#at least draw when I’m at home. doodling on stuff I’m NOT supposed to … well ….

[gummiix]

Does anyone else draw but get stuck on it for a while, either finishing it or getting it just right, and all the joy is sucked out of the drawing? You were so excited about the original idea, but an hour or so later you just feel empty. So now instead, you’re reaching to rekindle the initial joy so you can finish the drawing in justice to the original idea ?

[monochromemedic]

I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency.  When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!”   The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.”  Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside.  The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?”  I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature.  “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley.  He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on  my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening  as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat.  Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black.  “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?”  “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous?  I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke.  “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime?  “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being  much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight.  “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

[shurisneakers]

shut in [8]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, guns, anxiety

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: oh my god oh my god sam stans how are we feeling djkghdfjkhgdf. no thoughts only sam wilson in ep1 of tfatws <333

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Hey, I’m just going to step out for today.” You looked up from the doodle you were making on the corner of the paper. “Catch you later? Just find me if you need anything.”

“You okay?” You automatically sat up straighter, blanket creasing under you. Something was amiss in his body language.

“Yeah, just-” He seemed like he was struggling for words. “-Brooklyn.”

You didn’t get what he was making a reference to until it suddenly dawned on you.

It was the codeword he had suggested right at the beginning of your time in the house. If he was in danger you were sure he’d tell you, at least an inkling of information.

But no, this was for some time alone, further confirmed by the distant look in his eyes.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here if you need.”

He gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, turning around and leaving the room.

You were left staring after him, the drawing you were making of the house layout discarded on the bed. You were working on strategies, vantage points- anything that could help in case something went wrong.

Was it because of the dumb ‘moment’ you had shared two days ago? It didn’t seem like it because he hadn’t brought it up at all and God knows you would never. Was it something else that had happened, something you did?

Stop overthinking. He probably just needs a day to himself.

You had spent almost a month in each other’s company and he had never once complained. He had a tendency to be petty about minor inconveniences, like you trying to watch a movie when his favourite segment on the local news channel was going on. He liked the cooking show they hosted.

He had never made it a point to specifically tell you that he needed some time to himself, much less use the word.  

“Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself, shaking off the nagging feeling you had.

If he had an issue, he would have voiced it. He never shied away from doing that before and you knew he wouldn’t start now.

You forced yourself to think about something else, grabbing the copy of American Gods you had already gone over once before but were subjecting to a reread. Opening the page you had last left it at, you were determined to distract yourself.

Nearly twenty minutes later and exactly zero pages since you had started, you realised that no matter how much you forced yourself to get into it, you went over the same line over and over again, not a single word registering in your head.

“Motherfucker,” you groaned, letting the book fall on your face. You took a long look outside the window, mind drifting.

It was a nice day out. Maybe some sun would help.

You lifted your legs off the bed, taking your book with you to the kitchen. You could get a nice sandwich-- the same as the last three fuckin’ weeks but you digressed-- a glass of water, and you could sit outside for a while. A mini picnic.

You opened a new packet of sliced bread, taking two out before stopping. You pondered over whether you should make him a sandwich for when he returned, knowing that he didn’t eat lunch before he left.

You thought about it for a good minute before rolling your eyes, pulling out two additional slices to make him one as well. It was just a sandwich. It wasn’t a big deal.

Tucking your book under your arm, you carried your lunch and a glass of water to the patio around the back.

The wind rustled the leaves and the sun wasn’t harsh. The low buzz of insects was the only sound that kept you company.

The air was crisp and you instantly felt better than you had all day in the room.

Setting your stuff down on the bench, you sat down, inhaling deeply.

The book suddenly didn’t seem so impossible to complete as you tried once more, slipping into the pages easily. Even after you finished your food, you continued to lounge about there, too engrossed and content to move.

You didn’t notice the afternoon go by, evening coming and going just as swiftly. You swatted at the occasional fly but nothing else bothered you.

It felt like summer break. At least what you thought it would feel like. You never had one, being homeschooled about things from various people in the organization. There wasn’t a singular, long break. You were just forced to adapt.

You didn't know how to deal with the suffocating realisation of knowing there were so many things you missed out on. It grew the longer you spent time away. You just shoved it away, forcing yourself to deal with it another day.

He comes back when the sky is slipping into shades of orange, a backpack on his shoulder. There was a patch of sweat around his neck and his head was hung low as he walked.

“Hey,” you hoped it didn't look like you were waiting for him. It could easily be taken as you camping out there, waiting for your husband to return from a hard day in the fields.

Sam looked up at your greeting. You noted that the bruise on his nose was starting to change colour but the swelling had reduced from how bad it used to be.

“Left you a sandwich on the counter if you’re hungry,” you added. He nodded in acknowledgement, making his way up the stairs and into the house without another word.

You let out an exhale, feeling a little better knowing that he was at least back in one piece. No reason to believe otherwise other than the anxiety you had developed over imagining the worst case scenarios.

You picked up your book again, intending to finish off the last bit before you went back inside for the day.

About half an hour later Sam re-emerged from the house, your attention snapping to him as the door opened and shut. He had changed into a new pair of clothes, looking a little cleaner like he was fresh outta the shower. He had a sandwich in his hand that he had already taken a few bites out of. You wondered if it was the one you left for him.

You didn’t expect him to take a seat next to you on the bench. He didn’t look at you or open his mouth to talk so you followed suit. You continued reading, or at least tried to, as he just sat there, finishing his sandwich without any kind of other interaction.

There was a strange tension he wasn’t addressing. He instead leaned back, arms crossed behind his neck to support his neck and closed his eyes. His foot tapped against the wooden floor and rather than getting annoyed, you found solace in the repetition.

“They recruited me on this day,” Sam said to no one in particular. His eyes were still closed and his feet still tapped against the ground. “Parents died when I was a kid, I got shifted around orphanages and homes a lot. Finally Ransone had someone pick me up.”

You closed your book softly, setting it down beside you. That’s what was bothering him.

Secret adoption is what they called it officially in the business, but around the organization it was just known as the recruitment process. Every record of Sam being alive would have been destroyed to maintain anonymity.

To the world he just… disappeared.

It was a day that clearly brought with it so much pain. You were too young to remember when you joined, and no one had kept track either. You supposed it was for the good.

It was supposed to be a happy day, one filled with new beginnings. Maybe that’s what he would have thought when he got picked. It’s what you did.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not having anything else to offer. You relieved your memories everyday in your head. Having a morbid anniversary of sorts would no doubt drain the life out of you; remembering one singular day that would trigger the rest of the decisions you made in your life.

He didn’t say anything in return. You turned your attention to the sky, finding it easier to look at that than the disturbed look on his face.

“Do you regret this?” he asked out of the blue.

“All of it,” you replied, without skipping a beat.

“Every single one, huh?” Sam’s one eye opened to peer at you.

“It wasn’t up to me to take someone’s life away.” You were just a child. You knew nothing other than what you were taught; so then why was it so fucking hard to forgive your past self for straying into this. “Even once I realised that I couldn’t leave.”

You didn’t form any relationships while you worked with Ransone. Whoever you did allow yourself to care for ended up dead or worse, sometimes as a cruel lesson to not make friends in the organization you worked in because all they served as were distractions and liabilities. Others were plain scum; people who you knew were using you but you didn’t care. The loneliness hurt worse.

“What about you?”

“I’d give anything to go back and change things,” he admitted. He didn’t have a say either. It didn’t make things easier.

“You regret all of ‘em too?”

“Mostly,” he said. “One of them I don’t.”

“That one must have deserved it then,” you deduced. It was the only logical explanation you could think of; the worst of the worst.

“Nah. I let him go.”

It took a while to register what he said.

“What?” You twisted your body to look at him.

“First mission I ever did.”

His hands were shaking lightly, barely holding on to the gun. This wasn’t what he was taught. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

He had already managed to get his way into the house through the back. His partner had taken care of most of it and Sam only had to knock people out. He hadn’t had to kill anyone yet.

But now his partner was injured outside the door. Quick shot to the leg, a punch in the face and he was out cold. Sam was already in the master bedroom by the time it happened. He had no idea about where his partner was, only the crippling fear of being left alone and the nerves from the threat posed to him if this didn’t go right.

He knew he didn’t have enough time. He had only a few minutes to kill him and get out of there before his family returned.

The man itself was sitting at the study table, his back towards Sam. Just pull the trigger and get out of here. It was deadly silent.

“I know you’re here to kill me,” the man said suddenly. Sam nearly jumped but instead tightened the grip on the gun.

“Stay where you are.” He sounded confident.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere.” His chair swiveled around, letting him face Sam. His hair was white with a beard that matched. He was dressed down in his pajamas, a robe covering him. He didn’t look nervous.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re younger than what I expected,” the man observed, not paying heed to what Sam was in. He was a considerable distance away. “You’re not even legal yet, are you? I got kids, I would know.”

Sam didn’t say a word, only lifted his gun up to align with his forehead. “I said, stop talking.”

“I’ve made mistakes. Several, actually,” he mused, “It’s why your boss sent you here. I’ve accepted my fate.”

“Then it should be easy.”

“Oh, it never is,” the man chuckled. “It doesn’t get lighter. You learn to ignore it but it’ll weigh on you for the rest of your life.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. It would get easier. It had to.

“I doubt that’s what you heard, however,” he continued. “Ransone’s a bit… unstable. It’s in his blood, but you- you don’t look like you could live with it.”

Ransone’s history was well known enough that rival gang leaders knew it too, apparently. The man would have been delighted at his infamous reputation.

Just shoot him. Just shoot him and end this.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, taking a sip from the tumbler he had in his hand. “You’re going to be the last person I talk to. It’d be nice to have a name.”

“Sam,” he whispered, inwardly cursing himself.

“Sam. That’s a strong name,” the man said, clicking the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Sam?”

It wasn’t.

“I don’t have a choice.” He hated how defeated he sounded. It was a weakness.

“They want you to believe that. It takes away your freedom. I would know, I’ve used it.” The man smiled, setting down his glass. “I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

“Stop talking, man.” Sam pulled the safety off.

“Once you go down this way, there’s no way you can escape. Someone will always have to die; either him or you.”

“That’s not true.” He could leave at any time. He just needed-

“You’ll see for yourself.” The man leaned back on his chair, resigned. “But for now, go ahead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He simply closed his eyes and sat back.

You waited for Sam to continue.

“Couldn’t do it,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “Son of a bitch got in my head and I knew what he was doing too. Told him to get the fuck out before my partner shot him in the face.”

“Does Ransone know?” You were still reeling from the incident he recounted. You didn't know what else to say.

“Holds it over me every damn day,” he scoffed. “Some fucked up way of saying that I owe him one.”

To be frank, you were surprised Sam was still alive to tell you. Everyone knew that Ransone forgiven the first mistake someone made, but this was huge. If it were anyone else, he would have had someone try out a hundred different ways to push Sam to the brink of death and back; having him begging for the release that death would bring.

“He hasn’t ever cashed in that favour?”

“He did. Had me take out the leader of the Ten Rings after that.”

“So then why did you still continue?”

“I did something extremely dangerous a couple of years ago that he found out about recently. Used that to get me to come for this mission.”

He didn’t elaborate what he meant and you didn’t ask him to. You supposed it was a story for another day. This was heavy enough.

“He wants to get rid of me as much as I want to get away from him, trust me. We’re the weird, toxic relationship those self-help Instagram pages warned you about.” Trust Sam to make a dumb joke during a conversation like this. “Probably the only time someone from the gang let their target go and not died.”

That wasn’t as true as he thought he was but you didn’t want to seem like you were one-upping him. You didn’t want him to think you were making this about you.

“You remember the big break you were talking about?” you tread carefully, gauging his reaction before you continued. “The one that pushed me up the ranks or whatever.”

He gave a small hum of acknowledgement, bringing his hands from behind his head to fold across his chest.

“Similar story, ‘cept Ransone doesn’t know.”

“What?” His eyes shot open. “How?”

“I was so tired of him treating me like a child. Everyone around who joined after me was out there doinghardcore missions and I was stuck with petty shit.” You didn’t know any better. You wished you had. “So he told me if I made it through this one, he’d send me on more.”

This wasn’t your first mission. You had handled hits before, mostly in the shadows, from a distance.

This was different. It was broad daylight, waiting behind a wall near the gated entrance of the house for a car to pull up.

A challenge, Ransone had posed, with strict instructions to do it in broad daylight. If you got out of this undetected, he’d consider sending you on more sophisticated missions.

“Highly stealthy. They’re dangerous,” you were warned. “You won’t know what hit you if you’re caught off your game.”

The low rumble of the car outside the gate alerted you of your target’s arrival. The gates weren’t going to open, the guards were dead.

The car stopped, waiting for the path to open up. When it didn’t the car’s engine slowed to a stop. The man in the driver’s seat got out to open the gate, giving you a clear shot.

You took a deep breath, clenching your eyes shut for a second before taking aim.

The body hit the gravel and you quickly made your way to the car. You could see the woman in the backseat gaping at where the man was standing a few seconds ago. She was struggling against the door, trying to escape.

She finally succeeded, the door opening suddenly as she stumbled over herself trying to get out.

“Stay there,” you commanded. She slowly looked up at you, face white as a sheet.

“Please,” she croaked. “Don’t hurt us.”

“I’m sorry.” You truly were.

Her face changed, dropping the facade immediately. She just looked on in acceptance, not making an effort to move. Manipulative. She almost had you convinced

You held the gun over her, pulling the trigger. A single shot. Her body slumped over.

You stared at her in silence, expressionless. You let out an exhale, tucking the gun back into the waist of your pants, stepping over her body to leave.

A small, staggering breath made you stop in your tracks. It was so slight you barely heard it. You took a step back, trying to trace where it came from.

You ducked your head to peer into the car, your heart stopping. Your hand instinctively reached for your weapon.

“What the-” you muttered, facing a boy who looked only a few years younger than you. He was staring straight ahead, muscles in his jaw tight.

The son wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be abroad, according to the case file. Unless there were two of them you didn’t know about, this boy wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Listen,” you began, but he didn’t look at you. Just stared straight ahead, body trembling. He was scared. He didn’t show it.

“Show no mercy,” Ransone’s voice rang in your head.

“He’s a child,” you murmured to yourself. Your gun felt heavy in your hand.

Show no mercy.

You could only imagine what would be in store for you if you returned to Ransone with some tale of sympathy. This boy was only a few years younger than you. He didn’t have anything to do with this.

Show no mercy.

“Kid,” you called out. He slowly turned his head. “Go on. Get out of here.”

“What?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Leave. You can’t be seen if someone comes back,” you urged. “I won’t be able to help you.”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

When he didn’t shift, you slammed the hood of the car, scaring him enough to pull at the door and stagger out of the car.

You turned your back to him, not waiting to see where he was going. The more deniability you had, the better.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“And Ransone doesn’t know.”

“There’s no record of this kid. He thinks he was at boarding school.” You shrugged. “Wasn’t going to correct him either.”

“If he did find out-” Sam trailed off.

“I’d be dead,” you concluded. “Being his favourite wouldn’t matter.”

“Why was it such a big deal, this mission?”

“She was a part of a major gang that Ransone was losing to.”

Sam just nodded knowingly, looking ahead again. You knew he’d done missions like this as well. Things like this were common so it didn’t need further elaboration.

“This job sucks,” he let out.

You gave a short laugh. That was an understatement.

“I want out. Can’t keep doin’ this for much longer,” he continued, however, to your surprise. “Don’t wanna keep doin’ this.”

You bit your lip, eyebrows knitted in concern. “You will.”

“How?” You hadn’t seen him like this before, this hint of desperation in his tone that left as quickly as it came. “I’ve tried, everything just comes up short.”

“I’ll help you.” You wanted to, God you did.

“You gonna kill him for me?” He looked at you. “‘Cause that’s really the only way out of this.”

If you were pushed to the limit, if he was on his knees in front of you and there was a gun in your hand pointed at him; would you be able to pull the trigger? Would you be able to kill the only constant you’d had for more than half your life?

“I can’t,” you muttered, dejection making its way into your thoughts.

“I know,” Sam said softly, “I wouldn’t ask you to either.”

You took a moment to observe him. The sun did him good. There was a soft glow to his skin, the colours of the sunset dancing in his dark eyes. Laugh lines were becoming more prominent around them, only adding to its charm.

He was a good man. He deserved better.

“I’ll find a way,” you sounded determined, “I promise.”

You didn’t say that very often. Your word didn’t mean a lot to people in the business, but it seemed to, to him.

“Thank you.” He appeared taken aback but didn’t show it in his words.

You simply sent him a smile, a reassurance. You knew what you had to do, just weren’t sure how.

He was right. There wasn’t a way out of it other than the one he proposed, but it wasn’t an option. You had to find another.

You would. You’d figure it out.

“It’s Cinnamon, by the way,” he said without any context.

You looked at him in question.

“My embarrassing nickname.” This was not where you saw the conversation heading but you were delighted all of a sudden. “My ma used to call me that all the damn time. Mortifying.”

“Cinnamon and Buttercup.” You didn’t bother hiding the grin that spread across your face. “World’s best assassins.”

“If that name ever leaves this conversation, I’ll know who to murder.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” you said playfully, nudging his shoulder.

He shrugged, face relaxed. “T’was worth a shot.”

An unintentional pun you snickered at. You didn’t tease him any further, just filed the name away as a memory. Maybe you’d use it later.

“Have you ever let anyone go after that?” You didn’t want to keep coming back to this conversation but you liked having someone to relate to.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Didn’t want to test my luck.”

“Me too.” One had been enough. You lived in fear for so long, waiting for someone to pull the plug and tell him what you’d done. That fear only grew everyday, finding a place at the deepest corner of your mind to fester.

“It’s what I meant when I said Serpentine had a motive to want me dead,” Sam said, piquing your interest once more.

“Huh?”

“The man I was supposed to kill- he was their old head. He disappeared after that and no one heard from him but it pissed off everyone, right from Ransone to their stupid gang’s janitor,” he explained, your eyes going wide with every word. “So the irony is, if we’re right, I might have led us into this situation. They’re looking for revenge.”

“Holy shit,” you uttered under your breath.

“I just assumed he died of old age if someone didn’t get to him first. He looked like he was one birthday away from the grave anyway.”

“How are you still alive, Sam?” you asked in wonder.

