#cpr lessons

[clonehub]

What are the kinds of gifts a clone might give their lover?

[thatgaywizardoverthere]

Arthur “Disaster Bi” Pendragon learning about true loves kiss as a cure like:

Gwaine: For fuck’s sake, he’s not enchanted every time he smiles at someone else, Arthur! He was literally just laughing at my joke!

Arthur, aggressively frenching Merlin on the council room floor: YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO CAREFUL OKAY-

[mangoes-and-mothman]

i have so much shit to do and i was supposed to go to bed early but instead i stayed up until 5:30am doing fuck all

[noburden]

about to become a lifeguard who’s excited for me to save lives

[falling-endlessly]

The Lesson

Vox x Reader

Summary: Vox comes home to find you lying in a pool of your own blood.

As soon as the security cameras in your shared penthouse went dark, he knew something was very, very wrong.

His screen shut off as he focused on any nearby surveillance cameras, only to find that he couldn't get a good angle no matter which direction he turned them to. With a feral growl of frustration, he sent himself through one of the ground-level cameras, ignoring the startled yelps of unsuspecting pedestrians as he zapped into existence.

A path parted for him as he stormed into the building, flashing into the elevator and rigging it to move four times as fast.

He barely restrained himself from just busting down the door in his terrified fury, instead carefully twisting open the doorknob with a white-knuckled fist.

Silence was the second warning. The apartment was never silent, either with Vark thumping around cheerfully or you humming to yourself as you moved through the hallways or tapped away at your keyboard.

The eerie lack of background noise sent an ice cold chill down his spine. He found that he could barely breathe.

With soundless steps, he crept further into the apartment, afraid of what he might—or might not find waiting for him.

He found Vark first, nearly stepping in the growing puddle of blood if he hadn't pulled his foot back in time. Vox strangled a noise in his throat, hastily dropping to his knees as he shrugged off his jacket and tied it as tightly around the shark's mangled side as he could, trying to staunch the bleeding. A numbing thought surfaced in his mind. If Vark was in this condition, then you...

No longer concerned with being silent or careful, Vox flashed into different rooms in your apartment. The bathrooms, the kitchen, the living room.

He found you in your shared bedroom, slumped against the wall as your hair shielded your face. Vox spasmed and glitched, having to mentally force himself to shove his worries in the back of his mind in order to keep control of his movements.

"Y/n?" He whispered, afraid to approach you. Terrified of what he might discover.

You didn't respond, making the cold ball in his chest expand until it felt like his airways were freezing solid. Like his entire body was shutting down.

No. NonoNONONONO.

He half stumbled, half fell at your feet, clawed hands grasping your soft arms and shaking lightly—then harder, when you stayed unresponsive. His knees were wet, something warm—blood, his mind unhelpfully supplied—and his vision was getting concerningly blurry. His hands slid up your shoulders, ignoring the large oozing gash across your chest, and cupped your limp face, where blood was also dripping down the right side in slow rivulets.

"Y/n?" His voice cracked.

When you didn't stir, he let out a choked sob, hastily divesting himself of his dress shirt and pressing the scrunched up ball into your open wound. You didn't even flinch. Fuck.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't do this to me," he said, voice strained as he desperately checked your vitals. His heart nearly stopped when he discovered that yours had.

"Noo," he moaned, sending bolts of electricity into your chest, fruitlessly trying to restart your failed heart. Cursed his lack of proper lips that made CPR that much more difficult.

It took a while before he stopped trying, tiring himself out until crushing sadness replaced the pulsing adrenaline. Vox leaned against the wall, panting as he cradled your cooling body in his lap. He held you when your lips went blue, stroking your hair tenderly like you were still alive. He held you until the first notes of color started to replenish your cheeks once more, until your chest began to delicately rise and fall as your insides repaired themselves.

When your eyelids finally fluttered open, it was to bloodshot, red rimmed ones staring back at you.

"Vox?" You whispered softly, causing your lover to let out a ragged breath. "W-What—?" And then suddenly it all came back to you with a jolt. The demons who broke in and killed you. They didn't want anything you offered them, only to cause as much pain to the TV demon as they possibly could. And what better way to kill him than with his heart? Your bottom lip shook as the horrible memories replayed in your mind, only cut off by the warm chest your face was shoved into.

"Don't," he croaked, shaking his head. "I can see what you're doing, stop it."

Your eyes welled as you let out your own shuddering breath, weak fingers coming up to clutch at the bare skin of his back. He held you as silent tears ran down your face, holding you tighter every time your fingers flexed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

"They didn't want anything," you heaved, burying your face deeper in his shoulder. "Th-they just said they wanted to hurt you and—oh my god, Vark!" You immediately moved to get up, only to be pulled back down again.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed. "The cameras are back online, I can see him moving around in the kitchen." Internally though, his heart pounded with an incredible rage. So some suicidal fuckers thought they could break into his house and lay their hands on you? Holy fucking shit, when he got his hands on them they were going to wish they'd just stayed in the shadows. That was a promise.

You sagged with relief against him, and he let you stay curled up against him for a few more minutes, before he carried you to the shower. After gently helping you clean off, rubbing your tense muscles when your hands trembled, he dressed you in the fuzziest sleepwear you owned, before depositing you carefully under the silk covers.

"Don't leave," you pleaded, making his heart ache. He acquiesced, staying until he was sure you were asleep, before his screen went dark as he lost himself in the flowing web of information that he'd built himself.

His screen flashed red as a single eye opened. "Found you."

That morning you woke up to lean arms draped over you, a defined chest pressed tightly to your back. A small smile graced your lips.

"Morning," he whispered into your ear.

"Morning," you smiled back. And when you asked the silent question, did you do it? He nodded, pulling you closer.

You leaned your head on his chest, thank you. He squeezed your hand, of course.

***

Art inspiration for the scene “Found you.” HERE (from zerochan, as unfortunately I could not find the direct post)

Artist above (Kwiisha) twitter account HERE

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

tag list : @kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @beenovel

[t-lostinworlds]

Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[darkpetal16]

What's sirentale sans like as a dad since that's a possible outcome? (Oh and sirentale wingding as a grandpa since he sees the MC as his child)

Hands on. He wants this so bad, so when the opportunity comes he’s desperate to be a good dad.

He’s read every book available. Listened to every podcast he can get his hands on. Taken classes on childcare and CPR.

Nest. NEST FOR THE CHILD. It is non negotiable. Baby sleeps with you both in your nest until old enough that Sans is reasonably confident they won’t die without constant supervision.

If you’re nursing, he’s got a constant streamline of snacks and water for you. If you’re using formula, he’s happy to take over feeding shifts so you can sleep.

Gets fast with diaper changes. Like, you have to wonder if there’s a world record because he’s so fast the baby doesn’t even register they’re missing pants.

Weaves a personal swaddle blanket for the baby using his own threads.

Toddler stage he’s taking them out for swimming lessons on the daily. If they’ve inherited his moth side, he’ll swap it out for flying. Exercise is an important developmental aspect and he won’t skimp out on it.

Lazy! Cuddle! Sundays! Or whichever day you also have off. It’s a day dedicated to constant snuggles in the family home. No leaving. No cooking. No chores. Just constant physical affection and play.

When the child is big enough to rough house, Sans is ready to play. Orcas love playing with their pods, and one of his favorite games is chase! If his kid shows interest in being the predator he’s happy to play dead every so often.

But the kid DOES have to work for it. He won’t give it freely.

If you have a demanding job, he’ll take a career in education so he has more free time to spend with them. If you want to stay at home / take a more freeing job then he’ll take a career in science with Wingding.

He’s on the PTA. He will fight any Karen or Chad who gets in the way of his kid’s education.

(He and Wingdings will join forces as need be in this regard. Education is very important to both of them. And Wingding lowkey loves the tea.)

Sometimes he likes to tease you about the drama. It’s cute seeing his little penguin get riled up.

“You cannot eat Billy’s Mom, Sans.”

“what if billy’s mom deserves it?”

“She’s just doing what she thinks is best for the children.”

“well what she thinks is stupid.”

You sign to Wingding for help. He shrugs and signs, “He’s not wrong.”

You give them both a look of pain.

Sans’ grin stretches. “i won’t eat her.”

“No hypnotizing either.”

“i won’t eat her.”

“Sans!”

He jokes but he won’t do anything that could jeopardize his kid’s life.

