#as long as it credits the creator then that's an okay thing to happen!

[sergle]

I'm thinking abt that pretty fall leaves embroidery pattern post and about how like... it is categorically a repost, it's a reupload. right? a thing that is generally disliked. but because it's credited, it's genuinely boosting the artist in question. and it could ALWAYS be like this. reposting content could ALWAYS be a symbiotic relationship, but because sourcing back to the original creator of something is so uncommon, it's just easier to ask people not to repost it at all. and people still don't understand the difference. or they'll go to the effort of cropping out usernames/signatures to repost something, which is More Effort than literally crediting the creator of something you liked enough to want to repost. Like. I literally don't actually care if my own shit gets reposted, you have to understand. I just don't want it STOLEN. But "do not repost" is easier to write on my art than "you can repost this, but don't alter the image/remove my signature, don't you dare write 'credit goes to the artist' because that is not credit, please link back to my original post or someplace that you can actually find me. please use an actual link/url instead of writing a non-clickable link of my username, because making it text instead of a clickable link cuts the number of people who will go to the effort of visiting my own page in Half." All those aggregate themed accounts, those fuckin annoying as hell instagrams and facebook groups that are like "body positive art we love wamen 💕 hashtag feminism" and then MASS-STEAL plus sized art created by women, if pages like these that always go and steal my older self-portraits and other works... If they just put a link to my prints of those pieces in the text of those posts, or, fuck, my commission info page? I would literally be living on the moon right now. I would have a house on the moon

[firstofficerkittycat]

ok im not responding to that person anymore but the white reveal holy shit what. you should in fact stop making walls of text whiteknighting for black ppl who have varied opinions on that episode and talking like ur an authority on this. i dont even know what to say lmao i will continue to shut up about it because genuinely what is any of this its ridiculous we should not be the centering our opinions in a conversation about racism. that apology was for who i thought was a black person having no patience for me posting my thoughts on a thingt i do not experience not for a white person absolutely dominating the conversation across the dw tag over a topic that you should not be centering yourself in????

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Hello love!! How are you doing? 💕

I LOVE your works so much!! You are so amazing and talented!! I wanted to thank you for writing the 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 cursed technique Nanami fic, and especially not judging me for it 🫶🏽. I don’t know you but you seem like such a nice and cool person, with that being said… I was thinking about a fic I saw where Saturo Gojo got his wisdom teeth removed and he falls in love with you over again and I thought that would ADORABLE but with Kento 😭 (also I can’t remember who wrote the fic to give credit sorry) So like yeah Nanami would get his wisdom teeth removed and you’d take care of him and he would be such a charming man (he already is) but like just the most fluff thing he’d be like “you’re a very beautiful nurse” “I’m not a nurse but thank you” you feel me? Anyways that was it lol

Much love and take care!! 💗💗

(I don’t know what anon is 😅 is it like your followers cause I see request and people ask if they can be added as anon and I’m like so confused)

You’re my…. my wife?

Tags: Nanami x fem!Reader, established relationship, crack, fluff, suggestive at the end.

An: Hey Anon! Tysm for requesting again. I’m glad you liked the freaky energy fic!! Also, ofc I’ll never judge you for any fic idea (as long as it’s not like straight up deplorable with nasty kinks).

I hope it’s okay, but I changed this fic idea a little because I fear it was a bit too close to the original creator’s idea, and I don’t want to encroach on their idea. However, I hope the vibes are still there that you wanted!!

Your normally strong, doting, intelligent husband has been reduced to a confused mess. Lying in the bed in the sterile infirmary, Shoko carefully monitors his vitals while Satoru recites exactly how it all happened for the nth time.

Your loving, sweet, charming husband was hit with a very specific cursed technique while he was out on a mission with Gojo. Luckily, he was physically unharmed and mostly mentally unharmed as well… except the cursed technique is one that messes with the memory.

The curse didn’t just want to kill Nanami; it wanted to break him. The curse robbed Nanami of his memory of his most precious moments: the one’s that included you.

His hazel eyes scanned the room, wondering why everyone was making such a big fuss over him. He was fine - really.

You sat beside his hospital bed, wanting to hold his hand, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him. Shoko said that his mind may be a bit fragile after having such a crucial part of his memory tampered with.

When his hazel eyes met yours, Nanami stared at you for a moment before shifting in his bed slightly. He looked to be uncomfortable with your sheer presence, which only broke your heart more.

“Were you hit with the cursed technique too?” He finally speaks, looking over at you with a bit of a confused look. He was really trying to piece together why you were here with him.

“Oh, um… no..” You quietly respond with a forced smile. Your heart longed for your husband, and he was right here but he wasn’t your husband.

“Forgive me… Are you Shoko’s apprentice..?” He tries once again to remember. He’s seen your face before. Maybe in a different lifetime.

Satoru and Shoko are silent as they both witness what’s going on between you and Nanami. Holding their breaths, they’re hopeful that he’ll regain his memory at some point. The curse couldn’t just extract memories. As Shoko explained it, the curse probably just kept the memories hidden from Nanami. Your husband will probably slowly start to remember you over time.

“No… I’m not Shoko’s apprentice.” You politely answer again. As bittersweet as this is, it’s certainly a cute scene to see Kento trying to make conversation with you.

“Hm.” He hums to himself quietly before he gazes at you again. His hand combs through his hair, trying to fix it up from lying in the hospital bed, and Satoru quietly snickers.

“Trying to look good for her, Nanamin?” He teases lightheartedly, earning a death glare from your husband. You softly giggle too, realizing what’s going on. Your poor husband isn’t uncomfortable with your presence. He’s nervous.

“Don’t be crude, Satoru. There’s a lady in the room.” He huffs, shaking his head at Satoru’s audacity.

“Aww, thank you, Nanami.” Shoko grins, subtly playing along with Satoru’s tactic.

“I wasn’t talking about you.” Nanami responds flatly before his eyes shift to you in another “secretive” glance, except everyone notices how he keeps looking at you. Your husband can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“I.. apologize for being a bit forward, but do you think we could…” His eyes flicker down to the wedding band that’s proudly sat upon your finger. His face subtly drops to a disappointed look. “Ah, I see. forget what I was saying.”

Shoko and Satoru are nearly losing it. The irony that Nanami is disappointed that he can’t ask you out because you’re married to him is hilarious. You give them a look, and they both quickly excuse themselves from the room, so they can go laugh together.

Once the two are finally out of the room, you smile softly before placing your hand over your husband’s, using your thumb to gently stroke the back of his hand. He looks at you with an unsure look, but he doesn’t remove his hand. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows harshly.

“If you were my wife, I wouldn’t like you touching another man like that…” He mutters quietly, causing you to softly giggle.

“Well, it’s a good thing I am your wife.” You finally reveal to him, unable to keep the secret any longer.

Nanami’s eyes widen, and he looks at you with sparkling eyes but also utter confusion written all over his face. His heart is racing in his chest. The heart monitor starts to beep at a more pressured pace. The pretty woman that has been sitting next to him is his wife…?

“You’re my… my wife?” He asks quietly.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement before lacing your fingers with his. Your wedding band rubs against his. Both of the gems were cut from the same diamond. His eyes then focus on the joining of your hands, and he notices it too. “We’ve been married for a few years now.” You explain in a calm tone, trying to ease him into the idea of it all.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t-“ Nanami is rarely off kilter like this, but he’s just trying to wrap his head around it all. You’re his wife… You’re his wife. “I’m sorry- I just can’t seem to remember…”

“It’s okay, Ken. Take your time.” You encourage as you rub on his hand gently.

His eyes fall to his lap, and a small smile curls on his lips. He may not completely comprehend what’s going on, but he knows in his very soul that he’s the luckiest man alive because you’re his wife.

Watching Ken fall in love with you all over again and rediscover all his daily pleasures was a treat. He slowly regained his memory over time: prompted by his senses randomly picking up on familiar sighs, smells, or even tastes.

Ken didn’t only fall in love with you all over again. He fell in love with the life he cultivated with you again. He found himself laughing a bit harder. He squeezed you a bit tighter. He lounged in bed for an extra ten minutes in the morning time to bask in your presence.

Oh, and that’s not to mention the literal tears he cried the first time he felt your cherished cunt after the incident. The way you squeezed around him so intensely… the way it’s so fucking wet — greedily sucking him in… Goddamn, he’s so lucky to have you.

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙰𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚊 - 𝙰𝙱𝙾 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

ft Unknown Omega/First Heat, stepcest, claiming|mating + Daddy Kink, fingering, belly bulge, creampie, knotting, breeding

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own BNHA or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: includes stepparent-stepchild stepcest and large age gap(R: early 20s, A: late 40s-early 50s), obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

WC: 4,375

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

“Daddy! Can you drive me to the mall? I gotta get my phone fixed!” You called down the stairs to your stepfather. While you had your license, you didn’t have your own car and your stepdad’s was the only car you could use, though never without his permission.

“Sure thing, sweetheart! Just meet me in the car when you’re ready to go?” You heard his deep voice call back up to you. His deep, gravelly voice had an odd effect on you today. You had always known his voice was hot, though you tried to not let your mind wander too much. Today, though, it sent a shiver down your spine and just about made you weak in the knees. Literally. You felt your knees almost buckle below you.

“What the..” You muttered but just shrugged it off as your mind still being a little hazy from sleep. So you continued to slide on your clothes and pack your messenger bag.

“You almost ready, princess?” As you heard his voice again, the same shiver shot down your spine and a warmth planted itself in your lower belly. Now chalking it up to simply being hungry, you just grabbed your bag and threw the strap over your shoulder.

“Coming, daddy!” You heard the door close though it didn’t latch and you jogged down the stairs to meet your stepdad at his truck.

“Morning, princess. What’s wrong with your phone?” He asked when you climbed into the passenger seat.

You looked over at him and noticed his long black hair was tied back in a loose bun that hung low on the back of his head and his stubble was growing back from when he’d had to shave it for a meeting with the school board of the High School where he works. He wore a tight-fitting long sleeve black shirt and simple dark blue jeans with his normal black boots. His normally tired eyes didn’t quite seem tired but they were still lidded in an easy manner.

“I have no clue when it happened but the screen is entirely cracked and it looks like someone ran over it with at least a dirt bike..” You grumbled, twisting to pull your seatbelt across your body, leaving a hint that your stepbrother might have been responsible, though your stepdad seemed to gloss over it. He probably chalked it up to your constant butting heads with his son.

“Huh, well, hopefully, they can fix it quickly, it’ll be bad if no one can reach you if you go out on your own.” The rumble of the engine shook the truck and he started on his way to the super-mall in town since that was the closest place with a cell phone shop.

“While we’re there do you wanna get some food? I’m starving!” You announced with a slight laugh, seeing an amused smile playing on the Alpha’s features as he shook his head at your dramatics.

“Sure, princess, we can get some food. You okay with the stuff they got in the food court or do you wanna check anywhere else out?” He asked glancing for half a second at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Hmm.. Well, I’ll probably have to leave it with them to see if they can salvage it, or at least my data, so we should probably stick close.” You reasoned, thinking of places in the mall with any good food.

“Good thinking, we’ll get there and see where our bellies take us.” He chuckled, patting his hand down on your thigh which made you laugh more with his sentence. He fully turned to look at you with his amused smile when he finally parked at the mall, which you hadn’t realized you’d arrived at.

Having been so caught up in conversation, you hadn’t realized that you felt really warm and a haze starting to infect your mind. As you moved to leave the car, you felt an uncomfortable throb in your nether regions. Pushing it to the side in favor of getting your phone fixed, you trudged forward with the tall black haired man into the mall.

“You feeling okay, sweetheart? You look a little red.” Said man asked, lifting his hand to rest it on the side of your neck opposite him, slightly wrapping his arm around you. The touch on your scent gland felt better than you ever could have imagined and your instincts all but screamed at you to curl into his body, but you resisted any and all reaction.

“Y-yea.. Maybe it’s just the summer heat catching up to me, I guess I might have put on one too many layers,” You reasoned, forgetting that you only wore one layer over your underwear, as just a tank top and leggings.

“Hmm.. Okay, but if you start feeling off you tell me, alright? I’ll drive you home and come back to grab your phone if I need to.” He kept his arm around your shoulders, though he removed his hand from your neck. The loss of contact made you inexplicably want to whine. ‘It’s probably just because I’m feeling weird so I want the comfort or something..’

“‘Kay, thanks, Daddy.” You slightly leaned into him with a content breath and he just wrapped his arm further around you as you both walked through the bustling hallways. Finally reaching the cell phone shop, you were glad you didn’t have to wait too long to reach the desk.

“How can I help you- Oh! Aizawa Sensei! What are you doing here?” The green-haired Beta teen behind the desk greeted the black-haired Alpha.

“Midoriya,” Your stepdad greeted back with a slight nod, “I’m here with my stepdaughter, her phone is busted so we need to get it fixed.” He simply explained, vaguely gesturing to you with a glance, you still being tucked into his side and still looking slightly flushed.

“Oh, hello! Are you feeling alright?” The Beta, Midoriya as it seems, asked with worry upon seeing you flushed and leaning into your stepdad.

“Mhm, fine, thank you, just a little off today,” You offered with a smile which seemed to appease the boy.

“Well, alright then! What seems to be the problem?” He offered a smile of his own in return.

“You tell me,” You chuckled, fishing your phone out of your bag as you moved to stand on your own away from the comfort of your Alpha stepdad’s side. You placed your phone on the counter and badly concealed a laugh at the way the green-haired boy’s equally green eyes nearly bulged at the sight.

“W-What happened??”

“Not sure. I left it on the kitchen counter to make dinner and I couldn’t find it for an hour or so afterwards and suddenly it appeared like that in my room. I personally suspect my stepbrother..” You muttered at the end, earning another chuckle from the man beside you.

“I think you’re just looking for an excuse to blame him for something, sweetheart.”He teased, setting his hand on your shoulder as he sent another amused grin at you as he eyed you out the corner of his eye, making you ‘Hmph’.

“Well, I’ll have to check with the Techies if this can even be salvaged, and if not we’ll do whatever we can to retrieve your data. Either way, it’ll be a while so if you just want to stick around the mall until it’s ready, that’ll probably be best. Aizawa Sensei, we can let you know when it’s ready since the time can vary by whichever process is needed. Either way, I’ll get you guys a discount.” He lowered his voice with a mischievous smile and a playful wink.

“Thank you so much! You are a lifesaver! If I don’t have my phone I’ll pretty much be confined to the house without a chaperone,” You chuckled.

“Thank you, Midoriya. We’ll stick around near here until then.” Your stepdad said, giving a small nod of appreciation. After leaving your phone in the care of his student, the Alpha lead you out of the shop and started walking in the direction of the food court.

“You still hungry, princess?” He leaned down to speak into your ear from how loud the corridor was with the people yelling speaking loudly to each other. The closeness and feeling of his breath on your ear and neck sent a shiver wracking through your body and your knees weakened leading to you falling into his embrace, though it could easily be passed off as simply leaning back into him.

“Uhm.. A-a bit, yea..” You said, moving to lead him to the restaurant stations before he could question your stutter.

Once you arrived you were then even more flushed and you felt heat rising in every part of you, between your legs throbbing even more with a sort of cramping fire in your lower belly. You were panting and the haze in your mind had even more of a hold on you now. As you entered the dining area you could feel all the sensations overwhelming you.

“Daddy..” You whined, entirely falling into him for support as your legs couldn’t keep you up any longer.

“Y/n…” The Alpha muttered out your name, his arms wrapped around your back, keeping you up. His voice was huskier and thicker and when you brought your head up to look at him, you saw his pupils were blown and his nostrils were slightly flared.

“Daddy… It.. It hurts…” The heat was overtaking your body and the throbbing between your legs was verging on painful, your lower belly feeling just about on fire and an ache building inside that your instincts knew the solution to. It was your instincts that told you that that ache you felt was from the emptiness you were so hyper-aware of.

“D-Daddy… Please.. Make it stop.. Make the heat go away.. Please… Alpha..” As soon as his denomination left your lips he had your neck craned up, cradling the back of your head, his lips locked with yours. Your mouths moved clumsily against each other, teeth bumping and saliva leaking down your chins as your tongues tangled wetly. Your pheromones leaked out in droves and made every Alpha in the area turn and look.

