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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

It was his father.

Of course.

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #mianmian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #right hand man

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donald4spiderman · 3 years

Text

Sweating, And A Lesson On Self-Worth

masterlist

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for his NAT (new agent training) defensive tactics coach.

Pairing: SR x Fem!Reader *described as petite to give the illusion of assumed vulnerability when IRL she’s a badass— no other specific physical details are mentioned*

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of body image, general CM talk, mentions of fighting/grappling/wrestling, small age gap (reader is 28 & reid is 22)

concept inspired by @sierraraeck’s fic “Bad Liar” about Morgan training Spencer. I love wrestling so I wanted to do one about a badass female combat coach/agent.

REBLOG!

When Spencer and the rest of the trainees are ushered into the fitness center on their second day at the academy, he almost shits himself. He’s well aware of the physical demands being in the FBI requires, and he’s been dreading the PFT (Physical Fitness Test) since he applied.

There are hundreds of men and women huddled in the middle of the room, anticipating the orientation, and Spencer feels his palms sweat before he’s even started working out. The majority of the trainees are football players, wrestling’s, and weight lifters— he can tell by their muscular build and general atmosphere of strength and confidence.

SSA Jesse Fallon introduces their defensive tactics coach for the next twenty weeks— a petite but athletic woman. She’s dressed in a gray t-shirt and flexible khaki pants— Spencer would be lying if he said she didn’t look gorgeous, even in the bland attire.

“I’m SSA and defensive tactics coach (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She introduces herself, giving a warm smile to the crowd. “I’ve been an SSA for five years and the head coach of this portion of the academy for two. This is my third official wave of trainees— and believe me— I won’t be going easy on any of you.”

Light laughter disperses through the crowd, and Spencer wears an uneasy look on his face.

“Today, I’ve prepped stations for each of you to cycle through for the next three hours. Agent Rivera is monitoring the weapon defense; Agent Glover is in charge of the takedowns; And I’ll be handling hand-to-hand combat and grappling. You’ll spend an hour at each station, run a mile at the end, and then you’re done for the day. Sound good?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Choruses through the crowd.

SSA (Y/N) clasps her hands together, “Alright, you know your groups. Split up!”

Spencer’s assigned to the takedown station first. Agent Glover’s criticisms are primarily nonconstructive, and Spencer struggles with apprehending and cuffing his more robust and much more muscular partner on the floor. He’s never trained this hard for anything in his life, physically, speaking. He’s half-dead within the first hour, and he dreads having to do this two more times.

His next stop is with Agent Rivera, who’s much kinder to Spencer than his prior. Reid is better at disarming his opponent, but his long limbs flail wildly due to his incoordination— he’s trying his best, but he sees the way everyone else giggles at him. It’s a blow to the chest that leaves him defeated more than any gunshot could.

The last hour is spent working at SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s station. She commands the attention of the entire group so naturally, despite being considered a rookie, she has an intimidating amount of knowledge.

“How many of you are wrestlers or judokas?” About sixty percent of the group raises their hand, and Spencer scans around for who might have the strength to kill him with one blow.

“Good,” She smiles. “This will come naturally to you, then. Now, a head-and-arm throw most likely won’t work in the field— so, sorry, judokas. However, double legs, body locks, and blast-doubles are constantly used to take down an unsub with minimal injury to the agent. Even someone as short as me can use leverage to grapple and control a much taller person.” (Y/N) scans the crowd of trainees for a moment before pointing directly at Spencer.

“You, come here.” She commands, and Spencer waddles nervously up next to her on the mat. “This is...”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing she’s asking for his name. “S-Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Spencer.” She smiles. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot two.”

“Spencer has the advantage of almost a whole foot of height against me. But, I can use his higher center of gravity to tip him over more easily. We do this a lot in wrestling— being low to the ground and agile is important.”

(Y/N) firmly plants her hands on Spencer’s shoulder, moving him so that he’s turned to the side. “This move is called a modified blast double— it prioritizes attacking the ankles and knees rather than the knees and abdomen.”

She leans in closer to Spencer, “Don’t post your wrist out when you fall.” She whispers in his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Keep your neck tucked too.” Her breath is warm and minty, and Spencer almost forgets that he has 30 other people watching him.

“I’m going to simulate an active attack with Spencer. Doing this move in a wrestling match is much more controlled than against a rogue criminal playing by their own rules. They might have a melee or close-range weapon like a knife or hammer on them, so it’s important to make this move when the best opportunity strikes.”

“Spencer’s going to run at me and attempt to land a punch to my face.” She gives him a nod, and he chambers over to her.

Swiftly crouching lower to the ground, she launches herself towards him, gripping the back of his ankles and pushing her shoulder into his knees, and suddenly he’s flying back onto the mat. She follows through, straddling Spencer’s hips and covering his movements with an arm under his neck.

He’s out of breath as he watches the beautiful SSA leaning above him. His head is slightly sore from the impact, but overall he feels... invigorated.

“You never let your opponent fall onto the ground without covering them. Straddling your opponent allows you to keep them down while having full use of your fists.” She swings her leg off of Spencer, standing up. She reaches a hand out and quickly yanks him up.

“Find someone and drill that move. I’m coming around to help all of you.”

She gives Spencer a firm pat on his back, to which he blushes furiously, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

Spencer spent the rest of the hour getting slammed onto the mat over and over by various men and women. His entire shirt is soaked, and his breathing is so labored he thinks he’s going to faint. SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N) might have appeared at ease earlier in the day, but she wasn’t kidding when she promised she would work them to no end. Everyone was at the brink of death when they approached the last lap of their mile— Spencer at risk of passing out more than others.

The relief he feels after completing his tenth lap around the gym is euphoric. Trainees collapse onto the ground with exhaustion all around him.

“Great job today.” SSA (Y/N) compliments happily. “I appreciate all the effort you guys showed today. It better still be here in four months.” And with that, she excuses them, along with the agents monitoring each station.

Spencer’s one of the last agents to trickle out of the gym. His legs feel like jello when he walks, and his lungs burn.

He almost makes it past the threshold of the door before his name is called.

“Dr. Reid.” She beckons him over with a finger. “May I talk to you for a moment.”

Spencer nervously shuffles over. “Yes, SSA (Y/L/N)?”

“I applaud your effort at training today. I can tell you were working hard.” He blushes. “But I’ve been informed that the board is willing to wave all physical training requirements for your acceptance into the FBI.”

“Yeah... I-I uh figured they’d want me for my IQ only.” He jokes nervously, shrugging his shoulders. He knows it’s disrespectful not to look her in the eye, but she intimidates him too much.

She laughs, and it’s a sweet, joyful sound that Spencer can’t get enough of. She’s powerful and radiant— stealing attention from everyone else. “You’re charming, and your reputation precedes you.”

Charming? Since when has little Spencer Reid ever been charming? He smiles awkwardly, looking off to the side to hide his blush.

“You know, the forensics department wants their hands on the trainee with the chemistry doctorate, and the surveillance department wants the kid with eidetic memory, and word has it that you speak more than four languages, so everyone wants their fair share.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Spencer asks, voice shy and barely above a whisper.

“Because,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, “You need to carry yourself with more confidence, Spencer. I saw you— surrounded by all those athletes— it made you feel out of place. I get it.”

“How d-do you get it?”

“I was 23 years old when I became an SSA, surrounded by people two decades older than me. I felt like the office secretary— constantly getting pushed around by people I was afraid to upset. But the thing is, Spencer, you need to demand respect from other people. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant or be a bully, but you are one of— if not the most promising agent trainee— and you need to realize your self-worth.”

“I’m smart, I-I know that. But I’m not strong or athletic by any means.” He sighs, gripping the duffle bag slung across his shoulder tightly.

“That’s alright. You’re not going to be Kyle Dake overnight. But you can’t beat yourself up about it.” (Y/N) chuckles lightly.

Spencer thinks for a moment, “T-thank you... for uh saying all those nice things about me.”

“They're true.” She nods.

“I think I’ll continue with the defensive tactics training. I could um use it.” Its partially true, but he’s most inclined to stick around because of the kind and beautiful SSA that’ll be training him.

“Yay! That’s great, Spencer.” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug that’s a little too friendly to be professional. He accepts despite being drenched in sweat.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around Spencer, and she pats him on the back twice before pulling away like a proud mentor would. He can’t decide if (Y/N) would be a better girlfriend or a better teacher. If she would, he’d prefer for her to be both. He’d give her all he had to offer if she’d allow him.

He doesn’t recognize the smile that plays on her lips, and it’s a foreign feeling for the aggressive and focused SSA. She hasn’t felt something like this in a while, especially not for a nerdy trainee named Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Hit the showers.” She teases. “You stink.”

Spencer nods furiously, “Y-yeah, of course. Thank you, again, SSA—“

“Just call me (Y/N).”

“T-thank you, (Y/N).” He smiles, scurrying out of the gym and into the hallway as giddy as ever.

(Y/N) knows she can’t pursue this— at least, not right now. She’ll give it a few years to let him settle in the FBI (his acceptance is inevitable) if she can be patient for that long. All she knows is that eventually, she wants the awkwardly adorable boy to be hers— and she wants to be his.

i’m so proud of this fic but sry i got carried away talking about wrestling i love it sm

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid masterlist #baby!spencer #bau

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theskywaslookingback · 3 years

Note

tma fic recs please ? 🤲🏽

Oooooo yes! I never get asks like this, thank you!

[my tumblr fic recs tag is here for browsing]

I had to put it under a cut because it got...entirely too long barely half an hour into making it, sorry.

Under 5k

means of cartharsis by orphan_account [G] [965]

“You’d think – you’d that at this point nightmares would be second nature for me, hm?” Martin says, forcing a smile even as he tugs the blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders.

It’s meant to be a bit funny. Instead of laughing, though, Jon frowns.

“No,” he says simply, and matter-of-factly wipes the moisture from Martin’s cheeks with a tissue like he’s a crying child.

A Proper Sleepover by Goodluckdetective (scorpiantales) [T] [1.4k]

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely, everyone has a chance to savor a moment of respite. As much as they can get these days. If only to talk about things that long need to be spoken.

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”

where i go, when i go there by rainny_days [T] [1.7k]

Martin wants Jon to hold his hand. Martin doesn't want Jon to hold his hand.

It's complicated.

all the other ways by AptlyNamed [G] [2.2k]

Jon loses his first soul mark when he is eight years old.

a palace from ruin by bibliocratic [G] [2.2k]

"What're you sorry for?” Martin asks.

“I should have asked,” Jon says finally. “I'd never.... you were always so private about him, so I mean, at first I wasn't sure he was even yours, but then – when you, when you went with Peter, and I – he was so small, and I thought he was h-half-dead. S-so I picked him up and I carried him. And I'm sorry.”

interiors by doomcountry [T] [2.7k]

In the doorway, he fumbles with his keys. Their sound is loud in the silent stairwell. You don’t remember getting here.

searching for a light (for a right) by Kalgalen [T] [2.7k]

Some people make the mistake of assuming he's naive about sex, for the simple reason he hasn't dated in a while. Tim has called him a prude, at one point, and implied that he was somehow afraid of the intimacy required by the act; he wasn’t entirely wrong, but this definitely isn’t the reason for Jon's disinterest and general bafflement toward what most people seemed to consider as "what makes them human".

Jon simply hasn't found the right person. That is all it is: high standards, and a reticence to let people in.

(In which Jon finds out society is wrong about what a romantic relationship should be.)

how to plant a garden in rocky soil by treeprince [T] [2.9k]

Sometimes you just need a good pair of hands to work out all the kinks in your life.

Good thing Martin has two.

A Weather In The Flesh by cuttooth [G] [3k]

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

I'll bring the motion by callmearctus [T] [3.1k]

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

A Bread Made In Heaven by Againstme [G] [3.3k]

Martin moves over and watches how his boyfriend handles the dough. He's awkward with it, tentative and gentle, as if he's scared of hurting it somehow.

"Is this, uh, am I doing this right?" Jon asks, still slowly stretching out the dough and folding it onto itself.

"Well," he says shifting closer to Jon again, "you could be applying more pressure. Here, let me help you out, dear."

Martin moves fully behind Jon, and reaches around him, putting his hands on top of his boyfriend's. Jon inhales sharply, but doesn't say anything else, just lets Martin's hand rest on top of his.

Martin's hands are bigger, but not big enough to entirely envelop the other's hands, and Jon's hands are much, much warmer than his own are. To see what they're doing, Martin moves his head to look over Jon's shoulder. Though he can't see his boyfriend's face from this angle, he can see how it is slowly growing red at the edge of his vision. He decides not to tease him on it, instead content with letting a smile spread across his face and slowly guiding their joined hands in the proper motion.

Or, Martin teaches Jon how to make bread.

stumbling and spinning by lady_mab [G] [3.3k]

“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.”

“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.”

It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” [...]

“You have to admit, Jon has great tastes,” Gerry teases.

nothing sweeter than local honey by beeclaws [T] [3.4k]

So Tim is content, one arm leaned into the spray, waiting for the water to warm, enjoying the feeling of homecoming underneath the gentle fuzz of jetlag, when he hears gasping, panicked breaths coming from the other room.

Tim and Jon, in the aftermath, relearning how to be okay.

When Words are Inadequate by Mugatu [T] [3.8k]

Meals and the preparation of are, for want of a better word, informative. Fact gathering. A place where they can fill in the gaps of their knowledge of the other.

Jon cooks for Martin, and they learn more about each other.

go softly by doomcountry [T] [4k]

And there is nothing else besides this.

Imago by cuttooth [T] [4k]

“Jon?” he asks tentatively, tightening his grip around the poker as it slips against his sweaty palm. The antennae twitch, and suddenly Martin knows that it’s Jon, the knowledge sliding into his mind in a surge of desperate affection, the same profound love he felt that first time he truly saw Jon in the fog of the Lonely.

“Oh,” he whispers. “It really is you.”

Jon changes, but he’s still the same to Martin.

shoreline by bibliocratic [G] [4.1k]

“Martin," Tim says kindly, tipsily, only mildly slurring. "Dearest, dearest Martin. You're wankered, babe. Last train to Stockwell fucked off hours ago because it is now piss off o'clock in the morning, and there's a sofa with your exact name on it at my place. Thought you said you wanted some handsome fellow to take you back to his tonight?”

Or: The OG Archive crew go drinking, Martin comes out, and gets some well deserved TLC. In that order.

get your epitaph right by bibliocratic [G] [4.2k]

Martin's daemon has tried on the shape of dogs and lizards and snakes and horses, and even – once, when he was younger and Mum took him to the seaside, a fish.

Martin's never seen his soul in the dressing of a spider before.

i've known the warmth of your doorways by beeclaws [T] [4.2k]

'I’m always in pain, Jon wants to say, even as he dismisses the thought as melodramatic. Between his growing collection of old wounds and scar tissue, the supernatural hunger for statements that hasn’t been truly satiated in months, and the unpredictable aches and strains his body threw off day by day long before he ever set foot in the Institute, some level of pain and discomfort follows Jon wherever he goes now. He is used to being in pain. He’s not used to someone holding his hand as he suffers through it.'

Jon catalogs the comforts he receives, and wonders how long he will be allowed to keep them.

lay down your weary head by Zykaben [T] [4.6k]

Jon has been running himself ragged, searching for every scrap of information he can possibly find about the Unknowing. He's exhausted and sleep-deprived but he can't bring himself to take a break, not now.

Luckily, Tim and Martin are there to make sure that their boyfriend gets the care and rest he needs.

only the sweetest words remain by bluejayblueskies [T] [4.6k]

This isn't how things are supposed to go, right? Jon remembers those ratty paperbacks from the charity shops, dime-a-dozen romance novels with broken bindings and yellowing pages and words that spoke of love and passion and sexuality in prose that was more than a bit too mature for someone whose age hadn’t yet reached double digits. Stolen glances turn into dinner dates turn into passionate kisses turn into…

Well, he’d never actually read those parts of the books, because it had all seemed so deeply uncomfortable and gross. But he got the picture.

Or, Jonathan Sims, on being loved

5k-20k

and they keep not letting go by Marianne_Dashwood [G] [5k]

It’s an electric feeling, something strange and new and familiar all at once, even though he has been holding Martin’s hand for most of the day. His stomach swoops, like he is standing on the edge of the precipice of realisation and staring into the void of unknowing. But at the same time, he does know. In this instant of contact between them, the last few years of cups of tea and small smiles and momentary glances, of panic and fear and only feeling safe with Martin’s solid presence in the room, despite his paranoia, rush into him, and oh, oh oh.

ready to call this love by yewgrove [G] [5.6k]

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99 [T] [6k]

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

This Must Be The Place by cuttooth [T] [6k]

“You said – you said we were going home,” Martin says softly.

