#anything beyond the current point will be a continuation of this scene

[sn0wbat]

alright, question. because this post is getting very long.

i've still got a couple more pages left of this, and this is kinda the first time i've been adding onto a comic arc in real time on tumblr. so i'd just like to hear opinions

[street-smarts00]

Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them. 

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work. 

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job. 

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long. 

And at some point you both reached your boiling point. 

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats. 

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family. 

“I was working off of the profile . . .” 

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected. 

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts  . . .” 

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward. 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“It sure sounded like it.” 

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights. 

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room. 

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up. 

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured. 

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good” 

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it. 

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases. 

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life. 

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them. 

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door. 

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in. 

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down. 

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood. 

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.  

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair. 

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair. 

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable. 

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer. 

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that. 

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked. 

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves. 

“Maybe for a bit.” 

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him. 

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort. 

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.” 

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in. 

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.” 

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.  

“A bit what?” 

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.” 

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.” 

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth. 

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand. 

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer. 

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand. 

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood. 

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up. 

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.” 

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition." 

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it. 

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.” 

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted. 

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?” 

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.” 

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.” 

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it. 

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response. 

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.” 

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”  

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.” 

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you." 

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,�� you said, pretending to be offended. 

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.” 

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.” 

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.” 

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful. 

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke. 

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.” 

“What would you like to know?” You asked. 

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate. 

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked. 

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing. 

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?” 

“Purple.” He replied. 

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus. 

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious. 

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew. 

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.” 

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out. 

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?” 

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say. 

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.” 

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.” 

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him. 

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Of course.” 

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various  building blocks that made him the way he was. 

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.” 

“Is he one of your favorite authors?” 

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer. 

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.” 

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed. 

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember. 

“Which one did you like the most?” 

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.” 

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open. 

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly. 

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.” 

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.” 

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist. 

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture. 

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to. 

“I will.” 

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.” 

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention. 

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?” 

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable. 

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?” 

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I’ve never looked my age.” 

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?” 

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him. 

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.” 

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash." 

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself. 

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.      

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked. 

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you. 

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms. 

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back. 

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed. 

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.                                 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.” 

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.  

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.” 

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on. 

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him. 

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.” 

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough. 

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked. 

“Oh shut up,” you retorted. 

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile. 

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him. 

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased. 

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you. 

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry. 

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.” 

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?” 

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior." 

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"  

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively. 

He couldn’t respond, he froze up. 

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused. 

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips. 

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed. 

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled. 

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do. 

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged. 

"Really?" You whispered softly. 

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder. 

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me? 

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read. 

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.” 

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?” 

You glanced between his eyes and his lips. 

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed. 

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately. 

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever. 

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other. 

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk. 

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react. 

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.”  Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door. 

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

~

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked. 

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels. 

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?” 

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.” 

[garbinge]

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty. 

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08. 

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money. 

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs. 

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?” 

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh. 

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders. 

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.” 

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report. 

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative. 

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut. 

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds. 

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras. 

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away. 

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed. 

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him. 

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head. 

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes. 

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over. 

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. 

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.” 

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated. 

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.” 

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face. 

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him. 

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.” 

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you. 

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back. 

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist. 

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER. 

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you. 

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements. 

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked. 

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you. 

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out. 

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you. 

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him. 

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.” 

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

[elitadream]

Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, wordlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.

-

There it is, folks. My last entry for the body swap concept I shared over the past few weeks. 🤲💝 This is a direct continuation of these two scenes that I wanted to explore through both illustration and text. I hope you've enjoyed this tangent! I will surely revisit it again at some point. ^-^

(Full scene below the cut 📝)

-oOo-

Mario stared, mouth agape, frozen in place.

He had been about to voice his surprise as he had looked up and spotted a second figure walking into view, but had fallen silent the second he had recognized who it was. Unable to finish his sentence. Unable to articulate a single word.

The man currently standing a short distance away from him appeared similarly struck, as if lost in a daze. His eyes were wide open and his stance unsteady, but his breathing was slow. Quiet. Calm, even. His hand slid from the rocky surface on which it was resting, and he shuffled his feet slightly as he stood a little straighter. A movement that Mario had seen a million times before and knew by heart. The detail was painful in its candid simplicity, the familiarity it emanated feeling both out of place and strangely grounding. The young man blinked, his shoulders dropping somewhat, and Mario noted that his expression wasn't one of horror or dismay.

It was one of solemn awe and sympathy.

Mario felt his jaw twitch and move feebly, but no sound came out. Distantly, he registered Princess Peach gently patting his neck in support, her touch warm and comforting. He could feel his eyes begin to sting as he swallowed, then resolutely tried again.

"L-Luigi?" He finally whispered, his voice wavering.

It didn't seem real.

Mario wasn't sure how long he had remained chained up in his cell, although the time he had spent imagining the worst scenarios imaginable had seemed to him like an eternity. The confinement and loneliness, he could handle. But no punishment or torture remotely equaled the threat that Bowser had dropped as he had turned to him, his human features distorted by an ugly and cruel sneer.

"If you do anything to try and get out of here, they're dead. That lovely Princess you're so enamored with? Dead. That miserable coward you call your brother? Also dead. I guarantee you I will kill them both, and I will make sure they thoroughly suffer to make you pay for it. Is that understood?"

Mario had already been heavily restrained at this point, faced with a squad of Bowser's best guards and Kamek hovering menacingly above them, wand in hand. But that didn't matter. He might as well have been alone with the tyrant, free and fully capable of defending himself; the dark promise would have halted him in his tracks all the same, paralyzing him with an identical wave of sickening dread.

He had only managed to give a single, haggard nod in response, and as soon as the malevolent king had departed with his troops, he had caved under the weight of his own despair. There, left alone to rot in the deepest dungeon of Bowser's fortress, he had spent many hours stagnating in emotional agony, overwhelmed by a crushing feeling of helpessness and guilt.

This was all his fault. He had fallen into his enemy's trap, and now his loved ones were in grave peril because of his foolishness. Worse yet, he couldn't protect or even warn them.

It was a nightmare come true, and the torment it had plagued him with ceaselessly had made it impossible for him to rest or think about anything else, exhausting him beyond his limits.

He was still reeling from the shock and astonishing surge of hope he had felt when the princess had entered his cell. To see her there, alive and well, reaching to offer him any form of reassurance she could despite his horrendous mistake and appearance had felt almost like an absurd dream in itself…

But to find Luigi there as well stunned Mario in a way that he couldn’t put into words even if he tried. To think of all that his little brother had braved for him - and still continued to brave, even now - was absolutely staggering.

Mario was vaguely aware of the sound of Peach's voice as she offered him a few hushed words of encouragement, but he could barely hear her. His mind felt as though it was wrapped in a thick layer of wool, fuzzy and packed. The prickling sensation at the corner of his eyes intensified, making his vision blurry and unfocused.

Luigi took a tentative step forward, then another. He was being cautious, his movements measured and small. Something in his demeanor told Mario that he wasn't doing this out of unease, or to mentally steel himself, but for another reason entirely. He was observing him attentively, trying to gauge his reaction, and it was suddenly clear that Luigi was being careful for his sake instead of his own.

The pressure at the back of Mario's throat became all at once suffocating, and he made a choked noise as he tried to press himself further against the wall he had backed into, hiding his beastly face in his hands.

"Per favore… Non avvicinarti di più", he whimpered brokenly, vainly trying to conceal himself from view.

He didn't understand how Luigi could remotely find it in himself to look at him, and less even approach him. His little brother had always been frightened of fierce creatures. Mario recalled many nights where he had held Luigi close when they were young, assuring him that no monster would ever come near him. What good could he accomplish now? In a cruel twist of fate, he was stuck as the one thing he had vowed to protect Luigi from, and there was nothing he could do to change his predicament.

He couldn’t handle the mere thought of his brother staring at him with terror in his eyes. He just couldn't. It would be too much for him to bear.

"N-non ti v-voglio spaventare", he stuttered weakly, amidst the ragged breaths shaking his entire form.

There was no audible response to his plea, and for a few harrowing seconds, Mario believed he was alone once more. Wondering, despite himself, whether he had wished so dearly to see Luigi and Peach again that he briefly managed to persuade himself that they were indeed there with him. But then, he heard a faint sigh, and was deeply startled when two very small hands took hold of his own, gently prying them away. The contact was meek but insistent, and Mario found that he didn't have the resolve nor the willpower to fight it. Gradually, his clawed paws were withdrawn from his face as he heaved and shuddered, his eyes still shut tight in mortifcation.

He couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. He was petrified.

"Ciò non potrebbe mai accadere…"

With a start, Mario gasped and looked down to see Luigi fondly shaking his head. He was smiling, albeit in a pained and wobbly manner, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. His gloved fingers went to cup the underside of his jaw, grazing the scaly area in a gesture completely devoid of hesitation, and with seldom seen certainty, he serenely held his gaze.

"…caro fratellone," he added in a fragile murmur, before leaning forward and past his snout.

Mario instinctively lifted a trembling arm before he even registered the embrace, powerless to resist the pull. And when Luigi tightened his hold, worldlessly inviting him to do the same, he found himself entirely unable to hold back any longer. It was then that the stupefying reality of it all finally hit Mario with full force, and he broke down crying as he gingerly engulfed Luigi in a tender hug.

"Sei qui! Sei davvero qui!" He repeated like a mantra, sobbing profusely.

"Io sono qui," Luigi returned, his kind voice muffled against his neck. "Non vado da nessuna parte."

Never had Luigi been the one to comfort a scared and distraught Mario before, but in this exact moment, nothing felt more right. They both needed this, they knew, and for more reasons than one.

Standing respectfully off to the side, Peach looked on as Luigi whispered something else in Italian, causing both brothers to huff in incredulous mirth. She watched as Mario ever so gently angled his head downwards, ruffling Luigi’s hair with his cheek as he lightly stroked his back. And as she did, it occurred to her with stark clarity that they were really - and truly - two halves of a whole. Separating them seemed as awful and unnatural a thought as a world existing without either night or day. It was simply inconceivable.

Walking out from the shadowed spot where he had quietly observed the whole exchange, Junior wandered closer and stopped a few timid steps away from the princess, his gaze riveted on his feet.

"I understand, now," he mumbled dejectedly.

Peach turned to the young prince, giving him a soft and curious look. Before she could inquire about his statement, he feebly kicked at the dust and joined his hands behind his back, purposely averting his eyes still.

"I understand why this was so important to him," he elaborated, designating Luigi with a slight jerk of his chin. "Why he did all of that, and why he wouldn't back down. I didn't know they were so…"

He trailed off as he looked at the bros, a glimmer of wistfulness and empathy shimmering in his eyes.

"Inseparable?" Peach supplied for him, knowingly.

He nodded, his outwardly nonchalant demeanor however made less than convincing by his troubled frown.

"Do you… Do you think there's a chance Mario will still want to be my friend?" He eventually asked, his voice plaintive and small.

Peach blinked at him in mild shock, and with a compassionate smile, she bent down to his level.

"You have reunited him with his brother," she reminded him, emphasizing the sheer significance of that fact through her tone. When he tried dismissing it with a rueful shrug, she laid a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look at her. "You did a wonderful thing, and we're all very grateful for it. Mario loves you very much no matter what. He'll want to thank you himself, no doubt."

Though he tried not to let it show, Junior was visibly elated and relieved by her response. He rocked on his heels with a boyish grin, looking proud and hopeful for the first time that day, and Peach found that his enthusiasm was contagious. With a pleased hum, she smoothed out her dress and motioned for him to follow her just as Mario and Luigi finally parted.

They didn't know how they would solve this issue, and if they were all honest with themselves, they were also very apprehensive about what was yet to come. But something had changed. They no longer felt defeated, lost or isolated. Where there had previously been nothing but fear and sadness, there was now love and support. A newfound assurance and sense of security. A powerful warmth that helped soothe the pain.

They were all together again, and this already felt like a victory in itself.

-oOo-

[arainbowofchaos]

You're my light ✩

pair: Jungkook x reader

genre : mainly angst and a sprinkle of fluff, owing to Jungkook's charming persona :)

warnings: mentions of alcoholism, depression, agoraphobia, daddy issues and grief

word count: 9k

summary: Trapped by social anxiety within the confines of your home, your world transforms upon Jungkook's arrival, your new neighbor. Little do you know, he's not just a stranger but a figure from your past with some hidden history. Could Jungkook hold the key to mend your emotional wounds and lead you towards healing?

[A/N]: Please lemme know what you think I'm getting anxiety just posting the whole thing, kinda put my heart in it. Thank you for taking the time to read.

Emotionally wounded, you watch raindrops collide with the windowpane in your kitchen, wondering how the rain would feel on your skin. Rain is a soothing melody, a solace that you have come to cherish. Over time, this sound became comforting, like a song on repeat. On days like this, the push to do anything fades away, and the guilt dissolves.

Childhood memories of carefree puddle-splashing play in your mind, a stark contrast to your current existence. You long to regain that spirit, but stepping outside triggers a heartache. It's sad how you have become a recluse, avoiding the world. In shame, you look at your hands, still holding the knife you've been using to chop vegetables. The rain has captured your attention, making cooking an afterthought.

This routine has become your comfort zone. You no longer venture beyond your home, convinced that there's nothing worthwhile outside. You find contentment in isolating yourself from the world around you. Your sensitivity is heightened to the point that everything wounds you – every comment, gesture, and thought grazes against you, leaving scars that will never fade. You've resigned yourself to living with these wounds indefinitely, seeing no reason to expose yourself to new ones. 

Your mother had preached the importance of moving forward, but confidantes are scarce since her departure. Loneliness envelops you, and you carry your burdens alone. Pills offer fleeting relief from the pain, granting you sleep.

Your father's feelings of resentment towards you are like a cloud that comes and goes. He struggles with alcohol, which makes things even more complicated. Even though you left his home a long time ago, he still shows up at your place from time to time, causing scenes and making things difficult. His hurtful words and actions when you were younger have left deep scars, making you scared of trusting men and feeling like you don't deserve love. 

Until your new neighbor steps into your life.

One Monday morning, he rings your doorbell persistently, but you consciously choose to ignore it. The chime continues to echo, punctuating the air with its urgency, yet you remain resolute, showcasing your mastery of avoidance.

His second visit takes a different turn. Instead of ringing or knocking, he leaves a dish of hwajeon for you on your doorstep, thoughtfully covered with a plastic dome. As you bend down to retrieve the dish, a note beneath it captures your attention.

"Hey there, I'm your new neighbor. Hope we can meet soon. Jeon Jungkook."

You're speechless. No one has ever made cakes for you before this day. Neither neighbors nor family have ever shown the slightest attention since your mother passed away. On that afternoon, you indulge in three floral cakes, sitting on your couch and sipping your red berry tea. And in that moment, your heart feels a bit lighter than usual. It's strange but for once, you feel like someone actually cares.

Jungkook doesn't wait long before coming for his third visit. When he knocks this time, you open the door right away, handing him his plate. It's been cleaned and carefully wrapped in a bag. Taking the bag quickly, he looks at you with surprise in his big brown eyes.

"Hey, I'm Jungkook." 

"Hi, I'm Y/N. Thanks for the cakes... they were really good," you say, feeling a bit awkward. This kind of attention is new to you.

He grins, his dimples catching your attention. With that in mind, you take a quick look at him from top to bottom. He's tall and wears loose clothing, with piercings in his lip, ear, and eyebrow, and his arm is covered in tattoos. His underground style seems to suit him perfectly. He's definitely not your average guy.

"Thanks. I run the Kiwa Café downtown. Maybe you could drop by sometime?" 

"Yeah, sorry, I'm not really the type to go out. Have a good one."

You attempt to close the door, but he stops it with his arm. He’s got some strong arms.

"Wait, what if I bring you more treats to try? Since you don't really go out." he suggests.

You're taken aback, finding it hard to believe what you're hearing. Your expression softens as you timidly nod. Jungkook responds with a warm smile, saying, "Great, I'll drop by tomorrow with more goodies. And perhaps you could treat me to some coffee?" He playfully winks and takes a step back. His body remains turned toward you, as if he's reluctant to turn away. You thank him once more and close the door before he leaves your driveway.

You're left in a state of shock. What does this guy want? Why is he being so kind? You can't quite grasp the situation, but one thing is certain: you appreciate his way of talking to you. He effortlessly makes you feel comfortable, a rare occurrence for you.

