#agape assisted living

[agapeassistedliving]

If you're seeking respite care services in Rosharon, Texas, Agape Assisted Living is a reputable option worth considering. They offer specialized care for individuals who require temporary caregiving support, allowing primary caregivers to take a break and tend to personal needs. Agape Assisted Living prioritizes the well-being of both the caregiver and the individual receiving care, ensuring a compassionate and nurturing environment.

[strawberries-and-racing]

i wanna be yours - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

requests that came together and inspired this series:

• nsfw prompts 9-13 (in pt. 2)

• 'listen up. Obsessive possessive crazy max for sweet innocent reader smut.'

• 'ok so we need dark FICS of any driver of your choice but make him very obsessive and possessive and don't forget the smut. Keep it up girlllll!!!'

summary: a lot of tension building between possessive max and sweet y/n.

warnings: alcohol consumption, fluff, slightly crazy max, some cliches (im sorry!) also the title is based off the arctic monkeys song because i felt like the vibes matched also i love arctic monkeys💕

a/n: screaming once again!!! this is the first fluff ive posted and it's part 1/2. the next part has the smut as promised but i wanted to take my time and build this up please enjoy🙏

the flight to the UK was long, but well worth it. two months ago you'd been offered an unbelievable opportunity.

an opportunity you'd been dreaming of for years, one you'd spent what felt like an eternity working towards— an engineering internship. not just any internship, one with the red bull formula one team.

you'd be able to travel with the team, shadow the engineers, help with various tasks around the paddock, and design parts at hq. an absolute dream.

after scouring a thousand real estate websites, you'd finally found the perfect place for to live.

a little 1 bed 1 bath apartment, tucked into a beautiful, quaint little neighbourhood. just 30 mins to the red bull hq.

you'd dedicated many late nights and ikea shopping trips to making the apartment your own. your comfortable escape from the grueling hours of studying and pressures of the internship.

you led a busy life, but it never bothered you. you adored what you did and formula one had been your passion since you were a little girl.

and now everything was falling into place. in fact, tommorrow you'd leave to attend your first race with the team. austria. red bulls home race.

you were ecstatic to say the least.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you hurriedly made your way through the paddock and into the red bull garage. your eyes glued to the schedule on top of the pile of papers in your arms.

you were on your way to assist one of the senior engineers in preparation before the race began.

you were nervous, and it was no help that you weren't exactly sure where you were supposed to be meeting him.

suddenly, you stumble over your own feet and bump into someone.

you feel hands on your shoulders, their grasp firm, steadying you.

you look up and are taken aback by the pair of strikingly blue eyes staring back at you. his eyes were the kind of crystal blue that would capture anyones attention. but despite their bright colour, they had a sort of inexplicable depth, darkness to them.

there was something in his expression that you couldn't quite read. something stirring beneath the surface of his icy gaze. it was as though he wasn't just looking at you, but into you.

you abruptly become aware of his hands, still on your shoulders. you're so oddly aware of them, as if it's your first time being touched by anyone.

he holds you firmly, as if trying to hold you together. the moment seemed to last forever. the two of you frozen in time.

a stranger's eye contact and touch shouldn't be affecting you in this way.

"you okay?"

it's only once he speaks that you realize who the man standing in front of you is.

your eyes widen, cheeks flushing. you straighten up quickly, mouth slightly agape.

"oh'" you start, at a loss for words "yeah, im sorry." you manage a small smile.

you straighten up an take a step backwards, pulling away from his grasp. you miss the warmth of his hands more than you'd ever like to admit.

"it's okay, no worries," his eyes linger on you a moment longer before you both go your separate ways.

as you walk away, you cant help but glance back at him.

max verstappen.

you'd certainly heard him speak before on tv, but something about his accent in person was enchanting. his energy seemed to linger on you like perfume.

everything about him caught your attention, long before you'd bumped into him in person.

you'd seen his dominance on track, it was impossible not to notice. he could control the car like no other driver, handling each corner perfectly. he pushed the car to the limit every race and it payed off.

it wasn't just his driving you noticed. his persona. it was everything. and you couldn't ignore the fact that it was sexy.

his short temper, his tendency to snap easily.

it was unreasonably and indescribably attractive.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the next time you see him he's across the room. you're studying the notes that the senior engineer gave you, papers and writing utensils spread across the table in front of you.

he was discussing something with his race engineer, he certainly wasn't doing anything that was particularly interesting or peculiar, he wasn't even looking in your direction. but for fucks sake you were distracted. you were somehow absorbed by his prescence.

ever since bumping into him you couldn't seem to get him out of your head. last night you'd replayed the memory over and over in your mind, finding it more difficult than usual to fall asleep.

all day, you'd silently prayed you would bump into eachother again. your relentless efforts to push your thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind were useless.

the mere idea of him was addictive, so alluring. he was drug-like to you and impossible to ignore.

although it was unknown to you at the time, max had found himself similarly hooked on you. or rather, the thought of you. even though he found enough strength to avoid looking at you, he was well aware of you. sitting at the table in the furthest corner. he was even more aware of the fact that your eyes kept flickering in his direction.

your energy was unlike anything he had ever known. you walked around with an aura of pure innocence. yet you seemed untouchable.

your smile shone. your laugh was contagious. you radiated sunshine. max had come to know these things about you.

you were magnetic in such a way that made him curious.

it stirred something inexplicable inside him. like you were another thing for him to win, to claim. another thing for him to dominant. to corrupt.

your innocence was tangible. and max wanted to be the one to wreck you. it was all he thought about.

ruining you.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the light in your apartment was soft. that's how you preferred it.

you relished your alone time. your small apartment was tailored exactly to you. it was always where you felt perfectly safe and at ease.

light from the sunset was just beginning to spill through your windows. you're stirring a big pot of soup on the stove with lazy motions.

a buzz from your phone catches your attention, the screen lights up and you see a new message. it's from andrew, one of the young engineers at red bull who you'd grown close with over the past few months.

your eyes widen upon reading the message.

a dinner with drivers? you couldn't deny that it sounded exciting.

but then again, you were already in your pajamas and the soup was beginning to steam.

you suck in a breath.

fuck.

the three letters of his name were more than enough to change your answer.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you spent half your time getting ready frantically choosing an outfit.

finally, you'd settled on your favorite black dress. your hair fell over your shoulders in soft curls left over from the day before.

now, you were standing outside the restaurant. you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

you walk in and the hostess greets you with a friendly smile. you're led to a booth connected to a big table that's only half full.

andrew waves you over and you take a seat next to him in the booth. lando sits across from you.

youd never spoken with lando outside of strictly professional context and you were pleasantly surprised by his charming humor. you're engrossed in the conversation with the two boys as the rest of the group fills the table. you look up to greet the others.

your breath hitches when you see him. his eyes stare into yours with the same intensity as they had two days ago. you don't break the eye contact until he sits down and a dark haired boy you've never seen before calls his name.

despite the abrupt rush of blood to your head, you manage to hold up the conversation with lando.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

max couldn't keep his eyes off you for long, and the longer he watched the tighter his grip got on his glass, until his knuckles turned white. he was so focused on you laughing and smiling with lando that he didn't pick up on the way you fidgeted with your ring. a nervous tell.

max clenched his jaw as you leaned in close to something lando said. far closer than what many would deem an action between two casual friends. your giggles and blushing and landos knowing smirk and your hand jokingly smacking his arm made max see red.

"you alright, mate?"

"im fine."

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

as the night goes on and the chatter and laughter get louder, people begin shuffling around, moving to talk with new people.

lando is called over to a different group of friends and andrew leaves with him, leaving you alone in the booth.

"having fun?"

you recognize his voice immediately, sense his burning presence as he slides into the booth, sitting next to you.

"yeah." you manage a smile. "the food was really good."

"that's good." he says, briefly glancing away. your eyes involuntarily trace over the tendons of his neck.

he was wearing a dark button down, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. simple, but ridiculously sexy.

he turns his eyes back onto you. "i didn't know you were gonna be here."

"oh i—" you hesitate for a second, his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

"andrew invited me." you explained, turning slightly so you could face him.

"mm, so are you..." he gestures between you and andrew a few seats down, you know what hes asking.

"oh no, we're just friends." you toy with the edge of your napkin.

it was a bold topic to bring up during a first conversation to say the least, but it didn't feel weird. there wasn't the usual tension, usual coldness that typically came with talking to someone for the first time. it was comfortable, you were able to relax a little.

"hm." is all max answers with. he spreads his legs slightly and pushes his hips forwards, getting comfortable. his leg brushing against yours.

the casual action had your heart thrumming in your ears, beating so loudly you're worried he can hear it.

you swallow, having to glance away. you feel your cheeks turning red.

why max verstappen had such an intense effect on you was still a mystery.

"so um—" you start, trying to make some small talk that would distract you from his arm that now rested on the ledge behind you. you take a breath, composing yourself before speaking. "how often do you guys do this kind of thing?"

he shifted again, his leg touching yours, but he doesn't pull it away this time. the knot of nerves in your stomach tightened. you felt your face turn even redder. the physical contact made your body ache for more.

max smirked, his ego swelling as he saw the effect he had on you.

"once in a while, usually after a race." 

you nod, biting your lip.

"congratulations by the way." you say, it wasn't surprising he'd taken first yet again, but you said it anyways. you prayed he wasn't able to pick up on the way your words came out slightly shaky.

you wanted to do nothing more than relax into him, but with the way he was looking at you that proved to be impossible.

you took a sip of your wine, desperate to cool down as an unexpected surge of heat washed over you which lingered between your legs.

max was different than anyone you'd ever talked too before. he reminded you of nobody. his sense of humor was unique and hilarious.

as the conversation continued you grew immensely fond of the dutchman sitting beside you. although you were absorbed in the stories from his childhood he told you, you remained acutely aware of how close the two of you were now sitting.

max's night couldn't have been unfolding more perfectly. your body language made your thoughts and feelings painfully obvious.

he picked up on the way you blushed immensely at any slight touch from him. the way your pupils dilated as you stared at him. the goosebumps that spread across your chest when he complimented your dress.

but the loudness of the restaurant was a little too much for him. there were too many people here. he craved something more intimate, more private.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you're caught off guard by his words.

the question was so cliche, yet coming from his mouth it made your heart throb.

"there's a beautiful view not too far from here," he continued, "we could walk?"

his voice was like velvet and he leaned in close, speaking in a low tone as if he didnt want anyone to hear except you.

by now, you're practically having heart palpitations. the pit in your stomach gapes wider.

it was already hard enough for you to keep your sanity intact with him while surrounded by other people. you honestly aren't sure if you could handle being out alone with him.

you nod slowly your head spinning, breathe quickening.

"oh, yeah i'd love that." your voice was unsteadt, yet enthusiastic.

without another word he starts getting up, but before he slips out of the booth he gently touches your leg with his hand, as if reassuring you.

his fingers may as well have been made of hot metal, his touch affected your entire body, his fingerprints burned into your skin.

you felt like a little kid with a crush as you gingerly got up and followed max out of the restaurant, butterflies in your stomach and in your mind.

you don't notice all the eyes on you two as you leave the restaurant, too caught up in the giddiness you were feeling. your own eyes too focused on max in front of you, more specifically on his back which looked so good in that damn shirt.

max, on the other hand, was well aware of all the eyes on him. he fought to keep his cocky grin at bay. there were at least 20 other people there, and out of everyone, you were leaving with him.

he opens the door and lets you by first.

"thank you," you say, the night air cooling your overheated body.

"of course."

amongst the ever present—extremely active— butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, you felt a twinge of genuine nervousness.

you realize that you had just left a restaurant, alone at night, with a guy you technically barely knew. was this safe?

it certainly felt safe. max felt nothing like a stranger.

your nervousness melted away once max fell into step beside you. you looked up at him, at those intense blue eyes.

you were walking so close your arms touched. you had the urge to reach out and take his hand, but of course you didn't.

so there you were, walking alongside max verstappen into the dark night, to see the promised beautiful view.

you'd only walked two blocks before max carefully took your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours.

please let me know if you want to be tagged for pt.2 (this might end up being three parts)❤

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

idk if you take anon requests but I am in love with Yandere ruthless and bloodthirsty Pirate captain who's obsessed with a princess from a small kingdom and takes her as wife in exchange for not plundering the kingdom and bleeding out their resources. He had planned for their first evening together to be romantic but she looks too tempting when she's frightened

🌹

CW: Extremely rough smut, sadistic behavior, bodily harm, knife play, blood, minor character death, dead dove

Edward listened to two of his crew members gossiping like handmaidens, feeling only mildly annoyed at their squawking. Usually by now he would have threatened to pull out their teeth to keep them quiet, but he secretly could understand their excitement. While pirates were blamed for anything that could go wrong on the open seas, they were actually often employed by nobility to do what their navies could not do legally. Still, it was a surprise to be extended a job offer from a large kingdom, considering Edward's notoriety.

Edward "The Living Death".

There wasn't a crew as fearsome as his. He had never worked for any of the self righteous kings or queens in the past who conscripted pirates for their aid, not because he thought too highly of himself, but because the stories of his wrath scared all the rich bastards away. And the stories were not exaggerations. Edward aimed to make himself the most terrible in the world, because while it was too late to ever be let into heaven, it wasn't too late to become powerful enough to kill Satan himself.

For an entire week the crew would be guests in the sea side kingdom, while The Living Death and two of his men would be welcomed into the castle for negotiations.

It was entertaining, being welcomed onto a king's land, and Edward was curious as to what King was so insane as to ask for his assistance, knowing that Edward was the type of man to torture sailors for sport.

The ship with black sails tied off on the dock of the grey and dull harbor. Although the carriage that awaited Edward was gaudy with its elaborate engravings, the buildings were drab and pitiful. Truly, a thriving kingdom. And the large castle that towered above the impoverished residents was just the icing on the cake. To enter the grounds a large gate had to be slowly opened, physically alienating the royals from their subjects.

The attendant waiting to take Edward and his mates to the study felt his jaw fall agape at the sight of the men. What parts of their bodies were visible were covered in deep scars, the men were large and intimidating, but the leader was almost inhumanly frightening, unnaturally blue eyes that almost looked blind pierced his soul through a mop of shaggy black hair.

Edward met with the king for introductions, however was politely dismissed to the rooms they would be staying in for a bath and meal, promising to begin negotiations the next day.

However, he couldn't expect pirates to do as he asked so blindly, so after his shower and a free change of clothes, Edward decided to wander the gardens, internally arguing with himself over what he is doing in a king's estate. Then he saw her.

A woman in a beautiful, yet simple, dress was being followed by a maid, chatting kindly with one another despite the class difference. From afar her voice touched something in Edward's spirit; a longing he hadn't been able to quench on the ocean.

Marilyn tensed up and fell back behind (Reader) where she was supposed to be, generally. (Reader) looked ahead to see what had frightened her handmaid, and witnessed a man she did not know approaching the both of them.

"Greetings, ladies." His voice was gravelled and exhausted, tugging on (Reader's) heartstrings. From under the stranger's freshly washed hair (Reader) could see a long scar between his eyes, matching the scars that littered the hand he offered to (Reader).

"Good sir." (Reader), without hesitation, responded with an extended hand. Marilyn audibly choked behind her, having to physically bite her tongue to prevent herself from shouting at the man to 'step off!'

Wind burnt lips kissed the back of (Reader's) hand, holding it for an inappropriate amount of time, yet (Reader's) expression of genuine kindness never changed. "You clearly do not know who I am." Although it was said with a smirk his tone was dangerous.

"Just as you clearly do not know of me." (Reader) held herself tall, praying that the man before her was not important enough to feel offended by her ignorance.

Edward's eyes sparkled beautifully as he straightened his back, as to tower over the lovely lady he had just met. The movement shifted his hair, better showcasing not only his eyes but the giant scar stretching from his hairline to the bridge of his nose. "I am here on business."

"What a coincidence." (Reader) smiled coyly. "As am I."

What is this feeling? Edward had many effects on women, fear, disgust, loathing, lust. But the smile on (Reader's) face was honest. Like a child who hasn't yet learned to fear the evils of men, her eyes were clear and unclouded, looking not at his scars, but his eyes; numb to the stench of blood he could never scrub himself clean of, the lamb had no clue she was speaking to a wolf, and he wasn't even in disguise.

"What kind of business does a lady have with a disgusting fool like this king?"

(Reader) gasped, taken back by his words, smiling nervously behind her fan. "Good sir, you just be careful with the way you speak about a king! I will not report you, but others shall not be so kind.." Concern laced her words as she searched the surroundings for eavesdroppers.

"The King knew who I was when he hired me, so he shouldn't be offended by my language."

"Still..." (Reader) sighed. "Well, if you are so curious, I'm here because of a marriage proposition."

"Marriage?" The idea irked Edward, and he had to hold back his hand from almost instinctively lashing out. What a strange reaction, feeling peeved over the possible engagement of a woman he's just met.

"Indeed, strange isn't it? I always knew marriage would one day come, but.. it is still quite the adventure." Her grin tightened, but it wasn't a happy smile, the expression felt more like a mother's attempt to console her frightened child.

There was an odd glow to (Reader's) eyes, and Edward was suddenly under the impression that the woman before him was secretly an angel, sent in disguise to test him, to see if Edward truly did long for the throne of hell. Again, his arm tried to move on it's own accord. What if, instead of allowing such an angel to return to heaven with her report on him, he caged her like a little song bird and ripped off her wings?

"I apologize, Miss, but I must cut our conversation short. Any longer and I might gouge out your eyes." Edward spoke with a smile, revealing his sharpened canines. But again, (Reader) surprised him, giggling back at him as though he had just made a light-hearted joke, while her maid behind her was grasping her breast like she was having a heart attack.

"Well, I shall keep a spoon in my pocket in case we need again!" (Reader's) laughter filled the garden.

She curtsied, back still straight and head dipped only as low to be polite. The maid, on the other hand, was practically folded in half and was bent down for so long she had to scurry after her lady.

As the mystery woman left, Edward had a lot of strange, foreign thoughts and feelings causing chaos in his mind and heart. He briefly fantasized about running after her, and taking her for himself behind a bush while her maid screamed for help. He had seen plenty of women's bodies before, but the fantasy of what could be hidden by his mystery lady's bodice was.. tantalizing.

Would she be impressed by his body? Or fearful? What kind of face would she make as he forced her to carry his children? Would she look at him with love and tenderness during the birth of their first born? Would she bite and scream and fight?

Edward discovered that he would have to return to his room prematurely, perplexed as to who that woman was, and why she had such an effect on him, causing an arousal despite not saying, or doing, anything sexually exciting.

Marilyn smacked her princess on the shoulder, red in the face and mouth frozen in horror. "My lady! I can't believe you!"

"What? Did my joke not make sense?" (Reader) asked in earnest. "I said I'd carry a spoon, so he had something to easily scoop my eyes out with."

"Not that, you-you- IMBECILE!" Marilyn cried out, grasping the lady she adored like a sister. "That man was The Living Death!"

"Oh. He didn't look dead to me." Another slap connected with the back of her neck.

"He was a pirate! A pirate!"

"A pirate? What was he doing here?" (Reader) nervously pondered, examining her maid's expression to see if she was pulling her leg.

"I don't know, but you should write a letter to your father immediately. No good man would want his daughter marrying into a family that deals with rotten apples."

After the sun rose into the dreary kingdom, Edward and his mates were finally invited into King Nikolai's study, meeting the rotund bastard who reeked of wine and pulled at his codpiece frequently.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today, gentlemen. You've saved me from an uncomfortable situation. That is, if you agree to my request."

"Well, let's not make this longer than necessary." Edward spat in disgust, feeling as though he would catch syphilis from just speaking with his potential employer.

