#AKS Security

[rajaniesh]

Best practices to deploy Azure Kubernetes services in a Production environment

Azure Kubernetes Service (AKS) has emerged as a leading container orchestration service, offering a plethora of features that streamline the deployment, management, and scaling of containerized applications.

Azure Kubernetes Service (AKS) has emerged as a leading container orchestration service, offering a plethora of features that streamline the deployment, management, and scaling of containerized applications. One of the standout aspects of AKS is its flexibility in offering both public and private clusters, as well as the powerful VNet integrations. In this guide, we’ll delve deep into these…

[rightnewshindi]

जम्मू के ग्रेटर कैलाश में ड्रेस पहने और AK-47 लिए नजर आए संदिग्ध, सुरक्षाबलों ने चलाया तलाशी अभियान

Jammu Kashmir: जम्मू में ग्रेटर कैलाश के पास सूखी नहर में बीती रात कैंप ड्रेस पहने तीन लोगों को कथित तौर पर एके-47 जैसे हथियारों के साथ देखा गया। इसके बाद सुरक्षाबलों ने तलाशी अभियान चलाया। तलाशी अभियान रात 10:15 बजे समाप्त हुआ। इस दौरान सुरक्षाबलों को कुछ भी संदिग्ध नहीं मिला। अधिकारियों ने नरवाल की ओर चौकियों को मजबूत करने की सलाह दी है। बता दें कि 30 जुलाई को भारतीय सेना ने पुंछ जिले से…

[okiedreamsreviews]

Crushed by AK Evans ~ New Release

Crushed by AK Evans ~ New Release

CRUSHED   Harper Security Ops #6 Author: A.K. Evans Genre: Military Romantic Suspense Release Date: January 10, 2023     What’s the price of survival? Sawyer McKinney didn’t want to come back. It wasn’t like anyone wanted to see her ever again anyway. But this was about life or death, and that meant there was only one place she could go. If Jesse Hale never saw Sawyer again, it would be too…

[jasontoddproblems]

Longest Night (1)

[AK!Jason Todd x Reader]

Word Count: 2520

Summary: When you miss the last evacuation bus out of Gotham in the wake of Scarecrow's threats, you have to come up with a new plan. Meanwhile, the Arkham Knight is searching for someone.

A/N: Finally got up the nerve to post this! Please be kind. I finished the Arkham Knight game recently, so that's where the inspiration comes from. And my chronic Loving Jason disease.

You re-entered your apartment as quickly and quietly as you could, muffling the jingle of your keys in your jacket pocket, finding the right one by touch before pulling them free. The hall was dark, each apartment door uncharacteristically silent. You were Gothamites, through and through. You knew where this was leading the second the city broadcast system crackled to life that morning. Those that were able had packed up immediately, waited in the nicer areas of the city waiting on their phones for the evacuation plans to be officially announced. You estimated that most of the people on your floor were gone, and you were happy for them. Unfortunately, you’d been a few minutes too late. 

You tossed your duffle bag onto the couch, leaving the lights off as you set about securing the door. Your tenuous connection with the Wayne family didn’t afford you a home in the nicer parts of the city - to be fair, you’d never asked - but it did afford you slightly above-average security. Dick Grayson had installed the four additional locks on your front door himself, and most importantly, he’d had the decency not to sneer at the quality of the building you’d ended up in. You were a Crime Alley kid, born and raised. And while your family had clawed its way somewhere marginally more respectable by the time you were a teenager, after everything that happened with Jason, Dick couldn’t pretend to be surprised that you’d made a home for yourself in a place like that. Not quite Crime Alley, which despite or perhaps because of your grief was unlivable for you. But close. And just as dangerous. 

You wedged your security bar into place next, testing the stability with the edge of your boot. You briefly considered moving some of your furniture up against the door as well but determined it would be more trouble, time, and noise than it would be worth. If they could get through the locks and the security bar, an armchair or table wouldn’t do you any good. 

Just as you backed away from the door, trying to slow your heart rate and think your options through, your phone buzzed to life in your pocket. 

Alfred Pennyworth

You flinched a little, involuntarily, but answered anyway, moving deeper into your apartment and speaking softly.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you managed to get out of the city.” The lack of a proper greeting was the most obvious sign that Alfred was anxious. 

“Bad luck.” The disappointed sigh that followed almost made you smile. “You know I tried. I don’t have the pride or ego to assume I can survive the kind of night that warrants an official evacuation. I was just too late. There was one seat left on the bus, and it was either me or my 70-year-old neighbor. My chances of survival are better than hers, so…”

“If the people I cared about could all be a touch less noble, I believe I’d still have a full head of hair.”

“Funny.” You grabbed a utility knife from the top of your closet, propping your foot on the edge of wood trim to strap it around your ankle, concealing it neatly where the slightly bunched fabric of your jeans met the sturdy leather of your boot. 

“Well. Luckily for you, there is someone quite powerful who owes me a favor or two.”

“Bruce owes you about a thousand favors, but there’s not much he can do for me at this point, Alfred. I assume he made it out safely?”

“Your first option is to flag down a squad car and request refuge in GCPD. At the moment they’re still out patrolling, but I suspect they’ll be driven back before too long.”

You parted your curtains and blinds gently, making the tiniest possible gap to peer through. The streets below were deserted. No cars, no pedestrians, nothing. Calm before the storm, you were sure. Your remaining neighbors were probably doing to same as you were: waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to happen that would clue them in on how best to keep themselves safe tonight. 

“I don’t think I have the authority to do that.”

“You’re connected to the most powerful family in the city. Of course you have the authority. It may very well make you a target. That should be incentive enough for GCPD to take an interest. If not, you’re welcome to inform them that Bruce Wayne intends to repay them most generously for their assistance.”

Your chest tightened a little, the way it always did when someone reminded you of your “connection” to the Waynes. Because, to be quite blunt, there wasn’t one. Not anymore. All that was left, you suspected, was an uncomfortable obligation that came from guilt and grief. 

“Alfred…” You cut yourself off. There was no point in having this conversation now. Not again. “I don’t see any movement outside, let alone a squad car. And if I go looking for one, I have a feeling I’ll find trouble faster than I’ll find help.” 

“I see… Well, there is a second option. I’m afraid it’s a touch more… dramatic than the first.”

“Okay…” you said, letting the curtain fall back into place and looking around your dark apartment for anything that might be helpful to add to your bag or your person.

“Can you make it to the roof?”

“Probably.” 

With the duffle bag tossed back over your shoulder, you moved quickly to your bedroom, where the window opened onto a fire escape. Switching Alfred’s call to the earbuds you kept in the nightstand freed up both your hands, and you eased out onto the rusted metal landing carefully, pulling your bag out behind you and closing your window firmly. A quick glance around revealed the street was still deserted, nor were there any signs of life on the fire escape or in the other windows that let out onto it. 

“What’s the plan?” you whispered, moving upwards as quietly as possible. 

“I called in a favor. Someone will be along shortly to escort you to safety. Or as close to safety as we can manage tonight.” 

“That. Is unnecessarily cryptic, Alfred,” you complained, a panicked breath catching in your throat as an unfamiliar  low rumble echoed down the street. 

“You’ll soon see why.”

You gave an unconvinced grumble but were too winded to manage an actual reply, muscles straining as you pulled yourself over the top rung of the final ladder and onto the roof. 

“Move away from the edge. It would be better if no one saw you waiting.” 