‘Unclaimed Omega! Just presented!’ All of their instincts practically screamed at them. When they turned and saw an Alpha already ravaging you, their jealousy and competitiveness flared. A few started moving towards where your stepdad had hoisted you onto a table and started ripping your tank top off your body.

The second that your Alpha stepfather noticed other Alphas encroaching on his Omega- stepdaughter- he turned and planted his hands on either side of you. His hands, were far enough behind you to shield you from the Alphas trying to sneak a peak. He then let out the most vicious, possessive growl you’d ever heard from him and it sent another shockwave of need through you.

“A-Alpha..!” You let out a whiny moan, catching his attention once again. He dipped back in, making quick work of shredding the rest of your top, and started laving his tongue over your scent gland. His mouth pressed against your Claim Site made slick pool in your underwear and your need to submit grew even stronger. Suddenly, he stopped. He pulled away from your neck and clenched his teeth.

“Fuck… Can’t claim you… Fuck, I’m so sorry, princess.. I’ll make it stop hurting.. but.. I can’t claim you. No matter how fuckin’ much I fuckin’ want to, princess..” He muttered in your ear. You didn’t entirely know what exactly he was talking about but you knew it made you whine and let out a whimper. “Shh, it’s okay, princess. I’ll make you feel good, okay? That sound good, Omega?” At the sound of the title, it’s like something snapped in you and you didn’t let yourself wallow in the confusing distress his proclamation caused and only focussed on trying to get his clothes off, or at least enough that you could reach your end goal.

“Alpha.. Alpha, please.. Need.. Need a…” You tried to beg but you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your stepfather assisted in your messy rush to get his pants open with one hand while the other lifted your chin to press another sloppy kiss to your already swollen lips.

“Need a knot, princess, ‘n’ I’m gonna give you one. Promise.” He growled out against your lips in his sultry voice.

“Yes!” Your instincts cried out that that was exactly what you needed, ecstatic that your Alpha was going to give it to you.

“Just hang on a second, ‘Mega, ‘kay?” He asked, trying desperately to stay calm and not lose his head. He knew that the second he gave into his instincts fully he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from claiming you. You, his little stepdaughter who still calls him Daddy, even though you’re already 19. 19, and only now presenting, as an Omega, at that, 3 years late which led to the assumption you were a Beta. Oh, how wrong they all were.

He deftly hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and shimmied them down enough to hook into your panties as well. Quietly instructing you to lift your hips as much as you could, he slid your leggings down to bunch around your knees. The scent of your slick grabbed the attention of everyone around, not just the Alphas, drawing in Betas, too. The power of a freshly presented Omega surely was a dangerous one.

“Fuck, princess… You’re drawing everyone’s attention..” Your stepdad growled out in a sort of prideful possessiveness like he was glad that everyone was not only watching but desperately wishing they could take his place, “They can all smell your slick..” He smirked as he bit his lip when he dragged his fingers through your lower lips. The feeling on your oversensitive cunt had you throwing your head back and letting out a loud keen.

“D-daddy..!” You moaned loudly when he dipped two fingers in, both going in easily with extra space left over. Taking advantage of that, he slid a third finger in to join them, adding to your pleasure, finally feeling a stretch.

“Fuck…” You heard one of the bystanders moan lowly, making you look around and notice all the people watching with varying mixtures of lust, jealousy, and fluster.

“Ahh.. Daddy.. They’re.. they’re watching..” You got out with a moan, though you were far from dissuaded by the audience.

“They are, ‘Mega. They’re all watching you. You’re so fucking gorgeous they can’t take their eyes off you..” Your stepdad told you, spreading his fingers and giving you an even more delicious stretch.

“Please! Alpha! Please! Need you.. Need your knot!” You begged loudly, purposely glancing around and watching the reactions of all the other Alphas around you. All their eyes were firmly on you, some of them had even pulled their own cocks out and began stroking them.

“Of course, princess..” Your Alpha promised, leaning in once again and pressed his lips to yours, “Whatever my Omega wants..” He let out a husky growl into your open and panting mouth as he reached to lift your legs to align with his torso in parallel.

Then, finally, you felt what you had been needing for what felt like forever. You felt his cock pressing against your awaiting hole, trying to press in, to fully breach you.

One gutsy Alpha from the crowd decided he’d had enough watching and wanted to shove his knot inside of you if your stepfather was going to take so long. He stepped forward and let out arrogant and dominating pheromones to hopefully make the black-haired man step aside and simply allow him to dominate you instead.

The moment your Alpha smelt the other Alpha approaching and sensed his intent, he did 2 things simultaneously that made you tense up in an immediate orgasm.

He whipped his head around and let out a growl so possessive and protective and downright threatening. The other Alpha not only backed off but immediately submitted and bowed his head, his arrogance having entirely evaporated.

At the same time, he slammed his hips forward and bottomed out in one thrust. You felt the tip of his cock immediately make contact with your cervix and it only confirmed what your instincts had been latently screaming. He is the perfect Alpha, he fills you perfectly and it’s as if he was always meant to be there, situated inside you, filling you wholly.

The growl he let out shook through his entire body and in turn, it reverberated inside you as well. You felt the vibrations against your clenching walls and you even felt it where his pelvis was pressed flush against the backs of your thighs. The neatly trimmed hair at the base of his dick pressed right against your clit.

“F-fuuucckk-!” You nearly screamed at the instant feeling of fullness. Your stepfather’s hands gripped tightly against your legs, still up and flush to his chest, forcing himself to keep his hips still to let you adjust to the size. He hadn’t given you time to accommodate him as he went in so he worried he would only harm you if he started right away.

“P-please!! D-Daddy-! Move! Move! Please!” You could only beg for what wholly occupied your hazy mind, only knowing your need to be thoroughly filled and bred. That was all he needed to hear as he leaned forward, just slightly, enough to let your knees fold over his shoulder.

Giving you a silent warning with his eyes, he started moving his hips, pulling out until only the tip was left. From there, he immediately began a rough pace. The table he had lifted you into, which you vaguely noted at some point was bolted to the floor, began to shake with the force of his thrusts. His left forearm wrapped tighter around both of your thighs as his other hand snapped to grip your waist in a way that felt like it was divined.

“Fuck, Omega.. Fuck, princess.. You feel so fucking good,” his stubble scratched pleasantly at the flesh of your thigh as he spoke, nipping them every once in a while, “so fucking perfect, ‘Mega..” His words began to slur as he lost himself to the feeling of your cunt gripping down on him like a vice.

“Alpha.. Alpha!! Need.. need your cum, please! Fuck, Alpha, please!!!” You simply shouted out what your Omega was telling you, not even knowing if you were getting any coherent words out at all, though that didn’t matter to you. Not to you, not to the raven-haired Alpha plowing into you, not to any of the bystanders enjoying the show.

With your head thrown back in pleasure from the delicious scrape of your stepdad’s cock against your walls, you could faintly gather that a couple of Alphas had paired with the watching Betas. They plowed into them at the same rhythm you felt your hips clashing with your stepdad’s. It seemed at least one had even already knotted and was simply humping in tandem.

Many other cocks were visible as well, being fucked into fists or simply teased, some were buried in the throats of Betas and the few other Omegas alike. You almost felt envious of the Omegas getting to choke on a cock, your mouth feeling empty for a split second before a loud cry of pleasure was ripped from your throat.

Your stepdad had used his Alpha Claws to shred your leggings right down the middle and, almost simultaneously, pressed your knees to your chest. He leaned forward even more, adding a slight burn to the backs of your thighs, though you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your knees were now thrown over both shoulders as he relentlessly pounded into you, hitting all new spots from the new angle.

You could feel his cock head drag over your g-spot before it rammed into your cervix, again and again, as if it were demanding entry for itself. Your lewd moans and the wet slapping of skin against skin, along with the loud squelch of your cunt, still gushing slick were reverberating around the entire dining area. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sounds reach all the way back to the Cell Phone Shop.

Soon enough, you felt the beginning of his knot forming and catching on your hole the more it inflated. The feeling of it pushing its way into your sopping hole, again and again, was going to drive you insane. After a few more thrusts and the recognition that his knot was nearing full, your Alpha stepfather shallowed his thrusts just enough to only leave his knot out until he reached full capacity.

His thrusts stayed fast but eased up on their force, making you let out an instinctive whine. You needed to be filled. Filled to the brim! No shallow thrusts! No soft thrusts! You needed a knot!

Luckily, it seemed your prayers were answered almost immediately as his knot reached full inflation and after only a couple more thrusts, he rocketed his hips into yours and shoved his knot inside you. The stretch of his large knot made you cry out in ecstasy from the sting of it forcing its way inside you. Finally. Finally! You had the knot inside you that you so desperately needed.

Mere moments after his knot was fully settled inside you, you felt his hot cum shoot out inside you and fill you to the brim. It was only then that you had been able to notice that his cock alone had managed to cause a bulge in your belly from how deep it reached and the bulge only seemed to grow with how much seed he was implanting in you. In your womb.

Faintly, as if from far away, you heard most of the audience you had wracked up reach their own ends, some inside of someone, others into their hands.

“Alpha..” You breathed contently, letting out a sigh of relief at finally being filled with both knot and seed, and at the ache being released from your legs as he moved to let them rest comfortably beside his hips. You looked down and gently placed a hand, aching from how hard you had been gripping the edges of the table,(though you don’t remember doing so) over the swell of your stomach, smiling weakly at the warmth it emanated.

“Princess…” Your Alpha responded, lifting his hand to place it over yours, “Do you feel that, ‘Mega? That’s where you’ll be carrying our pups. I’ll keep you full with my cum for your entire heat and make sure… Make sure that you’re carrying my pups.” You looked up and met his onyx eyes, his hair loose from his low bun and falling in his face, making him look like a being of pure beauty and sex sculpted by the Gods themselves. He had a lazy yet confident grin on his lips, a mixture of yours and his saliva making them glisten, the faintest hint of his Alpha Fangs showing.

He looked like the perfect vision of an Alpha. The perfect vision of Your Alpha. He may not be able to claim you, but you wouldn’t let that stop you from declaring yourself as his. You would proudly carry his pups and submit to his every desire like the perfect little Omega for him.

Your Alpha leaned down and kissed you again, though this time it was slow and sensual and loving rather than the fast and wet, fiery passion it had been before.

“Love you, princess. So fucking much..” He panted against your lips, pressing another chaste peck before resting his forearms beside my head to keep himself up.

“Love you, too.. Daddy..” Your voice was slurred with fatigue, both from the exertion of being perfectly bred and from the pure exhaustion your first heat had shot through you.

You didn’t know when, but you slightly stirred awake from when you had, apparently, passed out, at the sound of a low growl. You were still mostly asleep so you couldn’t comprehend much, but you could tell you were now being held against your stepdad’s chest as he sat in what seemed to be a booth. You vaguely recognized that he had growled at an Alpha who had gotten just barely too close to you both.

The protectiveness lulled you back into a comfortable sleep against his chest, happily breathing in his pheromones. You hadn’t been able to even realize if you could smell his pheromones earlier, your mind too occupied by the physical sensations you were receiving.

When you awoke again, you were situated in his truck, buckled up as he pulled out of the parking lot. You realized you were in his shirt and some new pants that seemed to have been bought just earlier. You felt an ache in your hips and between your legs, one you knew you wouldn’t trade for the world. Tiredly, you dragged your hand to rest over your lower belly once again.

“You finally awake, princess?” Your stepfather’s husky voice asked, seeming more than content. Looking over you found him shirtless and smiling at you as he waited for the light to change. You gave a nod with a matching grin, singing contently.

“Yea.. I’m finally awake..” You spoke, voice hoarse from your loud moans and cries, though you couldn’t be happier.

“I’m awake..” Your Omega purred happily, the sound emanating from you, too, filling the truck with the sound of a happy, filled, and bred Omega.

You could feel the heat calming in your body, leaving you with an exhausted form feeling aches all over and a feeling inside you that you couldn’t pinpoint. All you knew was that your Omega was completely and wholly content and happy. You felt inexplicable giddiness and ecstatics, like everything had gone according to some grand plan.

You couldn’t seem to bring your hand away from your belly, feeling like you were meant to hold it. To cradle it.

‘Who knows? I’ll just have to figure out these instincts as I go.. Maybe it’s an Omega thing.’

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

@frosch-thefrog

[worstqueerbaittournament]

Submission message: howdy, would like to submit keith and lance from voltron (lmao)

Submission message: BBC Sherlock and Moriarty / BBC Sherlock and John Watson

Additional propaganda: Now Keith and Lance on the other hand was a whole fucking mess that they then shoehorned in an hetero romance to try and "fix it" but by lord it was bad, everything about voltron is so fucking bad

Anyway this is my Klance propaganda : They were actually bait

Klance's queer baiting by the team was the worst!! We had to deal with NETFLIX ALSO GETTING IN ON THE QUEER BAITING!! If you searched up Kkance during the times for season 6-8, the SHOW WOULD POP UP. The directors would make jokes about it being canon, even Lance's VA got in the joke!

Their queer baiting was the worst for anyone who was even looking for an ounce of queer rep in that show. The only queer rep we got was a man who died after not even 5 minutes on screen, and shoehorned in the credit scene of a gay wedding of a character that was neither Keith nor Lance.

I do not know Agatha and Sophie, so I can't argue that klance was bigger bait or not, I just know voltron was mean lmao. the creators said stuff like "lance will be someone's first choice!" (meaning NOT ending up in a relationship with allura bc she very much chose another guy over him) and heavily implying he would be Keith's 1st choice (or a guy in general bc of point number 2). point number 2: they also released official art showing how super cool and diverse the main cast was! race! gender! LGBT - they had shiro (who was......canon gay but that's a whole other can of worms) and lance hold the sign with LGBT on it and then did absolutely nothing with that w lance at all (he hit on allura, so obvi he's not gay, but at least bi or smt) (UNLESS you count the scenes where he's flirty with keith). I just remember going into the last few seasons being like "klance probably won't be happen be honest with yourself there's like no queer kids shows!! but damn like it so could tho!!! because of how much it's been teased both in the show and by showrunners like I can't have no hope with the way the producers talk about it!" lmao I should have had no hope, but i genuinkey believed there was a possibility it could happen. and actually I discovered after the fact that i think one of the writers for the show who was the main advocate for klance (they had a lot of diff writers for eps, which led to lots of character butchering but ANYWAY) left not terribly long into the show I believe bc he didn't like the direction it was moving in and didn't want to be tied to the show anymore. so it's not like fans just made klance up either - it was written into earlier episodes with the hope and plan to continue developing later, and then just nothing ever happened with it besides INTENSE teasing it to keep queer fans around. esp after shiro's relationship was literally only a flashback and then his fiance thing or whatever got blown up before we even got to watch him interact w shiro as we knew him in present time in s7, so I think they kept being like hmmm klance and the stuff about lance being a first choice before s8 to keep ppl around. also esp bc klancers made up such a big portion of the fan base. then they made a horrible szn and ended it w a flashforward to shiro marrying some random background character who maybe had 1 line? I just remember hitting the flashforward and being like uhhhh who is this dude??? but they did that to hit those diversity points wow first gay marriage in a cartoon or smt idk it doesn't count to me really. so anyway voltron in general is queerbait lol but klance is because it started out as a legit possibility and then they said sike! but only maybe sike bc u guys are mad at us burying our guys in s7 so maybe klance could still happen haha okay now we're serious no it's not happening. anyway I think klance is p bad queerbait and a vote for them is a valid vote, not just u liking the ship.

#im sorry but johnlock is a household name in ther queerbait trenches

I don't know much about blaze runner, but this website made me endure Johnlock FOR YEARS, that ship makes me so fucking angry, and it's so much bait, the whole fucking show is just 4 kinds of bait in a trenchcoat trying to pass as something good, and Tumblr(and the rest of the goddamn world) ate it up like a five course meal. So anyway that's why I'm voting Johnlock

[aperrywilliams]

More Than You Know (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You’re Spencer's best friend. You have gone through many things together, but after Spencer is incarcerated, things turn different for both of you. Not to mention you have been in love with him for a long time too. How much will you endure until you can’t take it anymore?