"My son, my heir, has two marriage candidates. Two worthy marriage candidates. My friend, King Leopold has a, frankly stupid, daughter, Princess Cadence. Leopold and I decided long ago that his daughter should marry my son, and become queen when he surpasses me. Now the issue is King Dretious. His kingdom is.. small, but not unimpressive. It thrives wonderfully. He has only two daughters, pitiful him. The eldest is being trained to be his successor, which is wonderful for him since he was blessed with bright and charismatic daughters, but no man who marries her well become King, so there is no incentive there to send even my sons I dislike. The youngest, is a perfect marriage candidate. Princess (Reader). Intelligent, charming, attractive.." He took a ragged breath, his mind traveling to where it should not. "I desire her land. If she marry my son I'd have access as family to her resources, and in a generation or two my grandchildren could gain control of that little rock. But it isn't worth ruining my relationship with Leopold. That would be.. catastrophic."

Edward numbly wondered if the young woman he met was Princess Cadence, or Princess (Reader). In the short time he spent with her she certainly didn't seem stupid, so he was leaning towards the latter.

"But I want that land. Do you understand me?" King Nikolai's smile was sinister. "You can have whatever is in their castle, whatever can be looted, as long as I receive the deeds to their nation, signed and stamped, and King Dretious and his kin are exterminated."

"And what do we get? If I wanted to plunder a small country, I could do that without needing permission."

"Full, under the table, immunity, as well as enough money for you and your crew to retire in the Caribbean as lords." He was so smug as he pleaded his bargain that Edward considered killing him just to see him choke on his own blood.

Edward stood, walking around the king towards the window, debating whether or not it would be worth it to kill the fat asshole right then and there. But below the window, under a flowered tree, sat the woman he met the day before, watching birds as they flew overhead. "I met a young lady in the garden yesterday. She said she was here for a marriage proposition."

"Hmph, yes.. attractive, isn't she? That would have been Princess (Reader). She is unaware of her competition with Leopold's daughter, so it would have been unwise to have them both here at the same time."

(Reader) had her lips pursed, upset about something. 'How would those lips taste?' Edward thought excitedly.

"We'll do it." Edward spoke loudly, startling his men who were surprised by the boss's response.

His men questioned him on the way back to the ship. Surely he wasn't serious? Of course not... Captain Edward "The Living Death", the man who abandoned his family name, had a plan, one that he had come up with purely for selfish reasons, that did not include sucking up to a disease ridden rat. And he assured them, that after he got what he wanted, the crew would return, and burn King Nikolai's kingdom to the ground.

The wonderfully jolly, soft King Dretious, known for being unlike the cruel kings who ruled throughout the land, plump with age instead of greed, was petrified solid. The elderly father who was seen as a grandfather figure to his small island, blessed by the gods to always have the wisdom to do what was right, was stunned, incapable of coherent thought. Before him was a pirate captain who had demanded an audience, two months after his darling baby girl returned home from another country.

"What did you just say?" He stuttered out.

Edward stood beneath the kindly king sitting on his throne while wearing an ostentatiously decorated black frock coat, shining with it's abundance of gold decorations and precious jewels. His unnaturally bright eyes were fixated on the mortified princess standing behind her father.

"I have been hired to bring ruin to your kingdom. However, if you offer me a better prize than what I was promised by my employer, I'll reconsider my agreement with him." His gaze made (Reader's) skin crawl.

King Dretious swallowed the lump in his throat. "And what would that be? Whoever had the gall to request such a reason clearly had the resources to hire you, so I doubt anything of mine will compare."

"True. However, it isn't your money I'm after.." Edward stepped forward, still fixated on the younger princess will a hungry expression.

The eldest sister recognized the look of a predatory man before her father did, and stepped in front of (Reader) in a protective stance.

"I demand Princess (Reader's) hand in marriage."

"No!" The eldest princess spun around, grabbing onto (Reader) and hiding her within her embrace. "Father, you can't!"

"Please, Captain, isn't there anything else?" The King frantically begged, knowing that his army wasn't enough against The Living Death and his infamous crew of the damned.

Edward sighed, his patience wearing thin. With a snap of his fingers, his men brought forward four captives; the cook, two guards, and Marilyn. "Let's try that again." The demon spawn pulled out a gun and cocked it, aiming it at the older guard.

"Let's be civil-"

The King was cut off by a loud shot, killing the innocent man who had been a loyal employee of the castle for the past thirteen years. (Reader) hollered, frightened by the sudden bang.

Edward moved over to Marilyn, pulling down the hammer slowly. "No!" (Reader) burst free from her sister, running down the steps to fling herself onto her only friend's body, ready to be her shield.

"(Reader)!"

(Reader) cradled her maid, glaring through tears up at the man she foolishly thought was handsome only a couple of months ago. "I'LL DO IT! I'll do it! Just please.. no more."

Marilyn sobbed under (Reader's) weight. "Princess, no! Please - save yourself!"

"Sister, come back here now." The queen to be demanded, shaking and on the brink of tears herself.

Edward smiled wider than before, holstering his weapon. "Wise choice, angel." He turned his attention back to the King. "I hope you don't mind that there will be no wedding. For you see, God has no place in my life, even for happy occasions. I've already procured a marriage contract, so once it is signed that shall be that."

A calloused hand reached out to the princess.

"Shall we?"

The country was in mourning as the news of the princess's sacrifice spread faster than a plague, and nearly the entire country arrived to see her off as she boarded the pirate ship with black sails, stiffly shuffling next to her new husband, the certificate signed and verified only an hour prior. On what should be one's happiest day, the air was filled with sounds of heart breaking agony. (Reader) was numbly dragged onto the ship and into the captain's quarters, no longer a princess, but a wife to a monster.

Edward locked the door behind them, smiling wolfishly. "Welcome, to your new home, darling. Unfortunately, we will have to prolong our honeymoon, as I have a country to conquer."

"What?!" (Reader) collapsed before her new husband, clutching onto his shirt. "But you promised!"

"Ah, apologies, love, but I did not mean your old country." He pulled her onto her feet, kissing her knuckles. "I meant the country that asked me to kill you. Now that you are my wife, I can't stand for such insolence, now can I?"

(Reader) pulled away, eyes wide with disgust. "Was this your plan from the start? If you never truly cared, then why take me? Whatever loot you plunder from whoever it was that employed you will surely be worth more than my father's entire island, so if you had no qualms about taking on a presumably larger nation-state, then why?"

"You are a smart one." Edward chuckled, approaching (Reader) with a look she had never seen before, yet for some reason set her on edge. "I did it because I wanted you."

He lunged, tackling her onto a large bed covered in silk and furs. She struggled, fighting with all her might to push him off of her, but she just wasn't strong enough. (Reader) bit her lip in an effort to not cry again, a pitiful attempt to retain her pride.

"So strange.. I have had whores throw themselves at me many times in the past, but they were nothing but bodies. What is it about you that is so different?"

Nothing but bodies.. (Reader) had learned from Marilyn what happens on a woman's wedding night, but in the chaos of her marriage she had forgotten that that was what this was, her wedding night. Her face fell, tears whelmed up in her puffy red eyes, and her resolve to look brave cracked.

But this expression seemed to only excite the mad man further. His blue eyes grew hazy like he was drunk and his breathing became irregular. "So that's what you would look like.. I wondered."

A large knife was procured from behind his back, causing (Reader) to cry harder. With sadistically slow movements he cut through her dress. She made pathetic attempts to swipe at him, but Edward only responded by effortlessly flipping her onto her belly, slicing through the lace of her corset.

"So many layers to finally see the body I've been dreaming of. That will change, of course. If I want to see your beauty, I will. Even if you must live in the nude."

He ignored her screams as he tore off every article of clothing she wore, leaving (Reader) naked and shivering beneath him.

"Is it me that makes you shudder like this, or is it," he placed the blade against (Reader's) cheek, earning another gasp as her body practically convulsed, "either way, I'll pretend that your shaking is in excitement for me."

With (Reader) now on her back, Edward held the knife to her throat to prevent her from running while he removed his own clothing with one hand. Her sobs only grew louder as more of his scarred skin became visible.

"Please do-don't do this!"

"Don't what? Make love to my newlywed wife? Fine then. I'll fuck you instead."

His pants slipped down, revealing his fully erect manhood. (Reader) closed her eyes in shame, but Edward grabbed her face with enough force to bruise her chin, snapping them back open in shock of the pain.

"Look at what you've done to me. Without grabbing at my pants and begging me like a slut, you've already made my cock like this. Don't you feel special, knowing that you have that effect on your husband." Edward continued squeezing his bride's face painfully, forcing her to nod in agreement.

The tip of the knife drug down her skin without enough pressure to cut, but enough for (Reader) to feel the cold threat tingling and creating goosebumps, traveling teasingly from her breasts and over her quivering stomach, stopping at her exposed cunny. (Reader) felt the metal touch her where she was told never to touch herself, and was consumed by humiliation.

"Unfortunately for you, it seems that your modest body has not prepared itself for me. I would have taken the time to wetten your cunt, but as per your request, I am not to make love to you, but to fuck you."

"What does that-" a searing pain electrocuted her body as (Reader's) dry pussy was stretched over Edward's dick. Her throat was aching from all the screaming, but that didn't stop the sounds of agony from shrieking out.

He held himself inside of her, relishing in the feeling of her twitching hole tightening almost unbearably around him. For a brief moment, Edward's heart swelled with love, and he considered licking his fingers to provide his wife with lubrication, but the look on her face.. just from entering her (Reader) became so red she was almost purple, eyes flickering as though she were to pass out. It was too beautiful for words.

As he pulled out it caused an awful friction that (Reader) swore she could hear, an awful shuk shuk shuk as Edward removed himself, only to slam back in. It felt like she was being torn apart. He continued thrusting into her rapidly swelling sacred place. The tearing sensation morphed into a burning one, as her blood slickened her hole.

His movements only sped up, pounding into his bruised and bloody princess. (Reader) began to adjust to the pain, and started to push against Edward's chest, desperate enough to fight against him despite his knife still being held to her thigh.

Suddenly, (Reader's) legs were raised and folded back, pressing down into her arms to prevent her from moving. She pulled and struggled, disgusted by the wet noise as Edward's hips connected with hers, uncomfortably aware of his pelvis grinding against her sore clit. Edward grabbed her face again, popping her jaw open and sliding his knife into her mouth.

"Don't struggle, or you just might cut out your tongue." The man threatened, his malicious words clashing with the intense lust in his eyes.

(Reader's) nose scrunched up as she tried to glare at Edward, unable to spit out the knife because of his hold on her face.

"Ah, continue looking at me like that!" He sang with praise, his legs twitching with anticipation. "I'm about to cum!"

(Reader) didn't quite know what that meant, but she could feel him throbbing inside of her.

"I was going to wait until you've gotten used to being my wife, but I think I'm going to cum inside you! Fuck, I'm going to put my babies in you! I'm going to knock you up!"

Learning what was about to happen, (Reader) tried to scream without bumping the knife in her teeth.

Suddenly, the knife was thrown across the room, replaced by Edward's lips, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth as he climaxed deep in his wife's raw pussy. (Reader) didn't know if it was because she was aware that he was cumming inside of her, or if it was because of the paper thin cuts along her vaginal wall, but the fluid pumping into her was horrendously hot, burning her abused body.

He collapsed onto her, still kissing her passionately, tasting the lips he had craved since he first met her. When Edward pulled away, admiring the unbroken string of saliva connecting him to his lover, he knew why he had been so enamored with (Reader) since the beginning.

"I'm so excited to drag you down into hell with me, princess." 'There will be no escape from me. You are my gift from Satan, my little angel. You belong to me.'

[dreamkidddream]

Vampire!Miguel O’Hara Headcanons!

He has been living in my head RENT FREE ever since I saw the movie last week and rightfully so cause my lord does his fangs have me weak 😮‍💨 expect something more full-fledged written out on his fangs and the vampire AU- reader is gender neutral!

A/N: in this AU Lyla is a vampire instead of AI (but still his assistant somewhat) and this is kinda sorta based off of this post!

It’s been a tragic and lonely life for Miguel. The last time he truly felt at peace was when you were still by his side- his dear, sweet, human lover

Just the thought of you caused him unbearable pain- he remembers the good moments, the fleeting kisses and more- and then he remembers you dying in his arms, your blood coating his hands as you tried to comfort him. That’s how kind you were- spending your last moments alive choking out how much you love him before you passed on

He’s been an empty shell ever since, even after hundreds of years. The world continued to evolve, and it took a while for Miguel to adapt with it. Having Lyla helped him stay sane somewhat, but he would never be able to let go of the past- of you

He was bitter and angry- angry at your kind for your death, angry at himself for not being able to save you, angry that you’re not here. All it took was one glance at your portrait and his fury would boil over. It’s been nights where Lyla would have to leave him be as he tore apart his home, no way of calming him down. Those nights, while now very rare, were hard to witness

He was able to blend in with humans- somewhat. It wasn’t a secret that a lot of people were attracted to him, even if Miguel made it clear that he wasn’t interested (he would always tell you that if his heart did beat, it would beat solely for you). But he could deal with it if it meant getting a meal out of it (and getting rid of some of his annoyances and pent up frustration all at once)

But he does enjoy some of the modern inventions that came out of this time (as much as he hates to admit)- and it lead him to finding something he once lost years ago

It was only an accident- in a rush someone bumped into him outside on the way home. A minor inconvenience, one that he can scoff and glare at (he sometime forgets to be mindful of his fangs if he’s really irritated)-

Until he smelled it- the sweet, comforting scent that drove him wild, that made his fangs poke out in dire need for more. Your scent

He couldn’t believe it- has he finally gone mad? But as he whipped around, he saw you facing him. You- donned in this time period’s clothes, bright eyes gazing at him like all those years ago. It was you, it was you!

Miguel know that he looks like a fool, mouth agape while his eyes blown out. He wanted to take you in his arms so bad, hands outstretched with his a genuine smile that he hasn’t worn in years-

Until he sees your confusion and remembers that you don’t know nor remember him

He’s heartbroken as his hands return to his side- but then he gets an idea and newfound determination. You both were given another chance, and he has nothing but time to remind you of what was once before

He plays off his mistake well (always the charmer and gentleman) and it doesn’t take much before he’s taking your hand in his, introducing himself and vice versa. How long has it been since he’s heard your melodic voice? He had to repress his groan when his name left your lips, a shiver going down his spine. The same warmth he missed has finally returned, and all he wants to do is soak it all in

He already has Lyla finding all of your social media accounts and more when he walks away- wanting to know your interests/hobbies, where you work, if anyone is interested in you, where you live- everything

Outsiders wouldn’t be able to tell (but Lyla could after knowing him for literal hundreds of years), but Miguel’s attitude has improved after his encounter with you. He’s still uptight and stone face, but he’s gotten a bit softer with his approach to others and has a little more patience (if you squint). He’s also going to her more for “advice” (ie. tell me what to do to win (Y/N) back now)

This is probably the greatest moment in her life knowing Miguel actually wants her in his business for once lmao

Miguel’s delusional in a sense- he wants back what he lost so long ago that he’s willing to do anything to have you back. He’s already making a plan on what needs to be done before you can come home with him, setting up arrangements to make your arrival comfortable when the time comes

His appetite isn’t yet satisfied- if anything it’s grown more in anticipation. Miguel couldn’t let himself go feral and scare you off, so he needed to feed before he saw you. Just thinking about how sweet your blood smelled had his head spinning- you were too tempting to be around already, especially when he’s hungry

He couldn’t stop thinking about you before, but now he really can’t- he’s imagining all of the new memories you’ll make together once you’re with him. His love for you hasn’t changed, even if it pains him that you don’t remember any of it

He’s already lost you once, and he refuses to let it happen again

He’s made the mistake of not turning you the first time- he doesn’t plan on making it again

[sachirobabe]

Chapter 1

Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Wc: 986

Summary: You, a dedicated member of the girls' volleyball team, find an unexpected connection with Kuroo Tetsurou. Igniting a bond over shared passions and stolen moments, love blossoms on the court; all because you met him at a captains meeting.

Masterlist | Next —>

Taglist: @funky-writes, @lemurzsquad, @02shuuu

It was normal for third-years to be captains, but not necessarily in your case. You had been a captain since your first-year. Your coach had different rules, and everybody voted on a captain regardless of year status. Leading to you becoming a leader from your first year on the team.

Surprisingly, the girls and boys teams were kept separate often. The only one you were semi-close to was Nobuyuki Kai, only because you two were in the same class.

You had suggested numerous times for practice matches or jointed practices, but had consistently been turned down by the other captains and the boys' head coach.

Budgeting, costs and other important factors were assessed during the meeting. It was finally time for your yearly begging of having the two teams be closer.

"What could we benefit from playing with you guys?" Coach Nekomata crosses his arms in his seat.

"We've won the spring national tournament for the past two years." Your coach says curtly. “We’d be great practice.”

He ponders. "You've been at this since you were a little first-year, Y/n." Nekomata chuckles and turns in his chair to face you. "I like your determination. Why not? Let's do it."

"Really?" Your mouth is agape.

"Mhm." He agrees. "We'll plan at least one practice match every week."

"Thank you!" You bow to him and the new captain sitting next to him.

"You won't regret it, coach." Mori, your coach gives him a wide smile.

"We won't go easy on you." The new captain exits along with you.

"Better not." You smile back. "I'm Y/n L/n, I'm sorry I never got to formally meet you in there."

"It's all good. Kuroo Tetsurou." He says back. "New year already, huh?"

"Last one, too." You smile softly, "You think you'll get many new players trying out?"

He thinks for a moment, "Probably not, you?"

"We always have a big turnout, but most of the unserious players quit after the first day. I think we’ll get 3-4 new first-years.” You answer.

"I'm really excited for the training camp, you're assisting right?" He continues the small talk.

"Yeah I will, don't you remember me assisting the last couple of years?" You raise an eyebrow.

He laughs softly, "I do. Just wanted to make sure." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "Well anyway, I've gotta do some supply checks, I'll see you later." He waves and you give a small one back.

The spring wind softly blew, giving a nice breeze to the warm sun. First day of school and volleyball was tomorrow, you’re both excited and a little sad. This would be your last year before going to university.

You began to walk home, putting in your headphones to listen to music to past time. The music stopped, indicating you were getting a call. Confused, you look at your screen and see Himari, your best friend and teammate.

“Hello?” You pick up.

“Hey, you busy?” She asks out of breath.

“No, I’m just coming back from the captains meeting.” You say.

“I forgot that was today, how’d it go?” She questions and hears you sigh, “You know what, come to my house. We can bake some cookies and talk about it.”

A small smile formed on your lips, you had good news, but you wanted to act upset so you could tell her in person. “I’m heading over, you need me to pick up anything at the store?”

“I don’t think so, my mom just went grocery shopping.” She says.

“Alright, I’m 5 minutes away.” You say and hang up, you quickly text your parents that you’d be going over to Himari’s for a little.

She lived next door to you, making you grow up with each other. Your mom had put you into volleyball from a young age and when Himari moved in, you asked her to play and she too, fell in love with the sport.

You don’t even knock anymore, that’s how close your families are. You let yourself in and see Himari sitting at her kitchen counter.

“Where’s your mom?” You say, wanting to greet her.

“She’s on a date!” Himari smiles widely. Her mother was divorced and ended up raising Himari herself.

“Please tell me it’s with the guy from the farmers market.” You ask and she nods furiously, making you both squeal. “Good for her. I hope it goes well.”

“Same here.” She agrees. “Now, tell me all about the meeting.” She pulls out a mixing bowl, already having the ingredients out.

You walk over to the sink to wash your hands, “You know how it always goes. Budgeting, storage, and whatnot.”