“It would be better if no one saw me period,” you agreed, opting to stay low and crawl towards the water tank. You tucked yourself tight against it, trying to merge yourself with its silhouette as much as possible. 

The sun had almost completely vanished, and what was left of its light was heavily obscured by clouds. In these conditions, this roof was probably the safest place to be. Away from the parts of the city likely to see the most action. Not lit in any way, not overseen by the windows of taller buildings. And it didn’t hurt that, as a general rule, the criminals of Gotham had learned to steer clear of rooftops. Setting up shop on any Gotham rooftop was like sending a personal invitation to the vigilantes of the city to come ruin their night. 

You were considering sharing this thought with Alfred, pitching the idea of staying right where you were for as long as possible, saving that favor for later, when a faint rustling sound drew your attention. 

“Please try not to panic,” Alfred’s voice sounded in your ear as you stared into the shadows cast by the stairwell access. Something was moving there.

As you watched, a silhouette separated itself from the rest of the blackness. A very distinct silhouette, one you had never seen personally but could never mistake for anyone or anything else.

“Alfred,” you said softly, still not moving, hardly even blinking. “I hope you plan on telling me how the hell Batman ended up owing you a favor.” 

“In time. For now, we need to focus. Follow his instructions. Call me back when you’ve arrived safely.”

“Arrived where?” You pushed yourself hesitantly to your feet as Batman wordlessly held out a hand to you. 

“Please be careful,” was the only answer you received before the soft click of an ended call. 

*****

The remains of Killinger’s Department Store was a hotbed of activity and chaos. Groups of men in red military-grade body armor were engaged in the business of swiftly repurposing the space into a base of operations for the Arkham Knight and his militia. In a large and once-opulent owners office, the Arkham Knight himself paced restlessly in front of an array of recently-mounted monitors. More and more security camera feeds were becoming available as his men began to set up checkpoints and strongholds throughout the city. They needed to work faster. They needed to be better. Failure was not an option.

A brisk knock stilled him, and he called out his permission for whomever was outside to enter. A militia commander approached, face a solemn mask, betraying nothing.

“GCPD is pulling back their squad cars in response to the drone deployments on all three islands,” he reported. “They still have helicopters in the air over Bleake and Miagani, but enough of our missile defense systems are in place in Founders to keep the skies here clear.” 

“And your other operation?” the Knight prompted impatiently.

The militia commander hesitated for the briefest second. Anyone else may have missed it. The Knight did not.

“The name you gave wasn’t on any of the passenger manifests from the evacuation. She’s still in the city.” 

“But?” 

“I dispatched an APC and two drones to the associated address. No sign of her…” He swallowed uncomfortably. “The retrieval team reported an encounter with the Batman one block from the apartment building in question. In his car, headed the opposite direction.”

“Did they engage?” the Knight asked sharply.

“No, sir. He made no move to engage and evaded pursuit.” 

“Damn it!” The Knight’s fist came down, hard, on the desk. A crystal decanter, left by the office’s previous occupant, toppled over the edge and shattered explosively across the marble tiles. 

In that tank of a car, Batman only avoided a fight if he was carrying a passenger, and an important one, at that. One who wasn’t used to violence. One he didn’t want to scare.

He had her. The one person in this rotted cesspool of a city that was worth a damn. The person he had given his men orders to find and bring in, unharmed, as soon as they entered the city. 

Why, why would Batman take her? Why bother? He couldn’t know that the Knight was searching for her, not already. He couldn’t know anything about the Knight or his intentions. Scarecrow was the only one who had shown his hand. The Arkham Knight had yet to make his first move. So why? 

With hurried steps, the Knight approached the office’s computer system, drawing up the results of the borderline compulsive research he had engaged in before this plan was even fully formed. Images of you, stretching back a decade. The Gotham press adored a tragedy, and when the subject of a tragedy was as beautiful as you? Well, that was a gift that just kept giving as far as they were concerned. There were pictures of you published in the city’s newspapers every year on the anniversary of Jason Todd’s death, looking devastatingly lovely and distraught over the death of your first love, the ward of Gotham’s favorite billionaire Bruce Wayne. A fatal motorcycle accident, the papers’ reported, had turned your star-crossed love story into a tragedy and sent the eccentric and charming remnants of the Wayne legacy, Bruce Wayne and his adopted son Dick Grayson, deep into mourning. 

Bullshit. 

But more than enough reason for the press to chase you instead. You were much easier to catch. They turned you into a symbol, an icon, a tragic figure for the city to rally around once a year and consider the fate of Gotham youth. Of course, you were a grown woman now, but that only added more gravitas to the anniversary stories. Now, the photographers edited your photos in a gauzy black and white that gave you the look of an Old Hollywood star. Isn’t it so sad, the reporters wailed from the headlines, that she’s never moved on? Photos of you in a black dress because you knew the drill by now, crossing a busy street and pretending not to notice the camera flashes. 

But in the past ten years, you’d only been photographed with Bruce twice. 

Batman couldn’t have taken you because of the Knight’s personal feelings. And he certainly didn’t take you because of his own. What did that leave?

The next picture offered a solution. You were sitting at an outdoor bistro table with Alfred Pennyworth, sharing polite smiles and an array of breakfast pastries. 

Alfred. If there was one person whose heart and connections could be trusted, it was Alfred. At his current stage of life, he only left the grounds of Wayne Manor for people he truly cared for. And if he still cared for you that much, he would absolutely make whatever arrangements he could to protect you. Including calling in a very inconvenient favor. 

The Knight turned back to the militia commander, grateful, not for the first or last time, that his helmet concealed his face and voice. 

“Get eyes on every Wayne Enterprises building in the city. I want all angles covered, and I want to know the second someone gets eyes on Batman or that damn car.”

The commander nodded, tilting his head away to relay this information to his team via radio.

“Why’s he taking her to Wayne?” he asked, shifting slightly on his feet when he received nothing but a silent stare in response. “You want us to be able to think the way the Bat thinks, right? I’m not following this one.”

“She has connections to the Wayne family,” the Knight said impatiently, gesturing towards the monitors which were now filled with newspaper and paparazzi photos of you. “And those buildings will have the most state-of-the-art security measures in the city. He may even be able to airlift her out of the city from one of those locations.”

“Think the Bat’s on Wayne’s payroll?”

The Knight sighed in disgust, turning away again. 

“No. But that woman has been made important not just to the Wayne family but to the people of Gotham. She’s valuable. We need her. Unharmed.” 

“Understood.” 

“And commander?” the Knight called as the man made a move to leave. “If she arrives looking anything less than the picture of perfect health, I will be holding each and every member of the retrieval team personally responsible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t want to hear from you again until you have something.”

****

Let me know if you're interested in more! Would love to know what you guys think

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

How would AK!Jason go with the fact that Y/N got kidnapped by Harley Quinn’s thugs while he was busy on a mission with his Militia. Love your stories by the way!

Abducted

Hi, nonnie! Thank you! Fair warning, this gets angsty. ~2.3k words

The Arkham Knight is surrounded by the dead bodies of nine of his most trusted and skilled men. It's not a mystery how they got that way. He shot the ones that were still alive himself.

Number ten is cowering on the ground, it's pathetic, really. They were supposed to be the best of the best.

That's what he was paying them for. So why the hell aren't you in the safe house he left you in? He unloads the rest of the clip into number tens leg, voice flat as he seethes, "Where are they?"

Number ten cries out. Jason doesn't really care. "They're– Harley! Quinn's gang got 'em," number ten chokes out, shaking and sobbing and weak.

