#but I thought some of you might get a kick out of this

[circledwithaheart]

Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.

"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"

The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.

"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.

They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"

Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?

The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”

Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.

“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”

Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.

"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.

The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."

"Buck."

Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"

"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."

Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."

They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.

"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.

~~~~~

As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.

Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.

He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.

Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.

It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.

I did, remember? It's better this way.

Sal attaches the picture this time.

Better for who, exactly?

The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.

He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.

"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Cindereddie

Written for the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Slipper on the main card | Argyle on the Get Lucky bonus card

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Recreational drug use; Jealous Steve; Idiots in love

“I lost my shoe,” Eddie declares, overjoyed and giddy. 

Sure enough, a look at his feet reveals one worn combat boot with the laces undone and one muddied sock with a toe poking out from a hole at the tip. There’s cartoon figures printed all over it. The sock, not the toe. Garfield, probaby, though it’s hard to tell with all the mud. 

“Huh?” says Steve. It’s pitch dark and raining, and he had just fallen asleep when the doorbell rang, and now Eddie is here - sopping wet, dragging a trail of muddy footsteps all over the front porch and aiming that wide, toothy grin at him that always makes Steve’s heart skip a beat. 

He feels like he missed something. 

Eddie’s smile, impossibly, goes wider. “I lost my-” 

“Yeah,” Steve interrupts him. “I see that, just- …What are you even doing here? I thought you were gonna hang with Argyle tonight?” 

He tries his best to keep the sneer out of his voice, to ignore the ugly twist that his stomach gives at the thought. Argyle is a decent guy, and there’s absolutely no need to feel jealous of this newly formed friendship between Eddie and him. Because that’s all they are. Just friends. Exactly like Eddie and Steve are just friends, so Steve has absolutely no right to get all moody and possessive like that. 

“Oh, I did,” Eddie nods, wet curls bobbing. “We sampled his new strain. Fairy Godmother. The Cali stuff has the wackiest names, but the way it hits? Metal as fuck, man.” 

Which … okay, that actually explains a lot. Like the way Eddie quite evidently can’t stop grinning. Or the way his eyes are even darker than usual, pupils almost entirely swallowing the browns and caramels of his irises. Or the southern drawl that has crept into his voice - barely there but just noticeable enough around some of the vowels. 

“Okay?” Steve says, valiantly attempting to keep his mouth from twitching, but what can he say? Eddie’s smile is contagious. “So you're high as balls. That still doesn't explain why you're here.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Wanted to see you. Don't you wanna see me?” 

His bottom lip juts out and his eyes go huge. Steve rolls his eyes. 

“I'm always happy to see you, idiot. Just… you couldn't have waited until tomorrow? You absolutely had to walk all the way here in the rain and the mud?” 

“Would've taken the van,” Eddie mutters around a fistful of hair. “Except I thought that was too risky.” 

Steve crosses his arms at him. “Well, I'm glad we agree on one thing at-”

“It might turn back any second.” 

Steve stares. “Pardon?” 

“Into a pumpkin,” Eddie says, like it makes sense. “It's almost midnight, right?” 

A look at his watch tells Steve that this is true. What it doesn't tell him is what the hell Eddie is on about. Steve pinches his nose. 

“What the fuck? Why would your van turn into a-” 

And then it clicks. 

“Oh God,” he groans. “Don't tell me you mean the fucking Fairy Godmother?” 

“I'm Cinderella!” Eddie beams. Then, his brow creases. “Cindereddie? Look, I even lost my-” 

“Your shoe,” Steve snorts, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to usher him inside. “I know. Pretty sure Cinderella wore glass slippers though, not combat boots.” 

Eddie scoffs and waves him off, but he does allow himself to be pulled into the entrance hall and maneuvered onto the little bench there. 

“Shit, you're freezing,” Steve mutters. “Hold on, I'll get you something to dry off.”

By the time he returns with a stack of clean towels and dry clothes, Eddie has already peeled out of his flannel and jacket and is sitting there in all his wet, bare-chested glory, humming to himself and idly kicking his muddy feet. 

“Jesus,” Steve mutters, throwing a clean sweater at his face. “I don’t believe you. What are you trying to do, get pneumonia?”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie’s reply, just drops to his knees on the marble tiles and pulls off the muddy sock. It makes a wet squelching sound as he tosses it aside. He has just finished towelling off the naked foot and moved on to removing the boot from the other when Eddie speaks again.

“Will you help me find it?” 

He is speaking from inside the sweater, so his voice comes out a bit muffled. Steve frowns up at him. 

“Find wha- … your boot?”, he asks. Eddie pops his head out of the sweater, all disheveled hair and adorable puppy dog eyes. “What? Argyle can’t help you with that?”

“I’m sure he would,” Eddie shrugs, wiggling his naked toes happily. “But he isn’t my Prince Charming, so …” 

Steve feels himself flush. Suddenly, he’s acutely aware of the picture they’re making - himself kneeling by Eddie’s feet and taking off his boot, like some weird reenactment of the prince putting the lost glass slipper on Cinderella. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” he blurts, yanking the boot off a little too roughly and shooting to his feet to pull Eddie up and towards the staircase. “We can find your stupid shoe tomorrow when it’s light. Right now, you need to sleep that high off.”

Eddie leans into him as they wobble up the stairs, hair tickling Steve’s neck. 

“Will my prince give me a kiss goodnight?”

“Shut up,” Steve grouses. 

And if he does bend down to sweep the damp curls from Eddie’s sleeping face, once he has tucked him into bed in one of the guest rooms? And if he does press his lips to his forehead?

Nobody but him needs to know. 

If he’s lucky, maybe Eddie’s lost boot won’t be the only thing he finds tomorrow. Maybe he’ll actually muster up the courage to tell him how he feels. 

More Steddie Bingo

[wishyoudwell]

Theres often talk about Legends trauma and how he tries to distance from his emotions, how his experiences have affected him, and in turn I also like to think about how Ravio operates with his own trauma. This might sound pretty silly but I think both of them are equally as terrible at dealing with their issues. Ravio is still Links counterpart after all, and I'm more than sure he's gone through a fair share of things, especially hailing from Lorule. There's just differences in how they handle it. While Legend is often written to be repressing his trauma and keeping himself tight under lock and key, Ravio seems to be pretty casual about mentioning bad happenings. It kinda feels as if Ravio would make light of his own trauma, hardships or bad experiences before quickly brushing them off/playing them off as jokes. He sort of does this ingame, after all? The way he says it makes you unable to take him seriously, but when you really think about what he's saying...

"Finally, no more sleeping in the wild. Tough world out there, you know?" "But—! But—! But aren't we buddies? You'd kick me out? Into that cruel, cruel world out there? Please? You don't know what it's like trying to get some shut-eye with all those creepy-crawlies!"

You could argue that he's only saying this to garner sympathy and pity from Link. But since he escaped Lorule without knowing if he could ever even return....yeahhh, I think there's a lot of truth here. Casually hinting at how he he had to sleep outside while worrying about being left defenseless to monsters... I don't think Ravio really lies (much). He's just pretty good at omitting information. He's also really good at playing a character. Ravio also says some pretty weird and mildly concerning stuff once he's "in retirement" and being all philosophical on Links floor.

"I always thought sleeping all day would be fun. But now I think I'd miss breakfast and lunch, right? Yeah, I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"For a long time, I believed that if you put your ear to the ground, you'd hear the world's heart beating. That the world just goes on living, whether you were there or not. Weird, right? And sorta sad. So I've been listening here for a while, and you know the only heart I've heard? Mine! I couldn't be happier. Ha! I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"You know, whenever I used to just lounge around... I would think how I'm just a tiny speck in a great, big world. And I still believe that I'm a teeny, tiny, little speck in a world that's SO much bigger than I ever thought! But even a speck can change the world if he puts his heart into it. I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"I've never really had the time to take a lot of naps before. The world looks so different from here! Sometimes just changing your perspective is the key to... well, to everything! I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"When I look at you, Mr. Hero, I now realize that just about anything is possible if you put heart into it. Ha! Seems like it's about time for me to decide where to put MY heart!"

It's a lot of fun, trying to imagine what the future holds. Ha! I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!

One thing that does become pretty evident though is how Links presence and the land of Hyrule itself seems to have had a really positive and healthy influence on Ravio and his psyche. He appears to have been a lot more somber before, but meeting Link and experiencing his courage firsthand has helped Ravio grow too, to the point he was able to develop a happier, positive outlook on life. Meanwhile you could argue that Legends become more bitter overtime on his outlook on life the more adventures he has to go through (lol). Hmm...yeah, I didn't really have anywhere specific I was going with this. It's just another interesting parallel to me how Legends personality and portrayal would clash with his counterparts. They're interesting to me, they compliment and play off each other well...they process and experience life so similarly yet differently...

[sthilarions]

Charles rattles the door of Hilarion’s basement level, then kicks it. Locked. Typical. “Wilson? You gonna let me out, mate?”

There’s a strange sound behind him, almost like giggling. Great. Derek must’ve stayed in here to laugh at him. Not a well thought-through prank, really. He turns around. Might as well play stupid. “Is that someone mucking about? Who is it?”

No response.

