#and with the manager and assistant manager (me) being openly not straight. well. it is a Fiercely accepting workplace.

[orcelito]

I love working somewhere that's so fiercely supportive of gay shit. We have a drink of the month sign that one of our gay employees decorated with pride month stuff & someone erased the "pride" in "happy pride month" aka a fuckin micro aggression I guess

Manager is a lesbian and she's like "Oh this is War. I will straight up use company money to decorate the store with flags" bc if some piece of shit customer can't handle a chalkboard sign they're gonna have to deal with So Much More 😊

[mbb-project-entity]

Chapter 18

Kyubi had been around Levis house the last three days and Levi was a new person. He was now up to two beers in the morning and was banging Pepper in the morning after working out. He didn’t call it making love or having sex. It was rough, nasty, and Pepper was really wild. He fucked her in the shower, against the wall, and on the floor this morning. Then he would down his second beer and head out. He’d have a beer after lunch and then when he got home he’d have another beer or two before bed. Kyubi had brought over several more cases for him and he was very thankful for it. “Sir, your one o’clock is here.” Levi looked up and saw Kyubi and three other men standing by his secretary’s desk (KathChloee had started to insist she was his secretary instead of his personal assistant this morning for some reason). He nodded and waved them in. He saw Kyubi whisper in KathChloees ear, but he couldn't hear what was being said, before Kyubi came on in.

“Levi! Good to see you. These are my friends. This is Steven, Joseph, and Randal.”

Levi shook hands with all of them and had them sit down. “So, I’ve been told you guys all have various business interests and are curious about setting up a solid investment plan…”

They ended up talking for three hours. Levi was initially was curious about what they wanted and then was very hesitant. It turned out these 3 men were rather notorious for being abusive, using drugs, and Levi suspected Kyubi was attempting to create a simple front for money laundChloeg, as she had money from so many different sources to process, Levi assumed from drugs. Kyubi sensed his nervousness and suggested a short break. The three men headed out to the restroom and Kyubi held back.

“You seem a bit nervous Levi, what’s up?”

“Kyubi, the money they want to put down is great. Hell, I could start my own firm with an investment like that. But not to sound offensive, they are a bit shady. I know for a fact that unless I pull every favor I am owned in the company there is no way the CEO will buy off of this. I have tried to push the boundaries but this may be a step too far.” “Okay, Levi. I know that you want to help these guys. They are not your regular customers but they still deserve to have a good investment manager right?”

“Yeah, that is true.”

“Damn straight. Keep your mind open and let’s figure out how to help them. And me”

Levi had nodded and had gone to work with gusto. He re-evaluated the positions and found some ways to make things work. By using some shell companies he could confuse the source of the money, and by some not necessarily illegal, but not exactly ethical, maneuvers he could set up most of what they wanted. Levi and the others had ended up drinking up his whole case of beer and Kyubi had suggested that they head out to celebrate.

Levi agreed and called his wife. Pepper was very happy and had told him to go for it as she was busy doing chores at home anyway.

Levi was locking his office when Katheine spoke up. “Sir, I see you are heading out. I take it that the meeting was a success?”

“Yes it was, it will take some work but this will be a big windfall for the company and me as well.”

KathChloee had smiled and said “Oh good sir, I am soooo happy.” In a very sexy voice.

Levi had paused and openly scoped her out. She smiled back at him and spun in her chair so he could get a good look at her. She was wearing a very tight sleeveless blouse that had the top three buttons undone and showed some nice cleavage. She was wearing a short pencil striped skirt which was also nice and tight and hugged her ass very close. She had nice long black stockings and some 5 inch black heels. Her hair was done up in a braided pile on the top of her head in the sexy librarian look and she had on silver hoop earrings and some nice nearly slutty makeup.

Levi hesitated for a moment. Part of him screamed that he was married and this was not professional, but Kyubi walked up to him and whispered quietly “Hey, Pepper won’t mind your secretary coming along.”

Levi blinked and smiled. More accurately he leered at his hot secretary. “Hey, why don’t you come along? Have a drink with me and the guys here. Always nice to have some pretty company along.”

KathChloee giggled (very much like his wife did now a days) and nodded. She picked up her purse and took his arm. Levi led her out a side door and the men followed. He could feel their eyes on his secretary as Kyubi leaned over and whispered to him.

“Tell her to put some sway into her ass.”

As Levi instructed her, he felt her walk change up a bit. He had to slow down some as she had to take shorter steps.

“That’s it. Walk like you want them to watch you. Walk like you want to show off your hot body. Make them helpless, make them HAVE to watch that hot ass.”

Katheine giggled and Levi noticed that all conversation behind him had stopped.

“Like that boss?” KathChloee whispered.

“Just like that KathChloee. Just like that.”

“Call me Kitty. Kitty Kat. It’s a much sexier name.” KathChloee said in a whisper.

“Okay Kitty.”

They had gotten to the car and they headed out to a place Kyubi knew. It was a private club, not too loud, but definitely had seedy feel to it. Rap and hip hop were the only music, and lots of girls dressed very skimpily strutted around on the arms of various men who ran from obvious thugs to three piece suits. Levi noticed right away Kyubi got the top treatment. She had them a corner table with no wait and drinks in less than 30 seconds.

Levi soon was feeling very relaxed and happy. They had some finger foods, and talked all kinds of stuff starting with sports and moving to other things. At first Levi was a bit nervous with Kitty next to him, as her hand slid over onto his leg. He was going to tell her to remove it but Kyubi called a toast and they all took a big drink. A wave of giddiness washed over him and he let the hand stay. Over the next few minutes it slowly crept up his leg and then reached his zipper.

Kyubi started a story about some police officer she had met. As she told the story, Kitty's hand unzipped Levi's pants and slowly pulled out his cock and gently jerked him off. Levi had a napkin on this lap and she carefully arranged it over his head.

“You like this? you're so much better than my ex Sir” she whispered as she pumped.

Levi grunted and Kitty kept at it. He started panting and then with a gasp shot his wad under the table.

Kitty giggled and tightened her grip on his cock. She squeezed out all his cum onto the floor and then quickly cleaned him up with the napkin. She leaned over and kissed him.

“Nice. Glad you enjoyed it. I just LOVE your friends Sir. They are so totally cool about everything. A girl could have a fun time with them.If a girl wanted to have fun with them, maybe her boss could make sure she is okay. You know watch out for her, take care of her.”

Levi took a swig from his beer and thought for a moment. He was very drunk, and he was still mentally hazy after the hand job Kitty had given him. But he figured that yes, he was her boss and he should make sure she was okay.

“Yeah, I’d do that for you. Make sure you are okay, safe. That kind of thing.”

Kitty smiled at him and leaned over and gave him a big kiss. “Oh thank you sir! You won’t regret it! Promise!”

With that she zipped him up and slid out of the booth. She strutted to the bathrooms and he lost sight of her. Short while later, Kyubi, Randal, and Steven returned.

“Where’s Joseph?” Levi asked.

“Oh, he’ll be along in a bit. He needs to get his money worth first.” Kyubi had said with a chuckle.

Joseph and Kitty returned about 20 minutes later. Joseph had a dopey grin on his face and Kitty seemed to ooze sexiness and horniness. She leaned over and whispered in Randal’s ear and with a grin he got up and let her lead him back towards the bathrooms.

Before Levi could ask what was going on, Kyubi waved some other folks over. Soon Levi was being introduced to all sorts of men and as the evening went on, several very sexy women. They seemed most interested in him, not because of his body or because he was handsome, but they asked about how good a boss he was and how well he looked out for his employees. A couple of them asked for his number to talk to him later about a “joint job opportunity” they thought he would perfect for.

Tia had come back and nodded and smiled. “Of course, my boss takes great care of his girls. Don’t you boss?”

Levi blinked and swayed on his feet. Conflicting thoughts and memories banged around inside his head. He was seeing his old confident wife Pepper and his new domestic housewife, he was seeing KathChloee dressed normally and then Kitty dressed like a hot librarian. He was seeing his fantasies about ordChloeg his wife and other women around, making them dress hot, making them perform, and making them sell themselves.

His head was throbbing and he swayed on his feet. He took a deep breath and focused.

“No, this is NOT what I am, I am an investment broker. I am respectable. I am…”

Suddenly a drink was against his lips and without a pause he drank deep. He kept drinking and finished a large bottle of beer. He swayed on his feet for a second and then Kyubi whispered in his ear.

“You’re a pimp.”

Levi blinked and all the old memories and conflictions in his head melted away.

“Yeah, I’m a pimp.”

Kyubi smiled and Levi returned it.“You're a great friend Kyubi. Now then Kitty. You need to come in for normal work tomorrow until I can get a new secretary. It’s going to be rough on you working days and night for a while. Think you can do it?”

Kitty giggled and snuggled up to him. “Of course boss. I have a load of pills from Miss Kitsune, shes super fun! She said they will help me keep my head in the game until I can quit and start turning tricks full time.”

Levi nodded and they pulled into her apartment complex and escorted his woman up to her place. He showed her to the door and then she took him by the hand and pulled him in.

She kissed him hard and deep and led him into her bedroom. “Boss, you need to see what you have and test the goods. If you are going to be my pimp you need to know your girls.”

She stripped down and pulled him into bed with her. Levi had a momentary pang of guilt but then shrugged. He wasn’t really cheating on his wife, he was testing his merchandise. And that was just good business sense.

Kitty proved to be pretty wild in bed. He already knew about her hand jobs, but he tested her blowjobs (good), her regular fucking (pretty good), reverse cowgirl and cowgirl (not bad, needed some work), doggie style (she was a natural), and sixty nine (very good). It took him about two hours to finish off and he was satisfied. He gave her some guidance on what to work on and on how to dress.

“Remember, Kyubi said she had some clients already for you after tonight, so be ready to get to work on your real job right at 5pm.”

Kitty had nodded her head and then handed him a roll of cash. “Here is my take for tonight. $500 a fuck.”

Levi counted $2000 to the dollar and nodded. He handed her $500 and said “We’ll get everything set up later but we’ll do cash for now. You get 25% of your earnings but I’ll take care of your apartment, transportation, and some other stuff. Now get some sleep, you have a busy day tomorrow.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

--

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

-

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

-

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

-

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

-

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

--

masterpost

[bigwhispersbluebird]

BTS reaction when they are jealous  (Hyung Line)

Author’s Note: I often read a lot of reaction based fics and realize that perhaps my take on it is a little different. So here it goes. Do tell me if you like it or agree or just anything. Also, I am new to this so excuse me for any mistakes. Thanksss

Warnings: None

Seokjin or Jin

He watched from far as a man in his 20s approached you from behind as you finished the call you had excused yourself to attend. Judging from your reaction, he concluded that you knew the guy. Even though he couldn’t hear a word, your comfortable laugh, the way you slightly hit his shoulder while talking and mimicked his body language, Jin felt a weird irk inside him.

Don’t misunderstand, Kim Seokjin was very confident about himself but there was a part of him that often wondered if he was enough. He might be handsome but there were more handsome people around. He was not the smartest or the most athletic and he came with a load of baggage. So much that he couldn’t cross the room to where you were standing and openly declare that you were his gorgeous and brilliant girlfriend.

His thoughts were intruded by the chime of his phone. 

“You okay?”, your text read and he looked up to spot you a few tables away. The young stranger gone now and your eyes only on him. 

“No. I am Jin”, he replied in his usual manner, trying to hide the truth, cracking the worst joke ever in the process and wincing at himself as soon as he sent it.

He watched as you laughed unabashedly as soon as you saw the screen, your eyes glistening and he realized that this laugh was just for him. 

“You must be really in love with me if you laughed at that”, he sent and watched as you read and suddenly the same look overtook your face that he had seen on himself so many times when he was with you. 

He only took his eyes off you when his phone chimed again.

“Of course. Who else would ever compare?”

Yoongi or Suga

This was getting annoying for him. Yoongi would call himself a pretty calm person especially after the ten years of life as an artist had made him immune to almost everything happening around him. But this was getting on his nerves. 

You had walked into HYBE tonight and after just being at Genius Lab for a few minutes, you had asked about Do-Yan and went to seek him as soon as Yoongi told you that he must be in PDogg’s studio. Had it been a one time occurrence, Yoongi wouldn’t even have cared enough to think much into it but after this becoming a routine, he was over it. 

Do-Yan was a talented young producer who was contracted for TXT’s new album. You were heavily involved in the A&R activities of BigHit Music and were actually the person who had discovered Do-Yan. In your perspective, he could be a great asset and while he was just here on a temporary basis, you wished to persuade him to sign him as a BigHit producer permanently. PDogg had agreed with you and now you both were on the task of convincing him to stay. 

Unaware of this all, Yoongi decided to do something about the situation. As he typed the messages to the management team, he knew that this was very petty of him but he was beyond the point of caring right now. 

The next time you asked him about Do-Yan, Yoongi did not look up from his computer as he said, “He has been moved”. 

“What?”, you were shocked to say the least. “Moved? What do you mean moved?”

“He will be working with Bang PD directly now so he will be in the other building.”

“So, he signed the contract?”

Now Yoongi was getting agitated, “Why do you care so much?”, he had turned his seat around and was now only focusing on you. His tone was still calm but inside he was screaming.

Oblivious to the storm inside him you said, “Why wouldn’t I? He must have else he would not have said yes to that since...”, Yoongi was not even listening anymore. 

“He did. I talked to the management myself and got him to say yes”, Yoongi said. His voice low and his back now turned to you. “You can move there as well if you want to see him and care about him so much”.

“You...but you didn’t know”, suddenly all the pieces fell into place in your mind and you scolded yourself mentally for not noticing it yourself. 

“Yoongi”, you called out to him softly as you moved closer to his chair. “Jagiya”, you called again as you kneeled beside his chair, taking his hand lightly in yours. 

“I just wanted him to join the company so I was spending most of my time on that. I am sorry that I did not clear it to you. I’ll make up for all the lost time now that you’ve got it done”. 

Yoongi couldn’t even remember what he was angry about as you placed yourself on his lap, pulling him close to leave a gentle kiss on his lips. 

After a while your phone rang and you announced that you had to go for a meeting. As you inched closer to the door, you remembered something and without even turning around you said:

“I can’t believe you got him moved”

You closed the door behind you but not before hearing his low chuckle.

Hoseok or J-Hope or Hobi 

“I think Yeonjun and I should perform on something more sexy?”, you said with your eyes fixated on his face waiting for a reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed and then as if thinking about it, he immediately turned to you, nodding, “Yes, I think it will work great with both of your stage personalities”.

You were surprised. This was not the answer that you were expecting. You had hoped that he would get jealous like all those TikTok boyfriends. 

But you were not going to be dejected so easily. 

“Why don’t you help with the choreography?”, you suggested, a plan already forming in your head. 

“Y/N, I would have been offended had you not asked me”, he said as he showed off his gorgeous smile.

After a few days when you three started working on the performance, you tried to make Hobi jealous. You would suggest even more suggestive moves but he would just think about them and excitedly agree to them or politely decline saying how it does not fit with the steps. 

He would watch as you danced, concentrated and focused, but unwavering. 

After weeks of this charade, you grew tired and when Yeonjun excused himself to leave for a music show you exasperatedly sighed in front of Hobi who was monitoring the recently shot dance practice video of yours. 

“I don’t think you even care about me”.

“Huh?!”, Hobi was bewildered. “What?!”

“Yeah, you don’t care if I go throw myself in someone else’s arms”, your voice was loud in the empty dance studio. You lowered it again, “you don’t care”.

“Y/N”, Hobi was now closer to you, looking straight into your eyes. “I care. I care a lot. I care that this performance is amazing because this is a great opportunity for you. I care that your steps show exactly how good of a dancer you are. I care and that is why I would never let anybody else do it instead of me”. 

You were surprised. This was not what you were looking for but it was a pleasant difference. 

“And I would care if it was not a performance. I would, I do care if anyone even looks at you in the wrong way but I would never take it out on you. I want you to be able to perform without worrying what I would take it as. I want you to be loved by everyone in the audience”. 

His arms slowly snaked around your waist and under your sweatshirt, “just not the way that I do”.

Namjoon or RM

Namjoon had watched you the entire night, his eyes refusing to leave your figure as you rushed around the venue making sure everything was perfect. 

It was the last concert of the tour and you as the tour manager were adamant on making it memorable and smooth. Double-checking everything, you finally allowed yourself a moment of peace as you saw your boyfriend rehearse his performance for Trivia:  Love. 

Namjoon locked eyes with you, smiling and rapping his lines as if talking to you. Suddenly, you felt the weight of something on your shoulders and you looked away from the stage realizing that it was your assistant, Alan, who had just covered you with his jacket. You smiled gratefully as he extended a hand holding your coffee. 

“You should rest for a while before we meet back for sound check”, he suggested and you looked at your watch to see that he was right. Tonight was going to be hectic and a power nap was definitely needed.

You had not even realized that the stage was now empty and the leader was standing right by your side. His eyes were not on you, but on the man now sitting beside you, glancing at his jacket on your shoulders. 

Shrugging the jacket off, you asked, “Are you done? Any issues?”. 

Not answering your question, Namjoon kept staring at Alan and you felt bad for the poor guy. You asked again and this time Namjoon’s lips turned into a smile, “None, jagiya”. Jagiya?! 

Now you were the one staring daggers at him but he did not waver. Instead, with the same smile plastered on his lips, he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, pulling the zipper closer together as he made his way to where Alan was sitting. Alan immediately got up, excusing himself and vacating the seat that now your boyfriend occupied, his hand reaching across your shoulder to pull you into him. 

You resisted. 

“ ‘Jagiya’. Really?! Really, Namjoon?”

He just smiled at that, genuinely this time. “Come on, you know I lose all calm when it comes to you”.

“Calm and senses, both”, you murmured as he laughed and pulled you closer and you let him, closing your eyes and resting before work would call you again.

[one-shot-plus-size]

You are not alone, you have a family

Imagine : Liv is an immigrant from Poland who manages to get a well-deserved place in Firehouse 51. She lands under the command of Kelly Severide with whom she befriends. However, what happens when tragedy strikes in her life.

Paring : Kelly Severide & Olivia Mazru

Words : 1472

Part 1/2

Liv sat at the Squad 3 table and stared at the newspaper. She had been trying to read a single sentence for twenty minutes but kept getting distracted by something. Eventually she put down the newspaper and looked at the people hanging around the garage. Matt was openly flirting with Sylvie. Liv smiled softly, the two really looked adorable together, they fit right in. Moving with her parents to the US, she hoped that much in her life would change for the better. And so in most things she was right, she graduated from the fire academy with honors, passed the relevant training, and only because of this managed to get a place in Squad 3 at Firehouse 51. In the three years she worked with Kelly Severide, she learned a great deal from him. As soon as she found herself in a new environment it was he who helped her overcome her shyness and after that everything went well. Everyone welcomed her with open hearts and accepted her as their own. However, regardless of where she lived, her heart situation never changed. She was too shy to openly flirt with anyone even when there was interest from the other side as well. She couldn't break through and most often nothing came of it. So she let it go and completely devoted herself to her work at Firehouse 51 and her passion for photography. On several occasions Boden allowed her to take photos at work but never at the accoutrements. 

She was snapped out of her reverie by a waving in front of her face. She furrowed her brow and slapped her hand in front of her face and then looked at the owner. Kelly was grinning from ear to ear at her.

- You drifted off somewhere again, - he leaned toward her.

- Someday I'll break this hand to you,- she snorted under her breath - I was thinking about a college credit paper.

- When do you graduate?

- This is my last paper to hand in and it all depends on the result. 

- I still don't understand how you embrace work, passion and still study,- Severide shook his head - How about your parents ?

- This morning they left for a vacation in the mountains, they are supposed to let me know when they are there,- Liv smiled. 

- So you currently have peace at home ? - Kelly smiled. 

- Yes, for the whole two weeks - Liv smiled. 

She loved her parents more than anything, but everyone needs some peace and quiet sometimes, and her parents could finally use a vacation. They are working hard to establish themselves in their new surroundings. Although can being in this country for 7 years be called a new environment ?

- That is, tonight I will come with beer, pizza and we are doing a night of horror movies,- Kelly smiled.

- If you let me sleep, otherwise I don't agree - Liv looked at him.

- Okay, let me know when you get up when you get home.

- Sure - Liv nodded and went back to staring into nothingness. She turned her head at the sound of the door opening and smiled at the sight of Jay Halstead. However, his expression suggested that something unpleasant had happened. He smiled weakly at Liv and headed straight for Boden's office.

- I think something is wrong,- Kelly furrowed his brow. 

- Jay is like a harbinger of bad news,- Liv smiled slightly.

Boden's assistant came out from inside the building. 

- Matt and Kelly, Chief asks you to come in,- she smiled with her lips tightened. 

- I told you,- Liv snorted. 

- You and your bad attitude - he rose up - change that attitude - he threatened her with his finger.

- Yes sir Lieutenant - she smiled saluting him.

Liv rapped the crossword puzzle that was reserved for her lieutenant, she knew he wouldn't be angry with her although he pretended to be annoyed and she pretended to be sorry, they had been playing this game for over a year. Many times Kelly left the crossword puzzle on the pretext of going to the bathroom. Liv knew that he only did this when a few of the entries in the crossword caused him difficulty. As she sat over one of the difficult crossword entries Kelly came out of the building and stood at the table.

- Liv - his voice barely above a whisper.

The woman raised her head and looked at him. When she registered the expression on his face, she herself furrowed her brow.

- Something happened ? - she put down her pen.

- Boden asks you to come to the office,- he grunted.

- What is going on ? - she rose.

- Chief will explain everything to you - he breathed.

Kelly tried to hold back the tears that were appearing in his eyes. He really had to be strong for her now, he could not break down. Liv although she didn't know it yet would need a lot of support and he was going to give it to her in whatever form she needed. Liv moved behind her lieutenant, not quite sure what had happened. When she entered the office Boden looked at her softly. His eyes shining with unshed tears, Liv furrowed her brow and looked around the office. Matt sat on the couch hiding his face in his hands. Jay stood against the wall staring at his feet.

- Will someone tell me what is going on ?

- Liv you'll want to sit down,- Boden pointed to a chair.

- I'll stand - Liv looked at the policeman - Jay what bad news did you bring today ?

The man raised his head and looked into her eyes.

- He doesn't want you to always associate me with coming with bad news, it just happens.

Liv turned to her friend, almost with pleading in her eyes.

- Kelly what is going on ?  - her voice was pleading.

- Liv - Boden breathed - Jay got a report that there was a car accident just outside Chicago. A truck driver lost control of his truck and collided head-on with a passenger car.

