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scarluna · 11 days ago

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Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V

Word Count so far: 13k

Chapters: 2 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

ACT II.

The office was a battlefield, and I was the only one unarmed.

Every day felt like a fresh assault. Tina’s barbs were sharper, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she leaned over my desk. “Oh, Y/N, are you sure you’re comfortable in that chair? It looks like it’s a little… snug.”

I tried to ignore her, my cheeks burning as I focused on the mock-up on my screen. She’d been relentless all week, and every comment felt like a jab to my already low self-esteem. I was keeping quiet, minding my own business but the bullying never seemed to stop. I wanted to be the bigger person, the mature person who doesn't take things to heart. And it seemed like it from outside, but from the inside I was suffering.

Across the room, Yoongi wasn’t much better. His criticisms were less direct, but no less cutting. He had a way of making me feel incompetent without ever raising his voice. “Y/N, these designs lack creativity,” he’d say, his tone calm but loaded with judgment. “Maybe it’s time you considered a role that’s more… fitting for your skill set. Like data entry.”

I bit my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wasn’t going to cry. Not here, not in front of them.

Jungkook, however, was the worst of all. Every glance he threw my way felt like a judgment, every word like a blow.

“You’re moving too slow,” he snapped one afternoon, slamming a stack of papers onto my desk, leaning over to my face whilst his dark eyes burned into my soul. “Do you even understand deadlines? Or is thinking that fast too much for you?”

The team laughed quietly, but the sound roared in my ears. I felt my hands tremble. I wanted to open my mouth, I wanted to shout and say that I quit this god forsaken place, but I couldn't. Call me weak, call me pushover or whatever, but this job was important to me and I wanted to keep proving my worth.

By the end of the day, I was drained of course. My confidence was in shreds, my energy spent. But the worst moments came when I was alone at home, sitting in my small one-bedroom flat with my dog curled up at my feet and tears streaming down my face.

That evening, I sat at the kitchen table, staring at a cold cup of tea in my hands. Hades, my dog, whimpered, sensing my distress, and I reached down to stroke his soft fur.

“I’m fine,” I whispered in a shaky voice, wiping my tears away. It has been like this for weeks. I was at work, bullied, mocked at, then came home and cried my eyes out the entire evening. And then when I opened my eyes in the next morning, the cycle repeated itself.

I thought of my parents, so far away and unaware of the chaos in my life. I couldn’t burden them with this. I thought of my brother in prison, the shame my family carried, and the weight of holding everything together by myself.

And yet, I knew I couldn’t give up. If I lost this job, I’d lose everything. My apartment, my independence, my sense of self. I had to keep going, no matter how much it hurt.

The next morning, I dragged myself into the office, my body heavy with exhaustion and my eyes burning from all the crying and lack of sleep.

The morning passed in a blur of emails, revisions, and pointed comments from Yoongi and Tina which I ignored, I was too lost in thoughts to even listen to them anymore. By lunchtime, my head was pounding, but I pushed through, forcing myself to finish the latest round of edits.

“You look terrible,” Tina said as she passed my desk, her voice dripping with mocking concern. “Maybe you should take a break. But then again, even when you take a break you'd do a shitty job afterward yet again.”

I ignored her, focusing on the screen in front of me. My surroundings were like a blurr. Somewhat, I lost sense of my emotions the moment I focused on my design as this was the only thing helping me out in this moment.

By the end of the day, my vision was blurring. My body felt like it was on autopilot, moving through tasks without really comprehending what I was doing. Of course I did fuck up a few times, stumbling in my tasks and that did not go unnoticed by my boss.

“Y/N, are you listening?” Jungkook’s voice snapped me out of my daze.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring at my screen without hearing a word of the conversation happening around me.

“Yeah. . . I am listening," I lied lowly, refusing to meet his eyes.

I could practically hear him scoff and probably roll his eyes. “You’re useless. Why are you even here?”

The words hit me like a slap, but I couldn’t muster the strength to respond.

It happened that evening at the end of my workday, just as I was finishing the last of my assignments. I stood up from my desk, the world tilting around me and my legs went weak. My vision blurred, and before I could catch myself, everything went black.

When I came to my senses, I was lying on the floor, a small crowd gathered around me. Rya’s worried face was the first thing I saw, her hands gently patting my cheeks.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with panic. "Should we call an ambulance?"

I groaned, my body aching as I tried to sit up. “N-no, i-it's fine. What happened?” I was pulled up gently by Rya as the other colleagues slowly walked away because they saw Rya's murderous glance. This girl was doing everything to protect me and she had no clue how grateful and appreciative I was to her for that.

“You fainted,” Rya said, helping me up. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.” I was also not eating at all, because their jokes about how I looked finally had gotten to me.

Hoseok appeared, holding a bottle of water. “You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said gently. “This job isn’t worth destroying your health over.”

I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I forced them back, nodding weakly. “I’m fine,” I said, though my voice shook. “I’ll be fine.” I saw Hoseok and Rya look at each other and then back at me. From the corner of my eye I saw Tina stand not too far away, arms crossed against her chest. She huffed and headed down the hallway. This was a lost cause, wasn't it? Working at such a big company, getting paid well, just to be treated like trash...

Deep down, I knew that me saying I was fine was far from the truth. Something had to change soon—because if it didn’t, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

I didn’t expect the knock on my door that Saturday morning. Weekends were my time to recharge, to hide from the world and the constant judgment I faced at work. I would spend the weekends curled in bed, eating my emotions away and watching crime documentaries while Hades was curled by my side. But when I opened the door and saw whoever was standing there, a small smile on his face and a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, my heart skipped a beat.

“Taehyung?” I blinked, caught off guard by the sight of my childhood best friend. It had been months since we’d last seen each other, though we’d kept in touch through our parents.

“Surprise,” he said warmly, holding out the flowers. “Thought I’d stop by and say hello. You’re not busy, are you?”

I shook my head, taking the flowers with a smile. “Not at all. Come in!”

He stepped inside, taking in the small space. Hades barked excitedly at the newcomer, running in circles around Taehyung’s legs.

“Hades,” I said with a laugh, scooping up my little dog. “Be nice. This is Taehyung.”

Taehyung grinned, scratching behind Hades’ ears. “You have a dog now? I should’ve brought treats.” "It's okay, he shouldn't eat much or else he'd become pudgy." "But pudgy is cute." he muttered and I giggled. His aura and presense somehow made me feel safe and at ease. I forgot how much of a kind hearted man Tae was. And here he was, dressed casually, hair a cute mess and a lazy smile gracing his features.

We spent a few minutes catching up before Taehyung suggested we take a walk. “It’s been ages since we’ve just hung out,” he said. “Let’s go to the park. Get some fresh air.”

The park was peaceful, the late morning sun casting a golden glow over the trees. We walked along the path, Hades trotting happily beside us on his leash. The park was not filled with many people this early in the morning and I was grateful for that. Somehow a lot of people made me anxious.

“So,” Taehyung said, breaking the comfortable silence, “how’s life in the big city? Still doing graphic design?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. “It’s… a lot. But I’m managing.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Managing, huh? That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know. You used to dream big. What happened to that spark of yours?”

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Life happened, I guess.”

Taehyung frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, he changed the subject. “Have you heard from your parents recently? My mom mentioned they were planning to visit soon.”

I nodded. “We talk every week. They’re good, keeping busy.”

“And your brother?”

I hesitated, the mention of my brother a sensitive topic, of course. I didn't talk to anyone about him and my parents seemed to be good at avoiding the topic for my own brother as well. They acted as if he was a shame to our family. “He’s… okay. Still in prison, but we’re hopeful he’ll be out sooner than expected. He’s trying to stay positive.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. “If there’s anything I can do to help, you’ll let me know, right? My firm handles cases like his all the time.” Taehyung was a successful lawyer here, he even owned his own law firm and I was so happy for him. Ever since he was a child he was determined and a smooth talker, convincing people with ease. He was also smart and selfless which was one of the things I liked about him.

I smiled, touched by his offer. “Thanks, Tae. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As we continued walking, Taehyung talked about his work and how many weird cases he has been working on recently.

“I still can’t believe you run your own firm,” I said, shaking my head. “You make it sound so easy.”

He laughed. “It’s anything but easy, trust me. But I love what I do. And it doesn’t hurt that my parents are proud of me for once.”

“They’ve always been proud of you,” I said, nudging him playfully. “You’re their golden child.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone teasing. “But I’ve always cared more about what you thought of me.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. Before I could respond, Hades barked, pulling at the leash.

I glanced up to see what had caught his attention—and froze.

My boss was leaning against a dark Mercedez Benz and a cigarette dangled between his lips. He looked so casual. And also there was a man who had his back on me but it did not take me long to realize this was Yoongi. I was staring for too long. Jungkook's gaze flickered on me and I saw a glint of surprise which made Yoongi turn around as well. My heart stopped.

For a moment, neither of us moved. It was as if the world had stopped, the air thick with tension.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice broke the spell, and I tore my gaze away from Jungkook, my heart pounding.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “What were you saying?”

Taehyung followed my gaze, his brow furrowing as he took in both men's figures. “Is that Jeon Jungkook?” he asked surprised.

I shook my head, the knot in my stomach tightening. “Y-yeah. ” I mumbled and Tae hummed. "So he is your boss?" I nodded. "Does he give you a hard time? I can give him a piece of my mind." I could hear the annoyance on Taehyung's voice as he spoke about Jungkook. I shook my head and my eyes shifted back on Tae. "It's fine.Let's just go."

Taehyung didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, steering the conversation back to lighter topics as we slowly walked away.

But even as we continued walking, laughing and reminiscing, I couldn’t shake the image of Jungkook’s piercing gaze—or the way it had made me feel like he could see right through me.

Monday arrived far too quickly, and as I walked into the office, I could already feel the tension in the air. The weekend spent with Taehyung had been a rare reprieve, a reminder of the warmth of genuine friendship. But as soon as I entered the workspace, the cruel reality of my job hit me like a cold slap.

The whispers started almost immediately.

“Did you see her at the park?” Tina’s voice carried from the nearby break area, intentionally loud enough for me to hear.

“Oh, yeah,” Yoongi drawled, smirking as he leaned against the counter. “Who’d she pay to walk beside her like that?”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and I kept my eyes fixed on my desk, willing myself to ignore them.

“Maybe he’s her personal trainer,” Tina continued with a sneer. “Though, let’s be honest, she doesn’t seem like the type who actually listens to advice.”

I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles turning white as I fought to keep my composure.

Jungkook’s voice joined the fray, sharp and mocking. “He probably felt bad for her. Sympathy date, maybe.”

Laughter erupted around me, the sound cutting deeper than I cared to admit.

“Morning, Y/N!” Tina’s fake tone made my stomach churn as she approached my desk, her heels clicking against the floor. “Had a good weekend? You seemed… busy.”

I forced a smile, keeping my voice even. “It was fine, thanks.”

Her eyes sparkled with faux curiosity. “Oh, come on, you can tell us. Who was that guy? Friend? Cousin? You’re not seriously trying to say he’s your boyfriend, are you?”

The heat rose to my cheeks, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Just an old friend.”

Tina’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Oh, that makes sense. Because, you know, someone like him... with someone like you? Not exactly believable.”

The laughter started up again, and I clenched my fists under the desk, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back. I shot her a glare however and she did see it. That errupted a chuckle from her and she walked away with graceful steps, shaking her hips because she knew Jungkook was there. Pathetic bitch.

The hours dragged on, each task feeling heavier under the weight of the relentless mockery. By lunchtime, I felt like I was suffocating, the walls of the office closing in around me. I haven't felt like this since I was in damn high school.

“Y/N, you okay?” Rya’s voice was a lifeline, her genuine concern cutting through the fog of humiliation.

I glanced up to see her and Hoseok standing by my desk, their expressions sympathetic.

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” Hoseok suggested. “Get out of here for a bit.”

I hesitated, but the idea of escaping the toxic atmosphere, even for a little while, was too tempting to pass up.

As we sat in a small café a few blocks away, I felt the tension slowly begin to ease. The warm, comforting smells of coffee and pastries wrapped around me like a blanket, and for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe again.

“They’re absolute trash,” Rya said bluntly, stirring her latte. “Tina, Yoongi, Jungkook—all of them.”

Hoseok nodded, his eyes serious. “You’re better than all of them combined, Y/N.”

I shrugged, poking at my sandwich with a fork. “It’s just... exhausting. I try to ignore them, but it’s like they go out of their way to tear me down.”

“They’re jealous,” Rya said firmly. “That’s all it is. You have talent, Y/N. They see that, and it scares them.”

I gave her a doubtful look. “They don’t seem scared to me.”

“Well, screw them,” Hoseok said, his tone unusually sharp. “You’ve got people who believe in you, Y/N.” I wish I could believe his words, but deep down I didn't. I was too absorbed in my inner pain to even think someone was believing in me. I wasn't believing in myself in the first place.

As I stepped through the doors, Yoongi’s voice rang out, loud and mocking.

“Back from lunch with your friends?” he said, smirking as he leaned against his desk arms crossed against his chest.

The others laughed, their eyes gleaming with amusement as they watched me walk past.

I didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. But inside, I was crumbling, each cruel word chipping away at the walls I’d built to protect myself.

How much longer could I keep this up? How much more could I take before I broke completely?The answer lingered in the back of my mind, terrifying and inevitable.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of barely contained emotions. I kept my head down, focusing on the screen in front of me, even as whispers and snickers floated through the air like poison. Even my team was just as disgusting except Hoseok and Rya. What was wrong with adults acting like children?

By the time 4 PM rolled around, I was hanging on by a thread. But of course, Tina wasn’t about to let me leave without one final jab.

She sauntered over to my desk, her heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to my inevitable implosion. Today she wore a bright blue pencil skirt, a white blouse that had too much buttons popped off. I could see her cleveage clearly. This was definitely not job appropriate but I knew who she was doing this for.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your designs. They’re… fine, I guess. For someone who clearly hasn’t seen the inside of a fashion magazine in, what, years?”

Her laugh was joined by Yoongi’s low chuckle from across the room, and my chest tightened.

“Not everyone can have an eye for detail like I do,” Tina continued, her voice rising so the whole office could hear. “But don’t worry. Maybe if you spent less time stuffing your face with food and more time paying attention to trends, you might actually produce something worth presenting to a client.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on me. My hands trembled, my nails digging into the edge of my desk.

“Enough,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel the rage bubbling up from deep inside of me. It was getting hard to control myself at this point. All these weeks of bullying and me being silent had to come to an end.

“What was that?” Tina leaned closer, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

“I said enough!” I stood up so quickly my chair toppled over, the loud clatter startling everyone. Tina's expression changed, I could see her blue eyes grow wide as she took a slight step back and her hands fell down her sides.

Tina blinked, clearly not expecting a reaction from me. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” I said, my voice shaking but growing stronger with every word. “I’ve had it with your constant shitty bullying. Every day, you find some new way to tear me down, and for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove you’re better than me?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, please. Don’t be so dramatic.” she tried to look disinterested but I could see the surprise in her eyes from my outburst. Somehow I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore. The words kept spilling out.

“Dramatic?” I laughed bitterly. “You’ve been treating me like garbage since the day I got here. Mocking my work, my weight, the way I dress, the way I look. And for what? Because you’re insecure? Because you can’t stand the idea of someone else succeeding? Someone else that is plain looking? Or should I say, someone that is different looking?”

The color drained from her face, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“And let’s not even start on the way you constantly throw yourself at the boss, who mind you, is just as shitty as you are.” I added, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “The way you bat your lashes, lean into him, practically cling to his arm whenever he’s in the room... everyone sees it, Jungkook especially. And guess what, he is not interested. Pathetic, isn't it?” I took a step toward her. She was taller than me wearing those heels, but I didn't gave a fuck. I was full with rage.

Gasps rippled through the office, and Tina’s cheeks turned crimson. From the corner of my eyes I could see Yoongi lean back on his chair and stare at us in pure silence.

“You want to act like you’re above me, Tina? Fine. But don’t think for a second we don’t all see how desperate you are to get his attention—and how he couldn’t care less. And you trying to bring me down by being a shitty Direct Manager does nothing to make the boss notice you.”

Her jaw dropped, her confidence visibly crumbling. “You—”

“What?” I snapped, cutting her off. “You don’t like hearing the truth? He doesn’t want you. He never will. So maybe, instead of tearing other people down to make yourself feel important, you should take a good, long look in the mirror.”

The room was deathly quiet, every pair of eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

“I-I will have you fired for this!" she stuttered, her face red with embarrassment.

I stared at her, my chest heaving, and for the first time, I saw her for what she really was: small, scared, and desperately clinging to the illusion of power.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady. “Do it, maybe I will finally get the mental break I deserve.”

Without another word, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the office, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the silence.

I didn’t make it far before the tears started falling. I ducked into the stairwell, sinking onto the cold concrete steps as the weight of the confrontation hit me. My shoulders shook with sobs, the release of weeks—months—of pent-up frustration and pain. Fucking hell, was I going to get fired for this? Fuck fuck fuck.

The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Rya standing there, her expression a mix of concern and pride.

“That was epic,” she said, sitting down beside me.

I laughed weakly, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “It didn’t feel epic. It felt terrifying.”

“Well, it needed to be said,” she said firmly. “And you said it. You stood up for yourself, Y/N. That takes a lot of guts.”

I nodded, my tears slowing as her words sank in. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a spark of something I hadn’t felt in a long time: pride.

“Thanks, Rya,” I said softly.

She smiled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re not alone in this. We’ve got your back. And don't worry about getting fired, Jungkook can't afford to look for another candidate right now besides, deep down he knows you are brilliant at what you do and that you are a hard worker.”

Her words were like a balm to my wounded spirit, and as I sat there with her, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was stronger than I thought.

The office was buzzing with murmurs in the aftermath of my confrontation with Tina, but I tried to focus on my work. My chest was still tight, my emotions raw, but I felt an odd sense of relief. Standing up for myself had been terrifying, yet it also felt strangely empowering.

I barely had time to process the relief before a sharp voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Y/N,” Jungkook called from the doorway of his office, his tone clipped. “My office. Now.”

Every pair of eyes in the room shot to me, their gazes heavy with curiosity and judgment. My stomach sank, but I refused to let the anxiety show. With my head held high, I pushed back from my desk and walked toward him, determined not to let him intimidate me anymore.

The door clicked shut behind me, and the room suddenly felt much smaller. Jungkook stood by his desk, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. I saw him wearing a dark suit. However, his jacket was gone and he had his shirt on, black slacks and his tattoos complimented him perfectly. If he wasn't such an ass, I'd have been secretly attracted to him.

“What’s this I hear about you causing a scene?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He was definitely annoyed with me.

I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. “You mean standing up for myself? Sorry if that doesn’t fit your idea of acceptable behavior.”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, the space between us shrinking. “This isn’t about acceptable behavior. It’s about keeping your head down and doing your job without making a spectacle of yourself.”

A laugh escaped me, bitter and unrestrained. “Oh, you mean like the way you and your little entourage make a spectacle out of humiliating me every chance you get?”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the tension in the room shifted, charged with something electric and unspoken.

“Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

I took a step closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. And his cologne intoxicated me. “And you know what? I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough of your condescending remarks, your bullying, and your constant need to remind me that I don’t fit into your little world.”

His gaze flicked to my lips, just for a second, but it was enough to make my heart race.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice rough."I have done no such thing. It was to push you so you can get better."

“Are you kidding me?!” I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. “I see the way you look at me, Jungkook. The way you go out of your way to make my life miserable. What is it? Does it make you feel powerful? Or are you just trying to cover up whatever it is you’re really feeling?”

His hand flexed at his side, and for a moment, I thought he might reach for me. But instead, he took a step back, his expression unreadable.

“You’re crossing a line,” he said, his voice tight.

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m finally drawing one.”

The room was silent except for the sound of my own breathing, ragged and uneven. I could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, but I refused to back down.

“Is that all, Mr. Jeon?” I asked, my voice cold and formal.

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Get out.”

I turned on my heel and walked out of the office, my heart pounding in my chest. As the door closed behind me, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of triumph and dread.

Whatever was brewing between Jungkook and me, it was far from over. And something told me it was only going to get more complicated.

I left Jungkook’s office with my heart pounding and my hands trembling. I didn’t know if I felt victorious or terrified, but I couldn’t afford to overanalyze it right now. I just needed to keep my head down and survive the rest of the day.

On my way back to my desk after my lunch break, I ducked into the break room to grab a glass of water. I needed at least a second to breathe before I faced the curious stares of my coworkers.

That’s when I heard voices drifting in from the slightly ajar door from one of the closest meeting rooms.

“Man, she really snapped at Tina...” Yoongi’s familiar voice was laced with amusement.

I froze.

“She didn’t just snap,” Yoongi continued with a low chuckle. “She obliterated her. And the best part? She called out Tina’s ridiculous crush on you. In front of everyone. Priceless.”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” Jungkook snapped, his tone sharp.

“Why? It’s true.” Yoongi’s voice grew more teasing. “I’ve never seen Tina look so humiliated. It was a masterpiece, honestly. Someone had to put her in her place eventually.”

“She was out of line,” Jungkook growled.

I inched closer to the door, my heart racing. Were they talking about me?

“Out of line?” Yoongi scoffed. “You’re kidding, right? Tina’s been terrorizing her for weeks. Y/N finally decided she wasn’t going to take it anymore. Honestly, I respect her for it.”

“It’s not her job to cause scenes in the office, besides, you have terrorizing her as well.” Jungkook shot back, his tone cold.

Yoongi laughed, the sound dry and mocking. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re mad about the professionalism or whatever excuse you’re clinging to. You’re mad because she stood up to you too. Admit it, Jeon—she caught you off guard. And you hate not being in control. And you also terrorized her. Is that apropriate for a CEO to do?”

There was a brief silence, and then Jungkook’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Careful, Yoongi.”

“Why?” Yoongi said, unfazed. “Let’s be real, Jungkook. You’ve been riding her harder than anyone else in this office. And for what? Because she’s not your type? Because she’s not like the other girls who throw themselves at you? Or because she is fat?” Fat. This word made my hands shake. I hated it so much. It was a reminder.

“That’s enough,” Jungkook growled, the edge in his voice enough to make me hold my breath.

“Or maybe,” Yoongi continued, clearly enjoying pushing Jungkook’s buttons, “it’s because she doesn’t give a damn about you? She doesn’t hang on your every word or bat her lashes at you like Tina. She’s not afraid to tell you off, and it’s driving you crazy. She is not attractive at all and you cannot comprehend how come someone who is not pretty not into you?”

“I said that’s enough!” Jungkook’s voice echoed through the room, loud and commanding.

The sudden outburst made me flinch, and I stepped back, my foot scuffing against the floor.

The noise was subtle, but in the silence that followed Jungkook’s shout, it was loud enough to draw attention.

“What was that?” Jungkook’s voice was sharp.

I turned and bolted before either of them could investigate, my heart racing as I slipped back into the main office.

My mind was spinning, replaying the conversation I’d just overheard. Yoongi’s words lingered in my mind, poking at emotions I wasn’t ready to confront.

Jungkook wasn’t mad about professionalism. He wasn’t mad about Tina. He was mad about me.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

A few hours after overhearing the heated conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, my head was a whirlwind of emotions. I couldn't focus on my work at all. I needed air—fresh, cool air that wasn’t tainted by the stifling tension of the office.

The rooftop seemed like the perfect escape. I’d been there once before during lunch, and it was usually deserted.

Pushing open the heavy door, I stepped out into the open, letting the crisp breeze wash over me. The city stretched out in every direction, its sounds muted by the height.

But my solitude was short-lived.

A familiar figure leaned against the railing, a cigarette between his fingers. Yoongi.

He glanced at me over his shoulder, one brow quirking in surprise. “Didn’t think you’d be the rooftop type.”

I crossed my arms, irritation bubbling to the surface. “And I didn’t think you’d be the smoking type. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

He smirked, taking a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling a plume of smoke into the air. “Touché. So, what brings you up here? Trying to escape the circus downstairs?”

I took a few steps closer, my frustration from earlier finding a new target. “If by circus you mean you and Jungkook, then yeah. Congratulations, you two are the ringleaders.”

Yoongi let out a low chuckle, the sound grating against my nerves. “Ah, so you heard us.”

“Hard not to when you’re practically shouting,” I snapped. “Though I’m sure you both figured no one would dare eavesdrop on the great CEO and his sidekick.”

He turned to face me fully, leaning back against the railing. His sharp features were illuminated by the city lights, giving him an almost ethereal, dangerous look. “Careful, Y/N. You’re sounding pretty bold for someone who usually keeps her head down.”

I took another step closer, my anger pushing me forward. “Bold? You think this is bold? No, Yoongi. Bold is bullying someone for no good reason. Bold is turning the office into a soap opera just because you can’t act like an adult.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flash of something darker. He took a step toward me, closing the distance between us.

“You don’t know me,” he said, his voice low and cutting.

“And I don’t care to,” I shot back, though my voice wavered slightly.

We were close now, too close. The air between us was charged, a volatile mix of anger and something unspoken. His gaze locked onto mine, unyielding and intense, and I refused to back down.

“Let me guess,” I continued, my voice shaking with both rage and nerves. “You’re just another overgrown man-child who thinks the world owes him something. Smoking on the rooftop, making snarky comments—what’s next? Brooding poetry about how misunderstood you are?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though it carried a dangerous edge. “You’ve got a mouth on you, Y/N. Didn’t think you had it in you to snap twice in one day.”

“Yeah, well, you and your buddy Jungkook seem to bring out the worst in me,” I bit out.

Yoongi stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second that you can figure me out with your little insults. You should look at yourself in the mirror.”

“Figure you out?” I laughed bitterly. “I don’t want to figure you out, Yoongi. Trust me, I know who I am, I look at myself in the mirror everyday. What about you? Do you know who you are?" there was a pause." Leave me the hell alone.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Then why are you still standing here?”

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and taunting. I hated the way he got under my skin, the way his presence seemed to pull at something deep and unwanted inside me.

“Because someone needs to tell you off as well,” I said finally, though my voice lacked the conviction it had moments ago.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re cute when you’re mad, Y/N. But if you think you can scare me off, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

I glared at him, refusing to let him see how his words affected me. “Enjoy your rooftop melodrama.”

I turned on my heel, marching back toward the door. But as I reached for the handle, his voice stopped me.

“Y/N.”

I glanced back, my hand hovering over the door.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his tone softer, almost contemplative.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. Instead, I pushed open the door and walked back into the stairwell, his words following me like a shadow.

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year ago

Note

Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)

Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?

Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.

Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?

Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.

Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?

Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.

Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.

Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.

Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?

Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.

Bruce: Cass?

Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.

Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.

Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.

Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.

Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.

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edenesth · 7 months ago

Text

TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [1]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Just focus on me, okay? You can hear me, right?" a sweet, gentle female voice called out, followed by a soft touch on his cheek. Mingi forced his eyes open in disbelief—how could a woman be in the war zone? As he cracked his eyes open, he was breathless at the sight of a beautiful angel before him.

You smiled in relief, cupping his face delicately. "That's right. Everything will be okay. I'll make all the pain go away. Just stay with me, soldier. Can you do that?"

He nodded weakly, his once weakening heartbeat now pounding in his chest. "A-anything for you, my lady…"

"Quite a flirt, aren't you?" you teased, reassured that he was still well enough to be playful. He was the most critical soldier on site, and you had been immediately assigned to him as soon as you and a team of medical experts arrived to treat the injured soldiers.

Your breath had hitched when you first saw him, your heart nearly stopping at the sight of the blood caking his body, a huge gash on his abdomen, and countless other cuts. Without wasting a second, you settled beside him and did everything you could to keep him conscious. He was losing too much blood, and if he remained unconscious any longer, you might lose him. For now, you had no choice but to multitask by treating him and keeping him distracted.

Anything to keep him awake.

"N-no, only for you…" he croaked, and you breathed out a laugh, your hands busy cleaning his wounds, unfazed by his bare upper body. Sure, he had a great physique, but so did most soldiers around here and many other patients you'd treated. His clichéd and sweet words were also nothing new to you. Patients delirious from blood loss often behaved this way.

He held onto your hand when the stinging pain became a little too unbearable as you cleaned the open wound that was still bleeding profusely. You placed your other hand gently over his, stroking his skin in an attempt to comfort him. "It's okay, soldier. I know it hurts, but it will be alright."

With care, you slowly moved his hand back to his side before continuing. You could feel his awed gaze fixed on you, but you didn't mind; it meant he was conscious, and that was all you needed. Through a sharp wince, he choked out, "W-when this is all over, will you please allow me the h-honour of courting you, my lady?"

You raised an eyebrow in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief at his bold question. No matter how flirty other soldiers could get, none had ever dared to ask to court you. This was a first. With a shrug, you decided perhaps a little white lie wouldn't hurt too much.

"We'll talk about it when you're fully recovered. How's that sound?"

Smiling weakly through his pain, he nodded. "Sounds wonderful."

You continued tending to his wounds, your touch gentle but efficient. Despite the gravity of his injuries, he kept his eyes on you, drawing strength from your presence. The battlefield around you faded as you focused entirely on keeping him alive.

Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the worst was over. You had cleaned and dressed his wounds, stopping the bleeding and stabilising him for now. You leaned back, wiping the sweat from your brow, and gave him a reassuring smile.

"There, all done. You just need to rest and let your body heal."

He nodded, exhaustion evident in his eyes, but there was a glimmer of hope as well. "Thank you… for everything."

You patted his shoulder. "Just doing my job. Now, get some rest."

As you stood up to move on to the next patient, you couldn't help but glance back at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. Shaking your head, you reminded yourself that it was just his delirium speaking. No man would want to court a lady simply after taking a single glance at her. He didn't know you well enough to feel that way. He would probably forget all about you by the time he was healed.

The same way you would forget him.

Only you were completely wrong about that. The first thing Mingi thought about when he regained consciousness was you. He lay in bed for weeks afterwards, with different physicians checking on him regularly, but never the angel who had saved him from moving on to the afterlife, the one who had comforted him during the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced.

When he tried to ask for you, he realised he didn't even know your name or designation. He had no information about you other than that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—a description not very helpful for others to identify you.

Just like the wind, you were gone.

He never saw you again, but that was when his search for you began. He remained hopeful even as years passed. He didn't know why he was so fixated on one woman he knew nothing about. But you weren't just another woman. You were the one who saved his life, the first one he had the courage to ask out, and most importantly, you hadn't said no to him yet.

So that had to mean something. He must have a chance; he just needed to find you.

Even when all his friends, family, colleagues, and nearly the whole world called him a fool for being so hung up on someone he had only met once, someone he might never see again, he refused to give up. As a soldier and now a military strategist, he rarely interacted with women, and even when he did, they were often intimidated by his appearance and put off by his dangerous job. They rarely saw him as a marriage prospect.

That was why he couldn't move on from you. Your delicate treatment all those years ago had left an indelible mark on his heart. He could still remember every single touch of your fingertips on his skin, and he longed to have you close again.

His colleagues would laugh, calling him a fool. "You're chasing a ghost," they said. "She might not even be real." But Mingi knew better. He had felt your touch, heard your voice, and seen the kindness in your eyes. You were real, and you were out there somewhere. You had to be.

He devoted every spare moment to finding you, combing through records and speaking to anyone who might have known the medical trainees from that time. His friends often found him lost in thought, staring out into the distance, clearly fixated on a memory that had become his driving force, always looking for 'his one.'

When he finally found you again, he didn't expect it to be again in the war zone, where the conflict with Ruhon had just ended and the injured General Park was absent. He remembered hearing your delicate voice stand out amidst the sea of men blocking your way as you firmly tried to push through, unfazed by the soldiers surrounding you—a quality he greatly admired.

"Forgive us, ma'am. Women are not permitted here," one of the soldiers explained. Mingi recalled pushing through the crowd to hear your response: "Yes, I know that, but you don't understand. I'm here on His Majesty's orders. We received word that General Park has been poisoned, and I've been sent specifically to treat him."

I finally found you, my one.

At that moment, seeing you again was all that mattered. You were all he could see and hear. He was so fixated on the fact that you were right in front of him that he hadn't yet processed the implication of you being a royal female physician.

None of that was important as he cleared his throat, his deep voice booming across the space. "Let her through."

"But sir, the general isn't even here—"

The military strategist sighed. "I said let the lady through, soldier."

"Y-yes, sir."

He basked in your appreciative smile as the crowd finally dispersed, allowing you space to breathe and enter the camp after what felt like an eternity of being stranded outside. You had travelled far and long, and the last thing you needed was to be asked to return to the palace without a proper explanation. You had been sent to treat the poisoned military general—how could you explain to His Majesty if you returned empty-handed?

Following the tall man who politely introduced himself as General Officer Song, you immediately knew who he was. He was a renowned military strategist, the only one competent enough to be acknowledged by the great General Park Seonghwa.

"Thank you for intervening," you said, matching his brisk pace.

"Not a problem. It's an honour to have you here," he replied, his voice steady and respectful. "Royal Physician...?"

Your eyes widened in realisation at your lack of self-introduction. "Oh, how rude of me for not introducing myself. Please address me as Royal Physician Ahn."

"It's nice to meet you, Royal Physician Ahn," he said, pausing for a moment to take in your appearance, hoping you might recognise him. His heart sank slightly when you merely returned his smile courteously. "Pleasure to meet you as well, General Officer Song. Now, if you'll just take me to the general."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "He's not here, my lady."

You halted your steps. "Wh-what do you mean he's not here?"

He gestured to the main tent, beckoning for you to follow. "Please, I'll explain everything."

As you walked side by side, you couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and comfort around him, though you couldn't quite place it. Little did you know, the man beside you had been searching for you since that fateful day, driven by a memory that had never faded. And now, with you by his side, he was determined not to let you slip away again.

Except that might not be his choice to make.

"Don't you ever regret becoming a woman of the palace, unnie? I mean, look at that—it must be nice to be in love," Subin, your colleague and childhood friend, said as she nudged your shoulder, nodding toward the second prince and his wife. They were the only royal couple so far to marry out of love and not duty, and the two were taking a stroll in the nearby cherry blossom garden.

You shook your head with a small smile. "We've been over this, Subin-ah. Love is a luxury for people like us. Besides, we now belong to His Majesty, and nothing can change that. Watch your words and don't let anyone catch you saying things like that."

As much as you agreed with her and thought it would be nice to have someone to love and be loved in return, you knew there was no point in dwelling on the impossible. Any chance of that was taken away from the moment you both decided to pursue careers as royal physicians. Not that you had much of a choice—both you and Subin were orphaned at a young age, the only survivors of a plague-ridden village that had claimed your families.

Left with nothing, you had begged the exhausted medical practitioners, who were struggling to treat as many infected people as they could at that time, to take you both in, promising to work in any way you could as payment. Feeling sympathetic and touched by your determination, they agreed, and you grew up as apprentices to these struggling physicians, promising to repay them when you were older. And you did, by signing up to enter the palace. It was the most successful path for any medical practitioner, and with your income, the dingy clinic run by your saviours could finally survive steadily.

However, this success came at a price.

Palace rules dictated that any woman working within belonged to the King. In other words, you were his property. Once you held an official position within the palace, you could never marry or have children unless it was with His Majesty himself, if one was lucky—or unlucky enough—depending on how one viewed it. Most palace women would work until their death and be buried within the palace walls. Only in rare and special cases were some granted the privilege to retire and leave the palace to live out the rest of their lives as they pleased.

You sighed, looking at your friend. "As much as I understand what you're saying, we both know there's no point in dreaming about it. Our path was set the moment we chose this life. Love, marriage, children—those things are not for us."

She nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mixture of resignation and understanding. "I know, unnie. It's just... sometimes I wonder what it would be like, you know? To have someone who cares about you, who is willing to take care of you, who loves you."

You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We have each other, and we have our duty. That's enough. It has to be."

She smiled weakly. "You're right. We made a choice, and we've helped so many people because of it. We should be proud of that."

"We should," you agreed, squeezing her shoulder gently. "And who knows? Maybe one day, we'll be among the lucky few who get to retire and live out the rest of our lives outside these walls."

Subin chuckled softly, finally moving and continuing the trek back to the royal medical hall. "A girl can dream, right?"

"Indeed, my dearest," you said, returning her smile. "A girl can dream."

Meanwhile, Mingi couldn't stop replaying the events of that day—finally seeing you again. He had sat you down and reassured you that the war with Ruhon had ended and that the general was already home, being taken care of by his own family doctor. Once you calmed down, relieved, Mingi began asking you multiple questions under the guise of courtesy, secretly hoping to see if you recognised him.

"How long have you been a royal physician, my lady?" he asked, his eyes keenly observing your reaction.

"Quite a few years now," you replied, sinking into your seat and relaxing at the pleasant news about the nerve-wracking war and the general's safety. "It's been a challenging but rewarding journey."

He nodded and smiled warmly, happy to ease your worries. "I can imagine. You must have treated many patients over the years."

"Yes, many," you said, your gaze distant for a moment as you recalled the countless faces. "Each one leaves a mark, in a way."

His heart sank slightly at your words, realising that he was likely just one of those many faces. "You must have seen some incredible recoveries," he continued, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Indeed, I have," you agreed, your expression softening. "It's always a blessing to see someone recover, to know you've made a difference."

His disappointment was palpable, though he masked it well. You didn't show any signs of recognising him, but he figured it must be because he was only one of many patients you had treated. But you were here now, and that was all that mattered to him. He resolved to work hard to help you remember him, to gain your trust, and most importantly, to earn your affection.

"You know," he said, his tone light and conversational, "it's rare to find someone as dedicated as you. We're lucky to have you."

You smiled modestly. "Thank you, General Officer Song. It's an honour to serve His Majesty and the people."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes sincere. "The world certainly needs more people like you, Royal Physician Ahn."

"I'm glad you think so," you said, feeling a surprising sense of comfort in his presence.

Mingi couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he recalled how you had eventually allowed him to escort you from the war site back to the palace. You hadn't rejected him, and that must mean something. It must mean he had a chance. It must—

"Look, hyung, I know you're happy you finally found her, but you do realise she's off-limits, right?" said Junghoon, his apprentice and close friend. The younger man shook his head at the military strategist's dreamy expression that had persisted on his face ever since reuniting with his dream girl.

