#so no. he isn’t a mary sue

[fuckingfandomfreak]

lots of complaining underneath sorry I couldn’t fit everything in the tags like usual

I am genuinely convinced that so many Merthur shippers actually ship Arwen but identify more with Merlin, so they just recreate Arwen’s dynamic (simp, over-protective Arthur and I-can-take-care-of-myself!, always-right!, actual-saint! girlboss) and give it to Merthur. Reasons for this are racism (obviously), the fact that early seasons merlin likes to read (scholarly books on magic not a fucking romantasy mind you), early seasons Merlin being 12 lbs, and the fact that Merlin has magic (cool powers, gay allegory, and is oppressed). Other reasons, too, but these I think really contribute to people directly projecting onto him like they do Morgana. I think this makes people feel personally victimized when Arthur does anything to Merlin bc he’s blond jock and Merlin is bookish, sassy nerd.

But fanon merlin is nothing like actual merlin. Merlin is a MAN; he’s just as arrogant as every other MAN. He’s a bit of a fucking lit bro that thinks he’s underappreciated bc he’s into important, valuable things instead of sports (for idiots). He canonically an genius and he’s many times insufferably arrogant, too.

But only Arthur needs to fix his arrogant bc Arthur’s arrogance is jock bro, so it’s more immediately recognizable and disliked. Even tho, I don’t actually find Arthur that arrogant, or i just can’t forget that most of Arthur’s arrogance is a front for insecurity. He’s only sincerely arrogant about sword fighting (which I don’t mind bc he’s literally the best swordsman in the kingdom and it’s not bragging if it’s true) and little presumptuous bc he’s a wealthy royal.

But this is a long winded way to say that some Merlin fanfics feel like weird revenge fantasies (romantasies??? but not in the book genre way) of nerdy girls with their high school football players mixed with a little class anger (but in the most insincere way bc morgana is never criticized for being rich bc she’s mostly portrayed as a gay white woman, and people don’t understand, or don’t want to address, intersectionality).

Which means Merlin’s actions don’t get judged, but do get examined and then excused, until they are in relation to Morgana. Bc Morgana is ACTUALLY skinny, oppressed, gay allegory, cool powers, always right, sassy, genius, sword fighting, resistance fighter white girl that constantly wins every argument she has with Arthur and makes him look like an idiot. That’s why she gets way more forgiveness and grace than Arthur even tho she is a 1000x worse person. It’s also why she and Merlin are usually besties (especially over him and Gwen) even tho they canonically have a very big political fallout.

Even with the Lamia episode. I have seen so much discourse (and a good amount of fics) that criminalizes the knights (jocks) for their treatment of Merlin (and sometimes Gwen) with people wanting them to prostrate themselves in guilt and then get put into the infirmary by Arthur for daring to hurt Merlin when they were LITERALLY ENCHANTED. Obviously, they themselves would feel guilty, but that doesn’t mean they SHOULD. And Merlin is not fucking lectured or made to apologize when he is enchanted to, and attempts to, KILL Arthur. Like, yeah, okay, the knights grabbed him and were mean to him, but Merlin’s a grown fucking man, the most powerful sorcerer, and, by now, literally physically bigger than both Gwaine and Elyan. He’s fine.

I thank god everyday that Arthur wasn’t there during that fucking episode. Every fucking merthur fanfic would’ve been insufferable.

I will never forgive fandom how unfair it is about Arthur

Dark Merlin It's usually good angst. You know, Merlin had had enough. Dark Arthur? Arthur is a fucking rapist, a monster.

Merlin guilty? Merlin feeling guilty and comforted by the entire cast. Arthur guilty? Arthur doing the worst things possible and someone razing him to the ground

Merlin always gets these nice things. always flowers, courtship, everything. Found family? Everyone comforts Merlin because big bad Arthur. (literally almost every Merlin "found family" is everyone loves Merlin and treats Arthur like shit)

Merlin gets an apology. Arthur? My parents will love me faster than someone will apologize to Arthur in fanfiction.

"suicidal, self-harming Merlin" but Arthur has no right to have mental problems (a whole lot of people have wanted him dead since he was born)

Protectivr knights? Always about Merlin.

Even the fucking omegaverse. Alpha Merlin is a nice calm creature who pretends to be a beta. Alpha Arthur... wild animal, keep Merlin in a cage.

No. Just no.

(forever grateful to those stupid British people that arthur never told merlin he was fat. because the fandom understands that something is a comedy if merlin says it. if arthur it would be ,,abuse")

[fenrisfenrichfenrir]

Shen brothers but make it as embarrassing for Shen Yuan as possible

AU where Airplane becomes more financially secure at some point and so starts to write extras where he details things like Shen Jiu’s background and motivations, along with how the majority of accusations against him were false. This makes Shen Yuan so angry at how things went down in canon that he enters a rage fugue state and writes a self-insert fanfiction where he’s Shen Jiu’s younger brother and Luo Binghe’s best friend and manages to soften Shen Jiu’s outlook and therefore give Luo Binghe a nice disciplehood.

And then it becomes one of those fanfics that’s so popular people write fanfic in the world of the fanfic rather than canon, and Shen Yuan/Luo Binghe becomes a hugely popular pairing.

Shen Yuan gets big mad about it because ‘LUO BINGHE ISN’T GAY >:{’, so he writes a bunch of angry comments on the fics. (there’s some fics where Shen Yuan is a woman and those are suspiciously void of Cucumber hate)

And Airplane finds this so incandescently funny that he writes a new extra legitimizing Shen Yuan into canon and detailing his death at the hands of the Qiu family. Even more motivation for Shen Jiu to hate everything! *jazz hands*

Long story short, when Shen Yuan transmigrates he does it into his own Mary Sue OC. I think it’s what he deserves.

(also please picture his face when he finds out Binghe is in love with him. Like, the fangirls were RIGHT?? he’d never recover)

[idolomantises]

Thoughts on Arcane season 2

I didn’t like this season

It’s not bad, but I found it incredibly rushed, cramped and deeply unsatisfying

While season 1 had several protagonists it was also pretty obvious that Vi and Jinx were the emotional core of the entire show so why on earth was their dynamic barely explored here

Vi went from being my favorite character to a character I found deeply frustrating and annoying. What the hell is her personality of getting her sister back and fucking the hot lesbian. She has no consistency whatsoever and it’s something I don’t think the show realizes how batshit the constant flip flopping in. What do you mean you sister tells you she’s going to kill herself and then you start fucking your messy situationship

I don’t really care for Jayvik but I found Jayce’s confession very sweet.

Mel my beautiful queen they’re gonna call you a Mary Sue

What the fuck was with all that Witch shit and Ambessa’s death was incredibly unsatisfying

Victor fans who kept begging the team to not make him a hot buff robot so he can still be a skinny twink pisses me off so bad because now we have an inferior twink robot design. I know fans probably didn’t influence this but I also need to complain about their lack of taste like what do you mean you didn’t want to see a hot buff robot man.

Ekko feels like an incredibly unimportant character and I’m pretty sure fans only like him because of what he can do for Jinx. A part of me wished he actually did hold a grudge just to see how fans reacted.

Season 1 was all about setting up emotional complexities and how nobody was truly evil and the show made it seem like there was no way for anyone to fully recovery from this but everyone is holding hands and singing kumbaya’s so alright nevermind then

This show was honestly a little too in love with Jinx. I did not enjoy her writing in acts 1 and 2.

The jokes were really bad this season

The songs oh my god the SONGS. I didn’t mind them in season 1 but in season 2 it started to remind me of love is blind and anyone who has watched that show would know what a massive insult that is.

Caitvi lesbian sex scene and I couldn’t even enjoy it because the writing was pissing me off

Caitlyn should’ve continued her little fascist arc.

Mel’s arc this season felt like weird fanfiction.

A bunch of random side characters die off unceremoniously after the show gave them so much unnecessary screen time

I hated Isha sorry. I’ve never seen a character more clearly made to die.

Jinx death means nothing to me because I know she isn’t dead so why even do all that lol

I will never call this show sexist but it has done a massive disservice to its female characters.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

The amount of Willow hate I’ve seen on this blog is upsetting idk. Like as a lesbian who heavily relates to sunlow it ticks me off when people are like Willow is boring she’s just nice sundew should be with someone else!!! Like ?? She’s not boring though?? Why do people in fandom think being kind = boring. Why is killing a man who threatened her life and tribe not enough for you. Good lord what do you want her to do she’s not a POV character and is miles more interesting than other romantic interests like Riptide.

And there’s so many other “kind” characters who get no hate?? Not all, but mostly women I feel. Why must it always be the lesbians/women in general who get dogpiled.. idk I feel like this is along the same line as fandom misogyny this fandom doesn’t talk about much- like people call Moon a Mary Sue when Darkstalker who has more powers than her is Right There but no one calls him that…? And Moon isn’t even a Mary Sue she has so many issues and tries to defend Darkstalker when she thinks he’s her friend.

And adding on to that people act like Silverspot and Burnet were awful parents like girl what did you want them to do they’d be killed if they tried to save their kids. Morally yeah it’d be good to save your kids but do you think that’s easy to risk your life…??

“Snowfox and Snowflake are bad rep” god forbid women plot against their cheating husband and shitty cousin. I love them.

Idk man I’m just tired this was originally just gonna be about Willow cus again it irks me and is honestly a little disturbing how much people will despise Willow. Idc if you don’t like her but the violent hatred I sometimes see creeps me out. That book made me tear up because I was so touched to see lesbian rep that was so similar to what I was going through so maybe I’m just taking it too personally but again idk man. Let’s all frolic in a field of peace and love on planet lesbians.

.

[dream-with-a-fever]

in defence of ginny weasley (ft fleur delacour)

never thought i would feel strongly enough about this topic to comment on it, but the ginny bashing in this fandom is just insane so i thought why the hell not. ginny seems to get hate for everything under the sun from being being a mary sue who can do no wrong in anyone’s eyes (meaning she’s boring and uninteresting as a character) to being a nasty bully responsible for hurting those around her (??? and they’re both completely contradictory statements btw). when the latter is brought up, ginny’s “terrible” mistreatment of fleur is always front and centre. ‘she’s nasty, she’s cruel, she is a jealous bully etc!’ and i just feel like we should put on our thinking caps and actually take a step back for a fucking second. people may disagree with me, but i think ginny’s reaction to fleur was totally understandable — and reminder, she is a TEENAGE girl, (not to mention both mrs weasley and hermione held fleur in the same regard but no one seems to focus on that side of things).

now in the books, we do see ginny mocking fleur, calling her ‘phlegm’ behind her back, imitating her gait and elegance, expressing her annoyance at her newfound presence in their lives.

let’s look at why she might have reacted that way. first of all, in general, we see that the w are a very humble and welcoming family; they don’t have much but what they do have, they are more than willing to share with others. their financial circumstance plays a massive role in how the characters in the wea clan react and interact with others (as seen with their refusal to accept money from harry etc). their sense of pride in that regard is also quite prevalent. we see that when harry first goes to the burrow, ron is slightly embarrassed by his home, painfully aware of the way many people in the wizarding community view/judge them. when harry goes on to say it’s best place he’s ever seen, we immediately see how touched ron is. ginny is the same in that sense — embarrassed that she has second hand robes & books etc, but at the same time she, like ron, is fiercely protective of what they do have, and what they as a family stand for. they are also very protective of people they love inside and outside of the family (see, ron with ginny, mrs weasleys with all of them etc).

this is relevant because one of the reasons ginny and in turn mrs weasley, have a problem with fleur is the way she talks to them. despite them inviting her into their home, fleur makes her distaste clear even if it is in small ways. she says it’s boring at their house as there’s nothing to do, she often talks disparagingly about how things are done in the weasley household, she loudly mocks celestina warbeck (who mrs weasley loves to play at christmas time) and insults her, she speaks badly about tonks several times etc. her words and mannerisms are also viewed by some (ginny etc) as very pretentious and arrogant — also rather posh, a sign of her family’s wealth (which might have been a sore spot for ginny also).

now don’t get me wrong. i love fleur as a character. i think she’s really cool, charming and brave, and i wish we got to see more of her honestly!! i think she makes a lovely contrast to the other younger characters, and i think she undergoes some nice character development in the books we do see her in. it’s also very clear to me, that when she acts the way she does, it is never out of malice or cruelty— it comes from a place of openness and honesty — which often comes across as quite blunt. it’s a cultural disconnect in many ways; when she inadvertently insults people throughout the books, i think it’s pretty obvious she isn’t trying to hurt anyone’s feelings. but i also think it’s obvious how this attitude might annoy those around her.

calling ginny is a big bad bully for disliking fleur (in the beginning), when her behaviour towards the weasley family would make anyone a bit frustrated, is a bit far. not to mention, her individual treatment of ginny is understandably annoying - ginny complains that fleur is very condescending when speaking to her (‘you’d think i were about three!’).

there’s also the fact that ginny is bill’s little sister. he is her favourite brother (as seen from the way she respects him and his opinions, looks up to him - she wanted to go to hogwarts ever since bill went!). ginny having a reaction to her brother’s new girlfriend is very normal - he’s her big brother! all his attention is now on his new girlfriend - who ginny finds to be full of herself, patronising & annoying. part of her may also be worried that fleur will end up breaking his heart in the end — because she’s protective of her brother.

add the fact that her brother and old crush and basically every man ever is drawn to her because of her godly beauty (as a part veela), her and bill’s wont to shower each other in public displays of affection (who wants to see their brother doing this!?) and the fact that ginny always gotten along with tonks (the person her and molly had in mind for bill’s future partner) has always treated her kindly and as an equal, and therefore would much prefer as a sister-in-law — it’s not that surprising that ginny feels the way she does towards fleur.

nevertheless, do i think this is something ginny would grow out of? yes, of course. we already see changes in their relationship in the final book. besides, a lot of this stuff is surface level, as ginny and fleur don’t know all that much about each other — i think fleur’s love for bill (especially shown in the hospital wing after he’s been attacked by greyback) definitely changes the way ginny regards her. i also like to think that they grew closer as they got older, as with age comes maturity, and with maturity comes understanding. i also feel that fleur was someone who really stepped up when it came to supporting the weasleys after fred’s death, something that ginny would have appreciated. i see them having a nice relationship later in life.

ANYWAY, this was an exceedingly long rant for which i apologise but i have often seen people talk about how nasty ginny is to fleur, and i think it’s so unfair to not look at the context which leads to her being a little frustrated at her future sister in law. plus, she is allowed to dislike someone who she does not get along with and who she finds unpleasant to be around. we all have people like that in our lives but god forbid ginny does…not to mention, ginny is never openly rude to her EVER, and she’s allowed to voice her frustrations to her friends/family. the fact people call her an outright bully for this is just insane.

people on here will defend so many other dubious characters but the second a teenage character with good intentions makes a mistake / doesn’t act perfectly (i.e ron, ginny), they are suddenly the epitome of evil in human form, i mean get a grip, honestly. also one last quick thing(!!!), i do note some people blame jkr for writing her female characters this way, as we’ve seen the way she seems to frown upon conventional/typical displays of femininity (lavender and parvati being seen as ‘silly’ girls with frivolous thoughts, cho chang as overly emotional - despite having a very rational reaction to the death of her boyfriend, fleur as overly feminine and therefore less serious/intelligent). her heroines are women who often conceal or discard these more feminine traits — and i will say that despite loving these characters very much, i do think some more nuance here, could have been very beneficial to the story, and to the message being sent to young female/female identifying readers. there is strength in femininity, and rejecting feminine traits does not make you more or less a person.

okay, rant over. if you actually got to the end, bless you, if not — well, that’s totally fair (lol). also please don’t kill me in the comment section if you disagree. this is just my two cents. ok that’s all.

[coolingrosa]

There’s a reason I don’t like the Ink and Dream fight. I don’t believe it does justice to Dream’s character and villianizes Ink too much.

Dream main arc is about coming to terms with the death of Nightmare, but also accepting that what happened wasn’t his fault and the villagers were wrong. Nightmare was killed for things out of his control. His death could’ve been prevented if he was treated with compassion and understanding. Nightmare was not evil just because he was the guardian of negativity, and his morals and values around this also did not make him evil. The judgement casted against him that caused his abuse was unfair, as Nightmare could not control the hand he was given in life and what his side of the scale entailed. Dream understands as he gets older the importance of the balance and how the judgement towards Nightmare due to what he guarded was unfair and unjust.