“I’d do it again.” He laughed, a deep one from his stomach.

He was reckless, clearly. Happily and unashamedly so. And if you continued to hang out with him after this was over, he’d probably get you killed in some stunt or two.

But maybe you’d deal with that if the time came. 

He leaned back again, this time no creases on his forehead from stress. He looked at peace.

You sat together in silence. You occasionally stole glances at him as the sun set in front of you, a small smile on your face.

You leaned your head on his shoulder tentatively. You could feel him tilt his head to look at you and you prepared to have him ask you to move.

It never came. Instead, he scooted closer to you, letting you rest against him more comfortably. Your heart skipped a beat; barely but surely. 

A realisation quickly hit you, suddenly before consuming you. Your stomach sank.  

“Fuck.”

Next part

[ofhoneyandrosepetals]

On the Edge of a Ramp

Pairing: Sean x Fem! reader

Description: Sean is beaten on the skatepark by this new girl in town and, when he sees himself paired up with her for a school paper, they quickly grow to each other between sharp responses and pettiness.

Warning: swearings.

Word count: 3,426

A/N: This is such a vanilla enemies to lovers 😅🙈 I just can’t see Sean as someone who would hold a grudge against someone so intensely or even for so long. Have fun!

Requested by anonymous: can you make a sean diaz x reader enemies to lovers?

It wasn’t that Sean hated Y/N, or even disliked her. He just… wasn’t amused by her. Of course he had a reason for it, even if it wasn’t the most justified one: she was his rival at the skatepark. He always thought it was a childish, foolish reason to not like her, but it was what it was, and that fact that he didn’t want to feel that way wasn’t strong enough.

Lyla would always, but always bug him about it, to a whole new level that he thought it wasn’t possible for Lyla to be more annoying than his little brother Daniel.

The first day that she went to the skatepark, Lyla went back home with him.

“How was the skatepark?” Asked both Daniel and Sean’s father, Esteban. Unfortunately, Sean wasn’t fast enough on the answer.

“Sean’s got a new girlfriend,” Lyla teased as she rushed Daniel’s hair.

“What?!” Daniel screamed, but Esteban had only a small smile on his face.

“You?” He asked. “A new girlfriend?” If Sean doesn’t knew his father he’d say the old man was sounding a little ironic.

“No way this butthead got a girlfriend!” Daniel exclaimed.

“Daniel. Language,” it was all Esteban said to the little Diaz, who mumbled an excuse that he didn’t really mean.

“Lyla’s just messing around, this girl actually sucks,” Sean threw his backpack and skateboard on the corner and went to sit heavily on the couch, sighing. He missed the look that both Lyla and Esteban exchanged.

“Care to join us for dinner, Lyla?” Esteban asked.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Tonight is pizza night,” Sean said from the couch.

“Then I’ll stay,” the girl stated, sitting next to Sean. “How’s your knee?” She asked in a low tone.

“It’s fine, it was just a scratch. It didn’t even bleed.”

“That girl kicked the hell out of your butt.”

“Thanks for the reminder, it wasn’t like I already forgot that.”

“So…”

“So what?” Sean never got angry at Lyla before, but she was testing his nerves.

“Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“I planned on just sit on the couch and eat some pizza.”

“No payback?”

“No payback.”

But of course this wasn’t true. Sean did want some payback, he just had no idea of what it could be. 

*

Apparently, everyone at school knew about what happened the previous day at the skatepark. “How come is everyone gossiping about it? It’s not even a big deal,” Sean complained between teeth.

“Well, it wasn’t a big deal to you,” Lyla said, air quoting. “But to everyone, this sounds like the new girl, who no one knows a thing about, just kicked your ass.”

Sean clicked his tongue in annoyance. “High school sucks, dude.”

“Do you know what really sucks?” Lyla asked. She had that glimmer in her eyes that Sean knew pretty well, but he’d always fall for the bait.

“What?”

“Having a whining bestie. See ya!” Lyla took off as the ringbell shouted.

“Saved by the bell…” Sean muttered to himself as he opened his locker and got his book for the right class.

*

Sean sneaked away at the end of school so he wouldn’t bump into Lyla or any of his peers - it was a difficult task, to sneak away from Lyla, but Sean assumed that she was too busy being all over the new girl, just like everyone else was.

He knew Lyla thought she was cool, even if she insisted on saying the opposite: “I think you’re cooler.” Yeah, right, the boy thought to himself.

Sean intended on practicing in the garage, since his father wasn’t working on anything in there and Daniel was going to his friend’s house to play some new game. He wasn’t going to give up just because some new girl basically shamed him at the park, and he still wasn’t sure what to do to give her a comeback, but one thing he was certain: he had to get better with his board.

He was easily defeated on what they bet, and sure enough that girl would defeat anyone from his school, but a boy could hope, right?

*

One week had passed smoothly by. Sean kept training away from curious eyes; Lyla and the rest of the school seemed to forget about his loss - except Daniel, who kept bugging him about who the girl was -, and the school was still all over the new girl. Sean didn’t bother to remember her name, until the unexpected happened.

“Diaz, you’ll pair up with the new student, Y/L/N.”

Sean thought that being hit by his worst nightmare would make him scream but, instead, he only melted on his chair, slowly sliding down and hitting his forehead on his desk, completely defeated like a pancake that went wrong.

“C’mon, don’t make a scene out of it,” he heard a girl say in front of him. Once he straightened himself, he saw it was Y/N. He would make Lyla pay for not making this class with him. “The teacher’s taking us to the library,” she said, looking as she expected him to get up as it was some sort of command.

As a defiance, Sean looked her straight in the eyes and counted until sixty. Just to be petty. He noticed she didn’t look away.

“Okay. Let’s go,” he said after a full minute, grabbing his backpack and his book. Sean was never one for being challenging - he was actually pretty chill -, so this act of him took all of his courage and now he felt trembling on his legs. He was so sure that, if he continued to act like that, she’d probably ended up hating him.

Good, he found himself thinking. I don’t need her to like me.

“I like the end tables,” she said after you two entered the library.

“Whatever,” Sean answered, even though he sat at the table that she picked. What a great way to show some dominance, Diaz, he complained to himself, opening his book on what he thought was the right page and, fist on his cheek, started reading.

Or at least he tried to.

Sean couldn’t focus on the fact that he was paired up with her in this school paper, of all people. He couldn’t stop wondering if people were going to gossip all over again.

“I wanted to say that your book is upside down, it’d be funnier, but it’s only on the wrong page. Actually, on the wrong topic,” she said, sounding like a know it all. Sean felt his cheeks heating up and looked for the right topic, peeking at her book. After a few tries, he found it.

“On the wrong topic,” he mocked her and her coast accent.

“I can hear you, you know?”

“I was hoping so.”

“You really do sound like a loser.”

And that was it for Sean. He closed his book, shutting it with more strength than necessary, took his things and stormed out of the library. “Who does she think she is?” He complained out loud in the empty corridors. As he went to his locker, he thanked the whole universe that he brought his skateboard to school today. It was easy to sneak out, even though it wasn’t his last class of the day.

Sean let his skateboard guide him, but of course he ended up being in nowhere less than the skatepark. He trained and trained; sliding, carving, flipping, anything easy that he could improve to be faster, more agile.

But it wasn’t enough, not until he knew the same tricks as Y/N did, or even more, and way better.

But why was he dwelling on such things? Just because he lost a stupid bet? To an unknown person? Of course that now she wasn’t that unknown anymore, but still, it shouldn’t matter. It would matter and really hurt his ego if she was a better artist than him, which would make him be legitimately disappointed with himself.

It actually bugged him a little that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“I knew you’d be here,” Lyla said behind him. “But I thought you’d be, you know, doodling and stuff,” she threw her arm around his shoulder, squeezing it. “Let it go, man. No one even remembers what happened anymore.”

Sean pouted, looking sideways.

“No pouting at your best friend - only drawing me! C’mon, draw me like one of your french girls.”

Lyla took her own skateboard and, flipping, started skating around the park. Sean sat on his board and started doodling Lyla as she tried to noseslide. More people filled the park, but Sean kept his eyes on his best friend, not losing sight of her. He doodled Lyla on various positions now - be sliding, flipping or failing to grind. He even got the luck to draw her falling.

“Not your best work, Diaz!” She shouted as she realized what he was drawing.

Spending time with Lyla did really lift up his mood, and he hugged her as they parted ways.

Opening the front door of his house, Sean already knew what was coming his way. His father wasn’t looking so amicable.

“You got anything to say, mijo?” Esteban had his arms crossed in front of his chest and a serious look on his face.

Sean only sighed. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left school, but I was just…”

“What? What were you just that made you leave school when you shouldn’t?”

“I was angry, okay?” Sean dropped his backpack and skateboard, crossing his arms too. “Y/N just pissed the shit out of me…”

“Language, boy.”

“And I can’t stand her, okay? She said that I sound like a loser, which I probably do, but who is she to say these things? It fucking sucks that I have to do this damn paper with her…”

“Tone it down, Sean,” his father warned.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I just don’t like her. I don’t want to do this paper with her. She thinks she’s so… much better than me, I don’t know, just because she won the bet at the park.”

“Weren’t those things supposed to be fun? Bet at the skatepark, do some tricks with that thing that you carry around,” Esteban gestured to the skateboard. “It’s all part of the fun, mijo. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“I’m not a sore loser. It was shameful to lose for a girl that no one knew, and next thing I knew she’s this new student, and everyone kept talking about it more. And she was standing there, receiving all the glory for just a stupid bet. Like if she was the queen of the world.”

Esteban patted Sean on the back and hugged his son.

“You know what you’re going to do? You’re gonna forget all about that, finish this paper with this girl, and move on. The Diaz don’t hold a grudge against anyone. Just sound like you don’t care and you’ll be fine, mijo.”

“I’ll try,” Sean sighed. “She’s terrible, y’know?”

“You already told me, I know,” Esteban smiled, a smile that Sean still couldn’t quite tell what it meant. “Go to your room and do your homework. And do not, in any circumstances, repeat what happened today.”

*

Sean didn’t want to speak with Y/N, but someone had to take the first step so they could finish their paper.

But of course that, as always, he got behind of himself and Y/N was the one to take the first step.

“What you think of trying to finish the paper after school? At the library?” She was standing in front of his locker. Was she waiting there for him? And if so, for how long?

“Excuse me,” he only said, in front of her.

“The paper, Diaz. Did you already forget?”

“I meant the locker, you’re blocking the way,” Sean tried to sound neutral, but he was a bit sharp.

“Oh.”

He noticed that she sounded ashamed, but she stepped aside. He opened his locker, grabbed his books and, without looking at her, he said: “Sure, library after class. See ya there,” and left.

Once again Sean felt trembling on his legs, like if that attitude consumed everything that made him who he was and contradicted it. He had to sound like he didn’t care, but was that the right attitude? How could he be chill and careless at the same time? You got this, Diaz, he kept thinking to himself. Soon enough she won’t be able to get you on your nerves anymore.

*

Y/N was sitting in front of him, and he dared to say that she simply looked… weird. Like if she was holding a fart that she knew she couldn’t release, like Daniel did in the dinner table.

“Are you okay?” Sean asked, and immediately regretted. He didn’t care if she was okay or not, or at least he wanted to look like he didn’t care.

“I’m fine,” she answered way too quickly.

Sean wanted to say that she looked all things but fine. Instead, he found himself doing the unpredictable.

“Your book’s on the wrong topic,” he said as he looked down at his own book, just peeking at her at the top of his eyelids.

He saw her expression turning alarmed as she looked down at her book, then she looked confused, brows furrowing.

“Gotcha,” Sean said with a smirk before she could say or protest anything.

“Touché,” she said, looking rather shy, which was an unexpected trait for her. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“We’re even?”

Sean didn’t respond, not because he wanted to be petty - again -, but only because he didn’t know the answer. Were they even? He did want to forget all of that stupid rivalry, but he didn’t feel like they’d turn out to be good friends. She was too sassy, too loud, too…

Sean looked away as a stripe of sunlight came through the window, enlightening a lock of her hair.

“I guess this is a no.”

Was the hint of disappointment that crossed her words? Sean couldn’t say. Minutes have passed in silence before any of them said anything.

“Have you done your part?” Sean asked in a careful tone.

“Not yet,” she murmured. 

“Lemme know when you finish,” Sean said and pulled his sketchbook from his backpack.

He started doodling carelessly, being wrapped up in his own bubble when he started working on his sketchbook. Everything around him turned off - he couldn’t hear what people spoke, only a sound here and there, if he wanted to really pay some attention. It was just him and his journal, his go-to pal.

“You’re really good at this.”

The sudden voice startled Sean, making his hand go all the way through the page, making an ugly scribble. “Damnit,” he cursed, to no one in particular.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Y/N said. “You’re gonna hate me more now, won’t you?”

“What?” Sean blinked, processing her words. “Hate you? I don’t hate you,” he tried to erase the scribble without erasing much of the drawing itself.

“I thought you did, because, you know… I was such a show off at the park the other day, and because of what I said yesterday. Now I fucked up your drawing. I just don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”

“You really don’t,” Sean said, alien to his surroundings and to Y/N herself. It came to him that he probably hurt her with his comment, and even though she did hurt him yesterday, he didn’t want to hurt her back. His father wouldn’t approve of this. “But it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing…” he stuttered on his own words.

“I see what you’re doing, there’s no need. Thanks anyway.”

“It just sucks, you know?” Sean spat, not caring for the fact that he told himself he would never bring that subject up. “Being picked up at school because of some random person at the skatepark. And then you were here, being all show off, and people started making fun, just because I lost at something that I know I’m not really good at. I’m not serious about skateboarding. I just wanna hangout with my friends and have some fun. You also didn’t help at all to keep the situation light.”

Sean’s face was buried in his sketchbook as he brushed up some lines. He realized the wolf in his drawing wore the same shorts that Y/N did when she was skating. He erased them and drew something new.

“I’m sorry,” he heard her saying. “I wanted to say that the whole day, but it’s not an easy thing for me.”

“Apologizing?”

She only nodded.

“Okay, but under only one condition,” Sean said, still not looking at her.

“Whatever you want,” she seemed eager. Sean bit his lips before saying.

“You gotta teach me that trick. That’s really awesome, and I can’t pull it off by myself.”

She smiled, and Sean would never, in a thousand years, imagine that such a smile would get him strucked. The sunlight in her hair was long gone, but she still looked bright.

“Diaz, you have the honor to be my first pupil,” she said, all smiles and brightness. Something in his stomach twisted.

*

It was the middle of the week, so the skatepark wasn’t packed with people going back and forth on their boards, which was a good thing for Sean, he supposed - he’d hate it if any of his peers saw him learning anything like that in public.

Y/N was trying to teach him an underflip, but Sean wasn’t concentrating enough.

She’s so close, he kept thinking.

“Dude, are you listening to me?” She complained. Sean only nodded. “Okay, then at least get your feet right. Here,” she pointed with her right foot. Sean stepped there. “And here,” he also stepped there. “Remember to keep your feet out of the way so your board has room to flip. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Try again.”

Sean tried, once again, unsuccessfully. “I keep landing primo, this sucks,” he complained.

“It’s fine, I landed a lot like that in the beginning. It’s all part of the process.”

“I don’t think I’ll get it today.”

“Keep your hopes up, Diaz.”

“You think I’m kicking the board up from below right?”

“You’re doing everything right, you just need to practice more, especially your landing. You can practice landing with one foot, if that’s the problem.”

“I think I rather take a break.”

“Or that works too.”

The two of them sat on the edge of the ramp. Sean noticed that her pinkie was far too close to his own - just a few millimeters and they’d be touching. He took a deep breath and looked away.

“Washington has this weird air, but I like it here.”

“How was California?”

“Sunny and warm,” she smiled at him, and Sean felt again that same pinch. “Hey, I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“I already forgave you, cut it out.”

“I mean it,” then she grabbed his hand, and the world stopped, and all Sean could see was Y/N.

“You’re forgiven, you know that,” his voice didn’t sound his own voice at all. His voice was hoarse.

She was gazing at him, and if eyes could burn, Sean would’ve already turned into a pile of ashes. He decided it was okay for him to get closer to her, his knee touching hers. The tip of her index finger drew circles on his palm.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” She asked, looking down at her own feet.

It was supposed to be weird, Sean thought, but it wasn’t, not really. He only nodded negatively and mumbled a no. Y/N intertwined her fingers with his and they sat together like this on the edge of the ramp, looking down at all the people skating, jumping and sliding around.

“This is kinda unpredicted.”

“All the unpredicted things have happened the moment you showed up,” Sean said, sounding confident.

“Is it now?” She giggled, and the sound of her giggles made Sean want to look at her, the sun resting on her face, and he wondered if it was warm, or how soft her skin would be.

Sean kept taking in all of her facial features until she broke the moment. “Don’t ruin it, Diaz.”

“Of course not,” he said, cupping her chin with his thumb and index finger, pulling her face up so she could look at him. “I won’t ruin it unless you tell me to.”

[alice-angel12x]

💔Gem!Deku x Gem!Reader

"You think this is the place?" Asked a rouge.

"Yep, that's what our sources tell us," Said another.

"You got the cages and rope ready," The leader asked.

"Yeah of course, but why did we bring this dead weight," A low Lackie asked kicking a tarp-covered cage.

"Because this dead weight is our bait. Those rocks have a soft spot for their own kind, especially the weaker and fragile ones," The leader said as he ripped the tarp away.

Revealing a bound Phosphophyllite gem with messy dark green hair and green eyes. His wrists and ankles were tied together, and a piece of cloth was wrapped around his mouth.

"You know the drill, right Deku," The leader smiled cruelly.

"MMhhm! NNmph!" Deku tried to scream.

The Trappers grabbed the helpless gem as they descended into the caves.

The Kessho people, or gem people many humans call them. Being made entirely of crystals of all kinds, they are highly sought after by humans. Because their entire body was made of pure and untainted crystals, many hunters seek these beauties. For things from jewelry to weapons, or just want a shiny servent, many reasons.

So the gems hide in many places of the world, from small islands to deep underground tunnels and caves. Anywhere out of human reach.

-------

Please. I don't want any part of this. Please let me go! I tried to cry out but I couldn't with the gag in the way. The memories of previous raids started resurfacing. They would use gems like me to lure others out of hiding, for what reason they help me varies. Some communities of gem had an elitist-like community, or even ones made up of one kind of gems. But when they got close they were ambushed and locked away in cages. They would after be turned into weapons and jewelry.