“I did,” says Jon, and is grateful that Martin doesn’t comment on him calling the Archives home. “I – I don’t really know where to go. I, uh, I don’t have a flat anymore, I don’t think. We could find a hotel?”

“Let’s go to my place,” says Martin. His hand squeezes Jon’s, more gently than before. Most importantly, Jon notes, he doesn’t let go.

Jon and Martin go home for a little while.

Small Things, Simple Acts by ZaliaChimera [T] [6.6k]

Even after leaving London, Jon and Martin are not free, not really. Maybe they never will be.

But for now they can be themselves, and maybe in the end, that's enough.

house by tomatoes [G] [9k]

Martin can take care of himself.

roses, roses, roses by acetheticallyy (judesstfrancis) [T] [9.3k]

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2 [G] [9.6k]

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

Inseparable by voiceless_terror [T] [10.3k]

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

i'm almost me again, you're almost you by gruhukens [G] [12k]

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite [T] [15.8k]

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Over 20k

The Kindness of Strangers by TheOestofOCs [M] [23k]

It was easier to treat Jon like a monster when he wasn’t shivering against his back, brokenly humming—wait, was that…

“Are you trying to do ‘Hey, Jude’?” Tim demanded.

Jon stopped, stiffening. “Mm hrmh mm mmh hm,” he said defensively.

“You really can’t hold a tune, can you, boss?”

It was just an ordinary walk to a restaurant. Tim had insisted that if they were going to talk, there would be no tape recorders or weird Archives ghosts listening in. A bit of fresh air wouldn’t kill him, Tim had said. What could go wrong?

By the time Jon spots the white delivery van, it’s much too late.

The Stranger kidnaps Jon. Tim comes along for the ride.

Misjudged by ShastaFirecracker [T] [36.5k]

Martin's been a longtime listener of What the Ghost, so when Georgie gives a shoutout to her flatmate's Twitch channel during a Q&A, he checks it out - only to discover that her flatmate is also his most terrifying coworker at his new job. The first time they crossed paths, Jon yelled at him for incompetence. But on the streams, Martin sees an entirely different person - someone fun and relaxed, engaging and unfairly attractive. Over time, Martin begins to find that Jon buried inside his dour, awkward coworker. He also learns to live with the fact that his crush is painfully one-sided... or is it?

if we make it through the night everyone is gonna hear us (Series) by skvadern [Ratings Vary] [42.4k]

In which Sasha survives the NotThem (with a little help from a certain Distortion) and she and Jon spend s2 working together to try and make sense of everything that's happening to them. It goes...interestingly

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic [T] [49.7k]

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

it's only forever by lady_mab [T] [50.9k]

“The castle at the center of the labyrinth,” Jon breathes, recalling again the words from one of the past conversations with Martin. “He’s there.”

“Turn back, Jonathan,” the Goblin King says, and Jon is surprised to hear a slight edge of desperation in the tone. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

“I can’t,” Jon answers with the same tone. “You know that I can’t.”

The Goblin King’s grin is gone completely, and he regards Jon with a degree of pity before that melts into resignation.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey [T] [53.3k]

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

A Home For What Loves You by TheWrongShop [T] [151k]

It was completely fine that Jon was following up on this very normal, non-supernatural statement at midnight on a Friday. He was going to find nothing at all, and then he was going to go home and sleep for fourteen straight hours and feel absolutely no qualms about moving case #0150409 directly into the filing cabinet marked "discredited".

Or; Jon and Martin end up investigating Carlos Vittery's basement and finding the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss together.

RATED E *MINORS DNI*

A Look And A Voice by cuttooth [E] [6.9k]

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Jon asks bluntly, and for a second Martin can’t breathe.

“It - it doesn’t matter what I - ” he begins valiantly, before Jon interrupts him.

“Because I want to have sex with you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if you think it’s for the wrong reasons. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. The only thing that matters is if you want to as well.”

Martin meets a guy in a bar and takes him home.

Warms The Coldest Night by cuttooth [E] [11k]

"Flame that warms the coldest night Bring to us the waxing Light, Be with us on Solstice Night." Gypsy - Bring Back The Light

There is mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the Archives when Jon gets in.

Curiosity by ShastaFirecracker [E] [11.6k]

“You know that conversation we had the other day about how one of the most important things for queer youth to learn is that it's okay to change their minds, because identity and self-discovery are always fluid?”

Behind him, Martin slipped oven mitts over his hands and pulled open the oven door. The scent of garlic and rosemary flooded the kitchen. “Yeah?” he said.

“I, um... I'd like to revisit the topic of sex.”

At the Interim (Series) by Rend_Herring [E] [41k]

A Measure Outside the Lines and The Residuum

triptych (Series) by Stacicity [E] [44.9k]

A collection of Jon/Tim/Martin fics

a steady hand, a delicate man by callmearctus [E] [52.8k]

Martin is the proprietor and manager of a very discrete and fairly exclusive brothel situated between Belgravia and Chelsea. Blackwood House excels at special requests and pleasing any client.

Except for Jon, who probably has never been pleased a day in his entire life.

Despite that, he still comes back. It eventually begs the question: how do you solve a problem like Jon Sims?

#statement ends #anonymous #fic recs #save #((this took me like two hours lmaooooo))

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lululawrence · 3 years

Photo

Polyamory Fic Rec

I thought I’d made one already, but apparently I hadn’t. So, since @twopoppies had an anon looking for more, I figured I’d go ahead and make a rec list now. This is not exhaustive, but it’s a start!

Please remember to leave the authors kudos and nice comments to show appreciation for their work.

I Should've Known by @nikogda (Liam/Louis/Harry, 11k)

It started out with little things here and there. A light that needed replacing. The belt in the vacuum. Small things, and eventually they took advantage of it.

Louis decided they needed another, larger repair whilst talking with his alpha neighbour, Liam. Liam had said he would do it for Louis and his partner, Harry.

And, well, it sort of went a little off track from there. What was an innocent thing at first, was now the two omegas’ way of catching the sweet deep scent of their alpha neighbour one whom they both mutually crushed.

Or: the one where alpha Liam moves in next door to bonded omegas Louis and Harry. All three go on their own journeys but in the end find that maybe, in the end, it really was always each other.

And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic (Zayn/Liam/Harry/Louis, 23k)

“Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch.

“Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

That Don't Define Who You Are by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 7k)

“Shit,” Harry muttered, rushing towards the man. “Are you alright?”

The man clearly tried to muffle his scream. “No, I’m really not. I’m afraid you’ll need to call 999.”

When Harry reached the man, he saw the man’s leg had gotten caught by pieces of the bike that had come apart beneath him. Without thinking, Harry leaned down and lapped where the blood was flowing quickly until it slowed.

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want you to pass out whilst I was on the phone.”

“God, no, don’t apologise,” the man said. “My mum’s a licking omega, see. Quite soothing.”

Harry blushed. “Yeah. Let me see about an ambulance for you.”

Or the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

Its Mutual We (All) Discussed It by @nikogda (Zayn/Harry/Louis, 29k)

“Well you go to the agency, Alpha Donor Services and fill some forms out, whoever is doing the deed gets tested and such. And then they match you based on the papers with a few Alphas. You read the information on them and pick a few, they make sure they’re still willing and tell them about you. Eventually you guys will meet in public, do that a few times until you’re comfortable.” Niall scratched his arm lightly, and glances over at Harry, “The point of the service is to help a family, mostly an omega one, who can’t have children of their own. An Alpha will help an Omega get pregnant.”

“I feel like this is a lot.” Harry mumbles, setting his mug down.

“It is. Or well it was but it was worth it, H. I mean, I would do this again. We already talked about it.”

“Really?”

Or: Two omegas in a committed relationship are ready to start a family. In the process, their alpha donor becomes part of the family too. Every part of their relationship may be unconventional but all of them have never been happier

old haunts are for forgotten ghosts by fortymaliks (Nick/Harry/Louis, 8k)

“It’s the three of us, now,” Harry says, finally.

Louis blinks.

“Like,” Harry rushes to clarify, “you, and me, and Nick.”

Louis wakes up with amnesia, and learns that he's missing two whole years of his life. Two whole years, and some interesting developments...

Orion's Belt by @londonfoginacup (Nick/Harry/Louis, 24k)

Louis and Nick have been in a happy committed relationship for two years, their matching soulmarks on display for the world to see. It’s been them against the world, the alpha/beta singer and radio DJ power duo.

All that changes on February 1st, when they wake up to a third matching soulmark.

As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth.

You're a Rabbit, Louis Series by @magicalrocketships (Nick/Harry/Louis, 16k)

"Maybe Louis turned into a rabbit," Nick suggests. They both laugh. Louis doesn't. Harry is an idiot and Nick is an even bigger one.

Louis stomps past both of them on four tiny, furry, baby rabbit paws, and into Nick's flat. "I hate you both," he says. He sits on the rug by the TV. "And you can stop following me around too," he says to Pig, who sits down next to him on the rug.

"But seriously," Harry says, from the door. "Where's Louis?"

Louis thumps his back leg on the floor. "I'm here, you idiot."

"I'm not really suggesting this could be true," Nick says carefully, "but are we sure he isn't a tiny baby rabbit?"

The "A" in "Normal" by Yesitstyles (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

Louis eats chips, argues with his best friend Nick about the validity of various sexualities, and falls for a second crush. Harry tries to spell the word "normal".

Loving You's the Antidote by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 11k)

Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly.

It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick.

Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

Come Out and Play by @dinosaursmate (Combination of OT5 pairings, 30k)

“I have this… fantasy.” Louis smiled self-consciously. “Well, I- I’ve been thinking about it recently, you know?”

Harry smiled softly. “Say it, Lou.”

“I have this fantasy,” he repeated. “Of… all five of us.”

“All five of us,” Harry exclaimed. “Gosh.”

Louis buried his face into Harry’s armpit, and Harry giggled softly. --- Harry and Louis discover a new kink in their relationship, and it brings all the boys closer than they could have ever imagined.

Trinity's Fate by Anonymous (Nick/Harry/Louis, 43k)

When a person is sixteen years old, he or she finds out if they are a dom or a sub. Later when they turn eighteen, the name of their soulmate(s) appear somewhere on their body.

Louis Tomlinson, a sub, fears getting a dom more than anything.

When his eighteenth birthday approaches and the names Nicholas Grimshaw and Harry Styles, a well known dom couple who are DJs for BBC Radio 1, appear on his arms, Louis panics.

Let me be your good night by Conscious_ramblings (Nick/Greg/Harry/Louis, 8k)

The one where Harry and Louis are in love, they end up at a party with some friends, and end up discovering things about themselves, and their friends that could change everything.

The thing was, Harry and Louis weren’t poly. They’d never even played with others together, despite having talked about it quite a lot in the heat of arousal. When they had been at torture garden and antichrist they had flirted with the idea. Harry had even kissed a friend of theirs once to rile Louis up, which had lead to a great session on the Saint Andrew’s cross. Louis loved to watch Harry flirt, loved the way jealousy turned him on and riled him up, loved how pliant and submissive Harry could be when Louis claimed him after. But they definitely weren’t poly, and Louis wasn’t quite sure what that meant for this evening. Everyone else attending the party was, and Louis’ green-eyed-monster had been feeding off that fact for most of the bus ride here. Now he was confronted by a really hot man playing with his boyfriend’s hair like it was no big deal, and he didn’t know quite what to do.

Perfect Sky by @polkadotlou (Nick/Harry/Louis, 40k)

Sub pairs are a rare thing, not only because of the jealousy that can brew between submissives if a Dom isn't attentive to each.

A sub pair has to be balanced.

Harry and Louis have always fit each other without trying. With them, it's easy.

But sub pairs can't just go out in the world and live on their own.

Alternatively, Louis always knew that a Dom was going to come into his and Harry’s lives – he only wishes Nick picked him too.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape by @louandhazaf (Nick/Elgar/Louis, 73k)

Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.

When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.

They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.

it hurts, but it's worth it by words_unravel (Liam/Harry/Louis, 14k)

Liam finds the shots of the three of them, rolling around and laughing, a week or so later during a late night. After a moment's pause, she saves one of the photos, giving it some inane, boring name. She shuts down her computer after that and goes to bed.

It takes a long time before she falls asleep.

#mine #poly fic rec #my fic rec #fic rec #i love poly fics so much #i thought i had made one of these already????#i was surprised to find i hadn't #so anyway #this is a good start

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letsfluxshitup · 3 years

Text

companionship is stored in the fried bread [ao3]

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

bedrock bros but with old routines and new trauma aka tommy and techno fry bread

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

He remembered waking up from another week long nap, Phil recounting any news he'd picked up, and stumbling back towards his bedroom. He'd barely made it to the stairs before his door had flung open, bouncing off of the wall and slamming shut again.

Techno blinked at the door, before it was flung open again, this time much gentler and followed by a string of curses and taunts.

"Your fuckin door sucks, y'know that? Trying to lock me out? Stubbed my fuckin toe on it, you should get a new one, piece of garbage attacked me." Tommy hissed as he walked through the door, not hesitating to slam it behind him. The door swung back and hit him from behind, bouncing off of a spare shoe that had fallen in the way.

Tommy paused, face and shoulders scrunched up as he sucked in a deep breath, cheeks and ears flushing red in Tommy's signature lead up to I'm

-going-to-throw-a-tantrum-but-it's-not-called-a-tantrum-technoblade-I-am-not-a-child-technoblade-but-that-will-not-stop-me-from-bursting-your-eardrums-because-I've-been-inconvenienced-technoblade.

"Are you hungry?" Techno blurted out, remembering back to SMP Earth, and the foolproof method of derailing a Tommy Innit Tantrum— offering food and/or shiny things.

Tommy deflated in one long exhale, shoulders relaxing and face smoothing as he grinned at Techno.

"Actually, I am, big man! What do you have available? I'm quite hungry actually, I've been walking for a very long time, and it's very rude of you, actually, to not offer me something to eat sooner," Tommy inhaled again, catching his breath. "Did you know that, Techno? Did you know you're very rude?"

"I'm aware," Techno deadpanned, spinning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. Tommy was directly behind him, stepping on his heels more often than not.

Techno gestured towards the kitchen table, in what should have been a universally recognizable symbol of please-sit-down-you're-in-the-way, which Tommy completely ignored by climbing on to his counter to dig in his cupboard.

RaccoonInnit, echoed in his head, startling him slightly since Chat had been unusually quiet since Tommy had appeared.

Techno sighed deeply as the voices picked up slightly, humming their thoughts into his ears. Mostly protect-protect-protect, but there wasn't really anything to protect him from. If he slipped and broke his neck from falling off the counter then that was his own problem.

That train of thought earned him a near unanimous shriek of voices, demanding he make sure Tommy didn't fall.

He sighed again, ending it off with a slight growl as he moved towards Tommy, figuring he may as well entertain the voices for now.

Tommy's head whipped around at the sound of the growl, and he reeled back as Techno moved closer, a stuttering of "sorry- sorry- I didn't-" cut off as he slipped off the counter.

Techno lunged forward without thinking, catching Tommy around the shoulders and lowering him to the ground. Tommy's eyes were wide as he made eye contact with Techno, terror twisting Techno's stomach as Tommy let out a childlike little whimper.

Techno opened his mouth, to speak, to apologize, to break the silence, but was awarded with a face full of sweaty hand, Tommy smacking him away and cursing up a storm as he stumbled to his feet.

When Tommy made it out of arm's reach he paused, shifting from foot to foot, glancing between Techno and the doorway.

Techno blinked, slowly rising to his feet, hands spread out.

"Sorry," he rumbled, voices in his head screaming for him to apologize, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Tommy huffed, puffing up again, forcing his shoulders back and head held high.

"You didn't scare me, dickhead, just startled me a little." He grumbled, arms crossed as he deflated slightly.

Techno certainly wasn't going to argue semantics after nearly causing the kid to crack his head open, and instead brushed the non existent dirt off of his pants.

"So," Tommy huffed, gesturing towards the cabinet. "Where's the flour? I want to fry bread."

