A/N: This will be two parts with a possible epilogue. Wanted to thank @thebeasthasentered for reading my first draft and giving me some really helpful feedback.
Summary:Your best friend in the whole galaxy is coming to visit to help out with Thanos. When he arrives, Steve finds himself jealous of the close relationship Peter and you have. Will this stop the man from telling you how he feels? Will old feelings be brought up once Peter arrives? Does first love truly fade?
we spin flags and various weapons like rifle and saber and often spin while simultaneously having to dance and retain ballet skills alongside performance skills and remembering our drill spots!! and technically we are a part of the band unit, but we don't play music or anything like that. often times we just call ourselves band members just to save time with teachers and whatnot.
It only took Jack’s brain about three tenths of a second longer than his mouth to wake up and by that time his mouth had already gone ahead and started talking without the brain which meant that three tenths of a second later Jack quite viscerally realized that he had made a Mistake.
Bitty had been looking at a catalog in bed next to Jack on a very rare lazy Sunday morning when Jack had woken up, turned over, and opened up his big, dumb mouth. Specifically, Bitty had been looking at a women’s catalog, not terribly unusual as Bitty did in fact have a mother and cousins and female friends whom he did buy presents for throughout the year.
This particular morning, Bitty was looking for a particularly kickass and sexy yet tasteful pair of heels or possibly boots for Lardo to wear to a gallery opening for a friend whom she knows through business that she does not in fact privately like but must publicly support and profess a friend. Footwear for the opening was the last piece that needed to be nailed down, the two having already put together the perfect outfit that says “I hate you and everything you stand for and I will do so while looking fabulous and playing the perfect friend so you’d better get your sucked lemon face ready because you’ll be wearing it all night to go with your own far less fabulous outfit” earlier in the week.
It just so happens however that the footwear in this catalog starts where the lingerie ends. Which is what Jack saw. Which is when he opened his big, dumb mouth. Which is when his relationship flashed before his eyes and his world ended. Because he didn’t just open his big, dumb mouth, he opened it and sleepily said, “Wow, you would look incredibly sexy in that, you should absolutely buy the rose one.”
Bitty processed the words and froze. “Excuse me?”
What was Jack supposed to say? He had just, out of nowhere, suggested his very male boyfriend purchase the gorgeous, expensive, satin bustier and panty set with flowerettes lining the neckline that sat on the glossy page in front of them. And he’d specified the preferred color no less. Rose, if you please. Jesus this was a disaster.
There was literally no way for this conversation to go that he wouldn’t joyfully give up to let enraged hippos chew on his entrails. Jack could actually feel the blood rushing from his face.
“Uuuuuhh…..” was his highly intelligent response so far.
“Darlin’, what exactly are you lookin’ at on this page?”
“I don't…” he sighs “…there’s no way for me to avoid having this conversation is there.”
“No, not really.”
Jack’s shoulders wilted. “Alright.” Jack squares his shoulders up with the blue line, blows out a controlled breath, and prepares to take his shot. “I was looking at that bustier and panty set. The one with the good steel boning and the rosette border.” Jack not only gestures toward the catalog but taps the page to indicate his choice. “And that deep dusky rose color would look good with your skin, would add a glow and a warmth. Like strawberries and cream.” Jack mentions his reasoning on the topic of color ruefully at best.
Wheels have been slowly turning in Bitty’s head.
“So you’d like to see me in this one.” It wasn’t a question though it did sound mighty doubtful with a dash of incredulity that this wasn’t some kind of prank.
Jack resolutely kept his eyes on the wall across from the foot of their bed.
Bitty studies Jack’s face, nods once to himself as if having come to a conclusion, and relaxes back into the pillows.
“I wonder if they have any heels that would match…”
Ok. Here me,out. Vilitigo lance. He almost run out of make up.
-Hi! I’m sorry this took so long! This will be a bit different than what you asked for! I just know that there is already a vitiligo Lance story out there, and I don't want to write something too similar! I hope you like it! :)
Lance’s eyes trail over his face in the mirror, pausing on the bright patch of white covering his left eye. The entirety of the skin is glaringly white. Even his eyelashes appear to be bleached. The paleness of the mark is shocking next to the rest of his caramel colored skin.
Lance sighs and looks to his chest where another mark rests. It almost seems to shine like a star against the night sky that the rest of his skin mimics. Its heart-like shape mocks Lance every time he looks at it.
His mother used to say that it was the pureness of his heart shining through.
Lance wishes it would just go away.
He can’t stand the awful patches colorless of skin that cover his body. They’re ugly and awful. He knows that people will never say that to his face. They’ll just think it to themselves as they stare at Lance with pity and indulgence.
Lance wishes that he had normal skin. He wants to be able to get ready without his siblings snickering at him when they think he isn’t looking. He just wants to feel normal. He wants to be confident in his body.
Lance knows that will never happen.
So, like most people, Lance will fake it till he makes it.
His looks at his pale eye in the mirror one more time before pulling out a small bag of cosmetic supplies.
No one will be able to tell.
But Lance knows. His family knows. And with every swipe of concealer he feels himself deflate a little bit more.
‘Pain really is Beauty.’