“So boring.” She rolls her eyes and eats a chocolate chip, “Did you ask coach Nekomata about joint practices or matches?”

“I did.” You say and stay quiet. “He said yes!”

She screams in excitement, “No way. Really?”

“Yes way. He said he liked my determination and would schedule a practice match every week!” You two hug and pull away.

“I’m so glad. We could definitely beat them.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know.” You smile. “I can’t wait to tell the rest of the team.”

“Speaking of, has coach gave you the practice plan?” She gulps.

“No.” You say with wide eyes. “It’ll probably be bad. She does it so she can weed out the weak ones.”

Himari grabs a cookie from the pan, “Lets toast, for the next two weeks of absolute hell.” You grab a cookie and touch it against hers giggling.

“It’s getting late.” You say, having to be up early after weeks of waking up late. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” You wave and jog to your house.

You greet your parents and quickly head off to your room to make sure you have everything for tomorrow. You have butterflies in your stomach as you lay in bed, forcing your eyes shut.

[yoificfinder]

Hi anon! Sorry I accidentally deleted your ask while I was in the process of making a rec list for your request because of the editing issue I have on tumblr. Fortunately, I was able to take a screenshot before deleting. And hopefully, the issue is now fixed!

Here's my rec list of canon-divergent fics where it was Victor who skated Eros/Agape:

a certain playboy by fan_nerd [G, 4K]

@v-nikiforov - The handsome playboy has returned to town. Please pay special attention to my Free Skate tomorrow. ♥♥♥

There’s no way that Victor, Yuuri’s childhood idol, could be calling Yuuri a handsome playboy, just because they’d met eyes at two skating events. Besides, a total stranger had given Yuuri the tickets. It would be totally absurd.

Yuuri frowns, turning his head on the pillow. Wouldn’t it?

catch me (i'm falling) by @spookyfoot [T, 5K]

Victor skates the saltiest Eros routine of all time and issues a call out on international television.

darling, stay by my side by jenmishe [T, 16K]

“Yuuri!” Phichit cries. “I know you have this weird insomnia thing, but for the love of god, get some sleep. Or at least turn the phone down. I know it’s after midnight there.”

“Holy shit, Phichit,” says Yuuri. “Yakov Feltsman wants to coach me.”

“Holy shit,” Phichit agrees, wide eyed.

(Or: Vicchan lives and fate is a funny thing.)

A Myriad of Possibilities by ztwilightzx [T, 92K]

“I have to go!” Yuuri blurts out. As an assistant coach, he needs to be at Minami’s interviews, even if it is Victor of all people standing right in front of him.

“Wait—” Victor says, but Yuuri has already ducked away. “Yuri!” he hears Victor call from behind him.

Yuuri doesn’t stop. He’s made that mistake before – why would Victor Nikiforov know who Yuuri is this year any more than he did last year? Yuri Plisetsky is debuting as a senior, after all, and might be here at the Cup of China to support his rinkmates.

It may be the sound of Yuuri’s name on Victor’s lips, but there is no way Victor is calling for him.

(Canon-divergence. The Nishigori triplets never upload Yuuri's rendition of Stammi Vicino online. Yuuri buys himself time to decide whether he wants to stay on the ice or retire by joining Minami Kenjirou's team as an assistant coach.

Victor never hears from the beautiful Japanese skater after Sochi. He choreographs On Love: Eros because he can’t quite let go, but it’s getting harder to push himself on the ice and the cracks are starting to show.

Two lost individuals take a different route to find love and life, but they eventually get there all the same.

same song, different dance by @crossroadswrite [T, 88K]

The line is silent for a moment, as Yuuri stands there, fingers getting progressively colder as he hears Minako breathe in his ear, not really willing to hang up first.

“The Grand Prix is just around the corner,” Minako says, her tone almost wistful.

He breathes out slowly to steady himself. “It is.”

“… Are you going to watch it?”

Yuuri shouldn’t. He knows it’ll feel awful to watch everyone he knows trying their best at something he loves when he can’t anymore. But it’s Phichit’s first year in the Grand Prix, and Victor’s competing, so…

“Of course,” he says, and is proud of how steady his voice comes out. He doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not.

(Or: in which Yuuri's Stammi Vicino skate never gets posted and he retires, Victor keeps himself skating for better or for worse, Yuri struggles with his debut, and missed opportunities have a way of righting themselves.)

Other recs are welcome!

---

ETA: Other people's rec:

starting right now I'll be strong by @alexseanchai [T, 1k] *WIP

Enthrall by poppysocle [E, 106K]

[themadlu]

A Star's Purpose

Part of the Spelljammer challenge by @spacebarbarianweird!

Astarion is happy, truly happy, in the safety of his lover's affection. The troubles of the Underdark have no sway on his mood as he relishes simply existing with his Zélie.

Until a call for help takes them to the depths of the Astral Sea on a Spelljammer vessel, and he'll be damned if he lets his maddening hero face the dangers of interplanar space on her own.

TW: None, I think. Maybe a smidge of self-worth issues? And end-of-game spoilers.

Not beta read and minimal editing, sorry for any mistakes!

This is mostly non-canon to Zélie and Astarion's story (I think).

@amywritesthings, in case you wanna check it out!

A year and a half has passed since the Netherbrain’s defeat. Zélie stayed in Faerun with Astarion, who’s now confined in the shadows due to his vampiric nature. They have settled in the Underdark, after concluding it was their duty to guide the 7,000 spawns towards a semi-functional society and a second chance at life. The lovers live in the magic tower near the sussur tree and have made it their own haven. A home, Zélie would say, but she is home to Astarion, and where they are matters not. 

He just wants to keep falling into reverie with her warm body tangled in his, keeping his demons at bay, and welcome the day with her wild, owlbear-esque hair all over his face. To live in the comfort of each other’s embrace, as nauseatingly cliche as it sounds. Not that she would allow it on most days, his precious, maddening woman. They have responsibilities, she says. Obligations. To the hells with them, he thinks, as he walks with her towards whatever bothersome issue they need to attend to next.  

So what happens when a message comes from a dear friend asking for their assistance in the cold void of the Outer Planes? Astarion knows. His steadfast hero will do what heroes are expected to do: run to the rescue, even if she’d rather not risk their lives again so soon after…well, everything. “You don’t have to come, Astarion, really. Actually, I think it more appropriate for you to stay here, now that we are making progress with your siblings.” As if. Aurelia and Leon can make themselves useful for once and hold the fort on their own. The pale elf is no hero and never will be, but his heart beats in her chest and her soul is his own, so he’d be damned if he doesn’t follow her into this new, gigantic mess. She (“We, Astarion”) already slayed a Netherbrain; what’s a lich queen in comparison. 

______________________________________________________________

Well, that’s impressive.

Astarion examines the raiding ship that Lae’zel somehow managed to secure. The very thing that is going to sail them into the cold, deep astral sea. The technology is clearly Illithid—since he woke up inside that fleshy pod, he’s become familiar enough with their tentacled technology to recognise it when he sees it. But the Githianki’s influence is evident: the large, fan-shaped sails stand proud against the moonlit sky like a dragon’s wings, ready to take their riders towards their next conquest. The front of the ship has what he can only describe as teeth; fanged protrusions, not unlike his own, ready to swallow whole whatever unfortunate creatures they’ll meet. A silent but unavoidable promise of war echoes off the vessel. It makes Astarion antsy. 

He has no issue with violence–he still revels in it at times, the need to own, to consume and not be consumed, so typical of his kind, exasperated by the horrors he suffered. But his bouts of spite and aggression have been fading since her. 

He turns to look at Zélie only to find her staring at the ship with eyes so wide they mirror the moon perfectly. Her mouth is the slightest bit agape in wonder, the closer her stern face can get to a surprised expression. Perfect thing. Gods, over a year together (A year, five tendays and eight days.), barely leaving each other’s side even in dreams, and his little hero still leaves him speechless with the smallest quirk.

(The way she smiles at him when she thinks he isn’t looking makes him want to scream, weep, beg her for forgiveness—for all he has to his name is a used body—and ravage her for days. At the same time.)

You’re a gift, my love. Let me keep you. 

Astarion isn’t worthy of her devotion and mercy, no angry huffs and puffs from her will convince him fully, but gods below he wants to be. He’ll do anything, become anything to keep her safe, happy, looking at him as if he were some miracle of the heavens. 

(Do it. I dare you, he thinks to the silent gods, Try to take her from me. See what happens next.)

“Seen something you like, darling?” He jests in an airy tone, both because he likes to prattle and because her attention scalds him kindly, completely, like the sun never could. Insufferable woman, making him feel so alive. 

Zélie flips her head towards him, frizzy curls bouncing wildly. “Oh Astarion, this ship! I know we’ve been on a mindflayer vessel before, but this is incredible!” She takes his hand in hers and he burns in the best way possible. 

Precious thing, so enamoured by technology, human or otherwise. He pulls her into his arms so he can feel whole one last time before he has to share her with their friends. Astarion kisses her softly, a grin on his lips at her inexorable embarrassment. She is not one for public displays of affection—most of the time.

(Part of the reason he prefers it when it’s just the two of them, so he can worship her properly in the temple of their home.) 

Fuck. 

He is getting hard just thinking about it. He needs to distract himself or else he’ll end up with a wet patch on his trousers that Lae’zel will ridicule until the end of days. 

Jealous prick. Green suits her.

The pale elf grips Zélie tighter, his familiar hardness pressing into her stomach, and her already wide eyes become impossibly larger, paler. (He so wishes he had a reflection in times like these.) 

“I stand by my point, my sweet. Size does matter, it seems.” Astarion winks at her and the woman’s flustered expression turns unamused. Oh, he so adores riling her up, his fierce hero. 

It seems he has underestimated the effect he’s had on her since they met—he can’t believe it’s almost as deep as the one she had on him—because suddenly she presses into him, burying a hand into one of her coat’s pockets so she can grab his length without being seen. Astarion hisses under his breath with poorly concealed pleasure. It’s his eyes that widen and darken now.

“You, cheeky, little pup,” he murmurs, rattles, heat spreading through him so that he would surely combust if he weren’t a cold corpse. 

“Mhm. I guess you do have a point, my dear,” Zélie says, face still unamused as she looks at him and gives him a gentle squeeze to emphasise her statement. 

(It takes all of his self-control not to buck his hips into her hand.)

“Although size doesn’t mean quality. Both are necessary. What good would such a huge ship do to us if it couldn’t sail properly, don’t you think?” She whispers the last few words in his sensitive ear and Astarion almost whines, the desire pooling in his underwear threatening to stain the fabric.

 If it were anyone else touching him like she does, Astarion would rip their throat and limbs out or die in the attempt. But it’s his Zélie and, gods and hells, he wants her, this, all of it, desperately. Her hands are so gentle to him, always, as if he would break should she press a little harder. He thought it was her relative inexperience at first, or worse, pity. The idea that she could be so tender with someone like him purely because she wanted to was unfathomable; now, he has no interest in living without it.

Only she can come to him unannounced. She can do anything she wants with him. 

(He trusts her more than he trusts himself.)

“T’chaki, you two never cease to be revolting,” a cutting voice calls out from behind them. Ah, right. Lae’zel is here. And a few dozen other Gith warriors loyal to Orpheus, all looking equally disgusted. 

Astarion scowls at them while his love-addled brain quickly sobers up at their most untimely appearance (Thank you very much, Lae’zel.) 

Only then, he notices the strangeness of his predicament: it’s his usually stony Zélie who’s all but moulding their bodies into one, it’s her smaller frame in his arms and her fingers caressing his still-hard length. 

Oh? You’re more worried about this journey than you let on, aren’t you, darling?

He recognises the signs from their last life-threatening adventure, her need to have him close to her so she could keep him safe. Impossible thing, always shielding him so fiercely, he is starting to consider his centuries of captivity as a due price for having her to himself. 

(A mortal human protecting a vampire should be laughable, but she saved him in every possible way already.)

Astarion snarls in warning at the burdensome company that ruined what could be the last moment of private intimacy with his person in a long while. “With all due respect, Lae’zel dear, go fuck off for a bit, would you?” 

Lae’zel’s warriors look just about ready to use him as a practice target (They can try.) when the woman in his embrace clears her throat, “It’s all right, Lae’zel. We’re revising last-minute arrangements for the journey. We’ll board in a moment, thank you.” 

The Gith does not look happy, but she and Zélie share a close friendship (And a stick up both their backsides, Astarion used to think.), so she listens to her and heads to the ship with her crew, cursing some pretty mild threats. Small mercies. 

“Oh,” Finally alone, Zélie realises she is still gripping Astarion’s length, colour draining from her face in mortification. “I’m so sorry Astarion, I got carried away,” she tries to move her hand away but he grabs her wrist, keeping her in place. 

“You don’t have to apologise, love. I know I’m simply irresistible!” His attempt to lighten her mood is met with a sceptic glance. Silly, precious thing, always caring for his well-being. Let me help you. “Truthfully, my sweet,” his next words are the truest ones he’s ever uttered, “you know I’m yours.” 

Zélie raises an eyebrow, “you are your own person, Astarion. We went through this, multiple times in fact.” 

He laughs, “To you, with you, darling, it doesn’t matter. As you can clearly see,” he squeezes her hand around his dripping cock.

His stubborn woman studies him carefully, searching for any of his masks and finding none. “Very well,” she concedes. She turns to her left as noises filter from the ship. “Last chance, Astarion. If you want to remain in the Underdark, you must tell me now. Lord knows how long this expedition will last, and I reckon your siblings would benefit greatly from you being there to—”

That’s what it is, then. She worries for him still; and it still unravels him. 

Let me care for you, idiot.  

“Hush, you,” Astarion places a finger on her lips to shush her, “I am where I belong.” 

(Something inside him tears at the thought of being separated from Zélie. Of her alone in the face of danger.)   

His hero’s stance softens, finally relaxed. Her relief makes her look so much younger. “Oh, well, in that case,” she leans into him and kisses him. Truly, fearlessly, savouring all of him. Astarion barely suppresses a noise of surprise before responding in kind, fangs grazing her lips, never hurting her (Never.), devouring her. 

Zélie quietly moans into him. Astounding, how she is still pleasured by such a simple act when they have been entangled into way more complex scenarios during the last year. (As if he were not close to coming already.) If the Gith are watching, he’ll gauge their eyes out.

A tremble of the earth signals that the ship is ready for departure. Zélie detaches from him and this time he does whine at her loss. She gives one last gentle squeeze to his length, making him narrow his eyes at her. The cool night air flows between them.

“The moment we are alone, I will bury myself into your perfect little body so deeply they will have to pry me from you, love.” 

(There’s no holier sight than her tender ecstasy as she shatters around him.)

He expects her embarrassment but not her smirk, “Careful. Promises must be kept, Astarion.” 

She pecks him on the lips again, fully extricating herself from him to climb the steps to the main deck. 

Cheeky, maddening pup.

Yes, Astarion decides, he will make her shout his name so loud Vlaakith herself will hear. 

______________________________________________________________

The Astral Sea is not what Astarion expected. Not that he expected much of anything since he didn’t really want to come here in the first place.

Zélie is leaning against the taffrail in front of him, a multitude of celestial bodies surrounding them. She is so eager to examine every part of the vessel that she stepped onto the outer deck the moment the ship slowed down to pick up some more crew members (As if they weren’t cramped enough already.)

“Don’t you find it uncanny, Astarion? This works very much like a regular ship, and yet it doesn’t. The Astral Sea functions like any material sea, until it doesn’t. And those strange helms—” 

“A pinnacle of technology, taken from the Ghaik and immensely improved by the Githianki so that our empire may conquer and prosper,” comments Lae’zel. Her queen’s betrayal hasn’t quelled the admiration for her own people; if anything, she seems more determined than ever to see a worthy leader at the helm of Gith society. “With a spelljamming brig such as this, you can travel anywhere, anytime. Time passes differently in the Astral Plane. Open a gate into one of many material planes to plunder and pillage to your heart’s content!” 

Gods, intense as always I see. Good. 

A formidable trait in war; fearsome in a foe, welcome in an ally. 

(So Lae’zel can protect Zélie on the battlefield while he keeps her safe from the shadows.)

Zélie’s attention shifts to the mechanism supporting the sails as she speaks, “The travelling part sounds delightful, Lae’zel. The plundering and pillaging less so, for my tastes.” 

The Gith begins a rant about the istik’s inherent weak nature. She even dares to say his Zélie should have chosen her as a partner, back when she proposed, so her martial skills would not have been dulled by the puny vampire. 

Excuse me?!

“I’ll let you know, Lae’zel, that I can keep our dear leader on her toes just fine,” the elf interjects. Astarion is about to add a snarky remark (He was chosen after all.), but Zélie speaks first, “Oh Lae’zel, I would have just been an impediment and you know it. I would have slowed down all the conquering and deadly fighting you enjoy so much. Besides,” she turns to Astarion, a playful glint in her eyes. If he weren’t so attuned to her, he’d miss it.

 (He wonders how many silent gestures he has missed at the start of their travels.)

“I am where I am meant to be,” she concluded. The tips of his ears definitely do not blush at those words. 

(She’ll be the end of him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.) 

Astarion shoots his darling a winning smile, which morphs into a cocky grin as he looks at Lae’zel. 

There. Don’t be sour, you heard what she said. 

Lae’zel is unimpressed. “T’chk. Suit yourself, Zel. Your loss.” 

She marches off towards the helm of the brig when Zélie interrupts her, “Wait. You mentioned that time here passes differently, but how so?”

The Gith sighs, “Ignorants. It’s not the time itself, but its effects. They come to an almost complete halt; no hunger, no ageing—you’ll see when you won’t recall the last time you ate.” 

“Oh”. Oh. 

No ageing is almost as good as—

Immortality. 

Astarion has heard about the Astral plane before, but it seemed so out of his reach he never bothered to learn more. He pickpocketed a book or two about it from some of his liaisons, but they were confiscated immediately and he was handed to Godey for his insolence. It’s not as if Cazador ever had any interest in entertaining his spawn’s curiosity. 

Time is of no consequence to him, but to know that Zélie’s limited lifespan (Because of course the impossible woman had to be human, of all things.) could also be endlessly extended— 

Astarion faces her, her eyes already on him, lit up with the same realisation. He doesn’t dare to hope it’s going to be that simple, but gods, if anyone deserves eternal life is her. And he deserves some happiness without such a dreadfully finite time limit, he fucking does. 

He sees how Lae’zel looks at him, then Zélie, and sighs loudly. She stomps off, shouting, “Boarding is about to be complete. I suggest you two get inside soon enough, if you don’t want to end your dull lives swept away by the astral winds.” 

Astarion nods as she passes by him—her people-reading’s skills have improved enormously since they met. The moment she is out of earshot, he speaks, “Darling, did you—”

“I don’t know—” Zélie says, at the same time. 

The elf lets out a shrill, small laugh, “You first, my sweet.” 

She smiles, a “I don’t know what to think, Astarion. Being immune to the effects of time, it all seems so impossible, so…” He knows what she is thinking, that it’s unnatural, that it’s not how things, people, are supposed to be. When he thought ascending was the right choice for them, when he failed to convince her to embrace becoming his eternal bride, she recoiled, attached to her mortality. 

She doesn’t understand. 

He would outlive her even if he were not a vampire because he is an elf and she, holy as she is, is human. There is no facet of reality where she won’t leave him behind and go where he can’t follow—

“I think we should try,” Zélie stands taller, back straight, like a general making an important call, “After we help your siblings and all the others settle down. Who knows, maybe we can even get our own astral skiff. Do you think dogs will be fine here? I wouldn’t want to leave Scratch behind.”  

