any good. I knew I had two possibilities now ; sleep less but do my work, or skip some classes to work. It was beginning to get ridiculous, skipping classes so I could do my homework. I knew art schools were difficult, awfully so, but like most people I hadn't realized until then, in this very moment, standing in front of my desk completely covered in paint, canvas, my computer, sketches, inks... some brushes had fallen on the floor, staining it in their passage. My laptop was so dirty it wasn't in its original color anymore. There were blotches of paint, ink, and charcoal here and there that I couldn't remove the harder I had tried to, forcing me to give up. At some point I got so tired I put my paintbrush into my cup of tea/coffee, mistaking it with the goblet of water.

- ...Are you alright ?, enquired Mandy on Thursday night.

One look at my face and she had her answer. Bless her soul, she didn't need any more to bring me an energy drink from the fridge.

- I still have five portraits to do. Four pencil ones, and one painting. They all have to be from different angles, and I can't find any models, I complained while throwing my hand in the air in an act of pure desperation.

Mandy knew better than to sit at the edge of my risky desk with her designer clothes, so she leaned on the doorframe, slowly nodding her head in a pensive manner while I kept explaining the situation.

- All week I couldn't find anyone because they all had homework to do, and now most of them are skipping tomorrow's lecture to go home early so nobody's available !

My rommate crossed her arms, thinking hard. I already did almost all my paintings, asking for both her and Josh's help. Both of them were glad to help and even more so to figure on a monochrome painting on a canvas.

- Can you draw the same person multiple times ?, she finally asked.

- Actually... I don't know. I don't think that would be a problem as long as the work is done ?

Hopping on her feet, Mandy lifted an eyebrow before dragging a chair to sit on.

- Let's get into it then, we only have one lecture tomorrow, you can skip it I'll take notes for you.

Having a good night of sleep never felt this good. No. Waking up at 8, slowly realizing everybody was sitting on a lecture except me, and then getting back to sleep was way better. I sketched poor Mandy two times last night but the results were good, and she looked pleased herself. I didn't have time to redo any of these anyway, I still had other work to do. Waking me from my well deserved nap, my phone vibrated under the pillow, the screen blinding me despite the sun peaking through the curtains.

« The boys asked where you were. Told them about the portraits situation. Jake wants to help. Couldn't stop him. »

If the beginning of the text made me smile, the end completely shook me awake, making me sit hurriedly on the bed, rereading the words multiple times. Scratching my face, I quickly glanced at the hour. They were out in a few minutes. My fingers tapped the next message as soon as they could, asking her how and when, while I ran to the showers with my towel, soap and toothbrush in hand. At this hour, and a Friday, they were all available. The other residents were all either drunk as hell and passed out in their room, or in their hometown with their family and friends. The buzzing of my phone vibrating reverberated against the shower walls and it almost got drowned in the sink when I caught it to look at the screen. It was Mandy.

« They kinda invited themselves over to eat. Josh's idea.»

What the hell Joshua we're not your moms ! Throwing my phone to the nearest flat surface, I jumped on some discarded overalls and put on a sweater, wet hair dripping everywhere on the floor, table, but mostly on my clothes, making me sneeze in the process. The whole week I was so overwhelmingly busy with work that not only did my fingers hurt but I didn't have any time to see the Kiszkas let alone think about them since our shared lecture on Monday. I even skipped the Lunch Club in order to get back to the dorms and work on my assignments. Which thankfully saved me a lot of time, but I still had 2 pencil drawings to do and one painting. Once I had put on some makeup, I took a moment to look around me. Our place looked like a dump, no less. Clothes and art furniture were everywhere, the trash was overflowing with empty cup noodles and fast food leftovers, it smelled like perfume and soap mixing with rotten food, paint and cold tobacco. It was terrible, and made me shocked that I even got used to that. A life achievement of some sort. Everything on the floor I put it on a trash bag, running in the stairs to throw everything outside with the others'. My phone vibrated in my pocket, a new notification popping on the screen.

« They bought some stuff at the store, they wanna cook us something. Jake's idea. »

Okay, time to clean the kitchen.

By the time they got here, I looked even more tired than before, owing my guests looks of concern. If was funny, how they put on the exact same face while seeing me. It was like I just mirrored a picture. Their similar features would never cease to amaze me.

- Mama you're very pale.

- Did you not sleep well ?

- I did, don't worry, I dismissed their concern. Had to clean up a bit.

Mandy bit his lip, knowing damn well the place had been a war field when she left. Unaware of anything, the boys put the bags of groceries on the table before apologizing for intruding. We all sat around the table to have a pleasant talk, my friends always making sure I wasn't next to Jake to avoid any brutal peak of awkwardness / sadness. But some habits died hard, I realized when Jake asked if he could have a tour of our dorm. Ignoring glances, I stood up and gestured for him to go first, into the biggest room, were Mandy and I's workshop and beds were. The boy let out a low whistle that flattered me. He looked impressed by everything around him, touching odd looking brushes and browsing illustration books. I knew better this time, and had put his painted portrait under my bed, wrapped in an old sheet. Just as his brother did, he liked to take in his hands everything that came by, caressing it with his fingertips or idly lifting the weight of it in his palms like he was discovering an unknown world. Unmoving, I let Jake do his little tour, watching the street view by the window, sitting on my disheleved bed, jumping slightly to make the mattress bounce like he was testing it before buying.

- So this is where you're gonna paint me, he said, pointing at a chair between my desk and me.

My pale face grew some colors at the thought of it before I nodded quickly, in a childlike way, caressing the wooden chair's back.

- I'll try to be fast so you won't get bored, I assured without looking him in the eye.

It was this moment Josh chose to appear at the corner of the doorframe.

- Jakey we should start cooking or the potatoes will never be ready on time. Come on, doll.

He took me by one of my overalls' straps, pulling me inside the kitchen, making me laugh and pushing my shoulders so I stayed on my seat. Mandy and I gazed at them with awe as they poured us drinks while Jake asked where the spatula was, and Josh was washing the vegetables, already familiar with his surroundings.

In silence, I looked at Jake removing every one of his rings to put it on top of the fridge where no one could kick them, before tying his hair in a tight ponytail. Maybe it was because I only ever saw him with long brown locks framing his face, but he looked even better than usual. If he caught me staring, he didn't adress it, only smiled at me, turning his back to us to help his brother.

- Do you need any help ?, I asked while showing them where the frypans were. You guys are our guests it doesn't seem fair...

Of course the kitchen wasn't a real one, there was only a microwave and some hotplates fixed to a cabinet by the sink. Putting more than one person behind the counter was impossible without bumping into each other, and I could smell the accident from afar when Josh maneuvered the hot water filled pan at the same time Jake opened up a cupboard right above his curly head. Curiously so, probably because they had way more cooking experience than I thought, the boys handled the situation neatly, and Jake was the one preventing me from bumping into his brother.

- Go sit and relax, we've got this, he said while turning me around by the shoulders.

Watching boys make lunch had got to be some sort of ASMR because just watching the muscles of their back move while they were chopping onions and peeling potatoes had some real therapeutic effects on me. We continued chatting together, all the while answering their questions on « Where are the knives ? » and « Where do you keep the salt ? ». Kind of surprised that Josh had the permission of holding a kitchen knife, by the way, this part made me feel the absolute opposite of ASMR but he did a pretty good job, from what I could see. Mandy put on some music on the speakers, argued with Jake over the sound of it as to what was acceptable or not music-wise, and Josh made a show of crying because of the onions, yelling about becoming blind until Jake gently slapped the back of his head. It was all laughs and good conversation, like we've been friends for years, and at the same time I couldn't shake these feelings I had towards Jake. There was something extremely erotic about seeing a dude wearing a dishcloth on his shoulder. Or was it just Jake wearing it really well ?

They refused to tell us what we were eating, muttering to themselves and sometimes asking if we were allergic to this or that, only announcing it while putting the plate on the table, with Josh making grand gestures as usual, using his best waiter voice.

- Crêpes au zucchini accompanied by a fresh salad decorated with feta and its apple slices, ladies.

- Bon appétit, added Jake.

The table was already set because it was the only thing we were allowed to do, so at least the boys could now rest. It looked really good. Way less fancy than what Josh had announced of course but it smelled wonderful, the sweet scent settling in all of our dorm. And the taste, oh Lord. Everything melted in my mouth, the onions they fried were just crispy enough to add something to it, and I learned this day that cheese and apple were really good and refreshing together. A new snack idea I'd keep for my sleepless work nights at the desk. And as dessert, the boys brought beers. Of course.