Little bit of a helicopter parent. Not in a restrictive way, but in a I need you to be honest and tell me where you are at all times way. He’s mostly supportive of whatever the kid wants to do and doesn’t care for curfews, just as long as he knows where his kid (and obviously it’s not a super dangerous area).

Although he won’t let his kid sleep over at someone else’s place. Too risky.

-

Wingding as a grandpa?

Oooooh. . . He doesn’t know how to deal with kids. He needs a lot of practice. The first time the baby cries in his arms, he is devastated.

You have to repeatedly reassure him it’s not him personally; the baby just needs to get to know him!

Wingding takes this to mean he has to visit daily to see the baby. Sans is Not Happy.

But Wingding knows the way to keep Sans at bay is through you, so he always brings your favorite treats as a bribe.

First time baby smiles at Wingding, he is struck by such overwhelming cute aggression he has to hand the baby back to you so he can excitedly sign.

If you get him a Best Grandpa mug he drinks from it daily.

At babbling stage, Wingding loves to listen to them talk. He nods along to everything they say even though he doesn’t understand a word of it.

When the child is big enough to go to school, Wingding will occasionally take them out of school as a surprise day trip to the movies.

So! Many! Books! The child will never want for books. Monthly grandpa/grandbaby trips to the bookstore.

You essentially have a permanent free babysitter whenever you and Sans need time to yourselves.

He loves them.

PLAY - IF SIREN CALL FOR SANS’ ROUTE

MASTERLIST

[todostiddies]

Eren Boyfriend Headcanons pt 2

Modern Eren headcanons for GNreader, a continuation of pt 1

*** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ***

Texts you goodnight and good morning without fail, but sometimes the good morning texts come at like 12am bruh

He will buckle your seat belt for you

He will open the door for you and if you forget to buckle right away he'll just tell you to scoot over and do it for you before buckling his own

Thinks it's funny to tighten your hood around your face randomly

Absent-mindingly tracing hearts and shapes on you while cuddling

Will call you brat, which he started as a joke to make fun of Levi and now it is unironically a part of his vocabulary much to his dismay

He thinks you being hangry is the adorable even if you're a total demon because of it, in fact, the meaner you get the cuter because he can just poke all the more fun at you when he buys you food and you immediately switch up all sheepishly (which he also loves)

An extra careful driver with you in the car which can then lead to some road rage towards others who aren't, but it never goes past a mean look, the bird, and a couple insults in the privacy of the car. He also deffo does that hot arm hold to you when he brakes too hard and he'll give a little cheeky smile and apology after

Will play Pokemon Go with you and go on Pokemon Go dates where you guys walk the routes and go on hikes or walks around the city to catch pokemon and he always buys you snacks and lunch/dinner during srry but im still in my pokemon go phase

His favorite pokemon is Psyduck

yknow that video where some womans boyfriend/husband was covering the sharp edge of a table while she was on the verge of bumping into it all distracted?? Yeah, that's him. He will cover corners for you and always makes sure you won't clumsily hurt yourself and will watch your step for you depending on how clumsy you are

but at the same time he is constantly trying to trip you and shoves into you with his whole body while walking and tries to push you into puddles like a child

He is fiercely loyal of all of his loved ones and has/will fight anyone on sight for them, as we all know, but he is also very protective of their dreams

He keeps tracks of all his friends and familys most treasured goals/dreams and behind the scenes he is also helping make them come true if he can and/or congratulating them on their progress that no one else may notice and he even will send related things to them like articles or posts

so naturally, things you're really passionate about he will look into and maybe even get into it too

I feel like his mom would have enrolled Eren and Mikasa as junior life guards, she did amazing and really liked it and Eren had fun and was good but didn't care to do it again. Armin went to the wave/beach every day just to hang out with them still, and sometimes Eren abandoned duty or snuck away during a lesson to pick seashells with him

Speaking of, Eren has a mini seashell collection from him and Armin picking them together. He dates each seashell and has given you a couple that he thought you'd like

Because of the whole lifeguard thing, he knows CPR and some basic first aid and the friend group always goes to him if they need extra medical help and he goes straight into his rare mom mode

Him and Mikasa kissed once in a 7 minutes of heaven game in freshmen year of high school, and afterwards decided they were better as friends and never even told Armin until a drunken night of confessions between the three senior year, the night before graduation

He will and has sacrificed himself in little ways for his friends and family, and would do so in bigger ways if the situation ever called for it

He LOVES kissing you

Kisses every morning, before leaving, coming home, when he's bored, when he's excited, when he's sad, all of it. He could be leaving from the dinner table to go to the bathroom and would still kiss you goodbye

He loves making out with you and puts on a romantic playlist he made when you guys hang out and make out in his car he's so cheesy but in a cool way

He thinks you don't realize it's the same playlist but it only has like six songs that just repeat and you have to wrestle him to make you a partner on the playlist so you could add more

When a song you added comes up he'll stop whatever yall are doing just to tell you it was a good choice lmao

He likes flavored Chapstick, but his favorite is vanilla

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I'm ahead on studying so figured I'd get this going.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The television blares as you come downstairs. The hues flicker through the archway as you peek inside. Your father must’ve left it on. You’re used to finding him passed out on the couch but he’s nowhere to be seen.

You yawn into your hand, another week ahead of you. You near the couch as the volume makes your ear drums buzz. Why does he always have it so loud?

Your morning tea hazes your vision. You have those few moments of peace before you have to start the day. The warmth flowing into you, nestling in your stomach, comforting you. As you come around in search of the remote, you stumble to a stop.

Your father didn’t make it that far. He’s slumped over on the edge of the couch. Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the remote on the floor. He must have dropped it. You snatch it up and mute the television, leaving its glow to light the room.

“Dad,” you touch his shoulder, but you already know. He’s not rasping or coughing or choking. Oh no. Oh no no no.

You try to roll him onto his back, then to sit him up. You can’t move him. He’s limp and heavy and…

You run away, racing upstairs to grab your phone from your night table. The charging cord snaps out of the port as you flip it open and rush back to the first floor. You’re panting as you key in the emergency number and put the phone to your cheek.

“Hello!” You nearly shriek at the operator as they answer, “my dad! My dad!” You shake your head as you try to gather yourself, “my dad’s not moving. He’s not breathing.”

“Alright, ma’am, I need you to calm down, can you do that for me?” The man coaxes.

“I don’t know,” you whine.

“Ma’am, you gotta calm down. You wanna help him, don’t you? So take a breath, alright?”

You inhale and let it out, “he’s not breathing,” you babble again.

“Okay, ma’am, you gotta get him on his back for me, can you do that?”

“Y-yes,” you chuff out and go back to the couch. You push on your dad, lifting his arm until he flops onto his back, “he’s on his back.”

“Alright, do you know CPR?” The operator asks.

“I… yes,” you gulp. The doctor sent you to lessons after your dad got the tank. He said it was standard for family members. Your dad told you it was garbage. “Yes, I know how.”

“Good, I need you to breathe for him. You remember the steps, right?”

“I– I can do it,” you say convincing yourself as much as him.

“Do it now, alright? I want you to keep on until the ambulance gets there. You don’t stop,” he says calmly, “I’m tracing your location and I have people on the way.”

“I’m… I’m gonna do it. Now.”

You place the phone down and hit the button for the speaker. You stand over your father’s limp body as your eyes gloss with tears. He can’t be dead. You won’t let him do that. He never listens to you but you’re not going to let him die.

You tilt his head up and move the oxygen tube out of the way. You put your hands on his chest and pump, keeping count as you do. Then you pinch his nose and bend over him, blowing into his mouth, just how they showed you.

You don’t stop. You won’t. You can’t believe this is happening. It’s not going to happen. You can’t lose your dad. He’s all you have. He’s all you’ve ever had.

You hear sirens and the operator speaking to you. You tune it all out as you focus on your dad. You’re crying as you pump again. One, two, three…

The world is foggy around you as you count, over and over. You feel someone touching you, pulling you away. There’s noise all around as the colours turn to blurry orbs all around you. You fight to get free until you realise it’s okay. They’ve come to help.

You watch the paramedics in their white shirts work on your father as another stands beside you. She hands you your phone as the operator talks to you. 

“It’s okay, ma’am, they’re going to get him to the hospital,” he assures. “And take care of you.”

You thank him in a wobbly voice and shut the phone. The woman beside you gives a sympathetic look. The men by your father mutter.

“He’s breathing,” one declares, “get the stretcher.”

“He’s… he’s alive?” You squeak.

“Stand back,” the paramedic beside you stops you from going forward, “gotta let them get him loaded up.”

