#but having you come into my life a few years ago is one of the things i will never regret

[milawritess]

just read your gojo fic and it was amazing!! can i ask does megumi end up calling the reader mom to her face or something along those lines in the end? i’m a sucker for the reader being a parent to megumi so was wanting to know how that plays out 💜

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader, mom!Reader & Fushiguro Megumi 

Warnings: angst, Megumi missing his mum :( 

Word count: 2k+

a/n: this takes place after the events of my fic Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow

-

Would Megumi ever call you mom to your face?

Yes and no. He’s a bit shy when it comes down to it. 

After nearly dying, you were sick. Your technique became unstable, a flicker of the shadow of what your flames once were. 

Your recovery was hard, harder than anyone could have expected. Your eyes were hollow and sunken; you had lost even more weight, and you were always so tired. Megumi saw you dozing off at the dinner table, in the middle of conversations, and one time while you were even standing. It seemed like a never-ending exhaustion—like your own soul couldn’t withstand being… alive. 

It scared Megumi. More than words could describe. 

When word got around that you couldn't even conjure up more than a spark, Megumi noticed you started to change. You’d disappear for days at a time, you were eating less and less, and you hardly spoke, evident by the strain in your vocal cords when you addressed him or anyone for that matter. He knew you were depressed; he picked up on the signs quickly and felt the weight of your absence. Eventually, it seemed Yuji and Nobara did as well. 

It was starting to get to you, he thinks. But Megumi doesn’t entirely blame you. If he woke up one day unable to conjure his shadows, he thinks he’d lose himself, too. 

Megumi could tell Gojo was starting to worry. He found him taking you out on strolls around the block a few times, trying to get you out of the house you’d much rather wallow away in. Gojo kept a bright smile on his face the entire time, and he was more open and apparent with his affection for you. His hands were always on your hip, around your shoulders, or your hand was tightly wrapped in his. Megumi wondered if it was to be closer to you or to help you keep your balance. Probably both; Gojo walked slower than usual, half strides that still never seemed quite slow enough to match yours. 

It felt like you were just… disintegrating right before everyone’s eyes. To Megumi, it was like watching an angel fall from grace. 

One day, he finds you and Gojo on the couch. After finishing his classes, he went to the store to buy your favorite soup, crackers, and some energy drinks he hoped might perk you up, even just a bit. He let himself into the Gojo estate after knocking and receiving no answer. It wasn't a big deal. Not too long ago, it was his home, too, and it's not like nobody was home. He could sense Gojo's presence. It was oddly overwhelming and dense. 

He sees why when he finds you. 

The room was warm—warm enough to make him break a sweat in his uniform upon entering. The fireplace was crackling, and the central heat was on blast. You were sprawled out on the couch in the main room, and Gojo was behind you, holding you to his chest while you slept. Megumi was ready to leave the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and leave. It didn’t feel right intruding, but-

You were shivering. 

He doesn’t get it—why nothing could keep you warm. His whole life, you’ve always brought a warmth that extended beyond your kindness and soft smiles. It was the kind of warmth you shared with him— from those oversized winter coats you bought him, those knitted gloves you make him every year, and you. 

He remembers being small and how you’d heat your hands before holding his tightly. Back then, he never had numb knuckles or fingertips whenever you were around. Not only that, you could just radiate warmth, effortlessly warming the air around you. He’s seen you do it a few times when the people around you got too cold. It was like walking past a sauna, a warm breeze that always caught others off guard. 

He remembers you doing it just a few weeks ago. Yuji’s eyes widened, and he jumped up and down, annoyingly asking a million questions about your technique. You looked a bit prideful when he compared you to a fire-breathing dragon, which, ironically, might have been the best comparison for you. 

He hated that you shivered now. With several blankets, the room cranked to eighty degrees, and Gojo beside you still wasn't enough. He hated that there wasn’t much anyone could do—anything he could do. 

Quietly, he ambles upstairs, yanking the blanket off the bed in his old room. When he returns to the living room, he throws it over you and Gojo. 

Gojo doesn’t move much but opens one eye, eyeing Megumi for a moment. He acknowledged Gojo with a nod, knowing that he wasn’t asleep. His six eyes have followed him since he knocked on the front door.  

However, he notices that Gojo has sweat beading down his temple, his white hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Megumi hadn’t associated himself with Gojo much since the incident, but… he’s happy he’s with you, doing everything he can to keep you safe, protected, and warm, even at his own expense. 

The corner of Gojos' lip twitches before his eye closes again. 

Megumi leaves a note on the counter before leaving. 

Mom, 

I bought you some food from the market. It’s in the fridge. Get well soon. 

— Megumi 

-

It’s when Gojo takes a leave of absence from teaching that Megumi can feel it sinking in—a dark foreboding, an anxiousness that tied knots around his heart, keeping him up late into the night. 

“I’m worried,” Yuji admitted sullenly. “What if… what if the damage was so bad she won’t fully heal? I know regenerating cursed energy takes a while, but it’s been weeks.” 

“I really hope that’s not the case,” Nobara sighs, resting her elbows on the table and looking out into the distance.  “It must be serious for Gojo-Sensei to leave.”

“I can’t imagine how painful it must have been,” Yuji winces a bit, merely playing with the fries on his plate. “… Urggg!” Yuji wines, hiding his face in his hands. “I don’t even wanna be at this stupid sandwich shop without Sensei. It’s not right!”

“Relax, I’ll order her something before leaving. I’ll drop it off at their place,” Megumi grouses, pulling himself away from his thoughts. 

Yuji peeks at Megumi between his fingers. “…Can I come?”

Hell no, is what Megumi wants to say, but he bites his tongue. Tsk. You’d probably like to see Yuji—Nobara too. 

“Fine,” Megumi laments between gritted teeth. “Just- don’t bother her too much. We drop the food off, and then we leave.”

Of course, Yuji doesn’t listen. 

“Sensei, it was crazy! First, it went—boom! Then skeeert, and wham! And then, and then- I went flying! Right into the wall! But it was a short wall! I flipped right over it!”

You held a cup of warm tea in your hands and smiled softly, eagerly nodding along and giggling at Yuji. He animated the story with excitement, bouncing on his toes, and his voice echoed through the halls as he made quirky sounds. Megumi rolled his eyes, finding his friend rather obnoxious, but you looked happy. He supposed that was all that really mattered. 

However, Megumi wonders if you have a single clue as to what Yuji is talking about. He surely didn’t. 

Yuji threw himself down on the couch adjacent to where you sat, right beside Nobara. “Man… they banned me. Can you believe that?”

“They banned you? That’s egregious.”

“I know, right!”

You wiggle your eyebrows before taking a sip of your tea. “Want me to beat up the director?”

Yuji lets out a heartfelt laugh. “No, but that would be kinda funny,” he sighs dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to start going to other skating rinks.”

“Sensei-” Nobara freezes, your name slipping from her lips. 

Megumi couldn’t see what those two saw. He opted for staying in the corner of the room, watching you interact with his two friends. It was hard for him, he realized bitterly, to even look at you. So he stayed in the corner, content with just watching over you from a distance. But suddenly, the air is knocked from his lungs. 

Things weren’t supposed to be like this. 

Nobara reaches forward quickly, nearly dropping her tea as she does. She rips out three tissues from the tissue box before shoving them in your hands. 

However, Yuji freezes. His face goes white as a sheet. 

You lean forward, holding the tissue to your nose. Nobara jumps up, putting her hands on your shoulders as she encourages you to stand. “We’ll be right back! Going to the ladies room!”

It’s only when you two walk past him that he sees the bloody tissue, crimson dripping from your nose. Yuji remains silent on the couch, fiddling with his hands and looking at nothing in particular. He looks like he just saw a ghost, and Megumi doesn’t blame him. He felt the same way; however, he had the will to move. In a haze, his feet carry him to the kitchen. He finds Gojo there, plating the food Megumi brought you and putting it in the microwave. 

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you too, brat.”

“Just tell me already.”

Gojo sighs. “Yeesh. Everything’s fine, you little gremlin. Nothing you gotta worry about.”

“H-Her nose just started bleeding! Out of nowhere.”

Gojo seems to pause for a moment before going back to what he was doing. “Seems Nobara has it handled. They’re on their way back to the living room now.”

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Megumi nearly pleads. He wants to accuse Gojo of not caring, of not doing whatever he can for you during your difficult recovery, but the bitter words never make it past his lips. Megumi knows he is. Even when anger threatens to blind Megumi, he remembers that you and Gojo have weird dynamics that often leave people’s heads spinning; however, the love is always there, alive and apparent. He just had to know where to look. 

Gojo loves you, and more importantly, he makes you happy. Megumi knew that even if he didn’t always understand it. 

Gojo sighed before reaching for the sink and turning on the faucet. Megumi gives an odd look, but Gojo grins before tapping his ear. Oh. Right. If you wanted to, you could easily pick up on what they were discussing. Megumi imagines you wouldn’t feel great knowing they were speaking about you—even if it came from a place of worry and concern. You didn’t need anything else being added to your plate. 

“Is she sick?”  

Gojo crosses his arms before leaning his back against the counter. “She is,” he answers honestly. Megumi wanted the truth, yet he flinched when it was handed to him. “She is sick.”

How can he do that? Sound so indifferent? But, as he looks at Gojo, Megumi notices that he's uncharacteristically stoic, almost stern, as he hands him the cold truth.  Gojo didn’t like what was happening as much as Megumi, but there was no avoiding the truth and no sense in lying about it. 

“What can we do?”

“Not much,” Gojo answers easily. “We just… wait.“

Megumi can’t quite understand that. He hates this, hates waiting, day after day. You were weak; Megumi could sense it, Yuji and Nobara, too. 

“She’s outputting more energy than she is retaining… how do you even begin to fix something like that?” Megumi murmurs, his eyes finding the floor. He was afraid. You were his mother, the woman who loved and raised him and always kept him warm. He feels like he’s losing you, like a candle wick running dry of wax. 

Suddenly, Gojo reaches up, ruffling Megumi's dark hair. “She’ll be alright, brat.” Gojo playfully pushes his head back as he pulls away, a small smile now gracing his lips. “Leave all the worrying to me, yeah? I’ll take good care of her. I promise.”

-

“Sensei! I’m praying for you!”

Nobara rolls her eyes. “You’re not supposed to tell her, dimwit.”

“I know, but I want her to know I’m praying for her recovery!”

Megumi groans, stepping away from the shrine. “Just shut up, Yuji.”

You smiled from your spot beside Gojo. You were leaning on him, your head resting on his shoulder. One of your arms wrapped around Gojo’s, your fingers grasping his bicep. Your other hand reached down, intertwining your delicate fingers with his. Clinging to his arm, which you held close to your chest, you smiled sweetly as you observed the scene around you. 

You still looked exhausted, and there were still bags under your eyes, but you had enough energy to get out of the house today, at least. 

“Thank you, Yuji,” you smiled. “I appreciate it more than anything.”

He beams, giving two big thumbs up. 

“Whatever,” Nobara brushed Yuji off, stepping forward. “I, on the other hand, got you an omamori!” She presents the small charm to you with a broad and cheesy grin. It was a Kenko charm—an amulet for good health and protection from illness and disease. 

You hesitantly reach for it, clasping it with one of your hands. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to. You have exams coming up that you should be focused on.”

Nobara waves you off harmlessly before looking at Gojo. Her eyes squinted. “You didn’t get her anything. Tsk. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Wha- I got her something! Look! Show them sweets!”

You laugh, putting Nobara’s charm in your pocket and rummaging around. You pull out two other charms—en-musubi charms. Your cheeks flush a bit as you happily present them, and Gojo perks up, looking the proudest he’s ever looked. 

“Two en-musubi? Hm,” Nobara hums passively. “And yet I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

Nobara defiantly turns her head from her Sensei. “Whatever, just tell us how you really feel...”

“Y’know, Satoru,” you play along with a slight grin. “She might be onto something…”

“Wait! Hold on, let me buy you a charm!” Yuji dashed away, ignoring how you protested, yelling to him that it was alright and that you didn’t need another charm. 

Megumi sighs. He hates to admit it, but that idiot's right. He should get you a charm, too. ”I’ll be right back.”

“Megumi, it's okay! I don’t need another one! My pockets are already full!” 

He waves, brushing you off. It was the least he could do. He prayed for you, of course he did, but he wouldn’t say anything about it—unwilling to risk his prayers potentially being unanswered.  So, he walks, eventually catching up with Yuji. However, even with the charm in his hands, it doesn’t feel enough. 

So, after buying your charm, he walks over to another booth. He takes out his wallet to purchase an ema, a wooden plank on which he can write the wish he has been praying for over the past few weeks. 

What Megumi doesn’t see, though, is Gojo nudging you and pointing over to where Megumi stood. Just in time, you see him hanging his ema, placing it alongside hundreds of other wishes. It’s only when Megumi turns around that he notices you and Gojo have been watching him the entire time. 

He coughs, cheeks flushing as he walks away. He puts his head down before walking to where Yuji and Nobara are waiting for him, too embarrassed to look your way. Yuji and Nobara’s smiles were sincere. Yuji even offered him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. 

There were tears in your eyes as you read the ema. 

I wish for my mother to get well soon. 

-

a/n: just a little blurb following the events of wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow :p

Let me know your thoughts or if I should write a longer fic detailing the reader's recovery. I have a few ideas in mind… 

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

[axxa-the-allikatt]

Soooooo I finally got some free time 😃✊ here’s your order of bllk characters with their short s/o with a side of some suggestive interactions 🤌. I’m making it a short series since I probably can’t finish so many characters in one sitting, so tell me if there is anyone specific you’re looking for. I’m gonna start off with my favourites, humour me.

