#ok joking aside I just want to make a post about my own observations of a certain ship and share my opinions on it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashxketchum · 10 months

Note

Taiora - Hugging them from behind.

Is it ok to ask for Sora to be the one hugging Taichi?

+ smirking in a way that suggests more requested by @xnananko

Thank you for the request Anon, and for letting me know that you wanted Sora to be the one to initiate the hug. Though I'll be honest, when I first saw the notification of the ask, I could only read the first part and I'd already decided that Sora would be the one hugging so I'm glad our thoughts matched up 💖

This fic is set in a post adventure canon divergent au aka no 02/tri/kizuna/epilogue etc 😌

Hope you guys like reading it, posting something Taiora related after 7 months 😅

🧡~~❤️

Taichi would be lying to himself if he said that he had remembered Sora’s birthday correctly.

In fact, in the week leading up to it, he kept thinking he was forgetting something important but couldn’t put a finger on it. Until he arrived at school that morning and passed by Sora’s classroom, almost doing a double take noticing the crowd that had gathered inside. He’d always known that she was the kind of girl who made friends with people easily, but it was when he saw seniors and juniors alike handing her little packages and wishing her enthusiastically did Taichi realise, that maybe he didn’t know Sora all that well after all. He’d quickly made his way back to his own classroom, a little grateful that they weren’t in the same class this year and he could take this time to think about how he was going to make it up to her.

A distant memory of a failed gift from his childhood appeared in Taichi’s mind, how when he’d assumed what was better for Sora without asking her how she felt, it left her feeling upset with him during a crucial Digimon attack. He reminded himself to not make a mistake like that again, lest a wormhole opened up above their school and dropped more evil Digimon which Sora might refuse to fight against together with him.

All jokes aside, Taichi knew that he had to act and act fast. He texted Koushiro casually, asking him if he’d gotten anything for Sora at school, trying to make it seem like that he just wanted to check whether it was better to hand over the gift later, outside of school. His friend replied almost instantly, stating that he’d handed his gift to the birthday girl right at the school entrance this morning. Taichi tried his best not to curse under his breath, he’d seen a glimpse of Mimi’s pastel hair in Sora’s classroom, so he knew there was no point in asking the chirpy brunette. So as a last resort, he turned in his seat and came face to face with his best friend.

“You forgot Sora’s birthday,” Yamato muttered dryly, not looking up from the book he was reading, as if this conversation didn’t deserve that honour.

“Yeah.” Taichi accepted his fault, knowing that there was no point in trying to hide the truth from someone as observant as Yamato.

“And?” Yamato turned the page of the book he was reading and still did not seem as invested enough in this problem as Taichi would like him to be.

“Did you get her anything?”

“I’m dating her best friend, Taichi, so of course we got her a gift. As a matter of fact, we handed it over to her yesterday itself.” Yamato stated this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it was Taichi’s fault that he hadn’t figured it out yet.

“And you didn’t think of reminding me?” Taichi asked, exasperated by his best friend’s cold behaviour.

“What am I? Your assistant?”

“No, I’d like to think you’re my best friend, but apparently not.” Taichi gritted his teeth and turned away from Yamato, letting his head drop on his desk with a loud thud that scared some of his classmates seated around him.

“Just go to the convenience store during lunch and buy her some chocolates.” Yamato offered in a much softer tone than before, maybe the best friend comment seemed to get to him.

“It’s Sora! I can’t just buy her cheap chocolates for her birthday.”

As much as he wanted to hide his guilt and frustration with himself, it was hard to keep the emotions in when he felt so helpless. With his current track record of gifting stupid stuff to Sora, he wanted to make sure that this time around he’d get her something she would truly like. Of course, to do that he should’ve strived to remember her birthday correctly in the first place. However, Taichi still felt that if he had time on his side, he could make up for this blunder and walk up to Sora with the perfect gift in his hand. Maybe Yamato had figured his intentions out too, because he heard his friend sigh loudly behind him.

“I’ll help you in avoiding her today,” Yamato said.“Just make sure you go buy a gift after school and hand it over to her in the evening.”

“You’d do that for me?” Taichi raised his head and looked at Yamato with shining eyes.

“Yes. I am your best friend right?” Yamato smirked as he turned his attention back to his book.

It seemed that Yamato and Mimi were addicted to texting each other in between classes, which is how his best friend was able to figure out Sora’s schedule for the day, and that made hiding from her a very simple task for Taichi. He managed to keep his profile low the entire day, only stepping out from the comfort of his classroom when it was time for his afternoon soccer practice. But he wasn’t worried about getting caught then since most of the school would’ve emptied by the time his practice was over and Yamato had mentioned something about Sora making plans with Mimi for the evening.

And that’s why, as practice went on and Taichi completely immersed himself in the sport, he let his guard down, ruining all the effort he’d put into staying under the radar during school hours.

He stood gulping down water from his sipper at the edge of the soccer field. Their Coach had wrapped up practice with a few words of advice and while most of his teammates were heading back to the locker room, he considered if he should stay back for about thirty minutes to work on his weak points. He’d already figured out what he would buy for Sora, so he knew he wouldn’t take too much time in getting the gift to her, which should free up some extra time for soccer right now. The sun had only just begun to set and Taichi viewed the orange hue that had started to spread across the skyline with a hint of confusion.

Before he could reach a decision, however, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

Taichi felt his whole body tremble as a familiar and sweet, flowery scent reached him along with the warmth that spread across his back as someone pressed themselves against it. He was frozen to the spot and colour rushed into his cheeks when he looked down and noticed the slender arms that now rested comfortably around his waist. The dimmed rays of sunlight made the beige coloured skin shine like bronze, making his fingers twitch with an ache to trace his name slowly across her arm.

“Gotcha!” A soft giggle reached his ears as he felt a chin rest upon his shoulder.

Taichi tried his best to not jump as an electric sensation ran across his body through his ears, the part where Sora’s breath had tickled against his skin still buzzing. His heart began to beat fast when the fact that Sora’s chest was now touching his back registered in his panic stricken mind.

Deep down he didn’t mind the proximity, especially when Sora had been the one to initiate it.

He was used to letting his hand brush past hers or bumping his shoulder with hers when they walked side by side. He didn’t try to hold himself back when he sat next to her, letting his knee rest by hers, letting his head fall onto her shoulder for a quick nap. He never hesitated to take her hand into his own when they walked through crowded streets or ran to get to school on time. However, Sora had never done anything like this before, sure she played along with him when he tried it, but in those few moments when he expected this of her, she’d shy away by averting her gaze or moving further apart.

Something about today must really be different for Sora to suddenly hug him from behind like this.

With all the willpower he could muster, Taichi pried her hands away from his body carefully and took a few step forwards, so he could turn around and face her with a nervous smile.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.” She returned his smile in full, cherry eyes filled with excitement as she looked at him.

“You’re quite the popular girl today, huh?” Taichi joked, an attempt to hide the anxiousness of being caught before he had the time to get her a gift.

“Is that why you didn’t come to see me all day today?” Sora folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head as she passed him a confused look.

“Yeah.” He lied, swallowing the nervous gulp in his throat with great difficulty, “Almost couldn’t find you, what with your ladies in waiting forming a wall around you.”

Sora narrowed her eyes at him, he could see the gears in her mind turning as she dissected his words and behaviour. He squirmed under her gaze, finding it difficult to hold his ground, he looked up at the sky instead and started to whistle in a low tune. If Sora hadn’t figured out he was trying to hide something from her till now, he knew that this would’ve definitely given him away. As expected, in the next moment she shook her head and sighed tiredly.

“You forgot it was my birthday today, didn’t you?”

“No, I did not! I totally remembered, you just looked so busy-”

“Oh, Taichi please don’t lie to me today.” She interrupted him with a raised hand and he hated how disappointed she sounded. This was the exact opposite of how he’d expected their conversation to go once he finally decided to face her today.

“Just admit that you forgot, I won’t be mad at you,” Sora said, letting her hands drop to her side so she could fidget with the hem of her uniform skirt.

“I didn’t forget.” Taichi reasserted, though he had no idea from where he was getting the guts to lie so confidently. “I...I even- I even prepared an amazing gift for you.”

Since he’d already dug a hole for himself with the first lie, Taichi decided that he might as well dig a little deeper. Looking at the sudden spark of interest that spread across Sora’s face, he felt more motivated to keep going with the plan he’d just come up with a few seconds ago, despite how utterly crazy and reckless it was.

“Really?” She asked him, eyes wide with hope as she stared at him.

“Yeah. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I should get you this year.” Taichi cleared his throat and took a step forward, reducing the distance between them slightly, “But nothing I saw seemed like the perfect gift that I know you deserve, so I came up with something else. Something...something I couldn’t have given you in front of everyone else.”

The sun had pretty much disappeared against the tall skyscrapers of Tokyo, which left the sky drenched in deep shades of purples and oranges. The violet hues danced off of Sora’s auburn hair, surrounding her with a reddish glow that made it hard for Taichi to look away from. Her bright eyes were fixed on him, anticipation bubbling through them as a pink tint spread across her cheeks. What he was about to do next scared him slightly, but looking at her right now, when she was surrounded by a mesmerising radiance that beckoned Taichi to come closer, he knew that he was taking the right step.

This might not be the gift he’d originally thought of, but it was still a perfect gift nonetheless.

With that thought, Taichi took another step forward to close the distance between them.

He cupped Sora’s chin in his hand and tilted her face upwards, pressing his lips to hers gently. He smiled against her lips when he felt both her hands clutch onto his t-shirt as he leaned deeper into the kiss. A soft moan reached his ears when he used his tongue to caress her lips, tasting her orange-flavoured lip balm. He raised his other hand and traced his fingers across her cheek, feeling her soft skin at his fingertips just so he could remind himself that this wasn’t a dream, but he really was standing on the school soccer field and kissing Sora.

The thought jolted awake his rational side and Taichi pulled away from the kiss abruptly, darting his head around to check if they were being watched. He sighed with relief when he noticed that the lights were out in the school building and the field was completely deserted as well. When he turned his attention back to Sora, he saw that she was still clinging to his chest as pouted up at him.

“So..uh..yeah, happy birthday,” Taichi murmured as he avoided looking at her eyes, feeling the repercussion of his bold move flood to his cheeks in the form of a hot flush.

“Hm. I wouldn’t consider it a happy birthday yet,” Sora said as her lips curved upwards and she let her gaze drop to his lips.

“Uh, I don’t understand-”

“Come on, Taichi,” Sora smirked at him as she stood on her toes so she could lean closer towards him. A mischievous glint danced across her dark, rosy eyes as her smile and low tone suggested more than what her innocent words let on, “You can still give me a better gift than that, right?”

Taichi held his breath for a moment, waiting to see if Sora would laugh and push him away, claiming that she was just joking. But when her eyes stayed fixed on his face and her hands continued to hold onto his chest tightly, he allowed himself to grin as he snaked one arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“The birthday girl’s wish is my command.”

🧡~~❤️

#taiora #taichi yagami #sora takenouchi #digimon #digimon adventure #digimon fanfiction #answered #writealot #mimato in the bg being best couple 🫶🏻#writing requests #well i can still write them #so that's a relief phew

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prof-peach · 3 years

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if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

#if you dont want to use the refs #im really cool with it #just enjoy yourself buddy #pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #prof.grey #pari #dotaku island #dotaku staff #PLEASE #just ask me if you dont know something #or feel i missed something in what i wrote

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pumpkinpaix · 3 years

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Pleeeeeeease get into the class one at some point because I very much want to understand the class dynamics happening in the story but I have yet to find a meta that dives into it

god anon you want me dead don’t you alsjdfljks

referring to this post

okay, so -- my specific salt about class interpretations in mdzs are very targeted. I can’t pretend to have a deep understanding of how class works in mdzs generally because uhhhhh yeah i don’t think i have that. i’m just not familiar enough with the genre and/or the particulars of chinese class systems. but! i can talk in general terms as to why I feel a certain way about the class dynamics that I do think I understand and how I think they relate to the themes of the novel! i’m gonna talk about wei wuxian, the daozhangs, xue yang, and 3zun with, I’m sure, a bunch of digressions along the way.

the usual disclaimers: i do not think you are a bad person if you hold opinions contrary to my own. i may disagree with you very strongly, but like. this isn’t a moral judgment, fandom is transformative and interpretive etc. etc. and i may change my mind. who knows what the future will bring!