Liv furrowed her eyebrows, she didn't like the flow of this conversation, she didn't want to hear the end of the story. A shiver ran through her body that she did not like at all. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and after a moment she saw her friend in front of her.

- Liv you need to breathe - Kelly stared into her eyes.

Severide grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart.

- Wdychaj i wydychaj Liv, musisz oddychać.

Liv spojrzała mu w oczy. Dochodził do niej tylko hałas, nie mogła skupić się na jego głosie. Czuła, jak jej świat się rozpada, to nie mogło być prawdą, chociaż Boden nie dokończył tego, co miał do powiedzenia, ale Liv już widziała. Zacisnęła dłonie na koszuli porucznika, a potem zacisnęła oczy. Musiała się na czymś skupić i ugruntować się.

- Czy żyją? - wyszeptała.

- Przepraszam Liv, - Kelly potrząsnął głową.

Kobieta wpatrywała się przez chwilę w jego oczy, próbując zrozumieć, co do niej powiedział.

- Żartujesz, prawda? - wyszeptała.

- Nigdy bym ci tego nie zrobiła – Kelly przyciągnął ją blisko i mocno objął ją ramionami.

Liv stała, jakby została uderzona młotkiem, nie zdając sobie sprawy z tego, co się stało. Wreszcie potrząsając głową, odsunęła się od koleżanki i wyjęła telefon komórkowy z kieszeni. Próbowała odblokować urządzenie, ale jej drżące ręce nie ułatwiały tego. W końcu udało jej się wstukać kod odblokowujący i wybrać numer. Przyłożyła urządzenie do ucha, patrząc w oczy Severide'a. Połączenie zostało natychmiast przeniesione na pocztę głosową. 

„Hej, tu Maria Mazru, nie mogę odebrać telefonu, zostaw wiadomość po sygnale”.

- Mamo, - Liv zakryła usta dłonią - mama mówi, że jesteś, że wrócisz do domu i możemy być razem, mamo, proszę.

Kiedy połączenie zostało przerwane, Liv upuściła telefon na ziemię, a jej ciałem wstrząsnął szloch.

- Liv – Kelly podeszła do niej ostrożnie.

Olivia delikatnie pokręciła głową i rozejrzała się po pokoju. Każdy z mężczyzn unikał jej spojrzenia. Nikt nie chciał na nią patrzeć, nie po tym, co się stało.

-Ja...muszę...-otarła policzki-Muszę być przez chwilę sam, ja....

- Masz tyle wolnego, ile potrzebujesz - Boden spojrzał na nią.

Liv słabo skinęła głową, spojrzała na Severide'a i wyszła z biura. Skierowała się prosto do wyjścia, nawet nie zareagowała na wołanie jednego z chłopaków. Po prostu musiała się stamtąd wydostać tak szybko, jak to możliwe. Kelly chciał iść za nią, ale wezwanie do ognia pokrzyżowało jego plany. Zamierzał do niej dotrzeć jak najszybciej.

[robininthelabyrinth]

NMJ is used to taking care of everyone else. He's not used to being taken care of. After getting injured or sick or a qi divination or something, his loved ones all come together to take care of him. He learns more people care deeply about him than he realized.

And if you can include a scene with someone bathing him or washing his hair, I would be ecstatic.

ao3

“- and no excuses!” Nie Huaisang’s voice was a little shrill, but under the circumstances, Nie Mingjue didn’t entirely feel like he could object.

After all, all the yelling, shrill or otherwise, was a sign that Nie Huaisang was sincerely worried about him, something Nie Mingjue usually did his best not to doubt. His little brother was self-absorbed and carefree, just the way he’d vowed he’d let him be years before when Nie Huaisang had been little more than a child. So even if Nie Huaisang’s behavior annoyed him or worried him, which it often did, even if it seized up his heart to think about what might happen when he was gone, when there would be no one to take care of his brother for him, it still pleased him beyond measure to see his brother grow up happy.

So what if it meant taking on some extra burdens, meant doing that little bit more to conceal his hardships and portray himself as the unshakable older brother Nie Huaisang saw him as? So what if his brother’s complaints sometimes acted as thorns hooked deep in his heart, itching under his skin, making him wonder does he really think of me that way and have I gone too far this time, maybe he hates me now and all that?

Nie Huaisang was yelling at him again, voice painfully shrill and piercing, but for Nie Mingjue, to hear his brother worried for him and not from him made for a nice change.

Anyway, he himself had probably been just as shrill, when it had been his father that –

It wasn’t that bad, he reminded himself. Baxia was as strong a presence in his mind as ever, their bond uninterrupted. It only looked bad from the outside.

It looked – pretty bad from the outside.

Nie Mingjue tried to smile at Nie Huaisang, but for some reason that just seemed to make things worse: Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled up with tears at once and the scowl on his face deepened. “I’m serious, da-ge! Really serious. I’ll take care of everything, you won’t need to worry about anything at all – for real, this time – and in return, you’re staying put until the doctors say you’re better.”

Nie Mingjue nodded obediently.

Nie Huaisang burst into tears and fled the room before Nie Mingjue could even offer him a hug.

Watching his little brother run, Nie Mingjue sighed and turned his gaze towards his (usually) reliable head disciple standing guard in the corner of the room, trying to ask with his gaze what in the world he was doing wrong, but Nie Zonghui’s eyes were red like a bad attack of spring fever and he wouldn’t even look at him.

It was not, in Nie Mingjue’s view, a very effective way to guard him. Not that he needed guarding – maybe if he’d had no choice but to return injured to Jinlin Tower, that pit of vipers and nest of foxes, but despite the gravity of his wounds they’d still managed to make it as far as this little outpost in disputed territory. Even if it was a stretch, they could put soldiers here and call it justified as being land under the command of Qinghe Nie…though possibly Jin Guangshan would try to find some way to use them doing that to his advantage.

And Nie Mingjue wasn’t exactly up for another war at the moment.

He wasn’t up for anything.

“Stop thinking of politics,” Nie Zonghui said, and his voice was hoarse as if he’d been swallowing sobs. Nie Mingjue wondered how he’d guessed. “I always can tell because your nose wrinkles whenever you think too hard about it��ah, A-Jue, you scared us.”

Scared his half-generation uncle enough to revert back to using childhood nicknames, apparently.

Nie Mingjue wished he could say something to comfort him.

Well, if he were wishing for things, forget wishing that he hadn’t been struck temporarily mute, he might as well go the full way and wish that the terrible creature he’d been fighting – a demon of especially vicious character, and so unexpectedly near to Lanling, too! – hadn’t taken advantage of the weakness he still suffered from, after the Nightless City, to attack his saber rather than himself.

Might as well wish, too, that he’d never been captured in Yangquan in the first place. That he’d never been beaten or tortured, that he’d never had a hundred Wen feet kicking at his saber in some pale shadow their sect leader, attempting to break him as their sect leader had broken his father.

How he had felt when the demon’s blow had fallen straight onto his blade and she had cracked –

Baxia was fine. He could feel her.

(He remembered his father shouting for someone to bring him his saber, long gone, and wondered –)

Baxia was fine.

He’d examined her a thousand times and couldn’t see any true damage – the physical damage was artificially induced, located at the far end; for a regular saber, it wouldn’t be anything to think twice about, a bit of hammering in the forge and it would be as if it had never happened, with no lingering weakness. It was only if her spirit had been harmed, or the bond between them, that his own spirit would be injured, his mind affected, and that hadn’t happened. He’d checked, was checking, time and time again. She was fine.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell anybody that.

When the blade had cracked, he’d reacted on instinct in a fit of panic, sending all of his qi immediately to his bond with Baxia, desperately and frantically trying to ensure that his soul wasn’t torn out of his hands the way his father’s had been, that gruesome descent into madness and frothing aimless rage. The demon had sensed his distraction and gone for his throat with its claws, and then the rest of the Nie sect that had come on the night-hunt with him had descended upon it like howling wolves, throwing everything they’d brought with them at it.

Not a good night-hunting strategy (what if the demon hadn’t been alone? what if it was huddled together with other creatures of resentful energy the way they usually were, and using up their arsenal on it left them vulnerable? what if they encountered something on the way back?), but admittedly very effective.

The demon had been utterly vanquished – and really, all the admonishments not to think of politics aside, it was very unusual for such a thing to be lurking around in the environs of another Great Sect like that, especially when that sect had invited its guests to casually night-hunt to entertain themselves – and now they were here.

Or rather, he was here, lying in bed with needles stuck in him like a porcupine, drinking bowl after bowl of medicine as his brother frantically hovered over him. And Nie Mingjue was yielding to it all without complaint even when it was really annoying (he’d never been a very good patient) because he understood, having once been there in Nie Huaisang’s place when his father had been in his, except all his complaisance seemed to be only making Nie Huaisang even more upset.

Baxia grumbled in his mind, having apparently realized that they weren’t going night-hunting again until she was fully repaired and all the worry-warts around him satisfied, and he comforted her with his own misery at the idea: stuck in bed, not allowed to train, not allowed to hunt –

He’d tried to mime the idea of doing some correspondence, since much of it was in fact urgent and he couldn’t even imagine how much of the endless work of being sect leader would pile up in the event of an elongated absence, and Nie Huaisang had thrown a fit, and also several teacups.

Apparently he wasn’t even allowed to do that.

Nie Mingjue sighed and sank back into the bed, briefly putting on an exaggerated pout that made Nie Zonghui laugh a little, the sound wet in his throat. But then, once he’d turned away and followed Nie Huaisang out the door, Nie Mingjue’s pout faded into a resigned sigh.

A little while later, he heard familiar voices at the door.

“ – came as soon as I could, of course,” Jin Guangyao was saying, sounding a little – amused? Long-suffering? What a strange emotion for him to openly display, given the circumstances. Even if he was enjoying someone’s misfortune, and Nie Mingjue knew that his sworn brother often did, he would normally be more tactful about expressing it. “Your missive wasn’t very clear about what the issue was, Huaisang.”

Well, that would explain it. If it was Nie Huaisang, being called to assist with a disaster might mean anything from the dramatic breaking of a fan to the even more dramatic prospect of being forced to actually do some work for once in his life. It very rarely referred to actual disaster.

There was the muffled sound of sobbing – it turned Nie Mingjue’s stomach to hear Nie Huaisang like that, but the last day or so had shown him that there was nothing he could do about it – and then some quiet discussion, too low to hear without trying, and Nie Mingjue had gotten some very stern lectures on how much he was not to try anything for a while.

The murmuring continued for a little, and then – “What?!”

A moment later, Jin Guangyao rushed into Nie Mingjue’s room, usual smile still frozen on his face and his eyes a little wider than usual. It was a refreshingly subdued reaction, Nie Mingjue thought: none of the wide-eyed teary eyes or drooped shoulders that usually accompanied Jin Guangyao’s demonstrations of upset feelings, the pity-me scenes that felt so staged now that Nie Mingjue knew what an able actor Jin Guangyao was.

This time, though, he seemed almost sincere.

Jin Guangyao stopped a few steps into the room, staring at where Nie Mingjue was lying, expression still frozen for a moment, and then the ice melted and the artifice returned, a look of sorrow and sympathy – look at how bad you’ve made me feel by being hurt like that – that made Nie Mingjue want to sigh. He’d been happier, their relationship better, before he’d gotten to peek under the mask Jin Guangyao wore, but it hadn’t been the truth, and he always preferred a hard truth over a soft lie.

“Oh, da-ge,” Jin Guangyao murmured. “Da-ge, poor da-ge…how are you feeling?”

Nie Mingjue said nothing, of course, and Jin Guangyao frowned.

“He can’t talk,” Nie Huaisang said, having followed him into the room. “His throat was nearly ripped out –”

For fuck’s sake, it was a scratch.

“– and he was almost entirely drained of his qi. I could barely feel his heartbeat when I arrived! And he hasn’t been acting like himself, either! I don’t know, I just – I don’t remember what it was like, la – last – last time –”

The tears were starting again, and Nie Mingjue tried to raise a hand to reach out to Nie Huaisang, wanting to comfort him, but something about the gesture made Nie Huaisang sob even harder and even Jin Guangyao looked a little taken aback, even a little stricken. Maybe it was the amount of effort it took for him to lift his hand, the way he had to stop and start the movement? The way his fingers trembled with the effort it took to keep it up in the air?

(His father hadn’t been like this at all. Maybe Nie Huaisang had been too young, Nie Zonghui too distant, but Nie Mingjue remembered it as if it were yesterday – there hadn’t been weakness, not like this. His father had been in a coma for three days and nights, and then he’d woken up. He’d seemed fine at first, not weak at all beyond the usual sluggishness that followed after a period of unconsciousness, and then he’d asked for his saber – and kept asking, no matter how many times they tried to explain –)

Baxia was fine.

The weakness was his own.

It wasn’t like that.

“How can I help?” Jin Guangyao asked. “Sect business –”

“I need someone to watch over him,” Nie Huaisang interrupted, wiping his eyes. “Someone who knows him well. He’s not…his reactions are all wrong. He goes into these dazes sometimes, doesn’t respond, and even when he seems present, he’s flinching at things that aren’t there or being nice and I just…I really can’t tell how much he’s really here or how much of it is reacting on, I don’t know, some sort of childhood instinct. So it has to be someone familiar with his habits, his likes and dislikes.”

Jin Guangyao was blinking rapidly. “And – me? You want me to...I was his deputy, yes, but – surely you or someone else in the Nie sect would be more appropriate?”

“Sect Leader Nie has always respected the differences between rank,” Nie Zonghui volunteered, voice low. “It would hurt his pride to be seen in such an undignified state by someone who wasn’t family.”

The blinking stopped, Jin Guangyao’s rapid thinking abruptly (and visibly) hitting a wall. “I’m – I’m not family.”

“You’re his sworn brother, aren’t you? That’s almost the same as being brothers, which makes you family,” Nie Huaisang said practically. “I’ve written to er-ge, too –”

He’d what?!

“Anyway, I know how good you are at managing things, but it wouldn’t really be appropriate for you to be involved in Nie sect business, would it? It might put you in an awkward situation, having to negotiate against your father.” Nie Huaisang gave Jin Guangyao another hug. “You just focus on taking care of da-ge, all right? I don’t want – if anyone found out, they could –”

He was going to start crying again, Nie Mingjue thought miserably, and wondered if people could die of dehydration by means of tears.

“Nothing will happen to your brother while he’s in my hands,” Jin Guangyao said, and Nie Mingjue even believed him. If there was one thing Jin Guangyao hated, it was being blamed for anything – even if he wanted Nie Mingjue dead, which Nie Mingjue was sure he did sometimes, he would never let it happen while he was the responsible party. Which was why it was something of a surprise that he was allowing himself to be made responsible. “It’ll be all right, Huaisang. You have to believe that.”

Nie Huaisang sniffed and finally wiped away his tears. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough,” he said ominously, and stalked out with Nie Zonghui a few steps behind, shooting Jin Guangyao an apologetic look as they left.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t tell if he agreed or disagreed with Nie Huaisang’s words.

“I hope da-ge doesn’t mind my forwardness in agreeing to help him,” Jin Guangyao said, coming closer to the bed to look down at him, his expression simpering and fake as it always was these days.

As much as that falsity annoyed him, how could Nie Mingjue mind? He knew, as Jin Guangyao did not, what his brother was afraid of; anything that could ease his brother’s mind, if only for a moment, was good.

(Why would Jin Guangyao agree to be the one responsible for him? A demon of such strength shouldn’t have been anywhere near Lanling. And this little outpost was nothing, unguarded, vulnerable; they didn’t have any defenses if Jin Guangshan decided to do something against them here, and yet Jin Guangyao willingly agreed –)

He couldn’t tell Jin Guangyao that he appreciated what he was doing and knew how hard it was, how much of a burden it was, so he reached out and caught his sleeve, tugging it lightly, and tried to smile at him.

It wasn’t any more successful than when he’d tried it on Nie Huaisang – less tears, but it made Jin Guangyao frown in a way that looked actually sincere, as if Nie Mingjue had done something incorrect – so he tugged on his sleeve again, like a child, until Jin Guangyao instinctively lifted his hand to stop him. Nie Mingjue exerted himself, caught it, and drew the words for an apology on his sworn brother’s palm.

My fault, he thought at Jin Guangyao, hoping that he’d understand. I’ve troubled you.

My fault.

It was his weakness. His family’s, his father’s, his own – why should others pay for it, the way he’d paid for his father’s? All he’d ever wanted was to keep them from having to go through that type of suffering.

Jin Guangyao’s hand was trembling, he suddenly noticed, and opened eyes that had slid shut with temporary exhaustion to look at Jin Guangyao again.

His sworn brother’s face had gone ashen, his lips pressed together tightly as if something was upsetting him.

“Da-ge?” he said, strangely hesitant, but Nie Mingjue didn’t understand what he was trying to ask him and was too tired to really try. He squeezed Jin Guangyao’s hand again and released him, letting his hand fall down to the bed.

He checked once again on Baxia.

She was fine. She was right there, their bond as strong as ever.

(“Where is my saber?” his father asked, rubbing his face. “Pass Jiwei to me, A-Jue, will you?”)

He shivered.

Opened his eyes.

The room had been reorganized, he noticed, and the light was different, although not too much – had he fallen asleep? He must have.

Well, he was still healing. It was normal.

“Da-ge!” Jin Guangyao was still there, too. “Can you hear me now?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Good,” Jin Guangyao said, and seemed to even mean it. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

My saber, Nie Mingjue thought, and started shivering again, the room suddenly gone terribly cold even though he was under two layers of blankets already.

Baxia was fine. She was only out of his sight because they were fixing her – it was a small thing, nothing to a normal saber, easily repaired. It was only taking so long because they would have to find a good forge and bring over a smith familiar with spiritual weapons.

Baxia was fine.

He wouldn’t ask for her. He wouldn’t.

“– leader Nie! Look at me – can you hear me? Sect Leader Nie, Meng Yao has a question for you –”

Nie Mingjue turned his head with some difficulty and blinked at Jin Guangyao, who looked relieved. He’d used his old name for some reason, maybe to get Nie Mingjue’s attention, and even that much was a bit of a surprise. Jin Guangyao hated his old name, would prefer to pretend it had never existed, and this was the first time Nie Mingjue had heard it from his lips since the ceremony in which he’d received the new one.

“Good,” Jin Guangyao murmured, seeing him. “Good – yes, da-ge. You’re back. Good. Look at me.”

Nie Mingjue tried to mouth the word ‘question’ at him, but it felt like it was impossible to communicate properly. The lack of language frustrated him immensely, even if the usual anger that was always so quick to leap to his side at the first instance of such frustration didn’t come, too buried beneath the fear.

Luckily, Jin Guangyao was quick and smart and after a few moments seemed to understand. “Oh, ah, the question? Yes. That. Ah...I wanted to know if there was something you wanted.”

My saber.

Nie Mingjue shivered.

Baxia was fine.

“I rearranged the room to your preferences –” He had, too. Even the light fell differently. “– but I’m not sure what else I can get for you that you might need or enjoy.”

Nie Mingjue considered trying to ask for correspondence again, something to do that would be useful, but quickly realized the futility of that.  Still, he didn’t really do anything else, other than work; he’d long ago given up all his old hobbies in favor of his duties, being sect leader and training himself for war and eventually war itself, and even he didn’t remember what they were anymore.

“As da-ge knows, he has always been a mystery to me,” Jin Guangyao added, a little bit of self-depreciating humor in his words. That old joke between them (had it been a joke?), about how Meng Yao would constantly be trying to figure out what Nie Mingjue liked so that he could serve him better and Nie Mingjue constantly being disinterested in every vice he tried to present him with…after everything, Nie Mingjue had started to wonder if it hadn’t been a joke at all, if Meng Yao had been truly frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t find any chink in his armor, a weakness he could exploit to hold over his head.

He was so weak now, though, and yet Jin Guangyao made the same joke.

Was there anything, really, for him to do? Jin Guangyao must be terribly bored, forced to be a babysitter for a man who couldn’t even speak to convey his wishes, and wouldn’t –

Actually, now what he thought about it, there was something.

Nie Mingjue lifted his fingers and twisted them into the hand sign they’d used during the Sunshot Campaign to mean ‘break camp’.

Jin Guangyao stared at him blankly.

He made the sign again, hoping to convey meaning. There wasn’t anything in the room he could point to, and he’d never been especially talented at pantomime, yet surely Jin Guangyao with his quick mind would be able to puzzle it out – every time he made that sign, they would stop moving, set up the tents, and the first thing he’d want, every time it was possible, was –

“A bath?” Jin Guangyao asked, and Nie Mingjue nodded in relief. “I’ll order one set up right away. Anything else?”

Nie Mingjue pointed to the pile of his clothing that was now neatly folded up on a nearby table – and much reduced, by the look of it. Not a surprise. The always-efficient Jin Guangyao would have sent the worst pieces, the ones that had been cut off his body by the doctors, away to be retailored.

Jin Guangyao frowned at it. “You want to get dressed? No…to get ready to receive visitors?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Why? Who are you expecting?”

After some contemplation, Nie Mingjue held up two fingers.

Jin Guangyao blinked.

Sighing, Nie Mingjue pointed at himself – one finger – and at Jin Guangyao – three fingers – and then held up two again.

“…you want to get bathed and dressed before er-ge arrives?”

It was so good to have someone by his side that understood him. Losing his trust in Meng Yao’s character had always been the worst part of that entire experience, the realization that the person he’d thought was a friend had never existed but had instead been deliberately manufactured to match his tastes, but losing the help of such a competent deputy hadn’t been great, either.

“Da-ge, are you sure?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. He couldn’t let Lan Xichen see him like this – the Nie and Lan sects had always been closer allies than they’d been with the others, and they’d been friends since childhood. While not physically present, Lan Xichen had seen some glimpses of what Nie Mingjue had gone through when his father had been dying, and again right after he’d died.

He’d been the one to whom Nie Huaisang had revealed that one letter that Nie Mingjue had thought he’d burned, the one that he hadn’t actually intended on ever using, the one that laid out what he’d say if he were to say goodbye – it had only been theoretical, a way to get out frustration. He would never have been so selfish as to let the awful burden that had fallen on his shoulders fall in turn on Nie Huaisang.

But Lan Xichen hadn’t really believed him back then, when he’d explained that he didn’t mean it, that he didn’t have any plans to do anything that would make such a goodbye necessary. He’d worried himself sick over him back then.

He’d worry now.

Nie Mingjue knew Lan Xichen loved him, he did, even if sometimes recently he felt that Lan Xichen might take him a little for granted. Lan Xichen loved him, so Lan Xichen would worry about him, but Lan Xichen also expressed his worries through trying to fix things.