The following day, Jungkook shows up at your door, dressed in a black crop top, a denim jacket, and blue ripped jeans. He's brought chocolate-filled hotteoks for you. You're torn between the excitement of the pancakes on your kitchen table and the delight of having Jungkook strolling through your apartment, softly singing. His presence carries a warm aura that envelops you in its positive energy.

You've fulfilled your promise and offered him a cup of coffee, complete with a metallic pink plate and a dessert fork. He finds the color charming, and you blush because compliments about your tableware are a rarity. As you both savor the sweet treats and chat, you learn more about each other. You find out that he's a lifelong resident of Busan and that he chose to move out of his parents' house because his brunch restaurant is thriving. The business is doing so well that he's been able to hire additional staff. He's looking to create more space in his life to enjoy moments outside of work.

When he asks you why you no longer leave your home, you honestly reply that there is nothing waiting for you and that you are content with the way things are. He listens without passing any judgment, a quality you greatly appreciate.

As your conversation drifts to cooking and books, you uncover that he's a sensitive and humorous individual, incapable of harboring negative judgments against others. Talking to him feels effortless; he has a way of making you feel at ease and never foolish. His voice carries a gentle cadence. He speaks slowly, ensuring that each word glides smoothly from his lips. There's no rush, just like the soothing sound of raindrops tapping against your window. It dawns on you that you could easily become accustomed to the comforting sound of Jungkook's voice filling the air as he talks to you.

Your conversation is abruptly disrupted by a forceful knock on the door, and your heart clenches as you apprehensively consider the potential visitor. In an instant, your father enters without warning, causing your heart to race. His surprise is unmistakable as he takes in the sight of Jungkook in your kitchen.

"Who's this guy?" Your father snaps, his gaze fixed directly on Jungkook. His anger radiates palpably, and you can easily discern the influence of alcohol in his slurred speech.

You remain silent, feeling deeply uncomfortable and shocked. Jungkook notices your immediate tensing as he enters. Just moments ago, you were just fine, but now it's painfully clear that this new arrival is unwelcome. Since you don't respond and seem terrified, Jungkook decides to speak up.

"I'm Jungkook, your new neighbor. And you?" Jungkook stands up and extends his hand to your father, who responds with a forceful strike rather than a handshake. You shiver from head to toe, feeling helpless in finding the right words to say.

"Get the hell outta here!" the man continues aggressively. However, Jungkook appears entirely unimpressed; he's determined to understand who this man is to you and won't leave you alone with him unless you confirm it's your wish.

"Y/N, you good?" Jungkook's concern shows. Tears well up in your eyes, and no sound emerges from your mouth. You feel like you can't breathe; a panic attack takes hold, and you're desperately trying to calm yourself.

"And she's crying again, what a mess!" your father curses. Those words are enough to prompt Jungkook to take a step forward, his tone resolute but composed.

"Sir, I'd appreciate it if you left now," Jungkook addresses your father calmly. "Y/N needs some space, and I think it's best for all of us if you give her that."

Your father's face turns red with anger, and his frustration becomes even more evident. He clenches his fists, and for a moment, it feels like he's about to explode. "An' who do ya even think y'are, tellin' me how t'handle my own family?" he fires back, his voice rising.

Jungkook maintains his composure, though a trace of concern flickers in his eyes. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to help. Y/N deserves a bit of calm right now," he says, his tone even.

Your father's anger escalates into a scene. He raises his voice, exclaiming, "I dun' need no stra-nger tellin' me 'bout my own daugh-ter!" His words reverberate in the room, thickening the tension.

Jungkook keeps his gaze on your father, his patience unwavering. "I'm not here to lecture anyone. I'm just asking for a bit of understanding."

After a heated exchange of words, your father lets out an exasperated sigh and storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The room is left in an uneasy stillness, the weight of the confrontation lingering in the air. You're now alone with Jungkook, your heart still racing from the encounter.

Jungkook returns his attention to you, his expression softening. "Hey, you're okay. He's gone now. Just take deep breaths, alright? You're safe."

His words provide a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You manage to steady your breathing, focusing on Jungkook's reassuring presence.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice still trembling.

Your new neighbor offers a gentle smile. "No need to thank me. I'm just here to make sure you're okay."

Without a word, Jungkook takes a step closer, his intention clear. You feel a warmth emanating from him, an unspoken gesture of support.

And then, in a moment of profound understanding, his arms envelop you in a gentle embrace. You welcome it, allowing yourself to lean into the hug, feeling his comforting presence wrap around you. Your hands find their place around his small waist, fingers curling slightly.  It's been years since you've been hugged. Feeling Jungkook against you, his black curls tickling your face, his scent—a blend of orange and passion flower—is intoxicating.

...

The recent days have brought a wave of happiness, unlike any you've experienced in a long time. Jungkook has become a constant presence, visiting you almost every evening after closing his café. Each time, he arrives bearing the day's leftover treats, and you've noticed a pattern – it's almost as if he sets some items aside especially for you, given the appearance of new treats daily.

When he arrives, the two of you embark on culinary adventures together. Seeing him wear your pink apron unexpectedly charms you. He often ties his hair in a small bun, a detail you can't help but notice and find appealing. His comfort in your space is noticeable, and he respects your boundaries. He doesn't ask intrusive questions, and his curiosity never makes you uncomfortable. You feel grateful that he doesn't push for explanations after the incident with your father. 

As the days pass, Jungkook's daily visits continue, leaving you to ponder the underlying reasons behind his actions. This situation intrigues you - you perceive yourself as ordinary, yet his consistently caring behavior since the beginning prompts you to wonder what might be driving it.

It's hard for you to fathom why your new neighbor seems so determined to drop by every day. You've contemplated the possibility that his feelings might extend beyond friendship, but considering you've only known each other for a week, it's unsettling.

It's the way he gazes at you intensely when he assumes you're not looking, and how he naturally gravitates towards your presence. It's not an everyday occurrence for such an attractive individual to show active interest in you. Slowly, you find yourself beginning to rely on his company, and it leaves you feeling anxious.

Gathering your thoughts, you find the courage to ask the question that has been swirling in your mind.

"Jungkook... I gotta know, why do you come over every single day?"

Surprise lights up his eyes; it's evident that he hadn't anticipated such a direct inquiry. He clears his throat, and a slight blush graces his cheeks.

"I really enjoy hanging out with you. If my visits bug you, just let me know" he answers, his voice gentle and reassuring. He fidgets with his lip piercing, briefly averting his gaze before locking eyes with you once again, a newfound intensity behind his look. While you accept his response, an intuitive feeling suggests that there's more beneath the surface.

"How can I put this?” You start to ponder with a touch of caution. “I like having you around. But I can't help but wonder if this routine might get old for you."

He shakes his head vehemently, his gaze tinged with a hint of sadness at what you've just suggested. Then, he asserts with conviction, "I value every moment we spend together, whether it's here or anywhere else. I'd love to take you out sometime, but I don't wanna rush it. What matters is us being together like this."

His way of conveying his feelings is beautifully simple; he genuinely just wants to spend time with you. You're flattered, and your astonishment is transparent on your face – it's as if you're struggling to believe the sincerity he's displaying. As Jungkook takes a step closer, the soft scent of his cologne envelops the room, infusing the air with a comforting familiarity. He gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers warm against your skin, and looks at you with a tenderness that's impossible to misunderstand. The truth of his intention is unmistakable.

"I want you to know how amazing you are. Seriously,"  he tells you with unwavering enthusiasm. Your head unconsciously tilts toward his touch, like a flower leaning into the sunlight, and your motion garners a fond chuckle from him. "And you're super cute, too."

Even though you're not really looking for romance, you find yourself hoping to have him around as much as you can. You know that his interest might not last forever, but you're not focusing on that right now. The happiness he brings you in the present is what matters most.

This is what ultimately leads you to the decision of accepting his invitation to join him for a drink at his café.

"You know what? I've been thinking... I'd like to check out your café. See where you work," you admit, your words laced with a mixture of curiosity and eagerness.

Jungkook's face brightens, a wide grin forming on his face. His enthusiasm is palpable as he practically springs up from his seat.

"Really? That's awesome!" he exclaims, the genuine delight in his voice making your heart skip a beat. You both reach an agreement that this visit will happen before the café's opening hours. The next day, he'll come to pick you up in his car, a detail that adds a tinge of excitement to the anticipation.

...

If you were to describe Jungkook's café, you'd say it's vibrant and luminous. The space isn't huge, but it's cozy. Along the bay window's entire length, carefully arranged flower pots create a greenhouse-like atmosphere. Small tables are tucked away in this space. The use of materials, like wood and black metal, adds an industrial feel. The ambiance radiates warmth and elegance, suggesting he's tailored the café to match his personality.

From Jungkook's expression, you can tell how delighted he is that you wanted to explore his work. You understand how much energy and passion he's invested in his business. It warms your heart to see him bustling behind the counter, preparing your black sesame lattes while humming a happy tune.

When he joins you at the table nearest to the bay window, right beside the azaleas (which are so exquisite that you want to appreciate them up close), he places the two lattes on the table with utmost care. A heart-shaped milk foam graces the surface of your latte, an attention to detail that elicits another slightly quicker heartbeat from you.

Amused, Jungkook observes your contemplation of the drink, a playful glint in his eyes. You lift your gaze, your cheeks tinged with a soft blush, and you offer a genuine expression of gratitude. If he punctuates this exchange with a sly wink, it's merely to incite laughter and a fond roll of your eyes – he's become quite attuned to your reactions.

Taking out his phone, Jungkook seems a bit nervous and asks, "Can I take a picture of you?" 

"Why? I... uh…" Panic sets in – photos aren't really your thing, and you kind of wish you could just disappear.

"It's like your first time out in forever, you know? Capturing the moment could be cool."

But you're not totally convinced. You're thinking of saying it's kind of silly, and honestly, you don't feel like you deserve all this attention. I mean, you're mostly here because of him, right?

"What if you took a picture of me too?"

It's this last proposition that changes your mind. A photograph of Jungkook is something you genuinely desire. Perhaps it could be a way to keep him close even when he's absent? You might seem like a stalker, but your newly awakened feelings can't be suppressed. You nod and retrieve your rarely-used phone; this seems like the perfect opportunity.

He gets into a pose all effortlessly, with this tender look in his eyes. You snap the shot, capturing his cute smile forever in your phone's gallery.

"Now it's my turn."

You're not sure how to pose, so you just kind of shyly look at him while holding up your latte.

"You look really nice," he says quietly from behind his phone, and those words make you way happier than you'd admit. Taking a sip of your coffee, you segue into conversation.

"Your coffee is amazing, and I really love the vibe. I get why it's doing well."

He grins at your nice words, looking kind of proud.

"Thanks, I'm glad you like it. You're welcome here anytime."

"I don't want to bother you while you're working, though."

"Nah, you're not bothering me. Time drags when you're not around."

And you're not sure if it's the latte or just his friendliness, but words start flowing out before you can even think.

"I could actually work here. It'd be a good spot for me to write my articles."

Jungkook nearly chokes on his coffee, but he's got this big happy smile on his face.

"That would be awesome," he says, all gentle and sincere.

This is the first time a man has made you feel so desired in a way that isn't just about the physical. He also feels the need to have you around all the time. He's equally invested. And even if you don't fully comprehend your contribution, you're determined to reciprocate, to make him feel as special as he makes you feel.

...

You've been involved in writing literary articles for a long time, tracing back to your primary passion: reading. It all started with a simple personal blog during your teenage years, where sharing your thoughts online gradually captured your interest. As your blog gained more followers, you could sense your confidence and pride blossoming. Suddenly, at 20 years old, an unexpected opportunity knocked on your door. A renowned literary journal offered you a chance to write a weekly article. The thought of working remotely and getting paid to review new publications felt almost unreal. Writing was the most cherished aspect of your life, and this offer meant the world to you.

But little did you realize that this enjoyment of yours could deepen even further... until that fateful day when you made the decision to spend your time working in Jungkook's café. 

As you step into the café on your own, he instantly notices, rushing over with uncontained excitement to envelop you in a tight hug, even lifting you off the ground. The words of genuine pride he whispers into your ear create a unique warmth that ignites within you. Experiencing his authentic appreciation becomes one of the most heartwarming sensations you've known.

And then, unexpectedly, he brings forth an assortment of beverages – tea, lemonade, and orange juice – with almost whimsical efficiency, all in quick succession, "to keep you perfectly hydrated!" His insistence on not accepting any payment only adds to the sincerity of the gesture.

As night's curtain descends upon the café, he bids his farewell to the last customer, turning to cast you a smile that seems to hold the very essence of genuineness and sincerity. "What an absolutely incredible day!" he exclaims with an infectious enthusiasm that swiftly spreads to you. 

Throughout the day, you've been attentively observing Jungkook as he effortlessly manages the café's bustling operations. Every interaction with customers is an exquisite display of his innate politeness and warmth. From the way he greets them with a genuine smile to how he takes the time to inquire about their preferences, it's clear that his kindness isn't reserved just for you. 

You're deeply moved by how your connection with Jungkook has grown. He's been persistent in breaking down your walls from the very start. This transformation is clear: in a short time, Jungkook has become a significant part of your life, a cherished friend. Despite initially thinking you could handle things alone, you're now openly admitting that his presence brings you real happiness.

The issue lies in the fact that when you return home in the evenings after your days spent together, the burden of anxiety returns to rest upon your shoulders. A new kind of apprehension emerges – the fear of losing the friendship that provides you with so much solace. Tears well up at the mere thought of a future without him, and you're frustrated with yourself for feeling this way. Why does it seem so difficult for you to appreciate the current moment? You find yourself convinced that someone as wonderful as Jungkook doesn't belong in your life, especially when he embodies all the qualities you could ever wish for in a person.

...

Jungkook vividly remembers the first time he laid eyes on you. Both of you were in middle school, but in different classes due to your two-year age difference. He was pushed by a classmate from your class because he was doodling cute characters on paper instead of playing soccer. Instead of making fun of him like everyone else, you stepped in to defend him. At that time, you were more confident, and confronting others didn't bother you. You simply couldn't ignore injustice. When you helped him pick up his pencils from the ground and flattened his crumpled drawing under your books, you said words he could never forget, "Hey, don't let anyone boss you around. You've got every right to follow your passions!" with a wink that made his stomach flip. He didn't know what love was back then, but that's when he started paying attention to you.

That's why he noticed the exact moment when the change occurred in you. He still doesn't know the reason to this day, but it used to torture him. He observed how you withdraw into yourself. You spent time alone during breaks, barely responding to your classmates' invitations. He liked coming close to you to draw, and you didn't object; you let him do it as you read your book quietly. Occasionally, you exchanged knowing glances, but no words were spoken. During those moments, he felt like he was supporting you – not leaving you alone like everyone else seemed to do. How could he not notice the spark extinguished in your eyes? You, who used to talk and laugh loudly, had become silent.

And then one day, you finished school and he lost sight of you. It made him really sad, his heart felt broken without you around. What you might not know is that Jungkook never forgot you, even during the years when he couldn't find you. He held onto memories of you, even when he had chances for romantic relationships. The idea of you stayed in his thoughts, making it difficult for him to let go completely, his mind always coming back to you.

A few months ago, he came across an article written by you – he couldn’t believe it. Just seeing your name brought back so many memories. He dedicated hours to reading your frequently updated blog. Learning that you've been residing near his café filled him with immense joy. He felt like the luckiest person alive.

And so, he decided to leave his parents' home and quickly found a place to live right next to yours. Some might find this weird, but for him, it was a natural step to reconnect with you. Your warm welcome was just like it had been before. Believing in destiny, he sees this reunion as something meant to happen. His goal now is to help you find your carefree self again, if you're open to it. And it seems you are.

There's one thing that Jungkook would like to come clean about: he wants you to remember the 12-year-old boy he was. He needs to admit that he was that person to you, even if it might change things between you. 

...

It's 6 AM, and Jungkook's awakened by his usual alarm – just like every morning, you're the first thing that pops into his head, especially since your photo adorns his phone’s wallpaper. It's been a few weeks of almost daily hangouts, and he senses you're opening up bit by bit – he really wants to gather the guts to ask you out. He worries that if he waits too long, you might start misconstruing his intentions. He just wants to make it clear he doesn't want you to see him as just a friend. 

Running his fingers through his dark hair, he lets out a groan before burying his head in his pillow. He knows he'll have to gather his courage and take the leap soon. Jungkook gets out of bed and heads for a shower to clear his mind – when he's suddenly alerted by the sound of his front doorbell ringing. Quickly slipping into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, he rushes to open his front door.

Standing right there is... you, and it doesn't take him long to realize that your eyes are red and puffy, and it's evident that you've been crying. Your braids are disheveled, and you're still clad in your hello kitty pajamas.