OKAY so let’s begin!

here’s the thing about wei wuxian: he’s not poor. I think because characters use “son of a servant” kind of often when they’re trying to insult him, a lot of people latch onto that and think that it’s a much stronger indication of his societal status than it actually is. iirc, most of the insults that fall along the “son of a servant” line come after wei wuxian starts breaking severely from tradition. it’s a convenient thing to attack him for, but doesn’t actually indicate anything about his wealth. (exception: yu ziyuan, but that’s a personal familial issue) this is in direct contrast to jin guangyao who is constantly mocked for his family line, publicly and privately, no matter what he does.

so this, coupled with all the jokes about wwx never having any money (wei wuqian, sizhui’s “i’ve long since known you had no money” etc.), plus his like, rough years on the street as a child ends up producing this interpretation of wei wuxian, especially in modern aus, as someone who is very class conscious and “eat the rich”. but the fact of the matter is, wei wuxian IS rich. aside from the years in his childhood and the last two years of his life in yiling, like -- wei wuxian had money and status. he is gentry. he is respected as gentry. he is treated as a son by the sect leader of yunmeng jiang -- he does not have the jiang name, but it is so very clear that jiang fengmian favors him. wei wuxian is ranked fourth of all the eligible young masters in the cultivation world -- that is not a ranking he could have attained without being accepted into the upper class.

wei wuxian’s poverty does not affect him in the way that it affects jin guangyao or xue yang. he is of low-ish birth (still the son of jiang fengmian’s right hand man though! ok sure, “son of a servant” but like. >_> whatever anyways), but for most of his life he had money. he, jiang cheng, and their sect brothers go into town and steal lotus pods with the understanding that “jiang-shushu will pay for it”. this is a regular thing! that’s fucking rich kid behavior!!! wei wuxian is careless with money because he doesn’t have to worry about it. he still has almost all the benefits of being upper class: education, food security, respect, recognition etc. I think there may also be a misconception that wei wuxian was always on the verge of being kicked out by yu ziyuan, or that he was constantly walking on eggshells around her for fear of being disowned, but that is just textually untrue. i could provide receipts, but I admittedly don’t really feel like digging them up just now ;;

even in his last years in yiling, he was not the one who was dealing with the acute knowledge of poverty: wen qing is the one managing the money, and as far as we know, wei wuxian did little to no management of daily life during the burial mounds days -- mostly, he’s described as hiding in his cave for days on end, working on his inventions, running around like a force of chaos, frivolously making a mess of things -- it’s very very cute that he buries a’yuan in the dirt, but in classic wei wuxian fashion, he did Not think about the practical consequences of it -- that A’Yuan has no other clean clothes, and now he’s gotten this set dirty and has no intention of washing them. is this a personality thing? yeah, but I think it’s also indicative of his lack of concern over the logistics of everyday survival, re: wealth.

furthermore, i think it is important to remember that wei wuxian, when he is protecting the wen remnants, is not protecting common folk: he is still protecting gentry. fallen gentry, yes! but gentry nonetheless. wen qing was favored by wen ruohan, and wen ning himself says that he has a retinue of people under his command (the remnants, essentially). their branch of the family do not have the experience of living and growing in poverty -- they are impoverished and persecuted in their last years, but that’s a very different thing from being impoverished your whole life. (sidenote: I do not believe wei wuxian’s primary motivation for defending the wen remnants was justice -- i believe he did it because he felt he owed wen ning and wen qing a life debt, and once he was there, he wasn’t going to stand around and let the work camps go on. yes, he is concerned about justice and doing the right thing, but that’s not why he went in the first place. anyways, that’s another meta)

after wei wuxian returns, he then marries back into gentry, and very wealthy gentry at that. lwj provides him all the money he could ever want, he is never worried about going homeless, starving, being denied opportunities based on his class and accompanying disadvantages. who would dare? and neither wei wuxian nor lan wangji seem to have much interest in shaking up the order of things, except in little things like the way they teach the juniors. they live in gusu, under the auspices of the lan, and they live a happy, domestic life.

were his years on the street traumatizing? yes, of course they were, there’s so much delicious character exploration to be done re: wei wuxian’s relationship to food, his relationship to his own needs, and his relationship to the people he loves. it’s all important and good! but I feel very strongly that that experience, while it was formative for him, did not impart any true understanding of poverty and the common person’s everyday struggles, nor do I think he ever really gains that understanding. he is observant and canny and aware of class and blood, certainly, but not in a way that makes it his primary hill to die on (badum-tss).

this is in very stark contrast to characters like jin guangyao and xue yang, and to some extent, xiao xingchen and song lan. I’ll start with the daozhangs, because I think they’re the simplest (??).

I think both xiao xingchen and song lan have class consciousness, but in a very simplified, broad-strokes kind of way (at least, given the information we know about them). we know that the two of them share similar values and want to one day form their own sect that gives no weight to the nobility of your lineage and has no concern with your wealth. we also know that they both disdain intersect politics and are more concerned with ideals and principles rather than status. but, I think because of that, this actually somewhat limits their perception and understanding of how status is used to oppress. as far as we know, neither of them participated on any side in sunshot and they demonstrate much more interest in relating to the commoners. honestly, i hc that they were flitting around trying to help decimated towns, protecting defenseless villages etc. I ALSO think this has a lot of interesting potential in terms of xiao xingchen and wei wuxian’s relationship, if xiao xingchen is ever revived. regardless of whether you’re in CQL or novel verse, xiao xingchen really doesn’t know wei wuxian at all, other than knowing that he’s his shijie’s son. he knows that cangse-sanren met with a tragic end, like yanling-daoren before her, and that he wants to be different. but here is cangse-sanren’s son, laying waste to entire cities, desecrating the dead. I would very much like to get into xiao xingchen’s head during that period of time (and i think, if i do it right, i can write some of it into the songxiao fixit), but that’s neither here nor there, because i’ve wandered off from my point again.

i would posit that song lan is used to an ascetic lifestyle, and xiao xingchen probably is too -- but that’s different from poverty because there’s an element of choice to it. I also think that neither of them is particularly worldly, xiao xingchen especially. he lived on an isolated mountain until he was like, seventeen, and he came down full of ideals and naivete about how the world worked. I think that both of them see inequality, that they are angered by it, and that they want to do something about it -- but their solution is neither to topple the sects, nor is it to reform the system. rather, it seems to be more about withdrawing and creating their own removed world. I think that the daozhangs embody a kind of utopianism that isn’t present in the minds of any of the other characters, not even wangxian. honestly, baoshan-sanren’s mountain is a utopian ideal, but one that is not described. it exists outside of and beyond the world. i have a lot of jumbled, vague thoughts about utopianism generally, mostly informed by china miéville and ursula k. le guin, and I don’t think i have the ability to articulate them here, but i wanted to. hm. say something? there is something about the inherent dystopianism contained within every utopia, that utopias are necessary, but also reflections of the existence of terrible things in their conception. idk. there’s something in there, I know it!! but i suppose what I want to say is -- i do not think the daozhangs understand class and social hierarchy very deeply because they don’t see a need to examine it deeply. for their goals, the details aren’t the point. they’re not looking to reform within the system, they’re looking to build something outside of it. I think they spend a lot of time concerned with alleviating the symptoms of social oppression, and their values reflect the injustices they witness there.

regardless, even if their story ends in tragedy and there is a certain amount of critique re: the utopian approach, i think the text still emphasizes that xiao xingchen left a utopia and that he thought that people mattered enough for him to try, and that was an incredibly honorable, kind, and human thing to do.

YEAH SURE THE DAOZHANGS ARE THE SIMPLEST ok ok RETURNING to class and moving forward: xue yang.

i also don’t think xue yang has class consciousness lol, or not in any way that really matters, but I do think poverty impacted him in a much stronger way than it impacted wei wuxian. wei wuxian spent some years on the street as a child. xue yang grew up on the streets. chang ci’an’s horrific treatment of him was directly due to his class and social standing: chang ci’an is a nobleman and xue yang is not even worth the dirt beneath the wheels of his cart. what I think is the seminal point though, is that this does not make xue yang think particularly deeply about systemic injustice, because xue yang is so self-centered, self-driven, and individualistic. he is not even slightly concerned about how poverty and class might affect other people -- they’re other people. what he takes away from his experience is not an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a system, but an anger at being wrongfully cheated by a specific man.

xue yang is not particularly concerned with the politics of the aristocracy -- he has no obvious ambitions other than, “i want to eat sweets whenever i please”, “i want to hurt anyone who wrongs me”, and “i want to be so strong that no one can hurt me”. like, he just doesn’t care -- it’s not the kind of power he wants. he sneers at people for like, personal reasons, not class reasons -- “you think you’re better than me” re: xiao xingchen and song lan. to him, all people -- poor, wealthy, noble, common -- are essentially equal, and they are all beneath him. after all, what does he care what family someone comes from, how much money they have? everyone bleeds when you cut them. some of them might be harder to get to than others, but xue yang does not fear that sort of thing. it’s just another obstacle he needs to vault on his way to getting revenge and/or a pastry.

ANYWAYS onto jin guangyao (wow this is hm. getting rather long ahaha oh dear): I would argue that the two characters with the most acute understanding of class/societal politics and the injustice of them are jin guangyao and lan xichen. i’ll start with jin guangyao for obvious reasons.

where xue yang took the damaging effects of poverty as personal slights, I think jin guangyao is painfully aware that there is nothing personal about them, which is, in some ways, much worse. why are two sons, born on the same day to the same father, treated so differently? just because.

he watched his mother struggle and starve and work herself to the bone in a profession where she was constantly disrespected and abused for almost nothing in return, while his father could have lifted her out of poverty with the wave of a finger. why didn’t he? because he didn’t like her? no -- because he didn’t care, and the structures of the society they live in protect that kind of blase treatment of the lower class.

“so my mother couldn’t choose her own fate, is that her fault?” jin guangyao demands. he knows that he is unbelievably talented, that he has ambition, that he has potential, and that all of it is beyond his grasp just because his father didn’t want to bother with it. his mother’s life was destroyed, and his own opportunities were crippled with that negligence. it isn’t personal. that’s just the way things are. your individual identity is meaningless, your humanity does not exist. when he’s kicked down the steps of jinlin tai, it’s just more confirmation that no matter how talented or hardworking he is, no one will give him the time of day unless he finds a way to take it himself and become someone who “matters”.

jin guangyao’s cultivation is weak because he had a poor foundation, and he had a poor foundation because he was denied access to a good one. he copies others because that’s all he can do at this point, and he copies so well that he can hold his own against some of the strongest cultivators of his generation. he’s disparaged for copying and “stealing” techniques, but -- he never would have had to if only he had been born/accepted into the upper class. the fact is that i really do think jin guangyao was the most promising cultivator of his generation that we meet, including the twin jades and wei wuxian: he had natural talent, ambition, creativity, determination and cunning in spades. in some ways, I think that’s one of the overlooked tragedies of jin guangyao: the loss of not just the good man he could have been, but the powerful one too. imagine what he could have done.

jin guangyao spends his entire time in the world of the aristocracy feeling unsteady and terrified because he knows exactly how precarious his position is. he knows how easy it is to lose power, especially for someone like him. he’s working against so many disadvantages, and every scrap of honor he gets is a vicious battle. jin guangyao fears, and I think that’s something that’s lacking in xue yang, wei wuxian and the daozhangs’ experiences/understandings of poverty. i think it’s precisely that fear that emphasizes jin guangyao’s understanding of class and blood. jin guangyao exhibits an anxiety that neither wei wuxian nor xue yang do, and it’s because he truly knows how little he is worth in the eyes of society and how little there is he can do to change that. to me, it very much feels related to the anxiety of not knowing if tomorrow you’ll have something to eat, if tomorrow you’ll still have a home, if tomorrow someone will destroy you and never have to answer for it. it’s the anxiety of knowing helplessness intimately.

moreover, jin guangyao is the only person shown to use the wealth and power at his disposal to take concrete steps to actually help the common people typically ignored by the powerful -- the watchtowers. they’re described in chapter 42. it’s a system that is designed to cover remote areas that most cultivators are reluctant to go due to their inconvenience and the lack of means of the people who live there. the watchtowers assign cultivators to different posts, give aid to those previously forgotten, and if the people are too poor to pay what the cultivators demand, the lanling jin sect pays for it. jin guangyao worked on this for five years and burned a lot of bridges over it. people were strongly opposed to it, thinking that it was some kind of ploy for lanling jin’s personal benefit. but the thing is -- it worked. they were effective. people were helped.

i believe CQL frames the watchtowers as an allegory for a surveillance state/centralized control (i think?? it’s been a minute -- that’s the hazy impression i remember, something like a parallel to the wen supervisory offices?), but I personally don’t think that was the intent in the novel. the watchtowers are a public good. lanling jin doesn’t staff them with their own sect members -- they get nearby sects to staff them. it’s a warning network that they fund that’s supposed to benefit everyone, even those that everyone had considered expendable.