"Here, place him here," The leader Rato said.

They placed me down near a ledge and ripped away from my gag. Looking over I could see two gems walking by down below. I tried to stay as quiet and still as I could so they wouldn't notice me.

"Deku's too quiet," Rato growled.

He stomped on my hand shattering it. I could hold back the pain as I cried out, it echoed throughout the cave. Looking down at the gems below they quickly spotted me and ran away. Good at least they won't get caught.

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

Suddenly there was a rustle and a-

"SMASH!!" shouted a large gem.

The gem delivered a powerful punch knocking three of the rouges away. Deku stared in awe at the scene and the powerful gem with a brave smile on his face, but the wind was so strong that Deku was blown off the edge. Time seemed to slow as he watches the edge grow farther and farther away. Deku shut his eyes closed waiting for his painful end When an f/c blurr caught him.

"Are you alright?" Asked a kind voice.

Deku looked up to his hero to be meet E/c eyes with their hair the same color to match. His eyes sparkled as his hero's hair Glimmered beautifully in the moonlight. He looked down to see he was being held bridle style.

"Y-yes," Deku stuttered bashfully.

"Don't worry your safe now, as long as your under All Mights protection you have nothing to fear," The (gem type) smiled.

But Deku couldn't help but just stare at this new gem as an infatuation grew. His captures were long dealt with as the new group of gems escorted him back to their hidden home.

"u-um who are you?" Deku asked the mysterious G/t(gem type).

"Well my friends like to call me Y/n," they smiled as they untied Deku.

"I-I'm Deku," He said with a beet-red face.

"Pleasure to meet you Deku," Y/n greeted as they handed him over to other gems.

"Ochaco, Momo this is Deku. Please get him property clothed and make sure he feels welcomed," All Might a Yellow diamond smiled. (No not that one)

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

From that day on I have lived with these Gems for the past 300 years, and my feelings for Y/n only grew. They were so brave and confident, was also one of the greatest fighters in the village. One of the few gems trained under All Might. Sadly cause I only have a toughness scale of 3, so I wasn't suited for combat.

Though All Might noticed that I was very observant and good with notes, so he assigned me to the encyclopedia. My job is to take notes of the enemies we encounter and record events. Then there were some books about stuff I made up, humans would call them fantasies or stories. Though I didn't mind this being my job cause Y/n would come by and read my works. I couldn't help but feel lighter than air and embarrassed at the same time as they were reading my work.

Y/n would always come in after her patrol, come in and read, or more often just sit down and talk to me. Though most of the time it was just him listening to whatever good memories of the human world, or my memories of my original home.

I tried to keep my feeling to myself the best I could by just doodling in my private book, just for my eyes only, but I guess I wasn't secret enough.

"Wow dude, you really have a thing for Y/n," said a voice.

I gasped as I jumped back to see it was Denki, who quickly snatched my drawing book and speed through my embarrassing drawings.

"Wow, you've got it bad. All these drawings are of Y/n and you being lovey-dovey," He said out loud.

Attracting the attention of Iida the Topaz and Ochaco the pink diamond ( No not that one you SU fans). They quickly came over and looked through my book.

"Wow, looks like Touya has a love rival," Ochaco gasped.

Touya the padparadscha gem, was also one of the top fighters for the village and is always Y/n's patrol partner, who was also pinning after them too. There would be times he would just randomly jump into our conversation and steal their attention. But I couldn't hear what they were saying as I covered my ears in embarrassment.

"Oh no, Y/n forgot their other sword," Momo gasped.

"I'll take it to them!" I offered as I quickly grabbed the weapon and ran out of the library.

"Does he know  where Y/n and Touya are?" Momo asked.

"It even notes was Y/n patrols today," Denki said flipping through the pages not paying attention.

----------

Y/n and Touya stood guard at one of the cave entrances, as the warm sunlight funneled through. Y/n smiled as she felt the warm light on her powered covered surface.

"Hey Y/n, do you ever wonder what could be on the surface?" Touya asked.

"Ever since Deku came and told me stories of the surface, it only fueled my imagination," Y/n turned to her trusted partner.

"One day we'll be the ones on top, and I'll take you all over the surface. Just you and me," Touya said with confidence.

" That's an awfully big promise Touya," Y/n said as they sat next to him.

"I mean we can always just wait till the humans go extinct," Touya suggested.

"Haha, all right. I'll hold you to that promise," Y/n laughed as they gently held Touya's hand.

Deku watched from the side of a tunnel wall, as he sighed sadly and turned back into the tunnel. He wandered the cave tunnels as he hugged Y/n's sword close to him. As he turned the corner he bumped into something, something large.

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

I felt lighter than air as I stared into Y/n's e/c eyes.

"AAAAHHHH!" Someone screamed.

"How did the enemy pass us?" Y/n gasped.

"No, maybe the other entrances were compromised," I suggested.

"You go check the next entrance over and see if anything is wrong, I'll go check up the tunnels," Y/n said as she ran down into the dark caves.

With a sigh, I ran to the next entrance that leads to the forests, which was supposed to be guarded by Katsuki and Shoto. Turning the corner he saw two humans picking up pieces of Shoto and Bakugou and stuffing them into potato sacks. Touya quickly drew his sword and cut down the intruders.

Touya to worried about his partner quickly stuffed the rest of Shoto and Bakugou into the bag, not caring he is mixing their pieces, and quickly ran to the village.

---------

"Looks like we caught a phosphophyllite, hold that rock tight Nomu," A light blue hair human smile.

The giant mutant humanoid figure Nomu nodded silently as it the poor gem in its giant hands. Deku's arms were broken off as he was restrained by Nomu's brute strength.

"What fine craftsmen ship, able to slice through rock," Said a tall human with dark back- purple hair.

"LET ME GO!" Deku screamed as he tried to break free from the Nomu.

"Nomu shut the pebble up before he alerts the others," The man growled.

"HEY!" Y/n shouted.

"Another one," The other human grumbled.

"Y/n," Deku smiled in relief.

"Let him go," Y/n said lowly.

"Nomu get it," Tomura pointed at the G/t.

Y/n ran towards the creature and sliced its head clean off, with the sharp edge of her arm. Deku stared with worried and sad eyes as he looked over their damaged form. The left section around her face was broken off, the elbow broke off their left arm, they were missing their right hand, and her right leg was horribly cracked, and it looked like it could fall apart at any moment.

Y/n moved swiftly and kicked the human hard in the face. Deku quickly got up as the two ran down the tunnel.

Deku looked back to see Y/n was having a bit of trouble keeping up with Deku.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Deku asked.

"Don't worry turn right and follow," Y/n said as she pushed forward.

As the two quickly turned the corner, the humans regained their composer and made chase after the two.  Y/n pushed a medium-sized boulder away from a tiny hole in the side of the cave wall. Deku hesitantly got in when suddenly Y/n started to close the opening.

"Y/n What are you doing?" Deku asked as the opening became too small for him to even squeeze out of.

"Hiding you, I'll come back for you. I have to lead them away from the village," Y/n explained as they backed away.

"No, Please don't do this. Don't leave me Y/n. I- I want to tell you something first,'' Deku said quickly.

Y/n smiled sadly as she turned to face Deku from the other side of the boulder. Deku could tell they were ready to throw their life away for everyone, for him.

"Y/n, I love-,"

Suddenly Y/n's head was sliced clean off by a thrown sword. Deku gasped in horror as he watched Y/n's body fall to the ground, he tried to reach out but he had no arm to hold out.

Deku wanted to scream and cry, but no sound came out of him. Y/n slowly turned their head towards Deku and mouthed.

'Please live for me, Deku," they mouthed as the humans quickly gathered her broken body.

They were in such a rush they left Y/n's head behind. Deku fell to his knees as he stared at his crush for so long. It felt like an eternity When All Might and Touya arrived, Their eyes widen with horror and sorrow as Touya fell to his knees and held Y/n's head. He put their foreheads together as he cried out in sorrow.

"NOO!" Touya cried.

All might soon notice Deku was trapped behind the boulder and quickly moved it aside with no effort.

"Let us go Young Deku, we need to evacuate the village before they bring more of them," All might said as he helped Deku to his feet.

-----------

(400 years later)

It has been a long time since Y/n's death, All Might changed in a way after his student's death. If he weren't needed, he would lock himself away, but for the most part, he was still the jolly smiling gem he was before. Touya, on the other hand, didn't take Y/n's death all that well, he did lose his love who was his partner for 800 years. He started to call himself Dabi and started to cover only parts of his face, giving him a patchwork look. It not only scared most humans but fellow gems too.

I was upgraded to a medic after Momo was taken about 200 years back, we some people over the years and gained new ones too. I helped piece gems back together, but my main goal is to bring Y/n back. The village moved up high into the mountain, so high it would be difficult for them to breathe, but Humans would risk their lives and come up anyways. Some came with Weapons and tools made of gems, and many times they were G/t so I slowly put Y/n back together piece by piece.

I Finished them for the most part, but there were still 3 large gaping holes in their torso. I tried to use other gem pieces that matched her Mohs scale. Yet it only worked sometimes, she would wake up for about three minutes. Yet when they do everyone who was watching my work quickly rushed in to tell them how much they missed them and update them on everything.

Even Tou- Dabi would come by. Y/n was weirded out at first but they got used to it quickly and I would never really get a chance to talk to them, but I will never forget the last time they woke up. As they said their goodnight to everyone, they turned to me as said.

"I'll miss you Deku, I can't wait to wake up to see you again," Y/n smiled as they fell back unconscious.

I'll bring you back Y/n so I can tell you how I feel.

[voiceless-terror]

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home. 

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case. 

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away. 

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy. 

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone. 

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance. 

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile. 

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

[caitlyn-winchester]

Pilot Part 1

Disclaimer link in the master list of this story

Cordell Walker x Daughter!reader

word count: 2,180

warning; character death, angst, gunshots, little fluff, comfort

masterlist 

It was a sunny afternoon, a perfect day to be riding around with the windows down jamming out to music with my mom. We were going to meet up with my dad before we headed out to deliver supplies. It was one of those days where my mom let me go with her to drop them off since there was no school. She’s always helping people which is what I admire so much about her. I would love to help people as much as she has, that's why I go with her sometimes so I can learn how to help others.

We pull up on the dirt road and see my dad’s truck approaching. My mom parks the car and gets out. “Well look at you. Did you get your guy?” she smirks at my dad.

“Do you even have to ask?” he states, taking off his hat and putting it on the hood of his truck.

“You get huffy when I don't ask” I chuckle to myself at my mom's response.

“Yeah, I got my guy.” he rolls his eyes and approaches mom more, “You heading out already?”

“Yeah I gotta pick up Geri. she’s got the supplies” she says then dad pulls her into a kiss.

“Ew! Come on guys!” I yell through the car window. “I’m right here.” They pull apart and laugh looking at my direction with their arms still wrapped around each other.

“Its love sweetie, you’ll understand when you’re married one day” mom tell me with a smile

“Which won’t be till your 40!” my dad adds in.

“Really dad” I rolled my eyes and hopped out of the car. I walked toward them crossing my arms, trying to be annoyed but fail and end up smiling. Dad laughs and pulls me into a hug.

“I’m serious Butterbean. No boys” He pulled me tighter in the hug and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. He pulled away smiling, then looked at mom and said “And you’re going to be..”

“On the approved route that you gave me.” she finishes his sentence. He nods and looks over at me again.

“And you little missy will..”

“Stay with mom and listen to her directions.” I replied.

“Okay.” Dad nodded satisfied with our answers.

“Don't worry, Ranger Walker. We’ll be fine” Mom pulled me into a side hug and I leaned my head on her shoulder. “Now get up to the house. Augies waiting on you, with your parents. It’s game night.”

“Right. Uh, how do I play that game again? Every time you tell me the rules I-I black out. And I’ll be at a loss without my usual partner” He says looking to be at the last part. I roll my eyes.

“You’ll be alright, Dad. you might lose every game because I’m usually the reason we win.” I smirk

“Oh really” he said

“Babe.” mom cut us off “just go in there, go have dinner. They're just excited to see you. You could lose every single game and it wouldn't matter”

“Why are you talking about straight to me losing?” he laughed and kissed her again

“Oh for the love of” I grumbled to myself. Jokingly of course, I'm happy that my parents love each other so much.

“Hey. Be safe.” Dad told mom once they pulled away. She nodded and dad looked over at me and said “You too Butterbean”

“Of course daddy.” I said, hugging him one more time before climbing back into the car.

                               »»————-　★　————-««

It all happened so fast. One minute mom, Geri and I were handing out supplies then the next mom was telling me to run. We kept trying to run but the person was still chasing us. I was running right beside my mom but then she told me to run in a different direction.

“What?” I said as best I could while running.

“I need you to run in that direction,” she nods her head to the left, “ and keep running until you reach your dad’s and my spot, you know where that is right?” She asks and I nod my head. “Good and no matter what happens or what you hear, do not turn around.”

“But what about you?” I ask her tears welling up in my eyes.

“Don't worry about me, just keep running alright”

I nodded my head and said “I love you mom.”

“Love you too baby, now go!” she told me but I looked at her hesitantly. “Now Y/n/n!” she yelled and started to pull out her phone.

I took off in the direction she told me to go in. I was so scared, I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest, my lungs and legs were burning, begging me to stop. I heard the faint sound of a gunshot and scream in the distance. It took everything in me to not turn around and go back to my mom but I kept running. I had to, she told me to not stop “keep going, keep going Y/N, she wouldn't want you to stop running” I kept telling myself. I'm tired, confused, scared and overwhelmed at this point. I tried to wrap my head around every scenario that could have happened a couple of minutes ago. Who got shot? Mom? Geri? Was the shot fatal? Did the shooter miss? If I go back would I have been able to save them? Tears are pressing against my eyes, I just want to go home. Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me going at this point. I don't know how long I’ve been running for but I eventually saw my parent’s the white gazebo at Lady Bird Lake.

                                »»————-　★　————-««

Emily pulled out her phone and called Cordell’s phone, she waited a couple rings before he answered.

“Emily, you alright?” he asked.

“Just had to call you. I told Y/N to go to our spot. Something's not right.” she answered sounding scared

“What do you mean?” Cordell asked, growing concerned for his wife and daughter. Emily didn't respond, Cordell can only hear her panting over the phone. “Emily. Emily.” he says trying to get a response from her. Then he could hear a gunshot and her scream over the phone. His heart dropped and he started to panic, this can't be happening. “Hey.” he said before the line disconnected. He quickly told his family that the call was work stuff. He didn't want to scare them with what he just heard on the phone. He quickly went outside and tried his wife’s phone again. All he got was voice mail. He yelled in frustration and sadness and started crying. The worst thing has happened to him, he lost his wife and possibly his daughter. His daughter! Cordell suddenly remembered that Emily said Y/N would be at their spot. He quickly pulled himself together the best he could and hopped in his truck. He started making his way to Lady Bird Lake praying to God that his daughter will be there. His heart was pounding, Cordell normally doesn't get scared a lot but in this moment he is. Pulling onto the road leading to the gazebo he sees his daughter run out of the trees and collapse. At the sight of her he feels slightly relieved, at least he didn't lose both of girls in the same night.

                                   »»————-　★　————-««

As soon as I reached the white gazebo I collapsed. I start coughing and gasping for air because my burning lungs need it. I flinched away when I felt a hand touch my shoulder, scared it might be the shooter and he might have followed me here.

“Hey, hey, Y/N/N, it's ok.” I heard dad's voice. I looked up and saw him kneeling on the ground to be at the same level as me. He opened his arms out to be and instantly jumped in them and clung for dear life. Dad instantly responded by wrapping his arms tightly around me, stroking my hair and every once and while my back. With the adrenaline worn off my emotions finally caught up with me and I finally burst. I started sobbing, my whole body shaking and I started gasping for air again. “Oh butterbean, you're ok now. It's all over. Take some deep breaths for me.” my dad said the calmest he could while repeating the soothing motions. I could tell he was trying to hide how upset he also is by the shakiness in his voice and I could feel tears drip into my hair. “Are you hurt?” He asked me gently and I shook my head in response.

“M-mom,” I was able to stutter out once calmed down enough “she told me to r-run….then there was a gunshot...I don't know if she’s-” I wasn't able to finish the sentence as I started to cry again. Dad shushed me and continued to keep telling me it's going to be ok…..I’m trying to believe him but I don't know if I can.

                                  »»————-　★　————-««

                                        Eleven Months Later………

It’s dad's homecoming night. He’s returning from an undercover case he was on, I haven't seen him in eleven months and haven't talked to him in three. August and I started living at our grandparents house and Uncle Liam moved in shortly after to help take care of us. Uncle Liam and I got closer as he became my rock during dad’s absence. The whole family and dad’s old ranger partner, now chief, are waiting outside for dad to arrive home. He’s late of course, I am not even surprised at this point, and i’m starting to think he is not even going to show up at this point.

“Let’s just go inside” I told August

“He’s coming” August responded, looking down the road hoping for dad’s truck to pull in. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, absolutely! Neither hell or high water could keep him away.” I said sarcastically. Then a vehicle pulls up onto the road leading to the house. My heart sped up and I got excited at the sight, I was finally about to see my dad again. That excitement fell when I realized its not dad’s truck but its Stan Morrison’s.

We greeted Stan and all went inside to have dinner. I was quiet for most of the night, not that anyone really paid attention to me. There wasn't really much for me to talk about since this dinner was supposed to be for dad, which he falled to show up too completely. After dinner I just went into my room while the rest of the adults talked. I started drawing in my sketchbook, nothing too detailed I just like doodling really. Tears were pressing against my eyes, I was so excited to see him again but when didn't show up at all I was heart broken. A knock at my door made me quickly wipe my eyes. The door opened to reveal Uncle Liam, he gave me a small smile.

“How are you holding up Y/N/N?” he asked. I just shrugged my shoulders and continued to look at my doodles. “You know I need a better response than that.” He said while walking further into my room and sitting down on the edge of my bed.

“I just...miss him you know? I haven’t seen him so long. I wish he never took that stupid case.” I said.

“Your dad is saving people when he’s on a case, but I understand that you miss him….and that you're mad at him too.” he told me giving a reassuring smile

“Was it that obvious?” I laughed a little and he nodded smiling.