She talks faster, excited, and Astarion’s breath catches, head spinning even though he doesn’t need air. He darts forward to cage her between himself and the taffrail, causing her to let out the most adorable little breath. 

(Perfect.)

Zélie composes herself again, “And if we can travel between material planes, there may be a chance to find mine…to find my family. Even if just to tell them I’m well and to introduce you to them.”

Astarion feels like he’s falling, so he catches himself with centuries-old sarcasm. “To—what? Love, you can’t be serious. Introducing a vampire spawn to your oh-so-proper family is a moronic thing to do, even for an impossible woman such as yourself.” 

They would scorn you my sweet. 

She speaks of her family, her planet, sometimes. The image of stern faces, so similar to hers, twisted in fear—or worse, disgust—at the monster their precious Zélie is in love with leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He isn’t fond of children, but even he wouldn’t want his daughter to have anything to do with something like him. 

Zélie exhales in offence, “Of course I want you to meet them, ridiculous elf. I have nothing to hide. I am proud of you, all of you, infinitely, and I know they would be too. You complete me, and for that they would welcome you with open arms.” She stares him down in challenge. 

Astarion studies her expression as he presses his forehead to hers. He seeks for unwillingness, for embellishments of the truth—because lying is a sin to her— and finds none. 

You mean this. Gods.

“Yes, love. We can bring the pest. We can even ask Halsin for the owlbear if you’d like. We will travel through every single material plane if we need to. Anything,” he kisses her parted lips, “Anything,” pecks her cheeks, “Anything,” her forehead, “Anything,” her nose, “Anything you want.” His grip on her tightens. 

She smiles at his onslaught, “All right, all right. We’ll find out how to make it work. For a while!” Zélie points her index finger at him in mock sternness, “I don’t think an unchanging eternity wandering the Astral Sea is something we should limit ourselves to, even if I want to. What purpose would it serve?”

“Purpose?” Astarion snarls the word as if it personally offended him, “We are purpose enough, stubborn woman.” He lifts her up and she clings to him on instinct. He strides inside the ship, ignoring the disapproving looks of the Giths. 

“Astarion! What are you doing?!” 

He whispers, fangs grazing her ear, “I’m finding a private space on this overcrowded thing, darling, so I can fully demonstrate how purposeful I can be.”

Zélie pales and flushes at the same time, and Astarion can feel himself basically purring at the thought of what he’s going to do to her—

“I’m glad you learnt to keep your promises, Astarion,” she murmurs, the outline of a smile into his neck.

Oh love, you have no idea.

[namfinessed]

tethered - p.jm. (drabble)

genre: angst, closure (2.5k)

summary: jimin’s a shell of the person he used to be but you breath life to him, as you always do.

og fic - two feet tied

masterlist

note: this is a highly-requested drabble for my fic, two feet tied, i recommend reading this after the fic as it makes more sense that way, i hope you enjoy reading as always <3

jimin was worlds away from the life he used to live, he was away from the glitz, the glamour, the clenching in his chest every time a camera flashed on his face, and the person that clung onto him, only to rip his soul away.

he thinks of you.

he thinks of you, often.

jimin’s never been one to look back on the past but if it was as beautiful as his was, he couldn’t blame himself for never looking away from it.

jimin had been proud for a while, the joy that his fresh future brought him had him on his toes, it had his eyes wide and his mouth agape as he stared at the world glittering around him.

but his world now, was nothing beautiful, was nothing at all.

and he only had himself to blame.

jimin was no longer proud, he felt nothing at all on most days. he was his own undoing and he couldn’t move past the decisions he once made.

he retired as a dancer soon after his world got too shiny for him to keep his eyes open, soon after hyejin proved herself to be the wreckage she was and he opened up a bookstore to keep himself afloat. jimin wasn’t a reader but you were, you loved reading and telling him every single detail after, jimin’s heart was full when he used to fall asleep with your voice buzzing in his ear and some undying hope led him to the books that surrounded him now.

“should we put these away? the new books just came in, maybe we could display those instead?” jimin had hired a part-timer, jungkook, fresh from college, who kept him company on most days. jimin nodded at the young man who went off to finish his task and he was left all to his lonesome self.

a woman entered the bookstore with beautiful flowers in her hands and looked around. “can i help you with anything, ma’am?” jimin got up from his seat to assist her.

her eyes gleamed as she replied, “i’m just looking for jungkook, he said he would be finished by now?”

you used to look at him that way.

as if he wrote every magical song in the universe, as if he lived on the moon.

“he’s just out back, i’ll let him know, you can take a seat in the meanwhile” jimin scurries off to find his friend.

were they friends?

or was jimin so lonely, that his only companion of sorts was a college freshman, whom he was paying?

“hey, someone’s here for you” he swallowed the growing lump in his throat, which was getting harder to ignore by the day, and jungkook immediately snaps up with a broad grin. “already? man, i still have so much to do” he glanced at the cardboard boxes surrounding him, only to turn around to face jimin with puppy eyes.

jimin cursed under his breath. “fine, you can leave now.” he regrettably gives the younger man permission, who jumps up, gives jimin a hurried hug, and runs out of the store room. he hears loud giggles and sounds of happiness pouring in through the creak jungkook left in the door.

it filled jimin with an empty bitterness.

was he going to remain this way, a witness to love that he ruined for himself?

jimin was going to be in for a long night, he sighed as he rummaged through the boxes, he shouldn’t have let jungkook go but after seeing those two, the sheer excitement of seeing someone they loved was explosive and hard to not admire, jimin was left with no choice at all.

he’s felt lonely for the past year, it came in waves to him, some shorter ones that he was grateful for and some larger ones that took him away.

today, was a larger one that drowned jimin and he had no energy to float himself on the surface.

“hello?” he heard a faint voice from the front of the bookstore, jimin blinked away the tears he didn’t know were gathering in his eyes. he wiped at them furiously before rubbing the traces of all of his sadness on his apron.

“coming” he hated how his voice broke, how it felt so weak. jimin clenched his fists at his sides in an attempt to ground himself as he walked out to greet his customer.

“what can i help yo-“ his steps paused.

hell, his entire world paused.

jimin had never felt this mixture of continuous punches to the gut and the breath of sweet, fresh air that filled his every crevice.

“jimin?” he could hear you. he could see you. he could see all of you, so alive, so beautiful, you had your head held high while you cautiously examined him.

but jimin couldn’t speak a word.

humiliation rushed into his gut and twisted him inside out, he wanted to run away but he wanted to also just stand here and look at you.

look at everything he could’ve had but was too stupid to let it all go.

“it really is you, wow” you didn’t look happy to see him, which was expected and jimin shouldn’t have thought otherwise even his heart jumped at the chance for a second there. you turned away from him to face the counter while he kept shuffling his feet, he hadn’t imagined a day when he would see you again.

he knew he didn’t deserve to see you again.

“i didn’t think i would see you again” jimin admitted, finally stepping behind the counter to face you. your face stretched into a grim smile at his admission, one that was unexplainable.

you had never thought such a day would come either. you had never thought you would see the man you loved for all of your youth, stand before you so defeatedly.

but a part of you, a sick, deep part of you was satisfied with his state. he had betrayed you, and hurt you in unimaginable ways while you fought to keep your relationship with him alive.

so, even if it made you a bitter or petty person, you were glad he wasn’t all fantastic.

“how have you been?” you didn’t voice your own disbelief at meeting him, he shrugged at your questions, “better on some, worse on some.” his eyes drank you in for all of two seconds, you had just always been so beautiful and jimin knew he would always grieve the loss of you in his life.

you looked up and his head involuntarily dipped in shame again. he couldn’t look you in the eye after what he did to you.

“this is my shop by the way, bought it around a year ago” jimin tried to sound breezy as he showed you the shop but his heart was starting to cripple with you in front of him. “it’s a cute shop, i never thought i’d see you own a bookstore.” jimin was just thanking the stars in the sky that you weren’t pretending to not know him at all.

that’s a wound he would never heal from.

“i came in for the new ‘dark verse’ series book, do you happen to have it?” you asked him and jimin perked up, he definitely saw that book in the back.

but they weren’t to be sold for another week.

“i think it’s in the back” he rushed off to the storeroom and slammed the door behind him. jimin let his body fall on the door as everything came rushing to him.

you and him, the black swan audition.

him as the black swan.

hyejin.

the practice.

the lies.

the cameras.

the tears in your eyes.

the roses that fell around your shoes.

the image was burned onto him, onto his very soul, when hyejin had gripped his arm too tight, when your eyes met his and he felt the slash of pain run through his spine, the roses that crumbled in your hold.

that night when he was on top of the world after his best performance but your teary eyes kept him on solid ground, where he was nothing but a cheater.

he should have pushed hyejin away, he should have run after you and saved whatever he could, or at least, beg you for forgiveness.

now, it was too late and jimin was no one to offer himself to you.

“hey, it’s okay if you can’t find it, i know that the release isn’t for a while” your voice came from the other side of the door as a gentle knock echoed around jimin’s lonely form.  

he rushed over to the boxes, almost toppling over them, and snapped the door open in panic, an overwhelming fear took over him that you will say that and leave.

your eyes grew wide as you took in jimin’s flushed state and tired eyes.

you almost felt sorry for him.

almost.

“are you okay?” your hands clenched at your sides because you know you shouldn’t reach out and comfort him, not when he left you the way he did. he stiffly nodded, thrusting the book towards your direction.

it was the limited-edition version with a rare bookmark tucked into it.

it was for collectors and when you were together, you had always complained to him about how quickly these versions get sold out.

“of course, is that what you wanted?” his throat was heavy and he was struggling to speak, something you noticed immediately.

you had wanted him to suffer but not to this point, you couldn’t even see a bit of the confident, loveable jimin you knew, in the man who stood in the doorway.

“it is, jimin. thank you” you looked at the book with the intricate cover instead of the boring paperback one with more resignation than excitement. you had nothing to say to jimin even if you wanted to but seeing him in the state he was, you couldn’t help but extend a hand to him.

“we should talk, jimin.” you declare and he nods, unlike you, he had way too much to say. you walked past him into the store room and made yourself comfortable on the floor, patting the spot next to you for him to occupy.

jimin stared at the spot, your hands tapping it, and felt the clenching in his chest loosen an inch. he sat down without a word and kept enough distance to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.

“i heard about your retirement” you started and jimin shamefully admitted with a nod, that he indeed let go of the one thing that brought life in him. “i couldn’t do it anymore” his voice was low and weak which twinged your heart.

“the dancing or the rest of it?” he knew what you meant, you didn’t mean the stage where jimin lived and died, you meant the cameras that had hurt his eyes and the woman who ruined him.

“the rest of it.” you hummed, picking on lint on your jacket as you contemplated how much you wanted to tell him. jimin constantly eyed you from his periphery, wondering which words of yours would be the last he hears, which line would be your goodbye to him.

“i was shocked when i heard about it, i never thought you would give up dancing, not after becoming black swan” you decided this was going to be the last time you ever talk to him, so you might as well lay it all out.

“i couldn’t do it without you, and i’m not saying this to make you stay, i know you deserve much better. i just needed you to know, that you were the reason i was half the man i was” jimin’s chest continued to free itself slowly from the cage it locked itself in and you blinked away tears as rushes of memories from your early days came back to you.

you hadn’t expected jimin to be so honest.

“how long did it go on?”

jimin faltered, he almost forgot that you knew nothing about the cheating itself.

“3 months” he gave you the definitive answer you deserved.

“oh.” you couldn’t say anything else as it dawned on you that it was for longer than you had thought. you didn’t like that it made you sad again.

“what do you do these days?” jimin was genuinely curious about the life you led now, he was sure you were doing something great, you were always destined for it.

you hesitated for a minute, “i am set to be the director for this year’s black swan.”

you pursed your lips and waited for his reaction; a burst of bitter laughter, a sneer, anger, irritation, embarrassment, these were all reactions you expected but maybe a bit of the jimin you knew still was buried in him.

because his face stretched to the biggest, sweetest smile you have seen from him.

your heart fluttered a bit.

that was the smile you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

jimin, on the other hand, though he knew the irony of the situation and what it meant, couldn’t help but feel his pride brimming.

“i’m so, so proud of you. i always knew you would do something big” his words were genuine, with sparkling eyes that twitched a smile on your face too.

you just wish it hadn’t been like this, not in the storeroom of jimin’s crumbled future, you wished it had been all that time ago, on that stage when you directed for the first time, that jimin had smiled this way.

jimin was your day one, your partner for years, he saw every painful thing in the industry that you did and pulled you out of many down days. so, hearing him say he’s proud even after everything, warmed your heart with the closure you wanted.

your eyes stayed on each other with small, unsure but unstoppable smiles on your face as all the time you spent together tunneled around you.

you were afraid that if you stayed in this room for a little more, you would fall in love again and that was not something you wanted.

and whatever jimin was scared of came true.

“i should get going” you got up slowly, dusting your clothes and taking your bag and jimin’s heart sank but the lightness in his body stayed.

“let me walk you out” jimin followed you out of the room, and you walked as slowly as you could to the front door.

jimin watched with silent steps as you turned around to see him.

possibly for the last time.

and he still had too much to say.

“thank you for not pretending that we’re strangers even if i deserve it,” his words stopped you from leaving, “thank you for trying all that time ago, and no amount of apologies from me will make up for the shit i did, so take care of yourself and please remember that before everything, i still loved you the most.”

i still love you the most.

jimin bit his tongue from saying that, it wasn’t fair on you for him to say that after what he did.

you blinked back the tears that were barely holding onto your lashes since you saw jimin again. you hadn’t realized you had much to say too.

“we will never be strangers, jimin. i loved you for half my life, i cannot ever think of you as a stranger but i don’t think i’ll ever meet you again, it doesn’t mean i don’t wish you well, please take care of yourself, you are so much more than this.” you stepped forward shakily and pressed a weak kiss to his cheeks that were stained with tears too.

you begged your lips to forget his skin.

and jimin clenched his fists by his sides to prevent himself from engulfing you in one, final hug.

instead, he just smiled with teary, sparkling eyes as you stepped away from him with a smile as well, and disappeared into the evening.

both of you were meant for more than this but he messed up and now, you both had to say goodbye to the one you loved the most. jimin will always grieve the potential your love had, the memories you could’ve made even more of but instead of grieiving with regret, he will grieve with fondness.

your situation wasn’t fair but jimin was glad that he could have this closure with you, that you departed with the goodbye you deserved.

he no longer felt his chest would snap in two or that his eyes were aching.

he breathed in the air around him and imprinted your words into his heart.

he was more than this and jimin was going to make something of himself, because you gave him the courage he needed, as you always did.

and no matter how many years pass, he will remember how he loves you and how you were the best part of his life.

jimin, as he stepped back into his storeroom, didn��t feel that his feet were tied to his guilt and he hummed happily while setting the books aside, paying special attention to the one you asked for.

he decided he was going to take his dear companion jungkook for a dinner and then tell him that the store is closing and that the younger guy was always welcome in his life.

jimin was going to dance again.

for the memory of you.

[drraphaelmd]

@oleandernights

It was unusual for their father to call him in for any sort of meeting, given the nature of his work, and at first the young doctor thought he was in trouble. Though why he would think such a thing was beyond him...was it the fact that he hadn't know how to treat that ailment from the other day? He'd get better at this, he was still learning after all, but he didn't want to let anyone down. Lives depended on him, he couldn't afford to.

But he wasn't in trouble, it seemed...their father had heard his comment about wishing he had help and didn't have to do all this alone, and had called him in to meet his new assistant.

He's cute the doctor thought to himself.

Oh! He needed to introduce himself! No sense sitting there, mouth agape like some kind of fish.

"Hello, I'm Raphael...it's nice to meet you" he greeted.

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 15: The Sky Turned Black

Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Theo helps Loki navigate the aftermath.  

Author's Notes: Hello hello - I’m back with another chapter (and an actual header image)! Thank you to everyone who shared thoughts/theories/reactions to the last two chapters - I loved reading everyone’s perspectives! Whether or not you commented though, if you’re reading this fic, I appreciate you for giving me/this story a moment of your time. <3

A million thank-yous to @sarahscribbles and @the-lady-amphitrite for giving this chapter a read through and giving feedback <3

Next Chapter will be posted Sunday, January 28th!

Also, If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic, let me know!

Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of a bombing/attack and the destruction that follows, medical whump, and some discussions about death. I recognize that with current events, the bombing and destruction stuff might be a bit tough for folks to read - if you’re in that camp, you can skip ahead to the third chunk of the story (after ‘but this time I admit I really felt I’d start to slip’). 

Word Count: 9,264

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist Song: June - Florence + the Machine

The show was ending And I had started to crack Woke up in Chicago And the sky turned black You’re so high, you’re so high You had to be an angel And I’m so high, I’m so high I can see an angel

Unbeknownst to the general public, the Avengers (and the SHIELD agents that supported their work) went on hundreds of missions a year. Missions varied in location and purpose - Budapest for an assassination, Manitowoc for reconnaissance, Madripoor for hacking, London for retrieving highly valuable artifacts - but they always contributed to the overall safety of Midgard.

 As the Avengers were public figures, they often stuck to relatively short missions, or developed plans so any eagle-eyed observers, whether nefarious or benign, would not notice an extended absence. This was carefully calculated to ensure civilians would not panic about potential threats while ensuring the Avengers had intel to destroy any potential threats before they turned into reality.

As such, missions only made the news when something went horrifically awry.

Nothing about the day had been noteworthy. If anything, it was the epitome of a ‘typical’ day, at least for Loki. His morning consisted of reviewing a series of reports that Heimdall and Valkyrie sent him, detailing the economic impact of certain trade agreements that New Asgard would soon have the opportunity to renegotiate. He sparred with Barnes in the early afternoon, focusing on his dagger technique and sharing tips with the Winter Soldier. Afterward, he joined Dr. Banner in Stark’s lab to assist Banner with research on the physics of Seidr, remaining in the lab until shortly after dinner.  

Banner remained in the lab when Loki excused himself, unable to ignore his rumbling stomach. Loki returned to the residential quarters, casually waving at the assortment of Avengers in the living room and receiving a collection of greetings in return as he passed them on the way to the kitchen. 

In the midst of assembling a sandwich for a late dinner, the shrill voice of a reporter on the nearby television caught Loki’s attention.

“Breaking News: A bombing just outside Chicago has thrown the city into chaos–”

Chicago—

Thor was in Chicago.

Loki sprinted to the sitting room, abandoning an assortment of condiments and toppings on the counter in his rush to learn if his brother had been amidst those impacted.

He arrived to find Maximoff, Barnes, Wilson, Parker, and Belova glued to the television, eyes wide and mouths hanging slightly agape as rising flames and rubble flashed in front of them.

No one uttered a word; Hel, they barely offered Loki a wayward glance as he collapsed into an empty seat and struggled to ignore the festering unease gnawing at his chest as he too became entranced by the breaking news.

On the screen in front of them, a horrifying scene unfolded: innocent civilians, coated in ash, blood, and debris as they ran for their lives, crying out for loved ones. Individuals draped from head to toe in black firing weapons that did not look like anything the Avengers had seen before, beams of octarine light tearing through solid rock and steel like a hot knife through butter. The shrill wail of sirens clashed with the voice of the television reporter, solemn-faced as they recounted the details.

“—massacre — multiple casualties — suspected terrorist attack —“

Amidst the chaos, glimpses of the Avengers who had been sent into the field did little to quell anyone’s anxiety. Barely recognizable beneath shredded armor and the grit of war, they attempted to evacuate civilians while fighting back against the attackers.