(did jin guangyao do terrible things to achieve this goal? yeah lol. it’s not confirmed, but his son sure did die... suspiciously...... at the hands of an outspoken critic of the watchtowers........ whom he then executed....... so like, maybe just a convenient coincidence for jin guangyao, two birds one stone, but. it seems. Unlikely.)

lan xichen is the only member of the gentry that ever shows serious compassion for and nuanced understanding of jin guangyao’s circumstances. lan xichen treats him as his equal regardless of jin guangyao’s current status -- even when he was meng yao, lan xichen treated him as a human being worthy of respect, as someone with great merits, as someone he would choose as a friend, but he did so knowing full well the delicate position meng yao occupied. this is in direct contrast to nie mingjue, who also believed that meng yao was worthy of respect as a human being, but was completely unable to comprehend the complexities of his circumstances and unwilling to grant him any grace. you know, the difference between “i acknowledge that your birth and status have had effects upon you, but I don’t think less of you for it” and “i don’t consider your birth and status at all when i interact with you because i think it is irrelevant” (“i don’t see color” anyone?)

to illustrate, from chapter 48:

大抵是觉得娼妓之子身上说不定也带着什么不干净的东西，这几名修士接过他双手奉上来的茶盏后，并不饮下，而是放到一边，还取出雪白的手巾，很难受似的，有意无意反复擦拭刚才碰过茶盏的手指。聂明玦并非细致之人，未曾注意到这种细节，魏无羡却用眼角余光扫到了这些。孟瑶视若未见，笑容不坠半分，继续奉茶。蓝曦臣接过茶盏之时，抬眸看他一眼，微笑道：“多谢。”

旋即低头饮了一口，这才继续与聂明玦交谈。旁的修士见了，有些不自在起来。

rough tl:

Probably because they believed that the son of a prostitute might also carry some unclean things upon his person, after these few cultivators took the teacups offered from [Meng Yao’s] two hands, they did not drink, but instead put them to one side, and furthermore brought out snow white handkerchiefs. Quite uncomfortably, and whether they were aware of it or not, they repeatedly wiped the fingers they had just used to touch the teacups. Nie Mingjue was not a detail-oriented person and never took note of such particulars, but Wei Wuxian caught these in the corner of his eye. Meng Yao appeared as if he had not seen, his smile unwavering in the slightest, and continued to serve tea. When Lan Xichen took the teacup, he glanced up at him and, smiling, said, “Thank you.”

He immediately dipped his head to take a sip, and only then continued to converse with Nie Mingjue. Seeing this, the nearby cultivators began to feel somewhat uneasy.

all right, since we’re in full cyan-rampaging-through-the-weeds mode at this point, i’m going to talk about how this is one of my favorite 3zun moments in the entire novel for characterization purposes because it really highlights how they all relate to one another, and to what degree each of them is aware of their own position in relation to the others and society as a whole.

1. nie mingjue, who is a forthright and blunt person, sets meng yao to serving tea and is done with it. he notices nothing wrong or inappropriate about the reactions of the people in the room because it’s not the sort of thing he considers important.

2. meng yao, knowing that his only avenue is to take it lying down with a smile, masks perfectly.

3. lan xichen, noticing all this, uses his own reputation to achieve two things at once: pointedly shame the other cultivators in attendance, and show meng yao that regardless of others’ opinions, he considers him an equal and does not endorse such behavior--and he does it while taking care that no fallout will come down on meng yao’s head.

is this yet another installment of cyan’s endless lxc defense thesis? why yes it is! no one is surprised! but this is my whole point: both meng yao and lan xichen understand the respective hierarchy and power dynamics within the room, while nie mingjue very much does not. this is not because nie mingjue is a bad person or because nie mingjue is stupid--it’s a combination of personality and upbringing. nie mingjue is straightforward and has no patience for such games. but then again, he can afford not to play because he was born into such a high position: that’s a privilege.

to break it down: meng yao knows that he is the lowest-ranked person in the room, sees the way people are subtly disrespecting him in full view of his general who is doing nothing about it. in some ways, this is good -- nie mingjue’s style of dealing with conflict is very direct and not at all suited to delicate political maneuvering. after all, the way he promoted meng yao was actually quite dangerous to meng yao: he essentially guaranteed that his men would bear meng yao a grudge and that their disrespect for him would only be compounded by their bitterness at being punished on his behalf. (it’s like, why often getting parents or teachers to intervene ineffectively in bullying can just be an incitement to more bullying -- same concept) meng yao’s reaction during that scene shows that he’s pretty painfully aware of this and is trying to defuse the situation to no avail. nie mingjue gives him a bootstrap speech (rip nie mingjue i love u so much but. sir) and then promotes him, which is pretty much the only saving grace of that entire exchange, for meng yao at least.

lan xichen, on the other hand, understands both that meng yao is the lowest-ranked person in the room and that any direct attempt to chastise the other cultivators in the room will only serve to hurt meng yao in the long run. he knows that if this were brought to nie mingjue’s attention, he would be outraged and not shy about it -- also bad for meng yao. so he uses what he has: his immaculate reputation. by acting contrary to the other cultivators’ behavior, he demonstrates that he finds their actions unacceptable but with the plausible deniability that it wasn’t directed at them, that this is just zewu-jun being his usual generous self. this means that the other cultivators have no one to blame but themselves, nothing to do but question their own actions. there is nowhere to cast off their discomfort. meng yao didn’t do anything. lan xichen didn’t do anything -- he just thanked meng yao and drank his tea, isn’t that what it’s there for? he doesn’t disrupt the peace, he doesn’t attack anyone and put them on the defensive, but he does make his position very clear.

i know this is a really small thing and i’m probably beating it to death, but I really think this shows just how cognizant lan xichen is of politics and emotional cause and effect in such situations. certainly, out of context I think the scene reads kind of cliche, but within the greater narrative of the story and within the arc of these characters specifically, I think it was a really smart scene to include. it also showcases lan xichen’s style of action: that he moves around and with a problematic situation as opposed to moving straight through.

not to be salty on main again, but this is why it’s very frustrating to me when I see people call lan xichen passive when he is anything but. his actions just don’t look like traditional “actions”, especially to an american audience. it’s easy to understand lan wangji and wei wuxian’s style of problem-solving: taking a stand, moving through, staying strong. lan xichen is juggling an inconceivable number of factors in any given situation, weighing his responsibilities in one role against those in another, and then trying to find the path through the thicket that will cause the least harm, both to himself and the thicket. lan wangji and wei wuxian are not particularly good at considering the far-reaching consequences of their actions -- again, not because they are bad people, but because of a combination of personality and upbringing. they’d just hack through the thicket, not thinking about the creatures that live in it. that is not a terrible thing! it isn’t. it’s a different way of approaching a problem, and it has different priorities. that’s okay. there are advantages and disadvantages on both sides, and where you come down is going to depend on your personal values.

okay we’ve spiraled far and away from my original point, but let’s circle back: i was talking about class.

I think it’s undeniable that class, birthright, fate etc. are some of the driving forces of thematic conflict in mdzs, and the way each character interacts with those forces reveals a lot about themselves and also about the larger themes of fate, chance, and what it means to be righteous and good and how that is and isn’t rewarded. a lot of the tragedy of mdzs (the tragedy that isn’t caused by direct aggression on the part of one group or another) stems from the injustices and slights that people suffered due to their lot in life. it isn’t fair. none of it is fair! we sympathize with jin guangyao because we recognize that what he suffered was unconscionable, even if we don’t excuse him. i sympathize A Lot with xue yang as well for similar reasons, though I understand that’s a harder sell. this is a story focused on the mistakes of an entrenched, aging gentry and the effects that those mistakes had on their children, and a lot of it has to do with prejudice based in class and birth status. whether the prejudice was the true reason or whether it was just a convenient excuse, the fact remains that the systems in place rewarded and protected the people in power who used it to cling to that power. mdzs is also a story of how the circumstances of one’s life can offer you impossible choices that you cannot abstain from, and it asks us to be compassionate to the people who made terrible choices in terrible times. it’s about the inherent complexity in all things! that sometimes, there are no good choices, and i don’t know, i’d like to think that people would show me compassion if I had to make the choices some of these characters did. not just wei wuxian, mind you, every single one of them. except jin guangshan because I Do Hate Him sorry. and i guess wen ruohan. i think that’s it.

good. GOD this is clocking in at //checks notes -- just over 5k. 8′D *stuffs some weeds into my mouth like the clown i am*

(ko-fi? :’D *lies down*)

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amive2567 · 3 years

Text

Characters: Tamaki Amjiki x GNReader; Izuku Midoryia x FemReader; Shouto Todoroki x GNReader; Hitoshi Shinsou x GNReader; Katsuki Bakugou x GNReader

Warnings: mention of period, pranks, fluff, swearing, OOC characters (maybe?), suggestive themes in Bakugous part,

Summary: As a famous Herowatcher(Youtuber), you wanted to film a video about how your boyfriend's reaction to your prank.

Words: Tamaki:366 Izuku:532 Shouto:590 Hitoshi:416 Katsuki:528

In the last few weeks, you saw a lot of videos about partners pranking each other. There were different pranks they did, and you decided to pull the fainting prank on your boyfriend.

You both planned to train outside today. To record your prank, you set up a camera in a bush so that Tamaki wouldn't notice it. You felt a bit guilty about that what you were going to do. But still, you wanted to execute your plan. The sun was pretty warm, which gave you the perfect conditions to do this. You were doing jumping jacks but suddenly stopped.

Your prank is starting now. "Are you ok?" asked Tamaki, who noticed your behavior change. You nodded but stumbled to your water bottle. Before you could reach it, you "passed out". "Sunshine?" he froze in his tracks and was paralyzed as you tried not to react to his anxious cry for you. He kneeled beside you. His thumb caressed your cheek, and you felt that his hand was shaking. "Are you ok? Oh, I had to watch out better. If I only had reacted immediately, I am so sorry." his voice was breaking. He took your legs and held them high. He tried to stabilize your circulation. "Please wake up," mumbled Tamaki anxiously.

Now you decided to clear things off. "Darling, it's a prank," you said. "What? Why would you do that?" he asked, confused. "I saw it on the internet and wanted to try it, but I didn't want to scare you." You sat up and hugged him tightly.

After a couple of minutes, you broke away from him. "See, there is the camera." You pointed to the bush. Embarrassed, he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

After the two of you finished the actual training, you edited the video and posted it on Herowatch. In the next few days, the video had a couple of thousands of likes, views, and comments:

SuneaterfanNo.1: God, he was so worried about them. I wish I had such a boyfriend.

User219: I am feeling like a single pringle right now. :(

FanfictionAdict: Because of your videos, my expectations of getting a partner are way too high.

Precisely you tried to adjust the camera on a shelf between a bunch of All Might figures. You hoped he wouldn't notice the camera you put there. Izuku was still working, but he had to be home soon. That was the perfect moment to prepare your prank. You switched patiently between the different apps on your phone until a message popped up.

I am only changing and showering at the agency. After that, I will come home.

Alright, see you soon, love. Oh, could you please bring some chocolate on your way home?

Sure, see you, honey.

See you too.

You laid your phone on the nightstand, patiently waiting for your husband to come home. You feel bad pranking Izuku after his stressful day, saving the lives of probably many children and adults, but special situations needed special measures. It was probably totally worth it to see his reaction to your "horrible cramps". He was such a sweetheart. It would probably give him a heart attack. Well, now, with this thought, you felt a bit worse.

After some time passed, the door opened, and your boyfriend entered your decent flat. Now was your time to show the world that you didn't suck at acting. "I am home." shouted the green-haired pro hero through your flat. "In the living room." You tried to sound like you would be in pain.

