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spenciegoob · 3 years

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Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me.

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing.

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it.

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around.

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

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onceupona-chaos · 3 years

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Why keep an open mind about Elain

(And why her book will slap hard)

When I was writing this one-shot right here, I read a few posts about Elain as a spy, some of them liked the idea, others didn't. Which is totally ok, if you don't, of course. I also reread a lot of scenes from the books to understand better how this could play out.

But I came across some comments about how Elain being a spy would make her "lose her characterization" or be "out of character". So I wanted to talk a little about it. This post will be discussing those comments specifically and why you should keep an open mind about Elain.

NOTE: As usual, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. I really hope I made myself clear. If you have any comments, I would love to hear them. Be kind!

1. Elain as a character

The first reason I don't believe that argument is because ACOSF made it clear that we know very little about Elain. So how can we say it would be something out of character for her when we barely know her as a character?

So far, we only have other characters points of view on Elain: a person who has a sweet temper. But ACOSF came to tell us that there is another side of her. Nesta expected Elain to cry because of Graysen. She didn't. Elain didn't back down from her fight with Nesta, she didn't hesitate when it came to the Trove or the Hewn City, she laughed when Nesta told her to fuck off. In every single of those moment, Elain's behavior is emphasized by one reaction of the others: surprise.

"You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people.

"Elain showed some teeth," I observed. "I wasn't expecting that."

And this is nothing new. Look at what we have in ACOFAS:

and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.

The last two books highlight that 1) we don't know everything about her and 2) we expect one behavior from her.

But most importantly: she often doesn't correspond to what it is expected of her, especially in ACOSF.

And then we have this:

With time and safety, perhaps we'll see a different side of her emerge.

But I also think we haven't yet seen all she has to offer.

And before this makes someone think Elain will not get a book because we don't have much on her character, this is exactly what books are for. To develop a character. Before ACOSF, Nesta didn't have much development either. We had seen ACOFAS lay the background for her, the same way ACOSF laid the background for Elain's story.

Elain will surprise us. Sarah is practically screaming that at this point. So before judge something as out of character, we need to have in mind that Elain will have her arc and by the end of it, she will be different, she will grow. Which leads me to:

2. In order to be developed, characters need to change

Before ACOSF came out, lots of people said Nesta would never be a warrior, especially because of this line:

And why must I train at all? I am no warrior nor do I desire to be. (ACOWAR)

And I understand. I really do. But we went from that to Nesta not only becoming a Valkyrie, but also thinking about starting a small unit of females. Yes, that line is back in ACOWAR. However, in ACOSF Gwyn and Emerie said the exactly same thing:

Gwyn gestured to Nesta's fighting leathers, the overlapping scales. "I'm not a warrior".

Emerie's face yielded nothing, as blattle-hardened as Azriel's. "I'm not interested in a warrior's training".

There's a difference between developing a character and doing something out of character.

Elain already is passing through an internal change, which means SJM is preparing her for her arc. So we have to keep in mind that Elain will pass through challenges, changes in her journey, where she will learn new lessons, abilities. She will face and deal with her traumas and flaws, because she will be developed as a character. Of course, her essence will still be there, but in order to grow, she needs to change as well.

At this point lots of things happened to her, now we will see Elain making things happen. Changes like that are inevitable, necessary, but not out of character.

Now, if Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie became warriors, why would it be so out of character for Elain to become a spy?

Personally, I think if Elain became a warrior, that could be considered out of character, because Sarah already told us that her strength comes from a different place:

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light.

Of course, this is Feyre's Pov, but is also SJM talking about Elain's nature.

We have to understand the difference between characters' point of view and what SJM is trying to tell us. For example, Nesta in ACOSF had one perception of Elain ("she is like a dog"), but SJM emphasized Nesta's perception as not correspondent to Elain's behavior. How? Using that scene where Elain talks about Nesta's dancing. in that moment, Cassian and the readers realized Nesta's point of view was biased, non correspondent to what Elain was showing us in that scene.

I'm saying that because there's a difference between narrator and author. But this is another discussion entirely.

But I truly believe from what we have seen so far, Elain isn't the warrior type. And despite the fact that we had just read ACOSF, therefore another book about warriors training doesn't sound so appealing, from what we had seen until now, Elain's has potencial (build up) to go to another direction, one that we haven't seen yet.

3. Elain already has what it takes

I want to look at this:

I wondered if Rhys’s spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadow.

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

For the record, Feyre said this in ACOWAR and these both scenes are very close to each other.

Spying is not all about shadows and stealth. Azriel works from the shadows, but if Elain can be so lovely and convincing that anyone would do anything for her, she could be a different kind of spy. And with her Seer powers, she could be a valuable one. As much or even more than the Night Court spymaster. Look at this:

Shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.

We know Elain can be almost as stealthy as Azriel. And she is a Seer, which means she can See and hear things others can't, too. Not to mention we already have seen that she is observant and knows how to keep a secret.

Elain pushed, “We keep it secret—we send the servants away [...] No one will know.”

“I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Not only she is observant, but also knows how to read people, to understand them. Look at these scenes where Nesta said basically the same thing, but Feyre didn't understand her. Elain on the other hand...

With Feyre:

“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.” Despite the sound shield around us, there was nothing to block the view of my sister baring her teeth. The view of her fingers curling into invisible claws. A scene. This was about to become a scene in the worst way. (ACOFAS)

With Elain:

"[...] if Father were here—”

“Don’t ever mention him.” Nesta bared her teeth, but kept her voice low. "Never fucking mention him again.”

Pain slowly washed over Elain’s face. And understanding. “Is that what this is all about? Father?” Silver lined Elain’s eyes, but her voice remained steady, sure. “There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta." (ACOSF)

Elain understood exactly what was going on with Nesta.

Nothing is more telling to me than this, and I highly doubt SJM didn't want to show us not only Nesta's internal issues, but how Elain can understand and read very others very easily as well.

Elain also understood when Feyre wasn't sure about buying gifts. And not get me started on Azriel's bonus chapter, where it's emphasized repeatedly that they can read and comprehend each other without necessarily saying what they meant. This shows a connection between them, yes, but also a skill.

Just imagine how valuable and rare she would be for the Night Court.

And the best part is it wouldn't be out of character, because she already presented those features. Besides, Elain can be lovely, delicate and be a bad ass spy (or whatever she wishes to, tbh) . Even better: she can use those characteristics in her favor.

Do not forget what Rhysand said: Elain is sweet and she is not afraid of get her hands dirty. We just haven't seen that yet, because SJM will show us that in her book. Simple as that.

4. Elain being a spy attends SJM's pattern

In every book (or series) so far we had a female character learning something new. Feyre learned how to control her powers (and to read), Nesta learned how to be a warrior. I think it's safe to say that Elain will learn something in order to be developed as a character.

You could argue she could learn anything, which is fair. But in ACOSF we learned that Elain can be stealthy as well. SJM emphasized it again and again, and there is no way in hell she did that just for fun. It's safe to say by now that even if she doesn't become a spy, this ability will play a role in her book.

A few examples that we all know too well by now:

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

"You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

She'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed.

What is curious is that stealth is associated with Azriel, but also with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain's friends. (Here, I highly recommend this amazing post for more on this friendship and what it means to Elain’s future).

I don't have a doubt the next book is about Elain, it will be her book. So you can't tell me the fact that her friends and love interest are spies is just a coincidence or that won't mean anything. Not when Elain herself has already started to show that she can be just as stealthy and subtle as any of them.

In this scenario, we have:

Elain learning how to be a spy with Azriel, whilst they work together to find the Trove and help each other to heal from their issues.

A female main character learning something new with the help from her love interest whilst they work together to solve a problem connected to the main plot and help each oher to heal from their issues.

I PRESENT YOU THE SJM'S PATTERN.

I know some people like or don't like this theory because that would mean Elain would have a connection to Azriel or because they don't like her becoming "similar to Azriel".

But the thing is: they already share a connection, they know each other for almost two years now and most of their interactions happened "off-screen", so they don't need her to become a spy to want to be together. They already do.

And mostly important, she wouldn't become similar to Azriel, because Elain already has the required features. We don't know much about her, but so far what we do know is: she is stealthy and a good secret keeper. She knows how to read and understand people. She can hear and see things others can't, because she is a Seer, and she can be convincing af.

Most of those were emphasized again in ACOSF concomitantly with Elain's another side. (Tell me again the next book isn't about her).

And again: a female character learning something with her love interest is SJM's pattern. We've just read a book that follows this exactly structure. Are we going to say Nesta or Feyre lost their characterization because they learned and now share the same abilities as Cassian and Rhys?

SJM already answered that for us in ACOSF:

“Does it undermine my image as a warrior to be with you?”

“No. Does it undermine Feyre’s when she’s seen with Rhys?”

This is so telling, I literally stopped my reading at this. We tend to put this passage aside because of what comes next (Cassian being very discreet and screaming he's Nesta's mate to every single soul in Velaris to hear), which is totally fair. But right there, SJM is telling us that female characters sharing abilities with their love interests is no reason to undermine them. On the contrary, in her books this is a way for them to heal togheter.

Knowing SJM, Elain being a spy along with Azriel, Nuala and Cerridwen wouldn't be nothing new. We have seen this story over and over again.

We have so much build up for this, I could go on and on and on. And before someone says this won't work because Azriel has to stay away from her, just take a second to think about how much tension we would get if they are forced to work together in order to find the Trove (or any other reason that SJM will come up with). We'll have a story full of secrets, tension, drama, angst, passion, desire, love. Things too easy don't make a good story.

But at the end, even if she does not become a spy, I just think we have many possibilities for Elain and an amazing story ahead of us. I really want people to keep an open mind about her and her book and not judge too harsh amazing possibilities as out of character. If Nesta hadn't became a warrior, we wouldn't have known the Valkyries. So maybe, when you judge a possibility like that, you are closing yourself to an amazing journey.

And also, Nesta was once judged and hated. A lot of people ended up changing their minds, which is great because she is awesome. So I think we already learned that lesson.

We will see another side of Elain emerge and she will surprise us. That's not me, that's SJM. She already told us that. Repeatedly.

All of this just to say: keep an open mind about Elain. She has what it takes and will surprise us - and I can't wait to see her becoming a badass.

#pro elain #elriel #a court of silver flames #acotar 5 #elain archeron #spy elain #acotar theory #azriel #nuala and cerridwen #elain x nuala x cerridwen #acotar theories #pro elriel #elriel theory

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ratmonky · 4 years

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Sweet Blossoms

this is a commission, my friend put a gun against my head to write this and I didn’t get to write any of my own ideas so you don’t tell me it sucked cuz i already know it did lol

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, cheating, vanilla *bleh*

AO3 Link

There was no way he could know what kind of flowers you liked so he had left you all sorts of kinds.

