#and i can imagine him trying not to look affected

[gay-dorito-dust]

How about batboys reacting to seeing their lover’s nip piercings through their shirt? like that’s the first time they’ve seen them? (i’m getting mine done soon i’m hyped)

Nipple piercings are so fucking cool dude! Funny enough I have a friend who’s got their nips pierced, all I know it’s a sensitive spot to get pierced but they look really cool. Also I now got snakebites…eating will be a little different but I’ll be okay.

Dick is fighting for his life, gnawing at the bars of his enclosure the moment he got a little peak of your nipple piercings.

He’s trying not to groan aloud at all because nipple piercings are his weakness and of course you have to go get them and turn him with them. They look beautiful, stunning, gorgeous on you even that he can’t help but take sneak peaks now and then at your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of the metal piercing through your shirt.

He loves your piercings, they’re his favourite things to look at in all honesty and he’ll look at them all day if he could.

‘Looking good babe!’ He’d say upon first seeing them and you couldn’t help but smile, knowing damn well that the moment you got them done that Dick would be all over you like a rash.

‘Thank you sweetie, nice to know you noticed I got them done in the first place.’ You said with a chuckle as you gestured towards your chest and feeling his eyes there immediately it was humorous.

‘I notice everything babe and I must say they’re looking gorgeous.’ Dick replied as he gazes at the metal bars through your shirt with adoration, fascination and a little bit of lust. ‘Need me to give them some aftercare?’ He adds wiggling his eyebrows playfully as you laugh. ‘As much as I would love that but these puppies are fresh and I’ve been given strict rules to follow if I want them to heal correctly.’ You tell him and see his shoulders defeat and a pout crosses his lips, he was so dramatic that even your own nipple piercings weren’t safe.

‘Fine, I’ll wait until they get better and then I’ll give them some tender loving care of my own.’ Dick promises and you didn’t doubt that for a single second, after all nipple piercings were a little weakness of his.

Tim is looking away immediately, he didn’t mean to look at all and felt as though he’s overstepping some boundaries by looking and that’s not what he wants to do.

He’ll twiddle his thumbs or play with his phone so that he doesn’t accidentally look directly at your nipple piercings through your shirt and you catch him doing so by pure coincidence. Tim seriously think he might faint if he saw pierced nipples as it was an sensitive part of your body as well as an intimate area to have done, though that doesn’t mean he won’t compliment your piercing sheepishly.

‘They look wonderful honey.’ He’d say with a flustered expression, the imagine of your pierced nipples now engraved in that photographic mind of his, which was a blessing and a curse. Poor boy just wanted to say you have nice piercings without coming across as weird or creepy for staring there at the first place, regardless of whether he was your partner or not.

‘You can look Tim, I really don’t mind.’ You tell him as you watch him internally struggle with himself and decided to end the conflict for him instead, not wanting to see him so worried like he was right now as he gripped his phone so tight you fear he’d break it.

Tim peaks at the corner of his eye to look at your piercings through your shit and he swallows thickly, a piercing shouldn’t have this much affect over him but here he was finding a simple piercing pretty and enticing. It suited you that was for certain and Tim couldn’t help but admire the way they looked beneath your shirt, it was almost like a little tease of what was there and it would be enough to send anyone mad with want.

However Tim only looked at them and admired your ability to go through with it and getting them pierced, even despite the knowledge that they’ll hurt you went through with it anyway and came out with something, ‘beautiful, they look beautiful.’

Jason may look like he’ll stare at your nipple piercings but is actually trying his hardest to not looks at them unless you want him to.

‘Jason! I got my nipples pierced! Look!’ You’d exclaim, lifting your shirt to show him the metal bars that pierced through your now erect nipples with shining pride.

‘You look gorgeous sweetheart.’ Jason would say truthfully as he gazed upon your piercings, before his mind wondered to the pain you endured to get them pierced, seeing as how nipples were notorious sensitive and piercing them only seemed to make Jason wince internally. ‘But that must’ve killed to get done chipmunk.’ He adds and you only smiled as you dropped your shirt, making sure it didn’t catch your piercings and shrug.

‘I mean yeah it did but they look came out looking fantastic don’t you think jay bird?’ You asked as you gestured towards your piercings. Jason swallowed thickly as he was quick to agree with your statement, not wanting to show just how affected he was by your pretty piercings. ‘There’s no doubt about that sweetheart, none at all.’ He says as you walked over and held his face, fingers trailing towards his pulse point that was beating faster than usual, and giggling softly.

‘It’s okay for you to look, look all you want I really don’t mind because at least someone other than myself is going to admire them and who better than my handsome partner.’ You teased as you kissed his lip before pulling away.

‘Sweetheart you’re going to kill me one of these days.’ Jason groaned as he pulled you in close while being careful with your piercings, having read somewhere that torso related piercings can take up to six moths recovering, with nipple related piercings needing a maximum of a month in fresh nursing pads. He just wants your piercings to heal without any problems or worries and so he’ll put aside his desire to get closely acquainted with them.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘But you love me for it.’

[austinbutlerslovers]

The Red Dress

Label Mature 18+

Summary You are acting as Austin’s romantic female lead in his latest film, however there’s just one problem…-he isn’t acting and he wants to make the relationship a reality.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Shy Austin • teasing •flirting • unwanted advances •romance denial • Austin simping + slight stalking • sleeping with a costar • BJ• cum eating •dirty talk • nipple play • fingering • orgasms • protection

🔗 Master List

📖 Proodreader @purejasmine

The Red Dress

For weeks, you and Austin had shared long days and late nights on set, working through scenes and running lines. You were the love interest in his latest film, and from the first day, it was clear he had a crush on you. 

It was in the way he lingered when he spoke to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you entered a room, the subtle touches on your arm as he spoke to you that felt like his way of claiming just a little more each time. 

But he wasn’t your type. Austin was used to bubbly, adoring girls who hung on his every word. You were professional, confident, and had little patience for playing into his charms.

Every advance he made, you played off with a practiced ease, the kind that kept him guessing—and somehow that made him want you even more.

Tonight is no different as you stand before the bulb-lit mirror, carefully slipping into the red dress for the next scene. You and Austin are set to film your first kiss, and you’re well aware of just how eager he is to perform, even if it’s only in character.

So when you hear a faint knock on your trailer door, you already know exactly who it is.

Smiling slightly, you call out, “Come in,” and sure enough, Austin steps inside, his eyes fixated on his script until he glances up, his gaze landing on you just as you are pulling the red dress over your hips.

You are curvaceous in all the right places and the fullness of your chest subtly bounces in your bra as you adjust the straps.

For a moment, Austin is stunned, his eyes widening as he takes in the way the fabric hugs your every curves, framing your body in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

His gaze lingers, more than what is modest, trailing over you with an intensity that makes the room feel suddenly warmer. 

You can see the struggle in his expression as he forces himself to look back down, pretending to be fascinated by his script once again.

“Is there something you needed, Austin?” you ask your voice light, with a subtle hint of amusement.

He clears his throat, gripping the edges of his script. “Uh, yeah…I just wanted to, um, run the scene with you before we—perform.” His voice is slightly breathless, betraying just how affected he is by the sight of you.

You give him a slight, teasing smile, peeking over your shoulder, as you reach behind your back. “Well then, before we start… could you zip me up?,” you ask, holding his gaze, watching the way his expression shifts from surprise to the arousal he can barely contain.

He steps forward placing his script on the vanity table, his hand moving to your zipper. His fingers brush over your skin, warm and slightly shaky, then you feel him pull the zipper all the way up, his hand lingering before he lets go.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and for a moment, it looks as if he’s about to say something—something unguarded, something real. But he holds back, his lips parting just slightly before he catches himself.

You turn to face him, leaning casually against the vanity, taking in the sight of him. 

Dressed for the scene, he looks extremely handsome. His cheeks are tinged pink, his eyes eager yet uncertain and there’s hint of a desperation there that he’s trying to hide, but it only makes him more endearing. 

Without a word, you reach over and take his script from the vanity, slipping easily into character, your gaze lingering on him as you step closer, letting your fingers trail along the edge of his sleeve.

“I just… I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened,” you say in character your voice filled with longing “If you weren’t there…” you say trailing your hand on his arm.

Austin’s eyes widen, caught up in the moment, but then he blinks, his mouth opening and closing. He’s forgotten his line—a rarity that makes you giggle, breaking character with a sparkle of amusement.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his expression softening with a flicker of self-doubt, a small falter in his pride that you find unexpectedly charming.

With a smile you lean in, placing your hand on his chest as you read from the script. “It’s —‘l’ll always be there for you’”

The line brings an intensity to his eyes as his expression shifts. He straightens, his jaw set as he steps forward, closing the distance between you in a way that’s far more direct than you anticipated. 

“I’ll always be there for you,” he says softly and his hand slides to your waist, pulling you in. 

He kisses you deeply, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, lingering in a shared space as he finally pulls back, just inches from your lips.

“How was that?” he asks, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours, his face so close you can feel his breaths.

Your lips are still parted, your hand resting lightly against his chest, caught somewhere between surprise and a flustered blush.

As he leans in to kiss you again, you press your hand firmly against him with just enough pressure to make him look down, keeping him at bay.  

“Save it for the scene,” you whisper, and quickly step past him, feeling his gaze trailing after you as you make your way to set.

There’s a quiet energy as you arrive to film the scene, the usual routine already in motion. The director stands near the monitor, giving instructions to the crew as the camera sits ready on its track.

Austin takes a deep breath and stands on his marker as dozens of people move around him. He clears his throat as he glances at the bright lights overhead, the camera crew adjusting their angles, as the sound guy holds a boom mic steady over your heads.

Make up artists dart between you both, brushing up his hair and touching up your lipstick with quick, practiced strokes. 

It’s all the routine organized chaos of a film.

The space grows quiet as final checks are made. “Quiet on set!” someone calls, and the director nods, signaling the start. 

The slate claps and when the director finally yells, “Action!” everything falls silent.

You and Austin both deliver your lines with a practiced ease, the moment building, tension mounting until it’s time for the kiss. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened,” you say, your voice filled with desperation as your fingers trail lightly along his wrist. “If you weren’t there for me…” you say with unmistakable conviction.

The air grows heavy, and the crew seems to hold their collective breath, waiting as everyone looks to Austin, the pause stretching, the anticipation undeniable. 

For a moment, you almost think he won’t say it, the weight of the scene bearing down on him. 

��Then, his voice breaks through, soft and unsteady, but filled with something real. “I’ll always be there for you.” He says, his delivery is so quiet, so tender, that you’re not even sure of the mic catches it. 

But his focus is entirely on you, his gaze locked on yours as the words linger in the space between you. 

Then his lips find yours with a kiss that’s entirely more than what was rehearsed. He’s passionate and intense, his lips brushing against yours as if you’re the only thing that matters to him.

Your resolve slips as the moment consumes you, his kiss is breathtaking, overwhelming in a way that you weren’t expecting.

Your hands move instinctively, finding his face, your fingertips brushing along the sharp line of his jaw as he pulls you flush against him.

Austin is hard—the thought stuns you, his cock pressing against you  unrestrained as he pours everything into his kiss as though words would never be enough. 

The sound of the set fades away, the weight of his presence anchoring you in a moment that feels far too real.

“Cut!” the director yells, but Austin doesn’t stop, his lips linger, his hands holding you as though he can’t pull away. It isn’t until you gently press against his chest that he finally lets go, his breaths ragged as whispers from the crew spread through the set.

But Austin doesn’t seem to care. His gaze stays on you, his lips slightly parted, looking as though he’s ready to dive back in. 

The director reviews the footage, studying the monitor with a critical eye as you both wait, tension still hanging between you.

Then the director leans back and smiles. “We got it,”and the crew erupts into applause.

The kiss scene is the final shot of the day, and after the applause fades, you’re quickly ushered away from Austin back to your trailer to remove your dress. 

Once back in your own clothing  you are guided to your car by a staff member and driven back to the hotel where the rest of the cast is staying. 

The drive is quiet, but your thoughts are entirely on the intensity of the scene still replaying in your mind

The realization creeps in, unhidden and  undeniable—Austin was hard. The thought replays again and again, and your pulse quickens as you shift in your seat, your gaze flicking toward the dark window, trying to push it aside.

But you can’t. It’s not just the physicality of it—it’s what it meant, the way he seemed completely lost in the moment, as if the line between acting and reality had vanished entirely. You realize that for Austin, it wasn’t just a scene he wants the real thing.

You arrive back to the hotel at the same time as the rest of the cast, their lively chatter filling the lobby. But the moment your eyes meet Austin’s, everything else fades. His gaze locks on you and his need is clearly written across his face.

Without a word, you turn and head toward the elevator. You can feel his eyes following your every move, the tension between you hanging in the air, as though the decision has already been made.

He doesn’t follow you in, and for a moment, you think  he will let the tension simmer between you. But as you walk in silence down the hallway toward your room, you hear the elevator chime behind you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see it’s Austin, though somehow, you already knew. The unspoken tension between you building until neither of you can ignore it.

As much as you try to resist, to keep your composure, the heat in his eyes makes it impossible to deny the way your body responds, the way your resolve begins to waver.

When you reach your door, you pull out your keycard, wondering if he will head to his own room.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he hesitates, standing just behind you.

You glance at him over your shoulder, noticing the way his jaw tightens as if he’s trying to summon the courage to speak. 

For a moment, you think he might say something, but when the words don’t come, you grin, beeping your key card and entering your room as the door begins to close behind you.

Before it can, his hand shoots out, stopping the door in its tracks and he follows you inside. Before  you can say a word, he pins you against the entry wall, the soft click of the door closing echoing through the room.

He’s panting now, his chest heaving as he presses against you, his hands firm on your wrists. 

His grip tightens slightly, his gaze flickering as if he’s searching for the right thing to say. “I…don’t ” he starts, his voice rough, barely above a whisper as he regains control . “I don’t know why we do this to each other” he breathes his voice low and rough, the words carrying all the restraint he’s clearly been holding back.

“Do what?” you tease, leaning your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his, unwavering and steady as you silently dare him to make a move.

His breath stutters, but then his resolve seems to harden as he looks at you. 

“This,” he says, his closing the distance in an instant his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s filled with his frustration and need.

The intensity of his kiss pulls you in, igniting something you tried to ignore. Slowly, your lips begin to move with his, matching his urgency, the heat between you building with every second. 

His hands release your wrists, sliding down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you close and he’s hard all over again.

His touch is firm, roaming over every curve of your body like he’s trying to memorize every detail, as if this might be his only chance to have you like this.

He pulls back from the kiss, his breath ragged as his eyes drop, taking in the sight of you. His hands move up, cupping your full chest, his thumbs brushing your nipples through the fabric. “ fuck “ he pants his brows knitting. 

“You want me, that much Austin?” you tease, your hands sliding down the length of his hard cock and the way he his hips jerk from surprise, makes you laugh softly, a low, knowing sound that only fuels his eagerness.

“Yes,”he breathes, his voice tight with barely restrained need and your eyes trail downward, catching sight of his impressive size straining hard and ready against his pants.

“It’s so big Austin,” you praise your tone filled with amusement as your fingertips brush along the shaft, making him harder.

“I’m sure you must get your way all the time,” you grin, teasing him as your fingers trail lower, pressing your palm against him, feeling the weight of his cock in your hand.

“But not this time,” you say intrigued, your tone turning darker as his breath stutters, his body tensing beneath your touch. His hips shift slightly seeking more as if he can’t stop himself, then his eyes look up to yours when you don’t give him what he wants—and it only fuels your resolve.

“I want to make you beg for it,” you decide, your tone firm as your finger tip traces a slow delicate circle on his cock head.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and the wide desperate look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know. 

“Okay” he readily nods and at this point you know he would agree to just about anything.

You take your time, bringing your hands up and unbuttoning his shirt with excruciating slowness, each button revealing another inch of his perfectly toned body. 

Your fingertips graze his skin as the fabric parts, sending shivers down his spine, until the shirt finally falls to the floor, leaving him exposed, eagerly awaiting your next move.

He’s already a mess, practically shaking, his eyes glued to you with a desperate kind of worship. “Please,” he whispers, his voice barely a rasp, and you grin, savoring his need.

“Begging already, Austin?” you tease, your tone laced with heat. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”you reveal as you undress slowly, letting the fabric of your dress slip away to reveal your silhouette. 

Your curves flow effortlessly, your full, breasts mesmerizing him as he admires every inch of you of your body as if he’s witnessing something rare, something he’s always wanted but thought he could never have.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he says under his breath, his voice low and uneven as he takes in the sight of you. 

Your lips quirk into a smile as you answer,“ I know” laced with desire.

