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mo79zz · 5 months

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Intersections Evaluation

From start to finish, this project was a bit of a rollercoaster. I went through so many ideas before coming to a conclusion - which in turn delayed my starting point. I almost went through every idea on my mind map before settling on my final one. Even my final decision went through a long development process.

One thing that stayed consistent throughout was the fact I knew I wanted to do some sort of artwork/illustration, as this has been a recent interest of mine since starting the course.

I curated a lot of of research, from locations, other pieces of mural art and artists. This helped me kick off the design process as it gave me inspiration for styles and types of mural art I could design. I discovered I really liked the block colour style of art, particularly for my aim for this intersection - creating a more welcoming underpass that will hopefully decrease crime rates and the feeling of discomfort while passing through. After looking at Lauren McElroy's mural work, I began illustrating and planning my work. I thought it might be fun to do a map across the walls and ceiling of the underpass with a bus route over top to symbolise the bus journeys from Poole to all over the south coast.

However, once I began illustrating and drawing Poole Quay, I realised the style wasn't coming out how I had intended and it was quite accurate and had less of a hand drawn feel. I put these drawings to the side and began a block colour style piece, where I started to feel like I was properly progressing with this project. I designed it on procreate - a software I am comfortable using - and completely winged it. In future I will defiantly plan things out more, to ensure I have a general idea of what I want it to look like. Despite this, it didn't take much trial and error and I got quite lucky with the process of designing. This may not happen in the future so I need to ensure I plan and do more experiments with my designs as that is something I was also lacking. I ended up including the drawing of Poole Quay into my final mural instead of scrapping it completely and I'm glad I did.

One thing I didn’t think to consider when drawing up and planning my mural was the lighting on the ceiling of the underpass. I just began to draw, not thinking of the features inside. The lights in this underpass aren’t like most as in a lot that I’ve seen they’ve been in the corners whereas this one has them on the ceiling. Luckily they’re quite slim so don’t interfere with much of my artwork but this is something I seriously need to think about in the future as it could really impact my designs.

Something I wish I included in my mural would be small illustrations dotted throughout the mural for kids to try and find as they walk through. This is something that can be easily added in, however, I wasn't sure whether to keep adding or to leave it as is, as I didn't want it to be too overwhelming. Additionally, I would have loved to extend my mural outside of the underpass to potentially revisit the map idea. If I’d have had more time this could have potentially been possible but nonetheless, I’m still happy with the design I achieved. Another thing I think would have been a great addition to my project would be to do some more primary research, such as public survey’s questioning how people feel in this area of town and how they think a mural may make them feel. This is something I will 100% consider doing in future projects to help me gain a better understanding of my target audience and the end product effects.

Adding an ambigram to the floor of the underpass was a last minute thing, however I think it came out really good and makes it feel more finished - the same goes for the entrance/exit signage on the outside of the underpass, right before you walk in, giving you an idea of the direction where you're going and what can be found at this side. This plays on my original map idea, without it feeling too extreme.

Overall, I am really really pleased with how it came out and I think without the slight artist block after changing my ideas countless times, I wouldn't have gotten to the place I ended up. There is for sure room for improvement, like with any project, but with the time I had to create it, I am more than happy.

Bibliography

‘Art Project Turns Bedfordshire House into Children’s Mural’. BBC News, 16 Apr. 2021. www.bbc.co.uk, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-beds-bucks-herts-56758293.

designboom, erika kim I. ‘“xylophone Bridge” by Yeon Jae Won + Soo Jeong Heo “Seoul Cycle Design” Competition Shortlist Revealed’. Designboom | Architecture & Design Magazine, 12 Sept. 2010, https://www.designboom.com/design/xylophone-bridge-by-yeon-jae-won-soo-jeong-heo-seoul-cycle-design-competition-shortlist-revealed/.

HOME | PAINTSHOP | STUDIO & GALLERY. https://paintshopstudio.com/. Accessed 22 Nov. 2023.

‘Lauren McElroy Signature Series Murals’. L Star Murals, https://www.lstarmurals.com/page-5. Accessed 22 Nov. 2023.

Martin, Graham. ‘Rainbow Crossings Could Cause Accidents Say Charities - TFN’. Third Force News, 29 Oct. 2021, https://tfn.scot/news/rainbow-crossings-could-cause-accidents-say-charities.

‘Mural Painting Brings Smiles to Rohingya Children Healing From Trauma’. UNICEF USA, https://www.unicefusa.org/stories/mural-painting-brings-smiles-rohingya-children-healing-trauma. Accessed 22 Nov. 2023.

‘New Art Mural Set to “Brighten up” Poole High Street’. Bournemouth Echo, 16 Nov. 2022, https://www.bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/23123853.soon-revealed-art-mural-set-transform-wall-poole/.

‘Poole Town Centre Subway Is “revamped” by Art Student’. Bournemouth Echo, 2 Apr. 2021, https://www.bournemouthecho.co.uk/news/19205787.poole-town-centre-subway-revamped-art-student/.

‘Yinka Ilori Builds Colourful Lego Launderette in East London’. Dezeen, 28 Oct. 2021, https://www.dezeen.com/2021/10/28/yinka-ilori-lego-launderette-of-dreams-east-london/.

#visualcommunication #intersections #year 1 #level 4 #unit 1

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drewstahhh · 1 year

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The Manifesto, of the Manifesto

The dark humor, seriousness, and volatility inside my blog is a wooden rollercoaster. If you're reading this, it's too late. My class is done, Bye Tumblr. While this was a spot for my assignments, it's also got some life history. Will someone find this after? Who knows…Doesn't matter. I've touched on everything from life as a child, to current events. Yes, some things are absolutely a lie. You can figure that out for yourself. My first blog, for the most part is true. Other than looking forward to any course. To then quickly jumping into a deeper topic, which included a backstory of when I was a child and was a caretaker for my grandfather. Which don't get me wrong, living with a "crazy" person was fun! The following two assignments had to do with some form of art. We had the choice to pick just about anything, but after reviewing it I noticed a weird theme. Analyzing a poster, and a sculpture assignment somehow both led me to black and white. These colors usually relate to more of an unhappy or neutral feeling to most. Personally black and white has just always been my two favorite colors, I promise I'm okay. As well as the image of mountain tops peeking through the tops of the clouds. That image was taken from a film called Moonlight, which was about a kid who grew up in Miami in the 80s. If you enjoy dark humor, and war movies it’s for you. Switching gears into another point, I tent to come up with humorous or catchy titles when they are included. For example, "Spooky Szn" which was around Halloween time, related to a Halloween poem. The other one I found a funny was "You can't park there!" which was referring to images of cars and boats in random spots after hurricane Ian made landfall. Which was also a little early to make jokes about, but personally I thought I could bring some light to the situation with some good dark humor. As the saying goes, humor during a dark time, can sometimes make it a better time. Out of all my blogs, this was my proudest work. I think the collage was great! As I look over a lot of the blogs I had created, I find it interesting that this was how the class was laid out. I remember each and every assignment that I had to do, and which blog went to it. I found the fact that we were able to blog our “homework” it made it a lot easier to go back and see what we have touched on. As well as makes it a lot easier to complete assignments like the Manifesto. Having everything posted in one place makes it much easier to analyze. After many different assignments and analyzations, I came to conclusion that my overall theme was someone who was doing the bare minimum, but also putting out good work on the other end. There were some blogs that I enjoyed writing about, and others that were very dreadful. Which were mostly the ones where we didn’t have the freedom to find our own work or topics. After a long semester of being what seems to be a journalist, the class was a lot of fun and entertaining. It was easy, and not super boring like most. As the semester is wrapping up, this will be my final post (I hope) I hope you enjoyed some of the topics I touched on. But most importantly I hope you enjoyed my The Manifesto, of the Manifesto.

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radiosandrecordings · 3 years

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I would love to try and take a stock of the types of diegesis used in audio fiction and how it’s changed over time. It feels in more recent stuff like it’s fallen out of trend to have an in-universe reasoning for the story like “It’s a radio station you’re listening to” or “It’s old recordings you found!” just because that was such a saturated market towards the start of the AD boom that I feel like if you do that now people are going to presume you’re just trying to ride on the coat tails of one of them now (To the point where Night Vale and King Falls AM crew got in a twitter spat about similar themes). I think another reason it’s often passed over these days is just how much it confines your story, to the point where classic AD’s that had schtick’s for How We’re Hearing This like The Bright Sessions or Wolf 359 just gave up halfway through because it became too much of an inconvenience to justify the diegetic formula while still maintaining a good story and not having to shoehorn recording devices in, and this is something newer ones have learned from.

Giving an in-universe explanation really shapes your story for that reason if you commit to it. Night Vale always stuck to it to my knowledge in some form or another, wheras TMA made the tapes not just a fun layer of meta but crucial to the plot itself. Wheras you might have Zoo or Jar of Rebuke be tape recordings but the reasoning for them seems to be to justify the narrative style of having the main character sharing their inner thoughts diary-style, which creates engagement that you wouldn’t get if they weren’t airing their thoughts to something rather than just having us observe them living their life.

This can also play into sound design because if you have A Device That Is Recording, your whole soundscape is gonna be based around that. How close are people standing to it. Do they move closer or further away? Does the recording device itself move? Can you use panning here? Does the recording device itself emit a noise?

BUT these things do also come into play in something without an in-universe recording device, where often one character will be chosen as the POV and audio will be centred around them. This can be especially cool in something like Juno Steel or Kane & Feels where they lean into the noir genre and have a character monologuing for reasons that aren’t actually explained, you’re just expected to run with the non-naturalism because it allows you an insight into the character’s mindset. This can even involve panning and stuff such as the opening of Kane & Feels episode 2 where one character is monologuing to the listener and the other cuts in, interrupting their train of thought because, and they’ve recorded further away from the mic than the close up of the one monologuing because the character is on the other side of the room from the first, giving a sense of spatial proximity and immersion by letting us experience things how the POV character does.