You crouched down and took the flower bouquet in your arms, looking around to see who had left them but you couldn’t see him when he was that far into the darkness. With the prettiest smile on your lips, you inhaled the sweet fragrances of different flowers all at once. It almost made you dizzy because of how strong each flower's aroma was.

Carefully walking back inside the apartment, you started looking for the note the cheap supermarket flowers usually came with. While you were handling the flowers, the note slipped and fell onto the floor, right where your boyfriend was standing.

“This again?” he sighed, taking the note. He opened the note shamelessly, reading it out loud. “(name), as pretty as these flowers are, they are nothing compared to your beauty. I hope you’re staying healthy and safe.” He flipped the note to see if there was more to it but when he realized there wasn’t, he tore it apart. “Sounds like a creep.”

“Don’t say that.” You frowned, watching the note get destroyed. “They are harmless.”

“No sane man would leave flowers for some college girl living with her boyfriend. He’s probably still out there rubbing one off.” He leaned to the wall. “I would,” he added with a smirk.

“Stop being vulgar.”

“You say that while wearing things like that. You look for attention as if I’m not giving ya enough.” His words made you look down at your outfit. It was just a sundress.

“You’re overreacting,” your voice was fainter than a whisper.

“Don’t play the victim now. If it weren’t for me, you’d be sucking someone off for money to afford to live in a smaller apartment than this. Maybe you’d join those hookers in the kabuki district if I stopped giving you attention, huh?”

Legs shaking, you pressed the bouquet of flowers to your chest. There wasn’t anything you could or wanted to say to him. He was being mean but he was right. Maybe you had to stop dressing up like this. If it weren’t for him you wouldn’t be able to afford your major or rent. Your boyfriend was paying for the rent while you continued studying and worked to save money to pay off your student loan.

“Never forget that you wouldn’t be shit without me.”

You rapidly nodded, avoiding making him any more upset.

“Good,” he sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Now, go wipe your face, you look like a clown.”

Your hand went to your cheek to feel your makeup over your skin. It was still smooth, not cakey at all but from the way he said it, perhaps it looked worse than you thought.

“Okay.”

Walking past him, you slipped the small piece of paper in your dress’s pocket without him noticing. You put the flowers in a vase before placing them next to the old ones. This wasn’t the first time you had received flowers from your secret admirer and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