"I... I kind of just showed up... I saw your lights on... I'm... sorry... didn't mean to bug you," you sob, and it's a heart-wrenching sight that tugs at his emotions. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his embrace, aiming to provide comfort.

"I'm here, you're not bugging me at all, you did the right thing by coming over. C'mon in," he reassures you in a gentle voice. Jungkook's scent carries a hint of soap, and you're enveloped in it, feeling the warmth of his body beneath your cheek. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat has a soothing effect, helping you regain control of your own breathing.

As he welcomes you into his home, Jungkook closes the door behind you and leads you into his living room. There's minimal furniture – just a sofa and a TV – he moved in not too long ago, after all. And most of his free time has been dedicated almost exclusively to you. He motions for you to sit on the couch and takes a spot nearby, leaving a small gap between you to avoid overwhelming you. To his surprise, it's you who scoots closer, seeking solace in his arms again – and he's more than happy to oblige. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as if silently saying, I'm here.

"Hey, what's going on, Y/N? You seem really upset," Jungkook worries. His voice still holds traces of morning huskiness, and his warm breath brushes against your skin. You're enveloped in a comforting atmosphere.

"I... I'm just struggling... with everything... and it's like I'm scared of every little thing," you admit, but what you really mean is I feel like I’m suffocating when you're not around. "Before you came along, being alone was fine... but now…”

And maybe nobody else could quite grasp the weight of what you're expressing, but he gets it immediately – he holds you even tighter, offering reassurance.

"I like being around you too. You shouldn't stress about it, it's a good thing,"he says gently.

"Nah," you reply with a serious tone. "I don't want... to end up relying on whether I see you or not... it's kinda silly, I barely know you." And even if you come across as rude, you don't care. You need to let it all out. Your eyes are brimming with tears as you try to explain. "If you leave, what am I supposed to do? I don't want to feel like I can't function without you."

Jungkook chuckles softly—not at you, but at your words. You're not used to relying on anyone. You've lived in seclusion for so long that the simple realization that you're comfortable with someone triggers a tsunami of tears within you.

He decides that now is finally the right time to be honest. You were the one who first confessed your feelings to him—albeit clumsily. And seeing you cry like this, it's clear that there's something there for him, even if it's just a tiny spark.

"I can't imagine doing well without you either," Jungkook admits softly. Your face turns to him swiftly as his words reach your ears. His gaze is unapologetic, genuine, full of tenderness, and you can barely meet his eyes because of how intimidated you are.

"What do you mean? We've only known each other for a few weeks," you express, a bit stunned. "How can you be sure about that?" You inquire further.

Jungkook pauses - this is the moment. His hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "To be honest, we've known each other for a bit longer." You lean back a bit, pulling away from Jungkook, much to his regret, but it's expected; his words have taken you by surprise.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, cautious and a bit skeptical.

"Just give me a moment, I'll be back soon. It'll make sense," He says with a reassuring smile.

Jungkook gets up from the couch and disappears for what feels like a long, endless few minutes before he returns, holding a photo album in his hands. He settles back down beside you and offers you the album. "I was around 12 years old in these class photos. Maybe it'll jog your memory."

You could have never predicted what was about to unfold. As you turn the pages of the album, suddenly there's a photo of a little boy looking back at you. He's dressed in a school uniform - much like the one you wore in middle school. And you recognize him, but it's hard to believe it could actually be Jungkook, right?

Your eyes widen so much that no more tears come out; you're just in shock. You can't even speak.

"Look, I hope you're not mad. This wasn't easy for me to spill out. I was worried you'd want nothing to do with me after this," he says with a touch of nervousness.

You shake your head, finding it hard to believe his words."Wait, Jungkook, you're telling me this little guy is you? The one who used to draw next to me every single recess?"

He nods, a bit shyly, and it's like you're seeing your old schoolmate all over again. The one who was always hanging around, no matter where you went, bringing you some kind of comfort during those tough times after your mother passed away. Suddenly, all those memories, the good and the bad, are swirling in your head, and honestly, you just want to hit reset, go back to square one. You jump up, needing to leave, to head back home, pop those pills to make the past just shut up.

"Don't go like that, just let me explain." Jungkook tries to hold you back, but you're already in the entryway, your hand on the doorknob.

"I probably shouldn't have come here. Jungkook, I... I'm not mad at you, but I really need to leave."

"Wait, hold on. Can we talk instead of you leaving like this? Please, don't disappear on me again!" And he's yelling at this point, his voice echoing in the room, and you realize the pain it holds. Suddenly, you're no longer thinking about yourself, but about this vulnerable boy who wants to keep you close. What are you afraid of?

"I've got a lot of baggage, you know. I... I don't think I deserve your attention. It's like a waste of time for you to be with someone like me." you declare with frustration.

"I might not know all the details about your past, but I see you as an amazing person. And I really care about you, like, a lot." Jungkook's words come out gently, his gaze steady on yours, as if he's trying to express the sincerity of his emotions. 

"Can you give trusting me a chance?" He's asking sincerely, and you want to agree, but you're afraid of how he might react once he realizes how messed up you truly are. 

With a reluctant nod and a hint of hesitation in your gaze, you still find yourself willingly accepting the hand he's reaching out to you. There's a sense of liberation in letting your guard down. Confronting your anxiety attacks with Jungkook by your side seems to surpass the effectiveness of any medication, even though it involves the potential risk of future pain.

...

"Have you continued drawing, Jungkook?" You inquire, a genuine curiosity lacing your words.

His response is tinged with humility. "Yeah, I still doodle here and there, but I won't pretend I'm some pro. It's just a thing I do for fun." 

A playful grin forms on your lips. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

He playfully retorts, "Well, you'll probably find out sooner or later if you stick around."

A chuckle escapes your lips. You're in it for the long haul.

After the revelations Jungkook shared, everything suddenly clicks into place, a puzzle of emotions now neatly assembled. The enigma of why this extraordinary man took interest in you unravels, fittingly revealing its answer. Welcoming a figure from your past back into your present is as bewildering as it is enlightening, considering the deliberate isolation you've woven around yourself. Encountering a familiar face wasn't part of the story you had envisioned.

From that morning onward, a new rhythm emerges. You initially thought you'd want alone time to process the revealed truths, but surprisingly, you find yourself craving his company, seeking the comfort he brings. He becomes a regular presence in your space, creating a cozy spot on the sofa bed where you engage in countless conversations that stretch beyond twilight.

During quiet nights, if you stir from slumber, you retreat to your bedroom with a mix of hesitation. He pretends to be asleep, his breath shallow, and you ponder whether his gaze would reveal more in the dim light. In recent days, touch has become a silent language, fingers grazing skin to convey comfort and understanding. Your thoughtful gestures extend further, seen in the room you make for him in your bathroom and closet. He transforms into a dependable source of support, and you both intuitively sense the ease with which you share moments and spaces.

Here's the thing, you find yourself yearning to deepen your connection. Despite feeling shattered, you're attuned to the moments when your heart races. What you feel for him goes beyond mere fondness; you desire him in a way that leaves no room for doubt. As he rises in the morning, stretching and gifting you his first smile, you find yourself yearning to kiss him. Yet, the beauty of your dynamic lies in its naturalness, making you eagerly anticipate the day when such a moment will unfold seamlessly between you two.

Yet, the weight of your past remains a burden you carry alone – you can't bring yourself to accept his love until he's aware of your complete history. You're well conscious that his perception of you might shift dramatically, perhaps even pushing him to retreat. He clings to an image, a nostalgic notion of you from his childhood, and you've undergone significant changes since those days. Even though he's cognizant of this, you pick up on his yearning to resurrect the person you once were – and that's simply unattainable. You'll never revert to that former self. So, being honest, when he confesses something later while you both relax on the couch – his head on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair – you’re not prepared.

"I think I might be falling in love with you," he confesses, his words breaking the tranquility of the moment you're sharing in front of the screen.

The admission catches you off guard, and you react with a mixture of surprise and conviction, "That can’t be."

"Why do you say that?" His tone carries a touch of reproach as he lifts his head to meet your gaze. It's evident that your response has struck a chord with him, and you're already grappling with a pang of guilt.

"I'm not the best person, you know... I've caused pain to people in ways that don't make me deserving of your affection. Trust me on that," you explain, hoping he won't press further.

He leans back slightly, a contemplative look on his face, "You should talk to me about what happened. I'm not trying to rush you or anything, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. Always."

The sincerity in his eyes and the way he puts his feelings on the line encourage you to open up, to let him in, even though you're fearful of the judgment that might come with revealing your past.

You curl up into a small ball, wanting to appear as small as possible.

"What do you wanna know?" you ask him, your voice soft.

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, determined to seize the opportunity you're giving him to learn more about you.

"I'm kinda curious about what went down when you were 14, the time you started isolating yourself in school to read," he says, sounding pretty straightforward.

"You actually noticed that back then?" you respond, genuinely surprised that he paid such close attention.

"You used to be this bright presence, and then, you changed. I caught onto that real quick. I was too shy to ask you about it. I still regret it, you know…" His voice wavers at the end, revealing the sincerity of his words. He really wishes he could've been there for you.

"You were just a kid too, Kook," you say gently, using the nickname that brings a smile to his face. "You were more there for me than anyone else, and I appreciate it."

He never anticipated finding you again, let alone receiving your gratitude. Whatever you're about to reveal to him, he wants to spend the rest of his life protecting you, making up for lost time. He wants to hold you in his arms. He wants to kiss you. He wants you to finally understand that he loves you deeply, and that nothing could ever change that.

"I lost my mother, and it's my fault," you finally admit, the pain clear in your trembling voice. "I caused the car accident."

Jungkook remains silent, allowing you the space to share your story without interruption. He gently caresses your wrist, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"Back then, I had this blog where I shared my favorite books, but my dad didn't like it at all. He was having this huge argument with my mom when everything happened," you explain with a heavy tone, avoiding his gaze as you speak. Tears start to well up, and your voice wavers, "My mom was always on my side. She meant the world to me, and when I lost her, my whole world just fell apart."

"Oh, sweetheart..." he murmurs gently, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace that you welcome despite your feelings of guilt. "You can't blame yourself for this. Were you in the car too? And your dad?" His question is tender, his disbelief evident as he realizes the burden you've silently carried for so long.

"My father and I survived, but he holds me responsible for the accident and wants nothing to do with me," you share, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration. "I lived with him alone until I turned 20. I tried to continue my studies, but when I got the offer from the journal, I left. I could finally make a living and never see him again," you recount. "Yet, from time to time, he comes back just to make me feel awful, like he did the other day when you were here."

Jungkook is appalled by your father's behavior. How could anyone blame a 14-year-old? It's beyond comprehension.

"Wow, that's just... messed up," Jungkook responds, his voice filled with disbelief, "I'm really sorry you had to go through that. I can't believe your dad would do that to you. Blaming you for something like that and cutting you off?"

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of your past still evident in your tone. "Yeah - he couldn't handle the fact that I was doing something he didn't agree with, even if it was just writing about books. And when the accident happened during their argument... Well, he put all the blame on me."

Jungkook's grip on you eases slightly, his empathy palpable. "But you managed to get away from that toxic environment," he remarks, his voice warm. "You grabbed the opportunity and moved on, working at the journal and building your own life. That's pretty damn courageous if you ask me."

You manage a half-smile, the memory of your journey to independence still vivid. 

He lets out a soft sigh, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. "You’re not blaming yourself for what happened, right?"

A gentle chuckle escapes you, laced with a hint of irony. "What do you think? I isolated myself all those years. It's hard to forgive myself."

Time feels suspended as you've just opened your heart completely. There's nothing left hidden. To your astonishment, Jungkook hasn't fled as you half-expected he might.

His touch remains warm against your skin, a silent reassurance that he's here to stay, regardless of the scars you've unveiled. In his eyes, you see a mixture of empathy and affection, as if he's been waiting for this moment to understand you more deeply. The weight of your shared emotions hangs in the air, mingling with a newfound sense of intimacy.

"I hope you can forgive yourself someday. And thank you for sharing your past with me," he says softly, his voice a soothing tune that dispels the tension in the room.

You manage a small smile, touched by his words. "It wasn't easy to open up, but I'm glad I did."

His fingers tenderly brush against your head, as if affectionately tousling your hair, "You don't have to carry your burdens alone anymore. I'm here for you, no matter what."

The sincerity in his voice resonates within you, and you find yourself leaning into his touch. In his presence, the weight of your past seems just a bit lighter, the pain a bit more bearable. As the minutes pass, the silence between you feels comfortable, a testament to the unspoken connection you've forged. With Jungkook by your side, the wounds of your history don't sting as sharply. It's as if he's a balm for your soul, mending the broken pieces with patience and care.

As you bask in the quiet companionship, you realize that the journey ahead won't be without its challenges. Healing takes time, and vulnerability is a journey of its own. But now, you have a partner who's willing to walk that path alongside you, no matter how rough it gets. 

...

Since opening up to each other, a shift has occurred in you. It's as if a dormant part of you has awakened, nudging you to venture beyond your comfort zone. You start small with grocery shopping and even a cinema visit, hand in hand with Jungkook. Soon, solitary walks, workdays at various locales like the park, library, and Jungkook's café become your norm. Life starts to regain its hues, and appreciation for it blooms once again.

While strolling in the park one day, a familiar face approaches you, etched with anger and accusation. Surprised, as you've been feeling watched lately, you realize it wasn't just paranoia.

"So, now you decide to step out, huh? Putting on a show?" Your father's words sting with bitterness. "While I've been miserable since your mother's death, you seem to have magically found happiness? You make me sick!" His voice carries a storm, discomfort washing over you.

You face him, his spiteful words hanging heavy. The once-sunny day turns chilly, leaving you vulnerable. Refusing to be shattered by your father's words, you gather courage. "You don't get to hold me responsible for your unhappiness," your voice steady despite inner turmoil. "I've grown; I'm finding my own path."

Your father's anger sharpens. "Oh, really? So, this guy brings you joy while I've been in misery?"

The tension hangs thick, a cloud between you two. Heart pounding, you recall past conflicts, but this time, you're resolute.

"I'm not responsible for your pain. But I won't let it define me either, and I won't apologize for seeking happiness."

Your words linger, a testament to your growth and strength. As you stand firm, the weight of your journey toward self-empowerment shines through your words.

"And you know," you continue, your voice softer, "We both deserve to heal. Holding onto bitterness won't help either of us. I've found a path that brings me happiness; I hope you can find yours."

A pause follows, your father pondering your words. Anger in his eyes wavers, replaced by uncertainty. With a sigh, he looks away, shoulders dropping.

"Yeah, do what you want," he mutters, his tone subdued.

"Thank you," your sincere response. "I wish you well."

Turning, you walk away, leaving tension behind. Your father watches, then turns and walks in the opposite direction.

Arriving home, you find Jungkook, donning your pink apron, making Bulguri Noodles. His presence warms your heart. Sharing the encounter, he expresses admiration for your strength. Grateful, you thank him for empowering you to stand up for yourself, a reflection of the strength you both have shared since your childhood days.

...

As the anniversary of your mother's passing approaches, cemeteries evoke intense aversion within you. Visiting her grave has grown daunting, fueled by insurmountable anxiety and fear of encountering your strained relationship with your father, even with Jungkook's soothing presence.

In the midst of your emotional turmoil, Jungkook offers a beautiful idea that flows effortlessly from him. "Why not create a commemorative day?" he suggests. "Visit her cherished places, do activities that brought her joy. It's about preserving her memory in your unique way."

The weight of uncertainty settles on your shoulders. "I'm not entirely sure if I can handle it," you confess, your voice laced with vulnerability and hesitation.

Jungkook offers a reassuring smile. "If you want, I can be there with you. We could do it together."

"I would genuinely appreciate that," you respond, the warmth of gratitude and emotion swelling within you.

And so, the journey to organize a day dedicated to your mother's memory begins. For you, it's an opportunity to reacquaint yourself with her essence through the prism of cherished memories. For Jungkook, it's a chance to glimpse her through your eyes.

The day arrives. Jungkook dresses elegantly, clad in a crisply ironed white shirt and black linen pants, his black hair framing his face ethereally. On your part, you've chosen a modest black dress, an homage to your mother's favorite color. Jungkook's admiring gaze lands on you, a testament to his appreciation for your choice.

"You look stunning," he murmurs, releasing an almost inaudible breath.

His words melt doubts. With him by your side, you face the day's commemorations with newfound resilience.

Instead of a cemetery, you honor your mother's artistry in an art gallery. Jungkook's presence is reassuring as he walks beside you, holding your hand. 

Art speaks to you, a reminder of your mother's love. Pointing out art that reminds you of her, Jungkook listens intently, genuine interest in his eyes.