Apparently, it was convincing in less than a second Izuku was next to you. "What happened? Where does it hurt?" Sometimes he was too observant for his own good. "My stomach hurts so much." "Oh, can you think of a reason? Did you eat something bad? I will get you a hot water bottle." He rushed to the open kitchen to prepare the hot-water bottle. "I am probably getting my period." You grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly. "Ahhh." you groaned extra dramatically. "Do you want to take some painkillers?" "Yes, please." He took the hot water bottle out of the microwave. With quick steps, he got back to your side. Gently, he took away the pillow and replaced it with the water bottle. "I get you the painkillers." With those words, he rushed to the bathroom.

"We don't have any painkillers." Shouted Izuku apologetically. "That's fine." "I can buy you some. You shouldn't have to be in pain, honey." He came back to you. "There is no need to." A mischievous smile spread across your face. "How can you smile when you're in pain?" "Because I am not." If you got asked who best embodied a question mark, it would be your husband. "What?" "It was a prank." you laughed. "See, there is the camera." You pointed toward the pile of All Might figures. His shoulders lost the tension, and he hugged you tightly. "I am glad you are alright."

On the same evening, you edited the video and uploaded it on Herowatch. Since you were the wife of the number one hero of Japan, the video went viral.

ASinglePerson: The poor man was so worried. He is such a cutie.

Deku'sgreatestfan: Ahhh, Deku is so great. I love him.

SomeoneYouWillNeverMeet: We need more Y/N x Deku videos. You guys are so cute.

Balancing on a ladder, you tried to mount the camera on the high bookshelf. You hoped Shouto wouldn't notice the camera you put on there. Since he was still working, you could prepare perfectly for your prank, or rather reaction video. The number of times you had already pranked him wasn't high, but every seldom time it was funny to see his reaction.

While waiting for Shouto to come home, you filmed your intro and arranged your new sleeping place on the couch. You waited patiently for him, and when the key in the door turned, you knew it was time to pull out your acting skills. Habitually you would greet him with a hug and a kiss, but today everything had to be like you planned it. "I am home." You needed to pull yourself together that you didn't answer. The silent treatment was the best thing you could think of at the moment. If you started to talk, you would probably tell him the truth. "Y/N?" asked the heterochromatic man again. You heard his tranquil steps coming closer to the living room.

As he entered the room, his eyes immediately locked with yours. His eyes were filled with confusion, seeing you on the couch covered in your blanket that you usually use to sleep. "Are you ok?" You nodded. Now it was getting serious. "Everything is fine. I merely want to sleep on the couch today." "Why?" "I think you can answer that yourself." The poor man had no clue what you were talking about. He knew he did the laundry, helped you with your documents at the agency, and made your food. What had he forgotten?

You pulled the blanket over your body to signal to him that this conversation is over. Without a word, he took out a book from the shelf, and you worried that he saw the camera. He sat down in the armchair next to the couch. The only sound you could hear was the flipping of the pages. At that moment, you loved him even more. He respected your privacy and decisions more than every other person in your life ever did. "I am going to sleep now, have a blessed night." He put a bookmark in the book and put it back on the shelf. You felt strange not to go with him to bed.

As he said, he went to bed, and the flat the two of you lived in was unusually quiet. It was strange laying alone in the dark. You were so used to his presence that you couldn't sleep. Now you regretted not clearing the prank. A ruffling sound in the darkness caught your attention. "Shouto?" you asked into the dark. "Y/N, I am so sorry. Whatever I did, I did it unintentionally. I never wanted to hurt your feelings. I can't sleep without you. Can I sleep next to you?" Quietly Shouto came closer to your unusual sleeping place. "Of course you can. I am so sorry. It was just a prank." You swung the covers aside and ran into his arms. Gladly, the moon lit up the living room so didn't walk into the furniture. "Let us go to bed," you suggested.

The next day, you edited the video and uploaded it. Since you were the lover of the number two hero in Japan, your video blew up.

randomperson: Where can you get a bf like this?

NoName: He is such a sweetheart. I wish I had such a boyfriend.

SingleLikeAPringle: I feel so single with your videos.

It was finally your day off of hero work, so you decided to drag Shinsou to a cat café. That was one of your two intentions. Your second intention was to prank him a bit. Your Foryoupage on TikTok particularly exploded with "What would you do if I go back to my ex." - Pranks. Since you developed a big community on Herowatch, you wanted to make a short video about it too.

Secretly you recorded the two of you entering the cat café. You know how much Hitoshi hated the attention, so you often recorded your videos alone. But not today. Today was the day the whole world can see that Y/N L/N has a boyfriend. Well, not today exactly, because you had to edit the video so that Hitoshi can't be seen properly. Besides, you didn't want him to make him feel uncomfortable. This was just a way to get rid of the creepy people of the internet.

You ordered your drinks, and Hitoshi was already occupied with stroking the first cat. You placed the camera inconspicuously on the floor, so only Hitoshi's legs could be seen. "You know if we broke up, I would go back to my ex." you suddenly said and waited for his reaction. He casually looked up from the cat and nodded. "That's fine. I would also like to go back to my ex." "What..?" you stuttered, trying not to choke on your saliva. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "You heard right. I would go back to my ex." "You're joking." "Maybe. Maybe not." Now he couldn't hold back small laughter.

"Alright, jokes aside. You're practically binge-watching all those "What would you do if I go back to my ex." - Pranks. I know what you were trying to do. We are both aware that we are the exes with whom we get back together." He said calmly. "You retrolled me," you exclaimed loudly. "That's what you get when you mess with me, kitty cat." he winked at you. "Yeah, whatever." you scoffed and petted the cat in your lap.

The next morning, you edited the video, and looking back on yesterday, it was a bit funny.

InternetAdict: He is a smart guy. You are a lucky person.

VoiceKink: His voice is so soothing. Can I get his voice somewhere?

LoveYou: Your videos are so great. We need more of your secret boyfriend. We don't even need to see his face. His voice is enough to make someone go weee.

It was a rare occasion that your boyfriend Katsuki was at home, but today was the day. Because of that, you had to take your chance. Since your boyfriend is the most observant person on this planet. There was no way to hid a camera, so you used your phone instead.

He was currently next to you in the kitchen and cooked dinner for both of you. You often volunteered to help him, but he said your cooking skills were worse than Todorokis, which was something you had never thought. The Bakusquad, and you still believe that he watched too many shows with Gordon Ramsay as a child. He definitely adopted his behavior in the kitchen. Only today, you tried to ignore him, only for the sake of seeing his reaction. You sat on the barstool in front of your kitchen counter and pretended to do something on your cell phone. Even if you were actually only filming. Let the fun begin.

"Oi, babe, pass me the curry." Usually, you would have corrected him about the way he demands things, but now you just ignored him. He turned around and watched you. "Alright, I am getting it myself." You looked so concentrated on your phone that he didn't want to distract you. It went on like this for what felt like hours until Katsuki was done with cooking your food. He put the steaming plate in front of you, then he sat down next to you. You were still on your phone, so Katsuki snatched it out of your hands. "Hey." You exclaimed and immediately covered your mouth with your hands. Great, now the prank was ruined. "Why are you covering your mouth like that. Are you finally gonna talk to me now?" Still, you wanted to last a bit longer, so you kept quiet. "Fine, then not."

The two of you ate in silence till Katsuki had enough. "Alright, dumbass, what's wrong? You usually never shut up, and now your all quiet and stuff. Did somebody hurt you? I'll beat their ass. They're gonna die." he growled. You had to suppress a chuckle. Sometimes he could be so caring. Well, at least in his own individual way. "Then don't talk to me. I didn't want to know it anyway." Now you couldn't stand it any longer. "Why are you laughing, dumbass?" he asked bewildered. "I was just kidding. Everything is fine. Never thought you'd care so much about me." "Yeah, I care about your stupid ass. Now I want an apology. A good one with physical effort, if you know what I mean." He winked, and you got it. The video you wanted to film was long forgotten as you dragged him closer to the bedroom.

In the evening, you found your phone on the counter. Immediately you started to edit this whole thing. You finished late at night and finally got to upload the video on Herowatch.

Tsunderefan123: He is such a tsundere, but a lovely one.

SingleMom: Every time I watch your videos where he is involved, I feel so single.

Adviceseeker: Tell me a secret, how can you get a guy like him?

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, part 14

Aaaaaaannnnnnd we're done! I literally decided on this ending today and I'm posting it before I start to get THE DOUBTS. I hope you enjoy it and thank you so, so, so much to everyone who's liked/ commented/ messaged along the way.

There's mention in here of an interview that did actually happen a couple of days ago and what's included is pretty much what I've read online. That said, I've embellished some for the purpose of the story, so I'm not claiming to know anything.

Previous sections are on the Master List.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 2,767

Content advisory: other than the usual language, nothing really. Should I be cautioning people about angstiness? Because there's angst.

Thought you should see this.

The toneless message with its link is ruining your day. You can’t stop looking at it, but you don’t want to open the link again because you don’t want David to see it. Not that you have any reason to feel guilty. If anything, he’s the one who has some explaining to do but he also has the biggest match of his life tonight, the one where he can finally put the years of tension and rivalry with Jay behind him. You want to be supportive but you also want some answers.

It can wait, you tell yourself for the hundredth time. You’ll talk about it tomorrow. Or next week. All the time in the world. At least, that’s what you hope.

The whole day, the two of you are together but you have to keep a little bit of distance. Don’t want to get distracted and he has to conserve all the energy he can. Doesn’t stop you from touching each other, of course, but even when you do, it feels like you’re still at a distance. He’s trying not to think about anything except tonight. Or maybe it just looks that way. Maybe he’s thinking about his future beyond tonight, when he moves on. It would be nice to know if he wanted you to move on with him but he’s not letting you in on his plans. Hell, if it were up to him, you wouldn’t even know that there were plans.

You’d expected Jay to have some sort of mocking comments. How come the boyfriend you’re so in love with is giving interviews talking about signing with another company, moving to another state, changing everything about his life, and you don’t know anything about it? How Jay had looked at that interview and immediately known that you weren’t aware of it is beyond you. It’s unnerving sometimes, his ability to figure things out when it comes to you. You suppose it’s one of the reasons he’s always been able to get under your skin and make you do what he wants.

But aside from the initial message, he doesn’t say anything. You think that maybe it was a ploy to see if you’d confront David and start a fight before their match, because that’s exactly the kind of ugly trick Jay loves. When you arrive at the venue, though, you see him getting out of a car at the same time. He doesn’t look scornful, doesn’t shout something insulting, doesn’t strut like a damn peacock in mating season, nothing that you would normally expect from him. He looks straight at you and doesn’t smirk or sneer. On anyone other than Jay White, the look might be interpreted as concern.

Technically, you’re supposed to be there for all the performers but at this point, there’s very little left for you to do. It’s all on them now and if everything turns out to be a garbage fire, it won’t be because of any failings on your part. So you do your rounds to make sure everyone has what they need, knows their cues, gets any questions answered. But you always circle back to where David is and stay for as long as you can before your nerves get the better of you.

And then there’s the one person you should check on, but don’t. You aren’t completely derelict. You check with the people he has around him, you even lower yourself to telling Chris Bey that he can text you if his majesty needs anything. Strangely, you don’t hear anything. You text Jay once to say that you’re available to help. You keep it professional and don’t mention anything about the link he sent earlier, so you’re expecting him to needle you about it, or at least act like you’re useless because you aren’t spending your entire day catering to him. Nothing. You’re almost tempted to go check to make sure he’s not sick because one thing Jay White has never been is one to stay quiet when something is bothering him. Maybe he feels sorry for you, in which case you’d rather he yelled.

You enjoy as much of the show as you can but you spend the last minutes before his match with David, largely quiet, just holding each other’s hands. You walk as far as you can with him and, as his music hits, squeeze his hand extra tight. He turns and gives you a soft, quick kiss before leaning back and doing it again, deeper.

“I love you,” he says, cupping your face in his hand.

“I love you too.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of something. You sound like you’re calling after a train that’s already left the station.

Against your better judgment, you stay where you are. Jay arrives, already acting his part, hands tapping idly on the belt that, in theory, is the reason they’re fighting. You stare at him waiting for him to acknowledge you but there’s nothing. His music swells and he heads out like you’re not even there.