Mingi's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "Off-limits...?"

His apprentice raised an eyebrow. "She's a royal physician. You know the rules as well as I do. Don't tell me you forgot palace women are the King's property. They're not allowed to marry or have relationships outside of what His Majesty permits."

Mingi's expression turned more serious, though the light in his eyes didn't diminish. "I know the rules, Junghoon-ah. But I also know that nothing is truly impossible. Exceptions have been made before."

Junghoon sighed, clearly concerned. "You're playing a dangerous game, hyung. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

The military strategist nodded, appreciating his friend's worry. "I understand your concern. But she means more to me than just a fleeting interest. I've been looking for her ever since that day, and now that I've found her, I can't just let her go again."

Junghoon studied his mentor's determined expression for a moment before nodding slowly. "If you say so. Just be careful. You know the palace can be a ruthless place."

Mingi smiled again, more determined than ever. "I will, Junghoon-ah. Thanks for looking out for me, my friend."

The younger man patted him on the shoulder. "Always, hyung. Always."

Officer Song's smile weakened as soon as his apprentice left. Truth be told, the realisation that you were now a royal physician weighed heavily on him. He understood exactly what that meant. Under the reign of any unreasonable king, Mingi would never have dared to continue his pursuit. But he knew His Majesty was one of the kindest rulers Joseon had ever seen. While he wasn't exactly confident that things would go his way, he would be damned if he gave up without giving it his all first.

The reality of you being a woman of the palace was disheartening, but it didn't deter his determination to fight for you. He knew it was foolish, but that was the thing about love—it made people do stupid things. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of you.

His mind wandered back to the moment he first saw you again, the way you had smiled at him, the relief in your eyes when he reassured you. Those memories fueled his resolve. He had spent years searching for you, and now that he had found you, he couldn't let palace rules stand in his way.

As he sat there, the light from the setting sun casting long shadows in his room, he made a silent vow to himself. He would approach His Majesty, present his case with honesty and respect, and hope for the best. The King's kindness gave him a sliver of hope, and he clung to it with all his might.

Mingi knew the risks, knew the odds were against him, but he also knew that love was worth fighting for. He took a deep breath, his determination solidifying into a plan. No matter how impossible it seemed, he was ready to do whatever it took to be with you.

But the challenges were proving more difficult than he had imagined.

"General Officer Song, are you hearing yourself? Do you realise what you are asking of me? What would the people of this nation think if I were to give in to the whims of my men so easily? Rules are established for a reason," His Majesty said strictly.

Mingi lowered his head, sinking to his knees and bowing deeply to express his sincerity. He knew he could have gone to Seonghwa about this, and the general, being the King's favourite, would have easily helped him. But the military strategist didn't want to rely on or exploit his friend's connection. This was his love story, and it was something he needed to accomplish on his own.

He tried to keep his voice steady as he continued speaking. "I know this must be an incredibly outrageous request, Your Majesty. I wouldn't have taken the risk to come here and ask this if my feelings for Royal Physician Ahn were not genuine. I implore you, my King, I am serious about my intentions to court her."

The elderly ruler sighed, leaning back on his throne and rubbing his forehead. "Officer Song, if you think you are the first to come to me with such a request, I assure you, you are not. I'm aware I am considered one of the most benevolent rulers of Joseon, but my kindness is not to be taken advantage of."

Mingi's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. "No, Your Majesty! I would never—"

The King raised a hand to stop him. "Let me finish, Officer Song. I know you believe you are in love, but many others have thought the same. I have granted opportunities to pursue what they call love, only for them to turn out to be mistakes. You are young, and you will meet more women who are available and more well-suited for you. Don't let your temporary feelings misguide your actions. Trust me, you will move on and forget about her before you know it."

However, the elderly ruler was unsurprised to see his words only igniting greater determination in the young man's eyes. Mingi parted his lips, prepared to protest and prove His Majesty wrong, but the elderly man waved him off. "Stubborn as always. Fine, if you are so determined to pursue this, I will allow you the opportunity to realise I am correct. Love is a two-way street and cannot flourish with only one side invested. Go ahead and do your best then. Let's see if Royal Physician Ahn will even reciprocate your feelings. She is one of my most dedicated staff members; we'll see if you can sway her resolve."

Although the King's words were intended to discourage him, Mingi was relieved it wasn't a flat-out rejection. This meant he still had hope, a chance to win your heart and make you his. Bowing deeply, he exclaimed, "Your grace is immeasurable, Your Majesty! I wish you ten thousand years of life and reign!"

In the days that followed his conversation with His Majesty, the military strategist became consumed with thoughts of getting closer to you without appearing too forward. Even during his daily training, his mind wandered, preoccupied with strategies for approaching you subtly. So, when a blunt practice sword collided with his arm, he let out a yelp of pain, jolting back to reality. Though the sword was dull, it still left a small wound and a bruise that was sure to darken over time from the impact.

Junghoon cursed and dropped his weapon, rushing to his mentor's side. "Why didn't you dodge?! You're such an idiot sometimes!"

Mingi winced, cradling his arm. "I was just... thinking of ways to approach her subtly."

Junghoon raised a sceptical eyebrow, shaking his head lightly. "Well, here's the perfect opportunity. You're injured, so go to the medical hall to be treated by her."

"Oh, that's an amazing idea!"

"Yeah, it's not exactly rocket science—"

"You're brilliant, Junghoon-ah! Thanks, dinner's on me!" Mingi exclaimed excitedly, dashing off towards the royal medical hall.

The younger man shrugged, watching his mentor run off with an amused grin. "Huh, I guess I am a genius."

Mingi struggled to calm his racing heart, his mind reeling with all sorts of scenarios that could unfold. He thought about what to say to start a conversation, to get to know you better, to make you remember him—

"Whoa there, watch your step!"

His breath hitched as you appeared right before him, your arms reaching out to steady him by the shoulders. He couldn’t utter a word from the shock and embarrassment. Meanwhile, you were focused on the area of his arm he was clutching, noticing the cloth slowly turning red from the blood seeping through. Your eyes widened.

"Oh my gosh, you're bleeding! Come inside, quickly!" you exclaimed.

The military strategist sighed in relief, realising you were too preoccupied with his injury to notice how foolish he felt. He couldn't take his eyes off you, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

Pull yourself together, you idiot!

All his plans for starting a conversation flew out the window as he fought to maintain his composure throughout his visit. Though he had shared conversations with you while escorting you back to the palace from the war zone, he hadn't been this close to you in a long time. The last time was during your first meeting, and he had been too numb from blood loss to properly register your touch. Now, he was acutely aware of your proximity as he sat on one of the many beds in the hall, with you settled by his side, checking the tray before you and ensuring you had everything you needed.

"Now, it would be great if you could just lift your arm a little," you murmured.

He nodded and complied, too afraid that his voice would tremble like a nervous schoolboy if he spoke. Carefully, you rolled his sleeve up to his shoulder and assessed the small wound already surrounded by a darkening bruise, your touch gentle.

"Don't worry, Officer Song. I'll make sure this doesn't leave a scar," you said reassuringly.

He smiled shyly, nodding appreciatively. If only you knew what your presence was doing to him and his poor little heart. The warmth of your hands on his skin and the soothing tone of your voice made his pulse quicken. He struggled to think of something to say, something that wouldn't reveal just how flustered he felt.

As you cleaned the wound and applied a salve, his thoughts raced. He wanted to find the right words, something that would spark a meaningful conversation. But the words seemed to stick in his throat whenever he opened his mouth. He watched you work, mesmerised by your concentration and the care you put into treating him.

"Thank you, Royal Physician Ahn," he finally managed to say, his voice steady but soft. "For everything."

You looked up and smiled warmly. "It's my duty, Officer Song. But you're welcome."

That smile, he thought, was worth all the awkwardness and nervousness he felt. It gave him hope and determination. He wasn't going to give up. Not now, not ever.

Determined to make up for his failed attempt to talk to you, Mingi returned to the medical hall nearly every day for the next week, each time presenting a minor cut or bruise. He knew he wasn't being very subtle, but it didn't matter. He needed you to understand his heart before seeing if you could feel the same, if he stood any chance at all. However, he slowly realised he was getting nowhere if he couldn't openly express his interest and sincerity in courting you.

Sensing his struggles, Royal Secretary Choi could no longer sit by and watch his friend flounder. Truthfully, San had learned about the military strategist's pursuit of one of the palace's most recognised female physicians from His Majesty himself, who had expressed his wish for Mingi to give up. But the royal secretary, being a man in love himself, understood the taller man's feelings better than anyone.

"You know, you can't keep going back to the medical hall, pretending to be sick or injured forever," San said, approaching and sitting down beside Mingi in one of the pavilions in the cherry blossom garden.

Officer Song's head shot up to see his friend before pressing his face into his palms. "How else can I approach her, San? There's only so much I can do. She's a palace woman, and I can't possibly make my intentions clear without His Majesty's permission."

San sighed and placed a hand on Mingi's shoulder. "Actually… you might have his permission, but you didn't hear it from me." The taller man's eyes widened, prompting his friend to elaborate.

The royal secretary continued, "His Majesty has a soft heart, as you know. While he discouraged you, deep down, he just doesn't want you to get hurt. He secretly hopes it all goes your way but wouldn't admit it. Listen, there's a banquet happening soon to celebrate our unity with Ruhon. Perhaps you could ask her to attend with you."

Mingi straightened up, eyes shining with hope. "I can do that...?"

San nodded slowly. "Technically, important figures like you and Royal Physician Ahn are encouraged to attend and show support. There's nothing wrong with a little networking, right? Besides, His Majesty is already aware of your intentions. If she agrees to go with you, this would be a huge step in your pursuit. Wouldn't you agree?"

Hell yeah, I do.

"You wanna bet he's gonna show up again soon?" Subin teased, smirking as you rolled your eyes and playfully smacked her on the arm. "Don't jinx it, just shut up and go on your lunch break already."

It had been a particularly hectic day with the arrival of envoys from Ruhon for the upcoming celebration. The influx of visitors sought remedies for their seasickness after enduring the boat journey, keeping all the royal physicians busy stocking up on medicine and treating the sudden rush of patients suffering from nausea. The last thing you needed was for Song Mingi to appear with another one of his tiny scratches, requesting attention.

You were silently hoping he wouldn't show up today, relishing in a moment of tranquillity as the lunch hour approached and most of the patients had been taken care of. The first batch of physicians, including Subin, would go to lunch while you and the second batch would stay back until they returned.

But alas, the peace was short-lived.

"Ooh, guess who's here again," your colleague remarked, nodding toward the entrance of the royal medical hall where a certain tall, handsome military strategist strode in for what felt like the thousandth time this week. You sighed, refusing to look up from your book. "Please tell me it's not him."

She gulped, watching him approach. "Hate to break it to you, but it is your not-so-secret admirer, General Officer Song."

"Good afternoon, ladies. I, uh… I'm here today because—" his familiar deep voice rang out as he paused at a respectful distance.

Clearing your throat, you finally closed your book and turned to face him with a courteous smile, finishing his sentence for him, "Good afternoon to you too, Officer Song. Let me guess, you're here because you got hurt during training again?"

Instead of the usual sheepish nod, he shook his head and nervously fiddled with his fingers. "No, actually… I came to ask if… i-if you would like to accompany me to the royal banquet celebrating Joseon's unity with Ruhon tonight, Royal Physician Ahn?"

You froze at his question, and your colleague mirrored your reaction. The two of you exchanged bewildered glances, trying to process the fact that this fool was openly pursuing you, a woman working in the palace, someone who belonged to the King.

Does he realise what he's doing?

« Preview of Part 2 »

"Is that her? Your 'one'?" the general teased, nudging Mingi on the shoulder as they observed the royal physician conversing with Lady Park, who was now about five months into her pregnancy.

The military strategist blushed furiously, nodding. "Yes, that's her."

"Has His Majesty granted you permission to court her?" Seonghwa asked, and the younger man winced, shaking his head. "No, he hasn't. In fact, he told me to give up on my pursuit, convinced me it was merely infatuation and that it would eventually pass."

General Park frowned. "That can't be right. You've been searching for her for years. How is it that you've found your soulmate years before me yet still haven't won her over, while I'm already expecting a child with mine, Mingi-yah? Do you want me to speak with the King? I'm sure he'll understand."

Officer Song's response caught Seonghwa off guard as he shook his head. "It's okay, hyung-nim. I appreciate your offer to speak to His Majesty, but I want to handle this on my own. I don't want her to feel pressured to accept me. I want her to see my sincerity and decide for herself if she shares the same feelings. Then, I can show the King that this is worth pursuing, that she's worth it."

"Are you sure, my friend?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

You're probably shocked I'm posting on a Monday HAHA but it's another public holiday in Malaysia, yippee!

ASDFGHJKL 1.9k+ followers?! I'm not dreaming now, am I?😭 I love y'all so much, istg! Sorry, this first part took so long but I've been real busy the past week. I know a lot of y'all have been waiting for this, I sincerely hope this was decent!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/10):

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

@vic0921 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid |

@sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings |

@chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories |

@anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @dollce-exe @jan-l |

@lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim |

@scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa |

@ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 |

@naps-over-degree @brown88 @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to his heart #written in the stars #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #song mingi #ateez mingi #historical au #joseon era #mingi x reader #mingi x you #ateez fic

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goldfades · 8 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐈'𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄; 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "heyy, i saw you were wanting requests for blurbs so like i was thinking maybe paige x fem!reader where they had lost the game they were playing and she was just in such a bad mood so when they got home reader took it upon herself to help paige relax but instead of paige being top, shes a bottom because she just wants to clear her mind yk?"

─ word count | 1.3k

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! smut with lots of plot, hurt to comfort, mention of paige being a perfectionist, description of self-criticism, paige being sad:(, not really much of a power dynamic but reader taking care of paige, just oral!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @plushkhiii @ilovepaigebueckerss @ajcuteee @vi0lentb3rry @paigeszn @brynsreads @delicateray and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

THE ENTIRE GAME had been bad.

Bad was really an understatement, it went terrible. The other team kept talking shit and fouling you but the ref didn't call it half the time. The team was being pushed to their limits, both physically and mentally. Every foul, every uncalled play, it was like adding fuel to a raging fire. The air in the gym felt heavy with and frustration bubbled just beneath the surface for every player on your team.

Coach Geno's voice echoed across the court, urging the team on, but even his unwavering support couldn't erase the tension that gripped the team.

The entire team was quiet in the locker-room, it was a horrifying loss ─ probably (hopefully) the worst of the season. You and Paige drove home in silence and you could feel the tension come off her body, her muscles tense as she drove.

Paige's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white with tension as she navigated the streets. You stole a glance at her from the corner of your eye, noting the furrow in her brow and the tight line of her lips. It was clear that she was taking the loss hard, just as you were. But beneath the disappointment, there was something else brewing, something unspoken that lingered between you.

Paige always took everything too personal ─ every loss felt like a personal failure rather than a team failure. She repeats every missed shot, every botched play and every uncalled foul in her head over and over again until she went crazy and you hated seeing her like this. It wasn't just about the loss on the scoreboard; it was about her own high standards, the relentless self-criticism that always threatened to consume her.

As the car rolled to a stop at a red light, you reached out and gently took Paige's cold hand in yours, interlocking your fingers with hers. She glanced over at you, exhaustion evident in her expression.

You wanted to ask if she was okay or at least prompt her to talk but she would talk when she needed to, she didn't like it when anyone pushed her to. She needed time to herself, to recollect her thoughts and come back stronger than ever.

The sight of your apartment building came into view, and Paige pulled into the parking lot with a sigh of relief. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, the cool evening air washing over the her. You followed suit, locking the car behind you as you made your way up to your apartment.

Inside, the familiar warmth enveloped you, a welcome contrast to the chill of the night air. You turned around and took off your shoes and as you looked up, you saw Paige's gaze linger on you. Before you could process anything, she was pulling you into a tight embrace as her head fell on your shoulder.

You were slightly taken aback but you quickly wrapped your arms around her instinctively, pulling her close as you felt the weight of her exhaustion and disappointment pressing against you. Paige's embrace was tight, as if she were clinging to you for dear life, seeking comfort in your touch.

She usually wanted to either be alone or take out her anger in other ways but she felt different this time. This loss felt different, there was something distinctly vulnerable about her, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings.

"I'm sorry," Paige mumbled against your shoulder, her voice muffled but filled with sincerity. You pulled away and held her face in your hands as you met her eyes, hurt evident deep in them.

You frowned. "Why are you sorry, baby? This isn't on you, we weren't prepared for their aggressiveness and we didn't plan for them to come out that way. We were blindsided, we couldn't have seen it coming."

Paige didn't respond as she mirrored your frown. You suddenly realized that Paige probably didn't need a lecture (you both got enough from Geno tonight), she just wanted some comfort and reassurance. You released her face from your hands and pulled her back into a warm embrace, holding her close as you let the silence envelop you both.

She pulled away as she sniffled, letting you hold her as you pressed your forehead against hers.

With a gentle smile, you brushed your thumb across Paige's cheek, wiping away the stray tears that lingered there. "It's okay, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and reassuring. "Let's get in bed, okay? I'm gonna make you feel better,"

Paige nodded slightly, her lashes still wet with unshed tears. She leaned into your touch, finding solace in your warmth. With a deep breath, she allowed herself to be guided by you, trusting in your comforting presence.

You gently led her towards the bedroom, your arms wrapped protectively around her. . Once inside, she settled onto the bed as you sat next to her. She immediately pulled your lips against hers, her hands finding yours and gripping them tightly. The tension in her body gradually melting away as she closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in your touch.

She hummed against your lips, her touch a mixture of longing and desperation, seeking comfort in your body. You deepened the kiss slightly as she leaned back on the bed, letting you take control.

You pulled away slowly as you both caught your breaths, your hand moving to brush her hair out of her face. "Can I take care of you?"

She responded with a slow nod of her head as you sighed, pulling her lips in for a short kiss before you moved in between her legs. You slid off her shorts slowly as her breath hitched, her gaze remaining on your face. Your fingers ran against her cunt as her head fell back, letting herself get lost in your touch.

You watched her carefully as your tongue gilded against her wetness, taking in her every reaction. You couldn't believe she was letting you do this, she never liked giving up her control in any aspects of her life, especially in your relationship. But right now, she just wanted to be taken care of and she knew you could do it.

She looked breathtaking, the way her mouth was slightly hanging open and the way her breath hitched every time you touched her ─ god, you were so in love with her. After a few moments of teasing her slightly, you began focusing your tongue on her clit.

That was when she let out a whine that echoed through the walls of your bedroom, making your own core begin to pulsate. You closed your eyes, relishing in her taste and the way her legs wrapped around your head. Her hand gripped your hair (of course she still found a way to be control, someway) and began grinding against your face, as you continued your attack on her clit.

You didn't even need to use your fingers and Paige was already cumming on your face as she let out the sweetest moans you'd ever heard. You let her ride her orgasm on your face, moaning against her cunt as she came.