You confess, "I used to enjoy when you doodled around me. It reminded me of my mom. She loved drawing. She used to illustrate stuff for kids, but she also had these personal pieces she kept just for herself."

Pride and affection light Jungkook's face. The urge to kiss you is strong, but he restrains it. Today is about honoring the memory of you and your mother.

Leaving the gallery's embrace behind, you step into the warm caress of sunlight and head towards Haeundae Beach. The yearning to bask in the lovely weather and absorb the ocean breeze propels you onward. Memories surge back – those cherished moments, just the two of you. Your mother's days off often translated into these special beach outings.

As you approach the beach, the golden sands extend before you, converging with the vast expanse of azure waters that stretch towards the distant horizon. Jungkook's gaze locks onto yours, brimming with hope and vulnerability. With a softness as tender as a whisper, he asks, "Would your mother have approved of me?"

He looks so young and uncertain, so adorable that your heart could almost burst. The fact that he's even asking this question makes you fall for him a little more.

A rush of emotions floods you, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She'd have adored you," you reply, your voice brimming with certainty. “You two share so many passions and values. She'd have wanted me to find someone like you."

In that moment, Jungkook's hesitation dissipates. His resolve to convey his feelings takes over. He takes a step forward. "Then, maybe you could build your life with me?" he says, his voice carrying hope and charm.

A mix of emotions wells within you, your heart caught between longing and self-doubt. "You might not fully realize what you're getting yourself into."

But Jungkook surprises you, his fingers intertwining with yours, his touch tender. His gaze, so intense and sincere, meets yours as he says, "I understand more than you might think."

Your heart skips a beat, the gravity of his words sinking in. The day, this moment, is a culmination of emotions and shared experiences. And then, without hesitation, he utters the three words you've yearned to hear from him for so long.

"I love you."

It's a confession that echoes in the space between you, a declaration that tugs at the strings of your heart. You didn't anticipate how deeply his words would resonate, how they would weave into the fabric of your being. The tears you've been holding back finally break free, a testament to the depth of your emotions. They trace a path down your cheeks, mingling with your smile as you respond, your voice unwavering and genuine, "I love you too, Kook."

Jungkook's been waiting for this moment, for your reciprocation, for the confirmation that your hearts beat in sync. His hands find your face, his touch gentle yet filled with purpose. And then, with a tenderness that transcends words, he leans in and kisses you. 

As his lips touch yours, warmth envelops you.

You're home.

[stillness-in-green]

On Heteromorphs & Heteromorphobia (Introduction + Terminology + Arcs I - V, Entrance Exam to Sports Festival)

Being a project to observe and document the use of the term “heteromorph,” the people described by it, and the depiction of their experiences with discrimination in My Hero Academia

OR

“No, heteromorphobia isn’t new or a late-story retcon.  The non-heteromorph main characters just weren’t confronted with it for a long time, that’s all.”

Introduction

In this series of posts, I will be examining heteromorphic characters and heteromorphic discrimination chapter by chapter, arc by arc, up through the plotline coming to a head in the attack on Central Hospital.  My overall aim is to demonstrate that, contrary to widespread assertions otherwise, heteromorphobia had ample groundwork laid long before it burst to the forefront in My Villain Academia.  My analysis will generally fall into one of the following categories:

General observations about heteromorphs in the world: how the reader is introduced to them individually and as a group, their demographics, the language used to describe them, how they fit into the structure of professional heroism, etc.    

Aspects of the series—scenes, character beats, worldbuilding details, etc.—which I believe canonically point towards heteromorphic discrimination, even before that discrimination was explicitly acknowledged.

Aspects of the series that could be read as evidence for said discrimination, but which may or may not have been intentional on the part of the author.    

Discussion of how individual characters intersect, or could intersect, with this form of discrimination.

I would like to fold the Vigilantes spin-off into this analysis as well, as that series is very good at taking aspects of worldbuilding from the main series to their logical, street-level conclusions; I may also examine other extracanonical material (the data books, the movies, TUM and the novels, etc.) if I find—or have suggested to me—anything relevant to the topic.  More on this as I get closer to the end of the material in the series proper.

The current plan being to end my mainline analysis with the hospital attack is largely because, at the present time, Shouji’s response to the mob seems to be the series’ last word on The Problem of Heteromorphobia.  I may, however, continue beyond that point if the series circles back to the issue in a major way between now and the completion of this project.

In the meantime, join me below the jump as I lay out my thesis, explain the rationale behind the terminology used in this piece, and dive on into the canon material, from Chapter 1 up through the conclusion of the Sports Festival in Chapter 44.

   

The Thesis 

Anti-heteromorph discrimination has been present as a background element in the series from the very beginning.  However, this is obscured by the main character’s lack of awareness of it, the overlap between such discrimination and the broader dehumanization of villains, and, perhaps most crucially, the fact that the term “heteromorph,” while serviceable as a descriptor for a broad categorization of quirk types, is uselessly broad for discussing heteromorphic discrimination.

It’s very easy to say, “The idea of heteromorphs being discriminated against is a ridiculous retcon,” if one views the story as suggesting that all people with heteromorphic quirks are subject to the exact same levels of discrimination, while transformation and emitter types are never discriminated against at all, no matter how they look.  This, however, is demonstrably false if one instead looks for patterns in the types of discrimination demonstrated throughout the series.  The common element in heteromorphic discrimination is that it becomes drastically more likely the farther away one is from the “normal” appearance of humans prior to the Advent of the Extraordinary.  This is particularly the case for those with heteromorphic quirks tied to animals or those who live in rural areas.

   

On Terminology

Baseline/Divergence: “Baseline” is not a canonical term, but it is a useful one.  I’ll use it to describe bodies that look more or less “normal,” with features like those humans would have had before the advent of quirks.  Bakugou is baseline; so is Momo.  Tokoyami and Koda are not.  I’ll also sometimes use “divergence” or “divergent” in association with this concept, especially for people who have no more than one or two cosmetic differences that are not associated with an animal.  Jirou’s earphone jacks or Iida’s pipes would be examples of such relatively minor divergences from “baseline.”  It is, as I will argue, a significant factor in the extent of discrimination that heteromorphs face.

Igyou/Heteromorph: The Japanese term Spinner objects to in Chapter 220 is igyou, literally meaning “fantastic; grotesque; strange-looking; suspicious-looking” per Japanese dictionary site jisho.org.  It’s often appended with gata, “type,” and people who have quirks of that type labeled as igyou-gata no ningen.  The Viz release translates igyou to “heteromorph,” and igyou-gata to “heteromorphic” or “heteromorphic quirk.”  It’s much more clinical-sounding to an English ear than a more literal translation of igyou would be; thus, when Spinner suggests that the word is not very politically correct, the Japanese reader will have a much clearer understanding of why than the English reader.

Another thing Spinner says about igyou is that, despite the fact that it’s not a good word for formal contexts, everyone uses it day to day.  However, as far as I can tell, and troublingly for fans who want to avoid using an offensive word, there is no polite alternative.  We see people using the word to describe themselves, Aizawa uses it freely in discussing how his quirk affects the type in question, but we don’t get to see an academic paper or expert interview letting us know what we should say instead.

I’ve only seen two alternatives.  One is buried in Vigilantes and is less “a polite alternative” and more “a mouthful of words to prevaricate around not having a polite alternative”: tokushuna taikaku no mochinushi, or, per the Viz translation, “individuals with unique bodies.”  The other, used by the firebrand PLF advisor leading the hospital riot, is kotonaru katachi, which means, roughly, “differing forms.”  It’s better, but still more of a descriptive phrase than a noun, and runs into the issue that something vague like “differing forms” could also apply to, for example, congenital anomalies or amputations. It also uses the same kanji as igyou, just a different reading of the characters, so it’s unclear if Spinner would find that wording just as objectionable.

It’s tricky to navigate this, too, because it’s not all 1:1 translation.  Spinner doesn’t object to being called igyou while thinking that igyou-gata or igyou-gata no ningen would be fine—that is, he’s not saying he doesn’t like being called a heteromorph, but being called a heteromorphic type or a person with a heteromorphic quirk would be fine, in the way that you see debates about person-first versus identity-first language in e.g. the autistic community.  It’s the word igyou/“heteromorph” itself that he dislikes.

Why?  Well, the obvious answer is that the word itself, down to the kanji involved, denotes the people it’s used to describe as being strange or different from normal.  Transformation-type quirks have a similar if less pronounced issue: henkei can mean “transformation” or “metamorphosis,” but it can also mean “deformity.”  Emitters are the only ones who don’t have this problem at all, with hatsudou meaning simply “invocation” or “put into operation.”

When that kind of normativity is baked into the language itself, it’s impossible to even talk about without Othering the people you’re discussing.

While neither addresses the language issue specifically, Ujiko and Re-Destro both offer some useful insight on why the issue exists.  Ujiko says, “With each passing generation, quirks become more mixed, more complex, more ambiguous(...).”  Re-Destro, meanwhile, asks, “Isn’t it odd how society insists on conforming to the old ways of thinking while eliminating anyone who doesn’t fit the mold?  Especially since we as a species have moved beyond the very notion of normal!”

My suspicion, then, is that no polite alternative exists because the concept itself is so nebulous, and talking about it—as we will see—leads to thorny, difficult-to-categorize places when people prefer to keep things nice and tidy, easy to sort and put away.  This is convenient for people who are uncomfortable talking about it, since policing people about their language is a great way to shut down discussion entirely.

Indeed, I’ve seen as much in the fandom—thoughtful, well-articulated posts wholly dismissed with snotty rebukes against using the word “heteromorph” on the basis that it’s equivalent to a slur, with no further engagement on the posts’ actual content.  I often see “mutant” used instead, but I don’t view that as any kind of solution, for two reasons.

Firstly, and more simply, using “mutant” creates confusion due to its overlap with the idea of quirk mutations—situations like Eri’s.  Indeed, in the Japanese, while Pops uses the Japanese word for “mutation,” kanji that would normally be read as totsuzenheni,[1] the furigana show that what he's actually saying aloud is the English word, giving the reading as myuuteeshon.  The word igyou is totally unrelated—it doesn’t even have any kanji in common with totsuzenhi—so I feel it’s best to not add ambiguity where none exists in the original text.

Secondly, and more irksomely, “mutant” is what the most widely available fan scanlation used as a translation for igyou.  Scanlation!Spinner says it’s the word “mutant” he dislikes; it’s not dodging offense to use the scanlation version instead of the official when they’re both placed in the exact same objectionable context![2]

Pictured: me being extremely unimpressed with people who use “mutant” accusing people who use “heteromorph” of using slurs.

All that said, in the absence of any polite alternatives provided by the canon, and in the interest of not throwing out the only word we have in favor of a nonexistent nicety the story’s victims themselves have no access to, I will be using the word those victims themselves use: “heteromorph.”

For further specificity, I will use “heteromorph” to describe anyone, regardless of quirk type, with a physical form that diverges from the pre-Advent baseline, while using “heteromorphic quirk” to denote quirks of said category and those who bear them.

Categorizing Quirks & the Division of Arcs:

Usually, when I denote a quirk as a given type—emitter, transformation, heteromorphic—I’m using the English fan wiki’s classification.  However, note that, while these broad quirk classifications are discussed within the series, there is no canonical source that categorizes the vast majority of the quirks we see in the series.  In character sheets, data books, narrated quirk explanations or the anime’s tic of showing characters’ names and quirks on-screen, the only information given is the quirk’s name and a brief explanation of its function.

Fan wikis, however, are run by curatorial fans, who want to have that information all down neatly, so I’m sure there are whole discussions behind classifying some of the more borderline cases.  I will be discussing the insufficiencies of the current system of classification, but any time I declare a quirk as being classified as a certain type, that’s based on the wiki, not the text itself.

The wiki was also my reference for the breakdown of arcs in the series. They are equally noncanonical, but convenient for the purposes of keeping this piece broken down into digestible pieces.

Let's get started.

   

Heteromorphs and Heteromorphobia Chronologically

The Entrance Exam Arc (Chapters 1-4)

Chapter 1: 

On the very first page, we meet li’l Tsubasa, the winged boy who is implied to eventually become the Winged Noumu during the Stain arc.[3]  No longer in Bakugou’s friend group by the time they’re in middle school; according to the data book, that’s just because he changed schools, but that information does come with an ominous ellipsis trail-off…    

The very first villain we see is a heteromorph, yelling at heroes to go away.  We’re told he’s a purse-snatcher who transformed into his large size—he maintains his base appearance even after being captured and shrinking back down to a normal size—when cornered.  Called “pure evil” by Kamui Woods and while that does speak more directly to the dehumanization of villains than that of heteromorphs, it’s notable that this very first comparison between what heroes and villains look like shows such a stark difference between which one looks human and which one doesn’t.        o  Kamui Woods himself is a transformation-type rather than a heteromorph-type, but he blurs the line between quirk categorizations.  Even at “rest,” his limbs have a wooden appearance; he transforms their shape and size, but not their basic nature.  In that sense, he has a heteromorphic body.  His humanoid size and dimensions, though, as well as his mask, make him appear baseline at a casual glance.  I’ll be discussing him in more depth later, but note that if you read this first confrontation in light of later reveals about heteromorphic discrimination, it’s the one who wears a mask that’s a hero.

But with Mount Lady getting the final blow, note how everyone in this picture is baseline except the literally muzzled villain.

Of twenty-four visible kids in Deku and Bakugou’s class, only two have clear-cut heteromorphic quirks.  One girl has horns but no other divergent features nor other apparent power in use; the other is of the “different head” style, a boy with what looks like a pair of needle-nose pliers in place of a normal head.  One other boy has gnashing, sharp teeth; it’s unclear whether they look like that all the time or whether it’s a transformation effect.  The rest of the students all seem to be emitter or transformation types.    

Introduction of the Sludge Villain, whose body is entirely fluid.  Implied to kill those whose bodies he possesses, at least the ones he intends to fully hide himself within.  We’re now two-for-two on villains being heteromorphs.    

The crowd full of bystanders are all baseline:

Keep this image in mind for when we get our first crowd shot of villains.

Chapter 3+:

You can identify both Shouji and Tokoyami in this chapter, but Deku doesn’t talk to either of them, so they don’t have anything solid in the way of dialogue.  Shouji does get one focus in the art, though: a shot of him from behind, typifying the information-gathering type.  Nedzu first appears in silhouette but also has no speaking lines beyond a shared impressed noise with the also-silhouetted Vlad King.  One or two other heteromorphs can be spotted throughout the exam, but they’re definitely fewer in number compared to the rest.    

+: Others will crop up as Deku has his first day with Class 1-A and Aizawa in the following chapters; Tokoyami, befitting his eventual Number 3 placement at the Sports Festival, has his name regularly shown near the top of assorted exam/class activity rankings.  Shouji’s name appears likewise in Chapter 7’s track and field test rankings.    

The Quirk Apprehension Test Arc (Chapters 5-7)

Chapter 5:

Iida is, strictly speaking, the first named heteromorph in the class.  There will never be any particular sign that Iida is subject to the judgement and bias that more divergent heteromorphs are.

Chapter 6: 

Tsuyu is the next named heteromorph, the first one with an animal-associated quirk, and the first student whose facial features are clearly intended to be anything other than baseline human.  Her quirk is not yet officially introduced, but she’s identified as a froggy type by her hopping, her long tongue, and her ribbit talk bubble.    

In the same chapter that gives us our first instance of an animal-type heteromorph, we also get our first instance of animal-type name-calling:

Note the ever-stoic Shouji’s pointed lack of a response.

This is not particularly highlighted in the moment, but it will get a callback over 300 chapters later as something that warrants an apology.  Note that both Sero and Mineta are themselves heteromorphs, but neither are animal-associated. This already sets up a discrepancy between what kinds of heteromorphs experience significant discrimination, even though the reader won’t get context for that until Spinner introduces us to the CRC.    

The Battle Trial Arc (Chapters 8-11)

Chapter 11:

Shouji is formally introduced, name and quirk alike.  Tsuyu proves to be relatively outgoing despite her demeanor, grouped with the affable Kirishima, Mina, and Sato in introducing herself to Deku after the indoor battles.    

The first appearance of the League of Villains in the stinger with Shigaraki, Kurogiri and the USJ Noumu.  None of them have heteromorphic quirks, as we’ll eventually find, but it’s immediately apparent that—like both of Chapter 1’s villains—they’re much more monstrous in appearance than the heroic cast.  This correlation of appearance with criminal activity will continue to bear itself out throughout the series, getting more prominent and more explicit in the text as it goes along.    