***

1. Size doesn’t matter. I mean your height- your height doesn’t matter.

-Isagi definitely, but also anyone else who might fit this category like Bachira, Kunigami and maybe Niko + Any character from other shows that you think might fit, ignoring the mention of the bllk program <3

The first time you encountered him, the two of you were around only 11 years of age. You had been walking by the park, back home after school, when a ball had come flying at your face, knocking you squarely in the jaw. You had two broken teeth because of this, and the boy who had kicked the ball, our little sweetheart, had insisted on taking you to his home, bawling his eyes out all the way for no good reason, while you intermittently spat what blood was spilling from your gums, freaked out by the little crybaby.

Once all that confusion and worry had passed by, your parents had been given his address so that they could come pick you up.

And that was how you’d snatched a place in his life. That and the fact that once you had managed to get your hands on his address, you would randomly drop by his house on your way home, uninvited, scare the living daylight’s out of him, gratefully accept what titbits his mother would humorously provide you with, give his father a salute on your way out and never bring up the visit again.

Over the next three years, the two of you had gained a reputation as a pair, and it was a well known fact that wherever one of you were, the other was bound to be close by. So much so that your school teachers often questioned one of you when the other was absent to class.

You had grown fond of the silly boy you had met by chance and had often made him extremely flustered with your quite direct flirting conquests, while he hid behind his hands like maiden.

This was quite hilarious to due to the fact that over the years you had remained a short, skinny kid, where as the other boy had out grown you and was now both taller and more muscular due to his football training.

Your friendship came to an abrupt pause as you were to move across the world for your father’s job, with only a week’s notice to make the most of your time with the other boy.

In a moment of childish desperation, the boy had confessed to you asked you out on a date which earned him a good thwack on the head. For what joy was he asking when you were moving half way across the world in a few days and were going to return god knows when. But you had agreed nonetheless, admitting that you liked him too and that you wanted to make the most of your time with him. Ah. Young love.

Four years passed as you lived your life abroad, finishing high school, making new friends, having fun, not growing any taller, but most importantly, you had kept yourself up to date on the events happening in blue lock. Since when did your silly boy get so… egotistical? It was concerningly endearing.

Finally, you received news that you would be moving back to Japan, back into your old house, by yourself, to pursue your studies in psychology and you desperately hoped that he hadn’t moved in that time. The Blue lock program had ended a year ago, and he might have been selected for a team somewhere across the world.

Your fears dissolved into confusion then disbelief as you were met with the sight of the same boy waiting for you at the airport, with a stupid grin on his face, which was doing nothing to hide how obviously he was trying not to cry like the way you used to tease him about.

The second he laid his eyes on you he broke into a sprint, crashing into you as you tumbled over the luggage, putting your arms around him and spinning him around, bursting into laughter as his feet dragged around behind him. He had annoyingly gotten taller.

The two of you had somehow managed to get to his car before you gently pushed him against the door, crashing your lips onto his as he slid down against the door, lowering himself to your height.

Like I said, height doesn’t matter in your relationship. He’s more than eager to kneel to you. You’re the boyfriend.

***

Next up- the boys who think that since they’re taller, they’re the man in the relationship. They get put in their place 🪭. I’ll post it by next week. Probably.

[opheliachoi99]

Ocean Eyes ♡̷

MICHAEL KAISER X READER

ABOUT : A short scenery where you appreciate his beautiful ocean eyes, from lifeless, to full of life inside his ocean eyes.

note : this is a short one because I just wanna appreciate my love for Kaiser. Enjoy!

— You were only an elementary student during the time and you noticed the transferee in your class keeps on hugging his old, scratched, taped soccer ball, while curling in his desk, wearing a black hoodie almost everyday. You could barely see his full face.

When someone touches his soccer ball he immediately smacks the shit out of them, it's as if that ball was his lifeline.

You noticed his fists were filled with bandages, you felt worried. But there was nothing you could do, you were too afraid to approach him, he seemed scary-looking in your perspective.

A few days passed, and you noticed he hasn't came to class. You checked the attendance sheet and his present days were a total blank. You bit your lower lip, curious of what had happened to him.

You were walking home when you noticed a kid underneath the big bridge near you, trying to kick a familiar ball that bounces back to him in the face. You found it funny where he repeatedly kicked the soccer ball towards the wall and bounces back towards his face, causing him to groan in pain, but continuously repeats the same actions.

You approached this kid and you gasped as you were familiar with him "It's you! Transferee!" This kid turns to you "Huh?"

You gasped again when you saw bruises and scratches on his face. "W-what happened to your face?" You innocently asked.

"It's none of your business." He coldly replied. You were a stubborn one so you approached him grabbing your band-aid collection in your bag "Let me put these!"

"H-hey!" He could barely move as if he was traumatised when someone forcefully touches him. You removed his hood and you paused.

You stared into his lifeless eyes, but you adored how beautiful his eyes were. Those beautiful ocean eyes. You were mesmerized, your touch softens. You two were stuck in the same position, he was looking helpless so he gave up defending himself. "You're strong.."

"Y-you have beautiful eyes.." You stutter as you placed band-aid on his face one-by-one.

Soon after, you two started talking casually "Thank you.." "Does it still hurt?" He shook his head. "Not quite anymore.." You smiled "You know me right? I'm your classmate! You couldn't notice me because I was always in the back doing some doodles.." You pouted "I know you, but you don't know me.. I'm Michael, Michael Kaiser.."

You smiled "Michael... Can I call you micha?" He stared at you for a second "Sounds weird but okay.." You jumped for joy "You're my friend now! Come to school tomorrow okay? You've been absent for days now." You pouted. "I got to go, my mom might be looking for me by now, you should go home too!" You waved goodbye, leaving Kaiser fascinated about you.

Ever since then, you and him were inseparable. You knew he was abused by his father ever since his mom left them, and you knew why he had a soccer ball with him everyday, it was his only friend. His dream was to be a striker, so you were more interested in him and supported his goals all the way.

9 years passed since you two became the closest, but a year ago, he confessed. In which you and Kaiser are now a thing.

You realised, that Kaiser was a good-looking guy, ever since he dyed his hair tips metallic blue, and had a blue rose tattoo on his neck, and rose thorns all the way to his biceps and to his wrist, and a crown on his back hand.

Gosh he was divine..

It was his game today, which is a huge one, because if he wins they would be competing for FIFA, and one step closer, his dreams would come true.

And of course you were there, because without you, he wouldn't be motivated at all.

And obviously they won, leaving you so happy that you had to jump out from your seat, and the first thing Kaiser did was to run towards you. Everyone saw and it was viral online and it was on the news too! Everyone seemed to notice you were the girlfriend of their star player since he approached you and you were wearing his jersey "KAISER, 10"

As he was hugging you, you felt warmth "I'm so proud of you my micha.." You glanced in his ocean eyes.. "You're so beautiful schatz.. I love you.." He kissed you passionately, everyone in the stadium cheered.

His eyes from being lifeless, to being so fulfilling, because you loved him. All because you were drawn to his ocean eyes.

Fin.

[b3ach-bunn7]

RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK

You hate your coworker Jason Todd. Despite this, the tow of you have been given the same client and are forced to work together

enemies to lovers, NSFW, office sex, confessions

(This is quite long 😓 a fair warning!)

—————————————————————————

You hate Jason Todd. So much. So impossibly so. 

You’d met three years ago when you’d joined the RH firm. It was one of the biggest in Gotham, known for its impeccable lawyers and cutthroat attitude. You don’t lose a case when you hire someone from RH, and especially not when it’s Jason Todd.

You’d been excited to meet him at first. Any lawyer worth their salt would be. You always looked out for his name in the news, when he’d be on the stand once more. You’d even sat in on one of his trials, watched in awe at the way he commandeered a room, his strong voice bouncing off the walls. There was no doubting, even now with your ever present hatred, that Jason Todd is amazing at what he does.

He’s also so gorgeous.

You’re sure he was some sort of superhero in another life, because he is so jacked. You remember the day the office had gone to the bar on a random Friday, and he’d worn this tight fit short sleeve shirt. And his muscles were almost tearing the fabric, and you’re ninety nine percent sure when he stretched up, the hem of his shirt lifted and he had a six pack hiding underneath there. His hair was greying but it made him look better, soft brown and white curls always perfectly styled over his face. And those eyes. So piercing, so guarded. When he looks at you it feels like he can read every single thought racing through your brain.

It is just such a shame he is so insufferably annoying.

So cocky, so vain. It’s no surprise that he is, most lawyers are. You need to think that you’re the best because that confidence boost does wonders in court. But he is just so annoying with it. Always bragging, always has something smart to say to you. And the worst part is he looks so proud of himself afterwards, a stupid smirk on his face after he successfully pisses you off. 

You can’t even remember when it started. A few days after you’d started, a petty squabble here and there and a disagreement every now and then. You were a strong personality and he wanted everything his way, and it didn’t end well for either of you. The icing on the cake was when you’d been given a case that he had wanted, and it seemed to solidify the little squabbles between you two.

You can hear him before you see him. Footsteps that command respect as they thump up to your door. He doesn’t knock, just swings it open and invites himself in. Shirt perfectly ironed and pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Perfect knot on his tie. It’s not fair he can look this good at work. Your eyes flit over him once more, before you look back down at your screen.

“Knock before you walk into my office.” You snap.

“Woah, what’s with the attitude? It’s still early, love.” 

You scowl at him and the smile on his face widens. You mumble some choice words under your breath and shut your laptop.

“Don’t call me that. And what do you want?”

Jason drops some files on your desk. You flick through them, biting the end of your pen as you scan them quickly. There's a client that needs help settling a dispute over some plot of land in some important part of Gotham. Not that any part of Gotham is that important.

“Is this for me?” When a reply doesn’t come quickly, you glance up, and Jason is just staring at you. 

You wave a hand in the air. “Hello? Did you come in here to stare at me?”

He seems to snap out of it quickly, reaching forward and grabbing the papers from in front of you. “Boss wants us to work on this together.”

Fuck.

“Why?” You groan. “Does he want me to kill myself?” 

“My dreams are not common, unfortunately.”

You make a face at him and he huffs a laugh. “The guy is a real tool. I’ve worked with him before, so be prepared to get pissed off.”

You sit back in your chair, hand over your face. You wave him off. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Meeting is at three.”

“Goodbye.” 

“In conference room B.” 

“Jason Todd, so help me.”

He leaves then, hands up in surrender, ignoring your shouts to shut your door behind him.

You finish up the stuff you need to do, and psyche yourself up for this meeting. You kid yourself that you won’t need to spend that long with Jason. Everything will be fine.

When you walk into the conference room, Jason is already talking to him. Micheal Battersby, a man whose money was the only good thing about him. You don’t like him the second you lay your eyes on him, especially with the leery way he’s looking at you. But you plaster on a smile, holding out a hand and introducing yourself.

“Wow. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He grins at you and his teeth are too white.

“Thank you. I assume Jason’s run over most of the agenda with you?” You decide not to comment too much on his compliment.

When you turn to Jason, he looks angry. He’s clenching his jaw and when his eyes meet yours you almost fall back a bit. But in a moment it’s gone, and he’s back to his customer service smile.

“Yes, the first half.”

You spend the next few minutes working through the rest of your paper with him. Jason doesn’t talk as much as you’d think, just occasionally chimes in when need be. Just when you think you can finish up and get away from Michael’s horrible attempts at flirting, one of the office interns pops her head through the door.

“There’s a phone call for you, Y/N.” 

Of course there is. You turn to the two men, quickly getting up. “I’ll be back shortly.” You smile.

And it’s your mother. Asking when you’ll see her. How she can only ever reach you when she calls your work. 

“Mom, please, I’m busy.” You whisper into the phone, looking back at the rooms door.

“Oh, I won’t be long, darling.”

You entertain her for as long as you can, before you’re rushing back to the conference room. Before you can walk in, Jason storms out the room. He shoves past you and you frown. A peek tells you Micheal is still sitting down, looking a little fussed. Jason’s annoying, but you’d much rather be around him than creepy Micheal, so you quickly rush after him.

“What happened?”

“We’re done. Told him to go home.” He grunts, not even turning to look at you. Irritation laces his voice and you wonder what you missed.

“So now what?”

Jason reaches his office door and sighs irritably. He turns to look at you and you take a quick step back at how close he’s standing. 

“Come to my office at five, we can work on the terms. I’ll set a meeting for tomorrow to give them to him.”

You don’t have time to reply before he’s slamming the door in your face.

—-

Time does not seem to fly waiting for five o’clock to come around. Jason had given you two hours, probably to finish up the work you were doing before, but for some reason you’re so nervous about being alone in his office, that you just sit in your office, thinking.

You play a random show in the background and decide now is a good of a time as any to eat your lunch. You chew slowly and purposefully and watch Ross and Rachel argue about something for the millionth time.

You decide, after the clock strikes 2:47, that being thirteen minutes early won’t hurt. You grab your laptop and walk your way to his office, adjusting your pencil skirt and making sure you haven’t sweat through your white blouse. You make sure there’s no mascara under your eyes and knock very impatiently on the door, until an annoyed voice tells you to come in.

You shoot Jason a too sweet smile and he raises a brow. “You’re thirteen minutes early.” 

“What can I say, I have a good work ethic. You could learn a thing or two.”

Jason scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you left our client in the conference room on his own, and stormed out.”

“I didn’t storm out.”

“Uh, yeah, you did. You look super pissed too.” You sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

You’ve been in Jason’s office a couple of times before, but you let yourself take a proper look at it this time. It’s quite minimalist. You have pictures of your friends and family, and gifts from clients all over the room. But his office is void of most things personal, or just most things at all. 

There’s a few plants on his shelves, and only one picture frame with him and three other guys, one of them quite younger than the rest. Jason’s never mentioned his brothers but then again, you guys don’t really talk.