Then you have things that sort of straddle the line of diegesis because they won’t have a reason they’re being recorded, but they’ll often have fourth-wall breaking elements like The Silt Verses being primarily read as if it’s a story being told to the listener by the character, even if there isn’t an explanation for this, it just is how the story is structured. It leans into being first person and supplements it with actual scenes scattered between. Or Paired, where it’s never stated but from the fact that we move with the character, and you hear bits of static and glitching when needed you’re lead to assume you’re hearing whatever is picked up by the recording device that is the character, but weirdly that’s never a confirmed thing because despite some scenes that mess with the formula and go for second person adressal to whoever is listening, it’s still a bit unexplained and not directly To An Audience

But of course these are just my personal insights from the AD’s I’ve consumed so I’d love to map it all out and see what the trends are for these sort of things, if creators give specifics reasonings for why they chose a justification or not. Because it’s not something that’s common in film or TV? At least to the extent of prevalence that it is/was in podcasts, and it’s not even really a holdover from radio dramas so I want to know what caused this surge when it came to podcasting. Was it just a case of looking at what everyone else was doing and copying a trend? Found footage was by no means a new genre when podcasts were starting to get big (Using 2012, Night Vale’s start date for lack of a better timeframe) but it did seem to have an uptick in popularity in 2013 in film according to wikipedia. It seems to be a technique almost always used for horror so the fact that a lot of AD is horror could contribute to it, but I think it might share a reason with why movies started to be made like that around the time, and it’s that it was cheap. It was a low budget way to frame things because it excused other production values. Your camera could be shaky, and your sound could be shoddy, and it was fine because you were supposed to believe it was recorded on a handheld camera or phone, it was all part of the framing. Most AD’s started recorded in someone’s bedroom on a tiny budget so they were gonna be poor quality, if you say “well it’s supposed to be, the character could only afford a £10 recording device (I could only afford a £10 recording device)”, or better yet you slap a tape whurring or radio static filter over it to mask the background fuzzy from an uninsulated room and you’re good to go.

.... Oh, what you thought there was going to be a summary or conclusion for this? Yeah so did I when I started writing it but genuinely I went down so many research rabbit holes I’ve forgotten what it was, so now it’s just an infodump <3

#My Post #Long Post

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wandaromanova · 3 years

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Can you do a fluffy wanda one (with a little angst because of course) where reader and wanda are best friends, reader wants more, but thinks wanda is interested in vision so she doesnt say anything. And then one day a mission goes wrong, and reader gets into an accident that results in her getting powers, and it makes wanda wake up and confess her feelings?

Requited Love

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, injury, that’s all!

A/N: hello! i hope you enjoy what i’ve created out of your request, anon! sorry i couldn’t think about how i could incorporate the powers part of the request! not proofread, so i apologize for any grammatical errors! join my taglist here <3

Summary: Wanda Maximoff and Y/N L/N are your typical best friends who refuse to admit their feelings for each other.

Word Count: 3.3K (had a lil too much fun with this)

(gif is not mine)

You and your best friend, Wanda, had been friends practically since the moment she had joined the team. Being the youngest Avenger, you were so excited that there would finally be another member that was close to your age. Despite the events of Sokovia, you didn’t fear the woman. If anything, it only made the urge to get closer to her stronger.

Her powers absolutely mesmerized you. From the color of her powers to the different ways she could use them to her advantage; it was mind blowing how much power she had literally at her fingertips. As time went on, you and Wanda became very close. You’d always have movie nights together in your room, which eventually led to the Sokovian woman peacefully sleeping next to you in your bed.

Not only was Wanda drop dead gorgeous, but she was genuine and humble. She had confided in you about the many different traumas she had been through and expressed how the surreal amount of grief constantly consumed her. It broke your heart to know that such an amazing person was put through so much.

Her past could’ve easily turned her into a villain, but she decided to go the opposite direction. She came to the conclusion that her powers could help others and that’s what she had chosen to do in Sokovia and up to now. It was why she had agreed to join the Avengers in the first place. Wanda knew how awful the world could be and she wanted to be there for people the way that her family had been before they passed. The amount of respect you had for Wanda was immeasurable.

Over the span of two years, you and Wanda became joined to the hip. Wanda didn’t even sleep in her own bed anymore. Before, she would just accidentally fall asleep in your room or sneak into your room in the late hours of the night to sleep with you. But now, she just barged into your room every night and slept there. She said that you kept the nightmares she had at bay and you were more than happy to be there for her if it meant she got a full night’s rest.

You both jumped at any opportunity you guys could to be on the same mission as the other. You not only wanted to spend time with her, but you wanted to protect her. Lord knows that Wanda of all people could handle herself, but it kept you at peace when you were with her; knowing that she had you to back her up. Naturally, you fell in love with your best friend.

At first, you thought you were just confusing your special platonic friendship with Wanda for romantic feelings. But sometimes you caught yourself wanting to kiss Wanda. You knew damn well that friends don’t daydream about making out with each other. So, yeah, you definitely had feelings for Wanda, but there was one thing standing in your way; Vision.

Vision basically joined the team at the same time Wanda did. He was created during the Ultron situation and has been an Avenger since then. Wanda and Vision were very close. They weren’t as close as you and Wanda were, but he was a close second. They had a bond over the mind stone that you couldn’t ever compete with. This fact discouraged you and forced you to keep your mouth shut. You’d rather keep your feelings to yourself and suffer in private than risk your friendship with Wanda.

I mean, you didn’t even know if Wanda was into girls! She could be as straight as a wooden ruler and you would most definitely embarrass yourself if you told her. Vision wasn’t exactly a man by any means, he was a robot. If Wanda were to like Vision that must mean you had a chance right? Not to be an ass, but he’s literally a hunk of metal. Regardless of all these thoughts, you knew at the end of the day that you would have to hide your feelings for the sake of maintaining the relationship you currently have with the Sokovian.

You did pretty good at hiding your feelings for awhile. You acted as if everything was normal and not like you were emotionally crying out inside every time you saw Wanda with Vision. It began to get too much when you had caught sight of the pair cooking Paprikash in the communal kitchen. Cooking was something you and Wanda used to do together. It was kind of your thing. It may seem silly, but watching her do something with Vision that used to be sacred to you both hurt.

You began to distance yourself the closer Wanda and Vision got together. What sucked even more was that Wanda didn’t even acknowledge your sudden distance. She no longer slept in your room, opting to spend her nights with Vision. You were dying inside and Wanda didn’t even care to notice.

You had a mission to get to today. Usually, Wanda would be down in the hangar whenever you were going on a mission without her, but she wasn’t there today. She was probably off somewhere with Vision, again. It stung that Wanda didn’t even want to see you off. She was so preoccupied with Vision that she didn’t even give you a second thought. A toaster was stealing your best friend who you just so happened to be madly in love with away from you. And you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

So, you reluctantly got onto the Quinjet with Steve who was accompanying you on the mission. Fury only sent you two in for this mission because it was a simple one. It didn’t require the entire team to complete. You both were to capture and detain the scientist responsible for the latest human experimentations at the hands of Hydra. From the intel gathered by S.H.I.E.L.D, their security wasn’t that bad so it would be a walk in the park for you and Steve. You had just left and you already desperately wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity in the comfort of your bed.

But first, you had to get this mission over with. The Quinjet landed a little far away from the small Hydra base. You and Steve made your way out of the jet and began to trudge your way toward the building. As you guys got closer, Steve stopped abruptly.

“No matter what, we stick together okay? Just because this should be an easy mission, doesn’t mean we should let our guard down. Understand?” He lectured you sternly as he stared at you intensely.

“Yeah. I got it, Cap.” You replied to him dismissively as you continued to make your way toward the building. You took note of the five guards that were guarding the entrance and gave Steve a nod before you both sprung into action.

After you guys had taken down the entrance guards, you both sneakily made your way into the building. It was pretty easy to find your target, seeing that the building was the size of a house. You and Steve barged into the room, the scientist whipping around quickly and freezing in shock at the sight of you both.

Steve quickly charged at the man and placed him into handcuffs. As Steve pulled the man up by the collar, forcing him to his feet, a thought crossed your mind. This is too easy. Only five guards and the professor was just conveniently in here? This had to be a setup.

Before you could voice your concerns to Steve, you felt a sharp pain rip through your shoulder as Hydra agents flooded into the room. You fell to your knees in pain as Steve threw the target to the ground. He quickly began to fight as many agents as he could. You stood up as you tried to temporarily forget the pain. You began to take on agents yourself. Despite being injured, you kicked their asses with ease.

You were down to the last agent while Steve was pulling the scientist back up to his feet, much more aggressively this time. For some reason, your thoughts went to Wanda. How would she react to your injury? Would she even bother to visit you to make sure you were okay?

Unfortunately, you had chosen the wrong time to become distracted by your thoughts of Wanda. While your thoughts were racing, you failed to notice the glint of a knife in the agent’s left hand. As you blocked one of his punches, he quickly stabbed you right in the stomach. At this, Steve jumped in to help you and made quick work of knocking out the man who stabbed you.

You fully fell to the floor this time, gasping for air. Not only were you shot, but now you got stabbed. Seriously? Did god decide you weren’t already having a shitty enough time? Steve quickly picked you up in his arms in a panic. He carried you to the Quinjet while making sure the scientist was following behind you both. Steve placed your body onto the medical table that was in the Quinjet, handcuffed the man to a railing, and sped off to the compound. He took note of how much blood you lost; it was a lot to say the least. If he didn’t get to the compound soon, he feared you wouldn’t make it; and that wasn’t an option.

The 30 minute trip to the compound turned into a 15 minute ride. Steve quickly rushed you into the medical wing of the compound and placed you into the care of Doctor Helen Cho. He knew he had to tell the team about what happened. The Avengers were a family, and you being the youngest meant you were like a child to them, well besides Wanda obviously.