“Is he going to be okay?” You murmur.

“We can evaluate him at the hospital,” she insists, “you can ride with him but first, they need to get him there.”

You nod and wipe your wet cheeks. He’s alive. Barely. You think you might have saved him. For once, you think you did something right.

🧹

You call into work as you sit out in the waiting room. You hope missing your shift doesn’t affect your probation. Clara thanks you for letting her know but you expect it’s a hassle she doesn't want.

You have your spring jacket pulled over your pajamas and a pair of slip-on sneakers. You wring your hands almost raw as you wait and watch the clock. You are overflowing with anxiety. 

You rock in your chair as the minutes stretch to hours. You see others come and go. Some in rough shape, others on their own strength. Stretchers roll in and out, occupied or otherwise. The sterile scent dries your nostrils and stains your tongue.

As noon rolls around, you get up and find the vending machines just inside the entrance. You drop coins in the slot and push the button for an English tea. The cup drops down into place and the nozzle churns loudly, spitting out thinly steeped tea. It’s better than nothing.

You return to your seat and blow over the top of the cup. Your mind pendulums between the room down your hall and the beeping machines, and the empty house with its fantastical gardens. You should’ve been mopping Mr. Laufeyson’s floors that day.

You finish half the tea before you give up on it. It’s lukewarm and bland. You slouch down and cross your arms. Your eyelids droop but you won’t let them close. You yawn and watch a woman comfort her sniffling child as he sneezes into her shirt.

It’s all so surreal. It feels like a dream. It is your worst nightmare. The doctor warned you but you hoped… you hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

Your name is called and you sit up, nearly jumping out of the seat. You wave your hand and approach the woman in blue scrubs.

“That’s me,” you gulp.

“You can come see him now,” she says.

You blink, “he’s okay?”

She gives you a look, “he’s stable. Come this way.”

She turns back as the large double doors open inward and strides forward. You follow her and she leads you to a room. She points you inside. “He’s on the other side of the curtain.”

“Thank you,” you utter before she’s off. Everyone is in a hurry there. You suppose they have to be.

You turn and look at the closed curtain around the first bed. You pass it and peek around the next. You find your dad, eyes shut, tubes crisscrossed all around him as a machine echoes his heartbeat. You pull the curtain shut and sit in the stiff plastic chair just near the end of his bed. You stare at him, eyes welling hotly.

“I tried,” you croak, “I really tried, dad.”

You drop your face into your hands and let yourself fall apart. You bawl, swallowing down your sobs as you choke. You try not to make too much noise in your grief. You wouldn’t want to disturb your neighbour. But you can’t stop yourself. You’re sorry. You’re so sorry.

You let him down again.

🧹

Your father wakes up the next day. He isn’t cognizant as he thrashes and chokes on the tube down his throat. You hit the bell and stand back to watch in shock. The nurses rush in and shoo you out.

It’s hours before you see him again. The new nurse says he’s sedated and will need to be for a while. You ask if he’s okay. Again. Her answer isn’t much of one.

You spend the first two nights sleeping in the plastic chair. You can’t bring yourself to sleep in the house alone, but you have to leave him. You have a job that day and you need the money. Especially after seeing the invoice for the ambulance.

You go home and change on the third morning and go down to the east side for your assignment. You get through it without thinking. You just do. The familiarity of scrubbing, sweeping, and mopping mutes your emotion. Outside the hospital, you can almost pretend it’s not real.

When you finish, you go back to the hospital. You eat in the cafeteria before you go to your father’s room. Your stomach mulches painfully as your body greedily digests the processed chicken noodle soup. It’s your first meal since the day you got there.

Those yellow walls become your new home. You only leave to go to your third shift that week and otherwise linger. When the nurses send you out, you have tea in the cafeteria or choke down another unappetizing meal from a plastic tray.

Your father’s awake on Sunday night. They tell you they’re weaning him off the sedation. His eyes are glassy and confused. He doesn’t look like himself and for more than the tubes that keep him alive.

Monday morning you say goodbye and promise to be back after work. He grumbles and coughs. He doesn’t have a feeding tube anymore but hasn’t said a word. You don’t know if he can or if he just has nothing to say.

You set off to Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Another week. You’re halfway through probation but you won’t celebrate. You only want to panic. You need money. You need more shifts. Three houses a week for another month and a half won’t do.

As always, you just have to take what you can get.

You shake off the last week before you cross the threshold. Hopefully your eyes aren’t too swollen. Between the lack of sleep and crying, they’re raw and itchy.

You open your phone and click the stubborn button on the keypad to scroll. You put in the code and push through the gate. The garden is a blur of green as you ignore it. You’re not there to watch the leaves dance or breathe in the beauty. This place is just as gray as the rest of the world.

You go inside and begin. Shoe covers, gloves, and… you don’t have your water bottle. Oh well. You proceed down the list. Room by room, item by item. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him. You hope he’s not there.

You get to the second floor. There’s a new bullet point. ‘Study: grease the office chair.’ Huh?

You recall on your last visit how the chair squeaked with his every move. You huff and return downstairs. You go to the closet where the rest of the supplies are and find a new bottle. Small with a narrow nozzle. You read the instructions as you ascend back to the upper level.

You open the study door and stop short. You didn’t think too knock. You sputter but keep any words from spilling out. You keep a grasp on the doorknob but before you can back out, Mr. Laufeyson lifts his gaze from the laptop and catches you in his sights.

“Stay,” he demands and slowly closes the laptop lid. You wince as it clicks. “I thought you quit.”

You stand dumbly in the door. You glance from him to the wall then down at the bottle in your hand. He clicks his tongue and his chair squeaks as he leans forward.

“You may speak. I want to know where you were.”

Why? Your habitual silence keeps you from blurting that out. You clear your throat.

“I couldn’t work, that’s all,” you say, peeking up at him sheepishly.

He tilts his head as he narrows his eyes, “for what reason?”

You don’t know what to tell him. You don’t think he really cares. You roll the bottle in your grasp.

“I had an emergency,” you explain, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t–”

He puts his hand up, “they sent another one. I didn’t like her. She didn’t dust the mantle.”

“I’m sorry, sir–”

“Mr. Laufeyson will do,” he corrects.

“Mister–”

“We’re done speaking,” he interrupts.

You sniff. Did you offend him? Should you have told him more? You only want to be professional and it wouldn’t be proper to bring your personal life to work, would it? 

He stands suddenly and you grip the bottle tight, keeping your arms straight at your side. He struts around the desk, his height emphasized by his long steps. He approaches you, stopping as you move out of the way of the door.

“Fix the chair,” he demands, “that damn noise is driving me mad.”

He sweeps out, leaving you grasping the bottle of grease in confusion. Is he mad? And why is he so concerned with your absence? He doesn’t seem very fond of you. Will he tell Clara? Could he have you fired?

You try not to worry about it. You already have enough on your mind. You can only do what you can do. Grease the chair and finish the job.

[tf2-headcanons-anonymous]

WOAH THIS IS COOL!!!! HI!!!

How about just some head canons of the mercs at the pool?? Anything you come up with!!!

Pool day

What the mercs would be like at the pool

Slight swear warning(?)

Scout

Splashing everyone constantly

Brings a ton of water guns and forces everyone to participate in a water gun fight. He has the fancy expensive water guns too.

Absolutely will compete with anyone to see who can make the biggest splash.

Took him forever to actually learn how to swim.

Yells "CANONBALL!!!" as loud as he can before jumping in the pool.

Forgets to put on sunscreen and gets super sunburnt. Complains to Medic after.

Pushes people into the pool.

Soldier

This man does not know how to swim.

He stays in the shallow end, probably doing some kind of Marine type training.

Takes Scout's water gun fight way too seriously.

If he is pushed into the deep end he just sits still and sinks to the bottom, someone else has to save him

Is a huge enforcer of the pool "rules". No running, no pushing, you have to wait 20 mins after you eat, etc. He does have a whistle with him and will use it.

Pyro

They can swim, they just choose to stay in the shallow end.

They like playing with those toy boats that can actually move in the water when you wind them up.

Buys candy or ice cream from the pool concession stand (We have these where I live idk about other places)

They generally have a lot of fun just sitting by themself in the shallow end playing with random pool toys.

Keeps their mask on unless they choose to actually swim around a bit.

Demoman

Does bring alcohol to the pool, he has to.

Sword fighting with pool noodles, that's all I have to say

Can swim and has a fun time doing it, but everyone is a little nervous with him being drunk in the pool.