"Oh fuck," she cried out as she gripped your head before letting go. Paige caught her breath as she moved her legs from your shoulders, letting them fall on the bed.

Paige sat up, pulling your lips into a sloppy kiss as her hand found yours. She pulled you into her lap, her touch gentle yet firm as she guided you onto her lap, your bodies fitting together seamlessly.

With her hand still entwined with yours, Paige pressed closer, her lips moving against yours with a sense of urgency. She pulled away as she gazed into your eyes, a small smile beginning to play on her bruised lips.

"I love you, so much." Paige whispered as she lovingly gazed into your eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath but filled with the depth of your feelings.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #ncaaw #ncaa wbb #ncaa women’s basketball #wcbb #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic

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virgoilluminati · 5 months ago

Note

Heyyyyyy,

Can I request a Jude imagine where you attend the match where he does his bicycle kick and you’re just so proud of him ? Established relationship

Thank You

The Final Frame

A/N: i remember watching jude scouring that against slovakia and screaming so loud in the pub it was sooo embarrassing 🙈 ✨Apologies this isn't my longest fic, but i lowkey really love it.

Inspo: You and Jude have been together for two years after you helped treat one of his teammates, as the local surgeon. Despite this, you have never been to a single one of his games, as you barely get time off. One day you decide to surprise him with tickets to the semi finals of the champions league and scores the best goal of his career.

The stadium was a cauldron of noise, filled with tens of thousands of passionate fans. The air buzzed with anticipation as Jude's team prepared for their critical Champions League match. The match had been marked on calendars across Europe, but it held a special place in the heart of one particular spectator.

As a surgeon, you had spent countless nights in the operating room, your hands saving lives and mending broken bodies. Your demanding career often kept you from attending Jude's matches, despite the years you'd spent together. But tonight was different. You had managed to clear your schedule, and for the first time, you found yourself in the stands, eager to witness your partner in his element.

You had kept your visit a secret, not wanting to add any pressure on Jude. His focus needed to be entirely on the game, not on the fact that his significant other was watching from the stands for the very first time. As the crowd roared and the players took their positions, you scanned the field, your eyes locking on Jude. His presence was commanding, his focus unwavering. This was where he belonged.

The stadium was a sea of colors, the team’s vibrant jerseys blending with the scarves and flags of the fans. The air was electric, charged with the energy of thousands of voices chanting and cheering. You took a deep breath, the scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint tang of sweat filling your senses. This was a world so different from the sterile, controlled environment of the hospital. Here, everything was raw and alive.

The game began with a blistering pace. You watched in awe as Jude moved across the field with grace and precision. Every pass he made was calculated, every movement purposeful. He was a maestro, orchestrating the flow of the game with a skill that left you breathless. It was one thing to hear about his prowess on the field, but to see it in person was something else entirely.

It was two years ago when you first met Jude. You had just finished a grueling 14-hour surgery and were grabbing a quick coffee in the hospital cafeteria. The cafeteria was nearly empty, the only sounds the hum of the vending machines and the distant chatter of nurses finishing their shifts. You were exhausted, your mind still buzzing from the intensity of the operation. You had just saved a life, but the weight of the responsibility always left you drained.

Jude had been there visiting a teammate who had injured himself during a match. He was sitting a few tables away, and you noticed his easy smile and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football with his friend. Despite your weariness, you couldn't help but notice how his presence seemed to brighten the room.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?" he had asked, holding his coffee.

"Sure," you replied, too exhausted to care about small talk.

He sat down, and for a moment, there was silence. Then he started talking, and you found yourself drawn into his world. He spoke about his passion for the game, his dreams, and his fears. You listened, fascinated by his dedication and drive.

"You must have a really interesting job," he said, glancing at your scrubs.

You smiled wryly. "It's definitely not boring. I'm a surgeon."

His eyes widened with genuine interest. "Wow, that's incredible. It must be so rewarding, saving lives every day."

You shrugged, a modest smile on your face. "It has its moments."

You exchanged numbers that day, thinking it would be nice to have a friend outside the hospital. What started as casual conversations soon blossomed into something more. Late-night phone calls, stolen moments of time together, and shared dreams brought you closer together.

Your heart raced with every near miss, your hands gripping the edge of your seat. The tension was palpable, each moment hanging in the balance. Jude was everywhere, intercepting passes, setting up plays, and directing his teammates. His passion and determination were evident in every stride he took.

As the match wore on, the score remained deadlocked. The stakes were sky-high, with both teams desperate to secure their place in the next round. Your nerves were frayed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the field. In the final minute, with the game seemingly destined for a draw, Jude made his move.

You remembered the night before your biggest surgery yet. You had been a bundle of nerves, unable to sleep. The surgery was a complex procedure that would test every bit of your skill and knowledge. The clock read 2:00 AM, and despite the late hour, Jude had stayed up with you, talking through your fears and offering words of encouragement.

"You're going to be amazing," he had said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You always are."

"What if something goes wrong?" you had whispered, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at you.

He had taken your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting. "Then you'll handle it, just like you always do," he had replied. "You're one of the best surgeons in the country. You've got this."

He had then shared a story from his own life, a time when he had been under immense pressure. "It was my first big match with the national team," he said, his eyes distant as he recalled the memory. "I was so nervous I could barely think straight. But my coach pulled me aside and told me something that I've never forgotten. He said, 'Nerves are just a sign that you care. Use them to fuel your performance.' And I did. We won that match, and it was one of the best games of my career."

Those words had given you the strength you needed, the reminder that you were capable of overcoming any challenge. You had gone into that surgery the next day with a renewed sense of confidence, and everything had gone smoothly, just as Jude had predicted. Afterward, you had felt a sense of accomplishment that was indescribable, a feeling that Jude had helped you achieve.

A cross came in from the right, the ball arcing through the air towards the penalty box. Jude's eyes never left it. He leaped, his body twisting mid-air in a perfect bicycle kick. Time seemed to slow as his foot connected with the ball, sending it flying towards the goal. The stadium fell silent, the collective breath of thousands held in anticipation.

The ball sailed past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and into the net. For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, the stadium erupted. The noise was deafening, the joy palpable. Jude had done it. He had scored the winning goal, securing his team's place in the next round of the Champions League.

You leaped to your feet, your voice joining the chorus of celebration. Tears of pride and joy filled your eyes as you watched Jude being mobbed by his teammates. He looked up into the stands, his eyes searching, and for a brief moment, they found yours. You weren't sure if he recognized you amidst the sea of faces, but you hoped he felt your pride and love.

After the match, you made your way down to the players' area, your heart still pounding with excitement. The halls were a maze of concrete and metal, the noise from the stadium a distant roar. When Jude finally emerged, his face lit up with surprise and joy at the sight of you. He rushed over, sweeping you into his arms.

"You came," he breathed, his voice a mix of disbelief and happiness.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," you replied, holding him close. "You were incredible, Jude. I am so, so proud of you."

He smiled, his eyes shining with emotion. "It means everything to have you here. I can't believe you saw that goal."

You laughed, the sound filled with pure joy. "I've always known you were amazing, but seeing it in person... It's something else."

As you walked together towards the locker rooms, Jude turned to you, his face serious. "I know how hard it is for you to get time off. Thank you for being here. It really means a lot."

You squeezed his hand. "You deserve to have someone here for you. You've always been there for me, Jude. This was the least I could do."

#fanfiction #jude bellingham #leah williamson #womens world cup #england football #englandwomensfootball #womens football #football fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #judebellingham x footballreader #judebellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #fanfic #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football imagine #football

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felassan · 1 month ago

Text

The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard preview pages Part Two, under a cut due to spoilers. Preview pages come from Google Books.

[Foreword]

[Part One]

In Inquisition you had your advisors in the war room. We liked the idea of bringing the whole team in with you and the opportunity for friction it provides.

Part Two: Joplin

Top: Solas continues to taunt you and guide you through dreams. Middle: The suggestion of romance at sea. Bottom (1): Solas is nearly triumphant, but you reveal that you know about the last elves. Bottom (2): A stealthy, aquatic infiltration in Tevinter. Text: Story Art – After Dragon Age: Inquisition shipped, and all the DLC was complete, we focused our full attention on the sequel. It was going to have a fantasy spy theme, which was eventually modified to “covert commandos”. We were travelling to a new part of the map to hunt down the most dangerous man in the world. The beat boards continued. As the story started to take real shape, we asked if the artists could be moved into the same room as the writers. We could then get real-time updates to the story and create quick storyboards. Previously, most people working on the game didn’t know the full story until all the pieces had been put together in a take-home build (months from shipping the final game). For the first time ever, we could show the whole team what the story was intended to be near the beginning of the project, rather than the end. The biggest benefit of this was that the story could received feedback from a wider cross-discipline audience and could then be iterated on more than ever before. This also helped unblock the art team in an unprecedented way. Being able to look at the whole story in one glance meant that we could begin to prioritize our efforts. For example, we could tell which locations would feature most heavily, so we could spend more time designing their architecture, props, and clothing. It also forced us to do quick first-pass designs without overthinking, knowing that later we could come back and refine things if they changed. This method also takes a lot of pressure off and prevents things from feeling “overbaked”.

Top: The team is at its lowest. Middle: Sparking an uprising. Middle (2): Ghilan’nain is defeated. Bottom: In a dream, Solas is furious with you.

Top: You meet with the Archon of Tevinter. Middle: You stop Solas’s ritual, but something (or someone) escapes. Middle (2): Elgar’nan. Bottom: The patchwork team doesn’t get along at first. Bottom (2): Exploring the Anderfels.

Top: Solas reconstructs the lyrium dagger from the idol. Middle: The team discovers the body of Elgar’nan’s Archdemon. Middle (2): Ghilan’nain. Bottom: Tranquilizing himself, Solas recloses the Veil around himself and the Blight.

Top: This sequence was an early fail state. Solas succeeds in his ritual, life as Thedas knows it comes to an end, and the ancient elves return. Middle: Storyboards had played a critical role in the development of Inquisition. We wanted to integrate them into our process even earlier. To that end, we created an interactive storyboard. Starting with the early drafts of the story, we sketched it all out, including any major choices. These boards were then stitched together into a playable choose-your-own-adventure-style game. It meant that years before the real game was up on its feet, an early draft of the entire story could be played from beginning to end. This was invaluable in receiving early feedback from the team and planning out what visuals would be needed to support the game. Bottom: A rather covert entry into Tevinter remained a consistent element in the story right to the end.

Top: Rook and a team track a mysterious idol to a black-market auction. Middle: You’re not the only team that has been tracking the idol. Bottom: The remnants barely escape. Text: While we worked quickly, these sketches helped reveal where to best spend our efforts later. It turned out we spent far more time in particular locations. Some factions were over- or under-represented. In one case we discovered a unique creature that would have taken ages to build but would have only appeared for ten seconds before disappearing forever (it was cut).

Middle: These quick sketches are often used to approve new ideas as fast as possible. In this case, exploring a “hidden in plain sight” meeting place in a Thedas nightclub. Bottom: Icons from the interactive storyboard, where you could decide whether your Inquisitor had disbanded or preserved the Inquisition, and whether they stood opposed to Solas or not.

Top: Solas reaches out to Rook in dreams. Middle: Exploring new sections of the Deep Roads. Bottom: With the help of the Wardens, you defeat Elgar’nan. Text: After a round of feedback, the story was revised. For the next batch of drawings, we added more polish. This helped us design the game before designing the game. At this stage, we weren’t too precious about anything, so we could make visual design decisions quickly, purely to tell the story. Many designs made during this stage remained largely intact.

Top: A version of the deserts of Nevarra. In this case, trying something with very high contrast: white ash and sharp black obsidian. Bottom: The eastern Tevinter town of Ventus. This Tevinter location is a little less oppressive than the megapolis of Minrathous. You can see the hanging gardens, and in the background are magical statues keeping Arlathan Forest from encroaching any closer.

Top: Another fail state was that if you couldn’t find a way to block Solas from your dreams, he would be able to kill you remotely. Bottom: Solas lures his greatest threats to one location and wipes them off the board.

Top: Some visual backstory for Solas’s cut “bad cop” right hand, Reva. Middle: In disguise at a fancy Necropolis ball, waited on by the undead. Bottom (1): As you sneak into the ball, you sneak into the host’s office, only to find Reva one step ahead of you. Bottom (2): Reva reports back to Solas.

Top: In one draft of the story, Solas manipulated Tevinter and the Antaam into open war, with the goal of performing the biggest blood-magic spell since the creation of the Veil. Bottom: Rook would have to covertly approach both sides of the conflict to plead for peace. Should Rook fail at diplomacy, Solas also planted magic-collecting orbs around the battlefield. Sabotaging them would be Rook’s last option.

Top (1): Solas’s magical ritual in Arlathan Forest has already begun. Top (2): Elves loyal to Solas’s cause stand in your way. Middle (1): You finally reach Solas, just as he plunges his lyrium dagger into the Veil. Middle (2): Reva reveals a monstrous “Dread Wolf” creature. Bottom: Solas is stopped, but you begin to learn that you’ve unleashed something far worse. Bottom (2): The biggest advantage to working like this is turnaround time. You can show someone a drawing and say, “Like this?” and then quickly revise it.

Top: Imshael, having previous joined Solas, turns out to be a loyal double agent. Middle: Kal-Sharok dwarves perform a ceremony in the grip of an ancient Titan. Bottom: Solas tranquilizes Ghilan’nain (above) and, as his last act, performs the same procedure on himself.

Ghilan'nain reveals herself to the world.

[no caption]

Top: A final message from the Inquisitor. Bottom: Defeated, Solas enters the Black City alone.

Top (1): Team members betray you. Top (2): A sacrifice opens the Black Eluvian. Middle: A happy ending with your love interest. Bottom: Secret instructions from Charter.

[no captions]

The ship was a great backdrop for the interpersonal conflict of the team. We enjoyed thinking about how to make it unique, like including the collection of curiosities seen above. We also liked including the idea that Isabela procured it for you, but as a fixer-upper. Nothing like a scrappy but lovable ship to call home.

Preview pages end here.

Book art credits:

BioWare art: Matt Rhodes, Ramil Sunga, Albert Urmanov, Christopher Scoles, Nick Thornborrow, Steve Klit

Volta art: Gui Guimaraes, Stéphanie Bouchard, Akim Kaliberda, Alejandro Olmedo, Alexey Zaryuta, Julien Carrasco, Maksim Marenkov, Marianne Martin, Mariia Istomina, Marion Kivits, Matti Marttinen, Mélanie Bourgeois, Pablo Hurtado De Mendoza, Rael Lyra, Rodrigo Ramos, Thomas Schaffer, Tiago Sousa, Tristan Kang, Vladimir Mokry, Yintion J, Joseph Meehan, Stefan Atanasov, Julien Carrasco

Additional art: Marc Holmes, Thomas Scholes

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas #injury cw #blood cw #gore cw #smoking cw

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team7-headquarter · 7 months ago

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I genuinely think any ship within the og Team 7 students would make sense. There're 0 reasons to fight about it, they're all just as justified.

Naruto was obsessed for yeeeeeaaaars with his teammates. He looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky for him. Sasuke and Sakura were the only boy and girl on Earth, lol.

Sasuke and Sakura were used to being cruel to put some distance between them and the world. Defense mechanism or not, Naruto was maybe the only person in the entire world that would never eat that up. He knew feeling lonely, he knew being hurt, he knew to feel useless... Fuck that, for him, there would never be as someone as awesome as his teammates.

His most important promise in life was to save Sasuke, for both his, Sakura's and his own sake.

In return, Sasuke and Sakura would never shut up about him either. His their saviour, their hero, their sun and the boy fills their lives with joy.

That's why any ship with him works!

For Sakura, it's that there was textual romantic tension with both of them for the entire series. Their chemistry and backstory were intentionally written. That Kishimoto decided on the canon ships in the end, okay, but any of them could have worked. If you can't feel the love between them, blame the writing and not the characters, 'cause it was clear that Kishimoto wanted people to think of them as a love triangle for some time.

Since the genin days, she was their it girl. No one touches Sakura, no one hurts Sakura, blah blah blah. In exchange, even when she wasn't strong enough, she'd use herself as a shield for them. It makes no sense, but she'd jump between any attack and them at any moment. She would run to them when they have lost their mind, not even scared of them as much as she was scared for them.

She defended both of them when other people criticized them. She also lost faith and tried to manipulate them or kill them at some point out of pure desperation of keeping one of them alive. She was the one left behind time and time again, they are her whole reason to be who she is and to be a medic nin. All she ever wanted was to walk alongside them, not behind them.

Again, it works.

With Sasuke is so easy.

Naruto and Sakura were obsessed with him to the point of following him to the literal almost end of the world. The definition of hatred being actually love, because they'd be at each other's throats about it. Their goal in life? Sasuke. The person they cried about at night? Sasuke. What would they wish upon a star? For Sasuke to come back.

And Sasuke couldn't stop thinking about them. In his mind, they were always there. They'd follow him, almost haunt him. They were annoying and rude and ignorant, they were stupid, weak even, he loved them so much that he convinced himself he needed to kill them, cut their bonds.

They harbor endless love for him and with time, he came to understand that's just how they were and accept it.

The loyal 12 years old that would rather take the attacks himself than let his teammates be in any type of danger, did a full cycle and came to be the devoted man that vowed to atone for his mistakes and return to them one day.

If they gave themselves freely to him and almost without a reason, Sasuke gave himself back with all the reasons in the world.

Do I even have to explain why narusasusaku works too or—????

Anyway.

I could never fight over what's the better ship when I know they are all insane about each other.

#narusaku #sasusaku #sasunaru #not a serious thing tbh I just wanted to put somewhere my opinion about these ships #naruto #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #og team 7 #team 7 #naruto shippuden #naruto classic #narusasusaku

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graysoncritic · 8 months ago

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A (Negative) Review of Tom Taylor's Nightwing Run - What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon

Introduction Who is Dick Grayson? What Went Wrong? Dick's Characterization What Went Wrong? Barbara Gordon What Went Wrong? Bludhaven (Part 1, Part 2) What Went Wrong? Melinda Lin Grayson What Went Wrong? Bea Bennett What Went Wrong? Villains Conclusion Bibliography

Out of this entire essay, this was the section that I considered cutting entirely. After all, in the past there have been instances when Barbara Gordon and her romance with Dick Grayson have been weaponized by Taylor and his fans against his critics.

The example that comes to mind was when Taylor and Redondo were criticized for not including Duke in a Nightwing cover that parodied The Brady Bunch.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Finale. Nightwing: Rebirth. 96, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022)

Personally, I believe that, while discussions of how Duke’s positioning in the Bat Family is warranted, the matter was blown out of proportion, and many of the attempts to cancel Taylor crossed the line into harassment (make no mistake, while I believe him to be a terrible writer, I do not wish him any ill-will). That being said, Taylor also escalated the matters when attempting to pin said negative comments onto DickKory shippers who did not like that he wrote DickBabs.

(While the original Tweet has since been deleted, the screenshot used is available in this tweet

Neb | 🏳️‍🌈 [@NebsGoodTakes]. Twitter, 20 June 2022, https://twitter.com/NebsGoodTakes/status/1538939571789934593)

For this reason and this reason alone, I considered removing this part of the essay. While I have no idea if anyone will read this monstrosity, I did not want my arguments to be invalidated simply because I did not have a favorable opinion on the DickBabs.