He'd managed to sparse through Tommy's nearly incoherent ramblings to pick up that Tommy was hiding from everyone else- or rather, "taking a break, because Big Men don't hide, Technoblade-".

"You needed a break from the drama so you ran to your worst enemy?" Techno deadpanned, reaching for the flour as Tommy sent him a pleading look. His hands were covered in too sticky dough, having ignored Techno's insistence that they needed to add more flour. He couldn't really knead it like that, he was more just squishing it between his fingers.

Techno would be more grossed out if he hadn't watched tommy thoroughly wash his hands. He'd hovered nearby as Tommy aggressively scrubbed before Techno had even let him near the dough, Tommy complaining the whole time about how he knew how to wash his hands and didn't need a babysitter.

Tommy huffed in response, wind whistling between his clenched teeth as he worked the flour into the dough.

"You're not my worst enemy," he snarked, something vulnerable in his eyes and the set of his jaw. "My worst enemy is in prison, currently."

"And hopefully that's where he'll stay," Techno hummed absently, watching as Tommy's shoulders relaxed minutely. "Things have been a lot quieter around here, startin' to wonder if him blaming you for all the problems on the server was just him projecting."

"Yeah, right, of course. He was being a projector and shit," Tommy let out a slightly incredulous laugh, and yeah, Techno realized it was hypocritical of them to place the blame on Dream. But, Tommy looked tired and tense and other t-words with negative meanings that Tommy didn't deserve the weight of.

Tommy rolled out the dough, flour-y hands causing puffs of flour to cling to his shirt and pants and hair. Techno huffed a laugh at the smear of flour across Tommy's cheek, and vaguely gestured towards his own face when Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow.

Tommy immediately swiped a hand across his face, smearing more flour in the process. His eyebrows furrowed, surely able to feel it, and he glowered at Techno, daring him to say something. Techno just snorted as he stood up, ignoring the coos roiling through his head, and waved Tommy away from the rolled out dough.

"We've gotta cut it up now, so we can fry it," Techno said, reaching for the knife he'd left out for this exact reason, carefully watching Tommy for a reaction.

"I know that, dickhead, you don't have to explain," Tommy snapped, head held high, as he watched Techno section up the dough.

Techno kept his eyes on the dough, carefully watching Tommy through his peripherals. In a, frankly, unearned show of trust, Tommy turned his back to him to wash his hands of the flour and sticky dough remnants.

When he was done, though, he whipped back around, watching Techno's hand on the knife. He'd apparently exceeded his reserve of unfounded-trust-for-the-person-who'd-essentially-ruined-his-life for the day.

Which, despite the voices' croons of distress at being untrusted, Techno thought was totally fair.

Tommy was nervous, and on edge, but he didn't seem to be explicitly afraid of Techno, just anxious in general, and Techno wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Blinking back to the present, realizing he'd just been staring blankly at the cut up bread, he looked to Tommy.

"Do we want to make shapes or just fry as is?" He asked, carefully skirting past Tommy to drop the knife in the sink.

Out of sight, out of mind, hopefully, Techno thought. He quickly rinsed the knife, and cupped his hand to let the water run over the flecks of flour and dough that clung to the sides of the sink.

Tommy opened his mouth to respond and moved past him at the same time, towards the table, shoulder barely brushing across Techno's back. Techno tensed slightly in surprise. Tommy froze, and from the corner of his eye Techno could see he was tensed up as well. After no reaction, Tommy carefully made his way back to the table.

Techno kept fiddling around at the sink, letting Tommy play with the dough while he pretended to be busy. He knew Tommy liked making all sorts of shapes out of the dough, but wouldn't do it if he thought he was wasting Techno's time.

Techno busied himself with finding a proper pot, then filling it with the appropriate amount of oil. He measured it out carefully, and tried not to be bothered about the deafening lack of Tommy's insistence that you didn't have to measure it, the right amount of oil was something you felt in your heart.

He remembered the first handful of times, way back in Hypixel, when Tommy had insisted on teaching him how to fry bread. Those attempts, rife with errors and Tommy shouting about not needing to do silly things like measure, were near disasters, almost always saved by Techno's insistence on following instructions.

Once Tommy's hands stilled and the oil was at the appropriate temperature, Techno consciously relaxed his shoulders and smoothed out his face before turning around, eyeing the flour that had made its home on Tommy's clothes.

"We'll have to get you an apron," he drawled, already thinking about the leftover rolls of cloth he'd made, and if he had any red dye laying around still.

Tommy blinked, hands nervously fluttering at his side, caught off guard. Techno stared blankly back at him, having an idea of what was going through the kid's head.

Technosoft, bounced around in his head and he rolled his eyes when Tommy wasn't looking.

"You're assuming this is gonna be a regular thing?" Tommy tried to snark, but it fell flat, voice coming out too vulnerable and soft. It pitched up at the end, as if asking for permission.

"Yeah," Techno grunted. Tommy's eyes snapped back to him, and narrowed slightly before he huffed.

"Yeah, ok, fine." Tommy crossed his arms in front of himself. "I get it, I get it, you can't live without the great Tommy Innit's amazing fried bread."

Techno snorted as Tommy continued on.

"No, no, I get it, truly, it's just not the same when I don't make it, right? I have the special fried bread making touch, I know, it's a special talent of mine that gets all the ladies." Tommy scooped up the tray of dough, bringing it along to the stove where Techno stood.

"What ladies?" Techno grunted, as he reached for dough to test fry. He ignored the fact that it really didn't taste the same when Tommy wasn't there to help/be a menace.

"I'll have you know, Technoblade, I get lots of ladies-" Tommy puffed up, moving to put his own bit of dough in the oil. Tommy wasn't really paying attention, head tilted up to try his best to look down on someone who was taller than him, as he continued defending himself.

His hand moved down too quickly, and the dough flopped down into the oil, splashing a considerable amount back on to Tommy's fingertips.

Tommy cried out, jerking his hand back to his chest.

There was barely a breath before Techno's hand shot out, grabbing Tommy's around the wrist and dragging his hand towards his face.

Tommy flinched violently, his other hand coming out to swing at Techno, catching him hard across the jaw. Techno let go of Tommy's wrist, shoving him away in surprise, sending him careening into the side of the kitchen counter.

They both stumbled away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen as the oil kept sizzling away. The only other sound was Tommy's heavy breaths and slight sniffles, and Techno watched as he furiously swiped at his eyes.

"Do not grab me like that, alright?" Tommy snarled, shoulders tensed as he looked ready to run or defend himself.

Techno slowly held his hands up again, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm sorry," he grunted out, "You're right. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

Tommy squinted at him, swaying back on to his heels as he relaxed his arms from where they'd curled up defensively in front of him.

"Sorry for hittin' you." Tommy grumbled slightly, crossing his arms.

"I deserved it," Techno huffed back, scratching the back of his head. "I was just worried about your fingers. Sorry again."

"I accept your apology," Tommy said finally after a tense pause, head tilted back again, a look on his face as if daring him to say something.

"I accept your apology," Techno said back, carefully. Communicating, expressing his feelings and being a "good person" was so hard sometimes. It felt like he was walking on eggshells and if he said the wrong thing everything would fall apart.

Tommy sniffed.

"How's that for communication, huh, Puffy?" He muttered to himself, uncrossing his arms and making his way back to the stove.

"Cmere, dickhead, we have more dough to fry."

Techno relaxed as he made his way back over, and they settled back into banter and teasing.

Techno looked down at their fried bread, an assortment of shapes and figures.

Some were more distinguishable, like the twin T's and the handful of misshapen hearts.

Before Techno could say anything, not that he would've, Tommy started to talk.

"They don't mean anything, dickhead, they're just easy to make. We're not friends or anything, alright?" Tommy puffed himself up again, and Techno absently wondered why he did that, was it subconscious? Was it for confidence or to make himself seem bigger?

Instead of acknowledging anything Tommy said, Techno lightly bumped their heads together. Techno watched as his face flickered through several different emotions, ranging from happy to sad, before he just huffed and turned back to the finished bread.

"Everyone knows the best topping is sugar and cinnamon, I don't know why you even have the honey out," Tommy snarked, aggressively sprinkling sugar on to the bread. The image was kind of ruined by how careful Tommy was being, only covering pieces that were resolutely "his".

"I like the honey," Techno responded, loading his plate with a handful of pieces of bread. He picked up a few plain pieces, unshaped and just flat bits of bread. Tommy slipped a few shaped pieces onto his plate; one that was shaped vaguely like a pig, a crown, and one of the letter T's.

On Tommy's plate was the other T, a bee, and a horribly misshapen cow, along with a majority of the wonky hearts.

Techno drizzled the honey on to his bread, eyeing the excessive amounts of sugar and cinnamon Tommy put on his.

"Y'know, you'd like the honey if you tried it," Techno hummed, ignoring the glower Tommy sent his way.

"You always say that and I never like it," Tommy hissed back, petulant and childish. A warm feeling filled his chest as Tommy settled into their old argument, that Techno knew would eventually devolve into all the other things Techno dared to like that Tommy didn't.

Techno tuned back into-

"You said the same thing about mushroom stew! And cod and broccoli. Who even likes fuckin' broccoli?" Tommy dropped down into the seat next to Techno, pulling his plate to be in front of him. Techno didn't respond, focused on lightly slathering a small piece of fried bread.

3... 2... 1...

"Well, maybe I'll try a little bit," Tommy huffed, accepting the small piece Techno held out to him with a grumbled 'thanks'. Based on his reaction after he stuffed it into his mouth he still didn't like the honey, but he didn't say anything.

They ate in silence, Tommy quickly scoffing down the bread like he was worried someone would take it. Techno ate slower, hoping Tommy would pick up on the fact that he didn't have to choke down his food. This inevitably led to Tommy finishing first, and he silently started cleaning up.

Techno quietly finished up, helping Tommy with the rest of the dishes, before going to settle in the living room. Tommy followed behind him, looking a bit lost.

Techno was hit with the abrupt realization that he didn't want this to end. He liked having Tommy around, his energy filling the house with a warmth Techno never could.

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

"I guess I should be heading out then-" Tommy started, eyes flicking to the door.

"No," Techno said, suddenly, too loud and aggressive, making Tommy flinch back.

"I mean- do you, uh, want to have some hot cocoa?" Techno fiddled with his braid, trying his best to give a reassuring smile around his tusks. Based on Tommy's expression it didn't really work, but Tommy stopped looking like he was about to sprint away.

"Sure, I guess," Tommy grinned at him, false bravado coloring his tone. "You missed Big Man Innit? I know, I know, my company is just so great, I see why you wouldn't want to miss out on it."

Tommy practically flounced over to the couch, and flopped down on it, resting his feet on the coffee table. Techno was silently grateful that Tommy was naturally overbearing, and more than willing to make up excuses for the both of them.

Techno retreated back to the kitchen, and it wasn't long before they'd settled into the living room, Techno in his arm chair and Tommy on the couch.

Tommy had loudly insisted on a blanket and pillow, saying he was cold and the couch was uncomfortable, and Techno was quietly hoping he'd just fall asleep there. Then he could avoid kicking him out or, even worse, asking him to stay.

He'd much rather Tommy just take advantage, instead of having a conversation.

Eventually, Tommy's constant stream of chatter petered out, and he slowly slumped back into the couch, falling asleep.

Techno waited until he was sure he was asleep, before carefully checking he wasn't at an awkward angle, he didn't want to deal with the kid complaining about a crick in his neck, ok? He started towards the stairs to his room before hesitating on the first step.

The voices, practically feasting on his reluctance, started loudly protesting at once.

What if a zombie breaks in?

What if the Butcher Army comes back?

What if he has a nightmare?

Techno huffed, ignoring how irrational the last two were, the Butcher Army long disbanded and it's not like Techno cared if the kid had a nightmare.

As if the universe itself was daring him otherwise, a scared whimper broke the silence. Techno looked back to the couch, where Tommy was tightly gripping the blankets around him, and his brow was furrowed. He could see from here how aggressively Tommy was clenching his jaw, and winced in sympathy.

He made his way back over, a quiet rumble in his chest. It was a soothing noise, meant for baby piglins but it worked just as well on Tommy considering how quickly his face smoothed out. Techno settled back into his armchair, accepting that he'd be up late watching over the kid and chasing his nightmares away.

He couldn't believe he'd gotten so soft.

#bedrock bros #tommyinnit #technoblade #fic #dsmp #flux writes

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devotionintheshadows · 3 years

Text

Something New & Something Blue

Azriel paced back and forth across his bedroom floor, the small note clutched in his hand. The swirling script seeming to taunt and tease him as he read the words that sent a thrill through him that he hadn’t felt in centuries.

It was almost like the feeling of finally mastering his wings and soaring through the sky, the feeling of unbridled happiness; something that felt so natural and right, but that he’d had to struggle and fight for.

The note had been laying on his pillow when he’d walked in and after declining the invitation to join everyone at Rita’s for the evening. He had feigned a headache and made his apologies as he headed upstairs. He fought the urge to laugh to himself as he heard Cassian reasoning with Nesta that they could join the group now that Elain wouldn’t be left in the house alone. She had already retired just before dessert, claiming that a long day of gardening under the sun had drained her, but Az knew better.

This was their little game, and they played any time they wanted to steal a moment away for themselves.

It had all started innocently enough, a shy request from Elain asking him to help her learn to let go of her lingering fear. Help to ease her into this new life she had finally come to accept. She never called it training, but it was, training to sharpen her awareness and defend herself if she needed to. Over time, the game changed and then they played to see how sneaky she could be, see what information she could collect from the others without them realizing, and then after one almost kiss, the game changed again. Now the game was what they used to steal their time together. The sound of the others leaving and shouting their goodbyes snapped Azriel out of his daze and he looked back down at the note in his hand. Come to my room after they’ve gone. ♥, E Azriel moved to the door and hesitated, his hand on the knob, waiting. The front door swung open and he heard Cassian stomp back in quickly before retreating and letting the door slam shut behind him. “Got it!” He called to the group, always forgetting something. Az shook his head and quietly made his way to Elain’s room, knocking softly and squaring his shoulders. He had no idea why he felt so nervous every time, he supposed that he wanted to look his best for her all the time, lest she come to her senses and realize that she no longer cared for his company. He pushed the doubt from his mind, clearly tonight she had decided that she did want his company and he was thrilled to join her. His breath caught as he heard her footsteps hurry across the floor and the door opened. She smiled up at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him into her room. “Hurry, before he finds he’s forgotten something else.” He chuckled and let her pull him along, closing the door quietly behind himself and locking it before turning to face her again.

Elain was stunning to him on a normal day, in her floppy gardening hat or with flour dusted cheeks in the kitchen but the Elain before him now, the Elain that only he was allowed to see in these stolen moments, she was absolutely breath taking. She stood before him in a robe of cobalt blue silk that hid very little from him, her hair gathered and held up by a matching blue ribbon. She blushed as she felt his gaze slide over her and she moved to slide her fingers through his hair, her hand resting to cradle his cheek. “Headache not too bad, I hope.” She teased. He shook his head with a smirk then turned to kiss the palm of her hand and slid his arms around her, inhaling her scent as he placed soft kisses along her neck. “Never felt better.” She moaned softly, her arms sliding around his neck. “Az?” she whispered, eyes fluttering closed as his hands slid down her back coming to rest on her hips, his touch setting her skin on fire. He hummed against her neck, pulling back to look down at her. “I wanted to try something new tonight. I mean, if you want to.” she added nervously. He smiled and gave her a nod before asking. “Alright, what did you have in mind?” She blushed more and moved to sit on the bed, pulling him along to sit across from her. He watched her, keeping her hand in his, his thumb gently stroking over her palm to soothe her. “There's no need for you to be nervous, El, I would never judge you.” Truth be told, he would do anything she asked. It thrilled him each time they played this game, each time a little more comfortable than the last, a little spicier than the last and this time, it seemed, would be no exception. She shook her head. “No, I know that, I do…” The flush returned to her cheeks as she hesitated, her bottom lip held between her teeth. “Don’t get shy on me now, petal. Tell me what you want.” He said, the playful tone slipping and giving way to a much more assertive tone as he tipped her chin up to look her in the eyes. Her heart fluttered in her chest, her eyes widening slightly at the tone he’d taken with her. She swallowed, pressing her thighs together. “I…I want to try this.” She whispered, sliding a small book out from under her pillow and showing him the illustration that had set her dreams on fire for the past week. Azriel’s smile grew as he looked over the illustration of a man ravishing a woman with her hands bound. He nodded, setting the book aside. “Alright, we can try that.” Elain beamed at him as her nerves disappeared. “Alright, how do we start?” she asked, sitting taller, her excitement taking over. “Well, lets start with the rules.” He said, knowing that they couldn’t move forward until their boundaries were established. “Rules?” she asked. He nodded. “I need you to know that we can stop anytime you want and for any reason. If you change your mind, if you’re uncomfortable or if it just doesn’t feel right I need you to tell me, alright?” “I will, I promise, and you tell me too.” She answered, not wanting to ruin this for either of them. He smiled. “Agreed. Are there any rules that you want to set for me?” She nodded, smiling. “It isn’t so much a rule as a request… a condition.” She amended, straightening her back a bit. Azriel’s brows raised slightly. “Alright.” Elain took a shaky breath, lifting her chin and meeting his stare. “Don’t be afraid of me.” He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed a finger to his lips and he kept his eyes on hers. “I don’t want you to be too gentle with me, Azriel. I know its our first time trying this and you’re always so careful with me, and I DO love that. It’s just - Tonight, I want you to touch me like I’m a woman you desire, not like a fragile flower you’re afraid to crush.” “You’ve already ruined me for anyone else here,” she said, rising to her knees and placing his hand over her heart. “take me the rest of the way. I’m not afraid, I’ve never been afraid of you.” Az couldn’t stop the smile that lit his face up as he leaned in to kiss her, his hand moving to slide up into her hair and cradle the back

of her head. Elain deepened the kiss before leaning back to look at him. “Was that a “yes” to my condition?” She asked with a grin. He nodded. “I will do my best to meet your condition.” She kissed him again, giddy excitement filling her now. “Alright.”