And yet, when confronted with Ink, who has a moral compass and a job with expectations out of his control, Dream does the very thing the villagers do and condemns him. Rather than understand Ink’s position and acknowledge that what his brother went through is similar to the morality that Ink juggles, Dream pushes him away and villainizes him. Ink sees people as concepts and lets them sit in misery in AUS because he ISN’T ALLOWED TO INTERFERE REGARDLESS. He does not ever want to disobey the creator’s and his job as an overseer, so he never would. He partners with Dream to protect them from getting destroyed and respects Dream for this. But he is allowed to not get more involved and to have his own standing with things. Dream doesn’t have to agree, but if Dream was still reeling from the conclusions he faced from Nightmare, he should understand or at least approach this with a lot more grace.

Instead, it’s written as if Ink is a villain for his views and that Dream is a sweet soul incapable of harm. Ink is painted to be a toxic friend who manipulated Dream and poor little Dream fell right for his trap. If Dream was written to be a hypocrite in this case, that would be an interesting dynamic and character flaw. But he’s written to be correct in this argument, and it stomps all over his character development towards Nightmare’s death. Neither should be correct, because both have their own motivations. If it was accurate to Dream’s characterization presented, the fight shouldn’t have even happened. If it was before his arc, then yes, it would make more sense. But the lack of apology or conclusion post-acceptance-arc shows that it isn’t about Dream’s lack of awareness. It’s just about making him the angel of the multiverse while Ink is villainized once again for things out of his control.

And before people say Ink has a choice in the matter- no he does NOT. If he angers the creators, he loses his vials which are his temporary soul. He will turn into a husk and basically die. If he does not appease them and abide by the minimum rules in place, he will lose everything. Though he doesn’t listen to ALL the rules, that’s more fanon than anything. In his canon, he abides by them (mostly) and only interacts with outcodes- which is why he’s close with Top. Even if he doesn’t, he doesn’t push his luck too much to upset them or fail at his job, and stays hidden most of the time to keep the AUS from interacting with him. I can’t see him keeping that from Dream either- especially since Ink isn’t one to form connections and if he committed to a team-up, he had to actually care about Dream enough to trust him with those secrets. If Dream still shunned him and Ink was written to STILL be in the wrong, it’s a direct injustice to Ink and what’s on the line for him, and it paints Dream as selfish with a god complex. Which is fine! You can have a character with flaws! I would be so fine if it WAS about Dream’s flaws. But it isn’t. Because Canon Dream is a Mary sue of a character who can’t do anything wrong.

And don’t get it twisted, I LOVE Dream, which is why this fight angers me. If you want the fight, have Dream apologize to Ink and Vice versa in the future and come to an understanding. Allow Dream to admit his wrongdoings and have Ink do the same. Or if you don’t want that and want Dream to have more complex flaws toward Ink, THATS FINE!! THAT IS LITERALLY FINE TO MAKE DREAM A JERK IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS BC HE SHOULDN’T BE PERFECT. NOBODY IS. Make characters with history complex instead of tools to make your character more of an angel. Or don’t have the friendship breakup at all and have it be a fight that they work through together. You don’t even need to keep them working together. Like god just give Dream more complexity besides a little smol bean angel who is manipulated by everyone he meets.

My older sister and RoseVerse Co-writer saying it best: “i think this is the thing that arcane fumbled on when it came to cait

because they thought they wrote her has a beacon of virtue that when pointed in the wrong direction is catostrophic

but the narrative spent so much time trying to make the audience understand her instead of put in the work to teach her that yes, although she was manipulated, her drive to punish the undercity over one grief made her a hypocrite her mother wouldnt have recognized

dream in the same vein is supposed to be clear and cut archetype of goodness, and by that logic, nothing he does can be wrong

oh God killed all those people in the flood? he's good, and god is kindness and therefore the death was not only justified by merciful. but dream *cant* be an archtype of goodness if you also want them to have a character arc, they need to have flaws, be multi dimensional. you cant have your cake and eat it too. dream betrays ink and himself when he's met with the same situation and enacts the very violence he swore to protect his brother from. to frame that as good because dream is written to be good is crazy”

This is why I literally chose to ignore the fight exists because Ink and Dream are way too compatible as friends to be dumbed down in a stupidly written fight for Dream to get goody points.

[bragginball-z]

Okay but, all the people talking about how Dean has dialogue that they say “wasn’t him” and was just “the writers forcing him to say stupid stuff” are missing out on CRUCIAL aspects of Dean’s personality. Yes, he is a male character written by men so at his basic character design he is made to be a “boys boy” who is so so super cool and macho and alpha sigma raaaahhh, and that’s okay! Yes, he’s a womanizer, he is also a child of the nineties and he was raised in an environment that perpetuated the importance of performative (toxic) masculinity. With all that said, he is also a big softie who loves deeply and cares so much for those around him. I just feel like forgetting about the stupid shit he says or does is a disservice to the amazing duality that really makes Dean Dean. By erasing those key aspects of his character we make him something more palatable at the cost of reducing him down to a much less intricate character. I’m not saying that some of the stuff he says isn’t problematic or sleazy, I’m just saying that it’s authentic to his portrayal and without a little bit of dumbfuck in him, he’d be excruciatingly Mary Sue.

[ilikekidsshows]

I've seen people said Adrien doesn't have motivation to be a hero but Marinette does, which is weird because I feel like it's Marinette who doesn't have a motivation to be hero beyond "people listen to Ladybug". Her lack of motivation is what confused me because as a protagonist, she's inevitably become a role model for the young audience and I find nothing about her is likeable, even more so after she become a guardian. It's as if being a guardian inflate her ego and she forgot that everyone else is a human with feelings, not just a pawn or a doll for her to play and ordered around.

Recently I found out a website that contain the concept plot and it confused me more because I feel like concept Marinette is a more grounded character than she is in the show.

Marinette's goal isn't just to be Adrien/Felix's girlfriend but she also need to collect the kwamis that she accidentally releases and she become a guardian not because of luck or favoritism like how it is in the show, it's because her grandfather is the guardian. Adrien/Felix doesn't even become Chat Noir because he's chosen by the guardian, it's Plagg who chose him. It's actually much better than the whole "I choose you but also I'm not going to do anything with you" that Fu pulls in the show.

i don't understand why the higher up/the sponsor reject this plot because I think this much better than whatever we have now. If they have a problem with Chat Noir being an anti-hero, then why do they accept Marinette being written like one while also hailing her as a hero?

---

“Adrien isn't motivated to be a hero” he actually likes being a hero, unlike our role model protagonist, who’d rather do anything than be Ladybug even when she's being lauded for her heroic deeds. Is this based on Adrien trying to quit when Fu or Marinette is making his job needlessly more difficult to do? Because, like, that's the only thing that he seems to dislike about being a hero, which, like, makes Marinette an even worse hero. She’s so bad at her job, she makes otherwise eager heroes lose their motivation.

I’m gonna be very honest here; Marinette becoming Ladybug because she accidentally released a bunch of magical creatures and Adrien/Félix being more of an anti-hero rival than a full-on ally would have been copied straight from Cardcaptor Sakura’s starting setup. Like, I’m not surprised that even the rejected ideas for Miraculous are copied from other properties, but it just proves that regardless of any other variables, Astruc’s creation was always going to be highly derivative. Regardless, I do feel that Fu being her grandfather instead of a stranger would have gone a long way in justifying Marinette’s special treatment both in-universe and to the audience, but that’s probably why it was rejected.

Like, we can mock the fact that Marinette isn’t actually within spitting distance of being a “normal girl with a normal life” all we like, but that doesn’t change the fact that, from a purely on-paper angle, she is pretty average. She’s a middle-schooler with pretty average hobbies who deals with normal teen problems like bullies and a crush on a boy she doesn’t know how to deal with. There’s a reason it’s the opening line for the show’s opening. It's marketable. A special chosen one from the start wouldn’t have been as marketable in the same way. Especially when we take into account how hypersensitive Astruc is to Marinette being less liked than he’d want. He’d do whatever he can think of to make sure Marinette isn’t immediately judged a “Mary Sue”.

The thing with executives is that they don't watch the shows they fund. They read the pitch, synopses, and maybe the scripts if they can find the time. And even then, they might not want to put in the money to get a script revised even if they paid enough attention to tell it was dogshit. They wouldn't be interested as long as the different Miraculous bedsheets and shampoos keep selling and as long as the show isn’t too gay to sell to other countries. Like, the show bible that Gloob leaked? The one full of inaccuracies because it was outdated? That was what the executives were most likely given when the retool went into development. In addition, corporate oversight on the show has actually decreased the longer it’s gone on, because the show’s proven itself to be a success. I’m pretty sure the higher-ups were not asked: “hey, is it okay if we make Marinette an entitled jerk who gets validated at every turn while she starts treating people worse and worse?” I’m pretty sure no one okayed Marinette’s “villain arc”, it was just allowed to pass because it didn’t make the show less marketable.

That’s the thing with any property that becomes “too big to fail”. Less oversight means less quality control. It’s like one anonymous Gamefreak employee said about making Pokémon games: “It’ll sell anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s bad.”

[soren-apologist]

i feel like people who say ike is a mary sue/gary stu in radiant dawn don’t realize that fe10’s supposed to be the ending of his arc as a character, where he’s reaching the very last part of his development.

at its core, fe9 is a coming-of-age story; ike goes from being a hotheaded, impatient teenager to a much calmer, more mature version of himself after having the responsibilities of handling a mercenary company and later an entire army thrust on his shoulders at far too early of an age. as such, while fe9 on its own initially seems as if it’s an entire character arc, we actually get to see how ike further grows into himself after 2 years of peace and coping with the events of the mad king’s war, a privilege that remains extremely uncommon for most fire emblem protagonists.

the ending of part 2 introduces us to a 20-year-old ike, now having physically grown up to match his personal growth from the start of fe9. while a more mature version of himself, he never turns on the morals and ideals that make him who he is, having decided to leave the crimean court to return working as a simple mercenary because he knows it’s where he belongs. despite this, however, he still finds himself dragged into conflicts and subsequent positions of power he doesn’t want. even though all he wants is a simple life as a mercenary, he still willingly chooses to take on the role of a general of sanaki’s army because he’s just not the kind of person to turn away someone in need, especially when he’s quite literally the only person qualified to fit the role asked of him (commanding armies of both beorc and laguz).

to clarify, ike isn’t already over with his character growth by fe10– he’s just nearing the end of it. while it’s a lot more subdued, you can absolutely still see the stubbornness and sass that characterized him in fe9; he’s still backtalking the enemy commanders he fights and giving people in positions of power above him a hard time whenever they do or say something he doesn’t like.

on that point, even as the “mature” version of himself, he honestly still kind of puts his foot in his mouth a few times there. it obviously never reaches the extent of him snapping at the entire council of begnion because they were being rude to elincia, but instances like this, where ike could have literally gotten himself and his entire army killed if he had genuinely offended dheginsea, whether through death-by-black dragon king or getting thrown back into the kauku caves:

or this, by which point in the story he’s so tired of everything that when oliver decides to defect from his own forces to the greil army, ike’s just like “eugh” and says right to oliver’s face that he’d rather fight and kill him then have his support as an ally, something he probably shouldn’t be doing (and most likely wouldn’t if it wasn’t oliver asking) considering there’s a very finite number of people available to fight ashera:

(i can’t entirely blame him for this one though, because, again… oliver)

or, hell, even this, where ike is standing directly in front of ashera who is about to kill everyone in the tower and turn the entire world to stone, to which his response is to tell her to pick a god and pray:

…are all pretty good instances of ike not always managing to catch his tongue. i mean, if nothing else, you can’t deny the guy’s got balls of steel, but shit-talking pseudo-immortal beings entirely capable of killing him on the spot probably isn’t one of the wisest decisions out there. still, though, it actually matches his fe9 characterization pretty well; in both games, he tends to snap and say or do something ill-advised when he’s frustrated and believes someone else is in the wrong in some way. the main difference between the games is the extent to which ike reacts, though, as now he’s a little calmer even when angry, and no longer charges headlong into danger like when mist and rolf were kidnapped or when facing the black knight for the first time. he’s still making some questionable (bad) decisions here and there, it’s just now they’re a lot less severe than they used to be, and he’s grown up enough that he doesn’t need titania to lecture him whenever he does something dumb anymore.

besides this, the main thing ike is still dealing with in fe10 is his tendency towards self-effacing behavior— and yeah, on its own “too nice for his own good” does sound like the sort of flaw a gary stu would have, but in this case it genuinely does affect him. he’s constantly bending over backwards to help those in need, even when his own kindness is constantly shooting him in the foot and leaving him to deal with even more problems. it actually coincides with his tendency to speak before he thinks, because as a person he just can’t sit by and watch as someone or a group of people is treated unfairly, even if it means getting himself wrapped up in a mess he could have avoided by staying quiet.

on that whole “shooting himself in the foot” thing, it’s important to keep in mind that the “rewards” ike receives for his kindness are more often than not things he doesn’t actually want. as a smaller example, his good looks, bravery, and gentle heart are constantly getting him attention from women when he himself has no interest in their flirting, to the point it makes him uncomfortable. as a much larger example, ike doesn’t want to be a wealthy nobleman, but he still accepts the title of lord to help elincia, and chooses to hold it for a year and a half after the war for the sake of giving legitimacy to her newfound regency over crimea. after this, he finally manages to give up his title and return to running the greil mercenaries, only to be contacted by bastian after a few months and have to go into hiding for the sake of launching a surprise attack on ludveck’s rebel army. he’s then immediately drawn into the begnion-laguz alliance conflict, something he’s actually okay with because he’s being contracted as a mercenary commander and not a general, except that as soon as their army combines with crimea and sanaki’s forces he’s promptly guilt tripped into being a fucking general again. after, like, 2 weeks of commanding sanaki’s army, they accidentally set off the apocalypse, and now ike is the general of the army facing off against literal god. when all of this is said and done, he still doesn’t get what he wants— a simple life as a mercenary— because now he’s known across the entire continent as the radiant hero, the savior of tellius. after everything he’s gone through, he doesn’t even get to have the quiet life he wanted because he’s simply too impactful of a person to be forgotten by history. ike doesn’t want fame, riches, and women; he just wants some relative peace and tranquility, something he is continually denied while the former is frequently pushed upon him.

ike’s ending is where i personally believe it marks the true conclusion of his arc as a character. like a lot of other people, i wasn’t initially sold on the idea of him just up and running away from the continent forever, leaving behind loved ones like mist and titania. after thinking it over a lot, though, i eventually realized it’s actually a very fitting ending for someone like him. the unfortunate truth of the matter is that, no matter what, if ike had stayed in tellius he never would’ve gotten his true happy ending— his fame as a general would have followed him forever, and it’s almost guaranteed he would have found himself dragged into yet another conflict he didn’t want to be a part of, something he himself definitely seems to be aware of.

as such, ike packing up his belongings and taking off either alone or with someone dear to him was actually the best solution to this perpetual dilemma; after years of pain and struggle, finally finding a way to escape the world that had ripped away his childhood and demanded so much out of him must have been cathartic. no longer was he the radiant hero, savior of crimea and tellius— now he was just ike, a traveling mercenary, and that was all he wanted the entire time. it’s also part of why i like the idea of him going with soren so much, as anyone else, including ranulf, would still have ties back to tellius, and could potentially come to regret leaving permanently in the way ike wanted to (hence why someone like mist could never be an option). with soren, however, all he wants is to be at ike’s side, regardless of wherever it takes him. in fact, i’d even argue the two of them leaving together is the best-case scenario, where they both can get exactly what they’ve always desired. as ike and soren get to finally escape the world that had caused them so much grief together, they actually both attain their happily ever afters, living the lives they always wished they could have had.

at no point is ike ever a “perfect” character; at his very core, he’s a person who refuses to stray from his moral compass, something that causes him to make as many mistakes and brings as many issues as it does successes. in fact, it’s so prevalent of a trait it stands as one of the themes of fe9, where even as he grows from a stubborn child to a calm, mature adult, he never loses that earnest belief in doing what’s right. as such, while it can be easily mistaken as doing so, path of radiance was never meant to contain the entirety of ike’s development as a character— it was merely intended to portray his growing pains as he gradually develops into the person who would one day be hailed as the radiant hero. mirroring this, radiant dawn stands as the very ending to this story, in which his selflessness finally grants him a tellius at peace and the freedom to seek out his own happy ending. he was never meant to go through an entire, second arc in this game— he was simply finishing the one he started four years ago.