However, after much consideration and numerous discussions with other Dick Grayson fans, I found that the subject of Barbara Gordon’s portrayal in this run (as well as in many recent DC media), and her romance with Dick perfectly embodies many of ideas I wish to explore in this essay — mainly, how shallow approaches to progress ideals create deeply problematic narratives that not only undermines the themes of a story, but they also destroy characterization.

I will start by once again stating that I do not believe this is a problem unique to Taylor’s writing. As I alluded to above, I believe DC’s modern portrayal of Babs does a great disservice to her wonderful, empowering, complex character. This is but the analysis of one of the stories she appears in. It is my hope to prove that in Taylor’s Nightwing, Barbara Gordon is not written as a woman with a strong sense of self and an internal life, but rather idealized girl whose existence revolves around the men in her life, and whose perfect yet shimmering depiction serves only to make her into the reader’s proxy-girlriend.

Barbara Gordon in the late 90s and early 2000s was a mature and confident woman in her late-20s to early-30s. She had her own job, her own friends, team, villains, and the type of confidence that can only come with age and experience. She was serious while still having a sense of humor, pragmatic, and she knew exactly what she wanted for herself.

(Gail, Simone, writer. Bennett, Joe; Barrows, Eddy, illustrator. Perfect Pitch: Part One. Birds of Prey. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2005. pp. 22)

She was also flawed. She could get angry at people for little reason, she could be too cold or too straightforward without considering the other person’s feelings, she could be purposefully petty and selfish, she could get unreasonably jealous, she was impatient, she could be too proud to admit when she was wrong. It was all of these factors which allowed Barbara Gordon to be her own person — to be a fleshed out, well-rounded woman.

(Dixon, Chuck, writer. Leonardi, Rick, illustrator. The Gun. Birds of Prey. 39, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp. 16)

Babs’ life did not revolve around Dick. Yes, she loved him, but she still had some interiority. She had a life outside of Dick Grayson, outside of Bludhaven, outside of Batman, and outside of Oracle. She had her own goals, her own dreams, her own likes and dislikes that worked independently of the men around her. She had her own history that informed her decisions, she had both positive and negative relationships with other women and those relationships were not dependent on her connections with Dick or Bruce.

(Gail, Simone, writer. Timm, Bruce; Lopez, David; Melo, Adriana, illustrators. A Wakeful Time. Birds of Prey. 86, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2005. pp. 02)

By comparison, Taylor’s Barbara is not a woman, but a girl. She is very young and very immature. If Dick is written like a young man who just left home and is experiencing adulthood for the first time, then Babs is written as his girlfriend who is still in college and does not have concrete plans for her future.

Note that when referring to Taylor’s Babs, I mainly characterize her through her relationship with Dick. That was intentional. While writing this essay, I struggled to think of Barbara having any meaningful interactions with characters who were not Dick or Dick’s friends, the Titans. I also struggled to think of her doing something for herself rather than for Dick and the Titans. I struggled to define her goals independent of Dick, I struggled to describe the plans she has for her future that do not revolve around her relationship with Dick, and I struggled to give an account of what she does in her spare time when she is not helping Dick, Nightwing, the Titans, or Batman. That is because everything in Barbara Gordon’s life, as written by Taylor, is constructed around Dick (As many may know, it is really hard to prove a negative. How can I get supporting evidence from the comics that Babs does not have a life outside of Dick Grayson when my argument comes from those factors not existing? For this, though I hate to do so, I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on the reader’s familiarity with the run being discussed).

Barbara is a constant presence in Taylor’s Nightwing run. She is a secondary protagonist, and she is often portraying helping Dick Grayson behind the scenes,

(Taylor, Tom, illustrator. Redondo, Bruno The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Two. Nightwing: Rebirth. 93, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022 pp)

Helping Nightwing as Oracle,

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator Leaping into the Light Part 4. Nightwing: Rebirth. 81, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2021. pp 19)

Or fighting by Nightwing’s side as Batgirl.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. You are Nightwing. Nightwing: Rebirth. 105, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 05)

She is always present, she is always doing something… But all of that is in the service of the men around her rather than for herself.

As Dick Grayson Fan A pointed out during a discussion, “Modern Babsgirl is forced to be perfect at everything. She's never allowed postcrisis Babs' edges, her flaws and intrinsic motivations. Taylor's Babsgirl is designed to be the perfect girlfriend for his blank self insert Nightwing. There's no meat to her bones, she's just shimmer and gloss.” (The subject of Babs came up when DC announced the lineup for Birds of Prey (2023) and Babs was not included on the roster.)

In other words, Babs as portrayed in Taylor’s run lacks any bite, edge, and maturity that would make her feel like a woman with her own sense of self and with a life that is not dependent on her boyfriend. Babs’ portrayal is a shallow girlboss-type of feminism, where though Babs is powerful and intelligent, she is not allowed to be a real person for she serves no purpose other than to be the perfect, understanding, badass girlfriend.

As a result, Dick and Barbara’s relationship becomes hollow. Because Babs lacks interiority, individuality, and agency, she becomes a flat character. This, in turn, makes it so it is hard to understand why Dick and Barbara are together other than for the fact that DC mandates it. The over reliance on the childhood friends-to-lovers trope only increases this hollowness rather than fleshing out their relationship. While Taylor includes flashbacks of Dick and Babs as friends when children, growing up together as teenagers, and fighting together as Robin and Batgirl, those instances feel removed from their individual histories. These moments exist in isolation, removed from the context of the rest of their lives, be it together or separately.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart. Nightwing: Rebirth. 92, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 06 - 07)

DC currently treats Dick and Babs as a foregone conclusion. As a result, Taylor does not make an effort to get his readers on board with the relationship because he assumes that they should already support it. Dick and Babs are portrayed as getting along great, never having had any conflict, tension, or disagreements. This idealized romance would not necessarily be a problem if it didn’t come at the expense of developing Dick and Barbara as individuals outside of their relationship. They are not one being, but two separate people coming together. They should be written as such, but in trying to create the perfect relationship, Taylor robs Dick and Babs of their identity outside of their romance.

Not only does this inseparability that Taylor attempts to portray as “charming” destroy Dick and Babs’ individuality, it can also be downright insulting. In #106 Taylor infantilizes Dick when making it so Babs needs to be the one to wake him up so he can start his work as Nightwing.

As I mentioned previously, Dick is known for his toxic perfectionism, his obsessive tendencies that often come at the cost of his health. Making Dick laze around in bed while people need his help and having his girlfriend tell him to get ready for the day, as if she was his mother and he was a teenager who did not want to go to school in the morning, is not only out of character, it also diminishes Dick’s competence. It makes it seem like he cannot function as a responsible adult without Babs being there to hold his hand through everyday difficulties.

Not only that, the scene also plays into incredibly sexist dynamics where women are expected to carry the domestic labor in a relationship — the man cannot keep track of his own schedule, and so it becomes the woman’s responsibility to attend to his needs. What was intended to be a “cute” scene portrays Dick as being immature and irresponsible, and portrays Babs spend her time keeping track of an adult man’s responsibilities.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Byrne, Stephen, illustrator. The Crew of the Crossed Part One. Nightwing: Rebirth. 106, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp 08)

This unhealthy codependency further insults Dick when, in #107, Babs demands Dick come back home as he is about to help his ex, Bea. Rather than believing Dick’s capability as a vigilante who has been operating in the field for far longer than she has, Babs shows her complete lack of faith in Dick’s ability to get anything done by himself by telling him that she “wants him home now.”

(Taylor, Tom; Byrne, Stephen The Crew of the Crossed Part Two. Nightwing: Rebirth. 107 e-book ed. DC Comics, 2023. pp. 19)

This is a great contrast to Nightwing (1996) #66, where Babs encouraged Dick’s independence and had full trust in his abilities to take on such difficult challenges on his own. When Lockhaven goes up in flames, Babs trusts Dick to be able to handle the situation by himself, even though she also knows that Dick’s mind is greatly preoccupied with Bruce and the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Indeed, in the next issue (not part of Murderer/Fugitive, but happening simultaneously to it), Dick does handle the Lockhaven fire by himself, without requiring any assistance, before returning to Gotham to help with the investigation that should clear Bruce’s name.

(Dixon, Chuck, writer. Burchett, Rick, illustrator. The Unusual Suspects. Nightwing. 66, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2002. pp 18 - 19)

This healthy separation and this unconditional trust not only portrayed Dick and Babs as both trusting each other’s abilities as heroes — Dick did not worry about Babs’ capability of taking care of herself, and Babs knew Dick could handle his own — it also portrayed them as being more secure in their relationship. They were individuals first. They had their own independent lives and personalities outside of their romance. They trusted the other’s ability to win on their own and handle their own cases without help. And that, in turn, made it so that they could stand on their own, and so that their relationship did not feel so vulnerable.

That being said, it wasn’t as if previous depictions of Dick and Babs didn’t present them with hardships, or demonstrated how, at times, they could bring out the worst in each other. As much as they could compliment one another, Dick and Babs could also disagree, get into arguments, and even fights. That is because they were individuals first, with their own opinions, preferred way of doing things, and their own background that would sometimes come in conflict.

Taylor avoids having meaningful conflicts in his story. While this negatively affects his narrative in a myriad of ways, the lack of the conflict in the plot also affects the relationship between Dick and Babs. It is fine to have a wholesome, sweet romance, so long as it is balanced with a plot containing other forms of tension. This way, the relationship can be a safe harbor for the main characters, the one space in their lives where they can be safe, and the one source of strength they can draw upon when facing the challenges ahead. By balancing a conflict-filled plot with a wholesome romance, the stakes of the plot feel higher while the romance feels sweeter. They foil one another to create a cohesive and unified story.

In Taylor’s Nightwing, all major plot beats take a backseat to the sitcom-like relationship between Dick and Babs. The lack of conflict in the plot and the lack of conflict in the romance makes it so everything is stagnant.

I do believe that Taylor thought he was writing a “Will-they-won’t-they” style romance in the beginning of his run. In Nightwing #95, for example, Batwoman implies that the reason Dick and Babs aren’t together is because Dick and Babs are scared of crossing that line.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno The Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Part Four. Nightwing: Rebirth. 95, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 17)

Wally also played into that idea when, in #91, he pointed out that Dick and Babs were already together and just needed to make it official.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator. Get Grayson Act Three. Nightwing: Rebirth. 91, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp 19)

More than that, I believe Taylor attempted to make a commentary on comics imposing needless conflicts in relationships to keep two characters apart. In Taylor’s view, Dick and Babs were always in love, always meant to be together, and never had a complicated history that prevented them from rekindling their romance when Dick is trying to regain some control over his life after recovering his memories. This shows a lack of understanding as to why Dick and Babs often break up and does a disservice to both their characters.

Now, to explain this, I’ll borrow heavily from a private discussion I had with a Dick Grayson Fan A once distinguishing the difference between external and internal conflicts in a romantic plot. While we were not talking Dick and Barbara then, much of what we said still applies to their relationship.

External conflicts, as the name suggests, involve external forces that keep the couple from being able to develop their relationship despite their mutual feelings for each other. This is the case with a romance like Clark and Lois. Given Babs’ laugh at Dick’s condescendingly sexist claim that Babs shouldn’t be with him because it is too dangerous (as if he doesn’t know very well that Babs can easily take care of herself), it seemed that Taylor believed that this was the conflict that has been keeping Dick and Babs apart. And so, with one panel, he dismissed the idea that external forces could keep Dick and Babs apart because they are able to face their enemies together.

(Taylor, Tom, writer. Redondo, Bruno, illustrator Battle for Bludhaven’s Heart Finale. Nightwing: Rebirth. 96, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2022. pp. 17 - 18)

But in the past, what broke Dick and Babs up were not external conflicts, but internal ones. If external conflicts are created due to external forces, internal conflicts preventing a couple from being together come from the characters not yet being who they need to be in order to be happy together. This can be due to a clash of personalities, worldviews, needs, wants, or goals. To prove my point, I want to look at Dick and Bab’s break up in Nightwing (1996) #87 and the Nightwing Annual #02. (I’ll be honest in saying that it pains me to cite Nightwing Annual #02 in this essay, for I absolutely detest it. I believe Dick is written incredibly out of character and it, quite frankly, captures one of my major problems with how some writers choose to depict DickBabs. In trying to prop Babs up, Dick gets knocked down and ridiculed, and often burdened with the full responsibility as to why Dick and Babs haven’t been able to get together due to timing and Dick’s immaturity. As such, writers make it so Dick and Dick alone must change in order to become a partner worthy of Babs. They greatly mischaracterize him, fault the failures of Dick and Babs’ relationships on those mischaracterizations, and then portray Babs as the patient woman waiting for her immature soulmate to grow up. This is both an insult to Dick’s character and a propagation of sexist tropes where a woman must put her life on hold in order for the man to “catch up” to her maturely. Not only that, it unfairly requires that only one party makes changes for another. It is not Dick and Babs that must change for each other, but Dick who must change for Babs.)

Just as Taylor uses Dick and Babs’ shared history to bring them together, their breakup explores how shared history can make being together so difficult.

In Devin Grayson’s run, their shared history can be painful to Babs. Not because she doesn’t look back on their time growing up together fondly, but because it was such a happy time in her life that it makes her feel bitter about what she lost. While she is incredible as Oracle, she is still frustrated that she can't be Batgirl anymore. The past, no matter how good, is a reminder of what she can no longer be, and Babs wants to move forward. So Dick bringing up their time as Robin and Batgirl, however fondly, is painful for it makes her feel like they are stuck in the past they shared rather than moving forward together.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Path, illustrator The Calm Before. Nightwing. 86, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 21 - 22)

But to Dick, the past you share with someone is what makes your relationship in the present special. The past informs the present and the future. Dick, much like Bruce, doesn’t move forward by disconnecting himself from the past. His parents are part of his past. So is Robin. His childhood with Bruce. The past is something good to Dick, even when it's also so filled with pain. Dick is not shackled by his past the way Bruce is because he does not see it as something that needs to hold him back. You can move forward while still embracing who you once were and honoring the legacy you carry on your shoulders. The past informed who Dick is now, the relationships he has, and the person he wants to be. The past is where much of what he loves exists. So when he brings up their shared history when talking to Babs, he is not doing it because he loved Batgirl but cannot love Oracle, and he is not doing so because he is just focused on who they were then and not who they are now; he does it it's because to Dick, there's no such distinction between Batgirl and Oracle. They are both Babs, and he loves both of them.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Patch, illustrator. Snowball. Nightwing. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 16)

The way Babs copes with trauma is by divorcing herself from the hurt, by letting go of who she was and embracing who she wants to be. Dick, on the other hand, merges who he was then with who he is now. He doesn't see those people as separate entities, but rather as extensions of him. And that makes sense when you consider that Babs' main trauma relates to something that was taken away from her, and for Dick, the only way he can remain connected to his parents is through the past. It's a great example of incompatibility. Neither one is "at fault" for how they view this issue, neither of them is more correct than the other. They are just different. They care for each other, but the way they understand and interact with the world prevents them from being happy together at this moment. For that to work, internal change is needed.

In portraying Dick and Barbara as complex individuals first, who have different attitudes towards looking back at the past and looking forward to the future, Grayson managed to make their relationship feel real. There’s a weight to their breakup, you can see why they care for each other and why this decision is painful and not taken lightly. They love each other, but they are not in a place where they can be themselves and be happy together yet. It is not danger that keeps them apart — it is the very same differences which they admire most about each other which pushes them away.

In Nightwing Annual #02, we see other reasons why Dick and Babs failed to come together so often. These included Babs being scared of Dick eventually leaving her due to tensions between Dick and Bruce

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 22 - 23)

Timing,

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 25)

And, perhaps most importantly, the way in which Dick devalues his own life.

(Andreyko, Marc, writer. Bennett, Joe, illustrator Hero’s Journey. Nightwing Annual. 2, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2007. pp 37 - 38)

This is something Grayson also alludes to during her run, when she often portrays Babs being both worried and frustrated at Dick’s tendencies to push himself too far.

(Grayson, Devin, writer. Zitcher, Patch, illustrator Snowball. Nightwing. 87, e-book ed. DC Comics, 2003. pp 13)

In both Grayson’s run and the aftermath of Infinite Crisis, the toxic perfectionism referred to many times during this essay led Babs to break off their relationship despite their mutual love.

Having lost the mobility of her legs due to the Joker, Babs sees her life as Oracle as a second chance, and one which she will use to its fullest by putting herself first. It makes sense, then, that she sees Dick’s self-sacrificing tendencies and his desire for approval as both concerning and irritating. As Dick constantly puts himself in near-death scenarios for even the smallest of things, Babs decides that she would rather wait for a time when Dick learns to value himself more rather than to continue in a relationship where she is the only one who cares about whether Dick lives or dies.

Whether this is the right solution to their relationship is up for debate. Personally, it irks me that stories will often frame this as Dick having to mature to be with Babs and not place an equal burden on Babs having to learn to accept that this is just who Dick is. But that is irrelevant to this discussion, for what matters is that there have been plenty of reasons why Dick and Babs did not work out in the past, and those are almost always rooted in who they are as individuals struggling to perfectly fit together as a unit. Dick and Babs have a messy history, both as individual characters with their own stories, and together as friends and romantic interests. They are two different people who, although their morals align, approach life differently. The development in their romance, then, comes with how willing they are to change for the other, and how willing they are to accept the things that cannot — and should not — be changed. It is about a balance of give and take, and when Babs and Dick broke up in the past, it was because they were not able to find that balance. It is because they, as individuals, clashed. As Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns and Cesar Alfonso Marino put in their essay analyzing Dick’s portrayal in the Batman Family (1975-1978) series, Dick and Babs will often find themselves in “point[s] of inflection which marks that both heroes must go their separate ways to avoid further tensions (developed by sexual attraction and/or problems about leadership).” (Pagnoni Berns, Fernando Gabriel and Marino, Cesar Alfonso “Outlining the Future Robin: The Seventies in the Batman Family.”Dick Grayson, Boy Wonder: Scholars and Creators on 75 years of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman edited by Kristen L. Geaman, McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2015, pp. 32)

In other words, it was about interior conflicts, not exterior ones.

When taking this into consideration, one can see how Taylor’s portrayal of Dick and Babs’ relationship is not only incredibly hollow, but incredibly cynical. Because Taylor removed Dick’s self-destructive, toxic perfectionism, that is no longer a point of friction in their relationship. Because Babs is no longer the pragmatic woman who doses out tough love, that is also no longer a point of friction in their relationship. But as a result, Dick and Babs are no longer themselves, and their relationship is no longer representative of their shared history. Instead, we are left with an insulting and purposeful misrepresentation of their past relationship, with Taylor displaying a blatant disrespect and disregard for anything his predecessors contributed to these characters. Dick and Babs were never apart because of danger. Dick would never condescend to Barbara in this manner, and Barbara would never let something so trivial go unchallenged or get in the way of what she wants. What got in their way was a matter of compatibility. They may compliment each other in the field, be great friends, get along well, but in previous attempts to make their relationship work, they found that they were simply too different to share a life together, their goals did not align, and their approaches to life did not work together. Getting and staying together was not a matter of external factors, but rather whether they could do the difficult internal work necessary to make their romance last.