Steve hurriedly made his way into the living room of the Avenger’s living quarters and made sure Jarvis informed everyone that it was an emergency. As Steve entered, everyone turned to face him with worry present on each of their faces.

“What’s wrong, Rogers? Is everything okay?” Natasha asked as she looked over his body. There was an insane amount of blood all over his star-spangled suit. “It’s Y/N.”

At Steve’s words, everyone in the room stood in shock as their jaws dropped. But no one’s feelings could compare to Wanda’s. She abruptly stood up from the couch and made her way towards Steve.

“What about her? What happened to her?” Wanda began to get angry as hints of her powers made their way to her eyes. Steve took a step back and looked at Wanda before returning his gaze back to the other people in the room. You could hear a pin drop in the silence of the room.

“We went on a mission together. It was supposed to be an easy in and out thing. But we were setup. She got shot in the shoulder and stabbed in the abdomen. She’s in the medical wing right now.” Steve spoke strongly, attempting to remain calm for the sake of the team, but he was terrified inside. Your state refused to leave his mind. Your limp body in his arms as your warm blood covered his hands.

Wanda didn’t say another word as she ran towards the elevator and impatiently hit the button to the medical wing. She didn’t bother to wait for anyone else. Nothing mattered right now except you.

Wanda had feelings for you. Ever since she met you, you were this light in the darkness that was her life. You could cheer her up when no one else could. You knew her better than she knew herself. You were not only her best friend, but you were the woman she was irrevocably in love with. She was terrified to tell you how she felt. She thought she would lose you if she had confessed how she truly felt for you. So, she remained quiet and tried to forget about her feelings for you by hanging out with Vision more. She wasn’t using Vision by any means, she genuinely did enjoy his company. But he wasn’t you.

Wanda didn’t even wait for the elevator doors to fully open as she squeezed herself through the small gap and made her way towards the medical bay doors. Before Wanda could open the door, Steve abruptly grabbed her hand, stopping her from going any further. He must’ve taken the stairs. Damn his super soldier abilities.

“Wanda. Stop. I know you’re worried about Y/N, we all are. But barging in there won’t be any help. You need to let Cho and her nurses focus on helping her.” Steve desperately tried to talk some sense into Wanda; it worked. Wanda’s shoulders slumped as she made her way towards the seating area that was right outside the doors. All she could do was sit, wait, and pray to whatever god there was that you would be okay.

Wanda didn’t even know you were going on a mission today. If she did, she would’ve went to the hangar and hugged you before she left, like she always did. Oh fuck, she didn’t even get to see you off and now look at your state. Now that she thought about it, she had been neglecting you for some time now. She let her fear of her feelings consume her. She spent more time with Vision than with you, and now she wasn’t sure if she would get the opportunity to be with you again. The thought of not being able to tell you how in love with you she was mortified her. This was the wake up call she needed.

——————————————————————————

2 hours later

After two agonizingly slow hours, Doctor Cho made her way towards the anxious group of heroes. Wanda shot up from her seat and approached Helen.

“How is she? Please, tell me she’s okay.” Wanda asks as she nervously chews on her bottom lip. “Y/N is fine. Luckily, the knife didn’t hit any major arteries. She won’t be able to make any sudden movements for the next few weeks which means no missions until I give her clearance.” At Cho’s words, the entire team was struck with relief. Wanda’s eyes lit up at the good news. You were okay. You were still here.

“Can we see her?” Steve asked from behind Wanda as he made his way to stand beside her. “Yes, shes awkward, but only one person can go in at a time. She’s very sensitive right now from the anesthesia.” Helen gave the team a smile before walking off.

Everyone looked at Wanda as she gave them a nod. Of course she had to go in first. You and Wanda may have been oblivious to each other’s feelings, but the team wasn’t. It was almost annoying how unaware you two were of how the other person felt.

Wanda quietly made her way into your room and almost let out a sigh of relief as she saw you laying on the table awake. You were trying to reach for a glass of water beside your bed, but the pain in your side made the small task a burden. Wanda quickly made her way to the table and handed you the glass of water. You were startled since you didn’t even hear her enter the room. You took the water from her hands and took a long sip before handing it back to her.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked coldly as you glared at the Sokovian woman. She was shocked at your animosity. You were never like this with her before. “I needed to make sure you were okay. I was worried sick.” Wanda frowned as she pulled a chair up to your bedside and sat in it.

“Oh. Now you suddenly remember I exist? It only took me nearly dying for you to notice me again.” You knew you weren’t being fair. You guys were just best friends and she was entitled to hang out and be with whoever she wanted. But the part of you that loved her and longed for more took over.

“Y/N. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as often. I got caught up hanging out with Vision when I should’ve been there for you.” Wanda’s eyes softened as she stared at your face. She missed you so much. She may have seen you around the compound, but she hasn’t been this close to you in what felt like decades.

“Yeah. You got caught up with Vision. Why don’t you just go back to him now. I’m fine.” You stubbornly spoke as you tore your eyes away from Wanda and stared out the window in front of your bed.

Wanda made a ballsy move and grabbed your hand in here. Thankfully, you didn’t move it away. “Y/N. I don’t care about Vision, I care about you. I love you and I mean that in more than a friendly way.” At Wanda’s words, your head snapped back to her as you looked over her features for any indication of a lie; you didn’t find any.

“I was spending time with Vision to try and forget my feelings for you. That obviously backfired and only solidified what I already knew I felt. I’m sorry it took such a terrible situation for me to finally grow the balls to tell you this. I love you Y/N.” Wanda squeezed your hand tightly as she stared at you full of love and adoration.

You were speechless. As cliche as it sounds, this was what you’ve wanted since the moment you laid eyes on her. She said the three words you’ve been longing to hear spill from her mouth. She loved you too.

“I love you too, Wanda. I’m sorry. I thought you had a thing for Vision and I let jealousy and insecurity get the better of me.” You looked down in shame as you tried to pull your hand out of Wanda’s hold, but she only gripped it tighter.

“Don’t be sorry. I completely understand. I’m so glad your okay and I’m so unbelievably happy that you feel the same way.” Wanda smiled brightly at you as you smiled right back. You guys must’ve looked like maniacs with your big, cheesy smiles, but you didn’t care.

Wanda began to slowly lean towards you. You attempted to meet her in the middle, but only ended up wincing in pain as you were reminded of your impressive stab wound. Wanda let out a laugh.

“Let me handle it, moya lyubov (my love).” Wanda said before closing the gap between you both and giving you a heated, desperate kiss. All the pent up emotions that you both had been withholding from each other were coming to light through this kiss. You guys were interrupted by the door swinging open abruptly and the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You both jumped apart as you cringed at the sting of your injuries. You turned to the door and caught sight of the team standing at the door with shit eating grins on their face.

“Sorry to interrupt you, lovebirds. But we wanted to check on Y/N too. Cho gave us the clear to come in now.” Natasha smirked at yours and Wanda’s flustered states.

“Pay up, Barnes.” Sam said as he held his hand out to Bucky, who groaned before placing 50 dollars in his hand. You and Wanda stared at the two confused, Bucky took notice of this and decided to fill you both in.

“We made a bet on when you two would get together. I said in the next two months, he said in the next two weeks. He won.” Bucky gave you both a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

Everyone in the room laughed, making you and Wanda turn even more red than before. You didn’t care about the inevitable, endless teasing you would have to endure after today. You would deal with the comments forever as long as it meant Wanda was by your side. You once thought that she didn’t feel the same, and you were so glad you were proven wrong. Sometimes, love can be requited after all.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #avengers #scarlet witch #request

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raggaraddy · 3 years

Note

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you.

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

#bts #yandere #jung hoseok #j hope bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts scenarios #bts fan fiction #bts requests #bts reactions #vampire! jhope #vampire! bts #bangtan reaction #bangtan fanfic

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say…. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

#long post #anonymous #ask

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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

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He’s never called her pretty

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Doyoung x Florist!Reader Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff Warnings: Might have dropped a couple of f bombs. Word Count: 4982

Summary: Doyoung has a cruel realization that being an idol has hindered him from being the best boyfriend to you.

A/N: This is my first fic ever, and I can’t really believe I’m doing this. But inspiration hit me and I had to let it all out. Let me know what you think!

“Has he ever even told you you’re pretty?” Doyoung hears through the curtains, and he knows he’s walked in on something he shouldn’t have. He doesn't know how he ended up here but he certainly can’t reveal himself now. He knows he shouldn’t be here but a pressing instinct tells him that the conversation concerns him and suddenly, he’s found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move his feet, sinfully listening in.

Moments ago, he had walked into the venue and for a while, he had just stopped and stared. He had known his girlfriend was talented, but watching her work for the very first time with his own two eyes took his breath away. People would talk about your skills all the time, but somehow, it never registered in his mind. He felt a bout of shame as he realized this. You weren’t just a florist, it seemed. You were an artist, because what Doyoung saw in front of him was unlike anything he had ever seen. That’s why people talked about you.

When an unassuming usher walked up to him and asked if he was a guest, all he could manage was “I’m looking for Y/N.” He had to remind himself that he was here to surprise you and he needed to make himself less conspicuous before someone recognized him. The fact that he was ogling at the decor whilst clutching onto a bouquet of red tulips didn’t help the matter. So he had tried to follow the usher’s instructions as best he could to find you. That’s how he found himself here, hidden behind a veil without meaning to be hidden.

It felt perverse, the fact that he was not letting his presence be known, but curiosity had him unable to walk away. He listened in.

“Well… not in so many words.” Doyoung feels his stomach drop before he hears the reply to the cruel question, because the voice that answered it was a voice that he had memorized perfectly in every part of his mind. It was yours.

He could hear you from miles away, that’s how attuned his ears were to the sound of your voice. He knew it was you that answered that foul question, as much as he stood in that moment, hoping it wasn’t because these were not the words he had ever expected to hear from you.

