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romugh · 9 hours ago

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HISTORY IN THE MAKING - nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, gp!bottom!natasha, handjob (n rcv), blowie (n rcv), missionary, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie? muaha... shy daddy!nat UGHH, kind of orgasm control & slight edging if you squint

wc- 5.4k

a/n- drabble turned fic as i worked my way through these exact history shenanigans a few days back... in the same INTIMATE STUDIES universe! might make this a cute lil thing :) this is very much NOT my best work, i might rework it a little bit just to make it flow a lil more! apologies if there are any repetitions, i tried to catch them, but my brain is fried :/

synopsis- natasha's helping you study russia's history, and the rest is history?? idk it's too late rn guys i'm going to sleep

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀, @simpforlizzie, @riyaexee

You’re sitting cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, staring down at a jumble of Russian history notes that you’re certain might as well be in Cyrillic themselves. The words swim on the page, stubbornly refusing to click in the way chemistry formulas or physics equations do. You press the back of your pen to your lips, glancing over at the figure hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.

Natasha is fully engrossed in her game, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers fly across the keyboard. The light from her monitor casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the gentle bite of her lower lip. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a plaid skirt, her usual attempt to dress professionally for class long since abandoned in favour of cosy socks and a messy bun.

You can’t help but smile a little. The contrast between Natasha’s outward shyness and the intensity in her focus has always been something you found endearing. You met in the class you were currently trying to study for, back when you’d shown up late to Russian history, fumbling through an awkward introduction as the professor sighed and directed you to sit in the last free seat beside her. It had taken a few study sessions for you to get past her initial stammering, but now, you could ask her about anything and her eyes would light up, eagerly launching into whatever story or fact you were struggling to understand. But right now, that focus is directed entirely on her computer screen.

You clear your throat. “Natasha?”

“Hm?” She barely looks up, eyes quickly darting back to her screen.

“Nat,” you repeat, with a hint of a smile. “I need help with the comparison of Russia until 1917 and the West-European’s Ancien Régime. And… pretty much all the details, too.”

She gives a little sigh, half-distracted. “Mm. Yes, the parables are… very interesting, baby. Give me one second. I’m doing really well.”

You hold back a laugh. “Right, but I’m failing Russian history. Melina and Alexei will both kill me. So can you take a break?”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “I will, I promise. Just a few more minutes. I’m close to beating this level.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her single-minded dedication. Her stubborn innocence, the way she always seems to be pulled between her gentle nature and her intense focus, has you mesmerised. But she can’t honestly think you’re going to wait forever.

“Natasha,” you say softly, standing and crossing over to her desk. Her gaze flicks up to you on her side, her big, doe-like eyes widening with an almost bashful look as you lean against the desk. “You’re seriously not going to help me?”

She blushes, biting her lip. “I really want to help,” she whispers, almost apologetic, “but, really, just a little longer? Please?”

There’s something about the sweet innocence of her pleading that has your heart racing. Her earnestness always has a way of drawing you in, those wide, round eyes like they’re begging for permission to keep playing, and her lips slightly parted in concentration. You tilt your head, taking in every detail of her—the slight blush dusting her cheeks, the faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and the way her fingers clutch the keyboard just a little tighter, like she’s holding onto the game but secretly hoping you’ll take control.

You smile softly and reach for her chair, turning it around so she’s facing you. Her hands hover in the air, a brief look of panic on her face as she loses her place in the game. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, you’re sliding onto her lap, straddling her, feeling the warmth of her strong thighs under you.

“Wait! You made me fall off the map!” Natasha squeaks, her voice a mixture of exasperation and a hint of excitement. Her hands instinctively find your hips, holding you as if she’s afraid you might slip away.

You give her a gentle smile, leaning in so that your faces are mere inches apart. “I thought you were going to help me study,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a soft, coaxing tone. You press your hands to her shoulders, letting your fingers trail along her collarbone, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens under your touch.

“I… I was,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and you catch the slight tremble in her voice. “I just… my game.”

You tilt her chin up, making her meet your gaze, and she blushes even deeper, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips as her eyes grow wide, almost vulnerable. “Natty,” you say, your voice laced with playful patience, “I really need you to focus on me now. History, please.”

Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a breathy whisper. “Okay.”

You hold Natasha’s gaze, the intensity in her eyes gradually overpowering her initial shyness. Her fingers rest on your hips, hesitant and yet possessive, as though she’s still trying to find some control in this position. Her breath catches each time you shift even slightly, and you can feel her heartbeat racing beneath your touch, each little change in her demeanour making her even more endearing.

You run your thumb along her jawline, feeling the delicate skin beneath, and she lets out a soft breath, her lips parting as she unconsciously leans into your touch. Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips, as if she’s desperately waiting for some kind of signal, a sign that she’s allowed to give in completely.

“Natasha,” you murmur, bringing your face close enough to feel her breath mingling with yours, “what are the key similarities, and how do the t<o regimes differ?”

She hums, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, but words seem to fail her. The hand on your hip trembles slightly, as though she wants to pull you closer but doesn’t dare to, not without permission. You feel the tension building, a mix of her nervousness and desire, and it only makes you want to pull her in even more.

Finally, you press a feather-light kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear, and whisper, “Come on, Natty. Think, please. Need your pretty self to explain it to me.”

She shivers under your touch, swallowing as she tries to remember the words. “Um… right, the… they didn’t have religious freedom,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. The fingers on your hip dig in just slightly, a mix of nerves and need as she fights to keep her focus. “Orthodoxy– uh, there were lots of violent riots… against Muslims, but mostly Jews. Those were called pogroms and… oh…”

Her wordds trail off as you tilt her chin slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her blush deepens, and you feel the way her body responds, her tension giving way to a faint tremor as she tries to keep talking.

“You’re so good at this,” you whisper, guiding her with gentle encouragement. “But I’m going to need a little more focus from you if we’re going to get through all this history.”

Her breath catches, and she nods, biting her lip as she tries to concentrate. “I can focus,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. Her gaze stays locked onto yours, her wide eyes full of innocence mixed with a yearning she can’t quite hide.

Her fingers finally slide up your sides, settling on the dip of your waist with a delicate grip, as though she’s terrified of doing too much, yet completely unwilling to let go. You smile softly, placing a hand over hers, squeezing in silent encouragement, and her blush deepens, her eyes darting away for just a second.

But you don’t let her break eye contact for long. Tilting her chin back to you, you brush your lips over hers in a kiss so soft it’s barely there, and she lets out a faint sigh, melting into the touch. Her grip tightens again, and you feel her breath hitch as you deepen the kiss just slightly, enough to make her toes curl beneath her chair.

“Tell me more,” you murmur, pausing just inches from her mouth, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating between you. “About the razzias. I want to hear you explain it.”

Her lips part, her mind clearly racing to catch up, but she manages a shaky breath. “They just were um, a…,” she stammers, her voice a mix of strained focus and barely-restrained excitement. Her hands start to relax, as though she’s finding confidence in your guidance. “They… uh– it’s a reckoning against religious ideals.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in approval, your thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. “And then the revolution happened?”

Her eyes flicker down to your lips, and she swallows, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were two revolutions, technically. First, the February Revolution, and then the radicalised October Revolution.”

Her words start to blur into soft breaths as you lean closer, the warmth of her skin against yours heightening with each delicate touch. You feel her legs shift under you, and a soft gasp escapes her when you shift your weight in her lap, pressing yourself against her in a way that’s both innocent and electric. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes grow hazy, the careful focus she was trying to hold onto slipping with each passing second.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. Her lips part in a faint, breathless smile, and you feel her chest rise as she takes in a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening just a little more.

You tilt her head back, keeping her gaze locked on yours, letting your fingers trail down her throat, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your touch. Her eyes widen, a mixture of awe and anticipation in them as she watches your every move, her hands moving under your sweater like she’s trying to ground herself.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask softly, running a finger along her jawline, watching the way her breath catches in response.

She nods, unable to find words, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes hold that same innocent, almost pleading look, as though she’s begging you to take control, to guide her wherever you want.

You smile, letting your hand drift down from her jaw, fingers grazing along her collarbone, before you slowly trail down to her chest and stomach, where you can feel the rise and fall of her shallow breaths.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, your words soothing yet commanding as you press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens under your lips. She shivers, a barely audible whimper escaping her lips, her wide eyes softening as she watches you, her gaze full of innocent trust.

“Natasha,” you whisper, drawing out her name like a gentle caress, “let me help you focus.” Her breath catches, and she gives a shaky nod, her hands tightening their grip on the chair. You slowly lower yourself from her lap, letting your hands slide down the smooth skin of her thighs, feeling the way her body tenses under your touch only to relax as you continue, inching her knees apart.

Her blush deepens, and you can feel her shyness mingling with anticipation as her skirt rides up, revealing the growing hardness pressing against the fabric of her boxers. You let your fingers trace along her inner thigh, watching the way she trembles slightly at each delicate touch. Her wide eyes remain fixed on yours, that blend of vulnerability and desire making your own heart race as you take her in.

“Relax for me,” you murmur, running your hands gently along her thighs. You reach up to brush your fingers over the fabric straining to hold her in, and her lips part in a soft, involuntary moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she squirms in her seat.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide her underwear down, watching the way her member springs free, her blush turning crimson as she looks away for a moment, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flickering across her face. You press a gentle kiss along her inner thigh, easing her legs further apart and taking in her reactions, savouring each shiver, each small gasp that escapes her lips. When you move your mouth closer to her length, you look up at her, waiting until her gaze meets yours.

Once it does, you bring your mouth to her, pressing a feather-light kiss along her shaft, and her reaction is instant—her hips jerk slightly, and she lets out a trembling breath, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she tries to stay still. Her breath hitches with every movement, her wide eyes looking down at you, filled with both awe and that same sweet shyness that makes her all the more endearing.

Slowly, you take her into your mouth, your tongue gliding over her, humming at the way she gasps, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. You can feel her body tense under your touch, the warmth of her length in your mouth, and the way she squirms with each gentle movement. Her breathing becomes ragged, her cheeks flushed as her lashes flutter, struggling to keep eye contact.

“Just relax, Natty,” you murmur between gentle caresses, pausing only to offer soft words of encouragement, letting her feel the warmth of your breath against her sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well.”

Her eyes soften further at your words, her lips parted in a soft, breathless smile as she gives a faint nod, her entire body melting under your touch. She lets out a quiet, shaky moan as you continue, her hips shifting involuntarily, her breath hitching each time your mouth moves a little deeper. The look in her eyes—vulnerable yet trusting—only fuels your desire to take her further.

You increase your pace just slightly, watching the way her eyes grow hazier with each passing second, her fingers now reaching out, finding your shoulder as if she needs something to hold onto. The desperation in her gaze, the slight whimpers that escape her lips, all signal how close she’s getting. You pause, pulling back just enough to look up at her, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath.

“You’re so good, Natasha,” you murmur, words muffled by her heat in you, enjoying the way she shivers under the praise. “But don’t let go just yet. I want to take my time with you.”

Her blush deepens at the command, and she nods, swallowing hard as she holds back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control herself. You press a soft kiss to her length, smiling at the way she bites her lip, her fingers still clutching your shoulder as she gives herself over to your touch.

With her breaths growing more ragged, you let your hand slide down her thigh, resting at the base of her length as you ease back, switching from the warmth of your mouth to the gentle grip of your hand. Natasha whimpers softly, her lashes fluttering as she watches you with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze. Her hands grip the arms of her chair for stability, her cheeks flushed and lips parted as you begin to stroke her slowly, savouring each reaction.

“Does that feel good, Natty?” you murmur, watching the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she nods, her entire body leaning toward your touch.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a need she’s struggling to hold back. You watch the way her chest rises and falls, each shuddering breath making her more vulnerable, more open to your every move.

You increase the pressure slightly, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has her toes curling, her wide eyes looking down at you with unguarded adoration. You can see how close she is, her face a mix of tension and awe as she clutches at her chair, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp when you switch back to your mouth, taking her in once again.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely audible. She shifts in her seat, her grip tightening as she fights to stay composed, though the desperation in her voice betrays her.

“You want more?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look up at her, letting your breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She nods frantically, her gaze pleading, as though she’s ready to beg for you to keep going. Her vulnerability makes your heart race, and you lean back in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her length before taking her in your hand again.

Each change between your mouth and hand drives her closer to that edge, her quiet, broken moans growing more frequent as her body responds to your every touch. You take your time, alternating between gentle strokes and teasing kisses, watching the way her resolve unravels completely. Her hips move instinctively, seeking more, her breath shallow and desperate.

Finally, you slow your pace, watching the way she shudders in response, her gaze hazy and her body fully at peace yet trembling in your hands. “I told you, Natty,” you whisper, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh, “I’m taking my time with you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, her hands falling from the chair to clutch at your shoulders, her breathing still erratic as she tries to hold herself back. But you can see the way she’s teetering on that edge, fully surrendered to you.

As you continue to alternate between using your hand and mouth, her wide, vulnerable gaze grows more unfocused, her lips parting as her body instinctively responds to you. But just when you think she’s letting herself fall into your pace, you feel her fingers tangle in your hair, firm but trembling, gently pressing down, silently urging you to take her deeper.

The sudden assertiveness surprises you, but you comply, letting her guide you, feeling the way her grip tightens slightly, the desperation in her touch almost pleading. Her quiet whimpers grow louder, echoing in the room as she watches you, her gaze dark with fascination, completely enraptured by the sight of you surrendering to her need.

“Oh, please…” she murmurs, her voice a breathy whisper, barely containing herself. You feel her body shiver as you take her deeper, her soft gasp filling the air. Her eyes, usually so innocent and shy, are now dark with awe, wide and almost worshipful, as though she can barely believe what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, her face flushed, her expression somewhere between a plea and an apology, completely mesmerised by the sight of you.

Finally, feeling your control slip in her grasp, you tap her thigh, and she releases her grip on your hair immediately, looking down at you with that same innocent gaze, as if wondering if she’s overstepped. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze shy once again, as she watches you with bated breath, clearly unsure of your next move.

Standing up slowly, you meet her gaze, your eyes smouldering as you reach down and slip off your underwear, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Natasha’s eyes widen, her cheeks a deeper pink as her gaze travels from your face down the length of your body, lingering on the hem of your sweater as if transfixed by the contrast.

Before she can fully take in the sight, you reach for her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tug her up from the chair, her body following your movements without hesitation. She gasps softly, her breath catching as she’s pulled to her feet, her wide, adoring eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Strip for me,” you command, your voice low, leaving no room for argument. You release her hair, your touch lingering for just a second as you make your way to her bed, settling yourself atop her scattered history notes, the crinkling of the papers the only sound breaking the silence. She watches, her blush deepening, clearly entranced by the sight of you lying there, completely at ease and in control. Her hands go to the hem of her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she begins to undress, her gaze never leaving yours.

Natasha’s fingers tremble slightly as she slides off her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, revealing the flushed skin of her chest and the slight rise and fall of her breath as she finally stands in front of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker between your gaze and your body sprawled out over her history notes, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and desire. You stretch out comfortably, your sweater rucked up just enough to tease her, watching her with that same confident, hungry look that’s left her at your mercy all evening.

“Come here, Natty,” you murmur, your voice firm but soft. She steps forward, her movements hesitant but her gaze locked on you, and you guide her down onto the bed until she’s hovering over you, her body settling between your legs. Her breath catches as she takes you in, her wide, adoring eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her, looking up at her with that unwavering, confident smile that’s made her melt all night.

As Natasha hovers above you, her body fitting perfectly between your legs, you can feel the nervous tremble in her limbs, her cheeks flushed as she takes in the sight of you lying beneath her, waiting. Her wide eyes, so shy and adoring, sweep over your face and then down, drinking in every inch of your body, as though each glance leaves her more entranced. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she steadies herself, hands resting tentatively on either side of you.

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands and guiding her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the heat radiate off her skin. She melts into you, her body instinctively pressing down, filling the space between you as her lips respond, moving tenderly yet hungrily, every kiss leaving her more breathless. With a gentle nudge, you guide her hips forward, feeling her length brush against your entrance, and she lets out a soft, broken gasp, her face flushed a deep pink as she begins to press into you.

You hum, running your hands through her hair, tugging gently to pull her closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She gasps against your mouth, her lips parting as you deepen the kiss, feeling her shiver as she responds, her body pressing eagerly into yours. She lets out a soft, desperate moan as she slides inside, her hands gripping the sheets beside you.

“Oh,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the warmth of your body surrounding her, enveloping her in a way that leaves her trembling. Her breath hitches, and she clutches the sheets beside you, her hands forming tight fists as she adjusts to the feeling, her gaze filled with wonder as she looks down at you.

“Good girl,” you whisper, watching the way her face softens at the praise, her body shuddering as she begins to move, her hips rolling forward in slow, tentative strokes. You feel each careful movement, each deliberate inch of her body pressing into yours, her lips parted in a quiet moan, her eyes half-lidded as she loses herself in the rhythm, her shy gaze growing more intense with each passing second.

With every thrust, her body trembles, her gaze filled with a raw vulnerability as though she’s giving herself to you completely, utterly. She clutches the sheets even tighter, her breathing quickening, her eyes never leaving yours as she moves deeper, her breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

“That’s it, Natty,” you murmur, running a hand along her cheek, feeling the way her breath catches at your touch. “Just like that.”

Her lips part in response, a soft whimper escaping her as her hips begin to move faster, her body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that she can barely control. She shivers, the need and intensity in her gaze building with every touch, every whispered word of encouragement. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at you, her cheeks a deep shade of pink, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading, as though she wants more but can barely bring herself to ask for it.