There’s a lot of tumped-over boxes of old dolls down here, for some reason, kinda creepy, really, he’d noticed them earlier. He starts back down the other way, towards where Derek was giggling. One of the doll’s heads rolls out into the middle of the hall. Must’ve fallen off the stack. He reaches down to pick it up, and it rolls away from his hand behind a box. He blinks after it for a second, then shrugs. So long as it’s out of the path and nobody’s tripping on it.

He gets to an intersection. There’s more giggling, from the left, in a direction where the light’s kinda green - maybe it’s an Exit sign? He starts to head that way when there’s a weird sound from behind him, and he turns around, and there’s a doll, standing a few feet away, half its face broken out.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you got me. Very funny.”

More doll heads roll around the corner, towards the standing doll, and he’s not quite sure how his mates are pulling this off. “Right, I’ve got the joke. Whose idea was this? Is it Derek’s? Is it? Derek, is this you?”

More and more doll parts are rolling towards each other, and they’re starting to form a sort of mass, and the giggling’s getting very loud, and a kind of broken-porcelain tentacle reaches out towards him, and something grabs his hand -

“RUN!”

Charles is yanked off his feet and running down the hallway, something with a lot of porcelain legs chasing after him, and he’s being dragged by the hand, a boy’s running next to him and they’re holding hands and something in Charles settles into place even as the giggling gets deafening and the clatter of broken porcelain gets closer.

The boy pulls him into an elevator and a sort of porcelain pincer tries to follow them in and the boy pushes it back, and Charles’s brain finally kicks in enough for him to help shove it out the door, which struggles closed and sends them up. Some porcelain falls to the floor, and he picks it up. It looks pretty ordinary. Old ugly paint, probably full of lead, but shouldn’t be dangerous otherwise, definitely shouldn’t be trying to pincer him to death.

The boy does something to the elevator and it jolts to a stop.

As the doors open, Charles pulls himself together enough to talk - “Who are you, then? What was that thing down there? Some kind of demon?”

The boy gives him a rather haughty look as they speedwalk through the halls. “That was something rather worse than a demon. It is only able to remain on this plane thanks to a tethering rune-circle in the attic, so I am going to go up there and destroy the circle, and I might well be discorporated in the process, but don’t worry about me. No, you go back to the dorms. Go on. Go play cricket or banter with your mates. And don’t tell anyone about this, because if you do, you’ll get them killed.”

The boy steps through a door and slams it behind him, and Charles stands staring at it, deeply confused and with the strangest feeling that if he never sees this boy again something will go deeply wrong with the universe.

The door swings back open and the boy’s head pops back through. “I’m Edwin, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Charles.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles. Run for your life!”

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 01.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there.

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: wanted to write for him when i was drawing him last night. the drawing turned to shit so i hope the fic doesn't. I've just recently started reading the comics so if he goes a bit ooc i apologise. happy reading.

wc: 3k

dividers by @cafekitsune

masterlist. fic masterlist. next

"god fucking dammit!"

you pick up your phone from the pavement, which by the way, was wet with puddles. so now your phone might not just have a cracked screen but also stops working for good. your brows furrow in concern as you scrutinize the rather horrible crack in the screen making you groan quietly in frustration.

"why now— ugh-" your attempts in starting the phone become rapid and restless before you shove it in your bag with a sigh.

the week had been a rollercoaster, to say the least. freelancing, internship and part time only pays so much, it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet. you were thankful that your father and step mother had moved out and given you the apartment to yourself, though you still had to pay mortgage.

living in gotham is already tough enough, with criminals and vigilantes crawling left and right. your father had begged you to move elsewhere but you really could not afford that. Alyssa, the step mother, had been pestering your dad to move out of gotham. and so they did, bought a good house on the countryside. you were happy for them, even though you didn't exactly like alyssa, you wouldn't want them to say in gotham.

your dad had offered to help you out, in paying bills and mortgage until you found a decent job that wouldn't make you die from stress. but he was old enough, you wanted him to relax now. live a little.

and you did land a job, not exactly decent in this economy but its enough. you were still scrambling with almost no savings but its okay.

only it doesn't feel so okay right now. adjusting to a new workplace is harder than you thought and its a long distance from your apartment. and its way too dark for a single women in gotham to be walking back home because you trust the metro far less.

there are people still there, of course, but its as if by each passing minute that dread in your stomach increases, as if any one of them might whip out some guns or gut someone with a knife. while you loved the moody clouds, it always made gotham too grim. an extra layer of sinister doom.

you increased your pace, your apartment was still a fifteen minutes walk and it wasn't exactly in a secure neighborhood. not like any neighborhood is secure in gotham. well maybe except those one percent of rich elites , like the wayne who lives in his pretty castle. okay you were a teensy bit petty against rich.

your hands were tightly clutched around your bag on instinct while your eyes were alert as they continously scanned the neighborhood, and you notice a few walking exactly like you. scared. hurried.

"almost there almost there—"

"– wait please help!— wait WAIT GOD PLEASE—"

your feet came to an abrupt stop, grimacing as you didn't dare turn your head to look into that dark alley. of course it had to happen in front of you.

of course you were no selfish, heartless bastard. but you were no vigilante either and you've seen enough news to know that its often the helpers who end up dead with a bullet through their head.

your mother was one of them.

"— please don't‐" RIPPP! "— please no!"

you winced at the scream, the unmistakable sound of clothes ripping had your head taking a sharp turn towards that darkened alley.

whatever. if you die you die.

you took a long shaky breath before hurriedly following that sound and despite the lack of light, you could clearly make out the rather disgusting man holding a pistol over the women's head. her sleeve was torn and you guessed he was manhandling her roughly, assumption true from the way he was gripping her arm.

but the man didn't notice, neither the women. it was understandable for her not to but the man should have, you weren't exactly in his blind spot or even quiet in your steps. but you took that as a blessing as you slowly inched forward, slowly yet steadily.

one thing you were the most grateful to your dad was that he put you in self defense classes since a kid. after your mom's death, he had made it absolutely sure that if, god forbid, you ever found yourself in such a situation, you'd at least have a fair chance of escaping. you believed every damn kid in gotham should know it, but sadly, its a privilege not many can afford.

taking a deep breath you spring into action, not giving your brain a moment to freak out.

your hand tackled his hand with the gun and shoved it upwards, muzzle up, before slamming the side of your palm on his throat. he choked, his eyes widening in surprise as he stumbled back and in that moment you could see his eyes were red and crazed. the fucking asshole was high. not good. not good at all.

even in that pain he pulled the fucking trigger, making your ears ring out. the girl screamed as she fell to the ground, cowering and sobbing as she covered her ears. if you weren't already high on adrenaline you would have done the same— shit maybe your heart did stop for a second.

you land a harsh kick straight to his groin before disarming him, snatching the gun and throwing it far. the man groaned loudly, holding his now broken jewels as he dropped to the ground. so for good measures, you swivel and land a roundhouse kick on his head.

....

for a second its just dead silence as you stand, huffing and puffing as you look down at the man before your eyes dart to the girl, who has quieted down a bit. she was looking at the body with the same expression as you, scared and apprehensive.

...did i kill him? why isn't he moving? please tell me he's just knocked out oh god oh god—

before you could take a shaky step forward, a huge body landed right beside you out of nowhere making you and the girl both shriek like a pterodactyl.

"— shit my ears! hey— calm down." you removed your hands that had wrapped around your head as you peaked through, finally registering the rather robotic voice.

red helmet. leather. 6 foot pure muscle and strength.

"oh thank fuck its you." you whispered as you dropped to your knees, your palm rubbing your face as you sighed in relief. red hood, a vigilante. you're safe. man's late but— shit you're safe. thats all that fucking matters.

the vigilante though, looked between you, the knocked out man and the other women, not really sure what to do. he had seen enough to see how fast you handled the mugger. the sound of a scream pulled his attention quickly in time to see you literally kicking his ass. not many people can handle themselves that good in situations like this. you were fast, quick and calm—

"oh my god oh my god is he dead?! did i kick his neck— did i break it— oh my god oh my god–" you cried out in pure panic as you literally poke the man, as if that would get it to suddenly get up like undertaker.

okay so maybe not calm.

"—look i didn't kill him okay?! i just— why are you so late?!" you rambled on, looking at him as if he's the mugger.

he had a pretty shitty day, this might have annoyed him but instead his lips tugged up in an amused smile, his hands resting on his hip as he simply stared at you for a moment.

"what if something happened?! to me or—" your eyes widened even more as if you just remembered about the girl. unlike you, the girl had calmed down a bit, sniffling as she was picking up her scattered things from the ground.

"oh god are you okay?" you scrambled up to your feet, your legs felt like jelly just like the mess in your head and you almost fell down, if not for his hand steadily holding your arm to stabilise you. his hand felt huge on your arm, you thought the hands that must be calloused from fighting and delivering judgement to criminals might have a harsh grip but it was gentle, careful even.

you flinched upon contact and averted your eyes from that tin helmet, as if those glowing slits were really his eyes. he let go of your arm as you walked to the other girl, brows furrowed in concern despite your panic.

"are you okay? d-did he hurt you?" you asked the girl frantically but she shook her head, smiling gratefully.

"no. thank you so much— for saving me. really—" she took a shaky breath as she held your hand, "i don't know what would have happened to me if you didn't come."

she held on for her own support but it calm the storm inside you too. you smiled back and nodded, "im just glad you're okay." you bit back the guilt that was forming in your heart, you had almost walked away.