[pure-pea2361]

Why do you like Nate so much?

oh this is gonna be long:

He’s relatable for me. I was not a cool kid when I was young. I had maybe, like, 3 people that tolerated me at most? He’s seen as boring, yet he really isn’t.

He’s also a good protagonist IMO. Most protagonists have an ultimate goal, to be the best at this or that, to land a date with the guy/girl, to get revenge, etc.

Nate just wants to live his life. He wants a happy life with his friends. Nothing complicated. Most find it boring, I find it refreshing TBH. Easier to relate with the character.

He’s funny. His mood is so ridiculous; one minute he’s happy and the next he’s yelling at Whisper for being too much of an iPad kid. And he absolutely deserves to get a bit snappy.

He’s a victim of poor writing. They want you to hate him in a lot of episodes, but if you really look at the story, Nate is 100% the victim half the time. For no reason. (Notable Episodes: 25, 120, 128, 143, 181, 182, 211, 214, both god awful reboots). Other characters in the series are made to be perfect Mary Sues just so the writers can shit on their 11 year old protagonist. He suffers so others can look good. True hero.

Finally: This is what he looks like. How can you not like this silly ahh dude?

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

[slamdunktheories]

Sendoh Akira: A Character Analysis (Translated)

One of the best and most memorable Slam Dunk character analyses I’ve ever read was actually an answer to a question hilariously titled: “How do I marry Sendoh Akira?” (Author: 木子妞 - Link). The first half of the answer was particularly incisive and made me consider things I'd never noticed about Sendoh.

The original is in Chinese but here's an English version of the first half thanks to a nifty translating tool (I've edited for clarity and brevity; parts in bold for emphasis). Let's dive in!

~ Start of translation ~

Question: How do I marry Sendoh Akira?

Answer: 1) MENTAL SPEED

First, you have to be excellent - not in a Mary Sue protagonist way with incredible beauty and tremendous wealth etc.— these aren’t relevant in Sendoh’s eyes. Instead, your emotional intelligence needs to be genuinely outstanding.

Why? Because it’s important to understand Sendoh Akira as a person, and he’s not an easy person to understand. I’m not talking about his interests either; those are secondary; it's mainly about understanding his inner world.

The thing is, Sendoh is actually a very lonely person, and I think this loneliness is not by choice. No one in Ryonan really understands him; they are not on his level and don’t genuinely understand him. Case in point: in the match against Kainan, right at the end of regulation time Sendoh went for a dunk but deliberately went at a slower speed to allow Maki to catch up to him.

Sendoh’s idea of drawing a foul from Maki to turn the shot into a 2+1 would’ve meant that Ryonan would win the match by a point. But in that entire arena, only Maki, Fujima and Aida understood this plan. Even Coach Taoka got excited about getting into overtime without realizing that if the 2+1 plan failed, Ryonan would almost certainly lose.

Sendoh's mind works too fast for most people to keep up with, and his standards are high. He also can’t be bothered to explain more than is necessary and so as a result is forced into solitude. Which is why if you want to draw his attention, you need to be sharp enough to keep up with him mentally — imagine how high your IQ must be for that!

2) IDOLISATION

Second, don’t treat Sendoh like a genius or idealise him too much, and definitely don’t put him on a pedestal to worship. Accept the real him, including his flaws. And there are a few.

For one, Sendoh is quite stubborn. In the aforementioned match against Kainan, Maki at one point said, "Don’t think I'll let you dunk easily." To which Sendoh responded, "I'll definitely dunk to show you. Just once in this match..." And he was as good as his word, pulling off the dunk right at the end of regulation time as part of the aforementioned 2+1 plan.

Sendoh also holds grudges. In the prefecture match against Shohoku, after Miyagi managed to score against him, Miyagi mocked him, saying, "Did you think I'd always wait for you to block?" Later, when Sendoh noticed Shohoku was running into foul trouble, who did he target first? Who did he go after to draw another foul? Miyagi.

Sendoh can also be petty. When Rukawa scored quickly, everyone marveled at the speed of his shooting that even he, Sendoh, couldn't block, and Sendoh responded by scoring right away using the exact same technique as Rukawa.

In other words, the so-called basketball genius/living legend isn’t necessarily the real Sendoh Akira himself. Sendoh the basketball player gets lionised a lot but the real Sendoh actually has a temper.

The main difference that sets him apart from others is that he isn’t as easily bothered by things. Sendoh is more mature than his peers, and he’s able to keep most of his emotions in check or bury them deeper so it's harder for people to notice them.

But if you really want to draw his interest on the romantic front, you’ll need to treat him as an ordinary person. That’s how you'll earn his respect. To be clear, it’s not about playing hard to get; it’s about seeing him with a calm mind.

Because of Sendoh's relatively mild temperament and easygoing nature, when it comes to piquing his genuine romantic interest, Sendoh Akira is the most difficult man to deal with in all of Slam Dunk. Much more difficult than Rukawa.

Rukawa can be lured by some top class basketball intel, but Sendoh Akira has almost no weak points to exploit, precisely because so little gets him worked up. The only seeming weakness is his loneliness.

If you can 1) make him feel understood and 2) do so without needing to say it out loud, then you might have a chance with him. These two points are prerequisites. And if you feel you could pull off both points and truly love him to the point of marrying no one but him, then continue reading for some specific methods, though they're not guaranteed to work.

~ End of translated first half ~

We'll skip the second half since it's not that relevant in terms of character analysis. (But it is worth a read if you are a Sendoh fan. It covers a rather elaborate plan!)

On the topic of Sendoh, I would also add that him misremembering Sawakita's name isn't pure coincidence/a gag but perfectly in keeping with his character IMO. He seems the type that is competitive right in the middle of a match but once the match is over, he doesn't hold on to losses as tightly as, say, Rukawa. I mean, let's face it. If the same thing happened to Rukawa (losing big time to Sawakita) you can bet he'd remember Sawakita's name till the end of time. But Sendoh doesn't take such losses quite so personally, and that's why he'd be the type to misremember the name of someone who beat him.

[imagineteamfreewill]

From the Dead - Five

Pairing: Soldier!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: Hearing loss, pregnancy, nervousness, nausea, mentions of PTSD, and fluff

Summary: Dean Winchester died as a war hero during his third tour overseas. He left Y/N behind, and she decides that she needs a change. She leaves Lawrence to work at Camp New Moon, where a mysterious visitor shows up almost five years after Dean first left for his tour.

A/N: This is the final part of the “From the Dead” series. As always, thank you for supporting me whether I’m writing Supernatural or Marvel, both here and on other websites. I hope you enjoy!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

From the Dead Series Masterlist

The months practically fly by after Dean receives his hearing aid. As part of his therapy, he creates a list of things he wants to do now that he’s back in the States, some of which you’ve never done together. One by one, you check things off the list. You spend sunsets—and a few sunrises—snuggled up on the beach by the lake, and when the fall hits, you and Dean are able to get away for a few weekends for hikes in a nearby state park. It’s on those nights at the lake and in the cabins you rent at the parks that Dean talks to you more about his tour. He can’t tell you all the details, especially since Sam is still advising you on whether or not to sue for everything you’d been put through, but he talks to you about his life in the village. Sometimes you lay together in bed as he talks, and other times you sit facing him so you can read his expressions. Sometimes he cries. You do too. It’s cathartic for both of you.

When winter descends on the South, you take him to Atlanta for some of the Christmas festivities. You go to a concert, go on a fancy date at an even fancier restaurant, and walk hand in hand while you look at Christmas lights. His family drives down for the holidays, and you put them up in a few of the empty staff cabins. Mary tells you one morning while you’re watching the sun rise over the lake that she understands why you’d want to stay at New Moon. It’s one of the best Christmas gifts you get.

Dean surprises you with trips to the zoo, aquarium, and museums. He takes you shopping, compliments you with every new thing you tried on, and he carries your bags. He cooks you elaborate meals and brings you picnic lunches. You’re pretty sure that he and Meg text because he always seems to show up for lunch on the days where you need his company the most.

Life is sublime, even on the rough nights when you sleep very little. Dean’s nightmares wake you up on occasion, but you don’t mind. He shows you his love in a thousand little ways, and lying with him and comforting him is one of the few ways that you do the same. You both lay on your sides, facing each other, and you murmur reassurances in the dim light from the bedside lamp. You’ve gotten used to sleeping with it on, especially now since you found out that the darkness is something that worsens his PTSD.

Some nights, you stay up late worrying about the girls. Others you spend sitting up with them or talking with them when they need support, or intervention. Oftentimes, on those nights, you walk back to your cottage in the dark, following the path with just an old plastic flashlight to guide you. Your phone is usually dead and you’re always bone-tired, but without fail, you open the door to find Dean waiting up for you on the couch. He has the TV playing low in the background, and if you haven’t eaten dinner, he has a plate of food ready to be reheated for you. He listens when he can, too. You tell him whatever isn’t confidential, and he listens in silence with a hand on your leg as you curl up to him on the couch, or he holds you close as you lay together in bed, just like when you listen to him talk about his time overseas.

It’s on one of these nights in early March when you’re curled up together, sometime just past midnight, that you realize you’ve been home late almost every day this week and that Dean had been alone almost all day, every day. Your thoughts roam back to the first dinner you’d had with his family since his return. He’d thrived in the living room bustling with people he loved, and he’d lit up any time he’d interacted with his niece and nephew. You haven’t seen that exact look on his face since.

“Dean?” you murmur. He doesn’t answer right away, but he keeps stroking your hair, so you carefully turn your head on his thigh to look up at him. He took his hearing aid out an hour ago, which meant he probably just hasn’t heard you.

“You need something, sweetheart?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Do you… Do you still want kids? We haven’t talked about it since you got back, but before your deployment…”

He hums thoughtfully and sits up a little more on the sofa. You sit up when he moves, pulling your legs in and propping yourself up with one arm on the top of the back cushions. He keeps looking at the TV, but you can tell that he really isn’t watching it. The show is something pedantic—a black-and-white sitcom from the 60s that only comes on during late-night television. It’s one of a few that are on rotation during your late night talks, and you know enough from the subtitles that you’ve seen this episode at least three times.

“Did you hear me?” you ask, reaching out to gently touch his arm with your fingertips.

Dean nods. His eyes still stay focused forward. “I heard you. I’m just… thinking.” He turns to look at you after a second. The furrow between his eyebrows is pronounced, and his lips purse ever so slightly as he searches your face. “Why? Are you—?” He glances down at your stomach, just for a split second.

Quickly, you shake your head and scoot closer on the couch so that your calf is pressed up against the side of his thigh. You reach out and grab both of his hands in yours. He turns slightly more towards you, and his thumb drifts over your knuckles as you answer,

“No. No, I’m not pregnant. I just…” You trail off and look down at your joined hands, trying to put thoughts to your words. Finally, you sigh and look back up at him, squeezing his hands. “When we were at your parents’ house, with Sam and Jess and their kids, you seemed really happy.”

“Those little guys are awesome,” Dean replies, chuckling lightly. The worried crinkle between his eyebrows relaxes at the memory. “I had no idea how much I’d really missed them until we got there. The videos you’d shown me on your phone weren’t nearly as good as the real thing.”

“It wasn’t just that. It was the way you cuddled and played with Jacob, and the way you held Ella and talked to her. You love them.”

“Of course I love them, Y/N, they’re my niece and nephew.”

His voice is patient as he gives you the reminder, and though you know that he isn’t trying to make you feel bad, you still find yourself searching for the right words to get your point across. You’re exhausted, and your thoughts are already scattered.

Maybe I shouldn’t have even brought it up, you think.

Nonetheless, you nod and squeeze his hands again. “I know. I just… It reminded me of all those conversations we had before you left, you know? And I see the way you look at babies and little kids whenever we’re in town. Anyone could tell that you want a kid of your own.” You pause and shake your head a little. “I don’t know, it’s late. Maybe I’m just thinking too much. If it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen, right? I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Releasing him, you rub your face with one hand and stand from the couch. He looks up at you, watching in silence as you gather your dinner dishes, along with the mug he’d been drinking from when you got home. Your stomach twists as you move, and though you hope he’ll speak up and put you out of your misery by giving you some kind of response, Dean says nothing.

“I should shower,” you tell him. The lights in most of the cottage living area are off already, and the light from the TV casts strange shadows over him and the couch. It’s enough light for you to see Dean already looking away from you, staring at the long wooden coffee table you’d bought from a thrift store shortly after starting at the camp.

As you pass by, however, he scoots forward on the couch and reaches out. His arm blocks your path and his hands rest on your opposite hip, holding you in place. Your heart skips a beat.

“I do want kids,” Dean admits, quieter than before. He holds your gaze. Though the room is dark, the hesitance in his expression is clear.

Has he been thinking about this too?

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, dishes still in hand as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, so you set the dishes on the side table to his right and take matters into your own hands.

“Yeah?”

Dean’s shoulders slump and he nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want to bring it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? Why didn’t you want to bring it up?”

Carefully, you lower yourself to sit on his thigh with your back resting against the arm of the couch. You drape your legs over his lap. Dean reaches his arm behind you and holds your hip to help you keep your balance on his legs, and almost immediately his thumb is rubbing small arcs on your side, back and forth at a steady tempo. His other hand rests on your thighs. It’s warm over your legs, and you can feel his body heat even more where your shirt has come untucked, revealing the bare skin on your side where his thumb has found purchase. He’s almost too warm to be this close to him, but you can’t bear to complain, not after so many painful years apart. You rest one arm over his shoulders, and with the other you cup his cheek, turning his face so you can look at him properly.

“I was nervous that you’d changed your mind,” he admits. The low sound of the TV almost drowns him out, so much so that if you were any farther away, you’d be straining to hear him. “It’s been so long since we talked about it, and I wasn’t sure if that was still what you wanted.”

His next words go unspoken: with me. Dean has never expressed it outright, but you know that he still sometimes feels insecure about wearing his hearing aid and his struggle with PTSD from everything that happened overseas. You’ve joined him for several video sessions with his therapist, and you know that they’re working on strategies to deal with both of those things. You try not to interfere or give your opinions on his recovery—he needs a wife and a partner, not a second therapist—but you support him in every way you can without overstepping. You never want him to feel alone because of what he’s been through.

You lean in to kiss him on the cheek opposite your hand, and you smile gently as you say, “I love you, Dean. It’s still what I want, but even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t change things between us, at least not on my end. You’re still my main man, no matter what. Kids have never been the endgame. It’s always just been you.”

The lines on Dean’s face relax, smoothing out to reveal the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. They’re just starting to reappear now that the winter is fading and he can comfortably spend more time outside. Your stomach untwists as he smiles back at you. He shifts the hand on your hip and squeezes it just a little.

“I love you too, Y/N. No matter what.”

Dean kisses you on the lips, and it’s long, slow, and sweet. He’s warm against you. You’re bone-tired, but you close your eyes and kiss back, soaking up his warmth and the feel of being in his arms after a long day at work. It’s heavenly. You never would have predicted this moment a year ago. If someone had told you that Dean wasn’t dead and that he’d find you at New Moon, and that you’d be having a conversation at one in the morning about having kids, you would’ve thought they were crazy. Now, however, you’re just grateful.

After a few moments, Dean eases his arm under your legs instead of resting it over them, then stands. He carries you to the bedroom and you relax in his arms, keeping your eyes closed for the short walk. When he sets you down on the edge of the bed, you open your eyes to look up at him. You brace your hands on the mattress behind you to keep from toppling backwards as the memory foam dips under your weight.

“I don’t want to stress about this,” you tell him. “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t help anything. If it happens, it happens.”

He nods in agreement, then yawns. You chuckle and sit up a little more so you can stand without fighting against the mattress. Dean always complains that it’s too soft, but you like the way you can sink into it after a long day. 

“Get to bed, soldier,” you order, patting his arm. “You’ve got work in the morning.”