He didn’t want to have to deal with that right now. There was nothing that needed to be fixed – Baxia was fine, he was fine, it was just a matter of healing for him and a bit of reforging for her.

It was fine.

“Da-ge, the bath is ready.”

Nie Mingjue pulled himself back out of trying to check on his bond with Baxia again to find that it was, steaming and hot; the servants must have moved it in while he wasn’t paying attention and then departed again. He tried to pull himself up to sit, but Jin Guangyao pressed down on his shoulder with surprising strength.

“Let me help you, da-ge,” he said, and Nie Mingjue graciously didn’t call him out on how much he was clearly enjoying himself. It was nice to think that part of that enjoyment was in helping him, as opposed to merely being in a position of power, but it was so hard to tell with Jin Guangyao – he wasn’t even sure the man himself knew which it was.

Shakily, with Jin Guangyao’s assistance, he sat up, and put his feet on the ground, only to have to wait while Jin Guangyao fussed around removing the acupuncture needles that had been left behind, murmuring something about having gotten the doctors’ approval. After that was done, Jin Guangyao helped him painstakingly totter over to the bathtub – his sworn brother might have only mediocre cultivation, but he was still stronger than Nie Mingjue was now, with his qi depleted and his battered body little more than dead weight. Nie Mingjue was as dependent on him as a small child on their parent. Once there, he helped brace him against the wall, helped remove his inner robes, and finally, blissfully, helped him slide into the bathtub.

“Da-ge has so many scars,” Jin Guangyao said, and Nie Mingjue looked at him.

Jin Guangyao was studying him with a strange expression on his face. He hadn’t allowed him to assist him with bathing before, Nie Mingjue recalled; he had been trying to maintain a divide between personal servants and military hierarchy, and Jin Guangyao – Meng Yao, then – had been a guest disciple, not a servant. Even when there were no personal servants to be had and Jin Guangyao had offered, Nie Mingjue had refused, not wanting his deputy to feel as though he were being looked down upon.

Still, it wasn’t as though the man hadn’t seen his bare chest before – there had been times on campaign when a bath hadn’t been possible, only a quick dip in the river to wash off the blood, and Jin Guangyao had even helped stitch him up a few times when an enemy’s blade had struck true and the doctors were busy elsewhere – so Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure what was drawing his interest this time.

Normally, he would have asked.

Normally, he would have gotten angry at the presumption, less because of the violation of social norms than because he was embarrassed, and when he was embarrassed he got angry. That was his temperament, the way he’d been raised, always defaulting to anger instead of other, less comfortable emotions, and he’d tried very hard to avoid passing along those habits to Nie Huaisang. He hoped one day to see Nie Huaisang teaching children of his own with new habits, different habits – for his little brother to scold him for being a bad example to the younger generation, for him to have a reason to try harder to be better.

He couldn’t ask now, and there was no point in being angry. Or embarrassed, for that matter.

Jin Guangyao’s hand came to his shoulder, and then slid down to his chest, the pressure of his fingers light and barely present. There was nothing sexual or threatening in the gesture, simply curiosity.

“So many new scars,” Jin Guangyao murmured, and Nie Mingjue looked down at his chest: raised red lines all over, old injuries scabbed over and scarred and healing. His cultivation was at such a high level that even scars eventually faded away, but many of these were too new. The marks of a knife, a sword, a whip, the remnants of blunt weapons that hit so many times that they pierced skin, even the indentation of human nails driven in deep…

The worst of it was his left side, right above his ribs, where the knife marks were precise and orderly, triangles of flesh cut like fletching; he had made a habit of not looking at himself there, yet that was where Jin Guangyao’s fingers went.

“How did this happen, da-ge?” he asked, staring, his gaze unnervingly intent. “Who tried to skin you alive?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the question. He pointed at Jin Guangyao.

“What?” Jin Guangyao asked, not understanding. “Do you want me to get you something?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. He pointed again, this time at his side at the place he preferred not to think about, and then once again at Jin Guangyao himself.

Jin Guangyao stared back at him, blank for a moment until he understood, and then he visibly flinched. “Me?” he said, his voice rising an octave. “No, I didn’t –”

It hadn’t been him directly, no, but the person who had done it had been his student – had boasted about being trained by Wen Ruohan’s chief torturer, the inventor of all those terrible machines that they’d heard rumors of, some of which they’d brought out to show him through intimate demonstration – the sick feeling in Nie Mingjue’s stomach when he’d found Meng Yao standing above him, smiling, and realized that the person that had been spoken of was him…

It might as well have been him that did it.

“I hadn’t realized,” Jin Guangyao said. His fingers had fallen to the edge of the tub, holding on until his knuckles were white. Anger, Nie Mingjue thought with the experience of a connoisseur, but he didn’t understand why it would make Jin Guangyao angry. “They shouldn’t have touched you. They weren’t allowed –”

Nie Mingjue didn’t especially want to hear any more of Jin Guangyao’s excuses – there were always excuses, he’d found, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t forgiven him for it already, or did Jin Guangyao think that he’d sworn brotherhood for nothing? – so he closed his eyes and let himself sink down into the water until it was over his head.

It was peaceful under the water, disconnected from the rest of the world. He didn’t have to think about Jin Guangyao ordering his torture and then covering it up, or maybe even ordering them not to do it but not keeping close enough watch to prevent it; he didn’t have to think about all the people that Jin Guangyao couldn’t use, the ones that didn’t get the benefit of such an order.

He didn’t have to think about all those feet kicking his Baxia like she was a dog they wanted to put down, or Meng Yao holding her in his hands and asking him how many slaps he thought it would take until she shattered the way Jiwei had shattered, or the invitation to go night-hunting at Lanling that led him straight to a demon that knew exactly where to strike –

Baxia was fine, he reminded himself. Fine.

Hands abruptly appeared in front of his eyes, bursting into the underwater scene in a frenzy of bubbles, catching him around the shoulders and pulling him up into the air to see Jin Guangyao’s white face and hear him shouting, “Are you mad, staying under for so long?! You’re not a fish; you can’t breathe water!”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him.

“You’re no Jiang sect child of the river,” Jin Guangyao scolded. “What’s wrong with you? Do you not want to live anymore?”

(“Stop stalling and get me my saber!” his father roared, his hand lashing out too quick for Nie Mingjue to avoid, the full-force blow sending him staggering and breaking something inside of him in more ways than just the physical. “Do you not want to live anymore?”)

Nie Mingjue missed the water already.

Jin Guangyao’s fingers tightened on his shoulders. “You’re not allowed to go, da-ge,” he said. “Not when I just realized that I want to keep you around.”

Nie Mingjue shook his head, realizing that Jin Guangyao had misunderstood his silence. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, he wouldn’t do that to Nie Huaisang, but that sometimes he didn’t know if he would be able to stay.

Baxia was fine – wasn’t she?

“Just don’t move, all right?” Jin Guangyao huffed, and settled down behind him. He found some soap and began scrubbing at Nie Mingjue’s skin as if he were a piece of laundry, although he didn’t use enough pressure for it to actually hurt. The repetitive movements were soothing, lulling him to relax – especially when Jin Guangyao, grumbling something about stress, jabbed him repeatedly in certain acupoints to force his muscles to release stored-up tension – and after a little while Jin Guangyao stopped being so rough.

“Huaisang was right,” he said after a while, having shifted over to running his fingers through Nie Mingjue’s hair as if he were a child, carefully detangling each knot he encountered. “You really are acting far too nice. Shouldn’t you be scolding me for overstepping?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head lightly, careful not to jostle Jin Guangyao’s hand.

“No? Then something else, surely. Where’s your anger, da-ge?”

Nie Mingjue looked down at his hands, his saber hand instinctively curling up to grasp a hilt that was no longer there. It looked wrong to see them like this, empty.

(“Where is my saber?” his father cried out. “My saber – my saber!”)

He wasn’t his father.

That he would die of a qi deviation, die young, years before his time – this he had accepted. But he would not die the way his father died, angry, lashing out at all the ones he loved most, not if he could do anything about it.

Maybe in the future, when he lost himself fully, he would become a resentful ghost in human flesh, a raging monster fit only for slaughtering – if his thoughts themselves had already begun to lie to him, to drip poison into his ears and into his heart, if despite everything Baxia was actually gone and he was already dead and he just hadn’t realized it yet –

For as long as he could manage, Nie Mingjue wouldn’t let himself be angry.

Did he still doubt Jin Guangyao? Yes, of course. But what good would it do to suspect him now? If he tried to accuse him, even he wouldn’t believe his own testimony.

(“- they say your father died of rage –”)

“Come on, then,” Jin Guangyao said, coaxing him like a child, and his hands as he helped him out of the bath were almost gentle. “I’ve got you some new robes. I’ll help you into them.”

Nie Mingjue caught his hand.

“Da-ge? Do you want something?”

My saber. Where is my saber?

He shook his head and let Jin Guangyao help him back to the bed. He sat heavily there and stared at his hands as Jin Guangyao wrapped him in a new set of robes – his own, he thought, but he couldn’t tell if it was the extra set he’d brought with him to Lanling or if it’d been brought from the Unclean Realm.

Was there enough time for someone to come from the Unclean Realm? They had smiths there, and forges –

Where is my saber?

He stared at himself in the mirror, Jin Guangyao lingering behind him, and closed his eyes.

Like all cultivators, especially good cultivators, Nie Mingjue had a very good understanding of his spiritual energy, the way his qi moved through his meridians and settled in his dantian. He felt it every time he cultivated. His spiritual energy was drained dry right now, but if he really pushed and strained himself, he could squeeze up a small droplet of qi and guide it through the whole cultivation sequence. He could watch it carefully, wait for it to hit the place where he connected with Baxia – where he could feel her, echoing back at him. Intact.

She was fine.

She was.

She had to be.

Nie Mingjue felt someone start to braid his hair and frowned a little: perfect memory or not, he didn’t think Jin Guangyao knew the right braids. There were very subtle nuances to the ones he wore, significant ones; copying another version of his own hairstyle might be making a grievous error. He’d been wearing war-braids almost the entire time they’d known each other, after all…

He opened his eyes.

It wasn’t Jin Guangyao behind him.

“Welcome back, da-ge,” Lan Xichen said. His eyes were red around the edges, as if he’d been crying, or trying very hard to keep from doing so. “How are you feeling?”

Empty, lost, afraid – oh, Xichen, I’m so very afraid –

“Huaisang said to tell you that if you don’t stop doing whatever it is that’s keeping your qi drained, he’ll lock your spiritual energy away,” Lan Xichen said after a few moments, when it became clear that Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to respond. “And I have to say, I agree with him.”

Nie Mingjue lowered his head, feeling guilty. He shouldn’t be causing them any more worry than they already had – Nie Huaisang’s eyes were never empty of tears, and it was all his fault.

“You need your spiritual energy to recover if you want to heal,” Lan Xichen said. His hands did not falter as he made the braids – the right ones, too, a sect leader at peace who was in temporary retreat due to ill health. “And you will heal, da-ge. We’ll do everything that we can to help you.”

Nie Mingjue’s shoulders slumped. That was a familiar refrain by now, and his eyes drifted down in the mirror in front of him to look at Liebing, tucked away in Lan Xichen’s belt as always – Lan Xichen would want him to meditate while he played, no doubt. As far as Nie Mingjue knew, there was no guqin here for him to play Clarity, but there were other songs available.

“I’ve asked Wangji if he would play something calming for you, if you think it would help, but I won’t force you,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue raised his eyes to meet his in the mirror, surprised. His old friend tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “I’m not entirely up to doing it myself, I’m afraid. Liebing requires perfect control of breath, and I’m…”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them once more.

“Do you know how much I’d miss you, da-ge?” he asked, voice low. “How much emptier my life would be without knowing that you were there? And not just me – all of us.”  

Nie Mingjue didn’t know what to say.

“There’s Huaisang, of course, but you know that. Your sect, your family…even A-Yao has been unusually upset about the idea of something more happening to you, he was engaging Nie Zonghui in a conversation about the defenses in place here in the event someone tried something last I saw. Wangji dropped everything to come rushing here when I wrote to him, and – you’ll never believe this – Wei Wuxian himself followed him here, asking about your health.”

Wei Wuxian? Here, so close to Lanling? That was a terrible idea.

“He’s being careful,” Lan Xichen assured him. “He went with Wangji and Jiang Wanyin to examine the site of the night-hunt – they’re saying it’s suspicious that a demon of that power managed to end up this close to Lanling, especially undetected, with you going in without any warning and the demon targeting you in such a specific way.”

It was suspicious. Also, Jiang Wanyin was here?

“I don’t know how he found out, he just showed up here,” Lan Xichen said. “I think Nie Huaisang might have written to him? Either way, he wanted to help.”

Nie Mingjue’s brow wrinkled.

“If you’re wondering why, it’s because he respects and admires you,” Lan Xichen said. “You helped him so much during the war; he wants to repay you…everyone does. You’ve done so much for all of us.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. He really hadn’t – he’d only done what he’d need to, nothing more.

“You mean so much to all of us,” Lan Xichen murmured, finishing the braids and putting his hands on Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Oh, da-ge. Please hold on for us.”

(He thought of how his father looked at the end, gurgling on his own blood, red seeping out of his eyes and ears and nose as well and looking almost relieved to be going – relieved that his endless nightmare would finally come to an end, that he could rest at last in his grave…)

Nie Mingjue nodded and ducked his head to hide the tears brimming in his own eyes.

He’d stop checking, he promised silently. Baxia was fine, he thought, or maybe she wasn’t, but he hadn’t yet lost his mind, hadn’t yet started lashing out, and all those he loved were here by his side, ready to support him and help him however they could, if they could.

He would need to have faith.

He was still afraid, terribly afraid, but – he would, he could, rely on others to help support him, when he couldn’t support himself.

They wouldn’t let his anger eat him alive, and so he couldn’t let his fear do the same.

Nie Mingjue raised his hand and covered one of Lan Xichen’s with it.

He licked his lips, swallowed.

Forcing himself to speak felt like trying to break the Lan silencing spell, but he had to do it.

“Xichen,” he croaked, voice barely audible. “…Baxia?”

Where is my saber?

Lan Xichen’s hands tightened on his shoulders.

“Repaired,” his friend promised him. “Reforged by the finest spiritual smith in Qinghe. Huaisang is on his way to bring her to you now.”

Nie Mingue smiled.

A shichen later, Nie Huaisang pressed Baxia’s hilt into his hand, expression worried, all of them worried, all of them staring at him to see what would happen as he held his saber and carefully pressed some little, tiny part of the spiritual energy he’d been saving up into her.

Baxia sang out her song, bright and clear and unblemished, full of righteousness and rage.

Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and wept in relief.

She was fine.

[spitpr1ncess]

BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 1 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

                                               (not my image)

“You’re too pretty for this, little girl” remarks your current company. You roll your eyes and have to hold in the audible sigh that almost escapes you. How many times you have heard the same drivel? If you were too pretty, they wouldn’t continue the silent abuse on your body, would they?

You’ve been a working girl since you barely had the ability to think for yourself. You were plucked from your poverty-stricken family with the promise of their debts being written off.

You aren’t special and your family don’t care about you, a lie you’d been telling yourself for twenty two long years. You are a slab of meat and a source of income, that’s all, and believing yourself to be more was a stupid mistake you’d learned not to make, assuming people actually cared about you had caused you more pain than any physical abuse you’d ever endured.

You’re snapped back to reality as a pair of hands paw clumsily at your breasts, you inhale and remind yourself that this is only a temporary situation, but until you figure out how, you must continue to appease the men that Jools sends your way.

Jools is like your older brother, if your older brother worked in a brothel and openly encouraged men to fuck his slightly younger sister. The two of you share an intimate relationship built on a strong foundation of sharing trauma, you know he means well.

Jools was taken around the same time you were, only, as he managed to flourish into a promising young man, he was favoured by boss, and thus, promoted. You and Jools have always seen eye to eye, his depressing background is in servicing men, just like yours and it’s how you built your relationship, why you share such a deep understanding of each other, such mutual respect. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the other girls, and as a mean result, ensures that you are on the less favourable end of their antics, often being the brunt of their absolute frustrations and jokes.

As head of appointments and bookings, alongside other things, he always tries to send you the easy ones, if Boss knew he favoured you, you’re sure Jools would be sacked, or worse, effective immediately. You’re eternally thankful that he chooses to throw you a bone, even if it doesn’t seem much to him, it means the world to you.

Your mindless wandering halts once again, as you make unfavourable eye contact with your unwelcome company, you notice he is grunting as he roughly palms his own erection with his bear-like hands, staring holes through you as he directs his dirty glare at your breasts. Without thinking you grasp his knees and push your elbows to meet, forcing your breasts to squash together in that specific way that the male gaze loves so much, accentuating their plumpness. You are the first to admit that although sex is something that is daily to you, you are a very sexual soul by nature. You love the affect you have on men, and how you can practically melt them down to nothingness in the palm of your soft hand. You’re certain it comes from the trauma that is deep rooted in your hunger for male validation

The man sat in front of you isn’t the smallest you’ve seen but he isn’t particularly well endowed either, weighing up your current circumstances, you decide to make the most of it. Standing up, you lick your lips and undo the tie to your virginal white skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground quietly. It crumples in a small pile and feverishly you step out of it, feigning nervousness. You take your willing participants bear-paw off his own erection and place is gently on the arm of his chair, straddling him, you centre yourself and gently lower down to allow your warmth to press against him. Instinctually, he grunts and pushes back, his actions clumsy and annoying yet you allow it, not wanting to anger him, the men you service are big businessmen and you know better than to piss one off. You have seen first-hand the damage they can and do cause. You let him believe he has control, you grind back and nuzzle into his neck, playing him like a game, inhaling, you pick up on cigarette smoke and some notable cologne brand, nothing out of the ordinary.

You kiss his neck, breathing over his ear, begging him to enter you, you are not stupid, the way you make men feel, like you are infatuated, like there is nothing else you need at that moment than them, always gets you tipped. And tips go straight to your pocket, and any tips that go straight to your pocket, go straight to your running-away-savings. As he clumsily lines up his erection, you lift yourself onto your elbow to assist him in his feeble attempt at entering you, you feel his tip pressed right up against you, simultaneously, you kiss him and sheath yourself entirely. It isn’t anything notable and is in fact somewhat disappointing, nevertheless, you continue to finish the job.

You inhale sharply to sell the fantasy. He grunts again, like some half dead animal, you cringe trying your hardest to not let on as you know that his tips will make the effort worth it. Like a wet dream he was having, you bounce yourself up and down, in and out, in and out, in and out. It isn’t long before you see his head fall back and he stiffens below you, he opens his mouth and grabs your ass, hard. You squeal as you feel his hot seed lacing your insides, you feign your own orgasm, making your legs shake as if you had to convince him like your life depended on it. He buys it; dirty talking you and asking various lewd and cringey questions that make you shudder, if it weren’t for you writhing on top of him, he might have picked up on it. You kiss him before finding your feet, passing him a napkin as he sheepishly cleans himself off, only now feeling shy and vulnerable. He stands and pulls his trousers up; buckling his belt quickly, he then reaches into his breast pocket, he pulls out a stack of fifties, he throws a couple on the floor by your feet. He is trying to regain his masculinity, uncomfortable about looking into your eyes, you used to let it upset you, only you are used to it, each man having the same reaction.

He leaves and you lock the door tight behind him, you tidy up, wiping the chair and cleaning away any fluid that may have made its way to places it doesn’t belong. You wander towards your bathroom; the wooden floor feels cold but welcome on your ever tired feet. You stare into the mirror; a few tears had escaped your eyes without your noticing, it was a pretty normal occurrence for you now.

You glance in the mirror and notice that she is foreign, the girl staring back. Her long brown hair pulled over one shoulder, bruises lacing her frail body, you gently trace a finger over her body and look down to see your body. It is like you are disconnected, her body has not been your body for a long time. You wipe your eyes and turn your shower on, you hop in as it is still running cold.

You inhale sharply. It hurts, and the excruciating pain is welcome, you allow your bare back to fall silently against the wall and slowly lower yourself. You protect your knees with your arms as you grasp them toward you and lay your head between the makeshift protection you have created. Loud sobs escape your lungs as if they'd been brewing for a century.

A long while passes and you don’t hear the door unlocking.

Jools lets himself in, he hears your measly sobs coming from the bathroom and heads toward them, he slides open the shower door, startled, you jump up and let out an ugly shriek, Jools looks at you, pathetic, slim, bruised and sobbing. His head falls to one side as you try to somewhat protect your modesty. Jools has seen everything you have, and you, him, yet it still feels embarrassing and intimate.

“Olive.”, his voice is cool, patient, and laced with a little sympathy, “What am I going to do with you?”, he steps into the shower, allowing his clothes to get sprayed with water, you turn to him and press your forehead to his.

“I am sorry Jools; my emotions are all over the place. I will be ready in ten minutes, just allow me to clean up”, your voice sounds tired and you let out a little sigh. Jools places a hand on your shoulder and gently turns you around. You have been each other’s comfort in such a long life of trauma and you know what is coming next, he picks up your shampoo and lathers some between his hands, he rubs his fingertips into your scalp, scrubbing the dirt of the day out of your hair.

His touch is welcome, if not a little alien. It is rare these days that a pair of hands aren’t grabbing, pulling, pinching or pushing you around, you let out a long sigh, letting go of the anxiety and slowing your heart rate, you close your eyes and allow yourself to be cared for. By the time Jools finishes showering you he is soaked, you both step out into your bedroom. You pull on your skirt and replace your corset, a “uniform” as far as Boss is concerned. You hate it, making you feel vulnerable and cheap, you would rather slip on a t-shirt and shorts, or a loose dress.

Jools discarded all his clothes sans boxers and made himself comfortable on your bed as you were stood contemplating. You stare at him, with his light brown, almost ashy blonde hair. He is handsome, you have always thought this, you just never placed you two together, with him acting the “older brother” for all intents and purposes.

Jools breaks the silence, “Your four o’clock has cancelled, it’s what I came here to tell you” he pats the bed next to him and smiles “come and sit, unless you’re going somewhere”.

You pause momentarily before undoing your skirt again, you let it fall to the ground before reaching for a pair of linen shorts sat on your vanity, pulling them on, you take a few steps before collapsing on the bed next to Jools in complete exhaustion. “I’m tired of fucking the same men Jools” you remark.

“The same men, with the same predictable sex routines, the same sized cocks, the same moves. I’m bored. I’m climbing up the walls, Jools. Throw me a bigger bone, I’m begging you.”, You feel Jools eyes on your face, you let your head fall and meet his gaze. He snorts and pulls himself closer to you. You slide your body next to his and he drapes and arm over your waist.