His hands slide around your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer. 

His lips crashing against yours again in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming every curve of your body as if he’s trying to memorize each detail, every inch of you imprinted in his mind.

His hands squeeze your breasts with an intensity that draws a soft gasp from your lips, and you pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. The wild anticipation in his eyes is unmistakable, but you slyly smile not ready to give him exactly what he wants yet.

“How badly do you want me, Austin?” you ask, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers slip through his hair, tugging  him down gently to your breasts. The movement draws a shudder from him as his lips brush over them in reverence.

“More than anything,” he whispers against your skin, his voice trembling, with desperation and need as he begins to suck your nipple into his mouth.

You smile softly, your fingers gently pulling his hair back to make him look you in the his eyes. “Then let me give you everything,” you say, your voice heavy with promise.

His body tenses, every muscle in his abs drawn tight as you slowly lower yourself before him. He presses his palms against the wall for balance barely able to contain himself as he watches you settle on your knees. 

Slowly, your fingers move to his zipper, drawing it down with a deliberate slowness that heightens his anticipation. When you pull him out every inch of his thick cock is throbbing with an undeniable need. 

You look up at him and smile as you finally to take his cock into your mouth and his lips part as a symphony of raw, unrestrained sounds spill from him. 

With his his eyes locked you, his body trembles, his hips barely able to hold still as you suck him with a skilled, taunting rhythm, dragging him to the edge and pulling back, drawing out his pleasure until he’s whimpering, panting, his voice barely more than a plea as he tries to beg.

His moans are desperate, but you keep sucking him until he’s trembling, twitching, writhing, pleading, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs breathlessly, his voice breaking with need, and you finally relent.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, the heat between you undeniable. Before you can say anything, his voice breaks through, raw and unsteady.

“Don’t move.” He says as he kneels and retrieves a condom from his pocket. You grin seeing he’s prepared, revealing his true intentions all along. You watch as he rolls  the condom on his heavy cock with steady hands. 

Without hesitation, he pulls you toward him, his need undeniable as he leads you to the center of the room and pushes you down onto the softness of the bed.

You laugh at how eager he is as you prop yourself up on your elbows and as you meet his gaze the heat in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Come Austin,” you tease, your voice inviting as you pat the bed. 

He doesn’t hesitate as he climbs on top of you, his weight dipping the mattress as his hands find your hips, pinning you beneath him, his gaze locking on yours for just a moment before he lowers himself.

His mouth finds your breasts with an almost desperate hunger, his lips brushing against your skin before his wet tongue flicks over the sensitive peaks, sending jolts of pleasure through you as your fingers thread through his hair keeping him close. “You’re doing so good, Austin. Just like that.” You encourage him.

Your words spur him on as he squeezes them in his hands, his warm breath ghosting over your skin in between each kiss and lick, his attention entirely focused on you. As he sucks your nipple into his mouth, the heat and pressure draw a soft gasp from your lips, the sensation shooting straight through you.

The intensity of his focus, as he lavishes you without hesitation leaves you aching and breathless, his mouth moves hungrily over each breast, his tongue flicking and swirling over your sensitive peaks, as your nails lightly graze his shoulders.

He pauses just long enough to let his breath skim your nipple before he takes it into his mouth again, harder this time, sending a shudder down your spine.

The wet, obscene sound of his lips and tongue against your skin only heightens your need, each suck drawing soft gasps and moans from you. “You’re making me feel so good, Austin,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

He groans against your skin, his mouth never leaving your breast as his hand moves lower, slipping between your thighs finding your clit, already swollen and slick from arousal. 

He firmly presses it before his fingers slide into you effortlessly the obscene squelch of his quick thrusts makes your cheeks flush as your body arches into him. 

“You’re so wet for me,” he says against your breast, his voice rough and heavy with desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin. 

“I want more… Austin don’t stop” you whisper, your tone breathy and encouraging.

Without hesitation, he pulls your tender nipple back into his mouth, his tongue swirling and flicking as he sucks harder.

His fingers curl inside you with precision, as your moans spill out uncontrollably, blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds of his mouth and relentless pace of his fingers inside you.

Your thighs shudder as your body coils tight, every muscle trembling under the relentless build-up—the slick noise of his fingers plunging into you, the wet pull of his lips on your nipples and the unbearable tension in your core finally snaps.

Your orgasm rips through you, as your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

As he finally releases you his touch softens, his fingers easing out of you while his mouth lingers for a moment longer, pressing gentle kisses against your heated skin. 

He positions himself to enter you, his tip pushing in as he murmurs things that are almost incoherent, broken phrases laced with desire and disbelief as he glides his cock into you and begins to thrust.

“You feel so… you feel too good,” he gasps as his hands roam over your body like he can’t decide where to touch first, wanting to claim every inch of you.

“Don’t hold back,” you pant softly, your voice trembling with need. “I want all of you, Austin.”

Your gentle praises seem to unravel him as his hips begin moving in a desperate rhythm, each thrust more intense than the last, his body tight with the effort.

“That’s perfect,” you whisper, your fingers tracing over his shoulders, your voice laced with sweetness. “Just like that Austin … don’t stop.”

He groans, his voice rough and almost incoherent as he loses himself completely. “You—oh, fuck—how do you feel this good? I can’t… I can’t stop.” 

His words tumble out, disconnected and wild, as his body grinds against yours, his grip tightening like he’s afraid to let go. 

“You’re driving me crazy—” he groans, his voice raw and trembling with need.

You grab his jaw firmly, forcing him to meet your gaze, your eyes blazing with equal intensity. “Then lose your mind for me,” you pant, your voice light and commanding. “Show me how badly you want me.”

His hands grip your shoulders, anchoring himself as the tension within him surges to a breaking point. He thrusts into you with force as your tits jiggle, the rhythm of his movements so consuming it feels like the air is being knocked out of you.

Your wrap your legs around his hips in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but it’s futile. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge as his hands tighten their grip, his ragged breaths hot against your skin as your name spills from his lips. 

“Come for me,” he begs, his voice low and rough reverberating through you like a command your body can’t ignore. The tension peaks all at once, your orgasm crashing over you in waves so powerful it leaves you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body spasms beneath him.

He doesn’t slow, riding out every tremor, his hands sliding down to your waist, holding you steady as he pulls you to him again and again, prolonging the moment until you’re left utterly spent, gasping for air,trembling in his grasp.

His entire frame tightens, every muscle unyielding as a low, guttural sound escapes him, raw and unrestrained, and he surrenders to the overwhelming release.

A look of relief and ecstasy washes over his face as he comes, his expression almost vulnerable as he rides out the final waves of pleasure.

His breaths are still shuddering as he slowly pulls out and collapses beside you, his chest heaving as he stares at the ceiling. 

He looks stunned, as if he still can’t believe what just happened. His lips part slightly, but no words come out, his expression a mix of disbelief and something softer—almost awe

Finally he turns his head toward you, his breath still uneven, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Do you want to go with me to dinner?” he asks, his question startling in its simplicity after what just happened.

You can’t help but laugh as you sit up understanding he wants to date you and brush his hair back with a teasing smirk.

“Dinner?” you ask, sitting up and leaving him sprawled out in bed. “You haven’t even begun to figure me out yet.” you grin.

He watches you saunter toward the bathroom, his eyes trailing your every move. You pause at the doorway, glancing back over your shoulder. “Come along, Austin,” you say, your voice soft and inviting, “Let’s see if you can handle me again.”

His hesitation lasts only a second before he scrambles off the bed, his movements hurried and desperate as he follows you without a second thought.

🥀END

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @umika @aust-een @feralgodmothers @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @psycheetamore @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @megangovier @ifuckindontknow @kaelatargaryen @jjubilee-fluff

[ceruark]

yan! hsr x willing! reader headcanons

yan! aventurine, boothill, kafka, sunday [separate] x willing! gn! reader words: 1,017 requested by: @canigotosleep--plz (original request attached at end of post) cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking, abduction a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i might do more later, but here's what i wrote for now :>

Aventurine

How interesting that you’ve decided to turn his infatuation with you into a mutually beneficial transaction.

He knows that at this point you’ve realized he’s stalking you, and yet you’ve done absolutely nothing to stop it. You don’t try to shake him off your trail when he strides just a few paces behind you when you’re outside, and you haven’t tried to look for and destroy the cameras or hidden microphones that you must have figured out are in your home. 

No, instead you speak more openly about things you want, and what you would expect from your future partner. Your friends and family think it’s just you being a hopeless romantic, but Aventurine knows better. These signals are meant for him, and he’s more than happy to indulge you. You receive gifts of the highest quality that, in the past, you could only dream of owning— and in the meantime, he’s paying to have your dream home constructed.

When he finally shows up on your doorstep to “abduct” you, you’re more than happy to pack the belongings you’d like to bring with you into a suitcase and follow him into a luxury car that you’re pretty sure isn’t even on the public market yet. 

You never kick up a fuss with him, not even when he’s far clingier and possessive than anyone in a healthy relationship should be. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who showers you with affection, provides for you, and gives you whatever you want, whenever you want it— what could you possibly complain about?

He’s content with how things are. Some might say you’re just using him, but he doesn’t mind. If you are just playing a part, you play it well, and he’s more than happy to reward you for it.

Boothill

He might be more concerned with his own behavior if he wasn’t so worried about your reaction to it.

You’re fine with someone following you around and watching over you? You want to leave behind your boring, mundane life and not have to worry about making a living for yourself?

Your mindset makes him paranoid and makes him far more protective: would you react like this with anyone who showed this kind of sick, twisted interest in you? It gives him all the more reason to take you away and keep you by his side— he has to do it before someone else does. You’re so vulnerable and naive, and he doesn’t trust anyone but himself to be with you.

It’s smooth sailing after the not-really-an-abduction, though. You’ve always wanted to see what exists beyond the starry sky of your small hometown, and he’s always on the run, so there’s plenty of places for you two to explore together. He might not ever be able to settle down with you, but you’ve found you much prefer the whirlwind life with your sweetheart cowboy, anyway.

Your willingness scares him, but it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s the one looking after you, you’ve both got nothing to worry about.

Kafka

Oh, what a sweet little thing you are for her.

Truth be told, she was fully prepared to take you by force— she is one of the most feared people in the cosmos, after all. You were going to come with her, whether you liked it or not. She didn’t care if you cried, screamed, and fought her every step of the way; people can be picked apart and remolded, and manipulation is second nature to her.

But surrendering yourself so easily just saves her the time and hassle, and you will certainly be rewarded for it. The most lavish gifts you can imagine are handed to you, and when she’s not taking care of a mission Elio has assigned to her, she’s taking you to the nicest places in every corner of the cosmos. She loves showing you off, and she won’t settle for anything less than the best for you.

She’s honestly not surprised that you’re willing to go with her. She’d watched you for sometime, and she’d seen how miserable you’d been working so hard to provide for yourself and just barely getting by. There’s no need for that anymore, and she’s so glad you both agree that she’s what’s best for you. Just lay your head in her lap and be good for her— she’ll take care of the rest.

Sunday

He’s overjoyed that you see things his way without him having to use the Harmony.

You’d noticed he’d been stalking you. Careful as he was, it’s difficult not to pick up on the fact that you’re “coincidentally” running into someone a bit too frequently. Yet, you did nothing to stop it or discourage it. You had the attention of the most powerful and handsome man in Penacony— why would you complain about that?

Waking up in an unimaginably plush bed within Dewlight Pavilion does throw you off a bit, though. One moment you were chatting with Sunday over drinks at the Dreamjolt Holstery, feeling a bit sleepy, and the next thing you know, you’re here.

You are upset with him when he explains himself and why he’s brought you here, but not at all for the reason he’d been expecting. He could have just asked, honestly. And quite frankly, you’re a bit offended he didn’t even bother to properly court you before taking you away and making you live with him. Isn’t that, like, kind of indecent?

Once he recognizes your willingness, though, he’s relieved. There’s no need to pout any longer, dear. Of course he’ll court you properly now that he’s got you somewhere he knows you’ll be safe and sound. Should you need or want anything, just name it, and your designated attendants will have it for you in an instant. Any minute of his time not spent taking care of Penacony is spent on you, holding you close and indulging your every whim.

Others might be devastated about being locked up, but you’re more than content with the gilded cage you’ve been provided, and you’ve taken quite the liking to your keeper.

Original Request:

[levandright]

WHAT THE HEART WANTS ★ K.SN & Y.JW | TEASER

synopsis. you love your best friend, kim sunoo. but scared of confessing and possibly losing your precious friendship, you'd rather let these feelings left unsaid and buried in your heart. so, what do you do if a popular underclassman confesses to you on valentine's day?

pairings : bsf! sunoo x f!reader, jungwon x f!reader ♦ content / warning(s) : unrequited love, yn is scared to confess, yn has a hard time choosing, fluff, jungwon is a sweetheart ♦ est word count : 4-6k ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : hopefully i can post the first part in a week or two, this is based a lot from my experiences but happier(bcs of the poll) i estimate there will be 3 parts in total for this because of reasons i cannot spoil for now ^-^

of all the secrets you hold close, the feelings you have for sunoo are by far the heaviest. they live in the quiet spaces between you: in every smile he gives you, in every joke you share, in the warmth of every comforting hug, and in the countless secrets you’ve entrusted to each other. he knows so much about you, maybe even more than anyone else. but there’s one truth you’ve never told him, one that sits like a stone in your heart, heavier than all the others.

truth is, sunoo is more than just a friend. somewhere along the way, he became your safe place, your first call in moments of joy and the one person you seek in times of pain. he’s become the one person you feel you can tell anything to—anything, that is except how much he truly means to you. and no matter how many times you imagine confessing, a familiar fear always rises up, wrapping around you like creeping vines: what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if telling him shatters this beautiful, fragile bond you share?

so you make a decision. you decide not to tell him. instead, you resolve to stay silent, to hide your feelings and let them fade on their own, like colors slowly washing out in the sun. you tell yourself that it’s better this way, better to preserve the friendship you cherish than risk losing him altogether.

it’s harder than you imagined. every day with him feels like a test of your willpower, a delicate dance of pushing down what your heart keeps trying to whisper. you start training yourself to see him as just a friend, catching yourself whenever your thoughts drift too far. when he laughs at one of his own jokes, that contagious laugh lighting up his face, you remind yourself that he’s just sunoo, your best friend. when he smiles that bright, heart-stopping smile of his, you train yourself to look away, to ground yourself in the friendship you already have.

there are moments when the urge to reach out and just say everything rises up so suddenly it almost takes your breath away. but each time, you swallow it back, promising yourself that this silence is worth it, that keeping the friendship untouched by unspoken confessions is worth the cost of unexpressed love.

days turn into weeks, and then into months. slowly, it gets a little easier. you start focusing on other things—leaning into hobbies you’d neglected, spending more time with other friends, and setting new goals for yourself. the ache in your heart begins to dull, like a bruise fading with time. you find yourself thinking less about every text he sends, letting go of the habit of analyzing every word, every emoji. the butterflies that once took flight at the smallest hint of his affection start to quiet down, becoming memories of something you’re learning to let go of.

then one day, it happens. the two of you are sitting together, laughing over some ridiculous story he’s telling, and you realize with a sudden, quiet clarity that you’re no longer waiting for something to happen between you. the pang you used to feel when you looked at him—that longing for something more—feels almost absent, replaced by something softer, more comfortable. and just like that, you understand: maybe, just maybe, you’re finally moving on.

the realization fills you with a bittersweet sense of relief. there’s freedom in it, a lightness that settles over you as you realize you can finally be by his side as just a friend, without the constant weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you. you’re proud of yourself, too. proud of the strength it took to let go of what could never be, to find peace in what you already have instead of yearning for something more.

as days pass, you find yourself enjoying this new stage in your friendship. without the burden of your secret feelings, every moment you spend together feels lighter, easier. you laugh freely, knowing there’s no longer an unspoken confession lurking in the back of your mind. the quiet ache that once colored every shared joke, every smile, is gone—or at least, you tell yourself it is.

and sunoo notices the change, too. one day, as you’re both walking home after a long day, he glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“you seem… different lately,” he says, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

you smile back, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight blush on your cheeks. “different? how?”

he tilts his head, squinting at you thoughtfully. “i don’t know. happier, i guess? like something’s changed.”

you laugh, brushing it off with a casual shrug. “maybe i just finally figured some things out.”

and it’s true. you feel lighter now, free from the weight of what-ifs and unspoken desires. for so long, you had convinced yourself that sunoo was the only one who could fill that place in your heart, that loving him was something you had no control over. but now, you understand that love doesn’t always need to be confessed, that sometimes, the strongest kind of love is the one that allows you to let go, to find happiness in simply being close.

yet, even as you convince yourself that you’ve moved on, there are quiet moments that betray you. sometimes, when he throws his arm around you casually, or when he looks at you in that way that’s both familiar and fond, you feel a faint flutter, like an old feeling waiting to resurface. it’s a quiet, buried warmth, something you’re not sure you’ll ever truly get rid of. but you keep it hidden, folded away in a place you don’t have to look at too often. you’ve buried it well, but it’s still there, waiting.

for now, you’re content to keep that love hidden, unspoken and safe. you tell yourself it’s okay. the soft warmth in your chest isn’t a burden anymore—it’s just a part of you, a gentle reminder of a love that didn’t have to be spoken to be real. you’re happy by his side, as his friend, sharing laughter and secrets and every small, precious moment in between.

so you continue on, content in the simple joys of being sunoo’s friend. and if that buried love still lingers in the quiet, unguarded moments, well, that’s something you’ve learned to live with. it’s enough, you tell yourself.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!)

requests. open!