“Get some rest ok. You have school tomorrow.” He told me, walking towards the door but I stopped him before he could leave.

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” I asked.

“Y/N, we talked about this.” he sighed

“ I know Uncle Liam, it's just...think about it, if I went back when the gunshot went off maybe I could have saved mom?” I mumbled.

“The key word in that sentence is maybe. I told you where the wound was there was an unlikely chance you could have saved her. And if you went back there was a more likely chance you would have gotten shot too.” He reassured you.

“Don't tell me you don't think that if mom was alive, dad wouldn't have been on a case for this long” I snapped. “I should have done something! But I didn't!” I cried. Liam quickly sat on the bed next to me and pulled me into a hug.

“Listen here Y/N, you did the right thing. I know you don't think so but you did but trust me when I tell you, you did everything right. You listen to your mom’s instructions and isn't that your dad’s rule anyway? ‘Always listen to mom’?” he comforted and I nodded at his question.

“I just want him here” you sobbed.

“Me too, me too.” he agreed, rubbing your back comfortably.

PILOT PART 2 

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

-----------

Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

-----------

Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

[peach-the-owl]

Maybe one with Kima and Allura? The reader is an artist and one day they start to leave little notes with sketches for them in random places where they can find them and it's just them being a good friend trying to make them smile during the day.

Aww, I love Kima and Allura so much, their relationship is just so precious 🥰 I hope this turned out well

Also might’ve let myself get carried away with the idea, it’s a bit long 😅

Little Notes

Allura & Kima & Artist!Reader (Platonic)

You were making your way over to Allura's for a visit knowing she had been stressing out over Kima being missing from her mission in Kraghammer and hoping to calm some of those nerves. You walk up to the doors of her tower and give a knock, after a small wait the door opens to reveal the arcanist herself.

"(Y/n)! It’s been awhile, how are you?" She asks slightly surprised by your sudden appearance.

"Hello Allura, sorry about not informing you of my arrival." You sheepishly scratch at the back of your head in apology. "Do you mind if I come in? If not I can just-"

"No no, it’s alright." She stops you and steps out of the way for you to enter the tower. You welcome yourself in and go to sit in your usual spot whenever you’d visit. "I’m actually glad you decided to pop in, I’ve needed a distraction what with everything going on." Allura admits. At this point you pull out your sketchbook and pencil you always carry with you and start to add some fine line work to a piece you’d been working on for weeks now, never seeming to get it quite right.

"I know you’ve been stressing over this, which is exactly why I wanted to come over. So why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been up to recently." You suggest, not looking away from your drawing. You knew this wouldn’t bother Allura because for the years you've known each other, while it looked like you weren’t paying attention to the conversation you actually were, listening very carefully to every word being spoken to you. Allura went on to tell you about her work with the council and some of the worries she has for Kima, you adding in your own thoughts to the conversation every now and again. She then told you about her allies, the adventuring group known as Vox Machina that she asked to help find Kima, you knew about this group and what they did for the royal family but didn’t know them as personally as Allura did.

"I just hope nothing terrible has happened." Allura finally concludes after her long rant. You give an amused hum and sigh, taking proper notice that you’d wandered away from your project and had several random doodles covering the page. However instead of hindering you this placed a wonderful idea into your head.

"Relax Ally, if these people are as capable as you say then they’ll find Kima in no time. Just relax and breath, alright." You look up at her this time seeing her nod and take a few deep breaths. While she was distracted with that you carefully tear out some of the doodles, writing little messages of encouragement on the back of them and stand up. You sneakily slipping one of the notes between the cushion of the chair having it stick out just enough to be noticeable but not too obvious. "It’s been lovely, thank you for having me over but it’s getting late. I should really be making my way home."

"Allow me to walk you out." Allura offers which you happily accept, sneakily hiding the little drawings along the way in various places for Allura to hopefully find later. "I really appreciated the visit, helps to confide in a friend. You’re welcome back anytime." Allura gives you a quick hug that you return before the two of you part ways until next time.

It had been a while since your little visit and felt it only fair to check in and see how everything was going. When you arrive you’re relieved to see that Kima had returned in one piece, while Allura was occupied with thanking Vox Machina for their efforts you quietly shuffle over. You then watch as Kima and Allura share a small moment by staring at each other before they run into each other’s arms, you smile a little at this before deciding to quickly jump in.

"No it’s fine, just pretend I’m not here." You joke gaining everyone’s attention, you walk over to the two and without missing a beat Kima gives you a playful punch in the arm. "I swear to Bahamut Kima, you’re gonna break my arm one of these days." You slightly hiss from the pain.

"Nah if I meant to do that, it'd already be broken." Kima says slyly, you roll your eyes before properly hugging your friend, slipping a little note you’d made into her armour.

"Well now who’s this one?" The red Dragonborn asks. After some proper introductions with the group Allura invites everyone into her tower for tea, you hang back a second unsure if you should join them or just head home early.

"Don’t just stand there, the offer stands for you too." Allura gives a warm smile and ushers you inside.

"I know I just didn’t want to feel like I was overcrowding the place, plus I’m sure you’d like to catch up with Kima." You say meekly. You make your way up and automatically go to sit in your usual spot, pulling out your sketchbook as both a distraction and to continue on a commission for a client you’d received. Enjoying some tea and listening to the conversation between everyone else, Kima leans over your shoulder to look at your work.

"The hell is that supposed to be?" She asks quietly, staring at your drawing.

"Art." You reply cheekily. You catch her rolling her eyes at the corner of yours.

"I know what it is, but what is it?"

"The client asked for something abstract, so this is the result so far." You precede to erase and redraw a few of the lines you’d made until you felt satisfied.

"I don’t get it." You stifle a laugh, Kima didn’t really have an artistic eye but you appreciated that she at least tried to understand your craft whenever the two of you got to interact with each other.

"Shouldn’t you be involved in this conversation? Not to be rude or anything but it sounds important." You look up at Kima now to which she scratches at the back of her head, you can now see the blush on her cheeks.

"His questions were making me a little uncomfortable." She gestures over to the goliath, Grog. You give a reassuring pat her on the shoulder, sneaking another note into her armour before you realize something.

"Sorry to interrupt but what time is it?" After some fumbled reply’s Allura gives you her best estimation. "I have to go, I’ve got client to meet today and sooo much work to do. Thank you for the tea Allura, it was lovely to meet you all and thank you for safely bringing Kima back." You give a bit of a rushed goodbye as you gather up your things and hurry out of the tower, pausing briefly at the door to hide one more note for Allura to find later.

Time came and went, work piled up leaving you busy to no end, the only contact you had with your friends being the letters you’d write each other telling of what you’d been up to. However once the dragons came your world went crashing down, you had longed for a break away from all the work on your shoulders but not like this. Your home was in shambles, your hard work that took you months to complete destroyed in seconds, you considered yourself lucky to have made it out alive. Now you were but another refugee in Whitestone praying for a miracle while doodling in your sketchbook, the only thing that survived with you albeit slightly charred at the corners.

"Oh my gosh! You’re alive!" You hear a familiar voice call, looking over to see Kima run up to you. You give each other hug and once you let go Kima punches your arm.

"Every time I swear." You sigh with a small laugh, rubbing your arm.

"Gotta keep that arm strength up for your art stuff." Kima jokes, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "Anyways, do you know where Ally is?" You shake your head.

"I don’t, but I assume she’s alive, that woman’s a tough cookie." Kima nods in agreement.

"Would you like to help us?" Keyleth asks.

"Me? No I couldn’t, I’ve never really been the adventuring type, I much prefer swinging around a paintbrush over a sword." You politely decline the offer. "But I would like to advise one thing," you pat Kima's shoulder, once again slipping in a note you’d made into her armour in hopes of bringing encouragement. "Don’t do anything rash that could get you killed." Kima gives a quiet "yeah I know" and with that you watch the party continue on their way.

You did what you could with what little resources you had to build up and regain some normality to your life, starting a little side business of making motivational cards for anyone needing an extra pick me up. Folks seemed to really like it, each card having a personalized picture and message written on it, doing what you could to help keep hope alive in these trying times. When you met up with Kima and Allura again Allura was relived to see you were still alive and standing strong. They invited you over to the abode they were staying at together, which put a new idea into your head. Before you arrived for your visit with them you had made more of your little notes for them, this time making a few that you hoped would help spark the romance between the two you’ve seen since day one (secret wingman). When you arrived they gave you a quick tour of the place, leaving opportunities for you to slip the notes into various places around the house, making you wonder if this time they were doing it on purpose having finally caught on to your little gimmick. You all sat down and sipped away at some tea or coffee while talking about the actions going forward, as the evening came you bid your friends a goodnight and made your way back to your temporary living quarters…

More time flew by, the Chroma Conclave was since defeated and Emon was slowly rebuilding itself, a time of peace finally setting in and you had a lot of work ahead of you if you were ever going to be able to buildup your home from scratch. The only downside was you didn’t have the gold to pay for everything, your work as an artist didn’t always pay a lot but it was enough to keep you stable but having to pay to acquire materials for the house and art studio was another story entirely. Your then approached by two very familiar people.

"Allura! Kima! So good to see you both again. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to write or visit often lately, been quite busy trying to re-establish myself." You greet your friends and notice the large bag Kima's carrying.

"It’s alright we’ve been rather busy ourselves with everything going on. We actually wished to talk with you." Allura gives you a gentle smile.

"Well I’d normally like to welcome you into my home, but as you can see it’s… not much of a home yet." You half-joke gesturing to the still ruined state of your house, the broken paintings you once had all having been stripped away when the Cinder King still ruled.

"That was actually one of the things we wished to speak with you about, Kima if you would." She turns to Kima who in turn hulls the bag over her shoulder letting it clatter to the ground, and you can hear the jangling of coin inside. "I believe this should help accommodate everything you need for your home and work." You stare jaw dropped at the bag filled to the brim with gold.

"I-This is very generous of you. I simply can’t just take your money." You say out of shock at the large gold pile in front of you.

"Think of it as payment for all you’ve done for us." Allura smiles and gives you an expectant look.

"All I’ve done? I haven’t really done anything to help."

"Sure you have, back when Kima was missing finding those papers with the little drawings and messages really helped keep me calm and cheer me up through all the stress." Allura explains.

"Yeah, or the ones you managed to slip into my armour. Little distracting at first but invigorating when I was in a tough spot in battle." Kima jumps in. You just smile, all you were doing was trying to be nice and encouraging to your friends unknowing of the effects it apparently lead to.

"Still, not all is from us." Allura suddenly cuts into your thoughts, you look at her confused. "That was the second thing we wanted to talk with you about. Some of this is a sort of upfront payment for a few commissions from our friends, half now to help you and half later once you've completed their requests."

"There’s more!?" You were almost lightheaded from the information, but shake it off and refocus yourself. "I’d love to, please fill me in on all the details."

"First off Keyleth asked for a landscape piece of her home in Zephrah, Keyleth will easily help bring you to and from her home whenever you’re ready. Next Percy wanted a portrait made for castle Whitestone, he said he’d fill in the rest of the details upon your arrival. Finally," Allura gives a bit of a sigh, "there’s Taryon… he wants a, and I quote, 'self portrait made with nothing but the finest oil paints you can get your hands on for the Slayer's Cake.'"

"So basically the plan is to visit Whitestone once my home's rebuilt. That should be fine, one question though, who’s Taryon?"

"Trust me, you’ll know who he is when you meet him."

"Sounds like quite the character." You say with a hint of nervousness. "Well if that’s everything, I should get to work. Thank you again for everything." You go to collect the heavy bag of gold only to pause when you hear Kima speak up.

"Ally did you still wanna… you know ask about the thing?" She had leaned closer to Allura to ask but you still heard her.

"What thing?" You question to which Allura perks up a bit in realization.

"I almost completely forgotten. Right, there was one more, very special request." You look at the two in silence, Allura walks up to you and takes one of your hands in hers. "(Y/n), Kima and I have a very important and special request of you." You just nod and wait for her to continue. "We were wondering if you could make us something special for… for our wedding." You stare wide eyed in awe.

"You two are getting married? That’s amazing! About time too." You cheer.

"Not so loud please, we just want a simple and private wedding you know, a few eye witnesses for the event. You don’t have to make anything grand, if anything we’d like what you make to be similar to the notes you’ve always left us." You press your hands together and hold back the urge to just scream to the heavens in happiness for them. When you manage to calm yourself enough you look back that the couple and give them a large smile.

"I’d be honoured to make something for your wedding." You give them both a hug and reset your sights on your shambled home. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a house to get built."

"Hold on, I still have one more thing for you." Kima interrupts this time. Before you can ask you feel a punch impact your arm, you suck back the pain as you rub the spot she hit. "Alright now your free to start." She gives you a smug look.

"Every. Single. Time." You playfully glare back. You had a long road ahead of you and you were certain it’d only be a matter of time before the peace is disturbed again but for now you wanted to focus on the present. Like you said, you had a lot of work to do.

[statticscribbles]

Keyed In

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: Soulmate AU! Whatever your soulmate draws/ writes on their skin ends up on yours, reader constantly forgetting things and being distracted; Sweet Pea being used to it and writing reminders for her on his hands etc. Extra fluff please

“What’s on your arm?” Veronica questions and you shrug. “Groceries.” She nods reading down the list; before she laughs. “Key’s in L pocket. What does that mean?” You blink pulling over your jacket. “Oh; it’s where I put my keys. He reminds me about it when I forget.” “Did your soulmate remind you where your keys are again?” Betty asks smiling as she sits down into the conversation. “Yeah, he does that sometimes; it’s nice knowing he’s looking out for me.” “You do realize that means he knows who you are! We have to find him!!” “Or her.” “No girl has handwriting that illegible.” “Don’t be mean to him! He’s my soulmate!”

“Who’s your soulmate?” Jughead asks as he sits down. “Well I don’t know; but he’s a sweetheart. He’s always writing down where I put stuff and making sure that I remember to finish homework for class; I swear he’s the reason I’m passing english, I’d never remember when the essays are due without him.” “You know that sounds kind of creepy right? Like your soulmate is watching you all the time.” Cheryl asks and you shake your head.

“He doesn’t just do that, he’ll write his own stuff down too! Besides what do you and your soulmate write then?” You laugh when Cheryl rolls up her sleeve revealing hearts and doodles of flowers. You roll up your other arm showing her something similar. “Left arm is notes and right arm is for fun.” “Okay that tops me by a mile.” Archie laughs strings of doodled jewel’s and random notes in flowing cursive. “Wow that’s some really-“ You watch Veronica pull out a marker scribbling something on her arm, Archie frowns watching a line of circles wrap around his wrist; an arrow forms point to his left and he turns as Veronica bumps her matching arm against his.

“Oh, holy shit.” “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” “I don’t pay attention when people draw on themselves! My dad said it was rude to stare!” Archie defends himself, Veronica scooting closer and linking there arms. “It’s okay Archie my parents taught me the same. It faded on his arm.” “Yeah it does that once you meet, if I draw something it’ll show up, but it wont be as vibrant, as noticeable because we’ve met, we’re not searching for each other anymore.” Cheryl and you nod at Veronica’s explanation. “Same happened for me and Betts.” “Does that mean were going on a soulmate hunt for you then?” You roll your eyes when Cheryl shakes you excitedly.

“We can look for yours while were at it!” You grin and Cheryl shakes her head. “No one soulmate at a time!.” “Fine. I guess I’m up first then.” “So all we do is keep an eye out for anyone with matching lists and reminders. Could you write something to him so we know what to look for.” Archie nods. “Uhh, okay; what do I write?” Everyone shrugs. “Just whatever you want.” You chew your lip, instead of writing you doddle a snake wrapping around your wrist. “Why a snake?” “I think he’s a Serpent, or at least in a gang he writes weird lists sometimes.” “Has he written one we can see?” “Not recently.” You shrug.

Cheryl is interviewing the Bulldogs and half of the student body grabbing at there wrists while Betty and veronica apologetically explain what she’s doing. Jughead’s on Serpent duty, asking about anyone who has a snake on them goes about as well as he expected. “Not your tattoo you idiots!” He groans as everyone laughs. “You gotta be specific Jones!” “I was; I asked if any of you had a drawn on snake!” “The fuck you think a tattoo is?” You laugh in the background sitting next to Toni. “Sorry about dragging you all to Pop’s like this.” She shrugs doodling a daisy chain on her wrist, you can’t help but stare up her arm, doodles of flowers looping up them.

“Oh; your soulmate likes flowers then?” Toni laughs. “She likes pretty things.” You nudge her arm slightly. Narrowing your eyes at the cherry that’s been drawn in the crook of her elbow. “Hidden message; sort of a way for us to recognise each other if we ever meet.” “Not exactly hidden is it.” You laugh and Toni rolls her eyes. “It is if you don’t go snooping on my arm Y/N.” You shake your head. “I didn’t mean you.” You nod gesturing to where Cheryl and Veronica have entered, Cheryl wearing her cherry print cardigan. “See?” You wave her over and she beams. “Holy fuck.” Toni mumbles. You laugh and Cheryl arches an eyebrow at you. ‘What?” “Nothing, just still trying to find my soulmate, Ronnie, can we talk to Jughead. Enjoy.” You wave slightly and leave Cheryl and Toni to talk.

“What’s wrong now Y/N?” “I’m really happy for Ronnie and Cheryl but like I was supposed to find my soulmate; I don’t want to say anything cause I feel like I’ll be whining.” You slump in your seat Kevin patting your back. “Fangs’ add another shake, vanilla right?” You nod pressing your forehead into the table. “Come on Y/N its okay to be bothered by not getting what you expect.” “I know but I feel like I’m being bitter.”

“And what if you are? Be a bitter bitch then.” You turn when Fangs slides next to Kevin and another Serpent nods to the spot next to you. “Sweet Pea, pleasure.” He smiles and you nod. ‘Y/N.” “Hey you have a snake on your wrist, did you guys tell Jones this is whoever’s soulmate he’s looking for?” “No they’re looking for me; I’m trying to find my soulmate.” Sweet Pea nods in understanding. “So what’s the sudden rush to find him?” “I just; he’s helped me through so much I just want to be able to meet him and thank him; at the least.”

