#11.5 URG-I

[officialrailscales]

Our new Hardtop Mount for Surefire Pro Lights

Offset design offers 0.788” of fore/aft adjustment within its own 1-slot mounting footprint.

Compatible with our XOS-H series of Scales

Weighs less than the OEM M-LOK mount

- RS

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 11.5 [Rated E]

Optional smut continuation of part 11. Full chapter under the cut, click through at your own discretion. Read here on Ao3

[Warnings/Tags: very mild d/s dynamics (like. super mild, mentioning it just to be safe), unsafe sex, slightly possessive behavior (welcomed), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, bottom!Steve/top!Eddie]

This is far from the first time Eddie’s had Steve spread out beneath him in bed.

This isn’t the first time he’s had him naked, skin flushed, chest heaving, lips parted and kiss-swollen, staring up at Eddie with bright, eager eyes – and god (or whoever else) willing, it won’t be the last.

But something about it still feels new.

There’s an awareness now – and understanding that this isn’t just his friend Steve, that they aren’t just here to have a good time, to make each other feel good and then part ways. The man beneath him is his, as much as Eddie belongs to him in turn; there’s something solid between them now, heavy and binding and comforting in its weight.

Eddie looks down at Steve with the knowledge that Steve wants to be with him, only with him, that Steve loves him and is letting Eddie love him in return, and Eddie wants to devour him.

So he gives into the urge.

Kneeling between Steve’s thighs, Eddie leans in and presses his lips to the soft spot just behind the hinge of Steve’s jaw, kissing and licking and nipping his way down the length of his neck. Steve is sighing with it when Eddie reaches the crook of his shoulder, where he opens his mouth and bites down on the thick muscle beneath his lips.

“Ah!” Steve hisses and jerks beneath Eddie, but the arm that comes up around Eddie’s back only pulls him closer.

Of all the many varied things they’ve done in bed together, this is the one thing Eddie had always wanted that he’d never indulged: biting, marking.

Steve hadn’t been his, he’d reasoned, so the right to leave hickeys and bitemarks hadn’t belonged to him. Now, though – now, Eddie eases up on the pressure of his teeth and instead seals his lips over the tender skin, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Beneath him, Steve practically whines, hooking one leg up over Eddie’s hips and pulling him closer, grinding up against him. Eddie moans, rocking into the feeling of Steve’s cock rubbing against his, hard and hot and beginning to bead with precome, and he finally releases Steve’s neck, licking over the bruise before he goes.

Ducking down, Eddie mouths his way across Steve’s collarbones, over his chest, and latches onto a patch of skin just over where he estimates Steve’s heart should be, scraping the spot with his teeth before he sets to sucking in another mark.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve hisses, all but squirming under Eddie now.

Eddie pulls away, kissing the already-purpling bruise he’s left before looking up at Steve, taking in the dark flush that’s starting to spread down his neck, the wet shine of his lips as he pants for air, and he grins.

“Gonna tell me what you want, sweetheart?” he asks.

Steve licks his lips, nodding. “I want to feel you – want you inside,” he says, low and rough. “Fuck me, Eddie.��

Eddie groans, the words going straight to his cock. He’d been pretty certain of the answer, but it doesn’t pay to assume; they don’t do this every time, and it isn’t as though they never switch it up (Eddie can remember the last time Steve had fucked him; his knees sliding across the sheets with Steve’s big hands curled around his hips, holding him in place as his cock split him open, the pace slow and deep, until Eddie had been all but drooling into the mattress and coming with barely more than a couple of tugs to his cock), but four times out of five, if they fuck, it’s Steve on the bottom.

They’d discovered together how sensitive he is, how he melts for just a couple of fingers inside of him, how he’ll practically scream if he’s fucked just right, how responsive he is if someone lays him back and doesn’t let him think.

Steve loves the feeling of being taken care of, of being filled and so obviously wanted, and Eddie– Eddie can’t think of a single damn thing better than the feeling of those thick thighs wrapped around his waist, shaking with the pleasure that Eddie is providing, or the sight of that strong back curved down in offering, waiting for Eddie to take him apart.

There’s nothing Eddie wants in the world as much as he wants to make Steve feel good right now, and he plans on pulling out every little thing he’s learned in the months they’d spent having—as Steve had said—a lot of sex in order to do just that.

“Anything you want, Steve,” Eddie croons – and he fucking means it. He scoots away and pats Steve’s hip before instructing him with a little twirl of his finger, “Over. On your knees, baby.”

While Steve twists on top of the covers, moving to obey, Eddie stretches for the bedside drawer, reaching in for the lube and condoms that are still right where he expects them to be, even though it’s been a couple of months since he’s had occasion to even be near them.

He turns back to find Steve waiting for him on his hands and knees, watching with anticipation, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Not quite what I meant,” he says, dropping the lube and condom on the bed before moving one hand to cup the back of Steve’s neck and press down gently. “Just your knees.”

And just like that, Steve goes down, shoulders braced on the bed, face half-buried in a pillow, allowing himself to be bent and molded to Eddie’s specifications, trusting Eddie to give him what he needs – and Eddie very much intends on delivering.

He presses a kiss to the base of Steve’s spine and runs his hands up the backs of his thighs, coming to cup his ass in his palms. He allows himself one indulgent squeeze to those soft handfuls before pressing his thumbs between Steve’s cheeks and spreading him open, exposing his tight, pink hole.

The breath Steve lets out is audible, sharp and anticipatory as Eddie leans in and blows a teasing stream of air over him before, with no further warning, he licks a thick stripe up from balls to tailbone.

“Unh-!” Steve sounds surprised, but the noise that comes from deep in his chest is no less pleasured for it. “Fuck, Eddie–”

Eddie hums and aims another broad lick right across Steve’s hole, and from there, the noises don’t stop. Eddie’s always loved eating Steve out for exactly this reason – it drives him crazy. He gets loud and squirmy and, if Eddie keeps at it long enough, teary and desperate. He’s so sensitive, so responsive, and Eddie fucking eats it up.

(So to say.)

He progresses from teasing strokes with the flat of his tongue to testing probes with the tip, and Steve answers him beautifully, pressing his ass back towards Eddie with a whine. Eddie obliges the unspoken request, sliding his tongue past the tight ring of muscle, and Steve shouts.

“Shit! Ah, ah–” He thrusts back, the arch of his spine curving deeper, hands fisting the comforter as he tries to get closer while Eddie fucks him with his tongue. “God, Eddie, please.”

Eddie wonders, not for the first time, if he could get Steve to come on his tongue alone, but now isn’t the time to find out. Instead, he pulls away to reach for the lube, ignoring the little sob of air Steve lets out as he goes; he’ll be back soon enough.

He drizzles some lube out into his hand, spreading it between his fingers and thumb, warming it just a little before he’s spreading Steve open with his dry hand and rubbing his thumb over his hole. He’s already a little puffy, flesh still wet from Eddie’s tongue, and he opens up beautifully, taking Eddie’s thumb all the way to the last knuckle with a long, low groan.

“God, look at you,” Eddie says, twisting his hand and feeling the silky heat against the pad of his thumb. “Take me so beautifully, it’s like I belong inside you.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods rapidly against the pillow. “God, yes, you – ohfuck!”

Eddie smirks as he hooks thumb inside of Steve and tugs, gently but inexorably stretching him wider, watching as Steve bucks back into the feeling. He ducks back down and shoves his tongue into the space he’s making for himself, and listens to Steve cry out.

Eventually, Eddie’s thumb is replaced by two fingers, and by the time he gets to three, Steve is all but sobbing, shifting restlessly as if his body can’t decide whether it wants to drive further into the pleasure or if it wants to escape Eddie and the relentless way he’s been stroking Steve’s prostate for the last minute.

“I’m – ‘m gonna – fuck, Eddie, fuck me, please,” Steve begs, legs shaking and hips canting towards Eddie still, like he just can’t help himself.

Gently, Eddie slides his fingers out, pressing another kiss to the tip of his tailbone as he goes. “Back over for me, sweetheart,” he says. “I wanna see your pretty face.”

“Starting… to feel like a dog,” Steve pants as he flops onto his side and then turns over onto his back, “the way you keep ordering me to roll over. Gonna tell me to sit and stay next?”

“Well, you are a very good boy,” Eddie says, smirking at the predictable catch in Steve’s breath, the way he goes absolutely still for a moment; if the flush high on his cheeks could get any darker, Eddie’s willing to bet it would right now, but the way his cock twitches hard against his belly gives him away all the same.

Eddie doesn’t push it today—it’s something they can have fun with later, with the many, many laters he hopes there will be—and instead reaches for the condom he’d abandoned to the side of the bed.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, watching Eddie’s hands. “Was there – was there ever anyone else? While we…?”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Eddie rushes to assure him, fumbling and nearly dropping the condom packet when he reaches for one of Steve’s hands and grips it tight. “No. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I had you – even if I didn’t quite understand how I had you, why would I have wanted anyone else then?”

Steve gives a little shrug. “I didn’t think– I mean, I hoped not, but I just– thought I’d ask. Because if there hasn’t been, then… you don’t really need that.” He nods at the condom, still clutched in Eddie’s free hand. “If– if you don’t want.”

“You–” Eddie breaks off, choked for a second by the feeling of pure arousal that rises up in his chest. “You want me to?”

Steve nods at whatever meaning he takes from Eddie’s half-formed question and sits up to cup a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“Wanna feel you. Nothing between us,” he murmurs as they break apart. He kisses the corner of Eddie’s mouth, his cheek, and then leans in to speak quietly, right into his ear, “You can come inside me, if you want.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie practically lunges for the lube, flipping the cap open with an urgency he usually tries to keep in check. “If I want. If I want, he says!”

Laughing, Steve falls back against the pillows, watching through half-lidded eyes with satisfaction. “I mean, it kinda looks like you do,” he teases, and Eddie manages a breathless laugh as he’s stroking himself with one lube-slick hand.

“You’ve convinced me, Steve,” he says, aiming for dry but still sounding eager.

He positions himself between Steve’s thighs, guiding his cock until the tip is resting snug against Steve’s hole, and they both breathe sharp with the anticipation. But instead of pushing immediately in, Eddie leans up, taking Steve’s mouth in a kiss, deep and slick and consuming.

“I love you,” he says before they’ve really even pulled apart.

Steve’s expression goes soft at that, eyes wide with something that sparks like wonder. “I love you, too,” he answers, and Eddie grins.

He hopes that even if Steve says it a thousand times, he never gets used to hearing it. He wants it to feel like the first time, every time.

Slowly, he pushes forward, his mouth falling open at the heat squeezing around the head of his cock. Oh, he’s missed this – he’d missed everything about Steve, of course he had, but fuck if he hasn’t missed the way his body welcomes him in, grips him tight like it never wants him to leave.

He’s missed Steve’s fingers digging little bruises into his arms or his shoulders, missed the way his hair frizzes out across the pillow as he tosses his head back, missed the almost feverish gleam in his eyes when he’s close to coming – Eddie’s missed it all, and when he finally sinks in to the hilt, it feels like coming home.

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” Eddie breathes, pausing with his hands braced on Steve’s hips, wondering how long he’s even going to last.

“Move,” Steve all but demands, the desperation that had abated during their brief conversation returning with a vengeance. “Fuck, Eddie, please move.”

And Eddie had promised him anything he wants – he’s not about to deny him now. He pulls back, sliding almost all the way out before shoving back in, hard and fast the way that’s always made Steve light up in the past, and Steve doesn’t disappoint.

“Yes!” His back arches, hips bucking up to meet Eddie’s thrust. “God, just like that, Eddie, fuck.”

And fuck Eddie does, setting an unrelenting pace that pushes sweet noise after sweet noise out of Steve’s throat, hitting Eddie’s ears like music, like Steve is the best instrument he’ll ever learn to play. He’s not sure he can keep it up for long, but he’s not sure he’ll have to; Steve looks at least as far gone as he is, if not even closer to orgasm after all the time Eddie spent opening him up.

“God, fucking – perfect,” Steve hisses, his hands coming down to cover Eddie’s where they rest on his hips. “Always feel so fucking good.”

The hands over his own make Eddie pause, fully sheathed inside of Steve, panting and still for a moment. Then he takes his hands from Steve’s hips and instead twines their fingers together, leaning forward so he can brace their joined hands on the bed on either side of Steve’s head.

Steve clutches tightly at Eddie, letting out a delighted little noise that turns into a full-chested moan when Eddie pulls out and thrusts back in.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, aiming for the same spot again and getting an even louder noise for his effort. “Right there, baby?”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, his legs coming up around Eddie’s waist, encouraging him to thrust in harder, deeper. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes–!”

Eddie’s cock throbs, balls drawing up as he fucks faster into Steve, his rhythm going a bit sloppy. “Gonna come, baby? Just like this? Just my cock inside you?” He’s not sure if he’s teasing or if he’s begging, trying to make sure Steve is as close to the edge as he is. “Or are you gonna wait for me? Wait ‘til I come, ‘til you can feel me hot and wet inside you, so you know you’re mine–”

Steve arches up and comes with a wail, his cock untouched between them, spilling messy and slick across his belly and chest, and Eddie is fucking helpless to do anything but come after him.

He keeps thrusting, keeps grinding up into Steve until Steve’s noises become overstimulated little whines and Eddie is feeling a little raw himself. Carefully, he slides out, glancing down just in time to see a trickle of white follow him, leaking slowly down the inside of Steve’s thigh, and he wishes he could be ready to go again right this minute.

In lieu of that, he flops half onto the mattress and half on top of Steve, peppering breathless kisses across his shoulder, across his neck, over the hickey Eddie had left that’s already a livid shade of magenta, up his jaw and over his cheek, until Steve turns his head and catches him in a kiss that keeps him still for a long moment.

“That was different,” Steve says quietly when they part. “I mean, it was good! It was great, it was just… it felt different.”

“Told you: you’re mine. And I’m yours. And now we’re both fully aware.” Eddie kisses Steve on the cheek, then pauses as he’s hit with a thought. “Oh damn, do you think we just made love or some shit?”

Steve snorts. “I’m not sure making love involves getting turned on by watching your own jizz leak out of my ass,” he says, in a tone that very much implies ‘don’t think I didn’t notice.’

“Boo, that sounds boring,” Eddie says, very much ignoring Steve’s tone. “How about we say that we fucked with love?”

“How about we don’t.”

“Amorous fucking.”

“No.”

“Sweet, sensual sodomy.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, crashing his mouth against Eddie’s in something that might have been a kiss if they hadn’t both been grinning. “I love you.”

“Yeah? I guess that works: We fucked, also we’re in love,” Eddie declares, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“I guess that works, yeah,” he says quietly, smiling, still, and finally–

Eddie feels like he got it right.

-

No tag list on this one because I didn't know for sure who'd be comfortable with it, sorry!

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love chapter 11.5

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve ♥ summary: just a softish moment between you and alastor, a small moment between the chaos and negativity being formed ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (now purely romance) ♥ word count: 600 ♥ pinterest board ' it has outfit inspo in it now ♥ notes: sorry i've been absent i was in rehab LMFAOO BUT HERE YOU GO YIPPIE LMFAOOOO WHILE I START CHAPTER 12 ♥ tags for this: @1crazychick369 @girlsonglasstables

He is humming. He's motivated. He's working towards something. You two lie on your back, and he rests on your stomach while he hums. You've fallen asleep, hand still laced through his hair from when you were petting him.

The only moment he stops humming is to take a breath.

He wants to hear you sing again.

His head bobs to the rhythm of your diaphragm.

A small voice, quiet like a ghost, gets sprinkled alongside your internal instruments. It's the sound of you. How lovely. In the light of the moment, his thoughts spin. No wonder he hasn't killed you yet.

.

"I can't sleep," you signed when you entered his room. He was lying on his bed, ankles crossed, eyebrows furrowed as he pretended to be busy with a book.

He peered up at you and freed a hand. "And you've decided to come into my room."

"Don't be like that," you gave him a weak smile, impossibly on edge from his blowup the other day. But he's still Alastor, your best friend, ally, and closest relation. "I'm laying next to you now."

"So blunt," he waves his hand, returning to his book, paying you no mind. When you hesitate to move, his eyes flicker back to you. "Hurry and get over here. I've got a book to read before bed."

You stare at the cover, the spine, the color of the pages, a hint at what he's so consumed with. It's nothing special. Is he that stressed over something? He's resorted to reading nonsense?

You go to him, crawling and laying down above the blanket, your head more on his lap than the pillow beside him. Your upper half is leaned perfectly against his thighs. This closeness, this comfort, it's all so familiar. It makes you forget the violence that's looming from him and the battle soon.

Alastor glances down at you, his smile widens. He tries to focus on the book again, but your weight on top of him makes it nearly impossible. He tries to ignore it, pretending that he is completely unbothered by your sweet pressure as he continues to scan the pages, but eventually can't help but let out a grumble. His fingers lift your head, and he tilts his neck to meet your crooked gaze.

"Are you really that comfortable?"

He's worried about your comfort. Or is he trying to get you to take a hint?

"Yes," you sign lazily. "Get over it."

You wrap your arm around his lap, nuzzling in to get more comfortable.

He continues, "how adorable, my little parasite, so soft for me."

"You let me stay," my hand is a tired wave.

Your teasing is weak, just a playful jest; a small smile is on your lips. Your eyes remain closed as I press your brow bone into the side of Alastor's thigh.

There's a moment of no movement. There's just a moment where the air between you two goes still, and his eyes remain locked on you. But then he puts a hand on your head, leaving it there. You fight the urge to peek open an eye. You are so grateful to be next to him, so adored. And then his pressure becomes harder, and suddenly, the hint is got. Maybe physical contact isn't what he wants right now. That's fine. Nothing bad about that.

You let out a small hum, giving in and falling to the side, using an actual pillow. Alastor felt a slight pang at your weight loss on his chest, but your new position was much less distracting. And a mere hour later, he put the book down and laid against you, allowing himself a moment of peace. Your touch isn't that bad after all. Oh, how he's missed being so calm next to you.

This is nice.

So why is he acting so harshly?

Especially when you sing with such a lovely, kind voice.

[goatsludge]

The "FDE A2" Project taught me a lot about what I wanted to get out of a "General Purpose" AR, so in my usual fashion, I've once again started another upper build -

Everything so far:

BCM M4 Flat Top 'DEMO' Upper

JSE Surplus Teardrop FA

Magpul Enhanced Ejection Port Cover

Badger Creek Ordnance Gen.3 Ambi Charging Handle, Tan

Centurion Midlength 14.5" CHF/CL Lightweight Profile Barrel w/ Tabbed/Pinned Gas Block

Forward Controls Design 3P15 Flash Hider w/ Thread Protector

Geissele Mk8 Super Modular Rail, 13.5", DDC

SIG Romeo5 w/ Scalarworks 1.93" LEAP/01 Mount (belongs to @bureau-of-mines, borrowing it for a quick pic cause I think it looks better on this build than my EOTech)

EvolutionGear IS-EG NGAL

Surefire M640DF Scout Pro w/ Z-Bolt Dual Function Tailcap, Tan (will likely change this to an M640V later)

Somogear Knock-off Modbutton Lite Switches

Magpul Wire Control Kit, FDE

Edgar Sherman Designs Sling (AOR-1) w/ BCM 1" QD Swivel

The philosophy is that this build won't be as optimized for night vision/suppressor use as the 11.5", but it's set up to readily accommodate it. I want a rifle that pushes out a little further day or night but remains light and maneuverable.

Basically a walmart great value URG-I.

Since I now have the rail estate for it, I moved my light to the inboard side of the gun - this allows more of the beam to shine straight ahead of me and plus I can now access the clicky button on the tailcap with my thumb without having to rotate the entire gun out of aim.

Why have the modbutton if I can reach the tailcap now? Redundancies, my child; should the somo modbutton ever go bad, I have a backup solution. Same reason the laser has a fire button on top, but I'm using a modbutton with that as well.

On top of all this, having the modbutton cables protruding in towards me helps further shield them from potential wear and abrasion.

Things to be added later:

BCM Gunfighter Vertical Foregrip, Mod.3 (MLOK), FDE (should hopefully get it later this week)

Aimpoint T2 Micro (or another SIG Romeo 5. I'm not made of money lol)

KAK K-Spec Enhanced BCG, Downward Venting, NP3 Finish (if they ever restock...)

Surefire M640 Body w/ KM2-C Head (to let me transplant the M640DF body/head to the FDE A2 build and have a positive shutoff for this build)

Suppressor of some form or another (goal is a YHM T3 Turbo, but we'll see what I get)

[batshikns]

Check-up List #42

Daily To-Do's:

-Got to school with in a tolerable mood: N/A

(Got up in a tolerable mood: ✔️)

-Laughed and made someone laugh today: ✔️

-Didn't get/make someone mad/upset: ❌️

-Got home in a tolerable mood: N/A

(Went to bed in a tolerable mood: ✔️)

-Showered: ✔️ (highscore: 16) (1)

-Took a walk: ❌️

-Planning to go to bed soon: ✔️

-Eat breakfast: ✔️

-Eat lunch: ✔️(?)