The one thing that is all over his room is books. You find yourself reading the titles from where you’re sitting, head tilting slightly.

“You alright there?” 

You turn back to him to find him staring at you again. You feel like that’s been happening a lot recently. “Just surprised you could read, is all.”

“Ha ha. Shut up.”

You keep looking at the books. “Hey, you have Agatha Christie’s books. I love her books?”

Jason tilts his head a little. “Really?”

“Yeah! My mum got me into them when I was younger. The ABC murders is my favourite.”

Jason studies you for a moment. “Who knew you knew good literature?”

“I know good everything, Todd. Now what does flirty old Micheal want?” You say, flipping Jason’s laptop around to read what he’s writing.

You laugh a little at the way his face falls. “What is your problem with him?”

“He’s fucking annoying. And every word out of his mouth is a brag, and it’s never even things worth bragging about.” 

“True. He likes to look too. At things he probably shouldn’t be looking at.” You say, eyes still on the laptop.

“What?”

“Yeah, he's kinda leery, but. It’s fine. I’m not going to be around him long, so. I’ll make do.” You shrug.

“It’s not fine. That’s fucking gross.”

Your eyes widen slightly. He seemed so annoyed for you. It was weird. Usually he was just annoyed at you.

“Yeah, well. What am I going to do? This is good business for the firm, and it’s not like he’s going to do anything.” 

Jason scoffs. A prickle of annoyance runs through your body. “You don’t know that.”

“I think I can handle myself.” You frown.

“Sure you can.”

You don’t like the tone in his voice. “You disagree?”

“What? I didn't say anything.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Oh my god. Can we just get this done?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes. There’s a weird tension in the room, and you’re more confused than anything else. You can’t tell if Jason was mad at you or at Micheal. You don’t even know why he’s so mad. It’s all very confusing, and the pathetic sandwich you’d bought for your lunch, that you didn’t even finish, has done nothing to ease your hunger.

After about half an hour of silent work, you glance up at Jason. He looks good when he’s focusing like that. It’s unfortunate your brain supplies you with such thoughts, because you are supposed to be mad at him. But he’s biting the inside of his cheek and he looks so good, it cannot be helped.

“You have a real bad staring problem.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up.”

You close your laptop quickly, eager to change the subject. “I’m hungry. Can we order food?”

You are almost 100% sure he is well aware you’re trying to do so, but he lets it slide. “We need to work.”

“We can work and eat. We’ll force one of the interns to get us food.” You whisper the last words and he smiles slightly.

“I guess.”

“Great. Thanks for paying.”

“I didn’t-“

“Thanks for paying!”

—-

You’re kind of excited for the meeting with Micheal. Not because of Micheal. Because of Jason.

Yesterday was fun. He did actually pay for the food, and the weird little argument you had about Micheal was forgotten once it had arrived. You’d gotten shawarma sandwiches from the place down the street, the owner a guy who you’d been buying from forever.

It was weird. You don’t think you’d ever have a conversation that’s lasted longer than five minutes with Jason that didn’t end in someone saying something snarky or rude or petty. But it turns out that he’s actually fun to be around, oddly enough. Maybe your hatred was far-fetched.

You’d worn your red blouse today, and the same penciI skirt you wore most days. You wanted to look good today, it’d help you feel good. That’s what you told yourself at least. There’s no other reason you’d want to look good. You walk into conference room B, at 12:45 in the afternoon, fifteen minutes before the meeting. You plug in some headphones and play some solitaire to pass the time.

Then it turns to one, and nobody walks in. Not Jason and not Micheal. You drum your fingers against the desk impatiently. It’s fine one of them being late, but both? Something feels off. 

You get up, heels clicking against the floor as you walk over to Star, the red-head receptionist everybody is obsessed with. She’s kind and bubbly and from abroad, her innocent curiosity about everything in Gotham made her fun to be around. She gives you a beaming smile as you walk over.

“Hi, Star.”

“Hiya! May I be of any assistance?” There’s a little foreign twinge to her accent you’ve never been able to figure out.

“Yeah, actually. Have you seen Jason? We were supposed to be meeting with a client at one but they both haven’t showed.” 

Star looks confused. She blinks big green eyes up at you. “But Jason already had his meeting.”

You freeze. “What?”

“Well, he called me last night and told me to move it to 11:30. And they finished up and left. Jason is in his office.” Star gets quieter as the look on your face gets angrier.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“No! No, you can go ask him.” 

You take a breath in, steeling yourself. “I’m sorry, Star. It’s not you I’m mad at.” 

You can’t believe him. Just when you think he’s different, that he’s not as big of a dick as you’d thought, he pulls some shit like this.

You leave your stuff in the conference room and all but run away to his office. You don’t knock, don’t even announce yourself. You’re sure that the angry click of your heels down the corridors was tell enough you were arriving. The door swings open and Jason is sitting at his desk. He looks up at you, eyes lingering on your body for a second, before he looks back down. He doesn’t say a word.

“You’re just gonna fucking sit there? Not say anything?”

Jason shrugs, leaning back in his chair. Long legs stretch under his desks. “What is it you’d like me to say?”

You frown. “Something? We were supposed to talk to the client together. We planned everything together. And not only did you do it without me, but you changed the date so I wouldn’t even know about it!”

He just looks at you. Those piercing eyes stare right through your soul. 

“Todd, fucking say something!” You yell.

“There’s no need for all the hostility. You can discuss this with me like a mature adult, you know.” 

And his voice is so condescending, and he looks at you with this look on his face that makes you want to throttle him. 

“You are not the mature one here. I mean, changing the times so I would show up to an empty room? That’s middle school shit.” You scoff and he just sighs.

“Look. I meant nothing by it.”

“So you’re a dick and a liar. Very good to know.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Can you calm down?”

You laugh, a hand halting from where it was toying with your hair. “No. I can’t calm down. Because you are so insufferable. And I knew working on this stupid client with you would drive me crazy.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m insufferable? You’re the one freaking out over shit that doesn’t matter.” He stands up, and you try not to let his towering height intimidate you.

“It does matter, because it means you don’t respect me and my work. It was a shitty thing to do, Jason. How can’t you see that?”

He scoffs. “That little meeting means that much to you? If you wanted to see Micheal so bad you could I’ve just told me.”

“What- What are you even talking about?” 

Jason just looks angry. He turns away, not replying, and you’ve had enough. You don’t want him to see the hurt on your face so you turn away too.

“God, I actually hate you, Jason. So much.” 

And you storm off. Fully intending to, at least. But the soft way he speaks his next words, so jarring from the yelling only moments ago, stops you with your hand almost at the door.

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t turn when you speak. “And how do you figure that?”

“Because I’m not stupid. Or blind.”

When you finally look back at him, he’s still standing behind his desk, but he seems much more relaxed. Like he’s just figured out something especially difficult, and he smiles.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You don’t think I notice how much you stare at me?”

Your face burns and his smile turns into something much more dangerous. “I- I don’t stare at you.”

“Oh, that stutter is not very convincing. I know you better than that, love.” 

He slowly starts making his way towards you. Very 

 slowly edging around his desk. You back up the small distance remaining between you and the door, to try and assert some dominance. 

“Always staring when you think I’m not looking. And those rare times I do catch you, your face turns that delicious colour it’s turning right now.” He nods. He slowly reaches up and undoes his tie, fingers curling under the knot until it lies flat against his chest.

“You get so worked up when I tease you. Why do you think I do it so much?”

“Because you’re annoying.” You try to sound as rude as you can, but your voice sounds awfully breathy.

Jason slowly undoes the buttons in his cuffs. “Nah, you love it. I can tell. I’m very good at reading people, see. And I’ve been testing you. How well you respond to me.” 

Fucking hell. What is going on right now? You think the logical thing to do is just leave, but Jason is now pulling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, rolling them carefully, and the sight is enough to throw every ounce of logic out the window.

“You wanna know why I didn’t let you in on the meetings? Because Micheal likes you. A lot.”

“I don’t-“

“You should’ve heard the way he spoke about you when you walked out the room.” 

He’s closer now, enough that if you walked three steps forward you’d be touching. 

“Made me punch him in the face. Kick him out the building right there and then. Did you know that?”

Your heart stutters in your chest, hope fluttering in your stomach. “No. I didn’t.”

He just nods again. And his eyes don’t leave you for a second, not even when you shamelessly take in the sight of him in front of you.

“I was jealous, you see. But it was dumb of me to  be jealous because you don’t like him. You like me.”

You scoff, laughing nervously. You shake your head. “No. No, I don’t like you. What-“

“It’s why you’re so mad about the fact you weren’t there. You want me to notice you. You want my attention.” 

And he closes the distance between you two. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach up and touch you, but he doesn’t. His height is so much more obvious this close, and you have to look up to meet his eyes.

“You have it. You always have.” He swallows roughly. 

“So I’m giving you a choice. You can leave right now, and it won’t change anything between us, and we can pretend this never happened.”

You just look at him. You don’t think you could speak if you tried. Not when he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

“Or you can stay. And I’ll give you that attention you’ve been begging for.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

He’s waiting. He’s waiting patiently but you can see the flicker of doubt and rejection growing bigger in his eyes. And you think about how much you hate him, how angry he makes you feel, how much he goes out of his way to tease you, how mad you were literally seconds ago.

And you reach up and kiss him.

It’s hot and heavy and desperate, and you feel like two teenagers hooking up before your parents get home. His hands slide up your waist, your chest, land on your face to pull you closer.

“Knew it, I knew you liked me.” He says between kisses, breathing hard.

“Shut up.” You mumble kissing him harder.

Your lipstick stains his mouth and your stomach turns at the sight. Jason fingers the collar of your blouse, the deep red fabric sliding between his fingers. 

“You know my favourite colour is red?”

“I do now.”  

He smirks into your skin, kissing down to the small triangle of skin showing from your three open buttons. He sucks a mark into your skin and you sigh, hand tangling in his hair. 

“You’re so soft. Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, immediately reaching up to help him unbotton it.

Your shirt falls to the floor as it slides off your back and Jason groans at the sight of you in front of him. You smile slightly, face heating a little at those eyes looking at you so hard. 

“Like what you see?”

He just nods, hands reaching back to fumble with your bra. It brings his face closer and you press a kiss on his lips again, tongue tangling with his. His fingers stutter in their movements, but the bite to his bottom lips spurs him back to action. Your bra joins your shirt, and his hands reach up and cup your chest, calloused hands massaging your skin, thumb brushing against your nipple. You sigh, head leaning back on the door.

You jolt slightly as he pinches one hard, and you glare at him. He just kisses you again. 

“I love when you look at me like that.”

“Masochist.”

“Oh, you don’t even know, baby.”

You pinches your nipple again and swallows your protests in his mouth. Your hands travel against his chest, trying to unbutton his shirt. He stops his ministrations on your breast to grab both your hands in one of his.

“No touching.”

“I’m literally half naked and you’re still fully dressed. This doesn’t feel very fair.”

Jason just grins. “I wanna take my time with you. I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

His words distract you enough that you don’t react immediately when he kneels down, pushing your skirt up past your thighs and bunching it around your waist. He toys with your underwear and your face burns.

“Jason-“

“You need to be quiet, okay?” He reaches up and locks his office door, his eyes focused on something different for once.

“Okay. That’s fine.” You nod frantically, gripping his shoulder for support.

Jason slides your underwear down your legs, lifting up your feet so he can throw them to the side. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and you wonder how mortifying it would be if someone walked in, saw how exposed you were and the pure lust that Jason is looking at you with. He presses a kiss to the side of your leg, travelling up slowly.

“Fucking hell, Jason, come on.” You whine.

He tuts, biting the soft skin on your thigh. “Let me savour this.”

“Savour it faster. I’d have thought you of all-“

And you’re interrupted as Jason licks a stripe up your cunt, tongue dipping in to graze against your clit. You gasp slightly, and it spurs him on, licking deeper and faster, and you’re embarrassed at how wet you sound from just kissing him. But you don’t have much time to be embarrassed because your eyes are fluttering shut as he eats you with a fervour that makes your skin flush.

And of course Jason is the best head you’ve ever had, because of course Jason needs to be the best at everything. He sucks your clit once, twice and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your moans. He grins, bringing his hands up to spread your lips open.

“You like that, huh? Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive.” 

He kisses your lips and you sigh, hands tugging at his hair. He groans as you do so, and you’ll remember that little tidbit for later. Your breathing stutters more as he speed ships ministrations, and with each muffled moan and twitch of your hips he draws you closer and closer to finish. And it’s after one more long, exaggerated suck of your clit that you cum, and he drags you through it.

“Oh, such a pretty mess for me.” He groans, and you twitch as his fingers slap your cunt once.

You feel like you might pass out, but when he stands back up you can see yourself glistening on his lips. And when he starts unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a six-pack (you were right before) you think you could go another hundred times. You’re about to slip of your heels but he tells you to keep them on. It’s hotter, apparently.

He pulls you over to his desk and you watch the ripple of muscle in his back. He leans you against his desk. You let your hands trace down his body, muscles and abs stretching beneath your skin. The rush from before feels different now, and you want to savour him too.

“Fuck, you’re so ripped.”

He laughs, nosing the crook of your neck. He licks a stripe against your pulse and you push him away.

“Hey, no marks. Visible ones, at least.” You scold and he rolls his eyes.

He traces lightly over the ones he left earlier. Looking at you fondly. You reach down and unbuckle his belt. You slide it out slowly, placing it on the desk. He just watches you closely.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now.”

You smile bashfully. Your hair is a mess where he’d been tangling it in his hands, your chest covered in marks and your skirt wrinkles from where it’s still bunched at your waist. You’re sure you look a mess, but you appreciate the thought. 