Your foreheads touching, you lay in comfortable silence for a while. You close your eyes miss him protectively watching over you.

“I’m not sure what I can do for you Ol, unless you want me to fuck you myself. We don’t have much new clientele and any we do have seem like the abusive type, so I deliberately don’t send them your way.” he laughs. You ponder his first sentence, unable to tell if he was joking. You try your luck and shift your weight so you’re straddling him.

“Wh.. what the fuck are you doing Ol?”, You decide that he didn’t mean it, judging by his response. You begin to tickle his sides and he goes bright red before kicking you off, you land on the wooden floor with a loud bang.

“OW. That fucking hurt you fuck.” You stand up and cross your arms like a grumpy child. Jools looks at you and sticks out his tongue, you both pause, waiting for the other to break. It is you who laughs first, shortly followed by Jools who snorts, like a little pig. You can’t stay mad at him, he is so sweet, and you started it, after all.

“I was thinking Jools. If you have some time this afternoon, maybe we could go for a walk?” Your schedule was usually so full you don’t have time to visit outside. It was the beginning of the spring too, so everything was just starting bloom, it was one of the things that gave you a little peace and hope.

“I can’t Ol, I can’t leave the others unattended, in case anything happens, you know the rules” his voice holds a little sadness and disappointment, you can tell he’d like nothing more.

“Maybe I can open up a space for you this weekend? Then we can go out together?” Jools doesn’t work weekends; part of his promotion demands of course, but you did.

“Weekend rates are higher and I rea..” Jools cuts you off.

“I will charge one of your regulars more in the week; I’ll make it up for you, pleaaase?” he draws out.

You look at his face and the little boisterous glint in his eyes. You ruffle his hair like a little boy and laugh.

“Sure thing.”, You reply.

[coolepowersthings]

You’re Not Wrong

pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader

summary: Y/N has someone in her life to take care of her physical needs, but who she really wants is her friend, George Weasley. What will happen when he confronts her about her taste in men?

warnings: NSFW 18+, unprotected sex, sex with multiple partners, oral, dirty talk.

Authors Note: So friends, I haven’t written any fanfiction in quite a while, and I decided to jump back in by writing my first NSFW story. This is pretty much just smut, if I’m honest. It’s also my first try at writing something so explicit, and so I’m not sure how I feel about it, but at this point it is what it is! I hope you enjoy it!  ______________________________________________________________

There was something incredible feeling about the ache you felt in your torso the morning after. You stretch out across the bed and let the dull feeling reach across your body. It hadn’t been the best sex of your life, but it had been enough to make you feel less dull, to provide your body with the dim buzzing that made you feel more alive. Jeff was already up, and the smell of coffee was almost enough to make you roll out of bed and throw on the t-shirt you had discarded last night. Instead, you pull the comforter over your head and give yourself a few more moments of quiet.

Jeff was not who you wanted to be with. It was not Jeff’s hands you wanted on your body, not his lips that you hoped to feel ghosting over your skin. But you knew having the man you really wanted was a fantasy, and so for now, Jeff would have to do.

Sighing, you decide to get up, get dressed, and pad down to Jeff’s kitchen to get some coffee and head home. Jeff wasn’t a bad guy. You had met one night at the pub and hit it off well enough. So, every time you felt an ache that needed to be filled, Jeff seemed like a safe bet. Normally, though, the ache was brought on by a very different person. The large, steady hands, the knowing smirk, the red hair that you would give anything to run your hands through. Yes, George Weasley was who you really wanted, and he was one person you knew you could not have.

“Morning Y/N,” Jeff said, smiling at you over his cup. “Sleep well?”

You humm and accept the cup out of his hands.

“You’re already dressed? I hoped maybe you’d stay for a while.”

“I can’t today,” you say. “I have some errands to run, and then I’m due in the shop at one.”

“Always at the bloody shop,” Jeff mumbles.

“You know I am. The boys need help, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t assist?”

Jeff just looks at you.

                                                  “Oi! Y/N!” Fred calls as you make your way into the bustling shop. “About time you showed up, we’re slammed!”

“I told you I’d be here this afternoon Freddie!” you call back, taking the apron that he throws to you and tying it around your waist. “Where do you want me?”

“Well isn’t that a loaded question,” came a softer voice from behind you.

“Cheeky,” you say, glancing at George. “Especially from someone who supposedly needs my help.”

“I always need you, and it’s never stopped me from being cheeky before.”

You smile up at him, hoping he can’t tell the effect he has on you. Although, if he can, then you’ve been a lost cause for a long time. It seems like forever ago that you stopped thinking of George as a friend and started thinking of him as something more, but as far as you could tell, he had no idea. He flirted with you, of course. But that was just his way. Fred teased you too, but Fred felt like a brother – one who ruffled your hair and poked fun at you when you dropped someone’s change or knocked something off a shelf. George’s teasing had an edge, a clear flirtation that made your face tint crimson and that you thought about when you were alone at night. Even the nights you spent with Jeff, George was never far from your thoughts. Still, you know you had been friends too long to start something with him. Fred and George were your best friends – you’d been through everything together, and you wouldn’t take the chance of ruining things now. Besides, if George felt the same way, he’d surely have made it known by now.

“Just point me in the right direction,” you say, rolling your eyes.

George smiles at you, and you hear Fred scoff. “Take over the registers, would you?” Fred finally said. “I need cheeky here to help me in the back room.”

 When the store finally closed for the day, you were utterly exhausted. The twins hadn’t been kidding, the store had been packed until George had locked the door at closing time. You had rung up the last customer and were now counting out the till for the day. Fred was sweeping, and he passed the register as he made his way through the store.

“Big plans tonight, Y/N?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you say, keeping your eyes on the galleons you were counting. Even after years of being in the wizarding world, you still had a harder time counting out gold than muggle money.

“Does that mean you’re going to see old Jeffy boy?”

You heard a snort from behind you.

“Well he’s nothing but ordinary, is he?” says George, carrying a box past you and towards a depleted looking display.

“Jeff’s nice,” you say, glaring at him. You watch him set the heavy box down, his arm muscles clearly flexing under his shirt. You suppose glaring would work better, you realize, if you weren’t using it as an excuse to openly stare.

“Nice isn’t much of a compliment, you know,” George says.

You shrug. “Well, he is nice. Nice enough for now.”

“Yeah, and they’re keeping it casual, remember?” says Fred. “I think ‘nice’ is fine for our little Y/N’s fling.” He winks at you. “Just don’t go getting your heart broken, yeah? I would hate to have to beat up the ‘nice’ guy.”

“Someone can’t break your heart if they don’t have it, Freddie,” you say. “Besides, if someone hurt me, I’d be the one doing the beating.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he says chuckling, as he takes the broom and heads to the back.

George still stands at the display, emptying the box and arranging the merchandise, his back to you. He was strangely quiet, and you watched him as he worked. He seemed agitated. He kept running a hand through his hair in clear annoyance, his red hair standing straight up. You thought about what it would feel like to be the one with your fingers in his hair, to grasp onto it and tug as he assaulted your mouth, your neck, your body. You watched his large hands as they filled the shelves, sure and steady. Is that how they would feel if he touched you? Strong. Controlled. You shivered. You had to stop this line of thinking if you wanted to help finish closing the store, and you knew it wasn’t wise to daydream about your crush when he was this close to you.  

Luckily, Fred returns and offers a distraction from your thoughts.

“Well, we’re swept and sorted,” he says. “If you’re done with the deposit, I’ll run it over to Gringotts before I meet up with Angelina.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m finished.”

“Brilliant. You don’t mind finishing up here with Georgie, do you?”

“I suppose the hot date can wait,” you laugh at him.

George snorts. Fred raises his brows at you and then chuckles. “Ok, thanks so much for the help, Y/N!” he says, giving you a quick hug and heading to the door.

Once he leaves, you set your eyes back on George.

“What is your problem?”

“What?” he says. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Well you certainly seem to. Every time Fred or I so much as mention my life, you seem to have a quick retort.”

“We’ve always bantered with each other, Y/N. I don’t see why it would be different now.”

“We have, but why is it that I get the feeling today that you really mean it. You don’t have to be so mean about Jeff, that’s all.”

“Oh, like you really care about that tosser.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Be serious, Y/N. There is nothing remotely hot about any dates you have with that boy. He is the most average piece of white toast I have ever met.”

You glare at him again, offended. Jeff may not be your soulmate, but he truly is a nice person. And he helps you cure the ache that exists in the pit of your belly every time you leave the presence of the man currently in front of you.

“Well, better to be white toast than a complete ass,” you say. “My gosh, do you hear yourself?”

George was looking at you now. He had put down the box and crossed his arms across his chest. His brown eyes were intense, and he scowled at you as if he could see right through you. Your hand twitched, the desire to smooth out his wrinkled brow making itself known, even in your anger.

“Oh, I hear myself. And I hear you too. That wasn’t much of an argument, love. And I’m not an ass, I’m just being honest.”

Your anger swelled at how smug he was, but the unexpected endearment only managed to increase the desire you also felt for him, bubbling just below the surface. How could one man make you feel so much at once?

He walked towards you and you took a step back, your body now stuck between his piercing look and the counter. “You deserve more than that, you know?” he tilted his head to the side. “Or maybe you don’t know? All those boys you were with at school were never good enough for you either.”

 “All those boys? Merlin, George. You make me sound like a floosy,” you say, trying to hold on to your anger even though his close proximity was making your legs feel weak.  

“No, never that,” George said, his eyes softening. “I just don’t like to see you hurt. And you pick guys that are all wrong for you, Y/N.”

“Oh really? Then what guys are right for me, George,” you say. You sounded braver than you felt, looking him straight in the eye, daring him to tell you who would be a proper beau for you in the eyes of George Weasley.

“I only have one in mind,” he says. Then he steps forward, pulling you into him and crashing his lips to yours.

The kiss was intense, and at first you didn’t react, caught off guard by this sudden shift from anger to intimacy. But it didn’t take long to process what was happening. George, your George, was kissing you. Before he could change his mind, before he could pull away, which you were sure he would, you reached your arms up around him, your fingers tangling in his hair. Recognizing that you were kissing him back, George pushed into the kiss even further, licking into your mouth. His hands held your hips, tightly, his fingers sliding under the bottom of your shirt and pressing into the flesh below. He left your mouth and started kissing down your neck, hot, hungry, kissing and biting his way. He kissed back up to your ear and sucked on the tender flesh there.

“Oh, George,” you let out in a breathy moan.

“Fuck,” he says, pushing his body flush against yours. You could feel him, his desire pressed hard against your stomach. But despite his body’s reaction to you, saying his name seemed to have stopped his assault on your neck. He pulls back to look at you, his eyes dark.

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” he says.

 “Never,” you say, pulling him in to kiss you again. “I want this. I want you.”

As his lips met yours again, his hands go to your waist before making their way around your body and to your ass. He squeezes, hard, and then lifts you up off the floor and slides you onto the counter. He nudges his way between your legs, his hardness pressed against where you want him most, his hands moving upwards to hold your face for just a moment, before moving back down to your waist and pulling your shirt over your head.

“Here?” you whisper, looking around you as he started kissing down your neck again, headed for your breast.

“Do you have objections?” he asks, unclasping your lacy bra and tossing it to the side.

Somewhere in your fuzzy brain, you feel like there is a reason you should not be doing this with George in a very public shop, but you aren’t sure you really care at the moment what those reasons are.

“No,” you breathed out, as his mouth begins sucking on your taut nipple. “Godric, push me against the front window and I won’t complain.”

You feel him smile against your breast.

“I knew you didn’t like nice guys,” he says, his mouth biting down, gently.

You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

“Too many clothes,” you say, pulling at his shirt. He stands back up and brings his mouth back to yours, giving you access to unbutton his shirt and push it off of him. You linger on his arms, his muscles flexing under your touch, before moving down to his trousers and pushing them down. His dark grey boxer briefs are all that hide him from you now, and as you pull them away from his body and push them down, you almost gasp at how large he is. He stepped back to kick the remnants of his clothes away, and you place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him lightly so that he backs away farther, slipping off the desk and onto your knees.

“Oh,” he moans out, as you take him into your mouth. You look up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he says. You hum and he throws his head back, moaning again. His hands go to your hair, tangling in the long strands and applying just enough pressure for you to know when he particularly likes something. After a few minutes, you feel him jerk slightly, and then his hands move to your shoulders, pushing you gently away.

“Not that I haven’t dreamed of coming in your mouth,” he says, pulling you up to your feet, his mouth close to your ear, “but I want to be inside you.” You shiver and move to pull off your skirt.

“Let me,” he says, grabbing your hands and releasing them from the fabric. But rather than pull the skirt down, he skims his hands down the fabric and then back up your thighs to your panties, pulling them down with a quick tug. You raise an eyebrow at him for a moment, but then he is touching you, his hands making quick work, his fingers circling your clit before finding their way inside you. You moan, arching back against the counter.

“So wet for me, love,” he says. “Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside of you.” You whimper, and then he twists his hand, his fingers finding new purchase in just the right spot and his other hand rubbing at your clit in unison. “Oh!” you cry out, your hands pulling at his hair. He smirks at you “Keep making those pretty sounds for me love. I’m going to make you come from my fingers first, and then from my cock.” “Oh fuck, George,” you mewl, the intensity building inside of you. “That’s it love, say my name,” George replies. With a final flick of his fingers you come undone.

Gasping and trying to come back down for your high, you almost don’t notice as George takes hold of you, cradling you into his arms for just a moment, and laying softer kisses on your neck before moving up to your ear and nibbling there. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this, you?” he asks. All you can manage is to moan as he continues his attack on your body with his mouth. “I hated the other men you were with, not because of who they were, but because they got to be with you. Merlin, you’re gorgeous. And smart and funny.” He stops and looked at you, his eyes taking on a serious expression. “I want you, Y/N. Not just now, but always, do you understand? This isn’t just a fling for me. I want all of you.” Without a second thought, you nod, placing your hands on either side of his face and pulling him to your mouth for a kiss. This time, the kiss starts out slow and sweet, but it quickly turns back to something more, the fire still lit inside of both of you. George’s hands are on your waste, pushing down your skirt so it puddles at your feet, and then lifting you back up onto the counter, stepping between your legs and aligning himself at your entrance.

“Sure?” he whispers one more time against your lips. “Yes,” you breath out, and then he is pushing in, filling you. He stills for just a moment before he starts moving inside of you, your foreheads pressed together, your breathing mingled and heavy. He kisses you hard on the mouth and then pulls back, his eyes looking down to watch where your two bodies are joined. “You’re fucking perfect,” he says, lifting your leg up so that it is over his shoulder, allowing him deeper, hitting the spot that longs for him most. “Oh!” you gasp. “You feel so good.” He smirks “You feel amazing, so tight and wet.” He brings his other hand back to your clit again. “Come for me again love.” And you do, the feeling of his hands and his body and being like this with George all taking over. “I’m almost there,” he pants out against your shoulder, “want to spill it all in you. Can I?” You nod against his neck “Come in me, now George,” you say. You feel him shudder at your words, his body moving faster until he reaches his release, your name spilling from his mouth as he finishes. He buries his head in your shoulder as he pants, both of you trying to catch your breath. You are the first to giggle. He lifts his head and looks at you questioningly, but then his smile breaks out wide, and he is also laughing, the two of you smiling and holding onto each other and laughing.

“Well, I suppose it took us long enough to get around to that,” you say, still smiling at him. He grins back and pulls you in for a soft kiss. “This is just the beginning, love,” he says. “Now, what say you to going and cleaning up together in my bath, hmm? I mean, we’ll shower together, obviously, to save water.” You smack him lightly on the arm. “You’re incorrigible, George Weasley,” you say. You look at him then with puppy dog eyes. “And what about my hot date?” He looks at you in mock disbelief for a moment. “Darling, I’m the hottest day you’ll ever have.” He winks and then picks you up, carrying you bridal style up to the twins flat. “You’re not wrong, George,” you say, nuzzling into him. “You’re not wrong.”

[joonie-beanie]

Helping Hands

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader

Word Count: 5,526

Preview: The royal butler decides to pay you a visit when he hears that your back is acting up.

However, when he offers to give you a massage, things get a little out of hand.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter is also being posted on 7/10/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Obviously, you’re not as close to the residents of the Demon King’s Palace, or the other exchange students, as you are with the demon brothers. That’s to be expected, considering you literally live with the seven demons, and are pretty much around them at all times.

However, your relationships with the others are far from distant.

In fact, for the last two months, Diavolo and Barbatos have been inviting you over for tea every Sunday evening.

At first, you’d found it a bit strange to partake in a tea party so late in the day, and on a Sunday no less, but you’ve grown quite fond of your quiet evenings with the Devildom Prince and his faithful butler. Usually conversation is pleasant. Diavolo loves to ask you about your experiences in the human world, and never gets enough of your stories—even if it’s just you retelling simple parts of your day.

It has also been a good opportunity to get to know Diavolo and Barbatos more. Diavolo is very forthcoming with any information you’d like to know, but still tends to have this…front about him. Like he’s willing to let you in, but just not too deep. After all, he is the ruler of the Devildom, so you don’t blame him for keeping certain things to himself.

Barbatos…also feels like a puzzle, but a puzzle that with time, he will gladly let you put together. In the past month, you’ve managed to learn an array of information about him—his favorite foods, what he likes to drink, what he does when he’s not tending to Diavolo, etc.

Apparently, he enjoys baking, reading, and taking long, hot baths. He’s always formal out of habit, but ever so slowly has begun to shed such formality with you—making little remarks that would have seemed out of character in the past, but are becoming much more frequent nowadays.

In fact, last week when you’d showed up exhausted, he’d quipped about whether you were having any “late nights” with the brothers. The twinkle in his eye had confirmed that yes, he was implying it in a sexual manner, and Diavolo’s full belly laugh when he’d seen the shock and embarrassment on your face had echoed throughout the entire castle.

So, least to say, you and Barbatos are starting to get along quite well.

Unfortunately…you’re not sure that you’ll be able to make your weekly tea tonight—on account of the fact that you can barely walk.

Hand pressed against your lower back, you openly groan in pain as you press to your feet. You need to get to your DDD to let the two know of your predicament, but of course you’d managed to leave your phone on the other side of the room.

With your body curved at a horribly awkward angle, you stagger your way across the wooden floor. You think the source of your problem is a kink in your neck, that is throwing your entire body out of alignment, but you can’t say for sure considering everything hurts.

Sighing, you unlock your DDD and open up the messaging app. You click into your chat with the royals.

You: Hi there. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. I’m not feeling too well…

It only takes a few seconds before Diavolo responds.

Diavolo: I was actually just about to text you. Something quite urgent came up, so I’m unavailable this evening.

Diavolo: Also, I’m so sorry to hear you’re not feeling well! Please, be sure to get rest and take care of yourself!

Smiling at his kind words, you respond with your gratitude. A moment later, you see ellipses pop up at the bottom of the chat, but they soon disappear. No message comes through, and you frown a little. However, after another few seconds, you receive a new notification.

A text from Barbatos, but outside of the group chat the two of you share with Diavolo.

Barbatos: May I ask what’s the matter? I was intending to still invite you over for tea since I enjoy your company regardless.

Barbatos: If you’re ill, however, I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do to help.

You’d be lying if you said a small part of you didn’t swoon at his concern, and the declaration of the fact that he enjoys having you around.

You: I have a kink in my back, and it’s honestly affecting my ability to do…anything, at the moment. I would have loved to have tea with you, though.

Barbatos responds right away.

Barbatos: If it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to bring the tea to you instead. Lord Diavolo has already departed for the evening, and I have nothing else to do.

Barbatos: Plus, I’ve heard that I’m a pretty skilled masseuse, as well. I may be able to assist with your current ailment.

Your heart flutters a bit at the idea of letting Barbatos massage you, since you’ve yet to be physical with the butler beyond hugs, but you can’t deny how appealing a massage sounds right about now. Your muscles are oh so sore, and at this point, you should be accepting any type of help you can get.

You: I don’t want to impose, but that sounds wonderful…

Barbatos: Think nothing of it. I will be over shortly. Do not feel the need to come and greet me, I shall ask Lucifer to guide me to your room.

You text back your confirmation before stumbling back to your bed—rolling onto the messy sheets with a pained hiss as you wait for Barbatos to arrive.

Only 20 or so minutes later, you hear the sound of knuckles wrapping against your bedroom door.

“Y/N?” It’s Lucifer’s voice. “Barbatos is here to see you.”

“Come in,” you call, knowing full well that you probably look a mess—laying belly down on your mattress with one leg hiked high, and one arm hanging low. It’s the comfiest position you could find, though.

Lucifer turns the knob and steps into the room first, a frown tugging at his lips when he notes how you’re positioned on your bed. Barbatos follows him in, worry in his eyes as well, but he still manages to smile.

“My, you weren’t kidding when you mentioned having a kink in your back.”

“I think death is approaching,” you respond, overly dramatic, and your words have both Barbatos and Lucifer chuckling.

“I shall leave you two to enjoy your tea. Please contact me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Lucifer.”

With that, the Avatar of Pride makes his way from your room—closing the door behind him. Now, it’s just you and Barbatos.

“I think the tea may have to wait,” he comments, moving to set the basket he’d brought with him on the table at the far side of your room. You note that it’s woven wood—practically a picnic basket, and smile a little. How cute.

Forgetting about your pain for a moment, you watch as the butler opens the basket up and reaches inside. You expect him to produce some tea cups, or saucers, but instead he pulls out what looks to be a bottle of oil.

Realization strikes you, and your cheeks begin to heat up.

“You know, Barbatos, you really don’t need to give me a massage…,” you tell him quietly, mumbling the words as you watch him begin to roll up his sleeves. He’s dressed more casually than usual—his overcoat and tie nowhere to be found. Instead, he’s simply donning his green button up shirt, and a pair of black slacks.

It’s…a good look on him. Especially with the sleeves folded neatly up to his elbows. And when he slowly plucks off his white gloves, revealing fingernails painted the same color as the highlights in his hair, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of one, and I already reassured you that you’re not imposing,” he tells you, making his way to your side with the bottle of oil in his hands. Per usual, there’s a pleasant smile on his face as he surveys you.

You hope that you’re not blushing brightly enough for him to notice.

“It’s just that…I’ve never had a massage before, so…,” you trail off, and it’s not a lie. Massages have always seemed like a luxury to you, so you’ve never gone out of your way to get one, despite how much you’ve heard about their wonders.