A month ago, Dean had decided he was ready to get back to work. You’d offered to put him on the payroll at camp as a maintenance worker or groundsperson, but he’d opted for an online position, at least for the time being. It’s a dull job compared to his work with the military. Secretly, you’re thankful that he’s chosen a safe route and that he’s feeling well enough to get back to work, but you also worry a little. For as long as you’ve known him, Dean’s been a hands-on type of person. He likes to build and fix and create. His therapy appointments are virtual too, which means that he spends most of the day cooped up in the cottage, sitting at the kitchen table or on the couch in front of a laptop. Not only is it not the healthiest thing for him physically, you know that he pushes himself to work harder than anybody should, simply because the job seems so much easier than what he used to do. Plus, being that he’s home most of the day, he’s taken on most of the cottage upkeep, cooking, and shopping so that you can spend as much time together as possible whenever you are home. You don’t mind that as much, but it does make you feel a little guilty.

“I’ll wait for you to be out of the shower,” he replies, but you shake your head.

“It’s okay. You’ve waited up long enough for me, De. You need to sleep—you’ve been burning the candle at both ends just so you can see me in the morning and at night, and I’m starting to get worried. You were falling asleep during your meeting the other day when I came home for lunch, remember?”

“I’m fine,” he insists.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around his waist, reaching up until your hands press against the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades. Your cheek presses up against his chest and you close your eyes again. He returns your embrace, and after several long moments, you feel his body relax against yours. 

I could go to sleep right here, you think with a tiny smile.

“Come on,” you say as you finally pull away, then pat him on the chest with one hand. “Go lay down. I’ll be there in a minute, okay? Get the bed warm for me.”

He nods in agreement, and you step away. You hurry to get your pajamas from the dresser before heading into the bathroom. Dean had changed long before you’d gotten home, as he always did on late nights like these. You need to shower, but you know Dean would force himself to stay up until you’re ready to go to bed too, no matter how much you push him and try to coerce him to take care of himself first. You’re exhausted, too, and the thought of having to shower before you can crash isn’t appealing.

So, you forgo your normal shower and stick with simply washing your face and brushing your teeth after changing into the pajamas. You can shower in the morning, even though it means you’ll need to change the bedding sooner than usual. Though it isn’t quite as hot as it normally is this time of year, the humidity makes everything sticky, and you’ve spent most of the day outside. A thin layer of sweat coats your skin, making even your pajamas feel gross.

When you turn off the light and step out of the bathroom, Dean looks up from the book he’s grabbed from his nightstand. It’s a novel, if you remember correctly, but you’re not sure what about. The cover picture has a cactus on it. It’s probably another western—he’s been catching up on some of his favorite authors since Sam convinced him to get a library card in December.

“You didn’t shower,” he notes, clearing his throat and sitting himself up further against the headboard. He doesn’t fool you, however. You know that he’s been nodding off instead of actually reading the library book. He’s been on the same page the past three nights.

“I’ll shower in the morning,” you reply. You throw your clothes in the hamper against the wall. “I need to change the sheets anyway, so it’s not a big deal.”

Dean hums and sets his book back in its place, then reaches over to pull the covers open for you. You climb into bed and wait until he’s dimmed the lamp beside his nightstand to cuddle up against him. The room grows darker once he does, and your eyes take a second to adjust, but you can still hear Dean’s dog tags clink as he shifts to get into a comfortable position with you at his side. You slip one arm over him, resting your hand on his chest as you close your eyes. To no surprise, it doesn’t take you long to fall asleep. 

The next morning, Dean’s asleep when you wake up, which is a rarity. Despite the fact that you’re somehow still exhausted, you know that you need to get up before he does. If you doze until he’s awake too, he’ll want to get up and make you breakfast while you shower, meaning that he won’t get the rest he needs. His PTSD symptoms start rearing their ugly heads whenever he’s overtired, and you don’t want that for him.

Showering without waking Dean would be tricky, but after a few moments of lying in the dark, you find a solution. There’s a small bathroom attached to your personal office in the main camp building, and though you haven’t used it in a while, you know that it’s clean and that it still has your normal soap and shampoo. Before Dean, you spent most of your late nights sleeping on the futon in the office, then showering and dressing in the bathroom, rather than trekking all the way back to your cottage. You hadn’t had a reason to go all the way home back then, but now you do. The shower hasn’t been used in almost a year. This morning, however, it will come in handy.

As silently as possible, you roll out of bed and gather up the few toiletries you’ll need that aren’t already in the office bathroom. You pull on a pair of sweatpants over your pajamas, plus the faded Stanford hoodie you’d gotten in support of Sam shortly after marrying Dean. You grab a bag for the toiletries and a set of work clothes to change into after you shower, then shove your feet into a pair of sandals and slip out of the cottage to head towards the main cluster of buildings.

The sun is barely up. It casts an ethereal glow over the grassy field that separates your cottage from the rest of the camp. Dew dampens the path, and it makes wildflowers and the tips of grass blades glitter in the lingering sunrise. In the trees, birds sing and coo. The soft tap of your feet on the stones is the only other sound.

You pause to breathe in deeply, then exhale. Mornings at New Moon are special to you, especially after a long, stressful night. They remind you of why you stayed—every girl needs the peace and calm that the morning brings. They deserve it. You’ve certainly needed it many times yourself.

“You’re up early.”

You turn, already speaking as you meet Meg’s steady gaze. “I needed to shower, but I didn’t want to wake Dean. He’s been staying up late for me every night.”

She mutters something in acknowledgement, then tucks her phone in her jacket pocket as you close the distance to join her outside the only empty cabin, which she’s been checking for trespassers. It’s on the outskirts of the camp, and the four girls that had occupied it for most of last year transitioned to a more traditional foster home only last month. From what you’ve heard from their social worker, they’re on the path to reunification with their family.

Now that you’re closer, Meg’s giving you a strange, almost curious look, and you frown when she lifts her chin. Her eyes glitter with a secret. 

“I’m a little afraid to ask,” you say, “but do you know something I don’t?”

She chuckles and crosses her arms in front of her. Her lips press together in a smug smile. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

Unsure of what she means, you start walking towards the office. Meg falls into step beside you, just as you knew she would. 

“Fine, I suppose,” you slowly reply. You’re careful to give vague answers, just in case she’s looking to start a tiff just for her own amusement. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Just wondering.”

A minute of silence passes as you walk together, and the path changes from stone to gravel. It crunches beneath your feet, and all around you, life begins to stir in the cabins as the girls wake and get ready for the day. They’ll be coming outside with their counselors and gathering outside the dining hall within an hour, which means time is running out if you want to shower and have time to mentally prepare for the day.

Meg holds the office door for you and you mutter your thanks, then head down the hall to your personal office. You’re just reaching the door when she calls your name from the lobby.

Turning, you raise your eyebrows expectantly. She stands near the receptionist desk, her hands at her sides, and for a second, a genuine smile flashes across her face. It’s quickly replaced with her usual nonchalant look, however, so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure that you’d seen it. You must be more tired than you’d thought.

“You should take a test,” Meg says.

You frown at her, confused, and set your bag of clothes and toiletries at your feet, against the wall. “A test?”

She nods, widening her eyes as she repeats, “A test, Y/N. You know, the tests you keep in the first aid closet? For those rare, special emergencies?”

For a moment, you just stare at her. There are very few emergencies that you handle at the camp. True, due to the nature of your job, you’re trained in a litany of thing, ranging from first aid and de-escalation to basic animal control and building maintenance, all of which is in addition to your psychology degrees and training, but the rest of the camp staff is so well-trained that rarely do situations ever become actual emergencies that you need to handle.

If you’re handling a first aid emergency, however, you do basic triage before an ambulance can arrive. You keep most of the supplies in your office, both in a cabinet and in a bag, but there are also small first aid kits in all the cabins, as well as in every building and down by the lake.

You shake your head, a little baffled by Meg’s strange behavior and comments. Neither one of you needs any kind of first aid right now, at least not that you’re aware of. Turning, you reach for the doorknob on your office door, but you stop as soon as your fingers graze the metal. It’s as if lightning has struck you, and you immediately straighten, dropping your hand back down to your side as you whirl to face her again.

“What?” you exclaim, shocked at her brazen assumption. “Are you serious?”

She shrugs and leans against the wall opposite the desk, her arms once again crossed. Her stare, as always, is unrelenting, but suddenly it makes your skin itch with anticipation. Does she know something about you that you don’t? You pride yourself on being self-aware, but is it possible that you’ve missed something?

“You’ve been nauseous on and off for almost two weeks now, and you’ve been moody. More than some of the girls, actually,” she huffs.

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms, almost a mirror image of her. “Really? Moody? That’s your argument for this, Meg?”

“Don’t hurry to prove me right,” she teases, and you quickly drop your arms again, heat rising in your cheeks. “You’ve been constantly complaining of being too hot and then too cold all week, too. Didn’t you say that was one of the things your mother-in-law complained about when she was pregnant with Dean?”

It was, and a strange feeling rises inside of you now that you remember the conversation you’d had with Meg about it. How she remembered such a detail from a random discussion you’d had almost months ago is beyond you, but it doesn’t matter. She’s put the thought in your head, and with it comes another reminder—your period hadn’t come last month, and you’ve been due for almost a week now. If it was coming, it would have been here already.

You inhale shakily and give her a terse nod.

“Right,” you say. You smooth your hands over your thighs, trying not to seem so blown away by her hypothesis. “Okay. Okay. I’m—” Shaking your head, you close your eyes and try to focus on the mental to-do list you’ve made for yourself. Then, after a second, you grab your bag from the floor. “I have to shower.”

Meg nods. “Shower,” she repeats. 

“I’ll see you later.”

She nods again, then turns on her heel and walks out of the building, leaving you standing in the hallway. You stay still for a second, listening to the front door open and close. Outside, Meg shouts at someone for standing on a bench, but the sound of her voice fades as she gets farther away from the building. Finally, you turn and open the door to your office, then quickly close it behind you.

You close your eyes and press one hand to your stomach, over the sweatshirt. It’s bulky over your pajamas. Logically, you know that if you are pregnant, the baby would still be too small to show, but it feels wrong not to feel for a baby bump now that it’s been suggested.

Not daring to get your hopes up just yet, you let your hand fall as you march to the locked metal cabinet in the corner of your office. It’s mounted to the wall and reaches almost to the ceiling, and the pregnancy tests are at the back of the top shelf. You don’t use them often, considering that New Moon is only for girls, but you keep them on hand just in case you need them for a new arrival. You’ll be lucky if the test is still good, considering you haven’t had to use one in so long.

You dump the bag from your cottage on the desk, then fumble with your keys until you find the right one. The bag falls over and knocks a pen off the desk, but you ignore it as you unlock the cabinet, pull over your rolling desk chair, and carefully climb up on it to grab one of the tests. After checking the expiration date, you tuck the flimsy cardboard box under your arm and head to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the cabinet or right the bag that’s tipped over and dumped onto your workspace. All thoughts of showering and getting ready for the day are gone. They’ve been replaced with a nervous energy that buzzes beneath your skin, making your fingers feel weak as you open the box.

The lock on the bathroom door is sturdy enough to help you feel a little bit more secure as you take the test, all the while trying to take deep breaths. Your heart feels like it’s beating too fast, and you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re nervous or excited. Maybe you’re both.

Calm down, Y/N! Freaking out isn’t going to help anybody!

You wash your hands and read the back of the box again, checking the wait time printed in tiny black letters. The test sits precariously on the countertop, in between the sink and the edge of the counter closest to the toilet, and you give it a wary glance before unlocking the bathroom door and going to sit in your office while you wait. After setting the timer on your phone, you end up pacing in front of your desk instead, from the wall to the futon and back again. 

Finally, the timer goes off. You flinch at the loud ringing, then hurry to silence it. Your hands fumble with your phone and you stay tense when the office falls quiet again. Silently, you slip it back into your pocket and go back into the bathroom. When you reach the sink, you brace your hands against the front of the bowl, on the thinnest part of the counter. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a long few seconds, pointedly not looking down at the test that’s resting only a few inches from your hands. Inside your chest, your heart pounds even harder than before and your hands shake. Everything feels so unsteady, from your head to your feet, and for a second, you worry that you might pass out. Closing your eyes, you try to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and to slow your racing pulse.

You’re reaching for the test on the counter when there’s a knock at your office door.

“Y/N? You in there?”

“Yes!” you yelp, almost too loudly. Your hand, outstretched and only an inch from the test, knocks it sideways, sending it clattering to the floor, along with a tube of toothpaste.

Dean calls for you again and you frantically scramble to right the bathroom. You practically throw the test onto the counter. It slides into the sink, and you’re pulling the bathroom door shut behind you just as Dean pushes the office door open from the hallway. He meets your eyes and you force a smile that you hope seems normal. 

“You left before I was up,” he says. He’s dressed already, in jeans and the green jacket you’d got him for his birthday, and his hair looks damp from the shower. 

Accepting a kiss on the lips, you hum a little and let go of the door handle to wrap your arms around his waist. Can he feel your heart beating too hard inside of your chest? What about your hands trembling against his back?

“I needed to shower and I didn’t want to wake you up. I have a shower here that I used to use when I was by myself.” You tilt your head back slightly, towards the door behind you.

Dean frowns. “You could’ve showered at home.” He looks down at you, and not only does his frown deepen, but the furrow between his eyebrows appears again. His worry lines are out in full force. “What’s wrong?”

Your stomach drops. Are you supposed to tell him? What if the test turns out negative? What if—?

“Sweetheart,” Dean soothes, pulling away so there’s space between the two of you. He takes your shaking hands in his and searches your face for an answer to his concerns. “What’s on your mind? I can see all the gears turning in there.”

The tips of his fingers touch your temple. You swallow thickly and look away. A line of dust lays gray on the hardwood where your old rug used to be. You moved it just last week to clean, but apparently, you’d missed it.

“Did I do something?”

Frantic, you shake your head and find his eyes. “What? No! No, of course not.”

“Then what is it?” Dean steps closer, crowding close in a tentative way that allows you enough time to move away, if you want. You don’t, and you let your eyes fall closed as you breathe in his scent and soak in his warmth. Your hands move to clutch the sides of his shirt, pulling him infinitely closer until your front is pressed against his again. Then, for the first time all morning, you relax. Your shoulders slump and you rest your forehead against him.

“I think…” you finally say after a minute. You take a breath, willing the words out on your next exhale. “I think I might be pregnant.”

There’s silence in the moments that follow, and though you know he’s probably just processing the news, it kills you. You stay frozen in place, unable to move as you wait for Dean to speak. 

Finally, you release his shirt and step back, just enough that you can see his face without tilting your head at too uncomfortable of an angle. He’s staring at the closed bathroom door behind you, with both eyebrows raised and with long creases along his forehead. His whole body is tense and the longer he stares at the door, the deeper the furrow between his brows becomes.

“Dean?” you prompt. “Say something, please.”

“You think? Or you know?” His voice is hoarse and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, then looks back down at you. 

“I don’t know. I took a test. I was just about to look at it when you knocked.”

“Oh.” His eyes flick up again, over your shoulder at the door, then down to your face. The second hand on the wall clock ticks as you stand near each other, Dean processing the news and you holding your breath as you wait for a more concrete response from him. The ticking feels louder than it did before. Has it always been that loud?

His fingers against your cheek make you look away from where you’ve been watching the black plastic line clunk around the circumference of the clock face.

“What do you want it to say?” Dean asks.

You inhale shakily and search his eyes, hoping for an answer to the question. “What do you want?” you ask in return.

Dean shakes his head, then runs his hand over your shoulder and down your arm until he can lace his fingers with yours. You glance down at your joined hands, unsure of why he’s not answering. He’d told you only just last night that he wanted kids. His hesitation makes you wonder if something’s changed in only just a few hours.

“It’s not up to me. It’s your body, Y/N.”

The words tumble out before you can even formulate the thought. “I just wasn’t expecting this so soon. I thought we’d have more time with just the two of us. What if this changes everything? What if it’s not everything we thought it would be?”

“We’ll still have time together,” he tells you, gently squeezing your hand. “It just might be less than we’d anticipated.”

“Would it even be a good thing if I was pregnant now? I know you said last night that it’s what you wanted, but we also said—”

“We said that if it happens, it happens,” Dean interrupts. “And if it’s happening now, then that’s a good thing. If it happens later, that’s also a good thing.”

You nod and take another deep breath. The butterflies in your stomach are out in full force. You have to close your eyes as you take breaths, trying to stave off the sudden wave of nausea that accompanies your worries. Dean’s hands in yours keeps you grounded as you breathe through your nose.

When you’re finally feeling more settled, you open your eyes and silently glance behind you at the bathroom door.

“You want me to wait out here?” Dean asks.