“Just like old times,” you mutter to yourself.

And still.

You watch from backstage as Jay holds his belt up, grinning and preening like he never had a moment’s doubt. You know him well enough to know that’s not true. He keeps cutting looks back at David as if he’s expecting to have to defend himself again, as if he doesn’t believe that he’s truly vanquished him.

The audience doesn’t share his insecurity, cheering him on like he was the hero and David the villain. He’s obnoxious and self-centred but they love him anyway. It makes you feel a little less stupid for the years you’d spent doing the same.

A couple of assistants help David backstage, holding ice to his neck and making sure he doesn’t collapse on the way to the locker room. He looks angry, sullen, and bitter, but not injured, which is a relief. You turn away from the scene in the ring and follow him back to his dressing room, taking over from the dojo students on ice duty when you get there. You don’t speak. You figure it’s better to let him decide when he’s ready.

You’d love to, of course, because despite the fact that you don’t want to make his night worse, it’s becoming unbearable to keep everything inside.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask quietly, picking up a new cold pack.

“Everywhere,” he mumbles.

You hold the ice against his lower back, remembering the awful hit he’d taken on the ring apron.

“You looked great out there.”

“Didn’t feel so great.” He gives you a little smile. “Onward and upward, right?”

“Or southward?” You don’t even mean to say it out loud because this is absolutely not the time to bring it up and certainly not in this passive aggressive way.

“Southward?” He raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about but you can see immediately that he does.

“Nothing, it’s ok.”

He sighs. “What’s southward?”

“Do you need another ice pack?”

“Uh oh, sounds like someone’s been reading the dirt sheets.”

“Just making a joke.” You wish you hadn’t brought this up because now you have to try to cram it back into its hiding space in your brain. And you have to suppress the fact that you’re actually kind of angry.

He watches you, trying to gage your state of mind. “Shouldn’t listen to idle gossip.”

That hits like a slap across the face.

“It’s not gossip, David. You did an interview with Wrestling Observer. If people are speculating or have questions, it’s because of what you said yourself.”

“It’s just talking. I didn’t confirm anything.”

He seems a little proud of this, like he’s very clever for getting people talking about what they don’t know. He doesn’t seem to have an issue with the fact that you’re one of those people.

“It’s all there, though,” you murmur. “Talking about how much you want to work in the States, that you want to try somewhere new, that you’re moving to Florida. You’re going to NXT, right?”

He shrugs and avoids your eyes.

“Were you ever going to tell me about any of this or did you figure I’d be able to piece together where you’d gone from news clippings and Reddit posts?”

“Of course I was going to talk to you. Nothing’s final yet.”

“So you were waiting until you bought a house in Florida and signed a contract with another company? Then what? You’d wake me up one morning and just say ‘bye babe, I’ll be living in another state from now on?’”

“The opportunity came up. This,” he gestures to the two of you, “is still really new. I didn’t want to introduce all these complications.”

“David, I’m not some girl you picked up in a bar. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve talked to me before about your contract renewals. Seems like you could have told me something.��

“I was going to tell you something. When I had a better idea of what I wanted to do.”

“You told a journalist, a ‘dirt sheet’ in your own words, that you’re in the process of moving to Florida. That seems like you have a pretty clear idea.”

“Ok, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out. You don’t even read that stuff normally.”

“You’re aware people are talking about this on social media, right?”

He grunts but doesn’t say anything more. It’s infuriating. He looks resentful that he has to explain himself, like he didn’t think this was going to be an issue for you. Finally, he meets your eyes, guilt very clearly evident now.

“I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I’m an idiot, I could have figured out that you’d see something, or that someone would tell you.”

“It is my job to know stuff like this, all other considerations aside.”

“Believe me, I did not want you getting this from some random dweeb on Twitter.”

“I wish it had been a random dweeb on Twitter.”

He looks surprised and then it’s like part of him collapses when he realizes what you mean.

“Got up this morning to a one line text and a link to the article from our old pal. You know, making sure I’m not out of the loop.”

“Asshole.”

“In this case no. Somehow, you managed to cede the high moral ground to a man whose morals are generally nonexistent.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well, this is hardly the ideal moment to have this conversation, but I want to know if and how you see me fitting into this new life you’re going to have.”

He shrugs a little. “How do you want to fit in?”

The realization hits you hard. “You don’t think this is going to last, do you? You didn’t think I was serious.”

“Wanting is a lot easier than having.”

“Maybe for you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just that I… You’re right. I didn’t think I needed to consider you. It wasn’t part of my decision-making process.”

“You’ve been setting this up for weeks. All this has come together at the same time you’ve been with me almost every day. If I wasn’t part of your process, that was the decision right there.”

The two of you stare each other down but there seems to be nothing left to say.

Eventually, you rise to your feet and stammer, “I’m just going to… I need to take a walk or something.”

You wander around the place, watching the crew rushing to pack up. Eventually, you find yourself outside, where the ring still stands, bathed in the glow of the safety lights. It seems forlorn in front of the empty seats but there is still a kind of magic about it. That’s what draws people to this business, you suppose, the feeling of magic.

Since no one else is around, you climb up and through the ropes, kicking off your shoes. You’ve been in one before, but always just to set it up or break it down. You’ve never had an in-ring moment. And there’s a reason for that, which is that you can barely wrestle your way out of your winter coat. But as long as you’re here and you need to do something to take your mind off the sensation that your chest is about to rip.

You run, or jog, from one side to the other, bouncing off the ropes as you do, the way you’ve watched dozens of men doing for years. Although you know the “ropes” are actually steel cables with a plastic coating and you’ve handled them before, it surprises you how much it hurts when you hit them too hard. It’s not the worst pain you have right now.

You pick up speed a little and then practice letting yourself “bump”, a fancy way of saying fall flat on your back. Each time, you knock the wind out of yourself a little but you get right back up and continue your running. Finally, you have enough momentum that you’re able to just roll yourself into a somersault, and sure, it’s not the most perfectly executed thing, but you keep your body straight and you pop right back up. Just like a pro.

“Ta-da!” you say to yourself.

That’s when the tears come. It’s not falling to pieces, but the stew of emotions inside you just starts to leak out. What the hell do you do now?

There are some footsteps behind you, echoing a little in the empty arena, and you see a man’s approaching shadow loom behind you, pushing his long hair back from his face as he crouches down. So you’re not startled when a thick pair of arms wraps around you and you feel his face pressed against your neck.

“Come home.”

You give an unhappy laugh. “Home is kind of a weird concept right now, Jay.”

“You’re always home for me. I guess I was hoping you felt the same way.”

You snap your head to look at him, pulling back enough so that you can focus on his eyes. In all the time you’ve known him, you don’t think he’s ever looked as calm as he does in this moment.

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Yeah, I get to be a target for a while longer.”

“Stop pretending you don’t love it.”

“Sure, I love it. It’s nice. There are other things I love more.” He runs his fingers over your cheeks, cleaning away the remains of your tears. “I’m sorry about sending you that story earlier.”

“All the shit you’ve pulled over the years and that’s the thing you apologize for?”

“Oh I meant I’m sorry that I had to be the one to send it. I don’t want you to shoot the messenger or anything.”

“If I haven’t shot you by now, I think you’re safe.”

He laughs and pulls you back against his chest, kissing down your cheek and neck. Then he stands, pulling you right up with him and letting his lips trail over the crown of your head.

“Come on.” he whispers, taking your hand.

“Wait, I need my shoes.”

You dart over to pick them up and he’s right there to help you into them and to lead you through the ropes and down the stairs. That’s when he plants his lips on yours, firmly, so that you can feel it in your knees.

“I need to go get my suitcase inside.”

“Do you always carry everything with you wherever you go?”

“I’m headed straight to the airport from here. Catching a red eye back.”

“Skip it. Leave tomorrow.”

“Just like that?”

“Sure. I have a really nice room.”

“I know you do, I booked it.”

“Always taking care of me, aren’t you?”

“Oh wow, he noticed.”

He kisses you again, a little longer, digging his fingers into your back, and your body melts against him of its own volition.

“I’m not coming back if everything is just going to go back to the way it was, Jay.”

“I didn’t come running after you because you’re good at managing my schedule.”

You give him a sceptical look but you can't entirely keep from smiling.

“Look at me,” he grins, “I’m a god. Any woman would want me and you have me. You should feel like you won the lottery.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, letting him wrap an arm around you as you walk away together, “I won.”

#jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #wrestling imagine #wayward wrestle writing

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years

Text

The Sight of You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s disturbing dreams about his childhood bring him back to Las Vegas to face two of his childhood’s greatest enemies: his estranged father and his ex best friend.

AN: it’s a friends to enemies to lovers fic! Set in the episode “Memoriam” 4x07

Content Warnings: usual Criminal Minds stuff, mentions of child death, childhood trauma, descriptions of a dead body. Let me know if I missed anything!

Despite seeing Spencer around Pre-k, Y/N did not trot over to talk to him with their brightly coloured rucksack swinging vigorously and violently behind them. They walked faster instead once their parents had dropped them off. Spencer did his best to catch up to Y/N but lost them around the corner in the sea of students seeking their next class. He was meant to be one of them. Adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose, Spencer noted that he needed a new prescription before entering his own class and preparing to focus on a subject he was already well-versed in.

It was lunch time when Spencer finally found Y/N. They were sitting at the furthest end of the table in the canteen. But Y/N cowered away from him, his shoulders drawn up defensively.

“Are you OK, Y/N?” Spencer asked before getting to what was more significant to him: “Do you know when you will be free to play again?”

The next sentence out of Y/N’s mouth stung like a nettle. They stood up, their face contorted in their fit, and they pushed Spencer hard on the shoulders.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!” They cried.

They went silent when Spencer was laughed at by those who heard what was said. Just grabbed their lunch and moved away, leaving Spencer spellbound in the middle of the canteen, heartbroken and with a new opening for a potential chess partner. Maybe that man they saw last week at the park would be kind enough to join him again.

But there was no replacement for Y/N, who now never said a word when they caught a glimpse of Spencer being bullied – only dithering about on the spot before fleeing the scene moments before a teacher would show up.

Spencer was hurt; that hurt warped into hatred when he was next out with his mother and father. They were at the shopping mall and had just bought Spencer his new glasses. Going down the escalator, he saw Y/N. They were smiling and skipping between their parents, a new pair of shoes shiny on their feet.

The second they spotted the Reids, Y/N ducked behind their parents. Spencer could still see their face: brow furrowed, eyes squinting, hands shaking now that nothing was holding them. Their parents didn’t seem to notice. They kept talking and walking even as Y/N stopped in time with the Reids stepping off the escalator.

Sudden footsteps running away was what dragged the public’s attention to a suddenly absent child.

“Y/N!” The parents called out as they chased after the four-year-old. They were quick past the Reids, not stopping to say ‘hello’.

Spencer kept his eyes trained after Y/N’s fleeing form, right until his mother’s face came into view. Diana looked saddened; she too was staring after the L/Ns. Turned to his father. William was composed but his eyes were turned down and watering.

For making his parents react like that to their mere presence, Spencer despised Y/N.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The burning hatred from adolescence staled once Spencer reached adulthood. The protective nature that spawned from it for his mother remained.

Which is why, when Diana Reid casually mentioned Y/N when asked about Riley Jenkins, Spencer froze up.

“You remember Y/N?” He said stiffly.

Diana didn’t notice her son’s change in tone, “Of course, you two were opposites but you got on so well. So sad what happened to them.”

The first guess was that she was referring Y/N’s repeated attempts at running away before Reid cut contact with neighbourhood gossip at age fourteen. He didn’t bother with a second attempt to understand what his mother meant.

“I don’t care about Y/N. I want to know if you remember Riley.”

“And I told you: Riley was a boy you made up.”

“No, Mom, he was a real boy who lived in our neighbourhood, and somebody killed him. And, I don't know, I think-- I think that dad might have had something to do with it.”

“He was real?”

“Yes. And...”

“He was on that little league team, too.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The whole case was surreal - “case” being a very loose term.

When they got into his office, Spencer thought that perhaps things might simmer down a little. Unfortunately, as soon as his father spoke about their history of similarity in appearance, Spencer’s usual comfort of statistics and facts on the elderly and pets failed to conceal his abandonment issues.