At a brief sighting of a bloody, ragged Thor fighting off an adversary, Loki’s blood turned to ice. Of the many times Loki fought alongside Thor, he rarely, if ever his brother in such a haggard state from fighting, which elicited its own special sort of dread. What if this threat was too much for Thor to survive? 

Even after confirmations that the Avengers had prevailed and the attackers were no more, breaking news alerts flashed across the bottom of the screen with headlines that only increased in severity. Emergency rescue crews struggled to control the fires that came from the explosions, dragging unrecognizable bodies from smoke-filled shells of buildings. 

With shaking hands, Loki retrieved his mobile device from his pocket and dialed Thor’s telephone number.

“You’ve reached the voicemail—“

The damn thing didn’t even ring before the automated greeting began.

With a growl, Loki ended the call and threw his phone against the sofa cushion. 

It was foolish to worry; Thor was a God. He was a warrior. He survived far worse than a simple Midgardian bomb. Of course Thor wouldn’t answer his mobile phone; he was in the middle of being the hero that everyone expected him to be. 

And yet, with every minute that passed, with every flame that rose on the television screen, with every new death count, the coil of dread tightened in Loki’s chest. 

Loki buried his face in his hands, fighting to steady his breathing.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Belova attempted to reassure Loki, though her constant glances at her own mobile device, as if checking for a response from the elder widow, did not escape him. 

Any other plans for the evening had long been forgotten. Wilson and Barnes monitored government and SHIELD communication channels for updates on agents who were at the scene of the attack. Maximoff searched for additional news coverage on her laptop, while in the background survivors shakily recounted the moment that changed their lives forever. Belova and Parker took to social media to find first-hand accounts and updates from ground-level, announcing anything they found to be noteworthy.

In the midst of everything, Loki exchanged messages with Val and Heimdall. While early messages from Heimdall provided reassurance that he could still track Thor’s presence, that reassurance fell away with time; when Heimdall no longer felt Thor’s presence, the conversation changed to implementing the protocol for ruling in Thor’s unanticipated absence, incapacitation, or, though Loki prayed to the Norns it was not the case, Thor’s death.

Every once in a while, an Avenger appeared on-screen, providing at least some reassurance that perhaps circumstances were not as dire as initially thought. When the cameras focused on an area cordoned off for medical care providers to triage and transport victims, they caught sight of Theo. Though she appeared a bit weathered and her armor had torn in the fighting, Loki recognized the way she directed the staff around her from the many times he visited her while she worked. 

Rogers had appeared multiple times, often carrying victims from the rubble and comforting distraught bystanders, appearing equally haggard but still maintaining a steely resolve. Civilian-recorded video of the Vision and Stark lifting up massive sections of concrete to free trapped victims quickly took over social media, subsequently appearing on the news. 

At two separate points, a surge of hope stole Loki’s breath away as he thought he saw Thor, only for it to be a civilian. Belova experienced a similar sensation with potential sightings of Romanoff, though she seemed less concerned for the elder widow’s safety.

Nearly four hours after the news of the attack broke, an announcement blared through Avengers Tower, drowning out the doomsday scenario on television: “We need all available medics to report to the hangar immediately; we have a quinjet arriving in t-15 minutes with twelve level-1 trauma patients.” 

I hear your heart beating in your chest The world slows ‘til there’s nothing left And skyscrapers look on like great, unblinking giants In those heavy days in June When love became an act of defiance

In the moments leading up to the quinjet’s return, the tension in the hangar could have been cut with a knife. 

Through the hangar’s glass and steel door, the darkest of nights loomed. Not even the glow of lights from the city below could dispel the darkness, creating an expanse of endless obsidian sky that Loki recognized from his time in the void.

Inside the hangar, harsh fluorescent lights left nothing to the imagination, their light so bright and jarring against the black sky that Loki’s eyes burned. The stench of motor oil and gasoline filled the air, only amplifying the churning of Loki’s stomach. 

Multiple stretchers waited with teams of medics at their command. Someone Loki recognized as one of Theo’s colleagues spoke on the comms with the returning jets and with the infirmary staff, alternating between briefing the medics about the patients they would receive and preparing for the influx of injuries. Despite Loki’s best attempts to glean even the smallest of details that might inform him of his brother’s condition, other conversations and background noise drowned out the doctor’s voice. 

The Avengers who had not been sent to Chicago congregated in relatively close proximity, waiting with bated breath for any news of their peers. Banner, who had been in the lab until the announcement of the jet’s return, paced back and forth, glancing between the hangar entrance and the ground. Barnes stood at attention, arms crossed against his chest and fingers tapping against his vibranium bicep impatiently. 

Belova leaned against a metal wall, flipping her mobile phone in hand as if it were a dagger. Parker mirrored Belova’s stance, though he placed all of his weight upon one leg, restlessly bouncing the other at a frantic pace until Loki had to look away before he snapped at the spiderling. Maximoff and Wilson distanced themselves from the group, discussing something in hushed voices while glancing back and forth between the group and the hangar’s entrance.

A familiar voice rang out through the hangar’s intercoms, abruptly stopping all conversation. “Agent Romanoff to Air Control, we are five minutes out. Are we cleared to land?”

“Air control to Agent Romanoff,” the reply came through, “Hangar door is opening now.”

The mass of steel and glass which constituted the hangar door groaned as the mechanics which propelled its movement activated. As if weighed down by the heaviness of everyone’s attention, the door slid open at a pace which made a snail seem like an olympian sprinter. The scraping of metal wheels against metal tracks echoed through the hangar. 

All the while, everyone remained frozen in place; even Parker refrained from bouncing his leg. No one spoke. If it weren’t for Loki’s location, which placed the majority of the hangar’s occupants in his line of sight, he might think the hangar completely empty.

When the door finished opening, the medics sprang back to life, arranging themselves in preparation for the jet’s imminent arrival. 

“Agent Romanoff to Air Control - we are in final descent. T-one minute out.”

A wave of relief collided with a storm of fear at the first glimpse of steel and turbines. Loki’s heart rate careened out of control, the pounding in his ears drowning out all sound. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and tugged at the curls, desperate for news that his brother was alright while dreading the possibility that his brother was among those who needed immediate care. 

Though Romanoff landed the aircraft quickly, the exit ramp’s descent was anything but quick. The first teams of medics brought gurneys forward, but upon looking into the rear of the jet, stepped aside to clear a path. For what, Loki didn’t know, nor did he have time to inquire – the steel ramp touched down on the concrete floor, and the hangar roared into a frenzy of organized chaos. 

Theo leapt off the side of the ramp to stand beside the medics, ushering another pair of medics carrying a patient on some sort of stiff board down to the first team of medics. Like Theo, the patient could barely be recognized beneath dust, ash, and blood, though their unusually large stature made Loki’s heart stutter and his breath catch in his throat. A glimpse of blond sullied with dust, ash, and blood that matted itself in long locks did nothing to ease the festering dread that had settled into Loki’s stomach. 

While the medics transferred the individual onto the gurney, Loki crept closer, only to confirm his worst fear: Thor, unconscious and beaten within an inch of his life, laid before him, his fate at the mercy of mere Midgardians. 

No.

“What happened?” Loki rushed forward, pushing through the medics crowding the gurney so he could get a better look at Thor. Some sort of monitoring device flashed numbers upon a screen, while the medics relayed a series of data points that made no sense to the prince and only incensed him further. “What happened to my brother?”

One medic attempted to explain as they whisked Thor out of the hangar, but none of the words registered in Loki’s mind; all he could think about was the looming threat of losing Thor, the only brother he had. They hadn’t even reached the hangar’s exit when the shrill cry of an alarm interrupted and the collection of medics, along with the gurney, jolted to an abrupt stop.

“Dr. Amaris,” one medic shouted back towards the aircraft, “Thor’s coding!”

Not understanding what the medic meant, Loki turned to the monitor for answers.

No, Thor–

All Hel broke loose. 

“He’s bleeding out!”

Medics tore the remaining scraps of Thor’s armor off his body, shouting instructions at each other. 

“Start compressions!”

“What is happening?” Loki snarled. They ignored him, instead applying pressure to wounds and repeatedly pressing on Thor’s chest as they continued shouting commands among each other. “I demand you tell me what is happening!”

It was as if Loki was not even there; no one even acknowledged his presence. One medic glanced past Loki and towards the aircraft, calling out a series of terms that Allspeak could not translate. 

“Please–” Loki pleaded, desperate for any answer he could receive, “This is my brother—”

“Out of my way!”

The command boomed through the hangar, barely reaching Loki’s ears before someone shoved him aside and leapt onto the stretcher. They straddled Thor as if it were second nature,  seamlessly transitioning into pressing on his chest while barking orders at the individuals around them. 

Loki stumbled, caught off guard by the strength of the shove - never had a Midgardian managed to move him with such ease. The stretcher raced towards the infirmary before Loki could regain his footing, though he gave chase and quickly caught up to the entourage of medics surrounding his brother while they waited for the elevator. As he arrived, he realized just who happened to shove him aside as if it were child’s play: 

Theo. 

Black tendrils of smoke surrounded her blue-gloved hands and trailed up her forearms, forming runes that floated just above her skin. She continued to instruct the other medics, her focus razor-sharp as the runes moved down her arms and enveloped Thor.  

“What is wrong with my brother?” Loki demanded once more. His frustration at the lack of acknowledgement intertwined with his desperation and fear at the grievous state his brother returned in, fueling Loki’s ire until he teetered dangerously on the edge of explosion.

“Loki, your brother has some pretty serious injuries,” Theo calmly replied, glancing at the monitor as she continued her work. “We’re taking care of it though - I’ll fill you in later, but right now I need to focus on Thor!”

The lack of panic in Theo’s response only further incensed Loki. Did she not care about Thor’s well-being? Did she not realize who it was that needed care? This was no Midgardian - this was Thor. Thor, the King of Asgard. God of Thunder!

And yet, she treated him like any other patient.

“You act like he’s a simple Midgardian!” Loki bellowed, the torrent of fear and anger unleashing itself upon anyone and everyone around him.” You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

“Rather than argue, I’m just going to prove you wrong.” Despite her infuriatingly calm tone, Theo leveled a blistering glare at the younger Asgardian. What were previously the whites of Theo’s eyes had turned pitch black, her irises white and her pupils a pale, smoky gray. “He’s not dying at anyone’s hand today - especially not mine. Now, please be quiet and let me do my job.”

Loki froze, stunned. No one had ever had the audacity to speak to him in such a way - and yet, she didn’t even think twice.

Theo didn’t notice Loki’s surprise - she continued to direct the other medics before returning her attention to the God of Thunder. Theo recited an incantation under her breath, causing the runes trailed into Thor’s open mouth and down his throat. Once Theo uttered the final words, a flash of light shot from Theo’s hands and into Thor’s chest. 

With a jolt, Thor’s chest shot up and he gasped for air; his chest rose and fell, and the monitor ceased to scream. 

Thor’s revival brought Loki no relief, however - the possibility of needing further revival ensured Loki remained just as on-edge, even as they descended upon the elevator, then careened down the halls in a mad dash to the infirmary. 

Just before Loki could follow his brother into the Emergency ward, someone restrained him with an iron-clad grip and dragged him back towards the waiting room.

“Unhand me!” Loki roared, whipping around to find Sergeant Barnes had taken hold of him. “I need to be with my brother!”

With a growl, Loki attempted to free himself from Barnes’ grasp, but against the vibranium arm it was useless.

“They don’t have room for you back there.” Barnes’ flat affect, combined with the infuriatingly stoic expression he wore, only served to further flare Loki’s temper. “You’re only going to make it harder for them to work.”

“They know nothing of the care an Aesir requires!” Loki spat his protest at Barnes, who didn’t even flinch.

“I’m pretty sure they do, given Theo just saved your brother’s life.” The Winter Soldier arched one eyebrow at the Asgardian in a subtle challenge. “If you get in their way, a lot of other people might be losing their brother or sister.”

Loki clenched his jaw, scowling as he once again attempted to wrestle himself free from the Sergeant’s inescapable grip.

“I get it.” Barnes continued to stare at Loki with such unwavering intensity that made Loki’s skin crawl. “I lose my shit when Steve gets hurt too.”

“You truly believe your friendship with the captain is remotely close to that of a brother?”  Incensed by the thought of comparing Thor to a simple friend, Loki sneered. “You could never understand.”

“Steve may not be my brother in blood, but he is in every way that matters. Just like you and Thor.” Barnes replied, ice-blue eyes locking onto Loki’s. “When no one else believed in me, Steve did. When everyone was convinced that I was nothing more than a monster, that I was past redemption, Steve still saw the good in me and he fought for me. Everyone else we grew up with, our real families - they’re all dead. The world we knew is a distant memory. Steve is the only person I have left. No one else has been through what we’ve been through; no one else understands what it’s like to suddenly wake up and everything has changed.”

There was a certain vulnerability in Barnes’ eyes that Loki hadn’t ever seen before, and a conviction in his voice that Loki had only heard a handful of times. The combination proved to be enough to disarm Loki’s most barbed retorts, allowing the Sergeant to continue:

“Thor always believed in you and always saw the good in you, even when you didn’t see it yourself. Your entire realm was destroyed, your family is gone, and no one else lived through being Asgardian royalty - Thor is all you have left, and he’s the only one who understands.” Barnes let out a tense breath, still locked into Loki’s gaze as he released Loki from his grasp. “I get it.” 

All the while, the stream of medics and stretchers heading into the emergency department remained steady, validating Barnes’ previous argument: there would not be room in the ward for Loki to accompany his brother.

“Theo’s good at what she does. Dr. Cho and Dr. Harper are world-renowned. They will make sure Thor’s just fine.” Barnes slapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, to which Loki flinched. “Let them do their thing.”

Begrudgingly, Loki nodded and let out a sigh, running one hand through his hair and then tugging on the ends. 

“I suppose you are correct.”

“I know I am.” Barnes smirked; the urge to remove the smirk from Barnes’ face struck with such intensity that Loki barely managed to restrain himself. “And Loki?”

“What?” The snippy tone was all too obvious.

“You should probably apologize to Theo for what you said…” When Loki’s response was a sour glare, Barnes steeled himself and locked eyes with the Asgardian yet again, undeterred. “She’s your friend and she saved your brother's life. Even if she wasn’t your friend, that was a shitty thing to say to someone who was helping. Swallow your pride.”

With that, Barnes departed, and left Loki with nothing but his spiraling thoughts as he waited for any scrap of news regarding his brother’s wellbeing.

You were broken hearted And the world was too And I was beginning to lose my grip And I have always held it loosely, But this time I admit I really felt I’d start to slip

The Emergency Department may as well have been ransacked.

Wrappers for medical supplies, towels stained a deep crimson, discarded gloves, and protective gear covered the once-charcoal floor. With such a high volume of patients, they didn’t even have time to properly dispose of their protective gear in a bin, too-focused on putting on fresh gloves and gowns to ensure they could keep up with the relentless stream of victims needing care. Theo lifted up one foot, cringing as the sole of her shoe stuck to the floor from the residue of congealing blood.

She would have to bake the janitorial staff a cake as a thank-you for cleaning up after such a busy day. 

Glancing at the clock, Theo let out a heavy sigh.

11:37 PM. 

Twenty-nine hours earlier, a deafening crash rang out amidst the skyscrapers of Chicago, and with it the city turned into something from Theo’s worst fears. What was meant to be a simple reconnaissance mission turned into fighting off an attack from insurgents that made Theo’s hair stand on the back of her neck. She didn’t recognize the attackers because of their masks and outfits of all-black, but the artillery they brought with them seemed unnervingly familiar.

The hour that followed was a waking nightmare spent evacuating innocent people while fighting off the mystery attackers. For the three hours after, Theo worked alongside rescue crews to enact mass-casualty protocols, her heart breaking all over again with every black tag she had to assign to a victim. Theo may have been a powerful healer, but it would have been impossible for her to save everyone; instead, she had to conserve her energy for absolute emergencies. 

Though she had every intent of remaining on-scene to continue rescue efforts, SHIELD had other ideas. In order to allow all of Chicago’s medical resources to be diverted towards caring for victims of the blast, SHIELD would transport all injured agents back to New York for care at Avengers’ tower, starting with the most severely injured, which meant Theo would be needed at the hospital in New York. 

She returned to New York with the first jet, scrambling alongside SHIELD medics to keep the nearly twenty injured agents on the jet alive and stable until they had reinforcements.

From the time Theo landed to when she took in the aftermath, twenty five hours had passed. Multiple jets followed the first, each with more patients who needed a level of care that couldn’t be found in other hospitals. Those twenty five hours passed in a blur of organized chaos: triage, treat, send off to surgery or a ward depending on the injuries, rinse and repeat. Theo barely had time to clean herself up enough that she wouldn’t be considered an infection risk from the ash and dust that had practically become a second skin.

In what both Helen and Julie described as a miracle, all of the patients who hadn’t died before arriving in New York survived. It wasn’t a miracle, though; Theo spent the entire time darting between gurneys, magically treating the worst of the wounds and reviving patients as needed. She had to revive three separate agents, which left her with a bloody nose, a throbbing headache, sore muscles, and more nauseous than she cared to admit - but everyone lived, and that was what mattered.

Of the many patients Theo treated upon landing, one lurked in the back of her mind: Thor.  Physically, the process of re-starting Thor’s heart was taxing, but not as bad as a full revival. Mentally, it was one of the less pleasant moments. However, the memory that lingered was less about reviving Thor and more about Loki’s remark as she worked on Thor that twisted her stomach into knots: “You act like he’s a simple Midgardian! You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

The statement could easily be attributed to the heat of the moment, but that didn’t make it sting any less. If it was a field agent that she didn’t know who was freaking out about their partner, that was one thing - she could shake that off, and she had plenty of times before.

But Loki? 

Loki knew about her fears and how much losing a patient impacted her, even if she didn’t know the patient before. And to have him question — no, not question, outright doubt — her capabilities?

Well, his words cut far deeper and were much harder to shake.

When the final patient was stabilized and transferred out of the emergency department, Theo was the only doctor who didn’t immediately change out of her scrubs and go home to sleep. Not that she wasn’t looking forward to burying herself under a mountain of blankets and sleeping for the next two days, because she was. But she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to rest without checking on Thor first.

Maybe she was after the reassurance that Thor was, in fact, recovering. Maybe she just needed to end the night by coming full-circle, checking on the first patient she took care of. Why she needed to check on him wasn't important; as long as she knew he was alright, that was what mattered.

Theo slipped through the halls of the hospital, making her way to Thor’s room. Unlike the emergency department, which constantly bustled with people coming and going, the halls of the ward were almost eerily quiet. After the bustle and chaos of the last 24 hours, the quiet and relative peace was refreshing. 

Other than a nurse sitting at the nurse’s station in Thor’s unit, Theo didn’t run into a single person. That was probably for the best, because Theo could guarantee that she looked like a mess. The nurse offered a tired smile and nod, to which Theo nodded back. The nurse pointedly glanced at an open door a bit further down the hall, then nodded again. Following the nurse’s gaze, Theo realized the nurse had been pointing her to Thor’s room. 

Theo gave the nurse another smile and nod, then closed the remaining distance to the open door. She stopped in the entrance and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight before her.

The bed had been tilted up at the waist, giving Theo a better view of Thor, who slept peacefully… At least, as peacefully as someone could sleep after nearly dying. Freshly washed golden blonde locks fanned out across his pillow. His skin already regained a somewhat healthy flush - probably something to do with the enhanced healing of the Aesir, but as one of the first patients treated, he had a bit of a head start on the whole recovery thing. 

Though he slept, Thor had a visitor who wasn’t Theo. Despite sitting with their back to the door, the perfectly erect posture and inky curls could have only belonged to one person: Loki.