-Eat dinner: ✔️(?)

Today's To-Do's:

-Drink water: ✔️

-Play Tomodachi Life and Tomodachi Collection: ✔️

-Work on big 100 follower piece: ❌️

-Smile a bit more!: ✔️

Overall:

11/14

+ XP: Check-in with Dad and Pop: ❌️

+ 2× XP: Spend less time on the computer(phone): ❌️

+ 0.5 × XP: Check-in with Unofficial Uncle: ✔️

11.5/14

Notes:

I finally was able to take a shower... Played more Tomodachi Life and Collections...

Pretty sure I had an episode and what are the symptoms for adhd and bpd.

Talked with Unofficial Uncle and got him to test out the rp server... (pretty proud at how it's turning out).

I get to go to the Upper Peninsula(Michigan) friday and! I miss it! I need some time away from home(and thereby the computer and phone(hopfully))! the only downside is that it'll be with my grandma, and sometimes she's not the greatest(but i still love her and she decided to take time out of her day to drive me up to the Upper Peninsula).

Goals:

-Drink water

-Tolerate school

-Work on Big 100 follower artpiece (more!)

-Smile a bit more!!

-Keep in mind that you're trying, even if Mom, Dad, or even yourself don't realize it yet and urge you to speed up the process

-Extra points: Check-in with Dad and Pop

-Double extra points: Spend less time on the computer(phone)

-Extra 0.5 points: researchers more about Buddhism!!

-Extra 0.5 points: check-in on Uncle(if/when he's open)

[vespersposts]

In ratio

Hi lovelies 🌟 ,

today I’m happy to celebrate an important milestone for Lily @yeosatinyngz with her event “Lights! Camera ! Action! ” which brings our best boys to glamour.

✨ Well done Lily, congratulations on 1K !✨

To celebrate you, I put my sweetheart Daiki to the test with the fashion world, because he admittedly dresses in the dark.

👨‍🎤 (sorry, not sorry D).

📍If you are curious of the final look of Aomine, here’s the reference .

(*major sigh*). I’m the same old, and the story, sfw, is a bit long (3.1K), but it’s divided into two parts so it’s easier to read.

Hope you enjoy it!

Love always,

Vesper.

💣 PS: I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language (bear with me!).

➿Genre: fluff, slice of life, one shot.

🌀 3.1K

✴️A big thanks to Lily for her support and her patience, she gave me the best feedbacks and is one of the kindest person on earth!

⚠ the story was extensively revised because it contained grammatical errors and the point of view was confused. I am sorry for only being able to do this now. Thank you for your patience ⚠

“Here’s my self-birthday present ” your boss tells , sitting down next to you, as from your computer you open an email with the directions for the next photo shoot, which you are in charge of styling.

“Pretty hot, huh?” he comments, as you quickly scroll from the picture through the details sheet.

“He’s tall, if he has weird proportions it would be a huge problem, all the men’s suits this year have cropped lengths and … Wait…” you reply, scrolling through the requests up to that number “I have to contact the magazine again, there must be a typo, who wears a size 11.5 shoe?” you ask as you press the reply button under his amused gaze.

"What?” you ask, leaning back and looking at the man’s face on which a wry expression breaks out.

“Someone who plays basketball, how do you never know anything about anything?” he mocks you, taking his phone in his hands to show you the young man’s face once again, this time in a news video where he was being handed an award for best - whatever - .

“So, do you like my own birthday present ?” he urges you with a smile.

“ I do ” you admit “At least seems in ratio” you conclude with a sigh of relief.

A few blocks away, the day of the young Japanese basketball talent had also started uphill. He saw the pink haired girl sigh, standard premonitory sign of an incoming scolding.

“I don’t have to , right?” he blurted, taking the last forkful of the choco omelette he ordered for breakfast, now that he was in town for a series of interviews after the crazy week of the draft.

“Dai-chan…” she got serious, taking a sip of coffee, just to keep from screaming in the middle of the luxurious hotel’s breakfast room.

“Satsuki” he replied with a polite nod, before finding a paper under his nose with his signature on the bottom, the same paper he hadn’t read, and which imposed a series of side engagements on him, including the interview with that posh magazine.

“ What the -” he huffed, pushing the document away, returning the smile to his manager who, not satisfied with that victory, had submitted another list to him.

“ More?” he grumbled, scrolling through a list of ‘recommendations’ that sounded more like a prank.

 "What does 'seamless underwear’ mean ?“ he asked his childhood friend, who in response shrugged, pretending not to know. 

"When would this be?” he shot back, resting his face on his hand.

“Tomorrow morning, we have to be at the photo studio at 10. I managed to get the interview just before the photos, so hopefully  it will be a quick one ” she informed him, checking the schedule from her tablet “ Just… Please, try to be nice, you know how much the team sponsor values it!” she sighs, probably grateful to be able to finish her breakfast in peace.

At the conference room of the luxurious apartment building where the photo studio is located, a young man’s eyes look at you with a mixture of boredom and distress. Adrian, the photographer, is a nice guy, but he really can’t take any more of your leader’s mood boards and his tropical-sexual fantasy, with which he has been butchering everyone’s ears since the beginning of the week. The idea is dull as well as corny, but no one as usual dares to open their mouths because ’ the boss cannot be questioned’ . Too bad, you can’t take it any more, because a misstep from him would mean compromising your career as well, and that mustn’t happen, not at least until you actually have a career. As you write down the codes of dresses  worthy of the Rio de Janeiro carnival, you can’t help but think that it will be a bloody mess. Your client will go from being a sports icon to a laughing stock, assuming that once he sees the garments, he doesn’t decide to drop everything and leave you to deal with all the madness.

“With the red one from the spring/summer collection we’re done! ” the boss smiles at you, drumming his fingers on the long conference room table, increasing the pace until he has your full attention again.

“Spit it out” he tells, inviting you to take a seat next to him.

“ I don’t like it at all ” you sum up simply, not moving your eyes from his, now staring at you with interest. "He’s already flashy:  tall, huge and full of muscles. If we dress him up like a crazed rainbow, he will look even more trashy” you explain, shaking your head.

“You don’t like the vibe, you don’t like the model…Do you have a proposal, besides all these complaints?” the chief, who strangely seems to be amused, asks you seriously.

“Y-yes..Here” you tell him, opening a shared folder on his cloud account.

“I see. Your bright idea is to dress him as an accountant ” the man sneers at you, lazily flipping the preview of your selection with a finger.

“No, Phil. My way is to contrast his powerful silhouette with minimalism. I will dress him up as the most detached, filthy and unavailable man of power. That will turn him into a  sex God,  instead of a parade clown!” you reply piquantly, eliciting his hilarity.

He laughs out loud, probably at you and your impending dismissal, he laughs to the point of tears as he puts his hand on yours, and makes you jump in your chair.

“Good girl, you’ve finally learned my favourite worlds: filth,sex and power! ” he tells you with a hint of pride, flipping back your lookbook , flagging three tailored suits different only by colour.

“All right girl, you got me. Go ahead and deliver me your fucking sex God!” he smiles.

It’s nine o'clock in the morning, the morning after that briefing. You’ve been up since the night before, and all you’ve thought about since then, is what could go wrong.

“Can I help you?" someone offers, breaking your overflow.

Of that voice you can only say two things: that it is definitely a woman’s and that she is probably a foreigner, judging by her strange accent. It matters little if you cannot see her, because you have decided to bring the three outfits for your model yourself.

"Could you hold the lift door open for me, please?” you ask, getting an affirmative answer and a remark about the bulkiness of your load.

“I hope they won’t wrinkle, only I can be stupid enough not to take a coat hanger!” you grumble, oblivious to the girl’s presence, until she appreciates the brand of one of them, and you start talking about your next job.

“I know he’s a basketball player and everyone’s crazy about him, but he’ll be the typical freak with a bad ass temper ” you huff, as the lift stops just below your floor and you hear Adrian’s voice. You thank your lucky stars, and immediately ask him to help you with your load, and when your eyes intercept your lift companion, you smile at her in fascination. A beautiful girl, with long hair gathered in a braid that goes around her head and and a so sweet expression on her face, that looks like a fairy. She’s petite, but well shaped, tiny but with delicious curves.

She must definitely be some kind of model.

“Satsuki Momoi. I’m Daiki Aomine’s manager” she introduces herself simply, shaking your hand with a friendly smile on her cute face.

You reciprocate the introduction and give thanks that you have arrived at your destination, so that you have an excuse to disappear behind Adrian, and forget the bad impression you just made.

Or maybe you’ll have to apologise.

She follows you, standing behind you in silence, eyes wide.

“They’re amazing suits, but he’ll hate all three of them” she tells you, as soon as you’ve finished arranging the outfits on the rack. “You are absolutely right about one thing: he lacks patience. Just don’t take his word for it, Dai-chan loves to bitch, it’s his way of getting attention. Don’t mind him too much, don’t fight him, or he’ll bite back. Follow my advice and you’ll see, it’ll be easier than you think. I think he’ll gladly let you do whatever you want, seeing how pretty you are. “ she smiles sincerely smugly, perhaps not realising that she actually insulted you. 

You’re about to point out to her, but she grabs her mobile phone and starts ranting in a language impossible to understand. The breaking news, translated shortly afterwards, reports that the man of the hour is late, because he overslept. 

Great, you are already sick of him.

"Philip Schneider. Call me Captain, like everyone else!" the well-groomed man who owned the large premises in the heart of the city had told him. Aomine had followed him through the same looking rooms and the procession had been enriched by a journalist, a photographer and a make-up artist. Now he just had to find out where Satsuki had gone before he had a panic attack.

What he didn't know was that you were there, together with his manager.

"Finally, Dai-chan!" Satsuki called back to him with her typical don't-mess-around look. He had witnessed another show by the captain, who had introduced him to his team and make him seat in front of a mirror full of lights, around which everyone had gathered, except for you, who stayed behind to receive instructions from Momoi.

Who knows what you had to say to each other, it was so secret.

"Last but not least, my assistant, she will be the lucky one to dress and undress you today!" the captain announces, as the champion tries unsuccessfully to get it into his head that he has known how to dress himself since he was about three years old.

"Don't take this as a lack of confidence in your abilities. It is a measure to prevent make-up and hair products from staining your clothes " a new voice informs him, a voice he identifies with your face after a moment. You smell so good, you look so clean, austere and yet mischievous in your black dress that covers your knees and arms and barely caresses your figure. Your bright eyes, your lips a little fuller in the middle and your features so deliciously irregular make him discover something new about you at every glance.

If Daiki had known that he would be in the hands of such a beautiful girl all day long, he might even have bothered to set the alarm. 

"The fact is that...I'm ticklish" he grinned at you under Satsuki's embarrassed look.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle " you reassure him, then ask the captain for permission to leave to prepare the dressing room.

By the time he arrives, he has been interviewed, moisturised and his hair trimmed a few centimetres after being washed in an elaborate ritual. He could certainly get used to this life. The ace sees you close the door behind him, and finds himself alone in a white room that looks like a giant dressing room, with a table in the middle and a wall set up as a wardrobe.

"Welcome, Mr Aomine! " you smile, as if you were the maid from one of his teenage fantasies.

"Call me Daiki, Mr Aomine is my father" he replies, trying to figure out if Satsuki was part of the game or not.

"Your manager told me you'd rather do it yourself, but I can..." you quickly stop as he shakes his head.

“Being dressed by a girl is embarrassing enough. My self-esteem would be shattered if you and my best friend teamed up against me, and believe me, anything is possible with Satsuki!" he observes, making you smile. "When I first met her in the lift, I thought she was a model. Such a lovely woman! " you comment, and this time he's the one laughing.

"She is, but she's also stubborn and annoying and... Do I have to wear this stuff?" he huffs, pointing to the three garments hanging behind you, swaying in the empty room.

"That's the idea. What do they look like?" you probe the ground, perhaps already knowing the answer he'd give, judging by the way your worried eyes are fixed on him. He noticed it for a while now, that way of yours. You watch him discreetly and sparingly, for brief moments at a time.

"These are... strange" he states, lifting an arm and touching the soft fabric of the latter.

"OK, strange is fine with me" you nod, handing the boy a dark robe and a paper bag containing long blue socks and a pair of black boxer shorts with the famous 'Seamless' label.

"Satsuki informed me that you would never remember, so while I was waiting for you, I thought I'd catch up on the basics. Now, be a good boy for me and take it all off " you smile, unaware of the immediate stir that innocent encouragement causes to him.

As you wait for your model, you wonder what your boss is up to.

"Sage blue, single-breasted is the first choice! I have to consider the shirt between these two and..." you tell the boss, or rather the captain as he has proclaimed himself today, probably to be more in line with your model sporting career. He doesn't listen to you anyway, because his birthday present has just come out of the dressing room.

"Handsome, you can do the cover in your robe!" exclaims a beaming Phil as you turn your back to retrieve the accessories. Chelsea boots, cufflinks because you like them, midnight blue opaque tie and maybe a watch, but probably not. You arrange everything on the table so that your boss can oversee your choices, and as you look up at him, you understand why the man is so enthusiastic.

Maybe it's his naturally masculine posture, maybe it's the broad shoulders or that look he gives you as he playfully asks for your help in getting rid of Phil. You know it's going to be a long day by the effort you make to look away from him.

"Is the captain always like that? He could beat Satsuki " he points out, probably exhausted from the latest round of inappropriate comments.

"He's an enthusiast by nature!" you try to play it down with a smile as you hand him the suit trousers in exchange for the dressing robe. A bad exchange for your nerves and for your famous coolness, even though he has the elegance of a baby hippo. None of his chaotic movements distract you from his collarbones, his defined pecs and his back, so firm and luscious it deserves a chapter in art books.

"Done. What's next? " he asks you, bare-chested, hands on his hips, his trousers zipped just below his flat navel, as if there were any need to draw further attention to his abs and V.

"Are you comfortable enough?" you ask him, though you can't see any major faults in fit or length.

"The trousers are fine, it's the briefs that are a bit... restrictive " he laughs, as soon as he sees you widen your eyes and blush, as you've clearly downsized him.

"Excuse me... I..." you barely apologise as you climb up a step to place the shirt on his shoulders, which he puts on and fastens by himself, following your instructions to tuck it properly into his trousers.

"No need to apologise, it's not a rating, is it?" he mocks playfully, just to rub it in, and gets an ironic look and a shrug in return " I really should thank you. This is an experience that will make me a better man. Pain will bring out my inner strength " he continues to tease you throughout the dressing process, even as he hands you a wrist to slip the cufflinks on and closes them with a devilish grin.

"Behave, champ, or I'll strangle you with this tie! " you threaten, but your weapon is soon stolen from your hands, only to be tied with uncanny skill by the boy, who confesses that he learned to tie the knot while wearing a high school uniform.

"Was it supposed to be crooked then too, or is it a special one that only you know?" you tease him, gesturing for him to lean towards you, and he doesn't hesitate, bringing his face so close to yours that you're afraid your hands are going to tremble now that you've loosened the large side slightly, sliding the cloth under his collar, tightening it again and pressing the two sides flat over his stomach, feeling him swallow. You raise your eyes and stay that way for a moment, still watching each other closely, until a sound outside the door brings you back to reality. 

"Five minutes to fix his jacket and I'll send him to you! " you promise Adrian, who lingers at the door for a moment, just to watch you work.

" Head up and back straight for me, please! " you instruct, taking a few steps back to admire your work of art.  You hand him his shoes and the jacket that fits him like a glove, say hello to the photographer who is on his way back to the set, and return to him with a small smile. You button the jacket and adjust the cuffs of his shirt, inviting him to look at himself in the mirror.

Too bad, right now Daiki couldn't care less about his appearance.

"Ta-Daaan! Done! Do you like it?" you sing, waiting for a reaction.

" You are the expert here, so tell me! " the boy acknowledges, distracted by the attention you are giving him, even though he knows you are probably just checking an insignificant detail of the suit.

" I do, you are just so utterly perfect!" you reply cheerfully. "Phil told me that you can keep what you want, so please do me a favour and take this outfit home with you! " you conclude, shifting your focus from the mirror to his eyes, so excited that it is almost impossible for the boy not to think of you in your bedroom, shedding all those unnecessary layers.

"Where am I going to go dressed like this?" he asks, amusing you.

"Everywhere, actually " you say, removing an invisible thread from the jacket "A press conference, signing a contract, dinner with the girl you want to impress. I'm not saying you need a dress to impress, but... As girl, I assure you it's going to be harder to turn you down dressed like this! " you finish, moving away to retrieve a strange sticky brush with which you will deliver the 'coup de grâce'.

"Are you sure it works like that?" he scoffs, taking advantage of your distraction, grinning as you verbally confirm your condition.

" All right then... Let's say I want to spend some time with you. A dinner in a fancy place tonight, for example. Since I have the dress, you couldn't refuse, could you?" he asks, and you stall, moving slowly to his side, sliding a hand down his back, finishing your work in silence. 

"Are you trying to embarrass me, Daiki?" you point out quietly, leaving the brush on the table and crossing your hands over your stomach.

" It's not me, it's the suit! " he smirks, looking at you steadily, his arms crossed over his chest.

"The dress is my choice, smartass!" you tease him, just to remind him who's in charge.

But he really is in ratio, even flirting.

" Then finish the work and pick me too! " he smiles, and when his hand reaches your cheek, you know.

You know you cannot refuse.

[systemtek]

THE UK’S CYBER SECURITY AND LAW ENFORCEMENT CHIEFS have issued an urgent alert to Black Friday bargain hunters after new figures revealed rising losses to online scammers during the festive shopping season. Clothing, high-end tech products and even cars were among the products featuring in scams as GCHQ’s National Cyber Security Centre (NCSC) and Action Fraud revealed that Brits reported losing over £11.5 million to online criminals between November 2023 and January 2024 – with each victim losing £695 on average. This compares to reported losses amounting to £10.6 million the previous year. The new figures are published on the same day as the NCSC launches a nationwide campaign, as part of Stop! Think Fraud, to encourage people to set-up 2-step verification on their most important accounts. The latest figures, which come from reports made to Action Fraud and analysed by the National Fraud Intelligence Bureau (NFIB), revealed that 7,168 reports (43%) mentioned a social media platform, with online marketplaces being mentioned in 18.9% of reports. The figures also revealed that those aged 30-39 submitted the largest number of reports (23%), closely followed by 40–49-year-olds (20%). The average age of victims was 42. Lord Hanson, Fraud Minister, said: “We know that more needs to be done to tackle online fraud. “That’s why we are delighted to support initiatives like this, through the Stop! Think Fraud campaign, which provide practical, actionable advice to the public to stay safe from scams. “And our message to anyone shopping online as we approach Black Friday is simple: if you come across anything that doesn’t feel right – stop what you’re doing, break contact, and do not click any links. “This government is committed to defeating this scourge and we will continue our work with industry and other partners to better protect the public from this appalling crime.” No one is immune to fraud, so shoppers are encouraged to exercise vigilance against tactics that push them to act quickly without thinking. Criminals often create false urgency by using limited-time offers or promoting items that seem scarce or not widely available. If you’ve seen something that doesn’t feel right, stop. - Break the contact and don’t click on any links - Research the company or seller by looking at reviews on trusted review sites Shoppers can also protect their online accounts by setting up two-step verification which provides an extra layer of protection and means that even if a criminal knows your password, they still won’t be able to access it. Adam Mercer, Deputy Head of Action Fraud, said: “Everyone will be looking to snap up good Black Friday deals and bargains whilst shopping this festive period, but unfortunately this doesn’t stop fraudsters from targeting members of the public online. “With Action Fraud data revealing more than 16,000 reports of online shopping fraud over last year’s festive period, we are urging people to shop safely online - especially if you’re buying on social media - and avoid being left empty handed for the holiday season. “Never feel pressured into buying anything online - creating a false sense of urgency is a tell-tale sign of a fraudster. Whether you are shopping on online marketplaces, social media or retailers, avoid bank transfers if you can, and use a credit card as it can provide more protection if anything goes wrong. “You can protect yourself from fraudsters this festive season by following the practical advice on the Stop! Think Fraud website to help you shop online safely.” NCSC CEO Richard Horne said: “As we head into the holiday shopping season, people are understandably eager to find the best deals online. “Unfortunately, this is also prime time for cyber criminals, who exploit bargain hunters with increasingly sophisticated scams – sometimes crafted using AI – making them harder to detect. “To stay protected, I strongly recommend following our online shopping guidance, including setting up 2-step verification and creating memorable but secure passwords using three random words.” For more information on how to protect yourself, search for “Stop! Think Fraud”. Read the full article

[whereareroo]

LET’S FOCUS ON THE REAL ISSUES

WF THOUGHTS (10/19/24).

Stop reading right now and make a list. What are the top ten issues that you want addressed by the federal government, your state government, or your local government?

I bet you a donut that none of your lists included banning transgender athletes from sports competition.

There’s a reason that your lists wouldn’t include a sports ban for transgender athletes. It’s not a big deal. The issue has no impact on the lives of 99.9% of Americans.