“How long have you guys been together, again?” He hears another pestering, unkind voice and his heart races.

“Not long, maybe about 5 months?” your voice is meek, Doyoung can sense your discomfort through the thin veil that hides him.

“Have you met his parents?” It’s a different voice this time, but this one is just as unkind. Doyoung wants to move, to say something but he’s not supposed to be here in the first place, and truth be told, he wants to remain hidden because he wants to know.

“Well, no. Not yet. They don’t live here, so not yet.” He can tell you’re cornered, you’re uncomfortable, you want to leave and you don’t have to say the words for Doyoung to know exactly how you feel.

“How about his brother?”

“Well, they’re both really busy, he’s just… never had a chance I guess.” Now, he should do it now. Doyoung should barge in and take you away from this. Who are these women anyway to be cornering you with such invasive questions?

“So you’re saying in the 5 months you’ve been together, he’s kept you a secret… even from his family.” A secret? He hasn’t kept you a secret, he’s just been waiting for the perfect time.

“I don’t think I’m a secret.” Doyoung’s heart leaps in his chest and he suddenly feels hopeful because you’ve said the words as if you heard his thoughts.

“Y/N… I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think he’s going to break up with you.” the unkind voice declares with a tone laced with feigned pity. It makes Doyoung sick.

“Yeah, Sooji is right. Y/N, sweetheart… men don’t wait that long if they’re in it for the long run.”

There is a shuffling of feet and then the first voice says “I’m so sorry, Y/N, but it would be better this way I think. I know men like him. He’s had his fun so now you’re a liability. I think he’s going to cut you off sooner rather than later.”

Doyoung hears the ruffling of clothes and more shuffling of feet before it all turns silent. Yet, he finds himself unmoving, his mind racing, his body still. He notices that he’s holding onto the red tulips a bit too tight. Red tulips. ‘You are my perfect love,’ that’s what he remembers you teaching him about them.

So why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you defend him?

Doyoung can’t explain it, but all he feels in this moment is anger and betrayal. Why did you let those women talk about him like that? To talk about the two of you like that? Why didn’t you speak up and tell them to keep their noses out of your business? Why didn’t you tell them to knock it off because they don’t know about you, about how the two of you were together? Unless…

Unless you believed them.

Had he ever told you that you were pretty? Doyoung thinks, really thinks about it. He thinks back to your first date. You had closed your flower shop early for him, to protect him from prying eyes and unwanted camera lenses. You had turned the blinds on the windows down and showed Doyoung your creations. You had worn a white sundress with your hair down and when you had smiled up at him from behind the sunflowers, Doyoung had actually found himself a loss for words. He had never felt that before, the feeling of losing his speech because a girl had actually taken his breath away, simply by smiling at him. He remembered stupidly wondering if he had fallen in love at that moment or if you were really just that beautiful that you turned his brain to mush. Had he told you that he thought you were pretty then? No, he hadn’t. Not in so many words, your answer replays in his mind with a sting.

But did you want to hear it? Doyoung hadn’t thought so. You were far beyond the need for meaningless expressions, he had presumed. It’s why he was drawn to you. Being with you was as easy as breathing. You were okay about the fact that the two of you couldn’t go on dates… or proper dates, in the way real people did. You always seemed comfortable enough sitting next to him on the couch as you lazily browsed through Netflix. You were never in a mood when Doyoung forgot to text you back because he was in the studio, and you always met him with warmth even as you waited because his practice went on for a bit too long. Doyoung didn’t think you were the kind who’d wait around for her boyfriend to tell her she was pretty.

‘Of course she wanted to hear it,’ Doyoung thinks in a moment of crippling realization. He was a fool. What woman wouldn’t want her boyfriend to tell her she was pretty! What woman wouldn’t want her boyfriend to take her on dates, on proper dates where she could doll up and be pampered? What woman wouldn’t want a boyfriend she could take pictures with and post them for the world to see? He was a fool. He had taken your kindness to mean something else. Comfort. Contentment. Complacence. He was a fool.

And now these women had convinced you that he wasn’t interested in you. And you had believed them. Why else would you have fallen silent? Truth be told, he hadn’t done much to show you what you meant to him. Now that he looks back, it was always you putting in the effort. He was a fool. And now here he was. Hidden quite literally behind a curtain in a room he wasn’t supposed to be in, head in his hands. ‘You are my perfect love,’ the tulips mock him so he drops them. He gets out of there, only one conclusive thought in his brain: ‘She deserves better.’

You loved events like these almost as much as you loved running the store. Your fingers were stained from creating the floral sculptures and your back ached a little. But your heart was happy. You stood back and looked at how you took a simple venue and turned it into something magical, if you might say so yourself. You saw the gleam in your client’s eyes and you felt proud of yourself. You had done well. You took a deep, content breath and let it out in a happy sigh. Decorating for events like these reminded you why you loved your job. What you didn’t like was that inevitably, at times like these, you were met with so many invasive questions.

“You work so much, don’t you get tired, Y/N?”

“Is being a florist really worth it?”

“Don’t you ever want a real job?”

“Are you dating someone, Y/N?”

“I know a guy, I could set you up on a blind date!”

Over the years, you had learnt to tune them out. They didn’t bother you, not really. You were happy in the true sense of the word, and meaningless gossip didn’t change that. You had learnt to work in silence, usually with your Airpods in, letting them out only when your trusted employees came to give you a hand.

You stood in front of your creation one last time, committing it to memory. It had taken you about a week to create all these floral sculptures but now that you stood here looking at the finished product, you felt it was worth it. You spent some more time taking pictures of what you’d made and proudly posted them on your Instagram.

You felt a sense of accomplishment, as one would feel at the end of a project that ended in success. You wanted to celebrate, have this tiring week end in an exhale. And if you asked yourself, there was no one else you wanted to share this happy moment with but Doyoung. You smiled as you thought of him. You realized that your mind somehow sneakingly thought of him every time you felt a surge of joy. Surely, that had to mean something.

He had said he’d meet you today after you were done and the two of you could celebrate together. You were in a happy daze as you went into the changing rooms to get out of your stained clothes and into something prettier. Not even the women that bombarded you with personal questions while you changed could get you out of your blissful state. You swiped some color on your lips and let them throw questions at you. You answered them on autopilot, just to be polite.

When you were ready, you went back to your makeshift workstation at the venue and looked at the leftover flowers. White carnations and anemones, an odd combination, but these are the only ones that remained. You put them together anyway and tied them with a ribbon when you were happy with what you made. Doyoung always appreciated it when you brought him flowers. He had joked how it was supposed to be his job, but what could he do when he was dating a florist. So you did all the bringing of flowers in the relationship. ‘He would surely like these’, you thought to yourself with a stupid grin on your face.

You clutched onto the flowers as you took the bus to your boyfriend’s apartment. You wondered if he had eaten. He had been so busy lately. Maybe you’d get him food when you got there. As you neared his building, you had a sudden bout of self awareness on how you might look. You were dolled up, holding onto a bouquet of flowers, making your way to an idol’s building. You looked so foolishly conspicuous that you almost had to stop to laugh at yourself. You giggled, mentally smacking yourself on the forehead, and took a detour. In your early days, Doyoung had taught you how to get to his building without being seen, because as you would have it, there were always a bunch of people with cameras camped outside, ready to catch a glimpse of him. He had explained this to you so apologetically that your heart had ached for him.

You would never admit it to anyone, but you kind of enjoyed the thrill of taking a roundabout way every time you came to see him. It made you feel like you were the heroin in your very own spy thriller. You took the back door of the next building and made your way to the fire escape, eyes on the landing of Doyoung’s building. The leap over was narrow and you managed it every time without fail.

“Success!” You thought to yourself, as you landed, creeping in the shadows of his building till you were finally inside, keeping one eye on the group of people camped outside. “Don’t catch a cold, guys,” you thought, still grinning to yourself as you finally made your way to his apartment on the fifth floor.

He had told you to let yourself in, so you punched in the code and finally stepped in. “It’s me!” You called out to let yourself be known. You made your way in and saw your boyfriend leaning over the kitchen counter, head bowed over a bowl of something. ‘Good. He’s finally eating’ you thought and walked towards him, giving him a kiss on the cheek “Hi, babe.” you smiled at him, cupping his face from the side.

You could see that he was clenching his jaw a little and the fact that he doesn’t look up from his bowl of porridge makes you wonder if he’s had a tough day. “I got you flowers, let me put them in a vase real quick.” You say, not wanting to push him. Maybe in a while, after he had eaten, you could hold him and ask him if something was the matter.

You turned to grab an empty vase, one you had gotten him, and filled it with water. For a while, the only sounds are the gentle rustling of leaves as you place your arrangement in the vase and Doyoung stirring his porridge. Suddenly, you hear his voice, his tone low. “What do these flowers mean?”

“Hmm…? Oh, these?” you give him a warm smile. Doyoung would ask you this every time you brought him something. So you’d make sure to bring him something new each time. “White carnations generally symbolize innocence and pure love. And these anemones… they symbolize sincerity. Although this little guy is stained a little pink, so it could also mean forsaken love. But it’s not it’s true color, so I’m going to let it slide.” you try to joke to lighten the heaviness you feel in the air.

Doyoung looks pensive, like he’s thinking your explanation over. “Forsaken love.” he repeats, like he’s feeling the weight of the words on his tongue.

“Hmm… but the clients ordered white anemones, I guess this one got a little stained on the way.” you say, trying to keep the tone conversational, but you can feel the air getting tenser, burdening down on the two of you. So you reach out a hand to stroke his hair “Are you okay?” you ask kindly but the words have barely left your lips when Doyoung flinches away and turns to face you.

Your heart drops. Something has changed, that much you can sense, but you’re so confused. “Doyoung?”