“Right there, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft, just loud enough for her to hear. The word slips from your lips easily, and you watch the way her entire being responds—the tremor in her hips, the widening of her eyes, the soft, desperate whine that falls from her lips. Her face and neck flush a deeper, unmistakable red, and for a moment, she looks at you with pure, unguarded awe, her expression caught between disbelief and overwhelming need.

Her hands tremble, her hips stuttering as she takes in the title, her body pressing instinctively deeper as though the sound alone draws her closer to the edge. “Daddy,” you whisper again, watching her face as she loses herself in the word, her expression filling with a blend of shyness and barely contained desire.

��P-please…” she stammers, her voice trembling, almost breaking as she holds herself back, her body trembling with the strain of it. “I… I need…”

You reach up, running your hand through her hair, guiding her gaze back to yours. “It’s okay, Natty,” you murmur, your voice soft, coaxing. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Her wide eyes fill with a deep, unrestrained need, and she lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her hands sliding from the sheets to grip your waist, holding you as though grounding herself. Her movements grow more erratic, her hips pressing deeper, her body responding to every encouraging word, every touch, as though completely under your control.

As she moves, you see the way she loses herself in each thrust, her face flushed, her mouth open as her breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. She looks down at you with that same innocent, adoring gaze, but now, there’s something more—something raw, a hunger she can barely contain. Her hips press forward, filling you completely, her body shuddering as she reaches the edge, her wide eyes pleading, searching your gaze for permission.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and you feel the way her body reacts, her grip tightening on your waist as she shudders, her hips jerking forward in a desperate, trembling thrust. Her eyes close as she gasps, her head falling forward as she loses herself completely, spilling into you with a soft, broken moan, her body pressing close, clinging to you as though she’s never felt anything so intense.

As Natasha trembles on top of you, her body pressed close, you feel every soft, shivering breath she takes, the weight of her against you as she finally lets go, spilling into you. Her head dips forward, eyes tightly shut, her lips parted in a quiet, desperate gasp as she comes, the warmth of her release filling you, a slow, deep pulse that seems to steal the breath from her lungs. Her grip tightens on your waist as if she’s clinging to you, grounding herself in the sensation, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

You can feel her chest rising and falling against you, her breaths ragged and shallow as she lets out a soft whimper, the vulnerability in her voice making your heart swell. Her hips press forward with each wave, as though she wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling every inch of her warmth, every pulse, spill into you, marking you in a way that’s both intimate and utterly consuming.

Each pulse of her release sends a shiver through her, her breathing shallow and uneven as she slowly comes down from the high, her eyes fluttering open, looking down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. She looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and worship, her cheeks still flushed, her lips parted in a soft, blissful smile.

You brush a hand along her cheek, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she takes a deep, steadying breath, her hands still holding you close, as though she can’t bear to let go.

“Natty,” you murmur, running your hands through her hair, guiding her face up to meet your gaze. Her eyes open slowly, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you, her gaze soft, overwhelmed, filled with a raw, unguarded adoration that she can’t hide. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her expression completely mesmerised as though she can barely believe you’re here, beneath her, accepting every bit of her.

A soft, blissful smile tugs at her lips, her hand moving up to gently cradle your face as she leans in, pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your lips, her breaths still heavy, warm. She holds you like this, savouring the closeness, the feel of you wrapped around her, the warmth of her release settling within you.

Finally, she shifts, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes wide, her breath still uneven, as though she’s only just starting to come back to herself. She looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing your jawline softly, reverently.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammers, her face flushing deeper, her shy gaze flicking away for a moment.

But you smile, reaching up to cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours, your voice soft and reassuring. “Natty… it’s okay,” you murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I wanted this, too. I asked.”

She lets out a soft, relieved exhale, her body relaxing as she sinks into you, her arms wrapping around you, holding you as though afraid to let go. You feel her heartbeat gradually slow, her warmth enveloping you, her gaze still soft, full of that same innocent awe as she watches you, completely lost in the moment.

As Natasha catches her breath, her fingers lingering on your skin as though afraid to break the closeness between you, she finally shifts to pull out, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. She watches with wide, almost mesmerised eyes as your bodies separate, and her gaze drops to the way your mixed warmth slowly begins to spill out of you, the evidence of everything you’ve shared glistening in the low light.

Her lips part, her cheeks flushed as her gaze stays fixed, almost transfixed, and she can’t hide the blush that rises as she takes it all in. She’s caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief, her wide eyes drinking in every detail as though this might all disappear any second.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Natty,” you tease, your smirk playful, voice soft, cutting through her daze. She looks up, startled, blinking as she registers your words. But after a second, she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her blush deepening as she reaches over to grab her phone, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She snaps a quick picture, her gaze flicking between the screen and you, clearly savouring every second. The reverence in her expression makes your heart skip, a feeling of pride filling you as you watch her.

Once she’s put the phone aside, she reaches over with a soft, sheepish smile, helping you sit up and adjust yourself. Her gaze softens, that shy, affectionate look taking over as she wraps her arms around you, holding you close, savouring the warmth that lingers between you both.

And then she glances at the bed, a small, nervous laugh escaping as she spots her carefully scattered history notes—now crinkled, a little rumpled, with more than a few slightly smudged edges. Without missing a beat, she moves to gather them, straightening the papers, her cheeks still a warm shade of pink as she moves to tidy up.

a/n- apologies if this is the worst piece i've written LOL i've been surviving on a few hours of sleep for the past few days- big thanks to jess for somehow helping me get through this, i'll let you keep your ps5. sigh. i'd still build a princess castle tho.

#romugh's nerd!natty #men and minors dni #romugh slays #romugh writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #nerdy natty forever my love #nerd natasha #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #romugh dies #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson reader #black widow smut

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ph-cutie · 2 days ago

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why is evrart's portrait so weird? a visual and written analysis.

Most of us on this website have warm sentiments towards him, but I feel confident in saying that his portrait art looks, or has looked, somewhat off-putting to a lot of people, and that this fact was intentional. So if you've always felt a little strange looking at him, but couldn't put your finger on why, I've got you! This is a remake of a 1k word, 12 paragraph post I've made on reddit this same day, but tweaked to be in a more tumblr cadence :3

FORENOTE: This post is solely about the portrait art. Not the man portrayed in the model and concept art, or his general features. Just making that clear.

BACK TO BUSINESS: I've made a little diagram circling out and numbering the most jarring parts of this image.

TLDR: this piece draws on mild anatomical distortions and body language discrepancies to catch the viewer offguard. if you want to know more you're a VERY lucky person, because i've got nearly 800 words explaining each point for you, under the readmore.

UNUSUALLY LONG&WIDE LOWER FACE: Probably the thing most people actually notice. Even compared to other images of him, his jaw is quite exaggerated. wouldn't stand out had the rest of him been unremarkable, however he is *very* remarkable.

STRAINED SMILE - MUSCLE TENSION: I'm not super into the "true and genuine good person smile" vs "deceitful scary smile" dichotomy, I myself am cursed with a jimmy donaldson smile. However, his smile does not look restful/easy-going. It's very horizontal. Corner 1 is pushing excessively into his cheek, corner 2 isn't even angled up. Lower lip is stuck out. CONCLUSION: looks forceful and a little painful on his end. Not the weirdest part of the image, but it creates problems later down the line with his other features.

FOGGY GLASSES: They say that eyes are the windows of the souls, and his design messes with that by fogging up his glasses. But even that has another layer to it, so let's peel it! His right eye (to the right of the image) is looking at the viewer, however, the glass obstructs it to such a degree that we do not get any functional information from it beyond the knowledge that it exists. His left eye is drawn much clearer, however, it's not looking at us. It can't tell us anything about what it's owner is feeling, it has nothing to do with us. For people who care about eye contact, this part of the drawing was made to be frustrating. The connection is juust out of reach :)

LACK OF VISIBLE EYEBROWS: Eyebrows are one of the most expressive parts of the face, and he's lacking them for whatever reason. Not much more to say on that for now.

NONSENSICAL PLACEMENT OF HEAD ON BODY: Compared to the concept art, where his shoulder is a little below his earlobe, the portrait's shoulder is portrayed as above THE ear. Basically, there is no neck/separation between his head and body. The rest of the drawing doesn't give a clear explanation on why this is (such as if he were clearly portrayed as sticking his head forward), so I deem this to be a genuine anatomic perversion. (AFTERNOTE: APPROXIMATELY 20 PEOPLE ON REDDIT HAVE TOLD ME "no that's actually the back of his chair you can tell from this slight hue shift" MAYBE IT IS. BUT I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT ANYONE REALLY NOTICED THAT LITTLE PIXEL LINE, AT THE SIZE OF THE PORTRAIT WHICH IS PORTRAYED INGAME. THE PAINTER KNEW WHAT IT LOOKED LIKE. SO DONT BOTHER ME ABOUT IT )

ARCHED CURVATURE OF THE SHOULDER- MUSCLE TENSION AGAIN: But I'm not done with his shoulders! His shoulder have an arched shape, which means he's hiking them up. Much like with his smile, it's a forceful posture, associated typically with some kind of discomfort. (SAME AFTERNOTE AS POINT 5)

LACK OF DETAIL IN THE CLOTHES: While we can choose what we look at, the human eye will always be drawn to the most striking or detailed parts of images. Artists know this. Often-times, we wish for the viewer to look at the face of a character- hence the popularity of anime girls with glossy, candy-colored eyes. Claire's zone of maximum detail density starts at his nose and ends at the bottom of his double chin. His clothes, meanwhile, are basically just flat shapes. His background is very simple too. SO basically, the remainder of the image is a graphical desert, and his jowls are the oasis your eyes will always wander back to :D.

THESIS: Claire's anatomy is mildly distorted in points 1 and 5, which immediately throws off the audience. His body language is strained, borderline convulsive in points 2 and 6, while his features at 3 and 4, which we look at for information (is he happy? angry? in pain?), are left blank. This discrepancy leaves us emotionally confused and unsatisfied. Thus, the vague sense of something being wrong with no further information. Point 7 is just a little garnish to maximize the above effects. Tada! that's it.

WHY DID I WRITE THIS?: People usually focus on beautiful art and what makes it as such- I've seen many brilliant analyses of Lieutenant Kitsuragi's portrait and why it comforts us. But I find it equally interesting to break apart pieces that just don't emotionally click with us, that feel off, and I also love Evrart Claire, and find him to be a good example of this that nobody seems to have previously discussed. So I took on the challenge! I find his portrait art actually really cute now so this is mostly drawn on from the feelings of Ghost of ph-cutie Past. I genuinely doubt anyone will read all of this so if u have, I thank u from the bottom of my heart <3.

#disco elysium #evrart claire #trust me claireheads had i not been lustful for him i woulda not had the patience to write all this. Hope yall forgive me #I love him AND also think that one png is kinda oopy goopy. yeah

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mraprilfools · 12 hours ago

Text

Summary: As Vox's personal Physician it's always been a challenge to get him to take care of himself. Your motives originally may have been professional, but the line started to blend somewhere along the way. Now you're determined to get him to listen.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Vox

Contents: Mostly self-indulgent fluff. Bashful Vox, Doctor Reader, Assertive Reader, Reader has Glasses, Kissing, Lots of Flirting and Banter, Vox is a dork, Vox has freckles he hides

Word Count: 8k

A/N: Dedicated to @6esiree for her Follower contest! Please accept my humble Vox fluff. As for my followers, keep an eye out for tomorrow's Imagine for a very special message from The Heart of a Machine's Vox!

“You need to cut down on your caffeine consumption. Not only are you hopelessly addicted, but your quality of sleep is suffering as a result.” The tests had been taken again, and again, and again at your boss’ request. As a professional, you had standards. You weren’t going to let something as stubborn masculine machismo bother you. But the results on your medical chart had been almost completely static. The metallic nub of your pen rapped against the clipboard over the offending results that kept staring you back in the face.

Vox was hunched over on the examination table, refusing to face you. Already slipping on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I didn’t say that the examination was over sir.” You reminded him, pressing up the glasses hanging on the bridge of your nose.

The artificial glow of that screen finally turned to greet you. The artificial smile he had was so kind to constantly parade in your presence, as obnoxious as always. “I am well aware, but I am saying it’s over. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

A challenge to your ability. A bold one too. There were few doctors knowledgeable enough in both machinery and biology. Fewer fanatical enough to learn the harmonious weaving inside your employer so you found the accusation funny. All but a single, “Ha” came out in a scoff.

Sparks of electricity crackled from Vox’s antennae, and the large crimson pools narrowed into squints. “And what’s so funny Doc?”

“You are Darling. If you wanted to get rid of me, we both know you would have long ago.” You curled your lips in a smirk, a clear defiance of your boss. With only half of his buttons slipped through, he gave up on the rest and rose to his feet. Long legs made quick strides over to you to make a direct challenge. Even when he stood nearly a foot over you, you didn’t feel intimidated in the least. You dropped the clipboard over to the counter, meeting his gaze defiantly, but cooly.

A foot stepped between your legs, and his body came close. You took a step back only for the sake of your balance, then another until he had your back against a wall. His hands pinned you in place while the eerie glow of his screen only grew more intense. There was a false cheer in Vox’s voice even as his smile never dropped.

“You’re cute, Doc. You’ve made yourself valuable, so you’re right. I give you a lot more slack than I would tolerate from anyone else in this worthless shit heap. However…” He pried one hand free to clap around your jaw. Holding you in place when the bladed end of his thumb pressed against your cheek, drawing a bead of blood from the pinpoint. A directed threat, no doubt to remind you that he could kill you at any time.

But he hasn’t.

“More people are falling to hell every day, you won’t be so unique forever.”

“So you admit that I’m one of the few who do know what they’re doing. So, can I count on you cutting down your coffee consumption down to three cups a day?”

His chest rose and fell as the energy left him. Vox pulled his hand away and returned to fixing up the buttons on his shirt. Turning his back to you to fetch the sweater vest thrown over the table, slipping it on next. A zipper on the side turned out to be the secret around putting on clothes when your head was a large television. Having a tailor right in the tower must be quite useful. “I can do the coffee. However, I don’t have time to sleep the full six hours you are recommending.”

“Daily.” You remind him.

He spun back around, uttering a scoff as his hands slipped through each sleeve of his blazer. The pointed cyan claws slid across the lapels. “Daily?! Now you’re just being ridiculous Doc.”

“Have I been known to tell you jokes, Vox?” You lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually. You make jokes about how stupid half of my employees are all the time. The other half you have creative insults about how brutish, boring, or pathetic they are. I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone in the tower...” Vox raised both his brows, sporting that smarmy little grin.

“Because I don’t, save a few exceptions.” You answered. “I’m not paid to like people. I’m paid to keep you healthy.” You pushed off the wall, seating yourself in the single office chair that had been afforded for the office. The leather squeaked with the new weight, wheels shifting from the sudden weight that had you barreling toward your coffee cup. You draped one leg over the other, pressing your back against the chair while you gave your boss your undivided attention.

The cyan eyes rolled within the crimson pools. At last, his bow tie was tied around his neck perfecting the image of the business CEO. Almost a shame how quick he always was to put his clothes back on. The technological and biological nature of his body was a near obsession of yours; even if you never admitted it.

“Is the friendship-making package extra?”

You raised your shoulders in answer. You hooked your fingers around the mug on the desk with your cup of coffee. The irony of it after telling him to cut his consumption didn’t bother you. “Do you want me to make friends Vox? I don’t see how that would benefit you at all.”

“It won’t.” He admitted as he walked by. The chair was sent backward as his claws laid hands on it, forcing you to make eye contact when he lingered from behind. “Only wondering how much I pay you goes into pretending to like me.”

You couldn’t help but break out into more laughter. The sight of which earned a sultry frown and a retraction of the hand that had come so close to him. You caught your glasses, preventing them from careening off your face. “You don’t pay me anything for that sir, you’re one of the few people in hell I do like.”

“You have a weird way of showing it… telling me to take care of myself.” He chuffed, shooting a nasty glare at the coffee in your hands. Unaffected, you took a sip. He could cope.

“I know, I’m a trailblazer. Do you need me to prescribe you sleeping pills or do you think you can handle it?”

Vox laughed, “Doctor, please! I can do something as simple as fall asleep! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Even if you couldn’t see it, you could almost feel that eye roll looking at the back of his head. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with that curt goodbye.

Vox, however, never listened to his doctor. Even IF you were always right. It was a hunch as you were finishing up writing up samples for the night. But the thought came to mind to check on your boss to see if he was heeding your well-intentioned advice. Your employee keycard gave you generous access, only beneath the Vee’s who could go everywhere. So it wasn’t any trouble stopping by that ridiculous office of his.

He was seated before a mural of monitors depicting snapshots of the lives all across Pentagram City. Wires were currently plugged into the back of Vox’s head, absorbed in his… information-gathering activities. Vox was completely unaware of your presence. You breathed a heavy sigh, resigning to the fact that you once again had to get this man to take care of himself. You passed through the bridge without fear, where the circling shark tanks beneath spoke of a deadly fall several floors down. Such a waste of space for an aesthetic. Your polished shoes smacked into the back of the chair, startling the Overlord within.

Arcs of electricity shot out from all angles. Coating the chair and his body as the wires all unplugged from their ports one by one and the frantic man spun around with an intense swirl in his right eye. The claws extended, drawing gouges in the rests beside him. All the fight in him sputtered out the instant he caught sight of you, painted over with annoyance.