Actual cannonball man

Will gladly play that game where someone climbs on his shoulders, and you fight against two other people.

He loves pool games, and he wins most of them.

Made a water balloon canon

Heavy

Is the man cooking a barbeque for everyone.

His food is amazing, and he makes sure the group has a full lunch to keep their energy up.

He'll some hang out in the pool but chooses not to swim all that much.

Brought the cooler full of water bottles, Demo put some of his drinks in there though.

Goes in the deep end once just to save soldier from the bottom.

Engineer

Mostly relaxes in the shallow end as well but goes int the deep end a few times.

Makes sure everyone is drinking enough water.

Brought a pump to blow up the pool floaties with because he doesn't want to do it manually ever again.

His robot hand can hold up in water, but he still keeps it out of the water most of the time just in case.

Hangs out with Pyro for a bit when he realizes they're alone (Sorry i headcanon him as a father figure for Pyro)

Offers to help out with the barbeque

Medic

Somehow the most graceful swimmer in the world.

Is the only one that actually knows proper CPR but prefers to let them die and respawn to "learn their lesson"

Brings some pool floaties for everyone

Also makes sure everyone is drinking water; he's not saving anyone if they pass out.

Tires to get everyone to wear sunscreen because he doesn't want to deal with the complaints of sunburn.

Doesn't help Scout with his sunburn, just says "I told you zis would happen" and gives him some aloe.

Sniper

Doesn't actually go in the pool that much, just sits on the side reading a book or something.

It he does go in the pool he just sits on the edge and puts his legs in the water

Refuses to participate in anything that could get him splashed.

If anyone splashes him, he gets pissed and gets out of the pool again.

Scout shot him with a water gun once, he never did it again.

Uses the water gun fight as an excuse to practice aim but says no one can shoot at him.

Spy

Stays on a floatie the entire time.

Like Sniper in the way that he will get pissed if he's splashed.

Keeps his mask on and puts sunglasses on over it somehow.

Constantly reapplying sunscreen, this man will not get burnet today.

Ends up falling asleep on the floatie and gets woken up by Scout jumping into the pool right beside him, causing him to fall over.

He sits on side with a towel and does not go back in the pool after that. He looks like a pathetic wet cat but still refuses to take his mask off.

Thats it, I hope you like them!

In all honesty, I have based some of this off how people in my family act at the pool.

Sorry if some of my grammar isn't the best

[milkmissiles]

todoroki as a boyfriend pls? 🥺 I'm so weak for him oml

Oooo yes ofc! Sorry this took so long lol I have been so busy. Also it's much longer than I thought it was going to be haha. I'm weak for him too honestly he's just so pretty.

Hope I did this man justice :)

♡Boyfriend Todoroki♡

-CW- fluff, a bit suggestive but nothing too in depth. Probably SFW.

Pairing: todoroki x GN reader

He is dense. Like denser than dense.

You could literally make out with him for hours and he still wouldn't get the message.

He'd be like, "What are you doing..? I don't need cpr..."

This bitch

Its Not that he doesn't have feelings for you, In fact its pretty much the opposite. It's just that this poor traumatized boy can't even comprehend that someone would want to date him.

And he's literally the prettiest boy in U.A. so you eventual gave up on trying to ask him out because you figured he probably just didn't like you.

Imagine this poor boys reaction when you stop talking to him everyday. He is crushed.

Would inevitably go to Midoriya for help. He doesn't understand his feelings for you and pretty much has to be informed by Midoriya that it's a crush. Unfortunately, Midoriya isn't all that good at confessions either. So obviously, the next best option is Bakugou.

Except that he also sucks ass in this situation... he'd tell poor confused Shouto to grow a pair or something.

Eventually Shouto goes through literally everyone in the class asking what to do. He gets tons of advice and multiple lessons and pep talks from the girls.

At this point you know how he feels before he even has the chance to ask you out... I mean he is constantly talking about it out loud in the hallways and in Class. There have been multiple note passing situations between him and Mina that resulted in a very pissed Aizawa, and a very embarrassed Shouto...

When he finally gathers enough information on this whole "crush" thing. He works up the courage to ask you out. You would obviously know what was happening, but please act surprised he's trying really hard.

He would ask you out in like the textbook way, With a little flair added by Mina and Denki.

He bought you red roses, and brought you to an extremely fancy restaurant. Like, dress code level fancy.

(Don't worry he's using Endeavors card please buy the most expensive thing on the menu)

He would be super uptight and formal at first, And it's really awkward.

But you were expecting that considering it's Shouto so you don't mind.

As long as you continue making conversation, he will calm down eventually, smiling softly at you from across the table while you tell some story about an annoying customer you dealt with at work yesterday or something.

He loves the sound of your voice and the way you get all riled up when you rant about something annoying. Or the way you talk with your hands when you're excited. He loves watching you just talk. He doesn't even need to say anything he just nods along, giving all of his attention to every word that comes out of your mouth.

By the end of your diner, the atmosphere is completely normal. Shouto's nerves have calmed down at that point, and his confidence is up a bit.

Once you leave the resteraunt, he offers his hand to you. He doesn't say anything. he just kinda puts his hand out and hopes you get the message. When you take his hand, he immediately starts leading you down the street.

You ask where he's taking you and he just says "it's a surprise.. you'll see when we get there."

And it is a long ass walk into the middle of nowhere. Like the literal bush. If it was anyone other than Shouto you would have thought you were being kidnapped.

Fortunately it is Shouto. So you've got nothing to worry about.. but you start to wonder how long this walk is going to last... he seems very concentrated.

Finally, you get to the spot. Emerging from the bush to see two pairs of ice skates a lake that is completely frozen.. which was obviously Shouto's doing considering its the middle of summer.

You would ice skate together for hours. Your hand in his, he would slow his pace down a bit because you are definitely an inferior skater to him.

(Which is why Denki and Mina suggested skating. Gotta give him as many opportunities as possible right?)

But in the end, he doesn't try anything. He doesn't want to push you to do something you're not comfortable with.

Even though a first date with Shouto would be extremely awkward. After a few months of dating, and quite a bit of reassurance that he didn't have to worry so much. He would come around.

I don't think he would be into pda like at all. He would definitely be on the shy side when it comes to physical affection. Although he does like to be the one who initiates it.

In public he would do small touches, like pulling on your sleeve to get you attention, Or brushing hair out of your face. He would hold pinkies with you if you were in a crowd. Telling you to keep close to him. (Or honestly you don't even have to be in a crowd, he's just worried about you)

"Stay close ok..? There's a lot of people her, you could get lost." He would say, squeezing your Pinky a bit.

He would hold your hand if the crowd got to chaotic, his grip firm but not to hard. A drop of sweat rolling down his forhead.

He's really scared of losing you. After all, who knows how long it would take to find you again, right? You could easily be ambushed by a villain. Or a civilian for that matter. I mean, normal businessmen can be just as dangerous as villains. Definitely a threat to your safety. Or at least that's what he's thinking.

I mean, can you really blame him? U.A. students and pro heroes alike get attacked almost daily. So it's not his fault if he's worried, right?

On the other hand if you were in private, he would be much more touchy.

Not gross touchy but like cute soft touchy y'know?

Like he would come up behind you if you were doing housework and stuff and just rest his chin on your head and follow you around while you do things. Every few minutes asking if you need help.

it would be the most menial things too. Like your just minding your own business, unloading the dish washer and there he is asking if you need help putting away a singular fork.

He just wants to make your life easier, but man, it is constant.

He would be so nervous to kiss you when you first start dating. He does not know how.

But surprisingly enough, I think he'd be naturally talented. Like he warns you in advance that he's never really done it before, and you're all prepared for the most awkward, stiff kiss of your life. And then, by some miracle, he's like a master kisser.

within a few makeout sessions you're experiencing mind-blowing, earth-shatering kisses with this man.

His hands definitely wander when you two are making out.

Not even on purpose, he's just doing it absent-mindedly.

But even though he doesn't realize what he's doing. You sure do.

I mean how can you not with his right hand running through your hair, holding your head in place as he kisses you. And his left hand is traveling up and down your back, under your shirt, in a rhythmic soothing motion that could probably put you to sleep if you weren't currently making out with Shoto Todoroki.

You are a fucking mess and this man has no idea what he's doing to make you act like this.

Try and keep your composure at least a little bit, or he might think you're sick and dying though.