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. Tears burn in your eyes, and you wipe them away with one hand, embarrassed by your reaction. “Why am I so scared? We just said that this is supposed to be a good thing.”

Dean squeezes your hand again. “This is a big thing, Y/N. It’s okay to be scared. I can be brave for both of us, okay?” He smiles a little, his lips pressed together, and you nod in response, inhaling deeply through your nose.

You feel stuck in place. Part of you wants to go look at the test, but another part of you is rooted to the floor, keeping you in this moment. The results of the test could turn your life upside down for the second time in a year, and you aren’t sure if you’re ready for that. What if you aren’t a good parent? What if you aren’t able to do your job while you’re pregnant? What would you do instead?

“Hey.”

You blink, then meet Dean’s eyes again. Another tear rolls down your cheek and you sniffle, wiping it away with the back of your free hand. His smile has disappeared, and now he watches you with a concerned frown that makes his lips turn downward at the corners and makes the wrinkle between his eyebrows reappear.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, sweetheart. We’re in this together, and I’m with you no matter what. Do you want me to look first?” he asks.

After a few seconds, you nod. You don’t know what to say, but you know it won’t matter to Dean whether you speak or not. He’ll do and be whatever you need in this moment, just like he always does.

He releases your hand and carefully steps around you, opening the bathroom door to retrieve the test from the sink. You’d left the light on in the bathroom when you’d shut the door, and now it floods your office from behind you. Dean’s footsteps are soft and his jacket rustles as he picks up the test, and you hold your breath as you listen for some kind of sign or clue as to the results. When there isn’t any, you turn in a circle to look at him.

“What’s it say?”

His profile gives you very little information about the results, and you take a tentative step forward when he doesn’t move or say anything. Maybe he just didn’t hear you? His bad ear is on the other side, but it’s still possible.

“Dean?” you prompt, stepping closer a second time. You wonder if he’s disappointed and that’s why he hasn’t said anything. The thought makes you nauseous again.

“You’re pregnant,” he answers. His voice shakes as he stands staring down at the plastic stick. It’s so small in his hand, and an image of him cradling a tiny newborn flashes in your mind.

You freeze a few feet from the bathroom threshold. “It’s positive?”

He nods and looks up, meeting your eyes. Tears glisten on his lower lash line, and you press your hands over your mouth, inhaling deeply as your heart leaps inside your chest. The wrinkle between his brows is gone once again, replaced with the kind of shock you’ve only seen a few times, the first being when you’d told him you’d loved him all those years ago.

“We’re having a baby,” Dean tells you, letting out a laugh. A smile grows on his face as tosses the test onto the counter and closes the distance between you in two long steps. He crushes you against him in a tight hug.

Too shocked to hug him back, you let Dean wrap his arms around you and lift you off the ground. Your feet dangle for a second before your instincts catch up with you. Hurriedly, you move your hands from your mouth to his back as your legs come up to wrap around his waist. You bury your face in the crook of Dean’s neck as you smile. Your cheeks already ache and you’re blinking away tears, but it doesn’t matter.

“We’re having a baby!” you exclaim. He spins around with you in his arms, and you push away from his neck and pull one hand from his shoulders so you can cradle his cheek in your palm. 

Dean’s eyes are alight with joy, making the green of his irises seem even more vibrant in the morning sunshine coming in from the office window. Your smile matches his as the scruff on his jawline scratches at the soft skin of your palm.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” you tell him, gently rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re gonna be a great dad.”

He takes a few steps, then sets you down on the only clear space on your desk, beside the bag you’d brought with you this morning. You let your legs fall from around his waist so they bracket his hips, but you don’t drop your hand from his face.

“I love you,” Dean says. He brushes the backs of his knuckles over your abdomen, and you laugh when it tickles. There’s no bump yet, but the effect is all the same. Dean smiles wider, his eyes flicking to your stomach, then back up to your face. “I love both of you.”

You laugh and pull him down for a kiss. “We love you too, Dean Winchester. Forever and ever.”

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[haveatthee83]

Mr. Greatness (Gojo Satoru/Reader) Oneshot

Inspo: I just wanna hug this poor mary sue.

ONESHOT 1/1

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings/notes: Angst, fluff, smut, sad Gojo, no one is dead, fuck you Gege you damned sadist, biting, love at first bite (of food, I swear), face sitting, funny Nanami.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Gojo Satoru was bored. He was so bored he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hell, he’d started to think about messing around with infinity and seeing what happened. That’s when you appeared.

When you first came around, Gojo didn’t think much of it. In fact, he all but ignored you the first two weeks you were at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When you two were introduced, all he gave out was a “hiya!” and a joke about you being a fan-you weren’t. You were hired to help teach the first years when Gojo was out on business, and act as a school nurse of sorts, being very well versed in healing with your cursed energy as well as fighting. You were there to help them on missions and keep up their training in his absence. Afterall-as much as Gojo would like to think it does-the world doesn’t revolve around him. So started a little game of hearing all these tales of the wonderful new teacher and how powerful she was, even how much better than Gojo she was from the first years-more than once. No matter how little he cared about how they were delusional enough to think anyone was better than him, Gojo’s curiosity peaked.

One day, all three first years came to a mission with Gojo all equipped with large, fancy bento boxes. All filled to the nines with homemade food with cute designs throughout. They even had personalized notes in each. It was enough food for two meals plus dessert EACH! How was Gojo not supposed to be confused, intrigued, anything?!

“Isn’t Nurse-sensei just the best?!” Kugisaki exclaimed to the other first years, giddy as she fawned over the fresh sushi and homemade strawberry cream cake.

“Put that food away, and let me explain the mission,” Gojo sulked, jealous. ‘I wish someone would make me homemade bento…’

Itadori perked up and smiled, “You have one to, Gojo-sensei!” he said, presenting the intricate, stacked bento. Gojo was taken aback, staring at the bento as Yuji handed it to him, noting the blue fabric wrapping it, and the sleek, navy chopsticks on top.

He gently grabbed the note on top, “I hope we can be friends, Mr. Greatness <3 -Nurse-Sensei” Gojo stared at the note longer than he probably should have, a weird feeling in his gut.

Itadori nudged him with his foot, “Hey, you in there?” Gojo looked back up at the boy, nodding before shoving the note in his pocket, and swinging the bento box over his shoulder.

“About those cursed spirits, eh?” he smiled.

It was an abandoned building next to a hospital. A serial killer had come through and systematically tortured and killed multiple homeless people, so it was a breeding ground for cursed spirits, one of which sat gluttonous on the top floor, growing rounder and larger by the day by eating the lower spirits around it, and becoming more powerful.

Gojo and the kids were fanned out in front of the cursed spirit, its gaping maw almost bigger than its head. What it lacked in mobility, it made up for in brute strength. Itadori proved that by taking a hit to the back and practically bouncing like a basketball before scrambling back to formation with the others. Megumi summoned his dog to attack, going for the thing’s limbs to distract it, while Kugisaki and Itadori attacked its flanks. Gojo came in for the final blow. Nothing too hard, but the three students had their fair share of wounds at the end. So, they waited for Ijichi to take them back to the school.

As they sat on the curb, awaiting their great chariot, Gojo couldn’t help but fiddle with the note in his pocket.

“What’d Nurse-sensei make you, Gojo-sensei?” Yuji muttered through a mouth full of noodles. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed, but as he looked at the three first years and noticed that all three had different foods in their lunches, all customized to their tastes.

Megumi swallowed a bite of shogayaki, “I wonder if she made something you actually like. I don’t think you’ve talked that much.”

Gojo wondered too, so despite himself, he opened the bento only to find it full of a variety of sweets and rice balls of different flavors and combinations topped with teriyaki sauce and sesame seeds. The bottom layer was full of sweet mochi and macarons of all different colors. Gojo’s eyes practically sparkled behind his blindfold as he took in the beautiful food laid out before him. Taped to the bottom of the lid was another note “The kids told me you have quite the sweet tooth, so I made some guesses. I hope you like it! <3 -Nurse-Sensei”

Kugisaki laughed into her hand before putting another piece of sushi in her mouth, readying a piece of watermelon. “I think you’re in love, Gojo-sensei!” She sing-songed. Gojo waved her off, his ears getting warm, before diving into the rice balls. The savory-sweet flavor with the flaky fish and the delicious sauce could bring tears to a man’s eye.

“You might be right, Nobara,” giggled Yuji. Megumi even cracked a smile. Gojo gave a quick thwack to Yuji’s head as Ijichi’s black car turned the corner.

In the passenger seat of the car, Gojo once again found himself messing with the now two notes in his pocket as he antsily waited to get back to the school and finish his meal.

Megumi stretched uncomfortably in the back seat, “I think I should pay Nurse-sensei a visit. That big curse snagged me good on my side back there.” The other two students quietly agreed, Kugisaki getting a mischievous grin.

“Gojo-sensei?” she asked, leaning up in between the two front seats.

“You should really sit back, Miss Ku-“

“Shut it, Ijichi. Why don’t you come to her office with us? Make sure we get there safe?”

“But we all know-“ The girl shut Itadori up with a jab to his bruised side.

“Please?” she begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

Gojo was suspicious but agreed. It gives him a chance to say thank you for the delicious lunch.

When they all got back to the school, Gojo felt ridiculous when he realized that your office was just down the hall of what was supposed to be his. As the motley crew approached your door, a small bundle of nerves spawned in Gojo’s chest and it took him a moment to think of the last time he’d truly felt nervous like this, nevertheless here he was two steps away from hyperventilating if he wasn’t careful.

“Nurse-sensei!” The three first years chimed, squeezing into your room. Gojo could hear you before he could see you. Your laugh chimed around the frame of the door, and he could feel his ear twitch and a smile creep onto his face. But the gulp of nerves bit through it a bit. As he turned the corner and stood in the doorway, he caught view of you beginning to dote on the high schoolers already. When you glanced up at him, your eyes stuttered a moment, flicking to scan him.

You gave him a bright smile, “You must be Gojo Satoru, huh?”

He gave you an ear-splitting grin back, “What happened to Mr. Greatness?” your ears went a little hot, and you let out a little chuckle. “Thanks for the food, it’s really tasty.” He said, holding up the bento box and bouncing off the door frame.

You patted the medical bed and told the three first years to hop up, “How was my guess-Yuji stop touching that.” You said, smacking his hand away from a slash that started to scab around the edges.

“Spot on,”

“The kids helped a bit.”

“We’re not kids, Nurse-sensei!” the three muttered. You rolled your eyes and continued cleaning their wounds, making quick work of them. Before Gojo even had a chance to notice, their wounds were all three completely gone. And they all looked reenergized to boot.

“That’s really something,” Gojo mumbled, sitting backwards in your unattended rolling chair. He put his elbow on its backrest and set his chin on his fist. He lightly licked his bottom lip as he analyzed your cursed energy. It flowed in a way that intrigued him, it loved to concentrate in your hands, and it moved smoothly, avoiding the rapid fiery flow of most energy. It seemed that everything about you was piquing his interest. He had to know more, he had to get you on his side. Surely you have reservations with the old man higher ups, and he could see you being an asset to his cause.

“Thank you, Nurse-sensei!” the highschoolers chimed, getting up and giving you a brief hug, Megumi staying back and merely patting your shoulder.

“Why don’t you three get on back and rest up. I have a pretty intense training session lined up for tomorrow” you said, laughing at their appalled faces. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to get to know your Gojo-sensei!” The three got up and sulked out of the room towards their living quarters, and you turned, hopping up onto the medical bed, looking down on Gojo who was still sat with his chin in his hand, admiring you a bit.

“So, this is who’s been taking care of my little protégés when I’m gone, huh?” Gojo said, “I guess they’ve been in good hands.” You scoffed playfully, grabbing your tea from the side table you laid it on before he’d come in.

“You could say that again,” you said before sipping from your now lukewarm tea. You made a face before smirking at Gojo and wrapping both hands around your mug and slowly a wisp of steam started to pour from the top of the liquid. “Never liked my hot tea cold.” You almost on reflex offered Gojo a sip of the tea.

He almost refused out of habit, but the thought popped into his head ‘Did the cursed energy affect the taste?’ so he nodded slowly and reached out a hand for the mug, rolling a bit closer so he could reach it. He grabbed the top of the mug, the tips of his fingers brushing your hand, a spark of static spooking you. He just laughed and took a sip.

“When I use my cursed energy like that, I can get a little static-y” you said, rubbing your neck and pulling at your skirt’s hem. The tea tasted good, great even. The sugar adding to the full, bitter flavor of the black tea, and the touch of milk made it creamy and smooth. The tea filled him with warmth from the inside out, and he felt a tingle in his fingertips, from the tea or touching you-he couldn’t tell.

“Hm! Still tastes good,” he said, almost to himself.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’ve been experimenting with infusing my cursed energy into food, especially to heal people in battle when I can’t be there!”

“You could use that as a weapon too, couldn’t you?” You nodded again, leaning down almost eye to eye with Gojo.

“It would be perfect for covert missions, assassinations, anything like that! With those cursed spirits getting smarter, if we were able to use this while suppressing my soul signature we could do so much!” you had wide, thrilling eyes glimmering with ideas.

“Always loved a mad scientist,” Gojo joked.

You blushed a bit and waved him off, sitting up straight. “Not crazy, not a scientist.”

He sat up, pushing himself even closer to you in the chair, handing you your tea back, “You gotta be a little crazy to be in this line of work.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea and setting it back down. “Not crazy enough, sometimes.” You crossed your legs, and leant your chin on your hand, resting your elbow on your knee and looking at Gojo at eye level again. “I’ll protect those kids with my life. Those crusty old men won’t touch Yuji if I’m alive-got it Satoru?”

Gojo’s eyes widened, nodding in understanding. “Yes ma’am.”

You suddenly slid off the bed, gently taking Gojo’s face in your hands at your middle, “Let me check you out, Mr. Greatness.”

Gojo’s ears turned red at the tips, and he choked up. “I-I don’t get hurt, I’m okay,” You smiled and rolled your eyes, patting the bed anyway.

“Now,” you lightly demanded. He got up and switched places with you, sitting on the paper covered bed, “We all have scars, little wounds that never healed right.” You worked quickly and nimbly, working your fingers over the crevices of his face and torso, your eyes glowing slightly as your cursed energy flowed. Gojo could feel your energy flowing through his body-a foreign but not unwelcome feeling. It felt like a rush of cold water over his muscles and in his bloodstream, rinsing his systems and refreshing him from the inside. You moved to flutter over his legs starting over his strong thighs and over his lithe calves and he could feel his muscles relax, and the mild joint pain of a long day fade away. “See? We all could use a little refresh once in a while.”

Gojo smiled for the umpteenth time since he’d met you, “You really are something.”

And you smiled too, biting your lip and smacking his arm.

That’s how it started, you two made a little routine. You’d make Gojo and the kids bento boxes that they’d take on missions, Gojo’s you’d begun to infuse with your cursed energy to experiment with its healing properties. He’d come back with the first years, you’d heal them up, and you two would talk about the merits of the food and would talk for a while.

---

One day the pattern of course had to shift. One day Gojo was called on a mission. No kids. Just him and Nanami Kento. Clearly whatever it was, was powerful. It was going to be intense. And intense it was. Gojo came out fine, as expected, but lugged Nanami into your office with heaving breaths and his eyes uncovered, full of tears.

“Help him!” he begged, shoving Nanami onto the medical bed, not even giving you a chance to stand from your desk. In desperation, Gojo grabbed you by the arm, slamming your hand onto an uninjured part of the blond’s body. He was bleeding from multiple gashes and was fading in and out of consciousness.

You shook off the shock and got to work, letting your cursed energy flow into Kento’s body. You felt the energy move through his veins, finding all the gouges, cuts, bruises and began closing the blood vessels and redirecting it where it belonged. His wounds were severe, so it took longer than it usually did when you were just healing up one of the kids after a run-of-the-mill mission.

“What’s taking so long,” Gojo shakily asked, gripping your medical coat, and shoving his head in your shoulder.

“He’s coming along, Satoru,” You muttered, leaning your head back into his. “Sit down, your tea is on my desk on the warmer.” After this became routine you bought a tea warmer for Gojo and a mug for him to keep in your office so you could share a cup while discussing your students. Gojo just gripped your coat harder and dug his head in your shoulder, wrapping his other arm around your waist and shoving his head in the crook of your shoulder. “Please, hon. I promise I’ll tell you the second I’m done.” You felt a rush of cold against your neck as he got up, his tears cooling your skin.