“Doc! I did not call for you. What are you doing here?”

With your arms folded across your chest, you answered. “Coming to catch you red-handed. You should be sleeping.”

“Shouldn’t you?” He fired back, hunching low.

Touche, but you wouldn’t admit it. You pushed up the frame of your glasses before you answered.

“It’s not my fault the help I have in the lab is so incompetent. I can’t trust them to do something as simple as label specimens. It would be a terrible safety risk if I left it to them. If anything, I am a hero of Voxtek.”

Vox laughed, leaning back into his chair. It was genuine laughter, unlike that dorky evil cackle he thought nobody ever heard when he was alone. A palm smacked his thigh, with a crooked grin sliding heavy to the right of his screen. “Sounds like we’re both guilty, Doctor. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Tell who exactly?” You asked, striding up to the man. You sat on one of his thighs spread so wide it was practically an invitation. The overlord stiffened, digging his claws back into the plastic armrest, staring a hole at you. “What darling? There aren’t any other chairs and you wouldn’t have me stand the whole time would you?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to try and seduce me.” He answered.

“Ah? And why do you think I am trying to seduce you?” You sent the question back to him, easing until your back pressed against the rest. You threw one leg over the other, balancing yourself by clutching the armrest. Your fingers only brushed against the cyan claws and he instantly yanked them out of reach.

“Oh, do you sit in any man’s lap then? And here I thought I was special.”

“I don’t like most people, Vox. You are special.”

Unexpectedly, the words brought a strange light blue glow to Vox’s face. He was just as shocked as you were, throwing an arm to cover the strange color in his face. There was an attempt to hide it as his face turned away, but he didn’t throw you off so you took that as a victory.

“What do you want?”

“For you to go to bed darling, that should be obvious.”

When he lowered the arm, you could see a deep frown on his display. The technicolor eyes bore into yours, locking you in eye contact trying to force the truth from you. A common tactic as most couldn’t lie while maintaining eye contact. But you were telling the truth so you made yourself comfortable admiring the view until the silence made him give up. With a sigh, he put his hand on your back and forced you back to your feet.

“Alright, I’ll go to bed, Doctor.” Vox shoved you off, forcing you back to your feet. He refused to even touch you, only lurching forward until you were forced to either catch yourself or fall. With a low grumble, you fixed your coat, keeping well away from the ledge.

Vox took two steps toward the bridge when he stopped and turned to look at you. “Do you flirt with all your patients?”

“Well darling, considering that you are my only patient? Yes.”

Vox chuffed, hooking a thumb forcefully into his pocket. The back of the TV greeted you, shoulders rolling as he weighed your answer. “And before I hired you, how many of your patients did you hit on?”

A single digit tapped your chin, which meant thinking back to something that hardly mattered. How often you satisfy your urges shouldn’t matter to your boss. But for the sake of this flirting to keep going you obliged. “Only the hot ones darling. I jump the bones of the ones I want nothing to do with besides their dick. But I take my time with the ones I really like.”

More electricity danced from his antennae. To busy his hands, Vox tugged and pulled at his bowtie. There was a joyful lilt in his tone as he answered, “Interesting. Good night Doctor.”

“Good night, Vox.” You followed right behind him, smiling with satisfaction. You felt happy that you finally got him to see reason, even if it meant flirting a little.

Or so you thought.

The next day, you decided to make another visit to his office to check if he went to bed on time. He was still plugged into the system, in the early hours of the morning. A little more flirting and back and forth was just as effective.

And the next day. There he was far more cold, not passing the buck back to you. But when you tried to excuse yourself, he’d find some excuse to make you stay for a minute or two longer.

And the next day too! Each time conning you into spending a little extra time with him. At first, it was only fifteen minutes. Then half an hour, and then you ended up lingering for a WHOLE hour. That was when you realized that if this got any worse, YOUR work would suffer.

Now that? That was unforgivable.

At this point, you suspected he was doing this on purpose. When you came charging down the bridge that evening, he was already spinning in place to greet you. You were expected. The bastard. The plugs in the back of his head popped free. Vox spun around in time to greet you with a wide smirk on his screen that faltered when his chair ended up swerving a little too far to the right. A heel smacked against the floor, giving him friction to push him back.

“You saw nothing,” Vox said.

“Pretty sure I did, you are up late. Again.”

“I slept yesterday. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Vox bent forward in his chair, looking smug. He was intentionally trying to rile you up now. You didn’t even attempt to hide your sigh. You glanced over to the monitors, still the same old surveillance for the most part. But there was one screen that stood out. The man was on Veddit. You adjusted your glasses to get a better look. Upon closer look, it was some subveddit asking advice about how to tell when somebody has a crush on you.

He was so pathetic it was endearing sometimes. His eyes followed yours, doing a double take when he noticed what you were looking at and smacked the console turning all the monitors off. Vox’s voice came out filtered as he attempted to sound assertive. “That’s classified company information. Nothing you are meant to be privy to Doctor. I’ll have to fire you if you keep looking.”

“I didn’t know relationship advice was sensitive company data. Are you having trouble with men, Vox?”

A faint blue light covered Vox’s screen beneath his eyes, his cyan pupils unable to meet you. Teeth clenched, his fingers rapped loudly against the armrests of his chair. You kept silent, watching him stew under the uncomfortable silence. His knee began to bounce, his fingertips clacking against the hard plastic until at last he groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I could have anyone I wanted in Pentagram City in my bed by the end of tomorrow night if I wanted.”

Laughter spilled before you could help it. The sound inspired a swirl from his right eye, and another tense clutch of his claws gouging his chair. “What’s so funny?”

“You darling. You’re adorable.”

The color on his face grew more intense, as did his frown. He made some incoherent mumbling you couldn’t quite understand, but you were pretty sure at least one of those was an insult.

“How about a bet then, Darling? Whoever can bring a new partner into their bed first wins? If I win, you promise to go to bed no later than 1 AM. And if you win…” You sucked through your teeth, watching as his screen grew even more pale. A cyan claw nervously wove around the bow tie on his neck.

“If I win, you’re all mine for an evening,” Vox interjected.

Now there was a surprise, so he could take the lead. The man was already pushing himself up to his feet, stretching his back as he rose to his full height. “It’s about time I remind you who you work for.” Now he was compensating, with that blustering smile and the way he pulled on his lapels.

“Then it is settled! You can have an entire evening to see if you can make me as obedient as the rest of your employees.” You agreed. Unknown to Vox, you already had a plan that secured your victory. But you let him stew in the joy of his deal a little longer. The way his smile took up half his screen was endearing.

A pointed end met your chin as he forced you to look at him, the harsh artificial light shining a little too close for comfort. “I’ll make you sing for me, Doc. Though you are right… I’d almost miss your backbone. Almost.”

The screen was coming in close, dangerously so. With nowhere to go with that claw currently suck in your chin, you brushed away the mood with a question. “Would my magnanimous boss be willing to walk me home? Things have been rather dangerous in my neighborhood lately.”

Suspicion immediately colored his expression, with arcs of lightning dancing along his frame. Vox whipped his hand away, standing ramrod straight. “Didn’t you want me to go to bed? Trying to get a head start on me Doc?”

You coyly tilted your head. “No? If you’re that worried about that I can get somebody else to walk me. I’m pretty sure I could easily get Papermint to--”

A metallic claw smacked your shoulder, pointed ends digging into your flesh as a strained smile greeted you. Vox’s laughter came out deeply filtered. “That won’t be necessary! That man couldn’t defend you from a paper bag. I’ll be winning our little wager before the night ends, as I said. So I’ll gladly see you home and asleep while I take my victory.”

The pinprick stung, but it was a kind of pain that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand laid over his, feeling the cool skin beneath for only a second before he yanked it away.

That was now the second time he yanked his hand from yours. Curious.

“Not if you are sleep-deprived, Vox. Come on then, it’s a bit of a walk through a bad neighborhood so I hope you aren’t too fond of your shoes.” You spun around first, taking the lead down the bridge. The larger overlord quickly strode over to catch up to you, refusing to let you guide him. Hands behind his back, he continued to stare at you from the corner of his screen, and he was terribly obvious.

“What is it darling?” You asked.

“...Can you stop calling me that?”

“What, darling?”

There was an uneasy shifting as he pushed out his pockets. The electronic door hissed open when the two of you approached by the proximity of the Overlord alone. The two of you took a turn down the hallways, empty and feeling almost haunted at these early hours.

“Yes.”

By how short the answer was, you suspected he wasn’t going to give you a reason why. As confident and blustering the man could be, there were always these little nuggets of insecurity that oozed. He was overcompensating. For most people, they wouldn’t bother to look any deeper. People were far more inclined to see what they wanted to see or to ignore anything that would be far too bothersome to address. A fact Vox relied on far too much.

Because you took an undeniable interest in this man. You knew his body better than anyone as his doctor. Knew how his heart was nothing but to ease his body dysmorphia. How he regulated his heat, how viruses affected his body, and how a simple cold could still lay him low. Initially, you wanted nothing more than to tear him open and learn everything but lately… you wanted to solve the riddle behind the little things. Such as why he wouldn’t let you touch his hand. Or why his screen always got a little brighter when you entered the room.

But if you pushed somebody too hard who didn’t want to be known, you risked pushing them away. This would require a delicate touch.

“Very well, I will have to call you something special then.”

There was another flash of static as Vox pushed the call elevator button. The repeated shifting of his cyan irises was so obvious you had to hide your smile underneath your palm pretending to hide a cough.

“Like what? Voxxy?”

“Voxxy is cute...” You admitted with a shrug, “But that’s not special. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of exes call you that.”

Fragmentation flashed over this screen at that moment, the crimson pools almost comically large in his screen. The ding of the elevator was his saving grace, striding in quickly to save face. “I’ll let you know if you pick something unique then.”

Unique. Most people would likely pick something with his name or his head. Picture Box, Plasma, Sparky. In the silence of the elevator, you leaned against the wall and considered it. A nickname for you alone to call him. Vox joined you. Leaning against the wall almost close enough to touch but you knew better than to reach out and chance him pulling his hand away a third time.

“Dove.”You suggested.

“That’s… uh--” Vox let out a breathy chuckle. “Quite an old-fashioned nickname don’t you think? I think people stopped using that decades ago.”

“Do you dislike it…?”

Claws settled on the rail behind him, clicking against the bare metal. Each metallic noise sent shivers up your spine, seeing them so close but out of reach.

“I don’t dislike it, no. I’m not quite so nostalgic as half of Hell seems to be, but I can appreciate the effort.” The rare gentle smile on his screen was a sort you’d never seen before. Not the fabricated nonsense to disarm viewers or the manic joy when he was doing something comically evil.

Ping

The elevator came to a sudden halt as it hit the first floor. You stepped out first, with your boss lagging shortly behind. Thanks to how early in the morning it was, the two of you weren’t especially bothered by employees or gawking pedestrians. Hell in the early evenings was often when you could find the worst of it. Drunkards, people stabbed in the middle of the streets, demons locked in heat fucking in any half-discreet location they could find. It was a place of sin and debauchery and everyone happily indulged. Vox was a wary individual you learned from watching him.

Despite being one of the most powerful men in the Pride Ring he constantly watched the streets looking for threats. Occasionally he would catch you looking at him, blush, and look away. After the third or fourth time, he scoffed and tugged on his collar.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that? Actually- WHY are you flirting with me so blatantly? Are you trying to get a promotion?”

“Can I be promoted from your personal physician?”

“No.”

“Then the only reason is because I like you.”

There was a question of why, obvious by the way he looked at you full of confusion. “I… wasn’t expecting such an honest answer.”

You laughed. “This is hell Dove, there’s nothing to be gained by being shy. Somebody else might try to sink their claws into you first and I don’t like to lose.”

“Your wager seems counter-intuitive to your goal.” Vox rolled his eyes. Yet at the same time, he was reaching out to you. His claws bumped against your fingertips for only a fraction of a second. They were cold and sharp to the touch, but having conquered the wall put a pep in your step.

“On the contrary, I believe it’s proven quite effective. You are taking me home so another man doesn’t.”

“I-Wait, were you manipulating me?!”

You laughed again, hiding your great smile behind your hand. “I was! But you manipulate all of hell daily so I think you’ve lost all right to hold that against me.”

Vox stopped, narrowing his great big eyes. “I could leave right now, or did you account for that in your plan too?”

“Mmn, no I had planned to drag you into my bed tonight.”

A bright blue blush flashed over the man’s screen, his arm rising to try and hide it. Sparks and electricity danced between each prong. “I--! That’s not what we bet on!”

“No? The bed was to drag a new partner into our beds tonight. I’ve never been with you, so you count Dove.”

Still masking his face, Vox was now wavering, looking behind him as he tried to determine whether to foil your plot now or fall prey to it. Even this game of indecision was fun to watch. He sucked through his teeth, tapping his foot against the concrete.

“Doesn’t telling me your plan ruin your chances?”

“No, to my experience telling a man point blank you want them is far more effective than being shy about it. Am I wrong?” You flashed a smile full of teeth. “Of course, it also has a chance to backfire and make them so nervous they run. But I don’t believe you aren’t quite that timid.”

“Tch, hardly. Fine.” His claw clamped around your wrist. Cold, awkward, and grating against your bone it wasn’t quite what you imagined. You had a strong suspicion it was that exact reason that made him so hesitant to touch you before. He dragged you forward, but after you reached the end of the street he realized that he had no idea where he was taking you. When he looked at you for help, you laughed. As predicted, he sulked.

“Sorry, sorry! You are just so cute! We’re almost there. It’s that apartment over there.” You pointed straight ahead to a sleek modern apartment. It was one of the nicer buildings in the Entertainment district, one of Voxtek’s provided housing. The familiar V on the building clued Vox in.

The walk became closer to a power walk as he took you into your apartment. Having to at least concede to let you lead to take him to your apartment on the third floor, fourth door down the hall. He was deathly silent watching you unlock the door, following behind you as quietly as a mouse inside. That same nervous jitters returned to the usually powerful and confident CEO as he found himself in a strange apartment that wasn’t his own. Perhaps he expected you to jump his bones immediately but you instead took off your shoes, and lab coat, and made your way inside.

“Would you like tea, Dove? Sleepy-time tea ought to help you fall asleep.”

“Fall… asleep?” Vox asked. All the wind in his sails had fluttered out, baffled by the turn of events.

“Yes darling, what did you think I was taking you to my bed for? You are up past your bedtime.” You didn’t even attempt to hide the smug smile on your face, so instead you focused on filling a kettle and setting it on the stove.

“I--- You tricked me!”

“Indeed I did. Are you upset?”

To your surprise, he wasn't. He was deathly silent, standing in the hallway lost, unsure of what was going on. A claw hooked around his bow tie, untying it to make himself comfortable. Next came off the blazer, and then the top hat left on the coat rack by the door. Normally meant only to contain your coat, it added a touch of domesticity to see your coat have a partner. The blue and white looked nice. Could only hope the two of you would meld just as harmoniously. Vox sat down at your dining room table, taking a look around your abode.

“I’ve never been dragged into somebody's place to only sleep with them before. You’re… an odd one Doc.”

“I’ve been told.” You answered in a sing-song tone, preparing the tea cups. A packet of sleepy-time tea tucked into each porcelain cup with saucers meant to carry a touch of your personality. “I like you too much to bed you this early.”

“I-- don’t get that. If you like me, doesn’t that mean I’d already be inside you, fucking you on your kitchen counter?” Vox scoffed, rapping his nails against the table. The kettle hissed with steam when the water was ready. After laying down the teacups and saucers you popped the kettle off the stove and poured into each cup. Joining your boss from the chair directly across from him.

“Come now, isn’t that how courtship used to work? A man would get to know a woman, and show her that he really liked her for her and not just her body. It’s like that Dove. Now, I would love to unwrap you but I’m more curious to know the man you are. Like-- why don’t you like it when I touch your hand?”

Vox twitched, pulling his hand immediately off the table, suddenly self-conscious. “Who said I don’t like you touching my hand sweetheart?” He forced that fake smile of his, taking a friendly artificial tone.

“Because you keep pulling it away whenever I touch it.”

The smile fell, and his eyes fell toward the amber liquid in the cup. He lifted the cup, testing to see if it had enough time to steep. It had not even been a minute, so all he tasted was hot water. He set the cup down, feeling bitter. “What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Then you don’t have to. But I want to know.”

The chair skid back, with your boss leaning forward. “Let’s… forget this getting-to-know-me bullshit Sweetheart. It’s stupid, this is hell. I can fuck you until your eyes roll into the back of your head and forget this whimsy of yours Doc. You're my employee. Nothing more.”

You set your chin on the nest of your overlaid hands, matching his eyes. You pushed a little too hard. “No, you’re getting your sleep whether you like it or not. If we have to sit here in silence, I’m making sure you get the sleep you need, Vox.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. Waiting three minutes for tea to steep felt like an eternity to him. “A secret for a secret Doc. I’ll tell you why, but in return, you need to tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” An accusatory finger jut your way.

“Do you want to get to know me too, Dove?” Unafraid, you coyly tilted your head. Vox opened his mouth to respond, shut it, and turned his screen.

“...Yes. I’ve never had somebody care this much for my health or try to get to know me. You’re weird, but not in a… bad way I guess. I’m not saying-- you’ll ever be more to me than an employee-- don’t get the wrong idea.” He quickly interjected his point. But the shuffling in his chair and the way he weighed his words so heavily you were liking your chances. “But I like talking to you Doc.”