Due to privacy issues, it’s difficult to estimate the number of transgender athletes in America. An expert who focuses on NCAA college sports estimates that, out of the total sum of 550,000 NCAA athletes, there are fewer than 100 transgender NCAA college athletes in America. Out of the millions and millions of kids that play school sports from grades K through 12, a transgender expert conducted a national survey and could only locate 5 transgender athletes. Let’s summarize the math. From kindergarten through college, there are probably fewer than 200 transgender athletes in all of America.

Despite the math, conservative Republican candidates for office are always harping about banning transgender athletes from sports. They act as if it’s the biggest public policy issue in America. Trump talks about it at almost every rally. In the very tight U. S. Senate race in Texas, Ted Cruz talks about it at every single rally. When Fox News interviewed Kamala Harris, it was the second question that they asked. All across America, the transgender ban is a talking point for Republicans seeking federal, state, and local offices.

Instead of focusing on a topic that involves fewer than 200 athletes, let me give you some other random statistics to think about:

** 38,000,000 Americans (11.5% of the population) live in poverty.

** 6,700,000 American families (5.25% of all families) live in substandard housing.

** 13,000,000 American kids (20% of the total) are malnourished.

** 2,200,000 American high school seniors (13% of the total) don’t graduate from high school every year.

** 11,200,000 American adults (44% of all adults) struggle to pay for health care.

** 18,000,000 American adults over the age of 75 (85% of that population) cannot afford the combined costs of housing and necessary medial care.

** 595,000 small businesses close each year, and 50% of all small businesses don’t last longer than 5 years.

** Don’t even get me started on the numbers related to gun violence. Based on the last four years, we now average 600 mass shootings every year. More than 50,000 Americans are killed by guns every year. Another 120,000 are injured.

Why are the Republicans talking about 200 athletes instead of talking about the big issues that impact millions and millions of Americans? That’s easy. It’s because they’re not interested in solving problems. They’re interested in creating problems and causing division. They’re interested in inflaming people.

I urge you to listen to the speeches given by Republican candidates for federal, state, and local offices. If they talk about transgender stuff, you have to have a tough talk with yourself. Is this candidate a serious leader, or are they just a flamethrower seeking to create division, anger, and hostility? There are so many serious issues facing America. Be very skeptical of candidates who harp about sports and transgender athletes. The flamethrower candidates think that voters are suckers, and they can persuade voters with inflammatory issues even if those issues have no impact on 99.9% of Americans. Don’t fall for it. Don’t be a sucker.

We should use our votes to remove flamethrower politicians from political life in America. We deserve so much better. We have the power to change politics and bring seriousness back to political campaigns. Do your part.

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 09

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 11.5 k (i'm insane)

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note this chapter is in satoru's pov! "she/her" -> "you", also there is a minor character from the manga in this chapter but no spoilers :) also, this chapter gets kinda dark? pls remember this is fiction, don't do drugs and also don't sleep with addicts, thank you!! enjoy reading!! (fanart in the header) ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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Sweat trickled beneath the collar of my shirt.

My fingers dug into my arm, nails biting through the fabric.

If I didn't scratch, maybe I wouldn't lose my damn mind. Maybe the office walls would stop spinning long enough for me to think.

But the itch burning beneath my skin was too strong today, almost unbearable.

I barely registered Higurama's entrance as he pleasured me with yet another visit. He slumped into the chair across from me, looking less like a lawyer and more like a corpse given a temporary reprieve.

His sunflower pin, that obligatory symbol of his profession, seemed ironic given the permanent scowl etched onto his face.

"Well?" I snapped, desperate to break the silence that made the itch even more cruel. "Spit it out."

He sighed, then reached into his worn leather briefcase and retrieved a slim folder. He placed it on the desk. "The good news is, the brat's family is willing to settle. Saves us the headache of a trial."

"And the bad news?"

"It'll cost you. A lot." He slid the folder across the desk. "The kid wants a ridiculous sum, claiming emotional damages and whatnot."

I huffed, a harsh sound that echoed in the silent office. Images of the student's bloody face after I'd put him in his place flashed across my mind, the satisfaction fleeting. My fingers twitched at my sides, the urge to scratch growing stronger. I rolled down my sleeves. 

Damn my luck.

I slid the folder back to him, not needing to see the sum. "Tell them whatever he wants, he gets. Just make this go away."

Higuruma frowned. "I understand wanting this over with, but we could negotiate, bring that amount down—"

"No." I cut him off. "Money doesn't matter. If this mess disappears, it's worth every damn yen."

Higuruma's eyebrows shot up. "We're not talking about an insignificant amount, Gojo. You broke his jaw in seven bloody places, knocked out half his teeth."

A smirk twisted my lips. "Sadly not all of his teeth."

"Gojo," Higurama's voice held a warning edge I'd rarely heard from him. "You could be staring down the barrel of a prison sentence."

"That's why I have you, isn't it?" I leaned back in my chair. "Old friend's favor and all that."

Higurama's stare hardened. "This isn't like those scrapes I used to bail you out of. The consequences here are far more serious. I'd never agree to settle this if you weren't a friend. You should countersue that kid for drugging your student."

The mention of her made my stomach clench. "I said no," my voice low. "I won't drag her in front of some courtroom circus. End it, Higurama. Whatever it takes."

Higuruma let out a sigh that spoke volumes. He stood, straightening his jacket, that sunflower pin glinting with a false cheerfulness in the afternoon sunlight.

"Very well," he said. "I'll prepare the documents. Be advised, this could set a dangerous precedent—"

I cut him off with a raised hand, the very thought of potential consequences a fresh irritant beneath my skin. "Just get this over with," I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hospital to run."

He nodded and turned. 

As he reached the office door, I spoke, my voice low. "Higuruma."

He paused, one hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"You keep your mouth shut." It wasn't a request, but an order. "This doesn't touch her, understand?"

"I have my professional obligations, Gojo."

"And I have mine," I countered. "Her finding out is not an option."

"Perhaps it's a decision you shouldn't be making for her."

"Perhaps," I replied, the word a blade in the silence that followed. "But it's a decision I will make. That is all."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He knew, the bastard. The truth wasn't just about the lawsuit, and it hung unspoken between us.

He opened the door and stepped out without another word.

I slumped back in my chair, the leather creaking in protest, and released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. It trembled as it left my lungs.

My hand. That goddamned traitorous hand was shaking again.

I fumbled in my desk drawer, fingertips brushing against the familiar shape of the pill bottle.  Clonidine. Not the ideal solution, but it was all I had right now.

I choked down the dry pills, the bitterness clinging to my tongue like a curse.

Why the sudden weakness? Why now?

I'd survived far worse without crumbling like this.

The room tilted slightly, the fluorescent lights blurring into white splotches. I squeezed my eyes shut and steadied myself, hands gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as the wood threatened to splinter under my grip. 

My breath hitched in my throat, each ragged gasp burning like acid.

No. I wouldn't let it take me. I wouldn't let her see me like this.

I could do this. I had to.

For her.

It was a lie, and I knew it. The pills would numb the physical symptoms for a while, but the real battle was the one in my head. And that, I was far from winning.

You can't run from what's inside your head, can you?

I needed fresh air.

─── ·✧· ───

I stumbled down the hallway, vision blurring slightly at the edges, willing myself to simply keep moving. My skin prickled and burned, every nerve on fire.

I burst through the double doors leading to the main lobby, momentarily disorientated by the sudden change from sterile hallways to the bustling public space.

My lungs sucked in a shaky breath, and with it came a scent — a subtle mix of something floral and the clean, faintly metallic tang of blood.

Her scent? 

What the hell—

My gaze swept the area, and there she was. She sat across the room, partially obscured by a crowd of people waiting to donate blood. The curve of her neck, the way her hair fell across her shoulders, were unmistakable. 

Why was she here, in the hospital?

If something was wrong, damn it, she should have told me.

But then I saw it. A needle was taped to the crook of her arm, a thin tube snaking down to a partially filled blood bag. She held a book in her hand and there was a line of concentration between her brows as she read, her thumb tracing idly across the page.

My hands fumbled to smooth down my shirt, a useless gesture since it was hopelessly wrinkled. Taking a steadying breath, I weaved through the crowd.

The trembling wouldn't quit, but with each step towards her, it seemed to lessen, replaced by a different kind of nervous energy. Still, I tried to project a calmness I didn't feel.

I couldn't let her see me like this, not now.

She still hadn't noticed me as I stood in front of her, her attention focused on the book in her hands. I leaned in, the scent of her perfume mingled with the sterile hospital smell, a combination both familiar and disturbingly intimate in this setting.

She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't notice me until I gently pushed it down, an easy smile pulling at my lips.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She blinked up at me. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Her eyes darted down to the needle in her arm, blood trickling steadily into the bag.

"Why didn't you tell me you were here?" I took the chair beside her, unable to contain my sudden annoyance. Why not tell me? It was illogical, this possessiveness, but damn it, I wanted to know.

"Thought I'd enjoy a few moments without your charming company." The sarcasm dripped sweetly from her lips, and under other circumstances, I might have countered with a playful remark of my own.

But today, my mind was something else. Looking away, I tried to ignore the subtle itch beneath my skin and focus on anything else.

"Quite the weather today, huh?" I finally blurted out, staring past her at the gray sky outside. Lame. Even for me.

"You came to me to talk about the weather?" She brought her book back up.

"It's going to storm soon."

"Is it?" She didn't even look up.

I watched her for a moment. Not just her face, but the way the sunlight painted delicate gold along her cheekbones, the way a single strand of hair had escaped, brushing against her lashes like a gentle whisper and creating a softness her serious expression couldn't hide.

It was a painfully beautiful sight, and so cruelly unlike my fucked up world. Some twisted part of me longed to disrupt it, to be the storm she couldn't ignore, even as another, saner part of me wanted to protect that peace, to protect her at all costs.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"Kafka."

"Didn't know you were into literature." Damn, even to myself, I sounded like a condescending ass.

She lowered the book, meeting my gaze with equal parts amusement and defiance. "Believe it or not, I do read things that's not all about brains."

Something in the intensity of her expression, the way she held the book, made me want to understand this side of her. "What do you like about it?"

"There's just something about Kafka that speaks to me. It's—unsettling but in a compelling way." She closed the book for a second, her gaze lingering on the cover. "It's actually my second time reading it."

"Is this your favorite of Kafka's books?"

"It is."

"Read me your favorite part," I said, leaning back in the chair, folding my hands behind my head. My eyes slid closed, less to feign disinterest and more to focus on the sound of her voice.

She sighed, and the quiet rustle of pages told me she was flipping through the book. "Okay, but it might sound a bit strange out of context," she warned.

"I'm sure I'll love it."

I love everything that comes out of your mouth, silly.

"He wrote it to his father," she said, giving me a bit of context before she started to read.

"I'm not going to say that I have become what I am only as a result of your influence..."

Her voice was a soft caress. I drank it in, savoring her words, yet a shiver ran down my spine as she continued.

"...It is indeed quite possible that even if I had grown up entirely free from your influence I should probably have still become a weakly, timid, hesitant, restless person."

The words carried a cruel, familiar sting, each one leaving a fresh, burning scar on my skin.

"I should have been happy to have you as a friend, as a boss, an uncle, a grandfather, even as a father-in-law, only as a father you have been too strong for me..."

Too strong.

What a fucked up way to describe it. A child, small and defenseless, pitted against an unyielding force. Where was the justice in that?

My father's voice thundered through my mind. Like a knife, his disapproval carved into my very being. Not strong enough. Never enough. Not what a Gojo should be. Never living up to the legacy, never matching him.

Weakness. That's all he ever saw.

My fists tightened until my nails dug into my palms.

The old anger flared hot.

"...and for that I was much too weak." She closed the book.

My eyes snapped open, blinking in the harsh light. My head throbbed. The familiar itch clawed beneath my skin, a demanding, relentless torment. I dug my nails harder into my palms.

No. I wouldn't let him have that power, wouldn't lose control.

Her gaze flickered to mine, and I swore something shifted in the air between us.

"He describes how it was growing up with such a strong father, how it shaped him his whole life," she paused, her voice laced with hesitation. "He writes about the desire for approval, the weight of expectations. It's about seeking validation from someone who's supposed to guide you, but instead becomes this unattainable figure."

Her words echoed uncomfortably in my mind.

My gaze fixed on her hands, the way they nervously gripped the book, fingernails biting into the worn cover. Why was she so tense? Did she know? No, I never told her.

"Satoru?" Her voice sliced through my thoughts. 

Before I could respond, the shrill sound of my pager tore through the room. I fumbled for it, eyes scanning the stark message.

Brain bleed. Trial patient. ICU. STAT.

"Fuck." Adrenaline surged through me. I shot to my feet, "I've got to go. There was another brain bleeding with one of our trial patients."

"Wait!" She stood abruptly, her gaze locked on the IV line snaking into her arm.

What is she—

Wait—

What??

Before I could interfere, she yanked the needle out of her arm. A bead of blood gushed out, and she quickly pressed a cotton ball against it. "I'm coming with you."

For a split second I stared, stunned. This woman is completely insane. And I can't wait to marry her.

We sprinted through the hospital corridors, a blur of white walls and concerned faces. Bursting into the ICU, my heart pounded against my ribs, my focus narrowing to the patient on the bed. A doctor stood beside him, a grave expression etched on his face.

"Time of death, 16:22."

The words echoed in the sudden, oppressive silence. My chest tightened as the world narrowed to the still form on the bed, the empty hum of machines. It was over. We're too late.

Wait. She will surely—

I turned around, and a surge of fear shot through me. 

She stood there, her face ashen, the crimson-stained cotton ball clutched in her trembling hand. Eyes that were usually so vibrant now held a shattering vulnerability, her breaths coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

In an instant, I was at her side. "Hey, hey," I said. "It's okay. Just breath, can you do that for me?"

My hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. The warmth of her skin was in stark contrast to the ice in my veins. My mind churned, guilt twisting like a knife in my gut. Of course, she would react like this. I'd been a fool to bring her here.

"Wait in my office," I said, my voice as gentle as I could manage despite my fear. "I'll be with you as soon as possible."

Her eyes locked with mine, searching. A flicker of resistance crossed her face, then resignation. She nodded, a mere jerk of her head, and stumbled away, each step seeming to take an impossible effort.

Watching her go, my heart clenched. 

For all her strength, her boldness, there was this fragile core to her, one that the world, and I, seemed intent on bruising. And that, more than anything, sent a spike of anger through me—an anger directed squarely at myself.

Fuck, focus, you have a job to do here.

"Dr. –" I began, and then cursed inwardly. What the hell was his name again? Familiar face, stupid haircut, uglier glasses—

"Dr. Ijichi," the young doctor said, his voice a touch shaky. A bead of sweat glistened on his forehead.

"Right, of course." Annoyance pricked at me. He's a newbie. I should know this, I should care. 

I softened my tone, just a fraction. 

"Let's go over this from the start. What triggered the bleed? Did the patient present any new symptoms?"

Ijichi flipped through the chart, his fingers fumbling slightly. "The bleed appears spontaneous. Scans from yesterday showed no signs of an aneurysm or underlying issues. Blood panels within normal limits, no recent head trauma reported."

"But something must have caused it," I snapped. "The implant—could there be a malfunction? A short-circuit? Anything?"

Ijichi took a step back, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "It's possible. But I'd—I'd need to examine the implant itself for any sign of damage."

"Well, then do that." The words came out harsher than I intended. My gaze swept over him, noting the faint tremor in his hands. Damn it, I was scaring the kid. I forced myself to take a breath. "Look, I know this is a lot. But we need to act fast."

"Patient's medical records are clean. Blood pressure was normal at last check." Ijichi was regaining some of his composure, his voice a touch firmer. A good sign.

"Can I see his scans? Lab work? Everything."

The next minutes was a blur of reports, X-rays, MRI sequences. I scrutinized every detail, my mind racing ahead, chasing ghosts of potential errors. Ijichi hovered nearby. He fielded my questions, fetching additional reports and cross-referencing data. 

I couldn't fault his dedication, but a nagging thought itched at the back of my mind. Experience mattered in situations like this, a cool head under pressure. Maybe if I was here sooner—

The annoyance flared again. If this was a flaw in the method, heads would roll. Mine, Suguru's, and—the trial would be scrutinized, the funding in jeopardy—and her—

Dammit. I'd promised her this wouldn't happen again. That with me, she wouldn't have to watch another patient die. Images of her flashed before my eyes—the haunted look she'd worn earlier, her vulnerability.

My fingers twitched against my arm, nails biting into skin.

"Dr. Gojo?" Ijichi's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. "I've isolated something in the pre-op scans."

I snapped back to the present. I leaned over his shoulder, peering at the image. A slight irregularity, a minuscule shadow on the edge of the implant interface.

"Could this be it?" Ijichi's voice held a hint of excitement, of finally being useful.

"Maybe," I said. "Any sign of inflammation? Tissue reaction?"

He zoomed in further. "Inconclusive, sir. We'll need higher resolution images, maybe a tissue sample from the insertion site."

"The autopsy." The word was heavy on my tongue. "Get on it. I want the implant and surrounding tissue on my table as soon as possible."

Ijichi nodded. "I'll contact pathology right away."

Left alone in the small room, I slumped into a chair, exhaustion washing over me. The relentless adrenaline rush was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache and the lingering, uncomfortable question.

How many more patients were out there, ticking time bombs with our technology inside their heads? And what the hell were we going to do about it?

The sterile confines of the ICU were suffocating. 

I looked over to the clock and my breath hitched. Fuck, I left her alone for over 30 minutes now. I sprung up from the chair and raced to my office.

Bursting through the door, I saw her—knees drawn to her chest, head buried in her arms. A sharp pain shot through me, guilt twisting with a strange sense of relief that she'd obeyed my command at least.

In a few swift strides, I knelt before her. "Hey, love" I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You okay?"

She blinked, eyes wide and shadowed. A forced smile touched her lips. "Yeah, just—it was all a bit much. I'll be fine."

The words were hollow, the act unconvincing. Her skin was pale, her jaw tight, and her eyes betrayed the unmistakable sheen of unshed tears.

"Don't do that," I said, more softly than I intended. "Don't pretend with me."

"I'm fine, really," she said, pulling her gaze away.

I watched her, a familiar ache settling in my chest. I'd told her to wait here, thinking it would shield her from the worst of it. Instead, I'd left her alone with her thoughts.

I'm so stupid.

I hesitated, searching for the right words, "Do you often get these panic attacks?"

Confusion clouded her features. "What?"

She doesn't even know herself?

I brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Panic attacks. Like back there, in the ICU—"

Her eyes widened, then immediately narrowed in defensiveness. "I wasn't panicked. Just startled."

But I wasn't buying it, not this time. 

"The way you were breathing, the way you couldn't stand still," I ticked the signs off on my fingers, mirroring her symptoms back at her. "Remember the first time you did surgery with Suguru? When that patient died?"

"That was different."

"Or the massive bleeding in our last patient while surgery? When the suture tore," I continued relentlessly.

The defiance was fading from her eyes. I knew I was pushing her, but it felt necessary, a brutal ripping off of a bandage.

"I didn't think of it as of panic attacks," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Oh, my brave, brilliant girl. How could I love her more?

I reached out, tracing the faint tracks of tears beneath her eyes. 

"What happened with the patient?" she asked.

"The bleed was massive," I said. "Likely a flaw in the implant itself, a malfunction we didn't anticipate. The autopsy will confirm."

She closed her eyes briefly. "Are we going to have to shut down the trial?"

"It's too early to say," I said, threading my fingers through my hair. "Maybe, I don't know."

We were both silent for a moment.

She wandered over to my desk. Perching atop it, she crossed her legs, staring blankly into the dimness of the office. I wonder what she's thinking right now.

Her gaze drifted over the desk's surface. Her eyes landed on a single, crisp document—the lawsuit, left there carelessly, intentionally, by Higurama after our earlier meeting. 

That bastard.

"What's the status on the assault charge?"

My stomach turned. Of course, she would ask. "It's being handled. Just paperwork and legal wrangling."

"By handled you mean?" she prompted, her eyes flicking back to the document. As her eyes scanned the document, her frown deepened, her fingers tracing the neatly typed figures.

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wishing those papers were buried at the bottom of a hazardous waste bin. "Higurama is negotiating with the kid's lawyers."

She looked up, her full attention now fixed on me. "Are you Insane?"

"It's not that bad—" I began, but the words died as I saw the anger on her face.

"They want how much? Is there a typo? A few too many zeroes?"

"It's fine. Money isn't the issue. I can handle it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Satoru, even for you, that sum is—" She paused. "You can't pay that. I won't let you."

"Let me? You make it sound like you have a say in the matter." I stepped closer, the distance between us shrinking.

Her expression softened with a flicker of annoyance, an emotion I found strangely comforting after the raw worry of a moment ago. "Satoru, this isn't a joke. I'm serious."

"Come on, a few zeroes here or there—it's pocket change for a devastatingly brilliant neurosurgeon as myself."

"This isn't something to joke about!" She swatted at my chest, a futile gesture that made me want to grin even wider.

"You love it." I rested my hands on either side of her on the desk, capturing her. "Admit it, the arrogance is part of my charm."