[handsupinthebalorclub]

Anagapesis (chapter 3)

pairing: the shield x reader

word count: 3,034

summary: Anagapesis (n.) no longer feeling any affection for something or someone you once loved. After three years, you’re officially the manager of the Shield once again. But, things aren’t quite the same as they used to be.

warnings: cursing, mentions of betrayal, violence and trust issues

a/n: I have a question for you guys. Do you like the idea of having romantic subplots or should this story be strictly platonic? 

playlist: x

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four

Normally, when the announcer team wanted a WWE talent to be on commentary for the night, an email would be sent to them or their manager weeks prior. Yet, for some reason, a last minute request was found in your inbox Sunday afternoon. The Shield had a match against The Bar scheduled, so you assumed commentary wanted to take Roman out of the match to add more fire to the pre-existing feud Seth and Dean had with The Bar. But, to your surprise, the email was a commentary call for you during their match. You had been on commentary a number of times before, but it was always accompanying one of your clients. You were weary about being called up alone, but after you had thought about it for a few hours, it made sense you would be getting some attention with your admission back into the group.

You stepped out from behind of the black curtains and begun the descent down the ramp. The Shield’s music blasted throughout the arena, which caused fans to gawk at the three men who traveled through the crowd. You crossed paths with them briefly once they had jumped over the barriers. You had already gave them a pep talk earlier but gave them a smile of encouragement nonetheless. Before you had stepped out of reach, Roman placed a hand on your shoulder and nodded as if saying ‘good luck’.

Thankfully, Roman wasn’t mad at you for falling asleep at Finn’s hotel room. By the time he had returned from his search, you had gotten out of the shower and had a huge monologue ready that asked for his forgiveness. The concept of losing one of the only positive influences you had at the moment frightened you to no end. But Roman was very understanding and simply wrapped you up in his arms upon first sight. When you explained what had happened, he only smiled and asked for you to be more careful next time.

“Welcome, y/n.”  Michael Cole greeted as you sat down in the designated chair. You took the extra microphone that was being offered to you by Coachman, but kept your eyes on the guys as they met The Bar in the center of the ring. “Thank you for joining us.” You took your gaze off of the match and looked towards the announcer team.

You didn’t know Corey Graves, Jonathan Coachman, or Michael Cole that well. You knew Corey was close with Seth and Roman, and he was on decent terms with Dean, but you never quite befriended him yourself. Michael Cole was someone you had spoke to during events, but it was always small talk until either of you had to leave. Coachman was new to the commentary team, but you had heard a lot about him from his previous positions in the industry.

“Thank you for having me,” You said as the bell rang, symbolising the beginning of the match.

Dean was the first person to make a move. He threw himself towards Sheamus, but the Irishman was quick to counter the charge. Sheamus hooked his arm underneath of Dean’s underarm and pulled him into a backbreaker. Michael Cole made a comment about the move, which led into a whole conversation between him and Corey. This went on for quite a while until Michael Cole completely dismissed his co-worker’s banter and decided to pull you into the conversation.

“Y/n, are you happy to be working with the Shield again?” Before you could respond, Coachman decided to pipe up.

“According to Dolph Ziggler, she isn’t.”

You leaned back into the black leather conference chair with an irritated facial expression. Technically, you no longer represented Dolph nor the Smackdown brand, so you could outwardly detest his words.

“Actually,” You spoke up. “What Dolph said was false.” This statement earned various curious looks from the three men. “I never confined in him about working with The Shield again. He didn’t even know I was leaving until I had already departed for RAW. We weren’t friends like he painted us to be.”

“Why do you think Dolph lied?” Corey asked. You shrugged lightly and allowed your eyes to fall upon Dean tagging Seth into the match.

“To make himself look like the good guy, I guess. Maybe even give the locker room a reason to doubt my loyalty to the Shield? I never did understand that man’s thought process. I suppose they don’t call him The Show Off for nothing, though.”  

“So you’re saying you feel completely comfortable working with the Shield again?”

You hesitated to answer Michael’s question at first, but collected yourself after a few seconds passed.

“My relationship with the members of the Shield is a work in progress. Things aren’t quite the same as they used to be, and I feel very sad about that, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure The Shield continues to thrive.”

This must have been a good enough answer for the three color commentators, because they began to speak about the way Seth was climbing onto the ropes to perform a high flying move. Seth managed to successfully land the frog splash on Sheamus and pull him into the pin, but the orange haired man kicked out. While Seth caught his breath, Sheamus pulled his body over to the corner of the ring and tagged in Cesaro. Cesaro went over to the recovering male and grabbed the back of his pants. He forced Seth up to his feet and uppercut him.

“Y/n,” Coachman began. “It’s been awhile since you’ve seen Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose, and Roman Reigns in action besides the match last week, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Over the last couple of years I’ve seen them in some matches when they went up against one of my clients. But, I haven’t had the chance to actually sit down and analyze their moves until now.” This was somewhat of a lie since you had watched numerous amounts of YouTube videos to see when the reunion was beginning to form, but you didn’t want to tell them that.

“Who do you think has improved the most and the least since the old days?”

You thoughtfully watched as Seth recoiled from one of Cesaro’s attacks and did a high kick to his opponents jaw.

“I think in a way, they’ve all improved a lot. When The Shield formed they all had a strong foundation, and it’s become really apparent to me since I’ve re-joined the group that their styles have grown. Honestly, sitting here right now, I’m fairly impressed with Rollins.”

“Really?” Corey’s eyebrows arched upwards. His eyes shifted over to you to make eye contact before he looked back at the match.

“His moves look a lot cleaner than what I’m used to. He’s always been the one to calculate and plan but it seems as if puts a lot more thought in between moves. He also seems to be having a lot more…” You paused as you tried to find the correct word. “fun? During matches.”

“Is that last part necessarily a good thing?” Michael remarked, but Corey quickly followed up with another question.

“And the person who has improved the least?”

“Like I’ve stated before, they’ve all improved throughout the years. But, I’d have to say that title goes to Dean. Dean is so unpredictable when he’s fighting and he doesn’t have a set style-so it’s hard to gauge exactly if he meant to do something or if he’s just rolling with the punches.”

Back in the ring, Seth had Cesaro in a chokehold. He was slowly inching his way over to the corner where Roman and Dean stood, despite Cesaro’s efforts. Eventually, Seth’s hand made contact with Roman’s outstretched one and Roman entered the fight. Seth handed Cesaro over to Roman before climbing over the ropes. Roman pulled Cesaro above him and performed a Samoan drop. When Cesaro’s back collided against the canvas, Roman threw his body overtop of the other man and pinned him. The ref counted to three and claimed the Shield as the victors of the match.

“Thank you again for having me,” You placed down the microphone and stood up from the leather seat, slightly stretching as you did so. You gave the three announcers a kind smile before walking towards the ring to join Dean, Seth and Roman.

* * *

The bustling sounds of catering filled your ears as you sat alone at one of the circular white tables. A plate of various fruits sat in front of you, which you had been picking at since you had arrived a half hour ago. Dean, Seth, and Roman had disappeared into the locker room after you guys had arrived at the arena, and you doubted you would see them any time soon since you weren’t scheduled to accompany Roman in his match against Triple H for another twenty minutes.

“Hey, y/n.”

Or, maybe not. You looked to your left to see Seth approaching in his Shield attire, although his vest was nowhere to be seen. You couldn't quite blame him for waiting for the last minute before putting it on. The vest concept never did seem very comfortable to you. That’s why you had opted for a leather jacket overtop of a black tank top when your “ring gear” was being decided.

“Hi,” A smile came onto your face as Seth stopped so he was standing right next to your table. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just looking for a way to kill time before we have to go out.” He shrugged as he picked up a blueberry from the plate in front of you and popped it into his mouth. “Wanna take a walk around the arena with me?”

“Sure, beats sitting here.”  The sound of the metal chair you were sitting in scraping against the concrete floor stopped Seth from stealing another piece of fruit, this time a grape, from your plate. You gestured towards the plate, a laugh escaping your throat as you did so. “Do you want the rest?”

“No, I’m good. Let me just take the grape before you throw it out, though.”

You picked up the plate and held it in front of Seth, who took his grape happily. As the two of you headed out of catering, you threw the plate out and exited into the hallway. You and Seth made your way through the labyrinth of corridors, talking about whatever came to mind.

“How do you think Roman’s going to do against Triple H?” You asked.

“Roman’s totally going to kick that old man’s ass. Why wouldn’t he?”

Your silence spoke volumes, causing Seth to pause in his tracks. You did the same and looked towards him with pursed lips. He looked tense for a second, but with a shake of his shoulders, the tension seemed to slip from his body.

“You’re going into your ‘worried manager’ mode, aren’t you?”

“No,” You were quick to defend yourself, but the deadpanned look on Seth’s face made you sigh. “Okay, yes. I am. Can you blame me, though? Yeah, we had a good run a Payback. No significant injuries and a win at a pay per view. Hell, it’s a manager’s wet dream. It was simultaneously one of the proudest and scariest moments in my career. But, Hunter’s going to be absolutely pissed about it. Especially after Batista quit-”

“Y/n, take a deep breath.” Seth took a step forward and placed his hands onto your shoulders firmly to stop your rambling. “Roman’s going to be fine. Dean and I are going to be fine, too. Whatever Triple H throws at us, we’re gonna hit him back with ten times the force.” Seth’s brown eyes looked deeply into yours before he pulled you into a hug. You melted into the warm embrace, the feeling of his toned arms wrapped around you made you feel safe-a feeling that you didn’t feel often in your line of work.