the girl thanked you again before walking away hurriedly, shooting an apprehensive glance towards red hood. who wouldn't be intimidated by that?

your eyes stared at the wall for a couple of moments before you sighed, your eyes blinking slowly as your mind processed everything.

"you... were good. you handled that perfectly." the vigilante spoke after an awkward moment of just standing there. he knew first hand how terrifying the streets of gotham are, and how even more terrifying it is to fight back as a mere citizen.

"yeah well thank the adrenalin rush." you retorted as you turned back, and suddenly you were much aware of your surroundings. of him, to be exact. your eyes almost travelled down, checking him out but you averted it to the body lying down, pretending to look at him.

seriously you almost got shot and now you're ogling? is this the red hood effect?

"i get that." he chuckled before crouching down, pressing his fingers against his pulse and registering its there. "and to answer your previous question, yes he's alive. no you didn't kill him."

despite that modulated voice you could hear the amusement in his voice, and for some reason it got on your nerves. the fear and shock was now taking a backseat as your eyes narrowed at him slightly.

"also, apologies for not making it in time. forgot my teleportation powers back home." now that definitely sarcasm. you bet he's— whoever he is— is smirking behind that damn helmet.

you scowled at him, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "not accepted. you know i almost got shot?" you scoffed out, no of course you knew he can't be everywhere at all times. vigilantes are humans too but that sarcasm is itching your nerves.

"that body could have been mine."

"i would have made it till then."

you scoffed out a laugh as you rolled your eyes, irked at how sure he sounds, "yeah right. you came a whole minute later after that asshole's ass hit the floor."

you were panicking not a minute ago and now you're sassing him? his lips pulled into a full on grin as he stood up, not missing how you pause and jump back like a cat.

"a second." he corrected.

"like it matters."

"it does."

you released a breath in annoyance before pulling on your bag, you didn't need to do that but you really didn't know what the fuck to do with your hands. "point is, you were late."

"i slowed deliberately because you had it in control." he smoothly countered making your eyes narrowed, you were beginning to distort the rather handsome image of him in your mind to a rotten tomato.

"oh? and what if i didn't?"

"he would be on the ground faster than it took him to pull the trigger."

"are you showing off?"

"hey you asked!"

jason wasn't exactly the most social person, all snark and bite both in the suit and off. yet the few people who genuinly catch his eye, bold enough to challenge him despite the intimidating physique he has— who does pique his interest a bit, he lessens the blows.

and this person right here, had his interest. he didn't even know you, yet there was something about you— maybe the way you slammed your hand on his throat perfectly to choke him— or the way you pull your shit together enough to sass him back.

he'll forget about you in a day or two eventually but he's damn sure you'd hold a place in his memories.

"whatever." you muttered as you looked at the body before shaking your head. its done, in past. you whip out your phone to see the time before remembering it doesn't work anymore. with a curse you shove it back in your pocket.

"i uh— i suppose we just leave that there?" you asked awkwardly as you pointed at it and he almost laughed how cute you looked eyeing the man like he's some horrid smelling garbage.

"don't worry. you should go home." he said as he tipped his head to point out of the alley.

"yeah... yeah— i should." you said quietly as you shoved your hands in your jacket before slowly beginning to walk away. "please don't tell the police i did that. i don't want cops on my door for some shitty routine investigation." you requested, and he had to suppress a snort.

"i promise." he said sarcastically as he crossed his fingers and you nodded, not having the energy to retort a reply. the adrenaline was wearing off.

he noticed the sudden weariness and as if he suddenly remembered the dangers surrounding a women in gotham, he stepped forward.

"hey— you heading home?" he questioned and it came out awfully soft that even his modulated voice couldn't hide.

you paused as you turned back slightly, "uh yeah— its a ten minute walk from here."

"should i walk you home?" why the hell would he say that now?

that warmed your heart, a quiet chuckle spilling out of you. you were bickering like little kids just now but seeing his concern for you made you remember what he is. a vigilante. someone who protects and cares for the people.

"wouldn't people stare if they see a normal women walking around with the red hood?" you asked pointedly, slightly amused by the way his head tilted as if he just realised it. it was tough gauging his expressions due to the helmet but somehow you could guess it right.

he felt like an amateur for suggesting that. seriously what the fuck? "shit— i mean I'll keep an eye till you get home." he corrected, his voice taking a rather grumpy turn now that he sees you taking joy at his stupid mistake.

"isn't that what stalkers do?"

he scoffed, almost smiling at her audacity. but she had a point, he can't even deny. "i doubt I'd even remember your address. saving the city and all." he waves his hand around sarcastically, resting a hand on his hip.

"right, of course." you hummed before waving at him as you begin walking away. "thank you— for uh- protecting me!" you called out as you smiled and walked out the alley.

you had speed walked home, since the moment you left his presence paranoia had almost crippled you. you breathed in relief after you stepped in your apartment, switching on the lights and plopping down on the sofa.

another secret to hide from dad, of course he can't know. he'll drop everything and come back.

you removed your palm from your face as you looked out your balcony, your mind wandering to the vigilante who didn't save you exactly but saved you emotionally from spiralling. right person at the right time.

your cheeks heated up as you remembered him, he was easy on the eyes for sure. even more without the helmet but that mystery would stay a mystery for you. you were a bit giddy from meeting a vigilante— that too red hood. you would have probably danced the fuck out if you weren't so shaken up.

you wonder how he kept an eye on you though, and to seek answers you stood up, walking to the balcony.

jason stood there as he stared at your apartment from the rooftop of the opposite building, a clear view of your apartment from your balcony, something settling in his chest. he shouldn't have stayed for so long, much less stare at you for so long. shit its starting to get creepy. but more than that, what weirds him out is what pull he's feeling in his chest. his mind replays the image of your face, the slant of your nose, the flutter of your lashes, the curve of your lips— how your brows furrowed as you scolded him, how your lips looked extra sweet when smiling.

a short encounter, entertaining at its best yet its sticking to him like a leech.

just as you step out into your balcony he disappears. its nothing he convinces himself, give it a day or two and you'll simply be a distant memory. a blip, insignificant. sure you were cute and dangerously hot when fighting but that was it.

just a really pretty thing.

nothing more.

he's pretty sure he won't even see you again.

.....

won't see you again his ass— what the fuck?

he thinks as he stares at you, standing in the line for a coffee while you scramble in your bag to find your purse, embarrassed because your card declined.

it seems like fate is doing some nasty work pulling him to you.

and with the way his heart is racing, he knows he can't pull away.

reblogs are appreciated :D

[sugusatosluut]

Mind games

Not edited yet.

Synopsis: You’ve been fighting alongside Invincible and the guardians of the globe for years, yet youre the only super that the GDA can’t get any information about. Mark Grayson knows more than he lets on, but he doesn’t kiss and tell…

warnings: light smut, no use of y/n, some fluff, implied relationship, Reader is half viltrimite.

In the midst of a tough fight the guardians seemed to be struggling immensely against the unlikely team up between the lizard league and the mauler twins. It was almost unbearable to those watching live on television. The brutal tactics of the lizard league making viewers sick to their stomachs, the gut wrenching fear of possibly losing one of earth’s favorite super heroes.. that was until Invincible and Vex showed up at the ‘all is lost’ moment to save the day. Invincible showed up before you, smiling at your presence as you flew in immediately taking down salamander, then focusing your strength on Komodo Dragon.

“Hey take it easy Vex! I was getting there.” Invincible chuckled.

“Gotta fight me for him invincible.” You smiled at him.

Instead of waiting, you and Invincible teamed up taking down Komodo Dragon, then moving onto the mauler twins as the guardians recovered and took on the rest of the Lizard league. The pile of villains visible to viewers at home who cheered at the screen. The biggest threat of the day was taken down and according to everyone the day was saved.

You were satisfied, watching the guardians and Invincible socialize before deciding to take off. Before you could leave, you felt an arm grasp your own. It was invincible, the guardians and atom eve. They smiled at you.

“Vex, thank you for your help. Don’t think we could have done it without you.” He said smiling at you.

“Yeah you’re like, hella strong and smart and that’s a lot coming from me. I don’t usually think that of people.” Rex complimented you as he crossed his arms.

“Thank you, I just want to help where I can. The partnership between those guys was odd, could have been more dangerous than we thought if we didn’t take them down. You all did great work.” You smiled. Your mask was covering most of your face.

“You know.. Vex you should come hang at the guardian’s hq. Even if you’re not wanting to be part of the guardians you’re always welcome to come hangout and be yourself. Eve and invincible do it all the time. Plus we’d get to know more about you.” Rudy stated.

“Thank you. I’ll take some time to think about it.” You smiled.

Cecil popped in behind all of you, his presence immediately squashing the positivity in the air. He was satisfied with the outcome of the situation given it could have been much worse if not dealt with accordingly.

“They’re right Vex.” Cecil seemed to spit your name out his mouth with annoyance in his heart. Cecil had his ups and downs with the supers, always has a safeguard for when things seem to go against him or a super seems to act out and he needs the upper hand, but it was never that way with you for as long as you’ve been here. You’ve always made it a point to leave before Cecil arrives and this was why, he always wanted to know more. It bugged you to the core and invincible knew more than anyone how you felt, so he always watched before needing to jump in to your defense even though you never needed it.

“If you’re gonna help it’s earth courtesy to introduce yourself and make friends, unless you already knew that.. while you’re at it you might as well make that mandatory visit to the GDA and let us know more about you too so we can assist you better in fights or care for you medically without a fight.” He glared at you.

“Yeah.. like I said, I’ll think about it.” You said before taking off.