I want to make it clear that I actually love the childhood-friends-to-lovers trope. But what makes friends-to-lovers interesting is the fact that it creates inherently messy romances. If you two characters who have loved each other for so long, then they naturally have a history. They have seen each other at their best and at their worst. Yet, insecurities, timing, and compatibility keep them from being able to get their happily-ever-after. That creates a messiness that adds weight and meaning to the relationship. Seeing them overcome these challenges, become better individuals, and then finally come together is what makes the narrative so effective.

Dick’s and Babs’ romance, as currently portrayed, lacks that weight. Taylor and DC want that history, that “true love” aspect of their relationship without acknowledging the complications that come from having lived so many years in close proximity. In other words, they want the appearance of a long shared history without acknowledging the contents of said history. This robs both Dick and Babs of their individual personalities and backstories, for it is there where the source of their conflicts lie. All of the things that make them interesting individuals are sacrificed for the heteronormative DickBabs amalgamation. There is no Dick Grayson. There is no Barbara Gordon. There is only a happy, wholesome, smiling couple of nothingness — as it was put earlier it is all “shimmer, gloss, and no substance.”

And this does not affect only them.

In making Dick and Babs inseparable, Babs has become heavily involved with the Titans. This leads to the majority of Babs’s interactions in the current canon to be with Dick’s friends. And because, once more, Taylor skirts away from conflict, that means that all of Dick’s friends have become Babs’ friends. However, by making Babs friends with all of Dick’s female friends, Taylor created a shallow girlboss feminist narrative where all of these women’s individual personhoods are reduced their relationship to one man. He does not take into account who they are, only their gender and their mutual connection to Dick. In trying to do a girl-boss feminist empowerment, Taylor instead creates a deeply misogynistic narrative.

Kory and Babs, for example, should be allowed to dislike each other despite being on the same team. They are, after all, supposedly fully realized women with their own personalities, values, and goals. Their existence is not dependent on Dick Grayson or their romance with him. Real world women dislike one another for various reasons that are unrelated to men. Male characters often hate each other without it being because of a woman. So why can’t the same be true for female characters?

To attempt to make Kory and Babs friends simply to undermine expectations because one of them is Dick’s ex and the other one is Dick’s girlfriend is not empowering. It sacrifices characterization for the purposes of subversion.To think of the dynamic between these two characters in terms of their relationship with Dick reduces their existence to a man by implying that the only possible reason they could dislike one another is because of said man. It is not due to different value systems (which would be incredibly reasonable given their different background and cultures), it is not because their personalities clash (as they are two different people), it is not because their likes and dislikes may contradict (once more, because they are two different people). All the things that would make them realized individuals with agency are ignored in favor of focusing on their relationship with Dick.

Babs is a cisgender, straight, middle-class white woman from New Jersey. Kory is a warrior Princess from a different galaxy. It would not be unreasonable to expect their opinions to conflict when their backgrounds, upbringings, and experiences also differ. After all, those are things that shape our value system, dictating our perspectives.

Having different values or different ways to express your opinion does not mean that one is right and the other is wrong. It does not mean one is superior to the other. It only means they are different. Diverse. To believe one must be correct and the other must be wrong is to fall into the traps of ethnocentrism. By making Kory and Babs values indistinguishable, the story implies that there is only one correct way to interact with the world. This eliminates diverse perspectives in favor of a monolithic one. The fact that Kory's culture is the one that is ignored so that they are compatible with Babs implies that Babs – the cisgender, straight, middle-class white woman from New Jersey – is the one whose culture and world views are correct and, therefore, superior.

Dick’s relationship platonic relationship with Donna is also devalued and watered down in favor of Dick and Barbara’s romance. Because Dick and Barbara are depicted as having been each other’s best friends since childhood — when, in reality, Dick was closer to Donna during his preteen and teenage years, and Donna is often portrayed as his best friend — Donna’s place in Dick’s life is replaced by Babs. Babs must be everything to Dick — his true love, his longest childhood friend, his one female best friend.

This creates a narrative in which Dick cannot have a significant interaction with another woman without it being a threat to his relationship with Babs. Needless to say, this is an incredibly heteronormative worldview which implies that men and women who are not related cannot share deep and significant platonic intimacy without some underlying romantic tension. So naturally, Donna cannot he Dick’s longest friend, his best friend, because in the heteronormative world portrayed in Taylor’s run, that would mean that she is a rival to Babs.

Perhaps it is for this reason that Melinda was revealed to be Dick’s sister so soon into her introduction. If Melinda and Dick were not related but were still meant to interact with each other, that would create a bond that some might see as romantic or sexual. So by presenting Melinda as Dick’s biological sibling within moments of the two first interacting, Taylor strips Melinda of any romantic or sexual appeal. In this heteronormative world, only by being related can Dick and Melinda share intimacy without threatening Babs’ position in Dick’s life.

Needless to say, this heteronormative worldview which only allows for the relationship between non-biologically related men and women to be seen through lenses of romance and sex is also a misogynistic, male-centric worldview. In this story, women are not treated as people and are instead perceived solely through their relationship to Dick Grayson.

#nightwing #anti tom taylor #anti dickbabs

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sunshowersanddandelionwine · 27 days ago

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au where ghost, by recommendation of his therapist, starts writing as a hobby. its not very helpful, at least at first. it feels like a chore, but ghost is nothing if not tenacious. hes going to prove the doc wrong and show them that he cant be helped. his journals (because he was going to give this thing his all, and handwriting everything was the best way to do it) are mostly a lot of angry scribbled thoughts and self loathing. but slowly, over time, things start to shift. more positive things start peppering the anger and the melancholy. the whole process feels less like a burden and more like a release.

then he starts writing less reality. more little anecdotes sprinkled with a smidge of hyperbole. some outlandish dreams he had the previous night. small fictions that still act as an outlet for his feelings.

as his skills grow, his therapist suggests writing a novel. something long term and sustained to put his little hobby to the test. its a commitment, sure, and a lot of work to get there, but hes never shied away from a challenge before. like with everything in his life, he dives in chest first.

the doc wasnt wrong, writing the thing was rough. borderline impossible sometimes. but slowly, storylines rise and fall. characters grow and change. the manuscript begins, and just as uneventfully it ends. he wrote a novel. now what?

nothing, he decides. it was catharsis, nothing more nothing less. but then some little shits (roach and gaz) find the bound stack of papers in his office (purposefully hidden under some overdue paperwork) and BEG him to let them read it. he isnt sure at first, but the puppydog eyes work and he reluctantly relents.

hes expecting ridicule, maybe some teasing compliments or even critiques. he wasnt expecting the two of them to ambush him the next day, half feral and wanting more. they spent the entire night reading it, nearly missing the start of breakfast because they were too engrossed.

somehow, they convince him to try for an agent. somehow, he manages to snag one. somehow, that agent loves his work enough to pitch it to several publishing houses (under a pseudonym, of course). and somehow, it gets picked up for publication.

holding the glossy hardback all that time later, ghost isnt sure what happened. he isnt sure how in the world he went from alone and angry, grieving and isolated, to this. the book is somehow a bestseller, with rave reviews all over the place. its honestly kind of nerve wracking??? the only people who know about him and it are his team. (price definitely didnt shed a tear when presented with a signed first edition copy. the sergeants absolutely did.)

he isnt sure how to feel when the new sergeant joins, all knife smiles and cutting words, waltzing into his base with a battered copy of that very book under his arm. a battered copy filled to the brim with red pen and tabs, scribbled criticism that cuts the story to the bone and picks apart every little failing scrawled in every margin. it should annoy him. it should make him hate the man, one john mactavish, all that much more.

he cant help but find him fascinating.

(maybe he might even get some ideas for the next book. thats the only reason he cant stop seeking his opinions.)

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #wayward seeds #soap is brutal but fair in his criticisms #and ghost is just heart eyes the entire time #he never felt like he deserved the praise he got originally #so hearing an honest take on his work? delightful #intoxicating even #imagine soaps surprise when the next book is dedicated to johnny XD

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years ago

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Alright, guess it’s time to address the apocalyptic legal elephant in the room:

For those who might not know, WotC plans were leaked to “update” the OGL in what is basically a scorched earth policy with regards to 3rd party material/creators in the hopes of cutting out the competition and forcing people to use their new products.

As someone who lived through the 4th edition/pathfinder schism, the situation is laughably similar: D&D is flourishing more than it ever has (thanks primarily to the OGL) but the execs at Hasbro want more of the money spent on the hobby to wind up in their pockets. Oblivious to the fact that the opensource nature of the game is what draws people to it, they task the design team with creating a proprietary virtual tabletop through which they can sell d&d content without having to worry about books or pdfs being pirated. This rightfully outrages the fandom and burns every scrap of good will they had towards WotC, resulting in a dead edition that’s maligned years afterword as folks hop to the newer, easier game system.

The thing that’s different this time is that the d&d playerbase has grown exponentially since the days of the first OGL, with 5th edition being the easiest version of the game to run/pick up and so many resources online, there’s almost no barrier to entry besides finding a stable/accommodating group. Hell, with the explosive popularity of liveplay series you don’t even need to be actively playing in order to be in the fandom. All of these people are networked together in a fandom hivemind spread across twitter/reddit/youtube and WotC just made an enemy of every single one of them with its shameless and destructive cashgrab. No streamer or 3rd party publisher wants to give Hasbro 25% of their revenue, to say nothing of having their project “cancelled” if WotC sees it as a threat to any of their current projects ( see the huge number of spelljammer materials published after the company dropped the ball).

It took about two years after the announcement of 4th edition for Paizo to come out with pathfinder, and I have no doubt the OGL leak kickstarted every major 3rd party publisher brainstorming some legally distinct version of the 5e ruleset. In the coming months I expect to see a number of these surrogate systems floating around the internet in much the same way that the onednd playtest content, but spurred on with the added “fuck you Hasbro” energy. After that, it’s only a matter of time till one of the big streamers picks up one of these systems and popularizes it, not wanting to pay the 25%tithe to WotC. Personally my money’s on Critical Role: they were one of the major factors in popularizing 5th edition and they’ve got the fandom pull to legitimize any claimant to the throne.

To step away from playing oracle for a bit, I’d like to finish up this post by dunking on WotC:

*ahem*

HOW FUCKING DUMB TO YOU HAVE TO BE TO TURN YOUR ENTIRE CUSTOMER BASE AGAINST YOU IN ONE NIGHT? This is some new coke/Reynolds pamphlet/invading Russia in winter levels of shooting yourself in the foot. Wizards was on shaky ground to begin with given that they’re coming off a series of notably disappointing products AND trying to launch a new edition/virtual tabletop/battlepass system, but to follow that up with a retroactive rules change that lets them outright steal from or shut down creators? It’s laughable. Maybe, MAYBE they could have made this work if they were knocking it out of the park with new releases every year and cultivating a base of diehard WotC loyalists, but the fact of the matter is that aside from the brand name, the hobby has largely passed them by. Everything that Wizards does, from player options to settings to monsters to rules modules, someone else does better because they’re willing to take risks and put in the effort. Aside from the elegant simplicity of 5e’s base system, I can count maybe two pieces of actual game design (piety from Theros, ship combat from Saltmash) that I consider usable at my table, which is SAYING SOMETHING considering we’re nearing the end of the game’s ten year golden age.

I know we’ll weather this storm, we always have, and regardless of what happens I still know my friends and I will enjoy gathering around the table and slinging dice even though we might not be playing “dungeons and dragons” in a couple years time. I’ll keep my eye on the horizon, and let you know where I find safe harbour.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #dm advice #dm tip #dm tips #dm tools #writing advice #one d&d #dapper digresses #ogl #ogl 1.1 #hasbro #critical role #open d&d #opend&d

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jasperandhenryslovechild · 26 days ago

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now that the shock of watching this trailer over and over and over again has worn down a tiny bit i need to ask, what the fuck is that hero costume and what does this mean for the preexisting canon dangerverse timeline

it is evident that these three costumes are NOT the same thing and it doesn't make me happy at ALL.

INDIVIDUAL BREAKDOWN/ELABORATION RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT

this one

is henry danger canon, like in the very last episode.

a muted version of the danger force canon one, with a fugly mustard hoodie with the strings tied so tight that it makes me question his breathing abilities and middle-schooler-who-just-discovered-what-mouse-is hair/j. he looks like he had to pull something together last minute unlike charlotte (curse me for cropping her out) who is literally THE COOLEST ONE HERE why is she not in the movie???? she is literally a fucking cyborg with purple hair someone explain this shit to me??? it's her superiority that allowed her to absolutely EAT THIS UP while henry looks like he just went dumpster diving

it's a vibe but it's also giving ramen noodles so im giving it a low 5/10 out of pity

danger force switches it up on us with this version

henry "we don't wear masks in dystopia, we're kinda above that" hart

this one is my favorite, it's cohesive and it goes together well. it's got the more grown hero vibe that ive always wanted to see in henry ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF HIS GROWTH AS A CHARACTER!! THE RETURN OF THE KID EPISODE IS LITERALLY ALL ABOUT HOW FUCKING DIFFERENT HE IS AND IM HERE FOR IT SO HARD!!! i will absolutely drop a df henry hyper analysis some day but for now this is what we've got

the shades of burgundy and washed out red throw it together well and i can totally see an explanation behind this costume vs the old one being a simple upscale/revamp. that jacket has pockets to hide weaponry, leather would probably be a lot easier to take a tumble in (+ the knee guards not shown in this picture and like the plastic covers on the sides of his legs that i don't know the name of, implies that he takes enough hard falls to need protection in these areas!), it helps camouflage well in dystopia because the 2 seconds of clips we've seen of that place show that it's pretty dark despite its bright neon flashing lights that give it an evil sanfransokyo at night sort of vibe. it's superhero-y, but it also doesn't have all those staple childhood iconic hero things either— if anything he looks kinda ashamed to be in a superhero show and that's okay/j

overall, 10/10 because it has nothing to do with the capitan man/kid danger brand, it shows henry evolving beyond that point in his life into his own entity after being so soley dependent on ray for his entire previous career in superhero-ing

now to address this fucking monstrosity we were given just a few hours ago

i want to preface this by saying i am not ungrateful. the things i am about to say come from a place of pure dissatisfaction yet constructive criticism. ive been waiting years and years for this movie and i will literally take an hour and thirty minutes of jasper and henry twirling in a circle and make 183829992 edits of it i don't care, i love henry danger sm and the movie looks pretty cool

this being said

dear costume team of henry danger the movie,

have you ever watched henry danger and or danger force? do you even know what you're designing for? be honest, did the producers hand you this stock image

and tell you to make it mean? because every time i look at this costume there is something else wrong with it and it PAINS MY EYES. it makes him look like a cartoony ass space crusader instead of a hero fighting crime one of the most dangerous if not THE MOST DANGEROUS city in the world.

let's break this down, shall we? head to toe motherfuckers.

only not complaining about the hair and it being slicked in the same direction it used to be because it's consistent throughout the entire trailer (unlike SOME danger force episodes... cough cough return of the kid....cough cough.......)

that mask. firstly, i have issues with there being a mask at all, because danger force establishes that there are no masks in dystopia. nobody moves a finger to try and put on a mask, henry even fights SUNGLASSES. those sunglasses ray forces on him to hide his identity are brawled against, he's clearly grown out of masks. putting him back in one puts him back in that kid danger box he's been working hard to build up and out of, a concept established throughout the entire finale of henry danger and further reassured in danger force.

and if you were gonna inarguably give him a mask for simple minded audience recognition, nickelodeon, the least you could do was make it a PRETTY MASK. red was an.. okay choice for the base, but making the silver SURROUND IT? BLACK OUTLINE???? you're trying so hard to be new and cool and it is just painful on the eyes instead. the black eyeshadow under it makes him look like one of those 2020 emo dsmp cc edits and it's just like a throwback to an era nobody wants to go back to. that face card makes him looks like he listens to believer by imagine dragons while chewing that magic bubblegum. his lips are PALE, SOMEBODY GET THIS MAN SOME IRON— OH WAIT, THEY WASTED THEIR SUPPLY ON THIS NIGHT REFLECTIVE SILVER MAKEUP THAT MAKES HIM LOOK LIKE A STOP SIGN WITH A FLASHLIGHT UP IT'S ASSHOLE

then we move onto the base of the costume itself. firstly, the navy blue undershirt cut out to expose his neck says nothing to me. it does not make the statement you guys thought it would— in fact, it makes the whole thing look a pit incomplete? unkempt? it looks like theres something missing and with that black eyeshadow i think it's a thick silver chain SORRY IM DONE I'M OVER THE MASK

the vest over it gives me even more issues. you can't pull up with an audio of ray manchester going "you're not a sidekick anymore, you're a hero!!" and have THEIR FUCKING LOGO ON HIS CHEST. IT'S NOT RIGHT. ON TOP OF THE FACT THAT THE ENTIRE VEST IN AND OF ITSELF LOOKS LIKE IT WAS ROLLED IN DIRT AND HAS THE COLORATION PROPERTIES OF A DYING SEAL, THE LOGO BEING THERE AT ALL IS A MASSIVE ISSUE.

the entire POINT OF THE FINALE was that henry wanted to move on from his life as kid danger. he sacrificed himself and faked his entire death to thousands of people in order to become his own person. he had no life outside of crime fighting because he has no skills or traits outside of crime fighting— he gave up his entire childhood for it so naturally it's all he can gravitate to as he moves forward in dystopia. being a crime fighter once more is a punch in the face enough that he will never really escape who he once was despite the fact that HE GOT AWAY.