“Are you gonna fuck me now?”

Jason’s breathes deeply, and his hold on your waist tightens as you unbutton his trousers. 

“That what you want?”

“Mhm.”

He places your hands at your side. Kisses into your mouth once more, wet and teasing. And when his hand reaches into his boxers you have to stop your mouth from dropping, because, of course he’s as well endowed as he is.

“You like what you see?” He teases and you sigh.

He leans forward until his forehead brushes yours, and he guides himself to your entrance. And just waits. You buck your hips and it pushes him against your clit and you whine.

“Jason. What are you waiting for?”

“Tell me what you want.”

You glare at him. “You know what I want.”

“No, I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” 

Your face heats slightly. “I. I want you to fuck me.”

Jason nods. “Again. Without the stutter this time.”

Fucking hell. “I want you to fuck me, Jason. Please, oh please will you- fuck!”

And he presses into you so suddenly, and fills you up in a way that has your mouth open in a silent scream, your head falls on his shoulder, nails digging into his back. He doesn’t move, lets you adjust for a moment, and when he does, he drags deliciously against your walls. He’s so thick, and you moan as he moves faster.

“You’re doing so well. Taking me so well.” He moans into your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

The room smells like sweat and sex, and it’s so easy to forget everything when your eyes are screwed shut and he is leaning his arms either side of you, bracing himself on his desk.  

It’s not so easy to forget when someone knocks at his office door. It’s then you remember that you’re actually at work and you are having sex at work in your coworker’s office at work. 

You and Jason immediately freeze, and you think you might die if the two of you get caught.

“Who is it?” 

“It is Star!”

You curse under your breath, leaning your head on his chest. He runs a hand through your hair. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes. I just had some papers to give you. And also Y/N was very angry with you.”

Jason grins down at you. “Really?”

“Yes. Did you speak to her?”

He nods. “Mhm we hashed things out. She understood that I was right, and it was fine.”

You scowl at him. Star tries the door again and he rattles some excuse about how he’s in an online meeting. You then remember the position the two of you are in, and you think a little bit of payback is necessary.

“Yeah, when I finish off we can- fuck.” He groans as you push your hips forward, and he fixes you with a look so dangerous it nearly makes you stop. Nearly.

“Is everything okay?” Star yells.

“Yes! Yes I just- I- I stubbed my toe.” Jason squeezed out.

“Oh. Would you like me to bring some first-aid?”

“Not necessary and I’m really sorry but I need to go. Just leave the papers at the door.”

“Okay. Goodbye!”

He waits a second until he hears her walking away, before he thrusts into you harshly and you gasp.

“You think that’s funny?”

You moan, bracing yourself on his chest. “A-A little.” You grin.

“Yeah?”

And then he lifts you up effortlessly, like you weight nothing, sitting you on his desk. And like this he can reach that spot that only so many men knew even existed, and you have to bite your fist to keep from screaming. And he’s consistent, pumping into you long and hard every time. His brow sweats and you can feel tears brimming in your eyes.

“You like that?”

You can’t even respond. Just try to keep your noises to a minimum.

“Aw, why are we so quiet now? Where’d all that confidence go?” He drawls, and some tears do fall when his fingers reach down to rub fast circles on your clit.

“Want you to cum for me. And I want you to look at me when you do it. I wanna see.”

And the eye contact is so intimate, and you can’t imagine that just yesterday you were loathing at the thought of him. And when you cum on his fingers his face scrunches as you tighten around him. 

“That’s my good girl. Fuck, so good for me.” He mumbles.

He doesn’t stop though. He still hasn’t finished and you don’t know if you can take it. You tell him as much and he shakes his head.

“You can. I know you can, baby. Because you’re so needy for it. Letting me fuck you in my office at work. Anyone could hear you, could walk in. And see you spread on my desk like this..” He says, his words interrupted by heavy breaths and stutters.

And it’s only a few seconds before you break away from the overstimulation and it feels good again. You nails scratch against his back and kisses your chest, your neck, your face. Whatever he can get his lips on.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Want you to come with me, yeah?”

“Jason, no, I- I can’t.”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Cum one more time. I know you got it in you, baby. 

You shake your head but there’s no protests on your lips as his fingers find your clit once more. And its to the sounds of the two of you breathing and moaning and Jason’s whispered praises that you both finish, and he whimpers, and you think you can die happy.

“Baby, you did so well.” He sighs.

He reaches down again. Before you can tell him to really fuck off, you feel the familiar lace of you underwear being slipped around your heels, your feet. He drags them up your leg and he stands you up, and you have to hold onto his arm so you don’t fall. He pulls up your underwear and you wince, the feeling of his cum still inside of you, and he pulls down your skirt and pats your ass.

“Jason. This is gross, how am I gonna work for the next three hours like this?”

“You can go home and shower. Tell them you’re sick.”

“With your cum dripping down my legs?” You drawl.

“Think of it as a little reminder of me on your way.”

—————————————————————————-

ugh jason Todd let’s make OUUTTTTTTTTT. My last jason Todd fic is on like 500 notes!!!!! Thank u sm for the love everyone

If u couldn’t tell I like writing characters in just the everyday life.. I love an alternate universe and I was watching suits and that’s how this fic came to be!

For those new to my account, this is the third NSFW fic I’ve written so plz be nice 😖 I have also never felt the touch of a man so… this is also probably inaccurate

And I also just wanna say thank you so much to every who leaves comments and reposts and likes my stuff. It genuinely means so so much to me that you enjoy the work I put out, because I love writing it!

anyways I hope u all enjoyed 🩷 I am struggling to think of ideas, so now is the best time to leave me some asks!!

[wonkizz]

to be or not to be: brat

jungwon x older!fmr genre: smut warnings: usage of noona, cunnilingus, fellatio, pretty vanilla smut (not great), begging, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering wc: 2.3k

Bratty pop stars weren't anything new to you. You’ve dealt with enough to know their type.

They party day and night to escape from the lives that they claim have plagued them.

You don’t fully understand because you’re not famous like them, but you understand the concept.

One minute you’re a regular person, the next you’re a star in the eyes of everyone.

You don’t blame them for acting out the way they do sometimes. You try to be understanding and listen to their frustrations, although you’re not a therapist and some of them definitely need that.

You’ve been assigned as a new manager for pop star Yang Jungwon.

He made his entrance to the entertainment industry 4 years ago and is just now having his “rebellious stage”.

Whatever, again, nothing new to you.

You’re meeting him for the first time today, anticipating the same as you always do.

Rude, closed off, not willing to talk.

So you can only be surprised as Yang Jungwon walks in, greeting you warmly.

“Hi, I’m Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re confused. Where’s the snide remarks? The cold exterior?

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jungwon.”

You both sit in the meeting about you being his new manager, but you’re barely paying attention.

You didn’t realize how attractive he is.

His features are strong but give off a unique softness.

His eyes are especially captivating.

They remind you of boba balls, funnily enough.

You’re soon tasked with driving Jungwon back to his apartment, as the meeting was his only schedule of the day.

The car ride is silent, until you break it with your curiosity.

“Not to be rude, but why aren’t you more…bratty?” You ask Jungwon who soon begins to giggle in his seat.

“The whole rebellious thing is just an act the company wanted to put me on to get attention.”

Oh, that would explain it.

“But you already have millions of fans, why the need for possible bad publicity?”

Jungwon shrugs, “I don’t know, to be honest. I just do what they tell me.”

“Well, you still probably struggle with this life sometimes, no?”

“I do! Like any other celebrity, I do. But I don’t see the point in acting out over it. It was my choice to become this and I have to own it.”

You smile, hoping he catches it, “That’s a very mature mindset to have, Jungwon.”

“Thank you, noona. Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Of course!” You nod, “I want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Can I be honest then?” Jungwon asks.

You nod, waiting.

“The reason you became my manager so suddenly is because.. I saw you at a party a few weeks ago and I thought you were pretty. I wanted to know who you were so I got my team involved.”

Your mind halts for a moment. He found you pretty?

Does he feel some type of way about you?

“I’m flattered, Jungwon. I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I’m sorry, you probably feel weirded out but I couldn’t help it.” Out of the corner of your eye, you swear he’s pouting, like he just got scolded.

“I’m not weirded out, Jungwon. Like I said, I’m flattered. I find you very handsome myself. When they said I’d be working with you, I got excited. Even though I thought you’d be a brat.”

That gets a chuckle out of him and you laugh along.

The conversation flows more easily after that.

When you reach the address that was put into your gps, you’re surprised to see your own complex come into view.

“You live here?” You ask incredulously, “There’s no way! I live here too.”

Jungwon looks just as amazed as you.

“That’s kinda convenient,” he says.

You park in the building's private garage before making your way to the elevator.

You’re both even more shocked when you reach for the same floor.

“Don’t tell me we’ve lived so close and never met?” Jungwon says.

“Maybe it’s fate,” you respond as he smiles at you.

When you reach Jungwon’s door, you point to your own door down the hall, “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

You wait until Jungwon is about to shut his door, when suddenly it opens again.

He looks almost shameful as he asks, “Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

You know you shouldn’t, he’s supposed to be your responsibility, but you can’t help yourself, “Sure.”

He lets you in, checking to make sure no one is present before closing the door.

His apartment is like the word cozy defined.

The furniture is minimal but not so little to feel empty.

It all matches with each other, quite fine taste if you say so yourself.

“I like it,” you praise, “it’s got a nice homey feel.”

You take your shoes off at the door as Jungwon offers you slippers.

“I actually don’t know what we’re having for dinner, I figured I would just take the chance and ask,” Jungwon says sheepishly, blushing.

You excuse him with a wave of your hand, “How about we just order out?”

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

You end up ordering Korean food, your favorites as well as Jungwon’s.

Once you’ve eaten and cleaned up, Jungwon suggests relaxing for a bit.

As you sit on his couch making quiet conversation, you think about the fact that you’ve never done this with other employers you’ve worked for.

Why is Jungwon the exception to that?

Is it because you’re attracted to him?

That’s so unprofessional, you know it is, but…is it that bad?

“What's going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jungwon’s voice breaks your thoughts, snapping you out of your trance.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but you decide being bold is the way to go.

“I was thinking about you.”

He looks directly into your eyes, his own swarming with something you can’t pinpoint just yet.

“What about me?”

You laugh as you think about it, “I was expecting some angry, cold, closed off person. Yet I got warmth and kindness instead. It’s a nice change.”

“I was thinking about you too,” Jungwon says. “Thinking about how you’d sound, what you’d look like up close. How you’d greet me, what you’d think of me. Then I started thinking about other things once we met.”

“Like what?” You smile as you ask.

“Like what your voice would sound like when you’re moaning my name. Or what you’d feel like wrapped around me. I’m still thinking about it. I can’t stop and I know I shouldn’t but…”

As he trails off, the atmosphere instantly changes.

You would blush, if it weren’t for the fact that your mind was thinking the same things.

Slowly, you lift yourself onto your knees, making your way to where Jungwon sits.

His arms welcome you, wrapping around your waist as your lips slot against his.

Your hands make their way up, gripping the back of his neck as you sit right in his lap.

Lips moving ferociously, your tongues intersect.

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan.

His hands move down your waist, coming to grip your ass.

He kneads it, essentially grinding you back and forth over his lap.

You can feel his cock harden beneath his pants.

Pulling away, you stroke the sides of his face, smiling gently as he pants.

“You want me to make you feel good, Wonnie?”

“Please, noona. Need you so bad.”

You go down on your knees, rubbing Jungwon’s thighs as he waits in anticipation.

You unzip his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear as he lifts his hips to help you.

His cock is too pretty for this world, at least in your eyes. The tip is shining with precum as you take the tip of your finger to rub it around, releasing even more.

Jungwon throws his head back, groaning pitifully.

You spit into your hand, lathering his cock with it, beginning to jerk him off.

“Please, noona, please.”

“What do you want?” You’re teasing him and he hates it, but he knows you won’t relent.

“Please suck my cock, noona. I’m begging.”

“Whatever my pretty boy wants.”

You take him in your mouth, slowly but surely.

Sucking the tip, you moan at the taste of his precum, becoming addicted to it almost immediately.

You begin to bob your head, taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.

He wants to grip your hair so badly, you can tell but he doesn’t want to hurt you. You take his hands, guiding them to your head as he gently grips your hair.

Jungwon uses his hands to gently guide you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, noona. Feels so good.”

His moans and swears get louder as you continue. You swirl your tongue around his cock, focusing on the tip as his grip lightens, you use your hand to jerk what’s not in your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, noona. Please let me cum,” Jungwon whines, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper.

You slide him out of your mouth, continuing to jerk him off. “Cum in my mouth, Jungwon.”

Opening your mouth to present your tongue, Jungwon lets out a final huff, cumming in your mouth.

You swallow it eagerly and pump him through his orgasm.

His breathing is heavy as he calms down, but he’s not finished yet.

Jungwon pulls you up, pressing your lips together once more, tasting himself on your lips.

“Can we go to my room?” He asks.

You nod.

He takes your hand, leading you down the hall to his bedroom.

The door is open and unlike the living room, his bedroom is a bit more decorated. But not with furniture. He has figurines galore decorating his room.

You can’t help but find him even cuter than you did before.

Cute when he begs, and cute without even trying.

He lays you down on the bed gently, like you’re fragile and going to break.

“Can I please you, noona?”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Jungwon.”

He takes your words as a chance to discard your clothing as well as his own.

Your naked body is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He begins littering kisses across your neck and chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it while playing with the other.

He swirled his tongue around it until it hardened, then nipped at it, making you moan in delight.

Your hands find his blonde hair, gripping it tightly between your fingers.

He gives attention to the other nipple, doing the same as before, then leading his kisses down your stomach to your cunt.