“Nice going Cecil, you scary fuck. You scared off one of the strongest supers we got.” Rex groaned, kicking a mauler twin who was out cold.

Invincible flew up after you, following behind you. This was always what happened after a huge fight. You’d play nice and social, then leave. Invincible would follow you to where the GDA couldnt and you’d hangout together. This time you decided to fly into a con. You and mark were already in your suits hanging out at a food truck.

“Hungry girl huh?” He smirked at you, moving your hair out of your face as you took a bite of your hotdog.

“Mhm, I skipped breakfast.” You chuckled.

“Quinn you know you could always come by my place and eat. My mom doesn’t mind making breakfast. She always asks where you are anyways.” He said. Only Mark knew your name. He never slipped up once in front of anyone though. His mom only knew you by your super hero name. She loved how close you and mark were on camera and how much he talked about you at home.

“Yeah, it’s just.. Cecil’s watching you guys so closely already. We could change here and go to your place? Be there by dinner? I’d love to meet your family formally.” You smiled at him.

The two of you sat on the bench, mark’s arm around your shoulder while the other was holding his phone, texting his mother.

You both changed out of your suits, meeting up at the entrance.

“Ill never get over the fact that you love seance dog as much as I do.” He smiled.

“It’s so good, the matching shirts are just the cherry on top. Are you flying us?” You asked.

“I can, you’re gonna let me carry you though.” Mark patted your head as he picked you up.

You held on knowing you could fly if anything happened. You couldn’t let the GDA tie anything to you. Living on the edge was scary. But tonight was all about you and mark. Mark knew everything about you. His favorite thing was that you could relate to him and his own struggles. You just had to explain how you’re here to his mother Debbie. He explained that the viltrimite race was a sensitive topic considering his dad was Omni man. This was it, you landed at the front door with Mark. He knocked on the door to be more considerate to how Debbie felt.

“Mark? Oh my son, who’s this?” She asked with a smile as she took your hands in her own.

“Hey mom this is Quinn, she’s here to have dinner with us. You said you wanted to meet her.” He smiled.

“Quinn how good to see you, come in!” She grinned.

You all sat at the table, Debbie smiling and staring at you.

“So, Quinn, tell us about yourself!” Debbie smiled as she took a bite of her own food.

“I love hanging out with mark, he’s my favorite person to do things with. I love being able to protect the world with him. Plus I feel like it’s right to tell you I’m part viltrimite part Vexan, I just hate Cecil.. I’m not fond of him at all..” You breathed out. You immediately regretted everything you said, yet mark grabbed your hand under the table, squeezing it to signal it was going to be okay.

“Oh thank god you’re honest sweetheart.” Debbie sighed with relief.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am that my little Mark has someone to be around who understands him. And don’t worry, Cecil won’t know a thing.” She smiled.

You smiled back in return. After dinner was over, you helped Debbie clean up. You met Oliver, who came back from playing with friends and he enjoyed your company and helped you, Mark and Debbie clean up the house. After cleaning you and Mark went to his bedroom, chatting for hours about school and life.

“So, how was life on Vexilan?” Mark asked.

“Not bad, their lives were lived similar to Earth customs. Everything was normal except school and mating.” You huffed.

“Tell me about it.�� He was intrigued. You turned your body to face him in the bed.

“Well schools don’t have grades, they were similar yes but, we have fights to move into the next higher classed area. That was it. If you died you died. Magic is the life or death factor. If you don’t have it you’re destined to die.” You said. Mark’s interest was genuine.

“And what about mating?” He asked

“Mating.. mating was odd. It worked like our schools but you also couldn’t date anyone that wasn’t in your class. Sometimes you’d have to fight rival mates to the death, other times you’d have to prove your love by mind warping. It’s a lot like.. ‘mutual masturbation or assisted masturbation.’” You blushed.

Mark was blushing. It was quiet for a while.

“Did you want me to mind warp you, Mark?” You asked.

“I-uh..I” he was panicked, he wasn’t expecting you to ask.

“Oh- unless you’re seeing eve- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked.”

“N-no I’m not seeing eve, I’m only seeing you! You can mind warp me I just wasn’t expecting you to ask so suddenly. I-I’d actually love to.” He said grabbing your hand.

You looked at him, blushing hard. He locked the door.

“Okay so what do I need to do?” He asked running his hands through your hair.

“Take your clothes off.” You smiled shyly.

Mark kissed you all over your face as he took his clothes off, all except his boxers.

“This works, now I take off mine and you lay down on the bed. I’m gonna sit on top of you and I need you to close your eyes.” You nodded.

Mark closed his eyes, you sat on top of him, feeling his hard on. You placed your fingers on his head, running your hands through his hair as you kissed him. You used your powers to amplify mark’s ability to feel pleasure. It worked as a type of aphrodisiac. In his mind he felt two of you, even though there was only one of you. You were touching him all over, the whines and whimpers leaving his lips.

“I feel so sensitive, what did you do?” He asked smiling at you.

“You’re gonna feel it.” You smiled.

Your mind intertwined with marks, every fantasy you’ve ever had filling his vision. He groaned and moaned. He was able to cum in the warp, but not in real life. You had him begging for more everytime he came in the mind warp. You finally stopped after the fourth time.

“I need you so bad right now.” He whined.

“I know, do you want the real thing mister invincible?” You teased him. Wrong move on your part, mark grabbed you and you stopped the mind warping. He deserved what he worked so hard for. Eventually letting him finish for real.

“You know.. I think I love your planets mating customs.” Mark blushed at you.

“Well… I think I love you mark. It only appropriate via your worlds customs that I admit my feelings for you. I’ve had these feelings for quite some time now. Just didn’t have the courage to act on it.” You smiled at him.

“Go out with me? Just as Mark and Quinn. Doesn’t have to be Invincible and Vex if you’re too shy.” He smiled.

“Yes. We can do both.” You smiled.

You both enjoyed the night, mind warping and giggling like teenagers

[fashionteahouse]

Hi! How have you been?

Can i request an ex- to lovers fic with Paul? in wich he's already in a relationship but he meets the reader again and they start seeing each other again

hey! i’ve been groovy how about you ? sure you can ❤️ hope you enjoy :)

revolving door - paul x reader

The words were heartless. It's something that you'll never forget. It was one of the things that always lurked in the back of your mind.

Certain songs were skipped, certain movies were left unwatched and even certain restaurants were forbidden in your mind. It all webbed back to him.

Dating around seemed pointless, you often found yourself comparing them to him. It's been two whole years and you knew for a fact he had moved on. He had the face and personality for it.

Life seems to show you how much of a revolving door it could be when you were sitting in a bakery with a crossword puzzle, pen in hand.

The door opened and closed as you munched on your baked treat but a familiar voice ordering their favourite desert made your heart stop.

You had no plans on seeing him, you were in lounge clothes and you internally kicked yourself for not being dressed at your very best. It was an easy Sunday and you didn't expect to run into familiar faces. Especially his.

You weren't ready. Scooping your belongings, your hand didn't even push open the door until a statement made you reconsider your actions.

"You still got that damn hoodie."

You relax your shoulders, you hated the way the statement made you smile a bit. He always made a tense situation so easily eased.

Sitting across from each other as he stuffed his mouth, a flaw that you used to tease him about, you ask him the important question that would separate you from him.

"So, how you been?"

"Pretty good. Same shit but different day."

"I know that's a lie." you say as you fidget with your small booklet. He reached over and slid it from your grasp and flipped it open.

"I thought you said that these were for old ladies?"

You chuckle, familiar butterflies emerged deep within you. You remember exactly the conversation of when you said that.

"I don't know. They might've been onto something." you admit.

"Well, you'll never guess but guess what game I picked up."

"Mmm.. What?"

"I told you to guess."

"But, you just said that I will never guess. So, which one is it?"

The smile beamed out of his mouth, "Chess."

"Get the fuck out of here." you chuckle.

"I'm serious."

"I can still beat you no matter how good you've gotten."

You were skilled at the game, even winning majority of your time in chess clubs. Even going as far as competing in local competitions in community centers.

"Yeah, right." he says humorously.

You shrug, confident in your ability.

"So, when are you trying to beat me?"

You freeze a bit as your heart stuttered.

"Um..Uh.."

"Um, uh. See, look at you." Paul mocked you.

"Shut up." you say as he chuckled deeply.

"I'm busy these days anyway. You might have to find someone else to lose to."

"My girl doesn't even know how to play."

Oh.

"Girlfriend?"

He sighed a bit, "Yeah. We've been off and on for a while now."

"So are you guys on or off right now?"

He grinned a bit as he didn’t answer for a bit, "We're on."

He always admired your wit. Something that he missed. Something that his current situation lacked.

"Well, I'm gonna head on out." you say as you rise to a stand.

"And let me guess. Go home, finish your treat and hunch over that book?"

You scoff with a laugh as you look about. That's exactly what you planned to do.

"I bet it's not better than talking to me."

"Bye, Paul."

He watched as you left out.

You stare at the vibrating phone. It was clutched in your hand as you felt the buzz of the phone.

"Hello?"

"Wow. You still have the same number...Anyway, I'm bored. What are you doing?"

"I should've blocked you."

"Ha. We both know you won't."

You shift a bit.

"Look..Um...Can we talk?"

"About what?" you say quietly.

"You might want some closure."

"Im good. Im trying to move on."

"So, you didn't move on, then?" you hear the pride in his voice. Your stomach fluttered.

"S-shut up....Where's your girlfriend? Go talk to her."

"Someone's jealous."

"Am not!"

"Are too. She's visiting her cousins. I just want to talk. I thought we're friends now."

"And who drew up that conclusion? It certainly wasn't I."

"You still live at the same place?"

You stop breathing, "Mhm."

"Cool." he hangs up.

You sigh as you didn't know what you set yourself up for.

He walks in after you open the door. You changed up the decor since the last time he seen it.

"Your style hasn't changed."

"You still don't have anything on your walls?" you say back.

"Want to come over and see?"

"No." you mutter quietly and you both sit down on the couch at the same time.

"You've always been a bad liar." he says in your ear.

You close your eyes as the goosebumps came without a fail.

"I don't get it....You broke up with me."

"And I made a mistake..."

"And whose fault is that?"

A hand cupped the side of your face as you have to look at him. You deep down wish you didn’t have to because the good times swirled in your mind. You look down.