He looks impatient, but not with you. You can tell you’ve found him amidst a battle with himself. Like he was working out his thoughts but you walked in and interrupted and now it’s all messed up. “Don’t you ever want a real boyfriend?” he asks suddenly, looking down at you, eyes distant.

“A real boyfriend?” you repeat, looking up at him. You can’t help the concern that shines in your eyes, even if you try to downplay it. You just want to reach out to him but you dare not; not when he’s protecting himself from you.

“A real boyfriend.” He turns the phrase over. “Someone who wouldn’t hide you like he’s ashamed of you.” There is venom in his tone now.

“But you’re not ashamed of me, Doyoung.” You say his name, wanting him to hear you pronounce it with love and kindness. “You’re not hiding me because you’re ashamed of me. You’re hiding me to protect me.”

He scoffs then, looking away and places his hands on his waist. Like you’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Doesn’t it make you worry that you haven’t even met my family yet?”

You take a step closer to him but he moves away and your heart aches once again. You can’t help the hurt you feel. ‘But that’s what he wants.’ You have to tell yourself ‘He’s trying to hurt me because he’s hurting.’

“Do you want me to meet your family, Doyoung?” You ask carefully, saying his name once again, this time to anchor yourself. You never could say his name with disdain.

Doyoung laughs. It’s cold, the way he stands there to mock you. But you know him too well. He’s trying to be cruel, to block you out, and a strange part of you wants to know how long he can keep this facade up. “Wake up, Y/N. Don’t you think that if I wanted you to meet my family, it would’ve happened already?”

You look up at him and this time, you can’t hide the confusion that contorts your face. You were trying to be patient with him, trying to keep your calm and kindness while he spat venom at you. You knew he was hurting. You just wished you knew what brought this on. “Doyoung… what’s wrong? Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” You walk towards him, wanting nothing more than to close the gap between the two of you.

“Don’t you think that if I wanted to keep you, I would’ve… I would’ve… Y/N, don’t come any closer.” He blocks with his forearms as you reach for his face, turning his body away from you.

“Doyoung, look at me, please. Please.” You gently plead, still reaching out for his face while he blocks you and keeps moving away.

“Haven’t you wondered why I’ve never taken you out on a date? Why I’ve never been the one to bring you flowers? Why I’ve never stayed the night in your bed? Why I’ve never kept any sign of you in my room? Why I’ve never introduced you to my family?” He’s spitting at you now with his words, one sting after another, but you’re fighting back. You’re still reaching for him and he’s still moving away, he’s still blocking you, he’s still protecting himself. But you can see his walls faltering, you hear the tremors in his voice.

“Doyoung, please, just let me--”

“--Y/N, have I ever even told you you were pretty?” At that, relief washes over you as you finally understand what’s up. Those women. Had they tried to corrupt his mind as they had tried to corrupt yours?

“Don’t you see it, Y/N? I don’t wanna be with you, I don’t wanna be…” he’s breaking now, and you can tell he doesn’t have the energy to keep it up any longer because his lies end in a sob and he’s doubling over, like he can’t hold himself up anymore.

And so you hold him. You put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek “Doyoung. It’s okay. Baby, it’s okay.” You kiss his cheekbone, you kiss his jawline, you take his face in your palms and make him look at you. You press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s not okay.” He croaks, his chest heaving from the sobs.

“Shhh… baby, breathe.” You coo at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead, combing his hair away from his face with your fingers. You kiss his cheek and then his lips tenderly, once, twice and a third time. You pull back to look at him.

He falls into you then, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry…” he sobs, and there is such sincerity in his voice that your heart breaks into a thousand pieces. You never wanted to see him like this.

You turn your head and keep pressing kisses to his temple while he remains buried in your neck. “Shhh, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.” You cradle the back of his head, run your hands across his back to soothe him till he calms.

He takes a deep breath and straightens, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand “I’m sorry.” He says again and you coo at him once more, shushing him, kissing him on the lips.

“You’re so cold.” You rub his shoulders as you notice him shivering. “Come, let’s get you to bed and warm you up.” He doesn’t protest as you take his hand and lead him to his room.

The house was quiet today and that told you no one was around. Doyoung’s room was as well kept as ever and you smiled as you saw the plant you had given him alive and thriving on his windowsill. ‘No sign of you in my room’ you scoff internally as his words play over in your mind. Doyoung was so bad at lying. You dimmed his lights and got into his bed, lifting the covers for him. “Come here.” You invite him in.

He obeys this time, like he doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore. He gets in, placing his head on your chest, throws an arm around your waist and a leg over your legs. You encircle him in your embrace. ‘He wants to be held.’ You thought and so you held him tight. Like you were trying to take his pain away. You tucked the covers around him, cocooning him in as he clung to you. You stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head over and over, wanting to let him know that he was loved. But you knew that soon you’d have to use your words.

So you took his hand in yours and pressed a kiss to the back of it before you said “I love you, Doyoung. So much. You’ve given me your heart. Don’t you know that’s enough?” But as soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you hadn’t said them, at least not now, because a fresh pool of tears run down his eyes. You wipe them away with your thumb and kiss the top of his head, tucking it under your chin.

“It’s not enough.” He sniffles. “I can’t give you what another man can give you, Y/N. I can’t hold your hand and walk you home because I’d be worried someone with cameras would follow me. I can’t pick you up after work and take you to the movies because what if someone recognizes me. Fuck, I can’t even let you into my home by the front door. I have to make you jump between buildings and risk your safety like that because I’m such a selfish man and I need you. You don’t deserve any of this.”

Your poor, sweet boy. You press a palm to his forehead “I had no idea you had so many worries in this head of yours.” You muse, a smile in your voice.

“Any other man would show you off so proudly. He would take pictures with you and post them for the world to see. He would take you out to dinner, he would kiss you without fear of getting caught. He would visit you when you had an important day to cheer you on. I haven’t given you any of that. I can’t give you any of that. Do you know I didn’t even know how good you were at what you did until today? Because I can’t just show up to support you. It’s always you making all the effort. You’re the one that has to change your plans according to my schedule. You’re the one that has to come to me all the time. You’re the one that has to plan all our dates. You don’t deserve any of this.” There is so much regret in his voice, so much sadness that suddenly, you’re a bit irked. None of that means anything to you, so why is he feeling that way?

You frown at him now “Doyoung. What makes you think I want any of that? Do you think I’d be with you if that’s the life I wanted? If that was the kind of relationship I wanted?” you try to lift his chin to make him see your face so he knows your words are true.

He looks at you sadly then shakes his head “You shouldn’t have to settle, Y/N. Just because I can’t give you these things doesn’t mean you have to stop yourself from wanting them.”

You’re getting impatient now. Why doesn’t he get it? How could you possibly make him understand? You’ll just have to use your words. You sit up and pull him up with you so you could look at his face when you talked.

“Listen, you sweet, stupid, broody boy.” You smack him lightly on the head. “I don’t want any of that. I’ve never been one to like any of that. I don’t want a boyfriend that’s worried about performative grand gestures all the time. I hate that, and I know you know that about me. I don’t want fancy dates, I don’t want to post our pictures all over the internet. I never did that with any of my other relationships!” Doyoung makes a face when you mention this part, but you continue, “This,” you hold his hand in both of yours, “This is what I want. Just to sit next to you. To watch movies together cuddled on your couch. To come to see you at the end of the day and know you’ll be waiting for me. To sit together and talk about our day. To cook together and have Taeyong make fun of our failed attempts. To hold your hand and just… exist with you. This. This is what I want. Don’t you think that if I wanted something else I would have asked?” You didn’t expect it, but you are irritated at him. This was rare… this was something you hadn’t felt toward him before.

Doyoung’s expression has softened as he looks at you. He sighs “You have to bear so much because of me. I know people ask you questions. People wonder why you’re with me. They make assumptions about you. They spread rumours about you. You shouldn’t have to go through any of that.”

“Doyoung.” You say, and this time, he’s hurt your pride a little. He has underestimated you. So your voice is serious “Do you think that I’d be with you if I didn’t have an amount of determination? Do you think I lead my life worrying about what people say about me?”

He smiles then, a real smile, an amused smile and he leans over to stroke your head. “That you are. Determined and strong.” He tilts his head and kisses you and you kiss him back.

You pull back but keep his face in your palms. “Please don’t let other people’s opinions affect you, Doyoung. You know I love you. You know I am the happiest I’ve ever been. Who cares what other people say about us?”

He pulls you into his chest and holds you and lets out a deep exhale, like he was holding his breath this entire time and now the worst is past. He holds you contentedly, like he finally believes you are his for the keeping. He holds you like a relief and he can’t stop the swell of happiness in his chest or the smile that keeps growing on his lips. “What have I done to deserve a woman like you?”

“You must have been a saint in your past life. But for now, you can feed me. I’ve had a long day and all I want to do now is carb-load on Chinese takeout that my boyfriend will buy me.” You pout at him, narrowing your eyes.

He kisses the tip of your nose and says “I’ll get you everything on the menu.”

“That’s the spirit.” You pat his chest twice and get up “You make the order, I’ll go set the table.” You say, starting to move to the kitchen but Doyoung grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Y/N…” he says and stands up, making you turn around to face him. He comes closer and suddenly, your heart flutters. He tucks your hair behind your ears and looks at you so tenderly, you feel like your legs have turned to jelly.

“You are so beautiful.” he says in a voice barely above a whisper but it washes over your body like a thrilling chill first, followed by the warmth of spring sunshine. It’s stupid, the way you’re blushing like you were a silly teenager and you can’t possibly stop the grin that’s making it’s way on your face. Your eyes are sparkling as they look into Doyoung’s sincere ones. So this is how it felt. Maybe having your boyfriend tell you you were pretty wasn’t overrated after all.