©levandright

[cyarikaplease]

imagineeeee consummating your marriage with din

smut under the cut ↓ ↓ ↓

“Din Djarin, repeat after me,” the Amorer says, “Mhi solus tome. Mhi solus dar’tome. Mhi me’dinui an. Mhi ba’juri verde.”

You watch as your sweet, nervous Mandalorian grabs your hands, trembling a little. For Mandalorians, weddings are usually no big deal. They’re very casual about it, no extra frills. You’re literally standing in front of the forge, the Armorer in between you two. It’s all so informal, no hoards of people watching you profess your undying love for one another.

And yet, Din’s hands still shake like a leaf in a rainstorm as he repeats the vows to you. He’s nervous because this is not just anyone he’s marrying. He’s marrying you, someone who makes him feel complete, desired, and seen, even under all the beskar. He never thought he’d be the type of guy to get married until you came along, understanding his needs and his wants. You’re so patient with him, understanding of all his customs and traditions. Even when he told you he couldn’t have sex until he married you, you waited. When he told you he couldn’t show you his face until you were married, you waited. Even when your friends on Nevarro told you you were crazy for agreeing to this, you just ignored them. And right there that’s when Din knew you were the one for him.

You smile at him, a soft smile reassuring him that there’s nothing to be nervous about. The Armorer asks you to repeat the vows and you do, squeezing Din’s hands a little tighter.

“And now I pronounce you two as riduurs. Let the festivities begin!” the Armorer says, leading you and Din to the rest of the Mandalorians. A loud cheer erupts from the crowd as you and Din stand side by side, officially riduurs now. A mixture of smiling faces and visors of helmets stare back at you. It’s a stark contrast from the intimate ceremony you just had moments ago. You’re excited to celebrate but you also just want quality time alone with your riduur.

And so you mentally prepare yourself for the many congratulations you’re about to receive, but also… probing questions. Such as…

Are you two going to… do it tonight?

Well, the answer is yes. It’s weird that people would ask you that. However, Mandalorians are very open and nonchalant about these types of topics.

Regardless, you’re excited to see your riduur’s face and have sex with him, two firsts in the same night. Your stomach is swirling with excitement, anxious to see what he looks like; what he feels like.

You can tell he’s getting a little antsy, anxious even, by the way, he clings to your side. His hand graces the small on your back, a sign he’s ready to go. He’s not one for grand public displays of affection. You look at him and his visor meets your gaze, trying to imagine what expression he’s wearing under there. You imagine his eyes are pleading with yours, trying to tell you to get out here and spend some alone time together.

You take the hint, starting to bid your goodbyes to the others. A few of them who aren’t wearing their helmets shoot you suggestive smirks and a few eyebrow raises, insinuating what’s about to happen the second you’re alone. Regardless of the sex or the helmet coming off, you’re just excited to be alone with him in general, something that’s so rare for you two lately, especially with Grogu around. But Bo-Katan has offered to watch him for the night, saying something about how the newlyweds need time to be just that, newlyweds.

With that, you bid your last goodbye to the party and head to your and Din’s house; a simple one made of stone. The Mandalorians constructed a small village once they got settled in. You’re just excited you don’t have to sleep in the cramped cot of the Razor Crest.

You burst through the door and head to your bedroom. He follows you in, standing in front of you silently and awkwardly. He’s so nervous. You can tell by his body language. You close the gap in between you two, grabbing his hand and wrapping your other arm around him.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” you reassure him.

“I know, I just…”

“What is it?”

“Can I keep the helmet on?”

Oh. You can’t lie, your stomach just sank a little.

“Of course. I never want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I’m just worried you’ll hate the way I look.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well regardless of how you look, regardless if you want to keep the helmet on, I love you.”

“Thank you,” he says, letting go of your hand to caress your cheek, “But I still want to do the other stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” you say suggestively, your mouth curving into a smirk.

“Yes, I do,” he says, his hand trailing down to your ass, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? How much I thought about you underneath me?”

For a virgin, his dirty talk is damn good. You feel your cheeks heat up and your knees buckle. If he keeps talking like this in that low, sultry tone you’re going to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Show me,” you tease, taking off your clothes one by one.

He pushes you down on the bed, pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the floor. He takes off his cape but he can’t be bothered to take off anything else. He’s too eager to explore your body and find out what makes you squirm. He kneels down beside you on the bed, pulling your legs apart and trailing two fingers up and down your cunt.

“So wet for me,” he coos.

“For my riduur,” you add.

He brings his fingers to your mouth, coaxing it open. You moisten them, prepping them to be inserted inside you. You wonder where he got this idea from and you figure that… he probably watched porn to prepare. The thought gives you the urge to giggle but you resist, not wanting him to feel bad.

He slides a finger in your cunt and you wish you could see the reaction on his face when he feels just how warm and wet you are.

“You’re so…”

“Wet?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, how-”

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, Din.”

“Really?” he says, his visor not leaving his finger in your cunt.

“I married you, didn’t I?” you chuckle again.

A sharp gasp cuts you off. He slides another finger in without warning. That bastard. But it feels so good. He curls them against your walls, pressing them up against your g-spot. You weren’t expecting to be at the edge so fast. Your walls tense up around his fingers in anticipation of release. And with one last come here motion of his fingers, you’re coming, cunt clenching and unclenching erratically.

“Did you just-”

“Yeah,” you respond, blissed out and a little breathless.

He pulls his hand from your cunt, looking at the mess you made on his fingers, holding them up in front of his helmet.

“Wow,” he says softly, admiring the slickness in between his fingers.

He just has to have you already. He takes his already hard cock out of his flight suit, pre-cum gathered at the head and gives it a few strokes. You’ve never seen his cock before so you rest on your elbows, propping yourself up a bit to get a good look. He’s intimidatingly large and it’s almost a crime he kept it locked up all the time. You spread your legs apart even farther to accommodate how broad he is.

“You ready, riduur?” he asks, moving to situate himself between your thighs.

He thrusts into you, feeling his cock split you open. And at first, he stays still for a moment, taking the time to feel you, to appreciate this.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he says, just as he begins thrusting in and out of you.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you repeat, your voice jumping an octave.

He leans down so he’s face to face with you, resting his elbows on either side of your head. This is all you’ve ever wanted, on your back with Din inside you, exploring your walls. Even if he won’t remove his helmet just yet you’re still ecstatic that you’re together.

But then something happens…

He cums. Before you did. It was bound to happen though. Losing your virginity isn’t some magical moment like people make it out to be. His warm release spills inside you and he’s silent.

“Din?” you ask. He’s still inside you, completely frozen, and his visor not meeting your face.

“...Din?” you ask again, “Say something. Please.”

“I… finished,” he says, his cock softening inside you.

He pulls out and lies down beside you on the bed. He’s as stiff as a board, arms rigid and resting at his side.

“I know, but it’s okay,” you say, rolling on your side and placing a hand on his chest.

“It’s not. You didn’t cum,” he says, his voice stiff and robotic almost, like he’s trying to mask how he feels.

“It was your first time. It was bound to happen,” you reassure him.

He falls silent again so you take it upon yourself to straddle him, resting your hands on his chest.

You bring your hands to the edge of his helmet, pausing to ask, “May I?”

“Yes,” he says softly.

You lift his helmet off his head to reveal his face, brown eyes filled with worry, brows furrowed, curls matted by the helmet, and a slight pout to his lips… his lips. You lean forward and kiss him, hands caressing either side of his face, and your thumbs brushing his facial hair.

“We can always go again,” you say, pulling back and looking deep into his eyes.

“I know… I just thought it would be different.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“What’s that?”

“What about taking off the armor? You know… get naked with me. It might help.”

“Okay,” he says, with a shaky breath. You move off of him, letting him stand up to take everything off. He removes each piece meticulously, setting them in a neat pile on the floor before taking off his boots and his flight suit. You watch as he does so, taking in his completely bare form. Scars, freckles, tattoos– all gracing his skin perfectly. Thick, black tribal-style lines encircle his forearms up to his biceps, some of the ink disrupted by scars. He has a tattoo of the mythosaur signet on his left pectoral, some of the ink faded and blown out with time. Somehow you knew he wasn’t bare under all that armor. To put it simply, he’s beautiful, everything about him is. Your eyes move down to his cock, already hard and sticking straight out again.

“Let me try something, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, still very nervous.

“Lie down for me,” you say, scooching over for him.

He lies down on the bed and you move to straddle him again. But instead of sinking down onto his cock, you mark his body with your mouth, nipping and biting at his skin. He shudders at the contact of your teeth on his skin as you move across his body, starting at his groin and working your way upwards. As you scooch forward, your cunt rests on his cock, the head just grazing your wetness. He lets out a small whimper at the teasing touch, prompting you to poke your head up from the mark you’re leaving on his chest.

“Be patient,” you giggle.

“But what’s all this for?” he pants.

“Just showing you how much I adore you.”

“R-Really?” he says. Poor thing is so nervous, so sweet.

“Mhm. You’re beautiful, Din. This couldn’t have worked out better for me,” you say, before returning your mouth to his skin.

He groans at the feeling of you biting, licking, and kissing his skin, moving from his chest to his collarbone. His breath hitches as you inch your way closer to his neck, eliciting a deep moan from him when your teeth graze a certain spot. That must be the spot. The spot that makes him melt into putty in your hands.

“Cyar’ika, please,” he whines.

“What’s that?” you ask teasingly.

“I’m ready again,” he whimpers.

“Okay, okay. You’ve been patient,” you chuckle, moving so you’re resting directly over his cock. You lower yourself down onto him, taking his full length inside you in one swift motion. You rest your hands on his chest as you rock your hips back and forth, feeling his cock etch itself deeper and deeper in your cunt.

“You feel so good, riduur, so wet,” he moans, hands moving to squeeze your waist.

“You feel so good, too, Din– Ah!” you say, the pitch of your voice getting higher as his cock hits that spot inside you.

His hands squeeze your waist even harder, blissed out while he’s encapsulated by your warmth; your wetness.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you moan, grinding yourself even harder against him.

“Yeah??” he asks excitedly.

You don’t even get to answer, your orgasm interrupting you. Your walls flutter around his cock and the look on Din’s face when he realizes his cock made you cum. Pleasure erupts from your core and spreads outwards, stars dancing in your vision. Your orgasm triggers his and you’re filled with the feeling of his cum spilling inside you once again. Except this orgasm is different for him. It’s louder, more intense, more visceral. His body glistens with sweat while he repeatedly blinks, coming down from his high. You feel him go soft inside you and pull yourself off of him, resting your head on his chest.

“Thanks for being patient with me,” he says after a moment of silence.

“Anything for you, riduur,” you say, smirking at the last word.

“What?” he chuckles, “You are my riduur.”

“It still doesn’t feel real, I suppose,” you say, inching closer to kiss him.

“I guess it doesn’t. I don’t want to ever get used to it, though.”

“Me neither,” you respond, resting back down on his chest.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he whispers.

You repeat the phrase back to him, entangled in the arms of your riduur, falling asleep peacefully.

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part Six)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Dad's Friend, Best Friend's Dad

Over the days that followed your intimate scene with Cillian, the distance between you and Cillian suddenly felt heavy, like a fog settling after a rain.

You did not have any scenes together over the next two days, and each time you caught a glimpse of him, a subtle shift in his demeanor tugged at your mind.

Cillian would smile at you still, but something lingered behind those deep blue eyes, a hesitation you couldn't decipher.

Every time you crossed paths, he glanced away, returning to his work like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. It was almost like he was trying to avoid you and you did not know why.

Cillian kept his distance from you during rehearsals, focusing intently on his lines or conversing animatedly with other cast members, drawing a thin veil between you. You respected his need for space, but confusion knotted in your stomach each time you saw him laughing with someone else. His behaviour made you wonder about whether your father and Nina may have been right, that perhaps you working together so intimately would complicate things.

He was your best friend's father and your father's best friend and here you were, filming some intense scenes together.

The lines between professionalism and personal relations, even if innocent, blurred, and you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe the weight of your sudden physical closeness affected him more than you realised.

Maybe he felt weirded out by having to kiss and touch you or maybe he thought that you were overstepping some invisible boundary together by engaging in these acts on screen.

“Hey,” you said one afternoon, spotting him by the services table as he poured a cup of coffee.

He caught your eye but quickly focused on the steaming mug, fiddling with the lid.

“You good?” you ventured, stepping closer, your heart quickening with anticipation.

“Yeah, just, you know…” He took a sip, glancing away. “Busy.”

“Busy or hiding from me?” you teased, attempting to lighten the moment, but his smile barely touched his lips and you quickly regretted the jab.

“Why would I hide from you?” Cillian's voice remained steady, but his eyes darted to the doorway, as if searching for an escape.

"I don't know, maybe because of the last scene?" you suggested while nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. "I mean, it was a little awkward, wasn’t it?”

Cillian set the coffee down with a soft thud and finally turned to you, his expression shifting from a hunter stalking prey back to a familiar, softer gaze.

“So you thought it was awkward?” he pressed gently, gauging your response.

You shrugged, the corners of your mouth twisting into a tentative smile.

“A bit. But I thought we did okay, don't you think?" you asked as Cillian ran a hand through his greying hair before letting out a soft chuckle that warmed the air between you.

“Yes. I think we did too,” he said, his tone shifting, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “But I am not quite sure how our respective families will react when they see the footage.”

You laughed, the tension easing just a fraction. “Yeah, I can only imagine my dad’s face," you continued, shaking your head in disbelief.

Cillian chuckled, a genuine warmth spreading across his features. "I don't think I would want to be in the same room when the scene plays out because, honestly, I didn't realise that it would be so graphic," he said, shaking his head lightly, his expression somewhere between amusement and resignation.

“Did you see the cut already?" you asked with a hint of suprise in your voice, but Cillian shook his head.

“Not cut but, as a producer, I saw the footage," he replied, swallowing the last bits of coffee before leaning against the table, sighing. “I thought it was going to look more like a soft-focus kind of scene, but what was shot really leaves little to the imagination.”

You leaned against the counter, mirroring his casual stance. “I guess it is what it is, right? Just art, doing its thing. You should think too much about it."

Cillian’s lips quirked in a faint smile, but his gaze grew distant as if he were peering beyond the chaos of filming.

“You are probably right but I have known your family for a long time Y/N and I just don't want this or any other scene between us to ruin some longstanding friendships," he continued, his brow furrowing with contemplation.

“Cillian, none of this is going to change anything between us or our families because it was an act and nothing more," you reassured him, focusing on the sharpness of his jawline that reflected the light above you.

“I hope you’re right,” he said before he shifted his weight, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Now, I have to go. I am glad we talked though," he said, his voice steady, yet something flickered in his eyes, a hint of vulnerability peeking through his facade.

In Cillian's mind, it was much more than just acting though as, what you did not know, was that, for the past two days he had wrestled with conflicting thoughts.

Cillian's attraction to you felt dangerous yet intoxicating to him, like standing too close to an open flame. The scene of you on top of him had ignited something in him he thought he could control, but it became harder and harder to do.

He turned abruptly, leaving you at the service table, feeling a mix of confusion and lingering warmth. You watched him go, wondering if you’d ever find out what really lingered behind those blue eyes as he slipped away into the crowd of crew members bustling through the set.

The warmth he left behind mingled with an ache of uncertainty, pulling you in different directions but, as the day wore on, you tried to focus on your scenes with the other cast members.

You had to focus and so you did. You finished your last scene for the week at around 5 o'clock and went back to your apartment to pack.

The early evening light filtered through the window as you tossed a few items into your bag—a pair of jeans, a couple of shirts, and essentials and, by around 10 o'clock, you arrived at the airport in Liverpool for you late night flight back to Dublin.