“I still have to tell you to look at me.” he whispered with a grin.

You swallow a bit as you rise from the couch.

“I’m thirsty.”

“You’re thirsty.” he says dryly, half believing it.

“Yeah.” you say and go into the kitchen. Rising up on your ripple toes and grabbing a glass. Your arm slowly sets the cup down as you felt hands on your waist.

Slowly, you’re turned around because you don’t protest his touches.

Eyes were closed as it felt like a magical touch. His lips were better than you remembered. His hands seemed to know just how to keep you moving forward to him.

“I gotta go.” he whispered after you both reunited your mouths over and over again.

In a daze, you only nod.

The next time he came over, dinner was made. Planned to be only for you but it seemed to be a good thing that you accidentally made more than enough.

As you both sat across from each other, the “mm’s” were familiar. They showed his appreciation for the good food, but you knew that another circumstance where he would make such noise.

“You want me to help you?” he asks as he leaned against the counter as you were making dish water.

“I’m okay. I got it.” you tell him but he was already pulling the plate out of your hands.

He tells you to go sit down. He took over the station so you do go have a seat. When he’s finished. He’s rewarded with a hug.

“Can I get a kiss?” he asked in your ear. Both hands were already firm on your back.

“Um..S-sure.” you whisper.

Eyes were closed once again as the kiss happened. But this time, it was cranked up a notch. It wasn’t a simple I miss you kiss. It was more like a I need you kiss.

Panting, you find your chest exposed without even noticing.

“P-Paul. We C-can’t.” you stutter as you watch as his hands covers your chest.

“We can.” he insists.

“‘We can’t.” you whisper as he bends a bit to attach his mouth.

“We can.” he says and a breathy noise escape from your lips as his tongue covered what his hand were covering.

As you both were naked, pressed together in bed. He snored softly in your ear. You only wake up because of soft buzzing.

The name and picture brought you back to reality as you look at his phone on the nightstand. You sigh a bit to yourself as you didn’t wake him. He looked too peaceful. You hated that you thought that. It was your downfall.

You didn’t care about anything but the fact that he was back with you. Even if it was in this circumstance.

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Man, if horny John Price isn't on my mind constantly, I would be 10 times more normal. But I'm not, and I'm here so.

John Price is an extremely average man for the military. He's underpaid, overworked, and underappreciated. He's only human at the end of the day, and a replaceable cog in the machine called the military. And he still cares about people at the end of the day, no matter how stupid they might be.

And Nik had just gone ahead and proved himself a fucking idiot by risking his life for a recruit.

So naturally, as all good caring boyfriends do, John of course had to chew Nik out for the stupid stunt he did. Nik stands across his table, head bowed low as John hurls insults after insult at him, going on and on about him being a stupid git or something.

A good 10 minutes pass by and he is finally calm enough to finally sit down and look at Nik, properly look at him for once.

And perhaps the gods have made him weak, because the evening light shining in through the window blinds hits Nik's lashes just enough for him to glow.

His mind flashed back to Laswell's irritated sigh, glaring at John as she told him to 'get your boyfriend under control, John'. Practically a free pass for John to get creative with a punishment.

Now, now, John has never been particularly good in arts and crafts, never took an interest in it, never cared for the arts.

But damnit, he is a damn creative man when it comes to Nik.

Ten seconds in his thoughts and he taps his thighs, furrowing his brows at Nik. A silent command to sit there.

Nik perks up, much like a kicked puppy gaining acceptance from its owner, and happily walked over, sitting on John's lap.

John's brow furrowed further, before pushing Nik on the floor between his legs, forcing the man to sit cross-legged.

"Y've been a downright naughty git lately, haven't ya? Don't know how to behave, ye?"

He grumbled, hands fiddling with his fly. One hand already guiding the back of Nik's head toward his crotch. He watches as Nik's eyes blow wide, a glimmer of anticipation in them before accepting the cock head in his mouth, already eager to please.

Except John doesn't move, doesn't let Nik move either, just turns back and goes on with the ever growing reports on his table.

"Better get on with it, show me how closely you could follow orders, senior."

He's nice enough to toss a pillow under the table after a few minutes, not too nice to let Nik move an inch. He kicks Nik in the side briefly if the man tried anything beside sucking, throws a glare under the table if he so much as moves.

Gaz also has massively terrible luck, walking into his captain's office for some tea and ends up in the right moment to catch his idol face with his eyes rolled back, familiar soles peeking under the table.

He spends a second glaring at them, horrified before walking back out, locking the door behind him.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

You know? I really, really love your blog and your posts! I can't say that I'm in love with the show anymore, and if I'm honest with myself, I think that I'm on the salt side of the fandom. But like, I also enjoy a bit of sugar? It reminds me of what could have been.

But, sometimes, I feel that sugar fans are hard on salters/disappointed fans... Like, I'm afraid of asking their opinion about a negative aspect of the show, just to understand their pov, no matter if I try my best to be polite. And I get it, they have a right to enjoy the show and I am not entitled to get an answer from them, but its a side of the fandom that I'm afraid to interact with even if I enjoy some of their fanworks.

Yet, you are so patient and I feel that you understand (or try your best) both sides + the writers' and try to find a middle ground while affirming your perspective. You are so respectful even though you might not agree with some askers.

So, thank you for being you and making this blog! The world needs more people like you <3

Thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad that I come across as respectful. I certainly try to!

I started this blog because I needed to vent about some things. Writing stuff down is a really good way to get your mind to stop pestering you against your will and I highly recommend it, but I didn't feel comfortable doing that on a blog more openly tied to my fan creations because there really is this vibe that you need to either love the show or get out. No middle grounds allowed. As if the show has to be perfect for you to be allowed to engage with it. That's not a healthy mindset for anyone to get into especially if you want diverse and interesting fan creations in your fandom. The more people feel like they have to fit a certain mold to be welcome, the less creations you get.

It's one thing to request that your personal blog be sugar only or to not want to engage with more critical posts, but to act as if people aren't welcome in any part of the fandom unless they only talk about good things is not how you get a fun and active fandom. It seems like people are legitimately scared of saying anything bad about Miraculous, but canon has a lot of things that aren't great so the sugar fandom is dying off because the only options are to shut up and be welcome or talk about what's bothering you and be kicked out. A single salty post can get you thrown out no matter if you're usually pretty positive or neutral about canon. It's weirdly culty and not my cup of tea. I like talking about media and you generally can't do that if you're only allowed to say positive things.

A while back, I joined a fandom event to meet other fans and one of the rules of the event discord was "no salt" and so people just... didn't talk about anything to do with the show. The only activity the server saw was the question of the day and occasional writing question even though episodes were actively airing at the time. It was a really depressing experience that perfectly showcased why "no salt" is an okay rule for a personal blog, but a terrible rule for any sort of group setting. It just kills people's ability to talk if they're constantly policing what they say.

My rule of thumb for this kind of thing is that people are ALWAYS allowed to disengage from a conversation that's upsetting them and that you should respect people's boundaries for their personal spaces like blogs, but that you do need to grow a backbone if you want to be in bigger fandom spaces. You're going to see shit you vehemently disagree with, but in most cases, the way to deal with that is to go do something else and let the people have their fun. If a post of yours starts getting a bunch of upsetting replies, turn off the notifications. Block the blogs. Curate your corner of fandom, don't curate fandom as a whole otherwise you get something like Miraculous. I've never seen a fandom so afraid of critical thought as Miraculous seems to be. I don't know if it's because it's younger or actively airing or what, but it's weird. It's totally cool if someone just wants to turn off their brain and have fun with it, but it's not cool to get mad that other people want to talk about the very real problems with the writing and the messaging.

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Thirty : The Note, or The Thesis Defense from Hell

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, smut MINORS DNI. A/N: My bbs! We're nearing the end of this story - I'd say maybe five chapters to go, give or take 😭 Until then, though, enjoy the insanity of my fully unleashed Bucky obsession now that Cleo's feelings are out there 😘

Summary: The morning after our heroes' big moment takes a very unexpected turn.

Chapter Directory

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bucky squeezes his eyes closed against the sound, wondering for a moment if he’s got a leak somewhere in his apartment. If he does, then Stark’s really getting sloppy. He’ll have to give the guy some shit for that. These Tower apartments are supposed to be state-of-the-art everything, or at least that’s what he thinks Stark said - he wasn’t really listening when he got the grand tour.

But wait, Bucky thinks, shifting in bed. Since when do I have silk sheets? He listens to the sound again, realizing that it sounds an awful lot like the tapping of a shoe.

Before he even really registers what he’s doing, Bucky’s standing in his boxers with a gun pulled on the stranger.

“What the hell, Barnes? Also, when did you stash a handgun in my nightstand?” 

Bucky releases a lungful of air he didn’t realize he’d been holding and lowers the weapon.

“Also part two, what the shit did you guys do to my bedroom? If I have to hire cleaners, I’m billing you,” Meg says, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

Bucky sets the gun down on Meg’s nightstand, finding his pants on the ground and pulling them on self-consciously. His shirt is nowhere to be found, and he suddenly remembers Cleo putting it on after… 

After the best damn night of my life.

Speaking of. “Where’s Cleo?”

Meg rolls her eyes. “Sure, just ignore all of the very valid questions I’ve just asked you, no big deal.” She hands him a piece of notebook paper. “Your lovely lady has written you a note. Don’t worry, I’ll pretend I didn’t read it.” She winks.

Bucky accepts the paper with a small smile. “Sorry about this,” he says, gesturing to the mess of a bedroom around him.