“Well...” You began, skidding your foot against the floor. “I was once madly and deeply in love with a man before. I was utterly, completely besotted in a way I bet you never would have expected. I wrote and sang him poetry. Spent many evenings dancing with him by candlelight, and had disgustingly kinky sex in public spaces. But my favorites were always the nights when he’d be gentle with me like I was the most precious thing in all worlds.”

Vox’s mouth hung open and then shut. A fresh shade of color danced across his screen at the bold confession “You’re… right. I have a hard time believing that. You’re the last person I imagined being a romantic.”

You sputtered a laugh. “Right? I was surprised too. Have you ever been in love like that before?”

“I’m not answering that question.” He immediately shut you down. “I don’t like you touching my hands because… most people are scared of them. They hurt, they’re cold, they aren’t nice to hold at all. They’re great, don’t get me wrong! When I need to get people in line they’re a fantastic tool for intimidation. But well, we’re demons. I’m not… built for intimacy. Inside or out.” Voxmotioned over his body with the aforementioned hands.

“They’re beautiful hands though, Vox. When you grabbed my wrist it hurt a little but it wasn’t a bad pain. They’re more than worth it for you.”

The familiar blush returned, coming with such a vengeance you swore you saw some white pixels mixed in within the blush. Like a nebula reflected on his screen, little imperfections that made him look endlessly beautiful. “Noted. So, what happened to that guy? You wouldn’t be bothering with me if he was still in your life.”

“We were… incompatible. There’s a piece of me that’s broken beyond repair inside that made me fundamentally wrong for him. It wasn’t his fault or mine. Closer to mine I suppose, since I cannot quiet the demon inside me that threatens to tear my guts out raw from envy.” The memory came bitterly, mostly because it came with a realization that even for the man you loved most you couldn’t be fixed.

A cyan claw hooked through the handle, with Vox sipping his tea. He had grown deathly silent, draining the cup until it was down to its dregs all in one. It hit the saucer with a clatter. “You should drink your tea doctor.”

Silently you obliged, taking more reserved sips. Truthfully you didn’t need it as much as he did. Habit and a circadian rhythm did wonders in getting your body trained for sleep. But for the sake of calming your nerves, taking this man to your bed where you would not take his clothes off felt oddly more intimate than taking them off. The heel of his shoes clicked multiple times against the floor, Vox was completely incapable of sitting still. At one point he even got up, walking around your apartment.

“Doc? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Back near the entrance Dove. To your right.”

“Thank you.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You could hear the faucet running shortly after. While he took care of his business you finished your tea and washed the dishes. He was already out by the time you put the kettle in the sink.

“So, do you have anything for me to sleep in?”

“Mmm, I have a shirt of my exes if that works that should fit you. But I don’t have any bottoms. You’ll be fine in your underwear won’t you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine to sleep naked. As long as that shirt doesn’t have you know whose face on it.”

“Of course not Dove, I would not tolerate merchandise of anyone who believes technology should have stopped in the thirties. That goes against everything I believe in.” You flippantly waved your hand as if you could hardly entertain the idea. To your surprise, Vox’s screen illuminated with light, with a big genuine toothy smile on his face.

“I changed my mind, I might be able to make an exception for you.”

“Of course Vox, it was only a matter of time before you saw my charm! Now… come on.”

Even if you were a Doctor who didn’t need a man or woman, you loved having a large bed to lounge in taking up nearly your entire room. You had your knick-knacks and other decorative items. A bookshelf of medical textbooks lined against the back of the bed for those late nights reading. Laundry piled up a little higher than you would have liked when you were bringing a boy over. A disturbing little skeleton you named Mr. Bones sitting on your computer desk. Diagrams and telltale signs of countless nights hunched over a desk. Signs of the passion of whatever gripped your mind and forced quill to meet paper.

Vox was obvious in the way he took in the various objects in your bedroom. His interest in getting to know you seemed genuine. You fished out the old shirt from your ex, which was a harmless plain white buccaneer shirt. You could see the confusion on his face when he was handed it, but you said nothing.

You grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the master bathroom to change. Leaving Vox the whole bedroom to change. When you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, you could spy a faint color present on your cheeks. Sure, maybe you could act cool and confident. But the truth was, you did like this man. Otherwise, why else would you go to all this trouble for him?

All your feigned confidence but you took care that your hair looked nice when you brushed it. You picked out your favorite pair of pajamas. You brushed your teeth and put on only a little spritz of perfume, as your heart beat with anticipation and hope.

Vox was already laid out on top of the bed, waiting for you. His monitor raised to look at you when you opened the door, propping his body halfway up with his elbows. “Huh, you did simply change into your pajamas. Was half expecting you to change your mind and pick out something sexy.”

“We can save that for after you’ve taken me to dinner, Dove.” A laughter followed after your statement, a friendly one. You stepped over to your nightstand to hit the switch next to a strange black and white orb. Vox did arch a brow, but his gentle smile remained.

“I’ll think about it.” The overlord fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. That was perfect timing!

After you hit the light switch, the room was submerged in darkness. The purpose of the strange device on your nightstand became obvious when Vox spied the star system being projected over the ceiling. Creating a fabrication of the starry night sky that had been robbed from the two of you when death came. Vox’s right claw stretched out, reaching his hand out as if he could grasp the slowly rotating stars. The illumination of his screen slowly died until it became a dim pale blue light.

You crawled into bed opposite of him. Laying on your side with your arm tucked under the pillow to act as extra leverage while you watch the man beside you enjoy the sight above.

“You REALLY are a romantic. I’m expecting roses when you take me to dinner.” Vox joked.

“I’ll consider it. So, what makes you say that?”

“I may have had my hints when you told me you wanted to wait for sex. And oh I don’t know, The night light and nickname? You are aware of what Dove means right?”

Vox rolled onto his side, using the pillow as a gentle cushion for his screen. Normally looking right into a bright blue light wasn’t the best idea when you were trying to sleep. But the sight of that gentle smile on his face felt like it was going to lead you to some nice dreams. “Of course I do. And you were intentionally staying up late so I’d come and see you. I think you’re secretly a romantic too, Vox.”

The familiar blue flush dazzled his screen, something even pulling the blanket over to try and hide it couldn’t help with. The way his face glowed made the proof even more apparent when he only tried to mask it in darkness. “Nonsense. I’m just a machine.”

The statement came out in a half-whisper. By the way, his eyes widened at that moment, you suspected he had not meant to be that honest. A scowl took the place of his smile, and he fell back onto his back to hide his face from you. You didn’t let him run. You pushed yourself up and sat beside him, staring down at the screen that tried its best to watch the wavering astral movements above.

“You’re not a machine, Dove. And I would know that more than anyone, save yourself. Machines aren’t lonely for one.”

“I’m not lonely...” Vox bitterly retorted.

You stretched your hands out for his screen. He leaned back into the pillow, setting his cyan irises on you immediately. With your fingertips only inches apart, you met those eyes without moving an inch more.

“Do you not want me to touch you?”

“What good is touching me there? I can’t even feel it, you know.”

“Because it always makes me happy when somebody simply touches me without expectation of sex. Makes me feel beautiful.”

A complicated expression flashed over the screen. Alternating between vulnerability, a scowl, the widened sclera, and at last acceptance. His hand laid over yours and guided it to brush and trace over the hard plastic that housed his screen. The cool hand lingered on top of your palm, guiding your hand up toward where his prongs stuck out on top of his head. Following his lead your fingertips brushed along the metal prongs, then circled the receivers on the top.

“Maybe… I’m a little lonely.” He begrudgingly confessed.

Something cold suddenly brushed against your cheek, intense thanks to the heat that made a home there. The back of Vox’s claws brushed over your face, and you leaned into it. His palm filled the swell of your cheek, the harsh points nestled into the hair to cushion their prick. The thumb stretched out to tap your bottom lip, tracing the shape.

Slowly the two dark silhouettes you both cast on the wall came together melting into one. Vox guided you forward as his own body bent forward to meet you halfway. Shortly after you closed your eyes, the gentle sensation of his lips finally met yours. The edged fingers slid along the nape of your neck, sending chills down your spine while he held you. Entangling his fingers within your hair to hold you in place. Chaste and sweet, it was only a light brushing as he whispered to you.

“Your right doc… this is nice. I want to touch you more, may I?” Each little new syllable brought that ticklish feeling back, tingling with the natural static on his face. You sealed your lips against him, drinking deep from what he’d been teasing you with all this time.

“As long as the clothes stay on Dove.”

“Of course. This is nice… I don’t want it to end.” The confession came with the feel of his palm now brushing over your shoulder. Tracing down your arm until his fingers circled the wrist that had kept you supported all this time. He tugged you forward until your body fell on top of his. It was harder than the average man’s body and less cushy. The heat of your body was sapped even through the two layers of clothing, but it only gave him an excuse to wrap that blanket around the two of you.

You righted yourself until you laid flat across his body, with his arms coming around to circle your back. You buried your head into his chest, taking in his scent, wrapping your arms around his torso as you surrendered to his touch. The pointed end of one claw ran up and down your back, sending shivers down your body each time it came to meet the nape of your neck. It wasn’t a sexually thrilling sensation, but it was pleasant enough to eke out a moan. Instead of excitement, the man underneath you chuckled. Vox ran his claws through your hair instead, scratching your scalp.

“Why don’t you like to be called Darling?” You dared the question, feeling closer than ever now that the two of you were touching. The sound of his artificial heart beating against his chest and into your ear felt nothing like the machine he purported himself as. Nor was the careful way he touched you. You could feel its absence far more when his hands froze. You dared to look up, and you could see the heartbreak reflected in his eyes alone.

“It reminds me of somebody else, a man I’d rather not think of when I’m with you Doc.”

“I’d never want you to look like that when you think of me… so I will endeavor to be nothing like him, Dove.”

Vox smiled, curling a claw around a lock of your hair to brush out of your face. “And even if you are broken, I will make you feel whole one day Doc.”

Now that was unfair. How dare the vulnerability you share with him be used against you! You fought back the emotions that welled up, the brush of his hands bringing you back down against his chest made you feel like it’d be alright.

“We should get some sleep. But I want to keep holding you if that’s O.K.”

You leaned forward, kissing him goodnight. Vox kept you there for a moment longer, squeezing your shoulder. The other hand pressed against the arch of your back to press your body against his. Each little brush of those lips against yours felt addicting. Making you want to keep diving in back for more. Sometimes it was crooked, other times he’d steal your breath and keep you there. It was only the need for air that forced you two to part. A flushed face stared back at you with the beautiful nebula of freckles returned in full force.

You didn’t want to part, much as the sirens call for sleep called for you. You pressed your fingertips against his screen right beneath his eyes. Tracing each little freckle to make constellations with them. Vox closed his eyes, accepting your touch this time. The gentle wavering of his cyan irises watching you stole your breath. If only you could stay up all night and kiss each little star on his face.

But all good things had to come to an end. Vox pressed against your shoulders to force you to lie down. His own body came hovering over yours for a brief few beautiful moments, the starry sky above him framing behind him.

“You’re blushing so hard right now, Doc.”

A squeak escaped you, pressing a hand against your now hot cheeks. Gentle laughter broke out from the man above.

“You’re so cute… I can’t wait to see how red you get when I bed you for real.” The whisper of that promise came with a claw tracing along your jawline.

“When…? You sound so certain.” The blood rushing to your head made it hard to come up with a snappier comeback than that.

“Because I have already decided. I intend to win you over with everything I have. Goodnight, Doc.”

He fell back back onto the bed, lying on his side. Immediately wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer until your back was held flush against his front. Vox locked you tight so you couldn’t escape, the warm screen pressed into the back of your head.

“Goodnight Vox...”

Cursed with those beautiful thoughts Vox put in your head, your cheeks burned. The bittersweet pain in your heart gave you such contentment you were quickly pulled down past the point of no return. The gentle whir of Vox’s white noise banished the chaos of hell, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox x you #vox x reader #vox the tv demon #vox #hazbin hotel vox #I fell for the tv

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darkintrinsic · 3 days ago

Text

Devil's Night | Bad Omens

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

One day I woke up and wanted to be chased to the sound of Milagre.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X Female!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. It's devil's night and you've been invited to play. If you don't get caught by them, you win..

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). Foul language, alcohol consumption, masked men, stalking, reverse harem, why choose, taking turns, explicit sex, fear games, submission.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Devil’s Night.

The first time she heard those words, thought it was just another excuse for parties and excess, but here, in Detroit, it’s different. People speak of this night as if it were a tradition, passed down from generation to generation, almost like a silent pact that no one dares to question.

Yes, it’s Halloween Eve, but it carries a taste of danger that goes beyond costumes and carved pumpkins. It’s not about trick-or-treating; it’s more like… a rite of passage, where each person lets their dark side surface, testing their own limits and those of others. And the entire city, somehow, agrees to turn a blind eye to what happens in the shadows.

In the alleys and empty hallways, you can feel something waiting, hidden between the walls and beneath the fog that stubbornly refuses to lift. The seniors, of course, love it. They create challenges, make absurd promises to the freshmen, as if they’re initiating them into some ancient secret. But it’s not a secret; it’s more like a warning.

I don’t know exactly who started it—maybe some group many years ago, looking for a way to release their frustrations, or perhaps the city already came with this curse built in. But, either way, everyone participates, whether in the role of the observers or those who get lost in the night.

You were about to leave home, dressed up for another Devil’s Night in Detroit. Your friends had invited you over to drink a little before heading to the Lions' party, the fraternity responsible for the highest concentration of players that night. At first, you were ready to turn down the invitation, wanting to go straight to the celebration and get it over with once and for all, but seeing the flyer advertising the Geordin’s pub attraction made you change your mind.

Bad Omens was the main act in an intimate show, and you felt a bit excited to know they were back in town. It had been a while since you last saw them—if you weren’t mistaken, on the last Devil’s Night.

"Don’t tell me you’re not even a little excited to see him again…" Ash nudged your ribs with a playful voice, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"They’ve grown so much since the last time I saw them, Ash. They definitely have no idea who I am."

"And what if I told you that’s not exactly true?" Ashley’s glittering eyes blinked behind her long lashes as if she had some valuable information. She rested her hands and phone under her chin while watching you finish getting ready in the mirror. "I messaged Steve; we chat sometimes, and when he told me he’d be in town, I didn’t fail to mention your name…"

"I can’t believe you did that!"

"I scored us four VIPs tonight thanks to my shamelessness. No need to thank me, babe!" Ash winked and blew a kiss at her own shoulder, ignoring when you rolled your eyes at her boldness.

You didn’t want to admit it, but a strange sensation was building up in your stomach, making you feel cold with every step you took out the door. According to your friends, you looked good enough to draw a crowd to your feet, and deep down, you hoped they were right.

Geordin’s was, as always, sweltering, packed, and filled with people dressed up in Halloween costumes. You were just in a short black dress and heavy makeup—this date was special, a night for vixens to leave their homes in their smallest outfits, best heels, and bold eyes to be, for one night, what they longed to be all year.

At the bar, you grabbed a drink and walked with your friends to the VIP area near the stage. With each minute closer to the performance, your stomach grew colder, while your friends chatted excitedly beside you, never quieting for a moment. It had been a long time since you last saw him, and you tried your best not to expect him to remember any fragment of the past Devil’s Night.

“Welcome to the show of bad omens, my friends,” said the recorded voice from the speakers, making the crowd go wild.

The lights went out, and your body froze in place as the intro to the first song began. His voice was still unmistakable and unique, pleasing to the ear, even live, weaving together with the guitar and drum solos as if they were one.

When you turned to the stage, Noah was gripping the microphone with his eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to take in the melody, singing along with all your heart as you remembered why this was your favorite band. At the end of the third song, he glanced over the crowd as if looking for something, seeming about to give up, until his eyes finally landed on you.

A jolt of electricity surged from your legs, coursing through your entire body. Noah gave a brief smile and bowed his head, waiting for the next song’s intro. You knew the setlist, and this wasn’t one of the songs played at previous shows. In fact, you recognized it instantly; it was your favorite track.

Careful What You Wish For hadn’t been played in recent shows, but he knew how much that song meant to you, and he’d included it in Detroit just to show that he did, indeed, remember you. Something damp threatened to pool in your tear ducts; this song reminded you of moments you’d rather forget, moments the band had made more bearable to face.

As the final song ended, the lights went out, and the guys left the stage to the applause of the crowd. Your heart was still racing from the mix of emotions caused not only by the show, but by the series of subtle glances he had thrown your way during the pauses between songs. You bit your lip gently, gripping your glass a bit tighter, wondering if it could be a sign.

But you quickly brushed off that foolish thought and shook your head, dismissing it.

You and your friends finally arrived at the fraternity party, and all of you, including yourself, were buzzing with excitement to start the real celebration. Everyone was in costume, music was blasting, the smell of marijuana filled the air, and alcohol was flowing freely.

It seemed like the perfect night.

“I wouldn’t recommend drinking too much,” Ash warned, pointing at your glass as you sipped the colorful drink through a straw. “The games start in a few minutes, and you won’t want to be throwing up during the hunt.”

You laughed, remembering what happened last year when you mixed a few drinks with cheesy snacks, resulting in a puddle of vomit that took you home before you even considered playing the traditional hunt.

Every year on Devil’s Night, the Lions held a hunt in the Shadow Woods. The game involved all the guests being released into the forest, blindly searching to capture as many targets as they could until they reached the other side. With no flashlights or any source of light, identifying anyone became nearly impossible as everyone wore masks to hide their faces.

A certain chill lingered in your stomach, and a tremor in your legs threatened to shake your confidence, but you preferred to think it was because of the drink, not the fear of who your potential hunter might be. Your mind raced through quick strategies to avoid being caught, though not knowing the Shadow Woods at night made it all the more difficult.