Word Count: 5.9k

TW: ANGST. Strong language. Mention of abduction, drug use, getting shot, death of relatives and loved ones, jail, pregnancy, unsafe sex, and potential cheating. All the deal!

A/N: Not a happy ending, at least for Spencer and Reader. Do you think they could have a chance in the future? (I wrote it as a one-shot, but it makes me kind of sad). Let me know what you think.

Part 2: More Than You Say

Part 3: More Than You Expect (the end)

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I don’t have the habit of arriving early at work. I only do it when it is strictly required. I’m not a morning person. I have never been. So you can guess how my mood turns dark when people push me to let go of some minutes of my precious morning sleep, even when Spencer is the one who asks me to.

He called me this morning at 6 am, telling me he needed to talk to me in person. So we agreed to grab a coffee in our usual place before work.

"Thanks for coming," Spencer greets me when I arrive. A harsh expression adorns his features while I sit in the booth before him.

I can’t help the yawn escaping my lips.

“Did I have a choice?” I ask, gesturing to the barista for my regular order.

“I need to talk to you,” he prefaces, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looks distressed. I narrow my eyes, thinking about what could be causing it.

“Yeah, that’s what you said by phone when you woke me up this morning. Why you didn’t tell me there what’s going on?”

“I couldn't tell you by phone,” he excuses himself as the barista approaches and hands me my coffee. I thank her, returning my gaze to my friend.

My mind starts racing with possibilities, and my heartbeat picks up its rate.

“Something happened to your mom?” I ask cautiously. Spencer shakes his head immediately.

“No. My mom is okay.”

Well, that discards a big issue so that I can breathe a little.

“Nightmares again?”

I can recall how bad nightmares could be for Spencer. Since Hankel and passing by Emily’s dead, Maeve, and then prison, Spencer is a lightning rod for nightmares.

“No. Not in a while.”

Good. Another bad thing out of the list.

“Headaches?”

A big issue that worsened after Doyle stabbed Emily and led Spencer to Maeve.

“No. I’m good with that.”

Okay, I’m running out of options here. Is it the job?

“The bureau wants you to take longer sabbaticals?”

“No! Not that either.”

I give up. I don’t think anything is important enough to make me be here before 7 am.

“Spencer, I’m lost. Just tell me what’s going on,” I urge, running out of patience and dying to know what this is about.

"It's about Alison," he clarifies, and I can’t help but groan.

Seriously? The problem is a girl?

"Alison?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the girl I'm seeing lately?" He adds to help my recall. I know Alison, but I won't waste a chance to mess with Spencer, especially considering he made me up early for this.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember that one. I lost track after Lonna," I shrug. Spencer rolls his eyes, knowing what I’m doing.

"Not now, (Y/N). This is important,” he scolds.

I look at him incredulously. What could be so important about a girl he's seeing?

"Okay, okay. Don't be so dense. What happens with the gorgeous Alison?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

"She may be pregnant," he suddenly says with a grimace.

"What?!" I squeal, almost choking on the coffee in my mouth. Spencer looks around us to see if someone is listening to our conversation.

"Shush! You wanna me repeat what I just said?" he whisper-shouts.

"Come on, Spencer. You must be kidding me.”

I take a napkin to clean the mess I made with my coffee.

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“How come you, from all the people, don't know what birth control and condoms are?"

Spencer's cheeks flush. He is embarrassed, but his need to confide in someone is greater.

This is eating him alive.

"May I forget to use one a while ago? I mean, we were in a rush, and-" I cut him off.

"No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know the details of your sex life. I'm just concerned about how reckless you have become, honestly.”

The last part isn’t intended to sound that rough. Spencer is a grown man who can do whatever he pleases with his life, but I‘m worried about him. Since prison happened, he has been stumbling and making poor decisions, including fooling around with women.

Spencer's gaze drops to the floor, just like a child being scolded by his parents. I hate to see him like this. I hate to see him hurting and lost. So I recant my grown-up role this time.

"Spencer, look at me." I pause until his eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry if it was harsh; I'm just worried, okay? Now tell me, Alison told you?"

He shakes his head.

"Not directly. But she told me she's been feeling sick, and this morning I - I heard her throwing up. And I am almost sure she didn't have her period last month," Spencer recounts each fact as his breathing picks up.

Great. A panic attack is what I needed now.

"Hey, hey. Just breathe, okay?" I urge, calling his attention. He nods and slowly does what I say.

After a minute, he starts to feel better to speak.

"What should I do?" Spencer groans, with both hands grabbing his head.

In a twisted way, I found the scene comical.

Spencer is asking me what to do. To me.

I mean, what could I even tell him? He's my friend, but this is far ahead of what I could advise someone for.

Let alone someone who I have feelings for.

Yeah. That's the hard truth.

Cliche as it sounds, I have feelings for my best friend. A man who will never reciprocate those feelings. That's how fuck up the situation is.

But after years of keeping that secret, I learned how to mask everything for the sake of our friendship and our jobs.

"For starters, we don't know if she is pregnant. Maybe it is just your paranoia. We must be sure, so you must ask her," I instruct. Spencer looks at me in horror as if I just said he needed to jump from the 20th floor.

"What? No! I can't do that!"

"You can, and you will. You can't keep stressing out about something you don't even know!"

"And what if she is? I should marry her?" My eyes widened at that.

And the people call him a genius.

"Spencer, don't rush to the next town when you haven't stepped in this one first. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You both need to talk and decide if things turn that way, okay?"

He lets out a deep exhale.

"Okay. Okay. You're right."

Even if I want to slap him right now, I know I will never do it. Squeezing his shoulder affectionately, I let out my following words.

"You'll figure it out. Whatever it is, you'll know what to do, and I'll be by your side, okay? You're not alone."

Spencer looks at me with gratitude and a hint of relief. He knows I’m genuine in my statement. He knows I’ll be by his side no matter what.

It always has been that way.

We joined the team almost at the same time. While Jason Gideon recruited Spencer, Aaron Hotchner recruited me. Gideon insisted that Spencer’s brain and knowledge about everything would be an enormous asset to the team. Hotch did the same with me, pointing out how my interpersonal skills and impressive field experience would be valuable to the job. Different reasons, same outcome: being the newest made us closer. And not a long time after, we became best friends.

I was there when Spencer got abducted by Tobias Hankel. I was there when he struggled with his drug addiction. I consoled him when Gideon left and then when he died years later. I cared for him when he got shot in the knee and neck. We cried together when Emily ‘died.’ And after what happened to Maeve, I was there for all steps on the way. The last straw was Mexico and the three months in Millburn. I never missed a visit, and I was by his side when he had to talk to Cat Adams.

And the same way I have been for him, he has been for me. A few months after I joined the team, I got shot in the shoulder, and Spencer helped me a lot. He rode the ambulance with me when I got shot again in the abdomen three years later. He was with me when my dad passed away. Spencer comforted me when one of my long-term boyfriends dumped me. He took a serious role in rooting for me whenever I doubted myself in the job and life.

We know each other like the palm of our hands.

Everybody would have thought our friendship was forged to everlast. And I‘m still adamant about making it that way, even if after a few years of knowing each other, I realized I‘m in love with Spencer. How could I not?

Even at some point, those feelings could have been reciprocal. I noticed things between us changed after Hotch and Morgan left the team.

The stolen glances, the little touches, the overprotectiveness, the subtle flirting. I indulged myself with the idea that it was a natural turn to us be more than friends.

But then Mexico happened.

And things changed for Spencer and me.

The moment we understood what happened and that Spencer would be locked until we could find who did this to him, I didn't rest. I didn't sleep. I barely eat. But I put a brave face on him. I knew he was having the worst time there, so I was who encouraged him every chance I got.

But it didn't matter how hard we tried, how hard I tried. Spencer locked himself and didn't let anyone in. The day he was released, I hugged him first and felt some normalcy. He said how much he missed me, how much he missed us all.

Things went well for a while, but I could tell Spencer wasn't okay. He talked less; he looked distant and disaffected. Sure, Spencer was trying to cope with everything. And as before, I tended my hand to him to hold. And in a way, he took it, but not how it would help him heal.

Our relationship turned instrumental, at least for him.

He started failing in the job, lying to Emily about his whereabouts when he ran late. His mind was distracted more often. If he was reckless at the job before, now it was worse. He snapped more too. And for every time, I was there to cover him up. That's how everyone assumed he was still finding his balance, but I wasn't so sure.

Things worsened when Spencer discovered sex was an excellent way to release frustration. At first, I didn't think it could be a big deal. Getting laid wasn't a big deal. Not ideal for me, but I suppressed my jealousy for his sake. I would choose his well-being ten thousand times before my stupid love for him.

Still, things have not improved. Almost a year after Millburn, Spencer keeps stumbling, getting into trouble, and does not act as he should. I know I have my responsibility quote, but I'm too involved in this cycle to break it.

I want to say at least I have my friend, but that isn’t entirely true. Every time I have needed him in the past year, he hasn't been there. I could tell he hadn’t even noticed I had been losing weight or the doctor’s appointment I had to attend for feeling sick.

I’m alone by myself. It's sad, but I can’t force him. I’m not like that. I would never beg for affection from anyone who doesn’t want to give it, even if I needed it. People would say it is the wrong way, but I cannot be otherwise.

Some days after our coffee shop conversation, Spencer rushes to my desk to tell me the ‘good news.’ False alarm. Alison isn’t pregnant.

Spencer looks relaxed and relieved. Maybe it’s the wake-up call he needs to slow down. My hope is short-lived, though, because while he tells me everything, his phone ding. A smirk appears on his face when he sees the incoming text.

“What is it?” I ask, and Spencer bites his lower lip.

“I have a date,” he answers, typing on his phone.

“With Alison?” I narrow my eyes. He looks at me when he’s done sending the message.

“No! Of course not. I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I told her I needed time to think,” he explains like he’s talking about the weather.

“So you’re going to meet another girl without breaking up with Alison?”

“You can’t break up with someone you’re not officially involved with,” Spencer shrugs.

I want to kill him right now.

“God, Spencer. What are you doing?”

The question is primarily rhetorical, but Spencer answers nonetheless.

“Living, (Y/N). I’m living for the first time in my life.”

Can I argue with that logic? Sure. There is so much I can tell him. But I’m tired. Spencer doesn't see or hear reasons. Not even from me. It seems I have lost the privilege of being listened to by him.

Since that talk, I can’t stop thinking about what I am doing. Am I clasping onto something it doesn't exist anymore?

I don’t know the answer, and I don’t know if I want to get one. I’m just holding until I can’t do it anymore.

And that's how time flies. Things look relatively the same, and I'm just trying to float so I don't drown.

We just ended a gruesome case in Arizona. Our jet landed an hour ago, and everyone is in the mood for a drink. Rossi and Matt are the only ones with excuses to go home early.

Once there, Penelope grabs Luke’s hands and drags him to the dance floor. JJ offers to get us some drinks. Emily volunteers to help her.

Spencer is quiet, looking at me, but I barely notice. My mind is elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” He asks. The question takes me by surprise. In the past weeks, we haven’t talked that much.

“Yeah. Good. The case, you know?”

Spencer nods, but I see the worry lingering.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I want to say I believe him, but I don’t. It’s been months since I felt that close to him. But even if I don’t believe him, I may voice my concern again.

“I don’t know,” I preface, and Spencer’s attention is full on me. It's weird, to say the least, but I will take the chance. “There is this thing bugging me. About our-” I can’t end my idea before the sound of someone squealing ‘Spencer!’ reach our ears.

The man in question snaps his head up. It's Alison. Before I can say anything, he stands, and after mumbling a ‘sorry,’ he goes to the girl calling his name.

There it goes. Nothing. Again.

I sigh before sipping my drink. What was I hoping, anyway?

JJ and Emily return to our table and ask for Spencer. Not even looking behind, I gesture to my back. They understand.

We set for drinking and complaining about whatever comes to mind. I know they know, but they are respectful enough not to push me.

The night is progressing, and I enroll in conversation with Luke and Penelope when they return from their dancing. After they leave, Emily cracks jokes to make me laugh, and JJ does her best to lose a little.

The sound of glass crushing gets our attention to the bar. There he was. Spencer is between two girls who are arguing about something. I recognize Alison, but not the other one.

“Ups. Someone is in trouble,” Emily mused. JJ shakes her head in a disapproving mood. I see Spencer’s eyes darting between the girls and trying to soothe the argument, failing miserably.

I ponder my options. I can leave him to deal with his mess for once or give him a hand. Emily reads my mind.

“Are you sure?” she asks. I shrug, standing from my spot.

“I wouldn’t like to see him complaining because one of those girls broke a bottle on his head.”

I stroll to where the action is happening, morphing my annoyed look into a confident one.

"Hey baby, I was looking for you!” I chirp, using the most loving voice as my arms wrap around Spencer’s torso.

The girls don’t look happy with my intrusion.

"We were talking with Spencer," Alison says as if I don't know that.

"Yeah, he was about to explain who he’ll choose between us," the other girl adds.

If I could have rolled my eyes, I would do it. Are they that naive? But they have a point: maybe Spencer would do what they want under pressure, even if he doesn't like it. That's why I‘m here. I know him.

"I'm so sorry, girls, but you got it wrong. This man is mine, and believe me when I tell you, you should be walking away right now. You don't want to mess with me, his wife, and the mother of his child waiting for us at home, right baby?" Now I talk to him.

Spencer's mouth goes agape, even more than Alison's and the other girl's.

"Your what?!" Alison yells. Her eyes are a few inches to pop out of their sockets.

"You have a child?!" The other looks as shocked as Alison.

Spencer only stutters incoherent words. They aren’t needed, though. After cursing him and letting out a bunch of expletives, both girls stomp out of the bar.

That’s when I notice I still have my arms around him. I pull away and clear my throat.

"You're welcome," I say before turning into my heels.

Spencer wraps my wrist to stop me. His eyes are curious, examining my features as if reading me. I return an annoyed look.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" He asks as if he is really intrigued by my actions. It may feel more natural for me than for him.

"To save your ass? Come on, Reid. They would have eaten you alive," I scoff. Spencer chuckles, knowing that it is what could have happened.

"Yeah. But why you saved my ass? You could have feasted with the scandal."

I shrug. For a second, it crossed my mind just to be honest and give him a piece of my mind. But it‘s dangerous territory, so I opt for the safer way.

"That's what the friends are for. Even if you deserve being kicked in your ass sometimes," I try to sound light like it isn’t a big deal.

"Friends, uh?" Spencer points, mulling my words. I don't know why that specific word interests him, but I don’t read into it. "Well, thank you, then."

Now he is grinning as if a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"You're going home?" I ask, thinking Spencer only wants to disappear from the bar after the recent events. He narrows his eyes and shakes his head like I’m talking nonsense.

"No. Not when I'm free to have a good time, at last."

"What?"

"Do you see those girls over there?" He points with his look to a group of women giggling and drinking on the opposite side of the bar.

My stomach drops to my feet as I look at him in disbelief.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"To you? I would never. You're my best friend. Thanks again," Spencer says warmly before kissing my cheek and strolling to the group he has spotted.

And here I am, standing in the middle of the bar, with words stuck in my throat and the feeling that the last 10 minutes hadn't even happened. The bartender stares at me with that empathetic look that reflects more pity than anything else. I look back at him and ask for a drink. Since I’m there, I won’t waste the chance of alcohol replacing the burning I already feel in my stomach.

"Don't tell me. You saved his ass just to let him have the chance to screw it up again," Emily summarizes when I return to the table with my drink. Both have seen all the action in the bar that transpired a while ago.

"That's what the friends are for, right?" I mockingly parrot my own words. JJ scoffs.

"I don't doubt your loyalty to Spence. But don't you think it's too much? I mean, you cover him in all your capacities, and he's not taking any responsibility for his actions," she proffers. Emily nods in agreement.

"He has been through a lot. He's lost and needs help," I argue, sipping my vodka.

"We know that. But it's time Spencer takes the reign of his life. Also, it's time you focus on your own," Emily says, pointing her index finger at me.

"What do you mean?" I ask defensively.