One moment, your arms are wrapped around Seth’s torso and the next, you’re staring at a black door. It took you a few seconds to process what exactly had just happened, but when you came to the realization that Seth had just pushed you into a custodian closet, you huffed.

“Ha, ha. Very funny Seth. Prank your stressed out manager. Gosh, you’re such a dick.” It wasn’t unusual for the members of the Shield to prank each other in over the top ways. You placed your hand onto the doorknob of the closet to open it, but the door stayed shut. “Really? You locked it? We don’t have time for this, Seth. We need to get back to the main part of the arena. C’mon.”

An eerie silence followed your words and a sinking feeling entered your stomach.

“Seth?” Again, nothing. “This isn’t funny!” You wrapped your hands around the doorknob and desperately attempted to free yourself, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic seeped into your brain and your breath quickened. The concept that Seth was no longer standing in the hallway hit you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes widened as you patted your pockets to find your phone, only to remember you had left it in your duffel bag.

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, making a mere ten minutes seem like hours. You banged your fists against the door rapidly in hopes that someone would hear you.

“Help! Please, someone!”

Four more minutes passed before you slid down onto the floor with tear stained cheeks.  You screamed until your voice morphed into sobbed pleas. Your fists were pulsating but you still struck the door, although the rhythm was less frantic.

Your mind buzzed in your skull. It created so much noise that you almost didn’t hear the steady footsteps coming from the hallway. A rush of adrenaline entered your body, causing you to jump up to your feet and bang upon the door again.

“Please! Let me out!”

The footsteps paused and you watched in awe as the doorknob turned slightly. As the door swung open, it revealed a very concerned stagehand.

“Miss l/n? Are you okay? What happened?” She immediately took a step back and allowed you to exit the closet.

“Where’s Seth Rollins?” You breathed out, ignoring her questions. You only had one goal right now and that was to find Seth.

Her face twisted into a look of confusion, as if she was attempting to piece the puzzle together herself.

“He’s in the ring with Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns. Shouldn’t you be there as well?”

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened. “I-I have to go.” You quickly dashed in the direction that you and Seth had came. Wrestlers and crew alike gave you muddled glances as you entered the gorilla for a few different reasons, but the two most common was that fact that you should have been with your clients and your frazzled appearance.

The sound of muffled grunts and metal bouncing repeatedly off of something made you gaze at a nearby monitor. You were already riddled with different emotions, but nothing could compare to what you saw on that screen. Seth. Beating Dean over and over again with a metal chair and Roman laying only a few feet away, face down with his hands wrapped around himself. Triple H and Randy Orton stood at the bottom of the ramp, triumphant smiles plastered across their faces.

“N-no…” Fresh tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you ran over to the black curtain that parted the WWE Universe from the gorilla. You pushed open the split fabric and stepped out onto the ramp, the situation you saw on the monitor coming to live in front of you. You had to felt the urge to look away as you barreled down the ramp. You don’t know what you exactly going to do once you got to Seth but it probably wasn’t going to be pretty.

You made it to the edge of the ramp, but before you could throw yourself into the ring to stop Seth, Randy pulled you into his arms. You tried your best to thrash around, but his grip didn’t loosen up in the slightest.

“Welcome to the party, y/n.” The tone of Hunter’s voice made your skin crawl.

The metal chair bounced off of Dean’s body once more but this time, Seth allowed the object to clash onto the floor of the ring. His head slowly looked upwards to look at the crowd as if saying ‘I did that’ before his eyes snapped over to where you, Hunter, and Randy stood. You saw a flicker of something in his eyes when he saw you behind held back by Randy, but you couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement.

Seth’s eyes scanned over his former brothers before he picked up the chair and made his way out of the ring and in your direction. You tried to stare him down, but he refused to make eye contact with you as he looked towards Hunter. His gaze then switched to Randy, who allowed his grip to loosen for just enough time for Hunter to grab your left shoulder firmly. Seth outstretched the arm and offered the managaled chair to Randy, who happily grabbed the weapon and climbed back into the ring. Hunter wrapped his other arm around the shoulder of Seth proudly.

You opened your mouth to snap at the two men, but the image of Randy slamming the chair right into Roman’s spine made you flinch. Your vision blurred from the tears that rushed down your face, but you could still see Randy take the vest and shirt off of Roman and the bruises that followed.

This was the point in which you tried to run over to the ring, but Seth wrapped his arms around your chest once you pulled free from Hunter. The fact that you felt safe in his arms practically a half hour before but now felt completely terrified churned your insides.

“Let go of me, you fuck!” You growled, but Seth chose to stay quiet. Hunter walked over to the apron of the ring and climbed onto it so he could get a better view of what was happening. Even with you in his arms, Seth managed to position himself next to Hunter. You watched in both horror and anger as Randy continued to beat down your brothers.

Moments passed before Randy took a step back from pummeling Roman, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Hunter turned to Seth before he nodded towards the injured Dean and Roman.

“Let her go,” He commanded to Seth. As soon as Seth’s arms dropped to his sides, you lurched forward and propelled yourself between the ropes. You dropped to your knees next to Dean and Roman, your tears now falling freely as you weeped in between them. The crowd formulated a chant for the man who had done this to your bothers. ‘You sold out!’ repeated throughout the stands.  

Dean noticed your hunched figure above him and maneuvered his body so his head rested in your lap. You ran your hands through his tangled brown hair.

“I’m okay, kiddo.” Dean cracked a smile despite the pain that shot through his body. You felt movement behind but you didn’t bother to look up until Hunter had wrapped his arms around both Randy and Seth.

“That’s Evolution…” Hunter sneered down at you before looking back up at the camera. “I win.”

“Y/n!”

You sprang upwards and looked around at your surroundings, bringing you back to reality. Eventually, your eyes landed on Dean. He was sitting on side of your bed, and even in the dark of the hotel room you could tell his face showed concern.

“I’m guessing you were having a nightmare or something? You were screaming so loud I thought someone was going to call the front desk and tell them someone’s committing a murder.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the lump that had formed in your throat forbade them from escaping. Tears began to stream down your cheeks and land onto the white bedsheets, one after another in rapid succession. Your chest began to grow tight and your brain was foggy. Everything, all of the stress and the frustration, that had been building up in your life had finally rushed forward.

“H-hey..” He inched closer to your now heavily crying form and placed a hand onto your back in a comforting matter. When he did, you quickly latched onto his shirt and began crying into his chest. Dean’s body tensed from the sudden action, but his muscles slowly relaxed and he started rubbing circles into your back. “Shhh, you’re okay sweetheart. Everything’s okay.”

After awhile, your breathing had steadied and Dean looked down to see that the exhaustion from your breakdown had put you back to sleep. He shifted slightly and pulled your sleeping form away from his body. A light smile found its way onto his face as he went over to his own bed.

* * *

Neither you nor Dean spoke a word to each other the next day until Dean broke the uncomfortable silence. One hand was dug into the pocket of his jeans while the other fiddled with the keys of the rental car.

“Hey, I’m about to head out to grab some lunch. Want to come?”

You nodded, although you were taken back from his offer. In all honesty, you had been under the impression that the event  from last night had left him with even more of a reason to dislike you, but this action proved you wrong.

“Yeah, sure.” You closed your laptop and stood up. Dean made his way towards the door but paused when he noticed that you were rummaging through the backpack that rested upon your bed.

“What are you looking for?” He asked as he leaned back onto the wall.

“My wallet.” You answered simply as you sorted through the various items in the bag.

One of Dean’s eyebrows cocked upwards.

“I’ll pay.”

You casted him a shocked look, but decided not to question his change in character since it involved free food.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem.”

With that situation solved, the two of you exited the hotel room and went down into the lobby parking lot. You climbed into the passenger seat of the rental vehicle and Dean got into the driver’s seat. The car came to life with a hum and in the span of minutes, the two of you were driving down the street on your way to eat.

When Dean pulled up to the restaurant, a large grin stretched across your face. You couldn’t help but smile at the quaintness of the small diner in front of you. A neon sign sat on the roof, accompanied by a large red arrow that pointed to the double doored entrance. The parking lot was almost empty despite a cluster of cars in the left hand corner of the blacktop.

“Thought you’d like it. You always were a weirdo when it came to diners.” He smirked when he saw your reaction.

“I would take offense to that, but you’re kind of true.” You chuckled as you unclipped your seatbelt.

Everyone who travels has a quirk. Some people collect postcards, others enjoy seeing gigantic items in which the owners claim they’re the largest in the world, and most by merchandise  to commemorate where they have been. But you? You enjoyed visiting diners.

You knew it was strange and every travel partner you have had since joining WWE have pointed out that fact as well, but you always found them fascinating. No matter what state or country you were in, every diner had a similar feel to it. Over the years, you had grown a certain distaste for change. It felt comforting to you that no matter what, you could walk into a diner and feel some familiarity.  