The airport buzzed with activity—a young family juggling bags, a couple bickering over boarding passes, and scattered travelers absorbed in their phones.

You looked for the Air Lingus check-in counter nervously, hating both flying and crowded places like this and, as you navigated the terminal, the familiar pulse of anxiety gnawed at your stomach.

You spotted the Air Lingus check-in counter and approached but, just as you were about to line up, you noticed him.

It was Cillian, standing two counters over, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the counter while he exchanged a few words with the agent, a brief smile flashing across his face as he spoke.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the wave of nerves that surged through you.

“Cillian!” you called out, your voice cutting through the chatter of the airport.

He turned, his smile fading briefly, replaced with a look of surprise.

“Y/N!” he said as you joined him at the counter, the moment of unexpected connection releasing some of the tension that had built over the last few days.

“Guess we’re on the same flight," you said, shrugging as you tried to calm your nerves.

"Looks like it," he replied, his voice hesistant as you were called to the check-in counter next to his.

“Just my luck,” you said, forcing a light laugh as you handed over your papers to the agent, who checked your ticket with a distracted nod.

As the woman typed away on her computer, you stole another glance at Cillian and the way his brows knit together in concentration as he finalised his check-in at the neighbouring counter.

“Do you want to sit together?” the agent asked, glancing between you and Cillian with a raised brow.

Cillian hesitated, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture.

“It’s not necessary,” he said quickly, speaking at the same time as you, not matching your enthusiasm.

“Yes!” you blurted out, the eagerness escaping before you could filter it.

Cillian paused, his eyes widening slightly as the agent glanced between you two, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Yes or no?" she then asked as she leaned closer, waiting for a decision.

“Yes,” Cillian finally conceded, his lips twisting into a reluctant smile. "If that is no trouble."

The agent nodded and worked her magic on the keyboard. “There you go, seats 22A and 22B. Enjoy the flight!”

“Thanks,” you said, grateful for the small victory as you grabbed your boarding pass, the bright letters practically glowing in your hand.

Cillian fell into step beside you as you made your way toward the security line, his posture relaxed but eyes scanning the terminal with the ease of someone used to the attention that surrounded him.

Luckily for you both however, no one bothered to approach him for a photograph or an autograph, allowing you a few precious moments of quiet.

Eventually, and following some awkward silence between you, you arrived at the gate where people settled into their seats, a blend of chatter and the rustle of bags filling the air.

You found a place against the wall, leaning on the cool surface as you looked over at Cillian, who stood accross from you and put his way too expensive bag down by his feet. He removed his jacket, folding it over his arm with practiced ease, revealing a black t-shirt that perfectly matched his torn jeans.

"What have you been listening to?" you asked, watching him put his headphones away with a casual grace.

"As surprising as it may be, I've been on a bit of a Beatles kick lately," he replied, glancing your way, eyes softening at the casual conversation.

“Really? Which album?” You leaned in, intrigued as the atmosphere lightened between you.

“Rubber Soul,” he said, his voice steady, yet there was a flicker of excitement in his eyes. “I find there’s something poetic about it."

“It's totally underrated ,” you agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “The lyrics are so alive, like they really force you to think about relationships in a different way.”

"Come on, you listen to music that old?" he teased, a hint of disbelief dancing in his eyes. "Aren't girls your age more into whatever music is trending on, I don't know, Tik Tak?" he asked, causing you to laugh out loud.

"Tik Tak?" you chuckled, shaking your head. “You really need to update your references. It’s TikTok, not Tik Tak! And yes, I can appreciate good music regardless of the age of the tunes. A timeless song is a timeless song,” you said, crossing your arms, a playful defiance lighting your features.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Well, you’ve got taste, I’ll give you that,” he said, his voice drifting as he leaned against the wall, mimicking your stance and crossing his arms, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips just as, finally, the boarding call came through the intercom, breaking the levity.

“Now boarding for Flight 232 to Dublin,” the voice announced, echoing through the somewhat sterile airport space.

Sitting not far from the front, you found your seats rather quickly and, just as a gentleman would, Cillian offered you the winow seat.

“Please, by all means,” he said, gesturing toward the window, his expression a mixture of chivalry and teasing.

"No thanks. You take it," you insisted, giving him a nervous smile.

"Are you sure?" He scrutinized your face, searching for any hint of insincerity.

“Absolutely,” you replied, nodding firmly which is when he realised that you were anxious.

He studied you for a moment, concern flickering in those piercing blue depths. “You really don’t like flying, do you?”

You swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your seatbelt. “No, not at all. I’ve always hated it. The noise, the cramped space—it feels like being trapped in a metallic coffin.”

Cillian chuckled softly, but his eyes remained serious as the cabin crew prepared for take-off and, eventually, proceeded towards the runway.

“Just breathe,” he said, turning his body slightly to face you, his expression shifting to something softer.

“Focus on your breathing,” he repeated, his voice weaving through the murmurs of other passengers settling in. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

"Jesus, you sound like my dad when he gives one of these meditation classes," you said, trying to stifle a laugh, though the anxiety still knotted in your stomach.

Cillian’s lips quirked, his expression softening. “I may have attended a few of them," he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. “The man thinks that breathing exercises can solve everything. But you know what? They actually help sometimes.”

As the plane began to taxi, the cabin shook slightly, the vibrations sending a jolt up your spine.

You squeezed the armrests, feeling the familiar surge of nerves clawing at your stomach.

“Just focus on me,” Cillian said, his voice cutting through the swirling chaos around you. “Talk to me about anything. Just keep your mind off the flight.”

“I don’t know what to talk about,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the plane’s movements making your heartbeat quicken and, when the plane finally began its ascent, the sensation of lifting off the ground squeezed the air out of your lungs.

“Anything at all. What’s your favorite movie?” Cillian prompted, leaning slightly closer, his breath brushing over your ear but, what you did next, suprised him.

You grasped his hand, fingers curling around his warm palm, seeking comfort in the pressure of his grasp.

“Y/N?” Cillian blinked, caught off guard as he felt your grasp wrap around his hand, his breath hitching slightly.

“Sorry,” you murmured, embarrassment flushing your cheeks as you glanced at him. “It just…helps. I hate this part and I don't want to talk, okay? Not right now," you told him and Cillian nodded slowly, his expression shifting from surprise to understanding.

He wrapped his fingers gently around yours, steady and reassuring, creating a small oasis of calm amidst the chaos swirling around you.

“It's alright," he replied, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a steady rhythm that felt oddly soothing.

The plane continued to climb, the cabin settling into a more stable altitude, but you still clutched his hand as if it were a lifeline in a tumultuous sea.

Once the initial turbulence passed, the sound of the engines settled into a steady roar, a low hum vibrating through the cabin.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Cillian said, a calmness threading through his voice, the warmth in his grip anchoring you.

You nodded, but your eyes remained fixed on the screen in front of you.

The screen flickered with safety instructions, and you tried to focus, but your breathing came in quick bursts.

"Sshh, it's okay," Cillian said softly, squeezing your hand slightly. “You are going to be okay!"

You felt a warmth radiate from his palm, grounding you as the cabin ambiance began to calm, the chaotic whirring fading into a dull background.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say though the tremor in your voice betrayed your bravado.

"You sure about that?" Cillian raised an eyebrow, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes as he glanced over at you , his voice laced with gentle teasing.

“Okay, maybe not entirely fine,” you admitted, biting your lower lip as you struggled between the flicker of embarrassment and the absurdity of the situation. “But you holding my hand helped a little.”

Cillian chuckled, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he let the warmth of the moment settle between you.

“Then I’ll keep holding it,” he replied, his voice low and steady like the rhythm of the engines and he kept up his word, holding your hand for the entire and, luckily, short flight.

Tags:

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[diangelodork]

DBDA nightly analysis #21!

tonight’s topic: edwin payne and touch/charles is most of the reason he can touch people

edwin payne struggles with touch. this is not something that affects him much with charles, likely because of the exposure therapy that over thirty years of being best mates and business partners with someone who’s love language is touch and you are quite LITERALLY the only person/thing he can really touch creates, but i still think it is an indisputable fact about his character.

though i, as an autistic person, 100% head cannon edwin to be autistic, i acknowledge that steve yockey has stated that he was not WRITTEN to be this way. this being said, i recognize a lot of my own characteristics in edwin, most of which relate to my autism. though he is not canonically autistic, i will be writing about him as if he is (because i truly believe that he is, in my own interpretation and that of many others within the fandom). take that with you in this analysis.

i don’t think edwin was ever excessively touchy. we see one scene of him pre-hell and i simply cannot imagine that he was one to show much physical affection, not to mention that it would have been uncommon to do so in this time and region. on top of this, lots of autistic people are sensitive to sensory stimulation, touch commonly being portrayed when looking at media surrounding autistic characters. even if he had been in any way touchy, he was certainly turned off of touch after hell. this is not only because trauma and the constant feeling of being hunted for close to a century has trained him to be on edge and to jump at every contact or noise, but because the last bit of touch he got before being sacrificed to a literal demon was when he was wrestled from his bed and tied down to a table. that, alongside the watching-himself-get-murdered-a-million-times thing would’ve made it monstrously hard to find comfort in touch, or rather, to not be afraid of it.

i think this affects him in many other ways, as well. we don’t see him being as perceptive once he’s with charles because that is decidedly something charles is very good at, but maybe it’s also the same reason he’s not a fighter. he could be, if he needed to be, but he doesn’t. not anymore. regardless, his posture is very stiff and his head always held high, rigid in his movement. maybe this is just because he was a high class edwardian citizen in his life, but it’s likely to be a mix of both that and the fact that he had to take in so much information in hell. he had to be perceptive. though standing tall increases visibility (clearly bad for hiding), it also makes it easier to notice things. to see more. to hear more.

there is decidedly not a moment where charles touches him in the montage of their first meeting, interestingly enough for such a touchy character seeking comfort in this moment. either way, edwin’s posture remains far more rigid than we see of him later, bc he’s straight outta hell.

in E1, it is evident that he and charles are close, even if we discuss only contact. charles pushes him through the mirror, they have a moment where they play fight when trying to get him to box (he seems a bit uncomfortable here, but only when charles really gets in his face and it is not nearly to the extent that we see later and with other people), they exchange causal touches (nearly if not all initiated by charles, but not uncomfortable in nature for edwin), etc.

one could even make the argument that his ability to warm up to niko so quickly that she is touching and hugging him in a matter of episodes, but you must keep in mind how much of a sudden kinship he feels with her. he loves charles and he is his other half, but here is a girl that is so intriguing in nature and so kind and fucking strange and her brain seems to work similarly to his (cause she’s autistic too, literally fight me) and that’s not even mentioning that charles has made touch easier for him through the slow ramping up of it of over decades.

though it might seem that crystal is sort of the “exception” to his general okay-ness with touch, i think it is the opposite. it isn’t about crystal in specific, it’s about the connection he has already cultivated with charles as well as the immediate bond that overtakes him and niko. granted, he doesn’t super like her very much because of his own jealousy, but i think that’s how he would be generally with anyone but niko and charles for the reasons i have already listed. it is rather unfortunate that the exceptions happen to be more common in their sphere of friendship.

this may feel, in the fandom and in the show, like it’s still that jealousy or anger or hatred or frustration or something else towards crystal, but i’ve mentioned before that he is much more comfortable with her from Eps 5 and on. the reason he stiffens when she hugs him and wishes only to shake her hand no longer has much to do at all with the contempt he once felt, and all to do with his own relationship with touch that doesn’t come from his best mate or the only person who’s ever matched his freak like this.

now, does touch simon when in hell, but i fear that this is, again, another exception. he is just now realising that his murderer is not only in hell, but that he is there because of him and his punishment is fucking bullshit. he is angry. he is seeking revenge. he is seeking to make him hurt just like he did over a century ago. being faced with it when he meets despair forces him to realise that he does not want to be that person. he must treat him in kind. he holds his face and comforts him when he confesses fears and shame and guilt so similar to his own all that time ago. he has only just made the strides to understand that he needn’t hate himself and he must relay this information to someone who felt that same way, not only in hell, but in life. they were there, together, in st. hillarion’s. in the 1910s. forced to hate themselves and anything that reminded them of themselves. edwin has gotten to see the modern world and see that life does not need to be pain.

it’s so, so important to me that he holds simon’s face here.

why?

because if this show does nothing else well (which is not true), the thing it undoubtedly excels in is parallels.

because this

to THIS???

it kills me every time.

he learns to be as okay with touch as he is because of charles. he learns to use it to comfort others just as charles does it to comfort him. he still doesn’t like touch outside of charles and niko, but this is a moment of great emotion and he needs to make a sacrifice.

he is comforted in the same way he comforted simon, by the boy who taught him how.

he was probably never touched much and never viewed it as a comfort, but charles taught him what it could be.

this is the same reason, imo, that it stings so bad when charles refuses to let edwin touch him after fighting off tnn in E4. it took so long to warm up to it and now he sees the benefits, he sees why people do this, he finally takes comfort in it. here is his person in need of comfort and edwin tries to reach out and provide it in the way he taught him works best for him and he acts like he was burned.

anyway i’m sensitive to both touch AND rejection (+ i project onto edwin an UNHEALTHY amount), can ya tell???

[strawberrystepmom]

canon au. cult leader!geto x f!reader. | word count: 762, reading time: 3 minutes.

“Did I ever matter to you, Suguru?”

In a different life, the fact you’ve even asked would have crushed the man standing next to you. In this imaginary reality, he’d ask how he could show you differently that he cares. He would reaffirm that the attention you spent almost a year of your life extending to him was worth it and helped him through the worst times he has ever experienced, but in this one he knows better.  

It doesn’t matter if you did or not. His feelings won’t change the fact you will never be his, your noble choice to do good far more important to you than any lingering feelings you may have for him.

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

The words taste worse across his tongue than any curse he’s ever ingested. He’s a liar, damned to hell for more reasons than just dishonesty, but he has to finally let you go; to let you walk back into a crowded club with tears blurring your vision because his words cut to your core. You told him years ago you fear being forgettable, someone people can let go of without a second thought, and it’s the sharpest knife he can press into you in some ill guided attempt to get the last word.

“I’m glad to finally know.” 

A chance encounter in a club closes out a chapter in your life you thought you’d stay suspended in forever and your stomach turns, your hands idly resting at your sides while your thoughts race. From “does your boyfriend know you’re out dressed like that?” to turning your head with a grin that swiftly fell as you weaved through the thick crowd to end up out here. 

You sniffle and what’s left of his heart breaks, wondering for a moment if he can’t take it back. If he can’t replicate the grin of his former best friend, jovial and wide enough that you believe he’s joking. He could toss you a sardonic, bitter chuckle and you’d roll your eyes but who would it help? 

It’s not like you’re going to return to him, it’s not like he can undo this.

“Thank you for being honest,” you mutter quietly before turning on your heel to leave.

Words sit heavily in his mouth but they disappear with each step you take, putting distance between the two of you before you glance over your shoulder. He’ll try not to remember the look in your eyes while they dance over the entirety of his form as though they’re seeing who he really is for the first time. 

He’ll fail and it’s why he accepts that tonight you’ll return to Satoru, begging for affirmation that you aren’t as worthless as you feel and he’ll almost certainly give it to you, eager to please with sweet words and teases. Reassurances you aren’t nothing, that you’ve made a mark on his life he won’t soon be recovering from. The boy with the silver spoon has become the man with a gilded tongue, the one who always inevitably gets what he wants.

God knows Satoru has wanted you for long enough, since you first stumbled into his life at fifteen, it’s only right he gets to have you now despite Suguru’s selfish wishes that you stay affected by him forever.

He’ll fail and that’s why he knows he will return to the compound, a failed scouting mission in the city under his belt, but he’ll slide into someone’s bed regardless. There’s a woman who looks enough like you when the lights are low he can pretend, it’s the reason he recruited her in the first place, a poor imitation of the real deal. He can press his hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking pleasured babbles in a voice that doesn’t belong to you and he can close his eyes and pretend the smack of skin on skin is yours on his. He’ll ask her to flip over to her belly so he doesn’t have to look at her but he can imagine that the hair that’s a shade too dark to belong to you is still yours, looped around his fist while he fucks all of his angst into her, pretending he’s another man living another life.

Your retreating footsteps continue and his traitorous mouth opens, gasping quietly enough it doesn’t grab your attention over the sound of pouring rain and thrumming music behind the entrance to the club, and he closes it wordlessly, grateful he’ll never have to see you look at him like that again.

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 3/9?