“You’re soaking wet, noona. All for me?”

It’s his turn to tease you, but you don’t give into it.

“All for you, Won. Are you gonna please me?”

“Yes, noona.”

With that, he dives into your cunt. He licks through your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue before swallowing it enthusiastically.

He brings his attention to your clit, nipping and sucking at the bud, making you jerk and moan.

As he swirls his tongue around it, a finger makes its way to your hole, entering you hesitantly.

You sigh at the feeling. It’s been a while since you had time to please yourself.

But it feels so much better when it’s someone else.

As Jungwon fingers you and plays with your cunt, your own hands are busy playing with your breasts,

tweaking your nipples to gain even more pleasure.

He adds another finger to the first, fingering you at a moderate pace.

You can feel yourself about to cum, and you warn Jungwon with a tug on his hair.

He continues regardless, wanting nothing more than for you to come in his mouth like he did.

You whine as your body thrashes lightly, the pleasure almost becoming too much.

“I’m gonna cum, Jungwon, please!”

His fingers speed up as well as his tongue and you’re cumming before you can even say something.

Jungwon takes all your come with vigor, the slurping sounds making you blush.

As you come down from your high, Jungwon pulls away from your cunt.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod, “Give it to me.”

He pumps his cock a few times before rubbing it against your cunt, collecting your arousal on it.

Just when you’re about to find yourself begging, he finally pushes inside you.

You both groan, you at the intrusion and him at the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re sucking me in, noona.”

He lets you adjust for a few moments, before slowly starting to thrust.

In and out, in and out. All you hear is the sound of skin slapping against skin as your sweaty body slides against his.

You pull him down by his hair, connecting your lips in a searing kiss.

“Faster, Wonnie,” you say against his lips.

Jungwon speeds up, fucking you vigorously.

Your moans are getting louder and higher by the second, filling the room along with his grunts.

“‘M gonna cum in this pussy, right noona?”

“Yes Jungwon, yes! Cum inside, I need it!”

His pace is almost animalistic at this point, fucking your so hard your cunt starts to ache.

You hold onto him tightly as both your orgasms wash over you.

Feeling his cum fill you up is exhilarating, and he feels the same as your own orgasm splashes against him.

As he rides you both through your highs, you begin to calm down. That was the best orgasm you’ve had in a long time.

Jungwon leans down to kiss you gently. “Was it okay?”

You hum, “More than okay. I needed that.”

Jungwon lays down beside you as you both breathe somewhat heavily.

“So… how are we gonna explain this to the team?”

wonkizz 2025

[usafphantom2]

#TomcatTail

#TomcatTuesday

That Time at Top Gun I Got Jumped by an F-5

Disclaimer: This #TomcatTail occurred almost 30 years ago and while I’ve got the lion’s share of the details correct, there may be a few errors but not in anything substantive to the story. Sorry, I’m old.

Getting selected to attend Top Gun in March of 1995 was pretty cool. Back in those days, TG was still at NAS Miramar so a good bit of training occurred in the Top Gun hangar and out over the water off San Diego. Other elements of training involved training ranges near El Centro/Yuma, Fallon, Nevada and China Lake, CA (emitter hop). All in all it was a great experience but it did have a couple “others”.

First, both the selected pilot and RIO are supposed to be cruise qualified, having done a deployment as they would likely become Pilot and RIO training officers after they graduated. Unfortunately, the luck of the draw had it that a non-cruise-experienced RIO got the nod to attend with me which made it just a bit more challenging. No dig on my RIO, it’s a really hard thing for anyone to do, but it made for some extra work on me in a learning environment.

The second “other” – and I know you aviators out there will be shaking your head in recognition – was that when I went through there was a HUGE budget problem in the flying hour program: not enough money for gas (when is there, right??). My CO’s solution was to only partially fill all the jets for each flight (internal fuel only) and NOT fill the drop tanks. Your normal fuel load of 20,000 pounds was reduced to 16,000 pounds (yes, 20% reduction). Not my favorite CO, BTW. I asked “can I at least take the drop tanks off so I don’t have the drag penalty?”, his answer was, in a word, “no.” D*ck. Any other classmates have this problem? Nope. Double D*ck.

That was my challenge all the way through Top Gun; an inexperienced RIO (still love him like a brother) and a 20% fuel penalty for every flight. My RIO got better pretty quickly and generally rose to the occasion, and for my part (having always been a Friend of Maintenance or FOM) I managed to often times sweet talk the Sailors fueling the jet to “accidentally” fill up the drops. I always had a great relationship with Sailors (my Dad was Enlisted before he became a Naval Aviator), so it wasn’t that hard to get ‘em to help me out on occasion.

It was a pretty lengthy syllabus (I counted 28 hops in my logbook just now) with your standard “small to big” training focus. 1v1s, 2v2s, 4v4s, the infamous “Flanker Hop” against high alt/high speed Vipers, threat emitters at China Lake, and Strike missions around Fallon, Nevada. The instructors were absolutely top notch and literally everything you did (from brief, to flight, to fight, to debrief) was critiqued. It’s like applying Blue Angel precision to the fighter environment.

With that, we come to the story of getting jumped by an F-5. As I recall, the hop was a four plane Self Escort Strike (Fighter/Bomber configuration) at the training range around Fallon, Nevada carrying two each inert Mk 82s (cement 500lb bombs). We’d fight our way in from the east on the north side of the range, hang a left at the right time to attack the Bravo 19 target complex to the south, and egress/hook out to the west after that (picture counter-clockwise flow). We were in a four plane and the section of F-14Bs were in the lead, and I was Dash-2 in the section of F-14As.

Side note – one crew per squadron was selected per class so they generally ran 2 sections of Tomcats and two sections of Hornets (maybe a few more). At the time, I was in VF-24 in the F-14A so I got crewed up with another Pilot/RIO [admission – for the LIFE of me I can’t remember their squadron……VF-213?.....31?... ...dunno….it was 1995 and they were flying A’s out of Miramar] and we’d swap leads every other mission/syllabus hop. Today “Stinky” was in the lead (not his real callsign).

We started the run from the east headed west along the northern boundary of the working area. We were one mile combat spread (each jet 1 mile apart) in a line abreast and I was on the far right (northernmost fighter); lead fighter in the B was on the far left and Stinky was 1 mile to my left. Break those hands out again if it helps. Looks about like this:

◄ - Dash 4 (me)

◄ - Dash 3 (Stinky)

◄ - Dash 2 (F-14B)

◄ - Dash 1 (Lead F-14B)

The expectation is that we’d see some long-range contacts (we did) and fire some BVR weapons (we did) and then make our way to the target area and get jumped either in the middle during our turn south (we did) or immediately off the target after we released (we did).

So we’re “haulin’ the chili” as we used to say, ingressing at 480kts and nearing the swing south. Parenthetically, we liked to travel at speeds in multiples of 60 because that made the time/distance calculation easier…..480kts = 8 miles a minute means 16 miles away = 2 minutes. We hit the turn point and start this sweeping gentle “wheel” to the left and steady up on a southerly heading as I get back in position having been on the outside of the turn. Right when we settle back in and we’re all 1-mile line abreast, my RIO shouts out on the tactical frequency “BOGEY RIGHT THREE O’CLOCK ONE MILE!!!” I look over and sure enough there’s an F-5 at one mile away on my altitude pointing right at me. Dang it.

Here’s where it gets funny. Stinky calls out on the radio “We’re clear!”, meaning he thinks we don’t need to engage and can blow through. Well yes, Stinky, YOU are clear because the F-5 is TWO miles from YOU and has no chance of catching YOU, but I’VE got him in my knickers and I HAVE to honor his presence and engage. So I do.

INTERMISSION – I will say that Stinky was a resoundingly gifted Tomcat pilot and was as good at ACM as anyone, but this was NOT the first time he’d left me to engage as he blew through. It happened on a previous 2 plane ingress; I got jumped and he kept going. Not the coolest move, naturally, and the Instructors were savage in their critique but honestly I didn’t have to worry about it after Top Gun because he wasn’t in my squadron. We now return you to your previously schedule dogfight.

So bam, max performance turn to the right to take the F-5 down my right side close aboard to try and neutralize the threat and then figure out what’s next. I figure that if I want to have a snowballs chance in hell to get back to my division, I had to steer the fight properly. So he goes down my right side and I take the fight two circle (continue the right turn, but mostly in the vertical), come out of blower to get the speed down and turn rate to increase quickly and pull hard to get nose on. It works pretty well because the F-5 turns about like a Phantom (meaning: it doesn’t). I get the nose to rate around quickly and pull down to get nose on the F-5 and call a quick “Fox 2” on him. Fortunately for me, we’re kind of pointing the way we were going originally, so it’s blowers to Zone 5 and try and find our buddies. Honestly, I think that was a gift from the Instructor to configure it so I’d bag him and be able to continue. They were always good like that.

My RIO finds them on the pulse scope pretty quickly; they’re a number of miles ahead but we’re heading down hill toward them in full grunt, haulin’ and extra helping of chili. I get a visual and aim for the Dash-4 position to the right of Stinky where I was previously. By this time we’re getting close to the roll in point on the Bravo 19 target. The plan is to do a “John Wayne Left”, where – just like in the movies – we all roll in on the target leftward, one after another. We’ll likely even mentally make that noise from those movies…..”Brrrrr…..Brrrrrr…..Brrrrrr”. The timing works out absolutely perfectly (rather be lucky than good). I’m sliding up into position when Dash 1 rolls left….Dash 2 goes……my RIO gets Air-to-Ground read into the system, good symbology…..Stinky goes….then I go.

Master Arm on, roll left, pull nose to the target, 45° dive set, symbology tracking (a vertical line through the target with a que marker marching down to a release marker), que marker hits release marker, press the bomb button (“pickle”), thump-thump, and we’re off target. I pull out hard, roll wings left to look back briefly at the target (a hit, or at least close enough) and find and join on Stinky in spread again.

The B guys get jumped from the north now and me and Stinky have a couple bogies on our nose to the west. We’ve split into roughly separate sections so now it’s time to fight our way out. Fortunately for us, the bogies are right on our nose, so discretion being the better part of valor we blow through as we accelerate through the number at about 5,000 feet off the deck. Not a good idea to hang out over simulated bad guy country after you just bombed the shit out of ‘em. “Evaluate the bug” says Stinky…..”good bug” says the Instructor. Success.

We come back for the debrief and it goes fairly well. For those that haven’t been through, “fairly well” means you get talked to about each and every point of the flight for about 3 hours. Stinky got savaged for not honoring the threat to his wingman but again, no big deal to me. And then we go to the tapes to evaluate our strike run. It comes to my turn and we roll tape. The vertical line (Bomb Fall Line, I think) tracks over the target, que hits, bombs come off, and the instructor hits pause.

“So how fast were you going at release?” Uh oh. I had no idea. So you know, there are actually limits to how fast you can drop ordnance based on how much testing had been done on the airframe. At that point the Tomcat wasn’t cleared for supersonic release. Conjecture was that depending on speed and airflow that a released bomb may get “stuck” in the air around the jet and clatter around in the tunnel between the engines. On the “good/bad scale”, that’s clearly on “bad.”

“I’m not sure, Sir. I was trying to get into position on time to roll in with the division and I didn’t check.”

“Well, based on what we could see on radar, you joined your division nearly supersonic, right around 600 knots. Then you rolled in, so I figure you may have dropped past the number. Congratulations, you’re a test pilot.”

Oops. “Uhhh…..thank you Sir.” What a time to be alive!

@RSE_vb via X

[kikyoupdates]

Infatuated ⭑˚💌⭑ 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑛𝑑

yandere!bnha x reader

yandere, reverse harem, bnha x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

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If someone had asked you a few hours ago how you would be spending your day, you could never have predicted it would be like this.

There's a man in front of you, so incredibly gaunt that you might’ve mistaken him for a skeleton. His cheeks are completely sunken in, practically hollow, and nearly every time he speaks, blood spews out of his mouth. 

This man is the greatest hero in the world, All Might. 

Honestly, you're still struggling to make sense of it. Today has been one big series of misadventures. Starting with Katsuki’s merciless bullying of Izuku at school, then being attacked by some slime villain that attempted to take Izuku’s body hostage, to finally being rescued by All Might—only to discover that there's far more to him than meets the eye.  

Izuku is especially horrified, since he’s idolized All Might for as long as you can remember.  

“But... how?” he gapes. “Are you really All Might? No... it can’t be real. I just don’t understand how this could possibly be true...”  

You can't really believe it either, at least not until All Might lets out a weary sigh and lifts up his shirt, revealing a gruesome wound that has you wondering how he's even still alive right now. Apparently, he got that injury from a villain several years ago, and the aftereffects are so severe that it has permanently weakened him. You're used to seeing the All Might that everyone else knows—that blindingly-bright, impressively muscular man who never stops smiling, no matter what. But the All Might standing in front of you right now couldn't be any more different. He isn't smiling, nor does he give off the impression of someone you can entrust with your life.  

He isn't superhuman. He is flawed and weak, just like the average person.  

“I can’t work as a hero for more than three hours per day,” All Might explains grimly. “That’s my limit. I was trying so hard to get away from you kids... but I guess the secret’s out now. This is my true form. My body just isn’t what it used to be. I’ve kept this hidden from the public, because I can only imagine how frightened people would be if they found out about my current state. No matter what, the Symbol of Peace cannot succumb to the forces of evil.”  

Izuku splutters hopelessly. “But... but... whenever you save people, you’re always smiling and laughing. You always look so sure of yourself, and—”  

“The reason I laugh isn’t because I’m not scared. I do it to distract myself from the constant fear and pressure weighing me down. Pro heroes must always put their lives on the line. It’s an incredibly dangerous job, and I doubt you’d ever find a hero who doesn’t get scared.” All Might pauses, then flashes Izuku a sympathetic look. “Earlier, you asked me if someone who is Quirkless can still become a hero. Knowing what I know about the hero profession, and all the dangers that come with it... I just can’t in good conscience bring myself to tell you that it’s possible.”  