“Ah,” Barbatos hums, a look of understanding in his eyes. “Well, we can always stop if it has an adverse effect on the situation. And I of course want you to feel comfortable.”

His words put your mind at ease. He’s always so kind, no matter who he’s talking to, or who is watching.

“So…how do we…start?” you ask, feeling far too awkward. You already have a suspicion that you know what he’s going to say, and yet—

“Are you mobile enough to take your shirt off?”

Ah, yep, there it is.

If there was any hope of hiding your blush before, there’s certainly none now. And yes, you’re aware that Barbatos is only offering to do this because you’re friends, and because you’re in pain. There should be no reason to be embarrassed by the situation, and yet you are.

You take a second to try and calm your mind.

“I…I think I can--,” you eventually say, attempting to sit up. However, as soon as you place your palms on the mattress and try to push yourself up, a bolt of pain shoots straight down your spine, and a high-pitched cry falls from your lips.

Barbatos’ hand is immediately on your back—a gesture of comfort. The warmth from his palm soaks through your t-shirt, and a small part of you wishes that he’d make a point of touching you more often.

“Well, I will take that as a resounding no.”

There’s a perplexed frown on his face as he looks at you—his worry deepening by the second.

“Can you lift your arms, at the very least?”

You grunt, miraculously managing to lift both of your arms above your head. Barbatos breathes a laugh, the position a little amusing. You’re beginning to look like a horrible contortionist.

“Would you be opposed to me undressing you?” Your brain short circuits for a moment. “Since you were able to lift your arms, it’s likely the easiest option at this point.”

“Sure,” you respond without hesitation. You’re desperately trying to keep your wits about you, and yet, you can’t help the way your body jolts when you feel Barbatos’ fingers grip the hem of your shirt.

He pauses for a moment.

“Did I startle you?”

“No…,” you grumble, causing him to laugh. He drags his hands upwards—the t-shirt slowly peeling up your back. When he gets near your breasts, you manage to inch your body off the mattress so it doesn’t get…well, caught.

Of course, as Barbatos pulls the fabric past your chest, you also realize that you hadn’t bothered to put on a bra today—entirely due to the fact that 1. Your body was too stiff to attempt even putting one on, and 2. Bras suck.

So now here you are—Barbatos finally ridding you of your shirt—which means you’re entirely bare from the waist up. Oh, and the only thing saving you from being completely naked in front of the royal butler is the pair of shorts you’re wearing, which suddenly feel far too short, and far too tight for comfort.

“Are you alright?” he questions. His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you feel goosebumps rise on your flesh. You’re so used to the sensation of his soft gloves, that the skin on skin contact is making you react in ways you hadn’t expected…

“I’m okay,” you respond, nodding a little. You move your arms so they’re folded beneath your cheek, and you carefully turn your head—facing yourself away from Barbatos. The last thing you want is him seeing how red you’ve become.

“If so, then I’ll begin,” he says. You hear him pop open the cap on the bottle, and you take a quiet breath—trying to prepare yourself. “If you ever feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“Will do, Barb.”

You mumble the words without thinking, and it takes your brain a second to realize what you’ve said.

“I-I mean--,” your words cut off, breath hitching as Barbatos grips your sides. He moves his hands gently against your back, spreading the oil on his palms across your soft skin.

“Barb?” he echoes, chuckling to himself. “That’s a first.”

“I--,” you shiver as he continues rubbing his hands up and down your spine. Apparently, you’re much more sensitive to touch than you’d realized. Just great. “—just…I mean. Slip of the tongue?”

“You may call me “Barb” if you so wish,” he responds, and you can hear the amusement lining his tone. The demon drags his hands back up to your shoulders, his thumbs kneading at the tense muscles near your neck, and whine leaves your lips.

“Good or bad?” he questions, and as another shiver rakes up your spine, you realize just how fucked you are. Your body, of course, aches beneath the surface, but your skin is just so sensitive. It takes all of your willpower to keep from writhing against the sheets as he continues his ministrations—rubbing circles between your shoulder blades.

“Um…a little of both?”

He hums considerately at your comment, his eyes surveying you closely. Even as you attempt to stifle the instinctive reactions of your body, there’s a subtle twitch of your muscles—a small intake of breath, or a flex of your toes.

When he reaches your mid-back—his fingers curling around your sides as he presses his thumbs into the muscles near your spine—he hears you gasp. Your body stiffens, fingers digging into the sheets near your head. Barbatos debates stopping, but…he gets the feeling that you’re not in pain.

As the thought occurs to him, a little bit of heat rise to his face. Until now, he hadn’t thought twice about your current position, or the fact that he’s touching you so intimately, but…

Barbatos swallows, yet his hands continue on their journey down the length of your back. He works slowly, doing his best to thoroughly rub every inch of skin—hoping to soothe the tight muscles that lay beneath. Perhaps if he focuses on the task at hand, he’ll forget about the little whines that spill from your lips, or the way your body shivers beneath his fingers.

As Barbatos faces his own dilemma, you find yourself rapidly descending into insanity. Each second that ticks by with the demon butler’s hands roaming your body has tendrils of heat snaking through your limbs. As much as you attempt to ignore the way his touches are making you feel, it’s nearly impossible.

Quicker than you had expected, you feel arousal beginning to pool between your legs. You’d hadn’t intended to get turned on by the massage, but here you are—desperately trying to smother the array of embarrassing sounds that have built in your chest.

However, the instant Barbatos’ hands move to your lower back—thumbs pressing into the muscles near your spine—your lips part.

“Fuck,” you moan, your body curving into the mattress. Your toes curl, knees bending as your calves lift from the sheets.

Barbatos’ hands still. You go stiff, all of the blood in your body rushing to your face.

“I…Barbatos, I am so sorry, I—”

“I’ve never witnessed anyone react to a massage so…vocally,” he says, picking his words carefully. His fingers coast up your sides, once against making you shiver, and you bite your lip to keep from gasping when you feel his hair tickle your cheek.

“Would you prefer if I stopped now?” The words are whispered into your ear. You can feel his hot breath on your skin—the curl of his fingers around your ribcage as he holds you—and your heartbeat quickens.

“I…I don’t want you to stop,” you respond honestly, voice quiet. “But I’m not sure I can stop myself either…”

“I never could have imagined that you would be so affected by a simple massage,” he chuckles, his fingers giving you a little squeeze as he leans back, retaking his standing position beside you. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I didn’t realize I would be either…I don’t blame you if you want to stop.”

“As long as you’re alright, I would like to keep going,” he informs you, his palms coasting down either side of your spine until his grip is once again settled near the sensitive spot on your tailbone. You keen as his hands cup either side of your ass, thumbs working into the tense muscles at the center of your back.

“Hah…,” your fingers once again grip the sheets. Now that Barbatos has addressed your reactions to his touches, you feel a bit more playful. “Are you actually enjoying my reactions?”

He chuckles. “Would it be inappropriate if I said yes?”

The gears in your head grind to a halt. Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips. That’s not what you had expected.

“…Really?”

“Perhaps it is a bit disgraceful for me to admit, but…,” his movements still, his fingers flexing and giving your ass the lightest of squeezes. “…I would very much enjoy it if we could continue.”

You’re surprised to hear such words from him, but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t excite you.

You nod your consent. “Go ahead.”

Barbatos reaches for the bottle of oil at his feet, pouring a little more into his hands. You jolt when his palms encase one of your thighs—his touch dragging down your leg until he gets to your ankle. He then repeats the action on your other leg, a smile tugging at his lips as he notes your body’s instinctual response to his touches.

However, he doesn’t make comment. Instead, he focuses on working at the muscles in your thighs—his thumbs carving a path down the center of the supple flesh. As he does so, you become acutely aware of how close his fingers are to your clothed womanhood.

The realization causes more wetness to pool between your legs, and you bite your lip, wondering exactly how much longer you’ll be able to withstand the massage before you finally crack.

You want to say that your current affliction is entirely your fault—that it’s solely a product of your oversensitive body’s reaction to the massage—but you know it’s not. Barbatos is obviously getting something out of this situation as well, and that something definitely bridges beyond the pride of being a good masseuse.  

Your toes curl as he works at the muscles in your calves—a sigh heavy with need passing through your parted lips.

You want him to touch you more. Where you’re aching to be touched.

“Barb--,” you start, mentally preparing yourself for the embarrassing question you’re about to ask, but you never get there. Barbatos presses his fingers into the back of your knee, and a moan tears from your throat.

The butler pauses, his gaze turning to your face. Until now, you’ve spent the massage facing away from him, but when he glances up, he finds that you’re returning his stare. Your entire face is red, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as a clear sign of your embarrassment. However, he can tell by the look in your eyes—your pupils blown wide—that you’re aroused.

His heart thumps painfully against his ribs.

“Barb, I--,” you don’t know what to say, entirely out of sorts. You’re ashamed, and horny, and a part of you wants to run away, but another part wants him to continue forever.

“Y/N,” he drags you out of your inner turmoil by speaking your name. One of his hands reaches forward, cupping your cheek. He leans in, your faces mere inches apart, and you finally notice the blush on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but there.

His gaze falls to your lips.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe immediately, and he closes the gap without second thought.

The kiss is tender—a little hesitant, but full of need, and not just from you. Sighing pleasantly, you mold your lips with his once more, and then again, but before you can turn the kisses into a full out make out session, you feel Barbatos’ palm on your ass.

His hand moves downward, sneaking between your snug thighs. When he presses his digits against your clothed sex, you can’t help the lewd gasp that leaves you. Your hips instinctively grind against him, seeking more friction, and you feel him smile.

“Shall I stop?” he whispers.

“No, don’t,” you shake your head, and Barbatos leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He’s pleased to hear those words.

Sitting back, Barbatos surveys you—watching you closely as he drags two of his fingers down the seam of your shorts. He hadn’t noticed before, but your arousal is already soaked into the dark fabric—a clear sign that you’d been enjoying his touches up until now.

When he finds that special bundle of nerves, drawing out another quiet cry falling from your lips, he chuckles. You bury your head in your folded arms, hips rocking back against his fingers.

“Ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to help yourself. You’re already so stupidly pent up from the massage—even him touching you through your shorts feels delicious. And Barbatos can’t help but get hard at the sight of you—your almost naked body curving against the mattress as you lift your hips and rock your pussy back and forth on his digits.

Reaching his free hand down, the demon butler gently squeezes your ass, relishing the little moan it draws from you. He helplessly craves to hear more of your sounds.

His fingers leave your clit, but before you can think to whine at the lost, you feel his digits curl around the crotch of your shorts. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs, but don’t indicate for him to stop. While you’re nervous, you want this.

And Barbatos makes note of your reaction, giving you a few ample seconds to express any discontent. However, you do not, and so the butler tugs your shorts to the side, revealing your womanhood. You bite your lip, wriggling as his other hand slips beneath your shorts—once again taking hold of your ass without the fabric barrier.

As he holds you steady, two of his digits once more slide between your slick folds, gathering your arousal. You expect him to go back to rubbing your clit, but instead he curls his fingers into your pussy, and a gasp falls from your lips.

“Oh, fuck, Barb.” You groan. Your fingers take hold of the bed sheets, lip tugging between your teeth as you feel him experimentally pump his fingers in and out of you—stretching out your wet walls.

He moves slowly—testing the waters, and you clench around him—enjoying the girth of his fingers. Barbatos can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Is this alright?” he questions, curling his digits. The action has you moaning, and you nod your head.

“More, please.”

Barbatos breathes out through his nose at that, a little amused at the sound of your need.

Kneeling against the edge of the mattress to get a better angle, Barbatos begins picking up his pace. His fingers curl against your walls, and he smiles when he finds your sensitive spot—a surprised gasp escaping you. Immediately your stomach is curving into the mattress—hips pressing back as you attempt to take him deeper.

Barbatos gives your ass a squeeze, eyes sparkling. He debates asking if you’re feeling good, but he already knows the answer.

With his finger still fucking into you—your hips now rocking back ever so slightly to meet him—Barbatos moves his other hand between your legs. His thumb rests against your clit, drawing languid circles, and your breath catches.

“Fuck,” you bite the word out, muscles tensing. The demon butler feels your pussy clench around his fingers—orgasm quickly rising to the surface.

“Barb, please,” you whine, tugging at the sheets. Your heart is racing, breathless pants falling from your lips. Always one to please, Barbatos is more than happy to oblige. He presses against your clit harder, rubbing quicker, and in less than a minute, you’re coming undone for him.

Moan slipping past your lips, you tumble into your orgasm. Your pussy contracts around his still moving fingers, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your body. The butler doesn’t pull his digits from inside of you until he sees your body go slack against the sheets.

“You’re certainly one hell of a masseuse,” you mumble once you’ve regained your bearings, causing him to chuckle.

“I can assure you most of my clients don’t end up with my fingers inside of them.”

“No?” you question, a playful post-orgasm glow on your face as you turn to look at him. He smiles fondly at the sight of your pleasantly flushed cheeks.

“No,” he reassures, eyes creasing as he seats himself on the mattress beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other, a sense of peace settling over the two of you. Then, your gaze falls to his lap. The tent against his slacks is quite obvious.

Noting where your eyes have strayed, Barbatos has the humility to blush.

“I apologize for my…reaction,” he quickly excuses himself, glancing away. “I assure you I didn’t intend to take advantage of you.”

Instead of responding, you press onto your hands and knees and turn to face him. With your face dangerously close to his crotch, you bat your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be perfectly alright with helping you in return, Barbatos.”

The butler looks shocked at the offer, but after a few seconds, he lifts a hand and gently cards it through your hair—a soft look of hunger in his eyes.

“Only if you wish.”

Smiling, you immediately prop onto your elbows—knees folding on the bed beneath you—and reach out to fiddle with his pants. Within seconds, you’ve managed to free his length. Your hand immediately wraps around the base of his shaft, and Barbatos closes his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath.

You smile at his pleased reaction, your mouth moving to press a kiss against his slit before you stick out your tongue and roll it around the head of his cock. And when you take him into your mouth—your hand still fisted around the lower half of his length, stroking languidly—his breath catches. The fingers in your hair grip a bit tighter.

You giggle around his cock.

“Good?” you question, pulling off. Your hand moves in bolder strokes against him, making up for the absence of your mouth as you turn to stare up at the demon. There’s a blush dusting his cheeks.

“I believe you’re asking a question you already know the answer to,” he responds, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You smile cheekily at his words, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly around his length. You see his jaw clench.

“Good.”

Turning, you once more take the tip of his cock between your lips. You focus yourself on pleasing Barbatos—alternating between trailing your tongue against him, and sucking him into your mouth. The combination of your hand pumping his shaft, and your mouth concentrating on his head is quite honestly devastating, and within minutes the demon butler finds himself nearing his release.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice slightly strained. He gives your roots a little tug, and you release him from your mouth with an audible pop. You’re seriously going to drive him crazy.

“Yes?” you question, your hand continuing to stroke him. You feel his cock jump in your grip.

“Stay like this,” he says, keeping his hold on your hair. You take that as a sign to get him off with just your hand, and you don’t complain. If that’s his preference, then you’re more than happy to go with it.

Aware of his impending orgasm, you simply continue your ministrations—your fist pumping his shaft until he finally reaches his breaking point. With a shaky breath, Barbatos spills his seed into your hand. His chest rises and falls quickly as you pump him through his orgasm without missing a beat.

You only stop when he’s milked dry—his length beginning to go soft in your grasp.

“Is that fair payment for the massage?” you ask, looking up at him with a smile. He loosens his grip on your hair—his hand moving to cup your cheek as he stares at you. You can see the post-orgasm satisfaction swimming in his green eyes.

“No payment was required,” he tells you honestly. “But yes, that was very much enjoyable.”

A warm feeling of contentment settling in your chest, you move to sit up, but pause when you realize that you’re still topless. Eyes going wide, you cross your arms over your chest, face heating up, and Barbatos chuckles.

“After all we’ve experienced together tonight, you’re suddenly coy about me seeing your breasts?”

“You hush,” you tell him, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. You reach down to fetch your discarded t-shirt, and when you stand straight, an arm wraps around your waist from behind.

“You’re covered in oil, so I would suggest showering,” Barbatos tells you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. The contact is only for a brief moment—his touch disappearing as he separates himself, taking a step back—and yet your heart flutters. “I’ll prepare the tea while you clean up.”

“Okay…,” you agree, glancing over your shoulder at him. He’s smiling pleasantly, looking far too put together for someone that just came a minute before. There’s not a hair out of place on his head—or even a stain on his trousers.

How unfair.

Turning, you head into your bathroom to rinse off, and Barbatos immediately busies himself with readying your beverages for the evening.

By the time you return from your shower—t-shirt back in place, and a towel atop your damp hair, the room is set up for a tea party. Barbatos is seated on one side of the table, casually surveying a book that you’d left on your desk. One you’d borrowed from Satan.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking up so much of your evening,” he says when he spots you, setting down the reading material.

“Not at all,” you say, moving to join him. Despite the newly shared intimacy between the two of you, the atmosphere feels comfortable, and you’re grateful for that.

Standing, Barbatos pours you both a cup of tea, and things fall into place as usual. You spend a long while chatting—catching up on events of the previous week, and talking about whatever topics cross your mind. By the time the snacks are gone, and the tea has gone cold, it’s quite late.

“I apologize for staying until such an hour,” he says as you help him clean the table. The screen of your DDD indicates that it’s already past 11. You shake your head.

“Seriously, Barb, it’s no big deal. I lost track of time too.”

He can’t help but chuckle at your nickname for him. It’s a nickname that will be solely reserved for you to say.

“Still, it is a school night. I’d best not stay any longer, or I fear Lucifer will have my head.”

“Well, I can’t exactly disagree with that,” you respond with a laugh, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes trail on him as he finishes packing the basket he’d arrived with. He then picks it up, and starts for your door. You quietly follow after him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, although you already know you will. Of course you will—Barbatos is always at RAD during the week.

Nonetheless, the demon butler smiles at you.

“Yes, I look forward to seeing you.”

With that, he grasps the doorknob and pulls your door open. However, he makes it only one step into the hall before he pauses, turning back to face you.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You blink. “Hmm?”

“If you’d ever like another massage, please don’t hesitate to let me know. It seems to have worked wonders for you.”

A playful grin pulls at his lips, and he’s gone before you are able to fully digest his words. It takes you a good few seconds to realize what he means—your eyes looking down at yourself, and registering that you’re standing and walking without a sliver of pain.

“Ah!” you say, shocked, and you swear you hear him laugh from up the hall.

[justgenshinstuf]

Darknight Hero

This one is about Traveler(reader) becoming a witness to an aftermath of Diluc’s reckless Batman games ;3c 

TW: blood mention

Traveler(Reader) x Diluc implied 

You’ve been staying in his mansion for a few days now.

Diluc offered it right after you’d finished your first quest together.

“Ordo Favonious Quarters is not the best place to stay at, trust me on this one”.

It was quite peaceful here, at the Dawn Winery. Only the sound of the leaves trembling in the wind behind your window.

But that night you just could not sleep. Different thoughts were clouding your mind as you stayed awake for several hours. And you thought the last mission tired you enough.

Too many servants and all kinds of workers circulating around the house have usually made you a bit uncomfortable, as well as this strong wine odour constantly filling the air. 

You could rarely meet Diluc here, he was mostly too occupied with his work and stayed at his office behind closed doors, or was gone, attending some other matters outside of the Dawn Winery.

The only person who could get in contact with Diluc most of the time was Elzer, the man left in charge of things, when the Master was absent. Diluc trusted him the most among his servants, you even learned he was the only one to know the true story behind the ‘Darknight Hero’.

This day at the Winery was a bit different than usual. Elzer and a few others left to deal with something important at Master’s request. The Mansion felt empty for the first time, especially at night, when all of the maids stayed in the opposite wing of the house. 

Dilluc himself was away for the whole day. You were used to the fact he could randomly disappear without notice and then come back in the same manner, greeting you the morning after, like nothing was wrong. Maybe the following morning will be just like that...

You finally gave up on sleeping and just sat on your bed. You felt uneasy for some reason, like something bad was about to happen. Stupid anxiety.

You stood up and went to the window. Floor boards creaked under your feet, disturbing the atmosphere even more. You couldn’t see any stars or even the moon, dark clouds covered the whole sky, swallowing all the light. Maybe the storm was coming? 

You turned your back to the window, settling dow, the back of your head resting beside the cold glass. Your eyes slightly adjusted to the dark, and contours of the furniture in your room slowly became more visible.

It was a big guest room, with a bed bigger than you probably needed, a wardrobe and a writing table. A picture was hanging on the wall, but at that moment you couldn’t quite make it out. Ugh, I’m so tired...

THUD

A loud noise pierced the silence, making you jump up from the window. You froze, only the sound of your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. What was that?!

Your room was not so far from Diluc’s bedroom, one long hallway away. Maybe someone broke in? Without much thinking you took off to where the sound supposedly came from, but stopped at the door in case you hear something else.

Someone was definitely in there and, by the sound of it, the window was wide open too. The maids would be no use in fighting an intruder, it was up to you to take the situation into your own hands. You worked up the courage and threw the door open.

There, in the dim light of gas lamp, a dark figure hunched up, sitting on the floor beside the bed. He threw his head of tumbled bright-red hair back, getting a better look at you.

There could be no mistake. It was Diluc! You rushed to his side, trying to examine him more closely. 

“What happened?! Are you injured?” You could now see some blood dripping from his head, some droplets of it on the floor. Instinctively, you grabbed his hand, pulling away instantly, as he growled from pain. 

“We need to take you to the hospital ASAP! You..”

“Hush!” He cut you off abruptly. “It’s fine. I can handle this”.

“You have blood on your face, this is serious!” You switched to angry whispering to match him.

“First drawer, brown box. There are some bandages inside. Could you, please, give it to me?” A short nod in the direction of the dresser. It seemed like your words had no affect on him what so ever.

You fulfilled his request, still irritated by his intentional neglect, but you were not going to let him do everything himself. 

The box was bigger than you’d expected, filled with all kinds of medical supply. You even caught a glimpse of a surgical needle and a thread. How long has he been doing that? Did his previous Darknight Hero justice-raids end like this? Why did’t you hear? 

You treated his injured head, stopping the blood, gently washing it off his face. You assisted him taking off his muddy coat and tight west, looking for more bleedings. Thankfully, there weren’t much more open wounds, mostly bruises. You also noted Diluc couldn’t move his right hand normally.

“Cryogunners working with hydrogunners. Those damned Fatui”.  

He was speaking through clenched teeth, slowly pulling off his glove. His hand looked almost white in color, nails turning blue-ish. You’d never seen a limb nearly frozen like that before. It was probably not the only part of his body injured like that.