Gojo sat in your chair and grabbed the tea off the warmer and shakily took a sip. The warm, sweet liquid flowed down his throat and almost made him take a deep breath, his hands steadying just that little bit more.

You were hard at work for what felt like hours still, and if he wasn’t so wrecked by nerves, Gojo would have probably fallen asleep.

“He just needs to sleep now,” you said, slumping against your desk next to where Gojo had laid his head. You gently threaded your fingers through his stark white hair, quietly sighing as you took a sip from Gojo’s tea-yours long gone cold.

“I wish you could heal my brain,” Gojo whispered.

You took a start, looking down at the invincible man under your fingers. You thought for a moment, chewing on your lip before shaking your head and sinking down to the floor, able to see Gojo’s eyes clearly, now dry but hollow almost. “Beautiful…” you whispered, it was practically ripped from your lips, while placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes flicked to yours, taking you in again. “I can’t heal your brain the way you want. You know that, but I hope my being here for you helps…whatever little it does.” Suddenly he could really take in your paled face and your dark circles under your eyes that weren’t that way this morning.

His jaw clenched, and suddenly he felt selfish. Gojo Satoru felt selfish. Here you were, tired after constantly waiting up for him, helping him, healing everyone else, and here he was again-crying, drinking your tea, and making you sit on the fucking floor. But still, he couldn’t help but be a little more selfish. “Stay with me tonight?” the words spilling out before his brain could stop them.

Your eyebrows raised, but that was the extent of your shock or rejection, because before he could even try to backtrack, you were rubbing his cheek with your thumb and nodding with a soft smile. ‘Of course, you said yes.’ He thought. He shouldn’t expect any different at this point, that’s just who you are.

“Your place or mine?” You asked with a chuckle. His eyes squeezed shut with a pained grin at the innuendo. He’d love that, but that’s not what tonight is. That’s not what tonight should be either.

“Mine?”

“Nanami will be okay through the night. He’s just exhausted now and needs to reenergize himself. He’s been through the wringer, poor guy.” You said, grabbing Gojo’s hand and leading him towards the door. You stopped in the doorway only to take off your medical coat and hang it and other equipment on pegs next to it. You turned off the lights with one last look at Nanami and padded down the hall with Gojo in tow, still holding tightly to the tall man’s hand. He couldn’t help but stare down at your conjoined limbs, and he subconsciously reached into his pocket with his free hand, gently rubbing the edge of today’s note. “Come home safe, Mr. Greatness <3-Nurse-sensei” you had stuck to the sign-off even though you’re on a first-name basis, saying it’s just something you’d gotten used to, with signing the kid’s notes the same way. Gojo kept reassuring you he wouldn’t be hurt and not to worry, but you couldn’t help but wait with bated breath for the day he gets rolled into your office and you’re pouring all your energy into healing him until the sun rises. It was comforting sometimes, someone not thinking Gojo was immortal. Even if it meant you were worried about him.

When the two of you reached his door, you looked back at him expectantly, seeing as he would have the key, and he stumbled with the ring, almost missing the lock. You chuckled and pushed the door open as he turned on the light. You whistled softly, looking around the room.

“So, this is where the great Gojo Satoru lives?” you scanned the space, taking note of the offshoot bedroom and the small-spotless-kitchen. “Looks an awful lot like mine. Except I actually cook in my kitchen,” you teased.

Gojo closed the door behind you, heat creeping up his neck, both of you kicking off your shoes.

“Guess you don’t have to do much of that with me around, huh?” The white-haired man started to grumble about how he shouldn’t have invited you over when you whirled around with a smile and asked what he needed right now, “Sleep, food, rom coms and ice cream?”

He shook his head and started to feel how deeply sleep was settling into his bones, “As tempting as that last one is, I really want to go to sleep,” he watched you smile, like you always did, and reach behind him, turning off the light, and grab his hand again, leading him towards his bedroom. When inside you went over to the lamp, tuned it on, and made Gojo sit on the mattress.

“Where are your pajamas, Satoru?” You said as you began to head towards his dresser like a woman on a mission, he panicked but wasn’t fast enough, you opened his top left drawer and inside you saw a small basket full of all the notes you had written Gojo. No matter how torn up they’d gotten in the heat of battle, or food stained by his own mistake, he kept them. He had every single one. He’d look at them, read them on rough nights alone, and they helped him through a lot. More than you’d ever know. You slowly turned to him, a soft gasp on your face, and a note in your hand. “You kept them all?”

Gojo put his head in his hands and nodded, “You weren’t supposed to see that…” You couldn’t drop the massive grin on your face, but you dropped it for now.

“About those pajamas,” you said.

“Second drawer from the top on the left.”

You nodded and opened the drawer, grabbing out a soft shirt and pants set, throwing them at Gojo. “Go get cleaned up and changed. I’m guessing that’s a bathroom?” gesturing to the door attached to the bedroom. Gojo nodded and got up, trudging to the tiled room.

‘Bossy’ he thought, ‘I like it.’ he shook his head and splashed his face with water from the sink. When he was done changing, he looked himself over in the mirror, staring at his own eyes for a moment. Looking at the thing that defined him to so many, ‘but not her.’ He thought. You never were even interested in his power most of the time. He always thought he’d want someone who’d worship him. Someone who would make him feel like the god he is, but then there’s you. Someone who made him feel like…him. Like a regular person, on the same level as each other. He liked feeling equal to you. Could he take you in a fight? Probably, yeah. Did that matter-oddly no. Not with you. He filled his lungs to capacity and threw his soiled uniform in the laundry and turned off the bathroom light.

When he opened the door into his bedroom again, he was confused to find you with a few spare blankets and pillows from the hall closet, setting up on the ground.

“Hurry on to bed, Gojo! I’m almost through setting myself up.”

“Oh no you don’t!” he exclaimed, grabbing you around the middle, and tossing you onto his bed. “You are absolutely not sleeping on the floor! I know how to share, weirdo!”

You squirmed, standing on your knees on the bed, grabbing onto Gojo to steady yourself on the mattress so you could look him in the eye, “I don’t want to intrude on your spa-!“

“I invited you, stupid.”

“Why would I have just assumed that you’d let me sleep in you-“

“Why would you assume I’d make you sleep on the floor?”

You paused, ears running red, but you couldn’t resist the joke, “Are you trying to get in bed with me, Satoru?” he sighed in exasperation, shoving you backwards onto your back.

“Will you get ready for bed already?” he muttered as he moved over to find a t-shirt and gym shorts for you to wear. “Here,” he tossed the set at you over his shoulder, them landing on your head.

“Jeez, now you’re trying to get me out of my pants!” Gojo whirled, exasperated and shoved your laughing frame into the bathroom and shut the door. When he was alone, he ran a hand through his hair and decidedly flopped onto the bed over the blankets. Finally, after muffled yelling into the covers, he brought himself up to sit against the headboard. ‘Why did I do this to myself?’ he thought.

“Ta da!” You sarcastically sang, posing in the door, wearing Gojo’s clothes. You’d even stolen one of Gojo’s pairs of sunglasses he had left in the bathroom to complete the look. They didn’t exactly fit, but Gojo couldn’t help but stare with a smile. He loved the sight of you in them.

You chuckled your way over to the bed, hopping up next to Gojo, and dropping your clothes folded onto the ground. He took in the sight of you, right next to him, your scent mixing with his cologne-his new favorite smell, your eyes hidden by his sunglasses, and your hair haphazardly put out of your face from your day’s work. And while he stared, he could feel his heart skip a beat. You were staring back-inches from his own gaze.

“Let’s get some sleep, Satoru,” you whispered, sliding his sunglasses off your nose and gently shoving them onto his head. He nodded, putting the glasses onto his side table and turning off his lamp. They both slid under his blankets, laying on their backs.

“Thank you,” Gojo whispered, grabbing for your hand. You brought it up to his and turned on your side, facing him. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met- “

“-and I’ve met me.” You both chimed, you mimicking Gojo with a grin he could just feel.

“I’m serious.” He said, bring your hand up to his face and placing it against his chin, now grabbing it with both of his hands, “I think I’d do anything for you,” he mumbled, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles-not quite a kiss, but not not one either. He’d leave that up to you.

You reached up with your free hand and stroked his cheekbone with your knuckles, brushing his fluttering eyelashes with your pointer finger. “I’d burn the world for you, Gojo Satoru. And I’d bring it back if you just asked.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his hands holding yours, and curling your body into him, tangling your legs together. He responded by wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you ever closer, half onto his chest, stroking your hair.

---

And that’s how you woke up, wrapped in Gojo’s arms, tangled beneath the sheets as the sun shone through the curtains. You glanced at the man’s alarm clock and a jolt of panic shot through you when you read the time. You were both late for training the kids. And you knew it was only a matter of time before they came looking. It was one of their favorite days, after all. A training day with “mom and dad” as they’d dubbed the two of you.

“Gojo!” You whisper yelled, tapping his chest rapidly, “Satoru!” you whined. He didn’t budge, his eyes closed tight. You felt horrible disturbing his peaceful sleep, but you really didn’t want to explain to the first years that no, you and Gojo weren’t sleeping together, you just slept together. “Satoru-kun! Baby, come on!” Still, the man was like stone!

Finally, you gave up, gently banging your head against the man’s chest. You tried gentler methods, you really did! “Here goes,” you rested your pointer finger on his nose and channeled a strong static shock to his unsuspecting face.

His eyes shot open, and his hand practically slammed into his face to get rid of the sensation. “The hell-“

“GOJO-SENSEI! NURSE-SENSEI IS MISSING!” Itadori’s brash yelling could be heard from far down the hall. You and Gojo shared a wide-eyed look of panic as you both scrambled to look presentable.

“Bathroom!” Gojo whispered, violently gesturing you to hide in the bathroom, unceremoniously throwing you your clothes from your side of the bed. You caught them as best you could and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door. Gojo whipped the sunglasses from his bedside table onto his face and rushed to his dresser to grab out his normal training attire, shoving off his night clothes. He could hear the kids banging on his front door, scared for their precious Nurse-sensei. Just as Gojo shoved his pants button in place and zipped up, the three broke through his front door.

“Gojo-sensei!” the first years were shocked to find their sensei in a state of disarray. Huffing breath, wrinkled clothes, no shoes, and instead of his usual blindfold, he had on one of his pairs of civilian wear sunglasses.

“Kids!” he welcomed, shoving his bedroom door closed. The three eyed him with obvious suspicion. Itadori in particular kept a wide berth from the tall man, but inched closer to the door Gojo was clearly trying to protect.

The first years shared a shifty look and a nod before jumping to action. Kugisaki and Megumi jumped to grab Gojo’s arms and hold him down as Yuji ran and burst open the bedroom door, frantically looking around every surface before resorting to opening the dreaded bathroom door.

“Itadori-no!” Gojo yelled, tempted to use cursed energy on the kids, but last minute decided against eviscerating the brats. Unfortunately, that meant that Itadori opened the door.

“Nurse-sensei!” Yuji yelled, appalled. He had caught you, still in Gojo’s clothes, trying to sneak out the bathroom window.

“Hi, Yuji…” you muttered, trying to cover up the obvious fact of your bra not being on you, and still on Gojo’s floor with your clothes from yesterday.

“Explain!” Kugisaki exclaimed, following Itadori into Gojo’s bedroom. That’s when she saw your bra. Because of course she did. She let out a squeal at the sight, “You two had sex!” she yelled.

“No!” You and Gojo yelled, you trudging in to stand by the man who had recovered physically from the kids’ tackle but not emotionally and gently pat his shoulder.

“Then explain this!” Kugisaki exclaimed, holding up your bra for all three males to see. You flushed red, snatching it from her.

Gojo’s cheeks also began to flush, “You weren’t wearing a bra last night?”

“No! They’re uncomfortable to sleep in!” you swatted Gojo’s arm with just enough cursed energy to sting.

“You’re that cruel, Gojo-sensei!” Yuji shook his head, ashamed of his mentor.

“Why would she even be with such a guy,” Kugisaki joined the head shaking.

“Such a selfish lover,” Megumi agreed.

Gojo was confused, hopelessly. So, you had to clear the fog in his poor little brain, you took a deep breath as you leaned up to quietly state, “Satoru, they think you don’t…you don’t um…”do foreplay”.” You explained with quotes around some of your words. “They think you don’t give head.” You giggled out, whispering in his ear.

Gojo’s jaw dropped lower than you thought it could, and his face got redder than you’d ever seen, “I’ll have you children know, I am a very generous lover, and I give excellent he-“you cut him off by slapping his mouth closed, doubled over with laughter.

The three looked grossed out, but still unconvinced.

“We really didn’t do anything like that, we just decided to have a sleepover while Nanami Kento is resting in my office since we were both so stressed. Satoru was kind enough to not make me wear my work clothes to sleep. Really.” You explained, hoping the truth would seep through their thick skulls.

They nodded suspiciously, but allowed the two of you to properly get ready, waiting outside the building Gojo lives in.

“Very generous, huh?” you chuckled with warm cheeks.

Gojo’s face flushed again, the tips of his ears bordering crimson, “You were supposed to find that out on your own, Nurse-sensei,” He purred with an air of comedy, “Guess now you can at least test the theory.”

You rolled your eyes, but never one to back down, you grabbed Gojo’s sunglasses and put them on your own face again and gripped him by the collar and pulled him close, so close your lips brushed his as you spoke, “Why don’t you show me, Mr. Greatness.”

---

Unfortunately for you both, that had to wait until later. Much later. The kids were in for a grueling day of conditioning and combat training, going Justu-less for hand-to-hand combat against you, which proved to be a daunting challenge. While Gojo’s Jutsus were immense and overbearing at how powerful they were, you were a fierce melee combatant who could use any environment to your advantage, your knowledge of the human body an immeasurable asset in disabling the kids, even the formidable Itadori Yuji wasn’t much fuss to defeat for you. In fact, you expected better from the three, which you let them know. In spades. When you two were done with them at sundown, they were exhausted, and ready for you to heal them up and make them feel better.

“No!” you said. The three high schoolers looked at you in horror, “You three were being rude, poking into my, and Satoru’s business! If you wanted nice Nurse-sensei today who’d heal you all up and make sure you didn’t go home sore tonight, you should have been nice this morning! Our business is our business, and if we let you know it, that’s the only time you should become privy to our private information. Got it?” they sluggishly nodded. “May your soreness be a lesson to you!” you exclaimed, ushering them up for the long walk back to their dormitories.

“Look at you, miss mean teacher.” Gojo chuckled.

You made a face, “Leave the nicknames to me, hon.” He nodded, brushing your pinky with his. “Check on Nanami then rom coms and ice cream?” you asked, grasping his hand. He nodded.

---

“Matthew McConaughey is doing Kate Hudson so dirty in this one,” Gojo mumbled through a large bite of the tub of white chocolate raspberry ice cream. He found out when he came to stay the night at your little slice of the world that you also make homemade ice cream! Like who does that? So, when he picked out this flavor out of the mix of options you had on hand, you were ecstatic to share.

“It’ll end well though,” you insist, “always does in these.”

Gojo nodded, noticing you beginning to lean his way a bit. “You can lay on me if you want,” he urged, moving the ice cream off his lap to the coffee table. You looked hesitantly between him and his lap, covered by your plush blanket. He laughed, “here,” he readjusted himself, so he was laying against the corner between the couch arm and the back, his legs sprawling behind you, and gestured you to lay on top of him and cuddle. You bit your lip with a small grin before pulling back his end of the blanket and slotting yourself on top of him, facing the television. He wrapped his arms around you and tangled his long legs with yours. You settled, intertwined with him and began to softly stroke patterns into his wrist and arms.

“You’re pretty comfy.” You muttered, straining your neck to look at Gojo, who’s upside down face gazed onto yours fondly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I slept like a baby last night, and I’m already feeling a bit sleepy now,” you huffed out with a smile.

Gojo gave you that handsome smirk, and urged you to flip over, now laying on him chest to chest. “Want me to keep you up?” he joked, nudging your nose with his.

You again just barely brushed your lips with his as you spoke, “Buy me dinner first, Gojo. Satoru.” You punctuated your words just enough to apply slight pressure to the almost kiss.