Meg waves a hand. “It’s fine, really. I mean, I am for sure billing you for the cleaning, but it’s not like I didn’t expect something like this when I graciously removed myself from the premises for the evening.” She kicks off her shoes into a pile in the corner of the room. “I’m gonna go make some coffee and leave you to collect yourself.”

Bucky nods gratefully, unfolding the piece of paper the second Meg closes the bedroom door behind her.

James,

I can’t possibly wake you up, considering how handsome you look sleeping so peacefully (and how rarely you sleep at all), so I’m heading to my defense alone. Don’t panic when you read this - my advisor already told me I wasn’t allowed to have guests in the room, so you’re not missing anything but a boring hallway.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head at how well she knows him, realizing his heart had already started racing at the thought of missing her big moment. 

I’ll come back to Meg’s the second I’m done and tell you all about it, promise. And then I’m pretty sure someone said something about taking me back to the Tower to celebrate? I have some new ideas for what that celebration might look like, just saying.

Bucky bites his lip as he reads, already reacting to Cleo’s words.

Speaking of that, last night was… everything. I’m shit at mushy stuff, Buck, but it was probably the best night of my life thus far. And I don’t know if you know this, but Meg and I went to a Kassie Cantor concert once and I actually got to meet her, so you’ve passed a pretty high bar. (Since I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, she’s a pop singer who I’m going to force you to listen to on the way back home.)

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m writing all of this in a letter like I’m going off to war or some shit, because I’ll be back soon and could tell you all this in person, but what can I say? It’s easier to write some things than speak them out loud. To that end, I’m sorry for not being able to reciprocate the thing you said last night. I want to, and I should have, but I’m a fucking coward and emotionally stunted and just sort of a general mess, so… yeah. I should probably save the rest of this conversation for when I get back, because you deserve that.

He blows out a huff of air. When he’d told her he loved her, he knew it was something he wanted to tell her - needed to tell her - regardless of whether or not she said it back, but he can’t say he isn’t relieved to read that she apparently feels more than she let on at the time. 

Fuck, I really am bad at this, aren’t I? Whatever. You’re great, last night was great, and I can finally tell you that I think your ass is great, too. Like really super great. Okay, I’m going to go stand in front of a bunch of grumpy white men in suits and ask them to give me a degree. Bye!

xoxo, Cleo

P.S. Like spectacularly, phenomenally great.

Bucky folds the letter back up and carefully tucks it into the pocket of his jeans, resolving to save it forever. 

He stands suddenly and checks the time, an idea popping into his head. He pokes his head into the kitchen long enough to tell Meg he’s going to take a quick shower, grabs the overnight bag he’d left in her living room, and runs to the bathroom where he takes one of the fastest showers of his life.

Clean and dressed, Bucky darts into the bedroom to grab and holster his gun, then rushes toward the front door. Meg is waiting for him, a disposable travel mug of coffee in her hand and a smirk on her face.

“Cleo told me you couldn’t go into her defense, but I figured after reading that note - the note I absolutely didn’t read myself, by the way - you’d want to do something romantic like wait for her in the hallway. I already texted you the building and room number.”

Bucky grins and accepts the drink. “Meg, you’re the best.”

She waves a hand. “I know, I know. By the way, you’re going to pass a market on your way to campus, just around the corner from here. They sell flowers and Cleo’s favorite is forget-me-nots. Hey, what a fun little irony!”

He eyes her, speaking before he can think better of it. “Come visit us at the Tower sometime, there’s someone you should really meet.” And with a grateful smile, he’s out the door.

******

If Bucky’s calculations are correct, he’s arrived in the hall outside of Cleo’s defense with about ten minutes to spare. He paces the hallway for a few moments to calm himself down after the sprint to campus, then leans against the wall directly across from the door Cleo will be walking out of soon. He’s got a slightly windblown bouquet of blue forget-me-nots, a sweaty right palm, and a nervous but eager grin. He’s ready. 

When ten minutes passes with no sign of Cleo, he tells himself that it’s probably normal for these things to go a little long sometimes. After fifteen, he’s doing his best not to worry. At twenty five minutes past the stated end of the defense, Bucky decides that he’s willing to risk embarrassing Cleo and himself by opening the damn door. Taking a deep breath and preparing his excuse (they’ll buy him as a student in the wrong room, right?), Bucky hides the flowers behind his back and tries the handle.

It’s locked.

Fair enough, he thinks. They probably have security protocols in place, you know, to avoid the exact thing Bucky had been planning to use as his excuse for intruding. He knocks instead, deciding he doesn’t actually care about embarrassing Cleo at this point. When nobody comes to the door, he knocks again and presses his ear to the wood, listening closely with his serum-enhanced senses. Not only is nobody coming to the door, but he’s fairly certain nobody is in the room at all.

Fully aware he’s probably overreacting, Bucky lets out a huff of air, looks up and down the hallway to make sure nobody’s coming, and grabs the handle with his metal hand. With a little grunt, he breaks the handle and forces the door open. 

No Cleo. No committee. No one at all. 

Bucky frowns and pulls out his phone, double-checking the building and room number in the message from Meg. When he confirms he’s at what should be the right place, he paces into the room, hoping to find a note or schedule or something to clue him in to what’s going on. The room is frustratingly empty, though - empty chairs arranged behind a long conference table, an empty lectern facing them…

Bucky sighs and calls Cleo, potential interruptions be damned. Immediately, he hears a buzzing sound coming from the lectern. A sick feeling brewing in his stomach, he crosses the room and peers behind the lectern, seeing Cleo’s phone on one of the shelves lit up with the selfie she’d taken of the two of them in the home goods store. Next to it are several wrinkled notecards and a half-empty bottle of water. He ends the call, dread coiling in his gut.

Stuffing her phone in his pocket, he picks up the notecards and starts flipping through them. They’re clearly reminders she’s made for herself of the main talking points of her thesis, but when he flips to the last one, a small piece of cardstock falls out. Bucky bends down to pick it up, noting the unfamiliar scrawl in red ink.

Soldat - 

Only the dead have seen the end of war. As long as you are living, your war is not over. 

Hail HYDRA.

Bucky’s vision narrows to a singular point, blood draining from his face. He stumbles backward into the table and grabs it with his metal arm for support. He doesn’t even register the crack of the wood as he grips it too hard.

Ears ringing, he pulls out his own phone and dials the first number that comes to mind.

“Hey, Buck, how’s everything go-”

“They have her, Steve,” he chokes out, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wait a second, what are you talking about, Buck? Who has who?” Steve asks, voice growing serious.

“HYDRA,” he bites out, the word feeling like poison on his tongue. “HYDRA has Cleo. The Philosopher must be working with them and I don’t know how, Steve, but they found her and they took her.”

He hears rustling and then rapid footsteps from the other end of the phone. “Hang on, Buck, I’m going to get Stark. We’ll find her, okay? Bucky, I promise we’ll find her.” Steve’s voice is calmer than it has any right to be, in Bucky’s opinion, but he trusts the man more than almost anyone else, so he stays on the line.

While he waits, he frantically searches the room for any clues to Cleo’s whereabouts, tossing chairs to the side and upending the table, but he comes up empty. Stark’s voice brings him back to the present moment.

“Barnes, what was she wearing today?”

Bucky gives a disgusted scoff. “Christ, Stark, what the hell is wrong with you? I don’t think now -”

“Barnes,” Tony cuts him off, voice cold and serious. “Just trust me for one second and answer the fucking question.”

Bucky wants to kick himself when he realizes that he can’t - that he didn’t wake up in time to see her off. “I don’t know,” he says, voice small. “I - I was sleeping when she left.”

Stark sighs. “It’s fine, we’ll just track it anyway and hope for the best.” Bucky makes a sound of confusion, speech nearly impossible in his sheer panic. “I retooled her suit a bit,” Stark explains. “Used nanotech to fit the entire thing in two little shell pins she can wear on her shoulders. All she has to do is tap them and the suit comes out. Plus a pretty slick helmet that comes out of her glasses. Ruins whatever she’s wearing at the moment, but you win some, you lose some.”

“Focus, Tony,” Banner shouts in the background.

“Right,” Stark says. “The pins have a tracker embedded in them, just in case, and the HUD in the helmet does, too. If she was wearing them this morning, we can figure out where she is.”

“Got it!” Banner calls out. “Er, I think I got it. This doesn’t really make any sense.”

Before Bucky can ask what they’re talking about, he hears Steve’s voice cut in, sounding weary with resignation. “It does if you know HYDRA.”

******

When I force my eyes open, I’m nearly blinded by the pounding in my head from just the dim, exposed lightbulb hanging overhead. I try to moan at the pain and move to wipe at something wet just above my eye, but I can’t do either.

No. Fuck. NO.

My hands are bound behind the back of the hard, metal chair I’m sitting in, and my legs are as well - one duct-taped to each of the front legs of the chair. And, worst of all, my mouth is taped shut. 

I flick my eyes wildly around the room, moving as much as my restraints allow, but there isn’t a lot to see. I’m in a small space, no windows, with that single exposed lightbulb dangling above my head. Curiously, it’s all metal - the walls, ceiling, floors - everything. That’s the only remarkable thing about the room, though, and it doesn’t give me much of a clue to my whereabouts.

I try to think back over the events of the last few hours, mind still fuzzy.

I woke up next to Bucky after the most incredible - nope, no time to focus on that, Blake.

I got ready for my thesis defense, passed Meg on the way to campus and apologized for the state of her bedroom. 

I got to the English building, went to room 12C, and…

Oh, that fucker.

It all comes back to me in a crushing wave - the empty room, save for Dr. Sapros. His laughter at my confused look. Anxiously chugging half a bottle of water. Him thumbing through my notecards. And the look in his eyes when he reached out with that current of red electricity and fucking knocked me unconscious.

Just as I’m squeezing my eyes shut in frustration, the metal door to the tiny room creaks open.

Speak of the devil.

Sapros is wearing his usual professorial attire, except with the new addition of that red cape I’m all too familiar with from my fights with The Philosopher. He’s abandoned the Greek tragedy mask, though - I suppose he no longer needs it now that I know his identity.

“Cleo,” he croons, voice disgustingly smug. “Finally awake, I see. Did you have a nice nap?”