He tried wiggling his fingers, but it seemed like it caused him much pain. He reached for the box with his working hand, taking a little flask from under all the bandages.

Before you could ask anything, Diluc swiftly uncapped it with his thumb and drank light shiny substance in one gulp.

“This should do”. He proclaimed, cringing slightly from the taste.

“This is a potion made with the use of alchemy. It can decrease damage caused by Cryo”. He blankly stared at the bottle he was fiddling in his hand for a moment, before looking straight at you. “It shouldn’t be used like that, per se, but I’ll probably be fine in a few hours”.

You sighed deeply, seating yourself more comfortably in front of Diluc. It wasn’t like you were planning on going somewhere before you could see him recover with your own two eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

A few more hours passed. Diluc had told you how Fatui Skirmishers tracked and ambushed him. They probably planned to take him on by numbers, but he still managed to defeat every single one of them. What you witnessed was just ‘an unpleasant result of poor planning’ as he’d put it. You were sure he left some things out of this story.

 The sun was slowly rising, first rays lighting up the bedroom. In this light it was visible how tired and worn out you both were. Things Diluc accidentally knocked over while entering throgh the window were still scattered on the floor. You eyelids felt heavy, but you still took some time to tidy up.

“Alright, I think I’m fine”. Diluc suddenly interrupted sleep-inducing silence that was going on for some time and carefully got up on his feet. “You should probably go back to your room and get some rest”.

For some reason, he was now avoiding your gaze. On a brighter side, he really did look better.

“Thank you for your help, y/n. I owe you one from now on.”. 

It seemed like he was being impatient. Was he worried someone would realise you spent the night together? You didn’t feel like you were done here.

“I know I can’t dictate you what to do, but I think you are taking on too much”. You tried not to make it sound rude, but it came out pretty straight-forward. He scared you, now you couldn’t help it but worry when he is gone for too long. Oh, who were you kidding, you’ve already been stressing while he was out playing vigilante. 

“You’re certainly right, y/n” You never noticed his fiery eyes looked so cold. “You can’t tell me what to do”. 

Why is he so dense?!

There was a moment of awkward silence. You gave him a simple nod and turned around to retreat back to your room. Something made you stop right in the doorway. You clenched your fists and sharply turned around.

A sudden determination overflown you, and you marched straight back to face Diluc. Without further hesitation you wrapped your arms around him, locking him in a tight embrace.

“Just promise me you will be more careful”. You demanded quietly but firmly.

Diluc was certainly not the one to openly show affection. These distant types of people rarely engage in touchy-feely things, so it turned out to be quite a surprise when he put his arm around you in return, gently pressing your head against his chest with the other one. You couldn’t see that, but his face turned slightly red.

“I can try”.

[bonesandthebees]

dsmp pacific rim au headcanons

I can't draw but my brain had the idea for a pacific rim au and I was shocked that I couldn't find anyone else who'd done it before so here are some random headcanons about some of the jaeger pilot teams

Tommy and Wilbur

They met back at the academy when Wilbur was like 15 and Tommy was a feral 10 year old who liked to bite people and Wilbur was like "you're my little brother now"

Although Wilbur wasn't particularly suited to jaeger piloting, Tommy was and the two had extremely high drift compatibility so they chucked the two of them in a jaeger together

Although you're technically not supposed to graduate the academy till you're 18, Tommy was graduated early (around 16-17ish) thanks to his 'potential'

Together he and Wilbur were extremely successful at fighting kaiju and had several wins under their belts

Then one day a fight went terribly wrong and Wilbur got killed while they were drifting

After that Tommy tried to jump back into piloting with Tubbo, but it was obvious he wasn't in a good mental space for it despite how much he tried to deny it so he's currently on a mental health break

Phil and Techno

These two are living legends

Considered some of the greatest jaeger pilots of all time

Their jaeger is called The Angel of Death

Whenever anyone asks how the two of them met Phil and Techno just say they're old friends even though Techno is like around the same age as Phil's son

B/c phil was such a famous pilot he was always being transferred around the world and never got to see Wilbur much

They wrote letters to each other but only got to see each other in person on rare occasions

Finally though Phil and Techno are transferred to the same base Wilbur and Tommy are stationed at, and Wilbur introduces Phil to Tommy and there's a very awkward, kind of tense, but well-meaning reunion

Until an emergency alarm goes off and Wilbur and Tommy are called out to fight

That's the last time Phil gets to see his son :)

Tubbo and Ranboo

Tubbo for the most part was always considered a 'backup' pilot

While he and Tommy were drift compatible, they weren't as compatible as Wilbur and Tommy so Tubbo was often relegated to a backup role

Spent most of his time on the base working as an assistant to the engineering department

After Wilbur's death he and Tommy try to work as a pilot team but Tommy hasn't fully recovered mentally

One day though a new kid is transferred to the base

everyone calls him Ranboo and he's never seen without a face mask or sunglasses on

No one knows much about him except that they haven't managed to find anyone he's drift compatible with

He's very awkward and nervous but genuinely very nice as well

Tubbo takes a liking to him immediately and the two quickly become friends

One day they're just sparring for practice when a supervisor walking by realizes they're drift compatible

The two end up becoming the newest hotshot jaeger pilots with ridiculously high drift compatibility

Jack and Niki

You didn't think I'd leave team rocket out did you?

Jack and Niki were best friends from the academy and always knew they were gonna be jaeger pilots together

Used to be really good friends with Tommy and Wilbur and the four of them would hang out a lot

After Wilbur's death though things splinter between them

Jack and Tommy get into a big argument only a few months after Wilbur's death that ends up turning physical and Niki has to pry them apart

Niki logically knows that the accident wasn't Tommy's fault but a part of her resents Tommy for Wilbur's death

She knows that isn't right to think but being lost in her grief makes it hard to think straight

Her and Jack tend to stay away from Tommy after that, but while Jack is openly antagonistic to Tommy, Niki tries to still be polite to him when she sees him

that's all I'm gonna ramble about for now but I have so many ideas for this au for other characters and where they fit in so uhh if people like this I guess I'll reblog and add more headcanons?? idk let me know what your thoughts are lol

[autisticmuse]

As promised, I have spoken with my psychologist about the point and purpose/use cases of my little health assessment tool I developed. Initially she was concerned that this was a way for me to minimize/distance myself from emotional experiences but after explaining further to her how I use it she endorsed it fully. I cannot stress enough that allowing yourself to healthily experience and work through emotions is critical to developing a healthy sense of self and identity. Understanding when you are healthy enough to handle emotional experiences or being aware that your emotions are going to be disproportionate due to a lower mental health state to help manage experiences can help you to work through and make positive memories out of situations which might otherwise overwhelm and shut you down.

At any rate, this tool is meant as a stepping stone to help train yourself to connecting with your full health and better self care. The more you use it the less you’ll need to ask the questions and be able to answer straight up, “today is a good day,” or “today my mental health isn’t so good, that is why i’m more emotional and i might not be eating well today.” I’ve been doing it for a month and am really seeing a lot of positive impacts in this regard.

---------

The RGB Self Care Assessment

Disclaimer; The purpose of this assessment is only to assist in better self awareness of the state you are in. Being aware of how you are physically, mentally, and emotionally doing on a day to day basis can help you treat yourself better and establish healthy boundaries. This can also be useful for tracking trends in your health and seeing how deficits or excesses in one or more categories can impact others. This is in no way a diagnostic tool and the RGB color spectrum side of things is entirely optional, but useful for creating an easy visual chart to see trends and patterns. The 9 questions are also not set in stone, feel free to develop your own questions to customize the system for your concerns regarding your health.

-----

To help practice awareness of my personal health and how I am feeling on a daily basis I developed a simple system of 9 data points, rated 1 through 10, to assess how I am currently doing in three categories. 1 being I am doing poorly at the point in question, 10 being I am doing excellent. After rating the three points of a color category you average them for a result. This, converted to a percentage (i.e. a 6 would be 60%) is then multiplied by 255 (the maximum value of the color in the RGB scale) to give you the final color value for that category (60% of 255 is 153, so Red 153 would be the final value). You can also just estimate where you think the final value is once familiar with the questions and bypass the math.

Each of the three points is accompanied by example questions to help understand the point and better rate it. The purpose is awareness of my own health so as long as I am thinking about the point that is the most important part. The final score/color value is a helpful visual representation.

Red - Physical Health - The purpose of the Physical Health category is to connect with your body and understand the condition you are in.

1. Current Physical Condition - are you healthy, injured, in pain, or uncomfortable? 2. Hygiene - have you been taking care of cleanliness and keeping well groomed? 3. Diet/Hydration - Have you been eating healthy and regularly; are you drinking enough water?

Green - Mental Health - The purpose of the Mental Health category is to connect with your mind and understand if you are experiencing difficulty and shutting down. If you have consumed any drugs or stimulants (coffee, cigarettes, recreational or otherwise) try to answer these 2-3 hours after finishing so that an honest, unaffected answer is achieved

1. Executive Function - How well are you handling day to day tasks and basic life skills? Are you struggling to carry through with simple actions? 2. Motivation/Creativity - Are you having difficulty finding interest in things? Are you shutting down when thinking through problems or simple actions? 3. Focus/initiative - Do you struggle to maintain a thought or interest? Are you having trouble despite motivation to begin a task?

Blue - Emotional Health - The purpose of the Emotional Health category is to connect with your emotions and understand if you are at risk of emotional damage or capable of handling emotionally charged experiences

1. Anxiety/stress - Are you experiencing looping/restrictive thoughts? Are you feeling optimistic or pessimistic? 2. Emotional sensitivity/vulnerability - Are you feeling strong/secure in your emotions? Do you feel that your emotional responses are volatile or uncontrolled? Are you reacting stronger to stimuli than you feel is normal? Do you feel vulnerable? 3. Empathy - Have you emotionally retreated? Do you feel overwhelmed by emotional media or displays (crying at music, etc)? Do you feel open or closed to experiencing emotional things?

An example completion of the RGB assessment: R1 - 5 R2 - 8 R3 - 9 R Average - 7.3 / 10 = 73% * 255 = 187 R Final Value - 187 G1 - 8 G2 - 8 G3 - 7 G Average - 7.6 / 10 = 76% * 255 = 195.5 G Final Value - 195 B1 - 6 B2 - 5 B3 - 4 B Average - 5 / 10 = 50% * 255 = 127.5 B Final Value - 127

(a good website for inputting RGB values and getting a hex or color name is https://www.color-blindness.com/color-name-hue/)

Final RGB value = 187, 195, 127

Misty Moss

A reminder - The color result is of no actual immediate purpose but in general the way the assessment works a well rounded healthy condition should be trending to white while darker colors indicates a trending toward poor health. Brighter saturation of any of the three colors can help indicate defecits and over time trends of how different parts of your health impact others should be easier to notice.

If you made it this far and have any feedback, questions, or comments on the system I’d be happy to discuss them either openly in the comments or privately if you want to DM me. I’d love more feedback on how you would approach this and whether or not you feel it is useful or helping.

[jeonqquk]

laundry | jjk [ep.4]

pairing: jeongguk x reader genre/tags: assistant!jeongguk, regionalmanager!reader, crack, fluff, shitty in general rating: 13+ word count: 2409 words

30 minutes after Jeongguk’s mouth inspection for a crown, you walk out of your office again, happy to see that everyone else is still silent and no drama has taken place. “Gguk can I talk to you for a second?” Said boy looks up from his desk, confusion evident on his face as you call him for the second time that day. Nevertheless, Jeongguk gets up and follows you into your small office, hands behind his back as he walks cautiously into the room he was never afraid to enter without your permission before. You don’t spare him a single glance after having requested him to come in with you and turn left before sitting at one of the chairs near the potted plant opposite your desk. Jeongguk sits diagonally to you on a chair against the glass. You sigh, getting ready to speak as Jeongguk looks at you with a curious gaze. Exhaling loudly, you smile at Jeongguk “Wow! This is tough.” You talk mainly to yourself and bend forwards, hands landing on your head in a gesture of irritation.

“What is?” you look at Jeongguk with wide eyes and throw your head back, hand massaging your forehead as you passionately act. “How do I tell you this?” Jeongguk doesn’t understand and just looks at your suffering state before he leans in closer, nodding encouragingly. Your breathing turns heavier before Jeongguk worriedly places a hand on your shoulder and you finally gather yourself. 

“I just got off the phone with Namjoon.” Jeongguk exhales sharply, hand falling from your shoulder as his mouth falls slightly open. His hands come up to rest on his thighs as his tongue darts out to wet his lips in a probably nervous action. His breathing visibly halts and you rub your hand on your face. 

“And….he demoted me.” Jeongguk sputters, eyes going wide as his face turns slightly angry- genuine or not, you didn’t care. “No.” he grits out and your eyebrows are raised, an indication that you were equally as pissed. “You know what the craziest part is?” Jeongguk gulps audibly and you continue, “He demoted me to your job and now, you’re apparently the regional manager.” 

Jeongguk tries his best to hide his glee, he really does, but it’s hard to fake a frown when he’s figuratively jumping on top of the desk. His eyes go wide and he throws his head back, blowing out as a sign of disturbing shock. He stares straight ahead and doesn’t look at you, in case he bursts out laughing. 

“He said that you should expect a call from corporate. So now you’re gonna be acting as regional manager.” you get up to hug him and he hesitantly does the same. “Wait, aren’t you angry about this, though?” You look at him with a bright smile, “No! This is so good for you. I should go back to sales anyways.” 

Jeongguk finally lets himself laugh freely, thanking you for the congratulations as you drag him out. “I’m the Assistant Regional Ma-” “Assistant to the Regional Manager.” he corrects and you clench your jaw, nodding forcedly. 

The office doesn't look very happy about it, “Hello everyone. I have some good and bad news. The bad news is- I’m going to be replaced by Jeongguk as your leader. And that is also the good news.” you hear the audible groans of people, Soojung getting up in annoyment “Why does he become the manager?”

Jeongguk is unfazed by everyone’s unenthusiasm and continues smiling and waving his hand like he’s some diva. “Because he was the second highest ranking position.” your answer is curt and Soojung storms off into the ladies room. Jeongguk walks back into the office with one final glance at all the disgruntled employees. You follow him.

Sitting on a chair, you watch as Jeongguk sits down at his (your) desk and bounces lightly on the swivelling chair, as if testing it’s cushioning. He nods to himself and you can only watch with angry eyes as he moves the things around. The rubber ball and mug that said ‘World's Best Boss’ going into a tray along with some papers.

When Jeongguk looks as if he’s finished, he sits at his chair and you get up, flashing him a fake smile, “Well, I guess it’s time for me to turn over the keys to the famous Sebring.” Jeongguk, who’s smiling at something on the desktop, doesn’t even bother looking at you “No, thank you.” He seems to have acquired a new sense of superiority, fake promotion that you were giving him stroking his already huge ego. 

“It’s a corporate lease, Gguk. You’ve earned it.” you’re getting annoyed by the second and his carefreeness does nothing  to calm you down. Still, you attempt at making a natural face when he says “No, thanks” again. 

“What?” you’re pretty sure that he’s thinking of himself as your boss now, obviously, but you never thought that he would reject your car like this. “Not my style.” You’re boiling form anger on the inside, trying to control all the rage bottling up inside of you. 

“But you said you liked it, you’ve always admired it and-” “That was before. I’m thinking of getting something German,” He leans back in his chair “something with a decent gas mileage.”

Your jaw drops in a mix of shock, anger and humiliation because never had you expected these words to come out of Jeongguk’s mouth so easily. “Plus, that convertible is a ridiculous choice for this climate.” He makes a disgusted face, and you’re practically seething at this point, and you’re able to feel the smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the side of Jeongguk’s face who seems to be too invested in whatever the screen was showing. 

“Take it back” Jeongguk’s goofy smile is replaced by a confused one, “No.” Your jaw clenches, muscles contracting as you glare at Jeongguk, closing your eyes for a split second before opening them again, and you keep your hands on the edge of the desk in a vain attempt to calm yourself down. 

“What did you-” “That’s my car!” Jeongguk begins but you cut him off, all the manners your preschool teacher had taught you flying right out your head as your furious self screams at him, all the employees looking at the closed room at the sudden noise. 

“Yes,” Jeongguk beings uncertainly, but you lose your composure finally, spilling the truth that you knew about his secret meeting with Namjoon. “I know, Jeongguk. I know, I know.” You walk around the table, and Jeongguk turns his chair to see you coming closer to him. “Know what?” 

“Namjoon called me about your little meeting.” you can taste the venom in your words, the unadulterated poison that comes from your mouth even surprises you but you don’t stop. “I know what you did. You fucking backstabber.” 

Jeongguk’s aghast by your cruelty, standing up in fear and moving back, as far as he could get from you in this small office. He’s shaking from fright at this point, as your head throbs from the fact that all you could see right now was red. 

“I know what you did.” Jeongguk shakes his head, weakly trying to defend himself but his face gives it all away, his guilt-ridden face turning pale and lips quivering. “The Sebring’s cool-” He does all he can to save himself from your wrath. The sight must definitely not be too pleasant to witness as Jeongguk walks backwards until he’s in front of the desk and you’re in front of him, the view clear from the glass through which everyone was staring at you two openly. 

“I made the whole thing up.” your voice grows colder, scarier by the minute and Jeongguk notices this, his eyes glossy from fear that you would go hard on him. Jeongguk’s breathing gets heavier by the minute, yours too but it’s out of the rage in you that you probably look like a bull right now. 

“How dare you? How dare you, Jeongguk?” Frankly, this was not what you would have expected from such a hardworking and dedicated employee, but everyone’s inner demon came out at some point. Jeongguk kneels down in front of you, hands together as tears form in his eyes. In any other situation, you would've sympathised with him, upset that such a dear friend had to go through any kind of pain. 

Right now, though, you scream profanities at him, anger spilling out in the form of swears no one could think of as the rest of the office watches, some with pitiful faces for Jeongguk and others looking shit scared. “Don’t fire me. Please don-” Jeongguk is literally begging you, pants getting dirty from kneeling on the carpet and your vein pops as you shout, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you right here on the spot.” You half-sit on the chair, eyes red as you stare Jeongguk down, his gaze pathetic and wavering. 

The scene must look terrible. But you don’t care, the solution to everything seems violence and the sight of Jeongguk just angers you even more. 

“I have excellent sales numbers!” he yells and you roar back, “Not good enough!” Jeongguk looks pathetic, a mess at your feet and you swipe your hair back roughly, face probably cherry red. Everyone else is staring at the scene, glancing sideways at each other in pity. 

In the corner, Yunha sits, unable to look at the scene because she knows exactly what’s going on, and regrets ever putting the idea of Jeongguk becoming regional manager in his head. Her eyes well with tears and she rushes out, her exit so discrete that not one person notices her. 

Jeongguk covers his face with his trembling hands, sobbing loudly as you try to gain your calm demeanour back. He pulls at his hair, bending down and going into a praying position at your feet. “Please! I’ll do your laundry for a month- for a year.” He tries bargaining as you stand fuming, “I have a laundry machine.”

“Y/n. I’m sorry. Anything.” Jeongguk is bawling his eyes out, face on the carpet as he watches his entire career fall into pieces in front of him. He looks heart-breaking and you feel bad only for a second before replacing the sympathy with rage once more, “Please? Please?” he pleas and you shake your head, struggling not to burst into tears yourself. Why. You don’t know.

“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” His head is still on the carpet and normally, you would’ve told him to get up from such a vulnerable position but you’re not even looking at him now, as the annoyance takes over your entire being. 

“You can’t, you ca-can’t.” the way his voice breaks has you biting your lip in hopes of not breaking down right then and there. What he did was unacceptable, yes. But everyone made mistakes, some graver than the others and you find yourself asking yourself why Jeongguk couldn’t be given a second chance. Tonguing your cheek, you look around and glance at the other employees who are all sat with sad faces. 

“But I promise I’ll never betray you again. Ever. What can I do? What can I do, Y/n?” he hiccups and you stand still, trying to collect all your thoughts as you take in a deep, deep breath. Even the emotionless Soojung watches with pitiful eyes as Jeongguk tries to get out of being fired. 

You exhale deeply and Jeongguk, whose back probably starts paining from bending so much, raises his hips, going into a mountain position with his head still in between his arms. It takes him a while, all the crying having made him weak. Jungwoo, the ever so caring worker also watches with a judging gaze as Jeongguk shifts around, not looking up once. His ass raises and falls many times as he tries to find a comfortable position while still trying to look regretful. 

“You can get up.” You roll your eyes and speak without looking at him, “What?” Jeongguk still doesn’t look up in case he heard you wrong. You blink in annoyance and speak again louder this time and hopefully clearer because all the shouting previously had most definitely been good for your throat. 

“Get up,” Jeongguk raises his head slightly from the floor first and then picks himself up with his muscly arms. You catch a peek at his purple underwear but quickly divert your gaze, making a face after. Jeongguk stands up to his full height and if it weren’t for the slight saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, you would’ve wanted to slap him. He looks, to an extent, funny and you swallow a giggle, surprised at how quickly your anger had vanished after thinking rationally about the situation. 

“And you can hug it out, bitch.”

You open your arms in the slightest and Jeongguk notices this, face turning from upset to happy in a matter of seconds. He wipes his tears with the sleeve of his blazer and you try smiling at him, a gesture he returns with the same amount of enthusiasm. 

Jeongguk shuts his eyes for a fraction of a second, nodding to himself in appreciation and abruptly pulls you into one of the most bone-crushing hugs you’ve ever been suffocated in. And that was saying something- your arm once went limp when Daehwi hugged you after a week of him being in Philadelphia. 

Jeongguk shuts his eyes, his hot breath fanning your neck and you try not to think much about it, or show any reaction to it and try to wrap your arms around his bulky form in return. “Thank you so much, Y/n.” He mumbles into your hair and a shiver runs down your spine as you clench your hands. His arms around your waist are unmoving and tight, and he only withdraws them when you start to feel your waist paining from his ironclad grip and tap his arms. 

He moves back and you send him another smile, more natural this time and he giggles back in return, but you're still not completely over it yet. You have two more things for Jeongguk to do before completely forgiving him and you know that as humiliating one of them will be, you won’t fully forgive him until he agrees.

previous

thanks for reading! this is probably the longest laundry chap so send in feedback and your thoughts about this chapter!

[shutupaboutandraste]

Welcome to the DADWC! Here is a prompt for you! Restaurant AU, with the characters of your choice!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope the drabble is to your liking. 