And there are again the pity looks.

"We know you have feelings for him. That's more than friendship, we can tell. But it's not going anywhere, and you know it. When was the last time you dated, uh?" JJ questions. Her words stab me right in my chest. I let out a deep sigh.

"Exactly." Emily seconds. "You need to think about what's healthy for you. That doesn't mean you don't care about Spencer, but he must figure it out himself."

As a cue, I turn to look at the bar direction. Spencer wraps his arm around a girl's waist, his lips ghosting her ear, whispering God knows what but making the girl giggle.

JJ and Emily are right. I’m not genuinely helping him. It is just the faint hope that I could make him see me. Really see me.

After another drink with the girls, I decide to go home.

And I decide it is time to let him go.

But honestly speaking, what does that mean? It's not that feelings can disappear overnight. It's not that one day you wake up and say, "That's enough." At the end of the day - feelings aside - Spencer is my friend, and he trusts me even in his darkest moments. But the girls are right when they say friendship goes both ways. It doesn't work if he can't respect my boundaries.

So I went over my limits. What am I willing to tolerate, and what am I not? In the first place, I won’t cover him up in lies in front of the team anymore. If he has to take a scolding from Emily for being irresponsible, so be it. Second, I won’t put up with being the go-to person for any of his mess with women. And finally, I’m not going to justify his behavior to anyone. If anyone has a problem with him, they should tell him directly. I would no longer be an interlocutor between Spencer Reid and the rest of the world.

It didn’t pass long before those limits were tested again.

Some days after what happened at the bar, I arrived at the BAU for a new case. We scheduled the meeting in the conference room at 9:00.

It’s 9:05, and Spencer still has yet to arrive. As expected, everyone is asking me what happened to Reid. I shrug. At the same time, Spencer texts me, saying he is running late and asking me to say he had a problem on the subway. I know it isn’t true, so I pretend I never got the message. That brought him explaining himself to Emily when he arrived all disheveled at 9:30.

Things like that keep happening. Spencer keeps showing up late for work and lies about the reasons. Sometimes he is nowhere to see in the bullpen, only to reappear with his hair untamed and his shirt partially untucked. Those times, opposite to the previous ones, I don’t tell him to fix himself.

Not to mention the number of calls and texts he has sent me in unholy hours to ask me what he should do about his new conquers. Calls and texts I start to ignore. That last behavior is what he resented the most, I could tell.

One morning he shows up at the conference room where I’m checking a stack of files scattered over the table. The rest of the team minding their own business downstairs.

"Are you mad at me?" He bluntly asks. I raise an eyebrow, looking at him from my manila folder.

"No. I'm not,” I reply, unbothered. But if I know Spencer enough, he will not be satisfied with my answer.

"Yes, you are. You have been avoiding me. Last night I called you, and you didn't answer."

He is the one mad at me. Or at least upset. Which one was it? It doesn’t matter; he feels ignored, and he hates it.

"I was sleeping,” I answer with the same flat tone. That spurs more of his anger.

"That's not true. You don't hit the pillow before 1 am!"

Well, Spencer does pay attention, at least for that kind of thing. Months ago, I would have felt flattered. Now? It feels void and just to his service.

"Maybe last night I did."

Spencer scoffs this time.

"I don't think so. I know you (Y/N),” he defies. Maybe he thought I would bite the bullet and apologize for ignoring him.

"Whatever. Why you called me, anyway? Did you want to tell me how your new girl screamed your name in bed?" I deadpan.

Spencer’s eyes widened.

"What?! No! I- I just,” he pauses. “I just wanted to talk to you!"

“Why?” I interject.

I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of the real reasons why Spencer needs me.

His face flushes, thinking of his following words.

“I - uh. We haven’t talked in a long time. Our last movie night was a month ago. And you haven’t called me either. I miss you,” he mumbles.

I huff a laugh. Does he really think I would believe that?

“You see me every day here, Reid,” I say with the same monotonous tone, returning my gaze to the file I’m reading.

Reid. That should have been the sign he searches for, even if his mind isn’t clear enough to put two and two together.

He scoots closer, softly bending down the file in my hands.

“(Y/N), hey. Please, talk to me. Don’t let me in the dark,” he pleads. I turn my gaze away from him. The sadness and the anger boil inside. It’s exhausting.

“I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I want to fix it. Tell me what it is,” Spencer insists, this time with a hand over mine.

I glance at him in silence. Could a look be enough to convey everything stuck in my chest? Years ago, it could have worked with Spencer. The friendship we had back then was stronger enough to make that happen. Just a look, and each one knew what the other was thinking. Now it is just noise that could or not mean something.

How he looks at me now, lost in the signs I‘m giving him and eager for me to say something, tells me what I already know. I wonder if I would let it out this time or bottle it up again.

“I’m just tired, you know?”

My mouth works on its own accord. My brain isn’t able to stop it. Spencer examines my face looking for something to anticipate what could be coming. His clueless is irritating.

“I’m tired of hoping you can realize how badly you hurt yourself—and waiting for you to do something about it,” I blurt, knowing this is not what he wants to hear.

“What do you mean?” He asks, leaning back in a defensive mode.

“You know exactly what I mean. You are failing yourself, Spencer. You still can’t stand your ground. And you keep ignoring it!”

I punctuate my statement by shoving the file over the table. Spencer gets startled by my action.

“If you are talking about what happened the other night in the bar. It doesn't -” He explains, but I cut him off.

“No! It's everything! Can’t you see it? It's the way you lie to your teammates, the way you do your job, like it doesn't matter to you. The way you turn everything into something meaningless. The relationships you have, your job, your friends. Everything!”

Spencer’s face steels. I know he doesn't like being called out. He hates that. But I wouldn’t spare him the trouble this time.

“You are being unfair (Y/N),” he says with gritted teeth, standing to put some distance from me.

“Am I? Oh, no. If something I’m sure of is the unfairness doesn't fall on me.”

I spit back, standing as well to show him I wouldn’t back off. After running his hands through his hair, he turns to me. He has a look of betrayal on him.

Betrayal? The audacity of this man.

"Yes! You are! You, better than anyone, know it hasn't been easy for me! Life - life in Millburn changed me, and it has been so difficult to settle it down. You know that! Those were the worst three months of my life!"

Millburn. It was like a prohibited word for us. He didn't like to say it or hear it from me.

"So that gives you the right to ruin the good things in your life, uh? Because you are a lost soul in this world?” I try to reason, but that only gives me a burlesque laugh from him.

"And what if it were so? It's not like I have much to lose, right?"

And there it is—the broken man. The guy who still believes no one loves him and he doesn't deserve to be loved. All the years of work to put those walls down returned to zero after he got imprisoned.

"Do you really believe that? Do you really believe your self-destructive behavior only affects you? I didn't think you were so selfish, Spencer."

Although I know the answer, I ask nonetheless. And even though I know that selfishness isn’t something Spencer deliberately wants, maybe voicing it could help me to bring him back.

“Selfish? Says the person I trusted with my life, and now it’s throwing everything back to me?”

Or not.

“Stop doing that! Stop assuming everyone is attacking you! If we need to blame someone, of course, we can blame Cat Adams. But now she’s dead, Spencer! And what about you? For God’s sake! You had endured so much in your life, and now you’re going to let that bitch keep destroying you from the grave?”

My voice gets hoarse from the yelling, and for the first time during this conversation, Spencer doesn't spit something back immediately.

The hurt expression on his face morphs into defeat. He doesn't want to fight back. He doesn’t want to get out of the hole.

We keep looking at each other silently, daring the other to say anything.

Spencer tries to mask his glassy eyes, breaking eye contact and looking at the ceiling. And seeing him like this spurs the desire to run and hug him, holding him. But I can’t. I swore not to back down.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But this is who I am now,” he mumbles after a few minutes.

I exhale sharply. Why is it so difficult for him to understand?

“Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it's not true,” I argue, but with no energy to keep yelling. But it's like fuel to Spencer’s anger.

“Why do you care anyway? Is it because you are my friend?” He mockingly air quotes the word ‘friend.’ “Well, it seems my friendship doesn't satisfy you anymore, does it?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You are not comfortable with the person I am. You don't want my company anymore. You don’t trust me. It's very clear to me.”

I need to get out of here before I say something I may regret or Spencer does it burying any chance of us being okay again.

“Where are you going? Doesn’t feel okay hearing the truth, (Y/N)?”

“You are angry, and we can’t keep talking like this,” I mumbled, trying to pass to the exit door.

“Are you chicken out now? That's how you understand loyalty?” Spencer calls me out this time. He’s testing me, and I can’t take it anymore.

“Don’t question my loyalty. If anything, loyalty is what you have been getting from me since always! Don’t you dare to doubt it!”

My voice is going to break at any minute, and I don’t know what to do to push away this suffocating feeling.

”Let me have suspicions about that,” he scoffs, and I want to cry.

How unfair. How painful.

“Oh no, no, no. Not that. You know what? I’m done. Fuck you, Spencer! Fuck you and your fucking cluelessness and self-loathing. I have been by your side in thick and thin. I have given you everything!”

I bet my screaming is being heard throughout the entire floor right now, but I don’t fucking care. I’m not going to stop right now. “God! Even I would have died for you! But you don’t deserve anything of it. You don’t deserve my loyalty and much less my love.”

I notice how Spencer’s eyes widen with my last sentence.

“Your what,” he barely mumbles.

The secret is out. But it's too late. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.

“Yes. You heard right. I said, ‘My love.’ Because I fucking love you. I have been in love with you for ages! But I chose our friendship above all, and what I got? A friend who can’t see beyond his shit. Hell, everyone’s right. I deserve better!”

I can’t stop the tears from springing, and I hate myself for not being stronger to endure this.

“(Y/N)… why you didn't tell me?”

He's being cautious and slowly tries to approach, reaching for my hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“(Y/N),” he tries again. “We can talk about this, please.”

I hate this. I don't want his pity. Honestly, I don't want anything at all. I thought saying the truth would help me to lift a weight from my shoulders. Now I just want to run anywhere in the world where nobody knows me. I’m sick, and being by his side, in any capacity, would no do better to me.

“No. We can’t. Too little too late, Spencer. I’m done. I really hope you can find whatever you're looking for. I hope you do. You deserve to be happy. And so do I. Take care, okay? And I’m sorry for lying to you. I told you I’ll always be by your side, but I can’t. Not like this.”

I look at him for the last time, patting his shoulder and giving him a sad smile. He doesn't say anything; he only stands there, following my steps with his gaze until I reach the door and shut it behind me.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[the-amazing-digital-guardians-au]

The Amazing Digital Circus: Guardian AU

My TADC AU is now up and running! I will be making a poster, character cards, general art, and possibly comics based around the storyline. Here’s the information!:

Description:

Caine is the ringmaster and ruler of The Amazing Digital Circus, but there are some things that even he can’t control. NPCs go rogue all the time, often acting out and trying to genuinely hurt the circus members as they go on adventures. Because of this, Caine has always appointed two circus members he deems the most worthy to protect him and others from danger. They have been different over the years (mainly due to abstractions), but currently Jax and Ragatha are his Guardians. The two of them are more privileged than the regular circus members: they are allowed to wield weapons, swear, indulge in vices, and the like as long as they do so in private, do their jobs well, and don’t disrupt the "family-friendly" atmosphere of the circus. Caine trusts them…or so he says. And to make matters worse, it looks like NPCs are forming an uprising to overthrow Caine, led by none other than a revived Gummigoo! Travel through the colorful world of TADC, but covered in a grimy layer of violence, corruption, and deception.

Who will the story focus on:

Caine

Abel

Pomni 

Jax

Ragatha

Kinger and Queenie

Princess Loo, Gummigoo, and other/more NPCs as the canon Digital Circus web series progresses

Genre:

Religious and psychological horror

Comedy

Action

Philosophical(?)

Content Warning - Anything produced for this AU may have any of the following elements:

Religious themes

Implied/referenced torture 

Blood (No gore, but this may change in the future)

Mental health issues 

War themes

Gambling

Alcohol and Drugs

Foul Language

This AU is recommended for ages 16+. The creator of this blog is 18.

…Wait, there’s more?!

FAQ:

Can I make fanart?

Yes, fanart is encouraged and always appreciated! Just make sure to credit me as the creator when needed. Do not use my creations if you are hateful/racist/sexist/anti-LGBTQ or just problematic in any other way. I don’t want what I make to be associated with these things. As for NSFW stuff…I would prefer if you didn’t. (Okay, well…now that I think about it, sure, go ahead, go crazy. But please don’t send it to me, I don’t really wanna see it. And tag it appropriately! Be mindful of others!) Ocs are allowed!! Ships (Canon x Canon, Canon x OC, OC x OC, whatever) are allowed! Tag me in anything as long as it’s SFW. Seriously, do whatever you want!

What are the religious themes?

Christianity. I am a Christian myself, but I also really enjoy religious horror and researching different religions. Does Pomni represent Jesus in this story? Not really. But, I will be using themes/images of Christianity (like angels, for example) to enhance the horror. I also like studying Japanese and Chinese mythological figures, purely out of interest. I will never try to push my beliefs onto the audience in any way. People can believe in whatever they want!

Are there any ships?

Bunnydoll (Jax x Ragatha) is the main ship. It is mostly implied/referenced and nothing overly romantic happens. The story focuses on their emotional bond since they are both Caine’s guardians. If you don’t like the ship, please don’t be rude to people who do. And if you do like the ship, don’t be rude to people who don’t! There’s enough hate on the internet already. Just be mindful that we all like different things, and have fun!

How will the story be told?

Through comics, probably. It’s easier for me to write things in a document (as a script) and then draw, so it will take time. I will also make art on the side that may or may not have canon information or events. It depends.

What inspired you?

The 70s (lots of yellow, orange and brown colors), Skinnamarink, religious horror, vintage Las Vegas, vintage snacks, and other random stuff. I have specific inspirations for different characters. But my inspiration to even start this project is definitely @/burrotello and The Amazing Digital Fight Club AU. It’s awesome!

Can I ask questions about characters, the story, etc?

Yes, but if it’s an answer I don’t want to reveal yet…well, we’ll see what happens. Sometimes, I will make drawings where a character reacts or responds!

[malarign]

studio nights

(when you help him write lyrics for his new single)

contains: idolbf!Jake x fem!reader | genre: a little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff | tw! crying | wc: 0,6k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: guess who is back 😼 honestly as a musician, it is probably the most disappointing part - not being able to come up with any good melody or just being unsatisfied with your work, but i guess all creators can agree on that :’)

Jake buried his face in the palms of his hands as yet another phrase slipped his mind. He never thought writing lyrics would be so difficult yet here he is hopeless since all the good words seemed to be nonoperative. Not only lyrics were his problem, but all the melodies also didn’t sound as good as he wanted. He thought all those years of musical education and violin playing would be helpful but somehow made it even worse, setting expectations so high, it was almost impossible to reach.

Suddenly the sound of a new message notification resounded in the quiet studio. He immediately reached for it thinking it could be you. Thankfully it was.

y/nie 💞: hi my love! are you done or should I come over?

He thought for a while and bit his lip. The last thing he wanted is you to see him in that state. His hair was messy, he didn’t shave for a while, and his eyes bloodshot red from crying and being in front of a computer for a whole day. The only moment he left the studio was to go to the toilet and when Jungwon asked him if he had maybe seen their choreographer.

He finally decided to just apologize for being at work until late hour once again.

His phone lit up again showing another message from you.

y/nie 💞: well too bad cuz i’m already at hybe :)

The message made him freeze. He really didn’t want you to see him like that, having a feeling that you were going to scold him for not taking proper care of himself. He quickly grabbed his phone to take a quick shower before you came only to see you as soon as he opened ten door. He noticed the bag of his favorite snacks and a bright smile on your face, which slowly faded away as you saw how in bad shape your boyfriend was. He thought about how disappointed you were, not knowing the only person you were mad at was yourself, feeling guilty for letting that happen.

“My love…” you finally spoke and caressed his cheek lovingly. This faint touch made his lip quiver as tears started to flood his eyes.

You closed the door behind you for some privacy and engulfed him in a tight hug, that he needed so much.