“I’m sure you’ve helped him just as much.” You laugh shaking your head as you pull the shake they got you over. “I doubt it; he’s reminded me where to find my keys at least fifty times; helped me pass english by helping me study; and; just, he’s been there for me so much, even though I‘ve never met him.” “Well yeah that’s why he’s your soulmate right?” Fangs nods and you frown. “I know like everyone says that but just; ugh you remember what I was like before you met Fangs right?”’ Kevin’s nods and you finish your shake. “I should get home; call today a wrap.” “Y/N We were thinking about at the game; we could do like a cheer or something so- Oh are you going home?” You nod, yawning. “Yeah; just a little bummed over everything that, dammit.” “Whats wrong now scatter brain? You forget your wallet? You gonna dine and dash Kevin?” You shake your head chewing your lip. “I can’t find my keys; I swear i-“ “Left pocket.” Everyone turns to stare at Sweet Pea.

“You were just going to let her leave!!?” You cringe back as Cheryl shouts at him. Toni looks shocked but you can see the smile under her surprise. “Cheryl it’s fine; I get him not wanting to-“ You’re jerked back Sweet Pea pulling you back into your seat in the booth. “If you think for one second it’s cause I don’t want you; I’ll fight you in the parking lot.” “Sweet’s I don’t even remember where I put my keys; you have to write it down for me; do you really think I could take you in a fight?” “Okay bad choice but just; don’t think that okay?” You shrug. “Why wouldn’t I I mean-.”

“Hold on.” Sweet Pea pauses your pity party turning and glaring at everyone else who’ve excitedly gathered round. ‘Will you all fuck off please. I’m sure you’ll be able to pull ever detail out of us tomorrow okay. Can we have an alone moment.” Cheryl smirks arm looping wth Toni’s and dragging her, Fangs and Kevin off. Jughead nods to Sweet Pea before he, Betty, Veronica and Archie leave as well. “I would ask for you to continue but I don’t care about whatever reasons you have for thinking you’re not worth it to me. My opinion of you is not for you to decide.” He smiles warmly and you sigh. “I’m pretty useless on my own; I don’t have any good skills like you; I’m not in a gang, I can barely remember to get to school on time let alone-“ “Good thing you’re not alone then; you have me.” “But-“ He nudges your chin up  as he leans over kissing your cheek.

“Isn’t it a little better in person at least.” You swallow nodding. “Much better in person.” You add in smiling up at him. “Since we’re soulmate’s I should get to know more about you right?” “Of course; I think it only makes sense since you’ve helped me with my keys so many times you learn where I live.” You watch Sweet Pea jerk surprised. “Besides it’ll give them something to talk about.” You wink flickering your eyes to the side where Sweet Pea tracks them to see everyone piled in Cheryl’s car watching.

“How do you feel about motorcycles?” You grin as he offers you a helmet and you swing your leg over winking at the car as they all quickly look away. “So what lie are we going with? We made out for hours? We’re running away to get married? We’ve decided to start a band?” “Well one of those wont be lying.” “Which one?” You grin at him leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “Guess.”

Support My Writing?

[remywrites5]

           Remus looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He really needed to get more sleep, the bags under his eyes had taken up permanent residence there, and his roots were starting to come in. He spat into the sink and then rinsed his toothbrush off. When he glanced back up at himself, there was the same harrowing reflection staring back. He needed to at least re-dye his hair pink or else pick a different colour.

           He’d dyed it pink on a whim after his last breakup. He thought maybe going from his usual tawny curls to something else would make him more exciting, more cheerful, more something. “Why are you never smiling?” Benjy had asked Remus all the time. As if Remus should just constantly be smiling like some kind of insane person.

           Remus walked over to his desk and flopped into his rolling chair. He sat with one leg bent up towards his chest and hunched over his tablet. The thing was so old it was practically a dinosaur. The program he used to draw on was always crashing – causing Remus to do almost constant saving. Drawing web comics wasn’t exactly the most lucrative use of his art degree, but it paid the bills.

           There was some sort of ungodly sound outside and then the distinct clatter of something breaking. Remus jumped to his feet in surprise, wondering if someone had climbed up to his flat to murder him. Two shadows appeared at his door and then one of them knocked. Well, if they were murderers, they were of the polite variety.

           Remus walked over tentatively, his pen for his tablet still in his hand as his only means of defense. He figured at the least maybe he could poke a few eyes.

           “I don’t think anyone is home.”

           “He has to be home. I haven’t seen him leave the house in days.”

           “Hmm, paying close attention, are we?”

           “Shut up, Jamie.”

           “Ow!”

           Confused, Remus opened the door to find two guys standing on the other side. The dark-skinned one with glasses immediately smiled, while the pale one with long dark hair kept his face neutral.

           “Hiya! I’m James and this is Sirius,” James said, moving what was in his hand so that he could wave. “We run the bakery downstairs. We just came to introduce ourselves and bring you these!”

           Remus took the container when James offered it, still a little bit stunned by the whole thing, and opened it up. Inside was an assortment of baked goods. “Oh. Thank you,” Remus said, a little bit at a loss for words. “This is really nice.”

           Remus was suddenly struck by the fact that two very attractive men were on his doorstep and Remus was wearing the same hoodie he’d worn for three days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on deodorant. Embarrassed beyond belief, Remus felt his cheeks flush.

           “Aren’t you going to say anything?” James prompted his friend, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder.

           “Hi,” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

           Remus swallowed thickly and quickly put the container of goodies down. He didn’t trust his shaking hands not to drop them. “Nice to meet you.”

           “Whoa, are you an artist?” James asked, noticing the pen in Remus’ hand. “Do you think you could design something for us?”

           “James, don’t impose,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest.

           “I’m not imposing!” James insisted, turning and shooting Sirius a look. “We’ll pay for the work. It’s just right now our menus are so bland! They don’t really say ‘Padfoot and Prongs’ Patisserie.”

           “That’s a fancy name,” Remus said, tucking the pen behind his ear so that he could shove his hands in his pockets. Suddenly they’d gotten all sweaty.

           “Yeah well, this wanker is half French, so he wouldn’t let me call it a pastry shop,” James said teasingly. “By the way, you haven’t told us your name.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, realizing that James was right. He shuffled his feet slightly and kind of wished James and Sirius would leave. He hadn’t had such a long social interaction in months. This was getting to be a bit much, and James’ enthusiasm was draining. “Remus. Remus Lupin.”

           “So do you think you can design something for our menus?” James asked excitedly, his hazel eyes big behind his glasses.

           “Um, sure, I’ll take a stab at it,” Remus offered, even though he kind of didn’t want to. He had deadlines to meet and he was already a little behind. But then James and Sirius had brought him baked goods without having even met Remus before. Besides, how hard could designing a menu be?

           “Great!” James said, slapping Sirius on the back. “Isn’t that great, Padfoot?”

           Sirius sighed. “Sure is.”

           Remus pulled out his wallet and handed James one of his business cards. It had been Benjy’s idea that Remus get them. This was only the second Remus had even given out. The first one had been given the Benjy. What a waste of money.

           “My email is at the bottom,” Remus explained, pointing to it on the card. “Just send me the details of what you want and I’ll work something up.”

           Sirius tilted his head to the side. “What are your rates?”

           “Um…” Fuck, Remus hadn’t exactly thought about it. He knew what he charged per page on his web comic but this was completely different. “How about you just, um, let me get a free baked good from time to time and we’ll call it even?”

           “Of course!” James said, nodding emphatically.

           “Hold on,” Sirius interjected, putting his hand up to stop James. “For the rest of time you want free shit from us? Just for a doodle?”

           “Sirius –“ James cut in, his face slightly aghast at his friend’s harsh tone.

           “I – I won’t abuse it or anything,” Remus said, feeling his face heat. Christ, the way Sirius was looking at him made him nervous. “It won’t be every day or anything like that.”

           Sirius huffed and turned his face away. “Fine. But I reserve the right to cut you off.”

           “Okay.”

           “Perfect,” James said, tugging on Sirius’ arm. “We should get back downstairs. We’ve still got a lot to do before we open. I’ll email you later, Remus!”

           “Sounds good,” Remus said, waving after them as they started down the fire escape. The moment he closed the door, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. He didn’t know what Sirius’ problem was, but the fewer interactions Remus had with him the better.

                                                           ***

           Remus finished up the latest update for his comic and sat back with a groan. It was already 10:30 at night and Remus hadn’t had any dinner. For once he had been in a good flow and hadn’t wanted to stop. Now his stomach was so empty it hurt. He couldn’t remember eating breakfast either.

           He walked over to where he had left the baked good James had dropped off and carried the container into bed. He sat munching on them as he scrolled through his phone. He had eaten about half of them when he remembered James was supposed to contact him. He pulled up his email and sure enough there was a message from James Potter.

           Apparently they wanted something kind of classy involving a buck and a black dog. Remus was intrigued, and popped a custard crème into his mouth. Their stuff really was mouth-wateringly good. Remus was glad he had asked for pastries instead of cash. While he could use the money, he tended to live on instant noodles and bacon sandwiches. Having something from the bakery from time to time would be a real treat.

                                                           ***

           Remus’ flat was on the top floor of the building and it meant he had almost exclusive rooftop access. He hadn’t done much with it except put out a table and two chairs. He really only went out there to smoke anyway. He stood by the side of the roof with his elbows on the ledge, watching the street below, his cigarette resting between his lips.

           Sirius exited the bakery and walked down the side alley of the building. He seemed to be having a heated discussion with someone on the phone. Remus felt himself tracking Sirius with his eyes, even though he didn’t mean to.

           “Damn it, Reg, I already told you –“ Sirius seemed to be cut off by the other person on the phone. “I don’t care if they cut me off. I’m not going on a blind date that my mum set up with a woman! I haven’t lived in that house for five years and she still thinks she can control me. Now she’s even roping you into it.”

           Remus felt a bit bad for eavesdropping, but the street was relatively quiet at that time of day, so it was difficult not to hear. Remus wondered why Sirius had said woman like that, as if he were offended by being set up with someone female. Remus didn’t want to get his hopes up that Sirius might also be gay. Thinking that was a dangerous route to go down. He tried to finish up his cigarette and go back inside before he was spotted, but it seemed Sirius was done with his conversation. He dropped his phone by his side and looked up at the sky. His eyes seemed to immediately land on Remus and Remus felt his cheeks heat up in response. He took a slow drag of his ciggy and let it out, letting his eyes drift away as if he hadn’t just been staring.

           He wasn’t wholly surprised when he heard footsteps making their way up the fire escape. He finished his cigarette and lit another one. He usually didn’t chain smoke like this, considering all the nicotine often made him dizzy, due to how little he ate most days. He turned when Sirius made it onto the roof and somehow managed to meet Sirius’ accusing stare.

           “How much of that did you hear?” Sirius asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

           Remus scratched his cheek with his free hand. “Uh, the whole thing?”

           Sirius sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Can I bum one of those?”

           Remus opened the pack and shook one out towards Sirius. Sirius slid it between his lips and leaned in when Remus flicked the lighter to light it. Remus hadn’t noticed it the first time they met, but Sirius had grey eyes. Remus had never seen someone with eyes like that before.

           Remus had no idea what to say, so he just continued smoking, watching Sirius out of his peripheral vision. It was a little awkward, but not unbearably so, and it seemed Sirius was happy to smoke in silence. Sirius’ apron was covered in flour, and what Remus hoped was jam of some kind. not something more nefarious based on its red colour. The last thing he needed was a Sweeney Todd situation in his building.

           Remus and Sirius finished their cigarettes at the same time and both killed them in the ashtray. They were standing so close, should to shoulder, and Remus had no idea why that made his heart race. He turned towards Sirius in order to say his goodbyes, and suddenly Sirius was even closer.

           “Well, I should –“

           Remus didn’t finish that sentence as Sirius was leaning in. He was moving with intent and his lips just barely brushed against Remus’. Remus gasped, the sound getting swallowed up as Sirius’ lips pressed more firmly against Remus’. Remus let himself enjoy it for a moment, Christ, it had been so long since he’d kissed someone, before he brought himself back to his sense.

           “What are you doing?” he demanded, pushing Sirius away.

           Sirius’ eyes searched Remus’ for a moment and then he took another step back. “Fuck, I – I’m sorry. I don’t even have an excuse.”

           Remus grinned as he watched Sirius flounder for a moment. He decided to let Sirius off the hook. It was just a little kiss after all. “Hey, I’m almost done with the menu design. Do you want to see it?”

           The tension in Sirius’ shoulders ebbed at Remus’ offer. “Yeah, sure.”

           Remus told Sirius to sit down at the little table while Remus went inside to get his tablet. He brought it out and sat down across from Sirius. He opened up the menu design and placed it in front of Sirus. He was actually a little nervous as Sirius looked it over. It was a buck and a dog running through a forest surrounded by berry bushes. James had explained in the email that their homemade jam was a huge selling point for them and they wanted the menu to emphasize that.

           “It’s not too dark, is it?” Remus asked, chewing his bottom lip.

           “No, I think it’s perfect.” Sirius glanced up, and for the first time Remus had seen, Sirius smiled. “We’re doing a soft opening in two days. You should come.”

           “Will I have to pay?” Remus teased, resting his chin in his hand and looking at Sirius.

           Sirius laughed. “Fine, you don’t have to pay. What kind of pastry do you like best? I’ll make it for you.”

           Remus considered it for a moment. “Jammy dodgers.”

           Sirius’ grin widened. “You got it.”

                                                             ***

           Remus went to the soft opening, even though he hadn’t been around that many people in a while, and it put his social anxiety through the roof. He met James’ wife, Lily, and their son, Harry. He also met quite a few of James and Sirius’ closest friends. Even though everyone was very nice, Remus couldn’t help feeling a bit like an outsider.

           However, Remus didn’t miss the way that his jammy dodgers seemed to be the only ones with little hearts in the middle. That knowledge alone was enough to make him stick around.

                                                           ***

           Remus was in trouble. His web comic was about a werewolf and a vampire that fell in love with each other. The werewolf character struck a striking resemblance to Remus, although the character had Remus’ original hair colour. The idea had come to him based on his name. The vampire character, however, had short dark hair and red eyes. Yet, whenever Remus found himself drawing him, his hair seemed to be getting progressively longer for no discernable reason and his eyes seemed to be grey.

           It didn’t help that Remus saw Sirius pretty much every day. During his lunch break, Sirius would bring up something from the bakery, and they would sit together at the little table and eat and smoke. Remus had gotten to know Sirius, little by little, cracking away at Sirius’ shell to the gooey center underneath. Despite his first impression of Sirius, and his original cold exterior, Remus found the man himself was mushy and romantic and sweet.

           Remus told Sirius about the fact that he’d always meant to make a little rooftop garden, but as of yet hadn’t really gotten around to buying any plants. Sirius showed up the next day with a little tree.

           “It’s called Dogwood,” he’d said with a knowing grin. He had continued to buy Remus several flowers and plants since then. He’d even brought some herbs for cooking, even though Remus insisted he didn’t really cook. Every time Sirius and Remus found a place for the new plant, Sirius would get that same smile. A smile that had started to cause butterflies in Remus’ stomach.

           There was no talk about the conversation Remus had overheard or of the kiss they’d shared. Remus figured both topics were off limits.

           Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get Sirius out of his head.

                                                           ***

           Remus dropped his head back and groaned. “I told you if you didn’t stop me I would eat all six éclairs.”

           “An impressive feat,” Sirius said, grinning behind his wine glass as he took a sip.

           “I hate you,” Remus said, scrubbing his hand over his face. He was starting to sweat a bit from overeating. “I’m going to put on so much weight.”

           “You could use some more meat on your bones,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “You barely eat as it is.”

           “I was right, this is a Sweeney Todd situation, you’re fattening me up to put me in a pie,” Remus bemoaned, clutching his stomach. That last éclair had really done him in.

           “We don’t even serve meat pies at the bakery,” Sirius said in amusement. “I think you’re safe.”

           “I’m not buying it,” Remus said, staring at Sirius accusingly. “Why else would you bring me all these sweets?”

           Sirius glanced away, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “For an excuse to come see you.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Really?”

           Sirius stood up and walked over to Remus, placing his hand on the back of Remus’ chair, and leaning into him. “So, I made a mess of our first kiss. Think you might let me try again?”

           “Um.” Remus stared up at Sirius and let out a shaky breath. “Yes. W-we can do that.”

           Sirius slid his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand came to rest at the back of Remus’ head. Then he guided their lips together into a soft kiss. Remus opened his mouth first, and Sirius was quick to follow suit, their tongues meeting in a mixture of chocolate, wine and cigarettes. Remus eagerly chased the taste from Sirius’ mouth.

           Sirius pulled back after a few life-altering moments. Remus felt his eyes flutter open to find that Sirius was smiling at him. God, Remus loved it when Sirius smiled. “I could eat you up, I really could,” Sirius sang softly.

           Remus busted out laughing. “Do not sing Sweeney Todd at me when you’re trying to be romantic.”

           Sirius chuckled and pulled Remus up into a hug. “Noted. Should I just tell you I love you then?”

           Remus hugged Sirius back, burying his face in Sirius’ neck, ignoring the deep blush currently on his face. “I-I think that would work.”

           “Well?” Sirius asked expectantly, turning his face and pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead.

           Remus hugged Sirius tighter. “I love you too.”

           Remus stood there, in a moment so like a fairy tale that he didn’t want it to end, wishing he could freeze time. He stood in the moonlight, embracing the man he had come to adore, surrounded by all the plants Sirius had bought just for him. It felt like more than Remus deserved, but he wasn’t about to let it go. He could only hope the next moment would be just as sweet.  

[lovelivingmydreams]

A story by heroes and villains

Book 2: secrets revealed Virgil Anker: trust and caution

Masterlist book 1

It's not easy to know who to trust and who to be wary off. But Virgil better learn soon.