The second All Might utters those words, all the color drains from Izuku’s cheeks. You can see that he’s broken out into a cold sweat, and he's struggling to breathe evenly, veering dangerously close to a state of hyperventilation. 

“I... see,” is all he manages to respond, staring blankly at the ground.  

All Might tries to force a smile, but it isn't very reassuring. “If you care about saving people, you can always go into police work. The police don’t often receive the acknowledgment they deserve, but it is nonetheless an admirable profession. I can’t possibly condemn someone that has a dream. It’s a good thing to push yourself and try to reach your goals. But at the same time... you have to see reality for what it is, kid.”  

Just like that, he leaves, and you can tell that Izuku’s entire world has just shattered.  

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight. “Don’t listen to him,” you try to encourage. “Just because there aren’t any Quirkless heroes yet doesn’t mean there can’t be. It’s okay, Izuku. You can still try. Nothing is set in stone.”  

Under ordinary circumstances, this might've worked. Granted, it isn't as if you can just snap your fingers and make everything okay all of a sudden, but you normally succeed in pacifying Izuku whenever he's going through a particularly rough patch. After hugging him and consoling him for a while, he usually calms down.  

Unfortunately, this situation is far from ordinary, and thus, your attempts fall flat.  

“Thanks, [Name].” Izuku’s eyes are already bloodshot and brimming with tears. He is thanking you, but you aren't even sure what for, considering how utterly broken he looks. “I’ll... be alright. All Might isn’t wrong. I need to see reality for what it is. I’ve been such an idiot, all this time.”  

After staring into his vacant, tear-filled gaze, you feel like crying. But you don't , because that's the last thing Izuku needs right now. What use would you be if he ends up having to console you instead? For his sake, you have to stay positive.  

Or at the very least, look it.  

For a brief moment, you even consider using your Quirk to try and cheer him up. To put him under your control and make his mind dissociate, so that he won't have to feel the full intensity of his emotions right now. But doing that feels wrong, somehow. Especially if you don't have his explicit permission. In this moment, the most you can possibly do is keep on hugging him and make it abundantly clear just how much you believe in him, until he finally believes in himself.  

Still. It just isn't fair. What has Izuku done to deserve any of this? Is it really not enough that people like Katsuki keep tormenting him? Why is he now forced to watch his biggest role model turn his back on him?  

You are only fourteen years old, but you're realizing just how incredibly shitty life can be for some people.  

“I’m okay,” Izuku insists, although his expression is practically blank by now. “I’m really okay, [Name]. You don’t need to worry.”  

You smile weakly. “I know you are. Because you will become a hero. Today’s just been rough. Tomorrow will be better. I promise.”  

You refuse to let go of his hand while you walk. Part of you is worried that once you do, you might lose him forever. You fear that he might finally succumb to all the pressure and give up on his dream. Give up on everything.  

As it just so happens, though, life presents you with an opportunity. You hear loud chatter and spot a crowd of people gathered together. It doesn't take long for you to realize that all those people are probably watching heroes go head-to-head with a villain, and so, you pull Izuku in their direction, hoping that it will reignite the flame inside him that is on the verge of being snuffed.  

“Look, Izuku,” you beam. “I wonder who’s fighting today? Let’s watch the heroes kick some villain butt!”  

He's dragging his feet and looks visibly unenthusiastic, but old habits are hard to quit. Even as dejected as he is right now, he still can't stop himself from following you. It makes you hopeful that despite everything All Might said to him, he's still determined to do what he always dreamed of. 

It was your intention to lift his spirits, but in the process of pulling him along, you end up doing the exact opposite.  

There he is again—the slime villain that attacked the two of you earlier. But it just doesn't make any sense. You know for a fact that All Might captured him. Does that mean that he must have escaped at some point?  

“It’s my fault,” Izuku gasps, hurrying to clamp his palms over his mouth. “Oh god,” he breathes shakily, voice muffled. “All Might must have dropped him or something! If only I hadn’t been so selfish and just stayed out of his business!”  

You don't know what to say. Of course, you don't believe Izuku is to blame, but you are too petrified to say a damn word.  

Because the slime villain’s latest victim isn't just anyone—it's someone you know very, very well. 

Katsuki!  

He's struggling with all his might, desperately fighting to stay conscious and resist succumbing to the villain. Katsuki is strong. He has always been strong. Even so, that doesn't make him indestructible. And right now, as he struggles  to get enough air to even breathe, you can tell that he's terrified beyond words.  

You want to help. You really, really do, but your previous experience with the slime villain already proved that you're helpless to do a damn thing.  

More than anything, you're afraid of what might happen to you if you even try.  

Izuku, however, is different. Which is why, while you stand there, frozen stiff from fear, Izuku has already started running.  

You cry out to him, try to tell him that it's too dangerous, but he isn't listening. Despite being Quirkless, you know that Izuku is already more of a hero than most people could ever hope to be. That's why he doesn't hesitate for a moment to try and save someone, even when all the odds are stacked against him.

His bravery and selfless nature are what manage to finally spur you onwards, but when you try to run after him, one of the heroes on site pulls you back. 

“Don’t!” he insists. “What that kid just did was incredibly reckless! You’re not going anywhere! You could get seriously hurt!”  

The hero holds you in place, and you thrash and try to break free, even though you aren't a match for his strength. All the while, Izuku is doing everything he can possibly think of to try and free Katsuki from the slime villain. He throws his backpack at him, frantically pulls and claws at the slime to try and give Katsuki enough room to breathe—just anything.  

He must be scared. So scared that he probably can't even think straight, but even so, he doesn't give up.  

As a result, he manages to move the heart of a man who was convinced he’d already reached his limit for the day.  

All Might appears out of nowhere, back in the broad, muscular state you're used to seeing him in. Blood is spewing out of his mouth, so you can tell that he's pushing himself beyond measure, but that's because he and Izuku are one and the same. When faced with someone who is in dire need of help, they both have a tendency to act first, and think later.  

With All Might on the scene, the slime villain doesn't last much longer. You look on with tears in your eyes, shoulders sagging from relief when Izuku and Katsuki are finally both rescued. The villain’s amorphous body has splattered all over the place from the pressure of All Might’s punch, and it's safe to say that he’s been immobilized for good.  

It's over. This hellish day has finally come to an end.  

“Oh, Izuku,” you whimper, rushing straight over and wrapping him in a hug. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! I was so scared of what might happen to you...”  

He chuckles weakly, blushing while he leans into your touch. “I-I’m okay. I know what I did was reckless, but... seeing Kacchan like that, I couldn’t possibly ignore him. His eyes looked they were pleading for help.”  

“No, you did the right thing,” you insist. “You bought Katsuki enough time for All Might to act. You might’ve even been the one that inspired him to do so. I wish I could’ve run to help right away, like you did... but I was too scared. I’ve clearly still got a long way to go.”  

“That’s giving me too much credit. I really couldn’t accomplish anything on my own...”  

You expect that Izuku will be praised for his bravery, but instead, he is met with nothing but reprimands from some of the other heroes who reacted to the crisis. They berate him for charging headfirst into danger, without any concern for his own well-being. You try to point out that if not for Izuku, Katsuki might have already been done in by the time All Might showed up, but they aren't having it.  

On the other hand, from what you can tell, Katsuki is being showered with praise. His explosion Quirk is incredibly powerful, and that, paired with his resilience and tough nature, has clearly made a strong impression on the pros. They're all amazed that he held out for so long against the slime villain, when most people would hardly have lasted a few minutes.  

Katsuki is amazing, no doubt about it, but there's no mistaking how afraid he looked back there. No matter how headstrong and fearless he tries to act, at heart, he's still only a fourteen-year-old boy. 

For that reason, you figure that what he needs most of all right now is not to be praised incessantly, but for someone to show him some genuine concern.  

You hug Izuku one last time, stand up, then begin walking in Katsuki’s direction. 

Unfortunately, you don't make it very far.  

“Stay back,” Katsuki grits out, the veins in his forehead threatening to burst. “I know what’s going on in that stupid head of yours. I can tell based on that goddamn pitying expression you have. Stay back before I get really fucking mad.”  

You want to show him that you care. Even if he is horrible to Izuku at times, especially earlier today, he's still your long-time friend. You doubt you'll ever lose the soft spot you have for him. Is it really too much to ask that he lets his guard down and accepts your consideration, for crying out loud?  

“Katsuki—”  

“No,” he spits. “Shut the fuck and march back to shitty Deku’s side. He’s the one you’re so obssesed with anyways.”  

You shamefully look down at your feet. It seems like it's pointless to even try. No matter what you do , no matter what Izuku does, Katsuki keeps interpreting it as an insult. Izuku just tried to save his life, and yet Katsuki is still glaring at him as though he’s somehow been wronged.  

None of it makes any sense, and it hurts  to feel like things will never go back to the way they used to be.  

Heeding Katsuki’s words, you trudge back over to Izuku. It's time to leave. It's been a long, incredibly tiring day, for you too, but Izuku especially. He needs to get some rest and put all of this behind him. 

Right before you leave the scene, Katsuki makes sure to glare viciously in your direction one last time.  

“I never asked you to help me, piece of trash Deku,” he grits out. “I didn’t need your help. Got it? In fact, I saved myself. You didn’t do a goddamn thing! So, don’t expect me to owe you or some shit. You seriously piss me the hell off. Stay out of my life from now on and mind your fucking business.”  

Neither you nor Izuku say anything in response. A rational-minded person would have said ‘thanks’, or even, ‘I really appreciated what you tried to do.’ But Katsuki is just too stuck in his ways. He's determined to always make things out to be negative. He refuses to ever acknowledge that even he needs help sometimes.  

Katsuki’s lack of gratitude just makes Izuku’s sacrifice that much more noble, because you know for a fact he didn't expect anything in return.  

“You really are amazing, Izuku.” You smile gently, reaching down to grab his hand again. “I mean, the fact that you tried to save Katsuki without even thinking twice about it, even after he hurt you earlier today and said all those horrible things. That’s exactly why I know you’ll become a hero. Most people wouldn’t have been able to save someone who’d bullied them for so many years.”  

Izuku stares down at your hand and admires the way your fingers are interlocked with his. Unless you're imagining it, he looks like he's feeling a bit better now. At the very least, his expression isn't hollow and lifeless anymore. Perhaps he's just relieved that Katsuki is safe, or maybe he feels a small sense of pride over his heroic feat earlier. You have no way of knowing for sure.  

The two of you walk in silence, and neither of you seems willing to let go of the other’s hand. Izuku still can't forget All Might’s words from earlier, and even though he tried to help his former friend, he knows that still isn't enough for him to become a hero. He realizes now that without a Quirk, it's nothing but a baseless dream.  

Still, he's comforted by the fact that you think he's amazing. Maybe he can strive to become a police officer, like All Might suggested. He can still save people that way, and as long as you are by his side, then... 

Perhaps that alone is enough.  

Of course, you are none the wiser as to what thoughts are going through Izuku’s head. You don't know just how much he's fixating on you and placing you on a pedestal, unintentionally relying on you as his sole source of motivation and happiness. It's never a good thing for any one person to depend wholly on another, and if not for All Might’s sudden appearance, Izuku might have fallen further into his obsessive thoughts.  

“All Might?!” Izuku cries out. “But... what are you doing here? I could’ve sworn you were surrounded by reporters back there...”  

“I gave them the slip,” All Might chuckles. “I’m still the Number One hero, you know. More importantly, I had some things I wanted to say. Or rather, some corrections regarding what I said earlier.”  

You cock a brow, and Izuku can't help but do the same. Well, he’s come all this way for a reason, so you suppose you have no choice but to hear him out. You just hope he won't say more depressing stuff that would completely crush Izuku’s soul.  

However, much to your surprise, All Might doubles back and basically retracts his previous words. He admits to being inspired by Izuku’s courage and willingness to help save his friend, despite being Quirkless. Unlike before, All Might has nothing but praise for him. He apologizes for having dismissed him so quickly and recognizes that Quirk or not, Izuku has the heart of a hero.  

“You can become a hero.”  

They're the same words you've repeated to Izuku for the past ten years, but hearing them from a hero like All Might is understandably more impactful. Izuku is so moved that he can't help but crumple to his knees, and even though he was already crying, this time, they are happy tears.

You wrap your arms around him. Overwhelmed by emotion, it doesn't take long for you to start crying too.

You would be lying if you said you expected to hear from him again today. After all, you didn't exactly leave things off on a good note. But you are a forgiving person by nature, and again, you can't find it in you to completely resent Katsuki, even after all the scummy things he’s already done.

Perhaps you shouldn’t keep giving him more chances, but you do it anyways.

It's very much like him not explain anything and stick to his stubbornness. Honestly, though, in light of recent news, you're in a really good mood. You thought for sure that today would suck all the way until the end, but it had actually been rather incredible. 

All Might has chosen Izuku as his successor, and he is going to pass his Quirk onto him.  

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you heard him utter those words. You thought he was making things up just to screw with the both of you. But no, apparently All Might’s Quirk—One for All—is the type of Quirk that can be passed down from one person to the next. Izuku is going to have to train his butt off to get stronger, but if he succeeds, then he'll have a Quirk waiting for him. 

He isn't going to be Quirkless anymore, and the thought makes you so happy that you can hardly stop grinning.  

“What’s with that stupid look on your face?” Katsuki snaps. He's obviously peeved by how chipper you are, but unfortunately, you can't tell him why. All Might has sworn both you and Izuku to secrecy. One for All is purely confidential, and you aren't allowed to tell anyone, not even your own parents.  