"And where, exactly, did they take them?" Jason asks, reloading his gun.

"I don't know," number ten wails, and if Jason wasn't so pissed he'd roll his eyes. But he doesn't. This is serious. You're missing, and he's on the verge of blowing Gotham to hell.

"Guess," he hisses, pressing the barrel of the gun to the man's forehead.

"I don't– they said something about a carnival," number ten chokes out.

"Anything else," The Arkham Knights asks. Number ten shakes his head vigorously. Jason pulls the trigger and watches the body slump to the floor. He turns to the rest of the men, watching as they stiffen and shift under his gaze.

He's already stalking past them, "What do you have?"

"Sir, Harley Quinn hasn't been in Gotham since the Joker died," one of the men starts. Jason wonders if they notice the way his hands clench. "But there's rumors about a separate cell of Joker apologists, fanatics trying to keep his name alive."

He grits his teeth. Fine, that's not new information. But why would they go after you? "And," he forces out, "What does that have to do with them?"

His men follow him uneasily, "GCPD flagged a shipment to ACE Chemicals that went missing a few days ago. They– it was mentioned the truck was carrying chemicals similar to the ones used in the Joker and Harley Quinn cases, sir."

If he was any less trained, any less used to the hell that is Gotham, he would have stumbled, let out choked sounds and anguish and fear.

"One of the techs has a theory it's a revenge kidnapping," one of the sergeants continues, "for taking over Joker's old hideouts last week. It looks like they used a form of the laughing gas on the sentries outside."

"They're all going to be dead by the end of the night," He snaps, gesturing towards one of the lieutenants, "Get the men to set up a parameter. No one leaves the area. And no one moves in until they're secured. Understood?"

They nod vigorously. "Bring the fear toxin," the Arkham Knight grits out. He's out of the safe house and sprinting over Gothams rooftops without another word.

He knows Gotham better than most. Knows to take a shortcut over city hall, knows to jump in three... two... one... to land perfectly on a passing train. Knows when to shoot his grappling gun for the quickest route to the abandoned fairgrounds.

His heart is racing. He can see the number tracking his pulse steadily rising. He glares at the little number on the corner of his screen with a vengeance. He doesn't get to be scared. Doesn't get to panic until you're back at the base, warm and safe in his bed.

There's bile in his throat as he stalks through the shadows of the carnival. It rises with each thug he leaves crumpled and lifeless in the dirt. He's only acting on his training now, on the drive that he has to get to you, has to save you.

He slips past decaying attractions, clenches his fists at the abandoned ACE Chemicals truck crashed into a rotted ring toss booth. He follows the laughter and taunting voices to a ripped and decrepit tent.

There's not many places to hide, but Jason's the best at what he does. He thinks he might have been born to stalk the filth of Gotham.

His eyes narrow at the sight of you. Arms tied behind your back. Bruise forming on your cheek. Dazed expression, likely a concussion. Balanced precariously on the seat of a dunk tank over a pool of neon chemicals.

His fingers twitch over his gun when one of the goons throws a ball at the target, barely missing as the others laugh.

He counts the number of Joker fanatics in the room. Thirteen men. Eight women. Six posted close enough to you where they could hit the target if he's not fast enough. Seventeen with visible guns. All with visible weapons. There's more voices outside the tent.

He eyes the woman swinging a bat covered with barbed wire a little too close to the dunk tank, too close to you. Jason wants to get you out first. There's too many variables. You could get shot. He's not fast enough.

Someone throws another baseball. It's a perfect toss. He shoots it out of the air.

"You have something of mine," The Arkham Knight drawls, stepping out of the shadows. He would smile at the way most of the room flinches at the sight of him. He would if you weren't teetering over a vat of bubbling chemicals.

One of the men steps forward. Stupid of him, really, "Finders keepers." He says it like it's a game. Like you're just some toy they picked up off the street.

Jason laughs. It's funny, that they think just because they stole you, it makes you any less his, "I'm going to give you two choices. One, you drop your weapons and leave. Two, you stay and you learn exactly what the chemicals in that vat can do."

More people leave than he expected. Huh. Guess they aren't so loyal to the clowns' legacy as they said. "I'm not scared of you," Goon number one spits. Goon number one gets a bullet in his stomach.

"You will be," The Arkham Knight murmurs. It's quick work. They're untrained, inexperienced. Half of them are high. It becomes increasingly clear with each body that hits the floor gasping that someone paid off his men to get to you.

He's pulling you off and out of the dunk tank as the last thug hits the floor, "How bad is it?" Jason's hands do not shake as he unties your wrists. (They do.) His breath does not leave his lungs when you say your head hurts. (It does.)

His eyes dart over your face and he picks you up to cradle you against his chest, "I'll have a medic look over you when we get back." He tries to sound soothing, the modulator makes it sound emotionless. You don't even acknowledge it.

He carries you out of the tent. The Joker fanatics that left are kneeling in the dirt and his men have their guns trained to kill. The Arkham Knight nods to them, "Use the Fear Toxin. Inject them with the highest dose we have. Drop the freaks still alive in the tent into the vat."

"Yes, sir," his men echo. Jason ignores the begging that starts up behind him as he carries you to the armored truck. He maneuvers you inside with him, settles you on his lap as his hand brushes the bruise on your face.

"Boss," the soldier behind the steering wheel prompts.

"Take us back to base, sergeant," The Arkham Knight says evenly, gloves still tracing your bruise. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't make any promises. The only comfort he offers is his hand gripping your waist tightly, paired with the gentle caressing of your face.

He knows it's not kind, the way he's holding you. He sees it in your eyes, even through the exhaustion and headache you're feeling, he's overbearing. He can't bring himself to care. All that matters is that you're safe in his arms.

The rest he can take care of later. It'll be simple for him and Deathstroke to pick through the rats in his ranks. Scarecrow's always in need of new test subjects, after all.

His grip tightens on you as the truck stops. The Arkham Knight picks you up easily, pushing the door open and carrying you inside the base. His soldiers are quick to move out of his way. They should be. Anyone with a brain can tell he's angry.

He's livid, at the way you hardly move, barely react to him. A medic files after him quickly as he sets you down in his personal quarters.

It's not a room he ever uses, preferring to sleep at whatever safe house you're in, but you're safer here until he can weed out the traitors. He watches you shift slightly in the chair, eyes unfocused.

Jason steps back and studies you with sharp eyes as the medic talks to you quietly, taking note of each wound and stumbled answer you give.

"Mild concussion, some scrapes and abrasions. Nothing that won't heal," the medic decides, "They shouldn't sleep for the next hour and need to be monitored for any worsening symptoms."

Jason motions them to leave. He hates to leave you alone, even for a moment, but there is one more order he needs to give. He follows the medic out the door.

A group of squad leaders stand rigid outside his quarters. Good. They should be on edge. "Make an example of any Joker or Harley Quinn sympathizers," he says, tone an unquestionable command, "Anything that's theirs, is a part of our operations by the end of the night."

He doesn't bother to stay and listen to their replies, already turning back into the room where you're waiting. Jason locks the door behind him, crossing the room in three strides and kneels at your feet.

You blink down at him. He hates the distant look in your eyes. You should be here. With him. He tugs his helmet off, "Does your head still hurt?"

You nod a little, the only proof you're really listening. He takes your hand in his brushing his thumb over your knuckles, "Say something." It's a command. It makes you jolt a little. He hates himself for it.

"I thought– they were gonna kill me," You stumble out, voice weak.