When you entered the diner, you were greeted by an elderly hostess.

“Table for two?”

“Yes, please.” You smiled back at the lady. She nodded and grabbed two menus. The lady guided you and Dean through the restaurant and over to a booth that was nestled away from the doorway. She laid down the two menus and shot one more friendly smile before walking off.

“So,” you tapped your fingers against the white top of the table. You were obviously very confused in Dean’s sudden change of heart.

Dean must have noticed where this conversation was going because a sigh exited his mouth.

“Look, last night made me realize a lot of things.”

“Like?”

“I still care about you, no matter how hard I try not to. I could have woken you up, told you to pipe down and then go back to sleep. But, I couldn’t.” Dean paused as he tried to think of what else he wanted to say. “Last week when you didn’t come back to the hotel room, I kept calling you a bitch in my mind but I couldn’t stop myself from worrying so fucking much. I miss being that big brother figure to you.”

“I appreciate you telling me this and you were completely right in what you said last week.” You tried to ignore the shocked expression Dean horribly hid. “My work life and personal life are completely separate. I should have found time to talk to you and Roman. I truly apologize.”

“Hm. Apology accepted, kid. But don’t think you’re off the hook because I’m still mad. If you buy me a few beers next pub crawl, I’ll think about forgiving you a little bit more.” A faint smile came onto his lips. “Plus, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to but what was all that about last night?”

“Can I put a pin in that question? We can talk about it later, I just don’t really want to talk about it now.” You admitted with a frown.

“Yeah, sure.” Dean said just as the waiter arrived.

You could tell it would take awhile to rekindle your friendship but Dean, but there was potential for things to go back to how they used to be.

tag list: @scuzmunkie / @alyj12 / @letshaveadepressingtime / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @shieldgallover / @nikora3010 / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @insaneship / @sausagefest1996 / @kingslaxerpark / @houndsofjxstice / @viperslunatic / @kenyadakblalock / @twisted1ginger / @captainfoxy22 / @calwitch / @staystrongyoureawarriorfighter

let me know if you’d like to be taken off or added to the tag list!

[klance-net]

💛 September Fics! 💛

Here it is guys; a masterlist of fics added during August and September. Fics are under the cut because it’s a really long post (50+ fics). Enjoy! ♡

+ previous ficrecs

+ library

+ submit fics to us

» a change of space by Crawlingthroughashes

"I don't want to kiss you," Lance announces quickly, color rising high on his cheeks. "Ok." "I don't."

» A Love Like Ours by KnifeBinaryPrince

A love like their's will last through any war.

Even those that last ten thousand years.

» And I Miss Space by codevassie

Keith can't sleep on Earth. Neither can Lance. When they run into each other at a diner they end up spending a lot more of their nights together than they ever thought they would.

» Aprovechar el Sol by speaks

When team Voltron finally pushes the Galra out of this sector of the galaxy, Allura surprises the paladins with a visit home for the first time since leaving Earth three years ago.

» A Quarter Past Midnight by Gigapoodle

When Keith found himself standing in front of a hulking blue metal lion, of all things, surrounded by a hexagonal shield like it was straight out of a straight-to-DVD sci-fi movie, he simply guffawed. If this was what the higher beings were trying to guide his hand towards, they could shove that hand up their asses.

» Artistic and Forgetful by salt_n_burn

Keith and Lance are soulmates. When Lance draws on his arm it shows up on Keith's arm as well, and vice versa.

» As If by surveycorpsjean

The five times Lance was his impulse control, and the one time he wasn't.

» caught in orbit by justlikeswitchblades

Keith never thought he could be homesick, since he never had much of a home to begin with.

But Lance's laugh is loud and bright, skin tanned like he's been out in the sun all day, and Keith starts to wonder if he'll ever see that familiar star again.

» Core Relationship by agok

Every four years the Alteans host a giant party called the Core Alliance Celebration in honor of their alliance with the Galra.

» Dance in the Dark by Kaiisan

Lance struggles with sleeping on his own and the ever-present homesickness. Keith tries to help.

» Dancing On The Roof by BleuSarcelle

Thief/Spy Au where they are all spies in charge of stealing gems and Lance took it upon himself to steal every single gem Keith is in charge of. Neither of them notice when he steal his most valuable possession.

» darling, i fall to pieces (when i'm with you) by starglowed

Keith doesn't know how to feel about being leader. The universe is just too heavy for his already star-soaked shoulders.

Luckily, he's got his right hand man with him.

» Does it Bother Anyone Else (that someone else has your name) by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee

The first words your soulmate says to you are written on your skin - Keith was born with 'Hi my name is - ' written over his heart. Lance has 'Holy fuck, are you okay?' scrawled on his arm.

» don't wanna be free by VickyVicarious

In which Lance gives compliments (but not really), and Keith has lots of feelings but zero impulse control.

» dynamic by kagshina

Lance makes a quick list in his head of things he should never do:

1. Ask the boy he has a huge crush on to be his fake boyfriend for the sake of proving a point (even if Lance thinks he’s going to say no, because apparently he might actually say yes!)

» electromagnetic by seabear

Lance spends a lot of time wondering about his place in the universe. And his place with Keith. Oh, also there’s a heist and some fake dating.

» everything, everything by makasouls

Lance McClain will hit on anything with a pulse. Except for Keith, apparently.

Why no, Keith is not bitter.

» french toast by viscrael

“It’s your birthday.”

“Well—I mean, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to do all this…”

“Of course it does. I’m your husband. And besides, even if I wasn’t, I care about you. You only turn twenty-eight once.”

» house on fire by ilgaksu

When Lance McClain is eighteen, he qualifies for the Olympics.

When he's nineteen, he meets Keith.

» i fall, i fall, i falter by theshoutingslytherin

Lance’s eyes held the type of promise only seen in B-rated romance movies— and yet it didn’t look cheesy on him. If anything, Lance looked intense— like he was so focused on Keith that he wouldn’t even notice if the world burned down around them.

» I know your best was still your worst by perfchan

Keith feels alone and apart from the group as he adjusts to leading Voltron. He gets a little help along the way.

» inferno by yaoikawa

Waves of water crash in, accompanied by a blue hoodie, blue eyes, and a blue heart.

» it could be amazing by queenfrog

“So,” Lance says, and Keith can’t tell if he’s lowering his voice in an attempt to try and sound sexy, or if he’s just adhering to the rules of the library. Lance looks up at him from behind hooded eyelids and smirks. Keith decides it's probably a bit of both. “Do you come here often?”

» just my cup of tea by skyestiel

Keith and Lance settle the great “Tea vs. Coffee Debate” the only way they know how.

» Lost Time by americaswaitress

Allura held her brother close for the last time three quintants before her father shoved her into a cryopod.

» love, explained by freshia

A classic romance told in snippets, Feat. excessive crayon consumption, blood-thirsty swingsets, extreme dodgeball, rocks through windows, and hot chocolate snuggles. (Not necessarily in that order.)

» Make Me Your Home by Reader115

“Oh my god, Keeeith,” Lance wheezed. “Keith you’re the best drunk space cadet I’ve ever seen.”

» only fools fall for you by 221bdisneystreet

In his own eyes, Keith was stupid, messed up, and a fool. But in his eyes, Keith was someone he loved.

» overtone, undertone, or how keith messed up (but not really). by saudade

When Keith steals Lance's hoody as revenge for how god damn annoying he is, he certainly doesn't expect it to backfire like this.

» Photos and Storms by BambiPB

In which Lance just wanted to take photographs and the sky decided it wasn't going to happen so he runs into the broganes flower shop.

» raindrops on roses by viscrael

He wonders if the rest of the paladins think that way. If they struggle with everyday tasks, if they feel the call of adrenaline again sometimes, if they wake up some mornings antsy and trying to itch a scratch that they can’t touch any more.

» So Very Lucky by Reader115

After hitting it off with Keith at an end-of-summer party last year, Lance was left disappointed when Keith didn’t keep in touch with him. And his excitement over seeing Keith once again the following summer as a fellow camp counselor is dampened immediately by the fact that Keith doesn't seem to remember him at all.

» Soulmate Line by geewillikers

How can Lance explain who Keith's soulmate is when their lines connect, and yet they're total strangers to one another?

» Stories of the Rain by wholesomeklances

Keith might cry in a bathroom stall on the day he moves into his dorm, but little does he know, most endings are also new beginnings.

» The Gambler by yellowskies

"And then he saw it. The string. Tugging at his pinkie, it led directly from his finger to Lance's."

» The Northern Crown by Athenias

Even if his new talent made Allura groan whenever she had the pleasure of overhearing his pick-up lines and got him beat up by more than one of his own soldiers, it was enough to make a Galra general by the name of Keith fall in love with him.

» the meaning of donuts by Katranga

Keith realizes he may, potentially, possibly have some feelings for a certain blue paladin and he is Not Thrilled about it.