"Part of your insufferableness, more like."

"Everything's going to be fine." I lean in closer, the faint scent of jasmine that always clung to her, was intoxicating. "I promise. You need to trust me."

"Satoru—" she began, ready to launch into another argument.

Before another word could escape, I closed the distance between us and silenced her with a kiss. It began softly, a tentative press of lips, as if seeking permission. But when she sighed, her body melting against mine, it deepened into something more urgent, more insistent.

My hand slid into her hair, tilting her head just so I could claim her more. The taste of her was a much-needed distraction from the weight of the day. How goddamned much I loved her taste. Needed it more than I could ever admit.

When I finally broke the kiss, a flicker of anger still sparked within her, and oh, I loved it. Loved it when she was all angry with me. Every flicker of those expressive eyes, every sharp word—it all belonged to me. I craved all of her.

"Now," I said. "How about some coffee?"

─── ·✧· ───

The air in Yaga's office was suffocating. 

Every word from that old bastard was a knife, twisting deeper with each infuriatingly accurate accusation.

"You lost a trial patient," he rumbled, and I had to suppress a wince. 

"Setbacks happen," I shot back. "We fix it, we make it better. That's how progress works."

His fist slammed against the desk, making me jump. Damn it, Yaga always knew how to get under my skin. "And the cost? The reputation? Your recklessness will bury us all, Gojo."

"Risks I'm willing to take," I spat. "My patients are willing to take them. Because we believe in something more than your damn paperwork and red tape."

Yaga stood, his face a mask of cold fury. "Boundaries exist for a reason. And until you remember that, your precious project is over. The trial ends now."

The words echoed in the silence, a death sentence. 

I can't risk it getting shot down, not for her. The thought burned, fueled by the terror of seeing those tears again.

"I won't accept this," I said, my voice rough, "I'll fight it. The Ministry, the funding agencies—I'll make them see the potential!"

Yaga's lip curled in a humorless smile. "And while you chase those grand delusions, perhaps you should focus on the mess already on your doorstep. Your, shall we say, 'unprofessional' entanglement with that student of yours hardly instills confidence."

The blow landed with devastating force. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that, Gojo."

"That's—" My voice cracked, the words catching in my throat like a shard of glass. "Irrelevant. It's a personal matter."

"Is it?" Yaga countered. "When your personal choices compromise your judgment, jeopardize not only this project but the lives of countless patients—it becomes very much my business. I've tolerated this long enough."

What?

"You can't touch my surgeries. Those patients need me."

"Do they?" His question was a poisoned dart. "Or do they need a surgeon with a clear head and untarnished reputation? While this mess remains unresolved, consider your surgical privileges suspended. You have enough on your plate."

I slammed my hand against the desk, heedless of the pain it sent tearing through me. My surgeries, my purpose, the very core of my identity—he can't take that away from me.

"This isn't fair," I said through gritted teeth. "You're overreacting. One setback—"

"One setback too many," Yaga cut me off, his voice hard as steel. "You've exhibited a reckless disregard for protocol, for ethics, and now it's spiraling out of control. The board has lost faith in your ability to lead this project, and frankly," he paused, his gaze piercing, "so have I."

The room felt suffocating, the air too thin to breathe. It was as if the walls were pressing in, crushing the fight out of me.

Yaga sighed. "Clear your head, Gojo. Sort out your priorities. Until then, take a step back. And for your sake, and the sake of those around you, stay out of trouble."

Then, a knock sounded at the door. I turned around.

The door creaked open, and there she stood, her eyes wide. 

My heart sank. 

In that moment, seeing her framed in the doorway of Yaga's office, a cruel reminder of the mess I'd made, the last thin threat snapped. 

This was on me, not her.

"Don't you dare drag her into this," I hissed before anyone in the room could speak. "This is on me and not—"

"Silence," Yaga's voice cut through my outburst. "Both of you. Sit."

She met my gaze, a flicker of something I couldn't name passing through her eyes. Then, she crossed the room and sat, her posture straight. The sight of her, defiant yet composed, filled me with a strange sense of pride.

"There will be repercussions, as you both are well aware," Yaga began. "The ethics committee has been alerted. A formal hearing will be scheduled, likely within the week, to address this debacle." 

He paused, his gaze raking over both of us. "I suggest you prepare yourselves well. The fallout will be severe."

The ethics committee?

Fuck.

My stomach churned, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin.

My fingers twitched. The itch beneath my skin now flared into a maddening burn. It took every ounce of control to fight the urge to rip the skin off my arm, to tear away the invisible parasites gnawing at my sanity.

"What kind of fallout?" I asked. "Suspension? Expulsion?"

Yaga's expression was unreadable. "The committee will decide that. Your actions—both individually and collectively—will be scrutinized."

"But she—" I began, but Yaga held up a hand, silencing me. 

"Enough," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I suggest you both to prepare very well what you'll tell them, especially regarding your relationship." 

He let the implication linger in the air, a silent accusation.

"You can leave now," Yaga announced, already adverting his gaze from us to some papers in from of him.

I shot to my feet, my chair scraping back with a screech. I grabbed her hand, a silent command to follow. I knew she had a million questions, but I needed the world to stop spinning out of control for one damn minute.

I needed air first.

I needed to breathe first.

"Let's get out of here first, okay?" I said before she could even open her mouth to speak.

The elevator carried us down. I gripped the handrail so hard it felt like my fingers might break. Her gaze burned into me, her worry a palpable weight in the too-small space. I averted my eyes, focusing on the grimy elevator floor. 

If I looked at her now, I knew I'd crumble.

"Satoru, we should tell them," her voice was soft.

Please, love. Be silent. Don't make this harder for me.

"No," I said, harsher than intended. "We won't. This could ruin you, and I won't let that happen." The words sounded strong, protective—but the truth was, I was terrified.

My hand twitched with the need for a relief I hadn't known this strong for weeks. Just one pill, one measly little pill was all I needed right now. It gnawed at me, a craving that wouldn't be ignored.

"But it's my choice too. You don't get to decide this alone."

"You don't understand. If they find out about us now, under these circumstances they'll use it against us, make it look like we were reckless, unprofessional. Our judgment, everything we've worked for, will be called into question."

"I don't care about their judgment! I care about what happens to you!"

Couldn't she see? This wasn't about bravery, or honor. This was about survival. It was about saving her, even if it meant destroying myself in the process.

"I can't risk your future, not for this. End of discussion." I turned away, unable to stand the hurt, the frustration burning in her eyes.

I was meant to be her strength, and I was failing her. Failing us.

Then, as if the universe itself decided to pile on my misery, the elevator lights began to flicker. The low hum warped into a high-pitched whine, the sound like nails scraping along my exposed nerves.

The elevator jolted, then shuddered to an abrupt halt. Darkness crashed down, pierced only by the sickly yellow glow of the emergency lights.

Stuck.

Trapped. 

Confined.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Then, a voice, tinny and overly cheerful, chirped through the elevator's speaker. "Uhm, sorry about this folks. Seems we have a minor—uh, technical issue. Be with you shortly."

Fuck.

I could feel her gaze burn into my neck, a heavy pressure like she held a gun to my head.

"Well, you can't fuck your way out of this one, can you?" Her voice held a cruel amusement.

I considered it for a moment, then remembered the security camera scrutinizing our every move, the worker no doubt listening. Too risky.

Not that I'd mind a video.

I sighed. Leaning heavily against the cold metal, I let my head thunk against the elevator door.

God, please have mercy.

Defeated, I turned and slid down the elevator door, sinking to the floor, the metal cold against my back. She crossed her arms and I knew she wouldn't back down.

For a while, silence reigned.

"They'll want to know everything—about the research project, the surgeries, the brain bleeding, the student lawsuit," I hesitated for a second. "And about us."

"I know." Her reply was matter-of-fact, almost dismissive.

"This should concern you."

"I don't care."

My god, this woman makes me lose my mind.

Her stubbornness was so infuriating, yet it made me want to rip her clothes off right here, right now. It was as if she saw the storm raging within me and refused to back down, daring it to break us both.

I shifted, the cold floor chilling me to the bone. "If we tell them now about us, they'll use it against us. They'll tear us apart."

"And what's the alternative?"

"We say nothing. Professor and student. Nothing more."

"They'll question others."

"No one knows, except Suguru, and he won't tell anyone."

"We already look guilty. Professor and student spending so much time together? Doing surgeries together? Let alone the scene you caused at the summer gathering. People already talk, Satoru. You know they do."

She was right. Damn her for always being right.

"The committee will know," she continued. "They'll ask questions. And we can't afford to be caught off guard."

"Damn it," I cursed, raking a hand through my hair.

"Satoru," she began, the sound of my name on her lips a caress against my raw nerves.

Please never stop saying my name.

"We both made choices. The only option now is to be truthful. You can't shield me from this, nor do I want you to. I've chosen to be here. So, we tell them. Tell them you and I," she faltered slightly over the next word, "that we're in a relationship."

I blinked, my mind stuck on the word. Relationship. 

She'd never used that word before.

But the way she said it now, laced with that familiar defiance. Always the challenge, testing my limits, turning everything into a battlefield. God, I craved it—the clash, the surrender, the maddening, intoxicating burn of her. All of it. All the time.

A smile, genuine and almost idiotic, spread across my face. 

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"We're in a relationship?"

Say it again, love.

"You're such an idiot."

Giving me nothing as always.

"How are you holding up?" Her question stopped me cold. "Just two more weeks, right?"

Two weeks. 

Two more weeks until I was supposed to be completely free from the insidious grip of the opioids. My fingers twitched at my sides at the mere thought of it.

I forced a smile. "Everything's fine."

The lie burned my throat, but it was preferable to the alternative. I couldn't let her see my weakness, not now, not with everything else hanging by a thread.

"Not quite convincing," she said. "But then again, you never were a good liar, were you?"

She saw through me. Of course, she did.

In that moment, something shifted—a silent war waged between us. Her gaze relentless as she fixed me with her gorgeous eyes.

"Guess my luck's run out, huh?"

"Don't," she warned. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out, Satoru."

We held each other's gaze, a silent standoff in the flickering emergency lights. It was always like that, always a battle of wills to see who would give in first, yet this time fear flickered in her eyes, a fear that matched my own.

A crackle from the elevator's speaker broke the spell. 

"Hey there, folks," the tinny voice chirped. "Just wanted to let you know we're working on it. Shouldn't be too much longer. Sorry for any inconvenience!"

Wordlessly, she shifted closer. Sinking down beside me, her shoulder pressed against mine.

We sat in silence, side by side.

Each breath I took felt less violent, the chaos in my mind muted by the simple warmth radiating from her. I reached for her hand, our fingers intertwining.

In those shared breaths, the world melted away.

"You know," I began, the words barely a whisper. "I'd do anything for you."

Her hand tightened in mine. "And I'd anything for you."

A bittersweet smile touched my lips. "And that will probably be our undoing. Either way, looks like we're in for one hell of a fight."

My grip on her hand tightened. I couldn't lose her. Not to the fallout of my mistakes and certainly not to the vultures who would circle us, seeking to exploit any sign of weakness.

I was trapped in a cruel paradox. My need to protect her was the very thing that might destroy her. And the realization cut deep.

"Then let's fight like hell," she said. "If it's a battle they want, it's a battle they'll get."

God, I love this woman. 

And as we sat there, trapped in that metal box, I knew one thing for sure:

Trouble would come—it always does. But anyone who dared to hurt her would have to get through me first.

─── ·✧· ───

A light summer rain spattered the city streets, blurring the neon signs into shimmering streaks of color. I dodged between hurried strangers, the air heavy with the scent of wet asphalt. Each step brought me closer to my destination.

As I reached the weathered wooden door, my phone buzzed. Suguru's name flashed on the screen.

"Hey," Suguru's voice crackled through the line. "I got those test results you asked about."

"And?"

The silence that stretched felt like an eternity. 

"Elevated AST, ALT, ALP, bilirubin, and GGT, low on albumin," Suguru finally said.

I clenched my fist around my hair. "Can't you at least sugarcoat that a bit?"

"Satoru this is serious. You need treatment, and we need to plan this out, like, yesterday."

What a pain.

"Look, I'm in the city right now," I said. "There's something I need to pick up. Can we discuss this later?"

"Something more important than your liver giving up?"

"Well," I began, a wry smile playing on my lips, "If you must know, I'm about to make a seriously bad financial decision."

A beat of silence, then a groan. "Satoru, you know I can't read your damn mind. Just spit it out."

"It's for her."

I didn't need to elaborate. He understood.

"Figured," Suguru said, resignation evident in his voice. "But seriously, Satoru, your liver—"

"I know, I know," I cut him off. "We'll talk later. Promise."

I hung up before he could protest further.

The shop's weathered sign creaked above the doorway as I stepped inside. A bell tinkled, cutting through the stillness. The musty scent of old paper and polished wood enveloped me.

The shop was empty. I wandered further in, into the maze of shelves. Sunlight pierced the stained glass windows, fracturing into shards of crimson and sapphire that danced across the worn wooden floor. Dust motes danced in the beams.

My eyes drifted over the towering shelves filled with books. I reached out, my fingers trailing along faded covers, the embossed lettering cool beneath my touch.

Them, a soft shuffle of footsteps echoed from the back room.

A tiny, elderly woman emerged. "Can I help you find something?"

"Actually," I said. "I believe I have an order to pick up."

Her wrinkled face lit up. "Oh, wonderful!" she exclaimed, a burst of energy belying her age. "That special piece. It took some doing to get ahold of it, you know. Just a moment, dear."

She disappeared back into the dim recesses of the shop. My fingers tapped restlessly against the wooden cashier's desk as I waited.

The old woman returned, carefully cradling a worn wooden box in her gnarled hands. My pulse quickened. With trembling fingers, she unlatched the box, revealing a slim volume nestled in aged tissue paper. Lifting it out, she held it towards me.

"Signed by Kafka himself."

The weight of the volume in my hands was unexpectedly heavy as I took in the sight of the worn leather and faded ink.

"She must be very special," the old woman said.

"Huh?"

"The woman you gift this to."

"She is," I said, a smile tucking on my lips. "She's everything. Deserves everything."

"She must be very lucky to have you."

Her words echoed in my head. Lucky? More like a burden.

"I'm not so sure about that," I began, the words hesitantly tumbling out, "maybe she deserves someone who doesn't have to try so hard."

The old woman tilted her head. "Sometimes, dear," she said softly, "it's those who try the hardest that are the ones worth holding onto."

"But what if trying isn't enough? What if the very act of trying—it just breaks things more?"

The old woman's smile didn't fade a bit. "Love is often a messy business. Broken things can be mended, you know. Sometimes the cracks make them all the more beautiful."

"But some things are beyond saving," I whispered, the bitter taste of the words lingering in my mouth. 

Damn it, why couldn't I be better for her? She deserved someone strong, someone who wasn't one bad day away from crumbling.

"Perhaps. And perhaps," she countered quietly, "it just that brokenness that makes it perfect."

I huffed. "That sounds like something she would say."

I glanced down at the book, the worn leather seemed to burn against my skin. My fingers twitched. It had been hours—too many hours—since my last pill.

The old woman cleared her throat "Well, dear," she said, her voice taking on a brisk tone, "shall we settle up then? I believe that comes to—"

She fished out a worn leather purse and snapped it open, revealing a wad of crumpled bills. My eyes widened as she extracted them, my brain fumbling to calculate the absurd amount she fanned out before me. My jaw must have hit the floor.

"Life advice never comes cheap, dear boy."

─── ·✧· ───

The basketball arced through the air, a perfect curve that ended with the satisfying swish of the net. Another shot, another temporary reprieve. The rhythm was soothing, a mindless distraction that usually brought a sense of ease.

But tonight, it felt hollow.

Another shot. Another basket. 

Each thud of the ball against the cracked asphalt mirrored the pounding in my temples. Sweat stung my eyes, my lungs burned. The deserted court, bathed in the fading warmth of the afternoon sun, offered no solace.

Another shot soared towards the backboard, this time clattering wildly off the rim. The ball ricocheted away. Frustration surged through me.

Elevated liver enzymes. Decreased platelets. Albumin's dropping. This isn't about a few late nights, Satoru. Your body is giving up on you.

Suguru's warnings echoed like a death knell.

It was bad. Worse than I'd allowed myself to admit. The years of pushing limits, of drowning my demons in a haze of toxic oblivion, had caught up with me with brutal efficiency.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, and for a sickening moment the cracked asphalt seemed to tilt and sway. I forced myself to focus, to regain control. The irony of it all nearly choked out a bitter laugh. 

Control. 

What a futile concept.

Suddenly, my arm burned, a sharp insistent sting. I clutched it, fingernails scraping against the already inflamed skin. It was a subconscious act, a frantic search for relief from the maddening itch that throbbed beneath the surface.

My fingers came away sticky and red.

Fuck.

Then, my phone buzzed against my thigh. I fished it out of my shorts, the screen blurring in the fading light.

It was her.

[6:15 PM] You: Seen your car in the university parking. Still here?

[6:15 PM] Satoru: Basketball court.

[6:15 PM] You: Should have known.

[6:15 PM] You: On my way.

A shiver ran through me, a rush of something akin to adrenaline.

She was coming.

The bleeding scratches on my arm seared. I fumbled for the sleeve of my crewneck sweatshirt, pulling it down hastily in an attempt to hide the evidence.

I forced myself to focus on the net.

And then I saw her, a silhouette etched against the dying light, her presence shattering the fragile focus I'd clung to. My heart hammered in my chest.

For a moment, time seemed to stutter.

She came towards me, her steps soft against the rough asphalt. Every detail of her etched itself onto my mind with painful clarity. The way the twilight painted streaks of gold across her skin, the gentle curve of her lips, the slight furrow of concern between her impossibly beautiful eyes.

My god, those eyes.

Even if she looks at me in pity, I wish she would never stop looking at me.

I forced myself to toss another shot, a pathetic attempt to feign normalcy. The ball arced through the air and swished through the net—a lucky streak.

Her footsteps stopped just short of the three-point line. She didn't speak, just watched me with those perceptive eyes that always seemed to see too much. My pulse quickened, a mix of fear and longing washing over me.

Tonight, in that flowery dress, she was insanely beautiful. 

She reached down and scooped up the ball that had just rolled to a stop at her feet. A spark of amusement ignited in her eyes, a challenge I knew I would accept even before it left her lips.

With a playful smile, she began to dribble. Her movements were hesitant, fumbling—adorable. So different from the confident woman she was in the operating room. 

Still, she moved with focused determination, mirroring the way she approached everything in life. For a moment, I just watched, savoring the unexpected tenderness of her trying.

I closed the distance between us, amusement tugging at my lips. I reached for the ball, intent on displaying my effortless skill.

But she surprised me. Though I easily pushed her away, a hint of resistance in her stance, she didn't stumble back as I'd expected. She held her ground, our bodies a breath apart.

She tilted her chin up, defiance still burning in those impossibly pretty eyes. For a breathless moment, I was lost in their depths, in the faint scent of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

God, how I needed her.

"You're quite distracting," I said, my gaze drawn to the sheen of sweat glistening along the curve of her neck. Our bodies were impossibly close, my breath ghosting across her lips, the faintest hint of her smile teasing me.

"Don't blame me for your bad play." She snatched the ball, biting her lower lip as I moved to block her shot. I closed in, body to body. With a twist and a feint, she evaded me, keeping the ball just out of reach. 

"Or is the great Dr. Gojo," her eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up, "—afraid of a little challenge?"

The words hung in the air, a taunt, and a dare.

My hands moved instinctively, framing her face, tilting it upwards. The distance between us vanished in a heartbeat.

Her lips were soft, yielding against mine, the faint taste of something sweet clinging to them. My pulse thundered, fingers tracing the delicate line of her jaw. I pulled her closer, our bodies molding against each other. Her exhale a soft sigh against my lips.

The basketball, forgotten and rolling away across the cracked asphalt.

I deepened the kiss, not able to resist her. I lost myself in the sensations—the warmth of her skin, the intoxicating taste of her, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the summer heat. Raw need flared within me, a desperate hunger that threatened to consume all semblance of control in me.

When I finally drew back, it took every ounce of my willpower. She was breathless, her eyes filled with a yearning. Just how I like it.

I snatched the forgotten basketball from the asphalt, twirling it on a finger. "So much for your challenge." My voice coming out slightly breathless. 

I spun on my heel, took a few steps, and arced the ball towards the net. It swished through with a satisfying thud. "Looks like someone gets distracted easily."

"That's hardly fair," she retorted with a determination in her gaze that both amused and intrigued me. "You're basically a pro."

"So you admit defeat then?" I taunted, dribbling the ball between my legs.

I could see the way she was analyzing my movements, trying to mimic the way I held the ball and the fluidity of my shots. She was always like that analyzing my every move. Watching me with an intensity that only she could.

"Not at all. You just need a handicap. Perhaps you can only use one hand behind your back?"

"Alright, first-year," I smirked, tossing her the ball. "You're on. Just don't blame me when I crush you even with a handicap."