He stood and toed his boots off, giving her a wink before pulling his tunic off as well. Elain watched him, lips slightly parted as she took him in. He was beautiful and at this moment, she knew that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He offered a hand to her and she took it, rising from her place on the bed. Azriel leaned in to kiss her, his hands sliding the silk robe over her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet. She was completely naked underneath, not even a scrap of lace keeping him from pleasuring her until she could barely stand. He expected her to blush as he took her in, but she didn’t, she felt confident now and she moved to help him take his pants off. Azriel only stopped her as she moved to get on her knees. “Not tonight, tonight is for new games.” Elain did blush then and nodded in agreement. “I am so bewitched by you.” Azriel confessed as he slowly pulled one end of the blue ribbon in her hair, his grin widening as the thick waves of brown hair cascaded down and around her back and shoulders. Elain looked up at him and smiled, presenting her wrists to him. “Its only fair, because I am utterly enchanted by you.” “Flattery will get you everywhere.” He said with a smirk as he wound the ribbon around her wrists before tying it off, his eyes meeting hers as he asked. “Too tight?” Elain shook her head, practically bouncing where she stood. “Just right. Done this before?” She asked, arching a brow as she moved her hands around to test it and make sure. Azriel blushed and cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes as she laughed. “You think you’d be nicer when you’re about to be completely at my mercy.” He said as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the bed. “Maybe I want you a little riled up.” Elain said as she moved to the center of the bed, her heart thundering in her chest as she took him in. He stalked closer and she felt like prey, she lay back ready to be devoured by him. Azriel towered over her now, knees on either side of her as he instructed, “Arms up, no touching for now.” Elain moved her hands up, feeling electrified, her skin tingling everywhere she felt his skin touch hers. He kissed her and looked down at her. “Remember, we can stop any time.” She nodded, kissing him back. “I know.” He kissed and sucked on her neck, careful not to mark her anywhere that couldn’t be hidden with her clothes. He kissed his way down her chest, his scarred hands massaging her perfect breasts, thumbs grazing over her nipples. Elain arched her back, whimpering as her bound hands gripped the pillow for dear life. Azriel continued kissing until he reached her nipple, slowly running his tongue over it before very gently tugging at it with his teeth. Elain released a shuddering breath before pressing her head back into the pillow and begging. “More…again…please, Az.” Ever the gentleman, Azriel obliged, taking turns massaging, sucking and nipping at her breasts as she writhed and arched beneath him. Azriel continued to kiss a trail further down, Elain’s body reacting to every kiss, every touch. He slid his hand down between her thighs and she parted them, moaning softly as he settled himself between them. Elain’s eyes blew wide as Azriel kissed along her inner thigh before sliding his tongue over her slit and sucking on her clit. Elain couldn’t stop herself from fisting her hands in his hair as she felt his fingers slide into her, moving slowly, torturing her. He chuckled, the vibration from his deep voice nearly sending her over the edge. “Should I stop?” He teased, looking up at her. Elain shook her head vigorously, eyes shut tight. “No…don’t stop, please.” She pleaded, breathlessly. “Then, no touching.” He repeated with a smirk, winding the loose ends of the ribbon around his hand before bracing it against the wall above Elain’s head. He leaned in and kissed her roughly, dominating her mouth, his tongue swiping over hers as she pulled at the ribbon, needing to touch him. He trailed his hand down again, sliding his fingers between her folds. She was

already warm and slick for him when he thrust his fingers into her, pumping them in and out, teasing her clit with his thumb this time. Elain gasped and threw her head back, her moans and cries torturing him in the best way. Az continued pumping his fingers into her bringing her back to the edge before curving them to hit just the right spot, the spot that made the stars dance all around her as her body felt weightless. Az crashed his lips into hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure as she arched off of the bed and he felt her clench around his fingers. He smirked as he heard her breathy whispers. “Fuck…oh fuck…Az…” Elain was still catching her breath when she felt Azriel position himself between her thighs before thrusting into her. Elain wrapped her legs around him and moved her hips to meet his thrusts, that blue ribbon still clutched tightly in the hand he had braced against the wall. “Please.” Elain panted, her hips moving to meet his rhythm. “I need to touch you…” Azriel let the ribbon slip through his fingers and her bound hands were on him, moving his face so that she could kiss him, whimpering and moaning into his mouth. He planted his hands on either side of her head, her nails sliding down his chest as he continued to thrust into her, their tongues teasing and dancing with one another until Elain was pushed over the edge again and even their kiss couldn't smother the euphoric cry that might be heard all the way to Rita’s.

They don’t move for a moment, can’t move, both of them panting with smiles on their faces. Stars danced in Elain’s eyes as Az moved to lay on his back, taking Elain with him. She released a soft, lilting laugh as she settled, her still bound hands resting on his chest as his hands lazily stroked her thighs. “That was…well…it was perfect.” Elain said, leaning in and kissing him softly, sliding her hands over his chest as she straightened. “I did get the impression that you were pretty satisfied.” He teased, smiling up at her. “It was even better than-” she blushed and hesitated, but his quirked brow told her that it was too late to go back now. “It was even better than the dreams I’ve been having all week.” “Next time, don’t wait a whole week to ask me. I’ll play any new games you want, petal. Any day, any way.” He said, sitting up and kissing her again, his hands in her wild tangle of soft brown hair, their bare chests pressing against one another. Elain moaned into his mouth and it sent electricity straight to Azriel’s cock when they heard the front door open and multiple voices filter in. Elain groaned and rested her forehead against Az’s, but his shadows moved to cover her door, blocking any trace of light from the other side. To anyone who passed, Elain and Az would both appear to be asleep in their darkened rooms. Elain smiled as he placed a soft kiss on her lips and whispered. “Do you want it to be over now?” “No…” she whispered back, her heart beginning to race. Azriel nodded and Elain listened as the noise from the others eventually began to die down as they all retreated to their own rooms and got ready for bed. Her eyes never left his hands though, watching as he gently untied the ribbon, checking her wrists and rubbing and kissing the inside of each wrist before he retied it, binding her wrists again. He finished with a tidy little bow this time, his eyes meeting hers before giving a wink and bringing her bound hands up to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss atop each one. Azriel looped Elain’s bound wrists over his head, leaning in, his nose brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered. “Hold tight and don’t make a sound.” His deep, breathy chuckle sent chills through her and she wrapped her legs around him again as he stood, his large hand splayed across her back as he carried her, pressing her back against the wall as he kissed, sucked and nipped at her neck. Elain gasped, burying her face in his neck to smother the sound. She shuddered and he adjusted his stance, positioning himself before easing into her again.

Elain bit her bottom lip and swallowed back the moan threatening to expose them both, her bound hands tangled in his hair as he moved slowly at first, quickening his pace as she nipped at his neck. He grinned and nipped her neck, his chest rumbling with a low growl as he felt her thighs tighten around him, trying her best to force him in deeper until he finally unleashed. Azriel rocked into her harder and faster than before, her own hips moving to meet his thrusts before her entire body tensed, her core tightening around his pulsing shaft and she bit Azriel’s shoulder to stifle the scream that threatened to tear through the quiet of the house. Azriel followed her over the edge, the feeling of Elain’s teeth on his skin making it nearly impossible for him to keep quiet, but he did. For her, he did, because if they were found out, if their little game had to come to an end, he wouldn’t survive and he knew it. Silence fell over them, a comfortable silence as their breathing returned to normal, the both of them delirious, their foreheads resting against one another’s before Azriel softly peppered Elain’s face and neck with sweet kisses. She smiled, returning the kisses, clearly exhausted but euphoric. Azriel lowered her onto shaking legs before slipping her bound hands back over his head and kissing her hands again before untying the perfect blue bow and releasing her. He lifted her, carrying her into the bathroom and sitting her down while he ran a warm bath. He grinned as he looked over at her, a dazed and dreamy smile on her face as she watched him.

“Will you be joining me?” She whispered. He tipped a sweet smelling purple solution into the warm water and nodded. “Nothing could drag me away from you right now.” He said, picking her up again and settling them both in the tub, her back resting against his chest. “Besides, I don’t think your legs will be working properly for at least a few hours, you might drown if I leave you here.” She slapped his arm, laughing quietly. “Thank you for tonight.” she said softly, lacing their fingers together and kissing his hand, holding it to her chest. He hummed, kissing along her shoulder. “Of course, I would do anything to make you happy. I love you, El.” Her hand tightened around his. “I love you too, Az.”

#elain #azriel #elriel #azweek #azrielappreciationweek #proelriel #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #acotar #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #pro elain

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meesa-hoe · 3 years

Text

An Angel In Beskar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader x Paz Vizsla

Summary: Two Mandalorians find you near death in the middle of a desert on Tatooine and while you’re quick to warm up to the one in the mismatched blue armor, his silver companion is much colder towards you.

Rating: M but later chapters will probably be rated E for sexual content.

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: Descriptions of hopelessness, violence, trauma, and minor injuries.

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’ve been working on this for a while and finally decided to post it here since I noticed there’s not a whole lot of Paz x Reader x Din stories and I absolutely love the ones that I have read. I’m hoping to have the next chapter up in the next week!

There is an established relationship between Paz and Din prior to them finding the reader.

‘May the Maker have mercy on my soul.’

There’s no point in you praying when you’re certain death is about to wrap it’s cold arms around your weak body. After traveling through the unforgiving Tatooine desert for days without water, your body is beginning to shut down and you fear that this will be your last night spent alive on such a cruel planet. Your thin dress and the scarf you had used to cover your face in an attempt to protect yourself from the scorching hot suns is your only source of warmth as you lifelessly lay on the sand and you wonder how long it will take for you to be buried deep underneath the soft granules.

You will soon end up like the ones who had perished in your village after it had been brutally attacked by bandits and raiders just days ago. Though you had barely escaped in one piece, you suddenly wished you had stayed so you could have at least had a quicker death, rather than slowly dying in the middle of nowhere. You had been foolish to think there would be another village nearby and tears finally trickle down your cheeks as you peer up at the moon, an intense feeling of despair seeping all the way down to your heart.

You miss your family.

The silence that surrounds you only makes you sob harder, loneliness eating away at you as you simply long for your family. Despite not living a luxurious life in the tiny village, it never diminished the love you had for the ones close to you. The images play on a loop in your mind--bodies covered in blood and lifeless eyes staring into your soul as you hid from the bandits--and you finally allow the physical and emotional pain to consume you.

In a way, it’s cathartic to let it all out without others being around to judge you, though it also has you longing for a comforting touch, whether that be a firm hug or someone just holding your hand. You’re reminded of the way your parents would comfort you and your siblings when you were younger, their voices always like soothing, cold water during the hottest days of summer and it only has you crying harder.

Once it feels like you can’t cry anymore and you’ve accepted your fate, you rest for the final time.

Hours pass--at least you think that as you barely cling onto life.

You don’t even realize you’re not dead until a quiet, filtered rasp manages to break through the darkness and silence that surrounds you, though your eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and are nearly impossible to crack open. It’s morning now, or maybe even the afternoon, judging by the way the suns ruthlessly beat down on you.

“How did she manage to get all of the way out here?” That hushed, soothing voice sounds a little further away and you wonder who he’s talking to until two leather digits press against the pulse on your neck. “The nearest village is days away on foot,” The person taking your pulse simply grunts in response and you finally manage to pry your eyes open when your curiosity threatens to overwhelm you.

Who would be insane enough to trek through a desert on Tatooine?

Your vision is blurred, black dots floating around as you blink several times before it finally clears.

Instantly, you’re face to face with a t-shaped visor and--

A Mandalorian!

Not just one, but two.

You think the lack of water and the intense heat has you hallucinating.

You had grown up hearing stories of the warriors, your oldest brother telling you how they were the strongest beings in the galaxy and typically not cruel to strangers who were innocent. There had been rumors of one living on Tatooine and as a little girl, you remember praying to the Maker that they would show up and rid your village of all the bandits that would terrorize your family and neighbors.

Even the Gods don’t want anything to do with Tatooine.

If you weren’t so exhausted and weak, you could have cried from relief and begged the two Mandalorians in front of you to save you, though your throat is far too dry and your mouth feels like cotton.

“What are you doing all the way out here, little one?” The blue Mando closest to you questions when he realizes you’re awake and you find that his voice is far more rough and brusque than his companion’s, though it’s not unpleasant in the slightest. After going days with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, you’re just happy and relieved to not be be alone

“P-Please... Help,” You manage to speak in a hoarse plea, tears spilling from your eyes as you clutch at the material covering the warrior’s ribs as tightly as you can, afraid that he’s simply going to stand up and leave you there to die. The way he leans in a little closer instantly fills you with hope and even though your face is mostly covered, you pray that he can see the desperation in your eyes and that he’s able to sympathize with you.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

He’s massive and wears scuffed up, dull blue and yellow armor that you think has seen several battles since it was forged; he’s all mismatched and terrifying, but in that moment, you see him as some sort of Beskar angel.

His armor looks far more worn than his companion’s as you lift your gaze to peer at him, though it only has you squinting your eyes in pain as the impossibly bright suns reflect off of the silver Beskar and you simply let your eyelids slip shut once again. You feel a hand touch the thick cloth that covers your cheekbone, your Beskar angel letting out a low hum as he assesses your injuries as much as he can with all of the fabric in the way.

“What are you doing?” The silver warrior questions, his tone now cold and your heart instantly shatters when he continues, “We don’t even know who she is and you want to bring her with us?”

“We can’t just leave her out here to die,” The Mandalorian crouched down next to you doesn’t hesitate to admonish him, his voice filled with sympathy and conviction, “The ship isn’t too far from here and I don’t mind carrying her. Who knows how long she’s been walking through this desert on foot.”

“We can’t just take in every stray you stumble upon. Besides, we don’t know her--what if she’s just another criminal? Tatooine is filled with scum.”

“Look at her!” The blue warrior instantly snaps, his voice tinged with anger towards his companion and you nearly cry upon realizing he’s willing to fight for your survival, “She’s so weak that she can’t even keep her eyes open and she looks injured. Who’s to say she wasn’t running away from a bad situation? Besides, if she does try anything, do you think she could really get the upper hand on two Mandalorians in her condition? She doesn’t even have a single weapon on her!”

You hear an exasperated sigh and before the shiny Mando can put up anymore of a fight, you feel clunky Beskar sliding under your knees while his other arm winds around your shoulders, bringing you off of the hot sand with ease. If your mind wasn’t so hazy, you would have marveled at his sheer strength, but you feel your body relax against his Beskar that has been warmed from the suns.

“If she tries anything, I’m putting her in carbonite.”

Instead of praying to the Maker for mercy like you had hours ago, you find yourself praying that the stories your brother had told you of Mandalorian are true and that these two strangers don’t have cruel intentions with you. The blue one carrying you seems nice enough, but the silver Mando with the quiet voice still has you on edge and you immediately tense up at the thought of essentially being frozen.