He couldn’t take it anymore and ran his hand through the hair at the base of your neck, coaxing you forwards into a tender, brief kiss that felt so not him. So, when he pulled away to gauge your reaction with those big, beautiful eyes, you gave him only a moment to see your wide grin before closing the gap again. You kissed him with a fervor one would expect from himself, but he was so scared of ruining this, he let you take the lead. Your lips slotted against each other like long lost puzzle pieces, and you both could taste the cold, creamy remnants of the ice cream on each other’s tongues as you gained access.

You pulled away for a second, him following your lips, leaning up to chase where you had left. You weren’t going to leave him hanging, though. You pulled away, gesturing for Gojo to readjust to a sitting position so you could straddle him, still resting on his thighs, not broaching too far. But as you kneeled above him, legs on either side of him, holding his face with your soft hands, so close to your breasts, Gojo swore he saw a goddess above him. In that moment he swore he saw heaven, earth, and every realm between. He wasn’t using his cursed energy, but he swore he saw infinity. That’s when you leant down and captured his lips again, and his world came crashing back, here you were, his personal goddess to worship, and he your god. Fuck what he thought about you making him feel normal, you merely made him want to worship the way he knew he should be and that’s all the better. And god was he ready to make an offering.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and fiddled with his hair with a tug that shot a soft moan from his throat. You swallowed the sound with a grin, tickling the roof of his mouth with your tongue, and biting his lip as you pulled back so you could begin kissing his jaw, pulling his head back ever so softly with your grip on his hair. You began to nip on the sorcerer’s taught throat column, feeling the rush of his pulse beneath your lips, kissing over where you might have gotten a bit rough. Gojo moved his hands over your sides towards your hips, beginning to thumb the waistband of his shorts you had put back on for relaxing together tonight.

“God you’re amazing,” he whispered, uttering your name like a prayer. “Better than I ever dreamed,” You nipped his collarbone in response, diving your hands under the hem of his shirt, feeling the nimble muscles beneath his smooth skin. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered, letting you sit back on your haunches so he could rip off his t-shirt, and toss it somewhere towards the kitchen. You devoured him with your eyes and hands, eventually with your tongue as well, tasting your prize. You ran your mouth over his chest and abdomen, sliding lower and lower as you went, kissing every piece of him in your path. When you finally reached your destination, you looked up at Gojo through your lashes, grabbing his waistband in your teeth and snapping it.

“Another time, for now I have a point to prove!” he jokes, using what little leverage he had to grab you and shift his hold to under your thighs and stood. Bringing you with him. “Bedroom?” he asked. You nodded towards the short hallway off the living room, the door on the left. Gojo grinned and started over towards it, carrying you with ease. You busy yourself with leaving a hickey on this one spot of Gojo’s neck that almost made his knees buckle, much to his chagrin, and fuel for your actual grin. When he got into your room, he made quick work of laying you down on your mattress, taking in your appearance under the moonlight that filtered through the window opposite the door. As he took you in, your face flushed, and he began stroking his hands over your legs from knee to hip under those damned gym shorts. It should almost be illegal for you to look that good in his clothes. Almost.

“You always do that, Satoru,” You trail off, averting those pretty eyes from his.

“What?” he teased, leaning down over you, face inches from yours again.

“Stare.” You stated, pecking him before nudging him off with your foot, sitting now, but still in your spot where he laid you. “Makes me feel like you’re…scrutinizing me or something.” You said with a wrinkled nose.

Gojo kneeled on the floor in between your legs, dragging you forward by your hips, “Just looking at how beautiful you are, I mean, I can look all I want now. Can you blame me?” he asked, kissing the inside of your knee, wrapping his arms around your thighs, and resting his head on the plush of one, his big blue eyes filtering through those white lashes, still staring at your godly face.

“Where’d you come from, Gojo Satoru?” You asked, love clear in your gaze, an emotion Gojo only hoped to see from you days ago. “You really were made just for me, weren’t you?” you muttered.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, love.” He said, beginning to tug on the waistband of those purely criminal shorts. “Now please take these off before I rip em off.” You grinned and lifted your hips so he could take them off and look at your beautiful legs all on their own. He ran his hands up and down the sides, taking in every bump, freckle, and curve. “And the underwear? Or at least the damned shirt.”

“How about both?” Gojo lit up, ready to help, he started pulling down on your waistband with one hand, and the hem of your tank top with the other. “On one condition,” you surmised, placing a finger under his chin. He deflated, resting his head against your leg again. “You’ll like it.”

He perked back up, kissing the inside of your thigh, and giving a gentle bite to the meat there, “Whatcha need, baby?”

You sat back on your hands, arching your back a bit. “You need to show me exactly what that dirty little mind has been dreaming of Satoru. How exactly you want me, okay honey?” you finished by dragging your top town a bit by the top hem, not enough for them to pop out, just enough to show you weren’t wearing a bra again. Gojo could feel his mouth watering at the sight, and lord was he willing to fulfill your request.

“Okay, you have to trust me,” Gojo muttered, rising to his feet again, laying a deep kiss on your lips, all his blood rushing south from his brain. You didn’t help when you broke the embrace to finally take off your tank top, placing his hands just under your breasts, encouraging him to explore as he liked. Explore he did. He mouthed over your chest, his cool hands pebbling your nipples, and grasping the mounds beneath them. “Let me lay down, alright?” he whispered, pecking your lips, before taking off his sweatpants and hopping on top of your mattress, head resting on your plush pillows. He settled down, gesturing for you to straddle him again. You obliged, and he rested his hands on your hips again, grinding your core on his length, concentrating along your clit, dragging as many huffs of air and low whines he could from you until he could feel a wet patch forming on his crotch from your arousal.

You moaned, and nipped under his ear when he made you stop, trying to let you continue the delicious friction. “Please, Satoru. Don’t be mean.” You muttered.

“How I want you, remember?” he trilled, nipping you back on the base of your neck. You nodded and stilled your squirming. Ready for his next request. “Now come on up. Take a seat, love.” He chuckled, gently trying to coax you to hover above his face so he could devour you from beneath your comforting weight.

Your ears burned red hot, “I’ve never done that before. You sure you’ll like it?” you asked, looking down to his smooth chest, hands still on his shoulders.

He squeezed your hips reassuringly, “Oh yeah, baby.” He said, taking your left hand in his right and leading it to his mouth and leaving a kiss on your palm. “Been wanting to since I saw you in that damned nurse’s skirt.” He kissed your thumb and gently nipped the tip of it between his teeth.

You raised yourself up and off him, he was scared he’d messed everything up, scared you off, but that’s when he saw you were maneuvering your underwear off your legs. As you were about to toss them in the dirty laundry in the dark, Gojo grabbed your wrist, “Since we’re getting risky with these requests on my part, what’s one more? Can I keep those?” he laughed at the ludicrous question, but the glint in your eye told him you were by no means turned off by it. You agreed and while holding his gaze, you hung the pair on the side of your headboard, so he knew exactly where they were tomorrow morning. His face hurt he was smiling so much, “You’re heaven-sent,” he assured, gripping a handful of the dough of your ass as you straddled his chest, knees on either side of his head.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, or you need me off for any reason, tap my leg twice.” You said, “Show me what you’ll do if you need me off, Satoru.” Gojo’s smile softened, tapping your left thigh twice. You took a deep breath and hovered yourself fully over his head, he looped his arms around your legs from below and pulled your core down onto his face, “Holy shit-“ you exclaimed, cut off by a moan as Gojo got right to work, lapping at your little bundle of nerves, making you shutter and you found yourself resisting the urge to ride the man’s face. But like the outrageous man he is, he read your mind. Using the leverage he had from his grip on your hips, you felt yourself being shifted back and forth, he was fucking you on his tongue. The muscle slid over your slit, urging its way inside while your clit continued to run along the length of his nose. You braced yourself against the headboard with one hand, and the other you used to grip Gojo’s hair at the root as a lifeline.

Gojo moaned into your core, and you found yourself throwing your head back, begging for more. He happily obliged, reaching one of his hands around to reach in one of his fingers into you, moving his tongue back to your clit, circling it with precision. ‘Better than the damn ice cream.’ He thought as he continued his torrent on you. Just that thought made the man rut into the air without even realizing. But you did. Next thing Gojo knows, he’s forced to withdraw his tongue in his mouth and come up for air because you reached down one of your lithe hands and grasped him through his boxers. You drew a long groan from the man’s throat, his eyes screwed shut. You shifted your hand under his waistband and began to gently stroke the tip with your thumb before grasping his shaft and pushing his boxers down far enough to give you full access to his length. Gojo pinched your thigh. You almost got off him before you remembered that wasn’t the signal. He doesn’t want you off. “You first, love.”

You pouted, “But you look so pitiful down there like that,” you said, eyeing his weeping tip. “Let me help?” He was tempted to say yes, but merely tempted.

“You put those hands back up here and ride my face like a cowgirl till you’re red in the face. Then, we can solve my little issue, okay?” Gojo demanded, once again pinching your thigh. You reluctantly put him back in his boxers, but that reluctance disappeared when Gojo added another finger and amped up the intensity. You had both hands supporting you from behind as you braced them against his abdomen, your breasts bouncing with the movement of Gojo rotating you along his tongue. You couldn’t help but peer down at Gojo with the new angle and was quickly finding the peak a lot faster than before as you stared into his blue eyes, tears pricking on the edges from denial to himself and yet hazed over from rendering himself pussy drunk under you.

“God, you’re perfect, Satoru.” You babbled, unable to tear your eyes off his, them staring straight back. “Made just for me, all mine.” He barely was able to nod in agreement, adding another finger-three now-into you, stretching you beautifully and bringing you ever closer to jumping off the cliff into the deep waters of pleasure below. Still, he kept up his same speed, his stamina relentless as he continued to fuck your clit against his tongue and pump is fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace. You grew ever closer to the edge, but not quick enough for Gojo’s liking, so he changed tactics for a moment, maintaining his fingering, but adding suction to your clit, grazing the hood with his teeth, and that did it. You all but screamed, white knuckle gripping Gojo’s hips from above, sure to leave a mark if he’ll let it. And as he continued to finger fuck you through your high, you thought he just might.

When he finally gave you a chance to catch your breath, he took out his fingers and began to slowly lap up the remnants around your core of your orgasm. Only when he was satisfied did you feel two taps on your thigh. You obliged, sliding down Gojo’s torso, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, wrapping your sweat slick arms around his head, again threading your fingers through his hair.

“Point proven,” You muttered, kissing his neck and whispering “Now about your little problem,” in his ear, nuzzling his earlobe and grinding your sensitive core against his clothed length.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around your middle. “Two minutes, baby. Sensitive, keep going and I might jizz in my pants like a highschooler.” Gojo huffed, gnawing his lip. Your eyes sparkled at the assertion, peering in his eyes with mischief.

“You really got off that hard on eating me out?” You asked, sitting up on his waist, ass grazing the tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

His cheeks ran red, bleeding blush onto his chest. His pretty blues avoided your hunting gaze. Only when you shifted backwards a bit did he look at you again, and it was brief as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, gripping your shoulders tight. “Please, baby, wanna cum with you, not like this,” He gasped, pawing at your heartstrings. Unfortunately, you’re not heartless so you softened, laying back down and resorting to kissing his neck, leaving marks along his collarbone, and feeling up his sides with featherlight touches. This kept his heartrate up and his lashes fluttering as he kneaded your ass and gave you access to everything you wanted in the meantime.

“Always wanted to make a guy cum in his pants,” You mumble, nipping the shell of his ear.

His grip on you tightened further, as he let out a whine. “Two damned minutes, love, that’s all I ask for!”

You huffed a laugh, “I can’t even talk?” you teased, tracing circles around his pebbled nipples.

“Not like that!” he asserted, throwing his head back in frustration and letting out another whine of denial. “Let me catch my damned breath, you minx!” You giggled, and asked if you should leave the room, which he immediately shot down with a deep, hard kiss to your lips and a grope of your ass.

You pulled away, pecking him on the lips before moving on to pecking him across his face. “How can I when you’re just so perfect and hot, and you’re right here like a big, beautiful present for me?” you queried between your barrage of pecks. You expected a laugh but when you peered into his crystal eyes again, he looked at you like you had hung the moon, like you were the sun itself warming him and giving him life. And in some ways, you were to him. Sometimes he found himself straying from where he should on his path to power, success, and happiness, but ever since he’s had you, he’s found his way back quicker and quicker. You are by far the best thing that has come into his life, and he’ll be damned if you don’t know it.

With that breather, you could feel his drive picking up underneath you, no cursed energy required. So, you tested the waters again, gently grinding your core across his length. His breath hitched but he grinned and nodded ‘Game on.’ You thought, reaching over him to your bedside drawer for the box of condoms you had stashed there. He eyed you when you brought out the wrapper and as you sat up you gulped down your nerves and admitted that “I bought them a little while after we started getting close. I had high hopes, I guess.” He outright belly laughed at that one, nodding and admitting to the same thing. Leading you to do the same, smacking his arm. Regardless, you got your wits about you and moved between the man’s thighs as he still chuckled away, palming him in his boxers to quiet him down. And quiet down he did, his eyes shooting open and rolling back in his head at the feeling. You made quick work of his boxers, freeing his aching cock and marveling the sight. His gaze was piercing as you gently stroked him up and down, spreading his precum along his length and working your nimble fingers over him to roll on the condom.

“How do you want me, Satoru?” you asked, idly stroking him around his shaft, avoiding the tip now. Call him cheesy, but Gojo wanted to go traditional missionary for your first time, maybe put you on top at the end. There’s plenty of time to try new positions and techniques later. Right now, he wants you close and he wants you now. So, he rolled you off him, onto your back, and after making sure you’re comfortable, him insisting on putting a pillow under your hips for your back and him doting on you some more, you grabbed Gojo’s face and shoved your lips against his, your tongues clashing immediately while you reached down and aligned his tip with your entrance.

He took the hint and braced himself above you, one hand next to your head and the other against the headboard for support before pushing in, only making it halfway before you both needed a brief pause, he could feel you clenching around him with the stretch, and it made his hips stutter at the feeling. See, you don’t know this, but it had been a while for Gojo. He was in a dry spell for a good while before you came along, and when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t look at another girl the same way, even when the opportunity popped up, he couldn’t bring himself to. All he kept wishing was that they were you, so he had to decline, the thought of seeing you the next day too enticing for him to even want to sleep with other women. And anytime he found himself hot below the collar, he could only think of you again, but it felt wrong to touch himself to you, so he resorted to thinking of gross, or simply the least arousing things he could, to cope. So, Gojo was sensitive. And that fact was hitting him like a bag of bricks as he buried himself to the hilt in your heat.

You clenched and fluttered below Gojo as you clawed at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him in-bottomed out. You both began to pant as the throbbing heat continued at your join. You bucked your hips on a reflex and both of you moaned out wildly, Gojo gripping the pillow next to your head like his life depended on it. “God, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Just seeing you like this has me close, Satoru,” you muttered, nuzzling his ear, “Just go for it, whatever happens, happens.”

He nodded, and dragged his length out slowly and shoved it in, gasping at the sensation. But he soldiered on, chasing both of your highs as best he could, pistoning into you. You moaned your encouragements, leaving long drags of your nails across his back. Gojo was spurred on further by the sting and he kept on, grabbing your left leg and pinning it up, holding it by the knee. The new angle gave him access to that wonderful spot inside of you, and you cried out, digging your nails deep into his skin.

He let out a deep, guttural groan and kept hitting that spot, over and over like it was all he knew how to do, and sure enough you were running towards that cliff again, this time hand in hand with Gojo Satoru when suddenly you could feel his resolve faltering, and he gripped your hips fiercely, flipping the two of you without losing a beat. The mere action enough to make that run a dead sprint, but the way he helped you bounce on his length, now digging into his abs with those piercing nails, him still reaching all the best parts inside of you, it was divine. You kept pace now, letting the man beneath you almost bliss out as you took the reins. Him merely stroking your thighs as you rode him all the way to the finish line. You looked down at him properly, and again, eye contact with the beautiful man was enough to send you tumbling, along with him. You both cried out, tears pricking the edge of both of your eyes as you came, vigorously riding off your highs. You could feel Gojo filling the condom inside you, sad you couldn’t take the risk to have been completely connected.

When you both caught your breath, you slowly pulled yourself off him, collapsing next to Gojo on your bed. He reached down and took off the condom, tied it off and threw it away in the trash next to your bed.

“Wow,” you muttered.

“Wow,” Gojo agreed.