“I feel like a failure. I can’t even come up with the easiest lyrics,” he cried trying to calm down at the same time.

“Jake, look at me,” you spoke and cupped his cheeks. “It’s okay to have a block, I know how difficult it is to write good lyrics and that’s why I’m always so proud of you and how far you’ve come. You never fail to impress me and many others.”

He nodded at your words which spoke to him perfectly and resolved his doubts.

“Thank you,” he simply said and smiled at you.

“Can I maybe help you? Can I see what you have already?”

A little skeptical about your idea he showed you his notes full of scribbles and crossed-off words. You took your time in reading his work and soon gave your feedback, which to your surprise seemed to untie some knots in his mind. You watched as he slowly nods and writes it down hastily, regaining his confidence thanks to both your comment and good remarks.

You spend long hours in that one small studio, thinking of good and catchy phrases and tunes in the hope that maybe both of your names are going to be listed in the final credits of the album.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

permanent taglist: (send an ask to be added) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @kpopstanmeg, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl

[wrrrenff]

Restless Nights In the Devildom

Obey Me: Shall We Date Mammon x F! Reader Synopsis: After a long day in the devildom you can't seem to get any sleep! So of course the only thing to do is go annoy your best friend Mammon. Thing don't turn out as expected when you get to his room...

Warnings: 18+, smut, restraints, bondage, p in v sex, kissing, marking, domination

Gif credits to the creator!

Today had really taken its toll. Three exams, breaking up a fight between Satan and Lucifer, and in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone Beel kept trying to eat my ingredients! All of it was adding up and you were dead tired. So why couldn’t you fall asleep? It’s been two and a half hours and nothing. You could cry at how frustrated you were.

You decided that if you can’t sleep you might as well go annoy your favorite demon. You don’t even bother to knock on Mammon’s door. At this point you are both so used to each other just barging in. When you opened the door you noticed a lump on the bed. As you got closer you saw the white hair you’re so familiar with. He was asleep. Perfect opportunity to fuck with him. His face does look really peaceful… Do you really want to ruin that? Hehe fuck yeah i do.

You slowly reach towards his shoulder, ready to shake the ever-living hell out of him. As soon as you make contact Mammon grabs your hand and quickly fling you onto his bed and straddles you and holds your wrists tightly against the mattress. *What the fuck just happened* you thought.

His furious eyes take a moment before realizing who is underneath him. He smirked. “Well well well. Look who we have here. Does the little human think she can sneak up on me that easily?”

You were breathing hard. This is not how you expected this to go at all. But you weren’t mad at this situation. Or the position.

“You okay princess? You’re breathing real heavy.” Mammon said with slight concern, slightly lifting his weight off your legs but still holding your wrists tight.

You liked this. You didn’t want it to stop. Instead of responding you decided to try something. Slowly but carefully, you lift your knee and press it between his legs, rubbing it back and forth slightly. Mammon moaned. Hard. So devilishly sweet.

“Oh, you want to play like that huh?” Mammon flew off of you and started digging through his dresser drawer. Did he not like it? You worried that you upset him and went too far. That is, until he turned around and you saw the rope and cuffs.

Before you even had a second to think you were being tied up to the demon’s bed frame. You pull at the restraints with no luck at getting out.

“Too tight?”

“They’re fine but…”

The demon raised a brow. He gently grabbed your chin and slowly lifted your face until you were forced to look at him. “What is it darling? Use your words.”

Damn demon. You didn’t want to admit how badly you wanted him but you conceded. “I want to touch you. Make you feel good.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly. It made you squirm. “You came to me. I make the rules. You’re lucky I didn’t use my gag.”

“Well there’s already one flaw in your plan, genius. You forgot to take my clothes off before tying me up.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem sweetheart.” Suddenly he uses his strength to rip your clothes off. It was so easy for him. Like taking a tissue out of the box.

“So wet for me already and we’ve barely even started.”

He was staring at your figure, eyes full of lust. They were hungry eyes, intimidating. You couldn’t help but shift under him, suddenly feeling self conscious. Before you had too much more time to think about it, Mammon dove in and kissed you hard. You didn’t reciprocate at first, taking a moment to register what was happening, but quickly enough you came to your senses and kissed back. Mammon place one hand on the back of your head, slightly pulling at your hair, his other hand at your breast, lightly teasing your nipple.

He started moving his lips lower. Down your neck biting and sucking hard, almost like he was trying to leave the most obvious marks he could so everyone would know you belonged to him, even if just for this one time. He is the demon of greed after all.

You were a moaning mess. You wanted to touch him. Feel the closeness between you too. It was so FRUSTRATING. It didn’t take long for your moans to turn to impatient whines.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

“I- I want to feel you” you were a panting mess.

“Not yet, baby.”

“Can’t you at least strip too? I want to see you. All of you.”

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, stroking his chin in the most dramatic way like the idiot he is. He was drawing this out. After a minute he got close to your face and whispered “I’ll see what I can do”

He straddled you and started taking his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before but this time was different. You’ve never wanted to feel up to someone more than you did right now. You try to reach for him but don’t get very far due to the cuffs.

“You’re cute” He continues stripping, your eyes watching hungrily. As he takes off his underwear you can’t help but wonder how the fuck that thing is going to fit inside of you. But you didn’t care. You want him and you want him now.

“Fuck me please! I need it now!” You were practically begging at this point. You could see Mammon wanted to tease you some more but even he was getting to his breaking point. He lines up with your entrance and slowly starts pushing in.

“F-fuuuuucking hell!”

He stops half way through. “Need a sec?”

You nod, struggling a bit to get any words out. After a moment you tell him to continue. He eventually bottoms out inside of you and you have never felt so full in you life. You Loved it, but you needed more.

“Move please!”

“As you wish my princess.”

He starts thrusting and immediately hitting all the right spots. Mammon leaned down and started lapping and sucking one breast while teasing the other with his hand. Feeling the heat between your bodies and all of the sensations he was making you feel, it was pure bliss.

“Mammon faster! Break me!”

Without any hesitation he started going faster and harder, your hips meeting his as best they could considering the restraints. The bed was creaking like crazy. Any other day you’d be worried that this much noise would get you in trouble with Lucifer but you could deal with the consequences later. Mammon moved off your breast and up to your neck, creating more love bites. You were getting close and he could tell. Mammon reached down between you and started rubbing your clit in circles, turning you into a blubbering mess. You couldn’t even form words and more. The only sounds filling the room at this point was just the sound of skin and both of your grunts and moans.

Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, Mammon angled himself a bit differently and was hitting your g-spot perfectly. Only a few more thrusts and you were cumming hard. You went to grab Mammon as you came but were stopped by your cuffs so you were just squirming as you came.

You lay there, still bound by the handcuffs and ropes as Mammon kept pounding into you. You were so sensitive. It felt great. Each thrust into you had you whimpering. He just kept hitting your g-spot. After a minute, it was like you had gained a second wind and you could feel yourself getting close again. Mammon, realizing this, started thrusting even harder into you. You could swear the bed was going to break. Soon you both came, screaming each other's names. You were in such a trance after that you didn’t even know your own name. Mammon collapsed on top of you, panting like crazy. After catching his breath and regaining some strength, Mammon released you from your restraints. You immediately grabbed onto him like a koala to a tree. He chuckled and held you close.

After a few minutes of cuddling, you finally broke the silence. “You know, I just came in here to annoy you but if the thanks I get for barging in here, I think I need to do it more often”

The demon smirked “From here on out you can expect a lot more, princess.” You both cuddled up as close as you could to each other and eventually drifted off into the deepest most refreshing sleep you’ve ever had.

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 7/8

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 - Very quick mentions of drugs - 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.

I kept getting derailled by stuff but El Famoso Chapter 7 (as my hubby has been calling it those last weeks) is finally done T^T I think my ADHD brain doesn't want me to finish this story because once it's done, it's done and I'll have to say goodbye to Ezekiel and this Logan. Regarding the poll I made about male x male smut, as the results were mixed, if I write anything between Logan and Zeek, I'll make this a bonus scene. Okay, people, it's time to feed the hunger again :)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 7/8

Word Count: 12.4K / 60K+ for now

E opened their eyes as the ray of the sun stroked their skin. The golden light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Next to them, Logan was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his expression peaceful—more so than E had ever seen since their first encounter in that tense hallway weeks ago.

They let their gaze roam over the lines of his face, memorizing every detail: the scruff along his jaw, the way his lashes rested against his cheek, and how his tousled hair fell messily across his brow, lending him an almost boyish look. The sight stirred a rare, warm smile from E, a glimmer of something fragile and cherished flickering within them.

Despite the contentment that coursed through their veins, a seed of resolve pressed at the back of their mind, they didn’t want to disturb him, nor did they want him to wake up alone, with only the ghost of their presence left in the warmth of the sheets. But time wasn’t on their side, as the rest of the mansion was about to awaken.

E brushed their fingers lightly along Logan’s arm, feeling the solid muscle shift beneath their touch even as he slept, the faint brush of their fingers drawing a soft, instinctive hum from him. Slowly, his eyes cracked open, still heavy with the haze of sleep.

The sharp alertness that often defined him flickered briefly before his gaze landed on them. Almost immediately, his features softened, the edge of wariness melting into something softer.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice rough and hoarse, but so low it felt like a quiet confession.

E’s lips curved in a small, tender smile. Something in his tone, softer than anything they’d ever expected from him, made their old, dusty heart stutter in their chest. For all the years they’d walked the earth, never had they been spoken to in such a way.

“Hey,” they responded in kind, voice almost shy as their eyes traced his features—the rugged lines of his face, the way his hair stuck up slightly, the barest hint of something unguarded in his expression.

Logan shifted slightly, his arm flexing beneath their touch, though he made no move to pull away. “Leavin’ already?” he asked, the whisper still rough but edged with something else—an unspoken reluctance, maybe, or the wish to hold onto this fleeting moment a little longer.

E leaned in, their lips brushing against his temple. “Wouldn’t want people to find out they’re right about us, would we?” Their voice was tinged with light humor, but the reference to Scott’s pointed remarks during the trial still lingered between them. The subtle accusation—that it was easy for lovers to fight in sync—now felt like he had seen right through them, and they both didn’t like that.

Logan’s face turned thoughtful, a shadow of concern settling over his features. “Is there anything we can do about it?” he asked, the question heavy with the understanding that staying under the radar was going to become increasingly difficult in the days yet to come. “Turn their feelings around, maybe?”

“There might be a solution,” E said, their tone serious. “But you’re not going to like it.”

He frowned, curiosity mingled with caution. “Go on, lay it out.”

“We act like something happened between us,” they explained, eyes flickering with a hint of reluctance. “Something bad. We make them believe we can’t stand each other anymore.” They paused, studying Logan’s reaction. “It has to be convincing, Logan. Real mean. We’ll need to sell it, even if it means hurting each other in the process.”

Logan exhaled slowly, the tension in his jaw tightening as the weight of the plan settled on him. “You’re right—I don’t like it. But I see how it could work.” His eyes met theirs, resigned but resolute. “If you’re game, I’m in.”

A small smile, bittersweet and fleeting, crossed E’s lips as they leaned in and kissed his cheek. “We may have to do it more than once.”

“Yeah,” Logan said with a heavy nod. “The more we do it, the more convincing it’ll look.”

They sat in the stillness that followed, letting the warmth between them linger just a moment longer before the masks would have to come on and the distance between them would become painfully real.

The silence in the room grew heavier, the weight of what they were about to do settling over them. In a rare moment of connexion, E reached for Logan’s fingers, the tips of their own brushing against his in a soft, tentative dance. Logan’s response was immediate; he closed his hand around theirs, the warmth a brief comfort against the cold edge of reality.

“It’s a difficult time to go through,” they murmured. Their voice, barely above a whisper, carried the tremor of uncertainty. They tried to sound reassuring, though the words were as much for themselves as for him. “We need to focus on the moments we’ll be alone. Let’s not let ourselves get lost in our own lies.”

Logan nodded, his thumb moving in slow circles, brushing gently over the back of their hand. His expression was raw, the look on his face saying everything words couldn’t—the pain of what lay ahead, the quiet acceptance of it, and the unyielding resolve to shield them, even if it meant taking the fall himself.

The hurt, etched into the hard lines of his face, was a reflection of everything E felt. They both knew this was the quickest way to shift the tide, to keep E safe from the suspicion tightening around them like a noose. And if it meant bearing the brunt of it, he would—because of the fierce, protective feeling blazing in his chest, but also because he trusted them.

E let out a heavy sigh, their lips pressing into a thin line before they smoothed back the strands of his hair with their free hand, fingers brushing through the dark mess. They were about to speak when Logan’s head turned slightly, his ears twitching as he picked up the faint sound of running water. It came from the direction of Kurt’s room, judging by the echo through the walls.

Logan’s gaze shifted back to them, softer now but edged with urgency. He brought their hand to his lips, pressing a gentle, lingering, kiss to their knuckles. “You have to go,” he said, voice low and reluctant. “People are starting to wake up.”

E exhaled deeply again, the air leaving their mouth almost trembling, but they nodded. They leaned forward, pressing their forehead against his in a quiet, intimate gesture that said everything they couldn’t put into words.

“See you around, pretty boy,” they whispered, the familiar teasing lilt in their voice dulled by the reality of what was to come.

Logan gave a small nod in return, the reluctance in his eyes mirrored by the heaviness in his chest. The thought of what they were about to do—the lies they’d weave to protect their arrangement—made the air between them feel sharper, more fragile.

He watched as they slipped out of the room, the emptiness they left in their wake pressing down on him like a weight he couldn’t shake. It was a stinging sense of loss, one he knew would linger long after the door closed behind them.

Once he found himself alone, he rose from the bed, the space around him cool and empty in the absence of E. Their scent lingered faintly in the room, and his heart ached with want—no, the need—to see them, to have them against him, to touch them.

What was happening to him? Was he that far gone already? Wrapped around their little finger? His head felt foggy, exhaustion creeping in at the edges of his awareness, adding to the strange weight pressing against his chest. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his thoughts, willing the heaviness away before heading to the bathroom.

The steady patter of water as he showered grounded him, but it did little to clear the memories that crowded his mind. E’s teasing smile, their eyes dancing with mischief; the way they’d pushed and pulled at him the night before, challenging him yet surrendering with a trust so deep it shook him to his core.

The thought of it sent warmth coursing through him, a pulse that beat in time with the thrum of the water. They had told him they were a giver—always putting others first. For so long, they hadn’t allowed themselves to be selfish, maybe not ever. Only once in their long, lonely existence.

But with him, they had.

That truth sank into him, mingling with a sense of awe that twisted into longing. He knew a thing or two about keeping things—instincts, urges, emotions—in check for years, decades, centuries even. The weight of being chosen by someone who, like him, had kept their guard so high for so long was something he felt with every fiber of his soul, making him shiver with pride.

He’d known satisfaction before, shared heated moments with countless partners over the span of nearly two centuries—men and women, different faces and places—but this… this had struck deeper than he thought possible.

Rinsing the shampoo from his hair, Logan let out a breath that fogged the glass wall of his shower. His mind replayed the previous night, as if on loop: the way E had looked at him, unguarded and raw; how their movements had mirrored a kind of surrender that words couldn’t touch.

That feeling of being seen and wanted—not just as a weapon, not just as a mutant or a means to an end, but as himself. Whole. Flawed. It was dangerous, intoxicating. A craving took root in his chest, a quiet yet insistent need for more of that feeling, more of them.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist before brushing his teeth. The routine motions were automatic, but his mind spun with those vivid images, heat already pooling low in his belly.

He styled his hair, the habitual tug of the comb pulling him back to the present, but not completely. Not when his senses were still keenly aware of their scent lingering on his skin despite the shower, faint but unmistakable, as if they had marked him as theirs.

One night. That’s all it had taken for them to make him theirs. He got dressed before making his bed with the practiced precision of someone who’d been a soldier for a long time, the last trace of E smoothed out beneath the taut sheets. Moving on, his hand reached for the small, worn notebook on the nightstand—a habit, a piece of routine that kept him anchored. But today, even that felt different. His eyes flicked over the scribbled notes—reminders and plans for his lectures—but they barely registered. His mind was still caught in the gravity of E’s laughter, the way it had curled around him, warm and dangerous.