Loki’s presence nearly made Theo turn on her heel and high-tail it out of there. She just stopped in to check on Thor; facing Loki was something she wasn’t sure she could handle at the moment. With how tired she was, Theo didn’t trust herself to avoid saying something that would make an already awkward situation worse. Loki needed someone to support him, not someone to piss him off. 

“You need not lurk in the entrance,” Loki spoke up, not even turning around to look at Theo as he addressed her. “If you wish to enter, do so.”

Whether he knew it was Theo or not was a mystery, but he must have at least sensed someone’s presence. Regardless, it wasn’t like she could sneak away anymore.

Pushing away from the doorframe, Theo sighed. 

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” She hesitantly stepped into the room, but stayed close to the door. If the conversation went south, she’d at least have a quick out. “I just finished working, so I thought I’d see how Thor was doing…You know, make sure he was still alive and all… Still Aesir, not a midgardian zombie or something.”

Damn her lack of filter. 

A breathless puff of laughter escaped Loki, sounding almost surprised. Before Theo could turn and run, Loki twisted in his seat to face her, his narrowed eyes trailing up and down her body. His expression gave away no clues as to whether he was laughing because he found her comment amusing or because he was shocked she had the guts to speak to him like that, or anything to tell her where his mind was at.

“He remains alive and Aesir,” Loki finally replied, offering a tired smirk. “Though you, mortal, look a bit too close to a zombie for comfort.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but cracked a smile. She should have known something like that was coming. Beyond having bags under her bloodshot eyes and the inevitable loss of color in her skin from the revivals, Theo was almost positive her hair resembled a rat’s nest… But that was typical after a normal shift in the emergency department. After 24 hours straight, not to mention coming from a literal battle ground, she could only imagine what she must have looked like. 

“We just finished triaging and stabilizing everyone…” Theo shrugged, keeping her smile from Loki’s observation. “It's not for the faint of heart.”

“No, but you are nowhere near faint of heart,” Loki murmured, offering a small, hesitant smile of his own. “For that, I am grateful.”

Theo nodded, uncertain of how to take his remark. She shoved her hands in her pockets, glancing around the rest of the room. Assorted bouquets of flowers and cards stood on display, covering the majority of the room’s surfaces. The whirring and beeping of monitors and machines filled the silence between them. 

“Thank you for caring for my brother.” Loki’s attention returned to Thor, who still slept. “I apologize for my remarks earlier - I let my emotions overtake me. It was inappropriate for me to speak to you in such a harsh manner.”

The simple fact that she didn’t have to prompt him for the apology made it seem genuine, but the underlying distrust remained hard for Theo to shake. After all, wasn’t there something about how the things people say in the heat of the moment are what they feel deep down?

“It’s no problem,” Theo bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at Thor before returning her attention to Loki. “Sorry for my less than professional response… I uh, get a bit intense in the heat of the moment.”

“You need not apologize - your reaction was justified.” Loki nodded, still focused on his brother’s face. “I trust you with my life, and I do not doubt in the slightest that you would fight tirelessly to save any life you could…” He faltered, drawing in a sharp breath before letting out a weary sigh. “If I am entirely honest, I am not certain as to why I stated you would not be able to care for Thor, as I know better.”

The knot in Theo’s chest unraveled a bit more.

“I get it,” Theo reassured him, stepping closer so she could rest one hand on his shoulder. “Thor’s your brother. If I were in your position, I’d do the same.”

Loki covered her hand with his own, finally meeting Theo’s gaze. Red rimmed his eyes, making his seaglass green irises stand out even more than usual; combined with his disheveled curls, Theo realized that this was the most distressed that she had ever seen Loki before.

“He’ll be alright,” Theo murmured, squeezing Loki’s shoulder, “And he’s lucky to have a brother who cares as much about him as you do.”

Theo caught the slightest quiver in Loki’s lip and the way his eyes briefly glistened, but she didn’t say anything. Frankly, she didn’t know what she would even say. Blood never scared her, but the second someone she knew started crying her heart hammered in her chest and her palms grew clammy; forget trying to carry a train of thought, much less a conversation. 

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He tightened his grip on Theo’s hand, pressing it more firmly onto his shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Theo shifted her weight between her aching feet once more. No longer running all over and fueled by adrenaline, the physical toll of going at full speed for so long started to make their presence known. 

Still, she didn’t try to remove her hand from Loki’s shoulder. Loki obviously needed the support, and he didn’t seem like he was about to ask for it. Besides, if her silent gesture stopped any potential tears, she could handle the aching feet that came with standing.

“You mentioned that you recently finished stabilizing the other agents…” Loki’s brows drew together as he returned his attention to Theo. “It has been over twenty four hours since they returned. Have you taken any breaks to rest, or to eat?”

“I worked straight through.” Theo shook her head. “We had lives to save. That’s the nature of what we do; it doesn’t wait for anyone’s lunch break to finish.” 

Loki replied with a displeased hum and a frown. He removed his hand from Theo’s, the cold air in the room a crisp contrast to the warmth of his skin. With a flick of his wrist, he used some seidr to move one of the  chairs from the other side of the bed to sit beside him. “You ought to take a seat - you’ve certainly earned the opportunity to rest.”

With a timid, grateful smile, Theo sat down. Relaxing her muscles brought instant relief, though the motion reminded her of how much her entire body ached after reviving people.

“How are the other agents?”

“Barring any complications, they’ll be alright,” Theo slouched back in the chair, arms resting on the sides as she settled in. “Recovery times will vary, but the fact we were able to save everyone who made it back to New York is a miracle in and of itself.”

If there were complications, well… Theo lived in the building. They knew where to find her.

“That is excellent news,” Loki remarked, resting his hand atop Theo’s as it sat on the arm of the chair between them. Though Theo did her best not to acknowledge the gesture, it certainly caught her attention. “You seem truly exhausted.”

“When you’re running on adrenaline, it’s easy to go for a long time and feel totally fine,” she shrugged, “but now all the adrenaline is wearing off and I’m definitely feeling the consequences.” 

“The consequences?”

“Fatigue, sore muscles, all that good stuff.” Theo softened the remark with a hint of a smile. Loki already had Thor to focus on; he didn’t need to hear Theo complain. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to working long stretches - normally my shifts are twelve-plus hours at a time. The only time I work twenty four hour shifts are when I’m on call, and I usually get to nap somewhere in there. But with the number of SHIELD agents impacted and the volume of casualties, we needed all hands on deck.”

“Seems it was quite the undertaking,” Loki murmured.

“Yeah — By the time we were done it looked like a tornado came through and destroyed everything. I can’t imagine what the hospitals in Chicago are dealing with right now.” 

Loki arched an eyebrow at her as if asking her to elaborate. 

“Up until I had to come back to New York, I was working with rescue crews to implement mass casualty protocols; essentially, we search through the rubble for people, triage to get a sense of how badly they are injured, then assign a colored tag based on how severely they are injured.” Theo let out a tense breath. She looked down at the floor, lowering her voice when she continued: “I’ve never triaged so many patients in such a short period of time, and they still had so much work to do when I left. The hospitals there are probably still drowning with patients, despite all the black tags.”

“… Black tags?”

“Victims who were dead or were about to die, regardless of medical intervention,” Theo quietly explained. “I gave twenty two people black tags today, and not all of them were dead on discovery.” Admitting the truth aloud made Theo want to vomit. “Making that call never gets easier.”

If anything, it only got harder to make that call.

With an absentminded hum, Loki nodded. He brought his attention back to Thor, who slept soundly. “Will you have time to rest and recuperate before your next shift?”

“I’m supposed to have the next two days off,” Theo answered with a halfhearted shrug, the black tags still lurking in her mind. “but if I’m needed I’ll be in to help.”

Loki frowned, narrowing his eyes at Theo.

“What?” 

“You spend all your time caring for others,” Loki observed, “Yet caring for yourself seems to be an afterthought.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.” Theo rolled her eyes, but forced a half-smile. “I just need a nap and I’ll be good to go.”

It wasn’t entirely true. If Theo didn’t need to use any more magic, she’d technically be fine, despite a headache and some queasiness that would probably last for a few days. For the moment, though, the explanation would suffice. 

Besides, aleve and pepto bismol were available on Earth, so she could always resort to pharmacological solutions to keep her going. 

Though he responded with a skeptical glance, Loki didn’t push the subject. His hand remained atop Theo’s, but he slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed.

“What about you?” Theo glanced up at Loki. “I’m guessing you haven’t left that chair since you were allowed to see him?” 

“Guilty as charged, I suppose.” Loki’s head wobbled slightly from side to side, but he didn’t look at Theo. 

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” Theo squeezed his hand back, holding it tight for just a moment longer. “He’s your brother - it’s normal to want to be here.”

“I suppose it depends on who you ask,” Loki muttered, letting go of Theo to scrub his face with both hands. “There are those—“

“The only person whose opinion matters is you.” Theo gently interrupted, ducking her head to lock eyes with Loki. “At the end of the day, it’s your brother—“

“That is not how one operates when responsible for a nation and its people.” The interruption was sharp, almost irascible. As if to emphasize his irritation, he dropped his arms to rest on the sides of the chair and threw his head back towards the ceiling. “One’s personal desires are of negligible importance in the grand scheme of the realms.”

Oh, he did not just go there. 

Theo bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard that the sharp tang of iron filled her mouth, and it was all she could do so she wouldn’t say something she would later regret. 

In Loki’s defense, he had no idea why that remark would rub her the wrong way, and he was obviously stressed. 

“Just because you are a ruler does not mean you have to sacrifice your emotions,” Theo quietly challenged, wringing her hands in her lap. “There are many who would argue that feeling and acknowledging those emotions makes you a better leader.”

Loki fell silent, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. The tendons along his clenched jaw shifted as if trying not to unleash a flurry of barbed words on Theo. If Theo was lucky, Loki was simply working through how he wanted to reply, but the slight narrowing of his eyes as he kept his attention facing ahead did little to reassure Theo that he wasn’t about to verbally eviscerate her. 

After a prolonged pause, he let out a tense breath and ran one hand through his hair. He leaned forward in his seat, taking hold of Thor’s hand.  

“From previous experience, sentiment has only led to suffering.” The concession was hushed, barely audible amongst the background noise. 

“And yet, you still care. That’s worth something.” Theo pointed out, attention trained on Loki. “From experience, it only hurts worse if you try to ignore it.”

He pointedly avoided her gaze, instead focusing on Thor’s hand, the tan skin contrasting against his own. He brushed a thumb against the back of Thor’s hand, a delicate gesture in contrast to his hardened expression.

As silence stretched between them once more, questions of whether Theo pushed too hard swirled in her mind. Who was she, after all, to make him confront such a sore subject? Sure, it started with an attempt to reassure him, but it went south embarrassingly fast.

Theo really needed to learn when to shut the hell up.

This time, it was too late to shut up, so that led to a new series of questions: would it be awkward if she left? Or was it more awkward if she stayed? 

Theo brought her attention to her sneakers, noticing the scuffs along the once crisp white soles. Flexing her toes back and forth, she watched how the scuffs bent with each movement of her foot. The longer she watched, the more meditative the motions felt, allowing her mind to fall somewhat quiet.

“Forgive me. I should not have snapped at you.” Loki broke the silence, startling Theo so she jumped in her seat and jerked her head towards Loki. He regarded her with a sheepish curl on one side of his lips, somewhere between apologetic and amused.

A sharp throb between Theo’s temples, the consequence of moving so quickly, forced a wince from her. She grimaced, massaging her temples in a feeble attempt to lessen the discomfort. 

“Sorry,” Theo countered, her voice straining ever-so-slightly with each pulse against her skull. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“Ah, I beg to differ.” Loki chuckled, almost to himself. The smile that had initially started as sheepish curled up further, taking on a glint of something else that Theo couldn’t quite describe. “If left unchallenged, who knows what chaos might ensue.”

Despite the headache, Theo managed a weak chuckle and nodded. The movement left her oddly unsteady; she closed her eyes and waited for the sensation to pass.

Lightly calloused fingers curled around Theo’s wrists, gently tugging her hands away from her head. Theo opened her eyes to find the smile had fallen from Loki’s face, replaced instead by a furrowed brow and a frown. “You’ve a headache?”

“Yeah,” Theo admitted, before quickly adding: “It’s not that bad though. I have stuff for it, I just need to take it.”

Loki released Theo’s wrists; Theo found herself missing the warmth. “Though I will admit it is nice to have company, you really ought to take some medicine for your head and rest.” 

He was right, but it also felt wrong to leave him alone.

Theo sighed. “You should get some rest too, you know.”

“I doubt I could sleep, even if I were to lay down.” Loki shook his head. “If Thor were to need anything and I wasn’t there, I–”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to justify it to me.” Theo cut him off, though not unkindly. She rose to her feet, pausing to blink away the static that clouded her vision from the head rush that followed. “Text me if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s at a weird time.”

To Theo’s surprise, Loki also stood; he closed the distance between her and embraced her, clutching her to his chest. She didn’t have to think twice before wrapping her arms around him, returning the gesture.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, his breath warm against the top of Theo’s head.

“Of course,” Theo replied, her voice muffled by his chest. She inhaled and caught the familiar scent of his cologne - warm, spicy, woodsy - and smiled. That smile stayed when they both finally pulled away, hands brushing as they lowered their arms; a nervous chuckle slipped out of Loki, and if Theo didn’t know any better she would have thought his cheeks grew pink.

“Good night, Theo.”  Loki lingered for a moment, gazing at Theo with a shy smile.

“Good night, Loki.” 

The halls of the hospital were emptier than a ghost town as Theo made the trip back to her suite; the chill of the filtered air clung to Theo’s skin, even through her clothes. Theo shivered, her muscles aching with each tremor of her limbs. She folded her arms across her chest and tried to ignore it, but she wasn’t warm like Loki, so it did little to ward off the cold.

When she finally got back to her suite and climbed into bed, the space beside her felt especially empty. But after such a long day, the observation was fleeting; she barely closed her eyes before she was already drifting to sleep.

Choirs sang in the street And I would come to you To watch the television screen In your hotel room I’m always down to hide with you

Though years had passed since Loki made Midgard his home, there were elements he had not grown accustomed to… Chief among them were Midgardian healing methods.

Ever since Thor returned to him bruised and bloodied, Loki found himself thinking back to Eir and missing the Soul Forges of Asgard. Asgardian healing was without a doubt far superior to anything the Midgardians could muster. The longer Loki stared at the tubes and wires attached to his brother’s body, the more he considered the possibility that it might have been for the best if he had conquered Midgard all those years ago, if for no other reason than it would have resulted in Soul Forges on Midgard.

Sure, Thor had made considerable progress while infirmed; if the doctors were to be believed, Thor’s injuries were healing nicely. 

That didn’t mean Loki had to like seeing his brother in an infirmary bed for days on end. On the contrary: the sight grated him like none other. Sitting in a stiff, metal-framed chair day in and day out, only able to offer meager comforts to his brother, was its own kind of Hel. 

And to see Thor - Thor, who was always the stronger brother, the protector, the warrior - to see him reduced to being weak as a kitten?

The more Loki considered the reality of the situation, the more his blood boiled.

However, each time his temper neared a breaking point - when he was about to snarl at the slightest inconvenience, Theo just happened to appear. She always claimed she was simply ‘dropping by to see how the patient was doing,’ but the knowing glance shared between the nurses whenever she arrived told Loki there was more to the story. 

Regardless, she was there, and her mere presence stilled the constant storms brewing in his soul. 

Sometimes she calmed the tempest by answering Loki’s burning questions - why certain treatments were more effective than others, the purpose of various tests, what the results of those tests meant. It was not that the doctors in charge of Thor’s care withheld information; they were quite forthcoming with Loki and seemed more than willing to answer his questions. Loki recognized they truly put forth their best efforts to assuage his concerns, and though it was not always effective he appreciated the effort. However, for whatever reason Theo’s answers contained some unknown element that put Loki at ease, even if they were almost identical to the answers from Thor’s doctors. 

Other times, she offered a distraction from the discord brewing within. On the days when she visited after concluding her work in the infirmary, the distraction typically came in the form of a film or television show. Though the shows and films varied in genre and premise, there were elements in common: they all involved some element of comedy and varying degrees of mischief. Whenever she suggested something to watch, Theo always took time to explain what it was about the selection that she thought the brothers would enjoy, though it did not escape Loki’s observation that there were always details which she felt Loki specifically would enjoy.

Thankfully, the end of the nightmare was near. Though not fully recovered, Thor had been cleared for discharge that afternoon - his condition no longer required care from the infirmary, so there was no reason for him to remain. 

While Thor changed out of his pajamas and into comfortable clothes, Loki busied himself collecting the various gifts and belongings that had accumulated throughout his brothers’ stay. 

“It was quite kind of Lady Theo to visit so often.” 

Loki glanced over at his brother. Thor sat on the edge of the bed, watching his brother with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Yet, I suspect her visits were not solely to check on my progress.” The comment was lighthearted, jesting in its delivery. 

“There is a Midgardian saying about assumptions, brother.” Loki flatly replied, turning back to continue packing so Thor would not see the heat rising on Loki’s cheeks. “I would not dare to presume her intentions.”

“I am not assuming anything, dear brother. Simply pondering…” Loki did not need to look to know Thor wore a smug grin. 

“Pondering, are you?” Loki turned back to his brother with a smirk of his own. “Are you certain you are well? You aren’t one to spend much time thinking.”

Thor laughed, tossing a pillow at Loki. Loki smacked it down to the floor, his own laughter echoing in the room. The sound of Thor’s laughter loosened the knot that had tangled itself around Loki’s chest for far too long.

“Well I’ve not had much else to do as of late,” Thor chuckled, “as I’m sure you are aware.” 

“Well, thank the Norns you will no longer be cooped up in this room—” Loki’s laughter quieted, though a smile remained. “— If for no other reason than you shan’t be forced to think; that is a benefit to us all.”

“Ah, you’ve wounded me!” Thor clasped one hand to his heart, feigning hurt despite the grin that lit up his face. 

Loki’s teasing seemed to be enough to deter further conversation on the matter, at least for the moment. With perfect timing, a nurse came by with the paperwork Thor needed to sign, and after a few signatures the pair were finally free to leave.

Just when the elevator closed, Thor turned to his brother with a pensive smile. “Jesting aside, I am glad you have someone like Lady Theo in your life.”

“Thor–”

“It is obvious that she truly cares for you.” Thor rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder and locked eyes with his brother. “Knowing there is another who will be there for you whenever you need gives me great peace. She is a good friend to you.”

A faint smile crept up on Loki’s face, and he nodded slightly. “She is.”   

Not long after ensuring Thor was settled in his quarters, Loki returned to his own quarters,  content to spend some time basking in the peace and quiet with his latest selection of literature... 

…At least, he had been content to bask in the peace and quiet until a knock on his door threatened the solitude he’d long been craving. 

Internally groaning, Loki set aside his book and pulled himself to his feet. Despite the overwhelming desire to ignore whoever dared to disturb him, Loki dragged himself to the door, rolling his eyes before twisting the knob and pushing it open.

The sight of Theo, a slim glass bottle with amber liquid in one hand and two lowball glasses in the other, wiped the scowl right off Loki’s face.

“Is this a bad time?” Theo asked, the smile on her face dissolving when she caught Loki’s expression. 

“There is never a bad time for you, darling.” Loki stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. 

“Good, because I am not about to drink this whole bottle myself.” Theo sauntered in, plopped down on the sofa, and poured two glasses of what smelled like whiskey. “Figured you’d want to celebrate having Thor home.”

Warmth bloomed in Loki’s chest. He took a seat next to Theo, retrieving one of the glasses and clinking it with hers. “I most certainly am not sad about the development.” 