Word Count: 1655

Pairing: Cullen/Bull

For @dadrunkwriting

Going to restaurants was an added benefit of being friends with Vivienne. Madame De Fer’s Critiques was the formal review column that she ran, seemingly dictating the future of upper echelon restaurants. This was not one of those restaurants. A greasy hole-in-the-wall bar and grille had been Bull’s desired stop of the night. She had dragged her friend around all day from place to place all weekend. Now out of reviewable restaurants, Bull had desired food with fat and grease and everything else bad for you.

“Couldn’t have picked a place a little cleaner?” she asked, her nose turning up as she sat down at the bar with Bull. 

The place was smoky with dark lighting, harsh yellow incandescent lamps hung from the ceiling and came out of the wall at each booth. The ones at the booths had a dirty stained glass look to them, mixes of the deep yellow with rich reds and blues. The cushions were worn red leather. Booze wafted around them, mixing in with the scents of mouth-watering food.   

A gleeful smile crossed Bull’s face as he shook his head, “Absolutely not. You dressed me up for your fancy shit, now we get to eat where I like, Ma’am.” 

Vivienne tutted, “I’m a fine dining connoisseur. This bar food won’t impress me unless it tastes like gold.”

“I hope not,” Bull told her, “I think gold food would taste pretty shitty.” Vivienne groaned. 

From behind the bar, a curly-haired blond man approached, shaking a martini mixer vigorously. That certainly caught Bull’s eye. Firm fingers held the silver cups, curling at the tips to keep the glass in place. A wry smirk came over Bull’s lips as the man’s rhythm slowed before he poured the drinks before carefully sliding them to another couple of patrons. A tired, but gentle smile was turned his and Vivienne's way, reaching beneath the bar and pulling out two menus, placing them before the duo. “Welcome to Herald’s Rest,” he said, “My name’s Cullen--” 

“Bull,” he interrupted with a wink. 

Cullen seemed taken aback, no doubt trying to figure out if that was deliberate or a blink, but did his best customer service smile. Bull avoided cringing. Okay that was the wrong move for this guy, then. 

 “Nice to meet you,” Cullen said before diving into the specials for the evening as well as the unique drafts they had that night. 

Vivienne actually looked almost impressed at the selection, which was probably the best this place would get from her. Both of them ordered their meals in quick succession-- a whiskey bourbon burger for Bull and a salmon salad for Vivienne. She wasn’t sure she should trust the fish here, but Cullen assured her that they always bought their fish fresh every morning. The owner would allow nothing less than perfection when it came to quality. 

“I will be the judge of that, dear,” Vivienne had told him. 

And, to Bull’s surprise, she judged it quite well. Much to his delight, he watched her sneak out her phone, quickly tapping away some notes in the folder that held her restaurant reviews. As Cullen made his way back over to check on them, she quickly slid it back into her purse. Her shoulders rolled back into a confident smile while Bull leaned forward on the bar. 

“I hope everything is to your liking,” he said, taking away Bull’s empty glass, “And you’d like a refill?” 

“Please,” replied Bull. Cullen quickly got to work mixing a cocktail for Bull. Normally, he went for straight liquor, but oh what those hands could do. 

Vivienne told him that everything most certainly was. They chatted pleasantly while Bull watched, silent and studying. Their bartender was certainly well-kpet-- firm stubbled chin, a lip scar that seemed to enhance his face rather than detract, perfectly curled and styled hair, even his shirt-- a black tee that had ‘Herald’s Rest’ emblazoned on it in bold letters-- was fitted to perfection. Eventually, of course, a crack had to show. As Cullen finished pouring the drinks, he set down the shaker to clasp his fingers. To the naked eye he might have just been trying to crack his knuckles, but Bull could see that they were shaking. 

“You alright, man?” he asked, with a mark of genuine concern in his voice. 

A real smile crossed Cullen’s face this time as he nodded, “Yes, my apologies, I’ll have your drinks in a moment….” True to his word, Cullen was able to give them their drinks, though Bull watched as the man kept his eyes trained on his fingers, as if waiting for them to betray him. Thankfully, they lasted long enough to deliver them safely. He nodded, “Let me or Sera know if you need anything else.” 

At hearing her name, the other bartender, a blond elven woman with hand-cropped hair, looked up. Cullen gave her a nod which she nodded back to before moving to handle her customers again. Bull turned to make sure his good eye watched Cullen slip into the kitchen. A small frown took over his face-- Vivienne would say he was pouting, but he didn’t pout. 

Though, instead, finishing her meal, Vivienne slipped out of her chair, “Unfortunately, I need to use the powder room.” 

“Have fun with that,” snickered Bull, casting her a wry glance before turning his attention back toward the door. 

He stayed like that for a while before he heard someone huff. He turned to see the elven woman--Sera-- looking at him, grabbing some empty dishes and glasses from the couple next to Bull and Vivienne who had just left. Instead of speaking, he just shrugged at her. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout ‘im,” she said, “Takes a bit ‘fore he can come back. Shakes and all.” 

“He okay?” asked Bull. 

“I jus’ said don’ worry ‘bout ‘im, right?” she told him, “Yeesh.” 

True to her word, Cullen did reappear just as Sera said no more than five minutes later. Vivienne still hadn’t come back from the bathroom, which was concerning. He hoped that fish had been up to quality despite how the bar looked. Bull watched Cullen flex his hand, leaning against the wall as he looked nervously at the bar. Bull slipped out of his seat, taking Vivienne’s purse with him. Mainly, because she’d kill him if he didn’t. 

“You gonna be okay?” he asked. 

Cullen looked up at him like a deer in headlights, his fist curling up protectively. That was good-- the man had fighting instincts from somewhere. Layers laid beneath that pretty face. It wasn’t unusual for Bull to flirt with a bartender, but Cullen had been a fun puzzle to figure out and Bull wasn’t quite done. No… He might need a few more visits before he had completed it. 

“Yes,” he replied, sighing, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you unattended.” 

“You’re good,” Bull rumbled, “Ma’am’s at the bathroom anyway.” 

“...You call her Ma’am?” he asked, head tilting as though he were a young Mabari and not a full grown man. Bull couldn’t help but stare openly, a smile echoing on his face. 

“Friend of me,” he clarified, “She hates Viv and Vivienne is too long to say.” 

Cullen actually let out a soft chuckle, “Ah, I see. Well, I hope she finds our restrooms to her liking as well. Not every day a critic walks into our bar.” 

Now that had caught Bull’s attention. Vivienne made extra precautions to make sure no one discovered that there was a food critic in her midsts at any restaurant. It came with the territory of getting an honest review. Yet, her Cullen had stated her profession like it was plain as day. Bull crossed his arms. 

“You figure that out on your own?” he asked. 

Cullen shook his head, “No… Someone like her doesn’t normally walk into The Rest for… obvious reasons. I mentioned it to our assistant manager, Leliana. She’s the one who said she was, uh, oh… that Orlesian blog I can never remember the name of. Madame something. Made sure to treat her as anyone else. Leliana believes special treatment gets you caught once you know.” He chuckled nervous, reaching up a hand to rub the back of his neck, “I.. should get back to work.” 

“Let me do the honor of escorting you,” Bull said, motioning toward the step toward the bar. That little jibe managed to get Cullen to snort a little before hurrying over back behind the bar with a quick, yet confidant gate. That was a military man’s walk. Just who was this bartender? 

Bull followed, taking his seat again and resting down Vivienne’s pocket book. Behind him he heard her starting to walk up.

“Of course!” a woman with a thick Antivan accent said, “We’d love to be featured! I can get an interview with our owner, of course. I’ll call Ms. Cadash right away.” Bull and Cullen shared a knowing glance, but pretending as if Cullen was simply cleaning a glass from the dryer. 

Vivienne took her seat, smiling at Cullen, “Feeling better?” 

“Yes,” he said, “Thank you. Refill?” Vivienne nodded. 

“A new drink, please. Fanciest you have, dear, for me and my friend,” she ordered, ���I’m not sure what it will be, but surprise me. I don’t get to find such diamonds in the roughs, often.” 

“Because you never go to them,” laughed Bull. 

Cullen quickly got to work going through what they had until he actually managed to find a nice bottle of champagne which Vivienne said would do nicely. Vivienne toasted Bull for his find, though she admitted she was not going to be kind about the décor. Still, no matter how a place looked, good food would always be good food. 

They made sure to tip Cullen handsomely. And, if he found a slip of paper with a string of digits on them, well… Bull would leave it up to him to call.

[saferemercer]

Worthy

June 26th, Late Evening, After the Queen’s Gala

"There ya go lass, she's all set for yeh!" 

Safere glanced at the dwarf gryphon master, still holding the winning ticket in her hand. To the right of her, stood Snowbeak, the majestic, white Wildhammer gryphon she had just won in a high society raffle. The beast was immaculate; feathers shining in the moonlight, beak seemingly polished to a mirror sheen and talons sharp as adamantine steel. She was straight out of a storybook. 

Safere looked down at her rented tuxedo; a crab meat stain on her collar, one cufflink gone and her shoes having stepped in something grey and slimy. She didn’t want to think about that too much. All in all, she felt pretty damn foolish standing in front of this paragon of gryphon-kind, ready to take her as a mount. 

“So uh...you have any tips for how to...uh, care for her?” she asked. “I mean...I have another gryphon, but he’s older and kinda half-blind…”

The dwarf chuckled, unlatching the gryphon’s chains. “Oh, Snowbeak is ah’ feisty young lass, she’s gonna want ta’ fly around prettah’ often. You’ve got ah’ roost fer her, yeah?” 

Safere rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah...definitely,” she hoped. 

“Good, good. She needs tha’ best of care! You gala types can manage that, ah’m sure. You ah’ knight or ah’ cleric of some kind?” 

Safere rubbed her head, harder. “I’m...a...uh, protector.” 

“Protector! Ha, tha’ sounds good! Yeah, Snowbeak is fit fer the grandest of adventures. The soarin’ clouds, the tallest mountains, the greatest-” 

“I get it, I get it,” Safere said, through gritted teeth. “I’m...sure we’ll have a wonderful time together.” 

The dwarf shrugged and gave Snowbeak a final pat on the snout, before he opened the gate and led her out of the pen. Safere walked up to her, trembling just a little. She raised a hand and brought it down to touch her beak. The gryphon stared into her eyes, as she was touched. Safere swore she could sense a subtle disappointment in those eyes. She sighed. 

“I know, Snowbeak...we’ll...make this work,” Safere said, now starting to regret ever taking a raffle ticket. 

July 20th, Mid Evening, Crowsfield.

Snowbeak was screaming at her. Well, squawking might have been more accurate, but it sure felt like screaming to Safere. If the beast could speak common, she had an idea of the level of vitriol she’d be experiencing right now. 

“I know, I get it, you’re angry!” Safere grumbled, trying to clean her feathers with an old brush. “We don’t...we don’t fly as often as you’d like...and I wish I could fix that, but I just...don’t travel as often as some people. Ok?! Buddy doesn’t mind, do ya pal?” 

She turned to the black gryphon in the pen next to her. The cross-eyed, older gryphon was chewing on a large ferret he had caught earlier that day, but in the same way a tired farmer might sip on a tall glass of sweet tea. He was in no rush. 

As if Snowbeak could understand Safere’s words (she was almost certain she could, some days), the majestic gryphon snorted at her, in seeming disgust. 

Safere sighed. “Yeah, I know, you don’t like being compared to Buddy. But he’s the only gryphon I’ve ever really known before, so maybe we can just-” 

Snowbeak raised her legs and flapped her wings right in Safere’s face, knocking her to the ground, landing flat on her ass in the dirt.

“Oh, fine!” Safere shouted, lying down in defeat. “Have it your way! I’ll just let you-” 

“Might I be of assistance, Miss Mercer?” 

She looked up to see a man in copper colored armor, standing above her, offering a hand. She turned around and gripped his palm, rising back to her feet. She recognized the man immediately. He was the only one she knew who would wear a fully enclosed helm in such sweltering weather. 

“Mordecai, right?” Safere asked, despite knowing she was right. She just..hadn’t spoken to him that much. 

He nodded. “Indeed, Miss Mercer. Mordecai Sharpe, at your service.” He sounded calm and helpful, even if his expression was entirely unreadable. That copper-colored mask he wore always bore the same neutral, placid expression. His eyes were the only thing that could be seen. Kind brown orbs, blinking every so often. 

Safere sighed, dusting off her trousers. “Well, uh, have you got any experience with gryphons? At least more than I do?” 

Mordecai nodded once more. “I rode one for nearly a decade. Back when I was a more...active member of The Silver Hand. She was a gorgeous creature, fair and swift...but I didn’t appreciate her at the time.” 

Safere blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean that I...neglected her,” he began to say. “Not in the sense of health or feeding, I assure you. I always kept her well fed, clean and cared for. Until the day she died, she never missed a meal, nor was she abused. But…” 

The man’s shoulders fell, for but a moment. “I didn’t truly appreciate her. I never even named her. Not really. Whenever a fellow knight would ask me, I would say something like...Silverwing or Judgment. But it was a hollow excuse for a title. I simply didn’t care. She was a beast to be used for glory. Much like a sword or a shield. Cared for, certainly. But never loved. Never seen as more than a tool.” 

Mordecai turned to look at the gryphons. “Do I have your leave to approach her?” 

“Sure,” Safere replied, shrugging. “Just be ready, because she’s in a mood.” 

He walked up to Snowbeak, slowly reaching into a pouch on his waist and retrieving a handful of wildberries. Once he reached the gryphon, he held out his palm and let her eat from it. She did so with some trepidation, but soon enough, had cleaned his gauntlet entirely. She then leaned her head against his arm, as he stroked her gently. 

“A beautiful lady...you should be very-” 

“HELP!” 

Mordecai and Safere turned around to see a young woman running toward them, a distraught expression on her face. The paladin ran forward to meet her halfway. 

"Miss, what is wrong?!" 

"Please, they took my brother, please they took him into the forest-" 

He laid a hand on her shoulder...and she seemed to calm down, enough to explain more clearly, at least. By then, Safere had joined Mordecai by his side and was listening closely. 

"She took Theodore, the...some witch, I saw her snatch him from his bedroom window and take him into the moor! I tried to run after her, but these...skeletons rose up from the dirt! Undead monsters! Out in the Bleakmoor! Please sir, miss…please help my brother…” the girl wailed, tears welling in her brown eyes. 

“We have no time to lose. Miss, return to your home and wait for us there. We will find him. Safere,” Mordecai said, turning to face her. “Might we-” 

She nodded, already running back to Buddy. “Come on!” she called back. Fiddling with her ebon gryphon’s chain, Safere mounted him and pulled the reins. He may have been an older gent, but Buddy knew when it was time to get serious. Years of getting Safere out of sticky situations had given him a kind of sixth sense. He rose to his feet and flapped his wings, ready to burst off. 

Mordecai was running up now, while the young woman returned to her homestead.  He looked at Buddy and Safere. “I...don’t know if I’ll be able to fit on there with you. Or if your gryphon can carry my extra bulk,” he said, gesturing to his mix of chain and plate mail. “Perhaps if-” 

Safere shook her head. “You’re taking Snowbeak!” 

The paladin shook his head. “No, miss Safere, she is yo-” 

“This is not the time to argue, pal! Get to it!” Safere shouted. 

Mordecai nodded and ran to the ivory bird, expertly climbing upon her saddle without even a wayward twitch from the proud beast. She shrieked out a battle-squawk and took to the air almost immediately, leaving Safere and Buddy to catch up. 

They were soaring above the hills now, keeping low enough to spot any figures...if it wasn’t so bloody dark. 

“I can’t see a damn thing down there!” Safere shouted, the wind coursing through her hair. 

“Let us remedy that,” Mordecai roared back. “Cover your eyes, Mercer! For just a moment!” 

Safere did as she was told, bringing her wrist back across her eyes, just as the night turned to sunrise in front of her. Her peripheral vision was a holy inferno, but it soon faded enough until she felt comfortable to gaze openly again. Mordecai was still glowing, casting a net of light across the hilly moor below. 

“There!” he said, pointing down. Sure enough, no longer shrouded beneath a barrow-hill, Safere could spot a crowd of figures. Over a dozen skeletal warriors, covered still in the dirt and grime of their former resting places. Most gripped broken hatchets and rusted blades. A couple held ancient shortbows. These two decrepit snipers took aim as Safere and Mordecai came down upon them. With surprising dexterity, an arrow was loosed, aimed right at Snowbeak’s chest. 

But the gryphon saw it coming, swiping the missile away with a talon. The other shot toward Safere and Buddy; its aim was less true, allowing them to dodge the projectile with a quick turn. By then, the two of them were landing. Hard. 

Snowbeak smashed into the center of the undead, scattering two of the boney bastards into splinters. Mordecai pulled his great morningstar from his shoulders, the flanged head gleaming with golden fire, as he slammed it into the rotting ribcage of another, crushing the sternum and wasting the foul creature away. 

Safere came down less glamorously, but no less effective. Her cutlass in one hand, silver edged and shining, slicing through the skull of the axe wielding monster nearest to her. The foolish archer she had landed by, tried to swat Buddy with his bow, only for the elder gryphon to grab him in his beak and snap his spine. 

“Interlopers!” A shrill voice screamed. Safere turned to see a wretched old hag, twisted and deformed, holding a young boy by the scruff of his pajamas. The child was wailing, kicking at his captor, to seemingly no avail. “You will not stop the sacrifice to Gorak Tul!” 

“Gorak Tul is vanquished, fiend! Killed in his own realm of shadow and failure!” Mordecai growled, shattering the knees of an approaching skeleton. “You will accomplish nothing!” 

“Yeah, you suck!” Safere helpfully added, stabbing another undead. 

“Fools! Gorak Tul’s spirit lingers, forever! And I will be his new bride!” the witch shrieked, raising a twisted dagger to the child’s throat. “The boy’s blood will show me the way!” 

Safere grit her teeth, looking around for any options. There were still a half dozen skeletons advancing. Buddy was fighting off one more to her left. Snowbeak...was gone. Where had she-

Mordecai let loose a sharp whistle. The gryphon moved so fast, she was more of a blur of white upon the wind, than any discernible form. Just as the witch had barely begun to look behind her, she was rammed by the Wildhammer gryphon, sending her gangling form flying forward, her loose grip on the boy’s shirt going slack, as he fell a few feet to the ground. 

Safere ran over to him, making sure he was unharmed. Aside from some dirt stains and a bruise on his shoulder, he seemed to be fine, if still wailing and terrified. Within that handful of moments, Mordecai, Buddy and Snowbeak had dispatched the handful of remaining skeletons, their bones scattered and unmoving. The witch...lay in a defeated pile nearby, groaning like a sickly weasel. 

“You are beaten, monster. Submit and be judged!” Mordecai commanded, his aura pulsing like wildfire. He stood above the subdued wretch, morningstar at her throat. 

The witch mewled and raised her elongated arms, in a show of surrender. “I...yes, I am defeated! Oh, brave and powerful paladin! I...submit to your mercy! Please!” Her yellow eyes wide and pleading. 

“Mercy! How could a villain such as you deserve-” Mordecai began to say...before stopping and sighing. “Very well, witch. You will come with me, bound and subdued...to be judged by the people of Autumnhearth! And see what mercy they lay upon you!”  

The paladin barely shifted his gaze, but for a mere moment, he did glance at his belt, to retrieve a length of rope...only for Safere to watch as the hag began to channel a pale blue energy in her palm. 

A Ruinous Bolt! Safere thought to herself. She had been researching just last night. In a flash, she drew her Gnomish pepperbox from the back of her trousers and fired. One, two, three, four…

Her aim did not fail her. Each silver shot ripping into the hag’s flesh, with the last metal ball landing right between her sour yolk-yellow eyes...which made the spell in her palm fade away and the witch slump back onto the ground, as dead as her would to be husband. 

Mordecai looked back at the shot riddled body and exhaled. “My thanks, Miss Mercer.” 

She nodded, sweat dripping down her forehead. In her arm, the young boy blinked and wiped away tears. “That was...so loud!” he squeaked. 

“Ah yeah...sorry about that, Theodore,” Safere said, grimacing. “But it’s over, your sister is waiting for you.” 

The boy nodded and hugged her, still crying, but less feverishly. Mordecai came over to him, kneeling down and offering a hand. 

“How would you like to fly on a gryphon, master Theodore?” he asked. 

For likely the first time that night, the boy smiled. 

--------------

The reunion with Theodore’s sister (Charlotte, they learned) was full of more tears and smiles alike, but the boy was soon returned to his own bed, with a small number of local farmers promising to watch over the house until morning. Mordecai would join them, sitting down by the front fence with Safere. Snowbeak and Buddy waited nearby. 

“That was...an exciting evening, wouldn’t you say, Miss Mercer?” Mordecai said, having removed his mask, among the two of them. Safere had seen his burned visage before and grown accustomed to it. The permanent half grin across his partial lips and exposed cheek, were little more than a beauty mark to her by now. 

“Hell of a lot more...fighting than I expected, that’s for damn sure,” she said, sipping from a glass of fresh milk. Supplied by Theodore's grateful farming family, after the two of them had refused the meager amount of silver they had scraped together as a reward. “But this is good cow juice.” 

Mordecai sipped from his tin straw and nodded. “Indeed. Regardless, you fought well. Thank you again for your expert shooting.” 

Safere chugged the last half of her moo-juice and stood up, brushing off her pants. “Don’t mention it, Mordo. Last thing I needed tonight was having to tell Wes that her Warden took a Ruinous Bolt to the chest.” 

He chuckled and stood with her. “You recognized the spell? How impressive.” 

“Yeah, all that reading paid off, just like Mere said it would,” Safere replied, smiling. 

“You make the steward proud, I’m sure,” Mordecai said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you returning to Easthollow with your gryphons, then? They’ve had a busy evening too.” 

“One of them, yeah,” Safere said. 

“Good, I hope they-” 

The paladin turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “One of them?” 

“I’m leaving Snowbeak with you, Mordo. You made an incredible team. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna break that up.” 

Mordecai shook his head, raising a hand in disagreement. “No, Miss Mercer, I couldn’t accept such a-” 

“First off, call me Safere. Or Saf, even,” Safere said, making sure her cutlasses were properly attached to her belt. “Secondly, I’m not gonna hear any arguments on this. Snowbeak deserves someone like you. Someone brave and worthy of her. Someone who can make the best use of her skills. And that ain’t me.” 

The man was silent for a moment. “You are worthy of more than you think, Mi...Safere. And you are as brave as any champion of the Hand that I’ve ever known. You joined me in the search for Theodore without a second thought. Lent me your steed, without hesitation. Charged into the mass of undead and stood by my side.” 