HE GOT AWAY.

in NO WORLD WOULD THE HENRY HART I KNOW AND LOVE PROUDLY WEAR THE SYMBOL OF THE VERY MAN THAT FAILED HIM. ray manchester failed him throughout his entire childhood— failed at giving him a normal kid life, failed at providing context and details before or even during the time he accepted the job— and yet here the movie is. he is wearing a rip off of his old costume in an attempt to leave behind who he was. that is ironic, that is HORRIBLE. because by putting him in this FUGLY ASS DOLLAR STORE COSTUME, not only are you retconning the evolution he's been working towards, you are denying him the right to become something greater than just kid danger

in the old costumes, the designs were different because he as a person was different. his entire character arc throughout the hd finale to now was just that, becoming different.

this is not different— this is just an older version of the ghost he's been leaving behind time and time again. dragging him back to his roots. there are millions of ways to drag him back to his roots in the movie itself because those roots will never free him, that is the entire point of him post henry danger and there's so many ways to show that. but changing his costume, one of the only parts of his new hero identity that he himself gets to choose, to resemble his old costume so similarly is just blatantly saying fuck you to the current dangerverse timeline and who that has made him out to be.

my final question is, what does that mean for everything else?

cause like, if the hd/df costumes are no longer a thing in the movie, what happened to them?? why did henry choose this bullshit over the FIREEE costumes in his past?? why would he ever do that to himself bro

and also BLACKOUT?? DO WE NOT GET AN EXPLANATION ON THAT???? BECAUSE EVEN NICKELODEON THEM FUCKING SELVES MADE A THEORY VIDEO ABOUT BLACKOUT BEING JASPER AND THEN WE PULL UP WITH THIS MOTHERFUCKER

LIKE GUYS I'M NOT GETTING IT ARE WE EVER GONNA GET AN EXPLANATION ON WHO BLACKOUT IS AND WHY HE WAS CAUGHT UP WITH HENRY— ALSO JASPER'S JUST TRANSFORMING RANDOMLY IN PUBLIC??? DOES THAT NOT NUKE THE ENTIRE PURPOSE OF HENRYS MASK?????

i do have very good things to say about this teaser, do not let your eyes deceive you, but i also have these complaints that i don't necessarily need answered if not I just need them to be heard

if you've made it this far thank you so much for coming to my insanely long ted talk

#henry danger #danger force #henry danger the movie #dystopia #jasper dunlop

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thatlotuscookie · 2 months ago

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👋👋i wanted to request for dabi, when he has a crush on the member of the league (reader) but it's uncomfortable for him so he decided to just be the biggest dick he can be to her. and one day he snaps at her even though failed mission wasn't her fault. and above all she felt so bad physically this day, she was so sick. and her fever or whatever she has is making her feel so bad. and next day she doesn't even appear in league's hideout. and she doesn't appear in next few hours either and when dabi looks for her it turns out she's got a serious sickness when she feels like dying, she can't breathe, she's anxious, her vision gets blurry and all that shit. PLEASE MAKE THIS ONE LONG BECAUSE I'M BORED AND YOU'RE A GREAT WRITER❤️🥺and end it with some hugs, kisses or whatever you feel like ending it with, just fluff

✧･ﾟ: a/n : thank you to the lovely anon that requested this one! its funny cause right now i have the worst headache ever, but im trying to send these reqs <3

✧ Title: ✧ Behind the Walls ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: After a rough mission, Dabi’s constant criticism has you questioning your worth within the League. When a migraine and fever take you down, Dabi finds himself reluctantly stepping in, his unexpected gentleness hinting at feelings he’s tried to hide for so long. ✧ Content Warnings: Emotional Hurt, Illness/Injury Care, Soft Dabi Moments, Mild Swearing, Vulnerability, Dabi being a dickhead xd ✧ WC: 2162 words // 12k chars

Dabi had a way of turning even the smallest inconvenience into a reason to snap at you. Every time you entered the room, his glare would follow, sharp and dissecting, as if he were daring you to give him a reason to unleash whatever was brewing under his skin. You tried to shrug it off, reminding yourself that he was harsh with everyone—but with you, it felt personal. The jabs cut deeper, lingered longer, especially when you’d worked hard to contribute to the League.

After a particularly challenging mission that had taken a chaotic turn, you returned to the hideout, feeling utterly drained. You’d kept pace with everyone else, even stayed back to hold off a security team that had almost blown the entire operation, but despite your best efforts, the mission hadn’t gone as planned. It wasn’t even your fault—none of it was, in fact. Still, the weight of everyone’s fatigue hung in the air as you walked in, trying to blend into the background and head straight to your quarters for some much-needed rest.

But Dabi wasn’t about to let you off so easily.

“Hey,” his voice cut across the room, dripping with irritation. “Nice job holding us back out there.” He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he leveled you with a stare, his words slicing through the quiet like a knife. “Not like it was important or anything.”

You stopped, feeling the familiar knot form in your stomach as his words washed over you. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact, you’d practically saved the mission. But it was like he was looking for any excuse to tear you down, and today, he’d found his opportunity.

“It wasn’t my fault,” you managed, your voice softer than you intended. The dull throb in your head, which had started as a manageable ache, was intensifying, and each syllable felt like it rattled inside your skull. You wanted to keep your composure, to stay calm and collected, but the exhaustion weighed heavily on you, amplifying every ache and pain.

“Oh, so now you’re making excuses?” he sneered, his voice raising just enough to make the others in the room glance your way. “Funny, that’s what people say when they know they messed up.”

You could feel your face heat up, a mix of frustration and hurt swirling together as his words hit home. The pounding in your head became unbearable, the pain radiating behind your eyes as you struggled to keep yourself from lashing back. It was already humiliating enough; you didn’t need to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to you.

“It’s not an excuse,” you said, trying to keep your tone steady, but your voice wavered despite your efforts. “I stayed back to cover everyone, and you know it.”

Dabi scoffed, rolling his eyes as if your words were nothing but empty air. “Sure, whatever you say, hero. Maybe next time, do us all a favor and stay out of the way if you’re not up for it.”

That was the last straw. You turned away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over as you left the room, your vision blurring not just from exhaustion but from the sting of his cutting words. The tension in your head exploded into a full-on migraine, each heartbeat sending a sharp pulse of pain through your temples as you stumbled back to your quarters.

Curling up on the bed, you couldn’t hold back the silent tears that finally escaped. You felt feverish, your body heavy and weighed down as you lay there, the ache in your head growing worse with each passing moment. Dabi’s voice echoed in your mind, the harshness in his words replaying in a loop that made it impossible to find any comfort in the quiet of your room.

You lost track of time as you lay curled up in your bed, cocooned in your blankets. The world outside felt distant and muted, the sounds of the hideout fading away as your headache intensified. The pounding in your skull grew sharper, almost rhythmic, and a wave of nausea rolled through you, leaving you breathless. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, hoping to block out the chill that seemed to seep into your bones.

As the hours passed, you drifted in and out of sleep, the comfort of unconsciousness momentarily easing the pain before it came crashing back. Each time you stirred, you felt the remnants of your fever—your skin hot and clammy, the bed beneath you soaking up your discomfort. You had no idea how long it had been since you last left your room, but eventually, the noise of the League’s activities began to fade into a more oppressive silence. You’d missed dinner, and the absence of the usual bustling energy in the hideout felt eerily wrong.

But it was when you heard footsteps approaching your door that a cold shiver of anxiety shot through you. You didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Dabi. You didn’t want to face him again, especially after everything that had transpired. But when the footsteps stopped, a knock broke through the quiet.

“Hey, you in there?” Dabi’s voice cut through the stillness, low and slightly muffled. There was a pause before he continued, “You gonna just hide in here all night?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing desperately that you could disappear. “I’m fine,” you managed to call out, but even to your own ears, you sounded weak.

“Yeah, you don’t sound fine,” he shot back, the irritation in his tone mixed with something else that you couldn’t quite place. “Open the door.”

Against your better judgment, you found yourself pushing off the blankets, each movement sending waves of nausea crashing against you. You tried to take a steadying breath, but the tightness in your chest made it difficult, leaving you feeling more anxious than ever. With a reluctant sigh, you got up and opened the door just a crack, barely able to look him in the eye.

Dabi stood there, his arms crossed, the annoyance on his face quickly morphing into a frown as he assessed you. His eyes widened slightly, the harsh lines of his expression softening as he took in your flushed cheeks and the way you swayed slightly on your feet.

“You look like shit,” he muttered, the bluntness of his words a strange juxtaposition to the concern creeping into his voice.

“I feel worse,” you admitted, letting the door open wider as you leaned against the frame for support. “What do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m coming in.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open further and stepped inside, his presence filling the room. You felt a mix of annoyance and vulnerability, not sure how to process the sudden shift in his demeanor.

He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the disheveled sheets and the empty space beside you. “You’ve been in bed all day. Why didn’t you come out? Everyone’s worried about you.”

His voice held a note of genuine concern that caught you off guard. You swallowed hard, fighting back the lump forming in your throat. “I didn’t want to deal with anyone,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Especially you.”

“Yeah, well, too bad.” He moved closer, his gaze never leaving your face as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead. “You’re burning up. What the hell is wrong with you?”

You flinched at the sudden contact, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. “I think I have a fever,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just need to rest.”

“Rest isn’t going to help if you’re sick.” Dabi sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick, but—”

“Yeah, you have,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. “I didn’t deserve that today, Dabi.”

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I know,” he finally said, his tone softer now. “I’m… sorry. I don’t know how to deal with this, okay? I don’t do feelings.”

His admission hung heavy in the air, and you felt the tension between you begin to ease slightly. “You could’ve just talked to me instead of being an asshole,” you replied, a little more gently this time.

Dabi nodded, the irritation on his face replaced with a somber expression. “I get it. I messed up. But right now, you need help.”

Before you could respond, he stepped back and grabbed the blanket, folding it over his arm. “Get back in bed.” It was an order, but it felt more like concern, and you found yourself obeying, fatigue washing over you as you settled back under the covers.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his weight shifting the mattress slightly, and you felt a mixture of comfort and unease at his proximity. You watched him, his expression thoughtful as he looked at you, seemingly wrestling with his emotions.

“Just—just stay still for a second, okay?” He reached out again, his hand finding your forehead once more, his fingers cool against your skin. “You’re burning up. I can’t believe you let yourself get this bad.”

“Like I had a choice,” you muttered, your voice tinged with frustration. “I thought I could tough it out.”

“Clearly that didn’t work,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, but it quickly faded. “You need to take it easy. I’ll get you some water or something.”

Before you could respond, he stood up, moving toward the small kitchenette in the corner of your room. You watched him rummage through the cabinets, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the sink. The sight of him, so focused and intent, made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with your illness.

When he returned, he handed you the glass with an unexpected gentleness, his expression softening as you took a sip. “Drink,” he insisted, watching you carefully. “You need to stay hydrated.”

You nodded, the cool water soothing your dry throat as you gulped it down. As you set the glass aside, you caught a glimpse of the concern etched on his features, something almost tender that made your stomach flip.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter now as you met his gaze.

Dabi shrugged, his usual bravado faltering for just a moment. “Whatever. I just don’t want you to die on me. You’re too useful to the League for that.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, a little incredulous, but it felt good. “You really know how to charm a person, Dabi.”

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he replied, rolling his eyes. But the corners of his mouth twitched upward, betraying the faintest hint of a smile.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the tension easing as you allowed the moment to settle. Despite the heaviness in your chest and the throbbing in your head, you felt a warmth creeping in, a connection blooming in the quiet space between you.

“What did I do to make you mad today?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “Was it something I said?”

He shifted slightly, the laughter fading from his eyes as he contemplated your question. “It’s not about you. It’s—” He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s me. I just don’t want anyone to see that I care. I thought being a dick would keep you away, but it only pushed you closer.”

“Why do you care so much?” you probed, trying to understand the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him.

Dabi met your gaze, and for a brief moment, vulnerability flickered behind his usually guarded eyes. “Because you matter. And I don’t want to lose you.”

His honesty hung in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t expected such a revelation, especially from someone who had built their walls so high. “Dabi—”

Before you could finish, he reached out, taking your hand in his, his grip surprisingly gentle. “I know I’m not the best at this, but just—just let me be here for you. I want to help, even if I don’t know how.”

Your heart raced, warmth blooming in your chest as his fingers intertwined with yours. “I’d like that,” you admitted, the sincerity of your words breaking through the fatigue that clung to you.

“Good,” he said, a smirk creeping back onto his face. “Now, let’s get you better. I’m not done with you yet.”

As you leaned back against the pillows, a sense of calm washed over you. Dabi might not have been perfect, but in that moment, he was there for you, a presence that grounded you as the ache in your head gradually faded, replaced by the warmth of his closeness and the promise of something more.

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badomensbaby · 3 months ago

Text

buzz cut baby. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend, luke, returns home one night with a surprise. your reaction, however, wasn't exactly what he was expecting.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. safe sane and consensual, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, established relationship, masturbation, flirting / teasing.

words: 3,910

a/n: i hate that i have friends because what the fuck! why do i do this to myself? anyway, i love buzz cut luke. enjoy!

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

You’ve always adored Luke’s curls.

Honestly, they’re probably what drew you to Luke in the first place all those years ago. Initially, anyway.

It was some influencer party in the hills that your best friend dragged you to as a plus one, citing there would be hot guys and a pool and live music from a top-charting band, that you’d be stupid to decline. That shutting yourself away following your breakup wasn’t the best way to cope.

And, in a way, you’ll really never be able to thank her for that. If you would’ve fought harder, resisted just the tiniest bit more, you would have never seen those bouncy, bleached curls and dark roots in the kitchen, messing around with a keg he swore harbored a personal vendetta against him.

His curls might’ve been the reason you noticed him, but everything that followed was Luke just being himself. Stupidly charming but awkward and fumbly, especially when you offered to help and probably got way too close.

You didn’t know him, not really, and finding out two hours later that you were the reason the band’s frontman was late to play their short set for everyone in attendance was a smack in the face. For all you knew, you were locking lips and clenching your thighs around the long, long fingers of some Hollywood wannabe.

He wasn’t, though, he was Luke fucking Hemmings. And he had your cum on the edges of his lips while he sang about falling in love for the first time.

That night was so unlike you. You weren’t fond of hookups, only long-term relationships that seemed to fail for one reason or another, but that didn’t entirely derail you.

You didn’t know Luke but that night changed the course of both of your lives for the better, you’d like to think.

It’s six-thirty in the evening when your phone rings on the island. Interrupting your jam session, aided by the scent of the roasted chicken you’ve had in the oven the last hour and a half, a picture of Luke post-concert with his tongue dragging across your cheek flashing on your screen.

“Hi, handsome,” You greet him, a smile tugging at your lips. He’s been at the studio since seven, planning the second half of his upcoming tour and reserving hotels with his team. You’ll never understand how he does it.

“Hi honey,” He drawls softly, a sigh of relief following but there’s a hint of something in his voice that straightens your shoulders and furrows your brows. “What’s my perfect girl up to?”

“Just making dinner,” You say, leaning your backside against the island while you peek once more through the oven window. “How’s work? You almost finished?”

Luke hums in confirmation. “On my way home, actually. And..” He tapers off, the sound of his car chirping faintly in the background as he unlocks it. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“For me?” You feel heat rise instantly to your cheeks. Luke’s always giving you little surprises, likely since he’ll be kicking off the second part of his tour in just about two months means he’s feeling a bit guilty. He had done that during his first round, as well as the band’s tour last year. Luke always hates leaving you.

“For you,” He hums again. The warmth seeping through your phone’s speaker speaks something else entirely though, a more lustful tilt to his voice. “I’ll be home in thirty. Think you can wait in the bedroom for me, pretty?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. Fifteen minutes until the chicken is done. “I think I can make that work,” You tease lightly, as if you’d ever think about saying no. Time spent with Luke is always appreciated, as you never really know when he’ll be swept away on another tour or some fashion show abroad. “Drive safe. I love you.”

“Always. I love you.” He says before promptly hanging up.

For the next fifteen minutes, you clean up best you can around the kitchen. Not that you had left it a disaster but you couldn’t stand to see a single dish in the sink. Once the chicken had been taken out and covered to keep warm while Luke was giving you your surprise, you trek upstairs with warmth pooling in your stomach and excitement riddling your veins.

Though the unspoken promise of something intimate had been shared, you still weren’t sure how far exactly you should go. You settle for keeping your current outfit on, a simple sundress Luke had gotten for you the summer before — a baby blue satin fabric with small daisies printed on it, back propped against the headboard and a pillow in your lap as you wasted away the remaining minutes until Luke’s arrival scrolling through Instagram.

Your toes tingle and your thighs involuntarily clench when you hear the front door fall shut. When Luke’s voice calls out a sing-songy, “Honey, I’m home!” that echoes up the staircase into your bedroom. You toss your phone carelessly aside and sit up, cheeks warm and fingers drumming excitedly on the pillow still in your lap.

“In here!” You call back.

The sound of Luke’s shoes thump on the staircase, slow and calculated steps that make the warmth in your stomach ignite into a full on flame. Rising to your chest and resulting in your breath speeding up. He stops just outside of the cracked bedroom door. “Cover your eyes for me, would you, doll?”

It isn’t an unusual request, given your bedroom dynamic. So, you comply, placing both hands over your eyes. “Alright, I’m not peeking I swear.” You say.

The door creaks lightly. “Keep ‘em closed,” You hear him say, a bit closer now. “You’re excited, huh? You’re blushing all over, baby.”

“I like your surprises,” You say honestly, softly, producing a light chuckle from your boyfriend. Your heart rate doubles from the titillation that fills the room. “Is it that pretty see-through set you saw me looking at the other week? I wanted to save that for your birthday, but—“

“Open.” Luke interrupts you lowly.

You quickly remove your hands, blinking rapidly from the change to the bright room.

It definitely isn’t that pretty lingerie set.

A loud, sharp gasp falls from your mouth. You reel back, eyes widened, and goosebumps trail every surface of your flushed skin.

Long gone are the blonde ringlets and dark roots that curled around the tips of Luke’s ears. The curls that you often found your fingers sinking into for comfort, or for pleasure, the curls you’d wash on the bad days and style on the good ones.

“You’re bald.” You blurt in a panic.

Your brain tries, tries so hard to make sense but there’s a big piece of the puzzle missing. Something that’s been such a heavy, big part of Luke for so long. The thing you noticed first about him. Gone. Shaved down and smothered in bleach.

Luke raises one amused brow but the undertone of his own panic is evident. A nervous chuckle escapes him. “I’m not bald. I just shaved my head,” He says. “Do you.. not like it?”

“I.. don’t know,” You answer honestly in a breath. “I.. your curls.. why did you—?” Slowly, you climb off of the bed, hesitantly approaching your boyfriend standing still near the dresser. “What am I supposed to hold on to while you fuck me now?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Luke’s shoulders deflate, tension dissipating from them. “Y/N, I’ve talked about shaving my head before. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, babe. My ends were dead.”

“Yeah, but—! I thought you were joking!” You splutter, cheeks hot and furiously pink. “What the hell am I supposed to pull on now, your ears? I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Y/N,” Luke steps toward you, hands hesitantly reaching for your hips to make contact. You let him but your chest continues rising and falling quickly while your eyes roam his short, short hair. “Getting rid of my curls doesn’t mean I’ve gotten rid of my ability to fuck you. What’s going inside your head?”

“It’s — a lot,” You say. “I wasn’t expecting it, like at all,” You reach a hand up to graze the fuzzy top of Luke’s head. It feels weird, the short hairs tickling the palm of your hand. “I’m serious though, Luke. Sex won’t be the same now.”

“That isn’t true,” Luke tugs the corner of his lip between his teeth, a habit still exhibited often despite the lip ring being long gone. “Baby, you know that isn’t true. C’mon, you don’t think I look like some bad boy from one of your romance novels?”

A smile threatens your lips but you stifle it, pursing them. You’re meant to be mad, your brain just can’t compute the sudden change, even if it was the best decision for his bleach-fried curls. You adored them.

“Shut up,” You huff. “Don’t try to get me on your side.”

“Why? I’m having fun over here,” Luke’s fingers drum on your hips, teasing and threatening to pinch the fabric of your dress between his fingertips. “You’re really this upset about not being able to pull on my hair when I fuck you?”

When he says it like that, you feel stupid. But yes, you are, because it wasn’t something just for you. Luke loved getting his curls tugged while he ate you out, or fucked you, even from behind. He liked the pain, the urgency of it. This isn’t just about you.

“You like — liked — it too,” Your pink lips jut into a pout. “Maybe I’m being unreasonable but yes— I’m a little upset.”