The ball bounced awkwardly in her grasp as she took a hesitant shot. It bounced off the backboard, miles away from the net. A flicker of frustration crossed her face. Fucking adorable.

"Next one's going in," I said as I retrieved the ball and began dribbling. "But you have to get it from me first."

I kept my promise, playing with one hand behind my back. Yet, I wasn't playing to win. I was playing to keep her close, to savor the spark in her eyes, the way she moved with a newfound confidence.

She darted in close, her eyes locked on the ball, and with a swift movement, she feigned a step to the left before stealing the ball from my less-guarded side. She took her shot.

Her second attempt was slightly better, the ball at least hitting the rim with a hollow clang.

She should really just stick to surgeries, not sports.

She retrieved the ball again. After a particularly clumsy dribbling attempt of her, I swooped in, intercepting the ball with ease. However, she surprised me. Lunging forward, she snatched the ball from my grasp again and, in a fluid motion, took a wild, off-balance shot.

The ball soared through the air, tracing a perfect arc. It hit the backboard and, against all odds, bounced through the net.

"Maybe you're not as good as you think you are?" she teased, flashing me that smile. 

Oh, sweet thing. I let you win just to see that smile. But it's still cute how you try.

"Lucky shot." Without conscious thought, I moved closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

"Careful, Professor, or your student might surpass you." She teased again as if she didn't know exactly what those words did to me.

But sure, tease me again. Bring it on. Tease me, taunt me, push me until I snap.

You'll reap what you sow.

She began dribbling, but I was relentless, closing in. With a quick feint, I disarmed her, snatching the ball and watching it roll away.

She tried to sidestep, a flicker of surprise in those beautiful eyes. Too slow. With a final stride, I cut off her escape, her back hitting the cool metal of the basketball pole. She was trapped.

I grabbed her neck, fingers intertwining in her hair. Before she could object, before I could second-guess myself, I closed the remaining distance, my lips crashing against hers. Her soft gasp swallowed by my own hungry sigh.

The kiss was heated, desperate, a clash of urgency and hesitant surrender. My arms circled her hips. I bent my knees slightly and, in one swift motion, lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around my waist, a gasp escaping her lips.

I pressed her closer, my body straining with an almost painful need. I lost myself in the softness of her lips, the faint taste of cherry chapstick, the intoxicating sensation of her skin against mine.

I deepened the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips. I tightened my hold, pressing her closer until I could feel the frantic beat of her heart against mine. A moan escaped my throat as I felt the sudden desire to possess, to consume, to brand her as mine.

Not out of aggression, but a desperate need for more—more touch, more taste, more of the overwhelming rush that only she could give me. 

She was the fix I couldn't resist, the poison I desperately craved. Because with her, oblivion felt so damn close.

Her hands tightened in my hair, the short strands of my undercut providing purchase as she tugged me closer. Her scent enveloped me. It clung to my tongue, my lungs, fueled the heat blazing in my blood. 

My teeth grazed her lower lip, drawing a soft moan that stretched my shorts even more painfully. It was my undoing. Every thought, every restraint burned away in the heat of the moment. I needed to have her. Not just a taste, not just this stolen moment.

I craved all of her, with a desperation that bordered on madness.

Then, like a splash of ice water, her nails raked across the raw skin on my arm, searing pain cutting through the haze. I winced, her touch like burning coals on my skin.

"What's wrong?" she gasped, breaking the kiss.

"Everything's fine," I said, not wanting to let go of her. I leaned in again but she flinched back. 

"Don't lie to me." Then, her gaze fell to the faint stain of blood seeping through my sleeve. Her eyes widened. "Satoru, your arm—"

In an instant she rolled up my sleeve, revealing the scratches. 

Fuck.

I lowered her back to the ground. Her eyes narrowed, a frown creasing her brow.

"It's nothing."

"It's always 'nothing', with you," she said sharply.

Reluctantly, I allowed her to roll up my sleeve even more, revealing the red marks. Here was the ugly truth, laid bare beneath her concerned gaze.

"Do you have something to clean this?" Her voice trailed off as her eyes flickered towards my sports bag, lying forgotten on the sideline bench. With a determined look I knew all too well, she walked towards it.

I tried to stop her, but she was already unzipping the bag, rummaging through its contents. A knot tightened in my stomach. There was no first aid kit, no antiseptic wipes—only the worn book that I hadn't had time to wrap yet.

"What's that?" she said.

She pulled the book out, a flicker of confusion crossing her perfect face.

"Sorry, it's not wrapped." Not that I know how to wrap a present, as I hardly ever made gifts before. But I would have tried for her. It was the least I could do.

Her eyes flicked from the book to me, her brain clearly working overtime. She turned it over, studying the faded cover. Slowly, realization dawned in her eyes. "You—you bought this for me?"

I shrugged, a nonchalant mask to hide the frantic pounding of my heart. "Thought you might like it."

"Like it?" She flipped open the book, revealing the faded signature on the first page and a key tucked loosely among the pages. For a moment she just stared, then looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Satoru, is this—"

"Ink on paper," I finished for her. "And a spare key to my apartment."

Silence descended, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves. It felt like she was staring a hole through me. Then, she walked over, book still clutched in her hand. Instead of the thanks I expected, she swatted me on the arm with the cover.

"Ouch, you know how expensive that was?"

"I can't accept this." She held the book away from her as if it might burn her. "It's too much, Satoru."

"Don't like it?"

"Like? Like?" Her voice rose, and then she looked back down at the book, a smile spreading across her face. "Satoru, this is—," she trailed off. "How did you get this?"

"Had to bargain with an old hag. Some minor soul-selling, nothing major."

"No, seriously, this must have cost a fortune."

"Money doesn't matter," I said softly. "It's you. You're all that matters."

The book in her hand twitched. There was a flicker in her eyes, like the urge to swat me with it again, but she contained the impulse. It was replaced a moment later with a frown as she focused now on the bloodstain on my sleeve.

She moved closer, a dangerous stillness about her. 

Her touch on my sleeve was hesitant, fingers tracing the inflamed scratches. "You gonna tell me what this is? Or are you gonna sidestep the issue again until we fight, because you know my patience is wearing quite thin these days."

"Nervous habit."

"It's new." There was no judgement, just a matter-of-fact tone in her voice.

"Yeah." 

The lie felt like ash on my tongue. 

It wasn't new, of course. I'd just gotten worse at hiding it.

"Thank you."

"For what?" I asked.

"The book, idiot," she said with a gentle smile. "And for telling me."

Ah, that smile. I melt every time.

"Come on," she said, letting go of my arm and turning towards the university. "Let's patch you up."

Without hesitation, I followed.

─── ·✧· ───

"So," I started, a slight wince escaping me as she cleaned the scratches. "You didn't tell me. What brought you here in the first place?"

"You didn't ask."

"I'm asking now."

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. "I had some research to do in the library."

I knew her too well—the slight catch in her voice, the way she avoided my gaze.

"What research?" I prodded gently.

She sighed, then met my eyes. "The patient with the brain bleed. I had to double-check something."

Of course, she would still be agonizing over it. It was in her nature—the relentless, stubborn dedication was what would make her the best damn doctor I knew she'd become.

"Don't," I said. "Don't think too much about it. I can't stand to see the worry in your eyes."

She held my gaze. "I just want to be as prepared as I can be."

"I know, love," my voice softened. "But not tonight, okay?"

Suguru's office reeked of stale smoke and lingering whiskey—a sharp contrast to his neat workspace. Ironic how I was the one out of first-aid supplies. The addict, while he was still well stocked. But that's why I had his key.

She carefully placed a bandage over the last scratch. "You know the first ethics committee hearing is soon."

"Are you nervous?"

"Are you not?"

"No. Our research is flawless. Bulletproof."

"There's always a flaw. And they'll find it. Something we missed, overlooked. Don't blame me for wanting to prepare."

"You are prepared," I said. "Nobody knows this research like you. Not even Suguru. It's your blood, sweat, and sleepless nights poured into every page. This is yours in a way it could never be mine. You gave it life, meaning."

She seemed lost in thought, her focus narrowing in on my arm. She moved closer, like she'd just spotted something.

"Satoru—" she began, then hesitated. Even in the dim light, I could tell what she saw. "Where did you get those scars?" Her frown deepened. She leaned in closer, as though seeking further proof.

My fingers twitched. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. It was a distraction, a pain to combat the other. She had that look in her eyes that seemed to say, you know I won't stop until I hear the truth. So I gave in.

"My father was a demanding man," I said, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "My mother turned a blind eye." 

I couldn't bring myself to say more. The image was enough to paint the picture.

For a second it seemed she froze. Her gaze remained fixed on my arm, her grip tightening ever so slightly.

Wordlessly, she rose and moved away. Moments later, she returned, a small syringe gleaming dully in the dim light.

"What's that?"

"Antibiotic," she said. "Those scratches were raw, you could get an infection."

"I'm fine."

"Let me be the judge of that." A hint of steel laced her words. Then, with startling gentleness, she added, "I don't want to see those old wounds opened any wider."

She tilted my arm, and with a swift, practiced move, the needle pierced my skin. I barely flinched. How different from the times I'd taught her, her hands trembling, her hesitation a reflection of her gentle heart.

Now, she moved with the certainty of a seasoned surgeon.

She'd grown so much.

For a moment, I simply watched her.

Finally, she turned, disposing of the gloves and syringe. She crossed the room and retrieved something from her purse, my gaze following her movements.

Then she was in front of me, her hand outstretched. My eyes focused on the small, white pill resting in her palm.

I knew the shape better than my own reflection.

A wave of nausea crashed over me.

Why would she do that?

I stared at the pill, then met her gaze. There was fear in her eyes. 

"That's not clonidine," I said.

I knew exactly what it was. Yet, I wanted to hear it from her, needed her to say it.

"It's hydromorphone," she said, her voice firm. "Take it, Satoru."

"Why?"

"Because you've been scratching your arm bloody, that's why."

A dangerous thrill surged through me, a sharp contrast to the icy dread in my veins.

She had no idea what she'd start here.

"Take it," she snapped, "before I force it down your throat."

Something shifted in the air between us.

I stood, my movements slow and purposeful. With one swift move, I closed the distance between us until I loomed over her. My breath ghosted over her lips, the scent of her fear mingled with the ever-present, gnawing need.

Without breaking eye contact, I took the pill and reached for the half-filled liquor glass on Suguru's desk.

She watched, confused, but she didn't stop me as I crushed the pill against the weathered wood of the desk. It shattered easily beneath the glass, the sound like a gunshot in the tense silence.

I took hold of her nape. My fingers threaded through her hair, my grip firm. Her lips parted, a silent plea, but I flinched back, denying her.

Not yet, love.

Where's the fun with that?

I slowly turned her around until she faced the desk. She shuddered as I gently pressed her forward, bending her over the surface.

The thin straps of her summer dress dipped, revealing the gentle curve of her shoulders, a vulnerability that made me lose all good reason.

Her breath quickened, a soft sound against the silence of the room. I reached forward, fingertips ghosting over her skin. Then, with a deliberate slowness, I swept the hair away from her nape, exposing the tender skin beneath.

For a long, breathless moment, I simply absorbed the sight before me. 

Her perfect body was bent in graceful submission, the delicate straps of her dress barely clinging to her shoulders. The exposed curve of her nape, the soft warmth radiating from her skin. 

Raw need surged through me, a reckless defiance of the consequences, of the fragile threads of self-control I still clung to.

Why did she offer me the pill?

And why couldn't I stop?

My hands were unfamiliar steady as I reached into my pocket, fumbling for my wallet. Withdrawing a credit card, I placed the white powder on its smooth surface.

Her breath hitched as I moved closer, the card hovering just above the silken expanse of her exposed skin. Then, with deliberate slowness, I lowered it, creating a thin white line on her back. It felt like a brand, a pact forged in shared recklessness.

She shivered, a slight tremor that ran through her entire form. Whether it was revulsion or anticipation, I couldn't tell. And in that moment, I realized I didn't want to know.

I leaned closer, my heated breath ghosting over her back. Without conscious thought, I opened my mouth, my tongue licking the powder off the delicate skin of her back.

The taste was bitter, acidic, sweet—familiar.

The rush hit me like a bolt of lightning.

My skin crawled, alive with a tingling rush. My senses honed to a razor's edge, amplifying every sight, smell, and sound. Exhilaration surged through me, a wild, intoxicating rush, tinged with a fear that tightened my chest like a vice.

Fuck, how I missed that. 

How I craved it.

I pulled back, gasping, struggling to regain control. 

Yet, my hands refused to retreat, frozen against the heat of her skin. They trembled, a desperate battle between insatiable need and the last shreds of restraint. The warmth of her burned me, a tantalizing agony beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

A war raged within me. 

One voice screamed for surrender, for the oblivion of her touch, the sweet release of surrender. The other, weaker now, whispered warnings, a faint plea for control. It was a familiar battle, and with each second, my control weakened.

The sweet tang of the powder lingered on my tongue. 

Yet, it did nothing to quell the rising fire within me.

A fire only she could extinguish.

Unable to stop myself, my hands moved on their own. My fingers traced the curve of her hip, the warmth of her skin a siren's call through the delicate fabric. With a gentle push, the hemline of her dress inched upwards, revealing the smooth expanse of her thigh.

A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Satoru?"

"Don't speak," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Don't speak, love.

Every word of you would only fuel the fire even more.

And my sanity was already hanging by a fragile thread.

I pushed the flimsy strap of her dress further down her shoulder. Delicate skin, warmed by the summer heat now laid bare. I ran a hand over the expanse of her back, reveling in the silky softness, the shudder that rippled through her at my touch.

I slid my hand beneath the hem of her dress, my fingers mapping the soft curve of her thigh. She moaned, a ragged sound that mirrored my own desperate need. I tugged the dress upwards still, baring more skin to my touch.

My chest heaved, my breath coming in uneven gasps. With a rough pull, I slammed her against me, her body against my already hard length a sensation that threatened to shatter the last vestiges of control.

The battle within me was all but lost. There was only this moment, this desperate, all-consuming need to claim, to consume, to lose myself in the oblivion she offered.

My hands roamed. The flimsy fabric of her dress was a mere inconvenience, torn aside to reveal the soft swell of her hips, the smooth expanse of her inner thighs. She shivered beneath my touch, fingers digging into her heated skin.

"Wait," her breath hitched. "Not here."

Yeah, it was Suguru's office. His desk. 

But in this moment, I couldn't care less.

"Yes, here."

My hand wound into her hair, forcing her head back. She gasped, her body arching against mine in surrender. The room tilted, the world outside blurring into nothingness. The only reality was her in front of me. I wanted to mark her, claim her as mine. 

Consequences, reason, all were distant echoes drowned out by the roaring in my blood. The rational part of my brain, a pathetically small voice, screamed at me to stop. 

But this part was loosing.

I pushed her dress all the way up to her waist, revealing the lacy underwear she wore. I drew her closer still, seeking a connection deeper than skin on skin. A moan escaped her lips, and she arched against me, the tremble of her body a heady mix of surrender and desperation.

"Satoru...please," she whispered.

"Tell me to stop," I said. Each word was a test, a twisted game we both knew she'd lose. My hand slid between her legs, a slow, agonizing caress that made her breath hitch. "Tell me, and I will."

A single word, and this could end. I waited, barely breathing.

She shook her head slightly. Then, with a boldness that ignited me all over again, she arched into my touch. "Don't stop," she breathed, her voice ragged. "Please, don't stop."

My god, that woman.

I could feel the despite simmering beneath her surrender, a bitter tang that only made this twisted game more addicting.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" I said, pushing the fabric of her underwear aside and sliding a finger inside her, feeling how wet and ready she was.

She was soaked through, drenched in a way that told me she wanted it as badly as I did.

With each stroke, I felt her body yield to me, growing even wetter as I explored her depths. It was an intoxicating sensation, knowing that I had such a powerful effect on her, that I could reduce her to this state of pure need with nothing but my touch.

She let out a ragged breath, gripping the wooden surface beneath her as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. I added another finger, stretching her open as I thrust in and out of her, searching for that sweet spot I knew would drive her mad.

When I found it, she gasped, her walls tightening around my fingers. "Right there," she moaned. "Don't stop."

I know, love. I know you like that spot.

I know how you crave it. The surrender. The sweet release of losing control to me. 

And in this moment, there was nothing I wouldn't give you.

Burn me. Break me. Doesn't matter. I'd still offer myself willingly. 

I'm yours to ruin.

But tonight, you'll break for me.

Every fiber of my being screamed for her, begging to bury itself deep inside of her. Watching her writhe underneath me, hearing her soft cries as I thrust into her, only fueled my hunger further.

I wanted to feel all of her, to brand myself onto her skin.

My cock throbbed painfully in my shorts, straining against the fabric. I could feel the precum leaking from the tip, dampening the material. The urge to rip off my clothes and plunge into her almost unbearable.

All I could see, all I wanted, was to be inside of her. Where I fit perfectly.

Then—the door. 

My hand stopped. Her gasp snagged in her throat.

Suguru stood in the doorway, a flicker of resignation in his eyes. Some people just don't understand the concept of knocking first, do they?

I withdrew my fingers. With a swift tug, I pulled her dress down, covering the parts of her only I deserved to bare. His eyes didn't have the right.

"Really?" Suguru sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "My desk?"

"Problem? Or feeling left out, Suguru?" My slick fingers found my mouth. I licked them slowly, savoring the lingering taste of her. My eyes never left him. "I thought you liked sharing."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP. i don't know if satoru went insane in this chapter or if i went insane while writing it. maybe both. but i had SO MUCH fun writing in his pov. i had a few heart attacks while writing this. and yes, imagine the "yes, here" in anakin skywalker's voice haha. 

also i know that kafka's books all got released after his death so a copy of his book with his signature is slightly unrealistic, but we just ignore that fact.

and last, don't sleep with addicts, that's not cool in real life, but in fiction it's okay, he can't hurt you there. anyway thank you so so much for reading, i hope you don't come at me for writing this omg, i'm so nervous posting this. i'm gonna go throw up now.

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[cyberbenb]

Putin critic Navalny jailed for 19 more years on 'extremism' charges

A Moscow court has sentenced jailed opposition leader Alexei Navalny to another 19 years of imprisonment, Russian media reported on Aug. 4.

According to BBC Russia, Russian authorities have convicted Navalny for what they call “creating an extremist community,” namely the Anti-Corruption Foundation.

Navalny will serve his time in a “special regime colony,” Russia’s most restrictive penal institution, which is usually reserved for dangerous criminals.

The trial of the “extremist” case was classified, BBC Russia wrote. It began on June 19 and lasted only a month, with all hearings held behind closed doors. Navalny was charged under seven articles of Russia’s Criminal Code.

The verdict announcement on Aug. 4 was broadcasted online, but the sound was so bad that the judge’s words were almost incomprehensible, according to the media outlet. It was unclear at first how many additional years Navalny received.

Later, Russian journalist Vasily Polonsky cited Navalny’s lawyer, who confirmed the 19 year-sentence, and a post appeared on the politician’s social accounts.

“The number (of years) doesn’t matter. I understand very well that, like many political prisoners, I am serving a life sentence. Where life is measured by the duration of my life or the life of this regime,” Navalny said.

“They want to frighten you, not me, and deprive you of the will to resist. You are being forced to surrender your Russia without a fight to a gang of traitors, thieves, and scoundrels who have seized power. Putin should not achieve his goal. Do not lose the will to resist."

The European Union, the U.S., and the U.K. criticized the court’s sentence as politically motivated and demanded the immediate release of Navalny.

Navalny was poisoned with the Soviet-era nerve agent Novichok in August 2020, a move which is confirmed to have been executed by Moscow. After his recovery, he returned to Moscow, where he was sentenced to a total of 11.5 years in prison.

Navalny urges restoration of 1991 borders, reparation payments to Ukraine by Russia

Jailed Kremlin critic Alexey Navalny’s team issued a statement on Feb. 20 calling for the restoration of Ukraine’s 1991 borders and the payment of reparations by Moscow, independent Russian media outlet Meduza reported.

The Kyiv IndependentTeah Pelechaty

[officialrailscales]

New Digs | MiniDot HTP XOS in FDE

Karve Hand Stop | Terra Bronze

HTP XOS-W 3.5-Slot MLOK Scale | MiniDot Texture | FDE

HTP XOS-H 3.5-Slot MLOK Scale | MiniDot Texture | FDE

QDX Sling Mount | Terra Bronze

- RS

[crazykuroneko]

Im pretty sure Critics/Media people get screeners (hell AMC is apparently giving screener access to random tumblr people so their standards aren't strict) so I don't think its access that's the problem at least for the media. its what they're choosing to prioritize and there's way too much content out there right now. We're also getting to the point where even shows on smaller platforms like peacock and paramount+ manage to break through (Mrs. Davis, Poker Face, Yellowstone + spinoffs, etc).

It also has to be said Mayfair Witches was competing directly with The Last of Us in the same hour while IWTV was not competing with any big show (in fact it had a really beneficial lead-in with The walking dead that averages well over 1m viewers every week and was NOT up against house of the dragon). All those things considered plus the vast difference in quality and critical reception.. the ratings look significantly worse to me for iwtv. Like its 18-49 rating is practically the same but with much less competition in its time slot whereas Mayfair managed it while competing with the biggest show of the year.