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others...) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn't know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers. I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. This chapter was hard to wrestle with, but I won! Mention of legal stuff but I'm no lawyer so there might be inconsistencies ^^" Also brace yourself, power shift incoming.

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 3/9?

Word Count: 7.1K / 50K+ for now

Sunlight filtered through the wide windows of Charles' office, casting a warm glow over the mahogany desk and polished floors. Logan paused in the doorway, feeling the familiar tension coil through him even before he fully entered. His gut twisted as he took in the sight of E leaning casually against the desk, one hip propped up, her head already turned toward the door, watching him approach. The calm, focused look on her face set him on edge, like she was always one step ahead, pulling unseen strings. Every time he saw her, it felt like she dug her claws deeper into his space, into him, without even trying.

"Logan, come in." The professor’s voice was warm, though there was a hint of tiredness to it. "We were just finishing up. Have a seat."

Logan ignored the invitation, his arms crossing over his chest as his eyes locked on E. “What’s this about?”

Charles gestured to the papers on his desk. "As you know, the school is growing, and with that comes more scrutiny from the government." He glanced at E, then back to Logan. "That’s why we worked on some contracts—to make everything as official and seamless as possible. We want things above board, so no one has any reason to be suspicious of us."

Logan’s pulse quickened as Charles spoke, each word digging into a place he’d thought had scarred over but never truly healed. He could feel the weight of the documents between them, a weight pressing down on his chest, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. Just the mention of those papers, the mere sight of them, was like a trigger pulled—snapping him back to shadows he’d fought to bury. Contracts meant control; control meant deceit. Old instincts roared awake, instincts that told him to fight, to claw his way free. His mind twisted back, unbidden, to the sharp crack of a pen against paper, his name signed under false pretenses. Faces flashed before him, cold and detached, each one using him as if he were nothing more than sharpened adamantium, each one an anchor dragging him back to glimpses of a past he desperately tried to escape, yet crave to piece back together at the same time.

Memories slammed together—soldiers' cries, the dead weight of bodies, his own silent rage coiled like barbed wire around his gut. Promises broken, betrayals… He could barely register the room around him, the walls that meant safety and acceptance. All he felt now was the past closing in, like a cage—restrictive, suffocating. And then a single thought broke through, a rough mantra, ringing into his head, so loud it pulled him from the spiral: “Today is victory over yourself of yesterday…”

Logan blinked hard, shaking his head as he forced himself back to his senses, the slow ache of his claws tearing through his knuckles breaking through the fog. With gritted teeth, he pulled them back before they became visible. After a short sigh, his eyes flicked from the papers to E, then to Charles, his scowl deepening. “This is bullshit. I’m not some soldier you can pin down with paperwork, Chuck.” His voice was low, the ghost of past betrayals still burning in his chest as his hand clenched tightly at his side. “I don’t belong to anyone, and I sure as hell don’t need to be tied up in a contract like this. I’ve been here long enough, and I’m not about to start following rules that don’t make sense to me.”

Charles clasped his hands together on his desk, his voice soft but firm, trying to ease the distress he saw in his friend’s behavior. “Logan, you’re right,” he validated, calm yet earnest. “You’re no soldier here—you’re a mentor, and you’ve proven that. But this contract is necessary. You know the risks; despite Raven’s actions, the government is still watching mutants closely after all these years. These contracts are for the teachers’ protection, for the students, and for the school itself.”

His expression was calm, deliberate, like he was teaching a class. Logan could see the weight of responsibility on Charles's shoulders, a reminder of the burdens they all carried. “It’s a formality to ensure you’re recognized as part of the staff. If they start asking questions, this contract might be our best defense.”

He held Logan’s gaze, the tension building in the air between them. In a quieter tone, he added, “This isn’t about control; it’s about security. If something were to happen, this paperwork could mean the difference between staying under the radar and drawing unwanted attention.” Logan felt a flicker of unease at the thought but pushed it aside, his feral pride refusing to let him show any weakness in front of E.

He shook his head, the tension in his shoulders thickening with each word. “A formality? Security? It’s a damn leash, that’s what it is! And I know she’s behind this.” His tone was sharp, the accusation clear as his chin jerked toward E, his eyes still on Charles.

E raised a brow, a slight smirk dancing at the corner of their lips. “They,” they corrected smoothly, their voice slipping in like silk over a blade.

Logan’s eyes snapped to her face, his brows knitting in confusion, anger swirling in his glare. “What?”

“You said ‘she,’” E explained, their tone lilting with amusement, not even flinching under the weight of his gaze. “I prefer ‘they.’”

For a second, Logan blinked, caught off guard. The shift in their demeanor—so detached, almost playful—disarmed him. It was a rare response to his fury, and it chipped away at the anger bubbling in his chest. He gave a quick, gruff nod, like a student getting a slap on the wrist for falling into a master’s trap. “Right. They.”

His lips pressed into a firm line, the weight of the situation settling like a stone in his gut. Yet, that primal part of him refused to fold so easily. “But that ain’t the point. The point is, I’m not signing a damn thing before I’ve read it. I’m not some teacher that punches a clock. You know me, Charles.”

Charles nodded, like he expected this. “I do, my friend. And I don’t want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. But it’s necessary. If you’re going to keep mentoring, you need to be recognized officially as part of the school’s staff.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as his gaze flicked from the papers back to E, who hadn’t taken their eyes off him. His fingers twitched, itching to pull at the collar of his shirt, the weight of the contract already tightening around his neck.

A metallic muffled sound came from under E’s jacket’s sleeve as they shifted, leaning into their stance with one hand on Charles’ desk, the other resting on their waist and Logan’s eyes were drawn, almost against his will, to the subtle curve of their chest beneath the deep red blouse. The top few buttons were undone, revealing just a hint of cleavage, a thin golden chain that held a delicate white pearl, resting against their skin. For a second, his thoughts strayed before he forced his gaze back up, catching the faint hint of their dark horns just peeking from under their hair—a sharp reminder of exactly who he was dealing with.

“It’s just official paperwork, Logan,” they said, voice smooth with a playful lilt, enjoying the ripple of energy they felt from him as his thoughts wandered, though their expression stayed composed. “I can help you with the legal mumbo jumbo if you’re having trouble. I’d be happy to give you a private lesson… walk you through all the fine print, personally.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed, just for a second, barely noticeable beneath his hardened exterior, but it was there. E could feel the familiar tingle coming from him, that want simmering beneath his anger. His jaw tightened, fists clenching at his sides, and he shot them a glare, willing the heat away as if it’d been nothing. “I ain’t havin’ trouble with anything,” he growled, his voice low and rough. But E simply watched him with an amused, knowing glint in their eye, a faint laugh catching under their breath.

Charles, observing the exchange, raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling with the slightest bit of humor. Clearing his throat gently, he spoke up in to ease the rising tension. “E, let’s not push too hard. Logan’s cautious, but we need to find a compromise. And Logan, I’m afraid that until we reach an agreement that satisfies both sides, I’ll have to ask you to step down from your teaching position. I can’t risk the school’s safety.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Logan stiffened, his fists clenching harder, knuckles now white. Stepping down? It felt like an ultimatum, but Charles wasn’t wrong. The safety of the school had always come first. E’s gaze softened just slightly, though he could still see that flicker of amusement in their eyes. “You’re right, Professor. My apologies.” They turned to Logan, offering a nod. “I got carried away—it was unprofessional of me. I understand where you’re coming from, and I’m willing to collaborate with you so we may find a solution that works for both parties.”

As E pulled away into their composed demeanor, he felt the thread coiling in his gut relaxing, leaving him more room to breathe.

Logan wasn’t used to them backing down that easily, and it threw him for a second. He shifted, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, his faint scowl deepening as he muttered, “Huh?” It was as if a switch had flipped, and he couldn’t help but wonder what their angle was. “Okay?”

And E could have left it there, but something inside urged them to add, a spark of teasing in their gaze, “After all, you’re not one to play by anyone else’s rules. So why not help shape the ones that work for you?”

Logan shot them a sharp look, their words sinking in slowly. He hated how they got under his skin, how easily they seemed to read him. But they weren’t wrong, either.

He took a breath, unclenching his hands, though he still felt like a cornered animal. “Fine. We’ll work something out. But I’m not signing anything that tries to box me in, Charles. I need enough room to be me.”

Charles’s expression softened in relief, giving a small nod of approval. “Of course, my friend. Take your time—I want you to feel comfortable with this. We’ll reconvene when you’re both ready.” He paused, glancing at the papers, before adding, “In the meantime, I’ve got other work that requires my attention.”

Logan barely registered the Professor dismissing them, his mind still tangled in the strange feeling of the interaction. E pushed off the desk gracefully, straightening the black jacket of their suit before gathering their things with practiced ease. When they finally stepped out of Charles’ office, Logan followed them out into the hallway. They walked in silence for a beat, the air between them still buzzing, though less tense than before. Yet, their scent still lingered—smoky, with a hint of spice—reminding him of their presence. And E, in turn, felt the simmering conflict inside him—the push and pull of resistance and attraction. It wasn’t enough to satiate them, but it would have to do for now, even if it left them wanting more. They allowed a brief, satisfied smile to ghost across their lips before tucking it away, resuming a more reserved expression.

“When do you want to go over the documents?” E’s voice was professional once more, all traces of their earlier playfulness gone, though a flicker of something else remained behind their eyes, like they were holding back.

Logan glanced over at them, still surprised by how quickly they’d shifted gears. This side of them—focused, efficient—was easier to handle. He could deal with this.

“Tomorrow, maybe. Got some time around three.”

E nodded, a hint of consideration in their gaze despite the reluctance in his tone. “I could make that work. We’ll go over everything, step by step. No surprises.”

The calm confidence they exuded kept catching him off guard, and against his better judgment, he found himself watching them differently. Was there more beneath that troublemaker act they put on around him?

E must’ve felt his gaze because they turned slightly, offering a small, almost sincere smile. “I’ll see you then.” Their voice was all business, but a hint of warmth slipped through—without the usual edge of teasing.

Logan grunted in response, but as they walked away, something lingered at the edge of his mind. Yes, there might be more to them than the predatory front they’d shown since they met. And maybe, just maybe, they weren’t as much trouble as he thought.

Or perhaps it was a ploy to lure him in, to make him relax and step willingly into their web. In any case, he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Not yet.

The library was quiet in the mid-afternoon light when Logan arrived, the subtle scent of aged paper and polished wood mixing with the now too familiar blend of spice wrapped in smoke. He pushed the door open with a soft creak, eyes immediately scanning the room, and sure enough, there they were—already seated at one of the large tables, surrounded by hefty open books, scattered documents, and a legal pad filled with meticulous notes.

E barely glanced up as he approached, their focus sharp on the papers spread out before them. The soft scratching of their pen on the smooth surface filled the air, the fluidity of their movements mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. Every action was deliberate, from the graceful lines they traced to the calm demeanor they carried.

Logan stood there for a moment, taking it all in—the precision and quiet focus they exuded. He couldn’t help but notice the neatness of their work: each point laid out clearly, with little diagrams and annotations. It wasn’t just thorough; it was methodical yet beautiful, almost like an art form. Even their handwriting, flowing effortlessly across the page—a blend of sharp angles and elegant curves—was damn near perfect.

He cleared his throat, and E, still writing, held up a finger, brows furrowed in focus. The gentle chime of their bracelets—three in total, one gold and two red—sounded as they moved, the soft music an elegant counterpoint to the silence. They needed to finish that thought, not wanting to lose their concentration. Logan waited for a few heartbeats, struck by the command in their motion, a powerful yet silent order that stoked the embers they had nestled in his chest during the last couple of weeks. When E finally looked up, their gaze met his with calm professionalism, but there was a flash of something else—an interest that sharpened their eyes, just for a heartbeat, before it vanished.

"You're early," they noted, their voice soft but steady, carrying just enough weight to catch his attention. "I wasn’t expecting you for another…” They quickly glanced at the delicate golden watch on their wrist. “… half hour, at least." There was a pause, and E gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table. "Please, sit."

Logan obeyed reluctantly, still unsettled by the way they were behaving—cold, detached, like they were someone else entirely. The tension between them had loosened so much he could hardly feel it, as if it might vanish entirely if he tried to reach for it. “Figured I’d get this over with,” he mumbled, his eyes not leaving their face.

A small smile played at the corner of their lips, and they flipped one of the hefty books closed to make room between them, before pushing a section of the contract toward him. "Well, I’ve already gone through most of the legal terms and highlighted the parts you might find concerning. If something still doesn’t sit right with you, we can discuss… adjustments."

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy.”

“I don’t like wasting time on work.” Their eyes flicked to the stack of notes they had assembled, before neatly setting them aside. “Let’s just get through this.”

Logan picked up the contract, flipping through the pages slowly. The neat little annotations caught his eye—small, concise memorandums in that same precise handwriting on flashy sticky notes, guiding him through each clause. As much as he hated to admit it, the thoroughness was impressive. “You really did all this?”

E leaned back slightly in their chair, crossing their arms, a faint smile playing at the corners of their lips, like they were enjoying something only they understood, and he felt a subtle pull inside, a tension stirring. “I told you I’d help you with the legal stuff, didn’t I?”

Logan’s eyes drifted to the pages again, unable to ignore how… perfect their handwriting was. Every sentence was clear, fluid, each letter delicate, intentional. They hadn’t just scrawled down information in a rush—not only they’d taken the time to make it legible, but it also felt like they had crafted something meant to be appreciated, drawn with careful control, patience, like each and every stroke mattered.

“You write like a damn artist,” he muttered despite himself, half impressed, half irked by the precision of it all.

E’s soft chuckle was barely audible, but he caught the faintest hint of satisfaction in their expression as they watched him linger on the page. They were absorbing his reaction, almost savoring it, letting his admiration wash over them like a silent, steady current. “Years of practice,” they replied, eyes glinting with a subtle satisfaction. “Didn’t expect you to notice details like that.”

He grunted in response, still staring at the page before flipping to another section. “I don’t miss much.”

E leaned forward again, the light jingle of their bracelets accompanying the movement as they tapped a finger on one of the highlighted paragraphs. “This part, in particular, is important. It’s a non-disclosure clause. You might want to pay special attention to that.”

Logan followed the motion of their finger, noting the cleanly filed nail that glimmered faintly under the light—maybe some sort of transparent polish? Even that was meticulously done, and the thought made something simmer in him before he blinked it away, refocusing on the contract. “So I can’t say anything about… what, exactly?”

“About the students. The curriculum. The specific ways the school operates,” they clarified, their tone even and clear, leaving no room for confusion, even as a subtle ripple passed between them. “It’s a precaution to ensure no one leaks sensitive information.”

Logan scowled, the idea gnawing at him. “I get why, but it feels like a muzzle.”

E’s gaze softened slightly as they leaned back again, folding their hands neatly on the table in front of them. The metallic sound of their bracelets chimed softly, a delicate accent to the motion. “It can feel that way, yes, but it’s standard for any organization handling confidential matters, especially one like this school. It's about protecting everyone here—especially you and the kids. Though, we can amend the wording if that’ll make you more… comfortable.”

Logan studied their face, taking in the sincerity behind their words. For once, it didn’t feel like they were toying with him or trying to play some angle. They were just doing their job—and a damn good one at that.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like bein’ locked into something I don’t trust.”

E’s eyes softened as they nodded slowly, their expression understanding. “That’s fair. We can tweak the language so it’s more gray, more aligned with what you’re comfortable with. To give you room to adjust? You don’t have to feel trapped, Logan.”

Logan’s hand rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. “You’re makin’ it real hard for me to argue, you know that?”

Their smile was faint, their fingers gently drumming on the wooden desk between them. “I’m not trying to make it harder. Just easier for you to see that this isn’t about control. It’s about protecting what you’re building here.”

Logan dropped his eyes to the contract again, that tight, familiar knot in his chest loosening just a bit. He didn’t trust easy—but they were making a damn good case. He couldn’t deny that. He could see how carefully they’d worked through the details, the amount of care they’d put into making this whole thing understandable. It was… reassuring, in a way. As much as he hated to admit it, they had a point. It wasn’t about locking him into anything—it was about making sure everything stayed secure. The kids came first, always.

He met their gaze again, something shifting between them. He still wasn’t ready to trust completely, but at least they were giving him a reason to reconsider. “Alright,” he muttered, almost grudgingly. “Let’s go through it.”

E smiled—this time, it was genuine. Not playful, not teasing, just… genuine, content. They slid a few more papers toward him, their focus back on the work, but Logan couldn’t help but notice the shift in their energy. As they started explaining the finer points, guiding him through each legal term with that same sharp professionalism, he couldn’t help but admire the way they handled things. They were focused, sharp, and professional.