-I hope you liked it, Please let me know what you think!
This isn’t edited, so there may be typos or errors.
Smirking to yourself, you looked over the selection of hair dyes. You weren’t sure how you did it, but you finally convinced Corbyn to let you dye his hair. What’s more was that he allowed you to pick the color with the exclusion of a few that he felt weren’t tolerable. He’d already nixed pink and purple, but as he’d named no more colors, you felt the rest should be safe to use.
The fact that Corbyn was even allowing you to dye his hair showed how much he trusted you, his girlfriend of a year and a half, particularly because he was fairly particular about it. Deciding on one of your favorite colors, green, you picked up a box of a darker green and went up front to pay. You’d told Corbyn to stay home because you wanted to surprise him and you hoped that this would be a surprise.
You paid, got in the car, and drove home, walking into the house to find Corbyn and the rest of the Why Don’t We boys playing video games. At least, until they heard you walk in the door with a plastic bag in hand. Corbyn, understandably, looked nervous. Jack clapped Corbyn on the back in solidarity before walking away. Daniel and Zach muttered a quick, “Good luck!” before bolting out of the room and presumably into the kitchen. Jonah didn’t seem to be in any rush to leave, however, and smirked at his best friend and you.
“What color did you pick for him, (Y/N)?” Jonah asked, looking down at the bag you still had in your hand. Corbyn turned to you and then looked down at the only thing that was between him and a new hair color, his eyes full of fear.
“Oh, I figured I’d let Corbyn find that out when he washes the dye out,” you laughed, causing your boyfriend’s handsome face to twist into an exasperated expression, a little groan audible from his parted lips.
“Y/N, please just tell me,” Corbyn whined.
“Nope!” you replied, a chuckle not far behind. This is what you’d wanted, honestly, because for one thing, it felt good to hold the power. And another thing, your boyfriend was cute when he was being surprised and whiney. However, to make him feel a little bit better, you pecked his cheek and reached for his hand with your free one.
Jonah followed behind the two of you as you headed to the bathroom, probably the safest place to use the dripping dye without staining something important.
After prepping the dye, you began to brush it onto Corbyn’s hair, his back turned to the mirror so that he couldn’t see what was going on. God, it was amazing that he had this much trust in you and you almost felt guilty for choosing green because of that, but frankly, it was hilarious and you had plans to do the same thing to your hair in the near future.
Jonah smirked the entire time, as you applied the dye and as you sat the required waiting time. And then it was time for Corbyn to wash the goop out of his hair, which he opted to do in the shower.
At that, Jonah left so that Corbyn could get undressed. Corbyn made you cover your eyes until he pulled the shower curtain closed behind him. Why, you weren’t exactly sure. You’d seen him undressed quite a few times before, but you weren’t going to argue with him, not when you were changing the color of his hair.
You sat on the toilet, lid down, and talked to your boyfriend as he began to rinse his har.
“Green, (Y/N)?” he asked with a chuckle, probably watching the color swirling down the drain.
“You know it’s my favorite, Corbyn!” you giggle in response.
There were a few seconds of silence as he turned his face upwards toward the water, rinsing off his face.
“Do you think it’s going to look good?” Corbyn pondered aloud, turning the water off and thrusting his hand through the curtain so that you could hand him a towel.
“Why wouldn’t it? Green is freaking awesome.”
When Corbyn stepped out of the shower, the towel was wrapped around his waist, stained with some of the excess green that hadn’t come out in the running water.
You glanced up at his hair, which wasn’t quite dry, even with the use of the towel and noted the color. You loved it. And then, right as Corbyn looked into the mirror to see how he looked, you noticed it.
The dye had stained his face- not just green, but also some yellow where the different colors had separated out.
Corbyn hadn’t noticed yet, but he did hear your gasp and see your wide eyes when he looked over to see what had caused your sudden intake of breath.
“What, babe?” he asked, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.
“How… how do you like your hair?” you asked as innocently as possible, looking down at your hands to avoid eye contact.
“I like it. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” you rushed, standing up and quickly walking out of the room, face down. This confused Corbyn, but he let it slip for the few seconds it took him to look back into the mirror.
Right outside the door, you stopped, waiting to hear his realization. This came mere moments later.
“(Y/N)!” he called out, which just made Jonah pop out of a nearby room.
“How’s it look?” Jonah asked you upon seeing the panic that had settled onto your face.
“His hair looks fine, it’s-” but you were cut off with the bathroom door opening and your boyfriend’s face peering through the crack, causing Jonah to laugh.
“You stained me, (Y/N).” Corbyn accused playfully, his eyes narrowing at you.
“You’re a work of art now,” you gave a small smile. He could actually be mad and you felt terrible.
When he smiled back and kissed your cheek, you allowed a sigh of relief, making Corbyn chuckle.
“I like the color, babe,” he murmured to you, taking your hand.
“And your face?”
“Has never looked better.”
“Or more colorful, Corbyn, or more colorful.” You’d forgotten Jonah was there, honestly, but this comment made all of you laugh.
Well, at least Corbyn liked the green in his hair. The colors on his face should wash off soon, right? Hopefully. But for now, you have a stained Corbyn.