Part of it is definitely its simply on the wrong network/platform. AMC is the home of straight white male prestige dramas and the walking dead. Their show leads have historically been middle aged white men. there's not much on there that would appeal to a more diverse audience that could be interested in this show and I dont think a single show is going to move the needle for them. And Idk who the anne rice fanbase is these days like the books dropped off in popularity after QOTD which was in the 80s. I think once your core fanbase is older (and tbh probably more racist) they're also more resistant to changes. Its a bizarre franchise to me cause on one hand the first book and the movie are cultural touchstones like everyone's heard of them and they are the basis for a lot of recent vampire fiction but once you move further into the series its VERY niche and inaccessible.

Paid subscribers numbers:

AMC+: 11.5 million (not available in most of Europe and Asia)

Peacock: 21 million (Available in Europe)

Paramount+: 24 million (Available in Europe)

Anyway, since you know oh so much, you should have posted this on your own blog. Because frankly every time I see a wall of text of rhetorical messages in my inbox, the urge to delete is so strong. So it's better you put it on reblog or make your own post so people can chime in as well.

[benchau]

11.5 URG-I

- b

[eaglesnick]

101 Things You Should Know About the UK Tory Government

Thing 20

“Chancellor Rishi Sunak calls on firms to “think very carefully” about any investments that would in any way support the barbaric Putin regime.... I am urging firms to think very carefully about their investments in Russia and how they may aid the Putin regime – and I am also clear that there is no case for new investment in Russia.” (GOV.UK 13/03/22)

No case for “new investment" but Sunak's wife is reportedly still profiting from her old investments in Russia. The Indian IT services company Infosys is still operating inside Russia despite saying eight months ago it was pulling out. Sunak’s wife, Akshata Murty, has a stake in the company (which is owned by her father) from which she receives multimillion-pound annual dividends.

“The company that pays Akshata Murthy, wife of British PM Rishi Sunak, £11.5 million a year is still operating in Russia, report says.”  (msn.com: 05/11/22)

Angela Rayner had this to say about Sunak’s double standards:

“The prime minister’s tough talk on sanctions on Putin is compromised by his private conflicts of interest. When he was chancellor Rishi Sunak ordered UK businesses to reconsider any investments that would in any sense support Putin and his regime but he’s utterly failed to get his own house in order.” (Guardian: 04/11/22)

As usual, it’s one rule for the rich and another for the rest of us.

[frostironfudge]

Tenebrous - Loki (AU) - Chapter Fourteen

Pairings: Vampire! Professor Loki x Fem!Reader

Characters: Loki, Thor, Fem OC, Reader, Bucky Barnes, Stephen Strange

Warnings: dark, angst, coven dynamics, blood, witch coven dynamics, vampire coven dynamics, soul bonds, hurt/comfort, canon level violence, blood drinking, mind manipulations, torture, non consensual blood drinking, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 11.5 k

Dividers: @firefly-graphics​

Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fifteen

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || My AO3

Chapter Fourteen - Aren't All Tales As Old As Time?

Two Days till Alexander Arrives.

Emery blinked several times, not really being able to process what they were seeing. They tilt their head to the side, not making a sound. 

Doctor Strange fills up the thermos with a blood bag, his skin seems paler and he looks tired. As he tries to twist the bottle cap it falls and Strange groans, following as the cap rolls its way and stops next to Emery. 

He gulps and they just want an explanation. 

“It isn’t what it looks like….” He winces at his own words because it sounds clearly as though a lie. 

“It looks like something out of a teenage show.” They comment, squatting to retrieve the stray cap.  

Strange narrows his eyes, waiting for the butterfly that fluttered between them to present itself but nothing occurred.

They walk closer and Strange takes a step back, their usual scent of black currant with a hint or orange is replaced by jasmine. 

Emery smirks, “You always were an observant one.” 

“Where are they?” Strange’s eyes begin to turn black with red rims, “What have you done?” 

“Careful Doc. You do anything to me, it replicates on your little student with a crush on you.” Maya smiles as they return to their own body.

“Consider them as a two fold, he knows about your weakness to them and he knows that they are important to Y/N. He watches closely, even when you think not. Glory be to father.” They complete, hoping Strange picks up on the meaning behind their words. 

“Are they safe?” Is all he wants to know.

“Yes. Provided you know which side to be on.” Their jaw set as Strange nods. 

“I will have my decision the day of, please inform your Father.” Strange notifies and Maya blurs away from view.

Three Days Before Alexander Arrives.

Bucky remains a spectator as the coven practices, Clark paired off with Y/N and relentlessly having her conjure spells. She falls to her side, a frustrated groan leaving her as she rises again. Raising her hand she brings forth her crescent.

Her frustration with Clark is apparent, he hasn’t taunted her yet but Bucky knows the words are coming.

He looks at Miles, who gazes back at him urging to intervene.

It had been days since he directly spoke to her. Y/N herself had resorted to keeping to herself. To not cause Bucky any distress. It did hurt, seeing him joke around with the others and having him crack inside jokes with Sierra. Which seemed to always occur when she was in the room.

It felt as though months ago again, when he would call Maria but not her.

“You should talk to her.” Sierra urges from beside him.

“I think she has it covered.” Bucky shrugs just as Clark causes a root to wrap around her ankle pulling her down.

“You’re not focusing.” Clark calls out, almost bored.

Y/N lays on the ground for a second, trying to know what the fuck was going wrong. As she stands, her gaze goes towards Sierra and Bucky. Watching as they converse easily. It’s stupid to feel jealous, they had hardly been friends since he returned. Their platonic relationship had suffered at the hand of non communication and the distance Bucky shoved in the middle.

“Yeah she has,” Sierra rolls her eyes at the sheer ignorance the man next to has in his possession.

“We don’t have all day.” Clark calls out and Y/N glares at him.

She conjures a carpet beneath him, and retracts her hand as the floor beneath him is shifted Clark falls to the floor.

“Okay, good, just know vampires aren’t going to slip on carpet.” The high priest dusts himself off and two crescents move towards him and he ducks in time.

“Y/N.” Clark says in warning.

“You wanted better.” She shrugs, the crescents returning and her eyes flicker between the white glow and remaining the same.

“Focus.” Clark conjures up an image of one of the vampires from the night of the forest.

“What is he doing?” Bucky moves a step away from the wall.

Y/N wants to tell him off, but it would be possible that those fuckers would be in the entourage.

Her eyes glow, the returning crescents cut through the illusion.

“Good.” Is all the praise she gets, as another vampire is conjured behind her, who puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Not again–,” She grabs her hand, pushing the crescent through her chest.

“Clark,” Bucky calls out, as the glow in her eyes grows.

The High Priest ignores him.

The illusion comes up of John, Y/N grits her teeth. His laugh makes her blood boil.

Bucky watches her concentration begin to break.

“Don’t react with anger.” He directly addresses her and Y/N looks at Bucky with a glare.

“Why don’t you keep your other conversations going, after days you–,” The illusion of John grabs her, cutting her off, throwing her down. Her chest heaves, her palms conjure fire in one hand and current in the other.

Bucky raises his left hand, the vines discarded by Clark wrap around illusion John growing till he is sealed inside them.

Clark removes the illusion, all of them look at Y/N, she blinks a few times but the glow doesn’t die down. Her tears illuminated by the glow.

“Y/N,” Bucky moves towards her, she closes her eyes, squeezing them tightly. Trying to forget everything, keep her mind blank. To not be taken under any flashes of memories, she needed to go.

She hears Bucky kneel near her, his hand comes to rest on her upper arm. She shrugs it away, eyes opening and she looks directly at Clark, asking him to leave through a non verbal conversation.

‘You may go.’ He dismisses her seeing the white glow is gone.

With the three words she leaves not looking back at Bucky who wants to go behind her but decides otherwise. 

“What?” Bucky pauses taking in the look the three are giving him.

“She needs her best friend.” Clark shrugs as if it is blatantly obvious.

“She does, yes, there is only so much a vampire boyfriend and vampire bestfriend can understand.” Miles sighs, palm on his own chest.

“Miles, you can’t be serious.” Bucky gives the two husbands a look of disbelief and then turns to Sierra who holds her own disappointed look.

“You too?” He hands his palms turned upward not understanding this ambush.

“Bucky, you’re someone who understands what is going on.” Sierra tries to get him to understand, “I know this is hard for you too, but you need a support system as well. I’m sure Gramma would agree.” 

“She would have swatted the back of my head. She did it, when she came to know I stopped speaking to Y/N anymore.” Bucky shakes his head at the memory.

“Look, if speaking to her is difficult, then tell her. The minute it gets difficult you verbalise. Just don’t leave her in the dark.” Miles explains and he nods.

“I’ll go to speak with her.” Bucky follows from where she left, conjuring a small compass to locate Y/N.

Four Days Before Alexander Arrives.

Luna and Zemo watch as they finally have an audience with everyone. Nighttime as the moonlight gleams through the windows. He looks upon Y/N, she seems tired. Her demeanour hunched. 

Zemo tilts his head, curiosity bringing out his ability, Y/N looks at him. He smiles.

“I don’t have the energy to keep you out.” She tells him, as everyone focuses upon them.

“Zemo.” Luna chastises. He only smiles back at his love.

“I apologise, curiosity tends to get the best of me.” He explains.

“You do know curiosity killed the cat.” Nia pipes up, quirky a brow.

“I’m already dead, so.” Zemo chuckles and Luna shakes her head.

“Satisfaction brought it back.” Y/N adds, and Luna looks at her intently.

“I’m pretty sure Lord Vampy here would love to pry through your soul.” Nia gestures towards him, earning a chuckle from Loki and Strange.

“What?” She asks, “Is he a Lord?” 

“I hail from Barons.” Zemo shrugs.

“Oh the rich aristocrats?” Nia observes and he nods.

“Have the niceties been exchanged?” Bucky questions and Y/N looks at him, wondering if they would ever speak like before.

“Be nice.” Sierra says, Bucky looks at her and then they break into a grin, sharing a joke.

Loki turns his head to Y/N when the bond ripples with irritation.

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, she feels guilty for subjecting him to trivial emotions.

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry.” She takes his hand in hers and they look back at Zemo and Luna.

“Alright. So Alexander is set to arrive, you all need to be prepared for him trying to manipulate your weak areas, unclaimed mate, chosen family, friends, anything that would force you to turn to his side.” Zemo informs them.

“We expect Maya, who can shape-shift, into any creature, any person.” Luna adds.

“He may leave a note or no note, or Maya may be the one delivering the message.” The Baron adds.

“He will keep them alive, till your allegiance is sealed to him. In that event, please turn to his side. Pretend. Do what you think is correct to keep your loved one safe.” Luna urges all of them.

“What if we chose not to?” Miles questions, knowing he has no one remaining, apart from Clark.

“Then you should not feel guilty for the blood that is shed.” Clark speaks up, lacing their hands together.

“You must know, there are several vampires who will be there, illusionists, strength, mind manipulation.” Luna informs them and looks between Y/N and Bucky. 

The two have their gazes meet briefly but then look away. 

“So we have to be prepared for anything. We’ll need a lot of stakes.” Nia sighs.

“We have several.” Sierra announces.

“We’re working on a recall spell, so in case anyone loses out on their stakes more will come through.” Bucky informs them, Y/N looks to Miles, confused.

“You needed time, so we didn’t…” Miles trails off and Y/N nods. Was she even a part of anything?

“That would be so cool.” Nia cheers.

“Yes, it’s all very exciting.” Thor murmurs, on edge since the plans are all rapidly changing. Rendering his ability useless.

“I understand how you feel, however, till you do not pick a path you won’t know.” Luna advises and Thor nods understanding but still dissatisfied. 

“Is anyone else going to turn against him?” Loki questions, Zemo shakes his head.

“I’m afraid we are the cavalry.” he affirms.

“You both will be on his side till the last minute, correct?” Stephen finally speaks from his place near the wall.

“Yes, we have to keep appearances up, as will Maya.” Luna gazes upon Y/N again. 

Loki runs a comforting hand over her back, she leans closer to him. Through his periphery he sees the small moon appear. Cupping her cheek, he tilts her head back till her eyes meet his green. 

Y/N furrows her brows, then notices the small moon. She sighs. Looking back at Loki her eyes flicker towards the white glow.

A surge of power envelopes Loki, he feels his fangs descend, in tandem with her eyes harbouring the white glow.

The room glows, a foggy path illuminated by moonlight.

Y/N takes a step forward but someone grabs her hand and she swiftly turns to find Loki.

‘How are you here?’ She questions,

‘This…’ Loki pulls her close as his past self falls to the ground from the tree.

Y/N looks between the two, ‘The night of–,’ Her words die on her tongue as the Loki in front hunches over in pain. Begs the moon to save her.

‘You asked me to protect her.’ A soft voice whispers amongst them as the hunched over pleading Loki disappears amongst the fog.

‘Who are you?’ Loki turns, keeping Y/N close as they try to discern the source.

‘Oh creature of the night. You forget the one who granted your wish?’ There is a soft chuckle and Y/N looks up at the moon.

‘Your mate is smart.’ The voice still has mirth.

‘I,’ Loki looks at the moon in disbelief.

‘Is it not intriguing? In the moments of absolute faithlessness and despair is the faith the strongest.’ The voice continues.

‘In that moment all else is addled with disbelief. The need fuels the prayer.’ Y/N speaks and feels a soft caress on her cheek.

‘I’ve watched you over years and centuries. The two of you were destined. I forged the bond the night your mate saved the woman who carried you. The spell your mother casted brought you back to me.’ 

‘Why are you telling me this?’ The witch questions.

‘Because you wonder why can’t you feel the embrace of someone of your own.’ The voice sighs, Y/N looks onto the ground.

‘Your mother is proud of you Loki. She watches over you. You’re right she adores your mate.’

‘Mother?’ Loki’s lips part in shock.

‘She misses you.’ 

‘I miss her as well.’ Loki admits and Y/N gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know she is there for him. 

‘why are we here?’ Loki questions, ‘in this memory?’

‘you see, the man you are to face soon enough,’ the voice begins and the ground shakes. 

Loki and Y/N hold onto each other.

‘i will meet you both again. go back to your reality now. the next time i try to speak with you come willingly.’ 

Y/N gasps as her field of vision turns from the forest to the living room at the Manor. Loki returns after her. 

“What happened?” Luna raises a brow, their futures becoming seemingly obscure.

“Repeat from the past.” Loki covers up, Y/N nods.

“What was it?” Nia stands beside her.

“Just another one of John’s well, treats.” Y/N murmurs which is believable.

Bucky’s lips press into a thin line. It doesn’t seem right to him. As if the two aren’t saying something.

“I’m sorry.” Nia hugs her best-friend. Y/N huffs. “Nia super strength….” She laughs when Nia pulls away worriedly. 

“Sorry, sorry, bit of a learning curve by being supernatural.” She laughs.

“As we were discussing,” Zemo garners their attention again.

He begins to go over their plan, based upon the two strategies that Alexander has shared with them. Clark decides that the coven will not be at the forefront immediately since they need to have a semblance of surprise under their belt as well.

Luna agrees, party because if it is deemed she let go of Celestials; Alexander would not allow her next unnecessary inhale to plead. 

Two Days Before Alexander Arrives

Stephen Strange uses every ounce of his speed to reach their home. Shrubbery suffers at his hands, breaking into splinters as he rushes through them. 

“They have to be at the dorm the spell won’t fail on me.” Y/N was frantic over the phone. The locating spell kept showing her the dorm building. She had studied with Emery in the study quite a few times to recognise it. 

Emery’s dorm was on the third floor of the building. 

There is no semblance of panic through the hardly formed bond, it irks him that he cannot discern their whereabouts. 

Stephen reaches for the door, the reception guard greets him he nods politely.

“Which is Emery Castillo’s room?” He questions the guard who looks at him sceptically.

“Um, Sir, I do not have permission to give that information out.”

The marble counter top holds indents from his fingers, frustration grows within his chest.

Stephen leans forward maintaining eye contact with the guard. 

“I think you should be able to do that.” He whispers and the guard’s gaze blanks.

The guard blinks several times, fingertips gliding over the keyboard.

“345.” 

Stephen cares not for the security footage as he uses his speed again, as his hand reaches for the door, he’s tackled to the side by another vampire.

“Hail Alexander.” The vampire digs into Stephen’s arm with their fangs.

The doctor turns them, using his own arm as a lever to extend the back while his knees dig into their thighs.

The vampire groans as his body is manoeuvred, the of the vampire flesh begins to tear with the weight of  Strange’s strength with one final push his body tears apart, he drags the body to the supply closet and the flesh begins to merge. 

Panting the Doctor retrieves his stake, spearing it into the apex of the heart and the flesh remains dismembered. He checks his attire and is pleased to find no blood. Stepping out of the supply closet. He turns to find Emery looking up at him.

“Professor?” They tilt their head and Stephen feels relief flood through him at the small flutter in his chest.

“Yes, um, I was on my way to seeking you.” He steps closer needing to be near.

“Oh, um about what?” They ask, tucking their book under their arm.

“Are you planning to go anywhere?” 

“Um?”

“Sorry I meant to the PT convention in Manchester, I well, the staff gives a free ride to the student with the highest grades and that is you…” 

“Oh my god.” They jump up and down excited and Stephen smiles admiring them dearly. Emery’s hands come to rest over his arms, gripping tightly.

“Professor if this is a joke I will cry.”

“It isn’t, I, I wanted to offer you a spot in any case. I believe you even have a spot for a research position next year.” Stephen admits.

“Oh geez, this, wow. Wait, why didn’t you email?” They remove their hands from him and Stephen dislikes the emptiness left in wake of the movement.

“Oh I was passing by and these good news things are best said in person.” He shrugs.

“Oh, well um, I’m excited for your presentation.” A slight blush coats their cheeks. Stephen smiles warmly. 

“I’d invite you in but I have a new roommate and he’s a little reserved. So um,” Emery scratches the back of their head. 

Stephen only has a few moments to contemplate when the scent hits him. He turns and Emery does a double take of the speed at which Stephen tucks them behind his body. 

A snarl ripping through his throat. 

“Pro-professor?” Emery clutches onto his coat, their heart thudding rapidly. 

“Do you have your phone?” Stephen hisses moving in a semi circle pattern as the person in front of them takes a stance that indicates their impending lunge. 

There is a growling and Emery understands this is not something that is some kind of prank or practical joke. 

“Yea-Yeah.” 

“Call Y/N.”

“Y/N?” 

“Is she also?” Emery retrieves their phone and begins dialling her number. 

“She knows.” Is all he says and grabs the vampire and throws him to the other side. 

“We need to get in your room.” Strange tells them and they lead him in and he is blocked from entering. 

“Why aren’t you—,” Emery screams just as Y/N receives the call. 

Strange is thrown on the floor as the vampire presses a stake to his throat. 

Something in their own chest rips apart. 

“Emery? Emery?” Y/N calls out trying to reach through the stupor they had fallen into. 

The vampire puts the stake through Stephen’s shoulder latching it to the ground and then turns toward Emery. Menacingly looking at them. 

They stand at the door. 

“Invite me in.” They seethe. 

“Emery do not invite that being inside and do not look at them.”

Emery closes their eyes, “Y/N what the fuck is going on?” 

“I, its a very long story— Loki and I are on our way.” 

“There is a demon outside and you want to come here?” Emery deadpans and Stephen chuckles dryly outside, carefully taking out the stake from his shoulder. 

“We’re kinda on the side of the good.” Y/N reasons and there is the click of a door and seatbelt. 

“Do you want to stay on line?” She questions and Emery just watches Stephen.

The vampire turns in time for Stephen to move close as if hugging him, and driving the stake into his heart. 

The creature slumps against Stephen and he pushes the body yet again into the supply closet, he takes a deep inhale. 

Standing at the door, “Hey Emery?” Strange greets, running a hand to fix his hair. 

Emery peeks open one eye and then opens the other. 

“You, you can come in.” They allow him and Stephen walks in, shutting the door. 

“I’m sure you have several questions—,”

The wind is knocked out of him as Emery wraps their arms around him and Strange encircles his arms around their shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” They ask, voice laden with worry.

“I’ll heal soon.” He pulls away slightly, cupping their face. Emery sighs contently at the contact. Their chest feeling as thought a flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

“Will you explain why there is a feral demon in the dorm?” They question, Stephen chuckles.

“Why don’t we sit down for this?” Stephen suggests and Emery points to the sofa tucked away in the corner. 

“Sorry, I didn’t clean up much.” They move the blanket and knock over their library copy of the neurology book Stephen had carried around since a few weeks. 

“You’re interested in neurology?” His eyes light up as he picks up the book.

“Saw you reading it…” Emery blushes again. 

“So I influence your reading choices?” He quirks a brow.

“Only academics.” They chuckle as he frowns playfully.

“Leisure reading?” He sits when they ask him to, two feet away from them.