“You don’t have any slabs left available because you’re an impatient di’kut,” The blue warrior reminds him, sounding more amused than agitated and you hear a hint of fondness in his gruff voice, “Let’s just get her back to the ship and we’ll find out what happened to her.”

“Fine, but I’m putting the cuffs on her.”

The one carrying you is quick to shoot down that idea, “Unless you want me to give you a concussion, you’re not putting cuffs on her.”

Using all of your strength, you manage to curl your arms around your savior’s neck, your fingers pressing into the soft fabric covering his nape as you whisper out a meek ‘thank you’. It hurts your dry throat but you hope he can detect the genuine gratitude in your hoarse voice, tears filling your eyes as they crack open to peer at the silver Mando who’s trailing behind your savior.

His tilted visor is trained solely on your face, despite the fact that most of your features are covered by your white scarf and you can tell he’s still wary about your presence. For a moment, he fiddles with his cuffs before giving up with a tired sigh and you let your eyelids slip shut when you realize he’s no going to restrain you.

“Shh, little one,” The Mando carrying you intones, his rough voice soothing the ache in your heart as you sniffle, tears soaking your scarf, “It is safe to rest your eyes now. Once we get back to the ship, we’ll get some water and food in your belly again.”

That’s all he has to say for you to slump against his cuirass before you’re being tugged back into unconsciousness once again. You’re in and out of it for most of the journey and every single time you manage to pry your eyes open, the silver Mandalorian’s visor is fixated on you, putting you even more on edge until you fall back asleep again. Even with his gauntlets digging into your knees and shoulders, you find comfort in knowing that you have the protection of at least one Mandalorian and it’s the only thing that lets you rest as peacefully as your hectic mind will allow.

The next time you regain consciousness, it’s to the sounds of the warriors conversing with one another in hushed tones, perhaps in an attempt to not wake you up.

“Do you think it’s okay to take off her face coverings?” Your savior sounds hesitant as fingers graze along the material covering your jaw and something about it is endearing, “What if she has it on for a reason?”

He thinks your culture is similar to his--that you have to keep your identity concealed just like a Mandalorian--and if you weren’t so exhausted and in so much pain, you would have found this amusing. “Not everyone who covers their face does it because they’re sworn to a creed,” The silver Mando sounds just as entertained as you are, the terseness from earlier no longer lingering in his filtered rasp and when you finally open your eyes, you’re surprised to find how relaxed he appears as he sits on a crate adjacent from the cot you are laying on.

Your savior has his back to you as he stares at his companion, “I just don’t want to invade her privacy.”

“She’s probably wearing it to protect her skin from the suns.”

“You think so?”

“Ask her yourself.”

The blue warrior instantly turns to you, his visor tilted to the side as you stare back up at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling sheepish and shy. Slowly, you manage to sit up on the cot with a pained whimper and reach up to remove your white scarf that is stained with splotches of blood. As soon as the cold air cycling through the ship kisses your warm cheeks, you let your eyelids slip shut with a relieved sigh, the stained fabric that had protected you from the unforgiving suns falling to the metal floor next to your feet.

“You must be thirsty,” The blue Mandalorian’s rough voice has you opening your eyes and you nearly let out with a loud gasp when he offers you his canteen, “Here.”

The water could have been tainted with poison and you wouldn’t have even noticed as you chugged the cold liquid, a few tears escaping your eyes at the immense relief that instantly floods you after going days without a drop of liquid. “What is your name?” He inquires once you’ve sadly finished off all the water, though the one in silver approaches the two of you and retrieves the leather canteen, wandering off to perhaps refill it.

You hesitate to give the stranger an answer, especially after all you’ve been through these past few rotations, but you think if he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now and you eventually whisper your name after a pregnant pause. His visor tilts further to the side as you stare at his scuffed up cuirass rather than his helmet, tears filling your eyes when he asks how you ended up in the desert.

“It is okay, little one,” He soothes your pain with that gruff voice as he towers over you, “You’re safe now.”

“M-My village, it--” The blue warrior places a heavy hand on your shoulder as the terrifying memories of your home being burned to the ground play on repeat in your head and something about his firm touch is incredibly comforting, “The raiders they… They killed everyone and burned down all the buildings. My whole f-family--”

You don’t realize the shiny Mandalorian is within earshot until he says something in a foreign language that you don’t recognize, though you think he must have asked about you when your savior repeats your name in a terse voice, along with a few other words.

“Dank farrik,” The smaller of the two sighs before angrily shoving the canteen into your hands and they continue to speak in their mother tongue, sounding as though they’re arguing.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” You meekly question them after you take several swigs of the cold water, tears still drying on your cheeks as they both gaze at you long enough to cause your nerves to spike even more. Anxiously, you pluck at the loose threads on the hem of your skirts, feeling anxious underneath the intense stares of such strong warriors when you feel the weakest you ever have in your life. The blue warrior angrily shakes his scuffed up helmet before hastily stomping off of the small ship, leaving you alone with the silver, brooding Mandalorian that seems far more awkward around you than his companion.

The ruddy, orange tips of his leather gloves curl against his sides as he silently regards you for a few more moments.

“Come with me,” He eventually orders with a slight tilt of his helmet, urging you to follow him as you scramble to your bare feet to obey his gentle command. He leads you to the hull of the ship and you nearly cower away from him as he leads you through a small walkway that’s lined with several slabs of carbonite, afraid that you’ve done something wrong. With the blue Mandalorian gone, your mind runs rampant of all the horrible things this stranger can do to you and your gaze lifts to the huge rifle strapped to his back.

You freeze as you wonder how many people he’s killed with it, or if he prefers to use the smaller blaster holstered against his hip.

Upon noticing that you’re not following him, he turns to face you.

“I’m... I’m not going to hurt you,” He quietly promises when he notices your hesitation, his visor lingering on you as you eventually trail right behind him again, still clutching the leather canteen between your clammy palms, “I just want to see if you recognize someone.”

The stranger comes to a stop in front of one of the slabs of carbonite and confusion floods you as he gestures to it like one would offer a prize, though fear and horror immediately has your heart in a frenzy when you recognize the Zabrak frozen in time.

He had been among the many that had terrorized your village for so long.

“W-What is he doing here?!”

“He’s the leader of the group of bandits that burned down your village and he is also a quarry of ours,” He quietly explains in an oddly gentle voice, watching as the canteen slips from your palms and onto the floor of the ship, “We managed to track him down the day after the attack. I am... sorry we were too late.”

The shiny Mandalorian holds a hand up in an attempt to calm you as panic tugs at your heart to the point where it’s difficult to breathe properly and you quickly back away from the hunter, fleeing further into the ship until you manage to find the refresher. You’re grateful there’s a lock on the door as you sink to the floor, the hunter’s voice calling out to you on the other side of the door, though there’s a sharp ringing noise blaring in your ears that makes it damn near impossible to hear even your own thoughts.

The Mandalorian eventually gives up on trying to get you to exit the refresher and leaves with a defeated sigh. You’re shaking with fear as you keep reminding yourself that the you’re on the same ship with the cruel monster that orchestrated the attack on your little village.

That Zabrak is the reason why your entire family was slaughtered.

And he’s on the same ship with you.

You sit there in solitude for quite some time, listening to the two Mandalorians as they quietly talk to one another in the hull of the ship. The larger of the two must have a naturally loud voice and you can’t stop yourself from smiling when his silver companion occasionally shushes him when he speaks your name. It sounds like they might be arguing about something and you hope it’s not about you, but judging by the irritation in both of their voices, you’re certain they’re trying to figure out what to do with you.

Especially now that you have no home to go back to.

A deep sigh pushes past your lips you as you finally stand, the warriors’ argument ceasing when you move to the sink and turn the water on to splash some of the cool liquid on your face. The stark contrast between the cold water compared to the sonic shower in your home is lovely and cathartic after having gone so long with only ever really having warm water.

There’s a firm knock on the door, the blue warrior calmly reciting your name in an effort to get you to come out, “It’s okay, I just want to talk with you.”

Dread floods your frantic heart as you dry your face off with the sleeve of your dress before hesitantly cracking the door open to stare at his scuffed up cuirass, too afraid that if you look at his helmet, you’ll only breakdown again.

“I am sorry for your losses, little one,” The Mandalorian sighs, holding his hand out for you to take in a friendly gesture that has you opening the door all the way. “I know all too well the grief of losing loved ones,” You take hold of his hand and he immediately strokes a firm thumb along your knuckles, the foreign touch comforting as he guides you out of the refresher and to one of the crates so you can sit down.

“Are...” You hesitate as you finally peer up at his tilted visor, fear wrapping around you like a vice, “Are you two going to leave me here?”

A sigh escapes him and your eyes widen when he rests a leather palm on the side of your neck, his thumb grazing along your jaw as he takes in your appearance for several moments. Though you’ve only been in the presence of the two warriors for a couple hours, you realize just how different their personalities are. Your Beskar-clad angel is massive, loud, and rough around the edges, yet somehow so gentle around you, while the silver warrior is placid, quiet, and constantly brooding, wanting nothing to do with you.

You can’t help but to wonder what their relationship to one another is, if they’re simply close friends or something more, given how they’re simultaneously comfortable and dysfunctional around each other.

“No, we’re not just going to leave you in the middle of nowhere,” He sounds oddly sad as he pulls you from your thoughts, his voice the quietest you’ve heard from him so far, “We can either drop you off somewhere safer or you can stay with us for a little while and help out with certain things on the ship.”

You don’t hear the silver Mandalorian descending from the cockpit, his visor on the two of you as shock courses through you. “Y-You would let me stay?” His fingers twitch against your neck upon hearing the way your voice shakes, your eyes burning at the kindness he’s displaying, “But... I don’t think the other Mandalorian really wants me here. He doesn’t trust me.”

His blue pauldrons slump and you resist the urge to reach out and trace a silver indentation on the worn armor, “It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, we’re just not used to being around people who don’t want to kill us.”

You contemplate his words thoroughly as his thumb continues to stroke your jawline and after going several days without anyone to talk to or share your fear with, the touch is a warm welcome. “Well, after everything that happened to my village, I don’t think I have it in me to hurt anyone, let alone kill,” Your own shoulders slump, eyelids slipping shut as you remember how scared you had been as you hid yourself from the bandits underneath a pile of bloody, lifeless bodies.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until the silver Mandalorian makes his presence known by softly saying a word in what you think is their mother tongue, instantly earning his companion’s unwavering attention.

“Vizsla.”

You quickly pull away and wipe the tears from your flushed cheeks, a heavy hand lingering on your shoulder as the quiet Mandalorian speaks in that gentle rasp that sounds softer than usual and you feel bashful when his visor lowers to regard you.

“I set the coordinates for the next stop,” He appears awkward as his fingers flex against his thighs, his visor still fixated on you as he offers you a sharp nod. The blue warrior chuckles, though you’re not sure why as his companion approaches the two of you, seeming to tense up a little more and you’re certain that the silver Mando hates you already.

“This is your last chance for us to drop you off at the nearest village,” He warns you as the heavy-infantry warrior gives your shoulder a firm squeeze, as if trying to give you some of his strength even though you feel devastatingly weak, “Otherwise you’re stuck with us until further notice. We can’t guarantee your safety.”

You try your hardest to appear tough in front of the hunter, though his helmet tilts to the side with what feels like amusement as you awkwardly shift on your feet, “I… I have no family left and nowhere else to go. I would rather be with you two than have to suffer alone in an unfamiliar village that may or may not be attacked by cruel people again.”

He hesitates, visor shifting between you and the Mandalorian at your side, before nodding and making his way back to the cockpit without another word, pulling a sigh from the blue warrior as he turns back to you, tilting his helmet in the direction of the ladder. “Come on, little one,” He helps you off the crate before guiding you to the cockpit, following close behind as you push yourself up the ladder. Before you can say anything else, you’re interrupted by an intense rumble coming from your empty stomach and you pray that he didn’t hear it, though judging by his snort of laughter, your prayers were unanswered.

“Once we make the jump into hyperspace we’ll get you some food. Flying can be a lot if you’re not used to it and I don’t want you throwing up all over the cockpit.”

A warmth blossoms across your cheeks as the metal doors slide open, his palm still covering the small of your back as he urges you to sit in one of the unoccupied co-pilot chairs. You quickly buckle in as the brooding hunter flicks some switches on the console, seeming completely at ease as his blue companion lazily plops down in the chair next to you, the two of them not bothering with their seatbelts. Briefly, you wonder how long they’ve been doing this--traveling with one another--and with how sure of himself the silver Mando appears as he easily guides the ship off the sandy ground, you think it’s been quite a while.

“Have you ever been off Tatooine before?” The blue warrior asks you when he notices how tightly you’re clutching your seatbelt the further the ship ascends and you force yourself to relax your stiff fingers. “N-No,” You quietly inform him, tearing your gaze away from the windows to peer at him instead, “I lived in that village for all my life. When... When everything happened with the bandits, I wasn’t sure where to go, so I just ran.”

His visor tilts to the side and as he continues to speak, you can’t stop yourself from wondering if he’s doing it to distract you as the ship breaks the atmosphere of the sandy planet. “Well, it’s a good thing we happened to be close by since the nearest city was at least four more cycles away on foot,” This information makes you shudder and instantly, you grow quiet, knowing that there was no way you would have ever made it if they hadn’t shown up when they did.

He seems to notice your melancholic disposition and is quick to change the subject, his filtered voice melting into something more lighthearted that has you weakly smiling at his visor. “Maybe it’s a good thing you’re here,” He tilts his helmet to where his silver companion is piloting the ship into space, “He doesn’t exactly make for the best company sometimes, always brooding and complaining. Besides, you’re far prettier to look at.”

Your cheeks immediately grow warm at his sudden coyness, though it only seems to exasperate the other Mandalorian as he sighs, his silver helmet shaking as starlight reflects off of the pretty Beskar.

As the old, rickety ship makes the jump to hyperspace, causing a queasy sensation in the pit of your belly, you think that maybe the two of them don’t make for bad company at all.

Perhaps there is some force in the galaxy that took mercy on your soul after all.

#I hope whoever reads this enjoys #and feedback is always welcome!#din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #Din Djarin x reader #Paz Vizsla x reader #Paz Vizsla x Din Djarin #the mandalorian #my stuff #let's be real #I'm just sharing this in case anyone wants to be a hoe with me

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kireii-writes · 3 years

Note

Can I request yandere Tomura stalking his obsession?

I’m your biggest fan

a/n: this has got to be the longest shigaraki fic i’ve written. which really surprises me since shigaraki isn’t really my type.

warning(s): stalking, yandere tendencies, mentions of drugging, slight cursing, a tad too long

It started out with an innocent cup of coffee.

Then, it was the constant request for you to serve him.

Afterwards came the personal questions asked as you sat across him at the usual table he would park himself at after your shifts.

Next came multiple coincidences of running into him when you least expect it.

Of course, you were too naive and innocent to see through his intentions. That’s why he chose you.

At first, Shigaraki had entered the cafe you worked at in hopes of finding a hostage to threaten the pro-heroes, under the pretense of just causally dropping in, like many other customers do.

When he opened the door to the homely cafe, you were the one that greeted him with the warm and kind smile you’ve always had on your face. At first Shigaraki thought nothing of you, until you walked up to him to take his order.

“Good afternoon, sir. May I take your order?” You grinned at the light blue haired male sitting at the small table furtherest away from everyone.

There it was again- that same smile that you gave him when he first entered the cafe.

“Just a coffee.” The male replied gruffly as he pulled the hood of his jacket further down his face.

“We have many types of coffee, sir. Which one are you interested in?” The smile was still plastered on your face as you stood there, waiting for his reply. “We have different types of lattes, mochas and espressos. May I also interest you in the different cakes and breads we have?”

“Whatever, just get me anything.” Shigaraki replied impatiently. “I don’t know what to get, surprise me.”

Upon hearing his reply, you were slightly taken aback by surprise. Sure, you’ve dealt with many customers who were picky, but never one who was uninterested in picking out an order.