The U.S.J. Arc (Chapters 12-21)

Chapter 12: 

Contains Ojiro’s character sheet, which notes that he always has to ask for clothing alterations when he’s shopping, which has become standard practice since the proliferation of quirks.  Another profile page leading Chapter 32 will note similarly that he has a hard time sitting normally in a chair.  Indeed, despite U.A. being the premier school for heroes, their accommodation seems to top out at exaggeratedly large doors; there doesn’t seem to be any accommodation in things like desks given for people with differently shaped bodies, like Ojiro’s tail or Mineta’s small stature.     It’s possible that specially made desks, like clothes alterations, could be provided upon request, but that puts the onus on the person with the need to ask.  Between the people in question being teenagers and Japan’s culture of meiwaku (not causing trouble for others), that’s a pretty significant disincentivization compared to just incorporating different desk sizes into the class by default, either by having a selection available in all classes or by proactively asking students about their needs during the enrollment process.

Chapter 13:

Bakugou calls Tsuyu “frog-face,” starting a trend he will continue for a long, long time of immediately going for animal traits when he’s reaching for an insult to use against an animal-type heteromorph.    

Thirteen talks about how the use of quirks is heavily restricted and monitored because, “It only takes one wrong move with an uncontrollable quirk for people to die.”  The series will go on to provide all sorts of examples of conflicts that arise from this state of affairs—reduced bodily autonomy, repression of biological compulsion, quirk-based discrimination—but Thirteen doesn’t bring up any of that.  As Mr. Compress will call out later, the UA kids are seldom given much in the way of opposing viewpoints, and that’s visible here, where Thirteen provides a very basic explanation of the status quo with zero historical or sociopolitical context.[4]

Chapter 14:

As was the case for Shigaraki’s chapter-ending stinger at the bar, it’s very noticeable that the group at USJ have a far higher ratio of frightening appearances in crowd scenes.

Venus fly-trap hands, paper ofuda body, three with weird heads, face-chest dude, the dude with four legs: some of them might well be transformation types rather than heteromorphs, but either way, they’re a lot creepier across the board.

First use of the term heteromorph, from one of the villains Shigaraki brings to the USJ attack.  It’s followed up with Aizawa distinguishing “heteromorphic types” from “operative” and “transformative” types.  As I said in the terminology section, “heteromorph” is less fraught than the Japanese term igyou, but one might guess that Caleb Cook didn’t see a discrimination plotline coming—especially since the first person to use the word is self-describing!—so went with something a bit drier.

   

Tsuyu provides the first example of a character’s quirk being named simply for the animal they resemble with the formal introduction of her quirk, Frog.  I have to wonder somewhat about the politics of this—who chooses what to name a quirk?     Do the parents themselves do it, choosing a name and the kanji to use, and then just have to get the name approved when turning in a registration form at the local government office?  Or does the clerk at said office do it after getting a description of how the quirk operates?  Is there an appeals process if your choice is rejected/you don’t like what the clerk saddled your kid with?     Are heteromorphs, especially animal-types, more likely to just get assigned the exact same quirk name as their family members, regardless of any difference in their abilities?  Both of the Iida brothers, for example, have their quirk listed as Engine, though their pipes are in different places on their bodies.  We’ll later be told that Spinner’s whole family has reptilian quirks, but his is particularly weak.  Nonetheless, it’s still called Gecko, the same way Tsuyu’s is called Frog, even though she has a whole suite of abilities—she can do anything a frog can do!—and all Spinner can do is stick to walls.  And I wonder what the culture is like on that, and who makes that call.     As a further thought experiment, consider that if heteromorphs are more likely to get blanket names of their quirks than emitters, what does that mean for the quirk registry as an investigative tool for police?  Sure, there might be a lot of fire-users in the area, but the name and description of those quirks in the database will offer more ways to distinguish between them and how a fire-using suspect wielded their flames. You don't get that when your suspect had a lizardish quirk, there are fifteen petty criminals with lizardish quirks in the city, and all the quirk registry says is, “Lizard: Has lizard-like abilities and features.”     This homogenization of people who are already discriminated against compared to the apparent effort made to distinguish people with desirable emitter-type or colorful transformation quirks[5] leaves a lot of room for lazy, shoddy or even actively vindictive police work.     (Incidentally, Hound Dog and Gigantomachia both have quirks just named Dog.  Machia’s version only grants enhanced smell and hearing; he lacks Hound Dog’s canine features completely.  This would seem to indicate that simplistic quirk names aren’t limited by family groups, but rather assigned quite widely.)    

At the end of the chapter, Tsuyu’s character page notes that she gets cold easily—a weakness to cold that fellow ectotherm-based-quirk-haver Spinner does not seem to share, despite his appearance being considerably more divergent than Tsuyu’s.  On the other hand, his power set is much, much weaker.  Possibly the more abilities you have from “your” animal, the more of their more “negative” traits you also have to deal with? This would track with Mirko’s panicky “rabbit survival senses” kicking in the instant she saw Shigaraki in the tube.[6]

Chapter 15: 

Nedzu is introduced as the Principal.  Nedzu’s an interesting case.  He must be assumed to have a heteromorphic body as he’s clearly not a baseline mouse!  And his quirk is heteromorphic in the same sense that Ujiko’s is—its effect is both limited to his own self as well as being inherent to him—he can’t turn it on and off, and he can’t affect others with it.  Yet we can’t quite assume he experiences heteromorphobia in the same way humans do because he isn’t human; if people assume he’s animalistic or less-than-human, well, he is an animal, and he isn’t human.     Personally, I think Nedzu’s experience of heteromorphobia is most interesting for how it might intersect with that experienced by human heteromorphs—for example, what do people assume about Nedzu that’s similar to what they assume about other heteromorphs, and what do people assume about heteromorphs because of Nedzu and other rare instances of animals with quirks?

Chapter 21:

Introduction of Cementoss.  His quirk’s an emitter-type, but his body, and particularly his head, is very clearly not baseline.  Similar to Tokoyami, his appearance is technically independent of his quirk, though there are visual ties.  This begs a lot of questions about the arbitrary categorization of quirks and the insufficient language to talk about people whose appearances are very far afield from the old human norm, if the only word there is for a very different body is a word that’s also used to talk about a quirk category, and it’s considered a somewhat rude word at that!     In any case, with his squarish, cement-block head, he’s also our best look so far at someone with a heteromorphic body who has a visual tie to something that is a) a recognizable, extant thing in the world, but also b) inorganic in nature.  He won’t be the last or the weirdest of these.    

Introduction of Sansa, our first animal-type civilian heteromorph.    

Shouji’s character sheet, noting that Horikoshi thinks he’s cool even if he’s not the type of guy to stand out in the crowd, and wants to feature him in the story but isn’t sure when it will happen.  The character pages often—not always, but often—show what characters look like underneath various masks and costumes.  Shouji is the first exception, with his face remaining covered by his mask even here.  I see very little reason for that to be the case unless Horikoshi was concealing his scars for a dramatic later reveal.     Horikoshi also mentions here, for the first time, that he really enjoys drawing non-human-looking characters.  Given that he will also later say that he really enjoys thinking up personal details and backstory stuff for characters, it’s not unreasonable to suppose that he might have had the idea that “rural areas are still discriminatory” from the very beginning, even if he didn’t know how much of a role it might wind up playing.  This is especially the case if he had already begun conceptualizing the members and stories of the League of Villains, as discrimination is inseparable from Spinner’s reasons for becoming a villain in the first place.    

The U.A. Sports Festival Arc (Chapters 22 - 44)

One thing that stands out to me about the Sports Festival—no particular chapters, so I’m putting it at the beginning; keep an eye out next time you read it!—is that the audience members are far more varied in terms of how they look than the street crowds tend to be.  This is particularly the case as you get towards the finals and get more crowd commentary, and thus comparatively more detailed crowd shots.

Unincluded but equally telling panels include the ones with the skeleton knight or the parasitized snail guy.

While some of this can probably be chalked up to Horikoshi’s assistants getting better at drawing colorful random extras, I don’t think that’s the only reason, given how consistent the patterns in crowd make-up are throughout the series.  Rather, it’s notable that the attendees to the Sports Festival are, by and large, Hero industry people—most of them are, judging by their costumes,[7] heroes. We know from later on in the series that Japan has hundreds, probably thousands of active heroes in the modern day, and heroism is a good path for heteromorphs who don’t want to become villains but feel stifled at the prospect of being civilians; if nothing else, having a license is a preventative against being harassed for public quirk use just because you exist!  So it’s not surprising that the mid-ranks of heroes—people with middling quirks who are, For Some Strange Reason, not popular enough to make it to the tops of the charts—are flush with heteromorphs.

Chapter 26:

The full roster for Class 1-B is shown, though only a few of them get much in the way of dialogue through the Sports Festival material, most prominently Shiozaki, Tetsutetsu, and Monoma.  Class B is where a lot of the really weird first-year UA heteromorphs wound up.  Class 1-A has got nobody even a sliver as Downright Bizarre as Fukidashi Manga and Bondo Kojirou.

Chapter 27:

Hatsume Mei’s character sheet implies that support goods are mostly a thing for heroes—a government license is required to produce them; using them requires a hero license.  Most notable from her page is the sentence, “For those whose quirks impede everyday life, permits for special life-improving items may be granted after a rigorous examination.”  That’s a lot of qualifiers, isn’t it?  You might get to have support goods that improve your quality of life if you can prove to someone from the government that your life is sufficiently impeded by your quirk—oh, and that examination is going to be really demanding.  There’s an obvious example in Aoyama’s belt, and Aoyama’s certainly no heteromorph, but it’s easy to imagine that kind of thing affecting heteromorphs disproportionately.

Chapter 29:

A small thing, but Tokoyami notes that the only person he has previously told Dark Shadow’s weakness to is Koda, another of the Class 1-A kids with a more significantly heteromorphic appearance.  We will eventually find in a volume extra about the CRC that one of their branches is a group that rejects those who have strange heads—Tokoyami and Koda are the clear examples in Class 1-A, give or take Shouji’s unmasked features and Mina’s horns and odd coloring.     The wiki notes that Koda and Tokoyami were together for the USJ attack, so the weakness may simply have come up there, but I don’t believe it’s explicitly specified anywhere what the circumstances were for Tokoyami telling Koda that information.

Chapter 30: 

A “raccoon eyes” from Bakugou aimed at Mina, a reference to her black sclera.  The Japanese here just translates to black eyes, though—still a reference to a heteromorphic feature, but not an animal insult.

Chapter 32: 

Opting to rest up during the Sports Festival’s pre-final break, Tokoyami, the bird head guy, does this by stashing himself up on a tree branch.  While I don’t think Tokoyami tends towards a lot of avian mannerisms, he will later be deeply impacted by Hawks encouraging him to fly.    

In a strategic tactic to rile up Midoriya by insulting his classmate, Shinso derisively calls Ojiro a monkey.  It’s super-effective!

Chapter 33: 

In a not-so-strategic patch of angry internal monologue about Ojiro spilling the beans on his brainwashing quirk, Shinsou thinks of Ojiro as a monkey.

Chapter 35:

Mount Lady comments on Shiozaki’s strength by calling her another plant user when talking to Kamui Woods.  We’ll see this sort of quirk solidarity in a number of other places—Endeavor’s agency full of fire types, a fire-type dude on the street expressing his support of Endeavor, Hawks quipping about both him and Tokoyami being birds—but this is the nice, safe version of something that raises a lot more questions when it’s e.g. Tsuyu’s parents both being frog-type heteromorphs.  More on that in the relevant bonus chapter.  In short, the solidarity’s nice, but pushed too far, it’s easy for that kind of thing to turn exclusionary.

Chapter 41:

The introduction of Stain.  Stain’s another interesting case of someone not being denoted as heteromorphic—Bloodcurdle is an emitter-type—but, like Cementoss, having physical traits that clearly fall in line with their quirk.  I would say Stain’s an even more borderline case than Cementoss, actually, as far as having a quirk that blurs the line on typing.

Cementoss is clearly strange-looking—less scary than Stain, but also less human—but his physical features do nothing whatsoever to facilitate the use of his Cement quirk.  Stain, though, has his tongue: too long to be a normal human feature, and certainly helpful in terms of making it easier for him to taste other peoples’ blood.  Yet we don’t call Stain a heteromorph because, in contrast to a feature like e.g. Sero’s elbows, Bloodcurdle would work the same way even if Stain had a totally normal tongue.  So how would one discuss any discrimination Stain might ever have faced over it?     Thus, my belief that the discrimination we see in the story is based, not simply on having a heteromorphic quirk, but on having a sufficient number of heteromorphic features.

---------

Thanks for reading so far! A lot of this first post was introduction and set-up, but the hints will be growing more overt as we press on. I'd like to make this series either weekly or biweekly, time and other projects depending, but it's written all the way up through the Edgy Deku arc, so I don't anticipate major delays.

I hope you all enjoy; this one has been in the works for a long, long time.

Next time: the Stain arc on through the License Exam, plus the (very telling) Tsuyu bonus chapter.

------------------- FOOTNOTES -------------------

[1] AFO uses the correct reading when he’s explaining Decay’s sudden appearance to Tenko in Chapter 222.  I assume this is because Pops is a mobster while AFO has been married to a quirk scientist for seventy years.

[2] Also too, even if I were inclined to pick one word to use as the rude word and one to use as the more formal term, “mutant” is closer to the rude connotations of igyou than “heteromorph.”

[3] Knowing what we know now, it’s possible that l’il Tsubasa is fine, and that said Noumu only has a copy of his quirk via Ujiko.  Its impulse to save/grab Deku could be chalked up as something caused by said quirk’s vestige, which the lower tier Noumu might simply lack the brain function to filter out.  It’s difficult to say if the current story will find time to address this.

[4] One has to wonder if hero schools save all the crunchy classes about Hero Civics and Modern History for the third-years, if the younger grades are learning it but Horikoshi thinks it’s too dull to show, or if students are just never taught about it at all beyond the bare minimum necessary to do their jobs by the book, and anything more than that is the reserve of higher education or specialized study.

[5] Consider the simplicity of animal-type quirk names and then compare them with e.g. Helflame vs Hardflame Fan, Explosion vs. Landmine, Float vs. Air Walk, Magic vs. Poltergeist, Bubble vs. Clean Bubbler, or Scalemail vs. Scales vs. Shield.  And that’s limiting myself to only quirks named directly in the manga!  It gets even more ridiculous if the patterns in the anime’s invented names for quirks are taken into consideration.

[6] Of course, lots of people get chills from being around Shigaraki, even before the surgery but especially after.  Everyone else has that response to a conscious Shigaraki, however.

[7] Conversely, when Mei scopes out some Support industry dudes in Chapter 35, the two she focuses on as well as nearly everyone seated around them are just baseline dudes in suits and ties.  Only one of the fourteen visible faces in that panel is a probable heteromorph.

[laylajeffany]

Heya ! ^^ Another amazing chapter =w=b

I was wondering about something. There is a lot of hospital scenes and stuff in Chaos and Karma with all the themes of disability and mental & physical health related issues, and like the rest of your writing, it's all written in depth, which I love, but with hospital stuff, it seems even more so.

I was wondering if you pull from your own experience with some of that stuff ? If it's too personal, don't feel obliged to go into details, please.

Cheers,

Thank you! It took me a minute to get chapter two started, but once I did, I was able to fly through it. I might have accidentally started something new today that I'm accidentally almost 10k into, though so...um, not sure when chapter three will be out! 🤭 Shh, don't tell my beta. She's going to kill me.

Answer behind the cut about my experiences - long winded, OF COURSE!!

I have two degrees in special education that I refuse to put on my current teaching license for a myriad of reasons. The tl;dr is because I believe in including students with special needs in my general education classroom. I firmly believe that young students are generally not given a chance to "assume competency" as the awful phrase has been coined, and districts have gotten away with this through bypassing the Least Restrictive Environment mandate by citing the importance of Early Intervention due to a lack of government-funded seats in early childhood education, not because it is best practice. Therefore, they are often funneled by "Child Find" teams who assess children for disabilities that could impact their education, directly into self-contained classrooms without ever having had the opportunity to be in a general education classroom. Unfortunately, public education is hanging on with paperclips and rubber bands that have continued to be stretched to capacity more and more over the last decade I've been working in the system. We lack the resources and staff competency for inclusion to be properly done in most settings. I have made it work for the last few years very successfully, but it unfortunately doesn’t continue for these kids beyond my classroom. Lately, I wonder if I’m causing more harm than good by giving them one very good year of unprecedented growth by being a "highly effective," intuitive educator, surrounding them with their peers, and providing them with full-time access to general education curriculum. I then have to hand them off to be tortured by K-12 teachers who refuse to even attempt to accommodate these children (which is illegal), and continue to get away with it until they have enough “data” to prove that the children “don’t belong” in their classrooms. (The lawyers have felt very differently about this, trust.) My assistant principal said in a meeting a few weeks ago, “The only real solution is for Ms. XX to be less effective at her job.” I am already doing the least. (I refuse to follow dress codes, show up late, leave early and don’t do anything that isn’t student-facing like nonsensical paperwork that is not legally required, show up for professional development, meetings, after school activities, or anything outside of my contract hours that doesn't have an extra check attached to it, etc.) My next step is to quit - and I am 100% leaving this district after next year; I’m not sure if I’ll be going to a new one or trying something new after. The other work I'm doing surrounding this is too political & identity revealing to discuss here, but just know - I'm not just bitching about it, I am actively trying to make inclusion work.