William Reid was clearly affected by Spencer’s accusations, calling the idea of fitting the profile thus being Riley’s killer “absurd”. Furthermore, he was confrontational when asked for access to his files and demanded a warrant. Coupled with Lou Jenkins’ absolute certainty that William was not involved in Riley’s murder and Penelope asking him “you sure about this?” concerning invading the aforementioned files, Spencer was very close to snapping.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

Then there was the envelope posted beneath his motel room door. Suspicious timing aside, there was a brand-new suspect basically handed over on a silver platter. One Gary Michaels whom Spencer couldn’t remember him but he couldn’t be sure that he didn’t know him. Uncertainty being the feeling he hated the most.

This man could fit the profile; his previous of exposing himself to a minor was a precursor to molestation. But that wasn’t what Spencer wanted to hear from the shady file slipped to direct his attention away from William.

Garcia reported back about his father’s drives, “No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?”

Hotch joined the conversation, “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”

Spencer sighed while Emily decided to crack a joke: “Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we can overlook that.”

“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer persisted.

“Well, of course,” Hotch answered, “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know.”

A peace offering on behalf of Emily. Clearly she had improved after her night out and subsequent hangover. Spencer gave the go-ahead and Emily listed her profile:

“He's a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn't travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

“He appears to spend most of his free time alone,” Hotch added, “He goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favourite author is-”

Spencer interrupted his boss, “Isaac Asimov, I remember that one.” He pressed his lips together. They were right; William Reid did not fit the profile.

Garcia piped up once more, “He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived, like, a ka-jillion things on one common subject.”

“What?”

“You, kiddo. He's got, like, everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioural science journals, He even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He's keeping tabs on you,” Rossi said, That's saying something.”

But Spencer smoothly dismissed this attempt to make excuses for his father, “Yeah, he googled me. That makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

After getting said air, Spencer went to the local bar and began playing an computerised poker game. His paying attention was only to distract himself, clear his head with something he knew he could control. And thankfully, a chance interaction with a lady at the bar spawned the inspiration for a sporadic hypnosis session.

Doctor Jan Mohikian allowed them a session. Reminded of the limitations that a four-year old’s memory could provide, not including the bias he already had as a son and a profiler, Spencer lay on the couch. His feet hung over the end so that his head could be comfortable in a pillow. There was no time for self-consciousness with Rossi in the room observing. He closed his eyes and felt his hand be placed upon Doctor Mohikian’s body.

She spoke low and calmingly, “I want you to hold my wrist in your left hand. And if you should feel any fear, I want you to squeeze, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His eyes were closed still, but the couch shifted into a bed. His bed. A floor below, the faint shouting between his mother and father was heard. There was someone else there too. A child wailing, and it wasn’t him.

Suddenly his father was at his side, touching his arm, saying, “I know you’re awake. Daddy loves you; you know that?”

Spencer didn’t want to be there, and then it was the following morning.

Putting his glasses, the room fell into focus. His mother was there, she didn’t see him because she was too busy looking out the window. Her body language told him that this was not a meltdown, but what she saw was distressing. She’d been crying. As she walked away into the house, she hid her face as if she knew Spencer was watching and she wanted to hide her reaction from him.

Spencer ran to the window the second Diana had left the room.

His father was in the back garden and burning clothes. A bloody shirt, a tiny cardigan, landed on top of the pile already set alight.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and wake.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

And Spencer was shocked out of the scene, back to the doctor’s couch and gripping her wrist with an iron grip. Rossi was by his side, bringing him back to peace with his voice.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Derek was clearly disturbed that Spencer was very set on his father being a paedophilic murderer as much as he had been that Spencer was taking something that was said after his mother’s fit seriously. He continued however to assist with Rossi in Spencer’s investigation.

As if everything else hadn’t been hard enough, the captain took some time to agree to holding William Reid in custody. Finally, he settled for twenty-four hours. William was as resistant to the questions as he had been upon the initial reunion. All he could say was that he didn’t hurt Riley. Spencer wore him down, getting him to drop the Gary Michaels bomb plus the threat that he “didn’t want to go down that road”.

Garcia’s search of Gary Michaels’ DNA on the databases brought to light that their suspect was dead. Buried across state lines, beat over the head with a pipe or bat, and the body was discovered in 2001.

“Maybe it wasn’t Riley’s blood on the clothes he was burning.” Derek was about to hang up when Garcia began to speak again, a new discovery ready for her team.

“Also, Todd found something in your father’s finances. There was a standing order for a therapist, specifically a child therapist from 1985 to 1995. I thought it was for Spencer, but William left when you were twelve, and these sessions continue irregularly after he left you!”

“Who was the patient?”

“One Y/N L/N. Local to North Vegas, born 1980 to Shelly and Finley L/N.”

Both Rossi and Derek looked away from the phone to Spencer and he knew. He knew he’d have to face another villain from the past – like a knight in one of Y/N’s stories.

“Still alive?”

“Yep, already pulling up an address. There’s a lot of short leases attached to this name. Lucky for you, they keep going back to live with their parents.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure that he could handle two bitter reunions in one day.

“We’ll send off the fingerprint while we visit Y/N. They could have been a potential victim of Michaels before he died. They might know something.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was a normal home in a normal neighbourhood. Spencer had never visited Y/N’s house. Their play-dates were always at the park.

“Hello, Mr L/N,” held up their badges, “I’m Agent Derek Morgan, this is Agent David Rossi and Doctor Spencer Reid. May we come in and ask you some questions?”

“Sure. My wife is uh out at work at the moment,” Finley opened the door wider and stepped aside for the trio to enter, “I’m the house husband as it were.”

Looking about the kitchen, Spencer spied several photos of an adult Y/N but very few of them as a toddler and even less as a teenager.

“You have a child, Mr L/N?” Rossi asked.

“All grown up now, Y/N,” Finley smiled with a nod. Then he squinted at Spencer, “You’re not related to William Reid by chance, are you?”

Masking his bitterness, Spencer said shortly, “He’s my father.”

Finley seemed in awe at the prospect, so Derek redirected the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What was Y/N like as a child?”

Nodding still, like a bobble head, Finley looked weary at the notion, “Troubled. They were very young when they withdrew into themselves. Used to run away from home a lot. I don’t know what happened, but Y/N never told us.” He then jumped to protect his child’s reputation at present, “They’re doing better now, went to therapy and they’re doing very well for themselves.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Rossi replied.

Finley continued his defence of Y/N, “They’re a published author, they write fantasy things for kids and young adults. We’re very proud of them.”

“Did Y/N know Riley Jenkins when they were a child?”

“Riley Jenkins, that’s Lou’s kid who died, right?” Finley sought confirmation and, when he had it, he spoke, “Not personally. I think they might have played at the park once or twice. Before he died, Y/N would play with anyone. But you… you know that.” And Finley gestured to Spencer, much to his disgust.

“Is Y/N in the area?” Spencer asked briskly.

“Well, they’re due for a visit in a few hours. They went on holiday.”

“They still live with you?”

“A month ago, they got a new flat in the city. But they’ve got their own room here, for whenever they need it.”

“May we see it?”

The wallpaper was barely visible beneath exam revision notes, posters of Fresh sheets on the bed and the clear space on the floor were the only tidy things about the place. It was a haven of organised clutter.

A chess set caught Spencer’s eye. It sat upon the windowsill, recently dusted. The pieces were not that of a classic set; each was painted prettily but with enough error to indicate it was a personal touch.

“You and Y/N were close then?” Derek was holding up a photo album. Upon inspection, the photograph the page was open on was of Spencer and Y/N dressed up for Halloween as Doctor Frankenstein and the Monster respectively – accurate to the book of course.

“Yeah, ‘were’,” Spencer turned back to the chess set. He didn’t bother to ask when his friends had figured out he knew Y/N.

Rossi decided to further test the waters, “You think that Y/N could have killed Riley?”

“Of course not. A four-year-old couldn’t kidnap, tie up, rape, and kill a boy their own age. No violent history that indicates they would ever do something like this. Do I think that Y/N knows something about what happened and my father is trying to keep them quiet? Yes.”

Rossi moved beside Spencer, picking up the knight. Except it wasn’t a knight. It was a wizard of some kind in purple robes.

“We’ll stay up here for a bit then go down once Y/N’s inside and settled,” He gestured with the knight to the window. Spencer blanched as he spied a cab at the end of the driveway. The trunk was open and someone was retrieving a suitcase from within.

Y/N appeared around the corner, waving off the cab and turning to the house. Mr L/N appeared on the drive and they met in the middle for a hug. Over Mr L/N’s shoulder, Spencer could see that Y/N had grown into their chubby childhood features. They looked genuinely happy.

He would have to go through with it, but he didn’t have to like it. And he couldn’t go hide in the bathroom like with his father.

The trio plodded down the stairs when the sound of the front door closing was replaced with a joyous gathering in the kitchen. It all changed when Y/N went to take off their jacket and caught sight of the three FBI agents standing in the doorway. Taking out his badge, Rossi led the way.

“Hello, Y/N, I’m Agent David Rossi, this is Agent Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid. We’re looking into the death of Riley Jenkins, and we were hoping to ask you some questions.”

To the naked eye, very little changed about Y/N’s appearance. To the three profilers, there was a visceral reaction: Y/N’s right hand started trembling, the hard swallow, the dropping of their gaze from Spencer to the floor.

“OK,” They said, a great deal quieter than they had been with their father.

Rossi sat next to Y/N at the dinner table. Derek was beside Rossi; Spencer stayed standing. Mr L/N stayed in the kitchen, at Y/N’s request.

“Can you tell us what you remember about Riley?” Rossi began.

“Not very much, I don’t really remember much about school.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Spencer blurted, “Well, I do.”

Derek glanced back at him with a look that just screamed “shut the hell up”. It seemed to cut down Y/N’s resolve, their jaw quivering.

“Sorry, can you give me a moment?” They stood up quick, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor as they walked just as fast to the kitchen. Through the open door, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer watched Y/N grab a glass from the open dishwasher. The water from the tap hit the bottom of the glass harsh, crashing out like a wave of the ocean hitting a cliff. Y/N didn’t seem to care. Their hand dripped water onto the surface as they chugged back some of the drink before returning to the table with a topped-up glass.

“Are you alright?” Rossi inquired, leaning closer to Y/N.

They answered wearily, “Fine, just feeling woozy.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Yeah, you’re a writer too. My mom reads your stuff before bed.”

“Bit of an odd nightcap,” Rossi said with a little chuckle.

Y/N shared that smile for the briefest of moments, replying “You’re telling me.”

From their pocket, they pulled out some painkillers, popping them back with a slug of water then speaking again. “I remember Riley was smaller than me. Still figuring out coordination, but he liked to play chase. I know he was killed; I didn’t find out how until I looked into it last year.”

“Why did you look into it?” Rossi gently probed.

Y/N rubbed two fingers back and forth across their head as they spoke, “I was back here, I felt sick so I went for a walk in the park, and I just remembered him tripping over while trying to tag me. No one ever told me what happened, just that he had to go away. I wanted to know what happened to him.”

“Are you sick often?” Derek asked suddenly, his voice soft to match Rossi. Spencer grimaced at the treatment Y/N was receiving but said nothing.

“Headaches and stomach aches mostly.”

“You get them whenever you come home?”

“I do. Figured I was allergic to something but never figured out what.”

That would have to be a very quick response, like a dog allergy. And coincidental, seeing as the symptoms didn’t start until they saw Spencer.

“Y/N?” called their father, “Can you come here a moment please?”

“May I?”

“Of course,” said Derek and Y/N was out of the room. Derek pivoted in his chair to include Spencer in his theory, “I think they know something, but they don’t know they know it. I think they repressed this memory like you did, Spencer. We should take him to the therapist, see if we can jog his memory.”

“You can’t be serious,” Spencer covered his face with his hands, dragging them down with irritation.

Derek was persistent though, “Spencer, like it or not, Y/N’s linked to this investigation. Put aside your differences for a moment, please.”

Spencer all but squawked, “Put aside my differences?”

“You have brought a lot of bias to this case. Let us at least pursue this lead.”

“Sorry,” Y/N interrupted Spencer’s retort, sitting back at the table, “He needed someone to get unhook the loft door. Mom usually does it.”

“That’s alright.” Rossi waved a hand dismissively. Once Y/N accepted that, he moved in with Derek’s suggestion, “You know, some people have strong physical reactions to memories, trauma. Maybe you’re not getting sick. You’re rejecting something.”