Seriously the first time ya'll did anything spicy he probably got so freaked out by the sounds you were making.

You literally had to show him source material to convince him he wasn't hurting you and you weren't possessed.

It does make sense though. Like there's no way Endeavor ever gave him the talk..

So he is completely clueless and you basically have to give him the talk yourself. But once he gets the idea, he's... well, let's just say he's very.. well endowed.

(...The carpet matches the drapes...)

He would literally break your guys's 11th bed frame and he would just be like "oops."

Absolutely menace. Nobody wants to have to replace their bedframe that many times. Nevermind your bed sheets which also tend to get ruined.

It's a good thing you're both top pro heroes and absolutely loaded.

He would be so good at aftercare though. He cares about you so so much, so he would definitely pamper the shit out of you after ya'll do your thang.

He would run you a warm bath, heating to water up to the perfect temperature with his Quirk. He helps you into the bathtub, massaging the shampoo into your hair with the most gentle touch you have ever felt.

After he takes care of you and you both go to bed, you would have no trouble falling asleep.

Your bodies pressed against each other. Your head resting peacefully on his chest as he strokes your hair, breathing a sigh of relief. Just knowing you're there, with him, and your safe. That's enough to give him a good night's sleep.

I would literally die for him. If he needs a dog, I can meow 👍

[strawberryforks]

if the teacher leaves, so do we // jj maybank x reader

summary: detention sucks so you decide to leave—an attractive blonde follows

warnings: swearing (maybe i don’t remember)

a/n: requests are open!

word count: 769

“‘m pretty sure the whole point of detention is that you’re supposed to sit there and feel guilty, cupcake,” said the tan blue-eyed blonde. his skin was sunkissed, his hair too. you looked him up and down (somewhat appreciatively, but what of it? you had eyes) he was tall, or, taller than you, wearing blue cargo shorts and a red tee shirt. the material was dark and slightly tattered around the collar. “eyes up here, babe.”

your eyes snap to his, lip curling in false distaste. it’s a practised response - one you don’t entirely mean. “don’t flatter yourself.”

hands raised in mock salute he grins, “oh, i’d never. i’m jj, what’s your name? haven’t seen you around here before.”

“in detention? that’s usually because i leave. i prefer to sit and feel guilty in other places. which,” the door slams, the teacher slips out into the hallway, his feet clicking against the linoleum tiles. you rise, palms pressing down onto the desk. you unzip the backpack sat on the ground beside you and stuff everything you own inside of it. pencil case (full of something distinctly not school friendly), binder (full of assignments you should probably do), water bottle, notebook–and then you empty your pockets too. an actual pen, a blue BIC, a few squashed cigarettes, a pack of gum, and some bandaids. you’ll sort it when you get home. or… you won’t. whatever.

you walk over to the left side of the classroom, where sun streams through the row of windows and a glance over your shoulder shows the blonde, jj, frowning. you lift the window open and lean out through it, lowering your bag as far down as you can before dropping it onto the grass below. then you duck down and swing a leg out. then the other one.

“what the hell are you doing?” a chair slides back and he moves over to you. he looks determined–to stop you? that won’t be happening. quickly you jump, bending your knees to absorb the shock and rolling. jj peers out after you, “hey! wait!”

with your backpack where it should be, on your shoulders, you look up at him. “the teacher left, in my books, that means i can too.”

“pretty sure that’s not how it works!” jj shouts down to you.

“it’s not like i’m going to climb back up–that’s a second story window, you know. just go back to feeling guilty!”

jj disappears from view for a second and your shoulders sag. you’re relieved. Your turn and start to walk away when a back slams into the back of your legs. then, there’s a less than graceful THUMP and jj is running over to you apologies spilling out of his mouth. he helps you up off the ground. “i didn't mean to hit you i–i’m sorry. are you okay?”

a goofy grin splits your face as you let him help you up, “no, i’m y/n.”

his eyes widen in shock. dad jokes are the best and you’ll stand by that until the ocean dries up. “i’m fine though. joining me on my jailbreak?”

“guess so. the extra hour of freedom will be nice. what are you going to do with it?”

“my friend madyson texted. she said the waves were great so i’m going to grab my board and head down.”

“you surf?”

“yeah. why?”

“mind if i tag along?”

“just because i surf doesn’t mean i babysit, maybank. i don’t do lessons and i don’t know how to do CPR.”

you ate your words. an hour later

jj had sworn he knew a spot. and he did. the waves broke perfectly and as he paddled out to a large on you were left wincing. the wave was taller than he was and whether or not you knew CPR you were a strong swimmer (or you liked to think you were) hopefully you wouldn’t have to test your resuscitation skills. “dude, seriously! be careful!” he dropped in on the wave and rode it perfectly.

three other waves, you only catching a small one, and you scowled. “wave hog,”

he laughed.

“oh shut it, you want a shot?”

the sun was setting and the two of you were sitting on the beach, wrapped in towels in front of a smouldering fire. “you're cool, jj. a damn good surfer.”

“me and my friends go out all the time. we’re fishing tomorrow–you can come along if you want.”

you nod. “you can beat me in a surfing competition any day, but you’ll never out fish me.”

[xoxobuckybarnes]

Stucky Fic Recs

@gabulinkasposts asked for some Stucky High School, College, and Sports recs, so here are some of my favorites:

High School AU

Lost Boys and Broken Toys (Rated: E, Words: 204K) by KK_Banyu

Summary: When 17-year-old Steve Rogers moves from Brooklyn to Manhattan with his mother, he's eager to attend his new high school and meet new friends. He looks forward to trying out for the track team and involving himself in the visual arts. Although Steve is ready to face any challenge head-on, he still finds himself haunted by an incident from his past--when his childhood best friend disappeared under mysterious circumstances. If Steve leaves Brooklyn now, will they ever have a chance at reuniting? Jamie Pierce has been a resident of Manhattan for as long as he can remember, ever since being adopted at a young age. His memories of his life before then are fuzzy at best. Now 17, he's finding more and more that his home life and relationship with his father are not typical compared to other kids and is struggling to reconcile with these differences. When Steve and Jamie cross paths at school, their spark is immediate, but somehow, both boys share the inexplicable feeling the thing between them is different--more than just a horny, teenage crush, their connection feels deeper, more like coming home. But that's impossible--they've never met before...right?

Then I'd Be Another Memory (Rated: M, Words: 190K) by Kellyscams / @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Bucky Barnes has it all. He’s the captain of the basketball team, has a great social life, his choice of ivy league schools, and was just announced as his class’s valedictorian. Senior year is going perfectly. Until he gets assigned to be a peer mediator to Steve Rogers – one of their class’s biggest trouble makers who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut and goes around picking fights with everyone. The last thing Bucky needs is to get mixed up with Steve and his pretty blue eyes and soft blonde hair and heart-melting smile. Even if it turns out he’s not quite what Bucky’s thought all this time. Even if maybe someone just needs to listen to Steve’s side of the story. Even if Steve’s heart is so much bigger than Bucky could have ever imagined. Because Steve Rogers is so not worth becoming friends with. Again. Bucky learned that lesson years ago. Unfortunately, there are some things that Bucky just can’t control. Steve Rogers – and the way Bucky feels about him – is one of them.

Conundrum (Rated: M, Words: 45K) by this_wayward_life

Summary: Bucky Barnes is not popular in the slightest. He's overly sarcastic, has no interest in fashion, and everything about him screams "Do Not Approach". And Bucky is totally okay with that. It's his last year in school, anyway - and unless his entire year level turns out to be evil aliens, he doesn't care about any of them. Then Bucky meets Steve Rogers. Steve is handsome, friendly, sweet, funny and completely irrelevant to Bucky's life. Bucky is determined to ignore him, but Steve has a life of his own - and he's determined to have Bucky in it.

Tripping On Stars (Rated: M, Words: 32K) by goldheartedsky

Summary: When Bucky Barnes finds the school’s golden child, Steve Rogers, passed out and not breathing in the locker rooms from an apparent drug overdose, his world turns upside down. After performing CPR long enough for the ambulance to arrive, he struggles to understand how someone with everything going for him could throw his life away like that. Over the next few months, they grow closer and closer and Bucky starts to realize that maybe they’re both holding onto more secrets than either of them know.