Other than that, inspiration for my hospital scene settings comes from growing up. I watched family and extended family members die in hospitals from some form of cancer to the point where death barely affects me anymore. The worst of it was in university, a friend developed stage four brain cancer that spread in weeks from one scan to a next, and we spent the second half of the semester at the hospital to be with her when we could; becoming unfortunately familiar with neurology and the ICU. I had a very interesting conversation about this with my uncle this year, who said that his parents ‘kept him from death’ until he was an adult and now processes death so poorly that twelve years after my grandma died, he JUST got rid of the house that was empty the entire time. I’m not sure if it helps/hurts to expose children to death and dying early. I find my self generally numb to death as an adult, and see the human condition as temporary with a fierce acceptance that it will inevitably end, sometimes when we expect it, and sometimes not. Also - I was a rabid House, MD fan from 2004-2009, lol (Jennifer Morrison was one of my lesbian awakenings). I have rewatched seasons 1-4 at least ten times each and recognize this is not a realistic look at the world of medicine as a whole, but I feel like it did at least make me understand hospitals and medical procedures/testing a little. I actually wanted to be an OBGYN until I was a junior in an evangelical high school and was sent to take some state testing for college admissions, and discovered my scientific knowledge was like that of a third grader due to Christian-based science instruction I had K-12, so pretty much threw that dream out the window when I realized I likely wouldn’t catch up with what would be required of me at the university level. “Who are we to question god’s earthly miracles?” Was a valid response from our educators when asking a question about science. 

[twopoppies]

hi gina, i saw on twitter that antis/solo harries are blaming us larries for what harry said about people who „blur the lines for you“ and that he means us with „there's this corner of the thing, and they're going to say this, and it's going to be really crazy, and they're going to be really mean, and it's not real...“

like they think he’s indirectly calling us out and calling us disrespectful. i know that it’s twitter and i shouldn’t take this serious because i‘m confident in my believes, but i don’t really know what to say or think about that. what do you think?

Hi sweetheart. A friend sent me this tweet just now:

And this really sums up Harry's promo. I think this article is particularly blatant and anyone who's will to look beyond their "side" can see it. He calls Twitter a shit hole and points fingers at fans (larries, sure, but really, also harries because everyone fucking hates Olivia). He comments about exploring his sexuality (what straight man ever?), but also has multiple quotes from his current "girlfriend". He allows a focuses on DWD, but only spoken about through teh author and Olivia while he speaks himself on the tenderness of the gay sex scenes in MP. One Direction and X Factor are mentioned, but there are plenty of comments about how he's surpassed even his time in "the band". Oh, and don't forget, there's lots of talk about his movies, but also mention of how he doesn't think he's that into making movies and he's already working on HS4.

They really laid out a little something for everyone.

And people are pissed. But just you wait, we'll get a little wholesome Harry content and everyone will forget how upset they are. @daisiesonafield-blog just pointed out to me how they did this after everyone was angry about the deluge of pap shoots and the fucking circus at the restaurant in New York. Suddenly we get a cutesy interview that was done months ago at Coachella and everyone forgot to be mad at Harry.

It's exhausting being his fan. And you either have to roll with it and accept that this is the way it always has been and will continue to be, or you ignore it all and just focus on his music.

But this is how he and his team are playing things. There's something for everyone. He's not going to double down on anything without also having wiggle room for dissenters to clutch at something else he's said that proves their beliefs. I really don't see how this is sustainable, but so far his charm and his talent are carrying him through it.

And just to be clear. I think H is queer. I think he and Louis are together. I think Holivia is a steaming pile of horseshit. My beliefs remain the same. I just don't know how much abuse I care to take in exchange for being vocal about it.

[bladeweaver-if]

Devlog (18/02/24)

I wrote roughly 4k words of new content today, all focused on a potential extended prologue I've been thinking of. I'm still not sure if it'll be at the start of the game or included later on because chronologically, it takes place during MC's adulthood, so I'm limited in some things such as personality shifting and variables like names and appearance which can be changed during the childhood chapters.

Of course, if I move these scenes to their chronologically appropriate place, I can ignore that and put everything in, though this scene is written as a soft-entry point to the world, essentially, and perhaps wouldn't be as impactful as I want if it's taken place after a bunch of other not-so-nice events in the world.

In terms of tone it's much darker than anything seen in the main game so far, and is basically an introduction to the kind of world Bladeweaver takes place in (unfortunately, the whole game won't be fun family times with Callen and Sonia 😅) I wanted to write it because I don't quite feel that the current prologue gets the tone I want the game to ultimately have across quite as well as I want.

There's going to be a number of options to have your MC be a real asshole, and I want that to feel appropriate in the context and general atmosphere of how things are at that moment in time.

I suppose I'll continue working on it and see what some testers think of its inclusion in the future. The current prologue, with the courier and Callen/Sonia finding baby MC, would still be present and unchanged, with a passage in the new extended prologue leading directly into it.

Based on my current progress, this new extended prologue could run beyond 9,000 new words of content, with lots of branching choices which would be remembered later on in the book, when the story catches up to this section chronologically.

That's all for now, bye!

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Biden is ratcheting up the pressure on a desperate Netanyahu who is spiraling out of control. American threats of pulling aid are the only thing that can control Israel. This happens behind the scenes whenever the hardliners in Israel get out of control. When books are written in a few years it will be revealed as always. Israel would never yield to anything other than massive U.S. threats.

It’s past time for this to end. Not just the current war but the whole issue that’s dragged on for decades. The UN needs to be empowered so they can step in and end a crisis like this.

Netanyahu’s response thus far has not been proportional and needs to end. Don’t get me wrong, Hamas brought this on the people of Gaza as they always do. They are a terrorist proxy of Iran and do not represent the ordinary people of Gaza. For far too long they have deliberately gotten Palestinians killed just to sway public opinion against Israel. They brutally slaughter innocent Israeli civilians and then use innocent Palestinians as human shields. Their benefactor, Iran, is itself a proxy for brutal dictator Putin of Russia.

Putin needs a distraction from Ukraine so he meets with Hamas and Iranian leadership both before and during the October 7th war. Hamas needs to play off the Israelis as an enemy so they can keep power on Gaza. Netanyahu and his right-wing party need Hamas as an enemy so they can stay in power. The Iranians, and other Middle East leaders, need to play off Israel and the West to keep the support of their own people.

The other Middle Eastern states will no longer take in Palestinian refugees because once in they never leave. Further they are extremely radicalized and don’t understand how normal life works because for decades they have been pushed into the streets to protest and fight by their proxy masters or some heavy handed Israeli action. Nobody cares for the Palestinians and they are nothing more than pawns to everyone involved. This needs to change. They are people with basic human rights and need peace and prosperity they same as everyone else in the world. They need to free themselves from Hamas and outside influences and the UN and its members need to step up and help them once they are free from the terrorists. For their part the Israelis need to get rid of Netanyahu and his right-wing government. They also deserve peace and security without imposing themselves on their Palestinian neighbors.

This is complicated and I don’t have the answers. It will be a long and arduous procedure that will require effort from all parties. One thing that is clear is that the killing needs to stop. The finger pointing needs to stop. The “what aboutisms” need to stop.

Some will say Russia’s involvement is a conspiracy theory. It’s not and all the world’s intelligence agencies and governments know this. To think otherwise is to be naive. The Russians have supplied all the weapons that Hamas and Hezbollah use and Iran supplies the money. Both states supply the military intelligence reports.

Some of you will forever say what about what the meddling the US and other Western states have done in the past but will never acknowledge what bad actors like Russia, Iran, China, North Korea, and others are continuing to do. These dictators can longer invade and promote terrorism as acts of foreign policy. Next up is Taiwan which will not go well for China that will suffer enormous losses beyond what Russia is experiencing in Ukraine. We can not repeat the 1930’s and be led to another world war by unscrupulous dictators.

[zephyra-in-the-house]

Heya zephyra

How're u doing 💓

Um u got any tips on how to start or make a fanfic ?

I wanna write my own fanfic I just don't know how to start

I already got my OC done and the back story of my OC

The only problem is how to start 🫤

Thought maybe ask someone with experience like u ❤️‍🔥

So u got any tips or advice ?

Thanks 😁🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

That's a good question!

Honestly, I'm not sure how I've managed to get this far in my writing. It amazes me just how many people follow Second Chances and continuously read each new chapter. I never once thought that I'd get to this point but I'm very grateful for all the love and support I've been shown because it just motivates me to keep writing~

With that aside, I started out on a pretty big scale when I first started writing fanfics. I've written two so far and basically it started as one little scene that I had in mind and then I built around it.

I'm not sure how other writers do it but I think my way may be a little unorthodox LOL

I say that because I never start at the beginning. In fact, most of the time, I will get inspired and think of a scene to write but it's almost never a beginning scene.

Instead, I always end up coming up with little scenes that are sprinkled throughout the entire length of the story. It could be a certain kind of hug or a fight between certain people or one particular conversation or something simple like that. I will then take those little puzzle pieces and splatter them all over my canvas called Google Docs. Then I go through and I reorganize each scene based on where I think they would fit during the story's progression.

Therefore, I ended up with a canvas that had various colors splashed on it.

Since the beginning, I always knew that I wanted to start with that first chapter where Macaque gets food from "Pigsy’s". That was my absolute starting point no matter what.

So, I wrote that and then I went through my colorful canvas of ideas and I split it into sections. Each section was for a specific chapter. Now, after I wrote that first chapter, I developed a process where I have the current chapter I'm working and then a more or less concrete sketch of the next 2-3 chapters to come.

I don't write more than that right away. I have ideas for chapters beyond that but nothing concrete. That's because a fanfic is constantly developing. There is no way to make concrete plans. What you plan for chapter 10 might be completely changed because of something that you thought of for chapter 6. Or you could end up writing more than intended for one chapter and have to split up certain chapters (*cough cough* the shopping trip *cough cough*). Either way, I've learned that it's better to be flexible with what you plan to post when it comes to fanfic.

That's kind of how I started and that's how I've been making Second Chances so far.

In any case, I feel like I'm rambling at this point 😅 I could talk about writing techniques and strategies for days but!

My main advice is: you do you.

When it comes to writing, there is no correct way to do it. It's kind of like art in that way. You can add as many scenes or as many wild colors as you want or you could be a completely black and white artist or someone who only writes poetry.

Either way, the key to anything creative is to just do it. It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't have to be perfect. I can't count how many times I've written something and then came back to it and gone "that's absolute shit what the fuck was I thinking". On the flip side, I've also had times when I write something and toss it to the side and I come back and I'm like "Who the fuck wrote this cause I know it wasn't me man that shits too good" 😆

So just write what you want to write and make it as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. The best thing I ever did was get into the habit of writing just to write. Whether it was a memoir or a poem or a short scene in a story I'm doing, I just write. Freeball it.

Thank you! I wish you well on your adventures!

[jvngkook97]

Happy Y/N Day!

synopsis; in which it’s your birthday and you can cry if you want too. OR you have a shit day and want to wallow in your self misery but the boys have other plans and — oh, this is awkward — we already invited everyone over for a surprise party and you definitely don’t seem like you’re in the mood for one but….surprise?

pairing; OT7 x birthday girl!reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, suggestive themes, birthday au

warnings; cursing, angst in the form of tears and terrible bosses, fluffy fluff from all the boys in their own respective ways cause they hate seeing you so sad and miserable, inappropriate birthday cakes cause that’s your type of humor (or rather it’s mine lmao), implied sexy time that y’all dirty minded people will come up with on your own I’m sure ~

rating; 18+

w/c; 2,926

a/n; it’s my birthday today was my birthday on the 15th and you best believe I’m going to self indulge and base a fic around all seven of these lovely souls and me (and you if you squint and imagine hard enough 😉) lmao but yeah like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback (and birthday wishes hint hint 🥳) is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.

networks; @thebtswritersclub, @btshoneyhive, @kflixnet

Today is your birthday.

And it was shaping up to be a terrible, horrible, no good day. Your hair is a rats nest from the biting wind and relentless rain, your clothes are soaked through to the point of your off white shirt being see through, and your makeup is beyond being able to be fixed so now you look like you’re back in your high school scene years of looking like a trash panda(no h8, m8).

Good thing you have seven soulmates in your life to lift your spirits, cause you were going to need it in all aspects of the word — moreso around the liquor portion though and not so much ghosts and ghouls, no matter how much you love horror movies.

Your only wish this year? Your only request for the boys? No surprise party.

So, imagine to your not so surprise when you open your shared apartment door to a decent cluster of people shouting—

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!”

Your lip is trembling, and you bite your lip to the point of nearly breaking skin. Your eyes begin watering, pooling at your inner creases and making their way to blur out what little vision you had left that wasn’t already obscured from your wet clumps of hair framing your face. You wrap your arms around your chest in hopes of covering up the majority of your black, lacy, bra from the multiple sets of eyes of family members and friends alike.

You just want to scream, to cry.

So, you do.

It’s your fucking birthday and you’ll cry if you want too.

Your mom’s face is worried, and she immediately goes to embrace your shivering form in a hug only mother’s can give. It just makes you sob harder.

Your step father awkwardly chuckles and tells everyone to just go along with what they were doing prior to your arrival, and at the same time waves at the boys to make their way over. Your mom directs you all out of prying eyes and into the kitchen connected to the living room, thankfully there’s a door to provide some privacy.

As soon as your mom lets you go with murmurs of entertaining the guests for a bit, another pair of arms scoops you up into a tight hug, rocking you two back and forth as they continually kiss the top of your hair. Voices around you are asking if you’re okay or if you need anything. You’re too distraught to reply, choosing to just delve deeper into the chest of your current solace instead.

They smell like strawberries, like your shampoo, and you’re able to conclude whose arms you’re in. There’s only one person who always indulges themselves in your shower products, claiming that women’s products are far more superior than mens – Taehyung.

His deep, baritone voice can be felt and heard within the depths of his chest as he speaks, your ear pressed firmly against it. His hand, along with others you notice, are either touching you, caressing you, or rubbing you in solidarity.

“What happened, y/n?”

You let out a broken whimper. You then hear the cork of a wine bottle being pulled out and someone pouring a glass. A mug that has a picture of Bam on it is thrust in front of your face as soon as you pull away from Taehyung’s hug. Following the hand to the face of your liquor fairy, you find Min Yoongi.

He’s scratching the side of his face as he waits for you to take it, there’s a worry line forming between his brows as he frowns at your distressed state. He hates seeing you this way.

“Sorry, it’s the first cup I could find. Figured it wouldn’t matter anyways.”

“I think it’s better than a boring wine glass.”

Jungkook chimes in from close by, and you see him leaning against the counter next to you. Just like Yoongi, even though he’s cracking jokes, his expression is also one of worry. When you lock eyes with Jungkook, he’s able to give you his signature bunny toothed smile, albeit small, and it’s enough to make you crack a small smile of your own.

Taking the mug into your hands, you shift so your back is now leaning against Taehyung’s, his hands wrap themselves loosely around your waist, as he rests his chin lightly on your shoulder. Each breath he takes, you can feel the warmth from his nose tickle your neck. The sensation brings goosebumps to your skin.

Namjoon notices you shiver and thinks you’re cold from being wet. He shrugs off his cardigan and steps around Jungkook to maneuver it around your shoulders, securing it around your front that he does his best to not look at, considering the situation.

“Was your boss being a grade A asshole again?”

Jimin’s head pokes itself from behind Namjoon’s broad shoulders, as he uses the kitchen island to gain enough leverage to heave himself over the tall giant to see you. Jin waves a hand in the air with anger, brows furrowing.

“Aiiiiish! You should quit that job, y/n! They don’t deserve you from the way they constantly treat you over there!”

“Seriously. You know we’ll help support you until you can find another job. We hate seeing you come home so exhausted and defeated all the time.”

Hoseok’s normal cheery voice is long gone, he leans sideways against the kitchen island next to Jimin and nods at you with a grimace.