“Rejecting?” repeated Y/N. There was no doubt in their voice, more cautious curiosity.

Derek nodded, “A memory, repressing it, and your body has linked the physical responses to your home. We think it has something to do with this case, and we’d like to see if we can retrieve any memories you might have. Would you be alright to come with us?”

“Yeah,” said Y/N, though they didn’t sound too certain, “Yeah sure.”

The resigned, too tired look on their face, and Spencer felt a tug in his chest. A longing to see Y/N smile like they had when they first entered the house. He’d rather hate someone who was happy than someone who suffered the same as him.

Leaving the house, Spencer took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Spencer?”

He ignored Y/N’s voice for a moment, but he couldn’t disregard Y/N standing in front of him and speaking again, “Spencer, can we talk please?”

“I’m busy,” He said, already walking off as he pretended to call someone, “Hey Garcia.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Hold onto my hand, use it as an anchor, and squeeze when you feel fear.” Doctor Mohikian accepted Y/N’s hand on her wrist and their silence nod as they lay back on the same couch Spencer had been just hours before.

“I want you to think back to your childhood, back to when you were five. You’re at the park, your parents are on a bench watching nearby to keep you safe. What do you see?”

“Spencer Reid.”

Derek and Rossi glanced at Spencer, who did not react. They kept quiet so that Y/N could immerse themselves in the hypnosis.

“What’s he doing?” Doctor Mohikian continued.

“Teaching me chess.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Sat on opposite sides of the table, Spencer and Y/N’s eyes were glued to the chess pieces that were neatly organised between them. Spencer was thinking strategy. He could not say the same for his companion Y/N. They reached a hand out and hovered over the pieces before finally selecting their last knight.

Their tongue clicked as Y/N trotted the piece on the spot.

“What’s this one again?”

“The knight,” Spencer recited, “It moves two spaces up, down, left or right, and another step perpendicular to the first direction.”

“Brave creatures riding into battle,” Y/N narrated before continuing their clip-clopping to its new position, “Pawns in the game of war.”

Spencer didn’t understand how they were coming up with this whilst playing. Well, actually, he did. Because Y/N was clearly not playing to win. They were playing for the best possible story.

“Where do you think this story will end?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” said Y/N, pushing back the sleeves of their white cardigan, “Come on, you can tell me, with your magic powers.”

“It’s not magic. It’s logic.”

“That’s magic to me,”

Narrowing his eyes, Spencer decided that he should give his friend the information they sought: “I see checkmate in fifteen moves.”

“See? Magic! The gift of sight!” crowed Y/N, clapping their hands together. The cardigan sleeves fell back in place as they did so. Spencer felt his cheeks heat up; he dropped his head so he could smile in privacy while Y/N began to decide their next move.

“How’s your mommy today?”

Shrugging, Spencer said, “Better than normal. But that means a bad day is around the corner.”

Y/N nodded solemnly. “Do you want another ice cream? I got more birthday money.”

“No thank you.” Spencer moved the piece but was immediately intercepted by Y/N, “You’re getting better.”

“Fank you.”

“You’ll have to wait longer to beat me though.” And he snatched Y/N’s knight away, just as planned and much to Y/N’s dismay.

A new voice from their left spoke, “Hey you’re pretty good.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N’s grip tightened on Doctor Mohikian’s wrist, “Someone’s with us.”

“Who do you see?” Doctor Mohikian asked patiently.

“A man. He’s asking us if he can watch us play, listen to the story.”

“Do you want him to stay?”

“No,” Y/N flinched, “But Spencer keeps talking to him. The man won’t go away.”

“It’s OK, it’s OK, you’re safe, Y/N.”

Y/N flinched again, this time letting out a whimper, “He’s on the floor.”

“Spencer is?”

“No, the man.”

“What’s he doing on the floor?”

“He’s,” Y/N began panting, their face tensing and body jerking, “I can’t get to him. There’s glass in the way and the ground is shaking.”

“Y/N.”

“I can’t look, I’ll be sick! Whenever I see them, sick.”

“OK, you’re going to wake up in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Their eyes snapped open with the click of the fingers and Y/N leapt out of Doctor Mohikian’s couch. Their head aimed over the bin by the door and they retched. Nothing came up but their stomach continued to squeeze up

Spencer fidgeted in his seat, trying his best not to look at Y/N. The choice words of the session, three in particular, wrapped around his head.

“Floor”.

Y/N had seen Gary Michaels inside, somewhere that wasn’t the park.

“Glass”.

A window, Y/N was watching what Gary Michaels was doing.

“Sick”.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!”

“Them”.

It wasn’t just Michaels in the room alone. They had been a witness to his murder.

Derek’s movement to help Y/N took Spencer out of his analysis. Sweaty, Y/N was led back to the couch, the bin between their legs, head lolling forward. Spencer tried to move beside them for questioning, but Y/N winced and began heaving again. He felt that ache in his chest again. He was causing this and nothing he could do would change that. Not until they both knew what happened to Riley and Y/N got help through it.

“What did you see, Y/N?” Derek asked as he replaced Spencer’s spot beside them.

With watering eyes, Y/N looked at Spencer, “The man we played with, he was on the floor. His head – thank you.” They accepted the water from Doctor Mohikian, gulping some back, “It was smashed in.”

The three agents left the room, Doctor Mohikian following after Y/N left to get some air.

“It’s logical to assume that Y/N tied that sickness, that repulsion because of what they thought they saw your mother be involved with, to you and your family,” Doctor Mohikian evaluated.

Interrupting again, Spencer stammered his way through his analysis, “That’s why they avoided me. They associated me with being ill. It’s probably also why they ran away so much; they had to get away from this horrible feeling they had associated with their home.”

Doctor Mohikian shook her head, “We won’t be able to use this in court, I told you when we started.”

Derek’s phone started to ring. As he answered, Spencer somehow managed to slip away for long enough to find Y/N. They were leaning against the ramp’s railing in front of the practice, their body lifting and slumping with each deep breath they took. Against his better judgement, he moved toward them.

“Y/N? Can I have your number?”

The breathing slowed again.

“I need it to call you with an update on the situation as soon as we get one.”

Without looking up, Y/N pulled out their phone and handed it over to Spencer. He punched his number in a new contact, using this time to gather the courage to maybe say something else. The hurt and pain went beyond him now. Y/N was suffering and had been much longer than he had.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, hoping that his didn’t add to the illness, “I hope you feel better soon.”

Their head still down, Y/N croaked, “You too, Spencer.”

“Spencer, get over here! We got a match on a print on Michaels’ body!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“What makes you think Gary Michaels killed your boy?”

“He admitted it,” Lou Jenkins said, as monotonous as he had been for the last fifteen minutes of the interrogation.

Derek’s quickfire was on Jenkins instantly, “You beat a guy with a baseball bat, he's going to admit to a lot of things. How do you know he was the right guy?”

“I know. He approached another kid in the neighbourhood.”

“And how do you know that?

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Jenkins leant back in his chair, “That's all I'm going to say on the subject.”

“Who was it?” Spencer suddenly spoke up.

Caught off guard at his interjection, Jenkins awkwardly parroted himself, “I told you that's all I'm going to say on the sub—"

Reid slammed his hands on the table, getting right up in Lou’s face, “Who was it?”

The door opened, Detective Hyde appeared, “Agent Reid?”

“Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective,” shouted Spencer, “This is not your case anymore!”

Once again, he was cut off. This time, by the arrival of his own mother, Diana, and her admission of guilt: “Spencer, it was me”.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Of all the things this case had brought him, Spencer least expected to be sitting in a room with his mother and father together for the first time in years. To have Diana explain to him how she was involved in a child’s murder was also up there with the unthinkable.

But he stayed quiet and listened to her confession.

The reveal that she had seen Gary Michaels playing chess with him and Y/N, that she and got a feeling that something was wrong before anything had even happened, opened the story. Lou Jenkins’ involvement was next on the menu. Two days after the chess game, he drove Diana to Michaels’ house, disclosed his history of child abuse, and demanded she leave while he went into the house.

Upon reaching the point where she entered the house, Diana struggled with her words. William reached over and took her hand.

She described seeing Lou with the bat, standing over the body, slipping in the pool of blood, finding Y/N standing in the window and their face, their little face as innocent as the white cardigan that covered their shoulders and absorbed the blood from Diana’s hands as she shook their shoulders.

“And the rest... It's all dark after that.”

William continued for her. Diana came home and brought Y/N with her. Eventually he came to understand what had happened and decided that nobody could ever know.

“You were burning her bloody clothes,” Spencer concluded.

His father nodded, “But the knowing, you can't burn that away. It changes everything.”

“You paid for Y/N to go to therapy.”

William didn’t seem surprised that Spencer knew this, going straight into explaining: “They went into a dissociative fugue state after seeing what Lou had done. When Diana brought them home, they were just stiff. I asked them for their home number, to call their parents, but they started screaming and throwing up. We had to take them to the police station.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “They needed help, but their parents couldn’t afford it. And they didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t drag another person into this, Spencer.”

“Is this why you left?”

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge, it was too much.”

“You could have come back. Could have started over.”

“I didn't know how to take care of you anymore. When I lost that confidence, there was no going back. What's done is done.”

“At least now you know the truth,” Diana made an effort to smile at her son

Choking on his words and the overwhelming remorse he felt, Spencer refused to look at his parents any longer, “I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry.”

And William said something that Spencer had been waiting for, for a long time, “I am, too, Spencer.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

All of this was repeated when Spencer walked with Y/N through their old park the following day. Filling the final gaps in the memory would hopefully bring some respite to them both. Or at least maybe something to start the recovery process, easing Y/N’s sickness and Spencer’s pain.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour during this case,” Spencer sniffed, “When you said we made you sick, back when we were four, I thought you had seen my mom during one of her episodes and thought she was a freak, like everyone else.”

That stopped Y/N in their tracks, their hands coming up to cover their mouth, their eyes misty, “Oh Spencer, I’m sorry too, I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much pain.”

Spencer’s hands rushed up as if to create belated damage control, “It’s ok! I hurt you too. I made you sick.”

“That wasn’t your fault though.”

“It wasn’t yours either. We were kids.”

Almost pedantic, stropping, like a child again, Y/N moaned, “It’s all been such a waste. We could have been friends all this time!”

“We can be friends now,” Spencer pushed his hands down into his pockets to stop them flailing about anymore. His sentence was phrased more like a question.

One that Y/N gladly answered, “I would like really that.”

Sitting in the reply for a moment, Spencer followed up on his concerns, “How are you feeling? I mean, are you feeling sick again?”

“A bit, but I can handle it.”

Spencer could not see any changes in their behaviour from the day before. So obviously they were lying about that. But he didn’t protest. The lie meant Y/N wanted to stay with him, which was good - Spencer wanted that too.

They kept walking, only in silence for half a minute before Spencer broke it again, “I read your books last night.”

“Yeah?”

“‘The Siege of the Lost Faiths’ in Rogue’s Mask, that was our first game of chess.”

“It had by far the best narrative,” Y/N dragged their shoe a little on the grass before coming to a stop, “Do you still play?”

“All the time.”

They nodded over to where the old chess tables still stood, “Fancy a game before you go?”

Spencer grinned, “Just promise that this is the only setting where we’ll be on conflicting sides from now on.”

“Promise.”

Brushing the debris from the table, they both took their places opposite each other. From Y/N’s bag was revealed a box, spilling their painted chess pieces across the board. Remembering how they had stood in Y/N’s room, Spencer helped to set up the match. They took their seats opposite one another. Y/N was the green side, Spencer the purple.

Spencer moved first. After a second’s deliberation, Y/n moved their pawn.

“Isn’t there a story with this one?” Spencer said, an implicated teasing in his tone despite his shyness.

With an equally bashful eye roll, Y/N started their new story, “First begins the battle with the royals on both sides sending intrepid messengers to meet and pass along their deeds.”

Spencer took Y/N’s pawn. As he lifted their piece away, he spoke quietly, “One not as intrepid as the other.”

A gasp dropped from Y/N’s smile. He had never joined in the narrative telling before, always too taken up in the match to invest in whatever story they spun.

“He’s not a coward,” They said, still smiling, much to Spencer’s delight, “Prisoner’s dilemma, he just couldn’t trust the other with his life.”