Maybe this was the side of them he could start to respect.

For now.

They’d been at it for hours, bending and reshaping the terms until each clause balanced protection with freedom. E kept their demeanor professional, drawing on every ounce of restraint to keep their voice even and their gaze measured, ignoring the familiar hunger snapping at their focus now and then. And the more they worked, the more they could sense Logan beginning to relax, perhaps appreciating this side of them—this businesslike efficiency that gave him room to breathe, rather than the tension they used to stir in him. He was still sharp and guarded around them, but in the subtle shifts of his body language, they sensed they were both easing into a more comfortable exchange, his trust inching closer as they tweaked the terms to help him maintain his independence.

In his careful consideration of each clause, they saw how deeply he valued his autonomy. His desire to protect the kids and guide them through a brutal world was unmistakable, yet he seemed determined to do it on his own terms. Watching him was like seeing a reflection of their own drive: the same visceral need to resist being anyone’s pawn, to forge a path where people like them weren’t turned into weapons or tools for the powerful. E knew what it was to navigate that treacherous line, to have allies rather than be a pawn, to be indispensable but never owned. Becoming a lawyer had finally allowed them to create partnerships, to protect their independence in a way they hadn’t had in the past.

They looked at Logan now, the way he was part of something great without letting it absorb him, and felt a twinge of resonance. It was like looking into a rippling, distorted mirror: his methods protective where theirs were persuasive, his presence blunt where theirs was all charm and deliberate control. But that difference made sense, considering their mutations. He had claws; they had…this. This carefully wielded hold over emotions. Had they been born with claws, would they have protected instead of manipulated? They weren’t sure.

Their gaze drifted from the paper to his handsome face as they sank into those thoughts, the realization dawning—slow and unexpected—that he wasn’t simply a source of energy, or the toy they’d wanted him to be at first. He was a potential ally in a way few others could be. Someone who might amplify their strength instead of being drained. Not just a meal to be consumed but something rarer—a piece that, in its own strange way, completed the picture of who they could be. As if they were two sides of the same coin.

Lost in thought, they almost missed the slight cough as Logan cleared his throat, his voice breaking through their haze.

“Need a break?” he asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, catching them just off guard enough that they had to recompose themselves, reassemble that mask over their features before their thoughts slipped any further into the open.

“No, I’m good,” they replied, eyes turning back to the papers in front of them. “We’re almost done, anyway.” But as they looked away, a thought slipped in—a terrifying, persistent thought.

What if, just for a few moments, they let him see behind the surface?

The more they considered it, the more it tugged at them. Curiosity twisted into need—a need to be seen fully, not just for what they could do or the games they played, but for every scarred, layered piece that made them who they were. Logan was unique, after all. He understood the weight of living too many lifetimes, of carrying too many pasts. Maybe he, of all people, could handle the person they kept buried underneath.

They wrestled with the urge, every instinct resisting, their armor honed by years of experience and necessity. Something deep inside warned it was dangerous—unnecessary. But then again… maybe not. Because the thought kept tugging, whispering that maybe, just maybe, it could be something greater. A partnership that didn’t hinge on pretense or servitude but on something raw and real, something powerful.

Their gaze returned to him, lingering. He was relaxed now, waiting, not pushing. And maybe that’s what finally broke their resolve.

“You know, Logan,” they began, the words slipping out, edged with a subtle amusement that curled at the corners of their mouth. “You’re… an interesting case.” Their tone was light, but Logan could feel the weight behind it, something sharper. “In a world full of people pursuing causes, you stand apart. You’re here, fighting for something, part of a team, a mentor—yet you keep a step back, like you’re in it but always on the edge.”

They took their time, choosing their words carefully. “Not interested in becoming anyone’s weapon. Not about to let anyone make a puppet out of you.” They paused, their smile fading as their peculiar eyes locked with his, earnest, with a hint of challenge. “I respect that about you.”

Logan’s expression shifted, his relaxed posture tensing as he regarded them with a sharp glance. Crossing his arms, he studied their face, searching for their angle. There was no mistaking the twinkle in their gaze, a glint that almost dared him to see through it. He furrowed his brows, but his voice was steady. “Yeah? Well, I don’t dance on anybody’s strings. If I’m fighting for something, it’s because it matters to me. And I do it my way.”

He watched as something flickered in their eyes—a veil lingering for a few heartbeats, like his words had pulled something deep from the shadows of their mind. When their gaze met his again, it was steadier, as if a quiet understanding had slipped between them. “I get that,” they replied, voice low, the words hanging in the air with a quiet finality.

Logan studied them, suspicious of this sudden transparency. “So what? You’re saying you’re the same?” he asked, his tone guarded, almost testing.

“Maybe.” Their mouth curved in a smirk, one that seemed to bare their teeth as much as it smiled. “Let’s say I’ve had experience balancing independence with… affiliations.” They leaned forward slightly, the light metallic sound of their bracelets chiming with the motion, drawing his attention and making his senses sharpen. Their gaze glinted with something that hinted at danger, at control. “When people see power, they get ideas. They get greedy. Sometimes, we have to show them who’s in charge—decide where the lines are, or blur them if it suits us.”

Logan’s brows knit, eyes narrowing. “So, you’re tellin’ me you dance along the line but won’t let anyone hold your strings.” He leaned back, gaze sharp. “How’s that working out for you?”

They gave a light shrug, a glimmer of amusement in their eyes. “You’d be surprised. Charles, for one, respects it—but you already know that.” They smirked, as if holding back a bigger truth. “There are others, too. Equally powerful… Stark, for instance.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up at the name, genuine interest breaking through his cautious demeanor, crumbs of energy swallowed by E’s greedy hunger. “Stark? As in the Tony Stark?” He couldn’t hide the hint of curiosity in his tone and leaned in, almost imperceptibly. “You actually know the guy?”

They lifted their brows, a small pout on their lips, playing down the significance of it with an offhand shrug, though Logan noticed a spark of pride in their eyes. “Worked with him, actually. Fresh out of law school. I had a friend—blind attorney, good guy—who mentioned Stark needed someone sharp to help… clean up a few things. Secure patents, keep his tech out of the wrong hands.” They kept it vague, partly out of client confidentiality and partly knowing that Logan wasn’t likely interested in legal specifics.

“Not exactly glamorous, but it was an exhilarating start,” they added, the flicker of pride now shining in their voice. “Let’s just say that navigating the minefield of a billionaire’s reputation certainly kept things interesting. And it was good for the notoriety.”

Flecks of emotion brushed against something deep within E—a faint thrill they quickly stifled but couldn’t entirely ignore—as Logan muttered something under his breath, a note of respect edging his tone. He’d always seen Stark as the kind of guy who didn’t trust anyone but himself—and maybe his assistant, or whatever she was now. “Bet that kept you busy.”

A chuckle escaped them, eyes glinting as the soft chime of their bracelets accompanied the sound. “Busy? He kept me on my toes. The man’s got a mind like wildfire; it was a challenge keeping up. But it was… refreshing.” They leaned back, an almost nostalgic look slipping over their face. “I guess it taught me to walk the line, to make a difference without being tied down.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, intrigued despite himself. The story felt like a glimpse into the puzzle of their past. “So how’d you end up here?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Not that I’m sayin’ this place is a downgrade or anything,” he added with a smirk, resting his arms on the table.

They sensed his interest like a pulse, faint but unmistakable. It seeped into them, stirring that familiar, alluring rush, and they let out a soft laugh, an edge of amusement in their eyes. “Did you know Charles and Stark held a gala a few months back to fund the school’s new equipment?”

Logan nodded, some recognition flitting across his face. “I remember hearing about it. Charity thing, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly.” Their voice stayed casual, but their eyes sparkled with the thrill of memory. “That’s where I met Charles.” Their gaze flicked back to him, pausing just long enough to let the moment breathe. “We got along right away. He needed someone to navigate the legalities and ensure the school’s mission stayed protected. A few conversations later, and here I am.” Their eyes held his, a glimmer of interest that wasn’t easily brushed aside, as his curiosity continued to fuel something deep within them.

Logan could feel it too—a pull he couldn’t resist, a delicate pressure building inside him, different from the sharp pull of their first exchanges. This was smoother, quieter, sinking in with each new glimpse he got of E’s story, drawing him in until pulling back wasn’t an option. He sensed the quiet power behind everything they revealed, and it stirred something deeper in him—a mix of respect, intrigue, and the surprising comfort of recognition, that kept the tension going.

He leaned back, crossing his arms again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “So, you just go wherever the cause suits you, huh?” His voice held a challenge underlined by curiosity. “If Stark showed up again tomorrow, you’d be right back in his corner?”

E nodded, unfazed by the edge in his tone. “If his goals align with mine? Yes. Of course I’d work with him again! Without a second thought! Same goes for Charles.” Their gaze softened, a glimmer of conviction breaking through their usually controlled demeanor. “I want to be part of something that matters, Logan.”

Logan studied them, catching just how much they meant it. He’d known E wasn’t anyone’s puppet, but now he could see they weren’t waiting around for someone to hand them a cause, either. They were carving out their own path—fluid, adaptable, going wherever their instincts took them. And he found himself respecting that: their drive, mixed with that fierce independence. Hell, he could relate to it—maybe even admire it a little.

E felt it, the ripple of his respect, like a quiet current feeding into them. For all their control, a spark of satisfaction slipped through their gaze, their mask almost slipping as they met his eyes. His admiration, rare and guarded, felt potent—dangerously so. The energy coursed through them, lingering like a hidden pulse beneath their skin. They shifted slightly, regaining composure before his steady gaze could pierce too deeply.

They looked calm, in control, continuing their previous thought. “I’m loyal to a cause.” Then, their eyes took on a sharper edge, something deeper flickering beneath the surface. “But I’ll never let myself be chained to anyone ever again.”

There was a flash of anger, fierce and unyielding, sparking in their gaze. The quiet chime of their bracelets sounded as they leaned forward, their voice steady but intense. “There’s too much to do, too many ways to make a difference—like what you do here with these kids.”

Logan didn’t miss the brief fire of fury that had slipped through the cracks in their cool confidence, just enough to reveal a scar, raw and unhealed. They didn’t merely have a preference for freedom; it was a need, born from something that had burned them hard and left its mark. That kind of wound didn’t heal easy—he’d know.

He held their gaze, his expression softening with a rare flicker of understanding. E might play at being dangerous and unpredictable, but he was beginning to see past the games, past the mischief. Beneath it all, they weren’t half as threatening as they liked to seem—not to him, anyway. And now he wondered if their determination to make a difference came from more than just ambition. Maybe they were out here carving paths so no one else would have to walk through the fire alone.

Just as quickly, E’s eyes narrowed, the hint of vulnerability vanishing as they pulled themselves back. Their lips curved into a knowing smirk, that easy, predatory edge sliding into place. “What’s with the look, Logan?” they purred, voice rich with playful menace. “Didn’t think I’d have you figured out that quickly?”

He tilted his head, a low chuckle rolling out as his eyes held steady, watching them with newfound clarity. “Long way from that, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice as rough as the smile he wore. His stare cut through their guarded expression, tracing that hidden spark they were still trying to shield. “But I’ve seen enough to figure out there’s a hell of a lot more goin’ on with you that what you let on.”

They scoffed, dismissive as ever, though Logan’s steady gaze didn’t miss the faint, almost imperceptible shift in their eyes, the way they lingered on him just a second too long. They were good at playing the part; he could give them that. And hell, he had to respect it—the way they held their ground, defiant but calm, ready to take on whatever came next. But he’d caught a glimpse behind their guard now—just enough to give him a way in, a thread he could pull if he wanted, evening the power balance between them. A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips; they’d shown him more than they intended, and he planned on playing that to his advantage.

E met his stare, the faintest crease of tension at the edge of their mouth as they spoke. “There’s not much going on with me,” they said smoothly, though their tone carried an edge, a warning, like a line drawn firmly in the sand. “At best, you’ll see someone who’s lived long enough to know that, at some point, we’re just the sum of our own burdens—regrets, pain, and the constant battle to find a place in a world that sees us as either weapon or threat.” They shrugged, gaze cooling as if daring him to contradict them. “I know you know what I mean.”

Logan’s mouth quirked, and he offered a subtle nod. Oh, he knew. He knew that weight, the feeling of being something both feared and useful, but he also saw how tightly they held onto that defensive edge, like armor too important to set aside. And it made sense. If they’d been through even half of what he had, especially as a woman with power, that sharpness was more than just for show—it was a primal instinct born from necessity.

“So, you play the part of the predator, huh?” he asked, his voice casual, almost challenging. “Gotta keep everyone on their toes, or they might see more than you want ‘em to?”

Their gaze hardened slightly, something flickering before they smoothed it over. “It’s survival, hun,” they replied, tone measured with a hint of sarcasm, the nickname sharp on their lips. Their fingers moved up to toy with the delicate golden chain around their neck, the single white pearl shifting gently between their fingertips. “I wasn’t raised to be anyone’s prey. I’ve always been powerful in a way, even before my true nature revealed itself. Living as a mutant in this world means learning to navigate perceptions—people don’t always take well to what they don’t understand. You know that too. So, yes, most of the time, I have to play the predator. It’s how I keep my place in this society.”

Their eyes gleamed, that familiar guarded edge slipping back into place, like steel settling into a sheath. “And maybe it’s the only way I know how.”

The words settled between them, carrying an honesty that almost surprised him. Beneath the mischief and sharpness, he could see the echoes of past battles that had molded them into someone who walked the line between danger and glamor, between freedom and guarded solitude.

“Doesn’t it get exhausting?” he asked, tone light but edged enough to make it clear he wasn’t just making conversation. “Playin’ that part all the time, keepin’ everyone at arm’s length?”

For a split second, something flickered across their face—an almost imperceptible crack—but they smoothed it over with a cool smile. “It’s only exhausting if you don’t know how to handle it,” they replied, looking down at him with a hint of mockery, as if to suggest he wouldn’t know. Leaning back, they reclaimed control of the moment. “Besides, I didn’t walk this path to blend in with the crowd. The world makes demands. I learned early that if I wanted a future worth having, I’d have to shape it myself—alone.”

They straightened with a subtle chime of their bracelets, a glint of pride in their stance, fierce and unyielding, making Logan’s respect tick up a notch, teasing E’s hunger with a rich, electric thrill. They felt it brush against their senses, fueling the simmer beneath their calm. For a fleeting moment, their expression softened, indulging in the warmth of his regard. But it didn’t escape him that beneath their carefully crafted façade lay a quiet kind of fatigue, a weariness he knew too well. They might be used to the role, but that didn’t mean it didn’t take a toll. With a practiced flick of their eyes, they returned to their cool detachment, meeting his gaze with that same untouchable allure, even as their hunger urged them closer.

Logan shifted, crossing his arms loosely, gaze steady as a teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes glowing with playful challenge. “Sounds to me like someone’s after more than just puttin’ on a show.”

Their smile froze for the briefest moment, a flicker of tension before they rolled their eyes, snapping the mask back into place. “And you think you know what I’m after?” They raised an eyebrow, voice slipping into that smooth, predatory edge that reminded him just how much they hated being read—just like he did.

“Maybe,” he replied, holding their gaze with that same easy smirk. “Seems like a part of you might want somethin’ more. Connections. Someone to reach out to, now and then. Make it feel less… empty.”

They scoffed, laughter low and guarded as they leaned in, the slight sound of their bracelets punctuating the motion once more. Their voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t flatter yourself, Logan,” they said, eyes glinting with challenge as they inched closer, the whisper turning almost venomous. “I don’t need anybody, pretty boy. Especially not you.” Both their words and gaze sharpened, a teasing yet defensive spark behind it, though something unspoken lingered there. The faint chime followed their movements, an echo of tension and warning. “You might think you’ve seen through me, but trust me, there’s a lot more here than you’re ready to understand. So, stop digging. You might not like what you find.”

Logan’s smile barely shifted, but he didn’t push further, didn’t try to peel back any more layers. He didn’t need to. He’d seen enough to know that behind the sharp edges and fierce guard, E wasn’t so different from him. And the thing they made him crave these last few weeks might just be the thing they’d craved themselves for a long time.

Silence stretched between them, charged and unbroken, as they sized each other up—E, guarded and fierce behind their confident exterior; Logan, settled and a little more at ease than he’d been since they first met.

He chuckled, a low, quiet rumble that broke the silence and hung in the space between them. A confident smile played on his lips, almost as if he were savoring his small victory. “So,” he murmured, leaning in. “We done here, or… you need me for somethin’ else?” His tone carried a hint of something deeper, something suggestive.