“I enjoy fiction.” They reply, watching him run his fingers over their notes.

“This is stellar work.” He praises, smiling encouragingly.

They give him a tightlipped smile.

“I believe it is time for me to come clean.” He sets the book between them.

“I’d appreciate honesty.” Emery reminds and Stephen nods, making a cross over his heart.

He takes a deep breath, looking into their eyes as he exhales then finding the right words to begin to tell them his true nature.

Three Days Before Alexander Arrives

Bucky checks the terrace first, it was they place the two had gone to on that ill-fated night of their buried memories ripped open.

He thought about it long and hard, Sierra’s words echo in his mind. Would it have to be continuously re-lived? Just four days ago she was reminded yet again. How could Y/N still want to speak to him or want him in her life. Beyond being a soldier going to war, how could she see him as a friend she wanted to keep around?

Disappointment laces his features finding the terrace empty. His feet carry him to Loki’s room. As he draws closer he can hear murmurs. The door is ajar, he stands gathering himself.

He knocks and the conversation is cut off. Y/N opens the door, her distress palpable and Loki stands from where he sat on the bed.

“Can we help you, James?” Y/N wants to scoff at Loki’s pleasantries.

“Probably has other friends to have it covered.” She mutters.

Bucky gives her a pointed look. Loki shakes his head.

“I wanted to check up on you.” Bucky gazes into her eyes which used to be so easy to read.

“I’m fine as you can see so I believe you can return to ignore me.” Y/N begins to shut the door.

Bucky blocks the door and Loki opens it again.

“Hear him out.” Loki urges and Bucky looks at him grateful.

“He’s not here on his own accord.” Y/N huffs.

“That is untrue.” Bucky says, moving into the room.

“Really? So my coven didn’t have to make you feel bad that I have no one like me and you’re here out of respect for our friendship and not guilt?” She sneers at him.

“It’s difficult for me too okay? Do you think I like losing the one genuine friend I have? Do you think I like ignoring you or being ignored by you? Walking on eggshells?” Bucky bellows and Y/N looks up at him. His hands tremble.

“You’re making it look extremely easy. You cut me off once. You could do it again.” She accuses.

“I made a mistake.” Bucky admits.

“Are you making one again or is it written in blood?” She enquires.

Loki watches, feeling the turmoil across the bond, he tries to send comfort. But he had seen this play out before where it broke her and chipped away at her heart. 

“‘i watched you leave from a distance, 

i had myself erased from your existence, 

in the laughter of others i reminisce,

the melodies and stories we once shared,

i hear your haunting echo in the smiles of your friends,

as they speak to you while for you i no longer exist,

i wish i could tell you i remember you beyond that night,

right from your curious eyes oh so bright,

to the calloused fingers that wiped my tears,

while delaying their own,

i wish i could tell you you still have place in my heart,

but you’re not here and by you i’ve been exiled.’ ” Loki recalls and recites the piece Y/N wrote a week after Bucky left.

Y/N closes her eyes, the pain of that piece returning. 

“You wrote it for him.” Loki states, “Him leaving had a deeper impact than you have let on.” 

“I’ve been left enough times that it shouldn’t hurt.” Y/N shrugs, biting the inside of her cheek.

Loki sighs, the pain from that piece had twinged at his heart as well, a longing for a companion, a confidant. 

“I should not have cut you off.” Bucky states, stepping closer to her, “I really wish I could take it back. That day when Maria spoke to you, I had to restrain myself from jumping through the phone.” He admits.

“Everyone leaves or they don’t remain present Bucky, like I told you. Like I told him.” Y/N wants to shrug it off.

Loki holds her hand.

“We both were stupid.” Bucky admits.

“Extremely stupid.” Loki agrees.

“Find it in that big heart of yours to forgive me?” Bucky offers her his hand, she gazes into the blue of his eyes.

“You mean it? Or is it just so you can leave after?” Y/N looks at him, tears building in her eyes.

“Clark offered me a place in the coven. I will be taking it. To be your annoying friend who won’t give you a second to breathe, and also to spend Nia’s money on cheesecakes.” He smiles when she breaks out into a watery grin. Rushing to hug him as she still holds Loki’s hand. Who only smiles and then looks at James.

“You hurt her again, you will get hurt.” Loki warns, Bucky nods.

“Loki—,” Y/N tries pulling away from Bucky, her eyes are aglow.

“Bucky, let her go—,” Loki is cut off when the bond pulls him in as the vision takes over.

“No, Loki, I can help—,” Bucky is cut off as he is placed on the street opposite the book store. 

He frantically looks to the side, Loki stands next to him much more calmer. Seeing Loki something urges the similar calm to wash over him. They watch Y/N gazes around confused inside the bookstore.

‘Welcome James,’ The voice that spoke to Loki and Y/N a day ago greets.

‘What is this? Loki what are you doing—,’

‘You need to look up.’ Loki points and Bucky peers at the sky.

‘Hello James.’ 

Bucky takes several steps back.

‘I know, it is a lot to take in, but I needed to speak to the three of you.’

Both men look at Y/N stuck inside the bookstore.

‘Well first the two of you, then her together.’

‘Why?’ Both ask synchronous.

‘Because my dears, that is my daughter, to whom the two of you have cause quiet a bit of hurt.’ The voice grows stern and both men pale slightly.

‘I assure you we’re doing our best to repair the damage.’ Loki states.

‘You will not erase her memories, no matter how much she pleads.’

‘How—,’ Loki looks bewildered.

‘Child.’ The moon all but exasperatedly sighs.

‘Wait erase, what?’ Bucky looks from the moon to Loki.

‘Y/N asked, if after everything, I would manipulate her memories to make her forget everything.’ Loki informs.

‘Can you actually do that?’

‘James, I suggest you also not traverse upon that tempting path.’ The moon reprimands.

‘I won’t do it.’ Loki agrees.

‘Good, now James, you will not join the Celestials.’

‘But—,’

‘That isn’t your coven, you may partake, but do not be inculcated.’ 

‘Is there a reason you’re telling us this?’ Bucky raises an eyebrow.

‘You three, are what it will come down to, however, my child in the bookstore is a self sacrificing being.’ The voice sounds worried.

‘Wait, are you suggesting she—, I will not allow it. How has Luna not seen this?’ Loki implores, frantic to prevent losing his mate.

‘Luna is only shown one possibility, when the future keeps changing, destiny remains not on one side.’ The voice explains.

‘Please, there must be something you can do.’ Loki begs.

‘We won’t let it happen.’ Bucky places a hand on his shoulder.

‘I trust the two of you will keep her safe and even yourselves. The others who are part of your entourage are more guided by their selfish desires and outcomes.’

The men stay quiet, considering the words. Bucky had realised it would turn into every person for themselves. Clark was playing a strategy though it made sense it had selfish connotations written all over. 

Loki gives a glance towards Y/N, who was trying to pry the door open. He had to be selfish to protect her. Even if she may want to save everyone. He’d be selfish for the two of them. 

‘So she is the child that was hidden?’ Bucky questions, 

‘Yes. She was under my care, unfortunately much like my own dark side, her destiny was cast into darkness. An unfortunate consequence of the spell.’

‘But even you begin to reappear.’ Loki states.

‘As did the two of you.’ The voice sounds almost smiling.

The bookstore door opens and Y/N runs out, crossing the empty street to Loki and Bucky.

‘I was stuck inside.’ She explains.

‘I was stuck in an Uber.’ Bucky winces at the memory and lie.

‘I was at my own home.’ Loki adds onto the lie.

‘So basically, where we were the night you took a flight to Romania.’ Y/N concludes, then gazes at the moon.

‘Hi.’ She waves.

‘Hello, child.’ The moon’s voice greets.

‘I needed the three of you here so I could tell you that I will be providing a fraction of my abilities to enhance you already present abilities.’

‘That, that is generous.’ Y/N nods and looks at Bucky and Loki.

‘Indeed.’ Loki says and Bucky nods.

‘Do you know what will occur?’ Y/N questions.

‘I know all the outcomes but not the one that will occur. What you make happen shall be written.’ The voice explains and Y/N feels a soft caress over her hair.

‘I always found solace in you. If no one watches at least you watched in the night.’ Y/N smiles at the memory.

‘I know destiny has not been kind. However you’ve remained much kinder. Remember to show yourself kindness. All three of you. Now I believe it goes without saying that keep quiet about this.’ The voice grows stern again but then chuckles.

‘Oh and Bucky, your Gramma says she loves you and is proud of you, also she says she gives Y/N permission to swat your head because you’re being an idiot pushing a friend away.’

‘What if he wasn’t ready to deal with what I remind him about?’ Y/N tries defending.

‘He’s thinking he’s making it easy for you, when its difficult for you both equally, same like your mate here. Always thinking leaving is the solution.’ The voice chuckles repeating Gramma’s words.

‘That sounds like Gramma alright.’ Bucky chuckles. 

Loki looks at the moon a question dangling at the forefront of his mind. 

‘You will have to speak to your mate about that, Loki.’ The voice says and Y/N looks at her mate curiously. 

‘Very well. But do you approve?’ He counters.

‘If you plan on not repeating certain actions then, yes.’ 

‘I intend not to fall under false guises.’ Loki assures.

‘Can the mate know?’ Y/N chuckles as she questions.

‘In due time, my love.’ Loki kisses the back of her hand.

‘Now you must return my children, remember all that was said..’ The voice echos.

The street dissolves into grey nothingness, then the hardwood floor appears beneath them, finally the pale walls of the vampire’s room greet them.

“Hey…” Nia walks in hesitancy lacing her entire demeanour. 

James looks at the other two, realising how close all of them were standing, he takes a step back. Loki and Y/N remain closer.

Nia looks at Y/N, “Can I speak to you? Privately?” 

Loki and Bucky exit the room, heading to the room given to Bucky for his stay.

As the door closes Nia turns to her best friend, “I know you used to read two character x reader fanfics but with the bond is that possible?”

Y/N furrows her brows and Nia can see how the blush creeps up from the edges of her cheeks to the apples.

“We aren’t in a polyamorous relationship, if that is what you’re implying.” She shakes her head, bewildered at why Nia would think that way.

“I only ask because that looked too close to be platonic and Loki had a smile on his face.” Nia narrows her eyes, she doesn’t want to use her ability but her best friend had just lost the two men and regained them.

“Look, Bucky and I weren’t talking, and today at practice I sort of lashed out, I told you about how its annoying me right him getting all best friend with Sierra?” 

“Yeah, I don’t like it either he’s rubbing it in your face.” Nia’s lips twist into a disdained frown.

“Well Loki recalled a piece I wrote after Bucky left… and we talked it out, and Loki could feel my happiness through the bond.” Y/N answered with honesty.

Nia regarded her with a look, Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You can use your powers if you don’t believe me.” She shrugs.

“It’s not that, I just, I worry. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Just keep your heart safe.” Nia pulls her in for a hug.

“Is everything okay with you and Thor?” Y/N questions, hugging Nia tighter.

“He’s withholding something, I mean with him twisting up the entire Loki leaving and not protecting you. I, I, he feels like a stranger.” She confesses.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Y/N suggests.

“I don’t want to use my powers… but I fear if I do not, then…” She trails off.

“At least the truth will be known, Nia you can’t have him not tell you things. Look these primitive creatures, no offence.” Y/N gives a half smile and Nia laughs.

“Yeah the older man kink came in.” Nia giggles.

“They think not telling us is protecting us. Which sucks.” Y/N rests her head on Nia’s shoulder.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you do smell good.” Nia chuckles.

“Thanks, I was worried about not being appealing to out quote unquote father in law.” Y/N giggles and Nia looks horrified.

“I didn’t think of that.” Nia bursts out laughing as well, just as Loki and Bucky return to find Y/N smiling wide and seeming less tensed. 

They looked at each other once again, with a nod. Solidifying what they had decided is to be done.

—<>—

When Loki and James reached the room of the latter they stood for a few moments collecting their racing thoughts.

Loki observes James, the furrow in his brows as the storm he held in his blue eyes.

“May I ask you something, James?” Loki decided to open the conversation.

Bucky looks up at the vampire, nodding.

“Why did you not actually maintain contact with her?” The question swirls in his mind.

“It was a mix of things, I didn’t know she was a witch. I did not know I could tell her. She was already falling for you. Almost thought we could have something…” Bucky looks out of the window and then at Loki.

“Our bond was in the earlier stages.” Loki informs, sitting on the chair by the bed. Bucky follows suit and takes a seat on his bed.

“I know. When our hands touched, yours and mine, when I had my awakening. I had this weird feeling as though I was burned. I brushed it off. When I thought about it months later I realised it felt like holding ice in the palm f my hand for a long time.” Bucky shrugs, then chuckles, “Whenever I picture it it feels like a bunch of snowflakes not melting against my skin.”

“What did you feel with her?” Loki watches as a fond smile takes over the warlock’s face.

“Akin to a tingling, when I think about it, like sparks?” Bucky pronates his hand, gesticulating his confusion.

They remain silent for a few more moments.

“May I ask you something?” Bucky asks and Loki chuckles.

“You may.” 

He draws a deep breath, “Can you actually alter memories?” 

There is a hopefulness woven into the question and Loki sighs.

“I possess that capability. However, I have never been able to penetrate your mind, much like Y/N’s I can only enter when she permits me. Alas, I cannot do what you may ask of me.” Loki admits and James fidgets with his fingers.

“Is it because of the moon or your own choice?” Bucky locks his gaze with Loki.

“Both.” The vampire answers without delay.

Bucky covers his eyes and lays back onto the bed.

“How are we supposed to save her? How am I supposed to save her when I’m this fucked up?” He contemplates.

Loki stands to look at him, “I ask myself the same question.”

“Do you really?” he sits back up. Loki nods.

“Do you have an answer?” Bucky questions.

“I do, however it isn’t insightful.” Loki gives a humourless chuckle at Bucky’s unimpressed expression.

“Would you like to know?” Loki still chuckles.

“Something better than nothing.” Bucky shakes his head chuckling as well.

“We try our hardest, use every spell, trick, power in the book. We try our hardest.” Loki explains, searching James’ face for a response.

James looks down at his hands again, Loki feels a shiver pass through him.

“You’re right.” Bucky looks up at Loki.

“I am?” Loki quirks a brow.

“It isn’t very insightful.” Bucky deadpans and Loki feels a laugh blooming within his chest, in which Bucky joins.

Present.

Loki stood next to Thor, both holding hands with their respective mates. Bucky remains stoic, a few feet behind Loki. Next to him, a kneeling John who still has several stakes buried into his body. 

Stephen stands back, he had Bucky charm his own home, and laced the entry points with vampire weaves. Emery making a joke that he gifted them a home so early on in their ‘courting’ wouldn’t expedite things. Stephen only laughed at their humour. Relieved that they were safe. To their knowledge no one else had been taken from their close ones. 

So there they stood waiting for the moment it all came down onto, the moment when Alexander would grace them.

The night is illuminated by the waxing gibbous. Y/N finds the wind pick up. Loki’s grip tightens around her palm. 

“They are here.” He says, loud enough to let them all know.

Bucky sends a text to the hidden away warlocks and witch. They operate from their coven base. Bucky scoffs at the thumbs up emoji and deletes the thread. 

“Ivan Vanko.” Thor informs. 

“Electric current, even from a distance.” Loki completes. 

“Malekith.” Loki spots the second person. 

“Teleportation and reality alteration, unlike Loki’s his is not as strong, you have to find the thin strand of actual reality amongst his alteration.” 

“Karla Sofen and Wong.” Strange identifies the two he had met years ago. 

“Time manipulation, summoning of fears from the psyche for Wong. Karla has photokinesis, and gravity manipulation, which could end with being speared on a stake.”

“Outnumbered.” Bucky comments, spotting Maya as they near to enter the field of vision of the humans. 

“Maya.” He says and they give him a once over then their gaze shifts to John, a pleased smile on their face at his state.

“So electricity, teleportation, reality going to shit, time being altered, a lady who can slow us down and make us float and a shapeshifter.” Nia summarises nodding her head. 

“Ain’t a fair fight.” Y/N murmurs.

“Which one ever is?” Nia retorts.

Bucky chuckles dryly, “The ones where we kick vampire ass.” 

Nia snorts in response.

There are others, about twenty more. Who neither of the four vampires recognise. They stand forming a semicircle, with place left at the centre. A twenty vampire disadvantage.

Loki begins to seep into their minds, carefully trying to formulate weaknesses and strengths.

There is a sudden wave of dread that Bucky and Y/N feel. Loki finds it seep into the bond. 

Two familiar faces come forth and then Alexander enters, his cloak gliding with the wind as he walks forward flanked by Luna and Zemo who wear their cloaks to cover their head. 

“Children, such a warm welcome.” Alexander smiles and there is a twisting feeling in Y/N’s gut. 

“Father.” Thor greets, a pleasant smile on his face.

“I see you have not taken well to your brother.” Alexander tuts.

John looks at his father, “Father.” He speaks against the cloth that harbours charmed pieces of the stake that is kept to muffle his voice.

Alexander turns his gaze back to Thor and Loki.

“I come with mercy, my children.” He stands arms behind his back, “I see Thor has already completed the bond and turned his mate. Welcome to the family, daughter.”

Thor squeezes her hand.

“Thank you.” Nia mutters, they needed to delay his wrath for long enough.

“Manners. Very good, however, mates as young as you, kneel.” He tuts again, eyes flickering to Thor.

“I treat her as an equal father.” Thor defends.

“Very well.” He turns to look at Loki and then Y/N, his gaze lingers on her pendant.

“Open defiance of the rules, Loki, I had high hopes for you. You knew I held you with such high regard.” Alexander sighs, a frown on his face.

“Father, I haven’t completed the bond.”

“She is a Celestial, Loki!” He hisses.

“I recently knew of her status her awakening took place just days ago. Upon my return.” Loki keeps his voice level. Y/N’s heart beats rapidly.

Bucky keeps his gaze set on Zemo and Luna. Their faces remain impassive.

“Yes, John informed me. You do know the rules, a Celestial should be brought to me. Mate or not.” The coven leader reminds, “And what did you do Loki? Hurt one of your brothers for her.”

“He was about to kill her.”

“Lies.” Alexander’s booming voice echos.

“Father, you are the one to decide, I left her. I, you know how I feel about bonds.” The green eyed vampire recounts.

Father’s eyes move to the hands held. His jaw tightening. 

“Explain why is she this close to you then?” He challenges.

“She has changed my perspective.” He admits. 

“Witchcraft!” One of the vampires yells the remaining vampires break into a cacophony of clamour.

Alexander raises a hand silencing everyone.

“You then know the rules, for her survival she must be of value.” He walks across the clearing, moving in front of his coven of vampires.

“Luna, tell her, why were you saved.” He stands back as Luna’s auburn hair gleams in the moonlight as her hood falls back.

“I was a, Celestial.” Luna verbalises, a disdained expression masks her face. Y/N and Nia pretend to be shocked by raising eyebrows.

“I was scouted by Father before my mate found me. He was taken by your witch coven, right in front of my eyes.” Luna’s eyes pool with venom.

“There, there, my child.” Alexander runs a hand over her hair, Luna stiffens.

Zemo keeps his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I wonder did you receive your gift Loki?” Alexander gleams when he sees the red rims encircle Loki’s eyes.

“The monster inside you seems to be taken with her.” Father comments.

“He’s more primal than I am. I had given over control to him once.” Loki blinks and his eyes return to green.

“Hand over John to me.” He demands, looking at Bucky, “Oh, warlock, were we not kind enough?” 

Bucky chooses not to answer. Looking at Loki, to carry out their plan.

“He’s under my control.” Loki says, Y/N looks up at Loki. 

“So you won’t mind asking him to hold your mate while John revives himself with a sip.” Alexander smirks, watching Loki reveal all his cards.

“I cannot permit him to drink from her.” Loki clenches his teeth. 

“She is already on thin ice.” Pierce reminds. 

Y/N can feel his apology through the bond, the stars dull as Loki gazes at Bucky. Whose own eyes are ice cold, closed off. They had decided this; to pretend he was under control. 

Bucky raises his left hand, fingers abducted, he makes a fist all the stakes connected with John’s body fall to the ground. 

John stands, wobbling, undoing the cloth from around his jaw. 

“He isn’t under control father.” John groans at the open wounds. 

“Warlock. Weave.” Loki mutters and Bucky begins to draw a weave around John’s feet. 

“Small enough to only allow standing.” Loki adds and Bucky follows. 

“Loki.” Thor says in warning, the tick in Alexander’s jaw foreshadowing trouble. 

“Let him go and summon the blood bag.” Loki watches Alexander, as Y/N watches the bottle hover in front of John and he eagerly drowns in the blood as it fills him, the wounds begin to close keeping him out of danger but he needs the rose salve. That none of their entourage was willing to offer. 

“Missed you, little flower.” 

Y/N shivers as John’s voice is too close. Bucky clenches his hands into fists. 

Loki moves, pulling Y/N behind him. Eye to eye with John. 

Bucky lightly brushes her upper arm trying to provide quiet comfort.