He nods, there's no pretending that's not true, "They can't kill anyone now."

He thinks you would have looked alarmed, if you didn't know what he was now. Relentless. A monster. A killer. But you do know, he's made that more than clear since the moment he got you back by his side.

You look resigned instead. Jason wishes you'd look relieved, "Do you need anything," he asks instead, reaching up to brush the bruise on your cheek. He can't help it, it's his fault that it's there.

You shake your head. He hates how quiet you're being, "Say something," he prompts again. He knows he shouldn't, knows you're in shock and you're hurt and you're tired and you're probably scared and he's not helping. But, he squeezes your hand anyway, a silent demand.

"What do you want me to say, Jason?" You breathe out, eyes finally focusing on him.

"Anything. Ask me for anything. Yell at me. Curse me out. Tell me you hate me. Hit me. Give me a bruise to match," He says almost desperately, pressing himself closer between your knees.

There's something wrong with him. He realizes that. The Arkham Knight is well aware that something inside of him is twisted, that you deserve better than this, especially after what you just went through, but he doesn't stop himself.

"I don't wanna hurt you," You murmur, "You came for me."

"I'm the reason you were there in the first place," Jason protests, both hands moving to cup your face, "I would deserve it, welcome it, if it was from you."

"I want," You start, and Jason leans forward eagerly, ready for whatever punishment you deliver, "I want to lay down. I wanna feel safe."

He falters, but doesn't move from between your legs, "You can't sleep for at least another hour."

"I know," You say quietly. Jason stares at you. You're the only thing that makes him unsure now. You always manage to knock him off center, never doing what he expects.

"Okay," he relents, scooping you up just as easily as he did in the tent. He carries you over to his bed. It's unused, perfectly made. He only ever sleeps wherever you are.

Jason carefully places you at the edge of the bed and digs through a drawer, handing you a shirt. He tugs off his armor, and frowns when you don't move.

"You don't want to sleep in that," it's not a question, and maybe he should frame it as one. Try to get nicer. But he thinks he might have forgotten how. You nod and slowly change. His eyes never leave you.

There's a few more bruises than he expected, and it makes rage coil in his chest. There's nothing he can do but crawl into bed at your side. It makes him uneasy, how little he can do for you.

He tugs you against him, he's not as gentle as he means to be.

You curl against him, fingers tangling into his shirt. He should comfort you here. Tell you it's going to be okay. Promise to protect you. He should rub your back and kiss your forehead and ease whatever pain you have in your heart.

But he's not gentle. He's not good. You're like this because of him. He holds you tighter when tears start to soak his shirt, lets you tangle your legs with his.

He doesn't manage to find the right words to say, doesn't manage to do the right thing before the hour is up, and you drift off to sleep. He doesn't think he ever will.

[redr0sewrites]

Could you do Arkham Knight Jason? Or if not just regular canon Jason, and the things you can unintentionally say to him that would get him hot under the collar? What can you say intentionally to make this man blush like a tomato and have him kicking his feet, sighing dreamily like a schoolgirl when he thinks about it later. Give us your takes on my special bbygirl

🥀A/n: could NOT choose between the two sooooo i added both... teehee!!!

🥀Character(s): Ak!Jason x reader, Jason Todd x reader

🥀Cw: fluff, suggestive, no smut but mentions of sex/praise kink, jason being a liiiiittle horny

🥀minors dni

Jason Todd:

Jason is absolutely whipped for you, any and everything you say makes him fluttery !!! he's disgustingly in love with you and is not afraid to show it

starting off strong for any unintentional comments, any possessive or jealous statements definitely excite him. he would never purposely make you jealous, but Jason can't deny that he finds it attractive when you refer to him as yours. if someone is flirting with him in front of you (and not taking the hint that he is NOT interested) and you interrupt them and say like "thats my boyfriend", Jason nearly giggles!!!

additionally, loves when you call him "my partner", or "my love". anything that depicts him as yours, because yes, he is yours, and you are his. not in a controlling way, but in a "i trust you to give my whole heart to you i love and trust you completely" way

this isn't exactly a comment, but he really appreciates when you defend him? if someone is talking about how he's a murderer or a monster, he certainly doesn't outwardly say anything, but if you speak up about it? he's smiling to himself and blushing like a schoolgirl. Jason would never ask you to defend him, but it's very reassuring to know that you would regardless

when it comes to intentional comments, its even easier to fluster him

flirting, even corny flirting, always makes him very happy. you guys could be married for 12 years with two kids and you using a cringey pickup line still makes him weak in the knees. he loves being romantic with you, and when you are intentionally being romantic in return, it just really affects him positively

sooooo starved for compliments. especially when it comes to his body or looks. after the lazarus pit, his entire body changed. he skipped years of his life, changing from a 15 year old boy to a 19 year old man. he grew in size and strength, and it takes him a while to get used to his body.

it could be as simple as calling him handsome! it just makes Jason feel appreciated and he loves that he appeals to you physically.

i think he's the type to have a bit of a praise kink, so when it comes to compliments, it either makes him really soft and romantic or it takes a different route that leads to the bedroom. he loves praising you, but he really doesn't receive enough praise so it matters a lot to him

COMMENT ON HOW STRONG HE IS AND HOW SAFE HE MAKES YOU FEEL HE WILL MELT. if you say anything along the lines of "being around you makes me feel safe", he will probably cry and makeout with you whaaat who said that 😇 Jason would never want you to be afraid of him, and he cares a lot about your comfort. the idea that he makes you feel safe and comfortable is something he can't understand, and doesn't comprehend how someone as perfect as you could be with him. so please please PLEASE tell him that he makes you feel safe and secure.

Ak!Jason Todd

now Ak!Jason isn't as easy to fluster, simply because he doesn't outwardly show it as much, but he still has a few things that make him tick

when it comes to unintentional things, reassuring him that you'll stay by his side no matter what is a big one. he's lost people, including himself, and he doesn't want to lose you too. reminding Jason that you're going to stay with him, and that you love him unconditionally, is one of the easiest ways to fluster him

another thing that reminds him of how much he loves you is when you shit talk people together. in my opinion, there is nothing more gratifying as someone who's been through abuse than to hear someone else realizing the truth about the people who hurt you. if you started hating on the joker, or criticizing batman's methods, Ak!Jason immediately has heart eyes!!! especially if your animated and funny about it.

if you have any personal vendettas or people you hate, Ak!Jason will gladly join you in venting and ranting. he thinks it's attractive when you compare others to him, claiming that he's so much better than your exes, and ranting on and on about how hot he is and how much better he treats you. he wants to know he's doing a good job, but it's also a bit of a relief that you think highly of him yk? he's also more than willing to make them "disappear" if they're bothering you..