Still, you physically can't wipe your smile off your face. Things are finally looking up for Izuku, and it's impossible to contain your excitement.  

“I watched a funny show earlier,” you brush off. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Anyways, what’s up? Why’d you call me out here?”  

For some reason, Katsuki glances away, unwilling to look you in the eye.  

“Deku didn’t save me,” he finally mutters. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.”  

“Huh? Are you still on about that?”  

You blink repeatedly. He really is ridiculous. When is he going to realize that he's way too fixated on Izuku? It isn't healthy. Izuku is perfectly content to just do his own thing and be nice to everyone. Katsuki's the one who keeps going out of his way to harass him for no reason. Back when he was younger, he always used to say that Izuku was obsessed with him, but it's so clearly the other way around.  

Still, you're in a really good mood right now, and you refuse to let Katsuki put a damper on it.  

“Okay, Katsuki.” You nod patiently and smile. “Izuku didn’t save you, it’s true. All Might was the one who saved you. Izuku was worried about you, because you know that’s just how he is. He worries about everyone. But I know he isn’t the one who defeated the slime villain or anything, so can we please just put this past us?”  

Katsuki clenches his fists. “And I’m saying that he had no reason to worry about me, because I was just fucking fine! All he ever does is look down on me. It’s like he thinks I’m this weak-ass bitch, and he’s so much better than I am.”  

“No,” you frown. “Like I said, he worries about everyone, not just you. You’re not the exception, Katsuki. Some people tend to worry more than others. That’s just the kind of person he is. Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean people can’t worry about you. I don’t get why you think it’s such a bad thing. It shows that they care. It means that they value you. It doesn’t mean they think you’re below them.”  

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me—least of all a Quirkless weakling like him,” he spits.  

You really don't know what else to say. You're always running in circles with this guy. He's just too tied up in his flawed way of thinking. He believes that any sort of concern directed his way is automatically some form of mockery. You wish you could help him think more clearly, but you just don't know how. 

“I care about you, Katsuki. I care about you, and that means I worry too. Even though I know you’re so much stronger than I am. Don’t you see that it’s not about being strong or weak? I care about you because you’re important to me. It’s just that simple.”  

For just a moment, Katsuki’s eyes widen, and he looks like he's finally starting to understand.  

He raises your hopes, only to immediately dash them. 

“I’m important to you,” he swallows. He's thankful for the dark of night, otherwise you would’ve noticed that he's blushing right now. “You mean that, right?”  

“Of course I do,” you nod. “I’ve known you for so long. You’re still my friend.”  

Katsuki just stares at you, and there's something weirdly ominous about the way he does it, without so much as blinking once.  

“If I’m so important to you, then tell Deku you never want to see him again.”  

“What?”  

You can't help the gasp that leaves your lips. Seriously, what in the world is he on about now? There's no way you're ever going to do something like that. He's acting crazy.  

“You know that’s never going to happen,” you grimace. “Just stop it, Katsuki. If that’s your idea of a joke, it really isn’t funny.”  

Katsuki’s eyes are completely wide. “Who said I was joking? You’re the one who started running your mouth about how important I am to you and all that shit. So, I’m calling your bluff. If I was actually important to you, then you would cut that shitty nerd out of your life, because you know just how much he gets under my skin. Unless you’re saying he’s more important to you than I am.”  

Before you can even muster up a response, Katsuki has already stepped closer to you. He grabs you by the hand, except unlike whenever you hold Izuku’s hand, this sensation is far from pleasant. Actually, it even borders on painful, because of how hard he keeps squeezing your fingers.  

It hurts, and quite frankly, he's freaking you out.  

“There’s no way you think that fucking loser is better than me... right?” Katsuki insists. He refuses to let go of your hand, despite the fact that you keep trying to shake him off. Everything about him right now, from the tone of his voice to that unsettling look in his eyes, just reeks of desperation. He only ever seems to get this desperate whenever Izuku is involved.  

That's what you believe, however, the reality is slightly different. 

You and Izuku together—that is what makes Katsuki’s blood boil like no other.  

“Katsuki, I don’t think either of you is better or worse,” you try to explain. By now, you’ve given up on trying to push him away or make him let go of your hand. You just hope that you can get him to calm down. “Please, can you just stop this? I really want all three of us to be friends again. I hate how things turned out.”  

Perhaps one day, in the distant future, the situation would improve. But if you asked Katsuki right now, he would rather die than ever make amends with that shitty freckled nerd. He hates Izuku with every fiber of his being, and not only because he's Quirkless.  

Because he's stolen you from him.  

“You don’t give a fuck about me,” Katsuki chuckles dryly. “I doubt you ever did. Deku was the one you always made googly eyes at. Stop pretending like you want anything to do with me. That kind of fake shit makes me sick to my goddamn stomach.”

You try to protest, but he's already walking away. He steps inside his house and slams the door shut, not even bothering to glance back in your direction.  

Katsuki is gone, and you are left outside in the cold, completely alone. You raise your head and look up at the sky. It's so endlessly vast and dark. Not a single star is in sight. You know that they're out there, somewhere, hidden behind a black veil, but since you can't actually see them, it does little to comfort you.  

Whatever happiness you felt earlier was clearly destined to be short-lived. The day has ended on an awful note after all.

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[shokveyv]

Ok i wanna make it very clear this isn't being said out of anger or hate but an small explanation of to why some people might get the wrong impression about the Sari x Sentinel art.

Imagine a family friend having seen a child grow up and had been around them through their childhood. So they have seen them grow up.

But the moment they become 18, they decide "This child i have seen as a baby, a child, a teen, I now want to date them" it comes of very predatory. And creepy.

It is in turn, odd for someone who grew up with an adult in their life. To being attacted to them even when they get older. It makes it seem like there some implications on the child's (now adult) side, that don't make it seem very innocent.

Sentinel is millions of years old. He has seen Sari grow up from a kid, to a teen, and now adult.

While yes they are now both consenting adults, but the implications behind this attraction is what is very suspicious.

I an not saying this was what you beleive in or intended. But your audience, esspcially your western audience might get the impression you do.

I also know English isn't your first language, so I hope this doesn't get lost in translation or come across as aggressive. It's not. I very much adore your work, this is the only time I've been kinda taken off gaurd by your content.

At the very least, I think you should change the way Adults sari outfit looks to make it very clear this isn't her teen self. And people's styles and outfits change when they get older too, so you could have fun coming up with that.

Again, this isn't made out of hate or anger. Just an explanation as to why people might feel so strongly about the art.

Thank you for context explanation to the Western view. I think I understand? It struggles though . Sentinel has never been family friend. He is enemy to human, sees Sari as infestation canon.

Canonical, Sentinel Prime few interact with Sari. Doesn't know the name! He never see alt mode [unless I misremember]. In story, not see Sari in ten or more years. On Cybertron ten year later. Sees Sari of her alt mode [it is a robot!] and he wonder who she is. He was not interest in her as organic [not as child, not as teen], canonical. Canon, he hate organic! Why be interest in her? Story, he works to get acclimatize to this organic form when! he learns she is not a robot only. The text you say is implying he has seen her grown. Canon, he did not care about her and did not acknowledge her more than a contamination [he is bad as Megatron MTMTE, wanting death of organic]. He doesn't recognize her when she reveals organic at first [it is how little he has ever seen for the Sari].

Canonically, she still a stranger to him.

Thank you for explaining the hesitation. It seem, there are many people don't understand in Japan, it is common for 10+ year ago, one child and adult meet, but in when child is to become adult, they may cross red string of fate and meet again! It is exposing xenophobia I did not expect. It is okay to misunderstand. It is not okay to insult my culture because one finds it icky.

Distressing, people say I should change her cloth. I not change cloth wardrobe from high school. I feel, I am being shamed. It is humiliating. There is something wrong with me for not changing my clothes... It was going to have her wear different cloth in comic, Sari is fashionista! ^^\ I was so excited to see the wear different dress and makeup cool! The drawing is cover of the full comic

I write about: "In my story, he not know of her robot form. Years later, he sees her on Cybertron in robot form. Wonders, "Who is she?" stalks her for many year until he finally gets the chance to ask more. She doesn't like him because he organic fears [he doesn't know robot-Sari is organic]. She ride with Drift for long time but as she grow, she finds divisive [Drift is become unstable], so strays alone. This is on top of fighting against the Megatron release from Trypticon. Sentinel losing Magnus status humbles him, Predacons become a major threat, Optimus Magnus, Sari starts to understand Sentinel is not as big mean as before. He grows as character. She begrudgingly accepts it

Sari not written to fall for Sentinel. Only recent in writing this story did I see to involve Sentinel [he had recent fall away from Magnus status, Optimus picks it up]. Is ten years of plot before she meets Sentinel as robot version on Cybertron. It distresses to see people calling me pedophile. I work on total story for 9 month.

But, people are not okay to read,s not okay to write character grows, mature, having adventures on the way. I regret writing this story, knows now people don't want to read stories of character beyond canon. The context is too burden on the psyche. I have learned my lesson. I will not write outside of canon again. I am a disappointment.

Sincerely for the explanation, is thanking you. Maybe it is better to keep Japan only release, then. It will be understood there. ? [I pay to have last comic translation to English, I did not want the xenophobia me of the past. I want to be better! but it is not going to be happy for English. I truly this doesn't portray as me hating English speaks].

[littlelostmabari]

This came to me last night in the hypnagogic state where all my fic ideas (good and bad) come from. No idea if this is anything but it begged to be written. Might make it into a series if the brain gremlins are obliging. Divider from strangergraphics-archive. Complete Fic List

And Death Follows

Arthur Morgan x grimreaper!reader.

Supernatural elements, death & dying, reader has female pronouns. 700 words.

Arthur should have died in New Austin a year ago, deep in the Grizzlies. Not even a noteworthy death: an ambush by some unknown bandits that would fall off the map three winters later. He was only passing through, on his way to meet Dutch and the new enforcer at Crenshaw Hills. He wasn't supposed to make it. You were there to claim his soul. You weren't supposed to leave until you had it.

It wasn't often that you were sent to claim a soul before it had died, to watch a man on the last day of his life, to watch him take his last breath. Most days you wandered, somewhere between the physical and the ethereal, finding the souls along your routes and releasing them so that they would not fester and become nightmares, hauntings, bad luck. But every so often a death was orchestrated years in advance, threads woven in some grand design that you were never privy to. You were called somewhere by whispers on the winds, meant to shepherd the one poor soul the Fates had doomed, and then return to your years of wanderings. That was the protocol, and you'd never needed to second guess it before, because... Well, them that were fated to die simply did. But he didn't. He... lived. Everyone around him, everyone who was supposed to play a part in his demise found theirs at the end of his revolver. Someone would need to collect their souls, and shepherd them to the afterlife, especially because they weren't assigned to die today. No one was coming to get them, they would languish here until another wanderer like you released them. So... as odd as it is, you do your job. You tiptoe through the scene, invisible to all but the dead, and send these men to the afterlife so that this spot will not bear the ruination of angered spirits. You watch as Arthur climbs up onto the Hungarian Half-bred and clicks his tongue and goes to meet the men he was never supposed to see again, a strong golden thread tethering him to this world. You still need Arthur's soul though. Supposedly, if the whispers are right. So you follow him deeper into the Grizzlies.

The bugger won't fuckin' die.

Robbery after holdup after break-in you follow him, invisibly picking up the lost echoes he leaves behind, still needing the one that she had been assigned. You wonder if the men, the souls, the wisps that tell you their dying words and disappear into the ether would have lived if Arthur had died. Through Armadillo and Tumbleweed, through the start of something clever in Blackwater with Hosea. The longer you stay, the more you start to root for him. The more times you follow him through other people's broken lives, you start to hope that he lives. Start to help him.

And the longer you're there, the more he starts to feel your presence. Extra ammo he's sure he didn't pack, but desperately needed as they flee into Tall Trees. The whisper of a breeze that causes him to look up and see the lurking O'Driscoll. The knowledge, somehow, that John's injuries at Colter aren't fatal because it's not his time yet, but he doesn't know how he knows. It's in the aftermath of a bloodied battlefield at Ewing Basin, when Dutch has left him to pick through whatever remains, that he sees you for the first time.

He scans for threats every few seconds, and has to blink weariness out of his eyes because why would a woman in a black tattered dress with hair pinned up and mussed be wandering the abandoned mining camp, the rotting buildings, the open catacombs of the men they had ambushed? And what is the woman doing with her fingers on the forehead of a body made unidentifiable by shrapnel and lead? And what is the wisp of light that dances between her fingertips? "Come on, Arthur! Dutch ain't gonna wait all day!' He snaps his head over his shoulder at Lenny's call and by the time he looks back, she is gone. "Yeah, keep yer shirt on boah, I'm comin'."

[crow-crystal]

DC PROMPT TIME

Jason Todd x Reader

(Made this while I take a small break from my Batsis au. Leans more towards fem Reader)

☆★☆★☆★☆

Is it you? Have my prayers been answered?

Reader stood in the middle of the room they'd grown so familiar with in the past few years. Breath hitching as she looked to the man in the doorway, he seemed just as frozen as she was. Reader had been there when Bruce figured out the infamous Red Hood's identity, yet they still hadn't been able to do much of anything with the knowledge. Perhaps it hadn't truly sunk in? The fact the boy she'd been in love with was alive, the fact his grave she'd visited so many times was now empty.

Is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more?

She couldn't help but whisper to herself if this was real. So many times, she'd woken disappointed, heartbroken, and empty. Stepping towards the man coated in blood if only a little. She remembered clearly when Bruce found out who Red Hood was. When they found out Jason was alive.