Back in your room, hastily you took out the small paper and grinned when a movie ticket greeted you.

~~~

There hadn’t been a time in your life where you put this much effort into how you were going to look like to go out.

Your boyfriend often didn’t like it when you dressed up or put on makeup, he usually made comments on how you looked that made you feel bad about your appearance. Although you knew he loved you, it hurt your confidence. His words affected you in ways you couldn’t describe.

It was one of the reasons why you were conscious of your appearance right now and why you kept tugging your skirt down, worried that you might be showing too much skin. You wouldn’t put your small compact mirror down either, you kept checking on your makeup.

Everyone was looking at you. Thinking that you’re a slut.

At least that was what your mind was telling you. No, that was something your boyfriend would say.

While trying to ignore your own thoughts, you walked up to the employee behind the counter and showed them your ticket to enter the movie theatre. They told you your ticket’s arranged seat number and you saw from the computer screen that the seat beside yours was occupied.

You took a deep breath to calm your senses. The only reason you were here was because of how curious you were, nothing else. You had been getting flowers every Friday for longer than a year now and not knowing the identity of your secret admirer was eating you up.

I’m only gonna take a peek, you promised yourself and walked inside the theatre. If it turned out to be a creep like your boyfriend kept telling you about, then you could just walk away. This was a public space so there was no need to feel anxious about what could happen.

It took you a long moment to find your seat at the furthest back row and get comfortable on the soft cushions. The place wasn’t empty but it wasn’t full of people either, yet the row you had your seat on was completely free.

Each passing minute was unbearable even when you were trying to busy your mind with your phone but nevertheless failed to notice it when someone took a seat next to you.

By the time you looked up, there was a familiar face sitting next to you.

“Junpei!” you gasped, he always managed to sneak up on people since his presence went unnoticed.

He couldn’t meet your gaze, “Hi, it’s been a while huh?”

“Yeahh,” you went on to say before looking around, the trailers were about to start since the lights dimmed, your secret admirer was nowhere to be seen. “Umm, you see, I’m glad to see you here but I’m waiting for someone, this seat is taken.”

His adam’s apple moved as he gulped, there was a sweat droplet that drizzled down from his cheek to his neck.

Your eyes then landed on his lap. He was holding a single rose in his hand, the flower shook in his grasp.

“Oh.” It dawned on you. “Okay.”

Junpei held the flower out for you to take but still averted his gaze from yours. Slowly, you took the rose from him and lifted it up to your nose, inhaling the sweet aroma.

“You can leave,” he whispered, trying not to break the unwritten rule of a movie theater. “I won’t judge.”

He had noticed how disappointed you looked when you found out it was him who had been leaving you those flowers, he wasn’t the aggressive type to force you to sit down with him like this. Entrapping you and making you feel uncomfortable was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Why?” you whispered back.

“You looked disappointed.”

You snorted, “I was surprised to find out my next-door neighbor and dropout classmate was my secret admirer.”

Someone shushed.

Trying to stifle your giggling, you continued. “You could’ve just asked me out normally.”

His cheeks flushed deep red and he finally met your eyes. “You have a boyfriend.”

You got quiet, “Yeah.”

I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend but I came here to meet my secret admirer. Why?

Perhaps it was because you wanted to feel validated. The poems you got with the flowers, at least the ones you managed to hide were special to you. Whenever you doubted yourself, rereading the poems gave you the confidence you lacked.

The movie started.

Junpei was fidgeting with his fingers, no matter how much he tried he couldn’t focus on the movie. He had been wanting to see this one since it came out, the hype around the release of this movie and the reviews he had read made him more excited than ever, yet… Since you were here, his thoughts were full of you.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you were staring at the silver screen but your expression was blank as if you weren’t paying any attention either.

He opened his mouth to say something but a scream coming from the female lead interrupted him. His attention involuntarily directed itself to the screen and soon, he sort of got invested in the storyline as you were having an internal debate with yourself.

There was an exciting scene that had him gripping to the sides of his seat, he was about to comment on the scene when he turned to face you but you were already looking at him, blushing.

Junpei didn’t understand the reason why you were blushing until he looked down. In the heat of the moment, he had placed his hand on top of yours on the seat’s cup holder.

A blush matching yours spread on his face and neck, he apologized before proceeding to lift his hand but you prevented him from pulling away by holding his hand.

Then, you intertwined your fingers together with his while scooting closer to the edge of your seat to close the distance between the two of you.

In that quiet moment of your hand tightly holding his own, Junpei started nodding as if he understood something and returned his attention to the screen.

He couldn’t focus on the rest of the movie, rather he focused on how warm your hand was or how sweaty his palm was.

Your head softly leaned on his tense shoulder. A wave of panic made Junpei’s eye look at you if you had died because -why else would you put your head on his shoulder? Yet, you were very much alive and you were still holding his hand tightly. He didn’t dare to move, not sure what exactly to do either.

Whether it be the most rational thing that came up to his mind or his own curiosity on how it felt, he tilted his head until his cheek pressed against your hair. Your warmth was enough to warm his heart, it gave him the comfort he had thought he would never get. The delicious smell of your shampoo invaded his nostrils almost instantly, a genuine smile spread on his face as you continued leaning on him.

“Why did you leave those flowers?”

The question was sudden.

“Because I… I have feelings for you.” His voice was quieter than a whisper out of consideration to not interrupt other people’s enjoyment of the movie.

“Why?”

“Why?” he echoed, thinking what to answer. There were too many reasons why. He couldn’t come up with just one. “Because you’re you.”

“What does that mean?” You lifted your head up to look at him.

“Well, it means that I like…” Geez, it was hard to say it out loud when you were looking. His cheeks were burning up and his eye was looking at everything but yours. “You’re beautiful and considerate. You care about others and you’re selfless. I guess I like you because you were kind to me back in high school.” The memory brought a smile to his complexion, you two were in the same film appreciation club in the past and were close friends if not best friends. “You’re not scared to be yourself. You always know what you want in life. I always wanted to be like you or rather be with you, kinda like adornment with a dash of being in love with you... I guess.”

Was he really describing you or some idea he had about you?

There was no way of knowing. You didn’t know who you were anymore. Not after you started dating your boyfriend.

If you had asked your boyfriend to describe you, what would he say?

Nevermind, you didn’t want to know.

“Hey,” Junpei called in a panicked voice, someone in the audience shushed again. “Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head, tightening your hand around his while your eyes sparkled with gratitude. It made you look so kissable, your lips being parted slightly only made the thought a lot more irresistible.

Junpei’s face leaned closer to yours, he was moving hesitantly and slowly, waiting for your reaction. Instead of moving away, you were just staring at him but he felt like he was forcing you again.

Wanting you to make the decision, he stopped himself and closed his eyes, brows furrowing as his anxiety was eating him up. His heart hammered through his chest and he waited and waited and waited until something soft pressed on his lips.

He peeked with one eye to look at your face, the view made his heart skip a beat. Your eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering as your glossy lips moved against his own. Having not much experience, he followed your lead, parting his lips and mirroring the way you moved yours, ignoring how wildly his body shook from excitement.

You tasted as sweet as you looked, your perfume filled his lungs and made his head spin. He was being conscious about a lot of things as your hand that was holding him moved to his shoulder and then to his neck to card your fingers through the short strands.

He could feel your warmth through your lips better than when he held your hand. He experimentally snaked his tongue inside your mouth to get a better glimpse of how you actually tasted.

Almost immediately, you opened your mouth to allow him entrance, letting his tongue hesitantly move along with yours. Teeth clashed once or twice but it did nothing other than making you giggle into the kiss.

His hand went to your cheek to caress it and pull your face closer until he could get a better angle to kiss you. There was something so endearing about the way he touched you, his touch was gentle, loving even. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Once he pulled himself back, the small wet strands connecting your lips together thinned and broke apart.

Junpei was completely red and you knew you weren’t any different. His lips were swollen and pink, eyes full of admiration as he was looking at you. He was cherishing this moment.

The lights turned on, ruining the mood.

Both of you flinched and jumped back on your seats, unaware how you were practically on his lap before. It was kind of comedic, nobody would have cared if they saw two people being lovey-dovey in the back row of a theatre since it was something common yet both of you were acting like two young lovers who had been busted by their parents.

The awkwardness went away only after you exited the theater, holding Junpei’s hand.

“Your dress is really pretty,” he said to break the silence as you were walking down the street.

“Thanks, it has pockets,” you chirped, putting your free hand inside the small pocket to show it to him. “This is my favorite dress!”

“Cute,” he chuckled. His cheeks were still faintly blushed red but not as visible as before. Although his mind was clouded by many things and what was going to happen next, he didn’t dare to say anything that could ruin your smile. Not only because you looked gorgeous with a smile on your face but also because he knew you needed it.

“Junpei.”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna stop by somewhere?”

“Like for dinner? Sure, although I’m not hungry, I can watch you eat.”

“No,” you uttered, pointing towards somewhere.

Junpei’s eye followed where you were pointing your finger and his mouth gaped, cheeks flushing bright red instantaneously. He looked at you to see that you were blushing as well.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna.” You were regretting making the suggestion.

“No, I wanna, definitely, yes, go.” He had to take a deep breath to calm himself before saying something that made sense. “You asked too suddenly.”

Nonetheless, you were the embarrassed one. He had to swallow down his own embarrassment to sheepishly drag you across the street and into the red light district. The hotel you had been pointing at had a large neon sign that read some nonsense like ‘secret getaway’ on it. You wondered if it was the absurdity of the sign or the situation which made you point at this specific hotel.

In front of the entrance, he hesitated walking inside.

“I can pay,” you said, mistaking the reason why he was hesitating.

“You don’t need to, I was just… thinking.” He was blushing again, how was he going to say this. He didn’t dare to say it out loud. Ugh, he had to. “I-I d-don’t have a condom with me.”

“I think they might sell some inside,” you hummed before getting on your tiptoes to whisper, “You don’t need one anyway.”

This time, his blood rushed south.

Your eyes landed on the not-so-small problem and softly giggled. “I guess I have to check us in, huh?”

“Please…” He used a hand to cover his face in embarrassment. “Don’t tease me about this.”

“I’ll try not to,” you said, pulling him inside the hotel, he quickly pulled his shirt down to cover the front of his pants. The reception was quiet, you chose a room that was the cheapest and got your room key from the receptionist.

Junpei let go of your hand to dive it in his pocket to fish out his wallet to pay for the room but you stopped him. He looked at you in question and you shook your head, retaking his hand. “We’ll pay when we’re leaving since we’re paying by the hour.”

He hadn’t realized how uninformed he was about this sort of stuff until today. He nodded slowly and let you lead him to the elevator and then to your room.

The awkward atmosphere was back as soon as you stepped inside the room. You finally let go of his hand to take off your shoes. While you placed your own neatly by the entrance hall, Junpei had just kicked off his shoes, leaving them as they were.

You walked further inside the room after fixing his shoes and placing them next to yours.

Junpei was busy checking the minibar as you sat on the bed, taking out your phone from your purse to check the time. It was close to evening time, your boyfriend would be back home soon. Shaking your head, you put your phone away and focused your stare on Junpei’s back. “Thank you.”

“For w-what?” His shoulders tensed at your words, it made you smile.

“For the flowers and the notes you left by my door.” You laid down on your back to feel how soft the sheets were. “Receiving them made me excited and feel validated.”

“I-it was nothing.” He walked over to the bed, it was too late to drink anything from the minibar, on top of that, the prices were way too expensive. “I always thought you found them stalkerish.”

The bed sank and creaked as he sat next to you.

“My boyfriend did.” Ah, right. Saying it out loud made you realize how silly the situation was. You were in a love hotel with someone who sent you flowers despite having a boyfriend.

“Yeah.” He didn’t know what to say, the mood had changed again.

Thankfully, you knew what to say.

“Have you ever jerked off to me?”

Caught off guard, Junpei squealed but then forced himself to laugh to avoid answering the question.

“Hmm?” You lifted your head from the bed to look at him, determined to get an answer to your question.

“I can’t answer that…” His voice died off lamely, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“It’s just a question,” you replied, encouraging him to tell you the truth.

He mumbled.