They bristled, the calm mask slipping momentarily as irritation flashed in their eyes, but they regained composure, sliding smoothly into a clipped, professional tone. “If you don’t see any more changes to make, I can take care of the rest. I’ll give you the documents once they’re finalized.”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady as he rose from his chair, towering over them for a brief moment. “Alright,” he said, his voice warm but resolute, like he was sealing an unspoken agreement. “See you around then.”

With that, he turned, heading toward the door. And as he left, he took with him the solid rythm of his presence, that subtle weight of connection they’d woven into him over the past couple of weeks. The room felt colder, emptier without it. The quiet settled in, hollow and gnawing, the sharp hunger suddenly surging in as the connection broke, slipping from their grasp like sand between their fingers.

Alone once again, they could almost feel it—an ache beneath the calm exterior, an unsettling reminder of what he’d managed to stir to life, only to take it away.

To be continued…

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✨ Masterlist ✨

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🔖 @quillycrow

[veilkeeper]

can't get that one banter out of my head. the one that goes:

Lucanis: Why would you want to outlast everything you love? It sounds like a terrible fate. Emmrich: There's always something to discover in the world. A fresh marvel. A new friend. I think I should never grow tired of that.

because as a friend, maybe you can understand that. you're coming together for a brief time to save the world, and then you'll likely go your separate ways. you might keep in touch! visit, send letters. but ultimately, you will both meet and then part, and that's how all things end eventually.

but as his lover, it was a little rough to hear. sure of course there are flings and those can be great, but if your rook is anything like mine, he was thinking... uh, long-term? and emmrich's plans basically mean that one way or another, the relationship is going to end and emmrich is going to live forever and just move on. you know, new things to discover, new friends to make. and eventually, in the span of eternity, rook'll be... a blip. maybe a particularly notable one if you're lucky, but you'll be (statistically, in thedas) ashes, so it's not like you'll be able to have an opinion about it.

and it gets me thinking, because yes, emmrich is deeply petrified of death, this is established. but he is also deeply affected by the loss of his parents. it seemed odd to me that he'd just... brush that off when lucanis asked about outlasting everything. sure, emmrich might be seeing this whole immortality thing with rose-coloured glasses and is trying to look at the positives, but there's no way he's blind to the fact that if he goes through with this, he is going to be on an endless track of repeatedly watching every "new friend" he makes grow old and die. he knows what that loss feels like.

so the only explanation i can think of is that he finds it more tolerable to spare other people the pain of losing him than he does to spare himself the pain of losing others. maybe he feels he's better equipped to handle that, given his experience and his profession, or maybe he's just so terrified of his own mortality that it seems a fair enough trade to him. but i can't imagine he hasn't thought about it.

[fsfghgee]

I need to see how that double date ended 🫡

Resolution

(Double Date Sequel - Kuai Liang, Harumi, Bi-Han & Sektor)

— You know this is a trap, don't you?

— I know.

— So why are we doing this? Why can't you just ignore her?

— She's your mother. — Standing in front of the busy restaurant, staring at the door as if trying to muster up the courage to walk through it, Bi-Han took a deep breath and squeezed Sektor's hand before entering the place. — I can't disrespect her.

— Even though she no longer respects you?

Ignoring the reality exposed by Sek and refusing to accept that he would not be able to win Madam Bo's favor as he had won Longwei's, Bi-Han looked for Madam Bo as if she were not already expecting them.

— Madam Bo! — Calling out to the elderly woman upon finding her leaving the kitchen, Bi-Han hurried to her. — We came as soon as we received your message.

— Very well. — She looked from one to the other, not hiding her surprise regarding Bi-Han. She already knew that he had been transformed into a creature of chaos by the titan Havik, but she never imagined that he had become so repulsive and dark in appearance. — I see that you are literally living with a monster now. — Ignoring Bi-Han, she looked at her daughter. — Is it still worth opposing Lord Liu Kang's will?

— I don't care about your disapproval or Liu Kang's. I fell in love with his soul. Not his appearance.

— A soul that was corrupted by chaos magic.

— Someone is keeping you well informed. So much effort to please Liu Kang… — Sektor mocked and Bi-Han held her tighter before she got too close to her mother. — It's no surprise that my father didn't go after a woman like you.

— What are you insinuating?!

— Sektor, please… — Bi-Han intervened before that discussion ended in a fight. — She's not insinuating anything. We came because you said you wanted to see her and talk to me.

— Yes, but the conversation we must have cannot be done in front of so many people. — Motioning to the restaurant, which was as full as usual, she waited for Bi-Han to agree before motioning for them to follow her. — Accompany me to a more private place.

— Bi-Han, no! — Sektor pulled him, murmuring so that only he could hear. — It could be dangerous.

— She's your mother. — Murmuring back, Bi-Han tried to ignore the concern in her eyes. — What harm would she do to you?

— Not to me. But what about you?!

— She can just try.

— I don't have all day. — Without bothering to hide her irritation, she turned around just to give a scolding before continuing up the stairs to the third floor.

Reluctantly, Sektor went up with Bi-Han to the isolated third floor. There were also tables like on the other floors and all the rest of the decoration, but only muffled noises from the floor below could be heard.

— Have a seat. — The elderly woman waited for the young people to sit down before continuing with the face of a few friends. — You're tired of hearing that what you're doing is wrong.

— In your opinion.

— You betrayed Earthrealm! You betrayed Lord Liu Kang's trust... — Indifferent to Madam Bo's indignation, they just stared at her without emotion. — In exchange for what?

— In exchange for a better future for the Lin Kuei.

— And what future will the Lin Kuei have if you die?

— I will never let anything happen to your daughter. I promise that...

— Your word is worthless, Bi-Han!

— Madam Bo, I-I...

— Don't pretend that you care! — Sektor stood up irritably and shouted in disgust. Interrupting her beloved when she saw how affected he had been by the older woman's words. — You abandoned me! You abandoned my father! You abandoned our clan! In exchange for what? To be a nanny for two farm boys!

— Your mother wisely honors Earthrealm with her services. — Liu Kang intervened, finishing climbing the stairs, making Bi-Han release a guttural sound in contempt.

— Is that what you want her to believe? Like you did with my father?! — Irritated by Liu Kang's sudden appearance, Bi-Han also stood up. — Like you do with my brother?! 

— Bi-Han…

— I've had enough. — Tired of her mother and Liu Kang's presence, Sektor grabbed Bi-Han's hand before he could think of trying anything. — Let's go home.

— Wait! — Madam Bo hurried before they reached the door.

— What do you want now?!

— I made a promise. And I'll keep it. Stay for dinner and I'll make your favorite childhood meal.

— I don't want anything from you!

— We'll stay on one condition. — Sektor looked at Bi-Han in disbelief, but Bi-Han ignored it, still thinking that he could achieve his goal with that visit. — I want you to give me your blessing.

— Bi-Han, you don't have to…

— My mother... — He looked at Sektor before looking back at Madam Bo, serious and resolute. — She would want it that way.

Madam Bo sighs and nods.

— I wish you had half the love for Earthrealm that you have for your mother.

Resigned to the young Grandmaster's lack of response, Madam Bo motioned for them to sit down again before going down with the fire god.

...............................

— You haven't even touched your food.

— I'm not hungry. I want to go home.

— You know this is important to me.

— We have my father's blessing. That should be enough. — Fearing that the day would end worse than it had begun, Sektor cupped his face and pleaded with her eyes. — Let's go home, please.

Bi-Han sighed and was about to do as she had asked, when approaching footsteps drew his attention to the front.

— Do you mind if we join you? — Liu Kang, accompanied by Harumi and Kuai Liang, stood in front of their table.

— Oh, no...

— Calm. — Holding Sektor's hand under the table, Bi-Han motioned with his free hand for Kuai Liang to sit across from him. — Feel free.

— Your manners have improved. But your appearance is still as horrible as your heart.

— You have no vision, Kuai Liang.

— It's your ambition that's blind, Bi-Han! As always. — Outraged by his older brother's disregard, Kuai Liang took a deep breath to control his anger. — There are no limits to your desire for power, are there?

— How can you kill and risk your life for a man like that? — Seeing the derision in Bi-Han's eyes and witnessing once again how unpleasant he was, Harumi questioned Sektor.

— Wouldn't you do the same for Kuai Liang?

— Of course I would. But he isn't Bi-Han.

— Exactly. I know his heart. You don't.

— What heart? — Harumi looked at the Chinese woman as if she had gone mad. — That guy let his own father die! He has no honor, no heart. As you must not have to…

— You know nothing about us! You…

— Kuai Liang. — Seeing that the argument between the women was escalating, Liu Kang intervened, seeking support from Scorpion. — Can you say something to your brother?

— I'll never forgive you.

— Did I ask for your forgiveness? — Bi-Han mocked, much to the indignation of his younger brother's wife.

— This guy…

— This is pointless. — Ready to leave the table, Sektor stood up again. — You're wasting our time.

— Wasn't it nice to see the mother you dishonor again?

— Mind your place, Kuai Liang! Or I…

— Or you what?!

— By the elder gods! — Startled to see Bi-Han jump on Kuai Liang and then the two brothers start exchanging punches, Liu Kang hurriedly stood up to try to separate them. — Enough! Bi-Han, Kuai Liang!

— Kuai Liang! — Harumi worried when she saw that her husband wouldn't stop being beaten by Bi-Han, tried to intervene too, but Sektor threw warning flames in front of the Japanese woman. — What are you doing?!

— Hurt Bi-Han and you'll have to deal with me.

— And let that monster kill my husband?!

— What's going on here?! — Madam Bo, who was carrying another tray of food with her, got angry and put the food aside to hit the tray with all her strength. — Stop now! — Hitting until they moved away from each other, Madam Bo stood between them. — Not in my restaurant.

— Madam Bo, I...

— I've had enough of you!

— But it was Kuai Liang who...

— Let's go, Bi-Han. — Trying to spare her beloved from her mother's wrath, Sektor grabbed his hand and pulled him. — Let's go home. She'll never understand either of us.

— If you're not restored, you'll remain immortal! — Liu Kang shouted behind Bi-Han and Sektor. — And immortality has a high price to pay!

— I am willing to pay any price to break the Lin Kuei free from bondage forever!

— Even Sektor's death?

— Liu Kang! — Taking the dark tone as a threat, he finally stopped and turned around ready to confront him. — If you…

— Sektor will not live forever! She is mortal and you cannot change that. Eventually she will die and you will be alone forever. Do you think that's fair to her?

— He's trying to mess with your mind. — Sektor stated, bringing his attention to herself. — I don't mind dying for the Lin Kuei.

— You will not die! — Shocked by the certainty in Sektor's words, he feared that this sacrifice would one day find her. He could have this from anyone, he would accept it from anyone, except Sektor. He wanted to have anything from her, except this.

— The difficult thing about grief is surviving something that could be normal. Losing someone you love is losing everything you have. No matter how much you cry, no matter how much you go crazy with the absence, no matter the level of your pain, nothing will bring it back. The pain of grief is dying while alive, it is living dying little by little, and what a long vain penance to live forever without feeling loved, without having the one you love.

...............................

— Because you are reckless, Bi-Han! What did you think would happen?! — Furious with his son's disobedience, he just shouted as if no one was watching. — That you would go in there and get rid of them all?!

— I-I never thought that…

— Of course not! Of course you never thought! Because you never think, Bi-Han! You never think! — Unhinged by his own fury, he hits the boy so hard that he knocks him down with the impact.

— Bi-Han!

— Stay out of this. — Longwei murmured while holding his daughter.

— B-But…

— Stay out.

— Forgive me, my friend. But I need to excuse myself and end this night here. — Fixing his own clothes as if trying to calm himself by fiddling with the fabric, he continued to stare at his son on the floor as he spoke to the master armorer. — You understand, don't you?

— I understand. Good night.

— But father… — Unable to see Sektor's concern, he only heard the girl's voice cry out to her father before the loud slamming of the front door drowned out her voice.

— Go to your room.

— I-I want to see my mother. — Weak from the injuries from earlier, some so serious that they hadn't healed yet, he got up with great effort.

— Go to your room before I change my mind.

— N-No, I want to talk to my mother…

— I told you to go to your room! — The older one dragged him by the wrist, freezing him to prevent his resistance and cutting the younger one's arm by throwing him inside his chambers without completely thawing his skin. — And you will only leave there for your training and studies until further notice!

— N-No! — Desperate, he runs to the door, banging on it with all his strength, but the door doesn't budge as if it were enchanted. — I-I don't want to be locked in here! Mom! Don't leave me locked in here! - Banging until he almost ran out of strength, he could no longer hold back the tears and cried. — M-Mom… — Crying profusely, he slipped to the floor. — M-Men don't cry... — Repeating what his father always told him, Bi-Han tried to control his emotions in vain. — M-much less perfect warriors, m-much less...

— Lin Kuei warriors.

— S-Sektor?

— What he says is not true. You can...

— Don't look at me!

Waking up suddenly, Bi-Han sat up in bed and looked for Sektor. Soon seeing that she remained beside him, sleeping soundly with her back to him, he stroked her short hair. He inhaled her sweet perfume and hugged her tightly until he fell asleep again.

He found himself in the middle of a war, it reminded him of Chaosrealm, but he had seen the chaos of that place many other times before. It was the chaos of a battlefield, surrounded by fallen dead bodies, destruction and terror. Combat proved that he was alive, there was no better way to prove his strength and skill than by subduing his enemies. And in the midst of it all, he could only see those who attacked him, killing them all with ease, suddenly a scream of pain reminded him that he was not alone.

— Sektor?! - Amidst the darkness, he searched for her as if nothing else mattered.

What was the point of that battle?

What was he looking for?

Who was his target?

He no longer remembered.

— Sektor?! — The trail of deaths he had created to reach her was the reason why his clothes were already bloody when he found her. — S-Sektor… — The blood that dripped from her stomach without stopping stained his clothes even more, as he held her in his arms and begged her to keep her eyes open. — Chō stay with me… P-Please…

— B-Bi-Han…

— S-Stay with me. — Terrified and in a desperate attempt to keep her with him, he tried to transfer the chaos magic to her, but she stopped him by holding his hand with all her remaining strength.

— I-I don't want to live forever.

— Y-You promised you would never abandon me.

— I-I... I-I love you...

— No!

Feeling tears streaming down his face even after opening his eyes, Bi-Han gasped for the recent nightmare. He couldn't lose her. However, he knew...

He knew she was willing to do anything for the Lin Kuei. And that as much as she had accepted him, she didn't want anything to do with chaos magic. Immortality wasn't something any Lin Kuei desired. And he wondered when he had started to think differently...

Taking care not to wake her, he wrote a farewell letter and got dressed. Leaving the envelope on his own pillow, he kissed the side of her forehead and inhaled her scent deeply to take with him as a memento.

— She will remain Grandmaster and will not be punished for having freed me.

— It is not for this transgression that she...

— Either you promise this or there is no deal.

— I agree to your conditions, Bi-Han. As long as you not only make peace with the Shirai Ryu but also reconcile with Kuai Liang.

— That is impossible.

— He is your brother.

— He stopped being my brother when he betrayed me.

— You disappointed him first, Bi-Han. This condition is non-negotiable.

...............................

5 years later…

— You're ready to go, Bi-Han. Don't forget what you promised.

— Only if you have kept your word.

— I wove the fabric of time to shape your destiny. I saw you born, grow and lose yourself. As much as you continue to hate me and your father for what happened to your mother... It was never our intention to hurt you.

— Bi-Han.

— Kuai Liang. — He greeted him with a brief nod, just as the younger one had just done. Still uncomfortable with each other.

— Are you ready, brother?

— You're pushing it, Tomas.

— Okay! Sorry. — Retracting his arms and apologizing after the older's scolding, he bowed briefly before him after walking away. — One step at a time. — He muttered to himself.

— I hope to see you together more often. — Finishing opening the fire portal, Liu Kang motioned for them to go through. — Have a safe journey.

— Where are we going?

— To the Shirai Ryu. — Upon seeing the alarm in Bi-Han’s eyes, Tomas continued. — You promised you would visit our clan when your restoration was completed.

— I don't recall making such a promise.

— Come on, Bi-Han. Tomas was counting the days until your visit. I agreed because Liu Kang said it would be good for both of us too. I still don't trust you completely. So don't threaten my clan when we get there.

Bi-Han took a deep breath before following the two through the portal. And in the blink of an eye, they arrived at the Japanese clan's compound.

— Bi-Han. — The youngest one bowed briefly in greeting.

— Harumi.

— Welcome to the Shirai Ryu. I hope this can be a fresh start for all of us. And that you don't make any of us regret this.