Logan made his way to his desk and sat down, the notepad now forgotten in his grip. No matter how many mornings he’d seen after tangled nights, none of them carried this. None of them ever left him feeling whole the way E had, even if just for a fleeting moment—before the hollowness crept in as soon as they were gone.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror: rougher around the edges than usual, but still carrying that stubborn resilience he never seemed to lose. Tugging at his shirt collar, he adjusted the fit of his flannel, then ran a hand through his hair to push it back into place. A breath shuddered out of him as he wrestled the knot in his chest, forcing himself to focus.

With one final glance, he made sure everything was in order—boots laced tight, notepad folded neatly on the desk’s edge, though the ghost of last night still clung to the room. He inhaled deeply, the faint scent of E lingering in the air, uninvited in the way it stirred memories too raw, too exposing.

The space felt emptier than it should, as though a piece of it—and him—had left with them. Closing his eyes briefly, he centered himself, then rose and made his way down the hallway to the mansion’s first floor.

The hum of early morning voices grew louder as he neared the kitchen. He could already pick out Jean’s quiet laughter and Scott’s steady, self-assured tone. The familiar sounds grounded him, even as a faint tug of anticipation simmered at the edges of his thoughts.

When he entered, the conversation quieted momentarily as their eyes turned toward him. Jean and Scott shared a glance, surprised to see him this late; Logan was usually here long before either of them. He nodded their way—silent, but not unfriendly—before crossing to the counter. Grabbing the coffee pot, he filled his mug and brought it close, the steam curling in the air.

He was still lost in thought when E entered, their stride confident, eyes sharp with mischief. The air shifted the moment they stepped in, crackling like an unspoken challenge. Their smile was subtle, but unmistakably smug, as if they owned the space.

“Morning, everyone,” they greeted, their voice silk, effortless. Two of the three people they addressed didn’t seem entirely comfortable, their wariness obvious, but E wore their nonchalance like armor, as though they couldn’t care less. They moved through the room with practiced ease, every motion so deliberate, so fluid, that it made Logan’s pulse quicken in a way that used to irritate him—but now, it simply thrilled him.

They made this masquerade look effortless.

Their eyes met his, a flicker of shared understanding passing between them before they glanced away, the moment hidden beneath a mask of casual indifference.

They reached for the coffee pot, their fingers brushing Logan’s where his hand rested casually on the counter. The touch was fleeting, something no one else in the room would notice, but it left a warmth that lingered between them. The slight squeeze they gave him was enough to send a silent message: brace yourself. His jaw tensed, but he masked it with a sip, his gaze hardening as he prepared for whatever came next.

“Black coffee again, Logan?” E’s voice broke the silence, playful and biting. “You ever consider trying something with flavor?” They poured themselves a cup, their smirk deepening as they glanced over their shoulder at him.

Logan’s response was automatic, rough, as he played along, letting them lead the dance of their back and forth. “Coffee’s coffee. Doesn’t need all that extra crap.”

E’s eyebrows arched, their grin widening as if they’d caught him off-guard with a well-placed jab. “Ah, a man of simple tastes. Should’ve figured.”

He met their eyes, a silent challenge sparking between them. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The words came out with an edge, but there was a tension in his chest that had nothing to do with annoyance.

“Oh, nothing.” E shrugged, taking a sip of their coffee, their eyes dancing with amusement. “Just that I thought someone with your experience might be a bit more adventurous.”

Logan felt the tension coil tight in his chest, the line between reality and performance starting to blur. He forced his expression into one of irritation, letting a spark of anger flicker in his eyes. Leaning into the feeling to give the act weight, he set his mug down with a deliberate thud.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Last time someone thought they had me figured out, it didn’t end too pretty,” he said, letting the hint of a growl seep into his voice. Jean and Scott exchanged glances, brows raising as they picked up on the shift in atmosphere.

E’s smirk grew sharper, almost daring. “Wouldn’t dream of it, old man,” they retorted, a flick of mock respect in their tone that had the others in the room shifting uncomfortably. Jean's eyes darted between them, curiosity turning into concern as the tension thickened.

Logan clenched his jaw, leaning forward just enough to invade E’s space, his face a mask of barely-contained fury. “Old man? You better watch your mouth or I’ll remind you why you don’t cross me, kid.”

Scott’s gaze snapped to them, mouth opening to intervene, but E beat him to it. They laughed, a sharp, biting sound that bounced off the walls and made Logan’s skin prickle. “Oh, I’m terrified,” they said, their words dripping with sarcasm. “Please, Logan, save the dramatics. You’re not as intimidating as you think, kitty cat.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, and Logan felt his pulse thunder in his ears. He reminded himself that this was part of the plan, that E’s sharp jabs were calculated. But damn if it didn’t cut deeper than he’d expected. He caught the brief flicker of apology in their eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but him.

Jean’s voice cut through the standoff, soft but steady. “Is everything okay here?” she asked, trying to smooth the tension with a touch of authority.

Logan didn’t break eye contact with E as he replied, “Peachy, Jeannie. Just a friendly morning chat.”

“Yeah, friendly,” E added, their tone so falsely sweet it made Jean’s frown deepen.

Scott’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clear as day. “Well, if you two are done, maybe we can all get on with our morning without the theatrics.”

Logan bit back a retort, taking a step back and grabbing his coffee cup. The room was stifling now, and he could feel the way E’s presence tugged at him even as they stood apart. “Yeah. We’re done,” he muttered before turning his back and leaving, letting the act settle like a stone in his gut.

Behind him, he heard E’s soft chuckle, a practiced sound meant to sting, and it did. But they’d both agreed—this was the way it had to be. And so, the distance began.

Logan spent the hours following the kitchen fight lost in his thoughts, the conversation replaying in his mind like a broken record. He knew it wasn’t real—that much was clear—but E’s words had hit harder than he’d anticipated. Not because there was any truth to them, but because they came from them. A part of him hated how it lingered, stirring something raw inside. He wasn’t the type to let something like this gnaw at him. He was the Wolverine, damn it. But it still dug under his skin.

He tried to shake it off, but the feeling wouldn’t fade. He needed to see them. To remind himself it was all just an act.

By the time he reached the library, the weight in his chest had grown unbearable. E was hunched over a stack of papers at one of the long oak tables, their focus intent on something that looked law-related. Figures. Logan leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching them. He was always amazed by how easily they could shut everything else out. He let the silence hang for a beat before pushing himself off the door and making his way inside.

E glanced up when he approached, the brief flicker of relief in their eyes catching him off guard. “Logan,” they said softly, setting the pen down. The words were warm, but there was something unreadable beneath them.

“Got a minute?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost careful.

“For you? Always,” E replied, their smile faint but genuine.

Logan sat across from them, his rough hands resting on the polished surface of the table. He didn’t quite know how to start, what to say, but when he opened his mouth, the words just poured out of him, unguarded. “That stuff in the kitchen,” raw emotion coated the rough edges of his voice, “I know it’s all for show, but… damn, you didn’t hold back.”

E winced slightly, their gaze dropping to their notes. “I know. I’m sorry. I hated saying it.” They took a breath, their eyes meeting his again, darker now, their expression tight. “Unfortunately, we might need to take it up a notch. Be even more convincing.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, trying to keep his voice casual. “It’s fine. I ain’t gonna lose sleep over it.” He shot them a look, though—he wasn’t convinced by his own lie. Not entirely. “But if we need to go harder… what’s the plan?”

E’s eyes searched his face for a moment, their fingers brushing against his where they rested on the table. It was brief, but it caught him off guard, something warm and unspoken passing between them. “We make it meaner,” they said quietly, their voice low, tinged with a hint of regret. “You push me, I push back harder. We have to make them believe it’s personal.”

Logan nodded slowly, though the idea of making it worse, of biting deeper, didn’t sit well with him. “You sure you’re up for that?” he asked, his voice gruff despite himself.

“If it means we’ll have better days, then yeah, I am.” E’s hand lingered for a moment longer, their thumb tracing an absent pattern on his skin. The small touch, so simple but with the weight of everything unspoken, grounded him, a silent reassurance amid the chaos they were building. “Are you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second, the noise of the world outside the library faded away. He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest releasing with the breath. “Yeah. I’m in.”

A slight twitch at the corners of E’s lips. There was something almost tender in their gaze, a fleeting softness. But that moment was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching. Their expression shifted in an instant—like a switch had been flipped, delicate features hardening suddenly—and their hand pulled away from his, curling into a fist.

Before Logan could react, they smacked him across the face with a loud slap, the sound echoing in the quiet library. “Who the hell do you think you are, Howlett?” E snapped, their voice cold and cutting, each word like the crack of a whip. “Talking to me like that? You think you can just come in here and throw your weight around?”

Logan blinked, the sting of the slap still fresh on his skin, but it wasn’t just the pain that lingered—it was the venom in their tone, keen and raw, that struck deeper. A flicker of heat stirred low in his gut, unbidden and maddening, the kind of sensation that set his instincts on edge. Damn it. He hated how his body responded to the bite of it, to the fire in their eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this twisted pull, the way pain and tension tangled together in a way that left him craving more.

Before Logan could react, they smacked him across the face with a loud slap, the sound echoing in the quiet library.

His gaze flicked toward the doorway, catching Hank standing there, a stack of books balanced in his arms. The doctor’s expression was frozen in surprise, his wide eyes darting between them. Logan forced the heat back, burying it under a scowl.

Without missing a beat, his face twisted into a scowl, his jaw tightening as he played along. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you outta here, witch,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, practically vibrating with barely-contained intensity.

E scoffed, their eyes blazing as they leaned into the act. “Oh, don’t you worry, you rabid dog. I’m leaving. I can’t stand to breathe the same air as you right now.”

They swept up their papers in one sharp motion, the sound of rustling edges filling the heavy silence. Their shoulder brushed his as they stormed past, the contact deliberate and forceful. Logan didn’t move, his hands curling into fists on the table, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the urge to call after them—or worse, follow.

Hank stood rooted to the spot, his mouth opening slightly like he wanted to interject, but whatever words he had died before they could form. He stared after E, then shifted his gaze to Logan, clearly hesitant.

Finally, Logan broke the silence with a grunt, shoving his chair back roughly. The scrape of wood against the floor was loud in the stillness. “What’re you starin’ at, Hank?” His tone was gruff, laced with irritation, but the effort to keep the edge in his voice felt heavier than before.

Hank raised a single eyebrow, his composure sliding back into place like a well-worn mask. “I was about to ask if everything is all right, but… I suppose I already have my answer.”

Logan didn’t reply. Instead, he stalked toward the door, his steps heavy and deliberate, a growl rumbling low in his chest. The act was working. Too well, maybe. And for reasons he didn’t care to admit, that fact sat heavier in his gut than he liked.

Later that night, when sneaking into each other’s rooms wasn’t an option, they both found themselves in the forest clearing. Neither had planned it, but some unspoken pull brought them to this spot, far from the prying eyes and ears of the mansion. It was theirs—a sanctuary untouched by the chaos of their daily lives.

The clearing was quiet, the kind of stillness only the forest could hold. The soft rustle of leaves danced with the cool night breeze, and a sliver of moonlight spilled onto the grass, casting long shadows across the ground. Logan stood a few paces away, rolling his shoulders as he circled E, his gaze locked onto theirs. There was no need for pretense out here.

“You sure you wanna do this tonight?” he asked, his voice low and gruff, carrying a hint of concern that he couldn’t quite mask.

E’s lips curved into a smirk, their stance relaxed, yet poised. “What’s wrong, pretty boy? Afraid I might embarrass you?”

Logan snorted, his mouth twitching into a brief grin. “Ain’t no chance of that, darlin’. But you ain’t exactly fresh off the bench after today.”

“And you are?” E shot back, lunging forward with a quick burst of energy. Logan sidestepped with ease, their movements more familiar to him now. They twisted on their heel, throwing a jab that he caught mid-air, his hand closing firmly around their wrist. A shiver ran down their spine, stoking their hunger in the most exquisite way.

“Point taken,” he muttered, his voice tinged with amusement as he pulled them closer, his smirk returning.

The sparring unfolded in a steady rhythm, their movements fluid and purposeful. It wasn’t just a fight—it was a conversation in motion, a silent exchange of trust and challenge. Each strike, dodge, and counter carried its own cadence, a private language spoken in the dead of the night.

By the time they called it, E was sprawled on the grass, breathless and flushed, sweat glistening on their skin in a way that made Logan’s gaze linger a moment too long. He dropped down beside them, leaning his back against a tree, his eyes roaming over them as a heat that coiled low in his gut tightened, stirred by the sight of them so alive, so unguarded under the moonlight.

“You gotta work on that right hook,” he teased, the grin on his face softening the edge of his words.

E huffed, propping themselves up on their elbows. “I landed it once.”

“Once don’t make a streak, sweetheart,” Logan countered, his voice quieter now as his fingers brushed against theirs in the cool grass.

For a while, they both simply stayed there, the silence between them comfortable, filled only with the soft chirp of crickets and the distant whisper of leaves. Eventually, E sat up, leaning into Logan’s steady frame. Their hand rested lightly on his stomach, fingertips itching to slip beneath his shirt, but as his warmth enveloped them in a way that felt safe, grounding, they didn’t want to break the peace.

“It’s harder than I thought,” they said softly, the words barely breaking the stillness.

Logan turned slightly, his brow furrowing. “What is?”

“This whole thing.” E gestured vaguely at the forest, at him, at everything. “The fights. The secrecy. Hurting you. Hiding—just to be us. It’s only been one day, and I already hate it.”

Logan’s chest tightened, their words circling in his mind, refusing to settle. ‘Just to be us’. The unintentional confession lingered in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. It wasn’t just the exhaustion from the sparring session that had them speaking so openly—it was trust. Trust in him.

He looked down at them, sprawled on the grass, their breathing steadying. Their guard, that armor usually so rigid that centuries had forged, had slipped, leaving behind a version of them few ever got to see. There was a softness there, a vulnerability they rarely allowed, and it filled him with something between awe and a quiet ache. That they thought of them as a ‘us’, even subconsciously, stirred something deep in his chest—a mix of pride, longing, and adoration. That they trusted him enough to bare this side of them made his heart flutter in a way he hadn’t expected.

His hand moved without thought, his fingers brushing through their dark hair with a slow, deliberate reverence. The wavy strands slipped like silk between his fingers, tethering him in the moment, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a fleeting dream.

“It’s rough, Angel,” he said softly, his voice gravelly in the quiet. The nickname slipped out naturally, a little softer than usual, carrying more weight. He hesitated, letting the words sink in before adding, “But we’ll push through.”

E’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though their eyes remained fixed on his free hand, resting next to theirs on his stomach. “Yeah, I know,” they murmured. Their fingers shifted, brushing his for a moment before lacing them together. The contact felt soft, simple, yet charged with an unspoken understanding.

They exhaled, their voice tinged with frustration. “It would be easier if we could plan the fights, but we can’t. If we do, it’ll feel… off, staged. They’ll figure us out.”

Logan nodded slowly, his thumb sweeping over their knuckles in soothing circles. “You’re right. It’s gotta feel real… for them and for us.”

That last part slipped out before he could stop it, and he tensed, unsure if they’d catch the hidden meaning. E turned their head, meeting his gaze, their eyes searching his face. “And you’re okay with that?”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his defenses sliding back into place just enough. “I’ll live. Ain’t my first rodeo, sweetheart.” He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face, his hand lingering against their cheek before finding hers again. “‘Sides, I’ve had worse things thrown at me than words.”

They leaned into his touch, their eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before reopening, their expression softening. “I hate that it has to be this way,” they admitted quietly.

Logan let out a low, thoughtful hum, lowering his head to nuzzle lightly against theirs. “Me too, Eki,” he murmured almost hesitantly, his voice softer now. “But we’ll get through it. I know we will.”

It was the first time he called them this way. The name rolled off his tongue with a warmth he hadn’t intended, but it was there all the same—gentle and intimate, carrying more weight than he realized.