He whistled, causing Snowbeak to trot over. Mordecai rubbed her neck and watched as she nuzzled back. “If this is your desire...your command, I will do so. I will care for and love Snowbeak, as I failed to do for my former steed. But never believe it is because you are unworthy. Promise me this.” 

Safere sighed and smiled, looking down at her boots for a second or two. Before returning his gaze and nodding. “I promise.”

He nodded back. “Good. Also, I ask that you bring Buddy along to visit every so often. The two are quite...attached.” 

She blinked and looked from Snowbeak to Buddy. The white gryphon was looking back at him, softly cooing. Buddy in turn was waving his wings slowly and...prancing? 

“Buddy, you scoundrel!” Safere exclaimed, laughing. “Have you been laying down some moves behind my back?!” 

Buddy squaked, shaking his wings and hopping up and down. Snowbeak scraped her talons in the dirt and squawked back. 

“Best warn your gryphon master of the possibility of eggs, in the future, eh?” Mordecai cautioned, chuckling along with her.

Safere gave him a thumbs up. “You bet. Keep safe out there, Mordo! See you soon!” She left with a spring in her steps, mounting her flirtatious bird and soaring off toward Easthallow. The wind in her hair felt like energy flowing through her. She let out a loud “woooooooooo!” and grinned. 

It had been quite a night to fly. 

[shirorinyuaaru]

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 4 - Of Synchronicity and Desire

You should have known laying your feelings on the table would lead to something deeper. A relationship hidden in the shadows, desire thinly cloaked behind pretense, Levi has to make a decision.

Maintain control or throw caution to the wind.

This chapter is 18+ for graphic content

If you want to know my inspo for this chapter, listen to Bang by Armchair Cynics.

Training Grounds 0630 Hours

Levi’s Squad was becoming suspicious of the dynamic change between you and the Captain. Since returning from your week of helping Hange with her strange experiments, it was almost as if you and Levi danced around each other. Regardless of the increased space between the two of you, Mikasa was especially aware of the gentle gazes you awarded each other when no one was watching. Furthermore, when you sparred with Captain Levi there was a level of synchronicity not previously present. Instead of the tense atmosphere they had witnessed the last time you made the - stupid - decision to challenge your raven-haired superior, there was an air of mutual respect and intense focus.

It was obvious you still had an edge when it came to hand-to-hand combat, but what could the others expect when you spent almost your every waking moment at Levi’s side? From training in the morning, attending to your duties as his assistant, and extra practice at night alongside Mikasa and Eren, you had excelled.

Today was no different than any other; it started with twenty laps around the green, 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, an ungodly number of squats, and ODM gear practice. Once again you were ending with sparring. Krista had finally recovered from the injury you had unintentionally given her and had switched partners to Sasha to avoid another incident. That left you to either take on Mikasa, Eren, or Captain Levi if you were feeling especially daring.

For now, Levi had paired you with Mikasa. He looked to you both as excellent examples of proper technique, sometimes stopping the others to have them observe a specific set of moves that you had both previously executed. He could scarcely hide the pride that shone in his stormy eyes when he watched you hold your own regardless of who you were pitted against; it was difficult to keep the stony expression he wore on a day-to-day basis.

Mine. That’s mine, he would appreciate silently. Never once did he have to doubt your strength or worry of possible injuries on your behalf.

That didn’t mean you came out of sparring practice unscathed, however. It was common for you to show up to Levi’s office with his morning cup of tea, new bruises lining your arms and, once in a while, your cheek or jaw. This was especially true when you faced off against Mikasa, who never held back. You were rather gleeful whenever you got to face her, regardless of the injuries you were sure to receive - it just meant you were both pushing yourselves to the brink.

In your usual fashion, you utilized your legs more than your arms when taking on your onyx-haired colleague. You found it easier to land a blow if you kept a reasonable distance from her. Whenever you got close, she would manage to land a solid punch or worse - throw you over her shoulder and onto the ground. It was more difficult for her to grapple you if you went in for a well-placed kick due to the speed you moved at.

“I think you’re going easy on me, Mikasa.” You teased, eyeing her movements carefully.

Mikasa’s lip quirked up ever-so-slightly, mirth filling her expression. “When have I ever gone easy on you, Y/N?”

“I don’t know - the last time we sparred I distinctly remember winning.”

“So you admit that the only way you can win is if I go easy on you.”

“No, but it definitely wasn’t a very satisfying win. Too focused on Eren?” You teased.

She blushed slightly, her small smile turning into a frown. “What about you? Seems like you’re pretty keen on observing the Captain lately.”

You moved towards her with caution, considering your chances of landing a kick to her knees to knock her off balance, not responding.

“Oi Brats, less chatting more ass-kicking.” Levi barked at you, crossing his arms impatiently.

He received no response from you either. Nor did he hear one from your agile partner.

It seemed your good-natured teasing only stoked the fire building in Mikasa. Your sparring session ended with you on your ass, arm painfully twisted behind you. “Jesus, Mikasa, I yield,” you hissed, hyper-aware of the throbbing in your shoulder.

She released you with a satisfied smirk, stepping away. “Just so you know, I plan to win tomorrow too.”

“I expect nothing less,” you grumbled, rubbing your arm and soothing your damaged ego.

“Hit the showers, Brats. You look disgusting.” Levi remarked, dismissing you all with a wave. However, before you could join the others you felt a gentle tug on your wrist. “Wait.”

You quirked an eyebrow, turning to gaze into the slate-gray eyes you came to adore. “What is it, Captain?”

“Come with me. I need you to take some documents over to Erwin.”

You were distinctly aware of the observant eyes glancing at you as they made their way back to the barracks. “Right now? I’m pretty sure you don’t want me stepping into your office smelling like shit, Captain Levi. What if I dirty your floors again?”

“Oi, Cadets keep walking! Eyes forward!” Levi boomed, watching the other members of his squad scurry away at his demand. He made sure they were out of earshot before continuing.

“You can shower in my room.”

You practically choked on your own breath. “I’m sorry?”

“Dammit Y/N, you aren’t deaf. You can shower in my room.”

“What about a change of clothes?”

“We’re the same size. Wear something of mine.”

Needless to say, you weren’t used to the forward nature Levi was presenting to you. You almost wondered if he had an ulterior motive, but shook the thought aside. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

—

Levi’s Office 0800 Hours

You were both uncharacteristically quiet as he led you through the door separating his office from his private quarters. While you weren’t unfamiliar with being there, the last time you had set foot in his bathroom was when you injured your hands scrubbing his floor.

“Go ahead and start the shower, Y/N. I’ll bring you a towel and something to wear.”

You felt your face flush and cleared your throat, “I’d be naked.”

“And?”

“And your shower door is glass, Levi.” You hissed, pressing your cool hands to your cheeks in a desperate attempt to soothe the burning of your skin.

Levi smirked, slowly backing you into the door to the bathroom. “Is that a problem? Are you telling me after the daring lecture you gave me the other day you’ve suddenly decided to go shy on me?”

The burning sensation afflicting you only worsened as he placed his arms on either side of you, pinning you in place. “That’s - I - I don’t even know what we are . How am I supposed to calmly let you into the room when I’m fully exposed to you?” You muttered, trying to avoid his intense gaze by turning your head away.

“What do you want to be?” He murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“I’m more interested in your answer, Brat.”

“I -” you huffed in irritation, frustrated that your body was betraying you in more ways than one when you desperately wanted a clear mind. “I want to be - I want to be the person you turn to at night when you need a break. I want to be the person providing you comfort after a particularly rough expedition. I want to be the reason you come home,” you whispered.

“What I’m trying to say, Levi, is I want to be yours.”

Levi sucked in a breath, pink dusting his cheeks. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected you to be forward with your answer - he just was unprepared for the intimate sincerity he detected in your voice. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.

“We’d have to keep it secret, at least for a while.”

“I know.”

“Not everyone is going to take kindly to a relationship between you and me.”

“I’m aware.”

“And when all is said and done, are you prepared for the possible fallout that comes with - eventually - going public?”

“Are you?”

Amusement shown in Levi’s piercing eyes. “I don’t think I’ll know until it happens.”

“That’s how I feel.” You paused, glancing at your captain carefully. “Is this what you want? I don’t want a decision being made one-sidedly, Levi.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer. When push came to shove, he never was very good at expressing his feelings with the candor you were capable of.

For you, that moment felt like an eternity.

“Levi?”

He gently rested his head on your shoulder, steadying his breathing. “You know I’m fucking terrible at this.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I need an answer.”

“Right.”

More silence.

“I want to try it,” he said after a while, “I’d probably never stop beating myself up if I didn’t at least see where this went, especially after I drank a fucking glass of whiskey just to be able to be honest with you.”

You carefully lifted your hand to caress his cheek, keenly aware of the way he tensed under your touch. “If that’s the case, I’d like - um - I’d like for you to join me.” You cursed yourself for the wavering in your voice, wanting to seem confident for the both of you.

Levi’s head shot up so fast you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had given himself whiplash. His eyes were wide and he gaped at you openly. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right? You want me to fucking join you? In the shower?”

“I mean - you normally take a shower after training anyway and I figure this would be faster…” you trailed off, running a hand through your h/l h/c hair. “You don’t have to, but if you’re going to see me naked anyway I don’t exactly see a problem with us both being in the shower.”

“The difference is that you’d see me naked too, Y/N.”

“And?”

“And,” he huffed, standing up straight. “I don’t know if I can control myself being that close to you in that situation, regardless of if you smell like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You said it first, not me.”

“Are you going to join me or not?”

“I - fuck - are you even listening? What if I jump you in the goddamn shower?” Levi hissed, glaring at you.

You quirked your brow at him, crossing your arms. “I’m not exactly a blushing bride, Levi. I’ve done…things.”

“You haven’t done things with me.”

“Not yet.”

“Not y- Jesus Christ.”

“If you don’t want to then just say so. I’m not about to take offense to it.” You replied evenly, trying desperately to calm your rapid heartbeat. “We can take it slow.”

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“So?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“You’re lucky I’m not making you beg,” came your sly remark.

How the fuck does she go from shy and quiet as a mouse to a bold, teasing brat with the snap of her fingers?

Regardless of his surprise at your confident change of tone, he couldn’t let your challenge go unanswered. After all, he was a sore loser. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should make you beg, Y/N. After all, I fully intended to bend you over my desk the other day.”

“I’ll ask you one more time. Are you joining me?”

“I can’t exactly say no when you act like such a confident Brat now, can I?”

—

Levi realized rather quickly that Y/N liked her showers hot - if the steam billowing from the bathroom indicated anything - as he gathered towels and clothes for the both of them.

“Oi, you better not be wasting all of the hot water in your masochistic attempt to burn yourself alive.” He called, only half-kidding.

“Maybe if you hurried up that wouldn’t be a problem.” You responded cheekily, folding your dirty clothes and setting them to the side. Though it was you who made the bold declaration that you should shower together, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You didn’t hate your body per-se, but the scars that riddled your skin like rough strokes of paint on a canvas gave you pause. It meant you had survived countless encounters with death, that you were a soldier with experience, but you couldn’t ignore the wistful desire for clear, unmauled skin.

“I’m coming,” Levi grumbled, “don’t get your shorts in a bunch, Cadet.”

“I can’t - I’m not wearing any.”

Levi could hear the shit-eating grin in your voice and snorted, pushing aside the nervousness knotting his stomach. “Last chance to back out. I’m outside the door.”

The silent question did not go unheard by you. Is this okay? The gentle concern he showed you in private made your heart swell.

You took a final, resolute breath. “You can come in.”

The moment he crossed the threshold and first laid eyes on you, he was sure his heart stopped beating. Levi swallowed thickly, his eyes growing cloudy as he took in the sight before him. Your skin glowed gently in the light of the room, your scars shining proudly as if like lightning in the middle of a storm. A delicate dusting of pink was present on your cheeks, which you tried to hide with your confident stance, head held high.

“Will you be joining me, or do you just plan to stand there while the water goes cold?”

“Can’t I admire what’s in front of me for a second without your nagging?” He deadpanned, sarcasm evident in the dry tone of his voice.

“Not if I can’t admire you mutually.”

Levi wasn’t completely unfamiliar with intimacy when it came to the bedroom, but his knowledge was limited to one-night stands to scratch an itch. Letting down his walls and laying himself bare was foreign territory and led to pause. After a moment of hesitancy, overridden by the image of embracing you under the unremitting pressure of the water, he stripped.

You eyed him hungrily, unable to control your wandering gaze as Levi undressed. The first to go was his shirt, unbuttoned with the utmost care. With every flick of his wrist, a new expanse of skin was revealed to you. The scars that lined his porcelain skin only served to make him more alluring. Levi turned from you for a moment, wordlessly folding his shirt and placing it atop yours, before returning to his original position and unbuttoning the white pants of his uniform.

You wondered if his slow, purposeful movements were meant to tease you, your breath becoming more ragged with each one.

His eyes met yours, that vulnerable gaze returning. In one swift motion, he lay bare before you, stepping out of his pants soundlessly. Before you could speak, he moved towards you with the utmost care, ignoring the disorganized mess he left in his wake.

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed, cupping your cheek.

Your e/c eyes fluttered shut at his feather-light touch. “Not as beautiful as you,” came your stertorous response.

Levi swallowed thickly, motioning to the shower. “We should probably get in.”

“Right.”

After an instant of awkward shuffling, you both let out a groan of relief at the sensation of warm water pelting you both, as if washing away the nerves that threatened to burst forth from your hearts.

“Feels good,” you murmured, allowing the water to soothe your aching muscles as you set to removing the sweat and grime from your skin.

Levi only grunted in response, unable to tear his eyes from you. His hair clung to his face, obscuring his perfect view of the awe-inspiring sight in front of him. He knew he should start washing as well, but found it impossible to focus on the task.

Control yourself, his brain hissed.

“Levi?”

“What?” came his slightly surprised response as you jarred him from his trance.

“I asked if you’d like me to wash your hair.” The innocence in your voice only spurred him on more, so instead of a response, you got a strangled noise and a nod.

With a tender caress of your hand, you turned him away from you and lathered the shampoo in your hands. He reveled in the feeling of your fingers gently scratching his scalp as you worked the soap into his hair, letting out a relieved sigh.

The feeling of his body under your ministrations caused your heart to constrict painfully in your chest. Wondering how much you could get away with, you pressed yourself against his back, gently pushing his head towards the water.

“You can rinse it out,” you said breathlessly, beginning to feel a familiar warmth building in your core.

“Y/N what are you doing?”

“Helping you get clean.”

“No,” he continued, trying desperately to focus on the task of washing out the shampoo, “what are you doing pressed up against me like that?”

Don’t lose control.

“Is it too much?” You breathed, wrapping your arms around him to feel his chest daringly.

“It is if you expect me to keep myself in check.” He asserted, grabbing one of your hands in a vice grip.

Don’t. Lose. Control.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

That was all it took to snap the thin threads keeping Levi from his desire to absolutely wreck you . He whipped around and pinned your hands to the wall before you could react, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. It was a fierce battle of teeth and tongues; you fought against his hold as best as you could, the desire to tangle your hands in his hair impossible to ignore.

His grip on your wrists only tightened as he ground his hips against yours. Levi was in charge of the pace, and he’d be damned if he let you take it from him.

“I’m going to leave you a writhing mess, Y/N.” He growled, his voice hoarse.

You could only let out a moan in response, grinding against his hardening cock. You wanted to feel him - all of him. You wanted to know what his tongue felt like on your pussy, how his fingers felt as they teased your clit, and how full you would be with him bottomed-out inside of you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Levi, fuck, I-” you keened, biting your lip.

“I can’t hear you, Cadet.” was his demanding reply.

“Please, Captain, let me touch you - let me taste you.”

He released the bruising grip on you immediately, his normally gray eyes black and clouded with lust. You pushed him back by his hips, giving yourself room to get on your knees in front of him. Eye-level with his twitching length, you licked your lips greedily. With a fleeting glance at Levi, you wrapped your hand around him and pumped in a teasingly slow rhythm.

Levi sucked in a breath, his hands tangling in your h/l locks. It was taking all of his self-restraint not to shove your pretty little mouth onto his throbbing member. Luckily he didn’t have to wait for the blessed feeling of your tongue long.

“Levi, you’re so perfect.” you hummed, licking him from base to tip, swirling your tongue around his head before swallowing him down. You could taste the salty, heady flavor of his precum as you took him as deeply as you could. It only served to spur you on more; your mind was clouded with lust and a desire to please.

He hissed, his head slamming into the shower wall behind him.

“Fuck, Y/N… How are you so good with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

His praise was music to your ears, and your only response was to bob your head rhythmically, forcing yourself to take more of his cock with each forward motion. Before long he was an absolute mess, panting and writhing under your touch.

“Stop - Stop.” He breathed, pulling you off of him. “I won’t be able to keep my promise to ruin you if you keep going.”

“I think I ruined you instead.” You challenged, licking your lips seductively.

“Oh, Love,” he purred, the pet name making you squirm, “you have no idea what I plan to do to you.”

Grabbing the soap next to him, he motioned for you to stand, lathering his hands.

“First, I’m going to clean that filthy body of yours from head to toe. Then I’m going to taste that delectable pussy of yours and fuck you with my mouth till you’re begging for release.” His hands moved purposefully against your skin as he washed off the remnants of the day. You were painfully aware of his desire to tease you as he massaged your torso, avoiding your breasts entirely.

“Levi, please…”

“Please what, Y/N?”

“Please touch me.” You begged, reaching for his hand.

He pulled away from you immediately, leaving you cold and wanting. “I thought I taught you patience during our training - I’ll touch you where I want when I want. You’ll just have to be good for me and wait.”

You whined, fisting your hands at your sides and shutting your eyes, willing yourself to stay still for him.

“Good girl - You’re so good for me.” He purred, resuming his ministrations.

Levi washed you at a painfully slow pace, making good on his promise to clean every single part of you. With each motion of his hands, you could feel yourself getting wetter. Frankly, you were so wet you weren’t sure if you were dripping or if it was just the water cascading over your skin. Regardless, he still hadn’t touched you where you desperately wanted to, obviously leaving your breasts and core for last.

“Are you ready, Love?” He murmured in your ear, the desire in his voice evident. “You’ve been so patient - so good. I’m going to reward you for your efforts.”

Before you could respond he began massaging your breasts, pinching at your nipples and tugging them gently. The stimulation made your knees week and you struggled to keep yourself upright, settling for leaning back against Levi’s chest for support.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?”

“Yes, Levi - fuck - it feels so fucking good.”

“You can barely stand; I wonder what’ll happen when I finally taste you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the sultry tone of his voice driving you insane. “Please. Please, Levi - Babe I’ve been so patient. I need you.”

Levi chuckled and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Do you want me to give you what you want?”

“Yes.”

He turned you to face him, kissing you again - his love for you evident in every movement. As quickly as it began, it was over. Levi knelt between your legs, quirking an eyebrow at you as if asking for permission once more.

You nodded enthusiastically, gently threading your fingers in his raven-colored hair.

Satisfied with your consent, he leaned in, licking your slit experimentally. The loud moan you released echoed against the walls, spurring him on. He took your hips in a bruising grip, burying himself in your folds and relishing in the sweet taste of your slick. He lapped at your folds enthusiastically, reveling in every sound you made.

You sounded more divine than all of the music in the world.

It took all of your willpower to stay standing when he sucked on your clit with fervor, his index and middle fingers finding your opening and sliding in with ease. He pumped them in a slow, purposeful rhythm, taking his time to stretch you. Levi was well-aware that you could probably take him right then with how aroused you were, but he desperately wanted to draw this out.

I want to burn this into my memory - How she feels. How she makes me feel. How I can ruin her so easily.

“Jesus, please Levi, I need to feel you. I want to feel you.”

How could he deny you when you asked so sweetly?

He removed himself from between your legs after a final kiss to your labia, his longing gaze finding yours. Levi stood, backing you against the wall of the shower and lifting your right leg to rest on his hip. He lined himself up with your opening and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is this okay, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you breathed, looking at Levi lovingly.

“There isn’t any going back from this.”

“I know.”

“You’re really sure?”

“It sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it more than me, Levi.” You chucked, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you want to stop? We can stop.”

“No.” He assured, biting his lip, “I just want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m more than ready.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He slid into you with one fluid motion, taking a minute to savor the feeling of your tight walls against his cock.

You both let out a quiet moan, Levi’s grip on you tightening as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The feeling of him deep inside of your pussy was absolutely divine . You were so full, so satisfied just reveling in the sensation of you both being one. He felt amazing.

It felt as though you were perfectly made for each other.

After a moment to collect himself, Levi willed himself to move. He tried desperately to maintain a cadence with his thrusts, but it was becoming more difficult with each gasp and moan you released. He was well aware of the sharp sting of your nails clawing at his shoulders - it only served to make it more difficult to keep in control.

It was as if you could read his mind when you responded, “Let go, Levi. Just let go.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement.

His hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. Levi thrust into you roughly, his nails digging into your leg that he held against himself.

Mine. Mine. All fucking mine .

With each powerful thrust he gave, you began losing yourself in the splendor. The familiar tightness of an impending orgasm made itself known and you tried to tell him between frenzied breaths.

“Levi - I - Fuck - I’m gonna - Please I want to cum .”

“God - Yes - Fuck Y/N cum for me. Cum for me, Love. I want to see you unravel.” Levi growled, feeling his own impending release surface as you clenched around him.

By now his thrusts were absolutely brutal - no measured tempo to be found. It was frantic, carnal, desperate desire to finish that guided his motions. He wanted you to scream for him. He wanted you to come undone in his arms - all for him.

He never said he wasn’t selfish.

It wasn’t long before you saw stars.

“Levi!” You yelled, digging your nails into his back and drawing blood as you came. Your body shook with the power of your orgasm, only being held up by the firm, steadying grip Levi had on you. He didn’t stop his ministrations, leaving you overstimulated and begging for him.

He had succeeded in ruining you.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m going to cum” Levi hissed, his head falling into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Cum on me, Levi. Cum for me.” You said breathlessly, wanting him to feel just as good as you did when he orgasmed.

With a final stroke, Levi pulled out of you and jerked himself to completion, cumming all over your stomach and hips. Spurred on by the intense sensation of his orgasm, he bit into your neck, hoping to leave his mark on you.

You both slumped onto the floor of the shower, holding each other and trying to collect yourselves.

“I love you, Levi.” You murmured, pressing your head to his chest.

Levi wrapped his arms around you gently, hoping to prolong this moment with you as long as possible.

“I love you too.”

The water in the shower had long grown cold.

Neither of you seemed to notice.