“What?” You smirked, “I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said maybe!” He covered his face with his hands. Another involuntary blush colored his cheeks and neck. The sound of the fabric rustling as you perhaps leaned closer to him filled the room, but all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. It seemed like an eternity until you said something.

“How?” you asked, almost sheepishly.

His eye opened widely. Was he hearing things? “What?”

“How did you do it?” His eye met yours again, then turned down briefly to his lap before returning his attention toward you.

He was frozen. He slowly processed your words, pausing for a moment. Had you really asked him that? Did he imagine that? Junpei stayed in his position for a while. He didn't dare to move.

You put a hand on his knee, sending a shiver down his spine as your hand moved up to his thigh.

“(name),” he breathed, the anticipation of what was to come made his cock twitch in his pants.

“Junpei,” you echoed, grabbing his thigh and letting your fingers brush against the growing bulge. “Tell me, how did you?”

He was biting his lip as your hands fiddled with his pants, pulling the zipper down and humming.

It all felt like a dream, something he would have fantasized about when he had his hand wrapped around his cock late at night. Not something that would actually happen in a million years. Yet, it was happening right now at this moment.

“I imagined you touching me,” he revealed when you cupped his bulge.

“How?”

“Naked and-” You tugged at the front of his pants, he lifted his hips and pulled them down.

“And?” Your fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers, smiling mischievously.

“Under me,” he gasped as you pulled his underwear down to free his half-hard cock.

“Under you?” Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, you lowered your mouth towards his cock, lolling out your tongue, you let your drool drizzle down on him. Slowly, you moved your hand from the base to the tip, spreading your drool to use it as lubrication.

“Y-yeah.” His hands gripped the sheets tightly. His cock was fully hard and was throbbing in your hand. “Under me.”

Your hand pumped his cock for the first time, it made a faint click sound. “Tell me more.” Using your thumb, you gently pulled back the thin layer of skin to expose the tip of his cock that was glistening with precum. With your forefinger, you tapped on the liquid and moved your finger away to see how far it would stretch. “Or better, why don’t you demonstrate it for me?”

Something snapped inside him.

Junpei grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up before locking your lips together in less than a second. His hand continued pulling you closer to himself while his tongue slipped out to explore your mouth once again. You sucked on his tongue and stroked his cock while grabbing a chunk of his hair in your other hand. You pulled his hair and opened your mouth widely to take the lead and this time you wanted to savor his taste.

Junpei’s free hand went to your ass, groping it and squeezing it as tightly as he could to get you to moan into the kiss and when you did, he lifted your leg to take you under him. Now, he was able to press himself on you.

You turned your face away for Junpei to kiss your neck, so you could jerk him off faster. He pecked on your neck and licked the sensitive skin until he reached your collarbone to nibble on your skin. Desperate to leave a mark of possession.

“Junpei,” you chanted, wanting to warn him about not leaving a mark. “Don’t-”

His teeth sank into your skin, hard enough to draw blood and your body squirmed in pleasure under him. An intense moan left your lips and you retrieved your hand from his cock to instead push his hair back.

Exposing his forehead, made him pull himself back from you. None of you dared to say anything as you gazed at each other. Your eyes were on his scars, albeit you were shocked, you managed to not show it on your face and instead pulled him closer to press a gentle kiss on his scars.

Your hands slid down to his cheeks and you squished them together, before pulling them back to take off your panties. You didn’t even get to take them off properly as Junpei balanced himself on a balled-up fist and hiked the skirt of your dress up. Although you wanted to offer him to take off your dress and panties, he was already positioning himself between your legs.

He stood still for a moment to look at you under him. Legs spread, hair and dress a mess while panties stuck on one ankle. He had never imagined he would see you like this when he left his house today. If he did, he would have been a lot more prepared.

Like bringing a condom.

“Is it really okay?” he asked.

You nodded, not really understanding what he was asking.

Without wasting another precious second, Junpei tapped his cock on your clit, dragging the tip back and forth between your folds before pushing the tip in. He pushed in deeper, letting out a groan in the process when your gummy walls squeezed around him.

You gasped softly, legs wrapping around his hips.

He took a moment to get himself together, it felt like he was going to cum if he moved. This was nothing like what he had imagined.

Whimpering, you moved your hips to tell him to move.

Junpei nodded, unable to let a single syllable out because of the way you clenched around him. He took a deep breath before tentatively pulling his hips back and slamming into you.

Your lips opened in a silent moan and he leaned down to press his lips onto yours as his hips started moving. His pace was irregular, the snap of his hips was brutal but his cock stroked all the good spots.

Arms wrapping around his neck, you held onto him for dear life when his cock began hammering into you. The girth of his cock was stretching you to your limit but the length was worse, with each snap of his hips, you felt the tip kiss your cervix.

The kiss turned sloppy soon enough, both of you were covered in each other's drool from moving your lips clumsily and thanks to the impact of Junpei humping your cunt like a rabid dog in heat.

His hands went to fondle your tits, he pulled the front of your dress down and dove his hands inside your bra to pinch your nipples, he was excitedly breathing into your mouth.

Both of you were close, he knew because you were a moaning mess, moving your hips desperately to meet his thrusts and his cock was twitching inside you because of how you wanted him like he wanted you.

“I’m- I’m gonna-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

When you felt his cock throbbing inside you, your legs wrapped around him tighter preventing him from pulling out. Once it occurred to him that you weren’t letting him go, he surged his forward as far as he could to bury his cock deep in your pussy. The tip of his cock pressed against your cervix and your gummy walls clenched around him.

Junpei’s eye rolled up while he spilled his seed inside your womb and in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He pulled out to watch his seed oozing out from your gaping hole, he used his thumb to spread your folds wider and smiled in awe.

A moan left your lips, legs shaking in the pleasure of your tummy being full of his cum.

Junpei crawled next to you and put his head on your chest, his hand playing with your breast over your bra as the two of you caught your breaths.

There was a soft silence while you petted his hair and watched the ceiling.

You didn’t know what time it was but it had been long enough.

It was time to go home.

When you arrived at your apartment building, you retrieved your hand that was holding Junpei’s reluctantly. The smile Junpei wished you didn’t lose on your face was gone, instead, there was a broken smile.

He opened the building door for you and pressed the elevator call button. You were clutching on your purse, looking everywhere but his way. Maybe you were thinking that you made a mistake, Junpei knew he couldn’t compete with your boyfriend after all.

The elevator doors opened. The two of you got in. He pressed your floor. After an agonizingly long pause, the doors closed with a soft bell chime.

Having previously made your decision, you grabbed Junpei by his collar and pulled him down to kiss him greedily. Dumbfounded, he kissed you back. Although he wanted to use his hands to caress your body, the elevator’s bell chimed again, alerting that the doors were opening.

You pecked on his lips before letting go of his collar, brightly beaming at him.

His lips curled up into a smile matching yours.

Together, you walked past his apartment and to your place while holding hands, thankfully moving your stuff to the next door was easy.

#junpei x reader #junpei yoshino x reader

201 notes · View notes

morimakesfanart · 3 years

Text

Sindria's Prophet #14

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

#magi prophet fanfic #magi fanfiction #magi fanfic #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbadxoc

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marnz · 3 years

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what was the starting point/inspiration for stay close to me? also I'm so curious about the Esen pov fix-it, what was the general plot?

Ahhh thank you for these great questions, because stay close to me actually arose out of me unable to figure out how to make the Esen pov fix it (a longing that's killing me) work. I find Esen so hard to write because he is such an asshole lmao, and I also find mirroring SPC's prose super difficult because our prose styles are opposites.

The Esen Fix It was basically me trying to fix the almost kiss. It starts off after the almost kiss and basically is about Esen realizing he's been a huge dick and trying to be better/less offensive so he can be with Ouyang while also trying to figure out how it's physically possible to be with Ouyang...but I was concerned it was very OOC. Esen never apologizes in the book, even when he knows he's very wrong, and the way I had Esen justify his own behavior to himself felt weak. I have almost 7k of this fic but due to my concerns about characterization I abandoned it. It's unfortunate, the dramatic irony was delicious. I would love to figure out how to finish it :( Later I started what would become stay close to me from Esen's pov but ran into the same problems.

For stay close to me's inspiration, 1) I love horses 2) I think what makes Ouyang such a complex character is not just the gender stuff but also his identity as a disabled person, and I wanted to explore his relationship with his body 3) I think the opening scene in stay close to me is the part of the novel where Ouyang would be most compelled to turn back or deviate from the path he must walk, and the perfect opportunity for Esen to realize Ouyang is actually not happy. 4) when I was rereading I was struck by Esen's dialogue...almost every time he talks to Ouyang he's hinting at having feelings for Ouyang, it's insane. I can't decide if Ouyang subconsciously knows this and is not acknowledging it because of his duty to his family or if he seriously missed Esen's blatant flirting attempts. Like the first time we meet Esen he's literally staring at Ouyang and playing with his hair. Give me a break! The text supports both theories, unfortunately.

But not all is lost, as I am cribbing my fav elements from this fix it and adding them to my ouyang pov fix it, which has turned into a monster :(

I've added a snippet of the Esen pov fix it below the read more for funsies.

That night it rained. The cold crept in through the window paper and Esen, thinking of Ouyang, ordered a fire lit, and then had to strip off some of his layers. The fire hissed and recoiled when Ouyang entered his quarters, as it always did. Ouyang had never commented on it so Esen never had either, but now Ouyang looked at the fire and then at Esen.

“I was cold,” Esen said. He was sweating.

Ouyang, who wore his usual surfeit of layers, said nothing. A servant brought airag; Esen dismissed him and all other servants, as was custom for any military briefings. Ouyang settled in and gave his report on the replacement cavalry, their integration, and how the army was utilizing the extra funds. Esen, playing absently with his jade hair beads, let Ouyang’s low, raspy voice wash over him. It all felt normal, absurdly normal. Yet everything had changed.

“My thanks, General. I’m not surprised training the replacement forces is going well despite Altan’s absence. I knew you would not fail me.”

Ouyang gave a thin smile. “Shao has chosen Zhao Man for Altan’s replacement.”

“Not Jurgaghan?” Esen asked, wrinkling his nose. His third wife would be displeased.

“As his father is not the father of the Empress, no. Shao likes Zhao Man.”

“I don’t care about Shao,” Esen said impatiently. Truthfully he didn’t like Shao, who always seemed contemptuous no matter who he spoke to. But he trusted Ouyang to have good reason for promoting Shao to Senior Commander. “Do you not like Jurgaghan?”

Ouyang’s look was sardonic. “I do not know him well.”

Yes; Ouyang had always avoided Esen’s wives for some reason. “He is a strong fighter. His archery is good; he rides well.”

“Would he be related to you if he did not?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“There is nowhere else I want to be,” Ouyang said quietly.

A tender ache spread through Esen’s chest. It felt like it was pressing up against his lungs and heart, overwhelming them. He felt, as he often did, a longing to keep Ouyang close, but now he wanted Ouyang physically close. It wasn’t enough for Ouyang to sit next to him. He wanted Ouyang in his arms. He wanted them skin to skin. Whenever he had felt such an unmannish sentiment before he had buried it or, if it were particularly strong, imagined what Chaghan would say if such a thing got back to him. But now his longing for Ouyang was so powerful that it was as unending as the steppes.

Ouyang was watching Esen’s face closely. He was very still, his hand clenched around his cup of airag. It was exactly like the night when Esen had horribly insulted him, except this time Ouyang had sought him out. Esen felt the pull of fate again, a pull that seemed determined to bring them into contact. What sort of contact, he could not say. For a moment, him being impaled by Ouyang’s sword or undone by the slow press of Ouyang’s mouth seemed to be equally possible. But Esen knew Ouyang would never hurt him.

“Ouyang,” Esen murmured. Again came the thought that Ouyang was beautiful, but it was a proud and remote beauty, a beauty that was forbidding. And so Esen dared not reach for him.

A shadow passed across Ouyang’s face. He bowed his head and let go of the cup. “My Prince?”

“Do not call me that. Please.”

Ouyang’s throat bobbed. “Why not?”

“I have asked you a thousand times not to.”

“And I have told you a thousand times that I must. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” said Esen.

Ouyang did look up at that. He held himself with the high, wavering tension that preceded a lightning strike. It was dread. The pain of knowing how badly he had failed Ouyang over and over again made Esen speak slowly.

“I can never apologize enough for your family’s death--”

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

“Then at least let me apologize for being an unrepentant ass. Please.” There seemed no other apology he could make that was not insipid.

Here came that close gaze again. “Apology accepted,” Ouyang said at length.