“Very well then,” You clicked your pen. “Do give me a moment.” Smiling at him, you turned your back towards Shigaraki and made your way to the counter.

~~~

“Here is your coffee, sir.” Your voice caught Shigaraki’s attention as he turned his attention away from the window. “Do enjoy.”

“What is this?” The male asked as he took a whiff of the aromatic scent of the coffee in front of him.

“Matcha latte.” You smiled. “Our store’s speciality.” Seeing no reaction from the man in front of you as he continues surveying the coffee in front of him, you figured a little background information wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially him.

“Did you know? The matcha latte is our specialty because it-“

“I don’t care.” Shigaraki spoke up with such brusqueness that you immediately stopped talking. “What’s your name.” He asked or rather, demanded.

“Y/n. My name is y/n.” You replied quickly, as if eager to please him when in reality, you were just afraid he might pick on you and cause the manager to come out. There’s no knowing if you’ll get to keep your job if that happens.

“Y/n....” Shigaraki hummed as he drummed his fingers on the smooth table absentmindedly. “That’s a nice name.” He muttered. If you hadn’t been paying close attention, you would have brushed it off. Instead, a blush slowly crept onto your face at his words.

“When are you done with work? I want to get to know you more.”

Checking the clock on the wall, your face lit up with the prospect of pleasing a customer. “Five more minutes.” You informed him.

“Then come back in 5 minutes.” The red eyed man replied, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze avoided you.

He was like a little kid, you thought.

“See you in 5 minutes then.” You chirped happily at the prospect of making a new friend.

“Oh and,” You turned back to face the man that was looking at your retreating form.

“What’s your name?”

“...”

“Shigaraki Tomura.”

~~~

Ever since then, you’ve hung out with Tomura every time your shift ends. Without fail, he would be waiting quietly at the same table the both of you first met, until you were ready to approach him.

Sometimes it was just hanging out at the cafe after work, catching up on anything and everything. Other times the both of you would walk through the town without a destination in mind as Tomura listened to you talk about your day.

It’s been three months.

Three months since you’ve met Tomura, and you’ve never once asked him what he does for a living. And he doesn’t tell you anything about himself either.

And then one day, he didn’t drop by the cafe as usual. You thought it was strange, but for all you know he could be busy.

As the last customer made their way out of the cafe, you started to clean up when your co-worker took on the job of closing the store, allowing you to leave earlier than planned.

Even though you left earlier, it was close to midnight when you alighted from the train. By now, there were not many people in the station.

Wrapping your coat around yourself, you hastily walked towards the direction of your home. There has been news of dangerous people lurking around the neighbourhood, and you wouldn’t want to risk bumping into them.

Although close to the station, the neighborhood you lived it was a rather old one. Dim streetlights lit the way home, but they were so dim that it didn’t help much. Often you would hear of rowdy people laughing as they drink themselves drunk in the dead of the night, causing a ruckus to the people living close by.

Picking up your pace, you avoided all eye contact and strained your ears to hear for any footsteps apart from yours as you took a turn into the neighborhood. You thought it was stupid to be so anxious about it, but you wouldn’t want to end up dead in an alley the next day because of one mistake.

But still, you couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling of someone or something watching you from the shadows. Turning back ever so frequently, you would scan the surrounding for any signs of a stalker. Every now and then, you could feel someone or something watching you as you walked hastily towards your home. And your suspicions were confirmed when a group of men emerged from the dark, menacing looks plastered on their faces.

“Hey little thing,” One of them drawled as he made his way towards you, the smell of liquor hanging onto his clothes and skin. “Where are you going? Let me take you there.” He hiccuped.

You tried to walk past him, but his drunkard friends surrounded you in a circle, preventing you from escaping.

“Are you deaf?” Another man demanded impatiently. “He asked you where you’re going. Are you gonna ignore him? You know what happens to stupid people like you who don’t answer big bro?” the man on your right snarled at you.

You could’ve just run through them, but fear overtook your body, your legs frozen in place. You whole body shook in trepidation. Is this how you’re going to die?

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize that the men were now closing in on you. They were the kind of people that the neighborhood police have warned the people living close by about. They’ve been trying to nab these guys, but were unable to because they would evade the police and seem to have a hiding spot that nobody knows about.

A surprised yelp left your lips as you were being pulled by the collar from behind, your legs desperately trying to regain stability.

“Please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this.” You begged as a last resort. In response, you were roughly pushed to your knees as “big bro” stood in front of your trembling form, his hands undoing his belt.

“Stupid bitches like you should just shut up and do as you’re told.” He slurred.

By now, the feeling of someone else watching you apart from the men who’ve cornered you were the least of your concerns.

“No! Please!” Tears were running down your face in fear of your situation as two men from behind tore your coat away and roughly pinned you down.

A stinging slap to your face was all you got in response.

“Better open your mouth nice and wide.” The supposed leader hiccuped, his face flushed red from the liquor he has downed.

While you struggled against your captors and begged for your life, you thought it was over as the man grabbed your jaw and forced your mouth open.

As the sight of him drew closer to you, tears wouldn’t stop leaking from your eyes. Maybe, if you closed your eyes it would be better. Not like it would help you get out of this situation you’re currently in.

But when the grip on your jaw loosened, you opened your teary eyes to see that the man had completely disappeared. And in his place was a pile of ash and dust.

“He should’ve gotten his filthy hands off what belongs to me.” A familiar voice reached your ears.

“T-Tomura?” You looked up through blurry eyes to see the oh so familiar face staring at the pile of ash with contempt.

Instantly, the rest of the men who’ve had you cornered released you and stumbled backwards as if they had seen a ghost, a look of fear flashing before their faces.

“Oi, are the both of you going to come out or do I have to finish this myself? If that’s the case, what’s the point of bringing you guys along?” Tomura said to no one in particular as he scratched the back of his neck.

“What’s the rush?” A second voice replied as a man with scars on his face and hands emerged from the shadows. “We have all the time in the world.” The man smirked at your assaulters as he ran a scarred hand through his thick, black hair. “And also, I didn’t join you so I could save some damsel in distress, Shigaraki.”

“Dabi’s right, you know. I just wanted to see for myself how y/n looked like, not come and play hero. We should leave that to the real heroes.” A blonde haired girl giggled, knife in hand. “But I can see why y/n’s got your interest. I guess you following her around for 3 months really did pay off.”

“Are you going to help me get rid of these good for nothings or am I going to have to disintegrate you for talking too much, Toga?” Tomura questioned the girl named Toga.

“Well,” She started. “There’s new blood, so I guess i’ll help out then!” Toga bounced up and down gleefully.

As the remaining of your captors tried to run away, Toga leapt at the closest man and plunged her knife into his neck, all the while chanting “new blood, new blood” gleefully like a little kid.

“Dabi. You get the rest.” Tomura scratched his neck, a red spot emerging slowly but surely.

It was then when you felt warmth as blue light emitted from the the black haired male’s palm. Wait no, it wasn’t light.

It was blue flames.

Soon, the terrified screams of the men who’d attacked you died down in the flames, the nearby walls scorched and tainted black with the aftermath of the blue flames.

And there you were, clutching your coat that Tomura had picked up to your chest, trying to process what just happened.

Tomura just disintegrated someone, the girl called Toga was collecting the blood of her victim, and the man with blue flames was standing there, his hands now shoved into his jeans.

“Y/n.” Tomura spoke as he looked at you, who was still a trembling mess on the floor.

“H-how did you know I would be here? Who are these people? W-who are you?”

The night was still and quiet now apart from Toga’s quiet humming as she cleaned her knife, your questions hanging in the air unanswered.

“You k-killed someone.” You whispered, Tomura becoming a stranger in your eyes.

“...”

“Because he touched you. He touched what belongs to me.” Tomura replied, a hint of remorse nowhere to be found.

“Why don’t you just tell her that you’ve been watching her like the creep you are for the past few months already.” Dabi smirked.

“And who we are!” Toga piped up.

Silence greeted the four of you as Tomura stood there, staring at you intently.

“no... wait!” You cried out as you inched back from the once familiar figure in front of you. Now, he was someone else- a murderer who feels no remorse and not the Shigaraki Tomura that you knew.

“So?” The blue hair man scratched his nape out of frustration. “I told you, it’s because they touched what is mine.”

What’s his? Did he mean you? Since when did you belong to him.

“H-how long have you been following me?” You questioned, hoping that he wouldn’t hear the fear in your shaky voice. You needed to stall as much time as possible while thinking of an escape route. But three against one? Only a miracle would allow you escape.

“Long enough to know your daily routine.” The man name Dabi smirked, mockery lacing his words as Tomura stared down at you and said nothing.

“Creep.” You couldn’t help but whisper under your breath. Your eyes were stinging and blurry with the tears that were threatening to spill over, but you didn’t dare to look away from Tomura out of fear that he might try something in the mere split second.

“We’ll save the questions for later.” He finally spoke up. When you finally looked at him, a syringe was in his hands.

“For now, get some rest.”

A soft gasp left your lips as the stinging feeling of needle pierced your skin, and drowsiness slowly overtook you, your body heavy like lead.

The last thing you saw was Tomura’s ruby red eyes looking down at you.

“I’ll protect you forever, y/n.”

#anime #bnha #mha x reader #mha shigaraki #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #yandere shigaraki #tomura x reader #bnha shigaraki #yandere x reader #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x reader #yandere tomura

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Text

Two Faced | Chapter Eight

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4.8k author note :: i’ve been very ill so yeah, not the best writing but i really can’t go that long without wanting to write so i ended up writing an update, i hope you enjoy it, it’s longer than usual :D sorry for any mistakes it hasn’t been proof read at all :-( → next part coming soon!!

“Hey, newbie you haven't spoke about your home town much have ya?"

You lift your head, verifying Reiner's suspicions with a nod. You recall he's the same distasteful blonde brute who made those snide remarks about Hange. He must be at least a towering six foot if his shadow is able to cover the majority of the Sun's rays from hitting you.

You would maybe bother to give him and his inquiry more attention than you currently are if he hadn't been so unnecessarily impolite during the morning speeches.

Calves yelping in stinging pain from the first tastes of the full time training regime you simply cannot find the effort to strain your mind with small talk.

Temples throbbing it feels as if a sword has been forced through the side of your head, but that's not it at all. Reiner has thrown a small rock at you and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

Twisting your position so you face him you glare in displeasure.

Although you don't particularly enjoy the idea of joining Levi's unit and having to become a concealed agent of sorts you can't really take your pickings at how it is you wish to survive. You're going to have to deal with it and you've come to the stage of acceptance now.

However, you are not willing to respect the attitude some of these cadets are giving you, it's clear there's already a strong hierarchy in place.

Reiner just so happens to be one of the big guns from what you've been able to observe. He possess strong upper body strength and his hand to hand combat isn't a laughing matter either. That means he's higher up in the ladder of cadets, that's for sure. To top it all off you know you're not as powerful as other members in the team in terms of skill and he's probably silently making a mockery of you for it.

Pursing your lips you decide to play this game cautiously, asking him what it is he needs from you isn't the best option. You're aware he's after something, it's written all over his face. You practically know every deceptive look in the book off by heart. You suppose it's the only perk you got out of living in a noble household for most of your life.

"Why do you care?" You bluntly question him.

"Ohh, you're feisty. Might not want to butt heads with Annie."

"Not sure who that is but I don't plan on it."

Turning away from him it look like you're distracting yourself by collecting pieces of firewood. Trailing around you act as uncaring as possible to annoy him. You need to gauge this man's reaction somehow.

Your plan seems to be working in your favour because you're able to see his footing shift from his natural stance, it looks as if he's about to risk charging at you due to your vulnerable position but you rotate again offering him a knowing smile.

You don't tell him you're conscious of his suspicious nature but if he's quick witted enough he'll be able to figure out you aren't a threat and apparently don't have a clue what it is he's up to. The only reason he'd even consider attacking you would be if he saw you as an issue. For now your act should at least keep him at bay.

"Fine. I'll tell you about my hometown, I'm just..." You pause to make yourself look believable and proceed to look up at him through your lashes, you dart your gaze away and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck exuding coyness.

"I'm incredibly homesick. I miss mother. I always made supper for her, now I can only pray she's not eating burnt chicken." Your act has to be working because his eyes soften and he takes half of the firewood in your arms offering to help you carry it.

"My mum's a great cook, can't relate squirt."

"Who you calling squirt?" You playfully snap back.

"I call everybody that, even Captain Levi... Well, when he isn't around to hear it."

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Levi's name.

“So you and the Captain? What’s that all about?” His question makes no sense at all, one minute he wants to prod and poke in your personal home life yet the next minute he's asking questions about Levi. The doubts you have surrounding him only thicken.

You take a moment to consider his question,

“Whatever do you mean?” Clueless, you're delivery is excellent. Acting naive is easy enough, everyone within the corps has already decided that's what your automatic disposition is.

Reiner gives you a skeptical look then smiles faintly, “Glaring daggers at Jean after he got handsy with you?”

You cover your mouth with your free hand and laugh so hard the firewood nearly flies out of your grasp.

“Me and Jean are friends, and Levi? He just wanted to find a reason to get mad at us probably.” You hope the explanation suffices because you truly have no idea why Levi had done what he did.

Reiner hums in approval at your answer but he then grins.

“You on first name basis with the Captain?”

Fuck, you called him Levi.

Play it cool.

“Huh? When have I ever said his first name?” Clueless. Your delivery is still perfect.

“Just now.” He fires back, Reiner doesn't seem to be letting up but he doesn't know how smooth of a liar you are.

Living with your father for all those years conditioned you in ways you hadn't even noticed until quite recently.

“Did I? Pardon, I didn’t mean for it to slip out. Sometimes I silently curse him out in my head and forget to add his title.”

Your acting is impeccable, Reiner has no reason to doubt you. As you expect he doesn't instead he shifts the conversation to his hometown, just like you he doesn't explicitly mention a name. Reiner is sharp but he hasn't noticed the way you've left a name out just like him. He's terrible at catching out his own kind.

You decide at that moment that Reiner Braun is a liar. The accusation is more of a hunch meaning more investigation is required.

You won't inform any of the higher ups about it just yet.

The walk back to base is filled with excruciatingly troublesome small talk and you make a mental note to take Mikasa along with you next time it's your turn retrieve the firewood.

You can't afford any more close encounters with Braun or any of his possible accomplices.

Sniggers batter your ears as soon as you step foot onto the grounds, you have a sixth sense when it comes to spiteful bad-mouthing and after the abysmal day you've had you anticipate there will be unpleasant commentary.

"Seen the way Y/N ruined the assault course today?"

"We're the finalized cadets across all the regions of Paradis. That means we have to rely on that embarrassment to fight titans."

"Good Lord, someone have mercy on our souls."

Fellow cadets press on in their criticism thinking you aren't within earshot. That, or they purposefully aim for you to pay attention to the disapproval they have of your presence.

But, you do understand where they're coming from. You make another mental note - practice a bit more later today.

The gossiping isn't anything you're unfamiliar with, your father's palace never offered kindness to you or your existence. In fact it's rather comforting being talked badly about behind your back.

That statement sounds absurd but you can't explain it. Maybe it's due to Levi typically hurling his unnecessary remarks right at you without warning. Then again he does provide everyone with that treatment, even Commander Erwin.

As you hurry away increasing the distance between you and your loud mouthed team members you spot Levi from the corner of your eye. He's in conversation with Hange but you notice how his jaw is clenched in frustration, you feel a pinch over your skin when he spares you a fleeting look. Eyes acquainting yours. Paying no attention to him you walk away as fast as you can.

The cadets only blow up in volume now, they definitely want you to hear what they have to say.

"Maybe we should ask the higher ups to throw her ou-"

"Questioning authority? Pesky mutineers aren't you?" Levi's booming voice shakes anyone within a five metre vicinity, he comes out of nowhere and seems nothing short of furious.

"You're all," He continues, voice rising, "Incredibly spineless aren't you?"

One of the cadets embellishes their face with a scowl, it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi but he astonishingly doesn't lash out, physically at least. His deathly glare is more than enough to finish the job.

Stupidly you suffer feeling your heart palpitate in your chest watching him talk to the group of three. Stupidly, you're getting your hopes up again.

He scoffs coldly, "If you're all talk why not offer to duel her?"

It doesn't take long for your heart to stop throbbing with its previous intensity. You know it was too good to be true. Levi suddenly defending you that is.

The gesture isn't done to protect or shield you. No, you're sure this man loathes you and is intending to persist on making your life as bleak and dreary as possible.

"Up to a battle Y/N?" The unnamed blonde cadet's scoffs in derision and you find yourself wanting to punch her square in the jaw.