With your feet firm on the earthy ground, you were as ready as the other competitors. You looked around, feeling adrenaline pulse through your veins, filling your brain like a song made to build tension until reaching its peak. You felt ready for whatever the night had to offer.

The whistle blew.

Your legs pushed you forward, running as fast as you could, straining your vision to dodge trees and jump over branches. You listened closely to the sound of dry leaves and twigs that snapped underfoot as the predators ran. All of them were desperate, hungry in their hunt for prey. At the same time, it felt frightening; it was exhilarating enough to make you push for more speed.

Energized, you glanced over your shoulder now and then, trying to detect any approaching threat, but as you pressed on, you heard fewer footsteps. Breathless, you slowed down and marked the trees with your fingers as you continued to walk carefully.

Your steps froze in place when you suddenly heard heavy breathing. The footsteps behind you moved over the dry leaves, signaling that your hunter was approaching stealthily, like a snake. Slowly, you realized your feet didn’t obey the commands in your head—they wanted to keep running, but your body remained there, unmoving.

He knew there was no point in running. He knew you were lost. He knew you didn’t want to go anywhere.

“Good girl.” His voice whispered close to your ear, making you jump in shock. “You didn’t let anyone else catch you. You waited for us like a good girl.”

“She knew that no matter where she hid tonight, we’d find her.”

“We always find you…”

Through your peripheral vision, you counted all four of them, gathered in balaclavas, closing off any way out. Swallowing dryly, you felt your breathing falter as they each took a step closer, forming a claustrophobic barrier around you.

“Now you’re ours.” Noah’s voice echoed in your ear as you felt the fabric of his balaclava graze your cheek. “Once you lose the game, you become our prize.”

A brief jolt made you sit upright when you felt something wrapping around your wrists; he was tying your hands together with a rope. The remaining length of material was used to fasten another knot around your neck, this time slightly tighter.

In your mind, there was no room for doubt, because you remembered the main rule of Devil’s Night. You were free to make your desires real for one night.

Why not surrender to them?

Slowly, Noah pulled you along the length of the leash, and stumbling a little in your own steps, you followed him. He exuded a scent of sweat mixed with Savage cologne; his arms were exposed by the black tank top, and he wore cargo pants and boots. Each determined step he took made you tense up, fearing what was to come, and the walls in the form of men surrounding you added to your apprehension.

Your steps halted when the tall man pulling your collar from the front froze in place. The forest offered little light, and thanks to the moonlight filtering through the gaps in the trees, you could see the intricate tattoo designs on his back, partly covered by his tank top.

A breath, subtle but present, brushed your ears with warm breath from behind.

"How about a game?" Folio’s voice was so soft it seemed to dance at a unique frequency. "We’ll ask a question, and for each wrong answer, you lose a piece of clothing."

"A game is only interesting to me if both parties are involved. In that case, what do I get if I’m right?" You dared to respond, challenging him with a side glance.

"Don’t act as if you don’t like the idea of not being in control for a few hours…" Folio taunted, stepping closer with a deadly step. His body was too close this time. "All you desire is for the reins to be in someone else's hands, just for one night, someone who knows your dirty mind well enough so you don’t have to spell out what you need. Am I wrong?"

You weren’t afraid of anything and made a point to shake your head in defiance.

"Wrong answer."

"Not at all!" you contested without much conviction. Deep down, defying him and contradicting yourself with feigned reluctance was part of your game.

The cold wind touched your back just as one of their fingers slid the zipper of your dress down, exposing your bare skin. Slowly, you felt the fabric glide down your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever it passed.

You shrank a little, feeling a hint of discomfort when you noticed several pairs of eyes observing your exposed form, but a tug on the leash immediately made you lift your chin.

"Don’t you dare lower your head, darling" another voice murmured as a finger traced along your chin, the wetness of a tongue brushing against the skin of your ear. "Not when you have a body like this. We can savor you without even touching. Consider yourself a goddess, displayed for adoration and worship."

Gently, he slid his hand from your chin to reach your cold-stiffened nipples, slow circular movements warming your thighs as Jolly’s voice stimulated you, his hands exploring your body without any rush.

They wanted you to surrender.

Indeed, you were already theirs.

For just one night, you belonged to them.

In front of you, Noah watched you with a tilted head, as if watching an intimate moment of pleasure was amusing to him. He wrapped the excess of the leash around his hands until it tightened, lifting your neck up toward him.

In one last visceral glance, Noah pressed his lips against yours.

A fierce kiss, charged with desire pent up since the last visit, filling every corner of your mouth, leaving you wanting for absolutely nothing. Between breaths, you let out a contained, low moan as those hands moved from your chest down to your hips.

His fingers, when they found your entrance, sent a current of electricity through the rest of your body. Jolly was warm and soft as a rose petal, he tortured you with the slowness of his synchronized movements on your clitoris and during the kiss you held Noah's lips between your teeth gasping a heavy moan.

Noah smiled, feeling how his body twitched in his friend's hands, he released his lips and dragged them down his face, allowing his moan to reverberate through his ears more clearly.

Just when you were about to give signs that you were going to collapse under Jolly's fingers they suddenly stopped. You panted and wanted to show that you were disappointed, but you didn't have time, Noah pulled you by the collar and turned you so that you were facing away from him. A quick scream escaped your lips at the surprise of the impact of your hips against his, you felt his bulge harden and let out some air through your nose.

A soft hand ran its thumb over her face, a caress similar to the one she felt on her ass as Noah explored her. At the same time they used their thumbs, Noah lifted your dress until you were completely exposed to prepare you, he dipped his fingers in your wetness and seemed to delight in it. Their eyes were fixed on the man before them, gently brushing strands of hair away from his face and lifting his chin.

“Good girl, good girl.” he whispered, sliding his thumb into your mouth, without breaking eye contact, you sucked his finger slowly until you reached the tip.

You watched as Folio grunted and finished sliding his cock into his free hand and bringing it closer to your face, passing it across your lips slowly. You moaned from containing the desire to take him in at once, and from having Noah playing with his head at your entrance in rotating movements. Little by little you relaxed and used your tongue to greet him and a smile formed on your lips when you saw him sigh once again.

Folio grabbed your hair with a little force and demonstrating that the provocation had made him lose his mind, he shoved his dick into your mouth at the same time as Noah entered you. Your screams were silenced by Folio's cock, you used your tongue to drool all over the compliment and without the help of your hands that were trapped you covered his head with the roof of your mouth. As you sucked him, you felt Noah bump his hips against yours in strong thrusts, pulling the collar from your neck each time he penetrated and stopped with his rigid member inside you.

Your legs shook from the force he used, you pressed him against the walls of your pussy and heard him mutter yet another curse due to the lack of space. Her head didn't stop for a single second, going down and up, sucking Folio's cock while he helped her with his hand in her hair.

With each of Noah's thrusts, you felt Folio's cock tear into your throat and you dedicated yourself to not leaving a single space without the contact of your tongue. He pressed your head down more and you enjoyed the taste of the skin trying to contain the entire volume. Noah grew harder and harder inside you and in an explosion of sensations for a few seconds your legs seemed to float.

This was the effect of the devil’s night.

It allowed you to fulfill even your darkest fantasy.

For one night.

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parisiterileymoon · 12 hours ago

Note

Alastor x gn reader when it's Alastor who fell for reader first, not the other way around. What Alastor likes about reader the most is their intelligence and almost entertainer-man charisma. Reader is very aware of Alastor's crush and they like to keep him on his toes on whether or not they like him back (they do)

OHHH BOY!!! YES!!! I decided reader is a silent movie actor from the early days of television since “entertainer man” reminded me of it

You sat in the common room of the hotel, chatting up some random sinner that had wandered in for sanctuary. Suddenly, Alastor pops in, likely to annoy husker. “Alastor! Mon ami!” You shout in his general direction, speaking French because of the fact you remembered his hailing from the French quarter of New Orleans. Alastor, slightly caught off guard, turns around and greets you. “Ah, (____)! Hello my friend.” You roll off the couch into a pose(the one where your head is propped up by your fist and your leg bent and your foot on your knee). “What brings you out of your swamp cave?” You spring to your feet cartoonishly and walk over to him, resting your arm on the wall beside him. He avoids eye contact and the usual static that accompanies him crescendos. “Why, I was just going for a stroll, my dear! Care to join me?” You pull away from the wall and turn around on the ball of your foot. “Oh, I don’t know! I was just planning on staying in and reading.” Technically not a lie, you did quite enjoy reading and you WERE planning on staying in, but at this point you were teasing him. “Well I could join you! A bit of quality time never hurt anyone, hm~?” He draws out the /mm/, sounding a bit silly. You smile and respond “oh, I don’t want to keep you from your plans. I suppose I could join you!” You smile and he…well his face doesn’t really change. You proceed to take a stroll. As you step off the curve to an un-sidewalked street and roll forward, Charlie Chaplin style. “Well arnt you the agile one?” “I pride myself on it, dear!” This catches him off guard. Dear? Oh! “Oh Alastor, my friend, looks like we’ve arrived at Rosie’s!” Oh. Friendzoned. Damn. “Hmh, it seems we have.” “Something wrong, Al?” You smile up at him brightly. He blushes. visibility, actually, blushes. That’s actually quite cute. “Oh, blushing?” He clears his throat. “I HONESTLY don’t know why you would say that.” You place your hands over his on his cane/staff thing and slllooowwwly lean up at him…only to get interrupted by Rosie. “ROSIE! How are you, you absolute DOLL!” DAMN, FOILED AGAIN! Next time.

This was so fun to write thanks for the req Andrea :D <3/platonic

#autism #actually autistic #autistic things #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x gn!reader

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writing-until-i-drop · 3 days ago

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Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 20

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Jake comes clean and Daisy has to talk to Penny

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

I managed to make it until we were back at my apartment before I broke. Tasha was spending the night at Javy’s place, which meant it was just the two of us and after a few hours of thinking up the worst possible scenarios for what Jake had to tell me, I was ready to cry, scream, or throw up. Or do all three at once, it was a toss up really.

“I’m going to sit down on the couch and you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” I said, putting my hands on Jake’s shoulder to stop him from kissing me when we walked in the door. “Because I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” Jake sighed, running a hand over his face.

“We’re not breaking up, let’s start with that,” Jake’s voice was tired but serious, his words striking out one of my fears. I nodded, running my hands up and down my pajama pants, trying to ease my anxiety with the familiar feeling of the fuzzy fabric. “Rooster and I might be deployed soon.” The news hit me like a blow to the gut, deployed? What happened over Thanksgiving had been a mission, just a few days apart and that had been hell.

“How long?” I heard myself ask, knees folding into my chest. Jake sat beside me, wrapping me in his arms, chin resting on top of my head.

“I don’t know, Wildflower.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know and I couldn’t tell you if I did, it would be classified,” Jake kissed my hair. “I don’t have any details, I don’t even know if it’s happening. It’s all just whispers behind closed doors and rumors at this point, which is why I didn’t want to say anything.”

“I love you,” It’s all I could think to say. Jake’s thumb brushed over my cheeks and that’s when I realized I was crying, “I love you so much.”

“I know, baby, I love you too,” Jake held me tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”

“Tell me next time, okay?”

“I promise, Wildflower. I’m sorry I worried you,” Jake kissed the top of my head, rubbing circles into my back. “I love you so much.”

My first thought was to run, to get away but the second that crossed my mind, the idea of being without Jake hit me like a truck. I didn’t want to be without him, I couldn’t imagine not having Jake in my life. He had managed to intertwined every part of my life with his, from my writing to his family, we were bound together. Running away now would be running away forever. Right?

“Why don’t we call Penny in the morning?” Jake kissed my hair again, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Maybe we can call mama and pops too.”

“I’d like that,” I nuzzled into his neck, “How long are deployments usually?” Jake sighed, bringing me onto his lap.

“It depends, there’s short deployments of just a few months and then there’s deployments that can last over a year.” A year? My grip on Jake’s waist tightened, “It’s probably not going to be that long, baby but if it is, we’ll figure it out.” After a few minutes of silence that felt like hours, Jake whispered, “You’ll be waiting here when I get back?”

“Always,” I answered without hesitation. I took Jake’s face in my hands, staring him down even though I still wanted to puke a little bit. Jake’s eyes were intense, his brow creased in worry. “I’m not going anywhere and no matter where you go, you’re coming back home to me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Jake closed the distance between our lips, kissing me soft and sweet. There was no rushing, it was as if we had all the time in the world, and if we did have all that time, what was a few months apart? He pulled my legs fully around him and stood, never breaking the kiss as he carried me to the bedroom.

When he laid me back on the bed and stripped me bare, Jake took his time. He covered my body in kisses, worshiping every inch like he was committing it to memory, and when we finished, he pulled me into his chest and held me tight all through the night.

The next morning I called Penny, who evidently had been waiting to hear from me. I tried to ignore the fact that everyone around me probably already knew about the deployment, especially the fact that Tasha hadn’t said anything. Penny invited me over and Jake dropped me off,

“Call me when you’re ready,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too, cowboy.”

Penny greeted me with a hug and a mug of peppermint tea, she looked cozy in her navy pajama set and robe, pulling me into her living room.

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Penny passed me a cream blanket that was soft.

“First thing I wanted to do was run,” Penny hummed, rubbing my knee. “Now I just feel a little numb.”

“I thought having grown up with my father’s deployments would have made things easier the first time my ex-husband deployed but it didn’t.” She sipped her tea, staring ahead where a picture of her and Amelia hung on the wall. “I spent the first month crying in bed, almost got fired from my job. Then one of the other wives in his unit, an older woman named Vera, sat me down for a talk.”

Penny looked the picture of calm as she spoke and I envied her for it. What I didn’t envy was how many years, deployments, and undoubted heartache that it took to cultivate that calm.

“She first told me that I looked like crap,” I chuckled along with Penny. “Then she told me I was going to join her walking group. Most of the wives in the unit met up every morning and walked a mile around base. If we had news, we shared it, some women talked about how their kids were handling things, we organized what we were sending in care packages, and we traded recipes. Anything to keep ourselves sane.”

“Are you asking me to join your walking group?” Penny pursed her lips at me, rolling her eyes. “What, you, me, and Ames could totally go for walks on the beach before school.”

“Good luck dragging that girl out of bed early,” She pushed my knee, laughing. “But seriously, Daisy, one of the best things you can do while he’s gone is stay busy and stay connected with me and with him.”

“How am I supposed to talk to him if I don’t know where he is?”

“You’ll most likely be able to call him but if you want to send him letters, you’ll give them to command and they’ll send the letters to him when they can.” When they can. That wasn’t very reassuring.

“What else do I need to know?”

I spent the day getting my affairs in order, scheduling a stop on my mail, making sure all my bills were on auto pay, and updating my will and life insurance policies. By the time it was lunch, my head was pounding from all of the tedious details.

When lunch time came and went without a word from Daisy or Penny, I stopped by the store and picked up a few things for Daisy’s apartment. Bath bombs, new pajamas, a few nice notebooks that she’d probably never write in for fear of “ruining” them. I chuckled to myself, I really did love her and all of her little quirks. If it wasn’t for Daisy’s one-year rule I’d pick her up from Penny’s and take her straight to the court house if she’d let me.

Deployments had never bothered me before, in fact, I loved them. They meant that I could fly on missions, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I kept an eye out for enemy bogeys. Now the thought of being away from home for even a few days made my heart hurt. I wanted to go to work in the morning, fly formations with the team, and come home to Daisy at the end of the day. I wanted to fall into bed beside her and tease her when she spent twenty minutes rearranging the blankets so she wouldn’t be hot.

The deployment hadn’t even started yet and I already wanted it to be over. I said a quick prayer, praying that this deployment would be a short one.

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @closetspngirl @shanimallina87 @owenniasstars @cevansbaby-dove @caitsymichelle13 @bigstrongblackheart @mrsevans90

Next Chapter

#bet writes #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #wildflowers for a hangman fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #top gun hangman #hangman fluff #hangman smut #hangman #fanfic #glen powell

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faithshouseofchaos · 10 hours ago

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Pampering— werewolf!Kimi raikkonen x fem!reader

Word count — 514

Fluff

@tallrock35 @kr7-i-know-what-im-doing @kimiracing07 @isurvived3-11andimproud @moss-on-tmblr @octavikravecell218 @badassturtle13

Y/N lay curled up on the couch, her face contorted in pain as another wave of cramps hit. She pressed her hands to her abdomen, trying to breathe through it, but the ache was merciless. Suddenly, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Kimi, his brows drawn together with concern.

“Hey,” he murmured, crouching beside her. “Rough day?”

She tried to nod, but the pain stole her breath. “Feels like my insides are being twisted,” she whispered, forcing a weak smile.

Kimi’s jaw tightened, and he ran his thumb gently across her cheek. “Hang on,” he said softly, slipping one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. Before she could protest, he lifted her, carrying her toward the bedroom with a determined look.

“Kimi, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” he interrupted gently, “but I want to.” He laid her down, carefully pulling the covers over her, and then brushed his fingers over her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

A moment later, he returned with a hot water bottle, her favorite mug filled with chamomile tea, and a small plate of her favorite snacks. Setting the mug and snacks on the nightstand, he gently placed the hot water bottle on her stomach. “Better?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, smiling a little as the warmth seeped into her skin. “Yeah. Thank you, Kimi. I… I didn’t mean for you to go to all this trouble.”

Kimi gave her a soft smile, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “It’s no trouble. You deserve to be taken care of.” He slipped under the covers beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Now, just relax.”