Esen looked down at the table, at his abandoned cup, and chose his words carefully. “For a long time all I cared about was making my father proud.” Again, that tension. Perhaps Ouyang was right to worry; Esen did run a risk of offending him with his next statement. “I made certain sacrifices to that end. It is the job of a son to do so.”

“Yes,” Ouyang’s voice was almost soundless.

“But my father is dead.”

“Your duty to him remains.”

“Of course it does, but I don’t--” Flustered, Esen forced himself to stop and think. How like a woman he felt, unable to be forthright. “The ways I must make him proud have shifted since I became Prince of Henan. Given that, given that--everything has changed--I am not willing to continue making this sacrifice. It would be unbearable to do so.”

Ouyang hardly seemed to be breathing. When Esen finally gathered the courage to look at him, Ouyang was staring at him with such intensity that Esen felt himself flush.

“Esen,” Ouyang whispered.

The deep pleasure of hearing Ouyang say his name made Esen temporarily shut his eyes. He knew immediately they could never go back. But words seemed particularly treacherous, so instead of speaking he held out a hand to Ouyang.

#answered #fey-dancer #she who became the sun #ouyang/esen #my fic #long post #thank you for this ask it was delightful #i am over caffeinated and stressed about deadlines (terrible combination) so i was very happy to think about SWBTS on my lunch break #i DID read a scientific paper on the health effects of castration for stay close to me and it was. grim.#i did a lot of research! both on anatomy and the yuan dynasty! this will all help me out for INTWFY.#stay close to me #sorry for any typos #edit this is so long i am SO sorry

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

In the Golden Dark

a/n: Having never done any ship writing before I’m just going to jump feet first into the deep end with a little Hotchreid for you today. It’s nice. No warnings except maybe some angst because we are who we are. Probably the softest thing you will see from me so enjoy the moment. Completely unnecessary disclaimer that I would find this relationship wildly inappropriate in real life but thank god we’re out here in the lawless fiction of the internet. And you’re getting full on song lyrics bc Hotchreid is nothing if not decadent af. There’s more but I’m impatient so here’s the first bit. ~ 2.7k

what the hell am I doing here in the golden dark? feeling like I’m someone else who looks the part I built up barricades to block my heart cause I don’t wanna fear you

He leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head, arching his back slightly. With his eyes closed it could be any time of day. He inhaled deeply and pretended for a moment that he was nowhere. He even gave himself a few extra seconds, indulging in the quiet that was the office at night. If only he could feel so peaceful in the right moments—before sleeping perhaps. When he opened his eyes all he could see was the reflection of his office light in the black windows. There hadn’t been daylight for hours. He’d switched off the overhead lights in favor of the small desk lamp that pooled the light only in the area of immediate relevance. Everything beyond its reach faded in and out of existence as his focus fell deeply into the forms in front of him.

He pressed his elbows back as far as they would go, pulling up slightly on the base of his skull, stretching out a day’s worth of stress, countless hours spent bent over report after report. He never could have imagined that saving people would require so much paperwork. Reducing the chaos of the lived experience, the searches and the takedowns, the intricate patterns of dozens of personalities layering choices upon one another; it turned out to be quite difficult to do. It took him hours to wrap up cases, even with everyone doing most of their own reports. Which, through no fault of their own, wasn’t always the case. He usually ended up siphoning off a fair number of those reports in addition to his own.

He didn’t mind, he needed to go over everything, needed to make sure that any possible negative feedback that came back would fall to him and he would be prepared if it did. His team were his responsibility, he would be neglecting his duties if he didn’t ensure that things were handled properly. None of them needed the headache of administrative errors. He was good with details, good with forms, good with protocol. He would happily be the filter that saved them all the trouble of little errors even if it hadn’t been part of his job.

But that didn’t change the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a Wednesday and everyone else had gone home hours ago. Only the late night janitorial staff wandered in and out occasionally, nodding at him in silent greeting as they reset the offices to give the illusion of an endlessly renewable supply of fresh starts. People that didn’t stay late never gave this transformation a second thought. They left the office with full trashcans and small debris scattered on the old carpets, only to return the next morning to find a place untouched by human presence, metal fixtures shining and glass doors free of oily fingerprints. That was just how the world worked for them, generous with new beginnings. People who lingered knew better, that effort was put into the effect. Beginnings were never easy, never flowed so inevitably as the set and rise of the sun.

Hotch had been working late for many years, long before he was even in the BAU. He had learned in law school how to brew the coffee strong enough to stay up all night if need be. How the indoor lighting changed without the support of daylight, tinting the world a thin sickly green color without the natural light to round out the fluorescence. He only got worse about it once he joined the Bureau, the stress of the job causing old habits and old secrets to float to the surface. He compensated by working the hardest, doing the most, never allowing anyone to see him need things that other people needed. He could handle this job, this was all he ever wanted after all. To save the world. Or maybe, more modestly, to save the world of a few.

Now, with Haley gone, Jack with her, somewhere well out of his disastrous reach, there was no reason at all not to fully give in. No reason not to let his insomnia at least be productive. To let the latent self destruction that fueled his actions at least have a positive impact on the people he cared about. He could do that at least.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he was getting loopy. There was no reason to be letting his mind wander so far, there were still reports he could get through. Perhaps, as unlikely as the idea felt, he could even get ahead. He looked back down at the paperwork, letting his feet settle flat on the floor. The letters swam in front of him and he sighed, rolling his pen beneath his thumb, considering. He could probably make it another hour. He could get another pot of coffee into himself. He cast about for his mug, finding it empty on the shelf behind him. He sometimes kept it there to prevent his reports from acquiring telltale dark rings. Rolling back from the desk, he hooked the handle with two fingers and headed out to the kitchenette.

Wrapped up in making plans for what he could finish tonight and what could be left for the morning he was startled to find a light still on in the bullpen. He was certain everyone had gone home long ago. They’d each passed by his office, offering him an out as they made their ways home—perhaps their exit could be the motivation he needed to break out of his office, to head towards his own home. What they didn’t realize was that home was not better for him. Work was far better, far safer, with tasks to complete, a purpose. If he was smart he would stay at work forever.

So he waved to them as they checked out, giving them small smiles that, though imperceptible to strangers, they recognized as both apologies and well-wishes. He knew they worried, that they didn’t like to see him tied to his desk late into the night. They thought it was one of his many methods for making himself suffer but he didn’t have the heart to tell them that this was him making a good decision, this was him trying his very best. In his experience, nothing good happened at home.

He thought he remembered everyone leaving, each goodbye. But every day was the same and they all bled together so he must have missed one because he cannot deny the light down below. As he walked down the stairs, confused by the discovery that he was not as alone as he had been imagining, his tired vision focused better. He could make out dark blond curls and a darker sweater hunched over the desk in the middle of the room.

“Reid?” The name came out as a croak, he hadn’t spoken in hours and probably hadn’t had any water in that time period either. He cleared his throat and said it again, louder and closer to the other man than before. Reid’s head snapped up, expression as guilty as a child caught out of bed.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, eyes wide.

Hotch frowned, not because he was upset but because he was still a little disoriented and his muscles fell back into the most familiar actions.

“I—“ Reid ducked his head and started pushing papers together on his desk, shoving them haphazardly into a file folder. “I was just…” he trailed off, not really having intended on explaining himself. He was simply also startled and reverting to the familiar.

Reid explained compulsively, able to handle the world when parsed down to facts and numbers. He didn’t have a fact for why he had stayed so late, only a feeling and that he didn’t know how to explain. Nights had been particularly lonely recently so he had allowed himself to stay later and later, getting lost in his thoughts at his work desk. Even without people around there was a sense of occupancy, their faint impressions lingering in the air. Plus there was always Hotch up in his office. He didn’t actively think about him or what he was doing but he liked knowing the man was nearby. Hotch’s solid presence always made him feel more secure, less concerned with whatever might jump out at him from the shadows overlapping the world and his mind.

He couldn’t tell Hotch that, was far too embarrassed to admit that sometimes, even with all the lights on, it was too dark in his apartment. No matter the illumination, he couldn’t quite dispel the unease of the night when he was alone. It wasn’t always like this, sometimes he had enough brightness to spare. Recently, however, things had been hard. So much had been going on, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why but he knew he felt uneasy. Too much had changed, there was too much risk that the floor could still fall out beneath him at any moment. And it hadn’t been so long since he’d escaped the consequences of his kidnapping, his addiction, that he trusted himself to be able to manage too much more uncertainty. Backsliding was always a risk and right now the world tilted at a frightening grade. So he let himself stay late in the safety of familiarity, sometimes working but more often not, idly rereading the books he had brought in and forgotten around the office. Tonight he had actually started to doze off, which contributed to his shock upon being discovered.

Hotch continued to frown at him, watching as the thoughts raced across Spencer’s face. He noticed how deep the shadows were beneath his eyes, the way darkness pooled in the space below his cheekbones, as if they were concave impressions filled by seawater. He knew Spencer didn’t eat enough, was all too familiar with the ways too much coffee and not enough calories pinched the skin and exposed the fine lines of capillaries beneath the surface.

“Sorry,” Spencer repeated.

He looked genuinely ashamed and it made Hotch a little sad. Couldn’t Spencer see that he was just as guilty of whatever it was he thought he was doing wrong by being here? He made a conscious effort to soften his expression, to show the warmth he felt for the younger man. After having spent his entire life masking his emotions, protecting himself one of the only ways he could, it wasn’t always easy to show his affection. Especially not at this time of night, when all he could do was cling to his walls and hope to find himself still on solid ground when the sun rose. Spencer wasn’t looking at him, too caught up in his own maze.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Hotch said, trying a different tactic. He was smart, he knew not to make it a demand or a comment on Spencer’s health. It was only an invitation, firm enough for Spencer to know he meant it, that it was not just a pleasantry or an obligation he’d rather avoid. A hand extended, an offer of easy company to pass through a little more of this unwanted time. Spencer looked up from where his fingers were worrying at the corner of the file in front of him and smiled shyly. Hotch smiled back, a real smile that scrunched up his dark shining eyes.

“Give me five minutes to close up,” he said and turned back toward his office. As he packed his briefcase, his heart felt like it had been wrapped in a soft blanket. He didn’t bother questioning it—who didn’t like finding someone to commiserate with when they’d only expected more of the lonely dark?

Their late night meals became a regular occurrence. Not every night but once, maybe twice a week, they found themselves the last ones in the office. They fell into a rhythm, each learning to read more from the other’s subtle cues. They almost always went to the same place, a 24-hour diner near the office with deceptively strong coffee and a seemingly endless variety of pancakes. Hotch rarely ordered food, though he encouraged Reid to get anything he wanted. He accepted bites of whatever the younger man ordered, happy enough to reciprocate the excitement over strawberry rhubarb or cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

They talked about inconsequential things, mostly Hotch listening as Reid spun out information on whatever topic was on his mind that day. Reid, for his part, made mental note of the things Hotch responded to and had opinions on. Spencer sought out more information in that vein to bring up. He loved to talk, sure, but what he loved more was to discuss. During the day there was rarely time to let his thoughts wander so freely. It was a dream to have someone there, following along and challenging him with questions, building up new conclusions.

On the nights that followed difficult days, when they were both too stubborn to order anything of substance, they drank their coffees and avoided looking at each other too directly. Those nights they were both tied up in their own thoughts, islands separated by more than just distance, but there was something undeniably pulling them together. It was probably just the natural consequence of having opposite dominant sides but they mirrored each other perfectly across the table. Once, they both happened to reach for their mugs at the same time and the backs of their hands brushed against each other. They each noticed but responded differently. Hotch repressed any reaction, pretending the quick touch of bony knuckles and cool skin hadn’t registered. Maybe it hadn’t. Reid, on the other hand, jumped as if shocked, sloshing the hot coffee into a puddle on the table. This only flustered him more and he yelped at the sting of the liquid and the sting of embarrassment. It wasn’t like they’d never touched before. But here, in this nowhere time they’d constructed, it felt different. In his mind that brief touch became nails dragging across his skin, impossible to ignore. But he pretended the mug was too hot and Hotch didn’t argue, quick to assist with napkins and sounds of agreement to accompany Spencer’s half-coherent excuses.