All I can do is narrow my eyes at him in a glare, with my mouth taped shut and hands restrained. Nat had been pushing me to practice more, to learn how to manipulate the strings of frequencies without using my hands or voice, but I hadn’t made the time with my defense coming up. The defense that never fucking happened.

“It seems you’re finally speechless. In all my time as your advisor, I never thought I’d see the day where Cleo Blake had nothing to say. Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.” Sapros grins widely, and I mentally kick myself for not putting it all together sooner - that cadence in speech, that ridiculous smugness - of course The Philosopher sounded familiar to me - he’d been my teacher for three fucking years.

“I’m terribly sorry your defense couldn’t proceed as planned, but there were more important things to be dealt with - you understand, right? After all, patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”

I roll my eyes, hoping he sees. That was Aristotle, you stupid dick.

“Some of my… colleagues, I suppose you could call them, are hard at work trying to determine how we might extract that little beauty,” he says, pointing to my crystal. “However, until then, you’re serving another purpose here. Of course, you’d see for yourself soon enough, but I know how you despise surprises so I’ll just let the cat out of the bag, as it were. My colleagues and I lost a very important weapon some time ago, and we believe you are just the thing to draw him back.”

Him. Sapros said ‘him,’ not ‘it.’ That means…

My eyes go wide with realization and I fight against my restraints, crying out futilely from behind the tape across my mouth.

“Oh hush now, Cleo, no need for such dramatics. Though you always were a feisty one, weren’t you? It took everything I had to convince you to drop your Atlantis research in favor of something more ‘mainstream.’ Lucky for me, you were more desperate for belonging than you were to follow in your father’s footsteps. Once I threatened to remove you from the meager little community you’d scraped together at Culver, I could have demanded anything and you’d have given it.”

I freeze, eyebrows knitting together at the mention of my father. I never once told Sapros where my passion for Atlantis came from.

He smirks at me. “Are you just realizing that I mentioned your father? Nothing if not sharp, you are. Yes, I am well aware of your father’s little pet project. And, as it turns out,” Sapros says, tapping the crystal in a gesture that has me flinching away from him, “he was far closer to the truth than we gave him credit for.”

I blink at him, mind reeling as I try to piece everything together - every past-tense word, every mention of my father’s work - hoping none of it means what I’m starting to dread it might.

“It’s tragic, really, that he’ll never know just how close he was. He’ll never know that the crystal chose precisely who he suspected it would, despite my best efforts to find it myself and keep you as far from it as possible. How ironic that I was in the middle of the Mediterranean, following your father’s final theory, while you were stumbling upon the object of my desire in a dusty, second-rate library at little old Culver.”

I make a squeak of indignation when he calls the library ‘second-rate,’ but it goes ignored.

“By the time I returned,” Sapros growls, growing angrier as he monologues, “you had already been snapped up by the gods-damned Avengers. Tell me, Cleo, is Rogers still as self-righteous as he used to be, or has he lost some steam in his old age? And how is my favorite weapon enjoying the droll mediocrity of the fight for justice?” He pauses, sneering at me, before releasing a dark chuckle and bringing his palm to his forehead dramatically. “Of course. I’m terribly sorry, how could I forget I’ve finally managed to render you speechless? And thank the gods for that - your incessant prattling is nearly as irritating as your father’s was.”

I close my eyes, squeezing them tight. Sapros must be toying with me, attempting to rattle me or wind me up. Maybe he’s trying to make me emotional to see if the crystal will react in some way. Whatever he’s doing, he can’t possibly be telling the truth - he can’t possibly mean that my father had been working with HYDRA, or that my father is now gone. 

Sapros looses another chuckle. “Of course, you must be simply exhausted after preparing for your little thesis defense. I’ll just leave you to rest for a bit. You’ll need your strength, after all, if you’re going to give me that crystal.”

I hear the click of his footsteps on the metal floor followed by the slam of the door, and only then do I allow the tears to roll freely down my cheeks.

******

“I’ve just sent the coordinates to your phone so you can meet us. But Buck, we’re an hour out at best. I know you’re closer, but I’m begging you - wait for the rest of us to get there,” Steve says, voice pleading.

“Sure,” Bucky responds flatly.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice is stern, warning. “I’m serious - we don’t know what we’re going to find, but it’s HYDRA, so it can’t be good. Don’t do anything stupid.” Bucky hears footsteps, and when Steve speaks again, his voice is a whisper. “We haven’t figured out how to break your trigger words, Buck. You can’t just go running in there.”

“Got it,” Bucky says, voice void of emotion. “Of course.”

Steve sighs. “We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just hold tight.”

“Absolutely,” Bucky says, setting the flowers next to Cleo’s note cards on the lectern. Forehead creased with anger, he hangs up his phone and memorizes the coordinates before tossing it in the trash on the way out the door. He stalks out of the building and into the parking garage, doing a quick sweep of the vehicles before his eyes land on a motorcycle.

Perfect, he thinks. It takes him all of a minute to hotwire the bike, and then he’s speeding out of the garage, headed for the nearby coast. He has a submarine to catch.

[brainrotgoverner]

Storm Hawks villains and their redemption ratings

I'm going to try to stay as close to canon as possible so bear with me XD

Master Cyclonis: 10/10 literally the best candidate for a redemption. She is shown to have a soft side again and again (Best Friends Forever and 5 Days) and with her fascination with crystals, you could just give her a lab where she can experiment to her hearts content without having to deal with empress duties. Moreover, she is a 14 year old empress. Literally 14! Kids do dumb stuff and honestly, the power would go to my head as well if they gave me an army at that age. (I mean it still would rn but that just proves my point)

Snipe: 5/10 I'm actually optimistic about him. Sure, he regularly abuses talons (throw them off his airship by the parachute) and he loves smashing stuff but he is show to enjoy 'inventing' just as much (the wacky devices he had terradon scientists do, his airship etc.) he doesn't have the patience to actually go through the education, but he can come up with some solid ideas for devices and gadgets which I think he would enjoy testing. Bit of a far stretch? Sure, but with some anger management, I think he could do great.

Ravess: 7/10 she has several interests she can choose to lean into instead of the army. First of all, she always looks happier playing the violin (going as far as having a talon who always plays her theme in her squadron and mimicking the motion with her bow) then actually fighting. Now don't get me wrong, we know for a fact she enjoys archery and the dog battles she gets up to in the daily, but I think the violin is her top favorite. Sure, she has a short temper and tendency to abuse her power (nearly throwing a talon off her airship in the stratosphere) but again she could change jobs with some anger training. Out of all 3 commanders, she is also the least loyal one. Going out of her way to question Cyclonis, talk behind her back and straight up covet the throne. And frankly, if you hate her boss that much you probably going to start hating your job too. Exhile probably sucked for her but if she just lost her position instead of being kicked out of Cyclonia all together, I think she could be much happier.

Raptors: 4/10 they suck but most of their big scale schemes are for Cyclonia. They treat the terradon scientists terribly, they aren't royal to each other and they are thieves but honestly, could have been worse. Without Cyclonia, they could have been much more enclosed in their own airspace. Repton rules with an iron fist, but from what we seen, that's their way as they are portrayed as the 'barbarians'. You can't really give them a traditional redemption because of that. They are going to continue being that way but if they were left alone, they might just keep it in their own terra.

Murk Raiders: 8/10 ragtag team of pirates with a surprising found family twist. Captain Scabulous seems to actually care about his man and despite their classic pirate plundering and endless search for riches, they could change their ways. Quite easily too, actually.

Now, the last one I'm going to talk about;

Dark Ace: -99999999999/10 he has absuleltly NO redeeming qualities. Yeah, there is no hope for this man. Killed his old squadron in cold blood and had no regrets or second thoughts (you could argue that one shot of him when he first changed side could be taken for regret, but I think it's a far stretch), abuses the talons the most (threw them off their rides in Gale Force Winds and A Little Trouble, instead of just letting them stay on the skimmer like c'mon), has no other hobbies outside of fighting and training, you could argue he is loyal to cyclonis but it actually never came across to me like that (There are two sides in Atmos and he already betrayed one, and Dark Ace in his core is a selfish, self-service person. I don't see him being loyal to anyone.), has one of the highest body counts in the show (defeated the most sky knights and in his own words, defeat means death). Dark Ace is an absulute lost cause with anger issues, a self serving agenda, an obsession with power and a personality that's prone to addiction. I mean that's why he is my favorite villain but still, the writers gave us nothing to work with XD

[scared-of-relationship]

Headcanons for NEL Master Strikers - Blue Lock

First time headcanon, World 5 is on their way, got lost in thoughts while writing them. Please do not reupload this without credit. (Will be edited in the future)

> Noel Noa

I feel like he actually don't enjoy luxury as much as other who is as successful as him

He looks like someone who enjoy picnic, he likes somewhere where eh is near nature, picnic near lake, picnic under the tree...

His smile is the sweetest, even your non-sugar tea will taste so sweet if you drink them while watching him smiling

Lowkey, feel like he likes to buy things he never get to buy when he was still living in slumps of France. AND he might not admit childish things he wants thinking you'll thought it's useless.

He's the happiest man on earth if you get him something that's on his Wishlist for AGES (especially childish things he wants)

I feel like he shows affection through touch.

I don't see him as a man who will do much chores, sorry

The chores he mostly will do without you ask is clean the dishes and do laundry (by that I mean those laundry they do that just put the clothes in the machine and stuff)

Doesn't like the idea of you admiring other man than him.

Even if it's animated character like Gojo from JJK, or Sylus from LnD

(as a LnD player) It's not like he'll prohibited you from playing otome game, its just he feels jealous

you need to assure him from time to time he means the world to you

> Lavinho

Hmmm, Lavinho... He is unique, he is something.

Not even in a bad way, he is genuinely unique. You have never met a man who is like him.

He is mature, but he is also childish.