» Tidal by noero

Although Keith may not consider himself a theorist, he figures the impulse that fuels his own inertia is the only force that can stop Lance’s aimless velocity. They just fit. Far be it from him question the laws of nature.

» Tying Ties by ohmwork

Lance is a sad space boy and Keith is space boy in love

» ways to fall by padawin

There were many ways to be in love with someone.

» Wear Your Cactus on Your Sleeve by shaqfu

All Lance wanted to do was buy a new cactus for his shop.

» We Can Be Heroes, Just for One Day by spacegaykogane

In which Keith pines and Lance is oblivious. Angst ensues.

» We Keep Loving Anyways by BleuSarcelle

“Take care, sunshine.” Mrs. McClain says softly while smiling and her features turn soft when her son smiles back at her.

“Always, Mama!”

» What A Wonderful Space by VulpesVulpes713 

Once, when he was very young, space had simply meant night, when the stars would fade into view one by one, and he was able to count them, until suddenly he would blink and the entire sky would be a canvas of glowing specks that he would eagerly wish upon.

» What Life Throws at You by kaybee

Soulmate AU where the first thing your soulmate says to you appears in the first place they touch you. Featuring clueless idiots Keith and Lance

» when i'm without you (i'm something weak) by jojotxt

Keith wondered how much damage could be done to his dignity if he just threw himself into the oven to avoid the inevitable. Probably not much, really; he didn’t have much of a dignity to begin with. 

» Where The Lions Roam by Mytay

" ... tell me why Blue is making the moves on Keith.”

Pidge stared at him, a touch incredulous. “You really haven’t figured it out?”

» you anchor me back down by aknightley

Five missing moments, and a moment that hasn't happened yet.

» you and me are cosmic dust by Yuu_chi

Knowing that your team loves and trust you no matter what and believing it are two very different things 

» you'd fly with me by eugyne

It's a year in space before Lance admits aloud that he does not, in fact, hate Keith.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Pathetic, Clinging Poetry - Chapter 9 (of 25)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

I cross my legs, fold my hands, Straighten out my spine, Wear a skirt, gloss my lips, For a moment that won't come.

Yet here you sit, An effortless work of art With no need for sparks Just you, and you alone; And you're brighter than the sun But I can't close my eyes.

* 

As Amethyst buried her face into her pillow, the sound of footsteps in the hallway reminded her just how late -- or early -- it was. Either Jasper was up and getting ready for work, or Pearl was up and moving around. She rolled over onto her back with a sigh, rubbing her sore eyes and ripping her headphones out of her ears. Not even her white noise playlists were enough to help her sleep, so she decided it was best to just get out of bed for the time being, even if it meant falling asleep in the middle of the day and being mocked by Jasper.

Amethyst rolled off of her bed and made her way towards her bedroom door, unlocking it and slowly pulling it open; she spotted a trail of light leading down the hallway, noticing that the curtains to the balcony door had shifted. 'Must be Pearl.' she thought with a yawn. Tying her hair up into a bun and popping a stick of gum in her mouth to freshen herself up, Amethyst slid the glass door open and peered out onto the balcony. "Morning, Pierogi."

Pearl flinched, turning back to glance at Amethyst. "O-oh, good morning!" Pearl said. The tone of her voice was clearly on-edge; she was leaning against the railing with a cup of tea in her hands, anxiously swirling it around with a small spoon. "You're up early."

"Didn't really sleep much." Amethyst shrugged, scratching the back of her head. "Insomnia can be a bitch."

"Oh, I know that feeling." Pearl said. Her gaze never left her cup of tea; Amethyst noticed it was completely full and not even steaming, and wondered how long Pearl had been stirring that cup or if she'd even drank from it at all.

"How'd it go with Rose yesterday?" Amethyst asked, leaning against the railing.

"Ah, it was wonderful... She was so happy to see me." Pearl's voice seemed to immediately perk up at the opportunity to speak about Rose. "And she was excited to finally receive the poetry book; she even reassured me that her husband wouldn't be uncomfortable with it." Pearl traced the rim of the cup with her finger, her expression dropping. "Right now, though... It's a little hard to be happy about that, because... well, she confirmed something I didn't want to hear."

Amethyst raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"She... really did abandon Jasper back in high school. And now she wants me to deliver an apology for her." Pearl sighed. "And... now I feel so foolish. When I had that fight with Jasper, I'd told her right to her face that I thought she was lying about the whole thing. Now I feel like I was being even worse than her..."

"Hey, you didn't know that, alright?" Amethyst placed a hand on Pearl's shoulder. "And with the way Jasper was acting, I really can't blame you for thinking she lied. You may have screwed up, I can't deny that, but... she's got no place to judge you either. Not after the way she acted to both of us."

Pearl took a sip of her now-cold tea. "I suppose you're right." she said. "I was never good at admitting when I was wrong... But I can't live with this tension anymore." She placed her cup of tea down on the railing, turning to Amethyst with a sad smile. "Does this kind of thing happen with you and Jasper?"

Amethyst snorted. "Like, every day. We fight over every little thing under the sun, but we don't... really make up afterwards. Just kinda act like it never happened a few hours later; we're too far up our own asses to admit when we're wrong -- and by we, I mean Jasper -- and ignoring it is the only way to keep this house from turning into a warzone." she sighed, resting her elbow on the railing. "But she can't hate me too much. Like I said, she lets me stay under her roof and eat her groceries and all that shit."

"So did my mother." Pearl regretted her words the moment they left her mouth. "I mean -- not that she's anything like my her. At least I hope to God she's not. That was a harsh comparison, but -- what I meant was, just because she does nice things for you doesn't mean there's no room for improvement."

"Hey, don't worry, you've barely told me anything about her, so I didn't think much of it." Amethyst reassured. "But... yeah, I getcha. I guess it's something I'll have to put up with until I move out. Which is probably, like, a hundred years from now."

Pearl smiled sadly. "I could say the same for myself. We're both pretty dependent on her for now, so I think it's best we both try to make things better, correct?"

"Blehh." Amethyst stuck her tongue out. "You're right, but I hate it."

Pearl placed a hand on Amethyst's shoulder. "I know. It might be easier if we talk to her together rather than approaching her individually."

"Blehhh..." Amethyst groaned even louder. "It's just kinda different because she's my sister, you know? She sees me differently than she sees you. Like, way differently."

"Yes, I know..." Pearl sighed, gently stroking Amethyst's back in an attempt to comfort her. "But that doesn't mean it's the right way. If she doesn't see you as a wonderful, talented, beautiful person, then her own sibling rivalry has blinded her, and she just needs to open up her eyes."

Amethyst huffed with amusement. "Pfft, don't try to flatter me."

"I'm not." Pearl smiled, her cheeks flushing as she rested her arms back at her sides. Even with her hair a mess and her eyes baggy from sleep deprivation, Amethyst looked serene in her own way as she gazed off into the neighborhood with her arms on the balcony railing. She had an urge to brush a strand of hair away from Amethyst's face, but restricted her temptation, feeling as if she'd already shown more physical affection than was necessary. 

"Hey... you know, I don't have to go anywhere today. Perhaps we could do something fun to get our minds off this? Maybe something low-energy, like taking a walk by the duck pond, or watching a movie at home. That is, only if you're not planning to go back to sleep, of course! No pressure either way..." Pearl blushed a little, feeling silly for temporarily forgetting that Amethyst had been up all night.

"Hm... I think my best bet would be to stay up. Wouldn't wanna fuck up my sleep schedule even more than I already have." Amethyst said, standing upright and stretching her arms. "A movie might make me sleepy, though. Let's do the walk first, maybe feed some ducks."

"Alright, perfect! A-and remember there's no pressure, if there's something else you'd rather do, feel free to throw the idea out there!" Pearl said.

"I'll be sure to keep it in mind." Amethyst said with a wink. "Lemme change into something a lil less grubby and we can head out.” 

* 

Little fuzzy ducklings peeped as they paddled behind their mother, their webbed feet kicking the surface of the water. Pearl rested her arms against the fence, unable to resist cooing at the mere sight of them. "Aren't they just precious? I wish I could take one home..."

Amethyst ripped open a bag of frozen corn, grabbing a few kernels and tossing them in the ducklings' direction. "Yeah, they're cute little guys." she said, watching as they all hurried towards the corn and gobbled it right up. "You know, I've tried to convince Jasper to let me get a bird, but she said fuck no to that." Amethyst continued, rolling her eyes. "Said they smell weird and they're loud. I think she confused them with herself."

"Wow, harsh." Pearl chuckled, reaching into the bag for some corn. She pulled out a clump of kernels that were frozen together and carefully separated them with her fingers before throwing them to the crowd of paddling and quacking ducks.

"I'm joking, she probably showers more than I do." Amethyst snorted. She somewhat regretted saying it, however; not because it was mean spirited, but because it felt like they'd already talked about Jasper enough that morning. "Anyway, one of these days I wanna come out here with a canvas and just paint in front of the duck pond."