“I suggest you join Father.” Loki warns with a tilt of his head, “You are alive only because of him. Otherwise you would have died at my hands the minute you tried to touch her.” 

“Bold of you to think she isn’t going to die.” John trudges forward as Alexander welcomes him with open arms. 

“My son.” He pulls John into an embrace, “An embarrassment.” 

John’s eyes widen. 

“Father—,”

“Silence. Go join your brothers and sisters.” Alexander instructs, releasing him and looking into Y/N’s eyes. 

“Have you practiced any spells?” He enquires as though this isn’t a conversation that rests the fate of her living status. 

“I have.” She keeps the answer bare minimum. 

“What was your first spell?” He takes a step closer. 

“Levitation of objects done without intention.” Y/N takes a breath when he takes a step closer. 

“What can she do with intent?!” Another vampire bellows. Alexander raises his hand once again to keep the clamour at bay.

“Do you remember me?” He tilts his head and her mind flashes to the forest. 

“Y-Yes.” She stutters.

“You’re afraid.” He remarks, smiling. 

“I don’t want to lose him.” Y/N admits, looking up at Loki before looking back at Alexander. 

“I recollect telling you that you are ordinary. By virtue of my rules, you need to perish, since you are unworthy of being in my coven.” He shrugs.

“Father,” Loki takes a step forward, Y/N holds him back.

“Why did you erase my coven, I have no one remaining.” She questions and Alexander smirks.

“The only use you have is being a blood bag.” He moves forward raising his left hand and Loki is pulled harshly away from her. Alexander stands two feet away, taking a step forward when he’s held back. 

He looks at Y/N, she gives him a smile.

“I may be an ordinary vampire, but I’m not an ordinary witch.” She smiles taking two steps back to create more distance.

“My coven will protect me.” Alexander warns from his placement in the weave.

“Ask them.” She challenges and John steps forward.

“You bore me honestly.” Bucky has the tree roots wrap around John’s feet pulling him to the ground.

“Coven, see this witch trying to kill me.” Alexander lies, and his coven is about to go into uproar

“Kill you?” Y/N raises a brow. Her eyes begin to glow.

“I wish I could just end it all by killing you.” 

“You, you’re her. Just like her.” Alexander stammers, all of his children gaze at him confused.

“Do they ever talk in normal conversation or riddle me this only.” Nia rolls her eyes.

“Right from the smell, to taste, to appearance.” Alexander reaches out but is stopped by the weave again.

“Loki,” Thor says in warning seeing sparks near Vanko’s fingers.

“I’m going inside his mind—,” Loki groans, as his body jolts on the floor.

Bucky looks towards Vanko, who gazes back at him a smug smile on his face. As Bucky too falls to the floor. Y/N’s jaw clenches, Alexander jolts within the weave.

“Call it off.” She warns Vanko. He only continues.

“I said call it off.” Y/N warns again, Alexander twists in agony.

“I won’t.” Vanko says with a heavy accent.

“Very well.” Her right hand is raised and Vanko falls to the floor, withering in a manner similar to his own power. 

Bucky and Loki pant as they begin to recover.

“I warned you.” Thor says helping his brother up. Stephen assists Bucky.

“All clear.” Stephen whispers.

“Next time do better than warning, brother..” Loki murmurs.

The electric current is stopped by Y/N, Vanko and Alexander wheeze on the floor as others remain silent spectators.

“Oh you defiantly have her fire.” He praises dusting himself off, Y/N looks at him in disbelief, “Oh that? That was just theatrics, a child like you is no match for me, darling.” Alexander gives a menacing smile.

“Karla be a dear and have them all but her stay on the ground.” Alexander turns to face the woman who only nods before closing her eyes.

Thor grabs onto Nia as she begins to levitate, the toe of her shoes making small indents as she struggles to catch on the same begins to happen to Thor and then Stephen and Bucky.

They flail their arms around trying to get away from Karla’s ability to no avail.

“Run.” Loki whispers as he is being raised.

“Loki—.” She looks up at him, hand brushing past his fingertips.

“Y/N, run.” Bucky adds from his spot hovering over them. His left arm glowing with the blue lines as he draws the runes that may work.

Y/N still stands, raising her hands to cast the next spell. Alexander takes as step towards the edge of the casted weave.

“Run!” Loki bellows and Y/N takes off just as Alexander steps out of her weave with ease chasing her down the forest.

“I see you want us to return to where I was supposed to taste you from your mate mark. The sternum. I remember.” Alexander’s menacing laughter reaches her ears as she stumbles over the roots delving deeper into the trees.

“Fuck.” Y/N stumbles, the rocks causing cuts on her palms.

“I can even smell you better now.” Alexander is close, too close.

She turns to the right, Alexander’s chest greets her vision as he towers above her with a smile.

Rendering her frozen in place. Grabbing her hand, he brings her palm to his mouth, licking the oozing blood.

“Please.” Tears pool in her eyes.

“You even beg like her, my mate.” He clutches her hair, pushing her down to her knees.

“What is your motive to return?” He pulls at her hair harsher.

“I’m—I don’t know her I swear.”

“Oh you lying little witch.” Alexander pulls her up and throws her towards the tree trunk, Y/N conjures up a shield that has her stop inches away from hitting the tree.

“Magic at your fingertips, your smell. Even the bond mark in the very same place.” He grips her again by her neck.

“The very first Celestial. My mate. I killed her with my bare hands, centuries ago. Now you return, as a mate for a son who cares little for the throne. Weak like his father said. Only worried about having a mate.”

She wheezes, “Loki is not weak.” 

Alexander squeezes her throat harder.

“Why that imbecile of a son?” Alexander questions again as dark spots cloud Y/N’s vision. Her hand raising to push at his face, at the scent of her blood his grip loosens. 

Darkness still clouds her vision as she is laid on the ground. Her whimper comes out as a hoarse cry. Alexander groans and spits out the blood he drinks.

“Why do you not taste pleasing anymore?” Alexander grips her shoulders, then throws her back against the ground. The rocks piercing into her skin. 

Y/N only blubbers incoherently in response. 

“Tell me why are you haunting me, Faria? Why do your eyes still haunt me? Why have you returned. I made sure to end all your bloodlines. I ended all chances of an heir.” Alexander demands, taking the name of his mate long gone.

Y/N still denies, Alexander grabs her jaw harshly.

“You are her. You were supposed to be mine.”

Darkness ebbing towards the centre of Y/N’s vision, body feeling heavy and the moon shining upon her. Giving into the darkness felt so right.

“She said an heir would come, Faria how is it, you grace me with your own presence?” He pushes her body up against a tree, flashes of Faria’s bleeding body overlay upon Y/N. Their resemblance striking, right down to the taste of her blood and placement of the bond mark.

Alexander needs to know how is she back after nine hundred years of dying in his arms. 

She blinks, swirls of blue, green, blue, green-blue slate, then pitch black.

Nine Hundred and Ten Years Ago.

The village is quiet, the celebrations of a young couple’s marriage having simmered down. 

Midnight the candles are all extinguished and the men are preparing to stand guard. Even the young groom.

The various religious figures of the villages near and far warned them, for the creatures that roam through the forest. Preying upon innocents and taking captive others.  

Creatures that God hates, who are a gift of the devil. Only the devil is capable of such atrocities. He sent from hell to harm the good people and their piety. 

In one of the houses where the dying embers of the fire illuminate mirth filled smiles. In the house that harbours love and mercy. Alexander pulls Faria close, her lips meeting his, as he cherishes her in his arms before he has to leave for the nightly watch. 

“Alexander,” She giggles as his hair tickles her neck from where he places kisses over her shoulders. 

“Your happiness says otherwise my love.” He smiles, the moonlight dancing off of her features, magnificent he declares. 

“You must be on your way.” She chastises, helping him fix the overcoat her hands fiddled with, she smiles up at him once again. Her heart filled with love but also a longing to tell him the truth.

“What is it?” Alexander questions, cupping her cheeks, sensing her discomfort. 

“Nothing, just, when father chose you, someone older, I was worried, but then you, Alexander you, you bloomed into being this wonderful, kind and loving man. I cannot fathom my good fortune.” Faria kisses the palms of his hands. 

Alexander’s blue gaze softens as he takes in her words. 

“My dear, if I can protect, cherish and love you. My duties as your other half are complete.” He smiles at her. 

“I know.” She smiles as well. 

“Now, I shall return earlier if possible, till then lock the doors and do not let anyone enter.” Alexander instructs, grabbing his rifle from the stand. The hardwood floor creaks under his weight. 

He only turns away from the door at the groan of the lock and her whispered declaration of love.

Heart thumping as he joins the men he grew up with to guard the perimeter. Beginning at the church and ending at the common well. 

They walk in synchronised steps, soft thuds upon the ground. Holding lanterns and their weapons closer.

As they complete the third round of the night, it is almost close to dawn. The men gaze longingly at their homes, seeking the comfort of their family and the warmth of their beds.

“Boy go on home, must not keep the wife waiting.” Alexander tells the young groom, whose expression lightens up. Making everyone chuckle.

“Are you sure?” He questions, still skeptical.

“Go on boy, it is almost dawn, these creatures hide in the dark of the night.” He says, waving the boy home as Nicholas rolls the cigarettes for the remaining eight men.

Eight small red dots are ascertained by the young groom, as he turns to wave a final goodbye to the men. The men watch as the boy is engulfed into the darkness and his scream echoes through the village.

The cigarettes are thrown and riffles are mounted, shooting into shadowy blurs. As the sun’s first rays bless the village, the carnage does not stop. Alexander groans spurting blood from his mouth, tears from his eyes as he is dragged from the front of his house. The embers consuming the small cottage Faria called home.

The moon shone brightly the night everything was taken from him. The creatures of the night drank from him every day till he lost count. Then they began feeding him. Not food, something bitter, the viscosity akin to blood, they kept him in a dark cellar.

One night he groaned in pain as the last of the drops of his drink cascaded down his throat.

The entire night was a loop of all of his memories even the ones from childhood he thought were well forgotten, he clung onto the one of his last night with his love, his Faria.

When his eyes opened, as the visions of his memories died down. He was no longer in the dark cellar. He was placed in a room. One where the fragrance from the rosewood desk was pleasing. There was another sweeter aroma, turning his head to the side a man with a silver streak in his hair.

“My name is Ikaris.” The man says, his dialect much different to Alexander’s village. 

“That decadent scent that is urging you to hunger, is for blood.” Ikaris explains, opening the door of the room. The young bride of the town stands trembling.

“You must feed to survive, feed to gain strength. Feed to fight with your new family.” Ikaris pushes the girl onto her knees.

“I will not harm one of my own.” Alexander, leaps towards the opposite side of the room, rubble from the wall drizzles around him at the impact.

Ikaris only smiles smugly. Alexander wishes he could close his eyes before the vampire beheads the young bride, setting his thirst into a burning inferno. 

As Alexander drinks from the young girl he realises tears don’t flow from his eyes. Only a stinging substance coats his eyes. Mourning he drinks deeply. At so many losses he amassed in the time he was here.

Alexander then rose through their ranks, his ability to know what another vampire’s ability is and its weakness, it helped him defeat several, turn even more humans into his new breed. 

Ikaris remained the designated leader as they moved through towns and shelters, it had been more than a year since he was turned. Allowed to return to his old down he saw the burnt pieces of the home, that was turned into nothing.

The only memento of his Faria that remained was the necklace he hid under the hollow stone step, now covered in soot.

He carried it with him, the blacksmith forged it with moons and stars and all Alexander saw was his wife. 

They walked now surrounding a witch coven shelter. Enemies of vampires, out to hunt them down. He tucks the necklace back, into his shirt. it rests against his chest where her head would lay. 

“I suggest you move forward, Alexander. Entice a pretty witch for us.” Ikaris gleams, stroking the cheek of his mate Thena. 

Thena, mindlessly would follow every word Ikaris uttered. The power of a mate’s command, never withdrawn. Placed when she was human, carried onto her immortal life.

Alexander nods, moving out of the shadows and walking at a human pace. The shelter is alit by lanterns. He crosses the threshold, the people stop and murmur.

“I seek refuge.” He requests, “Please, I’ve been travelling for days. I shall leave tomorrow, but I need shelter just for tonight. My legs are weary. Please” He pleads, sinking to his knees.

“We can take you to our matriarch.” One man says, offering his hand. Alexander looks up and the man bore an eye-patch. He takes the hand, following with a grateful bow of his head.

“Yes, Joseph?” Faria’s voice greets Alexander’s aching ears. He looks up at her. Faria gasps.

“Alexander?” She stands from her place, shakily reaching for him when he closes the distance between them. A flower blooms between them, it’s petals slowly breaking away and dancing across their chests.

“Soul mate.” He whispers, she cries, pressing her lips to his.

“They took you—,” Faria cries, pulling herself closer to his colder body.

“I thought you were gone—,” Alexander’s words come out like a sob.

Their hands tracing over each other, memorising them.

“How—, why didn’t you tell me?” He begs to know why she hid her heritage.

“The village, they hated all creatures…”

“My love, I would have not, I, I can’t still believe you’re alive.” He smiles, after months of mourning.

“Alexander I was with child—,” Faria admits and then a loud boom echos as the tented structure begins to collapse.

“Faria!” Alexander pulls her close and moves swiftly.

“Never trust witches, little vampire.” Ikaris warns, as his coven sheds blood through the shelter. Alexander holds off resorting to use his inner beast, the most primal aspect of being a vampire.

Faria watches as his blue eyes begin to be surrounded by red rims, she hands him the stake. He looks at her once then in a blur Ikaris’ body slumps in his arms. Thena screams but is silenced, slowly Alexander makes his way through the vampires that would not stop killing. 

The ones that remained, bowed to him. As he stood next to Faria. Wiping her tears. Vowing to protect her. Vowing to never let anyone touch her. No one would take her away.

Nine Hundred Years Ago.

Ten years he still kept her human, so she could match his apparent age. Their bond established and blossomed akin to the flower that graced them. Each time they thought about the other.

When they broached the subject of the lost child, Faria admitted she cast a spell giving the child away to the moon, to protect nurture and cherish. 

Alexander wondered if he would ever see the child again, ever hold his own flesh and blood in his arms, turn the child when the time came into an immortal being so the three could remain a family.

Faria only smiled tightlipped, whenever Alexander spoke of the child that she hid with the moon. The man who harboured kindness and love had turned into those very ruthless creatures her mother taught her to stake.

She thought he would be different, maybe their love would cast a curse upon his dark side. Leave it cast away while they spent eternity, together. A pair that went against the odds in the best way.

Ten years watching him rip apart bodies, watching him pick and choose, watching him build an army. Watching him turn into the shell of a man. No trace of the kind soul she married years before.

Faria’s long silk robe, glided along the marble flooring as Alexander carried her through the hallways of the castle, his castle. 

His lips attached to her neck, as her fingers twisted into his hair. He hums at her decadent flavour. Their bond thrums between them. Content, happy. Blooming.

He rests her down on their shared bed. Faria, cups his face. Her robe undone by his hands as his blue eyes meet her own. Faria gasps as he traces their bond mark with his thumb. 

“Alexander.” She calls out, he smiles. Then nips at the mark, “Please—,” “Shh,” He instructs.

“Alexander, please, you need to stop this madness.”

“Faria, I told you I would once, I took over this part of our lands. I will cease to do all that you turn your eyes away from. I vowed it.” He raises himself to look down at her eyes, the ones that showed him his entire world. For ten years he had her, since he was turned, since he began to rule in this immortal life, since she was gifted back to him.

He places his forehead against hers, eyes closed. Relishing her warmth.

He had handpicked those he allowed in his coven. Amassing an army worthy of the jealousy and fear of his enemies and a mate who remained his only source of pure sweet blood.

His witch, that gave him more power than immortality allowed, his celestial angel. Forged by the moon herself, birthed in the night of a new moon. Illuminating his life with the light of the full moon. His love, his mate.

Alexander opens his gaze and the bond filled with distress.

“Faria.” He accuses, her hands pause above his back clutching the charmed stake.

“Alexander.” Tears pool in her eyes, the tip of the dagger pierces through his back.

“Why?” He pleads.

“You have gone mad with power. You are harming innocent souls.” She accuses, driving the stake deeper, “Those young children? Those witches? How could you kill them? Just for having no talent to add to your army? What is this madness, my love?” She pushes hard, to drive the stake deeper.

“My love, why must you have me, kill you?” He asks, clutching her jaw. The pain from the one movement causes her hold on the weapon to break.

Faria scrambles to the side, summoning her crescent moons to defend herself. A gift by the moon, parent to daughter. The stake falls from his back with a clang. Alexander’s eyes wild, red rimmed with no hint of mercy. 

He uses is speed to appear before her, lifting her off of the ground, her crescents drive into his sides, he only flares into a deeper anger laced with betrayal. With a loud growl he bangs her head into the wall as she wails, blood spurting from her mouth and nose. Alexander only brushes his lips over her own.

“My coven will keep returning, to bring you to your death.” Faria warns, “You will die at the hands of an heir.”

“I can control my children. I vow to kill your coven, every time they rise. I will seek them out and have them lay on the ground. Your precious celestial body prefers her children of the night and not you wicked witches and warlocks.” He moves to grab her necklace, but it disappears.

“It has been decided. The heir of the Celestials will cause your demise. You will search and search with no respite.” Faria says, coughing more blood as the ache from her head gains crescendo. 

“You pit my own child against me? Is that why you gave away my heir?” Alexander questions, the bond begins to crumble around him, their world begins to fall apart.

“Twins, we had twins. One was born and the other hidden by the moon herself.” 

“How dare you take away my heir!” He slams her head back into the wall, tears of blood pool out of her eyes.

She looks into his feral gaze, one more time, “You will perish, my love. I vow.” She says with her last breath.

Alexander wails as the bond breaks into pieces, numbness overtakes him from the inside out. 

Burning his veins. 

Igniting his arteries with revenge. 

Cursing his nerves with a death he would not allow to touch him.

-x-x-x-x-

a.n: hey everyone! hope you enjoyed the chapter, also it isn't total sixteen chapters anymore, there might be eighteen (or more idk), as i was writing i realised that wrapping everything up warrants for more chapters so we're in for more *dances*, also i apologise for pushing back the date i was struggling with this update because i was scared about how i wanted the plot to go and i spoke to @stevesmewmew and they helped me realise that its my story so i can do what i want with it so get in the car people its about to get more *gasp* moments

taglist open! just comment below to be added!

tagging: @camerons-specialinterest @stevesmewmew@pandaxnienke

[anxiouscritter]

we knew it was coming

TW: Negative self talk, stress, anxiety, loans, university stress, poor parental relationship.

Getting serious for a second guys so buckle up.

I’m a UK student, my mother (who I don’t feel as though i have a good relationship with) urged me to get online banking. This will become relevant later.

As the UK enacts a third national lockdown, university students have been given ‘stay put’ orders. Essentially we can’t return to campus or our accommodation unless it’s under a very specific set of circumstances (which is literally a list of 5 vague bullet points). However, we are still expected to pay the full amount not only for our education, which is now held over the internet which can be very unreliable for someone with a crappy broadband plan or shit technology in general (i expect to miss out on the majority of my second term education due to outdated technology and poor internet). But we are also expected to pay fully for our accommodation, which we aren’t allowed to return to. I am expected, in four days time, to pay £2000 OUT OF POCKET --not fake loan money-- for a single room and shared kitchen that I am not permitted to return to.

This is where internet banking comes in. Over the past week I have been putting the steps in place to set up online banking for myself so I can keep track of loan payments, etc, and so I’m not late for paying the extortionate rent for the room I cant use. Of course, In true Ellis style, I mess it up, have a meltdown, two anxiety attacks, and now have to ring a phone number and talk to someone about something?? I don’t even know what I need to call them about? They also didn’t send me a complete set of login details, at least, none that work. 

My PC is currently inside my uni halls flat, and before i came home for Christmas i would do all my work on my PC instead of my laptop. This is because my laptop is almost 12 years old, half the keys no longer work, and it overheats and dies without warning constantly. I am not allowed to return to halls which means I am not allowed to return to pick up my PC (bare in mind I live a 10 minute drive away from my university campus). This whole technological kerfuffle will add to my frustration with the course and make me burnout faster than I did last term.

I think the main thing that is stressing me right now is that i will be online learning from home which did NOT work for me before. Being at home also means i have to mask the majority of the time, not only my autistic traits but my queer and gnc traits also, and i’m not sure how long I can keep that up.

In no way am i suggesting uni be open again, but that costs should be lowered as well as the general standards for work. We aren’t getting the same education as everyone else so why are we being pinned at the same level?

I’m genuinely so over uni now. It’s fucking me up without even starting yet and I just don’t know what to do. If I drop out, which is the glaringly obvious choice for me currently, then I will be forced to remain at home and get bombarded by my mother to get a job, which is essentially impossible for someone with my sensory/social issues (entry jobs are mostly retail or hospitality which do not work for me in the slightest).

I’m so stressed and so tired, I can’t hack it. I’m currently mid-meltdown while writing this. The room i am sat in is 11.5 degrees though i imagine it is more like 9.5, and i don’t want to do anything anymore.