She sighed, sinking into him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against her cheek. His fingers began to trace slow, soothing circles on her back. As he pressed his palm over her abdomen, she felt a comforting warmth radiate from his touch, as if he were drawing the pain out of her with a power only he had.

The cramps slowly began to fade, and she let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you… I don’t know how you’re doing it, but it’s working,” she murmured, looking up at him.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Werewolf perks,” he said, voice soft. “I can take a bit of your pain away.”

She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “You deserve it all and more,” he whispered, rubbing her back in gentle circles. “Now, just let yourself rest. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As her eyelids grew heavy, she whispered, “I love you, Kimi.”

He tightened his hold on her, tucking her safely against his chest. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. He held her close as she drifted off, keeping the pain at bay, watching over her with quiet, unwavering devotion.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x oc #formula one x y/n #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #Kimi raikkonen x fem!reader #Kimi raikkonen one shot #kimi raikkonen imagine #kimi raikkonen fluff

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cosmicalily · 2 days ago

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"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

4. episodic memory | hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

episodic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as the collection of personal experiences that occurred at particular times and places.

author's note: eeee and the series is finished!! suprisingly quicker than i expected! simply finishing a series is a big accomplishment for my adhd brain so i'm pretty proud of myself :) and having artsy hyune as the final piece after my art exam (my last exam of the year!) feels like a perfect fit. enjoy!

warnings: pregnancy (giggles mischievously)

Your room was a gallery, a time capsule of yours and Hyunjin’s love story. A collection of events, both big and small, some from the very moment, others recalled years on. Pictures from a photobooth, taken after your third date, pinned alongside a beautiful oil painting of the flowers he had bought for you on your one year anniversary. In his sketchbook, Hyunjin carried his immediate thoughts and ideas, his sensory and short term memory. A rough drawing of a handmade coffee cup he caught you admiring at a market, a sketch of an old couple that brought him anticipatory nostalgia, and many, many illustrations of you, his muse, his lover.

Whilst Hyunjin worked with a range of mediums on paper and canvas, often blending a mix into one piece, you preferred to work with ceramics. Sculptures and dishes and cups were scattered around your house, some decorational, others used on a daily basis. He loved to paint your pieces, and often your pieces became a blend of each other, something so beautiful and unique that neither of you could have created alone.

It was a warm morning in the small studio the two of you rented together. Currently, the two of you shared a two-bedroom apartment with Hyunjin’s friend, Felix, and his girlfriend, originally in order to save for a separate studio space. It was important that your home was a place for resting, and that you had an alternate space for creating. You had set it up with your kiln, a miracle secondhand market find, and Hyunjin’s easels. Whilst the studio you’d ended up choosing wasn’t as spacious as other places you’d visited, it had huge floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the space in sunlight.

Each piece you created, whether together or on separate ends of the room, was a tangible memory of an experience you shared. Something you could look at on the wall or hold in the palm of your hand, a trigger to release a vivid recollection of a moment in your life.

Today, you worked on a set of plates. The two of you were currently saving for your first home together, after five years of dating and three of living with your friends. You wanted to make whatever place you’d be calling home in the next year or so time as personalised as it could be. Hyunjin, sitting on a chair by your clay-coated desk, dipped his fine tipped brush into a pale pink glaze, painting a cherry tree on a vase you’d fired a few days ago. You warmed the clay in your hands, dampening and smoothing and cutting as you felt the need for it, whilst Hyunjin did the same, alternating and mixing colours as the picture developed.

“You look pretty when you’re doing your thing,” you said suddenly, realising you’d been staring at your boyfriend, unbeknown to him, for a good five minutes. The clay had begun to dry on your hands, so you dipped them in the jar beside you, smoothing out the cracks.

“So do you, baby,” Hyunjin replied, his face creasing into a smile. The freckle below his lower lashes disappeared as his eyes crinkled into crescent moons, glittering in the bright sunlight.

He reached out for your hand, not caring that it was white with clay, and squeezed your fingers, painting one handed the way he usually did when you were with him. You sculpted one handed too, although this was a little more difficult on your part, and eventually you had to let go to place your plates in your kiln, along with the pieces Hyunjin had finished glazing.

The two of you washed your hands and sat down by the windows, drinking the loose leaf chai Hyunjin kept by a small electric kettle in the studio. Using one of your handmade teapots, he poured the tea and handed you a mug. You sat together, backs against the sun warmed glass of the windows, his arm around your shoulder, your head nestled in his neck.

“We’re going to make that home our nest,” Hyunjin murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“We aren’t even halfway saved for it yet,” you giggled, but indulged his fantasy nonetheless. “I want our bedroom walls to be green, dark green. Apparently it’s the most calming colour.”

Hyunjin nodded thoughtfully. “I heard that too. And I’ll paint the tiles for our bathroom; we need an actual bath, one of those pretty claw-foot ones.”

“I’ll make the tiles,” you offered, and he smiled at you, kissing the tip of your nose.

You sat together, soft jazz playing in the background, bodies against each other. The room was warm with the heat of the kiln and the brightness of the afternoon sun, and you knew, you always had, that Hwang Hyunjin, although he wasn’t your first, would be your last love.

“Can I draw something?” You asked, your head resting against Hyunjin’s thigh as he worked on a painting. You hadn’t been feeling well recently, so rather than work on your ceramics, you would sit with Hyunjin and watch him paint. He’d even put away his oils for the time being as he knew they triggered your nausea, and had begun experimenting with watercolours again.

“Of course, baby, my sketchbook’s on the floor,” Hyunjin replied, one hand slotted in your hair, gently massaging your scalp, the other holding his paintbrush.

You pulled a pencil from your bun, something you never recalled placing there, but always happened to be present, and began to sketch. You drew the white walls of the studio, sketched the shadows on the hardwood floor, and drew your boyfriend, his eyes focused, plump lips slightly open.

It was comforting, sketching. You understood why he loved to do it so much. It took your mind off the dull headache that hummed behind your eyebrows and the waves of tension in your stomach. You leaned closer into Hyunjin’s touch as you drew, adding small details and blending shadows with your fingers, until you felt it was complete.

“What did you draw, pretty girl?” Hyunjin asked, setting his paintbrush down and shifting his canvas to the drying rack in the corner. He sat down on the floor beside you and pulled you into an embrace, kissing your forehead gently. Although you felt far from pretty, your curls escaping your bun and your eyebags more prominent than usual due to a lack of sleep, you didn’t fight back, because you knew he wasn’t talking about your appearance. He always saw deeper than that.

“It’s the studio,” you replied, showing him the page.

“What’s the meaning behind it?” He asked, the way he always did.

“It’s the place where I first told you I was pregnant,” you whispered, your eyes glassy.

Hyunjin paused, not understanding. “But this sketch was right now, wasn’t it? Those are the clothes I’m still wearing.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Hyunjin turned to you, eyes wide and sparkling. “Oh my God, are you having our baby?”

You nodded, and a tear trickled down your cheek and onto your lip. He wiped it tenderly with the soft flesh of his thumb, and you kissed his finger, not caring that it tasted of paint. “I took a test a few days ago when I was still feeling crap after a week. I realised I hadn’t gotten my period in a while either. I was really, really scared at first. Because we only just moved into our own place and there’s still so much to furnish and plan-”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s going to be okay,” Hyunjin interrupted you, stroking your warm cheeks. He tucked your bangs behind your ear and nodded at you slowly. “We’ll be okay. If you’re happy about it, I’m happy. If you're not, I'm not, and we can do something about it. I trust you and your body. Yes, it’s unplanned, but for fuck’s sake, we’re artists, do we ever plan anything properly?”

“No,” you giggled. “And I am happy. Really happy. After the shock settled down, I was flooded with this insane joy, because there’s nobody else I’d want to do this with other than you. Truly.”

Hyunjin’s eyes watered. “I’m happy. Incredibly happy. Can I paint on your belly when it grows?”

“Of course you can. They’re going to be the most creative little angel, I already know it,” You smiled, resting a hand on your stomach. Hyunjin moved his hand on top of yours, linking your fingers.

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icarusredwings · 3 days ago

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Gonna have to reject your offer of He/ It cheif. Managment (Logan) would kill you for even inferring the idea.

Other people would come along and be like "What is that thing!??"

And you would just see Logan shift instantly from "Yeah ill give you a can of beans and a place to rest" to "Get the fuck off my property before you become his dinner" all while Wade is just... sitting there... behaving??

"He's not a THING! Thats my husband you asshole! And if you don't like it then fuck off!" Followed by Gabby going "Thats my papa you jerk!"

"It's just a zombie? You're married to a sombie!?"

"Again- HES my husband. I said till death do us part except death really isnt his thing so im stuck with him. You got a problem with that!?"

It makes Wade always very happy to be defended even though he surely could do it himself. For the most part things are pretty tame.

But he DOES clap a bit when logan mentions feeding him. 'Ooh yay, I get fed multiple times today' kind of way since Logan is very strict about resources, Wades is not allowed to just eat whatever because he'd probably just eat everything.

Sometimes if Logan forgets to feed him, He'll come to Logan and give him this specific whine, like a dog begging for bacon scraps only for Logan to feel terrible. "Oh my god Im sorry we were so busy today and- ... You're starving and you're not trying to bite me... you're trying so hard.. aw fuck wade.. im so sorry.. what am I going to do with you?"

"Mmm.... rawhrah?"

"Right. Feed you before you go insane. Got it."

Some days are like this. When he's clearly much more human. Being permitted cuddles and nuzzles, to play with gabby and to sleep in the bed. It's very rare that Logan lets him sleep in the bed. But it's the happiest day for wade when he is. And its not like they can even do anything (bro lost his dick miles ago and has no clue where the fuck it went but it just fell off somewhere and now hes a ken doll. This is great for those of you who like transfem wade COUGH COUGH)

But even if it didn't fall off its not like they could do anything anyway, They can't even kiss on the lips anymore. Logan has a theory that it's similar to rabies, where the infection has to be spread through saliva into an open cut or your mouth, etc.

So the nights he's allowed, they honestly just cuddle and stare at each other for a bit before sleeping. Usually, Wade is the little spoon because having Wade behind him is dangerous.

Wade heavily sees affection as a reward now, so getting to hug the girls is a massive thing for him, getting to sit there and watch gabby draw him is a big thing, hell Logan will sometimes even let Gabby play with wade out front because Wade has whole ass attacked other zombies whos tried to hurt gabby before.

One time Laura shot him in the head because gabby thought it would be a good idea to play "pretend zombie" and Wade didnt put two and two togerher that acting 'feral' as Logan calls it, outside with gabby would be a bad idea.

"What the fuck did you do that for!?"

"He was feral and going after gabs!!"

"Nu uh!! We were playing and you killed him for no reason! Youre so mean!"

Logan just sighs as gabby runs to her bed because it upsets her greatly when they have to 'keep wade in check' she fully understands that hes dangerous but deep down thats still her papa and watching your big sissy kill your papa is not something most 13 year olds would enjoy.

".. L.. you gotta stop wasting ammo. You know if it was really a code red that wouldn't do anything anyway. You have to decapitate him if you even want a flying chance. See?? Hes already up again... hi sweetie..."

Wade, whos sat up and now giving them a confused look of 'what did I do? 🥺'

"...arr Arawh"

"Im sorry, wade.." Laura squeaks out, still holding the shot gun. Shes just terrified of loosing gabby is all. To her, gabs is her responsibility.

"Rah awr rahrrr..."

"I know. She's sorry. She's just.. scared. No more playing that okay?"

"Mmh..😔"

There is infact some drift between laura and wade but neither of them mean it. Really they dont. If gabs is put of the picture Laura still smiles and talks to him but its like the moment gabby is near him Laura goes full protection mode and over reacts.

And FOR THE RECORD i have never seen the walking dead but its terrifying how accurate that picture is.

The longest Wade has been unconscious is probably 18 hours but this was before getting to the girls.

They have witnessed the exact thing you're saying, though. With Wade tied down in the shed, on his leash, and handcuffed, trying to talk to him, yelling at him to snap out of it because he's scaring the girls. Something different about feral wade from the other zombies though is it seems he's smarter, knawing on his handcuffs while most will just flail their arms helplessly. While his teeth dont do shit to the cuffs, its scary for Logan because it makes him think that one day he might actually have to find a way to kill him permanently.

He can undo locks, open cans, do many things that the others cant and he wants to believe its just Wades human part being stronger because in some weird way hes half mutant human and half zombie. A weird combo that makes him much different.

Laura, unlike gabby, too is terrified of one day wade going feral while their father is out collecting more supplies or hunting and she wont know what to do.

Wade isnt fast though. Thats the ONLY good thing. Hes smart, cant die, and is starving to death all the time. But hes slow. Infact he dosn't heal properly. His leg is half broken still from the last time it fell off and seems to barely be receptive to his brains nerves telling it to move so he lowkey drags it, only being able to use it to stand up right and take very small steps.

When he DOES finally come back hours later, He cries. Apologizes, begs for forgiveness, and most times is actually SCARED of Logan. While he hates it emotionally, he knows that logically it was a good thing for Wade to flinch away from him after being locked up.

A scared and fed zombie is a well-behaved zombie...

And before anyone comes here to say this is dehumanization of what ever else- HES LITERALLY NOT HUMAN ANYMORE.

Case closed. Besides I think wade would worry more about the fact of him trying to kill his kids then the fact hes leashed to a wall.

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #wolverine #laura kinney #gabby kinney #zombie au

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bnhaobservation · 3 days ago

Text

BNHA ENDING or how a good plan might become something not so good when written down

So time has gone by but people who’re unsatisfied about BNHA ending remain.

Of course part of this might be because people had personal wishes that weren’t fulfilled, and part of this might be due to cultural clash that didn’t allow the whole message of the story to pass smoothly when the story was offered to an international readership, but, I think, another problem might be that Horikoshi’s Doylist purposes end up on moving the characters more than their Watsonian intentions.

What do I mean by this?

When you write a story you often draw a general outline of what you, the author, want to happen in it so that you’ll insure the themes of the story, the messages you want to pass and the arcs you want to close will be carried on by the plot. It’s usually a good thing because it allows you to stay on track.

Then you flesh out everything by writing the story itself. This is the part in which you write the characters and make them move as if everything that happens in the story was due to their wants, wishes and mistakes and not due to your own will, so that the story feels like a smooth and logical narration of what people are doing of their own free will and of what is logically happening to them in consequence.

The BNHA ending has a good outline as the author’s plan was definitely good.

As the ending touches various plotlines I’ll take the part regarding the Todoroki plotline for example (also because it’s the part I love the most) but I could take almost whatever bit of it, starting from the bit in which the plan to split the Villains is put in action.

So let’s first go through what the outline Horikoshi planned likely said:

FINAL WAR ARC

Touya and Shouto end up together in Kamino and, with them there are also Endeavor’s sidekicks and Iida (PLUS POINT: This will built up the idea of how Endeavor’s sidekicks will remain supportive of him so that their arc will close with them continuing to be supportive of him in the epilogue). Touya and Shouto talk and how Touya survived the fire is revealed (PLUS POINT: this clears up something we were previously left in the dark about and starts to get the basis for the idea that AFO is to blame for everything). Shouto and the sidekicks realize Touya is suicidal. Touya and Shouto have a big COOL fight in which Shouto put to action a new ultimate move (PLUS POINT: Shouto shows why he was born in his family carrying on his arc). Touya is temporally stopped.

In Gunga Endeavor gets distracted and All for One makes him even more upset by revealing his involvement in Touya’s tragedy. This leads Enji to end up wounded but he thinks back to his origin and overcomes this (PLUS POINT: Enji gets a tragic past) and, despite losing his arm, put up a big COOL fight, thinks at how he won’t stand in the way of the kids’ future and manages to seriously wound All for One. All for One uses the rewind bullet.

Touya wakes up, copies Shouto’s technique and uses Kurogiri’s warp gate to reach his father. Shouto and the rest remain behind. Enji worries about Shouto’s survival and then leads Touya away from the battleground only to discover his son is about to blow up and he can’t stop him. Endeavor discovers Touya also has a ice Quirk. Geten tells us the Himura’s history and how he’s an Himura and Compress is alive (PLUS POINT: this explains why ice Quirk was predominant in Enji’s kids to the point even Touya has one ice quirk). Enji takes responsibility and decides to die with Touya. Rei, Fuyumi and Natsuo arrive and try to help (PLUS POINT: the Todorokis deal with their regrets carrying on their arc and Touya finally feels seen which carries on his arc). Shouto arrives there thanks to Iida (PLUS POINT: Iida becomes the Hero he wanted to be carrying on his arc) and saves the day in a COOL way. Enji apologizes to Touya who cries and his fire, both physical and psychological is finally shut down (PLUS POINT: This mostly ends Touya’s arc), then Enji apologizes to the whole family (PLUS POINT: he carries on his atonement arc). Shouto faints.

EXTRA

Shouto and Enji will fight again against All for One in Shigaraki's body (PLUS POINT: this carries on their atonement to society), although it’ll be Midoriya the one who'll beat him.