"Oh, that's a lovely idea! And maybe one day we could do one of our collaborations here as well!" Pearl flapped her hands with excitement. "Of course, I'm sure you probably want to come out here to paint and have some alone time, too -- so no pressure."

"Pfft, you kidding? We've only done one collaboration; don't even think for a second that I'm already sick of it."

"Technically only half of one, since I didn't quite do my part..." Pearl laughed awkwardly.

"Can't blame you; writing is hard." Amethyst said.

"So is painting!" Pearl said. "Though I guess we have our own talents, so it's probably not as hard for you as it is for me. I could never do abstract art... Whenever I draw or paint, I focus so much on making sure everything is neat, perfectly in place, not a single speck out of the lines, and I need it exactly how I pictured it in my mind. It took me hours to do coloring pages as a kid, and I drove my art teachers insane."

"I drove mine insane too, but for different reasons." Amethyst said. "I'd always draw all over myself with the markers. And once they banned me from using the markers, I started eating the crayons."

Pearl burst into laughter. "You sure sound like you were a handful."

"That's putting it lightly." Amethyst tossed a corn kernel up in the air; a seagull swooped down and snatched it right up. "Whoa, did you see that?"

"I did! You have excellent aim." Pearl remarked.

"Thanks!" Amethyst held the bag of corn up to Pearl. "Here, you wanna try it?"

"Alright, but I'll warn you my aim isn't very accurate..." Pearl blushed and reached in for another handful. She winded her arm up for a moment and then tossed it up into the air; the corn, however, somehow went in the opposite direction and bounced off the head of a stranger walking past, resulting in a distant "what the fuck?".

Pearl immediately turned around and hid her face, and Amethyst wheezed with laughter. "Damn Pearl, you could throw a rock at the ground and miss!" she cackled.

"I told you I had awful aim!" Pearl blushed, but she was unable to hide the smile spreading across her lips.

"Yeah, but I wasn't prepared for it to be that bad!" Amethyst wiped a tear from her eye and sighed once her laughter died down, giving Pearl a rough pat on the back. "You crack me up, Pierogi."

Still blushing, Pearl touched a hand to her cheek. "Ah... did you feel that? I think I felt a drop of rain."

"Nope. You sure it wasn't a splash from the pond?" Amethyst asked.

"I guess it could've been..." Pearl said, turning her attention back towards the ducks. She flinched as she felt another raindrop. "Ah, there it was again! I think it's startling to sprinkle."

Amethyst felt a few drops hit her face as well. "Eh, maybe you're right." she said, wiping them off with her sleeve. "Wanna head over to that bench?" she suggested, gesturing to a old wooden bench sheltered perfectly beneath a tree.

Sprinkling turned to full-on raining, and raining turned to pouring as the two hurried over to safety. "I should have brought my umbrella along..." Pearl sighed as she sat down. "Sorry, I should have planned this a little better."

"Don't worry, I don't mind chilling in the rain for a bit." Amethyst said, sitting down beside Pearl and placing the bag of frozen corn aside.

Pearl placed her hands on her lap, twiddling her thumbs. "Alright, that's good at least. I do enjoy watching the rain every now and then... It's just strange how suddenly it came on like that!" she remarked.

"Yeah, it happens." Amethyst shrugged, leaning back and stretching her arm across the headrest of the bench. Smoothing out her skirt, Pearl found herself scooting a bit closer to Amethyst, rubbing her bare arms. "Though I wish I'd brought my jacket, or worn longer sleeves at the very least..." Pearl commented.

"No wonder you're cold, you're such a skinny little thing." Amethyst sat upright and began to unbutton her red checkered flannel. "Here, wanna borrow this?" she asked.

"Ah, but won't you be cold in just your tank top?" As cold as she was, Pearl knew she'd feel guilty if Amethyst were to sacrifice her own comfort.

"Nah, I was actually getting kinda warm." Amethyst handed the shirt over to Pearl with a smile. "Promise, it's fine."

"Alright... Thank you." Pearl blushed, slipping her arms into the flannel; it was still warm from Amethyst's body heat. "That's much better... thank you."

"No problem, girlie." Amethyst said. She stretched her arms again and placed them right back where they were; as much as Pearl tried to keep her gaze forward, she couldn't help but turn her eyes towards Amethyst every now and then, noticing how her tank top hugged her figure. Pearl also found herself eyeing the dark body hair under her arms, and this observation alone made butterflies flutter in Pearl's stomach. 'Don't be creepy.' she thought, shaking off the thoughts that began to enter her mind.

"Damn, we still got all this corn left." Amethyst said, snapping Pearl out of her little daydream. "And it's almost thawed out. Maybe I can get the ducks to come on over here."

"Good idea!" Pearl said, her cheeks still lightly flushed.

Amethyst gently shook the bag in her hand, her gaze focused on a speckled brown duck straight ahead, huddled underneath a bush with her ducklings. She turned her head towards the bag of corn, but still didn't budge from the comfort of her nest.

"Damn. Guess they're not hungry." Amethyst shrugged, tossing the bag of corn to the side. "Or at least not hungry enough to get a little wet. Which is weird, considering they're always swimming."

A sudden honk frighted both Pearl and Amethyst out of their skin, and they turned to see a huge, fat goose had approached them.

"Aw, hell yeah!" Amethyst pumped her fist, while Pearl was still recovering from the shock of its dramatic entrance. Amethyst threw a handful of corn in the goose's direction, which he happily gobbled up. "Holy shit Pearl, I've never seen a goose this big! He probably gets fed three loaves of bread a day!" She shoved her hand into pocket and retrieved her phone. "I gotta take pictures of this chunky boy!"

"What a cute little guy! Well -- not little, but you know what I mean." Pearl shyly grabbed a handful of corn from the bag. Before she could even toss it onto the ground, however, the goose leaned right up and ate the corn straight from her palm. Pearl's jaw just about dropped to the ground, and she heard the 'click' of the camera on Amethyst's phone.

"This guy's got guts!" Amethyst cackled, and the moment the goose was finished Pearl whipped a mini bottle of hand sanitizer from her skirt pocket and poured an excessive amount onto her palm. "H-he sure is eager!" Pearl stuttered, her skin crawling as she imagined just how many germs that goose must have left behind.

"Here you go big guy; since the other birds are too pussy to come out in the rain, you can have the rest!" Amethyst said, dumping the remaining corn onto the grass. The goose honked happily and wiggled its little tail as it gobbled its snack right up. "Man, I think I'm gonna adopt this little fucker. I'm gonna name him Chumbo."

"Are you planning to take him home?" Pearl teased.

"Man, I wish! But that's probably some form of illegal." Amethyst said, taking one last picture of the goose before putting her phone away. "Besides, he's probably got friends. Maybe even a wife and kids."

"Or a husband and kids!" Pearl added with a wink.

"That's true, Chumbo is definitely a fellow gay." Amethyst grinned.

As Chumbo finished up his frozen corn and waddled off, the rain finally began to slow down. "Would ya look at that! I think our buddy here controls the weather." Amethyst said.

Pearl huffed with amusement. "Yes, of course! He only made it rain because he was grumpy about being hungry." she said, pulling herself to her feet and stretching. She re-adjusted the flannel on her shoulders. "By the way, are you feeling cold yet? This flannel is so comfortable, but I don't want to keep it away from you!"

"Not at all." Amethyst reassured, pulling herself to her feet. "Besides, you look super cute in it."

Pearl blushed and covered her cheeks with her sleeves so Amethyst wouldn't see how flustered she'd gotten. "Oh, t-thank you!" she said, unable to suppress the smile spreading across her face. She took in the scent of the flannel once again, letting out a silent sigh; she could tell Amethyst had put on some sort of perfume, but it was something very mild and natural that Pearl found rather comforting, even though she couldn't make out whatever the exact scent was. "Anyway, let's head home, shall we?" she suggested.

"Good idea." Amethyst shoved her hands into her jean pockets and led the way back to the sidewalk; as they headed towards the gates of the park, Pearl's heart was still pounding in her chest. 'Calm yourself! Don't look so deeply into such a small compliment...' she thought.

As the clouds began to clear up and the sun continued its journey through the sky, Pearl caught a glimpse of a faint rainbow in the distance. The ducks began to retreat from their hiding places, and a small family of them pattered across the sidewalk in front of Pearl and Amethyst. A comfortable silence fell between the two, and for the moment, Pearl was far away from all of her unwanted thoughts. 

[whyarethedolanssoattractive]

Paint You Wings - Ethan Dolan {Part Seven}

A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters tbh so I hope y’all like it as well!

Averly’s POV

"Hey, E, can you bring your arms in just a little more?" I asked and squinted at the boys. Grayson went with us to the studio because he had nothing better to do, so I figured he could help model. He was positioned in Ethan's previous day's pose so I could see how shadows and shapes lined up.

Ethan brought his arms in a teeny tiny bit. I motioned for him to move them a little bit more, but this time he brought them in almost all the way.