814 notes · View notes

axe-writes · 2 years

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Strade’s Basement

Tw: blood, knives, cnc themes, alcohol, stitches, cutting (non self harm), degradation, kidnapping

Character is Strade from Boyfriend to Death created by @gatobob

You opened your eyes to see a bright florescent light hanging over head. There was a dull ache in your head that all but screamed out how much you drank last night. The only thing is, you couldn’t remember getting that drunk, you thought back to last night realizing most of it was a blur. One thing glaringly stood out, a dazzling smile of a stranger. Not quite a stranger, he had told you his name. What was it? Spade? No. Strade, that’s it, his name was Strade.

After taking a second to scan your surroundings, you came to the conclusion you were in a basement of some kind. A cement floor and walls, to more than likely prevent outsiders from hearing you. “Damn I’ve watched too many crime documentaries,” you mumble to yourself. You could see tools on the cabinets in front of you, and after focusing on your sense of smell you note the coopery smell of blood. “Great I’ve been kidnapped by a serial killer” you say sighing.

The door to the small set of stairs opens and you hear heavy boot steps coming down. You’re greeted by the familiar grin on the familiar face from last night. You felt a slight blush creep across your face at his grin, but reminded yourself that he had you tied up to a pole in his basement. The darker side of you enjoyed the fact that he was attracted to you to the point he kidnapped you, even though you knew it was wrong. Despite knowing that, you felt the blush grow more as he grinned down at you looking you over.

He licked his lips and grinned bigger. “Hey buddy, you’re already awake? Eager to start our fun? Me too.” His hand unconsciously brushes against the knife in the holster at his side and your thighs clench together automatically as your mind began to imagine how he would use it on you. Your train of though is derailed when your kidnapper smacks his palm to his forehead. “Scheiße! Where are my manners? Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

You raised your eyebrow quizzically. “You’re going to feed me?”

He raises his eyebrow back, “You’re my guest, of course I’m gonna feed you. Makes you last longer. Do you want some?” The grin spread farther on his face.

You could feel your own face heating up more, your CNC kink not realizing this was serious. Without thinking you licked your lips looking up at him. “Can I have something to drink?”

He walks over to the fridge bringing back a can of what you could only guess was a German beer and opened it. He squats down in front of you, putting it to your lips. You drank even though you were hoping for something along the lines of water, not more alcohol. He stands putting the can on the counter and turns around pulling the knife out.

“Time to play,” he purrs out at you, “but first.” He leans over cutting the ropes tying you to the pole letting you stand up. “Take your clothes off.”

“Wh..What?” A deeper red spread across your face. “M-My clothes?”

He chuckled and twirled the knife. “Yes, take your clothes off and don’t make me ask again.” His voice carried a growl that made your heart race.

You began stripping and looked at him. He was watching you, tapping the knife to his chin. You got down to your underwear and stopped. “Underwear too?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment then shook his head, “Those can stay, for now.” The grin turned slightly wicked and you almost moaned at the sight of it. He flips the knife over, catching it by the blade and holds the handle out to you. “Take it.”

Your hand shakily moves out to it and as you wrap your hand around it, he lets it go. “Wh-What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Cut yourself.” He stated as if it was the most obvious option you had. “Cut your thigh for me,” the purr in his voice making you squeeze your thighs tighter.

Pressing the knife to your thigh, you drag it, cutting it open deeper than you meant to. Once you look up, you squeak unconsciously at the sight. Strade now had a blush on his face and was slightly panting, “More.” That was the only word he said and you pressed the knife against your thigh again making another cut. “Again.” Once more you cut into your thigh a moan slipping from your lips.

Dropping the knife to the floor, you looked up at him. Strade’s face was now red and he was panting audibly but he didn’t seem to care. He grabbed you harshly and threw you too the floor crouching down and looking at your cuts. Leaning over, he licks your blood making your face heat up worse than it has ever been. He leans back and presses his thumb against the wound and you moan loudly before clamping a hand over your face. He lets out a moan and reaches forward ripping your underwear off.

“St-“ your words are cut off by his hands wrapping around your throat squeezing it tight but still allowing you to breathe. You barely have time to register what’s happening, when he slams his thick cock into you eliciting a loud moan from your lips. Your hands reach up and your nails dig into his back as he starts slamming into you with a borderline inhuman strength. Moans and yells of his name fly from your mouth.

The hands around your neck squeeze tighter as he growls out “Aren’t you a fucking slut? Enjoying me using your tight fucking hole?” Heavy pants escape his lips as he thrusts deeper into you.

You whimper wanting to pull him closer, but instead you claw at him wanting him to force you to submit. He growls and grabs your arms pinning you down and slams as deep as he can making you scream out. As the pain mixes with pleasure, the scream turns into a loud moan. You feel a sharp pain and turn to see Strade biting into your shoulder. “Ohh god” is all your able to whimper out as you feel yourself submitting fully to his will.

You feel his hands move from your arms, and the rough feel of rope being tied back around your wrists. He pulls his cock out and turns you over pulling your hips up forcing you to be ass up with him behind you.

Suddenly, you feel his cock slam back in as he starts aggressively pounding into your already abused hole. A glint catches your eye and you register that he’s picking the knife back up. A coldness moves on your back as he drags the knife up and down against your skin.

You pant as the blade slightly pierces your skin below your shoulder and he pulls the knife towards himself cutting you down to your hip. “Stöhne für mich Schlampe.” He presses hard against the cut and you moan loudly feeling yourself getting closer. His hand flies forward smacking your ass hard making it sting, then he begins smacking it over and over as he slams harder and faster into you making your mind empty of all rational thoughts.

You feel yourself growing closer to your orgasm, the bubble close to bursting when you notice his movements becoming more focused. He growls, leaning over to bite your shoulder and slams deep. You feel his cum flood you just as your orgasm hits. He holds his cock in, seeming to enjoy your muscles contracting around his cock.

Once you’re done, he pulls out and stands up, putting his cock back into his pants and grabs the first aid kit. “I want you to last longer so I’m stitching these up.” He sits on the floor and quickly stitches your wounds then grabs a bottle of alcohol. “I forgot to sanitize them!” You watch as he pours the alcohol on to the wounds making you pant then moan loudly. “Maybe I’ll keep you.”

He chuckles to himself, then grabs a towel throwing it at you before going over to the stairs and turning the light off. You lightly pat the wounds on your leg then put the towel over you before passing out. The last thing you hear is the basement door closing and the soft sound of voices behind it.

#strade btd #Strade #boyfriend to death #lemon #smut #story time

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faulty-writes · 3 years

Text

This is a little different than most of my other works, but I'm trying to branch out and write for more of the secondary or minor characters. I actually adore the Todoroki family, especially Fuyumi and Natsuo. So I hope you guys enjoy this little appreciation piece featuring Natsuo who no doubt deserves more love considering he's a very interesting and complex character, at least in my opinion.

[ Natsuo is known as 'the nice guy' on campus despite also being recognized as a "Todoroki" and many knowing of the relation he holds to the number one hero, Endeavor. He's had plenty of experiences where people have used him because of this, but the latest one leaves him a tad heartbroken. What other choice does he have but to run to you? ]

The sound of his abnormally thick tears landing on the tiled flooring of the hallway faintly echoed as he continued on his way. Ignoring all the looks and obvious gossip that would come with the fact he was so shamelessly crying in the middle of a school day.

A sniffle came as Natsuo reached up and with some force, wiped his right eye with the end of his signature gray hoodie sleeve which he normally wore on campus. The very campus he had grown to love over the past year and the one Fuyumi had insisted he go to in order to study medical welfare.

It was funny, he could still hear her words echoing in his head, ‘Leave our family circumstances to me and go do what you want to pursue,’ and that he did. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that his sister offered to take the brunt of their family problems and encourage him to do what made him happy.

But at the same time, Natsuo hadn’t originally wanted to leave his sister or youngest brother behind. He didn’t trust their well-being with ‘Endeavor’ around, despite his mother having long since recovered from the mental and physical abuse the so-called "number one hero" put her through.

Since the death of his eldest brother, Touya. He couldn't shake this protective and anxiety-ridden feeling that had been slowly growing inside of him. He'd be damned if anything happened to his remaining siblings, even if it meant he'd experience more emotional trauma in the long run.

Much like today. College was supposed to be a fun time, and while Natsuo understood that some enjoyed ‘experimenting’ and partying rather than studying. He was never much of the party type and while he knew he was attracted to other genders, he never outwardly acted on it.

Knowing how his father treated his mother was the one thing that drove him to desire a true romantic relationship and that was what he thought he had. Unfortunately, there was a cruel reality that came with being the son of Endeavor, and while he should be used to people trying to get close to him when they found this out.

He never thought they would sink so low as to try and date him on the off-chance they'd get to meet the number one hero. His fingers sunk into the front of his hoodie, twisting the fabric as a soft ache coursed through his chest.

Which he could only describe as a broken heart and despite wanting to go back to his own room, bury his face into a pillow, and hide under his covers. There was one person he wanted, no needed, to see. It wasn’t his mother or sister, not even his youngest brother. It was you.

Strangely, since the start of his first year in college. He seemed to gravitate towards you, at first he believed it was only due to the fact that you were also studying something related to the medical field. But as your friendship continued and he got to spend more time with you, he realized that he genuinely enjoyed your company.

The fact he found himself telling you things, secrets that he wouldn’t have thought of sharing outside of his family was a pleasant surprise. Maybe you were just easy to talk to? He wasn’t sure, but he did know that unlike most.

You weren’t going to use him just because of his relation to Endeavor, though he knew you were interested in hero studies. There was no worry in his mind that you’d use him for some hero-related advantage.

Another sniffle came before he reached up to once more wipe away his tears, even if his effort was in vain considering more just came. He took a deep breath, trying to both collect and center himself. ‘Man, this backpack feels heavy,’ he thought as he clenched his jaw and focused his attention on the floor.

Counting the familiar shapes in the tile that he knew would eventually lead to your room. The logical reason for his backpack feeling so heavy was due to the fact it was filled to the brim with various textbooks and a few notebooks that were scribbled with his writing.