“I can tell.” Theo leaned back, taking a sip of her beverage. “You look way less stressed.”

“Is that so?”

“Well yeah,” she said, “but it’s understandable that you were stressed. I mean, now that he’s doing better, I will admit your brother did get pretty fucked up. But still, I wasn’t worried about him...”

“…You were worried about me?” Loki ventured, unable to stop himself from smirking at Theo.

She blushed. “I mean…“

Loki couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the sight of Theo, attempting to hide the pink of her cheeks behind her glass. “So you weren’t visiting to check on Thor.” 

“No…” She shook her head and let out a sheepish laugh. “Thor already had plenty of people checking on him, but you needed someone in your corner too.” Theo fiddled with the glass in her hands, her attention focused on the amber liquid swirling around inside. “I didn’t like the thought of you trying to deal with all that on your own.”

When Theo finally looked at Loki, he saw something new in her bright blue eyes. 

“I am grateful for your support.” He slid over until the sides of their legs pressed together, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Though I must apologize for forcing you to spend the little free time you had fretting over me.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything.” Theo fiercely shook her head. “I wanted to be there.”

And whether or not he was ready to admit it out loud, he could at least admit to himself that he wanted her there, too.

Hold onto each other Hold onto each other Hold onto each other Hold onto each other…

[agapeassistedliving]

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[rxgirlie]

Magic In The Hamptons

Pairing: Lukas Matsson x f!reader

Summary: Lukas is shocked to see his new GC’s Instagram feed after she heads back home to NY for a week. (Heavily implied that reader and Matsson have NOT slept together... yet)

Warnings: literal phone sex, dubious content if you squint, mentions of alcohol/drugs, sexual themes, bodily fluids, etc. MINORS DNI!

Word count: 2033

Notes: absolutely no one requested this but I’m about to join the ranks of everyone else suffering from Matsson brain rot. I’ve been silently writing a fic involving Matsson/f!reader/Kendall and this is me testing the waters to see if anyone would even entertain the idea of reading it. This all unedited as well, so please look over any mistakes!

“Lukas,” Oskar bellows from across the room. Once again, he’s moonbeamed on edibles. The entire room is buzzing on something. Oskar holds his phone up, shaking it back and forth, “have you seen what your new counsel is posting on insta?”

Lukas looks around, quirking an eyebrow. “Should I have seen it?”

Lukas is quick to break away from the crowd of people surrounding him. Finding a small corner, he leans against the cool tile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He opens Instagram and there you are- happy and loose and alive. Something you hadn’t felt when you’d been in Sweden. He doesn’t take it personally. He knows it shocked your system when he asked you to come to Sweden to assist with the legalities of laying off upwards of a thousand people. With the WayStar acquisition and merger in its early stages, the both of you have been tense. Moreover, the sexual tension between the both of you seemed to hit an all time high before you were called back home for a family friend’s wedding. 

“Too bad she won’t let loose like that with all of us,” Lukas looks up at Oskar who peers over his phone and watches as he scrolls through the slides. 

 Amongst the curated feed, the newest post stands out from its tailored predecessors. Gone are the days of a carefully monitored feed. Gone are the days of Logan Roy. The first photo is innocent, it’s you and a group of friends clinging to one another. You're tanned, practically glowing, he notices. The next one is a panoramic of the estate he assumes you’re staying at for the wedding. The well curated lawn, hedgerows, and statues meticulously placed along the sprawling grounds screams ‘old money’ and a quick click of the tagged location lets him know you’re in The Hamptons. He’s back on the slides again as he thumbs over to the third photo. You’re lying back on a lounger by a pool. The smallest bikini covering the most intimate parts of you, with the rest on full display. The first thing he notices is the Jacques Marie Mage sunglasses you’re wearing. If he had exquisite vision and the capability of zooming far beyond anything an iPhone offers, he would be able to make out Kendall’s initials on the right sided temple. You’ve had them for years, an old pair Kendall had given you when you lost yours in the ocean. Things may have soured between you and Kendall but his sunglasses were your favorite amongst your precious collection. The most peculiar thing about the photo is the reflection in the lenses. Lukas zooms in further and sees, what he assumes, to be a man leaning towards you. He’s smiling down at you in an appetizing way. Like he’s going in for the kill. The next slide is a Live Photo of you letting smoke billow from your slightly agape mouth. Your eyes are glazed and slightly rolled back.  The first thing that comes to his mind is vivid. He imagines this is how you look when you cum. He thinks of his thumb on the crest of your tongue as he rolls his spit around your mouth with the pad of his finger, your doe eyes staring up at him as you come undone. He swallows the lump in his throat. He secretly wishes you were here with him. The next photo is of you sitting in a corner booth. The lights are dim, except for a small amount of candlelight spilling across your face from the centerpiece. There’s a man, someone he can’t place, sitting beside you. He looks like him. Same build, same profile. His face is brushing against your cheek, arms snaked tight around your waist. Your arm is wrapped equally as tight across his shoulders, your right hand tangled around his arm. He notices no one is tagged. No matter, he thinks, he will find out who he is regardless. The next photo stops him in his tracks totally. Your front is pressed against a marble wall, back completely bared for the photo, a slinky dress hanging off your waist. Your fingers splayed out in your hair, pushing it upwards, away from your face. You don a smirk. The one he wants to fuck right off your face. There's a small hint of a tattoo spanning the length of your right side. As much as he zooms, he’s unable to make it out. He wonders what you were thinking when the photo was snapped. Specifically, he wonders who took the photo. Without another word, he slides his phone deep in his pocket and takes off upstairs. He sits idly amongst the deep cushions of the couch spanning the wall of his bedroom before he slides his phone back out. He finds your contact with ease and initiates the call. 

It rings four times before he dejectedly pulls it back from his ear. 

“Hello?” Your sleep laden voice calls out before he can end the call.  

“What’s that tattoo on your side?” He sets off into the conversation. No need for formalities. 

You sigh loudly into the receiver, “it’s three in the morning, Lukas.” 

“Show me.” He insists. 

Another sigh leaves your lips. “It’s a sword.” 

You tell him. 

“I’m a visual learner,” he says lowly, “show me.”

Another loud sigh and he hears your phone being shuffled around. His phone vibrates against his ear and he slides it down, opening your highlighted name in his Notification Center. 

No face at all, just your left hand covering your breasts, right arm hovering above your form to snap the photo. Your stomach is partially bared to him from your position on your side with your lower half wrapped in a deep green down comforter. He pays attention to everything but the tattoo. 

It’s his turn to sigh now. 

“Did you fuck him?” You’ve begun to notice how his accent slips through when he’s turned on or worked up. This isn’t his first time getting riled up around you. You figure it won’t be the last either.  

“I did.” you admit. Lukas notices more shuffling from your end. 

“Tell me about it.” He pushes you further. There’s a certain longing in his voice. He lays his phone on his chest and taps the speaker icon as his hands come to rest on his hip bones. He pulls his cock free and it springs out, slapping against his belly, resting just below his belly button. He’s hanging on your every word. 

You inhale deeply. 

“We drove out to the beach a few days ago,” you tell him. “Just for a little while to get away from the wedding chaos. I climbed over once he parked the car and fucked him right in the driver’s seat of his Audi.”

A groan manifests deep from his chest. He has a firm grasp on his cock now, his pointer finger and thumb rolling over the swollen head repeatedly.

“You let him cum inside you?” His question comes out breathy. 

You chuckle lightly, almost sardonically, “I didn’t.” 

The phone is pressed tightly against your ear as you imagine what type of state he’s in. 

“Would you let me cum inside you?” He asks. You clench at the mere thought. His breath hitches and you can tell his hands are no longer idle. 

On the other line, he throbs viciously in his hand. He slows his movements as he waits for your answer, a tight grip around his thick base. 

“Do you want to?,” you suck in a gasp of air, “Is that what you’re thinking about?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” 

“Mmm,” you muse, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

“I don’t ask,” he growls out, “I take.“

Against your will, a light moan flies out of your mouth. The sheets are clinging to the edge of the mattress as you squirm and writhe around, squeezing your thighs shut for any sort of relief. 

“Yeah,” he questions with a tinge of a chuckle, “you like that?”

“I do,” you admit, “I thought about you the entire time I fucked him. I closed my eyes and imagined it was you.”

There’s no response to that. The only sound you hear is flesh on flesh. A slapping noise that echoes around the room and straight into the receiver. 

He’s working himself viciously on the other end. Thinking about you tight and slick around him, a silken vice, fucking you until you forget anyone else has ever fucked you. He imagines being deep inside you, filling you up to your belly, fucking you so good, you don’t walk right for days. 

“You like that?” It’s your turn to taunt him. 

“Yeah,” a murmur of a grunt slides out of him, “I am going to ruin you.”

You don’t doubt it. You anticipate it. 

You can tell he has met his end when a few strangled grunts pour out of him, followed by a dull, scratching sound reverberating from his side of the call. You hear him sigh loudly, chuckling as his voice comes back into earshot. 

“Dropped you.” He says with no indication of what has just transpired between the two of you. The casualness in his tone, as if you’ve both just spoken about the weather. 

You only laugh in response, squirming around in the bed, pulling yourself up to rest on the mountainous pillows.

“I am tired,” you whisper out, “still a little drunk.”

"Let me see you,” and before you can tell him ‘absolutely not,’ your phone vibrates with an incoming FaceTime from him.

You reluctantly answer, squinting briefly before adjusting to the light filtering in from behind his face.

“You look like shit,” he tells you and you laugh, nodding in agreement.

“When did you go to bed?” He asks and you glance at the time pinned in the corner of your phone.

“An hour ago?” You shrug, “if that.”

It’s obvious he is no longer paying attention to you, rather doing god knows what else on a different tab. You take the moment to glance at your reflection in the small window hovering beside his face. You’re missing an earring, your eyeliner has bled down onto your cheeks, and your hair is wild. You tuck the duvet further under your arms, making a mental note to search for the earring amongst the sea of sheets. 

And then he’s back, staring at you as you disassociate to the view out the french doors across from the bed. 

“There’s going to be a car there to pick you up at eight,” your phone vibrates with a text from him, “just sent you the details.”

You swipe down to see he has scheduled a meeting with you for later this afternoon.

“A meeting?” You groan, “The only meeting I want to have is with a pillow.”

He is up and moving now and you can tell by the new surroundings, he is in his bathroom. He has placed his phone down on the counter, crooked, and you watch as he grabs a tissue, wiping it across his lower stomach.

He shoves the cum filled tissue close to his phone.

“All for you, baby!” He maniacally laughs out. He takes his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly in the corner.

You grimace, turning the deepest shade of red. “You are disgusting.” You don’t mean it. In a sick way, you’re almost flattered. 

You inhale sharply, suddenly aware of what has transpired between the two of you. The gravity of the entire situation weighs heavily on you as you shift in bed.

“We can’t make this a thing.” You tell him, “there’s work to be done.”

“I know,” he assures you. He’s on the move again, only stilling when he plops down on his bed, “but the way I see it is either we fuck it out or we fight it out.”

‘And I don’t fight fair,” he continues, “and I know you don’t either.” He smiles at you knowingly.

“I will see you soon,” he says and you’re back on your home screen. You lock your phone with a groan and roll over. 

[shroudkeeper]

memorial - for the random word generator prompt!

The world before me slowly unravels with each footstep I take upon lands I have yet to explore; with each path I take, I am filled with wonder and try to document each tale I am regaled with. There are grandiose stories of heroism carved into history, made by mortal beings, that one may find in tomes and scrolls in every part of the world.

During spring, as the flowers awaken from their hibernation and journey to warmer climes, I have made an unexpected friend in what others call a beastkin. I felt their gentle nature, the benign spirit that radiated from them, and welcomed them into my company in my search for more stories to document.

We crossed into Eastern Thalanan, an area I did not frequent without the company of Mister Fitzgerald, however, I knew well of the cemetery there, though my companion sparked the interest of a cloaked gentleman, who hurriedly approached me and immediately became interested in her.

He told me a story, not one of mortal men and their great feats, but of a solitary gobbue, one whose voyage took them afar, as the world felt like it was becoming undone. For years it wandered, and though its life was being extinguished with each step, life gathered upon it. My companion listened quietly as the brooding man continued to weave its remarkable, tragic tale. I became interested in seeing this living memorial upon its back, to paint it into memory and share it with my clan upon my return.

With his brief directions, we both set towards the east where we may find it and give it our offerings. Even though we could not communicate verbally, they knew the silent language of gestures and guided me toward our destination to offer our respects.

In this field of flowers, we see the monumental form as we descended a hill and quietly approached the area where it forever laid dormant. Within me something stirred, despite being accustomed to death, the sight of the gobbue caused my heart to tighten in my chest as I felt sparks of life radiating from its hunched back in the form of lavenders, roselles, and moss which cushioned the blooms and carpeted the hunched mound.

Life and death are inseperable.

My companion gingerly pushed the thorned vines away from the maw left agape on the deceased, allowing us to see past the veil of greenery. Its limbs have long become part of the earth, rooting itself to help keep it upright, its empty eyes still looked forward, as one could imagine it had been doing for years on end, leaving the land of Coerthas.

With her assistance, I was lifted higher, and closer so I may properly glance upon them with respect; was there that I would quietly observe the details of its passing and the beauty which shrouded it.

In silence, I offered it a prayer, for one could only fathom its hardships and understand the loss it felt as its world crumbled at its feet.

Its spirit is long gone, for not even I can feel its presence lingering in this plane, despite such, I will honor where he finally rests, a living shrine that he has created upon its back, in hopes that where his spirit lies, it feels lighter in knowing that another has come to learn of their plight.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Early riser

A/N: Do you all remeber what Doja Cat says about big noses? So, today marks a year since I created this account and to celebrate I wrote this short fic!

Word count: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Fem!reader, Somnophilia, Oral (both male and female receiving), Teasing, Spanking

Only one thought occupied her restless mind as she stirred her eyes open. Glancing at her still sleeping partner, a grin of mischief curled the corners of her lips. The early, soft sunrays that came through the translucent, peach colored curtains threw a complimenting shine to Joel’s sun kissed skin, highlighting the deep creases on his forehead and illuminating the white and gray hues of his hair and beard. His mouth was slightly agape as air flowed in and out of his rumbling lungs, his hand- rested atop his chest- rose and fell with each deep inhale and exhale.

Carefully, (Y/N) traced the veiny line on his arm as she positioned herself underneath the soft, warm bedsheets and between his legs, where she was met with the sight of what she was looking for. Gently, she tugged at his boxers in order to not wake him up just yet; a sudden, louder snore took her by surprise and for a moment she thought her whole plan went south, though much to her delight, luck was on her side, for Joel was still deeply asleep, or as deep as slumber can be during a constant life-threatening living conditions. Saliva pooled in her mouth as she took a hold of his cock that immediately responded to the soft, familiar touch of her hand. (Y/N) ran her index finger along his hardening shaft from the very bottom to the very tip that was flushed pink and e pearl of shiny of precum was forming. Her breath was caught in her throat at the sight of his dick in all its breathtaking glory- it was a sight that had her stomach coil and her pussy clench around nothing.

Gently, she gave his semi-hard cock a few strokes, testing his responsiveness in his sleep before she grew bolder and took him in her mouth; Joel shifted slightly underneath her delicate touch, a sound between a groan and a snore ripped through his throat. (Y/N) peeled the warm sheet off of her head and she glanced at his face; his eyes were shut tight; his brows were furrowed together in a frown. With her gaze locked on his face, she struggled to fit all of him in her mouth so instead she focused on the tip, twirling her tongue around it and occasionally sucking on it all the while her hand pumped the rest of his length and her other hand kneaded his balls. Joel stirred; a whimper escaped past his lips as his sleepy eyes were met with the sight of his beloved sucking him shamelessly. His eyes rolled back in delight; he ran his head through the messy strands of his hair.

It was too damn early.

Joel sat up in bed and gently pushed (Y/N) away, whilst holding her by her arms, sending electric shocks all over her; his deep brown irises bore into her (E/C) ones.

“You’re having fun without letting me know?” The sleepiness in his features have seemed to evaporate, for his eyebrow was raised as he struck her a stern, questioning look. Reluctantly, she shook her head yes, guilt clenched her heart.

“You can’t be the only one having fun, dear.” His morning voice sent shivers down her spine and the meaning behind his words made her soaked core quiver in excitement. Joel laid back down on the soft mattress, bringing her down with him as he still held her. With her now sat atop of him, she rolled her hips against his cock but his hands, now gripping her hips, were quick to stop her; he dug his fingers underneath the band of her shorts and pulled on them. Assisting him in undoing her panties, she lifted her hips off of him and kicked them off to their fall somewhere on the floor. Much to her surprise once she lowered her hips back on his bare ones Joel stopped her once more and struck her with a darkened, intense gaze that had her heart skip a beat.

"Sit on my face." She froze, staring him at him in disbelief. For a couple of moments, she stood still, contemplating if she’s dreaming or not; though the serious look on his face, the urging- almost desperate- massaging of his calloused finger pads on her silky-smooth skin and most importantly that certain gaze of his (Y/N) was painfully familiar with- one of want, yet also one of determination that ensured whatever it was the object of his desire he will get. Hot waves of arousal ran through her body once he spoke up, repeating his request in a commanding manner. And so, she obliged, biting back the grin that was forming on her face.

Hesitantly, she let him guide her in positioning her however he liked; he took a hold of her hips, running his palms along them and up to her ass, where he groped at the soft flesh before he gave her a teasing slap. She placed her hands atop his thighs, balancing her weight, for she knew her knees will give out once Joel’s done teasing her- if not earlier. Joel wasn’t famous for rushing into things- especially intimacy; even if it drove his partner insane, he stayed true to his nature. Sa, he slowly kneaded the skin of her inner thighs all the while his wandering lips peppered her heated skin with kisses. Darting his hot tongue, he drew lines across her hips and thighs; his lips clasped on her delicate flesh, sucking on her most sensitive spots until he was sure there would be a variety of blues and purples by the end of their little game.

Above him (Y/N) squirmed in desperation; the desire within her burned her slowly as the place, where she needed his skillful mouth most was completely disregarded by him as if it didn’t exist in the first place. Pitiful whines rolled down her lips one after another in a chain of erotic sounds, a melody that was a form of a wordless plead for him to grant her the pleasure she was desperately seeking, though to no avail. Being his stubborn and determined self, Joel kept going, intentionally coaxing her pretty sounds that had his cock twitch; his teeth grazed her burning skin followed by his tongue, reaching dangerously near her dripping core he bit at the plush of her inner thighs hard enough to cause shockwaves to spark a mixture of pain and pleasure, making for an addictive sensation that had her seeing stars. Her nails dug in his thigs as he successfully drove her crazy without even touching her properly.

(Y/N) moaned out his name once his chapped lips finally pressed against her moist lips; instinctively, she rolled her hips back in search for the sweet stimulation but his strong grip held her from doing so; his hand landed on her butt check, resulting in a loud smack to echo across the room- it was a warning. She let out a groan of disappointment; her blurry gaze fell upon his neglected cock, still as hard as it was just mere moments ago, when she teasingly toyed with it. And then the idea struck her. She took a hold of it, lazily stroking it all the while trying her hardest to keep her composure as his lips caressed her bundle of nerves; her legs slightly shook at the wave of pleasure washing over her senses. As Joel lapped at her core, drawing his tongue all the way up her clit, she tugged at his dick- a primal, instinctual response that had him groan against her core, further pleasuring her. A wicked smile curled the corners of her lips as yet another idea popped up in her exquisite conscience. She took his dick in her mouth, fitting whatever she could reach at that angle and she sucked on it, whilst her nails scratched along his happy trail and dug them in his heated skin, leaving behind crescent marks. Joel pulled away for a moment, taking a deep breath in as he was suddenly caught in the magical void of delight that was her mouth. Though Joel knew it was a game she was playing and he wasn’t planning on playing along.