"Extend them at, like, a fifty-degree angle."

He extended them absolutely perfectly this time. I started making the charcoal strokes to outline his frame, looking back and forth from the Twins to my canvas.

Grayson kept glancing around the studio and pointing at pieces, then asking questions about them. I loved how much interest they showed in my art. Back home, my interests were very uncommon - almost frowned upon.

He vaguely gestured at the back wall. "What's that one?"

I finished a few strokes, then turned around and looked at what he was pointing to. "It's my abstract interpretation of the song Nightmares by All Time Low." I folded my arms and put my weight on my right side.

Grayson hummed. "I've never heard it." He shook his head.

I gasped quietly and grabbed my phone. "You guys can break your poses real fast. I've got to show you this song."

Ethan and Gray stood up and stretched their backs out while I searched for the song. Grayson looked around at more of my pieces and Ethan stood beside me, leaning against the table.

Once I found the song, I plugged it into the speaker and sat in my swivel chair. Ethan tapped his fingers against his leg to the drum-beat while Grayson's toes caught onto the melody.

In my head, I sang the entire song - guitar riffs, drum-peaks, and all - but on the outside I simply moved my hand to the beat. As the song came to a close, Ethan and Gray stayed silent.

"What did you guys think of it?" I asked and smiled.

Ethan's eyebrows raised. "That was. . . Amazing."

Grayson smiled and nodded. "I loved it. I mean, it was fantastic."

I couldn't help but smile myself. Back home, no one really had my taste in anything. The Twins were a really nice change of pace. "I'm glad you guys liked it. Now, if we're gonna finish this painting anytime soon, we've gotta get back to work."

The boys agreed and went back to their stools, swung their arms around a little bit, then got into their poses. I went to shuffle on Pandora, and the first song to come on was 21 Questions by Waterparks. The music was like my timer. At the second verse, I'd finish Ethan's facial features, at the bridge, I'd shade a little bit, still using charcoal, and at the end of the song, I'd give the boys a break and mix paint colors.

"Do you guys wanna go get something to eat after this?" Grayson asked while I put together a light orange, brown, and white.

I held the pallet up to Ethan's face while he sat on the desk in front of me. "Sure, I'd be down." I shrugged. I dipped my pinky into the paint and tapped it on Ethan's cheek. Unless you looked for it, it was almost invisible. "Sorry, there's a sink in that room over there if you wanna wash it off." I pointed at the bathroom and took my pallet back over to my easel.

Ethan shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Once we started working again, I began adding paint. It was easier for me to converse with them while I was painting than when I was outlining, because painting is more like overrated coloring.

"So, Gray, do you have any special lady friend?" I was worried that if I asked Ethan first, it would look like I was hinting at something, but I wouldn't have been. Entirely.

Gray let out a breathy laughter and shook his head. "With what I do? Most girls either hate me or know exactly what I was doing on August seventeenth, two-thousand-one, at two in the afternoon."

I nodded my head. It was understandable. "What about you, E?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm in the same boat as Grayson."

I couldn't help but think that was a win. If no other good thing was gonna happen that day, at least I knew Ethan was single.

"What about you? Any guys in your life right now?" Ethan spoke up, then cleared his throat a little.

I almost laughed. Since leaving Dallas, hardly any guys have even glanced my direction. Ethan and Grayson were the first guys in a couple of months that I had talked to more than once. "No, not since leaving Dallas."

Grayson slapped Ethan's face out of nowhere. I couldn't help but laugh, but I also thought maybe Grayson was trying to be secretive about telling Ethan to make a move. Obviously, it wasn't the most sly way he could have gone, but I didn't mind at all.

We didn't say too much for the rest of the session. There was scattered conversation during breaks, and a little bit while I painted, but it was mostly just the sound of the music from my phone filling the air. Once I finished up painting Ethan's pose, I wiped my hands on my shirt and flipped the canvas upside down. It only took a few minor adjustments for me to be satisfied with my work for the day.

Ethan and Grayson stood behind me and looked at the piece. Ethan's eyes were wide and Grayson's mouth fell open. If nothing else, the boys helped my confidence a whole lot.

"Averly, this is. . . Oh, my God." Ethan couldn't finish his sentence. He pushed his hand through his hair and laughed. "How do you even. . . I just. . . Wow."

Grayson pointed at it. "Does this count as fanart?" He narrowed his eyes at Ethan.

We all laughed, but I agreed that after I died or if the gallery turned the piece down, Grayson could hang the painting somewhere in their apartment.

Once we piled into the car, Ethan turned around in the driver's seat and rubbed his hands together. "Where are we going?"

Gray shrugged. "I don't really care. I could eat anything you threw at me right now."

Ethan gasped and pointed at his brother. "Dude, I just got the greatest idea for a video! We've gotta go to the grocery store, like, right now." He put the car in drive and went straight to the store. We all ran through the parking lot and inside, even though Ethan was the only one who knew what we were looking for.

"Ethan, what do we need to get?" Grayson asked and grabbed a hand-basket.

He shook his head and took the basket from Grayson, then grabbed a big rolly one. "Not that little bitch of a basket, that's for sure."

I'm not sure why I found that sentence so funny, but I started laughing like I had never heard anything with any comedic value. Of course, the boys found it absolutely hilarious and started laughing themselves. Before long, we were all hunched over, holding onto anything stable we could find so we didn't fall over.

Once we managed to calm ourselves down, Ethan decided we had to go on our mission that he still hadn't told Grayson and I about. We pretty much just followed him around and watched him put the most random items in the cart. He got two watermelons, a bunch of apples, some bananas, two squashes, two zucchinis, a few canned foods, some pre-packaged cupcakes, pretty much everything.

"The last thing we need is a baseball bat." He held his phone with one hand and put the other on his hip. "Siri says there's an Academy a few blocks away, so we'll stop there next."

Grayson and I look at each other and narrow our eyes. "Ethan, what's all this for?" I asked.

He looked at Gray and I alternately. "You guys haven't caught on?" We shook our heads. "We're playing real-life fruit ninja!"

Grayson's eyes got huge as he looked back at the cart. "Oh my God! Come one! Let's get home fast so we can do this!" He started pushing it to the checking counters, but went past them all straight to self-checkout.

We had a good system going on to check everything out: Ethan handed Gray the item, Gray scanned it, I bagged it. It wasn't complex, but it was effective.

After getting a baseball bat at Academy, we went straight to the apartments. I helped the boys move their dining room table and couch, then put a drop-cloth down. Ethan sat up the camera, then moved all the food beside it.

He and Grayson got into view, then they asked me to start recording. I pressed the button, then gave them a thumbs-up.

"What's up guys? We're back!" Grayson shouted and did a weird jump-thingy.

"We're the Dolan Twins, and as you probably read, today we're doing. . ." Ethan counted down on his fingers for him and Grayson to shout it in synch.

"The real-life Fruit Ninja Challenge!"

Grayson scrunched his mouth to the side for a minute, then laughed. "I'm sure this has been done before, but I've never seen a video like this, so shoutout to whoever did this first." He shrugged.

Ethan grabbed the baseball bat and held it up. "We're gonna be using a baseball bat instead of a huge sword, though, because we kind of don't wanna die."

"Back behind the camera, we have a bunch of random foods, all numbered. We're gonna draw a number out of Ethan's hat, and then the guy who didn't draw the number gets to throw the food at us, and we have to try to hit it with the baseball bat." Grayson explained.

Ethan pointed at the camera. "Oh, yeah! Helping us out today, we have Averly back. Say hello, Av!"

I poked my head around the camera. "Hello!"

"Okay, now let's get started."

I moved the camera so it would be a head-on view of whoever had the bat first. We all had to wear goggles so that pieces of food wouldn't get in our eyes and damage them. Ethan came over to me after we each had our glasses on and held his phone up for a selfie. I smiled regular, but Ethan squinted his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

"I like that one, send it to me please." I laughed as I looked over it. He smiled and nodded his head.

We started filming again after that. Grayson had the bat first and Ethan held the hat open. Gray reached his hand in and pulled out a piece of paper. "Six."

I looked at the food and found the item with the right number. It was a can of green beans.

"Are we throwing what's inside the can, or the whole can?" I asked and handed it to Ethan.

He laughed. "The whole can. Grayson's not a little bitch. He can hit the can." He assured me.

I sighed and pushed my hair back. "If you've got faith in him, I guess."

He nodded his head and winked, then pulled his goggles down. "Ready Gray?" He gave us a thumbs up, then gave a few practice swings with the bat. Ethan twisted the can in his hands, then threw it full-force at Grayson. He hit it perfectly, but it hit a family portrait in the kitchen and knocked it off the wall.

Ethan and I gasped and Grayson covered his mouth. "Grayson!" Ethan went and picked up the broken fragments of the protective glass. After he picked it all up and threw it in the trash, he stood up and sighed. "In hindsight, that was a really stupid idea."

Grayson and I laughed in agreement. "Yeah, totally. It sounded cool though. Maybe if we ever get a huge sword-"

Ethan laughed and shook his head. "In what way do you think a sword would be better, Gray?" He asked.