They stiffened ever so slightly, not out of discomfort but surprise. A flicker of something unfamiliar sparked in their chest at the sound of it, a flutter, and a quiet warmth bloomed around it as they tilted their head to glance at him, lips parting as though to respond, but no words came. The urge to kiss him, to lick and nip at his lips gripped their gut, but they couldn’t, not without harming him.

Instead, they stayed like that, the night wrapping around them both, the stars scattered above like silent witnesses. E sighed, leaning back into him, their head resting against his chest, and he instinctively tightened his arm around them, pulling them closer.

“At least we’ve got this,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence, his voice low but heavy with meaning.

E smiled faintly, their hand squeezing his. “Yeah,” they whispered, warmth coating her tone. “This is nice.”

Logan bent his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of hers, the gesture unhurried and sincere. “It is,” he agreed.

For now, this was enough. The clearing remained their sanctuary, a pocket of time untouched by the outside world, as they held onto each other, finding strength in their shared determination to see this through, no matter the cost. Whatever came next, they’d face it—together.

The fights had started happening more often—small sparks igniting without warning, flaring into roaring fires. Every little thing became an excuse to clash, to bruise each other for show. It was a performance they played, and the mansion was their stage. It didn’t matter what set them off—a look, a comment, a minor disagreement—each moment seemed to lead them to scrape against each other’s nerves. Yet, beneath the verbal clashes, another kind of pyre burned. This one was different, stoked not by anger but by their need to reassure each other once the curtain fell. It consumed them in private, a fire that was anything but an act.

Logan could feel it burning now, simmering, as he watched E coming out of Charles’ office. He’d been on his way to his first class of the day when his gaze landed on them, and an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest. They looked composed, calculating as usual, every line of their body a testament to the control they wielded so effortlessly. It was that same composure that made something inside him twist—a familiar frustration, a gnawing at his gut that tainted the lukewarm affection he felt for them.

He hated it—not the ache in his gut or the sight of them, but the distance their polished exterior created. It was a weight he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. Every time, it reminded him that what they had now wasn’t simple anymore, wasn’t easy. There was no space for softness between them, not in public, at least until further notice.

A sigh slipped between his lips, and he braced himself. This was the perfect opportunity, and he couldn’t let it pass. So he picked up the pace, his boots echoing in the hallway as he approached, each step deliberate. E’s eyes caught him, but they didn’t flinch, though there was a flicker of something unguarded flashing across their face—caution—just for a second before the mask fell back into place. Their poise didn’t falter, but Logan saw through it.

“Well, look who’s here,” he drawled, playing the part, his voice loud enough to draw attention, the edge in his tone slicing through the quiet of the hallway, freezing a passing student in their step. “The school’s puppet master.”

E turned to face him fully, their gaze sharp and unreadable as they assessed him. “Howlett,” they replied, stepping into their role, voice low and steady, but it carried a warning. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t start something here.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, I ain’t starting anything,” Logan shot back, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Just calling it like I see it.” He took another step, closing the gap just enough to feel the tension coil tighter between them. “You’re always scheming, aren’t you? Pulling strings, keeping everyone in line.” His voice dropped lower, each word sharper than the last. “Bet half the staff’s already eating out of your hand.”

They straightened their stance, jaw tightened, the only crack in their armor. “I’m a qualified lawyer and I’m doing my job,” they said smoothly, though the words came out clipped. “You might want to try that sometime.”

Logan let out a bitter chuckle, his tone laced with mockery. “Oh, I’m workin’ just fine, sweetheart. Don’t need your little lectures. ‘Qualified lawyer,’ huh? Tell me—what’d you do to earn that title? Cheat your way through the bar exam? Maybe pay someone off?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, venomous growl, still very much audible to the audience gathering not far from them. “Or was it somethin’ else? Maybe you just slept your way to the top.”

The words hung in the air like a gunshot, the hallway falling deathly silent. A collective gasp rippled through the few students and staff watching the exchange, their eyes darting between the two of them, waiting for the fallout.

But against all odds, E’s face shifted, their expression a razor-thin mask of mockery, as if the words Logan had thrown at them were beneath consideration. “Watch your mouth, Howlett,” they snapped, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “Another comment like that, and I’ll have you up for sexual harassment.”

For a moment, everything froze. The crowd held its collective breath, the charged stillness pressing in on all sides. Logan’s fists clenched against his thighs, his muscles taut as if ready to snap, to strike at something—anything—to vent the storm that seemed to be brewing inside him. His breath hissed through his teeth, the silence surrounding them hanging thick in the air, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

A few feet from them, the door to Charles’ office swung open, its creak slicing through the tension, a subtle command that immediately stilled the room. The professor’s calm voice followed, cool and unyielding. “That will be enough.” The steady words cut through the sharp air with authority.

Every head turned as the headmaster entered the hallway, his gaze sweeping between Logan and E, the tension palpable. Logan stood bristling, fists still clenched at his sides, while E remained unflinching, their posture a perfect balance of defiance and composure.

“Logan,” Charles began, his tone measured but leaving no room for argument. “This behavior is unacceptable. Whatever concerns you have, this is not the way to address them. Such language and accusations have no place here.”

Logan’s jaw ticked, his teeth grinding together as he shot a glare toward Charles. “You don’t get it, Chuck—”

“On the contrary,” the Professor cut in, his voice firm but even. His eyes, clear and resolute, locked onto Logan’s with quiet strength. “I do. I know exactly what’s happening. But I’m telling you now: it stops here.”

The words hung in the air, firm. He shifted his gaze briefly to E, who stood calm and unaffected, their expression unreadable but charged with unspoken triumph. Logan’s chest rose and fell sharply, frustration seemingly rolling off him in palpable waves. His jaw remained clenched, posture taut, keen eyes betraying nothing but the simmering tension in his frame—a masterful performance that left no cracks for doubt.

Still, Charles continued, his focus shifting back to Logan with unwavering steadiness. “E has earned their place here,” he said, each word measured, deliberate. “Through hard work, expertise, and dedication. Qualities I expect you to recognize and respect. Whatever grievances you harbor, they do not justify this behavior.”

Logan’s chest tightened, his fists flexing against his thighs as a growl rumbled low in his throat. His eyes flicked to E, blazing with fiery defiance that looked convincingly real to anyone watching. Meanwhile, E, ever the picture of composure, turned to Charles with the ease of someone who knew how to play their cards perfectly.

“It’s fine, Professor,” they said smoothly, as if brushing off the situation as a passing annoyance. Their voice carried just enough weight to draw the attention of the onlookers. “Logan’s entitled to his opinions, misplaced as they are. My work isn’t for him to recognize—it’s for the students. That’s what matters.”

A faint murmur of admiration rippled through the crowd at E’s collected response. Logan’s shoulders tensed further, his apparent fury simmering just beneath the surface, but his eyes held a flicker of something almost imperceptible—an edge of satisfaction in how well the act was landing.

Charles nodded at E, his expression approving. “I admire your commitment, E. Truly. However,” he continued, turning back to Logan, his tone sharpening once more. “You are an example here, Logan,” he said, his words leaving no room for argument. “Consequently, I expect better from you. For now, I’d like a word with you in my office.”

Charles turned his wheelchair toward the open door, gesturing for Logan to follow. Logan didn’t move immediately, his body remaining taut, every muscle coiled as if ready to snap. His gaze stayed fixed on E for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them almost electric. But with a reluctant growl, he finally shifted, his heavy footsteps echoing as he stepped into the Professor’s office.

The door clicked shut behind him, its sound reverberating through the hall, leaving hushed conversations in its wake. The lawyer remained still for a moment, head held high, their composure unshaken as the students’ gazes lingered. Curiosity mingled with admiration in their stares, though none noticed the faint smirk curling at the corners of E’s lips—a near-invisible aura of triumph. Without a word, they turned, their stride deliberate, whispers of victory trailing behind them like shadows of their success.

In Charles’ office, the door clicked softly shut, sealing off the muffled hum of conversations outside. Logan crossed the room with deliberate strides, his arms folding tightly over his chest as he stopped in front of the Professor. His stance was taut, his brows drawn, and his jaw clenched—all the hallmarks of frustration expertly crafted into an act that, to anyone else, would seem entirely genuine.

Charles, ever composed, sat calmly behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him. His steady gaze met Logan’s, but the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed an edge of knowing that Logan instantly caught. The flicker of amusement sent a ripple of unease through Logan, but he held firm to the role he’d been playing all morning.

“My friend,” Charles began, his voice smooth and measured, “I think it’s time we discuss this little… performance of yours and E’s.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his expression hardening with practiced defiance. “If you’re about to tell me to cut it out—”

“Quite the contrary,” Charles interjected, his lips curling into the faintest smile. “You and E are charming idiots, both of you. In fact, I’d say your commitment is remarkable. The arguments are convincing. Almost too convincing.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, though the flicker of his gaze betrayed his uncertainty. “So, you knew?” he asked, his voice low, the usual gravel edged with something lighter—caught between annoyance and relief.

Charles leaned back slightly, his expression softening with patience. “Logan, I am a telepath. Nothing escapes me in this mansion. Did you really think something as… vibrant as your exchanges with E, along with your little settlement, would go unnoticed? I suspected it from the very beginning, but the confirmation came quickly enough.”

Logan shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away, his discomfort evident as the mask slipped from his features. “If you think it’s a waste of time—”

“I think,” Charles cut in smoothly, “that it’s clever. Effective, even. E has been earning the team’s trust far faster than they would through conventional means. Their role as the so-called ‘victim’ in your dynamic has not only won them sympathy but also admiration. And your willingness to take on the role of the aggressor,” he added, his voice dipping with warmth, “speaks volumes about your character.”

Logan’s shoulders stiffened, the compliment settling awkwardly on him. He huffed, shifting his gaze to the side. “Ain’t about me, Chuck. It’s about makin’ sure they get a shot. At the whole thing.”

Charles inclined his head slightly, his smile softening further. “Even so, it takes courage to play the villain, especially when it places you under scrutiny. Your actions show a deeper understanding of what this team needs to thrive.”

Logan scoffed, the heat creeping up his neck. “Yeah, well, don’t go spreadin’ that around. Got a reputation to keep.”

Charles chuckled softly, his amusement tinged with genuine affection. “Your secret is safe with me, Logan. Just be sure to keep the balance. This arrangement, as effective as it is, can’t come at the expense of mutual respect—or your sanity.”

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, his usual gruffness returning as he grumbled, “We’ll manage. E’s tough—they can take it. We both can.”

Charles nodded, his gaze steady. “I trust that you will. But remember, my friend, even the best performances need the occasional intermission.”

Logan snorted, the corner of his mouth tugging up in reluctant agreement. “Noted. Thanks for not blowin’ it up. Now, if we’re done here…” He gestured vaguely toward the door, his tone laced with impatience but lacking its usual edge. “Got a class to run.”

Charles waved him off with a faint smile. “Of course, my friend. Now, if you would, make a bit of a show as you leave. It wouldn’t do for the others to think you got off easy. And try not to terrorize anyone else on your way out.”

Logan smirked faintly at that before turning away. The tension in his body had eased slightly, and he inhaled deeply, drawing the simmering anger back into his gut to slip into character. With deliberate force, he yanked the door open, letting it slam against the wall. “Got it, boss,” he called over his shoulder, his voice cutting sharply through the room.

He stormed into the hallway, his boots striking the floor in heavy, echoing thuds. His scowl was perfectly crafted—a tempest of irritation that sent students scattering like leaves in a gale. Pale faces turned away, and whispers followed him, swirling in his wake.

Before he could make it far, a door to his right creaked open. A hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising strength, and hauled him into the shadowy confines of a supply closet. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in near darkness.

“The hell—?” Logan grunted, his surprise barely surfacing before the familiar scent of spice and smoke wrapped around him. His glare softened in an instant, his lips twitching into something close to a smirk. “Eki?”

“Shh,” they whispered, amusement lacing their tone. They pressed closer, their presence steady and teasing. “You’re supposed to be in trouble, remember?”

Logan huffed, his eyes narrowing, though there wasn’t a trace of real irritation. “What’re you playin’ at?”

E leaned in, their hands trailing up his chest with slow, deliberate intent, pausing at his shoulders. The faint light slipping through the door’s edge slanted across their face, highlighting the wicked curve of their lips. “Heard you stomping out of Charles’ office like a wounded bear,” they murmured, their voice dripping with mock concern. “Thought I’d check on you.”

His brow twitched, the stubborn set of his jaw softening despite himself. “Checkin’ on me involves draggin’ me into a closet now?”

E’s smirk widened, their tone a mix of teasing and confidence. “Don’t act like you mind.”

Their movements were playful but edged with intent. They leaned closer, their breath warm against his neck as their lips hovered near his ear. The subtle press of their body against his sent a ripple of heat through him.

“Besides,” they whispered, their voice dipping lower, more intimate, “I wanted to tell you something.”

His hands moved to their hips without a second thought, his fingers settling naturally along the curve of their waist. “Yeah? What’s so damn important it can’t wait?”

E’s fingers drifted lazily over his arms, their touch light but electric. They tilted their head, their lips brushing his ear in a deliberate, measured move. “You were so hot when you yelled at me earlier,” they murmured, their voice a sultry purr. “All fire and fury… made me want to slap you again just to see what you’d do.”

Logan’s breath hitched, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his throat as his grip tightened on their hips, just enough to warn. “You’re playin’ with fire, Angel.”

E pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, their eyes glittering with mischief and challenge. They could feel his hunger feeding their own. “Am I?”

Their voice was soft but charged, every syllable a spark fanning the flames between them. The pull was undeniable, intoxicating, and he felt himself give in, just enough to let them reel him closer. Damn it—he didn’t want to fight it. Not this time.

“You’re lucky we’re in this closet,” Logan muttered, his voice dropping to a low, rough tone that sent a shiver through the confined space.

E tilted their head, their smirk softening into something warmer, almost tender. “Lucky?” they asked, their tone playful but carrying a trace of sincerity. “Or smart?”

A quiet huff of laughter escaped him, the tension in his hands loosening slightly as his grip softened on their hips. But his fingers stayed, a lingering reminder of the fire simmering beneath the surface. “Maybe both,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

The air between them grew heavy, thick with a charged anticipation neither seemed willing to shatter. Time stretched, every heartbeat amplifying the pull between them, the unspoken heat crackling like a wildfire ready to ignite, a match struck on a flint.

Then, faint footsteps drifted in from the hallway—distant, but clear enough to cut through the tension.

They both froze.

Logan recovered first, his voice steady, though the faint edge in it betrayed his reluctance. “We should get outta here before someone catches us.” Yet he didn’t pull away, didn’t move to create the distance his words suggested.

E leaned in, their lips brushing lightly against the crook of his neck. The touch was fleeting, soft as a feather, yet it left a mark he couldn’t ignore. They lingered for a moment before pulling back, their voice a low murmur. “Guess so. But next time, Howlett…”

They let the words hang for a beat, their smile teasing but layered with something deeper. “You owe me a real fight.”

Logan smirked, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that familiar, roguish way that made it impossible to tell if he was amused or intrigued. He cracked the door open, peering into the hallway. Satisfied the coast was clear, he glanced back, kissing their cheek quickly and murmuring, his voice a quiet promise, “You’ll get one.”

He stepped out into the corridor like nothing had happened, his boots striking the floor with a steady, confident rhythm. The sound echoed faintly as he disappeared down the hall.

E lingered in the closet for a moment, their smile turning satisfied as they watched him go. Something flickered in their expression—anticipation, maybe hope—as they slipped out in the opposite direction, the promise of what was to come hanging thick in the air between them.

The common room resonated softly with the chatter of Ororo, Marie, and Kitty. Seated in a cozy cluster around a small table, they were quietly planning their next trip to the mall. Kitty leaned in, her eyes sparkling as she described a sweater she had spotted online, while Ororo listened with a small, indulgent smile that softened her regal demeanor. Marie occasionally chimed in, her voice warm and lilting, adding her own thoughts about colors and styles.

A few feet from them, E sat upright on the couch in the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, a cup of tea resting steadily on their knee. They watched the television with quiet focus, as the news anchor’s voice delivered updates about local events. There was a trace of weariness in their posture, the kind of exhaustion that settled behind the eyes and hinted at a long day spent poring over legal documents.