When their meals were done, mostly cleaned plates of syrup and crumbs stacked to one side, they hesitated before standing up. Hotch always offered to give Reid a ride home, Reid always declined, insisting he could get there himself. This led to Hotch giving him a doubtful look and insisting that it was no trouble. Reid, secretly wanting a ride the whole time, struggled to argue for his self-sufficiency a little longer before giving in. It became a silly thing, both of them knowing exactly how the argument ended but they held onto it for some reason. It was a part of their ritual now, an important piece of the night. It kept this, whatever this was, contained, strictly occasional, random even. Not something they planned for, not something they looked forward to.

Hotch waited for Spencer to get in the door of his building before driving away. He knew it wasn’t necessary, Spencer was a grown man and a trained FBI agent with a weapon. Still, it made him feel better to see him safely inside. Sometimes he thought he would feel even better if he could walk Spencer all the way to his front door. But he knew that would be asking too much. As it was, the nights when they shared this extra hour or two together, extended further by the drive home, had been giving him more than he could have imagined. He wouldn’t dare impose himself further. The brittle excuse of safety would crumble if he were to start following the other man inside. He was not ready to find out what that would mean. He smiled unconsciously as he drove to his apartment. For now, it was enough that he had found companionship on these late nights when he would otherwise be slowly, meticulously, working his way into the grave.

~Part 2~

#Criminal Minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid #beginnings

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malachi-walker · 4 years

Note

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

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autumnslance · 3 years

Note

Being in fandoms for so long yourself, do you have any tips on how to approach fandom in general? It can be so overwhelming sometimes!

Honestly avoid fandom as much as possible. 'Tis a silly place.

On a more serious note, I DO have a draft on staying sane on social media I’ve been slowly making. The main points are about knowing how your social media sites work in regards to tags, searches, cuts, filters, blocks, and mutes, and being liberal with using them for whatever reason you need. In general for this post: limit following counts and be picky about who you follow and why--don't just “follow back” because. Don’t sit in Discords that make you uncomfortable and keep utility servers to those channels needed and mute/hide the rest. I should get around to the rest eventually.

I maintain that sticking to what you love and with friends is better than trying to interact with “the fandom” at large. Especially as a property gets well known and a larger following, the vocal negative 1% seems to get louder and tiresome quickly. Protect yourself and your pals and enjoy what you wish, minimizing stress and drama and hurting real people over what’s supposed to be a shared interest of pretend characters and stories. More specifics of that below.

Limiting myself to some friends and branching off their recommendations, getting to know folks before hopping into servers or groups, helps a lot. I don’t have to engage with the entire fandom. I tend to hear about random dramas in passing, like a shadow underwater, because I interact with chill folks more interested in simply enjoying an interest, not in making it their entire life and identity and so having to be right or chase clout or whatever over a pretend world and make-believe characters, even if resonates with us.

Don't give too much of yourself away. Don't tell people all the ways to trigger you, or your vulnerabilities. Don't give away locations. Use basic internet safety and anonymity to keep folks at arms’ length as much as needed. You're not obligated to answer every DM, right away or ever. You can make some dear friends through fandom, but a single shared interest is not a guaranteed safe and healthy basis of relationships.

Focus on what you love, ignore what you don't. Yes, you want a healthy level of objectivity and criticism and sometimes you need to vent but overall, fandom experience is much better if you're actually enjoying the things you engage with. Don't force yourself to put up with things you don’t have fun with, but also let others have their fun (even if you don’t think that it is fun, if it isn’t harming other real people and dragging them down it’s fine even if you don’t get it). This can include leaving that fandom when the base material is no longer fun for you, leading to...

Remember that you don't own the characters and story; it's someone else's world, we just play in it. The creators are going to make choices and changes, some good and some bad; learn to accept that and keep fanon separate from canon. Interactions with creators via social media are also usually very surface level and parasocial; just because they make part of themselves visible and accessible, doesn't mean you know them, are friends, or are owed anything by their social presence.

Other fans have other takes; you may not like them, but they're valid. Sometimes those other ideas too can make you rethink or add to your own, make you realize some things you hadn’t considered due to a blindspot in your own experiences, and add to your understanding of characters and story arcs. So be open to others’ ideas. Find those of a like mind more or less and stick with ‘em.

Don’t let fandom ruin a thing for you. If you find yourself surrounded by a lot of negative opinions, especially about something you enjoy, you can speak up if comfortable, but if not, simply stop following/interacting. I cull my following lists regularly, and a lot of times remove people who tend to be negative about things too often for my taste. Their blog/timeline/whatever but I don’t have to interact with it. If I find my enjoyment of a thing souring, I ask myself if it’s due to the actual story/characters/how the creators act, or if it’s due to the corner of fandom I’m in and if I have to clean up and then see how I feel about the thing.

Don't assume the worst of people. I often make myself stop and reread what someone said, slowly and even out loud if I must, to make sure I understood. Go back some posts/threads/pages for context if needed. Some people are just bad at communicating. They may be ignorant of even the most basic of modern social manners, internet etiquette, and so on. English may not be their first language. I tend to assume unintentional oopses until someone makes it crystal clear they mean harm--it's generally easy to tell. Let things roll off your back; they don't know you, really, just the persona you present online. You don't know them and their issues, either, just what little you see. It's usually not worth the hassle and heartache to do more than eye-roll and move on with life.

Others won’t censor/remove everything you personally find a squick or trigger, but do advocate for proper tags, warnings, and hiding the content. Learn to skip past the crap you dislike to find the things you do; you do not have to read or view or comment or like everything. There's only so many hours in a day, and not everything is your taste.

My personal annoyance usually come from how people who engage with questionable content react to other fans being upset, especially when they didn’t take the proper precautions to warn/hide their content based on the site. Anyone who then revels in their “problematic” status and starts making their dark content “to spite antis” has lost sight of why they wanted to make that content to begin with and are acting like brats, IMO. Especially a waste when it can be well written/drawn, even if out of my own comfort area. Don’t do things for spite if you can help it; sometimes it leads to interesting things, but a lot of times, it ends up hollow and a regret down the road.

There’s likely more to this, but these are some general rules I’ve been trying to follow as I get older and realize a lot of time and emotional labor over fiction isn’t worth stress and negativity, but should be relaxing and fun, as the real world is difficult enough. Have fun and make things fun and positive for others when possible, don’t tear others down for the sake of it. Fandom is meant to be a shared interest and love of a thing, after all.

#Fandom #Blogging #About Me #Advice

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t4tlawlight · 4 years

Photo

Occam's razor is the principle that, of two explanations that account for all the facts, the simpler one is more likely to be correct.

this post is going to cover traits specific to the manga and the television drama, since those are the best adaptations to showcase L’s autism. THIS POST is required reading before you read anything i’m about to type, because it explains what kind of character niche L falls into--an unintentionally autistic coded character. i’ll talk more about that at the end.

i’m going to talk about manga L first, since he’s the original version after all. i’m going to go in order of physical traits, to behavioral, to his character writing. also, tumblr eats posts that have outside links, so i’m going to have my non-tumblr sources in a separate post, here.

anyways, more under the cut!

MANGA/ANIME:

sitting with his legs up and spine bent / sitting on the floor

this is such a big one and its extremely common in ppl with autism. sitting in chairs normally is uncomfortable to outright painful w many ppl with these disorders, myself included. L sitting like that (which, to recall, is a blatant homage to sherlock holmes, another character that is so blatantly autistic coded you can find absolutely ridiculous amounts of writing on the topic) and being like "I HAVE TO SIT LIKE THIS TO THINK PROPERLY" is so autistic. like sitting in a certain way to give you specific sensory stimulus/avoid distracting discomfort and pain is a thing. i found this post (1) written by an autistic person on the topic of sitting in chairs being uncomfortable, and it says as much:

“I suspect that seating discomfort is common in autism (though by no means limited to autistic people). Many of us, particularly as children, benefit greatly from chairs designed to be non-stationary: rocking chairs, “fidget” chairs, and so forth. These can improve focus, compensate for proprioceptive hypo-sensitivity, and alleviate restlessness. In short, many “attention issues” can be fixed simply by providing a little motion for the person sitting. Small change, huge results. That's what accommodations do at their best. They make (often minor) adjustments that have profound impacts.”

so when L says that sitting the way he does, for a specific sensory experience, improves his ability to think, it’s perfectly in line with this idea. Also it’s a good pressure stim.

standing with a slouch / shifting his weight around

to begin: yes! it’s very common for autistic people to stand or walk oddly for a number of different reasons, from physical comorbidity to other issues such as dyspraxia (see: movie L). From an article by YAI (2), an I/DD (intellectual and/or developmental disabilities) community program:

“Kyphosis (a curved spine), collapsed chest, dropped shoulders and even scoliosis are observed in many of our patients. These myriad of postural issues may result from reduced strength, decreased biomechanical stability, or from a sensory impairment, such as apraxia.

Depending on the scene, L has mild to severe kyphosis which is very common in autistic individuals. Other things mentioned in that article if you want to click on it is instability in standing, where you sort of shift your weight around a lot between your feet or rest all of your weight on one foot, which L is literally doing the first time we see all of him.

speaking with a monotone voice.

i obviously can’t show a picture for this one and it honestly depends on the voice actor you find for L, but in the anime in particular L has a very flat tone. a lot of this is bc he has a dry sense of humor but. just know that it’s very common for autistic people to have a flat affect (or go the other way into being too loud/emotive).

his eating habits.

a lot (a LOT) of autistic ppl myself included can only eat certain kinds of food for texture and flavor reasons. HOWEVER there’s a term in the autism community called “samefoods” which is really well put by tumblr users candidlyautistic and autism-asks:

“Samefoods or samefooding is a community word to describe the autistic trait of eating the same food over, and over and over . . . It is part sensory, part routine driven in most cases. A lot of times we samefood because we need that particular mouthfeel / texture / taste, and a lot of times even after that need passes, it turns into a need for routine until you actively dislike that food again.”

“Samefooding on the other hand is closer to a special interest. When I have a samefood (chocolate ice cream, currently), I really, really want that food. I could eat that food endlessly and not get tired of it. I will get upset if I’m not able to have the food in a day. For me, it usually is kind of routine based as well. For instance, with my current samefood, I have some in the evenings and it’s become part of how I wind down from my day.”

we don’t know exactly why L specifically desires sweet food or if he considers it part of his routine, but what we do know is that he really wants to eat sweet food and avoids eating anything other than sweet food, so it could either be that he’s a picky eater and can’t handle savory or he’s samefooding on sweets!

wearing the same clothes

L wears the same clothes every single day. It’s also worth noting that what he does wear is baggy, too-big clothing, the kind that wouldn’t be tight and uncomfortable. once again, sensory issues are a huge thing for autistic individuals. one of my favorite aspects is that in no adaptation does he wear socks. even L wears shoes, he wears them like slippers, not putting them on all the way. people comment that he seems like he’s poor, but we know for a fact that he’s very rich and that wearing these clothes is a personal choice he made.

not caring for himself/outsourcing his self-care

i don’t think one day is exactly canon, rather it’s an exaggeration of what might actually happen--i.e. L doesn’t have a huge closet full of the same outfit, but he does have several versions of the same outfit on rotation; L doesn’t use a human washing machine, but Watari might help him/encourage him to bathe regularly. One Day is a parody comic, but it was made by the creators for a reason and that reason is that L pretty obviously relies on a caretaker (Watari) for his personal needs. Watari, in the manga proper, cooks and cleans and does most things for L. we’ll come back to this topic when we get to the drama though.