In the epilogue, days after the battle ended, the whole family will visit Touya at the hospital, where we’re told Touya is dying. The family confirms its wish to keep on talking with him until he’ll die, Shouto and Touya learn how each other favorite food is the same (PLUS POINT: This allow Touya and Shouto to connect and lead Touya to regret what he did to Shouto, closing their ‘siblings’ arc). Once the family leaves Touya, the fate of the other family members is revealed: Fuyumi got another job, Natsuo will marry and cut contacts with Enji, Shouto will continue to stay at U.A. high, Rei will remain with Enji who’ll continue to try to protect his kids. (PLUS POINT: Enji continues to take responsibility, strengthening his atonement arc) Natsuo acknowledges his father's efforts as cool, calling him father for the first time (PLUS POINT: this ends the Todoroki family arc in a way that paves the way for a possible reconciliation (even though Natsuo previously expressed the wish to never see Enji again), and therefore to a happy ending for the family). Enji’s sidekicks as well as Hawks and Kurumada will keep on supporting Enji (PLUS POINT: This reaffirms the theme of supporting Heroes when they can’t keep up any longer). Much later Shouto is confirmed to have turned into the Hero he wanted to be. (PLUS POINT: This closes Shouto’s arc)

THE END

Of course this is not, exactly, how Horikoshi wrote his outline, this is how I think he wrote it according to the story he wrote (but the plot might have been changed along the way, enriched or shortened), and I’ve split the whole outline in two parts, labeling as extra the final fight with All for One and the epilogue. That’s because the final fight with AFO is more a cameo and the epilogue merely confirms and expands most of what was basically into the final war arc already, with one notable exception, the ‘reconciliation’ between Shouto and his brother which we can find SOLELY in the epilogue.

I’ve also underlined the action scenes as ‘COOL’ because in an action manga like BNHA you need cool fighting scenes, and often people think the more, the better.

So, as you can see, in the final war outline, we’ve three cool fighting moments (the Shouto/Touya fight, the Enji/AFO fight, Shouto saving the day) [yeah, I’m not counting as a fight the Enji/Touya one as there was really no fighting… if you want we can label Touya’s nuking technique as cool, but as it ends up sliding into Shouto’s cool final saving the day moment it feels redundant to do so], the chance to expand things with info (how Touya survived, AFO’s involvement, the Himura background) and moments in which the characters’ arcs are advanced/lead to conclusion. The epilogue is mostly kind of like a bonus which just strengthen and confirm all that was said/shown here (the only really relevant thing here is the moment of bonding between Shouto and Touya, everything else was implied, if not outright stated, in previous scenes).

Anyway, in this outline we’ve Shouto becoming the Hero he wants to be, the Todoroki family coming together and finally looking at Touya, Enji acknowledging his wrongdoings, showing he’s willing to sacrifice so as not to let his son die alone (finally acting like a father) and apologizing to Touya and to the rest of the family, and Touya sort of reconciling with them. Yes, I hear you, he still said he hates his father, but he switched from ‘die shitty old man’ to ‘I hate you, dad’ and he’s crying and previously he thought he wanted to talk with them more so this is Touya’s way to ‘reconcile’ by venting to his family instead than against the world like Natsuo and Shouto and Enji asked him to do.

Originally there was another plus point, Shouto commenting it was Touya the one who was the Masterpiece Endeavor wanted (someone with an amazing firepower and who could use ice to cool himself down), which meant to close the arc in which he viewed himself as a failure as well as be another stab to Enji, but it was removed for the final version likely because it was completely in bad taste in such an emotional moment for Shouto to slip into the Masterpiece topic, never mentioning the realization Touya was the one with the Quirk Enji wanted all along, came already when Enji realized Touya had a fire Quirk, no need to repeat it, and so all that remained was Shouto showing appreciation for his brother’s ability to raise heat.

It’s a damn good outline, one that carries on the family members arcs and gives us cool moments and additional info and so on. It works great on paper.

It doesn’t work so great when Horikoshi transposed it into his manga though.

Why?

Because the Doylist reasons for why things happen often force the characters to act in a way for which the Watsonian reasons, even when the story gives them (and it doesn’t always give them), are poor or not so good, when not outright OOC.

Basically on the Watsonian side of the story we’ve plenty of problems and, while we can make up some answers for them, fundamentally the story mostly handwaves them because they’re not important, what’s important is for the story to keep on following the outline.

In fact let’s go through the outline again and look at what doesn’t work for the Watsonian perspective but works just fine for the Doylist one.

Touya and Shouto end up together in Kamino and, with them there are also Endeavor’s sidekicks and Iida.

Watsonian problem: The sidekicks hardly contribute to the fight. 4 Heroes, 3 of them seasoned Pro and they just stand around and watch as Touya and Shouto exchange blows, with only one notable exception in which Enji’s sidekicks take a blow aimed at Shouto at the end of the fight, when all around a war is waged and resources are stretched thin. From a Watsonian perspective it doesn’t make sense, there’s no reason to waste resources like that. So why this happens?

Doylist answer: The sidekicks and Iida can’t attack Touya, that’s Shouto’s moment to shine, bringing him down isn’t meant to be a group effort but the result of Shouto’s hard work who, through this, proves why he was born in that family and moves to the path for becoming the Hero he wants to be. At the same time Iida needs to be there because he’ll bring Shouto to Gunga later on and the sidekicks need to be there because Horikoshi needs to develop them so as it wouldn’t come out of nowhere they would support Enji at the end of the story. Also, involving the sidekicks in the fight too much, would stretch the scene more and make it look as if the Heroes are ganging up on Touya, who’s not as powerful as AFO. This would end up making Shouto look weak and the fight look unfair as it would be Touya against many. So it’s one against one and Shouto can win by his power only.

Touya and Shouto talk…

Watsonian problem: Touya and Shouto talk more than once through the fight, but all their talks carry on the same problem. In fact we see how Touya first complains about how Enji isn’t there to face him, which upsets him because he interprets it as Enji AGAIN not caring about him, which again hurts him. Then he tells Shouto he went back home only to discover again he was judged a failure and the family left him in the past, which was something that hurt him. Ultimately Touya tells Shouto they’re different and Shouto can’t understand him. All this hurts Touya and makes him angry and more determinate to fight Shouto. Shouto though, could have corrected Touya’s beliefs. Shouto KNOWS Enji wanted to face him, Enji even phoned Shouto asking him to switch, Shouto knows the family didn’t forget Touya but mourned him, his mother’s health got worse when he was assumed dead, Natsuo spent more time talking to the Butsudan than talking to Shouto, when Touya turned out alive his father cried and the whole family expressed regret for what had happened. Shouto wants to connect with Touya, he wants to sit down and eat with him, he would even accept to eat hot udon in order to connect. Shouto is also a kind boy who doesn’t want to cause people pain and doesn’t want his brother to die. Shouto however doesn’t say anything to soothe Touya’s pain/anger. First he makes the fact Enji didn’t come there all about himself, saying HE came here to face Touya because he decided so (either way Touya wanted to interpret it, Enji didn’t want to come but Shouto wanted or Enji wanted to come but Shouto didn’t let him is not going to make things better), then, instead than reassuring Touya he was missed, Shouto worries about telling him that he won’t let him hurt people. Also, when Shouto will scold Touya, he won’t tell him he’s wrong in thinking his family didn’t care, that his family is actually still suffering for him, no, he’ll do it from a morally superior point, telling him ‘yes, father was a madman and our family was screwed but you decided to burn people on your own when you should have aimed your rage at us’. The result is he NEVER denies Touya’s family didn’t care about him, he doesn’t soothe Touya’s pain but enrages him further, which clearly leads Touya to want to fight more and to use more of his firepower which hurts himself and the ones around him. Not only enraging Touya is counterproductive as it worsen the situation instead than improving it, but it let Touya in pain and stewing in false beliefs, which is uncharacteristic for Shouto. From a Watsonian perspective it doesn’t make a lot of sense Shouto wouldn’t tell Touya the truth about his family loving him and missing him, and therefore Touya being wrong in raging… especially since Shouto had a full arc about the importance of connecting the heart, yet Shouto doesn’t, to the point such behaviour borders on OOC and unnatural for him, so why he does so?

Doylist answer: Shouto can’t soothe Touya’s rage because Touya’s rage is FUNDAMENTAL to lead Touya to fight him and then, consequently, to try to nuke Japan. If Shouto had managed to calm Touya down, to connect with him, the battle wouldn’t have happened or, if it had, Touya wouldn’t have been so enraged he couldn’t bring Enji Shouto’s head he would try to nuke Japan in order to hurt Enji. Shouto has to worsen Touya’s rage and his physical conditions (let’s remember Touya is meant to die soon by the end of the epilogue) as well to carry on the plot. What’s more, Shouto has to talk about himself so as to remember the readers about Shouto’s arc, about Shouto becoming a certain kind of Hero. His speech is IMPORTANT for his arc, instead than with moments of attempted connection, the fight is peppered with discussions on how Shouto took the long way as a Hero, how he improved flashfire, how Shouto has to fight him because that’s the only way to reach the goal he’s aiming at, how that’s Shouto’s power, how this will affirm the reason why HE WAS BORN IN THE FAMILY (skipping completely how instead Touya wanted to know why he was born in that family). That because Horikoshi, instead than prioritizing creating a connection between the two brothers, decides to prioritize furthering Shouto’s arc as a Hero, and that he will focus on the connection between the two siblings in the epilogue. Also, at the same time, Shouto’s speech is IMPORTANT for everyone’s arc as it triggers Touya into discussing why they’re all there fighting. Plus… the whole moralizing speech is something that all the Heroes do when facing their Villains in this final arc. Probably, since the Villains were sympathetic, Horikoshi felt the need to remember to a younger audience that no, what they were doing wasn’t right. Long story short, Shouto’s words are functional for the story to advance it the way Horikoshi wanted it to advance.

… and how Touya survived the fire is revealed.

Watsonian problem 1: The Touya flashback ends up with the explanation that Garaki and All for One left him go because he only had a month to live… a month in which, if Touya had decided to remain at his home, he could have revealed everything behind Garaki’s orphanage to the Number Two Hero. Why Garaki didn’t worry about this? It makes no sense.

Doylist answer 1: In the story the problem is inexistent because Touya won’t remain home and therefore won’t reveal anything. The main purpose for the flashback isn’t really to explain what happened to Touya, but to set up how the blame for what happened to Touya had to be placed also on AFO and giving Touya an additional sad backstory so as to further increase the empathy readers have for him and give him more reasons to rage. We’ve to feel bad for him, it’s a tragedy, a kid who loved his family and wanted to become a Hero now has turned into a Villain who wants to kill his family, a tragedy that could have been avoided if Enji had changed his ways. We also need to hate AFO more because he meddled with the Todoroki family ruining further Touya’s life... and this prepares the ground for how he manipulated/ruined Tomura's life too. Also, remembering all this, Touya has to rage more because, remember, this is mainly ‘angering Touya’ time.

Watsonian problem 2: To explain how Touya survived even though he supposedly only had a month of life we’re told… it was his grudge who kept him alive. To swallow this asks us a huge suspension of disbelief as Touya survives FOR YEARS with ZERO HELP, in apparently good conditions (we never see him feeling sick or something) which kind of backfires as it becomes harder to accept Touya could survive without medical aid (or any sort of aid for the matter as Touya has no one to help him and no money) for years just fine, never showing any physical problem through the story beyond his burnt skin, all this thanks to his grudge, but won’t live long at the end of the war despite having medical aid and people wanting to take care of him. In truth way too many situations in the story begs for our suspension of disbelief SO HARD, that it becomes hard to accept characters can indeed die, it feels more like they have been forcefully killed off by the author instead than that they had met their expected fate.

Doylist answer 2: Horikoshi likely assumed by saying Touya was meant to die so long ago, it would make easy for the readers to accept now he has to die, that he has burned up all his resources and that his death would feel like a natural conclusion for him, since HE WAS MEANT TO DIE BY A LONG TIME. In short, after asking us to suspend our disbelief, he’s asking us to accept the realism he can’t live any longer. He’s basically preparing the ground for Touya’s incoming death, a death that won’t take place on the battlefield, and that will take place despite Touya getting medical aid. He wants us to think that nothing can be done, that this was meant to happen. The intention is good... the execution is not.

Shouto and the sidekicks realize Touya is suicidal.

Watsonian problem: Wait, hadn’t Shouto realized it sooner, in the Paranormal Liberation War arc? When Touya has hugged him, Shouto has pointed out how Touya would burn himself as well (implying this would kill him as Touya is even more burnable than Shouto) and had showed concern, to which Touya basically replied he didn’t care as long as it hurts Enji. Actually Enji too, watching the scene, should have realized it and yet it never goes discussed by the family, nor the Heroes are warned about this. This is important, a suicidal person would go much farther in a fight than a not suicidal one, in fact we’ll later see Touya is okay with exploding himself to hurt Enji. This information needed to be shared and yet Shouto and the sidekicks acts as if they had just found out about it. Have they forgotten about it?

Doylist answer: Shouto and Enji couldn’t realize Touya wanted to die because otherwise they should have worried with the family about SAVING Touya from himself. No one in the family wants Touya to die, so Touya being willing to die/wanting to die to hurt Enji would have become an additional problem and source of concern. Instead the family prefers to worry about how, since they hurt Touya, now Touya is out on hurting society, skipping how he’s also hurting himself as the more he uses his flames, the more he burns himself. This is because the family back then had to worry about STOPPING Touya from hurting others, they've to feel guilty about the damage that's being done to society due to them, and they’ve to realize they’ve to worry about Touya’s survival LATER, when Enji will face Touya and then he’ll be joined by the rest of the family as they attempt to stop Touya from exploding. So the whole thing about how Touya is suicidal and showed it already, goes somehow forgotten, only to come up later on.

All for One makes him (Enji) even more upset by revealing his involvement in Touya’s tragedy

Watsonian problem: AFO says he tried to take advantage of Enji’s longing for power for ages, which lead him to target Touya. So far so good. But then Touya escapes and AFO just… let him go because Touya is gonna die. And never again AFO tried to take advantage of Enji’s longing for power by… let’s say targeting Shouto or Fuyumi and Natsuo, or even Rei. No, he did try with Touya, it didn’t work, and he let it go and, for years, he did nothing to try to take advantage of it again. Why didn’t he try again? Also… all his trying with Touya constituted in him picking Touya up once he burned himself. Not only he didn’t orchestrate the situation (like instead he did with Tenko) but what if Touya hadn’t lost control of his Quirk and burned himself? What if Enji had gone there before Touya were to lose control of his fire? If one of the above had happened, Touya would have been saved and AFO couldn't have managed to take advantage of Enji's longing for power. This doesn’t feel like a carefully planned plan, this feels like AFO randomly passing by and catching the chance… and it feels pretty similar to how Garaki talks about how they wanted Eraser Head’s power, made an attempt, it failed and they settled up for Shirakumo’s power never trying to get Eraser Head's power again (Chap 270). This undermines AFO’s characterization as a careful planner, it feels more like he follows random spur of the moments.

Doylist answer: This has likely as main answer that originally there were no plans for an Endeavor/AFO fight. Horikoshi revealed Enji was meant to die in the Paranormal Liberation War Arc, during which AFO woke up at the last minute. Likely AFO wasn’t going to give Enji a speech on how he had a hand in his son’s disappearance to distract him. Mind you, Garaki showed interest in Dabi from the Villain academia arc, so Garaki and AFO were likely always meant to be involved in Touya’s survival… but, since there was no plan to slam it on Enji’s face, in the first draft their involvement might have been a (un)lucky accident, which would have fit more with how things went. However telling that AFO instead planned and orchestrated it works well for the story. It paint an even more terrible image of AFO as a great mastermind (preparing the ground for when he’ll reveal he was behind Tenko’s tragedy) and it adds to Enji’s arc by underlining even more his responsibility in Touya’s tragedy. Not only Touya burned due to Enji’s mistakes and his decision not to go on Sekoto Peak, but due to his ambition his son was also targeted by AFO. As if this wasn’t enough, it contributes to create drama and a problem Enji will overcome, in fact the revelation causes Enji to lose it, attack AFO and get wounded so that he’ll have to rouse up himself again, while at the same time making space for Jirou and Tokoyami to do something, before Enji’s COOL fight with AFO.

This leads Enji to end up wounded but he thinks back to his origin and overcomes this

Watsonian problem: Wait, wasn’t Enji’s origin how he got envious of All Might and wanted to surpass him? Weren’t we told this over and over and over and over? Why no one ever mentioned him losing his father? Why the whole things is extremely vague and unclear and not foreshadowed at all?

Doylist answer: The point of the scene is give Enji drama and a motivation to rise up. A dead father when he was in middle school is dramatic and traumatic, no matter how unclear the whole thing is, actually the whole thing being unclear works to push the readers to interpret it as they prefer, making easier to generate sympathy toward him after having just reminded us how it was due to Enji’s mistakes that Touya was targeted. Of course the scene is not foreshadowed because if Enji was meant to die in the Paranormal Liberation War Arc, this revelation was never going to take place.

(Enji) thinks at how he won’t stand in the way of the kids’ future

Watsonian problem: Why when he thinks so, he thinks only at Shouto (and class A?) What about Natsuo and Fuyumi? What about Touya?

Doylist answer: Credits when it’s due, even discounting the fact that Touya is dying and suicidal, Touya was never meant to have a future if the Heroes were to win but just to be jailed in a new Tartarus and, likely, consequently executed (as in BNHA they can sentence people to death, Moonfish was on death row before he escaped). When Enji says he’ll keep his eyes on Touya, Enji doesn’t mean he’ll look at him the way Touya wants but that he’ll keep him under control so he won’t be capable to harm society any further. It’s only later Enji will realize he should have also looked at Touya the way Touya wanted him to, but this doesn’t change Enji knows Touya doesn’t have a future and Horikoshi surely couldn’t show us as an example of bright future a jailed and executed Touya, a Shouto that walks toward his classmates and toward the future looks much better. As for Fuyumi and Natsuo, compared to Shouto, they’re considered minor characters so the story doesn’t bother with them. It’s important to say Enji’s past won’t be a hindrance to Shouto’s future because Horikoshi assumes among the Todoroki kids that’s the only future we care about. It’s something we’ll see also in the final chapter when only Shouto’s future will be shown (there though it makes more sense as the narrator is Midoriya and he might not know about Fuyumi and Natsuo’s future).