“Did they know each other before this battle?”

“Yes,” Y/N moved a knight across, stealing Spencer’s pawn, “They were brothers who once shared a crib and now they share a grave.”

Throughout the game, Y/N continued the story with Spencer asking questions just to hear them talk more. The maturity of the stories had grown just as Y/N’s voice had. They knuckled their eyes a few times, but they didn’t complain about the headache.

“I know what endings you like,” Spencer moved his rook, “Checkmate in five.”

Y/N didn’t seem to mind that little dig, “This’ll have to be a short story instead then.”

Spencer’s next sentence got away from him, trailing off the closer he got to the end of it, “You could write an anthology series, if we see each other again and play more games.”

Where Spencer’s voice disappeared, Y/N’s returned with invigoration, “That’s not a half bad idea, Spencer.”

The checkmate never came. Y/N diverted the ending into a draw.

“A peace treaty has been forged by the survivors, because too many lives have been lost to justify this violence anymore. If only they realised sooner that no blood had to be shed for peace to rule the lands.” And they smiled at Spencer, clearly chuffed as they leaned back in their chair, “Bit of an upgrade from the horse noises, I’ll say.”

Spencer rotated the purple knight – the illusionist – between his thumb and forefinger, “I liked the horse noises.”

“You should have said during the match! I’d recreate them, for you.”

One by one, the pieces were placed back into their box until the last piece remained in Spencer’s palm: the knight or Soren the Illusionist, distractions and deceptions but he loved the tricks that delighted most of all. Just like Spencer with his magic tricks but a little to the left. The character was always one of Y/N’s favourites. Some solace away from the pain of thinking of who he was based on.

Y/N pushed Spencer’s hand away, closes his fist around it, “Keep him. He was made with you in mind anyway.”

The information sank in and Spencer’s nose wrinkled with the little smile on his face as he cupped the little Illusionist, “I’m Soren?”

Nodding, Y/N confirmed, “You’re Soren.”

“But what about your set though?”

“I can always make and paint another knight,” and Y/N tilted the piece upside down in Spencer’s hand, revealing the signature on the underside, “You and him are the originals, it’s only fair you stay together.”

In a moment of pure instinct and nostalgia, Spencer clicked his tongue as he twisted Soren in time with the noise. Y/N let out a burst of laughter that dragged the air out of Spencer’s chest.

“Hey, do you wanna get dinner tonight?” He said, running out of breath very quickly as a result.

It had a similar effect on Y/N, “I thought you – don’t you have to get back to Virginia?”

“I have time for dinner. For you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The bookstore was packed but the breath of the patrons was held as one. All eyes were watching the mini stage where a crouching figure lifted their head up slowly. A jump as the tension broke with the figure leaping up to their feet with a bang.

Y/N pushed up the brim of their cap. Snatching a deep green hoodie from the purple trunk – silver constellations painted on the sides – they swung it over their back before picking up the page where they had left off.

“Nasima looked up at Mason and said, ‘Well that was just unnecessary.’”

A burst of laughter shot through the pre-teens in the front row, spreading to the adolescents sitting further back who had grown up with the author’s other works, finally reaching the adults at the back where Spencer was fiddling with his cane. He adjusted the sleeve of his costume absentmindedly. He was just like everyone else in the room: captivated by how Y/N was so immersed in their reading.

They had just mimed kicking down a door, plus sound effects from their mouth. Swapping back and forth between the two conflicting characters arguing with one another, changing between the hoodie and the cap with every other line of dialogue and taking both off for the role of the narrator, it was certainly a workout.

An exaggerated breath was drawn into Y/N’s lungs, flopping over in a melodramatic state, which caused another laugh in the audience.

Spencer’s nose scrunched up as he grinned. He knew this was part of the scene; he’d seen Y/N rehearse this story in their sitting room. It was so much better to share this with an audience, for their reactions to fuel Y/N’s energy.

Y/N finished the short story A Battle of Bent Truths with a flourish, leaving the rest of the anthology for their audience to read in their own time. The kids were up on their feet first. Some of them were jumping up and down as they applauded with the rest of the shop. Y/N gave a big grin as they bowed, sweeping their cap off for extra drama.

There was a book signing and a photographer that followed, and Spencer waited patiently at the end of the queue, thankful that the store allowed him to bring a chair along with him. He was happy to entertain his godson and friends with a few tricks to pass the time.

“Another one please!” Henry jumped up and down when Spencer revealed his card.

A minor commotion arose by the photographer’s backdrop. There was a teenager was crying; she was clutching her copy of Untold Tales of Human Nature. Y/N was holding their shoulders, rubbing gently and speaking softly. Only half paying attention to his next trick, Spencer kept an eye on Y/N as they hugged the teenager, looking near tears themselves.

“Spencer?” J.J tapped him on the shoulder and Spencer realised that Henry was looking a little mad to have lost his godfather’s attention so easily.

“Sorry, Henry, can you pick another card please?”

When they reached the front of the queue, JJ went up first and took Henry and his pals up to see Y/N. They instantly recognised JJ and welcomed her with a tight hug. Henry was delighted to see his favourite babysitter and show them off to his school friends, boasting that they had read to him before today.

“They read me bits for bedtime, Mommy!”

“I know!” JJ tickled his cheek, “I read them to you too.”

“Who do you like better?”

“Mommy,”

Y/N gasped, dropping to their knees which made Spencer wince, “Henry, you wound me!”

Rossi approach next, knowing that once Spencer got to Y/N, they would not be left alone.

“You really know how to captivate an audience,” He kissed them on both cheeks, “Though don’t take offence if I don’t use the same tricks at my readings.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! Thank you for coming.”

Y/N then caught Spencer’s eye and began meandering over to him with a smile they were desperately trying to stifle. Spencer rose from his chair, meeting Y/N in the middle.

“Hi, Spencer.”

With his free arm, Spencer flaunted his cloak, “Who is Spencer? I’m Soren the Illusionist!”

Giggles from his godson, his godson’s gang, his co-workers and friends, they almost caused Y/N to lose their composure. They held on just long enough to continue the banter.

“Oh, forgive me, you look so much like my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm, he must be very handsome,”

And Y/N burst into peals of laughter, waving their hands about, “OK, stop, stop, stop, I can’t.”

“Hey!” Spencer pretended to take offence, pouting as Y/N brought him into a hug.

“Don’t worry,” They kissed his cheek between giggles, “You are so very handsome.”

“To think you were once sick at the sight of me.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing #r: gender neutral #wc: 5k+

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qingxintea · 3 years

Text

➼ chongyun || hiraeth

tw: mention of knives (no violence), kidnapping, explosion _______

you angled your camera to catch your face and upper body correctly and adjusted your blinds for the correct lighting. you put thin pieces of yellow and pink paper over your lamp to give off a sunset lighting sort of aesthetic in your minimalist room. your tiny cacao tree sat in the corner of your room, setting some sort of simple beach vibe.

then, you began to stream.

you watched as majority of your followers came to view as you sat in your rolly gaming chair. the greetings came rushing in and you noticed two of your friends had came along too, xingqiu and chongyun.

"hey gang, it's kingexplosionmurder here with your weekly sunday stream," you smiled and watched as comments came in asking you to notice them. beginning to select randomly, you flicked a short strand of hair behind your ear. "you have been noticed, yourlocalsugardaddy," you blessed them. and you swore you chose randomly.

on the other side of the screen, chongyun's face slightly flushed before eating his popsicle again. yes, that was his username, selected by xingqiu after the guhua heir was somehow able to trick him into selecting so. the situation must've been that he accidentally consumed some jueyun chili's, that was also xingqiu's doing.

he watched you smile as you explained your schedule for this stream, when he noticed you suddenly began laughing. it sounded genuine, he wanted to believe it was genuine, but there was a trace of disappointment in it. he observed your face, noticing you were looking at the chat box. "i agree too, scarymoose."

scarymoose: this streamer's kinda dog shit ngl 😐

by instinct, his fingers grazed over the keyboard as he analyzed the tone. this kid wasn't joking around with himself, he was really out to bring you down. he exhaled, shaking his head, wondering how you would deal in the situation.

yourlocalsugardaddy: miss karen this isn't yelp 🙄

he wasn't content with that yet, things could've gone onto more serious matters, but he knew you liked to keep your chat clean and peaceful. you went to the farther extents to keep that from happening, agreeing with rude comments yourself as a said joke, but actually have it sometimes harming you.

so chongyun tried his best to keep you happy.

redrumreaper: yo moose chill 😳

he recognized his friend xingqiu also trying to calm the situation as you just laughed it off and attempted to continue, sooner enough just beginning to ignore all his comments. some other viewers came up to your defense but in all honesty, you wanted to move on.

"s-so, i found some silk flowers outside of wangshuu inn yesterday, aren't they pretty?" you took a tiny bouquet of the said silk flowers and presented it to your viewers, holding it next to your cheek. the pink tone of the flowers matched the color of your cheeks and made for a nice picture. chongyun would've screenshotted it, but he respected your privacy.

yourlocaldumba$$: yes they're so pretty we love you 😍

13lue13erry: yes ong ong 💕 thiccer than my granny

Straw13erry: don't bring madame ping into this 💀💀

colino: are you sure it's alright to take from someone's legally owned property ?? much less from their garden

Straw13erry: u mean ur neighbors don't harvest ur flowers every day? 🙄 privilege spoke 🤚

yourlocalsugardaddy: vv pretty 😳

redrumreaper: simp 💀

you slightly choked over on your side and xingqiu calling chongyun a simp, for you. quickly clearing your throat, you regained your composure. your viewers could see that your cheeks had been dusted with a darker shade now.

13lue13erry: 👀

Straw13erry: 👀

yourlocaldumba$$: 👀

redrumreaper: 👀

sireluck: 💀

bazinga: 👀

dandelionn: 👀

poetichoe: 👀

"okay- anyways," you pushed that aside, watching the chain of 👀's coming in. you weren't too sure at what they were referring to, but just assumed that they were interested in xingqiu exposing chongyun. but, there was no way chongyun really felt like that, right? it was just a friendly compliment from what you believed. "just a tiny flex but y'all guys, i am so cracked at apex, not gonna lie. for all the new followers out there," you randomly commented. 'and to change the subject.'

"actually, you know what? fuck the schedule, let's go to trolling little eight year old kids posting selfies on instagram. due to certain reasons i'm just not gonna be blurring their usernames out, but please don't spam these people, i don't wanna be cancelled 💗" you sweetly smiled as you pulled up instagram and started streaming on your phone.

of course your sus notifications ruined it 🤡🤡

because xingqiu took advantage of the situation, sending messages to your discord. nothing mentioning your romantic life because he knew better than that, but just trolling. 'HEY GANG. ITS ME, TONY, AND TODAY WE'RE GONNA SEE IF IM FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'TURNS OUT, I AM NOT FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'AN UPDATE, IT HURTS. ALRIGHT. BYE GUYS.' you tried hard to contain your laughter, but certain giggles came out in the end, giggles that made chongyun's heart flutter.

xingqiu just kept spamming without a stop, to the point that you accidentally clicked into the notification instead of someone's username on a selfie post. so now everyone could see your group chat with xingqiu, chongyun, and a few other viewers that were actually your other friends.

13lue13erry: oh no 🤡

Straw13erry: 🗿

yourlocaldumba$$: HAHAHAHA WE'RE EXPOSED 🤡👌

just water support boy 😔: image.png

oh my god he's sending chongyun catboy edits. you made this concerning noise, glad no one really seemed to know who chongyun really was on twitch. you went back to instagram, beginning to dm a random kid, ignoring the situation that had just happened.

chongyun choked, slight heat running to his cheeks. what the fuck was xingqiu doing- how did he even get those pictures? maybe it was that one time xingqiu forced him to go to a furry con, but how did he ever get the time to photograph these? he nervously fidgeted and played with his fingers.

13lue13erry: 🤡

Straw13erry: 🤡

yourlocaldumba$$: 🤡

redrumreaper: 🤡

<— oraoraoraor

kingexplosionmurder: chav check

oraoraoraor: what

kingexplosionmurder: chav: check 😹😹

oraoraoraor: bruh

oraoraoraor: who tf are you

kingexplosionmurder: hope you like baddies cause i'm bad at everything 💗

oraoraoraor: bruh ok i'm blocking