doing stimming behaviors

if you don’t know what stimming is, it refers to self-stimulating behaviors, usually involving repetitive movements or sounds. everyone stims to some extent, but in autism it tends to be more obvious, go on for longer, and sometimes be more disruptive to others. it’s often used to help deal with sensory overload, or used to express feelings--think of an autistic person being happy and flapping their hands in the air.

there are a LOT of instances of L displaying stimming behavior, from stacking his food or things on his desk, to spinning in his chair, to biting his fingers/using them to press on his lips, to wriggling and tapping his toes. here are some specific instances:

there are a lot more. i’ll talk about more when we get to dramaverse, but if you rewatch/reread death note it’s definitely worth noting whenever L does something like this!

detective work as a special interest

ok, first and foremost i want to establish what a special interest is. Tumblr user cartoon has my favorite explanation of what a special interest is that i’ve seen to date:

“To have a deep, intense, passionate and incredibly focused / narrowed interest in a certain area of study, subject, topic or thing - to the exclusion of other interests. This interest is something that exists for the long-term, most often lasting for multiple months, years, or even you’re entire life “

L says that he only does detective work because it’s a hobby, and he finds it entertaining. We’ve also seen that he’s been at it for quite some time--if you take side content (the wammy’s house comic, LABB) seriously, then he’s been at it since childhood, with unwavering interest. it definitely comes across to me as L having a special interest in detective work, rather than it just being a normal hobby or a job for him, especially since he says it isn’t out of any moral obligation.

germaphobia

Germaphobia is very common for individuals with autism. a lot of the time it’s actually sensory issues associated with “dirty” things, and a lot of the time it’s because features of OCD are heavily comorbid with autism, including contamination OCD and such fears. regardless of the reason, though, L’s aversion to touching Bad Things is a very autistic behavior, and so is his resulting quirk that he tends to hold things in a very odd manner!

muted emotional expression

this is getting more into L’s character, but L tends to feel and express emotions in a very muted way. not to say he doesn’t have them, but for instance in the example above, L doesn’t have a solid grasp on what exactly he’s feeling. he thinks he might be acting irrationally and overemotionally because he logically should be afraid, but he isn’t sure, and none of these emotions present themselves visibly.

i’ve also seen it said that Ukita’s death is another good example of his muted response to emotion--he tells Aizawa to stay rational and his voice doesn’t waver as he tells him as much, but he holds himself tightly. for someone with poor emotional competence, these physical signs of distress can be hard to read in oneself, but Aizawa (a man who is extremely in-tune with his emotions) can tell immediately.

high logic, low empathy

L is also a character who, like many autistic people, lacks a certain degree of empathy. it’s not that he doesn’t have any, but it’s limited enough--and he values logic over it enough--that he’s willing to make extreme decisions and take a “ends justify the means” approach (such as using people as bait.) in the example above, L takes a moment to work through what it must actually feel like, which rings as very autistic.

bluntness/not caring about social convention

there are so many examples of this i honestly could list them all day, but L is a character who is very to-the-point and doesn’t care about mincing his words. he can be outright rude to the people around him, especially if he considers them not worth basic courtesy. see: Matsuda.

DRAMAVERSE

if you all knew me you should have known this section is inevitable. i’m not going to talk about every single adaptation because i do not have the time and the only other adaptation that is meaningful in that regard is the movieverse (i am fairly certain that movie L is dyspraxic) but on account of the fact that i don’t care about them i won’t subject you all to them here.

anyway, drama L shows much the same traits as animanga L above (they are, after all, technically the same character) but he displays them in different ways.

he has a much more advanced degree of germaphobia, with Watari saying he’s sensitive to outside air and spraying everyone who enters his space with disinfectant, but not making them wash their hands or anything like that, so we can kind of tell that his issues are more rooted, again, in a fear of germs rather than any actual medical issue. he wants to feel as though he is clean, not necessarily actually be clean. this is very common in contamination OCD, which has a high comorbidity with autism. (my girlfriend has a very good headcanon post about drama L and OCD that isn’t so much analysis than just plain fun, but it’s worth a read!)

he stims, but he has a different array of stims than animanga L--he chews on his jelly pouch bottles,

he tosses it between his hands,

he kicks his feet,

and he bounces in his chair.

he still sits in an unconventional manner. he still samefoods, this time even more exclusively--he only eats Lucky Charge jelly pouches and nutritional bars. Watari onscreen puts his shirts on for him, as well as cooking, cleaning, and mending his clothes for him.

however, there are a few traits that are drama-exclusive that i think really add to an analysis of his autism!

social scripting

social scripting and echolalic scripting are both commonly described as “scripting,” but are very different! echolalic scripting is like echolalia, but echolalic scripting is the recitation of longer passages of dialogue from things the individual has heard before. but social scripting is when you memorize common conversations so you can rattle it off without worrying too much! this can be very handy, such as exchanging basic pleasantries or ordering food, but it can also backfire if someone responds in a way your script’s not set up for. you can find more information on the difference in this video (3).

now, this relates to L in that there are two separate scenes where L says the same thing, rather inappropriately:

L: When I consider Kira’s personality, could it be that the strong-willed daughter is Kira? Or could that sweet-looking son of yours surprise us by proving to be him? You never know what humans are hiding beneath the surface... Soichiro: Enough. L: Sorry. It was just a joke.

-- Episode 2

L: Light-kun. Oh, I’m sorry... If I called you “Yagami-san,” it would be the same as what I call your father. Light: That’s okay. Call me whatever you want. L: Then what about Kira? (silence) L: It's a joke.

-- Episode 4

one could say that L just has a terrible sense of humor--and, of course, having a poor grasp of humor is common with autistic individuals--but the fact that he says nearly the same thing as a defense twice makes me feel as though he has it rehearsed as a defense when people react poorly to things he’s said, which happens often.

mirroring and echolalia

echolalia was briefly covered in the previous example, but for those unaware, via wikipedia (4):

Echolalia is the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia). In its profound form it is automatic and effortless.

mirroring, on the other hand, is explained as such, also via wikipedia (5):

Mirroring is the behavior in which one person unconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family. The concept often affects other individuals' notions about the individual that is exhibiting mirroring behaviors, which can lead to the individual building rapport with others.

both of these are very common in autism, and they’re exemplified while L’s character is established watching his favorite TV show, Owarai Paradise. On one occasion, he’s watching the show and this dialogue happens:

Hiroshi: Despite never telling her how I felt, I still got dumped. I am Hiroshi. Watari: Who was this one again? L: He is Hiroshi. Hiroshi: I am Hiroshi. I am Hiroshi.

-- Episode 2

it’s important to note that in Japanese, “He is Hiroshi” and “I am Hiroshi” are said, at least in this instance, exactly the same, so L is echoing precisely what he’s heard.

On another occasion, L is again watching the show with a glass of wine (seemingly acquired simply to imitate the characters onscreen, as he never drinks it) and when the characters onscreen toast their glasses, L does the same, mirroring them.

CONCLUSION

I linked a post at the very beginning of this analysis talking about how characters are unintentionally autistic coded, and it’s important to understand how this unintentional coding is different from a headcanon--i didn’t make up these traits. they aren’t something that only exist in my head that i ascribe to L for fun.

i made this analysis both because i wanted to share L’s autistic coding in one cohesive place, because plenty of people have made lists before, but none that i could find that included so many examples with images and explanations--and i also made it because of the old ryuzaki persona “theory.”

for those unaware, the ryuzaki persona headcanon suggests that L faked all of these traits in order to make people uncomfortable, to put them off-guard and better mask his identity. i’ve seen posts about people claiming that nobody could actually behave in these ways, that L would surely be unhappy and uncomfortable sitting like that, or eating like that, or engaging in any of these behaviors. I’ve seen some people outright say that L isn’t autistic, but his persona is--that is, he’s pretending to be autistic.

i named this essay “occam’s razor” because, to me, L being autistic is the simplest answer to account for all of these traits. claiming that an autistic coded character is faking it is ableist and it just doesn’t make sense with anything else we know about his character.

but if you want to know more about that, i recommend reading eyecicles’ first!L tag. it’s debunked it in more ways than i ever could.

anyways, in conclusion

#death note #death note drama #death note analysis #L lawliet

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freckledbodty · 3 years

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Stripping Away The Bloat - The Umibe No Etranger Movie Did The Manga Dirty

I finally got around to watching the movie of Umibe no Etranger - a movie I didn’t know existed based on one of my old favourite BL mangas. And oh boy, does this adaptation reflect a painful trend in manga to anime/movie adaptations overall. Allow me a moment to rant, if you will...

TL;DR: READ THE MANGA BY THE LOVE OF GOD IT’S WONDERFUL. Also the movie is super pretty, but here’s a semi-detailed look at why it still really didn’t do the manga justice. You bet I came with receipts.

A few important notes before you start:

1. Remember this is just my opinion, and I’d love to hear other people’s point of view on the matter, whether you agree or disagree!

2. I am not fluent enough in Japanese to read the original without a translation, so my thoughts on the manga are coming from fan translations, which 100% might have affected how I view this! The anime I’m a little more sure on as I can generally tell when the subtitles have deviated, but that does mean I may have missed something/something was lost in translation that means something I say here is incorrect. I’m very sorry for this, so remember this is my view based on the media types I’ve consumed.

3. Also the manga cuttings I use are not the best quality because of tumblr’s sizing, so even more of a reason to go read the books yourself!

I’m aware I’m very late to this party, but when I saw the other day that this movie had been made, I was horrified that I hadn’t known about it sooner. I read the manga years ago, and adored it - it’s genuinely a sweet and beautifully drawn romance, and I’d highly recommend it to anyone. With that, however, the movie was a huge disappointment to me and I just need to have a moment to gush in a less than positive way.

The Pros:

Let’s get this out of the way, I’d still probably recommend this movie to anyone who likes romance anime-style movies. It’s beautifully animated. Seriously, this movie is stunning, with wonderful expressions, bright colours, and a pretty well suited soundtrack too. The animation tries to match the original art style of the manga, and frankly, I think it captures it perfectly. 10/10. Gorgeous. Watch it just for the prettiness.

I’m also a big fan of any BL/GL adaptations that get a little more into the mainstream. This movie is definitely a huge win in terms of representation, especially when the manga (on the whole) avoided the more negative tropes that the BL/GL genres have historically been known for. (More on that later...) So that’s a win, and I will take it.

The Bloat Cut:

To put it simply, this movie fell into the trap of what I call (in my head) ‘cutting out the bloat’. As a long-time anime and manga fan, who has seen countless adaptations over the years, it’s a common theme that tends to make or break an anime.

‘Cutting out the bloat’ to me means that the adaptors cut out a lot of the ‘smaller’ moments and panels that are seen in a manga. This movie was thankfully very good at following the original plot and took us through the same beats that the manga did (many adaptations don’t bother doing that at all), but they left out a lot of the extra stuff - the aforementioned ‘bloat’.

The bloat isn’t really bloat in that it is pointless, however: the problem is that these little moments and scenes are seen to be pointless by the adaptors. Again, understandable: they have a limited run time, and it’s hard to include every little tiny moment, especially when they are ones that are easily scanned passed. Some bloat cutting is necessary to make an adaptation viable at all, but sometimes, it can be hugely detrimental to the piece. Umibe no Etranger is a key example of this.

Setting:

I watched this movie without rereading the manga, and as such, I was quickly thrown off by how bad the movie was. This was one of my favourite mangas, wasn’t it? Had I really had such terrible taste? (Yes, let’s not go there, but this manga was not one of my high-school bad decisions).

The characters felt strange. Personalities did complete 180s after the time skip and did some questionable things that I couldn’t recall finding issue with when I read the manga. The two main characters felt so hot and cold that it didn’t feel like the story I remembered. Even the pacing felt off and janky at times.

After watching, I went back and reread the manga, and this is where I saw all the ‘bloat’, the little intricate moments and minor panels that were easy to overlook but made the story what it was. Here’s a few of the biggest examples I could find.

Shun:

Oh, Shun. What did they do to you?

Shun’s character was bizarre. In the first 15 minutes of the movie, he was bubbly, friendly, and even bold enough to flirt with Mio. After the time skip, he was sour, cold, and completely withdrawn from the world. I understood Mio’s confusion because after the time jump he was a completely different character.