Irritation sears through you but you meekly shake your head mumbling a weak "No thanks.", you're much too afraid to duel anyone just yet and you don't remember her from the training sessions. She must have been in a corner keeping to herself.

With all that being said and done you pathetically withdraw, and just like the past few days you sense Levi's piercing gaze erupting into your soul.

The blistering Sun hits every nook and cranny of the training ground. Waking up early already has you wanting to pass out and the heat isn't any help.

The crowd of cadets mumble in fatigue but observant Mikasa jabs you in the shoulder pointing out how far away Jean has stood from you.

You feel guilty that Jean had to suffer through the humiliation tossed at him yesterday but you are grateful to not deal with his constant questioning and talkative self this early in the morning.

All the way at the other side of the throng of soldiers he stands with Bert, who might you add is a mammoth of a man.

Through some digging (more like asking Mikasa) you've discovered he's close with Reiner and the blonde cadet from yesterday's confrontation, turns out she's the Annie that Reiner warned you off.

"ATTENTION!" Hange sing songs at the front of the training ground. They're jumping around along with Squad Leader Mike checking if everyone's in the correct uniform - Apparently the year prior a cadet showed up wearing a thick cardigan and fainted from heat stroke...

“Today’s exercise is a time to redeem yourself!” Hange’s eyes dart towards you and you smile at one another.

“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

Everyone murmurs looking at each other in pure confusion.

“A fight up against another person. Whoever wins their individual fights will receive extra special privileges." The explanation seems simple enough and you’re confident that if you’re put up against the right people you can make it out safe.

The promise of a reward is also enticing.

The 104th Training Corps are thrilled, there’s nothing too hazardous about the task and it’s nothing difficult to ask for. Even you’re looking forward to it. The chance to rescue your reputation has you pumped up with adrenaline.

“My, my my. Don’t excite yourselves just yet little hens, there’s a pretty little catch.” Hange's voice is laced in mischief. This can't be any good.

Everyone stops breathing in unison and it’s pin drop silent.

“You must cause harm to your opponent in some way. Whether it be making them faint, breaking an arm, breaking a leg. There are no rules when it comes to playing dirty!”

With a playful shrug of their shoulder Hange hops off the podium.

Squad Leader Mike pulls out the list of competitors. He’s decided the line-up on his own and begins the announcement with Bertholdt.

“BERTHOLDT HOOVER..."

Bert turns to look back at Reiner hesitantly and for such a giant it’s adorable how worried he is when everyone else is perturbed thinking about the poor individual who has to go up against him.

"AGAINST Y/N L/N!"

The crowd falls silent and your mouth is wide, this is unjust there’s no way this is allowed.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?” Krista speaks out for you even though Ymir is by her side trying to talk her out of getting involved.

“She stands no chance against him.” Reiner is supporting your cause too.

Mikasa takes a step forward. “I agree, it’s not right, may I take her place instead?”

“No, no! It’s alright, I’ll go for it.”

Honestly you don’t want the corps to see you as a coward. Bravery and courage is what brought everyone here. Your story is different. You’re here to selfishly save your own life, you aren’t anywhere near as valiant as the rest of them. The very least you can do is partake in activities correctly.

Stepping up to the podium you stand by Bertholdt he gives you a pitiful look whilst he mutters an apology.

Mike continues announcing the names. A few include Jean against Mikasa (Jean may as well forfeit), Marco against Annie and Connie against Reiner - that pairing eases you. At least you aren't in this alone. You and Connie stand no chance against those beasts.

Everyone lines up in their separate areas and again Bertholdt is profusely apologizing asking if you want to fake faint or anything of the sort. You shake your head and promise to give it all you've got.

And then the games begin at the sound of the bell, and damn that Bertholdt because he isn't keeping to his end of the bargain. He lunges forward viciously aiming to crush your entire body but you swiftly dodge, he tries the same approach but when you duck out of the way again he stops knowing he needs to rethinks his strategy.

"Just give it up I'll win either way."

Well, the Mister nice guy act was definitely a believable performance. He was so convincing you even contemplated feigning unconsciousness when he proposed the idea to you.

Bertholdt is much slower than you giving you more time to deliberate your incoming moves. If you can get him to edge close enough to a nearby tree and deceive him into colliding with the oak trunk you should win - only on the condition that he passes out.

The scheme is far-fetched but it's your only hope.

Dashing from various corners he flies after you, each time unable to catch up to you.

That is until you stumble and lurch to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you panic when a large hand clutches at your ankle. Your solution? Booting him right in the teeth.

However with an earth-shattering amount of force Hoover's hold on your ankle doesn't weaken. Instead he tightens his hold like a vice. You feel it bruise and the violet discoloration that'll be present in a few hours makes you wince.

Entire body going limp on command, you stop yourself from breathing - another talent you picked up back at the palace to avoid extra beatings.

When you no longer thrash around Bertholdt stalks in to check in on you and as expected he’s now towering over you, blood overflowing in terror.

"SQUAD LEADER HANGE, CAPTAIN LEVI SHE'S NOT MOVING!" He's roaring for their help frantic and anxious. If he's caused any permanent damage he's as good as dead meat.

"Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Bertholdt's voice is fractured in unadulterated horror and judging by the direction you hear it at he has to be facing away from you.

Unbolting your eyes you learn your assumption is correct and despite hurried footsteps being within audible range you take your chance by the reigns.

Leaping to your feet and with no forewarning you swing your leg to the back of his neck. Stunned by the surprise attack he falls to his knees and you situate yourself in front of the oak tree you've been eyeing from the time the exercise began.

"You cunning bitch." Staggering back up he makes a swift rebound. At this point all mercy has left him and his one true aim is to completely pulverize you.

Everything is falling into place. All you need to do is wait for the right moment and finally you come across it when he suddenly pounces for you. Darting to the left you leave the space open for your prey.

Poor Bertholdt falls right into the palm of your hands like a rag doll. His momentum can't be controlled and he smashes headfirst into the trunk with a loud crunch sounding out. Bark splits and scrapes off the tree upon impact.

His head has to throb and you don't want to imagine how painful it is to feel the rivulets of soreness.

He doesn't get up and only groans, you feel half bad but after the tricks and antics he pulled you come to the conclusion that it's all deserved.

"Well, Y/N, you've proven yourself to be quite quick witted." Hange's praise is strange to hear but you beam proud that you've proven your worth.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself." Levi orders. "It could have been pure luck."

In spite of Levi's pessimism you bask in the glory of your win.

A week into joining Levi's unit you're becoming more accustomed to the new environment, in fact the gossiping and horrible rumours stop completely after your win and interactions with your fellow comrades feel easier and lighter.

You think the taunts will have only got more relentless after the duel fiasco but you suppose Annie chose to be considerate and take pity on you.

"Your progress has been remarkable so far." You jump when you hear Jean's deep voice appear right next to you.

Looking around to see if any other cadets are around you finally release a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Ah. Thank you." You murmur quietly.

"I know it's been a week since I was scolded by the Captain but this won't count as flirting will it?"

Impeding the one sided conversation you're reflecting, you're not sure what exactly about. Probably whether or not you should maintain the discussion - if it can even be referred to as such.

Forget it. You know what they say, you only live once.

Flicking his forehead you roll your eyes, "We were never flirting he's just an over dramatic, bitter hag. I put my money on the fact he's never felt the touch of a woman before."

Jean's eyes widen in disbelief, you half expect he'll split open in tremendous laughter but he looks terrified. Then you become conscious of the fact he's not even staring at you, his eyes are engrossed by whatever is behind you.

Unfortunately for you your body tells you all you need to know. His cologne floods into your nostrils, you can't even reassure yourself and pretend it's anyone else, you know he's the only one who smells that strongly of fresh linen.

Being unable to see him doesn't stop you from imagining his dark lifeless eyes accompanying themselves with what is before them.

It doesn't even take Jean a minute to abandon you, he breaks out into an awkward smile, hurriedly pats your shoulder before dashing away, dispersing all the way to the other end of the hallway in a matter of seconds and turning the corner away from you.

Heart rate soaring you hesitantly spin on your heel. Levi's stood there, looking beyond unimpressed.

You intend to breeze past him, cool and collected. You take a step forward but God has never been one to bless you with luck, stumbling and tripping over thin air lands you flying.

Ready for impact you brace yourself but it never comes, instead solid hands are firmly placed at the small of your back steadying your position and your palms have unceremoniously landed atop his torso.

"Play along." Levi's voice is low and rumbling, and you can't look him in the eyes. Not out of fear or dread, more so exhaustion but you muster the energy to look to your left. There Erwin and Hange stand giggling to themselves like children. As quick as you spot them they vanish in the same fashion. It's as if they were never there.

You're worn out and fatigued wanting nothing more than a good night's rest. If there's one thing you haven't grown used to it's the lack of sleep.

"Let go." Moving to shift his hands away from your waist you halt your movements when he without warning lets go of you, not even giving you the opportunity to renovate your balance.

Flying to the ground and landing with a thud you rub your backside at the blow.

Mirthlessly chuckling the lack of amusement is clear in the way he composes himself.

Making a dash for it sounds tempting but you may as well let him have his way. There's no action you can take to avoid him reprimanding you. It's your fault for having the gall to make that crude and foul-mouthed comment in the first place.

You gulp comprehending the situation is even worse now since you really only said it for the sole reason of Kirstein's amusement.

"Y/N, I'd like to have a word with you."

Hesitantly you look up at Levi, he has an indecipherable expression on his face, it's been a while since you've last been left in his company alone.

The two of you are stood in his office, his desk is flooded with papers, they're haphazardly scattered all over the place and spikes of worry weirdly make them self present in your belly. This isn't right. He'd never leave his work space in this state.

"Are you okay?" You ask it because you’re sure he isn't.

His shoulders and spine stiffen. "Cut the crap and keep the formalities to yourself." He chides, most definitely defensive in his stance.

Without asking him you shuffle to his desk stacking the papers into organised piles, most of the documents are related to an up and coming expedition and it's all beginning to add up. Even humanities strongest soldier has moments where he cracks.

Then you notice your name on the formation plan but before you're able to make anything out of it Levi snatches it off his desk and away from you stuffing it into his pocket.

Without another sound he observes you cleaning the rest of the mess away but doesn't ask for you to stop. There's no reason for him to.

If you do this maybe he'll go easier on you, yeah that's what your motivation is. That's not exactly the truth, really you're just concerned about whatever has him worked up.

Placing the last document in its rightful place you want to give your mind a moment to recollect itself but Levi doesn't think the same.

He places his arms on either side of the desk, trapping you with no way out. Oddly, there's nothing threatening about him looking down at you this time, the greys and blues of his iris' captivate you.

"Do you enjoy making a mockery of your husband?" The question is whispered. It's unanticipated and the title of husband is uncharacteristic coming out of his mouth.

"It was just a joke." You mumble your answer under your breath.

"Would you have spouted that shit in front of the rest of the unit?"

Mildly shaking your head he then sighs. He’s not angry, he genuinely seems let down.

"Do you prefer him over me?” You swear you hear the faintest hint of self-doubt.

His questions are getting more out of the ordinary by the second and you’re waiting for him to crack a malevolent grin before he ridicules you like he always does.

“Of course I don’t prefer him over you.”

“Prove it.”

Tilting your head up towards him you have no idea what he wants for you to do or say, why does this suddenly even matter to him?

And then you imagine it happen, him digging his hands into your shoulders. Your weight along with his shifting up against the desk making it creak. Your mind details how he would kiss you agitatedly and you flush thinking about how you would feverishly return the favour.

It seems like your imagination predicts the future. He grips your jaw with his hand, his touch isn’t firm and for once it’s quite soft. Relishing in the new experience as he leans in you secure your eyes shut in expectation.

Stroking your cheek with his thumb the warm sensation that courses through your body is rather pleasant. His hands come out to run against your body, pinching the sides of your waist. The motion makes your heart stall for a second. Involuntarily, you find yourself leaning into him.

“This seem like a man who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman before?”

And just like that he leaves you hanging. You flutter your eyes open and there he is. He’s back, the same cynical man, smirk etched onto his features, his body still parallel to yours.

You find yourself enraged at how he's just lead and dragged you on, you should have stuck with your gut feeling and not given into temptation but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It's very obvious who the cat is in this situation.

Brows furrowing you can’t face him ever again after the scalding embarrassment inhabits your abdomen.

"Going to cry, Cadet?" He's pushing all your buttons, eagerly choosing to provoke you.

The frustration you’ve been feeling fills you to the brim and you clamp down on your bottom lip. If you must turn to inflicting harm onto yourself just to muffle the sound of your whimpers you will.

“Did you need to do that?” You choke out your response feeling helpless, still not looking at him.

“Simply gave you a taste of your own medicine.”

Silence.

"Sometimes I wish you killed me back then."

Silver eyes become dark and he visibly flinches at your confession.

Still boxed in-between his arms you attempt to push past but he continues to obstruct the exit. He's not done yet.

"I gave you another chance at life." His blunt one-sided view is about to drive you crazy.

"Within my first day at this unit I had to avoid being attacked by another cadet in the forest if you call that a life I do-"

“Who?”

“Not important."

“If you know what's good for you, you'll spit it out."

For the sole purpose of irking him you heavily shake your head to emphasise your refusal to give in and name the culprit. It's not like you want Reiner to fall into trouble because of you. He hasn't shown any suspicious or out of the ordinary behaviour since then and you worry what Levi is capable of doing when given a reason to hurt someone.

Glancing at him dismissively you try to make your point again. "They haven't done anything since. Therefore, it's of no importance."

Conflicted emotions scurry over his face as he looks at you.

"It's of importance if my wif-" He growls and stops midway. His hands grip onto the desk even harder, knuckles turning white.

Was he about to say, wife?

Levi immediately realizes what he's nearly just said sounds exceedingly questionable. A look of uncertainty flashes over his face and then it seems he loses all regard for self-control. His willpower isn't enough to get him through this situation and he only amplifies.

Encroaching further into the very little space amongst the both of you his tone is icy. "Tell me." He's glowering and for Reiner's wellbeing you decide you should just come out with it now. He'll be in an even more difficult spot if you don't.

"Reiner, it was Reiner." You gasp out the answer, shallow breath ragged. Head turning away to the side you're not particularly sure why you're so shaky and why you feel a tremor flood past you inundating your movement. It may all be a combination of how close he's standing to you and how intoxicatingly strong his aura is.

Or, perhaps it's due to how he nearly referred to you as his wife during his primal outburst of anger.

He turns away. Automatically creating yet another blockade between the two of you.

"You're dismissed."

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #duke levi #levi smut #levi angst #levi fluff #levi fanfiction #leviiattacks

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pa-panda-heroes · 3 years

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No one asked but take it hERE YOU GO bc I’m suffering and I just need a 2d baby to help me with my shit spine-

Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara helping out their s/o with back issues!

Megumi:

He doesn’t know a thing about it and what it’s like, or even heard of your issue. That said, he’s quick to look it up on the internet to figure out exactly what’s goin on, what might help, and what he can help with. Really wants to help if he can’

Need your shit put back into place? Megumi’s your guy! He’ll watch dozens of videos to learn how to do it, and while he may be nervous about cracking your back and shifting things back into place, he’s a natural at it. He’s gentle with you, refraining from manhandling and yanking you around when he doesn’t need to, and he somehow knows exactly how much pressure is needed and where.

Even though he does so well, he’ll always remark a firm “You really should see a professional about it, though.” He’s just pushy like that, even though he’s always happy to help where he can. Megumi just thinks it’s better to have someone trained and licensed to do something like this.

Probably won’t be too thrilled when you ask for a massage for the first time. Again, he’s fine with learning, but he doesn’t feel apt enough and encourages you to have a pro do it. You need to be as stubborn as Nobara to convince him.

Once you do, though, he realizes it’s kinda nice. The two of you can chitchat idly about anything that comes to mind and it’s really peaceful. It’s quiet. Void of the “excitement” that daily life has, be it fighting for your life against curses or trying to keep a tight leash on Yuuji and Nobara. And if you fall asleep? He’ll swoon.

Eventually he’ll pick up on what aggravates your back and what doesn’t, as well as what helps and what doesn’t. Megumi will also quickly notice cues in your body language or demeanor that call for his help, painkillers, or a much-needed break.

If you’ve been out and about all day exorcising curses and the pain gets unbearable, asking him to carry you on his back can yield various results. If the others are around or if you’re in public, he’ll be pretty adamant you take some pain pills and rest for a little while.