— Where is Hanzo? — Tomas asked almost desperately, anxiously looking around. — He has to meet you! You two have so much in common…

— How can a indigent whelp who lived on the streets not long ago have anything in common with me? — Bi-Han muttered to himself, trying to hide his contempt as Tomas hurried away. Kuai Liang, next to him sighed, listening to every word.

— By the elder gods, Bi-Han. Make an effort. — Without waiting for an answer from his older brother, who only took a deep breath at his demand, Kuai Liang took front of his wife. — Harumi will show you the rest, I have matters to attend to now.

— Don't be late for dinner. — Harumi smiled as she said goodbye to her husband. Hoping he wouldn't leave her waiting once again. — Kuai Liang has been quite busy resolving conflicts within the clan.

Bi-Han scoffed.

— As expected.

Noticing the mockery in the older one's tone, Harumi narrowed her eyes at him and took a deep breath to ignore it.

— Are you at least happy to see your brother? Because I know you were never really fond of me. — Smiling out of politeness, Harumi continued guiding him.  — I know you introduced Cyrax to Kuai Liang to make him forget about me.

— And she failed.

— You failed. — Ignoring the unfriendly looks towards the cryomancer along the way, Harumi continued distracting Bi-Han so he wouldn't stare back. — The way you always treated me coldly, how you always seemed to dislike me, made me wonder once if you had some kind of crush on me.

— I'm not Japanese. I don't pretend to like someone when I actually don't, nor do I pretend to hate someone when I actually like. Falsehood is not part of my culture. What my brother saw in Japan and in a woman so...

— Be careful, dear brother-in-law! — Harumi smiled after seeing Bi-Han lose his breath when she elbowed him in the stomach. — You don't want to get hurt before dinner. 

— I won't participate in your...

— Eventually I learned that my assumption about you was wrong. — Bi-Han, ignoring the pain in his stomach and trying very hard to hold back his curses, continued to follow the Japanese woman reluctantly. — And that you simply didn't think I was worthy of your brother. Because my blood wasn't Lin Kuei.

— It still isn't. Marrying my brother doesn't make you a Lin Kuei.

— I can't change my bloodline, Bi-Han. And I didn't marry your brother for that. I've loved him since I was very young. I love him with all my heart and I'm willing to do anything to protect him. — She said firmly, looking into Bi-Han's eyes without blinking. — You already know that I would give my life for his.

— I can respect that.

Harumi smiled, pleased to feel that she had somehow touched him.

— Thank you. — And finally entering the living room, simple and modest with typical Japanese decoration, Bi-Han controlled himself not to comment on the conditions they lived in. Having been born and raised in the imposing Lin Kuei palace, surrounded by luxuries, having lived his entire life only with the most influential Lin Kuei families and even with OutWorld sovereigns due to his late father's friendship with the emperor, he could not hide the expression of disgust with the simplicity of the place. The compound had already disappointed him enough, but a Grandmaster living in those conditions... — Most of our warriors hate you, so to avoid conflicts we will have an intimate dinner. I advise you not to leave here alone.

— I really don't want to stay for your dinner.

— It'll be worth it. — The young Shirai smiled mysteriously. — If you want to wash up before dinner, you can go down that hallway and turn right.

— I don't...

— See you later.

That wasn't an invitation, it was a summons.

Convinced that he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, Bi-Han took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in frustration. Frustrated for having to put up with that, frustrated for the time he had spent sleeping until Liu Kang discovered an effective way to restore him, frustrated for not being sure if the conditions he had imposed had been respected by Liu Kang, frustrated for not having returned to the Lin Kuei yet, frustrated for fear that he would never be able to return...

Without paying much attention to the room, Bi-Han locked the door behind him and leaned against it.

— Why wasn't she there? — Sliding from the door to the floor, he curled up and hugged his legs, wishing he was with the Lin Kuei. — W-Where is she? — Wishing he was with her. — S-She can't... S-She can't forget about me.

Tired of holding it in, he let the tears roll down his face twisted in pain. The vision already blurred by his tears.

— M-Men don't cry... — Repeating what his father always told him, Bi-Han, desolate on the floor, tried to control his tears. — M-much less perfect warriors, m-much less...

— Lin Kuei warriors. — Paralyzed, as if she were a mirage, a delirium. It took Bi-Han a while to realize that the warmth in her eyes and her smile were real. She was there. She was there with him this time.

— S-Sektor?!

— Are you still the Bi-Han I know?

— I-I am... — Standing up quickly, he stood in front of her in the blink of an eye. — I will always be. — Looking deep into her eyes, he caressed her bare arms, as if to make sure they were real, and smiled when he felt the softness of her skin under his rough hands again. — Do you still love me?

— Bi-Han, I…

— Say yes… — Whispering as he leaned down towards her lips, he was surprised when she dodged his.

— I don't know if I can forgive you.

— What? I did what I did for both of us.

— No, Bi-Han. You did it for yourself.

— Chō…

— There's no explanation, Bi-Han. — Breaking free from his grip, she dodged when he tried to hold her once more. — Not this time! You abandoned me. You left me alone for 5 years…

— I didn't know it would take this long!

— You didn't know?! You told me we couldn't wait to find a cure. That I should stop looking for it, because you were stronger that way… — She had been so angry and sad since Bi-Han had left, that she could barely control the tears that threatened to fall almost as an insult to herself. — Y-You said it was better for the Lin Kuei if you stayed that way, that you didn't care as long as I didn't…

— Sektor…

— W-Why like that… So suddenly?!

— I never wanted to be immortal. I-I never wanted to put your life at risk. I-I… — It was choked, stuck in his throat, very difficult for someone like him to admit… — I was wrong. I want to build a family with you. I want to grow old by your side. I-I couldn't bear a life without you with me! — With his eyes starting to blur again because of the tears he was holding back, he looked at her like the time he realized he loved her. — I couldn't bear to live without you.

— Why didn't you just talk to me?

— I was afraid you would see me as a…

— As a what?

— As a weakling. — Trying to keep his pride, he almost whispered before confessing in a louder tone. — I was afraid you would see me as a weakling. 

— After everything we've been through together, you still...

— I know! I was wrong. I just need you, I need your love... — Eager to be with her again, he cupped her face, making her see the sincerity in his eyes. — I love you like crazy. Don't you love me anymore?

— I wouldn't be here if I didn't.

— Take me home.

— You must stay for dinner.

— I don't want to stay.

— Bi-Han... — Turning her back on him, Sek wiped away the tears that threatened to make her give in once more.

— Don't leave me here. — Almost begging, but too proud to actually beg, he buried his face in her neck. — Take me with you, p-please.

— Arctika is as much your home as it is mine. Even if I don't want you in my bed anymore. You know the way back.

— You can't be serious.

— Think whatever you want. After 5 years I got used to an empty bed.

— So let me get you used to sharing it again... — Hugging her from behind and bringing her close to him, she moved as if she wanted to break free, but she didn't. Letting out deep sighs, her heart raced and he felt her body temperature rise quickly as the sometimes strong, sometimes soft touches of his lips trailed an imaginary path down her neck. He marked her as if she were his, squeezing her to feel every soft part, reminding her body of what it was like to feel desired and loved by him. — Your body still reacts to mine…

— O-Out of anger…

— Is it? — In a sudden movement, he turned her to him, searching for what he already knew he would find.

— B-Bi-Han… — Melting under his touches, her determination to remain angry wavered. She held his hand as he caressed her face with such affection and looked at her with such ardour that it made her want to forget all the nights she had cried herself to sleep.

— You still want me…

— I-I don't want to want.

— Don't say that.

— That letter… — Taking a deep breath so as not to shed more tears for him, she looked away from his intense hazel eyes to the old lamp flickering in the room. — You asked me to be happy, but not to forget about you. How could I be happy while I imagined you trapped in that temple again? H-How could I not want to forget about you after everything?

— Because you love me. — Caressing her nose with his, feeling her breath blow on his face, he sucked and nibbled on her lower lip. — As much as I love you.

— Bi-Han… — He kisses her deeply, a sweet and voracious kiss. Silencing her protests and fading the hurt she felt for him with each movement of his tongue in the warm interior of her mouth. — I-I still haven't forgiven you.

— D-Don't stop me from being with you…

— I'm not going to.

......

[sarascamander]

Assuming there's a 'walk on the aisle' wedding tradition in the Cradle world, can you imagine Eithan walking Yerin to Lindon? Because I can, and I'm CRYING BECAUSE OF IT.

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[glitterrosesnzz]

I saw you might accept tiny drabble reqs for Wanderer?

What about Sethos, Traveler, or even Childe (if you wanna go Scaramouche) finding a "malfunction" in his body that when triggered immediately causes a sneeze/sneeze fit, no matter what. Could be tweaking a certain mechanism, could be a surge of elemental energy (specific element or not), could be dragging a touch in a specific line or rythym along his face/nose?

Might suck idk

this went through so many rewrites that i felt like i was bordering on losing it entirely. i cut off a huge chunk of words cause i just couldn't figure out how to conclude it through that route. maybe i'll reuse it for a different fic later....

anyways. i took creative liberties when it came to what the "malfunction" was hope u don't mind-

"Hh'InKkyYSHhii!"

A particularly strong breeze ruffled Sethos' hair as he startled, almost dropping the cat in his arms as he spun around to stare at the Wanderer, who had been standing behind him. Of all the responses Sethos' could've gotten to off-handedly comparing the other to the cute little kitten in his arms, he hadn't been expecting that.

It was obvious the Wanderer hadn't been expecting it either, if the startled and slightly hazy look on his face was any indication. Sethos opened his mouth to ask- and was interrupted before he could even begin as the Wanderer snapped forwards with two more drawn out sneezes, the resulting pulses of anemo making the loose edges of his clothes flutter.

"HihH'KksShHnii! Hh-heEH-hH'iikKSHyhn-tii!" The Wanderer pressed the back of his hand against his nose, rubbing it for a moment before stopping and just letting his hand rest there, pressed against his nose.

"Woah, are you okay? Those sound way worse than normal." Sethos finally managed to ask- and, as he sort of predicted, the Wanderer responded to that by glaring at him.

"Tch, I'm fine." The Wanderer's voice also sounded different than usual, though Sethos couldn't really place his finger on what, exactly, was different. "Just ihH- ...ignore it-hH'IinNkSHhiiu!!"

"Kinda hard to ignore it when you keep doing it." Sethos said, trying to fix the strands of his hair that'd been blown out of place- and oh, now he knows why the Wanderer's voice sounded off- "You sound a bit congested- are you sick?"

"Wh- no. I-I'm not."

"Then what's up with you?"

"It's just- hH-hiH-.... a-a cat allergy."

"...A cat allergy." Sethos deadpanned, glancing down at the cat in his arms to see if it was believing this complete bullshit before looking back up at the Wanderer, who avoided his eyes.

"What, do you need me to... to repeat it?" The Wanderer rubbed slightly more intensely at his nose, clearly trying to hold back another sneeze.

"No no no, it's just- well, I've seen you hanging out with cats before, and there's never been any-"

"HhiH'KkyYSHhii! Fuck!" The Wanderer swore, before rapidly turning and starting to hurriedly walk away from Sethos.

"Wait, hey! Where are you going?!"

"None of your business!"

~

Over the past three days, Sethos had come to collect a mental list of the Wanderer's supposed 'allergies'. Cats, dust, Sumeru roses, a passerby's perfume, and... sand.

Sethos took issue with that last one specifically, he was absolutely certain that one was not possible, and besides, they're in the city. Sethos has been staying in a rented room and hasn't been back to the desert in over a week- there's not even any sand here to be allergic to!

So, overall, Sethos is 99.8% sure the Wanderer is just outright lying, and should really really be resting in a bed, because he did not seem to be getting better- and the redness of his face, whenever Sethos managed to catch a good glimpse of it from under the Wanderer's hat, was just red enough to indicate a fever.

And, of course, this conclusion is what led Sethos to, at the first opportunity, grab hold of the Wanderer's arm and start practically dragging him back to the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

From the moment he grabbed hold of him, Sethos couldn't help but note that it felt like the Wanderer was shaking.

Shockingly enough, the Wanderer had stopped protesting after the first few minutes, obediently letting himself be pulled along in silence. Or, well, near silence- the Wanderer sneezing intermittently as they walked upward.

(There was also a faint sort of... whirring noise that Sethos couldn't place. He chose to ignore it for now, focusing on the Wanderer's obvious illness first).

Nahida standing at the entryway to the Sanctuary with her arms crossed wasn't much of a surprise.

Aether standing next to her in the exact same pose kinda-sorta was though.

"Hey," Aether said, sliding up between Sethos and the Wanderer, "Hand Mr. Hat Guy over to me while you explain... whatever is going on to Nahida."

After a moment, Sethos obediently handed the Wanderer over (the Wanderer himself too busy focusing on holding his breath in an attempt to keep himself from sneezing to protest), and then turned to begin to explain the situation to Nahida, not even noticing Aether leading the Wanderer off to the side.

"You have to tell him." Aether whispered, "You can't keep this up forever."

The Wanderer, still holding his breath, shook his head no.

"No as in you don't wanna tell him, or no as in you agree that you can't keep this up?"

Aether smirked as the Wanderer glared at him, before turning to pay more attention to Sethos' explanation.

"-and he keeps insisting that he's just allergic-"

"Ha, allergic to blushing maybe." Aether mumbled. The Wanderer harshly elbowed him in the chest, before snapping to the side with a sneeze.

"Hh-hIH'KksSHhyii!! HehH-" The Wanderer's wavering breath was quick to hitch again, and he hurriedly pinched his nose shut, attempting to hold his breath again. Aether noticed with some amusement that the whirring noise that had arrived with the Wanderer had just gotten considerably louder.

"Y'see!" Sethos said loudly, snapping both Aether and the Wanderer's attention back to him. "He clearly needs to be in bed!"

"I-I'm finehH-hH'iikKSHyhn-tii!! Hh'InKkyYSHhii!!"

"His room is on the right, five doors down the left hallway." Nahida said, ignoring the Wanderer's sputtered attempts at protest through hitching breaths. Sethos promptly thanked her, and wasted no time in snatching the Wanderer's wrist and dragging him into the Sanctuary. Aether walked back up to stand beside Nahida as they both watched the Wanderer willingly get led to the left and then vanish down the hallway.

"Y'know." Aether started, "I don't think he hates this treatment, as much as he's trying to make it seem otherwise. ...How long do you think until he tells him-"

"-that his systems are overreacting to being flustered, and the whirring vibration is affecting him in very unsubtle ways?" Nahida finished for him, "Hm... I'd say about a week."

"You wanna bet on it?"

"Sure!"

[fountainpenguin]

The fact that there is currently not a single Vicky/Mark ship story on either FFN or AO3 when they are a canon couple for multiple seasons (and Mark had a crush on her for at least 9 seasons) is a CRIME, actually :/

[todayisafridaynight]

The bookmark tag was #holder until i think of a tag for these asks but To Be Real even I forgot what it was...

BUT YEAH thanks so much for reading and I'm glad it's :] Intelligible At Least :] obviously I would be up for reading anything that came to mind after putting you and your followers through All That but understandable... A lot of people I've shown the checklist items or pointed out specific behaviors to have actually said similar [i.e. I'm In This Picture And I Don't Like It], so I totally get what you mean, too!

I think a lot of my picks wound up being generalized trauma responses/aftereffects of abuse or neglect [hence I meandered off into just talking about Jo's father half the time], so I guess it's to be expected a lot of them don't read as being CSA-specific or are broadly relatable; it's not like he's supposed to be read that way, after all. I just wasn't able to zero in on many of the more specific ones because I've Never Seen Jo In This Situation Chief I Don't Know What He Thinks About His Name Or His Body Or Mirrors Or Sex Or Affection I Don't Know How Well Or Poorly He Sleeps [Presumably Poorly Though He Has The Second-Reddest Eyes In The Whole Game]

I don't really think I'll have anything to add though unless Infinite Wealth goes off the rails or I actually continue reading the book... so that will have to do... I originally was just riffing on RGGJo's attachment issues, self-destructiveness, and specific entwinement of sexuality/aggression/romance, and his portrayal in my fic lined up pretty closely, so I thought it'd be interesting to apply the same lens to Y7Jo...

But Yeah x2 thank you for the opportunity to talk about it and I'm Glad It's Intelligible At Least x2

THANK YOU i really should change that tag to something better... <- i will immediately forget to do so like a jackass

BUT YA OF COURSE OF COURSE i was truthful when i said it was a real good read (but once again. i have -5 speech skills so i can't properly word SHIT) and was a thorough examination of jo's trauma and how it manifests in him and how it's exhibited through his actions. ALWAYS a big fan of that :)