Touya wakes up…

Watsonian problem: Why does Touya take so much time waking up after Shouto hits him? It can’t be he fainted if he was copying and keeping active Shouto’s technique so why he takes so long?

Doylist answer: To give the plot time to advance Touya couldn’t wake up immediately. Also the idea Touya lost makes it for a surprise once he wakes up.

(Touya) copies Shouto’s technique

Watsonian problem: Not only Touya copies Shouto’s technique successfully after just seeing it for a short time, while Shouto had to try it out many times before grasping it but, while Shouto keeps on losing concentration to keep it active, Touya will manage to keep it active no-stop, even when he's unconscious, even when his mind is supposedly gone, all this while his stats regarding techniques are considerably lower than Shouto (Shouto has first 5/5 and then 4/6 while Touya has 3/5, 2/6 and 2/6). How is that possible?

Doylist answer: Stats are either clearly not reliable (all of Touya’s stats are considerably lower than Shouto which should make very easy for Shouto to defeat him…) or influenced by how Touya doesn’t bother creating new techniques but just copies others’… even though he clearly manages to learn them without teaching, quickly and can use them better. But the real core point of Touya managing to keep Shouto’s technique ongoing while Shouto kept on losing concentration during the fight is that in the Shouto/Touya fight this created tension, and made harder for Shouto to fight, in the Enji/Touya ‘fight’, not only Touya keeping up phosphor no-stop allows him not to get destroyed by the cumulating heat but, even if this wasn’t the case, Touya losing concentration would be just a distraction to the chase and, later, to Enji’s speech. We’ll see Shouto also effortlessly managing to keep up phosphor later on, despite Shouto being completely worn out and stressed and even rolling on the ground due to a fall, when he’ll race toward where Touya is, and this will also be because him losing control of it would have been a distraction, so Shouto also conveniently managed to learn how to keep it costantly active.

Shouto and the rest remain behind.

Watsonian problem: Why Shouto doesn’t try to chase Touya like Uraraka and Tsuyu do? He has his fire that would allow him to fly to where the gate is, he has his ice who could raise him, why he doesn’t even try? He’s not too tired for it, when he’ll try to go there with Iida he’ll use his fire and ice no-stop and yet now he doesn't even try to chase and therefore stop his brother from reaching his father. Why?

Doylist answer: If Shouto has given chase right then, we wouldn’t have had the chance to let Iida have his cool moment and fulfill his arc, nor we would have needed to have Enji face Touya. Shouto has to remain there to watch in order for later to have Iida help him reach Touya as that was why Iida was there, and also in order for his father and his family to face Touya before he’ll arrive to save the day, otherwise it would have been a Touya vs Shouto part 2 with no chance for the other Todorokis to confront Touya.

Enji worries about Shouto’s survival…

Watsonian problem: Why Enji doesn’t worry about Touya’s condition but just worries about Shouto, when Enji is supposed to care about Touya too and Touya is in horrible conditions, with people wondering how he’s still alive? According to the story Enji loves Touya and, as soon as he sees him this should be his first thought, and then, the next thought should be for Shouto as he’s nowhere to be seen and Touya had bad intentions toward him. What’s more, why since transmitters work (we’ll see it with All Might) Shouto or someone else in his group hadn’t warned Enji Touya was about to show up? Touya could have caught them on surprise, causing serious damage. And why Enji hadn’t checked upon Shouto’s group by using the transmitters, which would have been safer than ask Touya (as the latter could lie) and wouldn’t have hurt him?

Doylist answer: Because, of course, it’s Enji’s turn to upset Touya so that Touya will keep on being angry. Enji couldn’t worry for him or apologize to him, this must happen later, and Touya must be affected by the apology, but we still need him to try to nuke Japan first, so Enji can’t do something to tone down his anger, he actually makes it worse by asking about Shouto. And, of course the transmitters aren’t used exactly because if Enji had known beforehand Shouto was fine, he wouldn’t have asked Touya about Shouto. It also serves to introduce Touya’s determination to destroy something to hurt Enji.

…then leads him away from the battleground only to discover his son is about to blow up and he can’t stop him.

Watsonian problem: Why, since Enji had the time to ask him about Shouto, Enji doesn’t try to talk with Touya FIRST but just tries leading him away? Since Touya will use his Quirk to give chase, he will only hurt himself more and he’s in an already horrible condition. Enji doesn’t want Touya to die, so why would he want to cause damage to him? Also why Touya’s mind is declared gone when he asks for Natsuo to play with him, but not only he can keep up phosphor and concentrating heat inside him, but later he’ll be aware enough of his surrounding to realize Rei, Natsuo and Fuyumi have arrived (meaning he could tell who’s there and who isn’t), will realize everyone is watching him, will ponder on it lamenting it should have happened sooner, will think at his origin and about how things aren’t so simple and how he wants to talk more with his family and, once Shouto hits him with his blow, will also speak in a perfectly coherent manner, in short he does plenty of things that seem to point out his mind is not gone?

Doylist answer: If Enji has talked with Touya first, again this would have risked soothing him and so it couldn’t be done. But at a certain point Enji needed to talk with Touya so as to let the readers know of his feelings, so Touya conveniently loses his mind (same as Spinner, in a way to Kurogiri and similar to Shigaraki who’s possessed) in order not to hear anything of the sort and keep up continuing what he’s doing… how he kept on doing what he’s doing (using phosphor, collecting heat) if he was thinking he was playing with Natsuo is something the story doesn’t bother trying to explain but just asks us to suspend our disbelief, possibly invoking the rule of cool. But then we needed for Touya to realize his family was there and for us to hear Touya’s thoughts so… his mind has to go back to coherent again. Because the story needs so.

Enji apologizes to Touya who cries…

Watsonian problem: Touya cries? Wait, wasn’t he unable to cry? Was that a lie?

Doylist answer: Having Touya cry was the easiest way to deliver his feelings. Horikoshi already forgot he said Touya couldn’t cry when he made him cry tears of blood… and we also saw him crying during the flashback when he was told by AFO about his status and when he went back home. Long story short, likely Horikoshi retconned that part because now tears well work to deliver Touya’s feelings (Touya is going to cry another time in the epilogue). Touya being unable to cry and losing blood from his scars in place of tears, or the visual of the hair dye dropping from his eyes in place of tears, worked well for the previous part of the story, so likely, when Horikoshi had him saying so it wasn’t meant to be a lie. It was just something he retconned because it didn’t work well anymore.

Enji apologizes to the whole family

Watsonian problem: Why Enji apologizes just for ONE thing for each family member when he actually hurt them in more than one way? (he shouldn’t just regret he didn’t go to Sekoto Peak, but also that he neglected Touya and caused him to be targeted by AFO, he didn’t just push Rei to the breaking point, he beaten her, he didn’t just let Fuyumi pick up the pieces, he neglected her same as Touya and Natsuo from when Rei was at home…) And why he doesn’t find a thing to apologize for Shouto but just tell him sorry?

Doylist answer: The overall idea is that Enji apologizing for hurting his family is all that matters. In case you don’t remember what he did to his family members, you get a hint. It’s impossible people forgot about what he did to Shouto so Horikoshi doesn’t bother to give readers a hint but takes advantage of how he doesn’t have to add anything else to say sorry in bolder letters. The chapter is meant to end after all and ending with a big sorry work well to deliver Enji’s regret. It’s a visual choice to deliver the message of how sorry Enji is. Of course this works a little less well in the anime that can’t write a big sorry not can have Enji scream it, though I’ve to praise Inada Tetsu for how he delivered the line.

Shouto faints.

Watsonian problem: Okay, Shouto ran and also fought and also used his power but making him faint with no one catching him and leaving him on the ground with no one worrying for him feels cruel. We don’t even know if he heard Enji’s apology! And what’s more Enji fought and used his power and is hurt way more than Shouto but he’s awake. The same goes for Fuyumi and Natsuo, who are unused to use their Quirk and are more hurt than him. Why knocking Shouto off and letting him sleep even when the sea of Twice arrives, which makes him look weak, especially since Enji who’s clearly more hurt than him, doesn’t pass out? And what about Enji protecting Touya from the Twices? The Twices wouldn’t have hurt Touya.

Doylist answer: Basically, same as what it happened before with Touya, who slept for a bit, now it’s Shouto’s time to miss a turn. Shouto is the less hurt, he can move around, if he did the story should have followed what he did. Instead the story preferred to wait until he and Enji needed to go fight AFO to wake him up, letting him sleep even when the sea of Twices appeared close to them so that Enji could have one panel of him protecting his family by covering them with his body. By the way now Enji protects Touya by the Twices because now he can shows he cares for his whole family and does what was meant in Japan too the duty of the family head, protect the family.

Shouto and Enji will fight again against All for One

Watsonian problem: Why sending Shouto and Enji to fight against AFO? Later it will turn out Enji was physically destroyed (not only he lost his arm but he’s covered in burn scars and won’t be able to walk) and it would have been better if he had remained with his family instead than prioritizing his Hero work. Shouto had fainted and hadn’t wake up till now. If we’ve to believe he was so tired, why not letting him rest and be carried to a hospital like Uraraka?

Doylist answer: Enji and Shouto have cooler fighting powers compared to Uraraka so Horikoshi couldn’t pass the chance to use them and, what’s more, they’ve to atone to society for the sin of being related to Dabi. Plus Horikoshi wanted Sero to give us a piece of wisdom about them. Hence they don’t get a break.

…days after the battle ended, the whole family will visit Touya at the hospital

Watsonian problem: Wait, days? Why they didn’t immediately check on him, especially since he’s dying? Okay, Enji might not have been up for it but the others definitely were and it’s not like it could be the problem was Touya as they just put him in a tube! He wasn’t in coma nor they were operating him or anything and he could talk just fine when the battle ended! And still even if he were unconscious why not to visit him?

Doylist answer: Because Horikoshi needed to wrap up all the Todoroki plotline in one chapter and he needed to do so by having ENJI speak to Touya. The family barely speak because they’re relegated to side characters BIG TIME. So they couldn’t go there without Enji and start things without him, or Enji’s speech would have less weight.

…where we’re told Touya is dying.

Watsonian problem: Touya is dying? Why his family isn’t reacting to the news? Why they’re all so calm? It feels like they don’t care! Besides why Touya has to die? Couldn’t Horikoshi just save him since he saved, often in unrealistic manners, plenty of other characters?

Doylist answer: The info was likely given for the readers’ benefit. The family was likely already told it but we weren’t yet so the guard/nurse tosses totally at random that piece of info in order to let us know in the fastest way possible. Yes, an info box would have worked better as it wouldn’t have felt such an unnatural monologue. Also, if the family had been grief stricken and busy crying, the conversation wouldn’t have worked well. Horikoshi decided to prioritize the words that are being said to the tears, because for a Japanese audience the fact that the family is there despite Touya being a criminal is already A BIG PROOF they love him. The point of the Villains dying is that it’s a tragedy. Society didn’t help them and so three kids, two of which originally wanted to be Heroes and one who just wanted to be normal, ended up becoming Villains and causing pain to other people and then they die because when someone decided to help them it was too late. What Touya (and Tenko and Himiko) suffered was real and unfair and the unfairness is made more vivid by how nothing could be done to save him. At the same time their death is also a direct effect of their actions because the story can’t say their actions were okay. Touya burned himself over and over, so his body got destroyed by his own Quirk, Tenko wanted to destroy everything that came from his house and he came from his house so he got decayed (it was implied Tenko was suicidal too), Himiko stabbed the person she loved so she gave her blood to save Uraraka. The Villains’ death in some cases also serve to inspire others, like how Himiko’s death inspired Uraraka to work on Quirk counseling and Tomura’s death inspired Spinner. Also, if they weren’t to die they would just end up jailed like Spinner and Compress, and eventually executed as they didn’t have a redemption moment, so the story couldn’t just spare them from punishment like they did with Aoyama, Lady Nagant and Gentle Criminal. This would have been depressing too but less tragic, so it would have worked less well.

…the fate of the kids is revealed…

Watsonian problem: Wait, if Touya can talk only for a short time each day and Enji is going to visit him all the days as Touya wanted and needed, the fact Natsuo won’t met Enji ever again means he won’t see his brother ever again! Didn’t Natsuo regret not listening to Touya? Didn’t he tell him to take it out on them? Wasn’t he so close to him? Does he not care anymore even though he was supposed to be a kind boy?

Doylist answer: The core of the problem here is that Horikoshi have to wrap everything in one chapter and that he didn’t want to include in it Touya’s death, and so he had to reveal Natsuo’s intentions as soon as he finished the part with the talk with Touya. It’s the same reason why we aren’t shown the reaction of the family to the news Touya is going to die. It’s ergonomic for the story. Of course he could have had Natsuo just say he’ll cut contacts with the family ONCE TOUYA DIES and not right then but that’s what we got.

Enji’s sidekicks as well as Hawks and Kurumada will keep on supporting Enji.

Watsonian problem: Enji and Rei’s son is slowly dying and they’re all happy they’ve support? Shouldn’t they be sadder?

Doylist answer: Horikoshi didn’t want to end the story on a sad note and he wanted to focus on the theme of supporting people. Hence Enji and Rei having someone supporting them magically make things well enough they can smile and instead than being shown suffering for their dying son. The same goes for Fuyumi, who has someone who supported her to get a new job, for Shouto who can count on class A support, for Natsuo, who can count on his girlfriend. Support making everything better is one of the core themes so… no sadness.

Much later Shouto is confirmed to have turned into the Hero he wanted to be.

Watsonian problem: Wait, what about Fuyumi? Natsuo? Is Touya still alive? Did what happen with Touya influenced Shouto in any way (not just in the hardship he experienced but in his way to be a Hero)? We only see Enji with Rei and supported by his sidekicks and Hawks but what about his kids? He’s supporting them?

Doylist answer: Fuyumi and Natsuo are minor characters. Horikoshi already told us Fuyumi is going to keep on working and Natsuo is getting married, likely he didn’t think we needed to know more. He also probably didn’t want to reveal Touya’s death because it’s depressing in a chapter that’s meant to be happy. In short Shouto’s three siblings don’t get mentioned. What Horikoshi needed to do was to close Shouto’s arc confirming, in case people missed it, he became the Hero he wanted to be despite everything, so he did and that’s why we’re shown Shouto being this kind of Hero. In the whole matter with Touya there wasn’t something that might have pushed Shouto to change (Shouto was never held accountable for what happened to Touya, differently from the rest of the family) or to start something like it did with Uraraka (Uraraka started a project about Quirk counseling), nor Shouto’s actions in dealing with Touya are criticized in any way, so he had to change something about himself. Since all this was never a plot point, all this isn’t touched. The fact he got rid of the fact he was called Endeavor’s son is instead an OLD plot point (it came up already in the sport festival), which was made worse by the whole matter with Touya, so it gets touched. Japanese readers know Shouto faced hardship due to what Touya did, Horikoshi didn’t feel like he needed to write it. The last thing Horikoshi needed to do was to show a major character like Enji receiving support as the importance of support was one of the themes of the story, so he does. Yes, Horikoshi could have shown Enji supporting/protecting Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shouto but this was likely harder to show visually so Horikoshi decided not to show it.

THE END

And so we have reached the end of the story and a similar exercise to the one I did for the Todoroki plot can be done for Tenko and Himiko as well. Spinner too to be honest but as his arc is pretty minor there’s less to talk there.

Now I can hear some of us saying that they could just give Watsonian explanations to the Watsonian problems. I could too, however those would be my headcanons. Canon doesn’t offer an explanation for too many things, nor makes it so intuitive everyone would get it, which is why people complain.

We aren’t talking of the “Divina Commedia” here, there are just too many blanks to fill in a story that’s meant also for entertainment.

The result is that while the idea of the story makes sense the presentation feels disjointed, with characters doing things BECAUSE THE PLOT WANTS THEM TO DO THEM.

It’s entirely possible that if Horikoshi were to be given more time, he would have streamlined more his narration, so that what happens would feel more natural, but it’s something we’ll never know.

The final war arc is just a giant sized arc with too much happening in it (it’s around 7 volumes compared to the previous war which was around 4), too many characters involved and too many plot points that need to be closed.

In a way stretching things more would have made it even longer and I’m not sure how well this would have worked.

Horikoshi did his best to carry on his arcs and his themes in the most ergonomic way, but the result ended up being that the story was forced to go forward without the story really having a chance to make the characters’ actions feel well streamlined, which causes people who focus solely on the Watsonian part of the story to feel rightfully disappointed, because a Doylist answer like ‘this is needed/important for this character’s arc to close’ means nothing to the Watsonian perspective.

Now Horikoshi is being given time and extra pages for the final volume and it’s possible he’ll use it to improve the epilogue, but it would have probably benefitted the story if he had time and extra pages for all the volumes starting from Vol 35.

This is however the manga industry, volumes and chapters needed to come out at a certain pace and he couldn’t help it.

I think his attempt to stick at his themes and arcs is praiseworthy, even if the result came out messy. Of course though, this is just my opinion and you’re free to think differently.

#BNHA #MHA #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Rei #Todoroki Natsuo #Todoroki Fuyumi #bnha ramblings

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