It’s not that he sees it as a burden or anything; he likes that you’d ask him. However, the thought of carrying you on his back in front of other people is quite flustering to him, but if you’re actually wounded aside from your usual issue, he’ll follow along with a bit of grumbling. When no one’s around, though, he’ll offer before you can ask.

Yuuji:

You’d think he would be clueless and utterly confused, but nay! Yuuji knows lidocaine patches are a gift to this world, hot pads are a gem, and hot baths are an absolute miracle. Well, they can be. He knows that when it’s especially bad, it’s bad and your best bet is to find the most comfortable resting position as possible and leave it at that.

Sympathetic as hell. Yuuji has seen what back pain can do to someone - he saw that with his own grandfather, even if the old man’s issue was brought on by his age. While he doesn’t experience it himself, Yuuji just knows. He doesn’t know how to pop you back into place, though. The old man was stubborn about letting him do that, so he has no experience.

Great at cracking things back into place once you teach him, even if he can be a bit clumsy actually getting into position to do it. “No, you have to stand so that I’m facing you.” “Oh, so... like this, with my hands this way?” “Yuuji, sweetheart, you can’t pop my hips back into place from my knees-“

He tries so hard to help out. Whether it’s popping up out the blue (and giving you one hell of a fright) with painkillers, keeping a literal stockpile of lidocaine patches in his pockets, or constantly asking if he can “crack” you (much to the bewilderment of everyone else because he gives no context-), Yuuji nearly smothers you.

It’s cute, though, and he’s smothering you for all the right reasons! When you happen to be in the city after a job well-done, he’ll offer to buy you ice cream, “since you worked so hard today and your back is probably killing you.” “Yuuji, are you using my shit back as an excuse to gorge on sweets?!” Yes, yes he absolutely is. And with the massive puppy eyes he gives you, there’s no way you can say no.

Loves loves loves to do the thing where he hugs you from behind, squeezes real tightly, and jerks you up. He’ll say it’s because it seems to help and the relief he sees on your face afterward is wonderful to see, but it’s really because he just likes squeezing you.

Gives you piggyback rides all the time. You can refuse and tell him your back is fine to walk all you want, but it won’t work. He’ll come up with an excuse along the lines of preventing your back from getting bad. You have to somewhat admit he has a point, and he honestly does believe in that. But he’s just happy to carry you.

Horrible masseuse. Dear Fujisan keep this boy the hell away from your muscles. Popping and cracking you entails quick, hard pressure and maneuvers, while massages entail constant pressure over periods of time and slow, graceful movements. Yuuji is neither slow nor graceful. He tries so hard for you, tho

Nobara:

This poor girl has no idea what the hell is going on with you but still somehow does everything right. And she’s totally bewildered when a wild guess in the dark actually works, like.... what?? Are you sure you’re not faking it so she doesn’t feel bad for being clueless?? Y/n?? Hello??

Scared of her own shadow when it comes to helping crack you or put your back into place. Remember Noboara’s little “muri muri muri” dance when she found out Yuuji ate a cursed object? That is exactly what you get when you bring it up to her, because she’s afraid she’ll hurt you.

You will have to show her on her own body what you need before she’ll consider doing it. Or, you can taunt her. That always works! But once she’s got it down, Nobara might even ask you if you can work on her back or refer her to the chiropractor that you go to when you’re able. She’s curious to see how an adjustment could help her even though she doesn’t have any problems.

Pain killers and heating pads galore. She has so much stockpiled in her cabinet, you wonder if she eats pills like candy. In reality, she just likes to be prepared. She keeps plenty of other things of a medical nature, too. “Hey, hey, hey, y/n! Have you tried a back brace? I’ve got this kind, and this kind...”

Actually gets super interested in your condition. Nobara will scour the internet trying to learn everything she can, be it looking at x-ray samples or treatments. She even saw a video detailing the process of drilling screws and metal bars into the spine to treat scoliosis, once. Needless to say, she gets a handle of what your condition is rather effectively.

Unless you’re a fair amount under 160cm/5ft3 in height, you’re probably not getting any piggyback rides from Nobara. You can bet she’ll try, though, especially when the others (or you) tease her about it. She’ll pull it off out of hard spite, just to prove them wrong because she can do anything she puts her mind to and she’s stubborn.

Ask her for a massage. Do it. You will not regret it! Nobara’s lithe fingers are perfect for rolling out any built-up tension. She knows just what kind of pressure, where to put it, and how to move her fingers over your muscles to help reduce pain, tension, and just overall stress.

And she has fun doing it, too! She loves helping you out, and every once in a while when she’s really focused, you can catch her humming to herself with a tiny smile and cheery glint to her eyes. Nobara is surprisingly a quiet masseuse because of her intense focus, so you’ll have to do most of the talking if you feel like it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro x reader #itadori x reader #kugisaki x reader #megumi x reader #yuuji x reader #nobara x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader #disclaimer:this was entirely self-indulgent and definitely led by my own experiences with scoliosis whoops

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 2 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // main page // next chapter

Summary: After the conversation in Nebraska, there’s some tension between our favorite genius and Reader. A peace offering, a rainstorm, and some unexpected questions should clear that right up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature (not all chapters contain smut, those that do will be marked)

Category: Smut, fluff, and a bit of angst.

Word Count: 2.3k for Chapter 2

Content Warning: Some slight angst for Chapter 2

A/n: I hope y’all are liking this so far! No smut in this chapter, but I more than make up for it in chapter 3. Promise.

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTE: It was brought to my attention that the angst in this chapter appears to be something it is not. I mean, I know how the story ends, so I didn’t see it that way. But it’s a valid concern. I address it in chapter 6, but I’ve made edits to chapter 3 to address it a bit too. Reader is afraid to trust anyone, that is all. I promise.

y/n = your name

y/l/n = your last name

italicized text are Reader’s inner thoughts.

-- Chapter 2: I fucking beg your goddamn pardon? --

Once we pinned down the gender of the unsub, it wasn’t hard to help the locals close the case. Anna Marie Wilcox, 29. A pretty blonde girl with haunted eyes, betrayed by every man in her life. She just wanted to take her power back.

Cool motive; still murder.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet. Hotch spoke with Rossi before take-off, telling us that he was flying back from San Francisco after visiting his daughter and grandson and that he would see us on Monday. After that, everyone seemed to slip into their own world. This wasn't uncommon. After working day and night to save lives, digging your way into the darkest corners of a murderer’s mind, you needed to decompress a bit.

JJ was asleep in the back of the cabin, Emily sitting beside her while she reviewed some files. Hotch was writing at the small table, Morgan sitting opposite him, eyes closed while he listened to whatever played through his headphones.

And I was on the couch with Dr. Spencer Reid. I was very surprised when he boarded the jet and made a beeline towards where I was sitting without hesitation. He hadn't spoken to me or even looked at me for longer than 5 seconds since our talk at the precinct. I could tell my blunt words had an effect on him, which wasn't surprising to me. I tried not to stereotype people, I knew better than anyone else how wrong those stereotypes could be; but, if I ever had to guess a person I thought would be a submissive, I’d guess Spencer Reid.

My back was angled on the couch, pressing into the corner where the armrest met the backrest, my legs crossed in front of me. I had my phone in my head, swiping mindlessly on a puzzle game that didn't require any cell phone signal to play. I always found myself doing that after a case, it calmed me.

Dr. Reid was pretending to read.

He’s not even being convincing, I thought, trying to keep my face neutral. You read 20,000 words a minute, baby. You’ve been staring at that page for 5 minutes. Unable to resist, I shifted in my seat. I slowly uncrossed my legs, the small slit in the side of my skirt becoming visible at the movement.

Did I wear this skirt on purpose? Yes, yes, I did.

I let out a soft sigh before re-crossing my legs. I watched him out of the corner of my eye the entire time. His eyes followed my movements, his breath hitching slightly. He moved his gaze up my body until he got to my eyes, which he was surprised to find were on him. He cleared his throat before going back to his book, little splotches of red on his cheeks.

I smirked. All you have to do is ask, Dr. Reid.

Nothing happened until Thursday the following week. I had all but given up hope that Spencer Reid would finally cave and come to me. Shame, I thought. He would look so pretty when he begged.

The unit's caseload had been lighter than normal, with no cases that required us to travel. We did some consulting and wrote up some preliminary profiles for the law enforcement agencies that asked for our help. We had been traveling so much over the past few months, I think Hotch was just trying to give us a break.

A loud clap of thunder broke the silence of the bullpen. Then it seemed as if the sky opened up a second later, the heavy rain falling like a curtain outside the windows.

“That’s dramatic,” Emily Prentiss commented.

Morgan made a sound of agreement before turning his head to look at Reid. “Have fun walking to the train station in that, pretty boy.” His face split into a smile as Spencer shot him a glare. JJ, Emily, and I all laughed at their exchange. His eyes didn’t go to JJ or Emily though, those caramel brown eyes swung in my direction.

At the end of the workday, Garcia was the first out the door. She walked past the bullpen and gave a big wave. “Goodbye, my darlings. I will see you in the morning…unless there is a terrible murder!”

The team smiled and returned her goodbye. Derek was out of his seat in a flash, trailing after her. I couldn’t help but wonder about the two of them sometimes.

“Bye Spence,” I heard JJ say as she passed the boy wonder’s desk. “Try not to drown out there.” Emily laughed as she walked up beside JJ, standing just a little too close. I wondered about them too, if I’m honest.

When it was just me and the object of my attention left, I got my bag and approached his desk. “Hey, Doc.”

He didn’t look up, making it seem like putting files and papers into his messenger bag required his full attention. “Hi, y/l/n.”

Well, this wouldn’t do at all. “It’s still pouring outside. Do you need a ride? I’d hate for you to have to walk a block in this storm.”

“I’ll manage,” he muttered, still not meeting my eyes.

I let out a sigh. “Spencer.” His eyes finally raised to meet mine. “I’m sorry if I stepped over the line in Nebraska. It was unprofessional. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I continued. “I hope that we can move past this, I really miss my friend.”

He took a moment to adjust his glasses. He never wore them anymore, and I have to admit that my heart sputtered a bit when I saw him in them this morning. “We were friends before?” He chuckled slightly, earning a smile for me. I’d only been with the BAU for 7 months, and while I was friendly with my co-workers, Spencer and I had never had a particularly close bond.

“I like to think so,” was my reply, giving him a small smile. “And if we weren’t before, I hope we can be one day.” With one final look in those eyes, I turned. “Have a good night, Doc.”

I was halfway to the elevators when I heard him. “Y/n!” I turned to see him hurrying towards me. He smiled at me; and it was his real smile, not the polite smile he gave others. It was a full-blown smile that lit his whole face up. My stomach fluttered. “If you don’t mind, I’d actually like a ride. If you’re still willing?”

Still so nervous, even now. “Of course, pretty boy,” Morgan’s nickname for him slipping from my lips without a thought. “Follow me.”

It wasn’t the thing I had been hoping all week that he’d ask me, but it was a start.

The drive to Spencer’s apartment took longer than it should have. I was driving slower because of the storm; I was also driving slower because other drivers weren’t driving slowly.

"This type of rain is so heavy it cuts the visibility more than the average storm," the good doctor said. "Under normal precipitation, it's advised that you reduce your speed by at least 10 miles to account for less traction."

“Huh,” I responded, glancing down at my speedometer.

He cleared his throat. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

I risked a quick glance at him to see him shifting in his seat. “Do what, Doc?”

“Ramble,” Spencer said softly. “I ramble when I’m nervous, and I’m trying really hard not to be nervous.”

My heart ached for him in that moment. This brilliant, brilliant, man, the smartest and kindest person in any room, was nervous about talking to me. My right hand lifted from the steering wheel before I could think better of it, touching his arm lightly. “Please don’t be nervous around me, Spencer.” His whole body stiffened at my touch. “Shit! I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t like to be touch.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I just keep fucking this up, don’t I?” My chuckle was sad, and a little bit bitter.

“It’s not that,” he said quickly. “I was just surprised. I don’t…I don’t mind if you touch me.”

I didn’t try to hide the shock on my face. “You don’t, huh?”

I swear I could almost hear the blush in his voice. “I d-didn’t mean it like t-.”

“Spence,” I cut him off. “I know. I was just teasing.”

He let out a small chuckle at that. "Oh. Right." There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. "You know, you've never called me Spence before." I simply nodded in agreement. He was right, I hadn't. I hadn't even meant to do it then. He continued on. “Actually, you only call me Spencer when the conversation is serious. Other than that it’s always Doc…or occasionally Reid.” The chuckle that left him put a smile on my face.

“You’re right, Doc.” I glanced over at him and smiled. “Tell you what, I don’t want you to be nervous around me. At all. So, I’m giving you blanket consent right now.” I really hoped I knew what I was doing. “You can ask me any question you want. You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t judge you.”

“…Really?” He sounded almost like he was in awe.

I nodded. “Yes, really. The thought of making you nervous makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel that way in front of me.” My voice was soft, reassuring. Maybe it was the soft dom in me that recognized his submissive, but I wanted to comfort him. I wanted him to feel safe.

Spencer Reid took a deep breath before he spoke again. He acted like it was no big deal, but the words he said afterward gave me a mild heart attack. "Okay, can you tell me about your BDSM experiences?"

I fucking beg your goddamn pardon?

I sputtered a bit. “…Seriously?” My eyes were wide, I didn’t risk looking at him.

“W-well,” he sounded unsure now. “You said I could ask you anything.”

“You can! You absolutely can!” I heard him let out a breath. “I’m just…surprised that’s what you went with. That’s all. But…I don’t mind telling you if you really want to know.”

“I do,” he whispered.

I smiled over at him. “Okay, Doc. What do you wanna know?”

Spencer chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Maybe just walk me through what you like to do. Or what you usually do. Or how you got into it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s all?” I shook my head. “Alright. I was 21 when I first got into it. I had a…he wasn’t really my boyfriend. I guess you can say a friend with benefits.” I saw him nod his head in understanding. “And one day he asked me if I knew anything about BDSM. At that time, I only knew misconceptions and rumors; which is why I told him I wasn’t interested. The thought of someone tying me down and doing whatever they wanted to me sounded terrifying. But he clarified that he thought I would enjoy being a dominant. We tried it out a few times…and I liked it.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “So…is that the only kind of sex you have?”

I pondered over how to answer him. “That’s…a complicated question. I’m not not answering. I think I should just explain a bit more first." He made a noise of affirmation before I continued on. "What I do during a scene sort of depends on my submissive. Before anything happens, we have to have a really in-depth conversation, discussing hard and soft limits, punishments, expectations, and things like that." I glanced over, confirming I hadn't lost him. "Like I mentioned, I'm a soft dom. But, I usually can bend to what my submissive likes, as long as I’m comfortable.”

“So, what would you do? If you got to pick everything?”

You keep on surprising me, Doctor, I thought.

“Well, I like bondage, choking, degradation, but only if it’s light and done right.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain that. “Then I’m fine with oral sex, praise, orgasm denial, overstimulation, and pegging.”

Spencer was quiet. “A-and pegging is the…”

“What the unsub was doing to her victims? Yes, Spencer.”

“…Oh,” was all the boy genius said.

I continued on, trying to provide context. “I usually like to build up the relationship a bit before I bust out a strap on, though.” I worked hard to keep my voice even. “I’ll use toys on him first, usually.”

“You didn’t say sex.”

Shit. "Beg pardon?" I asked like I was clueless about what he meant.

Dr. Reid’s voice was firm; it was the voice he used on cases, the steady voice that explained concepts that anyone else would miss. “You said oral sex. You said you’d…you’d…do that-“

“Oh, for God’s sake, Doc,” I interrupted with a laugh. “We’re less than 3 minutes from your apartment and we’re having a conversation about BDSM. You can say fuck.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “You said you fuck them. But you never said you’d let them fuck you.”

Fucking profilers. “Yes, that’s right. That’s why it was so hard for me to answer your earlier question. I don’t have traditional sex with my submissives.”

His voice was confused when he asked, “But why?”

I clicked my tongue. “That, my darling, is a conversation I avoid at all costs. And we’re at your apartment.”

Spencer glanced around, surprised we’d arrived already, despite how long the drive took in the rain. I knew what he was going to do before he did it. I was already formulating my answer when he said, “Y/n…would you want to come up to my apartment? So we could keep talking?”

“Sure, Spence. If that’s what you want.”

message/comment to be added to the series tag list! thank you for reading :)

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