When Virgil got back to the new house, he took a shower and sat himself on the couch in his pj’s. He was listening to his ‘winding down’ playlist. He was grinning to himself. Someone else was wearing his design. Sure he’d made Janus a shirt way back in freshmen year, but he barely wore it outside the house. This would be seen by tons of people. And it looked so good! He couldn’t wait till Monday. He could imagine Roman’s reaction. Would there be pictures in the papers? On the news? He just might buy a paper so he could keep a clipping to look back on later. Thinking about gushing over the costume with Roman at school made him think about seeing Janus again. J had skipped school after what happened in the hallway, leading to him having detention all of last week. He hadn’t even so much as looked at Virgil since. Not in a, “I am mad and ignoring you way,”. He looked ashamed. Scared. That was what made it so hard for Virgil to stick to his plan. Janus looked so hurt and lost and ashamed. And during lunch, he was nowhere to be found. Virgil needed to talk to Picani about this tomorrow. It would be a busy session. He contemplated where things had gone wrong for the millionth time for a while until he heard the door and looked up to see his fathers enter the room. “You’re back!” he greeted as he sat up. “So I gotta know, who’s your fourth guy?” he wondered casually. His dad just looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” “For your poker nights,” he clarified with a chuckle. Imagining Patton or uncle Thomas playing poker was kind of funny. It seemed so out of character for them. Still he couldn’t imagine what else would take all three of them getting together like this. Thomas had taught musical theatre classes, back when he was still a professor, and now he was the dean. Then again, Virgil wasn’t certain his uncle was always present. Tonight might just have been one time he happened to be there. But Patton definitely had been part of this project as much as Logan was. The past six months at the very least, but most likely from the start. “No cardgames I’m afraid kiddo. We’ll tell you about the project once it’s finished. It’s all confidential for now I’m afraid,” Patton told him gently. Virgil looked long and hard at Patton. He wasn’t lying. And confidential stuff made a lot of sense. He shrugged, letting it go. Even if his first guess was right after all and his dad was doing some kind of superhero stuff as BrainStorm, if Patton was there to help him Virgil felt assured that they’d be safe. Though he wouldn’t know how Patton, or Thomas, got wrapped up with anything involving a former super villain. “Okay, keep your secrets,” he sighed as he stretched. “Night Pat, night Lo,” he bid before heading upstairs. “Goodnight Virgil, I love you.” Virgil looked back at his dad when he heard that. “Love you to dad,” he replied with a smile. “Love you three kiddo!” Patton added, making Virgil laugh. “Love ya Pat.” And with that he went upstairs to his room. His new room was bigger than the one in his old house. But he didn’t care much about that. His old room had memories. He missed it honestly. He started to worry that he’d been too quick to say that he wanted to move out. No matter how nice the new house was, and how conveniently it was positioned, it would never quite be like the one he’d known most of his life. He let himself drop on his bed. It was pointless to think about that now. At this point, another family had probably moved into their old home. They’d brought their own furniture. Probably painted over the walls. Erasing the little doodles he’d made when he was little and bored. Before his mind could go any farther down that path, he heard a buzzing. Roman sent him a text. “Greetings! I just got back. Sorry for not checking in earlier. Could not be helped. Did you get home alright?” Virgil chuckled and texted back. “LOL. You worry too much. Hope you had a fun night.” Virgil certainly did. Just thinking about it made him impatient. Oh why not? Before he could second guess himself, he pressed call. “Virgil?” Roman sounded surprised, but Virgil was already way to giddy about his news. “I had to tell you now. I saw him!” he whispered. “Who? And why are we whispering?” Roman asked, mimicking his volume. “I’m supposed to be asleep,” he admitted, earning himself a chuckle. “Ok… Who did you see?” Roman asked. “Dream Prince!” expecting the logical next question he edited his story a little. “I went for a walk and I guess he was doing patrol in my neighborhood, I caught a glimpse of him,” well, that was an understatement. But he couldn’t tell Roman everything. Not yet. He’d lectured Prince about being cautious just today. He trusted Roman. But anyone could overhear them at any time. “He was wearing my costume! You were right! I can’t wait to get a good look at it in action!” Again. “You think someone got a picture? I didn’t have a chance. God I should’ve taken a picture so I could show you!” Though he wasn’t sure if he could’ve managed to get a believable citizens picture of him. He doubted Prince could be photographed if he didn’t want to be. “I’m sure I’ll see your work plastered around the front pages Monday. Pretty sure you missed out on the Saturday edition. But the news stations might talk about it.” Virgil’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You sure you don’t want your name attached to it?” Virgil considered that for a moment. It would be kind of cool, he supposed. But he was trying not to draw any attention to his civilian self so long as he did the vigilante gig. Asides from that, he didn’t want anyone to be able to claim any of his future successes were due to his connection to a superhero, or have expectations based on this one work. “Yeah… I just… I know I should want the credit. But, just in case he becomes like this big time hero,” which seemed very likely to Virgil. His powers were pretty amazing and he had the personality to make it big. “I don’t want my possible career to be defined before it starts, you know what I mean?” He hoped he did, because he was starting to get confused by his own phrasing. “Maybe I’ll come forth with the original sketch when I’m like, 30, to prove it was me if it still matters by then,” he concluded. “Sounds like a smart plan. I’m going to let you go. I do need my beauty sleep after all.” Oh, he made it too easy. “You said it, not me,” he chuckled. “Night Princey.” “Buenas noches. Mi querido amigo,” Roman replied dramatically. Virgil rolled his eyes. Though he smiled as he realized Roman just called him ‘dear friend’. Trying to hide the way that warmed his chest he let out a groan. “Bon nuit,” he huffed in retaliation before hanging up. Janus had taught him a bit of French over the years. And just like that his thoughts returned to his old friend. Janus had been well behaved the past week. He hadn’t gotten in a single fight. Maybe he should try and show that he noticed. Just saying ‘hi’ wouldn’t be that bad right? Show that he meant it when he said he wanted to get back to being friends, real friends, at some point. With thoughts of a happy ending for everyone, Virgil fell asleep. The next morning he woke up early. He made sure to be quiet as he got ready for the day. Once downstairs he turned on the tv. And sure enough, the local station was talking about Dream Prince. A professional picture of him leaping across the street from one rooftop to another serving as background. The anchors were talking about his heroic deeds of last night, ranging from walking a girl home to taking down those criminals ‘single handedly’. “No one can deny it. This young hero finds no feat too great or too small, and he does it with style. Looks like he’s settled on a look.” They thought his costume had style! Virgil was vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t sit still. He had to do something with all this energy. He started on breakfast. Bacon, eggs… It had been a while since he’d felt up to making a big breakfast and been the first to wake up. Patton was as much of an early riser as he and Logan. Which meant he hadn’t had Virgil’s secret omelet recipe yet. He was bouncing on his feet as the two anchors were analyzing the costume in as much detail as they could. They found the heels a bold choice and the mask an elegant way to incorporate a crown. When Virgil heard his dads move about upstairs he turned the news off and set the table. Patton really liked the eggs. That or he really wanted Virgil to think so. Three servings made him think that it wasn’t pretend though. After breakfast, uncle Thomas picked him up for their trip to the zoo. Virgil had been looking forward to it. It felt forever ago since he last spent some one on one time with his honorary uncle. “That’s a nice one. You really got the eyes down well,” he complemented as Virgil finished a sketch of a koala. “Thanks,” Virgil said, pretty happy with the result as well. “You are really talented. Guess it runs in the family. I remember your dad scribbling away in his poetry notebook all the time.” Virgil looked at his uncle with wide eyes. “You knew my father?” he asked perplexed. Thomas frowned down at him for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, no. I never personally met your birthfather. I meant Logan,” he clarified. Virgil was a little disappointed. For a second he’d hoped to learn a little more about his birthparents. But if Thomas had been talking about Logan… “My dad wrote poetry?” Thomas chuckled. “Yeah. He was pretty good. Though he’d disagree. He felt more comfortable using his sharp tongue on the debate team. He won us some prizes,” he recalled. Virgil took this in. He had wondered what his dad was like at his age before. Now was a good time to ask more. “So poetry and debate team… Guess that is why you two became friends, huh?” he asked. Thomas shook his head a little awkwardly. “Not exactly. With my social anxiety I probably wouldn’t have approached him if my mom hadn’t told me about his mom losing custody…” “What!?” Virgil gasped. He never knew that. Thomas cringed realizing he had maybe said to much. He looked down at Virgil. “Your grandparents weren’t parents of the year. Not abusive, but… neglectful I suppose. Logan never talked about it, so I don’t know the details. Just what little ” “He was in the system?” Virgil asked with a shiver. He’d heard about the system. He was glad he never had to experience it. “No, like for you there was someone ready to take him in right away,” Thomas told him. Virgil wanted to ask who had adopted his dad. But he had an idea… And he kind of didn’t want to hear he was wrong. He wanted it to be his parents. It would explain why Logan had such a hard time talking about them, but had so much love and respect for them when he did. “What was it like rooming with him? Was he secretly a slob in college?” he asked hopefully. Thomas relaxed and started talking about a few college stories, though he quickly veered into high school and early parenthood stories. At the end of the day Virgil had a good handful of animal sketches, an idea for his art project for the semester and Thomas dropped him off at Picani’s office. “Hello Virgil. How are you today? I heard you had a good scare earlier this week.” Virgil let out a deep sigh, sat down and started his story. Leaving Picani’s office a little bit later than planned, he felt a lot better. Or, well ‘better’ never had been the right word. He’d realized that sometime during the camp. After talking about Picani about what bothered him, he was still bothered by it. But he understood things more clearly. He felt less confused and had an idea of what to do about it. Picani never told him everything would be okay. He helped him understand what was wrong and how to either steer it in a better direction, or learn to live with it. He now felt less uncertain about wanting to give Janus a sign that there was still hope for them, even after what happened last week. He felt less guilty over indulging the people asking him out even though Roman was still very much on his mind. He even felt better about getting more information than he should’ve from uncle Thomas. It had been a relief talking about his theory that his dad had been in his parent’s custody for at least four years and that that was, maybe, the reason why he took him in when they passed. And the fact that he had at least one set of grandparents that might be still alive. He wasn’t going to ask about them though. If they held bad memories for his dad, he didn’t think he wanted to know them. It was very low on his list of priorities. The fact that his dad never mentioned them told him enough. The whole scare with the ceiling lamp was discussed and Picani left it alone when Virgil said that he didn’t want to waste too much time on it. “I’m home!” he announced as he came through the door. He heard Patton call a greeting from the kitchen and saw his dad come from the living room to meet him in the doorway. “Dad!” he called out eagerly as he gave his father a hug. “Virgil? Not that I do not appreciate you seem excited to see me. But is there a particular reason?” There were a few honestly. Knowing a bit more about how he ended up being raised by the smartest, most patient man he’d ever met had him excited. On top of that knowing what his dad was like at his age made him feel closer to him. He decided to focus on the latter. He’d turn sixteen soon. If Logan hadn’t initiated the conversation by then, he would. He could be patient for another month. “Uncle Thomas told me about your teen years. I didn’t know you were on the debate team!” he told him. He could imagine his dad thriving in that environment though. Maybe they should check out the debate team this year in between Roman’s play and Virgil’s art exhibit. Logan gave Virgil a small smile, a bit of pride in his eyes. It was rare for Virgil to see his dad proud of himself. He liked it. “Well, yes. It was a bit of a hobby of mine, as well as an attempt to get better at socializing,” Logan said modestly. Virgil picked up on the operative word in that sentence. ‘Attempt’. “You were a socially awkward nerd,” he concluded with a chuckle. He was so used to being nothing like his dad. Finding flaws and similarities to himself in the man he’d idolized as long as he could remember, it was strangely exhilarating. Logan, however seemed to misunderstand what had Virgil so thrilled. “Hey, that’s a complement! I’m a socially awkward artsy kid. Sounds like I’m your son after all!” he clarified. That reminded him though. “Speaking off. Uncle Thomas told me you wrote poetry back in the day.” “Really!?” Patton exclaimed from the kitchen. Logan was blushing. Scrambling for a way out of the conversation it seemed. “I… Experimenting with different forms of self-expression is a natural part of discovering one’s identity as a teenager. It was a phase. I would like to forget about it.” Virgil was about to argue against it, but Patton beat him to it. “Aw, but poetry is so romantic,” he pouted. And Virgil could see the way that affected his dad. Well, their date nights were about to get ten times more sappy. Hopefully going for the heart, and his ego, would work out just as well for Virgil. “That’s too bad. I thought I could make a project around your old work for art class,” he sighed disappointedly. And just like that his dad’s firm posture melted away. “I’ll see if I can find some of my old notebooks. Just ask my consent before you pick one.” Virgil couldn’t resist hugging him again. “Thanks dad. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He felt his father put his arms around him gently. A wordless “you’re welcome”. Virgil was feeling very chatty during dinner and so told his parents all about his day. They had to go to the university again tonight. Since Virgil was planning on meeting up with Prince and not sure if he’d be out all night or just long enough to talk to the guy, he bid them both a good night now. Just in case he’d be too tired to wait for them to get home once he got back. As soon as they were out the door Virgil dug in his closet for his face mask, something he wore when he was feeling sick and didn’t want to infect others. And his shades. He was going to take a chance on Prince today. He made sure he had his evidence at the ready. He’d updated it earlier that week and last night he hadn’t learned anything new. He decided to go with the same look as yesterday so Prince would recognize him more easily. He made his way to the street and vanished in the alleys. After a few minutes he found the rooftop they’d used as their rendezvous point last night. Hopefully Prince wouldn’t make him wait too long. He lowered the intensity of his cloak to be more easily spotted should someone be looking for him. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him. “Good evening my shadowy friend,” the grand voice of Dream Prince drifted through the air. Virgil turned around, his coat flaring out with the movement. “Hey there highness,” he greeted as he tossed him the evidence bag. Clear of any fingerprints or DNA as far as he could manage it, as usual. Prince studied it for a moment. “Is this…?” he sounded surprised. “A show of good will. I thought about it…” not enough. Maybe he was biased because he reminded him of Roman. Or because he’d seen him during his training wheel days. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone anymore. “You seem alright. I’ll… I’ll have your back. If you have mine.” They could help each other. Grow stronger together. Weren’t heroes always at their strongest once they learned to work together? “You do know that if I hand this in, they’ll know I made contact?” This guy. Virgil chuckled, finding this strangely endearing. “You mean you haven’t told them yet?” Prince’s posture straightened almost defiantly. “You didn’t say you were alright with that!” Was he actually insulted by the idea of reporting back to his people without Virgil’s permission? Guess he’d read him right. Good to know. “Okay. Well, consider this my permission. If I don’t want to be found, I’ll disappear Prince.” He’d find a way to avoid Prince if it was necessary. “Tell the chief all communication with me goes through you. If you don’t mind.” Because Virgil didn’t trust the chief enough to go anywhere near her. Prince nodded as he reached for his ear. “I am currently debriefing Phantom. I’ll let you know when I’m done here. Tell chief I’ll stop by with a package. Radio silence until further notice.” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. This guy. He really needed to be more careful. “You ever thought I might be a bad guy? You shouldn’t cut off your back up like that in front of me.” Had they taught him nothing at the GTH? “You’ve had plenty chances to take me out,” Prince pointed out, much to Virgil’s surprise. “You could have let those goons get me the first time you saw me. You could have attacked me while I was busy with those guys yesterday. And who knows how many times over the summer. And on top of that. Who says my communicator is my only way of contacting back up?” Okay, so maybe Prince knew what he was doing after all. “Fair enough. So what now?” He had no idea what would come after this. He just knew that Prince reached out, and he’d accepted. The ball was back in Prince’s court. “Now… I warn you about the collector.” That sounded very serious. He almost wanted to get out before he could get involved, but a gut feeling told him that this was important. He eyed the edge of the roof. Well might as well get comfortable. “I feel like this is a sitting down kind of conversation.” Once they both sat down, Virgil put on his sunglasses and dropped his cloak completely. It was symbolic or whatever. Letting his guard down in a visible way. He turned to the prince expectantly, a little annoyed at how the dark glasses limited his vision. Prince took in a deep breath and started his story. “The collector is an old enemy of Manifestor. He recruits Gifted, and those he thinks deserve to be gifted for some kind of revolution. You and I are probably his kind of people. Young, full of potential. All that stuff creeps like that love to go on about.” Virgil’s eyes widened. That did sound bad. He was suddenly very glad he had not confided in anyone about his powers so far. Who knew if the Chief was on the Collector’s payroll? Or maybe Picani was being spied on. “So we should be careful, you and I. I want to help you out,” Prince told him as he offered him two small objects. A stone and lip balm? “These can help you hide your identity without having to use your… Do you have a name for it?” Prince wondered. Virgil wasn’t sure if he could disguise his voice. But if he did, he was not going to risk Prince being someone from school who might recognize his voice. “Cloak,” he replied before dropping his guard again. “Cloak… Cool,” Prince nodded as he showed the black stone. “So this, is a voice modulator. I adjusted it to fit your tempest voice as best as I could.” Virgil couldn’t help laughing. Tempest voice? That sounded so cool honestly. But man was it dramatic. “You clearly have not heard it,” Prince pointed out and he had a point. He sounded normal to himself. “What’s with the lipstick?” he asked. “This will paint your hair black faster than any hair dye. It’s also a very good hair gel and it washes out right away,” Virgil bit his lip as Prince offered him the items. He was not used to being helped. Not as ‘Phantom’ at least. He still struggled with it as Virgil. Letting Roman help him with his English assignment yesterday had been hard. But he had to let people help him. He had to take a leap of faith here. So he took the items and got up to try them out. “No peeking!” he warned, though he would keep his cloak up. It was more to test if Prince would be tempted to go against his wishes. He didn’t. Virgil placed the modulator on his throat where Prince had his red stone and applied the balm to his hair. He spread it out and took a moment to decide on the style he wanted to go with. He tried for windblown, though he wasn’t sure if he did it right without a mirror. “Okay, let’s try this,” he said testing out his new voice. Wow, if that was what he really sounded like then Tempest voice might just have been the most accurate description. He looked back at Prince who was getting up and waling over to him. “Okay. So… what’s the plan?” he asked, curious what Prince was expecting out of this collaboration. “Well… We could try and meet up here regularly. We might not always patrol at the same time, and you might be busy. But I could… If you are okay with it… I could help you coordinate with the cops. Like you kinda suggested earlier. Or we could like, do some patrolling together? Keep each other company…” Oh, that was cute. Prince could be insecure. Virgil was starting to think he was unshakable. “It might be nice talking someone who gets it you know? You’re my age right?” he wondered. Nice try. Very subtle. “I mean… I guess, but I’m not sure how old you are exactly,” he shrugged casually. He wasn’t going to give anything away that easily. “Fair point.” Or maybe there hadn’t been an ulterior motive. He was getting paranoid. “Anyway… What do you want?” Virgil thought about that for a moment. He hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “I mean… Debriefings sound cool,” he said casually. “I’d like to patrol with you, but my parkour is no match to that walking on air trick you got…” He was kind of jealous of that one if he was honest. “I was thinking of hanging around the clubbing district at the end of the night and making sure some party goers get home safe. I’ll see you around there when you’re done?” This talk was fun and all, but Prince should probably check in with his team soon. And Virgil needed to think about things for a minute. “That sounds like a good idea,” Prince agreed as he gave him a bow. “Until then. Know that the GTA’s resources are now at your disposal through me. So if you want to get a proper suit or other fun toys, you need only ask.” And with that Virgil’s new ally sprinted of into the night. A real suit huh? Virgil shook his head. He’d have to think on that some more. For now, he had work to do.