“Alright,” He hums, digging his fingers momentarily into your hips, thumbing the prominent bones there. He knows you’re sensitive. You think maybe he might part from you, your breaths bated as you hang on to his every movement. “I’ll just have to prove it to you, then.”

You swallow harshly. “Prove what to me?”

“That I can fuck you so well my curls will be the last thing on your mind,” He says, tongue trailing on the inside of his lower lip before clicking off the roof of his mouth. “How many orgasms will it take, huh? I’m thinking three.”

“Oh,” You breathe out. “I don’t know if that’ll be enough.”

“Oh, really?” A crooked grin tugs at Luke’s lips, brows raised curiously. “Four, maybe? I bet if I fuck you stupid long enough you’ll cum without a fucking touch.”

Good Lord.

You can’t trust yourself to respond. Luke isn’t a vulgar person often, and most of the time your bedroom affairs fluctuate depending on either of your mood. One night you could be draped over the mattress with Luke’s tongue tracing his own name on your heat and another riding him with slow, slow tilts of your hips as the sun comes up. It’s never the same experience twice.

But this time — you have a feeling tonight will blow every other night out of the water.

“Guess I should start off with an apology,” He mutters, almost missable between your ears, words lagged and not understood before Luke’s dropping to his knees before you. Wide, soft blue eyes with inky, dark lashes blinking up at you. Ringed fingers still clasping your hips.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s silently asking for permission, as he does often, and you nod. Your tongue is so tied you’re afraid nothing good will escape your mouth if you were to make an attempt to respond verbally. Luke’s hands slowly slide along the fabric loosely clung to your thighs, speed consistent as he grabs hold of the hem and brings it upward.

With one hand balled around the fabric of your dress, resting just below your stomach, you feel Luke’s warm fingers trace the material of your underwear. Teasing you. Taunting you. All the while your handsome boyfriend keeps his eyes locked on yours, a startled breath is knocked out of you when he begins mouthing at your clothed heat. Teeth threatening your covered clit.

He’s always been impatient, and that sentiment proves right once again as he tugs the material to the side and wastes no time tasting you. Wedging himself between your thighs even as they rumble, even if the position isn’t the most desirable. His tongue traces every inch sincerely, writing his apology in the form of circles and figure eights and capturing your clit between his lips so suddenly it makes your knees threaten to buckle.

You feel it in the way he moans at the simplest taste of you, the I’m sorry he hadn’t said aloud. You feel it in the way his fingers eagerly slide alongside his tongue and fill you, keeping you steady despite the desperation to fall apart right there.

“Luke,” You whimper helplessly, his eyes threatening to fall away from yours and flutter closed in pure bliss. He loves this just as much as you do, if not more. This man was made to eat pussy. You’d bet your life on it. “God-“

He takes your strained whines and moans and ragged breaths endearingly, curling his fingers to reach the perfect spot that pulls a broken moan from deep within you. Every shake of your thighs, every wave of pleasure that builds in the pit of your stomach and threatens to crash over you, he eagerly takes it in stride. Luke knows you won’t last long but surely he’s counting on it.

His mouth retreats, fingers still curled inside and finding every spot that makes you whimper. Luke looks fucking wrecked already, and if you thought you were in for it before, the sight of Luke spitting directly onto your clit nearly makes you cum on the spot. It’s demeaning and dirty in the best way, before eye contact is fully broken and Luke dives back in like he’ll never taste you again.

It’s mainly his eagerness that turns you on the most. The desire he possesses to pleasure you, to worship you. You feel it when Luke begins to suck on your clit again, the dam threatening to break and drown you both. Without a thought, your hand flies to his head, grasping the back of it and holding him against you. Orgasm building and building, prickling the base of your spin and the tips of your toes, stomach tightening as he works his fingers and tongue in some kind of foreplay crescendo.

The violins and cellos that resemble moans from the man with his tongue buried inside of you and the ones spilling from your lips build until you’re letting go. It feels insatiable. And you’re absolutely blubbering just as much as you rock through it, Luke’s fingers slowing and tongue working to lap every remnant of your release in earnest.

Your mind feels hazy, post-orgasm, knees weak as Luke’s arm slithers around your backside to keep you upright. You spare a glance at him, when the bleariness fades from your vision, to see his lips glistening beneath the bedroom lights. Tongue dancing around every inch of his mouth to capture your taste and savor it. “I don’t know if I accept your apology yet.” You huff between broken breaths, thumb idly swaying back and forth across the side of his head.

A look of challenge flashes in Luke’s eyes. “I figured,” He says, thumb swiping the top of his lip before dragging his tongue along the digit. Luke slowly rises to his feet. “Let’s get you more comfortable, hm?”

You nod, despite the lack of explanation as to what more comfortable really means, as you’re being handled rather briskly and bent over the edge of your bed. A small oh escapes you.

“Get those knees up, doll. I can’t be doing all the work here,” Luke says, tapping your thighs. Sluggishly, you do as he says, now on your hands and knees, ankles just barely hanging off the bed’s edge. “Hm.”

Your dress is rucked up once more, now pooling around your lower back, underwear still pulled to the side and a low whistle sounds from behind you. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?” Luke groans lowly. “I swear to God, need a picture of your pussy in my wallet.”

You can’t help but moan. Luke’s belt clanks as he unfastens it, clattering to the floor, jeans sliding down his legs. You spare a glance, to see the material gathered at his mid-thigh. He hadn’t taken them off entirely. And for some reason, you find it hot how needy he is for it.

“Maybe I’ll take a picture,” He continues, as you feel the tip of his cock drag slowly through your wetness, slicking himself. Preparing himself to utterly destroy you as promised. “After I’ve filled you up. Huh? How ‘bout that? A picture of my pretty girl’s pretty pussy full of my cum.”

Your arms wobble, sending your chest directly into the mattress. Only further aiding the ease of Luke entering you, slick and warm and thick as he slides in so effortlessly with a low hiss. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes— God, oh my—“ You mutter against the sheets, turning your head so that your cheek is flat against the soft material. Luke buries himself to the hilt, one hand fastened on your hip while the other is splayed and slowly traveling up your lower back to grab the fabric of your dress. Holding you in place. “Luke, please.”

“Since you’re begging so nicely, my perfect girl,” He says, pulling back only to bury himself inside you once more. It’s so wet and slick and obscene, the sound bouncing off of your bedroom walls alongside his low grunts and your sharp breaths. The angle alone is enough to make you cum, combined with the sensitivity from your orgasm. Luke continues the slow motions, withdrawing his cock only to sink back in. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Too slow,” You grumble. “Faster. Please— for fucksake.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Gagging for it,” He sighs in faux-annoyance, but you know he’s just as desperate to fill you, to claim you and leave you a mess. “As you wish.”

The curled fist against the middle of your back presses harder, pushing your chest flush with the bed with no room for movement. Fingernails sink into the soft flesh of your thighs as Luke’s cock withdraws slowly, one final time, before thrusting so harshly a broken moan is pulled from your throat. No mercy is evident in the way he fucks you, like it’s all you’re meant for, the tip of his cock nudging that spot just barely.

Tears pool in the corners of your eyes.

“God baby, this pussy was made just for me. So fucking warm and wet,” Luke grits out between harsh exhales through his nose. “Taking my cock so well.”

“Luke,” You reach out desperately, fumbling to grab the sheets between your fingers as your body rocks from his thrusts. He’s been intense like this before, long ago, but you’d be a fucking liar if you said you hadn’t longed for it on the occasion. “Fuck, you feel so good. Please— please don’t stop.”

“I’d be an idiot to stop,” Luke says. “Christ, Y/N, you’re fucking soaked. It’s so fucking hot.”

A sudden wave of something hits you full force. Something more powerful than an average orgasm. Your thighs quiver so harshly that they cramp, Luke’s cock nudging the perfect spot dead on and the only sounds escaping you are desperate pleas and whines that can’t be deciphered. Your head feels like jello, holding on to something that’s begging to be free. So, you do.

“Oh, fuck—“

The pleasure is almost blinding. Your body feels so warm, on fire practically, and Luke’s thrusts stutter. “Did you just—“

He doesn’t need to ask. You did, you both know it. The way your release floods your thighs, Luke’s cock and dampens the sheets. It’s only happened twice in the time you two have been together, and squirting definitely isn’t something you’ve practiced.

“Oh fuck, Y/N-“ Luke whines. Broken and breathy, nails digging into your hip so harshly for dear life as he buries himself inside you fully one last time, panting your name on an endless loop as he comes undone. “Fuck.”

After a moment, Luke slowly retracts, and the sound of knees hitting the bedroom floor is unmistakable. You’re in no state to move, vision speckled and blurred, while you somehow manage to keep yourself upright. You aren’t sure if minutes pass or seconds, but you jump slightly when Luke’s hands softly clasp the back of your thighs.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Luke says weakly. “Holy shit, Y/N. What a fucking masterpiece.”

No doubt he’s taken a photo or two. Or three, or ten. Luke’s just sentimental like that.

You slowly attempt to rise on shaky arms, but Luke presses his thumbs into your skin with a tut. “Hold on, baby,” He says. The words for what sit on the tip of your tongue but Luke’s actions prevent you from asking, as a sudden warmth meets your most sensitive spot.

Is he—?

Fuck.

The tip of Luke’s nose ghosts the soft skin between your holes, as his tongue works to clean the mess you and he had made together. Catching every last bit, with hungry little groans. All you can do is sit and relish in it, in Luke’s desperation to taste himself inside you once more, that you don’t really register a slickness that isn’t due to your boyfriend’s current activity.

Weakly, you spare a glance between your legs to catch sight of Luke’s arm furiously working. He’s getting off, you realize. To tasting his own cum inside you.

Luke groans weakly against your pussy, lips quivering and he’s likely finished all over himself. The warmth that floods your stomach is preposterous. Luke backs off.

“You were that desperate?” You ask, finally turning onto your side to see Luke, pink-cheeked kneeling beside the bed. Eyes wide and glossy as they meet yours. “You got off to eating me out? After cumming inside me?”

“Well, I—“ Luke clears his throat. “M’fucking weak for it, you know that. After I took a picture I just— fuck off.” He turns away, clearly embarrassed.

“You’re cute,” You laugh softly, thoroughly exhausted and sweaty and way too warm than is desirable right now. “I accept your apology, by the way.”

“Figured,” Luke says. “You didn’t have time to think about my curls,” Reminded once more of the short hair that decorates Luke’s head, your lips part to defend yourself but Luke holds up a silencing finger. “Don’t even, Y/N. You know how long I’ve been dying to make you squirt like that—“

“Luke Robert Hemmings!” You gasp.

“Just saying! More important things happening than my hair. I need to remember what I did so I can make you do that again-“

“That’s enough out of you, Slim Shady,” You shake your head, cheeks a roaring pink much like Luke’s. His jaw drops from the nickname, slinking back, cock half massed and hanging out of his boxers. “You heard me.”

Luke’s eyes narrow. Before you know it, he’s reaching for your ankles and a squeal escapes you.

You’re definitely in for a long night.

You may have always adored Luke’s curls, but you love him just the same without them.

#5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings imagine #5sos x reader #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #what the fuck #i'm not sorry #buzz cut baby

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thr0wnawayy · 4 months ago

Note

Who would the 10-13 1A members that died in the MLA be, if MHA had any actual stakes? I really liked your Kaminari idea, so I just wanted to explore it with you. It would have realistically made UA/the heroes look a hell of a lot worse and the villains look a hell of a lot smarter if they went for the angle of "the best heroics school in Japan is using child soldiers!"

I know for the heroes, it should have been Pixie Bob and Gran Torino in addition to Crust. Endeavor also should have died because it would have actually given the story actual stakes - Japan is now in shambles and the new #1 hero/heavy hitter is dead. Oh shit, what are they going to do?

Firstly I feel I should clarify that both 1A and B would lose some team members as both classes were thrust into war with basically no real training. Although for the sake of plot 1A would lose vastly more.

With that stated, let us begin.

I know for a fact that Koda is dead.

Truthfully, there is no way someone as bulky as him (with the addition of his poorly designed costume) would be even marginally capable of outrunning Shigaraki's Decay.

His quirk (Anivoice) gives him zero advantages and being in Jaku (a city under evacuation) would only add to this.

We also mustn't forget that the rubble by itself was also capable of disintegrating anything it touched. Putting all that together and given how close he was to "ground zero", his chances of survival are slim to none.

Additionally, everyone who found Midnight's corpse is either dead or brutally injured.

Midnight's body is isolated in a decently foliage heavy area, with plenty of hiding spots and vantage points making it all too easy to set an ambush.

Our merry band of MLA/PLF mercenaries simply have to bide their time, wait for the shock and horror to settle in and then strike.

Sero, Kirishima and Setsuna are easy targets (with Setsuna being the farthest from the bait) their backs are turned and mentally are either distant or "vacant".

If Momo didn't recover from her grief and get off the floor, it's game over.

However. She would likely manage to fend them off long enough to escape (thanks to her intelligence and dexterity), although not without some scars. (eyepatch momo, anyone?)

Mina might be able to hold them off due to her acid but will eventually falter because (as you mentioned) Aizawa's a shitheel.

That brings us up to 5 students so far (if we include Kaminari's death) that have died due to UA's (and the HPSC's) crippling negligence.

I'm a tad hesitant to add Tsu here but it's unlikely she'd survive. (even if she does survive the wave, she'd likely die in the crossfire)

Comicman, because yeah he's unimportant.

For the Villa Raid team it's important that we cut some heroes in order for this scenario to work.

Edgeshot is dead, likely fried to death by Electro-lite.

This would cause the raiding heroes to become discouraged and overwhelmed.

the MLA's gear is more than a match and combined with their years of fighting and tactical prowess. It's not even close.

Simply put; divide and conquer.

Mineta's dying for sure. His costume restricts his (torso and leg) movements and makes him standout like a traffic cone. That guy with holes all over his body is likely the one to snuff him out.

Ojiro is dead the moment the MLA members use numbers to overwhelm him, no amount of martial arts will save you from getting jumped.

Mines dies because his quirk (Twin Impact) suffers from the Flect Fallacy.(Overwhelming the quirk will break it). So pretty much any MLA member could be the one to kill him

That sets the score to 11 total student deaths (8 for 1A, 3 for 1B), not a good look.

We know the rest, Dabi kills Enji for good.

Skeptic publishes a video along with Dabi's exposé that reveals UA is using child soldiers and that the HPSC forged paperwork to allow this.

And the crowd goes wild!

The reactions would be brutal, national if not global criticism from every angle.

The entire raid and evacuation effort would be considered an immense failure, the villains remain at large to gather their numbers and most civilians would be left homeless and displaced.

The hero that everybody placed their bets on turned out be a child/wife beating eugenicist who bought (and later assaulted) his wife when she was only 17. Only to be killed off by the very child he left to burn.

The (global) outrage partially stems from the fact that if it weren't for Dabi, no one would have known otherwise .

The number 2 hero is an (attempted) murderer and seems almost irritated at Enji being outed, the world stage takes this the wrong way and opts not to aid Japan.* What pisses them off the most is his uncaring attitude.

Considering them a lost cause when Shigaraki not only breaks everyone out of Tartarus but also manges to kill AFO by sheer force of will (and wanting to see his friends live as they please)

Rei's speech/conference serves as the final nail. Going into immense detail of the pain she and her children suffered at the hands of Enji. (If their were any doubts Touya was her son, they were killed here)

When asked if anyone knew, she finishes her speech off with revealing that some heroes and staff knew about the abuse and chose to look the other way. Causing the room to burst into an uproar.

*(explaining why Japan was allowed to fester for as long as it did without intervention, something Hori failed to explain)

Parents begin pulling out their children in droves, not wanting to risk their kids getting drafted, others quit by choice.

Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu don't put their students on the front lines (they aren't stupid). The commission is unable to force them due to their, "unique" situation.

The heroes that quit are harshly criticized by the public and media (and usually fairly too), pointing out how shitty it looks (and is) for heroes to suddenly abandon them as soon as things get serious.

Class 1A is left to pickup the pieces with 8 classmates killed (+ Bakugo) the events of the last week have shocked them to their cores but perhaps there is hope.

Of course they're left to pick up their predecessors mistakes, again.

Midoriya would still go rouge, albiet he would stick to his principals. He's made a disturbing connection between Bakugo and Endeavor and it haunts him.

(I should add that Bakugo's death is portrayed for the selfish play it was)

Midoriya likely driven by the need to ensure that he doesn't lose anyone else. His anger at AM would probably stem from the fact that he is putting himself in danger for someone as "expendable" as himself.

I could see the two having a heart to heart that Midoriya is more than his quirk once he willingly returns.

Some additional information:

Bakugo dies permanently, because Edgeshot was killed by "Electro" earlier (even then I'm not doing the writing atrocity that is the "Jeart".)

For heroes I'd like to add Jeanist to the roster. Gigantomachia should have swatted him and his airship like a fly. This means the top 3 are dead, adding to the chaos. This also prevents the old-gen from taking up space.

The High-End Nomu beat the tar out of Miriko, leaving crippled at best and a paraplegic at worst. (That is assuming they don't kill her).

Fourth Kind is killed when, like Ojiro, he is overwhelmed.

Your absolutely correct, Gran Torino and Pixiebob are eliminated, joining Crust.

Twice actually lives, though I would keep that ambiguous until later, he wouldn't get out unscathed of course and would probably need to be put into a coma while his injuries heal.

Himiko's revenge plot now has additional stakes as she promises Twice that she will return to him. (before he's medically put under)

This also fuels the PLF + Spinner, vowing to do right by their ally and friend.

Dabi would have disfigured Hawks upon discovery of his attempt on Twice's life, no more cosmetic scars. Just good old fashioned brutality.

(The fear of losing Twice may have dug up the past memory of losing his mother after Enji drove her to the brink. As Dabi cares deeply for both [even if he won't admit it] ontop of the fact that it's a "hero" that's trying to take them and he betrayed them).

Overall this world is going to be one wild ride with a very different ending to what Hori gave us.

It is a story not of heroes and villains, but of ideals and goals. It asks the question:

What is it to save?

A few additional notes:

Momo would likely have a revenge arc as a sort of parallel between Izuku and Himiko. However it wouldn't be as bland as what we got in canon with Mina.

The mercenaries aren't mustache twirling supremacists, no. Here they're cold, calculated soldiers who are strictly tactical. Midnight was "nothing personal, just business" to them.

They serve as a dark mirror to Momo's shift in personality during the war, as Momo reverts to her initial cold confidant personality and kicks it up to 20 as she hunts them down.

Midnight's killer even points out midbattle on how Momo was sexualized and she doesn't even know it. Telling her at one point: "You may see them as an equal, they see you as a display"

The battle isnt treated as a victory either, while the Momo and her squadron win, the gravity of the situation isn't ignored and Momo actually listens to her opponent's critique.

#mha critical #bnha critical #hero society critical #anti endeavor #mha rewrite #anti bakugou #anti bakugo katsuki #anti enji todoroki #anti mha ending #anti aizawa #ua critical #lov #justice for rei himura #anti kohei horikoshi #anti horikoshi #anti hpsc

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