You look different, your eyes look tired

Your frame is lighter, your smile torn

Is it really you, my love?

Jason couldn't help but stare. It'd been so long after all. She was older now, aged like fine wine, as some would say. If he could, he might have cracked a joke at how she still wasn't taller than him. The apartment building, the same one the two had declared was going to be theirs one day back when they were kids, seemed so much different now. Reader had grown accustomed to the emptiness of their apartment and the noise that came with the men that had taken over most of the building. As disgusting as they were, they never committed a crime, at least not one that they couldn't bribe their way out of. Bruce had tried so many times in the past to convince her to move, but she'd promised Jason all those years ago that they would live together here. Silly as it may be, she wanted to be able to do something, anything to keep him in her life someway after he was gone.

I am not the man you fell in love with

I am not the man you once adored

I am not your kind and gentle husband

And I am not the love you knew before

Jason didn't know whether he wanted to run away or collapse into her arms. The both of them stared at the other with tears gathering in their eyes, and Jason just barely managed to choke out how he wasn't the Robin she knew anymore. He'd said it so many times to Bruce after all. So much time had passed, and he still held so much pain and anger towards the world that refused to change after his death. The magic Robin gave him, the magic he once loved would never return to his life, and he'd never be the child he once was. He was ready, ready for her to tell him to leave, to be scared, disgusted, and angry at him for changing.

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change

Would you love me all the same?

I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love

Bruce had spoken, in one of the rare moments Jason listened, of how Reader was doing. How she'd been the past few years. The apartment that was supposed to be their future home was full of the same type of men he'd grown up taking down with Bruce all those years ago. He'd researched and found out more, yet he hadn't had the guts to meet her. Even now, he knew it would hurt, her not accepting him. The very idea made him take a moment to stop himself from shedding his tears. Still, he was ready for the same sickening idea to come true.

What kinds of things did you do?

He was Red Hood, a Crime Lord, a killer, a monster. Bruce would agree. Batman was known for hating the way Red Hood did things after all.

Left a trail of red on every island

As I traded friends like objects I could use

Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands

But all of that was to bring me back to you

So tell me

He didn't regret it, even if she chose to hate him for it. Just as he didn't regret getting rid of the criminals that had decided to live in the apartment building she stayed at. It hadn't taken much to find out what crowds they were involved in, the crimes they committed daily. The fact she'd endured living near men who undoubtedly gave her no respect had flooded his mind with the familiar green rage of the Pit at the time.

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I can't undo

I am not the man you knew

I know that you've been waiting, waiting

Reader stood in front of him now, staring into the face of a man she wished she had been able to be with every step of the way. Jason, her Jason, the same boy that read books with her and made fun of the people below as they stayed up at night on the roof of whatever apartment building they'd chosen to perch on. The same boy she grew up with on the streets of Gotham, the same boy that brought her to Bruce's manor, refusing to forget her even after he was given a better life than a street-rat's.

If that's true, could you do me a favor?

Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace

See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over?

Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here

Reader couldn't help but move closer. Racing to acknowledge everything that was happening. Mind already decided as she took his hand with a gentleness that made him flinch. He froze once more, a necklace now in his grasp. The same necklace he'd given her just a week before he'd died, made of smooth sea glass and a few seashells he'd gathered on rare day at a beach that Bruce had taken him too.

How could you say this?

I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat

Carved it into the olive tree where we first met

A symbol of our love everlasting

Do you realize what you have asked me?

The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots

He asked, voice shaky with either anger or disbelief if he had the energy to figure it out, why she would give him this. Why, after everything, she would try and make him take it back. He remembered the day he gifted her It clearly. It had been when he confessed, when he promised so many things, when he told her how much he loved her. Even if he was readying for her to hate him, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting rid of the evidence that he loved her.

Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you

Maybe she was being mean, but he was being stupid. A smile managing to take over her face for a moment as she hears him speak the exact reason she kept that necklace all this time. "You're Jason, I don't care about Robin, or Red Hood, just you Jason" She managed to say. "God's you're an idiot for thinking that'd ever change"

I don't care how, where, or when

I will fall in love with you over and over again

No matter how long it's been, you're mine

Don't tell me you're not the same person

You're always my husband, and I've been waiting, waiting

Waiting

He let tears fall, finally taking a step closer, closing the distance between the two of them as his arms wrap around her. Warmth flooding their two hearts as tears fall from each.

For you

I love you

He loved her, more than anything. Yet she, too, adored him. Jason, whether cheerful and speaking of magic gifted by bright colored suits or bloody and taking a stand for Justice in his own violent way. He was still Jason, her Jason.

☆★☆★☆★☆

Jason Todd x Reader inspired by "would you fall in love with me again" by Jorge anyone?

(Please someone write this, pls pls pls)

[ladylucksrogue]

I was going to wait til Monday to post a bit of this, you know for mental health Monday but I decided to roll with it now.

I don’t post a lot of real life things here because this tends to be my little fandom safe space where I love posting my fandom messiness and thirsting over clones and posting my fanfic.  But I have noticed a lot of peeps that I interact with are going through a rough patch.  Post Holiday blues, January blues…something.  It’s rough out there, especially in the real world.

Went through a bit of a slump myself.  Prior to the holidays, I did up my writing plan for all my WIPs.  It was very…ambitious for lack of a better word.  Like damn, I know I can write a lot in a session but we’re talking like a fic a day and that…just hasn’t happened.  So, when I missed a couple days of writing, I was hard on myself.  I hold myself to impossible standards sometimes and forget to give myself space.  

I was pretty hungover on January 1st, the wine got to me a bit more than usual and I just wasn’t feeling writing at all, though I did push myself to write a few words.  I was able to post my New Years story a couple days later but I remember posting and thinking this is shit.  This isn’t your usual, though it’s not terrible in retrospect.  I just…it got to me.  So instead of following my crazy plan I focused on some drabbles and doing Whumpuary, which is thankfully every other day, so it gives me a bit of space.  I have been working on my next installment of my fix-it, which the first scene is light hearted and it’s been fun but slow going.

Had a bit of an epiphany a couple days ago, because of a comment someone said.  And it sent me into a bit of a tail spin.  An angry tailspin that my hubby had to catch the brunt of.  He is fabulous though and just rolls with it, lets me rant and knows that I’ll feel better for it.  Someone in our extended friends group cracked a joke about me not working yet and how I’m just enjoying sitting around at home.  It was meant to be light hearted but it hit wrong on so many levels.

I lost my job last year due to a company restructuring.  It was sudden and I was really angry at the circumstances of it.  And more importantly, because it was the second job I had lost in two years to no fault of my own.  But I still gave myself the fault in all of it.  There was a time where I really struggled to hold down a job for a variety of reasons after I got out of the military, and every time something like this happens, it digs up a bunch of stuff from then…

But the fact of the matter is, since losing my job a lot has happened healthwise and I am actually on disability.  As of right now, I can’t work.  It’s something that has been a long time coming and the timing just happened to work out.  At the same time, people who know react one of two ways, oh but you’re fine, you don’t look sick, why can’t you work, or they start on some BS about must be nice, etc.  I won’t even start on the whole who is deserving and mooching off the government stuff, because I will just make myself upset.

It isn’t nice.  For someone who has worked all their life, I would much rather go to work every day than sit at home.  Weird but true.  And I feel doubt and second guess this and wonder if I can go to work and all this is just me being weak, etc.

Comments like that from people don’t help at all.  And then it happened, the moment of clarity…because usually I’m fine on most days.  And then I was working on a scene, got up to make myself some coffee and I had a moment.  There was a sound in my apartment, no clue what it was, but it set something off in my head and for a good moment, I had this really disorienting moment of not really knowing where I was, like half in a memory and half in the present and trying to sort it.  It’s happened before.  I have PTSD, an autoimmune condition, and a whole list of things, so the amount of times something has gone wrong suddenly is long.  But I’m standing there at my kettle like nearly going into a panic attack and managed to calm myself down and sort what happened.  Had this happened at work, I would have had to go sit somewhere for a bit, wasting work time to pull myself out of it and then pretend to be productive for the rest of the day.  Because, in the immediate aftermath of this, after I calmed down, I was dizzy and exhausted and just done.  No energy left.

And the fact that I was home allowed me to go take a nap for a couple hours and reset so to speak, which is probably the best and most effective way I have found in dealing with a PTSD attack.  It works for me personally better than any med they have given me.  Can’t do that working.  Not to mention, if someone is next to you when stuff like this happens, most people are not willing to understand.  You are immediately judged and ostracized (in my experience) because you do not fit into society’s mold.  

But after all this, it made me realize that I need to give myself a bit of grace.  To allow myself moments to feel bad.  To focus on myself and be accepting.  I think it is a big part of self-care we all forget.  Like even people that don’t have medical conditions or diagnoses need to remember.  We all cannot be perfect and productive always.  Sometimes we need a break.  We need to allow ourselves that.

Especially during this time of year, when stress is high and people are frustrated.  We just all need to give ourselves a pat on the back, take things a day at a time and practice a little acceptance.  Like if we finish that chapter or art or whatever in a day, that is fantastic.  On other days we might not do much of anything, and that is ok too.

This is in no way a message saying I am taking a break btw, so no worries! To those who follow my writing, I am here and writing, just on my own time. So at times, I'll probably post a bunch at once and other times, it'll be a bit slow going. Also, keep asks and interactions coming, absolutely keeps me sane and happy to keep interacting!

[mitigatedchaos]

Revisiting The Origin

Finished watching Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin again a bit ago. A few thoughts.

The animation quality is fantastic. It's well-shot, written, and paced. The music is spot-on. The plot is moving. It's amazing.

One aspect that stands out more on this viewing is the way each character is intensely his or herself. Every line of dialogue reveals something about the character's nature, and just about none is wasted. The series gives you reasons to sympathize (if only for a little while) with characters like Degwin or Kycillia even though their actions are power-hungry and cause terrible consequences.

Ghiren Zabi especially stands out - he shows an incredibly fluid ability to manipulate ideology, and actually seems to get more skilled at this over time, yet at the same time he's as slippery as an eel. You can easily see how he could get people to follow him, and also how he can figuratively broadcast on the national mental wavelength.

It's actually less political than I remember. For some reason, I thought that there was more content covering the oppression of Spacenoids, the internal factions within Munzo (which became Zeon), and the formation of ideology. There was actually much less oppression of Spacenoids than I remembered, though there is certainly plenty of rioting and sending tanks to suppress riots.

That said, the series is still highly political. This gets into the whole 'politics in media' thing.

The Origin is a sequence of events leading up to a gigantic space war, proceeding through the early phases of the war until right before the first episode of the original 1979 Mobile Suit Gundam (though with a few tweaks). It's a thrilling story of escapes and intrigue and murder and violence!

However, it all generally feels quite natural. A mobile suit may be an absurd form of military unit, but other than this, everything has its proper weight and momentum. It's a story told with great consideration, by someone observant and experienced.

I originally wrote that last line as a guess based on watching the series. The eye with which the author observes the characters suggests a great deal of life experience, and an understanding of individuals, their nature, and their course of development. In fact, there was an interview of the now 77-year-old author Yoshikazu Yasuhiko, who was on the staff for the 1979 original:

It was over 10 years of hard work, but I could depict the outbreak of the war in the prehistory of 'Gundam' and the absurdity of the elitism advocated by the Principality of Zeon to some extent.

He appears to believe that the idea of newtypes was over-emphasized in later series after 1979, resulting in confusion and support for elitism.

Just watching five minutes of one episode of The Origin was enough to help a concept click in a peace theory I have been working on. I don't mean a related episode. I had left it on pause a week or so before, and when I returned, after a few minutes of watching Char and his comrades, it came to me that I could reapply the tension and officer models that I use for ideology.

The Origin has an interesting contrast with Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn, another incredibly dense series set in the Universal Century, set sixteen years after the war that The Origin shows us the beginning of.

Where in The Origin, newtypes are of relatively little importance, in Unicorn, they take center stage. Where The Origin is a story told by an old man who cherishes people, Unicorn shouts at you as loudly as it can. So loudly that it fills your senses. So loudly that you can finally hear.

Between the two, it's my opinion that Unicorn is more dense. I found myself coming back to watch different scenes repeatedly, pause, and then pace and think deeply about the nature of the world.

I recommend both highly. However, I don't know what it would feel like to see either while having no familiarity with the Universal Century timeline.

There was an argument on Twitter probably a year or so ago. Is fiction valuable? I think that depends on which fiction we're talking about, at what time, for whom, and for what purpose.

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[annabelle--cane]

hurting me. hurting me. toby whithouse showrunner of being human uk and sarah dollard writer of episode 5.05 "no care all responsibility" you are hurting me. why did you do this to me personally.

[imflyingfish]

bahh i want to chat about learning french but its kind of difficult. like either its super uninteresting to most people or i feel like i can come off as pretentious or whatever if im not careful and noo im just excited to both play videogames and learn a language. im literally a nerdd. anyway im going to make a post on that

[townofcadence]

✏️

✏️ for mun to write you a note

My hands hurts when I write so I hope it’s okay I typed it!

I think you’re just a really fun person to interact with, and I love knowing you. I think Candi is super fun and silly and I love seeing her on the dashboard in threads or in little dashboard commentaries and stuff! Some of it makes me go ‘oh no’ but it’s in that fun way you do when reading a character who does stuff that’s mortifying—and I can’t deny it makes me laugh when I see you dying in the tags for it xD. Commitment!!

I still can’t wait to see what we talked about with her and Artair come to fruition! Someone help this poor girl with her curse and get some self-defense lessons! But you always have a way with muses that makes me love them, and how much creativity and thought you put into them. I’m super happy I know you and get to talk and plot with you, and we can create stories together. But more than that, I’m glad I have you in my life! 💛