The manga is often focused on Shun and his inner thoughts, and he’s the one who is hurt the most by the bloat cutting. For starters, he wasn’t as over-the-top friendly at the start of the manga as he was in the anime, and we’re able to see his inner thoughts and worries that cause his reservations from the first few pages we meet him. We also get more hints earlier on as to Shun’s past that explain a lot of his behaviour as a whole, as well as getting little hints as to why he’s even more negative and exhausted after the time jump.

Mio:

The biggest bloat cut out in terms of Mio is the big plot point of the phone call. For context, before leaving for the time skip, Mio promises to call Shun once he’s gotten to his new home. In the movie, this is never really brought up again, focusing on the relationship in the present, but this was a huge point to leave out. I think it was cut out because it was explained in one short scene in the manga, and therefore easily mistaken for bloat.

In the manga, it’s explained that Mio does call, but it’s Eri who answers, and there’s a very important conversation that sets up Mio’s whole character development and explains why he returns to the island set on having a relationship with Shun. Eri warns him that calling Shun, despite knowing that Shun has feelings for him, is cruel and unfair, and tells Mio he shouldn’t contact him unless he’s worked out his feelings. It’s a great scene, and a real shame to leave out when it explains firstly why Mio never called back, and secondly why he is so adamant about his feelings and love for Shun when he does finally return: because he saw Eri’s warning to mean ‘don’t come back unless you are serious’.

Relationship:

In the movie, Mio and Shun didn’t really seem to have a relationship until the drama kicked up and then it quickly seem to disappear again. Shun was extremely held back and reserved, and barely ever seemed to return Mio’s feelings (even in the scenes he was instigating) - he even totally avoided anything resembling physical contact at first.

Compare this to the manga, where there are little hints of their relationship progressing throughout the chapters. For one, Shun is never as cold and blank as he seems in the film, and when he does seem that way, the manga quickly shows a glimpse of his thoughts to explain how he’s exhausted or distracted - without those little bloated thought bubbles, he just seems... a little cruel frankly.

A really good example of this is the beach kiss scene. In the movie, as Mio is about to kiss him, Shun suddenly announces that he’s hungry and avoids the kiss altogether, leaving Mio confused.

In the manga, they actually do kiss - it’s their first kiss, in fact. Shun seems embarrassed and his ‘I’m hungry’ feels like more of a way to distract them both. He explains he’s exhausted (which is fair enough, this is a big thing for him to process on little sleep that his inner thoughts earlier in the chapter already set up) rather than just outright shunning him. (Ha. Shun. shun. Get it?)

A more *noted* bloat they cut out is that Shun and Mio get physical in the manga way earlier than the movie, the touches just not quite being everything Mio wanted. Without those more tender moments, where they actually seem like a couple, it seems like Mio is chasing after Shun desperately, whilst Shun couldn’t care less about him. It detracts from the whole relationship. Below are some examples of the two of them actually seeming like a couple that were cut from the movie, including longing looks from Shun, Shun hugging Mio whilst he’s asleep, and Shun asking to kiss and touch Mio.

The Issue:

Bloat cutting always annoys me, but usually, if it’s not hindering the story, I don’t mind. What bothers me most of all in this movie, is that without these subtle little panels and moments, the relationship between Shun and Mio seems... forced, frankly. In the movie, Shun seems to be the instigator of the flirting, and then after the time skip he acts practically disgusted, avoiding a lot of Mio’s advances, and we don’t get to hear his inner thoughts like we do in the manga to explain why he’s feeling this way.

In the manga, during these ‘bloat’ pieces, Shun is an actual willing participant in the relationship, and Mio isn’t just forcing his advances onto Shun. It’s natural. It’s not flipping between hot and cold, or suddenly ramping up after a big moment of drama, it’s slow and careful and a real relationship.

This would be a bad change in any adaptation, but it’s especially so in this one. Anyone who is a fan of BL specifically is probably aware of the genre’s bad rep historically for having some... questionable consent issues. This manga didn’t have them. The movie? I’m not so sure, and that’s why it’s rubbed me the wrong way. I could spend another 1000 words talking about this issue as a whole, but I’ll leave it there, you get the idea.

Expected? Yes. Okay? Meh.

There’s no real point to this post aside from to complain a little and point out just how much more the source material gives us. Cutting the bloat always happens, and I don’t want it to stop happening per say, that would be impossible, but I’d kill for adaptors to just take a little more time to work out what is unnecessary and cutable bloat, and what is something they should really keep in.

The movie is still cute and beautifully made, so please go watch and see for yourself! Mostly, I’d highly recommend the manga: it’s got the same gorgeous art style, only about 5 chapters long, and the story and relationship is that little bit more firmly built.

I’ll stop ranting now, and I hope this actually made sense? Anyway, congrats on making it all this way.

#umibe no etranger #bl manga #bl anime #yaoi manga #anime discussion #please note the important points #this does not mean its a bad movie by any means #just was a disappointment

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goldentournesol · 4 years

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Mon Lapin

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader owns a French bakery at which Spencer is a regular.

Length: 1.6k

A/N: the french bakery au no one asked for :) i’m aware my French isn’t perfect, please don’t roast me!! MAJOR FLUFF AND PINING

Read Part 2: Mon Cher

masterlist

The air was crisp in September and Spencer loved it. He used the weather as an excuse to leave his house more often. He liked the way the wind nipped at his nose, but when it got too much, he’d find refuge in his favorite French bakery, La Crème de la Crème. The smell of freshly baked bread and buttery pastries gave him a sense of security he longed for. There were other reasons he liked to go there as well...he liked the soft armchairs...the fresh coffee...the beautiful woman who happened to own the bakery. He also liked the way her eyes softened as they met with his upon entering the store. He’d been away, guest lecturing at different universities so he hadn’t visited the bakery in a while.

“Dr. Reid, welcome back! How were the lectures?” She asked warmly, waving at him from across the counter as he offered a shy wave back.

She had her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, with one braid across the top of her head. Her apron had minimal chocolate and coffee stains at which he grinned because he remembered how she’d been complaining to him about how many aprons she’s ruined. Spencer couldn’t help but admire every inch of her. But she’d just asked him a question, what was it?

“Oh, they were great! You know, I’ve found that college students are often at the ends of the interest spectrum. Either they’re extremely interested or they don’t even care, it’s quite amusing.” He commented, heat rushing to his cheeks.

She replied with a soft giggle and nodded. She silently cursed as she noticed a line forming behind him, she wanted to continue the conversation, “I’m sure it is! So what can I get you today, mon lapin? [my bunny] The usual?” Spencer nodded with a hum, a familiar grin adorning his face, “Alright, one coffee and one pain au chocolat coming right up!”

Spencer paid and moved to the side to collect his order, itching to interact with her even more. He still blushed at the nickname, one she’d given to him early on. At first, he had no idea what it meant, which led to a very awkward conversation with Emily, who’d since then made it a point to repeatedly ask him about the mystery person who’d been referring to the lanky doctor with such an adorable term of endearment.

He took a seat at his usual spot and pulled out the current book he was reading. As easy as it is for Spencer to get lost in the words, it was just as easy for her voice to pull his attention away from them. He glanced up at her often to watch her as she greeted customers and brought them their orders. She was entrancing, and he’d often find himself rereading pages and words he thought he missed when in reality, he’d just lost focus. Every once in a while, she’d catch his eye and send him one of her smiles and in those precious moments, he’d be glad he had enough knowledge about human anatomy or else he’d be concerned about the way his heart would swell in his chest.

Spencer looked up from his book to see a man and a woman walking into the bakery together. They looked lost and out of place. They approached the counter and the man spoke with broken English to Y/N.

“Erm, mademoiselle...we are...how do you say...lost?” He stumbled over his words. They were obviously not American.

“Oh! Je peux vous aider, je parle en peu de Français.” [I can help you, I speak a little bit of French.] Y/N beamed at the couple, happy to finally put her language skills to good use.

“Magnifique! On a vu votre pâtisserie et a espéré qu’on va trouver quelqu'un qui parle Francais.” [Magnificent! We saw your pastry shop and hoped to find someone who speaks French] the woman exclaimed, “On a veut aller au musée national d’histoire naturelle, mais on s’est perdue, vous savez les directions?” [We wanted to go to the National Museum of Natural History, but we got lost, you know the directions?]

Spencer watched in amusement as well as in awe as she gave them the directions in flawless French. Although he knew enough to get by, he was nowhere near as fluent as she was. Spencer was rarely ever impressed but the way the words left her mouth reminded him of velvet.

The couple smiled gratefully and waved as they left the store. Y/N felt elated that she’d helped someone, but she couldn’t fight the blush that warmed up her cheeks when she caught Spencer staring at her in awe. He flushed immediately and averted his gaze, embarrassed to have been caught staring. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and straightened out his tie, in an attempt to regain his composure. But all she could do was bite her lip to keep from grinning, which her dear coworker noticed and proceeded to wiggle her eyebrows at her in a teasing manner. Y/N jokingly threw a towel at her coworker who knew all about Y/N’s infatuation with the young doctor.

---

Spencer thought of a plan. Casual conversation was not enough for him, he needed a way to grab her attention while somewhat staying in his comfort zone. What better way to do that than through literature? So, there he was, sat inside the bakery on another beautiful day, holding a French book. Although he recognized some words from English, the sentence structure was throwing him off. He pretended to be engrossed in the words as she passed by his table, a tub full of used plates and silverware perched on her hip.

“Les Fleurs du Mal?” [The Flowers of Evil] Y/N exclaimed as she glanced at the cover of the book Spencer was holding. He mentally high-fived himself before directing his attention to the breathtaking woman, “You didn’t tell me you could read French, mon lapin!” she grinned as she took a seat across from him, placing the tub by her feet. Spencer let his eyes roam over her excited features as he smiled sheepishly.

“Um, well actually I’m only just getting there.” He replied, taking a sip of his now freezing coffee after putting the book down. He’d been too nervous about the plan to even think of his coffee. “Are you a fan of Charles Baudelaire’s work?”

Y/N tried not to swoon over his adorable attempt at pronouncing the French name. It was impossible not to swoon over this man in general, his round amber eyes were as captivating as one’s eyes possibly could be. His eyes reminded her of the way the sun shined through glass jars of honey. She was suddenly grateful for the reduced amount of customers in the bakery.

“Well, I’ve read the poems in Les Fleurs du Mal and I loved the whole thing. Mainly because he wasn’t afraid to be controversial, considering it was published in 1857. I would have never taken you as the type to read lots of French poetry, though, Dr. Reid.” She teased, knowing full well that he was a man of science.

“Why is that? Do I not strike you as the romantic type?” He countered with a raised brow and a lopsided smile, a newfound wave of confidence coursing through his veins.

He couldn’t believe he had her right where he wanted her and that his plan had actually worked. He had no idea, of course, that she’d been closely paying attention to the books he’s read in her shop, hoping that one day she just might recognize one.

She acted like she was thinking about it, placing a finger on her chin theatrically, “Hm, actually, you do. You strike me as the type of guy who would buy flowers for their date, but not red roses, though, too cliché for your liking. You’d probably get them lilies...or irises!” Spencer fell in love with the way she spoke to and about him. He found himself reveling in the sound of her voice and her endearing expressions.

“So which would you prefer?” Spencer asked, eyes softening at her as she brought her gaze back to him.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feeling some heat rising to her cheeks.

“Would you prefer irises or lilies?” He clarified, raising both eyebrows slightly.

If she hadn’t known any better, she’d say that Dr. Spencer Reid was trying to ask her out on a date, but she didn’t push it, in case he wasn’t.

“Lilies.” Y/N grinned. Spencer let out a chuckle and she swore her heart was about to burst.

“Alright, it’s settled.” he announced, taking one last sip of the coffee, “I’ll be getting you lilies for our date.”

She must have misheard him, “Wait, what date?”

“The date we’ll have tomorrow. At 7 pm.” He picked up the book and shoved it into his messenger bag, nodding his head once at her decidedly. “I’ll wait for you here.” He grinned at her as he got up and made his way to the door.

Y/N’s eyes followed him out of the shop. Her brain hadn’t yet processed what had just happened. She looked towards her coworker who had been sneakily watching the encounter from behind the pastries in disbelief and finally snapped out of it when she caught her coworker hugging a towel and squealing. It finally registered and she couldn’t fight the grin that threatened to split her face in two anymore.

That Spencer Reid was one hell of a man.

Part 2: Mon Cher

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid masterlist #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine

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