Hero au

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00​ @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043​ @angelic-cali​ @selenechris​ @theblackveilinreverse

[mxtcha-tea]

Lines.

✎desc; how I would rate haikyuu character's drawing.

✎team[s]; fukurodani, inarizaki

✎genre; crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; okay, first off, I'm not a professional drawer but I can still rate drawings. This idea just came to me like a minute ago and I had to do it now, so enjoy :)

fukurodani.

Bokuto

Aight, I see that we started off greatly.

In all honesty, he have no idea how to draw,

And of course his drawing would look,,,, quite terrible i'm so sorry bokuto lovers

He's that kid in art class where's when the teacher already told them what to draw,

Bokuto sat there on his chair, staring at the canvas

Like, what is he suppose to do? Draw?

Well, yeah technically but what???

I can totally see him frustratingly erase the sketch if it can be called as a sketch

And then proceed to try to copy other people's work

Keyword; try

It's bad but at least he had an effort to finish it

4/10, there I said it

Akaashi

His drawings are not that professional but it's pretty

Have you ever seen a drawing that you wanted to stare at it for hours until you're satisfied?

That what's his drawing are like

Not typically an art kid so he's fine when student's from his art class asked him to draw for them

And is feeling pretty neutral with his talent (he actually won't call it a talent but more like a hobby or sum)

And just say 'thanks' if peoples compliments his drawing

Let say his drawing is, a good 8/10

A decent drawer in conclusion :)

Konoha

Not a bad drawer but he rather keep it basic

Konoha's prolly too lazy to draw something over the top so he's just gonna draw flower or something ksndnzkj

Sometimes sleep during art class and had to ask what they had to draw

Proceeds to decently draws a scenery

He's totally not the creative kid so whenever the teach tell them to draw something, he'll always go with basket of fruits, like,

Man, I appreciated the drawing but at least put some effort on thinking what to draw

The art teacher also kept telling him that he have raw talent and should enhance the skill more,

But that never happened, no

"Sorry ma'am, I'll just stick to volleyball, thank you,"

One part of the art room has a section of konoha's basket of fruits drawings but in different mediums

Rating is 7/10

Washio

IS actually an art kid and you cannot convince me otherwise

Has a small sketchbook with him and he'll always doodle when he's bored or in a middle of a lecture (while taking notes of course)

His main skill in drawing tho is painting

The colors blends in so well with one another and he's good at picking color palettes

Also, he doesn't really get that annoyed if some kids from his class ask him to teach them how to draw

Or even look through his sketchbook

He'll just nod and hand it to them without a second thought

Ajsjdhsijsi Washio get so blushy when someone compliments his drawing,,,,

I’ll give a 10/10 :), congrats

Sarukui

The best that he can do is doodles of owls and other shits but other than that, he cannot do

But the doodles are kinda cute doe ngl

He’ll have his moment where he’s in class and have no idea what to do, and just doodles a bunch of stuff

Once he draw his whole teammate including his coach and himself, he thought to himself,

“Huh, this looks good,”

And then take a picture of it for memories (cause he might throw the book he’s doodling in away)

Speaking of that, he doesn’t have an official book for drawing and just draws in his english or math’s textbook or sum

His juniors eyes are blessed when they got his textbook

Sarukui just vibes in during art class, draws and that’s pretty much it

The drawings,,,,,eh,,,, not that good, he only specialize in doodling as I said

so in conclusion,

drawing? 2/10

doodling? I’ll give a solid 5/10, good job

Komi

I’m gonna say this and I’m prolly gonna say it again

He hates art class

Like, even with him trying his best to draw, it’ll always gonna look strange than what he planned

mf cannot draw a straight line in art class

This dood can draw a nice straight line in any other class whether it’s for a graph or others,

And then proceed to shakily draw a straight line during art session

Totally not an art kid and will never be one

His drawings,,,,

I’m so sorry but it looks so bad

It’ll prolly look a lot better if he put more effort, but it’ll still look bad no matter what

Komi hates art class and can’t draw even a decent doodle so unfortunately, I’ll have to rate it 0/10, sorry :(

Anahori

His drawings are eh

It’s not good but also not bad?

Sometimes you’ll just stare at his drawing for a good minute and be like, what did he just draw just now?

What I’m saying is that his drawing’s are unexplainable

Maybe if you stare at it a little bit longer then it’ll make sense and you can see the beauty in it

But honestly I can’t really see anything, not in a bad way, but like, literally nothing

You’ll be staring at his canvas as the mario kart rainbow road music started playing inside your head

But Anahori is always proud of his drawings no manner what

So, I’ll rate confusion/10

Onaga

Just like Komi, he sorta hates art class too

But lemme tell ya, his sketches are GODLY, like, have you seen those pinterest hand sketches?

That’s what his sketch would look like

It’s so yummy to look at what

But he sucks at lineart so JAHGSDSHD

Onaga cannot properly hold the black pen and do the lineart, it’ll always turn wonky and he had to throw it away

Like, if he spend even hours tryna outline it all, and then erase it

It’ll look so trash

And he’ll just stare at it for a couple of minutes before crumpling the paper

He’ll also suck at coloring

Mans cannot understand how the color blend in together

And I think I’ll rate,,,,,6/10 just cause he suck at coloring and lineart lmao don’t worry i suck at coloring too

Kaori

Another decent drawer and her drawings are almost the same as Akaashi’s

But instead of it looking pretty, it looks cute

I have a headcanon that Kaori have a journal and does journaling so that’s prolly the reason why her drawings are cute af

But honestly, her drawings sometimes depends on her mood,

If she’s mad or frustrated, her drawing would look kinda rough and not that cute anymore

If she’s feeling happy tho, It’ll look so nice and cuddly does that even make any sense

Isn’t necessarily an art kid but would love to try be one

And she totally have drawing sessions with Washio aaaaaa,

Just imagine both of them sketching in the same sketchbook while talking about the volleyball club or anything else

She’s getting an 9/10 just cause her sketchs looks clean <33

Yukie

She doesn’t draw at all

Like, you’ll never see her drawing at any kind of time so you have no idea what it looks like

Yukie would still attend art class,

But never draws

She said that she’s pretty lazy to draw it and said to draw it at her home later

But no one even saw that drawing after that

Yukie doesn’t show her drawings nor EVEN draw for once

So I technically can’t rate :/

inarizaki.

Ginjima

LISTEN

The only reason why I started with Gin is because he have some amazing drawing skills

He admit that he’s not an art kid but draws godly as if he had been thought since he was a kid,

Well, actually yes

I think Ginjima actually wanted to be a drawer when he was still a little kid way before he started his 3rd year of middle school

So he practiced a few and became a nice drawer since then,

But he kinda quit being a drawer and decided to go with volleyball

And guess what?

His drawing talent is still there

He totally specialize in pencil drawing cause that’s the first thing he started learning

The lines are smooth and the shading are so yummy what is wrong with me

The Miya twins and Suna are so sh00ked when he saw his drawing during art class

ngl he’s pretty smug about it too but doesn’t brag about it

I’ll give this boy 12/10, mwuaah

Suna

I hate this man for this sole reason

Suna is too LAZY to draw so he doesn’t give any effort in his drawing

I can guarantee myself that I’ll get an eye strain when I saw his drawing

And...

*wipes away tears*

He draws too many dick

–2/10

Don’t come for my head Suna lovers

Atsumu

OMFG

OKAY, OKAY, I KNOW THAT ATSUMU MIGHT PUT ON SOME EFFORT IN HIS DRAWINGS,

BUT WHY IS IT STILL SO BAD?????

He’ll prolly think his drawing would look good but no, it’s not

No matter on what perspective you look his drawings at, It’ll still look bad

AND HE DOESN’T EVEN NOTICE IT

Osamu laughs a lot at his drawing and they started fighting for that only reason smh

Atsumu, I appreciate your effort so SO much,

But please, just stick to volleyball

–10+/10

I put a plus there because of his effort and because of pity

Osamu

He draws in ms paint, with a mouse

But he can draw some foods tho

But all of it looks wonky af

1/10

Akagi

A pretty decent drawer

Akagi always draw happy and cute drawings so you’ll also get happy when you saw his drawings

Puts on a big smile when people compliments his drawing and shyly scratches the back of his neck

“Nah, this just look normal!”

But he draws oddly thick lines sometimes

Sometimes it looks good in some drawing

And sometimes it looks, bizzare in others...

But I think his drawing would look nice <3

Overall, I’ll give a,,, 7.5/10, keep up the good work

Oomimi

He’s from class 7 AND I really think that he’ll be good at drawing

Well, he can draw a few things but he struggles drawing other things he never accustomed to

But!

Oomimi is that kid who’s good at drawing scenery

He knows basic color palettes and which is cold and hot colors

So the scenery drawing would always look good

He get a lot of compliments for the drawing (50% of it from Akagi)

I think he doesn’t have that many time to relax and draw freely but when he does have it, it’ll just be small and simple doodles

um, let’s go with 8/10 <3

Aran

I truly believe that Aran can draw peoples face but in a pretty decent amount

He’s also good with anatomy teach me your ways king

But as much as he’s good at that, he kinda sucks at drawing any kind of background drawings

Mans can’t draw a scenery I’m telling you

As if the background doesn’t even exist in his mind lolol I’m sorry Aran lovers, I didn’t mean that in a bad way

Mainly uses copic markers to color and color pencils to shade

The first time he use the copic marker, he got really frustrated that the marker stain the other pages lmao

And he never uses digital drawing applications or softwares

Aran just doesn’t

I think I’ll rate him, 8.5/10

Kita

Okay, I know that Kita’s a top student and never fails in anything

But he’s not typically a good drawer that much

His drawing still got good marks but when you look at it, it just looks normal

I just know that the Kita lovers gonna get me after this

It’s not that bad and not that good, just a nice balance in between

I personally think Kita’s not that godly in drawing but rather a neutral drawer

He draw what he can and does shading and coloring when it’s needed

The colors are all basic colors, no pastel, no neon

And the shadings are pretty basic

Just a normal drawer here

Ya’ll gonna fight me for this but I’ll give Kita’s point,

7/10

[darklingduke]

Finding the Write Words

Last | Next

Author Note: So, I originally wrote this fic back in July/August of 2019, but I wanted to revamp it with my updated writing style, show my growth as a writer, etc. (And I’m in the process of editing it in order to get it bound in a physical copy because I’m still really proud of this fic) And I figured I would share it here. The original blog I wrote this in was @/probablynothumanish, which has been since deactivated and someone else has that blog title ^^

Summary: In a world where everything that happens on your soulmate’s skin, happens on yours, Virgil Sinclair hides as much of his skin as he possibly can. He believes that it is too good to be true that any one person could be meant to be with him for life. 

Ships: LAMP/CALM, Demus/Intruceit

Chapter One: Ink

Virgil was ten years old when he saw them for the first time. He was sitting at the back of the classroom, staring out the window rather than actually paying attention to the lesson - not that it was anything important. It never was. 

He felt a tingling warmth rise to the skin on his arm, and his first instinct was that his arm had fallen asleep from propping his chin up, his elbow pressed to the hard top of the desk he sat at. But when he moved his arm to try to regain feeling in the limb, something caught his eye. Brows pulling together, Virgil watched as a patch of pink appeared on his skin. 

It looked like…

Paint?

But that didn’t make any sense. 

When was the last time he had painted anything? Art class was yesterday and he didn’t have it again until next week. And even if it had been today, he usually tried to steer clear of pink, not wanting any of the other students to pick on him for using such a “girly” color. 

Deciding he was most likely imagining it, Virgil shook his head and tugged his sweater sleeve over his arm, covering the offending mark before turning his attention to the front of the classroom. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe he’d spent too long daydreaming, and he was imagining things in real life now. 

He would ask his grandma about it when he got home. 

The tingling warmth persisted, despite the fact that he was no longer looking at the skin, for another half hour before it ended abruptly, and Virgil found himself freezing without it. He pulled his arms further into the sleeves of his sweater, seeking out some sort of warmth to soothe himself. He bunched his shoulders until his hands disappeared into the soft, warm fabric, but even that wasn’t enough. 

The rest of the school day went by even slower than usual, which was really saying something. It normally dragged on at such a sluggish pace anyways that it was hard to imagine it being even slower. Virgil had a hard enough time under normal circumstances concentrating on what the teacher was saying, but with the memory of the mark fresh in his mind, it was nigh unto impossible. 

By the time he was called to board the bus, he was absolutely certain that he was going to go insane. The entire bus ride home, his eyes scanned his arm, trying to see the mark through his sleeve, as though it was some magical thing that was going to be visible in any circumstance. About halfway home, he caved and pulled his sleeve up, only to see that there was nothing there. 

What?

So… he had been imagining it, after all. 

He was a little disappointed, to say the least. A part of him had hoped that he was special and had magic powers or something. Maybe he would ask his grandma about it anyways; just explain what had happened, rather than showing her. 

When the bus pulled up to his stop, he ran off of it and right into his grandma’s arms. She was one of the very few parents or guardians who actually bothered to wait at the bus stop; most of them didn’t want to stand out in the cold, so they would either wait to drive up until the bus left, or they would simply have their kids walk home if they were close enough. 

“How was school today, sweetie?” his grandma cooed in a voice that felt like honey. It was always able to wash away his worries, and as they walked home, he was able to forget about the ever-pressing worry that he was hallucinating. 

“It was okay!” he chimed, jumping over a pile of snow on the sidewalk, only to slip on a patch of ice when he landed. His breath caught in his throat as he anticipated his butt hitting the sidewalk full-force, only for his hand to be grabbed in an instant by his grandma, catching him before he fell. 

“Are you alright?” she cooed, though she didn’t stop walking, having been confronted by Virgil last month about babying him out in public. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, heat rising in his cheeks as he hunched his shoulders until the lower half of his face was hidden behind his scarf. His shoulder hurt a little from being yanked, but he was glad that she had stopped him from falling. His pride hurt more than anything, but he knew logically that it wouldn’t last. 

It didn’t take long before they walked into their house - a small two bedroom ranch-style house that somehow always managed to give Virgil the same feeling as eating a home-cooked meal or drinking hot chocolate after a long day of snowball fights. It was just… warm. 

“Gramma, can I talk to you about something?” Virgil asked as he hung up his coat and scarf, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. 

“Of course,” she replied simply. It always amazed Virgil how she never got anxious when he started a conversation like that, but as soon as she did the same to him, he was filled with an undeniable, inexplicable sense of panic. 

“Earlier today,” he started, taking a seat on the couch, “when I was in class, I saw this… thing on my arm. It looked like… almost like… paint?” He rolled up his sleeve to show his grandma the spot where it had been, even though he knew it wasn’t there anymore. “My arm got all tingly and stuff, but then when I looked again later, it was gone.”

“Ohhh,” his grandma nodded in understanding, taking a seat beside him. “Virgil, sweetie, that’s just your soulmate. I guess now is as good a time as any to give you that talk,” she chuckled, such a sweet sound that brushed away his worries. “You know how I told you not to draw on your skin?”

He nodded, remembering the conversation they had had last year when Virgil had doodled all over his skin rather than paying attention to his homework. 

“Well, that’s because everything that happens on your skin happens on theirs, too. Every time you fall and skin your knees, every time you get marker or paint on your hands, every time you get a bruise. And it’s there for them as long as it’s on your skin. Since the paint is gone from  your arm, that just means your soulmate washed it off. No big deal. Their art class probably just ended is all.”

“What’s a soulmate?” he asked curiously, cocking his head to the side. He had heard the word before, of course, on television and in movies, but had never had it explained to him and was always too nervous to ask. 

“It’s one person - or multiple people - that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. Normally it’s as partners, you would get married to them, but sometimes it’s just as friends.”

“But…” His brows pulled together. That made him more confused than he had been before he had known. “I don’t get it. Someone meant to be with me? How do I know?”

“Well, you see, the universe - or God, if you believe in that - saw that person, or those people, and thought that they would be a perfect fit for you, so you were paired with them.”

It seemed almost too good to be true, and he had learned in his short years on this earth that if something seemed too good to be true, it most likely was. After his parents had died in a car accident a few years ago, leaving him to be raised by his grandma, Virgil had stopped believing in the fairy tales that claimed happily ever after. 

That was all they were, he came to realize. 

Fairy tales. 

“Were my parents soulmates?” he asked after a moment. 

Sadness flitted over her face at the mention of them, and Virgil inwardly cursed himself for bringing them up. He hadn’t done so since shortly after the funeral. It was just better - easier - to not talk about them. It caused less pain in the long run. 

But she nodded, the sadness dissolving from her face as she forced a smile to her lips.  

“And you and grandpa?”

Another nod.

“Then… then how come he died if you two were perfect together?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, dabbing at her eyes before they had the chance to fall. “I don’t know, Virgil. But I’m sure it was for a good reason.”

He didn’t believe it. 

He couldn’t.

There was no way he would believe that any of this could be real.

Soulmates - the idea that there was someone who was supposed to be perfect for you. It seemed insane. The fantasies of a child. There was no way that whoever this soulmate was was going to be perfect for him. There was no way. People had differences, and they argued, and they fought. And if they didn’t, one or both of them died. 

Virgil didn’t want anything to do with the person who was supposedly “perfect” for him. 

He didn’t want to chance the pain his grandma went through when his grandpa died. 

He didn’t want to get his heart broken the way she did. 

Virgil decided right then and there that no matter what happened, he didn’t want a soulmate.

[why-did-i-join-this-fandom]

Simple Stars - part 2

Summary:  [Y/N] has found her soulmate.  But, it turns out that he’s an asshole.  Will they make amends?