“The kids are gonna see these marks, aren’t they?” you muttered, looking the man next to you over.

“I’m not letting you heal them, so yes. Absolutely.” He rasped, cuddling you closer to him.

“Not it” You called, raising your hand. Gojo frowned, sticking out his tongue at you, “Now that I know how you can use that thing, you better put it away or be ready for round two Mister.”

Gojo felt a laugh rip from his chest, and he couldn’t help but grab you around the middle and pull you on top of him for another kiss.

---

“A cat attack, Gojo-sensei?” The first years questioned as the group mowed down their bentos for the day.

The man nodded resolutely, “Of course, what other kind of ferocious beasty could have done this?” Gojo chuckled.

Nanami was sat beside the white-haired man, peering over his shoulder at the note that you had left him in his lunch that day, and nodded, “Yeah, some pussy really got him good.” He agreed, a slight smirk on his face. The kids began to realize, noticing the dark hickies under Gojo’s collar. Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and he thwacked Nanami on the arm. Nanami whispered quieter, “A nursing pussy, has three little kitte-“ Gojo kicked Nanami off of the chair next to him with enough force to send him flying a good ways.

“And I’m not getting you healed this time!” Gojo yelled.

“You owe me a new pair of undies, Mr. Greatness. <3 -Nurse-sensei”

[real-total-drama-takes]

The female characters aren’t ‘more boring than the male characters’, the people in the fandom just overanalyze and appreciate them over any female characters. Noah isn’t that interesting. Alejandro is maybe that interesting. Cody is not. Ezekiel is not. Justin is not. This is not character hate. You’ve just worked so hard to understand them- almost exclusively male characters- and payed them so much attention that you think they’re some amazingly complex characters. You could easily do this with other characters- female characters-, but the fact is that people do NOT. They rarely ever do. Not to mention to degradation of female characters to “Mary sues” and “manipulative”- acting as if they have NOTHIN significant to them-, and showing obvious biases between flaws and scandals. I’ll use Alejandro as an example. He is not a good person. He does go through struggles, but he is a bad person, misogynistic, and a villain in the show. Does this mean you can’t like him or appreciate him? Of course not. But look at how other female characters who are less awful than he is but get worse treatment. Of course there’s obvious problems with the way female characters are mistreated in the show itself, but the fandom only emphasizes this.

For a more specific example, I’m going to use Chase and Millie. Both of them have done immoral, endangering things- Chase cutting Emma’s breaks and Millie pushing Damien down the 4 point slide. Millie is more often attacked for this than Chase is, although what Chase did was objectively worse. Chase cut the breaks on his girlfriend’s car AS A PRANK and made her crash. Millie sent Damien through a ‘death trap’ in order to win a challenge for her team. What both of them did was bad, obviously, and I think you can still like them and forgive one of them for what they did. That being Millie. Millie shows genuine remorse over her actions, and Damien accepts her apology as she promises to do better. Chase does not apologize, admit, or even THINK that he was wrong. Guess which one of these characters is commonly loved and which one is overly hated. Obviously, Millie being plus sized and a woc (Black, I believe) contributes some to this, but this is an obvious pattern you can see through every generation.

But yeah. The fandom itself has treated female characters worse than the show has in some ways.

-🐍 should probably not use my anon thing but I needed to say this!! It’s been in my head for a while

[grimoireofhayley]

Shackles

Leon S. Kennedy x TF141!Reader

Inspired by both events of Modern Warfare 2, Resident Evil (Games & Animated Movies) and the Song Shackles by Steven Rodriguez

Shackles Master List

Warnings: Smut (Eventually), Swearing, Blood & Gore, Flirting, BDSM (Eventually), Implied Mental Health Struggles, Alcoholism, Trauma, Torture, Eventual Kidnapping , Age Gap (Leon is 48 and reader is 25), Enemies to Lovers, Leon is an absolute ass at first, Slight Ghost x Reader x Soap if you squint, Abuse, Masochism

A/n: I apologize if reader seems like a Mary-sue… I couldn’t help it, I wanted the reader to seem more badass/Independent… I’m not very good at describing it, however, I hope you enjoy. 😊 Also, this song inspired the way this chapter played out lol. Listen to it as you read, you won’t regret it.

Chapter 4:

Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz were standing to the side, having watched the events unfold in front of them. They were trying to contain their amusement, but the entire situation was just too good to be true.

Soap slapped his knee, bursting out into laughter. “That was bloody brilliant.”

Price shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “That’s one hell of a woman,” he chuckled, “Thank god she’s on our team.”

Ghost let out a low whistle, still in shock at what he had just witnessed. “I don’t know if I’m more surprised or impressed. That was some serious power she had over him.”

Soap chuckled again, “She’s got ‘em right where she wants him.”

Price nodded in agreement, “Seems that way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so rattled before, even when I held him at gun point…”

The four men continued to watch, all of them amused and entertained by the situation. They knew Leon wouldn’t recover from this.

Leon stood up, dusting himself off, as he looked over at the four, a look of embarrassment on his face. He could hear the sound of their laughter, it was annoying.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He knew he had been humbled for maybe the first time in his life, and it was by a woman no less.

And a woman that he can’t get out of his head.

Soap snickered, “Look at his face. I dinnae think I’ve ever seen him look so defeated.”

Gaz smirked, “The look of a man who’s been put in his place, isn’t it beautiful?”

Ghost chuckled, “Looks like he finally got what he deserved. Cocky ‘lil bastard.”

All the men laughed again, clearly enjoying Leon’s current state.

Leon watched as (Y/n) brushed past him, her eyes avoiding his gaze. He wanted to call out to her, to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.

He felt a mix of humiliation and desire warring within him, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He could hear the laughs and taunts of the others in the background, mocking him for his current state, and it only made things worse.

Leon continued to watch her, her scent lingering in the air, his eyes following her every movement. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He was so used to being in control, but she had completely turned the tables, and he was struggling to process it.

He turned to look at Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz, all still laughing at his expense. He scowled, “Piss off, all of you…”

“What’s the matter, Kennedy? Can’t take a little humiliation?” Soap taunted, still chuckling.

Ghost joined in, “Looks like someone can’t ‘andle a strong independent woman.”

Price had a smirk on his face, enjoying this more than the others. “I don’t know what’s funnier, you being put in your place like that, or the fact that you were practically drooling over our lil’ lass…”

Leon’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the rest of (Y/n)’s teammates continued to laugh at him. He knew they would never let him live this down.

He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “She just took me by surprise, that’s all,” he muttered.

Soap chuckled. “If by surprise you mean ‘completely knocked off yer feet’, then yeah, sure.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, a smug expression behind the fabric of his mask, “You seemed to be enjoyin’ it, a ‘lil too much if you ask me…”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Like you’d fare any better in my position.”

Soap’s smirk widened. “Oh, I dunno about that. I think I could handle her.”

Ghost grunted, “You’d be on your ass in ten seconds flat.” His London-cockney accent deepening with each word he spoke.

Leon felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Soap trying to hit on (Y/n). Something about the idea annoyed the hell out of him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his expression neutral. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

She scoffed, her hands tightening around her weapon. “Enough, the lot of you.” She snivelled, “I am not a bet, or some whore you bed during missions..” (Y/n) groaned, “Just because I have tits and an ass does not mean you can treat me like a toy or act as if I am not here.” She brought her rifle up, pointing it to the ceiling again, leaning on one foot, “And besides, neither of you can handle me.” She barked, trudging past the males ahead of her.

Soap and the others fell silent, stunned by (Y/n)'s sharp response. They hadn't expected such a vehement reaction from her, at least, not to her own comrades… She knew they were kidding, right? Usually she’d be in on it, joking around with them, or maybe it was because Leon had gotten inside her head? Yeah, that had to be the case. Fuckin’ bastard.

Leon, however, felt a strange mixture of admiration and arousal as he watched her storm past them. Her confidence was both attractive and intimidating, and he found himself wanting to see more of it.

Gaz spoke up, his tone apologetic, "We didn't mean anything by it, lass."

“I know you didn’t…” She softly spoke, walking towards Captain Price. “Can we focus on the mission?” Her tone was neutral.

Price nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “O’ course.”

The team regained their composure, refocusing their attention on the task at hand. Leon couldn't help but steal glances at her as they prepared for their next move. Despite her earlier outburst, he found himself more intrigued by her than ever even if she did humiliate him.

__

The groans and moans of the undead were heard like an orchestra of gurgling, loitering about outside of the Raccoon City Police Station, ramming into the doors, windows and walls trying to get in. No doubt from the commotion inside, especially when (Y/n) riddled the ceiling with bullets earlier - the noise brought unwanted attention.

Leon and the TF141 were swarmed and the things outside��� were hungry.

The team prepared their weapons, getting ready for the imminent onslaught of undead. Leon checked his gear, securing his pistol and ammo. He looked to the others, nodding in readiness.

Gaz looked out through the window, “They’re practically pounding on the door. We can’t stay in here for much longer…”

Soap scanned the area, “Looks like our only option is to fight our way out?” He said more of a question than anything, feeling the unease set in from the mission.

“Fuck no.” Price spoke, “We need to come up with another plan first and fast.”

(Y/n) sighed, placing her weapon behind her, securely strapping it over her shoulder.

She had her own plan and it was only going to work if the idiots in front of her stayed distracted, or else they wouldn’t let her go out there on her own; they’d fight her against it.

(Y/n) had eyed a vehicle near by that was behind the horde, noise was the only thing that could get them to bugger off and away from the building, it’s the only way any of them have a chance to escape and get to the hospital - point B.

(Y/n) tiptoed around the men, heading to the exit door that was nearest to the car, she was on high alert, but she was determined, the plan had to work.

Crouching, she rested her hand above her switchblade, ready to pull it out in case a stray zombie spotted her as she opened the exit door.

__

Making her way to the car, she opened the hood of it.

Yes, this was going to work. There’s no way it won’t.

Bending over, (Y/n) smirked to herself, severing the wire to the car alarm. She closed the hood just as the summer breeze picked up, ridden with plague, as it blew her hair all over the place.

She pulled her leather glove tighter on her hand using her teeth, then made a fist, punching the glass to the drivers side, reaching her hand to the tab that locked the car, unlocking it.

__

Leon, Soap, Ghost and Gaz were still in the main room, discussing their strategy. They were oblivious to (Y/n)’s absence, focused on their own conversation.

Leon ran a hand through his brunette hair, deep in thought. "We need to be careful. If we alert the horde to our presence, we'll be overrun in seconds."

Soap nodded in agreement, "Aye, we need to find a way to distract them."

Ghost only looked ahead of him, watching as the dead continued to throw themselves at the building, gripping his weapon.

Captain Price was silent, deep in thought as his eyes flickered; something, or someone was missing…

Leon continued to strategize with the others, his mind occupied with figuring out the best approach. He noticed Captain Price was distracted, his eyes darting around the room, as if searching for something. Suddenly, he realized it, "Wait a minute...where's (Y/n)?”

__

(Y/n) opened the car door, closing it, adrenaline pumping through her.

She rummaged around, highjacking the car’s engine to get it to start, “C’mon…” She spoke quietly, trying to get a spark. “You can do it, baby..” She grunted, finally getting a reaction from the vehicle. She silently cheered as the headlights turned on, directing the soft glow to the Police Station where the others were.

__

Leon, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz turned towards the headlights, their eyes narrowing as the car engine roared to life.

Gaz's eyes widened, "Is she...?"

Soap smirked, "Looks like the lass has a plan of her own."

Ghost sniffled, "Reckless, but it just might work."

Captain Price raised an eyebrow, a hint of admiration in his eyes.

Leon now felt a mix of worry and pride as he watched (Y/n).

He turned to the others, “Is she out of her goddamn mind? She's going to get herself killed.”

Soap chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. “Looks like she's got things under control.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, "Or she's about to get herself killed. You know how she is, bloody woman has a death wish.”

__

(Y/n) gripped the steering wheel, revving the engine, gaining some attention from the walkers, she quickly turned the radio on with a flick of her wrist and Hollywood Undead’s song ‘Riot’ started to play…

“I've been searching for an answer, but I ain't found one, I've been known to tear shit up and go off like a gun. I've been drinking way too much, but now I think I'm done…” The lyrics echoed loudly, alerting any, if not, all dead nearby.

“Okay, new plan…” She chuckled, revving the engine again and the tires skidded as she drove.

The men watched in astonishment as (Y/n) floored the gas pedal, heading straight for the horde of undead.

Soap whistled, "Bloody hell, she's doing it."

Ghost's eyes widened, "Is she nuts?"

"Apparently so," Gaz muttered.

Captain Price chuckled, "Can't say I'm surprised."

Leon couldn't believe what he was seeing. (Y/n), the woman who had just put him in his place, was now driving headfirst into a horde of zombies. It was both madness and impressive.

He shook his head, "She's going to get herself killed." He repeated.

Gaz smirked, "Or she's just being the badass we all know she is."

Ghost chuckled, "Aye, that's our (Y/n) for ya.."

The car plowed through the undead, sending them flying in every direction. (Y/n) expertly maneuvered the vehicle, narrowly avoiding the grasping hands of the zombies.

Soap, Ghost and Gaz were in awe, watching the spectacle unfold. Leon was still in shock, torn between admiration and concern.

The team could barely believe what (Y/n) was doing. Driving straight through a horde of undead was impressive enough, but to then reverse into the police station with only one hand on the wheel…it was downright crazy.

Soap groaned, “She's got balls.”

Gaz shook his head, "I'll never doubt the lass again."

Ghost just chuckled, unable to hide his smirk. Even Captain Price had a hint of a smile on his face, they had trained her well.

She poked her head out of the shattered window, waving her arm at them, her other hand still gripping the wheel. “Well, what are you dumbasses waitin’ for? Get in!” She ordered, turning the music off.

The team snapped out of their shock, quickly following (Y/n)’s command. They hurried to the car, climbing into the backseat and piling in, Leon found himself sitting in the passenger seat, their shoulders brushing against one another. He tried to ignore the flicker of electricity he felt at the contact, but eventually gave in to it as he sucked in a shaky breath.

Leon closed the door, "You're absolutely batshit." he said, unable to hide the admiration in his voice.

(Y/n) only shot him a wink.

Gaz, Soap, Ghost and Price were squished in the backseat, trying to find room to breathe. Ghost was particularly uncomfortable, grumbling about the lack of space, “Aye, you couldna find a bigger vehicle?”

(Y/n) laughed as she noticed Ghost's discomfort. "Sorry, mate, but beggars can't be choosers in a zombie apocalypse." She glanced in the rearview mirror at the team squished in the backseat. "Sorry lads, this was the best I could do."

Gaz tried to readjust himself, his elbow bumping into Soap's side. "Yeah, I can feel that."

Soap winced, but couldn’t resist adding a tease, "At least it's a bit cozy back here, eh?"

Ghost grumbled, trying his best to shoot Soap a glare, “If by cozy, you mean claustrophobic, then sure, it’s fuckin’ cozy.”

Captain Price just chuckled at their banter. "Stop squabbling and just be glad we're not being eaten alive right about now."

Leon leaned back in his seat, still in awe at (Y/n)’s driving. "You really are something else, you know that?"

(Y/n) shot him a playful smirk, "I know."

Gaz and Soap snickered in the back, knowing full well how much Leon liked that smirk.

Ghost groaned, growing more and more irritated by the cramped space. "Can we get movin’? I'm being crushed over here."

“Yes, sir.” (Y/n) mock saluted Ghost, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Hold on tight boys.” She purred, getting ready to move.

The team braced themselves for the impending speed, grabbing onto whatever they could to steady themselves.

Soap, as always, had a quip ready, "Well, this is just like a roller-coaster, innit?"

Gaz, who was smushed between Soap and Ghost, tried to find a stable position. "Aye, a roller-coaster with no safety bar."

Ghost grumbled, "I'd rather be chased by the undead than stuck in this car any longer." He attempted to adjust his long legs, but to no avail, he couldn’t budge.

Captain Price just chuckled at their banter. "You lads need to lighten up, it's not so bad."

Leon couldn't help but grin at the interaction.

(Y/n) leaned forward, quickly turning the music back on. “Aye, this is going to be a bumpy ride.” She warned.

The car screeched as (Y/n) slammed the pedal to the floor, the team holding on for dear life in the backseat.

Soap chuckled, "Bloody hell, she's a maniac behind the wheel."

Ghost gritted his teeth, "I think 'maniac' is being kind."

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