He could feel the slight bitter sting of frost beginning to grow on his tear-stained cheeks which he ignored for the moment. Still, he wiped his eyes once more before picking up his pace. He soon began to speedwalk which turned into a jog which eventually led him to frantically running and accidentally stumbling into your door.

Once more, he seemed to get stares from the passersby. But in a way, he couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t even sure how he looked slumped against another student's door with his arms stretched above his head and his hands closed into fists.

His forehead was pressed against your door and his tears continued to slowly fall. His eyebrows came down and for a moment, he wondered what he was doing before the door suddenly opened. “Hel-” your sentence came to a stop when the white-haired boy stumbled forward and your hands instantly grasped his arms.

Your stance stiffening as you unconsciously seemed determined to stop him from falling. One of your legs was bent back, and the other bent forward. An awkward silence filled the air before you heard the soft sound of something hitting the wooden floor of your room.

It reminded you of water and a few seconds later, Natsuo lifted his head. You instantly noticed those tears and felt his hands curl into the front of your shirt, funny you hadn’t noticed or felt the pressure of his hands there before.

But in a way it made sense, Natsuo was always very gentle. Even when handling the few people who volunteered to pretend to be "patients" during his medical welfare classes. In fact, it seemed he was downright cautious when it came to others.

Never necessarily wanting to cause trouble and sometimes acting rather shy unless you happened to bring up a topic he didn’t like. You had long since learned the reason why he preferred to keep the topic of ‘family’ out of conversations.

Yet, you wondered if Natsuo was crying because of something related to just that. But you knew you shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Still, you couldn’t help but look into those blue orbs of his. The look of hurt was clearly visible, not only in his eyes but also indicated by the way his face was twisted.

Then he leaned forward, allowing a soft whimper to escape in the process. Partly burying his face into the front of your shirt as he lifted his leg up. Then without warning, he slammed his foot against the floor. Which caused you to jump, but you didn’t dare release Natsuo.

Especially as his tears soaked into the fabric of your shirt, unlike most Natsuo's tears were always cold. You assumed it was due to his quirk, but before you could say anything the sound of Natsuo’s cracked and broken voice caught your attention.

“D-Damn it,” the stuttered words filled the air and you frowned, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through that white snow-like hair of his before you glanced back up. Noticing a few people staring into your doorway, you honestly didn’t know why they were staring or why they weren’t minding their own business.

But you did know that something was clearly wrong with Natsuo and whatever that something was caused this reaction. You shot the bystanders a glare before focusing back on Natsuo. You opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted by the sound of his voice once more.

“I...am so sick of this,” his words, of course only confused you. What was he sick of and how did it relate to his current state? You managed to straighten out your legs, however, Natsuo continued to cling to you.

His tears hadn’t ceased nor those soft almost desperately gasps for breath. “I’m sorry,” he suddenly said before he turned to look over his shoulder. His hands remained curled into the front of your shirt as he looked at the many people staring at the two of you.

Some seemed curious as to what was happening and others amused to see the almost grown man crying in the arms of his friend. With more strength than he intended, he once more lifted his foot and slammed your door shut.

The noise it created echoed through your room and though Natsuo felt guilty for having treated your door in such a manner, his chest was already aching profusely. When he turned back to face you, the fact he had small bits of ice underneath his eyes and on the skin of his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

Your hands left their position on Natsuo’s forearms to gently cup his face, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was cold to the touch. You knew that was yet again another semi-harmless side effect due to his quirk, despite the fact you had never actually seen him use it.

Part of you wondered why that was. Still, you couldn’t help but allow your thumbs to run over those specs of ice stuck to his moist cold cheeks and the desire to get a warm hand towel to clean his face was strong.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to ask what happened first or calm him down enough so he would tell you with as little of a fight as possible. Your touch was welcomed as Natsuo reached up and laid one of his hands over yours.

“Do you...want to sit down?” you questioned and Natsuo looked momentarily confused before he glanced away as if he were thinking about something. Sometimes when he acted like this, it annoyed you. You knew how guilty Natsuo could feel over things that he either shouldn’t or weren’t even his fault.

He was here crying into your arms, but you knew somehow he'd make up a reason to feel guilty about it. ‘Well, that isn’t going to happen today,’ you thought as you released his face and reached down to take hold of one of his hands.

Even though they too were always cold, you couldn't help but find some odd sense of comfort when you were holding him by the hand. Despite the fact, Natsuo was significantly larger than you. But, you assumed that was only due to the fact that he physically took after his father.

The fact he went to the gym daily only added to that overall intimidating stature of his. Regardless, you squeezed his hand in reassurance as you guided him towards your bed. He made no move to resist your guidance and once you had him sitting down, you gently laid your hands on his shoulders.

Those tears were now single drops that slowly slid down his icy cheeks and you'd be lying if you stated it didn't hurt seeing Natsuo like this. You took a deep breath. “Stay here,” you instructed, “I’m going to get a warm towel, you have ice on your face,” Natsuo seemed rather surprised and reached up to touch his cheek.

Using his thumb to glide along the skin and sure enough, he could feel the smooth surface of the small patches of ice. “Oh…” he said before a sniffle came. “Sorry,” though most would know not to apologize for something beyond their control.

Still, he couldn’t help but fold his hands into his lap. Squeezing them between his thighs. His feet were nervously tapping against the floor, creating a rhythmic pattern and if one listened carefully enough, they’d recognize it was the pattern of a standard heartbeat.

In a way, it was amazing how much subconscious knowledge you could obtain. Natsuo failed to notice the rhythmic pattern, but you could hear it clear as day even from the bathroom where you proceeded to ring out the warm hand towel.

A soft groan escaped him, and his thighs were the only thing keeping his hands in place. Else he would be running them through his unusual spiky hair and possibly pulling it out. ‘What am I even doing here man?!’ he frantically thought.

‘Y/n...is always the person I run to, I keep bothering them but I’d rather be like this than…’ his jaw clenched when the thought of Endeavor entered his mind and a soft growl rumbled in his throat before he heard your footsteps which prompted him to raise his head.

You noticed he was looking at the wet towel you held with an expression only a curious and slightly confused child would make. “Mm,” once more he looked away, feeling the guilt continue to build as you sat down next to him and laughed.

"Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty again,” you stated, and not to your surprise, Natsuo turned his head to look at you. His tears seemed to be completely dry and you wondered if that was because he was here with you or that he simply overworked his tear ducts.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still focused on the towel you held and the small amount of steam that seeped from it. “I...get it's kind of crazy for me to keep running to you but-” you shook your head, quickly interrupting him.

“But nothing,” you replied as you leaned forward, “that’s what friends do and you and I have been friends since the start of our freshman year,” that had to count for something, right? You reached over, cupping one side of Natsuo’s face.

“Now stay still, I want to get that ice off your face, and then you can tell me what’s bothering you,” the words left your mouth almost like a friendly command. But like most of the time, Natsuo didn’t seem to take offense.

He simply nodded and gave you a look that you knew meant he understood. Very gently, you pressed the towel to his face. Applying some pressure to ensure the bits of ice chipped off and sure enough, you could see the clear cold pieces slowly begin to melt.

When you began to wipe his opposite cheek, you couldn’t help but raise the question. “Hey Natsuo,” you began, effectively catching his attention and the soft, “Hm?” he responded with. “I’ve never seen you actually use your quirk,” you pointed out.

“Is there a reason for that?” a gasp came when Natsuo suddenly jerked his head away from you. “Uh…” blinking once or twice. You lowered the wet towel to your lap and grasped onto it. Twisting the fabric between your fingers to allow the now lukewarm droplets of water to soak into the pajama bottoms you were wearing.

Maybe you crossed a line? Did this have anything to do with his family? As far as you knew, his mother possessed a rather powerful ice quirk. Was that the reason he never used it? You weren’t sure, but usually, when Natsuo acted in this closed-off manner it was related to his family.

“Sorry,” you said, “I didn’t mean to pry, I was just curious,” the explanation was simple and you hoped Natsuo would believe you. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh before bringing his hand up, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine,” he replied, though you could tell his voice was a little strained before he turned to you. That’s when you saw the frown on his face and his eyes looked misted over as if he were going to cry again. You really didn’t want that.

“Natsuo are you-” though the answer was obvious, he wasn’t okay if he had come running to you in tears. But even so, Natsuo nodded. “Yeah…” he reached out, grasping the wet towel that you were previously holding before he got up.

You wanted to ask where he was going, but it was clear he was only heading to the bathroom. “It’s just…” you heard the wet plop of the towel landing in the sink before Natsuo walked back out and once more took his seat on your bed.

You reached out, laying your hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to tell me,” you offered with a kind smile, but Natsuo shook his head. “It’s fine,” he repeated yet again before allowing his hand to rest by his side.

“Big bro Touya and I used to play around with our quirks, but Touya was always so serious about his,” you watched as his expression grew dark and a clear hateful glance appeared in his eyes which seemed distant at the moment.

This was more than likely due to the fact that Natsuo was picturing his late brother alongside his father. “Uh…” you glanced down and watched as the hand that laid by Natsuo’s side began to curl into a fist, though you knew he would never actually raise that fist or cause harm to you.

It was just shocking how the subject of his family brought out this side in him, but you remained quiet and continued to listen. “Because of that...bastard and I hated seeing Touya like that!” he suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward as his fists began to tremble, and without much thinking, you laid your hand on his back.

"Natsuo…” you said, hoping your voice would bring him back out of the hateful moment he was in. His jaw was clenched and a shiver ran up your spine when you felt Natsuo’s trembling hand take a grip on your upper arm.

But there was still that familiar gentleness to it which indicated to you that even when Natsuo was temporarily blinded by this hatred, he was still aware of his surroundings and those that were important to him.

This was only confirmed when he lifted his head to look at you with a smile, though it was small. It was still present and seemed to put you at ease for the moment. “I’m okay but…” he once more turned away from you and a sigh escaped him.