Word Count: 2575

Warnings: slight angst??? a couple of swear words

Due to popular request, here is part 2 to “Simple Stars”  I wanted to add another day or so between when shit goes down and when Tsukki and the reader finally talk, but this would have ended up being like 5000 words!!  As always, let me know what you think!!  Your feedback is always welcome and appreciated!!

Part 1

~★~

  Part of you was happy that no one chased after you.  There was another part of you that was disappointed.  You knew that your soulmate was mean, so why did you still want him?  Why did the universe have to do this to you?  That night, you barely got any sleep.  Time was spent either crying or wondering why the universe hated you so much.

  Needless to say, you woke up the next morning feeling more tired than ever.  The day was spent simply going through the motions.  Although, you made an effort to not draw on yourself.  When lunch came around, you realized that you had forgotten your lunch at home.  Today was turning out to be one of the worst days of your life.

  Sighing, you stretched your arms above your head.  You debated on whether or not to dig through your bag for some extra cash.  Maybe you could get something from one of the vending machines.  Before you could reach to dig through your bag, Yachi tapped on your shoulder.

  “Are you alright?”  Her question was sincere, but you weren’t in the best mood.

  “Do I look okay?”  You snapped.  Noticing the look of shock and hurt on her face, you speak up again.  “I’m sorry.  I’m just tired.”

  “We both know that’s not true.  Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”  You begin to protest, but she slaps some money on your desk.  Sighing, you grab the money and stand.  What did you do to deserve such a good friend?

  “Lead the way, just not in front of the gym again.  I don’t want to deal with him.”  She simply smiles and leads you down the hallways of the school.

~★~

  Once Yamaguchi explained to the team why you ran away, everyone was scolding Tsukishima.  He did realize that he messed up, but he refused to admit it.  The idea of soulmates was nothing but an annoyance to him.  Someone who you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with?  What bullshit.

  So why was he feeling like a small part of him died?  He reasoned with himself.  Saying that he was only so upset because the team teamed up against him and banned him from practice until he made amends.  Deep down, he knew that wasn’t true.  He felt so horrible because he could feel a small fraction of the emotions that you were feeling.

  Did he really hurt you that bad?  Had he really just fucked up the one good thing that this life was willing to give him?  He spent most of that night trying to drown out your emotions.  He tried listening to music on full blast.  He tried studying to get his mind off of the things that he felt, but it wouldn’t work.  Instead, he ended up crying himself to sleep, much like you did.

  When he woke up, part of him was hoping that you had written to him.  Even if it was just those stupid stars that he threw such a fit over.  Anything.  Tsukishima wasn’t one to get overly emotional, but he couldn’t help himself.  He spent his morning sulking, trying to get his indifferent mask back on.  It didn’t work, no matter how hard he tried.

  Yamaguchi definitely noticed the difference with his friend.  However, whenever he tried to bring the difference up, he was quickly shut down.  Tsukki went through the day as normal, much like you did.

~★~

  The walk to the vending machines was quiet.  Neither of you bothered to fill the silence.  It wasn’t until you finally reached the vending machines, that Yachi broke the silence.

  “Talk to me.”  Her voice was soft.  It was like if she spoke too loud, you would break.

  “I wish I didn’t have a soulmate,” you lied.  Right now it was easier to lie to yourself than to face the truth.  Maybe if you lied to yourself enough, you could get over this.  That wasn’t how it worked, but you were desperate to stop hurting.

  “Your soulmate is your other half.  The person you are meant to spend the rest of your life with.  It’s gonna be just like any other relationship.  There are going to ups and downs, but in the end, you both know that it’s going to work out.  Do you really want to spend the rest of your life sad and alone because of one little argument?”  She was right.  No matter how much you wanted to deny it, Tsukki was your other half.  The person you were destined to spend your life with.  But that still didn’t give him any right to hurt you like he did.

  “I just… I’m not sure what to think right now.  On one hand, my heart wants to forgive him.  On the other hand, my brain keeps telling me that I don’t deserve to be treated like that.”  There was your dilemma.  The battle between your heart and your brain.  “Realistically, I know that I should just forgive and forget.  It would be better for the both of us.  I think I just need a little bit of time to process.”  At first, you didn’t want to talk about what happened.  You wanted to deny everything and go back to normal.  However, it was better to talk.  It was better to get your thoughts out there than to keep everything in your head.  

  You both take a moment to bask in the silence.  Yachi struggles to find the right words to say.  So instead she hums in approval.  She understands that you’re hurting, and she respects it.  “Let’s head back to the classroom.”  Yachi chooses to end the conversation there.  She packs her lunch up and waits for you to follow suit.  When you finally do, she gives you a small smile and walks alongside you.

~★~

  The last half of the school day comes and goes.  There was too much on your mind to properly focus, so you doodled instead.  You tried to keep your pen on your paper, but there were a few times when you couldn’t help yourself.  It wasn’t as bad as usual, but there were a handful of stars on your arms.  Would Tsukki get mad again?

  “[Y/N]-chan, why don’t you stay after school with me?  I’ll let you copy my notes and we can walk home together.”  Yachi spoke as soon as the bell rang.  You really had to stop spacing out so much.

  “Yeah, I’ll be in the library.  Text me when you’re done cleaning up, I’ll meet you at the entrance.”

  “You can just sit in the gym again,” she offers.  “That way we can just go from there,” Yachi quickly finds an excuse.  Like hell you’d go back there.  Not after last time.

  “I’m sure you know why I’m gonna say no.  There’s no way.  I’m not ready to see him again.”  You really weren’t.  At this point, you knew what you had to do, but you weren’t ready.  Not yet.

  “Alright.  I’ll see you later.”  Yachi relents.  You both pack your bags and head your separate ways.

  Your walk to the library was quiet.  It was nice to be alone again.  Once in the library, you unpack your notebook, pens, and Yachi’s notebook.  You spend a while copying notes, until someone sits in front of you.  There were plenty of seats open, so why did this person decide to sit right by you?  Curiosity gets the best of you and you look up and glare.

  “Why are you here?  Don’t you have practice?”  You sneer.  Of all places he could be, he had to be right here in front of you.

  “I’m skipping today,” he explained simply.  He didn’t look at you.  Instead, his eyes were on anything but you.  The walls, the books on the shelves, other students, anything but you.

  “Uh-huh.  Like I would believe that.  What happened, did they kick you out,” you questioned mockingly.  Finally he looks at you.

  “Tch.  I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me to be here.”  He said to you, matching your glare.

  “Then why are you here?  I thought I was too annoying for you,” you reminded him.  If he wants to talk to you, you’re gonna remind him of what he did.  Of how he hurt you.  The least he could do was apologize.  He’s the reason why you two were in this mess to begin with.

  The librarian shushed the both of you.  A small apology escaped your lips.  While you were momentarily distracted, Tsukishima snatched your pen from your hand.

  “Hey!  Give that back!”  What was wrong with this dude?

  “[L/N]!  Out!”  The librarian yelled.  Before you could protest, Tsukishima grabbed your stuff and dragged you out of there.

  “What the hell?  What’d you do that for?”  You yelled at him, snatching your wrist back.  So much for copying notes in a peaceful area.  Tsukishima walked off before he responded.

  “Well, are you coming or not?”  The smirk on his face made you want to hit him.  But, you followed him nonetheless.  He still had your stuff, after all.

  “Where are we going?”  You questioned.  

  “You’ll see.  Hurry up or I’ll leave you behind, short stack.”  Now he was calling you names?  What the hell was this guy’s problem?

  “Just because you’re a bean pole, doesn’t mean I’m short,” you defended.  He merely hums and starts walking faster.  “Hey, you jerk!  Slow down!”

~★~

  When he finally stopped, you were by the gym.  There was no escaping this place, huh?  Things were still quiet.  Neither of you had bothered to make further conversation.  Instead of wasting time sitting in silence, you decide to resume copying Yachi’s notes.  Digging into your bag, you take out both notebooks and a couple of pens.  Though, your favorite pen was not in its proper spot.  You check your backpack 3 or 4 times before letting a huff of frustration out.

  “Hey have you seen…”  The words die in your throat as you look over to see Tsukishima drawing on his arm with it.  “Hey!  I thought you hated when I drew on my arms!  Why do you get to draw on yours?”  You reach over to grab the pen from his hand.  He quickly finishes writing and stands up, holding the pen above his head.  Instead of looking like a fool and jumping up to reach it, you punch him in the stomach and snatch it when he bends over.

  “What the hell was that for?”  He clutches his stomach.

  “That’s what you get for hurting me and stealing my favorite pen,” you explain smugly.  Soon your smile dies down and you remember the hurt that you were feeling not too long ago.  With fists clenched at your side, you glare at him once more as you fight the tears that were coming back.  “Why?”  You sniffle.  “Why would you write that?”  At this point your sorrow had come back, full blast.

  He hesitates, still clutching his stomach.  “Because you were being annoying.  I was getting tired of washing off all of your little doodles before practice.”  He sits back down next to you, this time closer than before.

   “Why would you wash them off?  Is there a rule against it?”  You wanted to understand.  Why would he get rid of the doodles that connected you to him?  Did he really hate them that much?

  “I just didn’t like the attention they brought to me.”  He sighed, looking away.  “People would always comment on them.  Whether it was making fun of them or even just admiring them.  It got irritating at some point.”

  You nod, understanding that he just didn’t want the attention.  But one question still floated around in your head.  “So, do you really hate them?”  The words were quiet.  You knew it would be a difficult question to answer.  He seemed like the type of person to close anyone out before they got too close to his true emotions.  You finally looked over at him. Again, he was staring at anything but you.

  A light blush dusted his cheeks.  After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally answered.  “I don’t hate them.  They’re actually kind of…”  He trails off into a mumble.  The blush on his cheeks got brighter as he spoke.

  “What?”  You questioned.  Instead of properly answering he looked away and mumbled again.  “Huh?”  You lean in closer, trying to figure out what he’s saying.  Still, he doesn’t look at you and mumbles again, getting so red you thought he was gonna pass out.  “You’re gonna have to speak up.  I can’t hear you.”

  “I think they’re cute, you idiot!”  His head whips around, so he can finally look you in the eyes.  Your noses brush against each other.  Both of you remain there.  Noses touching, too shocked to move.  You could feel his breath on your lips.  How had you gotten so close without realizing it.  Both of your faces were flushed.  Time seemed to come to a halt.  Was this it?  Was this the moment you forgave him and sealed your fate?

  “JUST KISS ALREADY!”  The sudden yell makes the both of you pull away.  When your head whips around to see who yelled, you see the whole team standing there.  Watching you.  Instead of them all continuing to stare at you and Tsukishima, they turn to scold the person who yelled.  It was another short player.  The one with a tuft of hair bleached in the front.  While everyone drags him back inside the gym, the one with grey hair waves and tells you to “carry on.”  Way to ruin the mood, guys.

  When you look back at Tsukishima he has a glare on his face.  This time it wasn’t aimed at you.  While he’s distracted, you take time to get a good look at his face.  There was still a light blush on his cheeks.  Though, it wasn’t clear if that was from embarrassment or anger right now.  His short, blond hair looked soft, and the way the light hit his eyes made them look beautiful.

  “Don’t you know that staring is rude,” his sudden interjection caught you off guard.  How long had you been staring?  You blushed again and backed up even more, almost falling off the bench.

  “I wasn’t staring!”  You denied, waving your arms in front of your face.  The embarrassment didn’t last long, because you noticed something on your arm.  “I’m sorry.  Forgive me?” was written neatly, with little stars surrounding it.  When you looked back at Tsukishima, he was turned away again.  Though, the blush was still obvious.

  Instead of responding verbally, you picked your pen up and wrote back to him.  “You are forgiven.” appeared on Tsukishima’s arm.  He was almost too embarrassed to notice it.  It was your turn to blush and look away.  Though, when he stands up suddenly, you look back up at him, slightly confused.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”  Before you can protest, your phone rings.  It’s a text from Yachi.  She says that you can keep her notebook for the night and give it back to her in the morning.  You smile.

  “Okay, let’s go.”  When you stand he snatches your pen again and speeds away.  “Hey!  Give that back!”  You quickly stand up and run after him, giggling.  Maybe your soulmate wasn’t such an asshole after all.

Taglist:

@yeet-these-hoez @steggy4ever

[kyoupann]

Hey! Merry Christmas for you, I hope you can enjoy your day as much as possible even with all the people around! 💕

It's not exactly a prompt, but I would love to see anything with Shadow and Ravio. From wholesome to chaotic, anything will make me happy! lol

Happy holidays to you too!! <3<3

Hey? So, the anon who asked you if it was okay to write something based off your stuff? That bitch was me! Ksksks I started to write/plan this around the time I sent that ask, so here’s the full thingy! <3

Based off this thingy. Wholesome kindergarten boyos becoming friends.

Ravio was excited for his first day of school at his new kindergarten. He was ecstatic to meet his new teacher and make friends and play tag with and exchange friendship bracelets and…

“and, and-- we’ll be besties forever, pops!” he shouted from the backseat, throwing his hands in the air.

“I’m sure of it, kid.”

The car pulled over and Ravio, being the big boy he was, unbuckled his seatbelt with no help. He opened the door as quickly as he could and grabbed his little purple bag from the car floor.

“You want me to go in with you?”

He shook his head, “Nu-uh, pops! I can do it alone!” he gave a big toothy smile, flashing his buck teeth before slamming the door shut in all his excitement.

He marched toward the entrance gate, his back straight and his chest puffed out. A smiley lady greeted him and from the way she held his hand to guide him to his classroom, he knew he’d be fine.

Today’s gonna be the best day.

******

Today wasn’t the best, he still didn’t have a best friend.

Being the new kid sure brought unnecessary attention to himself. But he was prepared for it, he had sneaked some candy from the cupboard this morning and during recess, he offered one to each of his classmates and possible new friends. He thought it worked because a group of kids invited him to play with them.

He was on his way to the classroom to leave his bag there when he spotted a kid sitting behind the plastic playhouse in the corner of the playground. The kid was completely alone, drawing black swirls with a crayon on a sheet. He looked so sad… and Ravio still had some candy left…

“Hello!” Ravio kneeled in front of the kid and waved his hand enthusiastically, “I’m Ravio! What’s your name?!”

Kneeling to his level made him realise how small this kid was. Most likely a first grader?

The kid didn’t even look up from his paper, “not telling.”

Ravio pouted, but that didn’t stop him from achieving his goal, “I have sweets! Do you want some?”

He took a handful from his bag and offered them to the kid. At the mention of sweets, the smaller one perked his head up, looking straight at Ravio with a frown. Ravio couldn’t help but gasp loudly, the eyes of this kid were a deep shade of red, with slits instead of pupils. Ravio had never seen anything like that before. How strange and cute, it reminded him something…

The kid snatched the sweets from his hand without a thank you and continued to draw. He ignored him, and Ravio really wanted to go play with his new friends, so he said goodbye with a bright smile. At least, the candy seemed to have brighten up his mood.

After break, he saw the kid enter the same classroom as him and took a seat in the back. Ravio quickly followed him and took a seat next to his new friend. With mild difficulty, he read the tag on the little desk and learnt that his little friend’s name was Shadow. He sat with him for the remainder of the day. Although Ravio tried to talk to him, Shadow ignored him for the most part. He only addressed him by extending his palm, silently asking for candy, which Ravio was happy to give out. Ravio didn’t mind the silence at all and enjoyed seeing Shadow doodling on his paper. He decided then that he liked him and that he would bring him candy every day.

******

Today had not been the best day. In fact, it had been horrible.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten about him; the kids with whom he had played before were now ignoring him. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, no one wanted to talk to him. He beamed when a girl approached him during lunchbreak, but his joy was short-lived for the girl him only did so to squeeze the apple juice he was drinking, making him choke and cough his lungs out. Then during naptime, someone stuck a lollipop to his hair; the miss had to cut a small strand of his hair because there was no way it was coming off. Just before the day was over, he offered a candy to a boy in exchange of an answer to why they were treating him like that.

The kid sucked loudly on his lollipop, “someone saw’cha hanging out with the weird kid.”

Shadow? Was he not supposed to?

“No one wants to be friends with a weirdo,” was all the kid said before running off.

Even if today had not been great, even if it had been awful, even if he had silently cried in the backseat on his way home, he still had hope for tomorrow. Today had not been great, but tomorrow surely will!

Tomorrow had been bad, too. And so was the following day, and the next, and the next.

--

“Hey, dumbass! Leave him alone!” a high-pitched shriek came from the other side of the playground.

Shadow stepped between the pathetic form of Ravio recoiling on the floor and the girl currently bullying him. He put his little hands on his hips and gave her a scowl, trying to look as intimidating as his petite figure allowed him.

“He’s my idiot, go find yours somewhere else!”

“And if I don’t want to? Are you gonna rat me out with Miss. Malon?” she sing-sang, not showing any sign of backing down. She looked Shadow down and shoved him.

Shadow shut his jaw tight before letting out an ear-piercing battle cry. He jumped on the girl, bringing her down to the ground by the hair with him, he sat on top of her and held her down by the shoulders.

“You make him cry, you’re dead.” It wasn’t a threat; it was a statement.

The girl’s eyes were starting to well up to the brim with tears and barely managed to nod nervously. Shadow got off of her and as soon as she had the opportunity to get up, she fled the scene crying profusely to a group of girls on the other side.

With a satisfied smile on his face, he was ready to take his leave, when a hand grabbed him by the wrist.

“T-thanks,” Ravio said between sniffles, a meek smile barely forming.

“Ew,” he snatched his arm quickly and left him alone.

****

The following day, just as he was entering the classroom to retrieve his stuff and go home, Shadow found a bundle of black clothes sitting on his little desk. On top of the neatly folded clothes, there was a note with a doodle of a rabbit.

He looked at it, the words foreign to him. He tossed the note into his bag, he’ll ask Four to read it for him later. He unfolded the clothes, revealing a simple black hoodie; but as he turned it around, he spotted two little appendages of fabric on the head. Those were… horns?... Cool. He wrapped the hoodie’s arms around his tiny waist and made his way out.

The next morning, when Shadow entered the classroom with his hoodie up and proudly showing its cat ears, Ravio knew it was going to be a great day.

******

bonus:

Ravio’s note