Grayson shrugged. "It would be a hell of a lot cooler."

[sad-af1121]

Unforgettable Part 1/?

Summary: You thought your life would be played out they way you thought. But due to a tragic event, you left everything, including your soulmate, Bucky Barnes.  Pairing: Deadpool x Reader (platonic friendship) Bucky Barnes x Reader (eventually) Word Count:1830 Warnings: Language, angst A/N: Hey :) So this is my first fic series and it’s very slow burned. There’s a lot to the story, and if y’all enjoy it, please let me know and I’d be happy to continue it! This is a very angsty fic, so I’m warning you now. Feedback is welcomed 💜

3 years.

It’s been 3 years since you left your family…

You left your home…

Your friends…

And your lover.

You don’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled, or laughed, or even lived.

Every day was the same. You’d sleep throughout the day, not giving a fuck about the world that seemed to be all sunshine and rainbows. When in truth, the world is pretty fucked up and you’d wondered why people would waste their time having fun, going out, having children, being in love…

They have no idea what goes on in secrecy. What evil organizations are trying to take over the world, an alien invasion, mutant war or the attack of robots who deem that humanity is the reason for everything horrible in the world. And guess what, that robotic, red-eyed son of a bitch was right, however you believed it’s the ones who set out to perfect the human race or did unspeakable things deserve to get rid of from this world and the next. But there were only a few who could work together to save mankind from things that.

Of course, you used to be in a team, but then again that was a time where things were much simpler.

At night, you’d go out and find any suspicious activity. Whether it was saving people lives from criminals or hunting down assholes who have wronged so many and hurt a dozen or so. It didn’t matter. You didn’t care. As long as you showed fear in those who have done or did horrendous acts. They didn’t deserve to be happy, why should they. They’re all scumbags, lacking emotions. They were just… things without a soul. Lifeless creatures walking amongst the living, who believe to have a purpose in the world.

You used to have a purpose. Not anymore.

By dawn, your clothes would be ripped, drenched in blood, sweat, and dirt. You’d look like you stepped out of a horror movie, however, it was reality. You fought with your own inner demons on a daily basis. Oh wait, you’d forget you can sense emotions radiating off of people. You still weren’t used to absorbing all the emotions people felt. You learned to turn off yours a long time ago.

You didn’t need them; you were emotionless.

You weren’t always like this. There was a time where you loved helping people deal with their feelings to try and get them to be happy. Life always fascinated you. You were intrigued with the world and what is was capable of doing, showing and creating. It was a beautiful white canvas that was painted over with mother nature’s intendancies and desires. But you saw the world and life colorless, black and white with red.

You never knew who your real parents were. You were put in an orphanage at the age of 13. You had no memory of your previous years. It was like someone deprived you of that, yet you had no clue if you had maybe suffered through something traumatic or had a medical condition that caused you to have long term memory loss, learning how to do everything again, creating a new identity. A new you.

At the age of 15, you were sent to a foster home. You had a loving family and a brother who would do anything for you. However, knowing the life you set for yourself, you pushed them out your life, no shut them out. They were safe not knowing where you were, if you’re alive or not. You remember the first time they freaked out over your powers. Yeah, more than one. Not only could you feel what others were feeling, but you emitted energy in form of blue fire, wrapping around your hands. It’s also powered my emotions.

Your own actually.

You had to be careful not to get upset or angry or else you’d send a wave of power, damaging a whole lot. You found this out when you were being examined and tested by Bruce Banner. He was fascinated by your molecular makeup and so was Tony. Well, Tony cared about perfecting you in any way possible, building weapons and gadgets to help you aim your powers whenever they got out of control.

You were anything but in control.

Your foster parents had thrown you a birthday party when the lights went out. You got upset and when your foster mother tried calming you down, but you got more upset. You balled your fists and blue fire appeared, lighting up the room in the most exquisite and mesmerizing color. They were afraid to touch you but as you saw the fear and worry they had, the blue orbs disappeared. You leaped into their arms and started crying, trying to understand what was going on. They told you, you brought light into their lives. You smiled a bit at the memory. They didn’t know what to do but to keep your powers a secret so that people didn’t hurt you. You were their daughter and they protected and cared for you as long as they could.

As long as you would.  

You longed to go back and stop the things that brought you here in the first place. Life was slipping through your delicate hands that were now tough and torn from your lack of caring. Sure, you were still beautiful, capturing the eyes of any male or female who found you exquisite and stunning. But you just couldn’t keep up with yourself. People came first rather than you. That’s how its always been. Your fears came true and you were living in one for the rest of your life until you draw your last breath…

Trapped.  

***                          

You groan, hearing your alarm go off and you slam your fist on the device before snapping your eyes open and seeing it in a million pieces. Shit, you cursed at yourself and shifted around the bed, trying to get in a better position to sleep your ass off. However, your roommate started blaring music around the house as a reminder to wake you up. You grabbed an unoccupied pillow and covered it over your head and ears, blocking the horrendous music from ruining your precious sleep. But the sound of the door, slamming open and hitting the wall startled you.

“Ya know Y/n, it’s not healthy to sleep your ass off all day. How else are ya gonna get that ass nice and firm?”

“Get the fuck out Wade!” You threw that same pillow at his head, which he skillfully blocked by ducking his head then turning back to you, plopping himself on the bed. Your roommate is indeed, Deadpool himself. He found you struggling in an alleyway, pressed against a brick wall with some smug bastard’s hands around your throat. He swooped in and saved your life. Well, you used your powers to throw the guy off you and he shot him before he could hit the ground but he was fascinated with the fact that you were a mutant. You two instantly grew fond of each other and he’s been your friend ever since.

But that didn’t change the fact of how annoying this son of a bitch was.

“That really hurt my feelings. I thought we were more than an abusive relationship Y/n? I thought you loved me?” He says with his stupid sarcastic voice that makes you wanna punch the daylights out of him. You growl and sit up, flashing the Freddy Kruger, looking guy a fake smile.

“I’m up asshole. Now go and fuck up someone else’s day, okay?” You rolled your eyes and looked at the other clock you had on your dresser, 8:30 p.m. You signed and hopped out of bed, making your way to your bathroom to get dressed and freshen up.

He casually follows.

“So what’s for today’s agenda, you apathetic little troll? Gonna go guns blazzin’ in another supermarket?” He snickers and bends over, laughing like he saw someone run into a glass window.

“No asshole. I didn’t know that jerk was gonna run in there in the first place. I didn’t wanna lose him, and it’s not like I shot anyone besides that criminal.”

“Y/n… you shot him in the dick.” He cringes. “Even I felt that one. You took his babymaker away. How else is he supposed to cumpie in women?”

Your eyes shot wide open and your nostrils flared at his comment and you threw your switchblade from the bathroom, stabbing Wade in the chest. He looks down at the weapon as if nothing happened and looks back up to you, in total disbelief.

“Baby, what did I say about throwing your toys everywhere? People can get seriously hurt.” He pulls out the blade, groaning before wiping off the blood and handing it back to you.

“We need counseling sweetheart. I-I don’t think I can live like this.” The smug bastard pretends to cry and sound hurt, but you know he’s all act. He’s like a walking bad comedy movie that you wish never existed. You pinch the bridge of your nose showing how frustrated and agitated you were becoming.

“Wade, is there a reason why you’re being more of a complete ass this evening? You’re usually hanging out with that idiot who doesn’t know how to speak when I’m around… What’s his name like rodent or something?” You lean against the door frame with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you mean Weasel?  He tried wearing my suit but hurt himself by tripping on it and banging his head against the coffee table, so he’s home…away from me.” He chuckles and you shake your, walking towards your closet, fetching your boots.

“Ohhh, and some Cap guy called your cell today. I thought I was the only other person who knew your number?” He stands in front of you with his arms crossed. You froze and your anxiety levels rising.

“Wh-when did h-he call?”

“This morning. I told him you were out…” He bends down, taking your hand in his, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s alright. I think you should talk to him, he sounded concerned.” You nod your head and look up at him.

“Yeah, yeah… just give me some time.”

Wade nods and kisses your forehead before getting up and walking out the room. You glance at your cell sitting on the nightstand, across the room. You sit there for a good hour, contemplating if you should contact the only people who knew the Y/n before she died. You were a new person. How would they handle that? What did he want? Did… did something happen?

Panic strikes within you and you leap up, sprinting across the room, grabbing your phone, before dialing Steve’s number. It wasn’t saved on your phone, no. You knew it by heart.

Ring, ring…

Your breathing hitches as you hear the familiar voice that was once warm and inviting to desperate and exhausted.

“Y/n? We need your help.”

Tags: @buckybarnesismypreciousplum, @thatawkwardtinyperson, @the-violent-peach, @amrita31199, @finallybreathee, @jezzula, @atari-writes

(if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. And to those who are tagged, if you don’t want me to tag you, please tell me. Thank you)