Ak!Jason is more of the jealous type, and would be a lot more into you admitting that you're his than he's yours. if another Big Bad™️ was flirting with you, say for example, Scarecrow, and you respond that you're already taken, or that Ak!Jason is your boyfriend? not only is it a show of your loyalty, but its also really hot in his opinion. he also beats up Scarecrow, but that's irrelevant....!

when it comes to intentional things you can say, this is a bit trickier

like canon Jason, Ak!Jason is a bit insecure about his appearance, especially his scars. if you were to compliment his scars, he wouldn't believe you at first. Ak!Jason does not have much love for himself, and doesn't believe that you can truly see him as attractive when he's so scarred, physically and emotionally. PLEASE compliment his scars, it will not only fluster him but help rebuild his confidence in general

again with compliments, but this time on his efficiency and his skills in general. the work he does is bloody and brutal, and Ak!Jason would never want to scare you. however, if you witnessed him fighting or killing someone (especially in your defense), and complimented him on it? it would probably turn him on a bit ngl. a small part inside of him wants to be your hero, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. if you find it helpful, and even attractive, when he does so, this man is HEAD OVER HEELS in love

bragging about him. yet another intentional turn-on, Ak!Jason loves overhearing you mention to someone else how lucky you are to have him, how strong and brave and wonderful he is, etc. say you both are at some function or other, maybe meeting your family. start bragging about him and watch just how quickly he needs to pull you aside to "talk to you", or how suddenly an excuse comes up and you both have to head home. the fact that you think so highly of him, and would go out of your way to inform others of how much you adore him, is sooooo attractive in his eyes

the last intentional way to fluster Ak!Jason is simple yet effective: i love you. Jason in general is not used to love, but especially Ak!Jason. hearing you say i love you is just so lovely. if you start listing the things you love about him, he will melt. he loves you so, so much, and is so grateful you feel the same

urhrhrhrhrhrh i love him soo much 😭 i need me a Jason Todd smh. i love the idea of Jason w a praise kink, it opens a whole new world of possibilities i swearrrrr. anyways !!! hope u enjoy !!!

[alabs1]

Defence Chief Warns Ortom, Akeredolu Against Procuring AK-47 For Security Outfits

Defence Chief Warns Ortom, Akeredolu Against Procuring AK-47 For Security Outfits

Lucky Irabor, chief of defence staff (CDS), says no state has the power to procure automatic weapons for its security outfits. He said this on Friday in an interview with journalists after the national security council (NSC) meeting in Abuja. The meeting was presided over by President Muhammadu Buhari. While inaugurating the first batch of personnel of the state’s security outfit in August, Ortom…

[jewish-sideblog]

I know for a fact that people are responding with orientalism, fetishization, and fandomization of the Israel / Palestine conflict. Because there is no way in hell that the American left would have responded the same way to October 7 happening in America.

Imagine if 364 people had been killed by AK assault rifles in a mass shooting at a music festival in America. I think the response from the American left would be much different. There would been have been universal condemnation and a push to dismantle and disarm the known hate group that planned and executed the shooting. There would have been common sense reforms planned to prevent the exact same thing from happening again.

But the mass shooting killed 364 Israelis, not 364 Americans. It was accompanied by 5000 rockets aimed at civilian targets, 775 other fatal shootings, and 247 instances of human trafficking across international borders. Torture. Mutilation. Sexual violence. Infants shot multiple times.

Somehow, that means the response from the American left has fully reversed. Many of them have, in essence, said that “A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.” They used the opportunity to glorify terrorists who mass-murdered civilians with the intent to commit genocide. Isn’t that what the American alt-right normally does in response to violence?

The necessary disclaimer here is that none of this should serve to justify the actions of the Israeli government. A military force that is typically known for having historically low rates of civilian death now has historically high rates— there is no excuse for that. The amount of sheer Israeli incompetence that allowed the attack to happen in the first place, and led such a disproportionate response, is nothing but a complete humanitarian failure of the Likud administration.

But I remember distinctly how many Americans glorified Hamas and called for the destruction of Jews in Israel on October 7th. During the terrorist attack. Before Israel’s military response. Clearly, no military response of any kind could have been justified by the people who usually beg for violent hate groups to get disarmed.

This is a kind of conflict many of them will never have to actually reconcile with, because the while the average American can access an automatic rifle, they can’t access a rocket launcher. Lacking insight into geopolitical history, the realities of warfare, and any actual ties to the real people being killed, they turned their slacktivism into a show. Hamas are Good Guys and Zionists are Bad Guys. And as long as it’s happening several thousand miles away, a Good Guy with a Gun becomes a perfect fantasy.

[saphronethaleph]

Perfect Hiding Spot

“I don’t like you either!” Evazan said, getting into Luke’s face to make his point. “You just watch yourself. We’re wanted men! I have the death sentence on twelve systems.”

“I’ll be careful,” Luke promised, as he turned back to his drink.

“You’ll be dead!” Evazan replied, grabbing Luke’s shoulder to spin him around again.

“This little one’s not worth the effort,” Obi-Wan chided, with a genial smile. “How about I get you something?”

Evazan made a keening noise of frustrated rage, and this time when he grabbed for Luke’s shoulder he yanked the young man bodily backwards. Luke staggered back, then fell, and knocked over a table with a clatter.

Every eye in the cantina turned towards the confrontation, and Wuher dove behind his bar with a panicked shout. “No blasters, no blasters!”

Obi-Wan’s lightsaber flashed out as Ponda Baba drew his blaster, and a moment later the aqualish was missing both the blaster and an arm.

For at least five seconds, there was complete stillness in the room.

“...Master Kenobi?” one of the duros asked, in a brittle voice. “You survived?”

He glanced around the bar, nervous. “I thought I was the only one-”

“I thought I was the only one!”

The speaker that time was one of the Modal Nodes, and all six of his bith bandmates looked at him.

“You can’t mean you’re a Jedi?” Figrin D’an asked.

“You’re a Jedi as well?” three of the other Modal Nodes said, before glancing at one another.

Luke raised his arm, hesitantly, then the duros jedi pulled him upright.

“Thanks,” he said. “But, I mean… how many people in here are Jedi?”

Forty-six lightsabers came out.

“In the name of the Krayt, why?” Luke asked. “Why are you all in hiding here?”

“I thought it was the most out of the way place in the galaxy,” Kardue’sai’Malloc volunteered.

That was hard to argue with, as far as Luke was concerned.

“I came here because I heard a rumour that Darth Vader hated sand,” Hem Dazon said.

Fourteen other people said out loud that they’d heard that too, and another ten nodded along with it.

“We’re touring?” one of the bith musicians asked. “Shavit, that’s a coincidence.”

“Who else picked it off a list when they tried to go into hiding?” Momaw Nadon asked, getting several more raised hands or similar manipulators.

“Why are you here, though, Master Kenobi?” Lak Sivrak asked.

“For the same reason as all of you, I think,” Obi-Wan answered, deactivating his lightsaber, because Evazan and Ponda had run away while he was distracted. “To hide, from the reaches of the Empire. This is the one place that Darth Vader would never come.”

“...who’s the kid?” the duros Jedi asked.

“My name’s Luke Skywalker,” Luke said.

“...was your father Anakin Skywalker?” BoShek asked. “Damn, kid.”

He paused. “Wait. How come Master Kenobi needs passage somewhere, anyway? He was almost able to keep up with Anakin, and Anakin was the best pilot the galaxy’s ever produced, by my money.”

“I dislike flying and I don’t currently own a starship,” Obi-Wan replied. “I believe you were introducing me to someone who might be able to arrange one?”

He looked around at the bar. “I may need to ask him how many passengers he can handle.”

“Well?” Stormtrooper Sergeant RF-345 asked.

“No sign of anything in the south sector,” one of his troopers replied. “I’m tagging the doors that don’t open for a later check.”

“Good,” RF-345 assessed. “Second company is moving to secure the docking bays. Watch out for anyone trying to move ahead of the cordon – stay alert for any surprises.”

Then a tidal wave of Jedi came pouring out of Chalmun’s Cantina, waving lightsabers and stampeding in the direction of Docking Bay Ninety-Four, accompanied by a wookie, a kid and a very surprised scoundrel and pausing long enough to pick up a pair of droids from one of the nearby houses.