“Maybe you’re right.”

They collectively let out a sigh of relief that has you giving them a ‘really?’ look as you chug the wine down, leaving the mug empty. This time, Jungkook takes over for Yoongi to refill your mug. His tattooed covered hand is back within your sight in seconds. When you take it, he gently pushes the hair that’s been partially shielding your face this entire time behind your ear. You unconsciously lean into his hand – it’s warm, it’s soothing. He gives a genuine smile at your reaction to his touch.

Taehyung’s grip on your waist tightens considerably. You look at him, but his eyes are surveying those around you with a look of regret.

“We’re sorry we didn’t listen to you when you said you didn’t want a surprise party, y/n.”

Namjoon clears his throat and gains your attention next. He seems just as guilty, as do the rest of the boys you realize. As much as you didn’t want one, it was true, you would endure a thousand more surprise parties if it meant that they still genuinely enjoyed throwing them for you. You — the horror loving, short, should be wearing glasses all the time but you only wear them half the time, hard working, dirty and dark sense of humor spewing, and even when you have your sourpuss moments still somehow radiate the sun out of your ass cause you have a mama bear instinct for those around you — you.

The one they cherish, adore, pretend to hate but actually love when you steal and wear their clothes even when all they do is drown you, and most importantly who they love.

You go to open your mouth and reassure them that it’s okay, they don’t need to feel bad for just wanting to make you feel more special than you already do on a daily basis by them, but a knock on the door that connects the two rooms quiets the room.

Your adorable mom pokes her head in with a hesitant smile.

“Just wanted to let you know that you have the house to yourselves, your father and I told them you weren’t feeling well and that we would postpone for another day. They all were very polite and wished you well. You have a good group of people in your life, dear.”

An authentic smile appears on your face for the first time that day, and you can’t help but agree.

“I do. Friends and family.”

You pat Taehyung’s hands that have moved to lay on your stomach and he unfurls himself from you so you can stand on your own. You give him a peck on the cheek that has his boxy grin on full display, a light hue to his cheeks accompanies it. You do the same for each of the male’s in front of you that share the same reaction.

“Your father and I are going to head out as well and let you young folk enjoy the rest of the night to the fullest.” You don’t miss the wink she sends your way before promptly closing the door and leaving.

You’re mortified at your mother’s words, more than well aware that you’ve yet to take that next step with them, and she knows it. You groan in embarrassment, until a multitude of hands gently push against your back to lead you out of the kitchen and back into the living room that’s still fully decked out in ribbons, frills, balloons, confetti, and much more. A long table houses a wide variety of your favorite foods and desserts, along with a separate table that’s meant for all your gifts both big and small.

Once again, your lip trembles, and eyes pool with water that streams down your cheeks like rivers. When the boys hear a sniffle, they go into full out panic mode. Jungkook is closest, his hands are on your shoulders in seconds as he hunches over to be face to face with yours. His expression that was once one of concern, changes to confusion when he sees a wide smile adorning your face instead.

The other male’s around the room are busy attempting to take down the decor, believing it’s what’s causing you to be upset. Your smile turns into a frown. Jungkook speaks his mind.

“Y/N? Baby? You okay? Is this all too much? Do you want to just watch movies or go lay down in bed? I just did laundry, so I can get you a new set of clothes real quick?”

He’s talking a mile a minute, and it’s hard for your clouded mind to register all he’s said at first. Once you do, does your smile he loves return in full force. You curl a hand around his neck to give him a quick, yet meaningful kiss on his parted lips that were about to word vomit even more. You linger enough to feel the pressure of his own lips return the kiss, then you pull away.

“I’m good, koo. Great, actually. And a fresh set of clothes sounds really good right now.”

He smacks his lips, subconsciously poking his lip ring with his tongue before he’s nodding at your reply, giving you another chaste forehead kiss before he’s letting you go to more than likely go and fetch said clothes for your drenched figure.

While he’s gone, you cup your hands around your mouth before giving a mildly loud shout in order to gain the attention of the rest of your lovers.

“Guys! It’s okay! You can leave the decor up!”

They all pause in their movements. Jimin is holding a long string of streamers in his arms that he’s continuously trying to keep in his arms, the material piling up easily in minutes due to Namjoon’s natural towering height and fast hands. Jin is both nibbling on the food and packing it up at the same time, one morsel of food is hovering in front of his lips that are wide open to inhale it. Taehyung and Hobi are piling up presents in their arms that they were going to transport into your shared room so you could open them up within the comfort of your bed. Yoongi is—

The lights are dimmed, casting the room into a blanket of near darkness. You turn your head towards the direction of the faint glow of light that casts a multitude of shadows around the room as he walks towards you slowly. The candles all look like they’ve been haphazardly thrown on as if it was a last minute decision to go through with the birthday tradition. Along with the glow of the candles, your heart matches it in light and warmth. Jungkook trails behind the cake holding rapper with a stack of warm clothes, his voice is soft and melodic as he sings ‘happy birthday’. The boys surround you from behind, their voices harmonizing perfectly together.

Placing both of your hands over your heart, you curse inwardly at the tears that are once again threatening to pool over as you quietly suck in a breath and release it. When they get closer, and you’re able to see the cake more clearly, do you let out a full and bellowing laugh. One that has you bent over and now holding your sides at the lewd picture that’s placed on top.

The picture is of all seven of them, their faces are on the bodies of men that are definitely not them – and once you regain your bearings long enough to close your eyes and make a wish (to be with them forever ofc), you proceed to attempt to blow the candles out in one gust. However, you fail to do so and through little fits of remaining laughter do you eventually extinguish them all.

The lights return to their normal, bright setting and now you can see the picture very clearly. The faces are theirs, yes. But the bodies are those of what you believe to be male bdsm strippers set up in various seductive and suggestive poses. You told them you never saw the appeal of receiving strippers for celebrations last week, so they must’ve ordered the cake design shortly after that conversation.

“You guys didn’t.”

Your hands are on either side of your head as you ruffle your soggy hair in disbelief.

“Oh, we did.” Yoongi smirks evilly at you.

“It’s so ridiculous, I love it. I fucking love it.”

“More than us?”

Hobi’s pouty face springs into your line of sight, you pat his face lovingly.

“Nothing could ever beat the love I have for you guys. Nothing.”

His pout turns into his usual, full grin. Jimin’s head once again peeks out from behind. He scoffs. You narrow your eyes at his challengingly. He does the same with you, uttering one word.

“Dogs.”

You roll your eyes, and this time you scoff.

“Well, obviously I love my little fur babies.”

“Our, Y/N. As in they’re not just yours. It’s a combined group effort.”

You give a dismissive wave of your hand. You rival that your fur babies shared the same loving sentiment with you as you do towards them. Knowing for a fact that if they all had to choose, they would run straight to you out of all seven men surrounding you. But – you won’t hurt his poor little heart, or theirs. Though, all this talk about your babies has you wishing they were here instead of with your close family members who opted to watch them for the night, you bet.

“Jimin? Love? Darling?”

He cautiously steps out from behind Hobi as you gesture for him to come closer to you. He does, but now you want him to bend down so you can whisper something in his ear. He obliges. His eyes widen, as he nods his head furiously and literally bolts out of the room and down the hallway. The boys give each other wary looks as they watch him disappear around the corner and suspiciously in the direction of your shared bedroom.

In sync, they all advert there eyes back to you, confusion littering their poor, naive, sexy, faces. Namjoon voices all of their collective thoughts into a question.

“What was that about? What did you tell him?”

You run a finger along each of their chests as you pass them in a line, making a point to sashay your hips in the process as you cast a smirk over your shoulder at them with a sultry smile.

“Let’s just say, I won’t be needing those clothes after all, koo.”

Jungkook glances down at the still semi warm pile of clothes that he just fished out of the dryer and back up to your face in time to watch you bite your lip innocently. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing at the action. Your smirk turns into one of surprise when said male drops the clothes and scoops you up into a bridal style pose, rushing you both down the hall and out of sight as you throw your head back in laughter and elation, arms tightly secured around his neck as you attempt to hang on for dear life.

It takes only a millisecond for the rest of the boys to sprint after you two, bumping into each other in order to gain the front position and make it to the bedroom first.

Well, all except Yoongi.

“Right. Yeah, no. I’ll just be here, you horndogs!” Yoongi’s monotone voice trails off with no response in return.

He’s still in the same spot holding the cake in his hands with a huff. Setting it gently on the table that still houses a lot of food, he shuffles towards the hallway, a small skip in his step as he goes, but not before giving one last full look at the decor. With a rare, gummy smile, he dutifully turns the lights off and turns to follow the excessive giggling that filters down the hallway. They don’t need a fat electrical bill, you know?

[oh-katsuki]

original pinned!

hello :)) okay so i mentioned this a little bit ago, but i will be moving blogs in the coming days and will be shifting entirely onto the blog @woahjo. i've decided to go by the same pseud i currently use, (because i feel like i'm lying if i don't and i hate that LMFAO) though i considered going by a new one, and my ao3 will be staying the same. i also won't be reposting anything to the new blog just yet (maybe a few of my favorites eventually), but i'll be leaving this blog up! the new blog (ofc) is a writing blog and will function essentially the same way this one does. please come join me over there if you like. i'd feel very honored <3

i'm not sure how many people really care all that much about what i have to say about this, but i'll say a little bit anyway bc i feel a lot of responsibility and big feelings towards this blog.

tldr; i'm switching blogs. it's silly to get emotional but i love it here, i love you, please come say hello over on the new one if you'd like.

i've been feeling this way for a while, and while the recent discourse had an effect, it's mostly a result of my own feelings. i just think it may be time to get a bit of a fresh start. i've had this space for nearly three years now and the community that's been built on this blog is beyond what i ever could have imagined when i first started writing. i know i'm getting a little sappy, but frankly, im shocked people wanted to be here and follow my writing at all. (i never know what to say when people tell me they do) it really humbles me and i hope to continue writing for many many years to come.

i recently took a long look at the way i view fandom culture and space, as well as how it affects me, and i sort of came out on the other side realizing that it might be time for a change of scene. i love this space. i love this community. it's something that i am deeply proud of to a point that i feel very emotional over leaving (clearly lol). in fact, i'm incredibly nervous about posting this. there's a lot of anxiety in posting your art for people to see and it makes me feel vulnerable to type a post like this telling y'all just how much i appreciate you and the part you've all played in this lovely little spot. i'm very emotionally attached to this place.

but!!! i'm excited for the type of creative refresh effect a new blog might have, as well as the ability to get to chat with you guys a little more and make friends. things get lost on here (both because tumblr sucks and because my blog is so messy that it makes me physically nervous to think about) and im hoping to be able to keep my new blog clean and tidy so that everything is easier to find. i've been feeling writer's block for a while now and i feel like having "more space to roam" (for lack of a better phrase) might have a really nice effect.

anyway, all this to say that i love it here. for those of you that choose to follow me to my new blog, please come say hello. and of course the group of old mutuals who are no longer active, i love y'all. if you ever come back to tumblr when ur old and gray, come say hi since i'll probably be writing x reader anime fic still. lol

[thecameronchronicles]

Dominant

TW: Dominant Pope! Rough Sex, Smut, language, bondage.

SUMMARY: After a series of events leave Pope frustrated at every sense of the word, you become his outlet…

WORD COUNT: 2100

*Requested*

Dominant

Anyone who knew Pope Heyward, knew he was rarely outspoken. Passionate for those he loves, he kept his own desires and emotions in such check that he was often seen as being more reserved. Even those closest to him would only be able to count his outbursts on a single hand, all of which had been from frustrations and pressures he took to heart. And as his girlfriend, nobody knew this better than you. Because on the surface, as demure and controlled he led others to believe he had been, he exercised a specific form of sovereignty when in need of his own release. And for this, you would be his conduit-and a willing one at that as all you wanted to do was please him. 

“Sit on the bed.” He ordered, closing the door behind him as he licked your lips to what was to come. You knew that he only behaved this way when he was rightfully frustrated, whether it was guilt from his parents, a row with one of the other pogues, or perhaps an undeserving grade on a college paper, you would graciously offer yourself as consolation for life’s unfair blows. For this, you didn’t care to ask the reason behind his behaviors as you would otherwise just bask in it. You did this not only because of your love for him but also for how it excited you to know that only you got to see this side of him. It was almost as if you were allowed a behind-the-scenes look at a masterpiece or even a sneak peek before anyone else and it sent your heart a million miles a minute as you currently sat in wait to his steps slowly approaching you. 

“You remember the rules, baby?” He asked, a soft hand to your cheek as you nodded, the ones he was in reference to having been that of your limitations. That if at any given point anything became too much, a single word would be uttered and he’d return to his usual saccharine self he was with you. And yet, it was a word you’d never have to use, but you bowed your head in agreement anyway. 

“You know I love you, right?” You nodded. 

“I want to hear you say it for me…”

“I know you love me.”

“Good…” He released a deep breath before pulling his belt from his slacks, having been dressed up a bit for a dinner, now dismantled exclusively for your gaze. You swallowed hard as that soft hand to your cheek was now in your hair as he guided you to your knees. 

“You know what to do…” You nodded, licking your lips one final time for lubrication before preparing yourself for him. 

“Breathe through your nose baby…I’m not going easy-” 

“Yes.” He took your hair backwards so you were forced to look up at him. 

“Yes, what?” You licked your lips. 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Good girl…” He motioned to begin as your fingers would pull down the remainder of the cloth keeping him from you. As if unwrapping a gift, your digits moved gingerly until you could have him within your grasp. 

“I don’t want your hand-Are you gonna listen to me or test me?” 

“Listen-” His brow raised. “Sir.” You spoke quickly in correction as he nodded. 

“Then close those pretty little lips around me…Take me like I’m going to give it to you…and let me use that tight throat for my liking.” You nodded as you opened your mouth to him, his hand immediately gripped within your hair, forcing you into place as you breathed through your nose. 

Even if the tears streamed down your cheeks and the mix of gagging and gasping was worrisome to anyone in earshot, you both continued as the sounds of his moans had been enough to push beyond your own limitations. And yet, you would get carried away as your fingers rounded to his ass, the perfect firmness tempting your claw as he was quick to reprimand you by withdrawing from you. 

“Can’t keep your hands to yourself? I can rectify that.” For this, he used his belt to bring your hands behind your back, locking you in place. 

“Keep going.” He motioned towards his ockc as you paused for a second, knowing how this would now prove to be a struggle with your lack of mobility. And yet, up to the challenge, as always, you took him between your lips once again. Only now, it would be with great strain as his shaft was much larger and deeper than your mouth, making you drool and cry without a means of support as he continued to bask in the tension leaving his body with your motions. 

“Good girl…Fuck…” He grunted behind his teeth. 

“I want to come inside you…so slow down-s-slow the fuck down!” But you couldn’t due to a lack of control, his thrusts making it difficult as he would pull you by your hair, a tap to your cheek correcting you as he brought you to your feet. 

“Just don’t want to behave today, do you?”

“I’m sorry sir-”

“No you aren’t…” He rivaled you breathlessly, forcing you to your feet and back onto the bed, pushing you back so you rested uncomfortably on your wrapped wrists. Sensing this, he would turn you into a bend over the bed. 

“You are supposed to be my good girl…” He began, a harsh slap to your ass making you gasp and react against the bed, its mattress at a mercy from your mutual force against it. 

“You are supposed to make me feel better and all you’re doing is testing my patience…so you know it’s only fair that I test yours…” He kicked your ankles apart, moving to his own knees and carrying his tongue between your folds. 

His hot breath against your thigh as he seemed to try and swallow you whole, his motions then turned intricate with each flick of his tongue and penetration of his fingers. But as you attempted to move against him to allow your body the pleasure it yearned for, another strike to your cheek left you with another gasp that was interrupted by his name. 

“POPE!” And to this, he lifted behind you, leaving you on the edge of your release before teasing you with the head of his cock between your needy lower lips. 

“Always so ready for me, aren’t you baby? It’s a shame you just don’t want to behave….” He was rough with this first thrust, bottoming out but giving you no time to adjust before he began his paces behind you. With a hold to the binds of your wrists, he lifted you just enough to where you were left in a strain, his hand coming to your breast and squeezing in his own neediness as he cursed behind you, mourning his knee to your side for a deeper angle, 

“You’re gonna make me come inside you, right baby? You’re gonna take it no matter how deep I am, how hard?”

“Yes, sir…” You breathed. 

“And you’re going to be quiet about it because nobody else gets to know how good you feel but me…how good you sound…wouldn’t want them to have fantasies about my girl, would we?”

“No…” He slapped your ass. 

“No sir.” You bit your lip, already half exhausted from his motions. 