A loud scream ripped through her throat, causing her to let go of his cock; her back arched as the burning sensation of his impactful smack on her poor ass had her entire body heat up, yet she had no time to recover from the strong sensation as yet another slap took her by surprise and another until Joel set a pattern and pace not too intense, yet not too light just enough for him to take back control. Joel didn’t stop, his palms were burning, yet he kept going until she was whining, uttering his name continuously; tears formed in the corners of her eyes, making her vision blurry and the only thing she could see was her own hands gripping his hips for dear life as her body bounced with every smack.

"Can you try to turn around for me, darling?" He suddenly stopped, his soft voice, fully contrasting the rough touch of his calloused hands on her body from just moments ago, brought her to the present moment. Silently, she shook her head yes and stood on her wobbly legs as she positioned herself so she could face him; the salacious sight of him alone was enough for legs to give out. Luckily for her, Joel was quick to take a hold of her arms, aiding in balancing her and bringing her to his head, where he sat her on his face once more, depriving her of the dreamy look of his titillating expression. Though she still could see his eyes, just barely peaking at her behind her pubic bone that was practically on his nose; the intensity of his gaze, combined with the delicate laps of his tongue on her pussy had her head rolling back in utter ecstasy. Her grip on the headboard was tight, holding for dear life as the coil in her stomach threatened to finally unravel after what seemed like hours of Joel edging her on purpose; Joel watched her closely as she was on the brim of losing her mind until the only word, she could say was his name. Yet he still wasn’t done.

Kneading the flesh of her burning ass, he trailed his lips along her slit, the featherlight brush of his lips on her sensitive pussy had her whining for more. Her hand glid down her chest, touching herself where Joel didn’t bother to as her fingers made their way down to his sweaty, messy strands of silver, tugging at them in a silent request for more. In response, Joel let out a breathy chuckle, followed by a whimper; the wave of cool air against her throbbing clit had her wince through gritted teeth. His grip on her ass tightened as he brought her flush to his lips; a loud moan rolled down her agape mouth along with the glistening creek of saliva, running down her chin. His tongue slithered within her velvety folds as his nose rubbed against her bundle of nerves.

Beads of sweat broke out on her skin, reflecting the soft, morning sunrays akin to small gems, her messy hair stuck to her damp forehead and her limbs trembled as her muscles were burning from the not so comfortable position, yet she didn’t move away, still waiting for her so desired climax. And fortunately for her, Joel finally granted her release; tirelessly, his tongue lapped at her entrance with the occasional thrust in all the while his nose was glued to her clit, massaging it just enough to have her on the edge. (Y/N) was on the verge of falling apart, a chain of moans, whimpers and unintelligible sounds escaped past her past her sore throat; her back arched once more, unintentionally rubbing her clit against his nose. A loud scream ripped through her as she rolled her hips back and forth, riding out the intense sensation of pleasure, concentrated right in her core. Joel groaned, the vibration of his voice went right trough her pussy; her release spilled on his face.

Crashing down next to her partner, (Y/N) looked at him through lust filled, half lidded eyes; his beard, generously coated in her cum, shone underneath the sunlight and the cocky smile on his face shone just as much as his beard. His tongue darted his lips, tasting her all the while his eyes were locked with hers; she felt shivers run down her spine and the arousal rekindle in her dripping core.

“How did you come up with this?” He asked his voice husky and breathless; a mischievous smile curled the corners of her lips.

“I take that as a ‘I’m glad you did that’.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“This doesn’t answer my question.” He reciprocated the hug, clasping her against his chest. She cupped his face, her sparkling (E/C) irises gazed lovingly into his brown ones.

“Let’s say I though about this for a while now.” She tapped his still damp nose before she planted a delicate kiss atop of it.

[sandstormcz]

So there's more problems with the Assembly. Great. Beau was not surprised that that bunch of old manipulators couldn't stay chill for literally two minutes. But it's fine, it's fine! She loves her job. It's kinda shitty that she has to go bother Caleb and Essek about teleporting her again, but that's okay. It's that or weeks of travel and while she could use a vacation with Jester and Fjord, it was a pressing matter. So there she was, in Caleb's office, Essek, disguised as a half orc, holding her and Caleb's hands.

"Now.. I have personally never been to this location so-"

"It's fine Essek it's fine, we can walk"

"Ja Essek, besides, we're going to the middle of a city, it's not Aeor shatz. I'm sure they'll notice us anyway"

Essek seemed nervous almost, but he pulled them all closer and as they all took a deep breath, teleported them.. somewhere in Whitestone.

The goal was to get to the sun tree

And even though he has truthly never been there, his aim was better than he expected. Not the Sun tree, but they still managed to land in a garden of some sort.. maybe aiming better than they could if they tried.

The voice of the Tempest, meters away from them, was.. gardening. She had her back to them, growing out new plants in the fresh patch of soil. And she wasn't alone.

That was about all she noticed in the split second before she fell to her knees, dizzy from the spell that just got her there.

And with that soft thud, in an insane blur of yellows and oranges and browns, The voice of the Tempest was facing them, ready to dispose of any danger that suddenly appeared behind her. They all raised their hands as if to prove they come in peace. She was beautiful, magnificent and at the moment absolutely terrifying. For but a split second, until she noticed the official Cobalt Soul and Academy robes. She lowered her hand

"I see you have found quite an unexpected way of transportation. Expositor Lionette, if I'm not wrong?"

Still dizzy, she quickly stood up and folded her arms.

"Yes, that is me, this is my colleague Professor Caleb Widogast and his assistant Elias Feik Nem" she announced, blinking rapidly to get rid of the vertigo. And it was at this moment, with her vision clearing out a bit,that she started noticing the other person behind the woman in front of her

Beau might have had problems identifying The voice of the Tempest, if it weren't for her antlers, or that vibrant cloak she was told to look for.. but this woman next to her.. she seemed awfully familiar. No, she was almost certain she has seen her somewhere, she just couldn't place her.

"Very well then, I wasn't expecting you this soon. The rest is not yet here and we have a revival to get through but alas. It is my pleasure to greet you in Whitestone."

She was pretty sure the woman was looking at her the same way, unsure of where to put her, like she had wanted to remember but couldn't.. Ah. That's who she was then.

"We are glad to have the opportunity to meet you, even in these very unfortunate circumstances" Caleb responded instead of her.

"We are also glad to see that our old friend is with you. It is good to see you again, Vilya" Beau didn't think this would have much effect on the druid before her but while Vilya just smiled, The voice of the Tempest seemed shocked, mouth agape.

"Oh that's right! Dear, these are the adventurers I told you about.. or well, the two of them at least"

"Expositor Lionette am I to understand you were one of the brave heroes that saved my mother?" She seemed almost in tears. Wait no hold on mother? Oh Jester will never let them live down how Travelercon saved the mother of the FUCKING VOICE OF THE TEMPEST

"I am sorry, I'm not sure I follow, you're.. okay that.. it would appear the Mighty Nein did a lot more than- " the woman stepped closer and hugged her. What. The fuck. Did she just get a hug from the literal leader of the Air Ashari?

"Thank you. Thank you all so much."

[gatakat]

surrender | part 1

Love wasn't something Sakusa spent a lot of time thinking about. No. Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of volleyball.

Training. Strength. Speed. Stability.

He followed a simple routine, and focused on doing his best every day without paying much attention to things that were mostly, realistically speaking, out of his reach. 

Not everyone lived their lives the same way, though. Sakusa was well aware of that. Some people had space in their heads and time in their lives to chase love around in ways that Sakusa deemed as little else than fruitless. Miya Atsumu, the everlasting Casanova, was one of those people, although he wisely kept his love life to himself for the most part.

Then, on the opposite side of the spectrum, Bokuto had decided, as of late, to annoy everyone by becoming even more of an airhead than he usually was, all because of one girl. The new MBSY Black Jackals assistant manager.

You.

Bokuto had taken a liking to you from the very first moment he'd seen you enter the gym a couple of weeks ago. By the time you finished introducing yourself as the new MSBY intern for this year, he was practically drooling all over the floor. 

Even Miya, who at first had been pretty enthusiastic in agreeing with him about you being hot, eventually had to resort to elbowing him in the ribs. Otherwise, he would just not stop goofing around in order to try and get your attention. Bokuto didn’t care, though, and, from that moment onwards, no one on the team had known peace.

It drove Sakusa nuts. 

Bokuto lost track of conversations when you walked past, he constantly goofed around in the court just to try and get your attention, he ran up to you as soon as training was over, he pestered everyone in the locker rooms to take candid shirtless pictures of him for his Instagram… It was an absolute nuisance, and it happened every day; rinse and repeat. All that, and more, just to get one smile from you. And none of it irked Sakusa as much as the way he was calling your name in public right now.

"HEEEEEY!" Bokuto was waving his hands up and down, attracting the attention of everybody on their side of the train platform, while you stayed blissfully ignorant. "HEY! HEY! MANAGER! Over here!!" 

Bokuto, along with Miya, Hinata and Sakusa, were about to take a train to the city center for their bi-monthly burger night, when Bokuto spotted you, standing by yourself on the opposite train platform. Distance be damned, he hadn’t wasted a single second in yelling out your name. Sakusa wanted to disappear.

"What is that guy doing…" Miya muttered.

Miya's comment, surprisingly, wasn't criticising his friend’s antics. Everybody else saw it too:

A creepy guy in his mid-forties was approaching you. Dressed in a noncommittal grey suit, he was walking slowly, carefully checking his surroundings while pretending not to look at you. He then stopped, standing right next to you. Way too close to you, especially considering how much empty space there was left on the platform. When he started talking to you, you visibly flinched. Bokuto felt his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall agape.

“That’s… that’s not…” Hinata stuttered.

You were obviously trying to ignore the man, but he would simply just not go away. He continued to talk to you while he got closer and closer. You would take one step backwards, and he would take two steps forward. He was trying to trap you against a corner. You tried to change directions and he forced you to get closer and closer to the platform edge.

“Why isn’t anybody doing anything?” Sakusa grunted under his mask.

All the people around you in the platform seemed to be purposefully minding their own business.

“Let’s go, c’mon!” Bokuto yelled.

Bokuto turned on his heels and darted towards the platform exit. Closely followed by his three friends in a frantic race, the four athletes climbed up the stairs, then ran across the entire station, and hastily went down the stairs to the opposite platform, the one you were on. Hinata, the fastest of the four, arrived first. There wasn’t even a slight hint of shortness of breath in his voice when he spoke firmly:

“Is this guy bothering you?”

The creep looked at the accusatory finger Hinata was pointing at him and, for a split second, he seemed to consider putting up a fight. It was at that moment that Bokuto, Miya and Sakusa joined Hinata on the platform. 

Three noticeably athletic men looming over him, all around 1,90 meters tall, were definitely more than enough sign for the creep to swallow his protests and drop out of sight leaving no trace behind. As easy as that.

“You fucking coward!” Bokuto yelled.

At the silence that followed, you looked up at your four protectors. Relief washed over your features, although your face was still pale as a ghost. You let out a big shaky breath.

“Thank you, guys…” You said, still frozen in place. “It was fine, though, you didn’t need to bother…”

“It was not fine!” Bokuto bursted out. “What the fuck was wrong with that guy!?”

“It’s no trouble.” Miya said, frowning. He looked like he still couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. “Does this happen often?”

“Well, not that often…” You said, unconvincingly, after you took a little to answer.

“Do you want us to come along with you the rest of the way?” Bokuto offered.

“Oh, no! Thank you!” You started gesturing frantically, your eyes very open. “I’m fine! It’s fine, really. It was very kind of you, but you don’t need to bother. He’s gone now, so I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Miya said.

“Yeah!” Bokuto insisted. “All you have to do is ask!”

“Yeah!” Hinata nodded behind him.

“No, for real, guys.” You kept saying, flustered. “There is no need. Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm fine, really. He's gone, now, anyway!”

They still waited with you on the platform, despite your protests, until your train arrived and you departed safely, because it was the very least they could do. And, in the meantime, hoping to cheer you up, Bokuto wasted no time in pulling out his phone to show you funny videos until, bit by bit, your face returned to its normal color.

* * *

The incident at the train station left quite an impression on Sakusa.

He already disliked public transport enough, for social and sanitary reasons mainly, but he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have to endure sexual harassment on top of that. And yet, you’d kept telling them, over and over, that you were fine… that it was fine. Like you were used to it, like it was no big deal... How you still braved to take the train every day Sakusa couldn’t fathom.

Sakusa arrived early to the gym the next day, as usual. He changed clothes before anybody else made a mess in the locker rooms and then sat down outside the locker room to wait, as he often did. He checked his phone until he heard the door open. When he looked up, he saw you, and was immediately reminded of what had happened the day before.

Although he wasn't often one to initiate a conversation, something inside of him commanded him to ask.

“Was everything alright in the train today?” He said out loud.

His voice resonated all across the empty gym. You seemed startled to see him address you of his own volition for what was probably the first time since you’d known each other. You locked your very wide eyes with his, and took a long look at his entire figure.

“Yeah.” You finally said. You took a couple of hesitant steps towards him. “Everything alright. Thank you for yesterday, again. I swear it doesn’t happen every day.”

“Good.” He replied. “Just let us know if you ever want us to come with you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

You smiled, and Sakusa went back to his phone.

Practice went as usual afterwards, with no remarkable incidents other than Bokuto and the guys asking you the exact same question as Sakusa, and you replying similarly. 

Sakusa made a dash for the shower as soon as practice ended and he was soon out of the door and on his way home. There were a couple of errands he had to run before he got to his apartment that night, so he took a little longer than normal walking around the block.

There was not a single hint of sunlight in the sky when he eventually entered the train station to head back home despite the fact that the days were already starting to get longer. It was not easy to focus on the sky, though. Sakusa held his breath behind his mask and then released it slowly. This was not his favorite hour to take the train. The crowd at the station was bigger than what he was used to, and it made him use more mental strength to fight the apprehension. 

It made him more aware of his surroundings, too. 

He saw him first, and you second. He was there again, a couple of meters away from you. It was the same creep from yesterday, hiding in the shadows, away from the artificial lights of the station. You hadn’t noticed him yet, but there was no mistaking that disgusting expression, those sinister eyes.

It wasn’t Sakusa’s habit to act on impulse but, this time, his feet put him in motion before he had any idea what he was doing. He scooted over to your side and put his arm around your shoulders, startling you; and then turned his head around to glare at the creep, startling him.

The creep vanished in a flash once again. Sakusa turned to look at you again, only to see you looking right back at him, frightened out of your wits.

“I’m sorry. Did I scare you? It's me.” He said, pulling his mask down so you could see his face. "Sakusa Kiyoomi, from the Bla-" 

“I know it’s you." You interrupted him. "You’re unmistakable.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah. You scared me.” You said, matter-of-factly. You were pissed.

“That creepy dude from yesterday was here again.” Sakusa explained.

Your mouth fell agape at his words. The color dropped from your face.

“Don’t worry. He already left.”

You kept silent, most likely assessing the situation. Sakusa could see the fear taking place in your features as you looked around, checking your surroundings and the veracity of Sakusa's words. Sakusa squeezed your shoulder and then dropped his arm from you. You did need some comfort, but you two were not that close to be hugging like that.

“I’ll board the train with you.” Sakusa said.

Sakusa tried to be as reassuring as he could, which wasn’t much. He knew he was naturally intimidating with his deadpan expression and his straightforward words, which probably wasn’t helping in this situation, but he still tried his best. He, of all people, knew very well what it was like to be afraid and have no one to rely on.

“I… I��”

“Don’t try to tell me ‘it’s fine’. I know it’s not.” He said. “Listen. I take this very same train home every day. I just normally do it earlier. I’ll wait for you and we’ll take it together every day from now on. That way you won’t have to worry about anything.”

“I… S- Sakusa-san… You really don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t. Don’t sweat it. It’s no big deal.”

You had a silent trip back home sitting together on the train, you looking out the window, him looking at his phone. Sakusa would've liked to think it had been a peaceful ride and, thankfully, you did appear to be a lot calmer than before, but there was still an unmistakable tension in the air the whole time, the kind that lies between two people who don't have much to say to each other. It wasn't the worst uncomfortable silence moment Sakusa had ever experienced, but that fact didn't magically make this situation any more bearable. He just decided to continue looking at his phone, telling himself that he'd only offered to keep you safe, not to keep you company, and he didn't insist when you rejected his offer to walk you home. He watched you leave with relief after you waved him goodbye with a shy smile. This twenty-minute long ride had been more than enough awkward social interaction for the day.

He didn't regret it, though. He couldn't possibly have been at peace with himself if he just let you take the train on your own.

He briefly considered letting someone else know, so that the responsibility of being your guardian didn't rely solely on him, but it soon became evident that he was the only one who took that train every day. Everybody else lived in different directions. Bokuto probably wouldn't mind taking his place every now and then, though. That was something.

So this is going to be my life from now on, Sakusa thought, taking a deep breath as he moved his eyes from his phone to the city landscape behind the window, relaxing his shoulders into his seat.

He knew he would get used to it, eventually. It really wasn't that big of a deal. It was just going to be hard to endure the first days. 

* * *

The next day, as soon as you stepped into the gym, you made a beeline for him, an alert expression on your face.

Sakusa was sitting in his usual waiting spot as his other teammates gradually started to come in through the door. He looked up from his phone at the sound of his name and, right in front of his face, he saw a flimsy transparent plastic box with cookies inside and a yellow ribbon around it. Behind it, you stood, holding it to him. He held out his hand out of instinct, although not really understanding, and you set the box on it.

“This is for helping me out yesterday. They're my aunt's secret recipe.” You explained, your voice soft as you spoke. "What you did was very kind of you, and you really didn't have to, but I am very grateful for it."

“Uh… thanks.” He said, awkwardly. “You shouldn't have bothered.”

“I know.” You smiled, and Sakusa thought that was a sincere smile if he'd ever seen one. You seemed like a good person.

Then, you simply turned around and left to prepare for work.

“Hey, hey, hey, what the fuck was that.” 

Sakusa lifted his head towards the unmistakable voice. It was Bokuto, taking big steps towards him, followed by Hinata and Miya. He stopped before Sakusa with his arms crossed in a brassy gesture which completely failed to intimidate him. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are those homemade cookies?” Miya asked in an annoying sing-song voice, with an eyebrow raised and a questioning smirk on his dumb face. He leaned down and planted his face in front of the box, closely examining it. "How nice of her. You must have done something to earn them…" He snickered.

Behind him, Hinata looked like a nervous mouse who would explode if he didn’t speak his mind:

“A- are you dating her!?” he failed to whisper, his hand covering his mouth so as not to, supposedly, be heard by any of the other guys.

This seemed to greatly disturb Bokuto, who opened his mouth to protest. Sakusa interrupted him with a big sigh.

“You guys are pathetic.” He said, standing up. “I shooed that creep away from her again yesterday. That was just her saying thanks.”

And, with that, he left the cookies behind him on the chair and headed to the center of the court to start practice on his own, paying no mind to his teammates' voices behind him:

“‘Thanks’ my ass. This guy is hiding something.”

“That creep was there again?”

“Those cookies look good, though…”

.

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next chapter

thanks for reading!

ill post the next chapter in a couple of days (or you can go ahead and read the entire thing on ao3 now. it's an orphaned work)

i deleted my previous writing blog for privacy reasons. i will be reposting all my works (and maybe rewriting some) under this new blog with a different username