Your Shadow Weighs a Ton (Rated: M, Words: 72K) by me (xoxobuckybarnes)

Summary: Steve Rogers is a little lost in the world right now. His mother is gone, he's about to be evicted, and he's just been arrested. Just when he's about to lose everything, George Barnes, his public defender, rescues him, taking him in, acting as his legal guardian. With a new temporary family, comes a new friend: George's son, Bucky. Bucky Barnes has had a bit of a rough go the past few years. But he's come out on the other side stronger than ever and ready to start his senior year of high school. Even better, he's got a new friend to battle high school with: Steve Rogers. Steve and Bucky have met each other exactly when they needed each other most. Each one is exactly the type of friend the other one needs. And perhaps, there might be something more than friendship on the horizon...

College Au

Alkynes of Trouble (Rated: E, Words: 11K) by yammz / @yammz

Summary: “Doing nothing would be helpful,” Bucky said before he could stop himself. He averted his eyes from what was sure to be another kicked puppy expression. “Look, I’m just gonna be real with you. I can’t fuck up this lab. Fury’s got open positions in his lab, and I need to look good for those, okay? This isn’t just a checked box on my requirements,” he told him honestly. “It’s nothing personal but--” “But you’re smarter,” Steve supplied, a sad smile on his lips. He ducked his head, a motion that simply would not work to make him seem small. He was way too big for that. “I get it.”

Not the Same River at my Fingertips (Rated: E, Words: 11K) by giselleslash / @gigi-gigi

Summary: Steve desperately needs a ride home for Christmas but the last person he wants to take help from is Bucky Barnes. There’s a one night stand gone badly and four years of hurt feelings and misunderstandings between them. Of course there's a road trip home that goes perfectly smoothly.

That Boy Is a Problem (Rated: E, Words: 10K) by 2bestfriends

Summary: In which a twinky little goth punk named Bucky puts a leash around Steve's dick and he's really into it. (The leash is a metaphor. For now.)

He's All That (Rated: T, Words: 88K) by crinklefries / @spacerenegades

Summary: “That one,” Tony says gleefully. “I pick him.” “Him?” Bucky hisses. “Steve Rogers?” “Bet’s a bet,” Tony says smugly. “Make Steve Rogers the class president by the end of the year.” “Motherfucker,” Bucky curses. Then he takes a fortifying breath. He can do this. He’s Bucky Son of A Senator Barnes. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the front just the way he knows men and women like it. “Fine,” he says. “Okay. By the end of the year. Easy.” *** When Bucky Barnes--son of a state Senator, future president of his fraternity, and co-captain of his college’s soccer team--gets unceremoniously and very publicly dumped at a party, his entire reputation hangs on by the thinnest thread. Drunk and humiliated, he does the only thing that makes sense--he makes a bet with Tony Stark. Now Bucky has the length of the school year to take Steve Rogers--small, asthmatic, environmentally-conscious art nerd, political activist, and complete social disaster--and turn him into the student body president. How many misunderstandings, shenanigans, and college tropes will abound before Bucky realizes that Steve Rogers, well, he’s all that?

Learn Me Hard Oh, Learn Me Right (Rated: E, Words: 60K) by AHM1121 / @love-ha-fge

Summary: “Have you always struggled with math, Steve?” Dr. Potts asked. The blush crept higher as the same shame that he had felt since the second grade crawled up his spine. “You’re not the only one.” She assured, handing the papers back to him. “Luckily, you can get one-on-one tutoring at the student center, your tuition covers two sessions per week.” “Thank you ma’am.” Steve accepted the paper and stood, sliding his backpack over his shoulders. Making his way out of her office he paused when she called his name. “Ma’am?” “Ask for Bucky Barnes.” Her lips turned up at the name. “He’s one of the math majors that I oversee, haven’t had a student work with him who hasn’t passed.” No pressure, Steve thought. “I’ll make sure to do that. Thank you Dr. Potts.” “Good luck Steve.” He didn’t need luck, he needed a miracle.

Home for the Summer (Rated: T, Words: 1K) by Ladyjaybird

Summary: Steve is really glad his best friend Bucky is back from college for the summer. And the little touches and sweet compliments Bucky keeps giving him aren't bad, either. But Bucky is just a naturally flirtatious guy, right? Or is something else happening here? (Spoiler: yes)

Sports AU

Citius, Altius, Fortius (Faster, Higher, Stronger) (Rared: M, Words: 50K) by MarcellaBianca

Summary: Steve Rogers. James Barnes. One, an NHL star with dreams of finally capturing an Olympic gold medal. The other, a former World champion and Olympic silver medalist, now a current coach and choreographer for the top flight figure skaters in the Russian Federation. But before all of that.. they were Steve and Bucky. Until they weren't.

Targeting (Rated: E, Words: 140K) by queenmabscherzo / @queenmabscherzo

Summary: Steve and Bucky end up playing for rival college football teams.

Fixed Links Circumnavigate (Rated: E, Words: 30K) by paperstorm

Summary: Steve’s eyes stay glued to Bucky on the television, and he tries to be happy for him. He tries, with everything he’s got in him, not to feel like in a split second, in 10 little words – the Pittsburgh Penguins are proud to select forward James Barnes – that he just lost Bucky forever. Bucky is drafted into the NHL. Steve loves him in secret, and from a distance. An accident ends Bucky's career when it's barely started, and Steve is left to pick up the pieces.

lane lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

Summary: Steve Rogers has spent his entire life swimming and now is poised to take the Wakanda 2024 Olympics by storm. The only thing he’s missing is a friendly rival to help get him there. Enter Bucky Barnes, who doesn’t seem to take the sport quite as seriously despite his raw and enviable talent. Steve hates him. Bucky doesn’t care. That makes Steve hate him more. - aka: the Olympics swimming AU that nobody but me asked for

Okay, so he can play... (pretty's got nothing to do with it) (Rated: E, Words: 50K) by darter_blue

Summary: This is supposed to be Steve's year. He's meant to be taking his team to finals. He's meant to get signed to his dream club. He's meant to have it all. Until in walks the new kid, with his beautiful face and his tiny shoulders and his long hair and his graceful skating. Who doesn’t look anything like a proper hockey player. Who's going to ruin everything. Bucky Barnes is about to bring Steve Roger's world crashing down. And Steve is about to realise that's a good thing. Maybe the best thing that ever happened to him.

Howitzer (Rated: E, Words: 11K) by spacebuck / @spacebuck

Summary: Bucky Barnes, figure skating champion, is forced to switch his skates for hockey ones when he leaves for college. Problem is, he's never played hockey before, and now he has to be good enough to get the scholarship he needs. Enter Steve Rogers, Carter University Men's Hockey player, who's decided that he'd do anything to get this guy on his team. Cue five am runs, overwhelming classes, new friends, plenty of snow, and a sport that's fast becoming a way of life.

Full Count (Rated: M, Words: 50K) by Ink_Dancer

Summary: Full Count: a baseball term referring to a situation during a player’s at bat where there are three balls and two strikes on him. As this is the maximum one can have without either walking (base on balls) or striking out, this is generally expected to be a very stressful situation for both the pitcher and the batter. The pitch that is then thrown on this count is expected to be the one that decides the batter’s fate, and carries with it a certain expectation of change. It’s known as the payoff pitch: it’s the payoff for a long wait. or: a stucky au that takes place in the world of Major League Baseball, in which Bucky is a catcher, Steve is a closing pitcher, and their lives are stuck in a perpetual full count—until life throws the payoff pitch and they end up on the same Dodgers team.

Going Yard (Rated: E, Words: 41K) by Brenda / @brendaonao3

Summary: Going Yard: Baseball vernacular for hitting a home run. This is the love story of shortstop Steve Rogers and pitcher Bucky Barnes, estranged childhood best friends about to be reunited on the same team. This is a love story about New York's other baseball team, the Avengers, and their quest to claim the National League East division title. This is a love story about going home and new friends and team bonding and first loves and how the people you're the closest to can also drive you the craziest. But mostly, this is a love story about baseball and the boys of summer who play it.

Armbands & Bandwidth (Rated: E, Words: 61K) by sopdetly / @poedinson

Summary: Steve Rogers, captain of the Philadelphia Forge and the US Men’s Soccer National Team, keeps his head down and leads his teams quietly but effectively. Carol Danvers, captain of the Philadelphia Marvels and the US Women’s Soccer National Team, sports a pink-streaked fauxhawk, demands equal pay, and is anything but quiet. When Carol asks Steve to start a podcast with her to promote their teams and spread their love of the game, Steve thinks it’ll be a fun experiment and his agent thinks maybe he’ll start showing some personality. What Steve doesn’t expect is to meet a devastatingly hot producer. For his biggest secret to come to the surface. For this one offer to change his entire life.

wholesale change (Rated: M, Words: 83K) by biblionerd07

Summary: Steve Rogers, captain of a losing NHL team, has taken so many bad penalties this season he's worried he's going to get set down to the minors as punishment. His agent comes up with a plan to make Steve irreplaceable to the fans--a reality dating show. Where the contestants want to date Steve.