“Shit, you take me so fucking well…But this ass looks so fucking good all red for me…” The grip pulling your hands as reins had now been pulled upwards until your back rested against his chest. 

“But I want to take my time…got a lot of shit to work out…” You nodded, moaning to the feeling of his large hands taking hold of your breast, kneading and fondling the soft skin and hardened nipples, making you groan to each and every one of his motions as he remained inside of you, but was stationary. 

“You move an inch and you don’t get to come at all.” He warned as you nodded, muttering a ‘yes, sir’ before his hand moved to your clit. 

“I love touching you…I love the little sounds you make and the way you move against me…but for right now, you’re gonna stay quiet and still for me…because I need to use you for ME…”

You nodded, fearful to speak to break against his command. 

“And you keep being my good girl and I’ll make you squirt all over these sheets to show you how grateful I am…” You repressed the moan from leaving your lips as you nodded. 

“Good…Now don’t come. Don’t move. Don’t say a fucking word. You let me do what I need to…” His hand sashed between your breasts, his fingers at a rest around your throat as his second hand kept at your clit, pinching and rubbing in a change from vertical and horizontal motions, testing your patience, as you struggled to obey him. All you wanted was to belt his name, make him move inside of you, even just feel his kiss. But to all, you were denied. For this, your body began to betray you. 

“God, you’re desperate for it, aren't you?” You pressed your lips together with your teeth before being turned to face him. 

“You can answer me baby, you know how much I love to hear you beg.”

“Please, sir-”

“Say my name, baby…I wanna make sure you know who’s making you so desperate…who is gonna come inside this pussy, and who is gonna make you soak these sheets-”

“Pope…” You mewled. 

“One more time for me…quietly…” He warned as you nodded. 

“Pope…” You breathed his name desperately as he nodded, finally moving inside of you. But it was only to retract as you gasped. 

“I wanna see your face while I’m inside of you…when I come-when I make YOU come…” You nodded, being turned to him in a straddle as he would keep your hands behind your back while positioning you over him. Guiding you with a grip to your hands, you sunk onto him with a groan as he scoffed. 

“Now you let me use this pussy-my pussy to feel better, okay?”

“Please…”

“Whose pussy?”

“Yours-Sir-Pope” You struggled to formulate anything as you were becoming too drunk off of his fulfillment to remain intelligible in any sense. He would chuckle at this before beginning his pace. He rooted your hips in place as you were used exclusively for his motions, your body trembling against him. 

“You gonna come?”

“Yes!”

“NO!” He breathed, his motions stilled as he pulled your hair tighter, threatening a bite to your throat as you groaned. “Not until I say-” He boomed into your skin, returning to his motions as you begged. 

“Keep begging…keep convincing me you deserve it…”

“Please, please, please Pope..Please, oh my god, please-” You moaned and groaned in desperation as he smirked and winced against you. 

“Pussy so good you’re making me come-you want my cum, baby?”

“Yes, Pope, please!” He now unbound your hands, but pulled the belt between you, making it wet with your mix of slick, before taking it between your lips and binding it at the back of your head.

“Good girl…” He purred before leading his hand to the tail left behind, pulling it until you were forced to look towards the ceiling. 

“Then make me…” You made your motions swift and deep, rolling your hips as he adored while he met against you, bringing you both to the edge. 

“Don’t come-”

“Pope-” You muttered beneath the leather of the belt. 

“Don’t fucking come yet-”

“POPE!”

At the very cusp of his release, he would finally grant you yours, “Now, baby-Right now, let go!” And to this ,he released the tail of the belt and baked in the pleasure washing over your face as you continued to ride him through your high. Once removing the belt from your clenched jaw, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, Pope…” You spoke wholeheartedly as he grinned widely before turning you against him. 

“What are you-”

“I promised you’d soak these sheets…and you were such a good girl for me…as always…and I’m a man of my word-” His fingers came to your clit, rubbing viciously before sliding those same digits into a bed, thrusting into vicious pumps. 

“Stay quiet, though…I know it’s hard…but let me give you this reward, okay?”

“Pope…Pope I’m gonna-”

“I know baby, let me have it…come on..make me proud…”

“Fuck!” You belted behind clenched teeth as he nodded. 

“Good girl baby…good fucking girl…” He smacked your ass as you coated your own thighs and the sheets as promised, a final kiss to your lips showing just how proud he was of you as you knew you’d pleased him yet again…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

[intangiblyyourswrites]

Adoring Fans (Finale)

Thread 1 | Thread 2

I can't believe it's been almost two years since the last installment of this! To this day, I'm not sure how the one collab I do with @embyrinitalics, Queen of Whump, is the fluffiest piece I've written to date.

Anyway, without further ado, here's the last part:

—

Zelda honestly was unsure how their stargazing date would go, but it went without a hitch. She took him to the university’s observatory long after closing hours, letting him peek into the telescopes and pointing out the planets and constellations. He was at awe at the Tesla coil as it sparked in purplish hues, spent time reading through the composition of meteorites, and played with the simulations that predicted what would happen if an asteroid hurled towards Hyrule. She tried to keep everything in layman’s terms when he asked questions, but ended up slipping into a couple of tangents when it came to discussing time in relation to light years. He didn’t seem to mind—appeared interested if anything—and Zelda didn’t think he could be any more perfect. 

And even then he managed to prove her wrong.

She was packing up her bags and making sure she had the keys to lock up when he glanced curiously at one of her textbooks. His eyes squinted, head tilting to the side before he pointed at the name printed on the cover of her textbook and said, “Hey, I know him.”

Her world came to a screeching halt.

“You know...Robert C. Kines?”

He looked puzzled at her wide-eyed expression, or maybe at the way she suddenly gripped the edge of the table.

“Well, he likes to go by Robbie, but yeah, he helped with the Divine Beasts Wars series I did two years ago.”

Zelda almost slapped her head for forgetting. Of course they knew each other. She had watched the exclusive behind the scenes.

He continued looking at her curiously, as if gauging her reaction. “Interesting guy, really. Very eccentric.”

It took all of her willpower to not shower him with questions, but he must’ve noticed because he smiled knowingly, “He’ll be on set for The Guardian Project next week. Would you like to meet—”

“Yes!”

So here she is, standing in front of Link’s studio fidgeting with her fingers. There’s a guard out front eyeing her suspiciously, but Link had promised that he would be out to get her soon. She double checks her slate to make sure she is at the right place at the right time and that he did, in fact, message her back three minutes ago.

Finally, the side door pops open and Link is waving her in. She looks nervously at the guard and points to Link, letting him know that she’s expected, before darting towards her date. Because yes, Link has confirmed that this is a date. Zelda profusely thanks her past life for the fortune given to her in this one.

They walk through a couple hallways before the room opens up to one giant set. It looks like some kind of laboratory with several tubes and wires hanging from the ceiling and prosthetic limbs lined up on the side. In the center is a mechanical treatment table with restraints, and the whole “room” is lit in a blue hue. Very little has been released publicly about The Guardian Project except for a brief synopsis: A young boy volunteers for a program that transforms him into the perfect soldier—something part human, part machine. After years of training, of being taken apart and put together again, he’s stationed as the princess’s primary guard in the midst of an ongoing crisis. As their relationship grows, the boy struggles with figuring out who he is and his worth beyond that of a weapon.

Of course, Link will be the star of the film, the boy that undergoes the transformation into a cyborg. That explains a lot about how he’s currently dressed, which Zelda hadn’t had a chance to observe until now. His hair is completely down and his wardrobe is composed primarily of dark clothing. Actually, it's all dark clothing that stretches up his neck, over his fingertips, and covers the entirety of his legs. It fits his physique incredibly well, and perhaps she’s staring too much because Link coughs, forcing her eyes back up to his. She doesn’t miss the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“We’re about to do a costume fitting, which is why Robbie is here.” He gestures to the back where a small group of people are gathered. “Shall we go join the crew?”

Zelda clears her throat, stamping down her own blush. “Y-Yes. Sorry, you just look so different. I wasn’t expecting it.” She averts her gaze, yet can’t help but take another glance at him. “But it looks good on you.”

If possible, Link turns even more red, but that doesn’t stop him from shooting her toothy grin. He shyly takes one of her hands and leads her forward, allowing their fingers to become loosely intertwined. Ever since they took their first picture together, little moments like these began to pile up. Fingers brushed when she brought him a drink three days ago, shoulders touched as they looked at the stars. This is the boldest they’ve been, and Zelda can’t bring herself to mind in the least.

It doesn’t take her long to spot Dr. Kine’s iconic white and wing-like hair, especially with the bronze goggles he likes to sport. A sudden bout of nerves hit her and she finds herself smoothing out her blouse as if it’ll somehow make her look smarter. Link gives her hand a squeeze before waving as one of the crew members notices them. 

“You’re right on time, Link,” she says, then turns to her and extends an arm, “You must be Zelda! Link can’t stop talking about you.”

Zelda raises a brow in his direction and Link shoots the girl a glare. “Meghyn, that is not—” He glances at Zelda, then covers his face with a hand, causing the last part of his sentence to be muffled, “—always true.”

Meghyn just laughs, giving him a pat on the shoulder and sending a wink at Zelda. “You got a good one, hun!” 

Zelda beams, unable to resist smiling. “I have no doubt about that.”

Her response somehow makes Meghyn laugh even louder, catching the attention of those nearby, including Dr. Kines. He swivels on his heels and stares at them inquisitively.

If Link ever asks her who she was more nervous meeting—him or Dr. Kines—she’d be ashamed to admit that it would be the latter, perhaps even if she were to remove the outlier that was her mood the day Link shot over her counter. To be fair, she was interested in physics prior to Link’s debut, and well, though she wanted to date Link, she wanted to be Dr. Kines. She wanted her day-to-day life to consist of tinkering with machinery, of calculating how the Ancient daggers of the Sheikah are able to create what are essentially black holes when striking an object. Being surrounded by replicas of these techs is an absolute dream come true!

Zelda realizes she’s being spoken about and to only when she sees Dr. Kines approaching. However, instead of shaking her hand, he takes a sidestep and circles her, thumb and index finger on his chin as if he’s examining a specimen.

“Ah,” he starts, and Zelda feels like a popsicle frozen in place, “You must be the same ‘Zelda’ Purah always talks about.”

She thaws instantly. “You know Dr. Anzu?”

“Heh!” He scrunches his nose. “Of course that old hag wouldn’t mention me to you. We were in the same doctoral program.”

“Old hag” is not what she would have described Dr. Anzu as, considering her mentor looked almost as young as she did. While most people with those credentials tend to be older, Zelda always figured Dr. Anzu had been on an advanced academic track. 

As if he reads her thoughts, Dr. Kines snorts. “She’s a brilliant mind. We’re the same age, you know. She doesn’t spend all her time researching old Sheikah tech.”

Zelda has to school her expression before her jaw drops because he must be well into his sixties. She makes a mental note to inquire more about this later.

“Dr. Anzu is the one who encouraged me to pursue my masters and doctorate, and we reference several of your books on a daily basis.” She bows slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Kines.”

“Call me Robbie! I’m not as pretentious as that old hag. Here, let me show you around.” She bites down a grin but when she looks up, Dr. Kines—er, Robbie—is addressing Link. “Mind if I steal your girlfriend?”

Zelda is glad everyone is looking at Link because she swears her cheeks light up like it’s Hylia’s Day. Link coughs, using the pause to give her a quick glance as if asking if she’d like for him to deny it. She answers by mirroring his gesture from earlier: taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze. 

Dear Nayru, the smile he returns is causing her heart palpitations. “She’s all yours, but I want her back before we finish off.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure she’ll be of plenty of help with your costume. Come along, Ms. Bosphoramus.”

She thinks she sees a wink somewhere behind the goggles, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. She’s about to follow when she feels a light tug at her fingers and spins back around, only to see Link staring at her in the way she’s sure is how she looks at him. He brings the back of her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon it. 

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” he says, but she’s too breathless to respond. For the nth time, she wonders how she got lucky enough to be where she is now. How did she go from simply being an adoring fan to someone who’s on the receiving end of Link Wilde’s affection? And then, to top it all off, wind up meeting her academic idol? For all her intellect, she can’t fathom how the atoms aligned in such a way to make it all possible.

“Ms. Bosphoramus,” Robbies calls out patiently, and Zelda sheepishly sends Link one last smile before catching up with the scientist. When she reaches him, he gives a knowing look. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ms. Bosphoramus. In my eyes, he’s the lucky one.”

-END-

A/N: As I was writing this, I realized how complicated their relationship is and what obstacles they will need to overcome. It's all tooth-rotting fluff now, but Zelda would want to make a name of herself in her field prior to being known as Link's girlfriend, so they will probably keep their relationship on the down-low for awhile. Then there's the court poet -cough- I mean, Zaeya, who will also make a debut and end up drawing attention to Zelink. Alas, this is not a story I'm willing to write, but something fun to think about.

Huge thanks for everyone who was following this story! It was a nice run and experiment with writing. The alternate POVs worked well in allowing for the differences in our writing styles, I think. I wouldn't mind doing another piece with Embyr one day!

[gentaro-kinniecom]

"I love you my dearest~!"

⇨Pairing: Arashi Narukami/gn!reader

⇨Cw: None! A bit of jealousy if you squint, ooc(?)

⇨A/n: Happy Sunday~! I love her sm <333 This was slightly rushed so I apologize for any mistakes or anything <33.

Producing for Knights was no easy task, however, you were glad to be friends with Arashi and Izumi. After all, you three were in the same modeling company when you were children. It all seemed fun at first, helping your friends out with their schedules, songs and even performances, but then, the war occurred, and Leo went missing for almost a week. Until Sena got to the bottom of what was really going on. Beyond everything, knights' were still together, united as a group. Therefore, things shouldn't be that complicated, right?

"Where's Leo? He's late, again"

"The last time I saw him was in the gardens doing god knows what." Y/n sighed, knowing he probably got caught up in a writer's block. To your surprise, Arashi insisted on going with you, which was common in the daily so they didn't mind.

"Looks like Mama already beat us to it." She pointed towards Madara who seemed concerned as he watched Leo sleep, thinking he passed out or had fallen from the tree...once again. As soon as he noticed you, a smile appeared, waving as they approached him.

"Good morning Madara! I see you found Leo as well" Y/n greeted him as Madara rubbed the back of his neck

"Good morning to you too!! I was just on my way back from rehearsal when I saw Tsukinaga, perhaps he's just sleeping but i got worried like any mama would~" They laughed, continuing the conversation with him as Arashi carried Leo in a bridal style, not bearing to look at the scene in front of her. Madara was clearly flirting with her crush, that he was well aware of.

"Ehem...I think it's time to leave y/n-chan~, Izumi-chan is going to go livid if we don't arrive on time~"

"Oh right! Bye Madara!" They waved goodbye as he smiled, on the other hand, Arashi looked at him with a stare that meant he was probably dead to her. He laughed nervously, turning to leave as soon as they were out of sight

"You know I like them! Why were you hitting on them yesterday?!" She sighed, arms crossed as he sat across from her. He didn't want to tell her how he truly felt about y/n, Madara knew for months about her crush on her producer and childhood best friend, yet he couldn't help but feel guilty about the scene occurred yesterday

"I know, I was just playin' around, mama would never do something to hurt ya" He was partially right about that, but Arashi felt hurt by one of the people she trusts so much

"You're right, I'm honestly scared of losing them you know. But enough of that! I'm going to practice, see you later mama!"

Days passed after that event and she swore things would settle down, oh how very wrong she was. Her worst fear came to a reality, as she watched how Madara wrapped an arm around their waist. Arashi couldn't hold it in any longer, she had to confess her love, she didn't want to lose them to the one person she thought was her friend. Calmly approaching them, Arashi swiftly took his arm off y/n's waist, smiling as she linked her arm with theirs

"Y/n darling I need to have a word with you~" Giggling softly, Arashi gently took them away from Mikejima, her smile no where to be found as she pushed them against a wall.

"You know, I usually don't act like this but, i hate to admit how I'm currently feeling.." With that, Arashi pulled them closer, kissing their lips. They softly kissed her back almost eagerly. Parting away, she smiled, pressing her forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for a while and watching you with Madara made me feel...jealous? I've never felt that way before" She shyly spoke, contrary to how she acted a few minutes ago. Y/n placed their hands on her waist, pulling her even closer.

"I like you too...I'm glad the feeling is mutual~" Hey eyes suddenly widened, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks

"Wait so you don't like Mama? I thought-"

"Of course not! He was just-, nevermind, how about we go out for some ice cream, hm?" Arashi nodded, giving them one last kiss, intertwining their fingers together.

"I love you my dearest~!"