“I convinced big bro to have fun with our quirks instead of doing what the old man wanted him to, but since he...died. I...I couldn’t bring myself to use my quirk again and I’m sure sis feels that way too,” your frown deepened, ah so that’s why.

Maybe he fears he’ll lose the memory of his elder brother if he were to use his quirk again? “What else happened?” Natsuo looked back at you, confused for a brief moment before, “Oh...right,” he said as if he had almost forgotten he ran to you in broad daylight with tears streaming down his face.

He turned, bending down to slip his shoes off before he slid his backpack onto the floor. Then he proceeded to climb onto the bed or rather proceeded to crawl over to your pillows and plop himself down.

Being surrounded by your familiar scent eased him as did the fact he could stretch both his arms and legs out. You looked at him all sprawled out and comfortable. ‘Well...I guess if it makes him feel better,’ you thought as you watched Natsuo stare at the ceiling.

His face twisting with a variety of emotions that made you wonder just what caused him to cry in the first place. He didn’t deserve that, or at least not in your opinion. “She broke up with me,” he suddenly said, his voice somewhat quick and you barely understood what he said.

“Who?” you questioned as you got onto your knees and pressed your hands into the mattress, looming over Natsuo much like how a dog or loyal companion would. "My girlfriend…” he muttered as he once again looked to the side, you assumed it was an attempt to look away from your gaze which was a mess of confusion.

“Why did she break up with you?” It was said that getting your heart broken was hard to handle, but there had to be more behind this. You sat on your knees, placing your hand on your hip as you looked down at Natsuo who slowly turned his gaze back to you but seemed to avert it just as quickly.

Despite his overall twisted expression that laid somewhere between sad and angry, you also noticed the faint pink tint to his cheeks. Was that from anger or embarrassment? You honestly couldn’t tell. But Natsuo normally didn’t get embarrassed around you and you knew he knew he could tell you anything.

‘It must be from anger,’ you concluded as you continued to wait patiently for his answer. “I’m so tired of it,” he said in a soft voice which prompted you to lean closer. “Tired of it?” you repeated, clearly not understanding where that was coming from.

“I’m sick of being recognized just because of the old man's last name!” he exclaimed once more, though his voice wasn’t raised too high. It still caused you to jolt back, then again you should have realized this whole thing had something to do with his family.

Natsuo turned to you and impatiently pressed his hands against the mattress so he could sit up. His jaw was clenched again and his eyebrows slit in anger and the way he kept his eyes locked on you made you feel a little uncomfortable despite the fact you knew his anger wasn’t directed at you.

Then a sigh came and Natsuo’s head dropped. You saw this often when he was trying to collect or calm himself down. It honestly worried you that he was always going between emotions, trying to keep himself in check for the sake of others.

His eyes were closed, but when he opened them once more you could see the absence of anger. “I wanted to study medical welfare to actually help people…” he confessed as he brought his legs up to his chest and you watched as he wrapped his arms around them.

Those long sleeves of his hood concealing the contraction of his muscles and biceps. He seemed to stare off into the distance once more. “I wanted to make a difference in the world so the name Todoroki could actually mean something to me, unlike the tie it has to that bastard,” he hissed and like a switch, that anger was back.

You could even hear that soft rumbling of a growl threatening to admit from his throat. “I don’t want to be recognized as a Todoroki just because of him!” you opened your mouth to speak, but all thoughts and actions escaped you when Natsuo turned to look at you.

Once more sporting that angry expression which was terrifying in its own way. But then, it slowly began to fade into sadness and he lowered his arms. Allowing his hands to fall back onto the mattress, you couldn’t help but glance down when you felt his fingers brush against yours before you looked back up.

“I don’t want people trying to get close to me because of him either,” Natsuo stated and you gasped when you felt his cold hand engulf yours, taking firm grip as if he was silently gesturing to you that he needed some form of physical comfort.

“But that’s exactly what she did,” you felt that hand begin to tremble and you quickly gave it a reassuring squeeze. “She used you to get to your father?” you questioned, a little confused but still showing an effort that you wanted to get the story correct.

Natsuo nodded. “She’s an inspiring hero I guess," he said with a shrug, "and wanted to get close to me so she could have the chance to speak to my father,” his tone sounded like he had given up as he tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

That ache in his chest returned, but somehow your touch prevented it from growing any further. “Guess I was more interested in caring for her that I didn’t see it,” he commented before tilting his head back down. “Just tired of it,” he repeated.

"I wouldn’t introduce my father to anyone I’m with...they deserve better than to be exposed to him!” you could imagine that’s how the rest of his story went then. His ex-girlfriend trying to pressure him into introducing her to Endeavor only for Natsuo to express his concern and reasons for why he couldn’t.

Then from there she must have gotten angry and confessed the truth. The whole situation was unfair and you could feel your own anger brewing, using people was one thing. But using them for your own personal benefit, pretending to love them?

That wasn’t exactly forgivable in your book. No wonder he was crying. “I’m…” would saying you’re sorry even do anything? You knew Natsuo wouldn’t take offense, but it seemed unfitting for the current situation. Instead, you found yourself leaning over.

Releasing his hand in order to wrap your arms around him, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you embraced him. Natsuo while not overly shocked at your friendly gesture, crossed his legs and wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you even closer.

Though your back slightly hurt, you didn’t mind. Natsuo, while not completely touch-starved, still melted into anyone’s affection. You felt his stiff body finally relax and the cool touch of his cheek against your ear as he nuzzled the side of your head.

“Thank you,” he whispered, despite the fact, there was no one else around to hear you two. “I know I keep bothering you whenever-” you reached up to tug on the back of his hair.

“You’re not a bother,” you said in a stern tone, “and you should be happy that girl is now your ex, you didn’t deserve what she put you through,” your arms tightened around him just before you pulled back and grasped his shoulders.

Making sure he was looking at you before you continued to speak, “No one deserves that, you’re a wonderful person Natsuo and I know there are others that won’t care that you’re a Todoroki or that will help you make it into a name you can be proud of,” you assured him and watched as the faintest expression of hope washed over his face.

Just that alone meant the world to you and while you knew Natsuo didn’t need any protection, you still wanted to try your best to be there for him. “Come on,” you insisted as you crawled over him in order to reach the opposite side of your bed.

Though Natsuo took up most of the space, you managed to lay down and offered him your hand. That smile of his seemed to grow and as expected, he gently grasped onto your hand as he laid down by your side.

“You can stay here if you want, it’s still daylight and I don’t have any more classes for today,” you insisted and hoped he’d take the bait because you didn’t exactly trust he wouldn’t get emotional again later.

Natsuo always seemed to overthink things and maybe that’s where his sense of guilt came from. “Hm?” he glanced away and you were quick to speak. Taking a firm grip of his hand, you slipped your fingers between his and gave him a stern expression.

“Don’t let your guilt tell you that you’re going to be a bother, I want you to stay,” your words were accompanied with another reassuring squeeze, and once more his gaze was directed back on you.“...Okay,” he replied, you smiled and turned your attention to the ceiling.

Allowing your intertwined hands to remain nestled between you. Your mind was free of any thoughts, unlike Natsuo who was debating how he could even thank you for everything you did for him. Just listening to him was enough, but you went the extra step to dry his tears and invited him to stay for however long he wanted.

Was it that you knew he found comfort in you, your scent, your presence? Is there any way he could express his gratitude? Suddenly his own words came back, echoing like thunder inside his head. ‘I...couldn’t bring myself to use my quirk again,’ he held his breath and slowly lifted his free hand, turning it so he could gaze at his palm.

The sound of his and Touya’s laughter now softly echoed alongside his words. ‘It’s been years,’ he thought before he turned to glance at you, but ended up flinching when he realized you were already looking at him.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, now that everything was off his chest he should be, right? Then again, you have been wrong before. Natsuo almost seemed to be in a trace, though his eyes hadn’t left yours and his hand remained lifted in the air.

‘Would I even know how to control it? I can’t risk hurting Y/n but if this proves how thankful I am to them then…’ he finally seemed to make a choice and he slowly turned on his side causing the bed to shake along with his movements.

“Can I see your other hand for a moment?” he questioned, knowing that if anything did happen to go wrong with his quirk that he could use the basic knowledge he learned from his medical welfare classes to hopefully undo any damage.

“Hm?” you seemed a tad confused by his request and why he was holding his hand up, but once more you reminded yourself that Natsuo had no ill intentions. You maneuvered yourself on your side much like him and slowly held your free hand out.

Natsuo smiled and carefully connected your fingertips, then he took a deep breath. Channeling his long-forgotten quirk to the center of his palm, though he could feel the cold rush. It came as a surprise to you. In fact, the sudden drastic drop in temperature coming from Natsuo's hand was an utter shock.

Even knowing quirks existed, this almost seemed impossible. “N-Natsuo?” you worried something was very wrong when you felt it, the cold rough texture of tiny ice crystals growing across your skin. You almost wanted to pull away as there came a slight pulsing pain with the bitter coldness that was Natsuo's quirk.

But instead, you looked to your hand, your jaw was clasped closed and your eyes were wide. Too focused on those ice crystals that continued to grow and slowly frost over the top of your fingers. You stared in amazement.

“I...b-but you…” your words were all jumbled together and you almost missed the fact that Natsuo’s palm was covered in a thick lining of ice and how red the skin surrounding it was. Still, even if this brought him some minor discomfort.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched your reaction, the small feeling of heartache numb for the moment and replaced with a small dose of happiness. Partly due to you and partly because he was relieved he could in fact control his quirk even after years of refusing to use it.

“I just wanted to say thank you for being there for me,” he stated and though still astonished, you glanced back at him. Even though the small mishaps would more than likely continue to happen as well as people that would attempt to use him for their own personal benefits. You somehow knew he was going to be just fine.

#natsuo x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki natsuo

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