Lessons in Falling (Rated: M, Words: 28K) by lillupon / @lillupon

Summary: Bucky is a diver stuck in a rut. His synchro partner treats him like a deadweight and his coach keeps threatening to cut him from the team. After his spectacular failure in the FINA World Diving Championships, he’s ready to take a break from the sport. And then he meets Steve, a brilliant newcomer to the competitive diving scene in search of a synchro partner.

Going for Gold (Rated: E, Words: 58K) by me (xoxobuckybarnes) & art by heckalecki / @heckalecki

Summary: A long time ago, Bucky and Steve used to be friends. From the moment they met on the youth soccer field, they were inseparable, bonding over their love for the game and planning for a future together where they both got to do what they love. But Bucky hasn't seen Steve in four years. Not since their friendship ending fight. Bucky achieved his dream, became a professional soccer player, good enough to play for the U.S. Men's National Team. When Steve Rogers shows up to write a book about the Men's journey to the Olympics, Bucky's shocked. And a little angry. Can Bucky and Steve get over their fight? Can they ever have that friendship they once had?

[red-steampunk]

Things the five MCs 5 not allowed to do:

MC1-(Summoners) from Shiro & Toji

1- A stunned moment of silence means "My God, what have you done?" Not "please continue."

2- You're not allowed to skip class and meet up with Tetsuox to beat up weaker delinquents who are on both of your Guilds turf.

3- Stop "accidentally" spilling food all over Marduk, just because you think his dragon eating him is funny. Nobody wants to see that. lt's gross and awkward.

4- All though Surtr & Bablon both appreciate the somewhat kind gesture, please stop beating anyone who deliberately calls Bablon by her other "name."

5- Stop flirting with Jugo when he's in the middle of practice or egging on Orochi to rip Jugo's clothes off during practice.

6- Stop waking up Shennong in the middle of the night for breast milk. He's poisonous, you little gremlin.

7- Just like Ryota, you're not allowed to cook anything inside of the kitchen without supervision. Choji still refuses to speak to you after you created that abomination.

8- You're no longer allowed to play unwinnable games or play Mario Kart with Ahura Mazda. You knew what you were doing with that Blue Shell.

9- A lot of the outfits in Tokyo are "very revealing" were asking you nicely to stop referring it to a "pussy out" look.

10- You're no longer allowed to make an Only Fans for extra Guild money. Bribing the staff won't work again.

---

MC2-(Missionaries) from Jacob & Maria

1- Whenever you're gaming with Tsathoggua and the others again, please refrain from saying, "How about I f*ck you're dad and give him a son he'll actually love" to sexist individuals. We got a ton of angry calls from parents across Tokyo from your live streams with Tindalos.

2- Stop telling Temujin that you'd rather get knocked up by Ulaan. Temujin wouldn't leave the property because he was angry looking for you in a fit of rage. Quit giving Maria grey hairs. No one wants him here.

3- Whenever you're having your girls' night, avoid going to places that are usually filled with rude men from now on. We'd appreciate it if you,Hekate,Ellie,Melusine and etc. Would stop looking for fights.

4- Stop calling Hati a simp, he apologized for being manipulated by Nyarl.

5- Stop trying to hook up Nyarl and Zabaniyya. Nyarl doesn't mind, but Zab most certainly does.

6- Stop calling Tezcatlopica, Balor's bottom bitch. I don't care how funny you and Tanetomo think it is.

7- Stop pretending to drown, just so you can either Makara or Gurangatch perform CPR on you. They're both worried about losing you forever. And I know you didn't enjoy it when Fuxi did it that one time instead, maybe that'll teach you a lesson on pretending to drown is bad, m'kay.

8- Stop taking naps on Arsalan, I know he doesn't mind, but I hate having to wash your clothes more than I should because they're covered in oil.

9- Stop letting Ellie drink your blood. I don't care how much you both enjoy it. The angels didn't like seeing that. They think it's gross.

10- I know about you and Azazel search history. Please delete that, and I mean ALL of it. I'll give you three Tickets if you do.

---

MC3-(Berserkers) from Snow.

1- I'd appreciate it if you didn't always clothesline people who either accidentally or deliberately speak inappropriately in front of Echo.

2- Please be careful whenever you're complimenting or flirting with with Cthuga again. You caused him to create a massive forest fire near Chernobog's Moutain, and you're both lucky the authorities haven't found out about it yet, thanks to Claude covering for you.

3- Garmr is not your personal attack dog, and he's not allowed to sleep in your room anymore. His howling is too much, especially at night.

4- No, I won't tell you where the milk from came from. It's a secret.

5- Stop giving Claude dumb ideas for events. Please come to me first for any ideas you have in mind from now.

6- Just because you can doesn't mean you should. And just because you should doesn't mean you can.

7- No ice cream sandwiches inside of the toasters. I don't care if you and Bathym managed to get Ikutoshi to laugh because of the result of it. It wasn't worth it.

8- Asking Belphegor to "clean out your pipes" is right out, when his shift is over. You stop that. Let him rest.

9- Stop calling yourself Tokyo's Hottest Himbo. Echo won't stop repeating it.

10- If you,Bathym, and Cthugha would find somewhere to smoke a "joint," then I'd stop dousing you with water. We don't need you stinking up the place. Maybe that'll teach you that doing drugs is bad, m'kay?

---

MC4- (Tycoons) from Gyumao

1- Even though I appreciate you as my business partner. Please stop complimenting the employees so frequently. They're fishing for your favoritism now.

2- Shino and Choji aren't allowed to get special treatment from me. I know you love them a lot, but I have Barguest and Snow. I need to treat them like that. When you start your own business, then you can spoil them. Other than that, refrain from asking.

3- I appreciate you calling me your dad, but please don't call me "Big Daddy" it's embarrassing, especially in front of our employees.

4- Please stop joining in the fights with the other head Tycoons. Stuff around here is expensive.

5- Licht isn't allowed to paint you naked anymore, thanks to a certain fight breaking out at the museum because everyone wanted to steal that painting of you.

6- We're allowing you to keep all that money you won, but you're not allowed to use anything at the Casino anymore. Your luck at the slot machines and gambling is unnatural, and we don't want to make others think you're cheating.

7- Stop sleeping around with your besties at the same time, you're all loud as hell, Bohemio and Sanzo are rubbing off on you.

8- Unless you actually plan on adopting them, stop referring the 8 Dog Warriors as my grandchildren. I already had Yoshito,Yasuyori, and Mussashi call me gramps. I don't like feeling old.

9- No, we are not doing a Maid Café, Melusine thinks it's degrading. And it doesn't matter what the other maids think because they'll just blindly agree with you.

10- No, you can't suck on my breath for milk just because you're too lazy to go downstairs and get some milk in the fridge. And stop asking Barguest if either my milk or Snow's milk tastes better. It's inappropriate... It's his.

10- Stop calling Korpokkur and Micheal a "lying little abortions" I can't risk having my business partner get canceled for insulting ageless children.

---

MC5- (Outlaws) from Gyobu

1- Even though we know Ryota is completely harmless and means well. Please let us know when he's coming over, Tetsuya still gets upset when you invite him over.

2- I know how much you hate Fuxi and the World Reps in general compared to your siblings. But please stop calling the Cops on our turf to arrest him because he broke into your room. We can handle it ourselves. We're meant to help you.

3- Please don't ever point out how all of the Outlaws have friends outside of the Guild who frequently visit unannounced. Tetsuya clearly didn't appreciate that being pointed out to him.

4- Marchiosias doesn't want Ellie following you to the Gurus Guild because he's very adamant about it, too. So please carefully watch your surroundings. She has a habit of following you. Same with the Summoners Guild.

5- You're not allowed to sneak over at the Warmonger's base to leave multiple cardboard cutouts of Yoshitune surrounding Yoritomo, just so he can suffer from a massive panic attack... again.

6- You deserve getting punched in the face for calling Suzuka a tsundere. She's your friend who asks to be treated with respect, please treat her accordingly.

7- Please stop making passive-aggressive comments to rude customers. We still appreciate you making everyone laugh because of it, but we don't need bad reviews.