He is sweet, but he can also be too playful it sometimes quite annoying. But he is still an amazing understanding and respectful man

He is soft, yet he is also rough.

He is... VERY by very i mean VERY romantic lover.

the kind that will kiss the mud you walk on

the kind who take your hand gently and kiss every inch of your skin from your finger to your shoulder then met your lips

Oh, yeah he go nakey alot, mostly at home

or not using shirt from time to time

not because he want to show off his abs or what

He's just used to it. and be ready to see his body more often when summer comes.

And don't expect him to be all cuddly in the summer, you'll be kicked or pick up like kitten and put you on the other side of the bed or couch because "DAMN THE WEATHER ITS SO HOT, EVEN OUR AC FEELS LIKE HEATER" - Lavinho every summer

Don't really mind whatever you like, like literally in anything.

You like drawing, painting? Sure. Sing? Sure. Dancing? Hell yeah! Cooking? Great. Sports? Swimming? Run a marathon? Sure. He supports you in anything you like. Maybe even join you to enjoy those with you.

> Chris Prince

Romantic lover 2.0

I'm talking the money talks moment.

Like HE WILL SPENT HIS ENTIRE LIFE SAVINGS IF YOU LET HIM

What do you want? YSL? Dior? Gucci? Hermes? Versace? Louis Vuitton? Prada? Anything say your poison

If you don't like him spending his money on you, it is fine too. He'll give you anything his body and power can give you. He can be your best friend and your boyfriend (He prefer boyfriend first though) but yeah something like that.

Don't mind him and his stares whenever you both are on a date. Stare at you lovingly like he's on drugs or sumn.

He is VERY energetic, touchy and loud.

Do not trust him with some minor secrets. especially ones where you don't do pinky promise or sumn.

Oh, but you can't also hide anything from him because he'll try to find out, whether with you, by you or not, he'll find out.

You don't tell him what you eat this lunch, he'll kiss you and know DAMN well you just had coffee and pastry with that buttery and coffee taste from your mouth! Oh? Eggs and bacon? HELL YEAH HE IS RIGHT AGAIN

> Marc Snuffy

He's one of these sweet angel, gentleman with lots of respect for you and your choice

He'd respect your beliefs, your choice, everything

Even though there's something he doesn't agree on, he still say it in SUCH a respectful manner

Is he arrogant though? Very

He is not the narcissistic type, but he is confident about his own ability and how great he is.

Held his own head high quite prideful of himself (like the rest of these all men actually).

But not one where you find him annoying, he knows when to be humble and when to be haughty

He treat you better like, genuinely better than anyone you ever dated with

I'm talking about breakfast in bed, do chores, cooks, cleans, help you, pick you up, take you home by 9, not touching you unless you want him to, etc.

Maybe because of his age, maybe you make him to be someone better

Has a harsh mouth towards his kids at work (by that I mean the ubers). I'm talking about, "GOD DAMMIT!" "You damn brat" "What an ass" typa calling but caring and loving

if he ever get mad at you, he actually try to tell you and worried about you

you sometimes may take it that he is a little old minded (he is old) but it's just what he used to hear back when he was your age

he GENUIENLY worried if you ever do stupid shit. Don't do that for the safety of his old heart

> Julian Loki

Like Snuffy, he is used to be told what to do.

By that I mean, he was pushed into the spotlight too young to even experience what it feels like to be a teenager.

He is polite, respectful.

Is he a little narcissistic? yes. Is he arrogant? indeed. Not very but you know its there.

He actually quite the lover, quite romantic, quite sweet, he has the rizz

Oh, he is GEN Z coded, like genuinely.

The way he text, expect shit like "tbh idk wdyt bb?"

WTF WHY YOU TALKIN IN MORSE CODE

"anw wya?" "sn hm ttyl!"

Yeah, you're confused? Me too

His love language to you is GIFT GIVING. But he doesn't like it when you spent money on him, unless its necessary, like if its a gift or sumn like that

He LOVES it when you come to his match! Especially when he spot you in the crowd, OH HE IS GOING INSANE!!!

He likes to show off too, but not so much that it annoys you (it never annoys you tbh)

Yeah, to me he is a sweet summer child.

Maybe a little childish here and there, especially when you're 1-2 years older than him.

a little wanna be babied by you or be all affectionate, dgaf if there's his teammates or paparazzi around

Blue Lock and its characters are created by Muneyuki Kaneshiro and illustrated by Yusuke Nomura. I do not own any rights to the original work; these are all fan-made stories created for entertainment purposes.

[babysfirsthaze]

Extraordinary Girl...(Caitlyn x Vi)

Synopsis: part one of several, highschool au Caitvi. Richgirl bassist Cait meets drummer Vi- chaos ensues.

Content: highschool au, band au, Maddie Nolan tw, probably slight mischaracterisation bc 1) they're like 16 here and 2) I bet doing that, swearing probably. No major content warnings

A/n: this took FUCK OFF AGES 2 get out I'm so so sorry omg. Not very good but like is any of my writing? no smut this time sorry team, smut is coming, later, I promise. love me a slowburn unfortunately. I am open 2 criticism but please please be kind productive and thoughtful<3 enjoy

Caitlyn Kiramman. 

That’s not a name anyone thought might be on the roll of a public school, and a public school is never a place she thought she’d find herself. But she’s here- in her year advisor’s office, it smells like plastic and cheap carpet, and she’s looking at a shitty computer, with a list of subjects to select. Extracurriculars? Her fingers drum against her bicep, and she frowns. Agriculture, hospitality, industrial technologies…isn’t that what maids are for? Curse that fight with her mother that landed her here, this was a punishment. And now she has to deal with it. 

“Legal studies,” she decides, her voice short and curt. Mr Scott nods, taking note of that. “And music, I suppose.” “You play?” He asks, raising his eyebrows, a friendly sort of smile on his face that makes her frown. “Yeah,” she shifts her weight to the other foot, “piano. And bass.” 

And that was all it took to find herself here. Sat in the back of a music classroom, lined with plastic keyboards, next to 20 odd classmates she doesn’t know who are talking too loudly, who smell bad, who are vaping. She’s uncomfortable, it’s stuffy and loud and entirely unprofessional in here. This teacher (Mrs Jay, if she remembers correctly) is struggling to get control of the class, and she supposes it’s the middle of the day, but that’s hardly an excuse. It’s her one job. Cait’s pulled out of her thoughts when a pink-haired, muscular girl takes the seat behind her, glancing her way but not saying anything. She answers to Violet when the roll is called, she smells like wood oil. Caitlyn shifts a little further into her side of the desk. 

“You new here?” 

Her voice sounds warm, friendly. Cait jumps slightly, not expecting to be addressed, but offers a tight, polite smile. “I am, yeah. Caitlyn Kiramman. You're…Violet?” 

“Vi,” she's corrected. “You play an instrument, or?” 

Cait's eyes flick to the cheap pianos, and she nods. “Yeah. Bass. Yourself?” “I’d like to learn drums,” Vi replies, leaning back a bit in her seat; she’s obviously talkative, which makes Cait frown a bit, again. Not that there’s anyone not talking in this classroom, but still. “But I don’t have a kit, and I’ve never really tried before. I’m sure it can’t be hard. Hit some sticks, kick a drum…y'know?” 

“...yeah, sure,” Cait nods slowly, turning herself back to face the whiteboard. Vi frowns but doesn’t say anything, taking the hint. Clearly not friendly. They sit in silence for the majority of the lesson, Caitlyn diligently taking notes and Vi’s workbook a little messier. The period’s coming to an end and they both start to pack up, Mrs Jay calling to get the attention of the class. 

“Oh,” she waits until most of the students are looking up at her, before continuing. “Next lesson I’ll need you to get into groups, find yourself a band to learn a rock song with. Drummer, guitarist, bassist, singer. If there’s issues we’ll sort them out tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch, everyone!” 

-

The bell rings and the sound of chatter and chairs scraping fills the room, and Cait walks out to break, wandering a little aimlessly. Nowhere to really go, she finds herself tucked in the corner of a library with her laptop. Rock song, huh? The girl supposes she should look for one, so she opens Spotify, scrolling through a generic playlist she found. She lands on Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, not really rock, but, she's sure it will do. She definitely won't be learning anything heavy metal, that's for sure. And with the song tucked away in a little corner of her mind she moves on, deciding she'll find someone nice and quiet to play with, get the A, and go home. 

-

This does not happen. 

-

“So, you wanna work together or what?” Vi asks, leaning back in her chair and peering at Caitlyn. She's drawn all over her arm in sharpie today, mechanical symbols and cogs and gears, and she’s wearing the same outfit as yesterday. “Um..” Cait purses her lips, nodding out of obligation more than anything, she doesn't wanna seem snobby. “Yeah, sure. Did you have a song in mind?” “I don't know. Something by Greenday?” She shrugs, and there's more nodding on Caitlyn's part, considering that. “Right.” 

Vi isn’t sure how she managed it. But she ended up sat at a drumkit, a pretty girl on bass and a pretty girl on guitar, looking at a drum tab for Extraordinary Girl. Maybe she was a saint in a past life. Their guitarist, a short, redheaded girl who introduced herself as Maddie, is chatting up Caitlyn while they tune their instruments, and Vi watches with a soft grin. She fiddles with the drumkit, pressing her foot against the pedal of the kick drum rhythmically, tapping a stick on the snare; she watches Cait’s furrowed brow as she turns the tuning pegs carefully, and Maddie's soft smile as she looks at the blue-haired girl, too. 

“Vi?” Cait looks up, absent-mindedly tapping her fingers against the muted strings of her bass. “Can you give us a beat?” 

She hums, and begins to play- slowly, eyes flicking between the sheet music and the instrument. Drum tabs aren’t hard to read, but this is her first time trying, she’s kind of winging it; her big eyes narrowed into a focused sort of frown, movements careful, deliberate. She’s allowed maybe fifteen seconds before she’s stopped with a huff from the English woman, who puts her bass down dramatically, standing up. 

“You need a metronome,” she decides out loud, her voice quick, annoyed. Vi blinks. What? Sure, she’s not Tré Coo, she doesn’t know the song yet, she’s not gonna be perfect. But she didn’t think she was that bad. She opens her mouth to protest, but Cait is already grabbing her drumsticks, confiscating them. 

What a fucking snob. 

“I don’t need a metronome, give those back,” Vi argues, reaching out to try and grab the sticks. Her fist closes around air, and she groans. “Excuse you. Not everyone’s perfect, y'know.” “I am not perfect! Just- you need to set a solid beat, or we can’t play,” she exclaims, and fishes her phone out of her bag, opening up youtube to find a track for her. She then gives the drumsticks back, Maddie snickers softly, the soft sound of her fiddling with the guitar the only pleasant thing in the atmosphere. Vi goes a bit pink, muttering a quiet thanks and trying again. 

[theevilfishywizard]

I didnt. Dndads hiveswap au be upon ye

[st4rstudent]

Winn + Mac fusion idea. lalala.

[martinskiseyes]

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