RF-345 and his squad kept looking in that direction for at least ten full seconds after the stampede had vanished.

“...like that, sir?” trooper AK-707 asked, in a fragile voice.

“Like that, yes,” RF-345 agreed, then blinked a few times. “At least, assuming it was real, and not a hallucination.”

“It might have been a hallucination,” trooper ED-321 conceded. “We have been out in the sun all day.”

[sunshinehaze1]

Walking on Sunshine

Pairing: dog walker!Frankie x f!reader

Summary: Fortunately for you, Frankie sticks to a consistent schedule when walking the neighbor’s dog.

Warnings: Mature. meet-cute, fluff, Frankie with dogs

a/n: This was written for @punkshort AU August Writing Challenge. I was given the prompt of a dog walker Frankie AU. Thank you to @80ssong for the beta read and @ak-vintage for letting me bounce around title ideas. 🫶🏻

word count: 1,597

ao3 | ml

Frankie found himself in a fortunate position where his cut of Lorea’s money could sustain him for multiple lifetimes. Despite this financial security, Frankie was a man who couldn’t stand idleness. It was in his nature to keep himself occupied, so he’d visit the hangar to help his friends with repairs and pilot helicopter tours to keep up with his flight hours. Despite his busy schedule, Frankie still managed to find time during the week. Ever since he was young, he has had a strong love for dogs, and the feeling is mutual. To fill his schedule, he started working as a dog walker. It got him outside in the fresh air, with the added benefit of exercise, and allowed him to spend time with a variety of dogs. Frankie has always wanted a dog of his own, especially now that he has retired from the Army and could dedicate the time to train and bond with a new companion. He wanted to wait until his daughter was older, and now that she’s just turned six, he feels ready to commit. Until then, dog walking has helped fill the void.

You were confused when you first saw Frankie walking your neighbor’s dog in front of your house. Having moved into the neighborhood just a couple of months ago, you knew the other dog owners in the area and would have remembered Frankie. Your move started a new chapter in your life following the end of a tumultuous relationship that had run its course. From your desk, you had an unobstructed view of him—his broad shoulders visibly stretching the fabric of a fitted grey shirt, soft brown curls peeking out from under his ball cap, and the cutest butt as he walked past your house. You noticed over the following days that he walked by at the same time—a man with a consistent schedule, which you appreciate. With the hope of a chance encounter, you adjusted your schedule slightly for your mid-day walks with your dog. In the following weeks, you and Frankie exchange polite head nods and waves as you pass each other on opposite sides of the street. 

Your last morning meeting ran long, causing you to start today’s walk late, and you were worried you’d miss seeing Frankie. You put in your AirPods, queued up the latest episode of your favorite podcast, locked up, and headed out. It’s a hot day with the sun blazing, so you encourage your dog to do their business quickly as you feel sweat beading on your back. As you walked, immersed in your podcast, you were distracted by something across the street and didn’t notice Frankie heading your way. It took you a minute to realize Frankie’s charge had gotten loose from its leash and was making a beeline to greet your dog. Frankie runs after the dog, calling its name, and stops short right before you. You barely manage to catch your breath seeing him this close. Seeing him from afar did not prepare you for how handsome he was up close. You take in his bright smile, soft eyes, angled nose, and chiseled jaw patched with a scruffy beard. Frankie apologizes for his charge getting off the leash, but you assure him it isn’t a big deal as the dogs were getting along just fine, as evidenced by their friendly sniffing and wagging tails. You and Frankie introduce yourselves and exchange the dogs’ names. Frankie squats down to say ‘hello’ to your dog, who greets him with relaxed ears, an excited tail wag, and an eagerness to lick Frankie’s face—a promising sign since your dog tends to be more reactive towards unfamiliar men. Frankie chuckles as he stands up, knees creaking. 

He mentions that after seeing you for the past couple of weeks, he’s happy to put a name to the face finally. You feel his gaze slowly drifting up and down your body, admiring you. His smile grows wider when he notices you look down, trying to avoid his gaze. The heat of the sun and Frankie’s eyes burning into you have become too much. You suggest moving out of the sun and invite Frankie for a refreshing lemonade on your covered porch. You still have half an hour before your next meeting. He graciously accepts and follows you back to your place. He takes a seat while you head inside to get the drinks. You are pleasantly surprised that your dog stays with Frankie, which makes you think he must be a good person since dogs are pretty good judges of character.

Thankful to be out of the direct sun, you learn more about Frankie and why he decided to start dog walking. You discuss your work and how you appreciate the flexibility of working from home, allowing you to spend time with your dog and take midday walks. The thirty minutes pass quickly, and you’re disappointed that you have to cut your conversation short. Frankie has a sweet and funny personality, is charming and confident, and you find his voice captivating. You could listen to him read the phonebook. 

Frankie thanks you for the drink, and you exchange goodbyes. As he retreats from your porch down your driveway, you try not to stare for too long, admiring his figure and how he carries himself. Suddenly, he pauses and turns around. You’re worried that you've been caught staring, only to confirm it when you look up and see a smirk on Frankie’s face. Encouraged by your admiration, he steps closer and asks, “I’ve enjoyed this, and I’d love to continue talking. Could I have your number?” 

You can't help but smile brightly as you answer with a resounding "yes." You ask for his phone to add your number to his contacts. When Frankie takes his phone from you, his fingers brush over yours. The contact flusters you, and you attempt to compose yourself, hoping Frankie didn't notice. With a smile that reaches his eyes, he descends the porch stairs with a second goodbye and a promise that he'll be in touch. You watch as Frankie returns to your neighbor's house, and you head back inside to finish your workday.

A few weeks passed, and Frankie started joining you on your walks. You find yourself at ease with Frankie. He’s told you about his time in the army, what inspired him to become a pilot, and his daughter. You loved to see the twinkle in his eyes when he talked fondly of his daughter and told you about their latest adventure or funny things she said. He mentions his desire for a dog, that he’s ready to look at adoptable dogs, and plans to surprise his daughter. Despite going on many walks together, he hadn't made any moves to ask you out. Feeling frustrated, you decide to take matters into your own hands and make a suggestion.

“Frankie, the animal shelter where I adopted my dog, has several currently available. Would you like to meet them and grab a drink afterward?”

Frankie was impressed by your confidence and thrilled that one of you had finally made a move to shift this relationship beyond these walks. Not that he minded them; quite the opposite, he’s had a great time getting to know you and enjoys being in your presence. But it was time to see if things could progress. 

“That would be great! I would love that. My daughter is with her mom this weekend; how about Saturday? I can come by to pick you up.”

You smile demurely and reply, “Saturday would be perfect. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Awesome, it’s a date!”

You’re surprised by how quickly the week has passed, with Saturday arriving in the blink of an eye. It's been hard to contain your excitement. You've dressed casually in a pair of jeans that hug your curves and a scoop-neck top that is low enough to offer a peek of your cleavage. You wanted something practical yet still made an effort to look good, especially considering you'll go from playing with dogs to a bar afterward.

It had been some time since your last first date, and you anxiously waited for Frankie to arrive. Thankfully, his truck pulled into your driveway right on time. You appreciate his punctuality, as you were on the verge of letting your nerves get the best of you. Frankie is a good guy, and you’re excited about the potential, especially after your last relationship. You swing the front door open just as Frankie begins to knock, his tightly clenched hand frozen midair. You both smiled, caught each other's eyes, and let your gaze wander. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at you, “U-uh, WOW, you look great!” Your cheeks warmed as you heard his sincere compliment, feeling flattered to receive it while wearing such a casual ensemble. Imagine what his reaction would be when you’re dressed up. You thank him sweetly. 