8- Tsukuyomi appreciates you being his brother, stop coming up with fancy names for him. They're dumb regardless of what he thinks. You can still call him "Moon Man"

9- Just because Tetsuox calls you boss doesn't mean you should pay him, he already has a job.

10- Stop calling me your dad just because I'm dating Marchiosias. I already have 808 kids plus his child. I'm not sure I'm ready for a trouble magnet like you.

---

All Five from Mr. Mononobe

1- Please calm down and stop being extremely hostile towards Christine, I don't prefer her over you five. Same with Kirito.

2- No, I'm not paying for any of future weddings. You guys have an alarming number of people you're dating. Especially MC2 and MC4.

3- I appreciate you guys treating Furufumi as a seventh sibling, but maybe hang out with one or two at a time. He's still not comfortable hanging out with all of you at once.

4- Even though they deserve it, stop manipulating and gaslighting the Worlds Reps by using any information you have of the Exiles. I don't care if Micheal,Tez or Perun deserve it.

5- I swear, if I get another noise complaint from you're respective neighbors, because you five don't know how to keep your legs closed.

6- No, I won't ever make duplicates of Lil' Salomon. I know you love him. He does appreciate that you guys like him that much.

7- Hearing anyone make a racist comment directed to any of your friends isn't an excuse to jump them at once.

8- I'm not abusing my power to eliminate all of the World Reps at once, I have rules against me for that.

9- Stop trying to get me another romantic partner. Chernobog is great as is, I'm not you five. I have standards.

10- Once you five do finally graduate, then I'll allow you to drink with me. Just don't let anyone else know. Other than that, stop asking asking to go to the bar with me and the other teachers.

[marvelsage]

2.Avatar: The Way of Water

Part1 pt3

“Again!”

For the past few weeks you had been training the Sullys the way of your people in many ways. At first they were hesitant, heavy shouldered, and vulnerable but, now they are more sure about themselves, relieved of stress, and have expanded. As you indeed teach them your way, you also included meditation and healing practices in your lesson.

One day after lessons you had decided to roam the reefs near the three rocks, as Olo’eykte of the deep sea you had made it apart of your duties to make sure all marine life were thriving. You had been cleaning some debris left behind on the reefs when a huge crash was heard on the other side of the rocks. Going to investigate, you were utterly surprised seeing Lo’ak being chased by an Akula. Staying calm you swam further into the open and called for the Akula as it had cornered Lo’ak into some reef.

Now his sights were on you, you dodged its attacks and smacked it with your tail into the rocks. While momentarily dazed, you took the opportunity to swim over to Lo’ak who looked on the verge of passing out and grabbing him out of the reef. You were almost to the surface when the Akula came heading straight for you both, when suddenly he was being slammed by an even being opponent into the reef.

‘a Tulkun’

Feeling the body in your grasp go limp spring you into action and break through the surface. You held him up on your tail as best you could until you felt the Tulkun a fin underneath you both. Glancing it’s way for second before performing CPR, eventually the boy came through coughing up water.

“There, there it alright. Just breathe, you are alright now Lo’ak.” Breathing heavily he takes a moment to gather his bearings while you turn to the Tulkun that had saved you both.

“Payakan…” He watched you warily as you recognized it, but all you did was smile softly and gestures to him as a ‘I see you, my friend’ ‘thank you’. He whines and clicks in response before turning his attention to the boy beside you, Loak.

“You saved my life, thank you Olo’eykte Y/n.” You nod before gesturing the creature you are currently on as he blows water, startling him.

“I am not the only one who saved you..”

“Woah! Uh thank you as well.” He signs choppily to him and asks how they could repay him, it so only then you take notice of the tag sticking out of his fin.

“Oh no..” On the outside you were calm but internally you were furious at the actions done by the sky people. So you and Lo’ak took action and together helped to free the Tulkun from its trap, he clicked in happiness and took Lo’ak on a ride with him.

“Be careful!” You dove down watching as they swam along doing twists and turns, eventual sky stopping in a vertical stance. You smiled a genuine at the scene and knew that Payakan had unintentionally found his person.

After a while, you had heard the calls and felt the vibration of many ilus approaching and knew it was the Metkayina clan. Waving goodbye to Payakan, you both awaited upon one of the rocks as Lo’ak waved to one of the warriors.

“Olo’eykte Y/n..” They were surprised to find you with the boy and immediately bowed gesturing the ‘seeing’ motions. A boarding one of the ilus after reciprocating the gesture you all set off back to the village, shocking the people there as well at your appearance. You stepped up when his parents started to scold him, your presence enough to silence the crowd.

“He lives. Thank, Eywa that he breathes among you still.” Meeting both Neytiri and Jake head on as they come down from their anger and turn to Tonowari, Ronal, and Aonung. You were Aonungs second guardian so hearing that he lead him there despite knowing not to caused a disappointing feeling to settle within you. Lingering even as Lo’ak takes the blame stating he asked them to go there, stopping the Sully family once more.

“Jake Sully.” He turns around as you approach.

“Yes…”

“Remember. He is alive and with you still. Do not let your anger-” Eyes shifting to Neytiri letting her know you were speaking to both. “-blind you from this fact.”

“….yes, thank you Olo’eykte Y/n.” You let them go with a nod before turning to Tonowari and his family, the surrounding crowd had already dispersed.

“Aonung.” You gesture for him to come forth, waving away his parents who reluctantly listened at your stern expression. Aonung approached head hung low as he stood before you silence overtook the atmosphere for a moment.

“Why?”

“….” He couldn’t speak nor look at you as you knlet to meet his height not wanting to make him feel smaller than he already felt. Gently you raised his head when his heart beat begun to speed up, to find his eyes misty.

“I’m s-sorry..”

“Why, Aonung?”

“Because..because their-well not anymore but-I and-they were-”

“Aonung, breathe.” He took deep breathes and slowly calmed down to form his sentence, you sat down on the sand with following.

“I used to think they were freaks because they were not from here.”

“Hmm…and now?”

“They are not so bad. I was a jerk to them.”

“…I was disappointed in hearing you had been the one to lead him out there.” His head dropped, you didn’t know this but your words of wisdom had always been an huge part of his life he never wanted to disappoint you.

“You will make amends with them.”

“Yes, ma’am” You flick his head.

“Ow!”

“What have I told you about calling me that?! Ma’am~ it makes me feel old!” You break your hard exterior for a second to reprimand him resulting in him laughing slightly. You smile at him then pull him up to stand with you and embrace him.

“I’m glad you changed your views and I am proud of you for overcoming this obstacle, my little sea star.” He groans pulling away hiding the fact that your words lifted his spirits.

“Aunt Y/n, I’m too old for that name.”

“I do not care.” Pulling him back into your embrace, laughing with him as you lead him back to his marui wishing him a goodnight before heading back home.

It had been a day later since the incident, you were in a meeting with Ronal discussing some issues. When Tonowari came rushing in and announced that Lo’ak had bonded with the outcast Tulkun, Payakan. You breathed out not really worried about this and let them both stress over the ‘issue’. Not long later the children arrived, you frowned as Tonowari and Ronal declare their disappointment in Tsireya and Aonung for something small. Frowning even further as Tonowari recites their version of what had happened with Payakan, Lo’ak glanced around and met your eyes and you held your head higher giving him a subtle nod.

“I know what I know.” Infuriating Tonowari and Ronal further, Jake swooping to calm the situation and drags his kids away. You sigh standing catching the attention of those in the room and speak up when asked what your thoughts were.

“I am proud of them.” Ronal holds a look of betrayal and disbelief.

“How could you-” With a single look and wave of your hand she hisses turning away.

“You did not see what I saw. It is by the will of Eywa, that this was bound to happen. You may not like it, but what’s done is done.” With that you took your leave, you felt someone following you and knew it was Tonowari before he even spoke.

“Say what you want, brother.” You stopped by the shore to hear him out, he sighed stressed.

“…they remind you of her don’t they.” It was a simple statement but, it brought forth some emotions buried deep within you. He was speaking of your daughter who had passed and is now with Eywa. She was outspoken, so free willed, always speaking up for what was right and defending those who could not defend themselves. You missed her everyday, more so now than ever as the children reminded you of her.

“She would be standing alongside no doubt…” You gaze at the horizon as breathes shakily feeling a warm hand placed upon your shoulder.

“Yes, yes she would.” You both stood there in to let the moment wash over as you reminisce memories of her, your beautiful Gaia.