After you lock up, Frankie leads you to his truck with his hand lightly touching the small of your back. He opens the door and helps you into the car as you lift yourself onto the running board and into the truck. Frankie finds it hard to look away from the sight of your figure in your tight jeans. He hopes that this date goes well and that he will meet a dog that strikes him with the same lightning bolts he felt when he first saw you. He’s excited to discover what the future has in store for him. 

Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

[zombflesh]

how do you think ak!jay likes to be hugged (i miss him)

I'm about to yap a lot for this one so strap in. I personally think that Jason wouldn't exactly be used to hugs even before he was tortured. Physical attention wasn't something he was given that much as a child, and he's way used to touch being a negative instead of a positive. His short time with Bruce probably helped him accept that touch wasn't a negative thing until the Joker ruined it all. After Arkham Knight, Jason would not be able to properly stomach any kind of physical contact. He's been tortured, beaten, and is at his lowest point. Jason doesn't even feel human at this point because after everything he can only see himself as a shell of who he once was. The littlest things are a trigger to him. Something as simple as a pat on the shoulder makes him want to claw at his own skin. Jason's S/O would need to be very patient at first. Physical affection is a concept that has been tainted for him. He's trying hard to get used to your gentle touches because he wants to be with you. Jason doesn't want you to be with someone that can barely take care of themselves. Jason wants you to be with a person instead of the ghost that he perceives himself as. Jason heals and slowly but surely, he leans into your hugs. Now to actually answer the question sorry for going on that long ass tangent

At first, Jason's hugs would feel like hugging a statue. Very stiff and he barely moves a muscle. That stiffness slowly melts away the more he heals. And when this man hugs believe me, he HUGS. Jason is starved of affection, and he feels safe in your around. When he hugs you it's always firm but gentle. Jason wants to make you feel safe in his arms like how your presence makes him feel safe. Snuggling with him would feel like hugging a giant teddy bear. Jason would hold you to his chest while his fingers would either rub your back or play with your hair. Of course, there are always those hugs where he picks you up and spins you around. Jason's hugs would be so tight and so warm.

Jason is a forehead kisser and anyone who says otherwise is wrong. After every hug he's give you a big smooch on the forehead. Hear me out on this next part. Little spoon Jason. HEAR ME OUT PLEASE!! Yeah, he prefers to be big spoon. But Jason would melt whenever you hold him. Just imagine the realization that Jason is being held hitting him and he just leans into the hug. He would bury his face into your shoulder and let out the most content sigh. Love, security, and warmth are all things he can find in your arms. Jason would love it if you held him before he fell asleep. His face would be pressed against your chest as he listens to your heartbeat. The rhythm of your heartbeat would help him fall asleep because it's just comforting to know that your still there. He relaxes as soon as you brush your fingers through his hair. Or even hearing you talk is enough to make him unwind.

There's something so sweet about Jason letting himself be held idk what it is

[kilamonster]

Lola 🎀

a/n: Happy National Dog Day! Sometimes my two brain cells work together long enough to spark creativity. A writer I am not. This is just a straight up puppy love drabble. Spanish translations at the end. Inspired by @half-moon16

He had immediately said no.

But the moment he saw your eyes light up when you first asked him, he knew he was completely fucked. Because he’d do anything to see you light up like that again. You were persistent, asking him at least three more times that night, giving him your biggest puppy dog eyes and an exaggerated pout, pleading with him that you just knew she was the one. You wore him down by the following day.

Javier Peña got her for you and brought her home with a big pink bow tied to her dainty pink collar.

She was so small in his giant hands. He hid her in between them behind his back as he stepped through the front door one Friday evening after work. He found you in the kitchen prepping dinner. Told you to close your eyes before you turned around, “I have something for you.”

He brought his hands to his front still keeping her hidden in between them. He leaned in and you felt his breath as his lips grazed your ear, “Abre tus ojos, Cariño.”

“Javi, is this…?!”

“This is Lola and she’s all yours,” he smiled as he revealed her to you.

Your whole face lit up as you took her from him and held her close. Eyes wide, smiling from ear to ear, practically squealing Javi’s name as you looked at Lola. So full of excitement, surprise and adoration. Javi committed this moment to memory.

Even though you were the one who fed Lola, walked her, and trained her, she’d always prefer to curl up on Javi’s chest or on his belly whenever he sat on the couch, but her favorite place turned out to be the spot between his shoulder and his neck.

When it first happened, Javi knew better than to let Lola get used to that spot. He knew she’d grow and she’d be too heavy to cuddle up on him like that. That his shoulder and neck would ache if he let her get used to it. But how could he deny her? She was so small and delicate. Despite his grumpy expression, he was completely smitten with such a tiny creature. He didn’t realize just how much he’d end up loving Lola, too.

You were usually the one to leave for work after he did and he was rarely left alone with Lola in the mornings. Today, he’s running late for work. You had given brief but specific instructions on what to do with Lola before he leaves the house.

He’s heading towards the door satisfied he’s completed what you asked of him when he hears Lola whining and whimpering. He turns around, and she’s sitting in the hallway looking up at him with the saddest puppy dog eyes he has ever witnessed.

“Ay pobrecita! Ven conmigo, preciosa.” Javi can’t believe how quickly his resolve breaks.

He zips her up inside his leather jacket before he steps out of his truck to walk into the office. He tries his best to keep her quiet, but it’s short lived. She squirms and softly barks.

“Lola, no, cállate,” he whispers. She barks again, a bit louder this time, and he frowns. A security guard in the lobby reminds him dogs aren’t allowed.

“THIS DOG IS DEA,” he bellows. The guard nods and lets them through.

“Me vas a meter en problemas perrita traviesa!”

Thank you, bbs: @ak-vintage @pedroswife69 @sunshinehaze1 @80ssong @fhatbhabiee @senorabond @educated-zombie and @peepawispunk for the DEA line!

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Spanish Translations:

-Abre tus ojos, Cariño (Open your eyes, darling)

-Ay pobrecita! Ven conmigo, preciosa (Ay, poor thing! Come with me, precious)

-cállate (be quiet)

-Me vas a meter en problemas perrita traviesa! (You’re going to get me in trouble naughty puppy)

[okiedreamsreviews]

Distracted by A.K. Evans ~ Cover Reveal

Distracted by A.K. Evans ~ Cover Reveal

DISTRACTED Harper Security Ops #7 A.K. Evans   Genre: Military Romantic Suspense Cover Design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations Release Date: March 7, 2023      BLURB Marriage of convenience? More like marriage of inconvenience. Especially when it turns deadly. Ellery Cross did what she had to do to save her family from ruin. She married a man she wasn’t in love with. Worse, she married a man she…

[rkivesyoshi]

to be feigned into love with ryomen sukuna

special chapter, read the rest here.

pairings. oc x sukuna

content. sfw

language. english, tagalog

song.

warnings. none

tags. ryomen sukuna x fem!oc, fake dating trope, lawyer!ryomen x art director!oc, established couple

synopsis. a second time truly is magical, if given the chance. shortly after itsumi and ryomen had become an official couple, they decided it was time to present themselves to each of their parents, again, and this time, as true lovers.

note: this is written in first person point of view and in the perspective of the oc, itsumi.

enjoy reading!

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ೃ⁀➷ ` ੈ˚ ★ ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ೃ⁀➷ ` ੈ˚ ★

“Ryo, sure ka ba, okay lang ‘tong suot ko?” I ask for the nth time, checking myself in the mirror.

We’re going to meet his parents today and i have never felt more conscious, let alone anxious in my entire life. My job requires for me to converse with various people and I never once had emotions like this when doing so.

Ryo walks up to me and from the back, he wraps his arms around my waist planting a kiss on the crown of my head. “You look beautiful, my love.”

“What about my outfit, sa tingin mo, hindi ba sobra o kulang?” Aligaga kong tanong dito.

“It’s just right, my love.” He answers with no hesitation.

Realizing there was no benefit in me overthinking things, I took his word for it and we finally got to leave our apartment.

“Ah, my son was right, you are a gorgeous young woman, Itsumi.” Nakangiting sambit ng nanay ni Ryomen matapos akong mag-mano rito.

Ngumiti naman ako pabalik, “Thank you po, tita! Pero mas maganda po kayo, alam ko na kung kanino nag-mana si Ryo.”

“Naku!” Lumingon ito sa asawa. “Narinig mo ba ‘yon, mahal? Sa akin daw namana ng anak natin ang kagwapuhan niya.” Pag-bibiro nito.

“Hindi naman ako tatanggi ro’n, mahal.” Sagot naman ng tatay ni Ryomen.

Naramdaman ko naman ang pag-iinit ng mukha ko nang mapagtanto ko ang aking sinabi.

“Lagot ka,” Pag-singit ni Ryo sa gilid ko. “Hindi ka na papasa kay papa niyan.” Halata sa kanyang boses ang pang-aasar.

Pinalo naman ito sa balikat ng kanyang nanay at pinagsabihan, “Baka maniwala si Sumi. ‘Wag mong binibiro ng gano’n.”

Then dinner time came and it was nowhere near what I expected it to be. Magaan ang pakiramdam ko na makipagusap sa mga magulang ni Ryo. Palabiro ang kaniyang tatay at ang kaniyang nanay naman ay sinasabayan din ito. We shared heartfelt laughs, talked about our plans, dreams, and shared our values. Surprisingly, his parents and I have so much in common — so much more than my own.

My heart felt so full and joyous.

It was on the way home that I realized Ryo was reared in a secure household. Looking back, maybe it was the reason why he left and didn’t force anything between us—why he just let time and fate bring us together once more.

“Honestly,” Pag-uumpisa ko. “Kung ayaw mong makaharap si dad ulit, I respect that. We don’t have to go.”

Bahagya itong tumawa. “Bakit naman ako aayaw na harapin si tito?”

“Tito agad?” Tinignan ko ito ng may panghuhusga.

Natawa itong muli sa reaksyon ko. “What, does he prefer to be called sir or gusto mo, dad na lang din itawag ko?”

I cringe at the thought of Ryomen getting shut off in an instant if he had called my father dad on their first meeting in a long time.

“I can handle your father, Sumi.” He says, grabbing my hand as he guides us out of the apartment.

The ambiance from when we had dinner with the Sukunas compared to now differs greatly. This one makes you want to rip your head off, whereas the other was carefree. Moreover, I’m not entirely sure if having both of my parents here is good or bad. Though, on the bright side, this is the first time in a long time I’ve seen my divorced parents together.

“You’re that guy my daughter dated before, am I right? Iyong galing sa mababang pamilya.” Walang emosyong sambit ng tatay ko.

“Dad!” Pag-protesta ko rito.

Naramdaman ko ang kamay ni Ryo sa aking hita at marahan niyang hinaplos ito na para bang ipinapahiwatig sa akin na ‘wag akong masyadong mag-alala sa sitwasyon.

“You weren’t born a chairman. Naging empleyado ka rin na may mababang pwesto.” Pag-sumbat naman ng aking nanay.

I am already regretting even planning this dinner. Sana ay hindi na lang kami tumuloy.

“Yes, sir. I was that guy.” Sagot ni Ryomen sa tanong ni dad.

I gave him a glare, but he only squeezed my thigh, maybe as an attempt to reassure me that it’s all going to be fine.

“Was?” Natatawang tanong ni dad. “Bakit, marami ka na bang naabot sa loob ng maikling panahon?”

Kumukulo na ang dugo ko sa inis habang kalmado pa rin si Ryo.

“I believe so.” Sagot ni Ryomen. “I finished both of my undergraduate and graduate degree with latin honors. I was a top-notcher in the bar exam, and I work at a well-known law firm now.”

My dad snickered, “Face me again when you’ve built your reputation as a lawyer, or not. I know that field is very saturated.”

“I am building it at the moment, sir.” Ryomen smiles. “I specialize in corporate law and have won numerous lawsuits now. If you need my help, don’t hesitate to call. I heard your company is having troubles right now.” There was a hint of mockery in his voice.

Dad was left speechless and moments after, the silence was overrun with my mom’s mocking chuckle.

“Kid,” she turned to Ryomen. “I liked you before and I like you even better now. Good thing you two got back together.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He smiled.

Mom waves her hand as if telling him off. “Enough with the ma’am. You can call me tita, or mom, but I prefer mom.”

Ryomen gave an amused chuckle before turning to me and winked. He leaned in closer to me and whispered, “What do you say, did I do a good job, princess?”

Naramdaman ko ang init ng aking mga pisngi.

“Kids,” Mom calls and we both face her. “Do you want to eat somewhere else? Nakakawala kasi ng appetite ‘yong atmosphere dito. Maybe we could go shopping, too.”

Pagkasabi niya noon ay dali-daling tumayo si dad at padabog na lumabas sa private dining area.

“So, kailan ang kasal?” Mom asked.

We ended up not having to change restaurants. Nevertheless, mom still insisted on going shopping and so we did, for two more hours. The night started out disastrous, but I’m thankful that at least Ryomen could get along with my mother.

“Bakit ‘di ka man lang nag-react do’n sa tanong ng nanay ko tungkol sa kasal?” Tanong ko kay Ryomen na ngayon ay nakaupo sa couch.

“I did, I smiled.” Simpleng sagot nito habang inaalis ang mga bitones ng kanyang damit.

Umupo ako sa kanyang tabi, “No, I mean, why didn’t you protest?”

Huminto ito sa kanyang ginagawa at tinignan ako na para bang may mali sa aking sinabi. “Protest?”

Tumango ako.

“Baby,” he turned to me, “there is no other ending to this than us getting married. Why would I protest? I intend to marry you, Sumi.”

“Isn’t it too early for you? You’re still starting on your career. Marriage is way different than dating.”

Ryomen examines me with a sincere gaze. “I’m not going to leave you. Hindi lahat ng marriage nasisira, Sumi.”

I look down, feeling a bit disappointed in myself for projecting unto him. “I know. Sorry.”

He scooted closer to me tilting my chin up before leaning in to kiss my cheek, “I’m going to marry you,” then my neck, “build a family with you,” then my lips, “all while loving you endlessly, my love.”

“You’re safe with me, Sumi.” He says before kissing me again, this time with more passion, as if it were full of love, hunger, and desire.

It wasn't long before my back touched the velvety feel of the sofa, and the sound of our moans and lips colliding together as he relentlessly professed his love for me faded into the night.

disclaimer! this is a fan-made content. i do not own the rights to the character of ryomen sukuna. nevertheless, i respectfully request that you refrain from reposting, translating, or copying my content because the plot is my original work.