The moment Logan entered, the room’s tranquil atmosphere shifted. He strolled in with his usual swagger, the faint scent of cigar smoke trailing him. His flannel sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sturdy forearms. His gaze swept the room briefly before he plopped down beside E without a word. His hand brushed their knee as he reached for the remote on the coffee table, a casual but deliberate motion that claimed space.

Click.

The news was replaced by the vibrant green of a baseball field, the roar of the crowd pouring from the speakers. A game was already in progress, the commentary animated and full of energy.

E let out an audible sigh, their lips pressing into a thin line. “Seriously?”

“Game’s on,” Logan replied casually, settling back into the couch, his feet on the coffee table, as if nothing were amiss. He didn’t even look at them, his eyes fixed on the screen, his poise relaxed but unyielding.

E’s hand shot out and snatched the remote from his grip, flicking the channel back to the news. “I was watching that.”

Logan straightened slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Yeah? Well, now I’m watchin’ this.” He grabbed the remote again, switching it back to the game, with a decisive press on the TV clicker.

The tension between them crackled like static electricity, the air thick with unspoken challenge.

E’s jaw tightened. “Are you five? Grow up, Howlett.” With measured precision, they took the remote again and returned the television to the news. Their movements were controlled, deliberate, as though refusing to let Logan’s antics rattle them.

His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping as he leaned in. “You’ve got somethin’ to say, witch?” The word was low but sharp, cutting like a blade slipping between ribs.

Behind them, the conversation amongst the others faltered. Ororo exchanged a glance with Marie, and Kitty froze mid-laugh, her eyes darting between the two.

E didn’t rise to the bait, not at first. They simply set the clicker down on the arm of their side of the couch, their gaze fixed on Logan. “I’m trying to stay informed. Something you should try once in a while.”

Logan smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Informed, huh? That why I don’t see you in the Danger Room? Too busy stayin’ ‘informed’ to pull your weight?”

E’s expression hardened, their composure cracking slightly. “I’m not a soldier, Logan. I never signed up to be. Unlike you, I have an actual job that involves more than swinging claws or quoting history. Being a lawyer means spending hours—days, even—preparing cases, handling crises, and keeping this place from falling apart.”

“Sure,” Logan drawled, leaning back with an exaggerated shrug. “Real noble. But we’re all bustin’ our asses for this school, so what makes you so special that you can skip out on the hard work?”

E’s voice dropped, each word razor-sharp. “The work I do is just as important as your training sessions. Or do you think the contracts you sign, the legal battles I fight, and the protections I negotiate are meaningless?”

Logan chuckled darkly, the sound low and mocking. “Contracts don’t save lives when the next fight comes knockin’, sweetheart. Maybe you’re just lookin’ for excuses. It’s easier to sit on the sidelines than to get your hands dirty, huh?”

The jab landed. A flicker of hurt flashed in E’s eyes, quickly masked by steely resolve. They inhaled deeply, their voice steady but heavy with disappointment. “I thought we were on the same side, Logan.” The weight of their words hung in the air, each syllable a quiet accusation. “Guess I was wrong.”

The room’s silence was suffocating, the atmosphere unbearable.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching on his thighs, and for a moment, it seemed like he might back down. Instead, he stood abruptly, his gaze hard and unyielding. “You don’t know the first thing about loyalty.”

The words hit like a hammer, reverberating in the heavy silence that followed. Before anyone could react, Logan turned on his heel and strode out, his boots thudding against the wooden floor with each step.

E remained seated, their face unreadable save for the faint trembling of their hand as they gripped the arm of the couch. After a moment, they set their tea down with careful precision and stood, smoothing their clothes as if to steady themselves.

“Wow,” Kitty murmured, breaking the silence. “What the hell’s his problem?”

Ororo’s gaze lingered on E, sympathy softening her sharp features. “Are you okay?”

The lawyer managed a tight smile, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Their voice was composed, but there was a brittleness to it, like glass under strain. With a measured motion, they reached for their teacup, lifting it carefully as if it provided some small anchor in the wake of the exchange. “I should…get back to work.”

Without another word, E left the room. Their posture remained straight and unwavering, but there was something fragile in their steps, as if they carried the weight of Logan’s words with them. Behind them, Ororo, Marie, and Kitty exchanged quiet glances, their subdued chatter shifting to murmurs about Logan’s behavior. They kept their voices low, but their concern lingered in the air, tangible and unresolved, as though the room itself hadn’t quite recovered from the tension.

The Danger Room’s hum vibrated softly in the air as the team gathered, the younger members shifting with barely contained energy while the veterans stood with their usual aura of quiet confidence. Charles’s voice rang out, calm and commanding, as he outlined the day’s objective: clearing one floor of a simulated building of hostile threats and rescuing the hostage.

As usual, people paired off naturally. Scott and Jean exchanged a glance, already stepping into position together. Ororo teamed up with Kurt, offering a serene nod in his direction. Kitty, Marie, and Bobby gravitated toward each other, chatting quietly in low voices.

That left E and Logan, awkwardly standing in the cleared center of the room, where the group had split into smaller teams around them. The silence between them bristled with unspoken tension.

Scott frowned, his visor glinting under the cold light. “Are we seriously pairing them together?”

“They did well during the trial last week,” Charles reminded him, his tone firm yet patient. “Better than anyone expected. It only makes sense for them to try working together again. And perhaps channeling that aggression as a team will mend some of it. ”

Skeptical glances passed between the team members. Logan crossed his arms, his stance as rigid as stone. E stood beside him, their posture stiff and guarded, though their eyes darted toward the others, catching every raised brow and murmured whisper. At least they didn’t sense outright hostility from the rest of the group, which was a small relief amidst the tension.

Finally, Charles’s voice cut through the room with quiet authority. “Begin the simulation.” The words were directed at Hank in the command center, where Charles was now heading as the machinery of the room began to hum louder.

The walls around the X-Men and E shifted, morphing into the interior of a crumbling high-rise. The floor beneath their feet groaned ominously, and the sound of distant gunfire echoed from somewhere above.

Logan glanced at E as they moved cautiously down a simulated hallway. “We take the stairs. Blitz ‘em all the way to the hostage. End it quick.”

E raised an eyebrow. “Blitz? That’s your plan? You think we’re going up against a horde of mindless zombies, or did I miss the memo?”

Logan growled low in his throat. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t have time for your lawyer talk. You want to win, you hit hard and fast.” He punctuated his words by striking his left palm with his right fist.

E stopped mid-step, their gaze catching on the floor layout displayed on a nearby wall. They gestured toward it, a hint of strategy sparking in their tone. “Or, we could think for more than two seconds. See this?” They pointed to a narrow corridor on the map. “That’s a bottleneck—perfect for an ambush. We lure them in, control the fight, and pick them off one by one.”

“You mean drag it out,” Logan muttered.

“Ororo?” E called out over their shoulder. “What’s your take?”

The white haired woman, walking a few feet behind with Kurt, tilted her head thoughtfully. “It’s a sound strategy. Fighting smart is just as important as fighting hard.”

Jean chimed in, her voice measured and calm. “Agreed. Brute force only gets you so far. For all we know, there could be fifty of them in there.”

Logan turned to Scott, silently hoping for backup, but Scott merely folded his arms and gave him a look—a pointed one, like Logan had just suggested fighting blindfolded. Even Kurt’s tail twitched awkwardly, as though uncomfortable with Logan’s stubbornness.

“Fine,” Logan grumbled at last, his voice dripping with reluctance. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Good choice,” E quipped, already moving ahead.

Scott stepped forward, his visor glinting in the dim light as he addressed the team. “Here’s the plan. Storm and Nightcrawler, you’re on decoy duty—draw their attention toward the main corridor. Shadowcat, Rogue, and Iceman, you’re the scout team. Find the hostage and get them to safety. Jean, Wolverine, and E, you’re with me at the choke point. We’ll hold the line and clean up any stragglers.”

The group split seamlessly into their designated roles. Ororo and Kurt advanced toward the wide-open hall at the far end of the floor, preparing to lure the enemy, while Logan, E, and Jean moved into position at the narrow corridor for the ambush.

Ororo stepped into the open, her eyes faintly glowing as she summoned a swirling gale. A deafening crash echoed through the space as she hurled a metal filing cabinet into a crumbling wall, scattering debris and drawing immediate shouts from the mercenaries.

Kurt vanished with a soft bamf, reappearing behind two guards. Before they could react, he disarmed one with a sharp tail swipe and incapacitated the other with a swift punch. A third guard spun toward him, but a gust of wind sent the man’s weapon skidding out of reach.

“That’s our cue,” Ororo murmured, retreating into the shadows. Kurt followed, the sound of their retreat baiting the mercenaries into pursuit.

At the bottleneck, Logan crouched low, claws unsheathed, his muscles taut as he prepared for the enemy to funnel in. E stood to his left, chakrams glinting in the dim light as they adjusted their stance.

“Remember: controlled chaos,” E said lightly. “Try not to go feral too fast.”

“Funny,” Logan muttered, his eyes narrowing as the first wave of mercenaries rounded the corner.

Jean stood behind them, her focus locked as she created a shimmering telekinetic barrier to intercept the inevitable projectiles. The mercenaries opened fire, but their bullets froze mid-air, suspended like raindrops caught in time.

Logan surged forward, slashing through their ranks with brutal precision. E darted to his side, chakrams spinning in graceful arcs that deflected bullets and struck with unerring accuracy. A guard raised his weapon, only for one of E’s metal disks to slice through it before returning to their hand in a fluid motion.

“Not bad for a desk jockey,” Logan muttered, slicing through another mercenary with a savage sweep of his claws.

E smirked, ducking under a wild swing and planting a chakram squarely into an enemy’s knee. “Thanks, lumberjack. Didn’t know you even knew what a desk was.”

Logan snorted, sidestepping an incoming blow. “I know plenty. Like how not to overthink in a fight.”

E shot him a sharp look, flicking their chakram with a flourish that knocked a gun from another guard’s hand. “Overthink? Sorry, some of us like to use both brains and brawn. It’s called multitasking.”

“Focus!” Jean snapped, her barrier flickering briefly under the hail of bullets as she reinforced it with a concentrated burst of telekinetic energy.

“Scout team, status?” Scott’s voice crackled over the comms.

Kitty’s reply was calm but clipped. “Hostage located. Three guards in the room. Reinforcements heading this way. We can’t engage yet—too many nearby.”

“Understood,” Scott replied. “We’ll clear the path soon.”

“Yep, soon would be great,” Bobby’s voice chimed in, followed by the faint sound of ice cracking.

Scott turned his attention to Ororo and Kurt. “Decoy team, double back and draw reinforcements away from their position. Make it loud and chaotic.”

Ororo gave a nod and turned to Kurt with a playful smile. “Time for a distraction?”

He reached out, grabbing her hand with his blue-skinned one, his smile matching hers. “Let’s make it count.” They both vanished in another one of his characteristic bamfs.

The team at the bottleneck only heard the distant sounds of chaos—shouts, clangs, and the occasional explosion—as the decoy team created their diversion.

“Chaotic enough for you?” Kurt’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Nice work, keep going,” Scott instructed.

Not far from him, the fight intensified. More mercenaries poured in, Logan's large frame crowding them into chaotic clusters in the narrow corridor. One lobbed a grenade, but E reacted quickly, their chakrams spinning out and deflecting it into the wall. The explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the space, leaving E’s ears ringing but sparing the team from serious harm.

Logan growled, claws carving through the crowd with brutal precision. “They just keep comin’,” he muttered, elbowing a guard in the face before slashing another across the chest.

“Almost like they’re programmed to, huh?” E quipped, catching one of their chakrams mid-spin and flicking it toward an approaching guard.

Scott’s optic blast tore through the adjacent wall, collapsing part of the corridor and forcing the mercenaries into an even tighter cluster.

“Nice,” E muttered, resetting their chakrams on the hooks at the back of their shirt.

Logan, now drenched in sweat, glanced over his shoulder at Jean. “Think you can drop somethin’ on ‘em?”

Jean nodded, her telekinetic energy flaring as she wrenched a section of the crumbling ceiling down onto the remaining guards. Dust and debris filled the air, muffling the mercenaries’ groans as they scrambled to recover.

“All clear on our end,” Scott called into the comms. “Scout team, you’re up. Decoy team, escort them back.”

On cue, the younger team members escorted the hostage out, covered by Ororo and Kurt. Together, they retreated under the relentless flow of enemies, making their way to the staircase—the designated extraction point according to the simulation.

The high-rise dissolved back into the metallic walls of the Danger Room as the simulation halted.

“Nice work, team,” Charles’s voice echoed from the speakers above.

Logan rolled his shoulders, claws retracting with a metallic snakt. “Would’ve been faster my way.”

E wiped a bit of sweat from their brow, tossing him a dry look. “Faster, maybe. Messier, definitely.”

Logan smirked, something feral flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you messy, sweetheart.”

Before E could retort, Logan lunged.

Gasps rippled through the team as Logan’s massive frame barreled toward the lawyer. But instead of bracing for impact, E moved.

They dodged to the side, fluid as water, sliding past his outstretched arms. Logan whirled around, but E was already behind him, darting away like a shadow slipping through cracks.

Their movements became a dance—graceful, calculated, almost mesmerizing. E sidestepped his strikes, ducked under his swipes, their bare feet gliding across the floor with uncanny ease. A faint smile tugged at their lips, their eyes alight with challenge.

Logan, by contrast, was all force and fury, each swing of his arms carrying enough power to send anyone else sprawling. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch them.

“Quit dancin’, witch,” he growled, his voice rough and strained.

“You quit swinging, old bear,” E shot back, twisting out of his grasp once more.

The onlookers watched in stunned silence. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like Logan was furious, his teeth bared and his movements unrelenting. But the subtle nuances of his posture—how his shoulders stayed loose, how his strikes never fully committed—told a different story.

And, of course, E saw everything.

Finally, Logan managed to grab them, his arms encircling their waist in a vice grip. He pressed them firmly against his chest, his breathing heavy, his pulse hammering against theirs.

From the outside, it looked like he wanted to crush them. But up close, the heat of his gaze burned with something far more intense than anger.

E’s breath hitched, and they fought to keep a smirk from curling their lips. Instead, their fingers brushed against his chest, reluctant to break the embrace, but they needed the show to keep going so they pushed him back with all their strength, slipping free of his hold.

“That’s enough!” Charles’s voice cut through the tension like a whip as he entered the room again.

Logan stepped back, his chest heaving, though the predatory gleam in his eyes didn’t fade. “Logan. E. My office. Now!”

The rest of the team stared as the two of them followed Charles’s voice toward the exit, leaving the charged silence of the Danger Room behind.

“Am I the only one who thinks that was…” Kitty began, searching for the right word.

“Terrifying?” Kurt offered.

“Hot,” Marie muttered under her breath, earning an amused eye roll from Ororo.

But no one dared say anything else.

Charles sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled as he regarded Logan and E with a calm but pointed gaze. They stood across from him, arms crossed in a near-mirror of each other, just as they had during their discussion about Logan’s contract weeks ago. However, the tension between them now was markedly less volatile than it had been back then.

“You did well today,” Charles began, his tone measured. “The training session proved that the team has accepted you, E. They trust your skills and instincts. However…”

Logan shifted his weight with a grunt, already sensing where this was headed.

“…you both need to work on mending the… tension that you’ve been projecting toward each other,” Charles continued.

E raised an eyebrow, their lips twitching with mild amusement.

Charles’s gaze flicked between them. “You’ve played this ruse of animosity so convincingly that it’s starting to unsettle the team. If they find out you’ve been misleading them, it could lead to feelings of betrayal, even resentment, and undermine all the progress you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

“Great,” Logan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what, we’re supposed to just stop fightin’ all at once?”

“Not quite,” Charles replied with a small smile. “I suggest spacing out these little arguments. Gradually lessen the intensity. Make it appear as though you’ve come to a mutual understanding over time.”

E exchanged a look with Logan, their shared exasperation reflected in his expression. “Honestly? That sounds like the most exhausting part of this entire charade.”

“No kidding,” Logan grunted. “It’s been weeks of butting heads during the day, and I hate it.”

“You hate it?” E shot back, their voice dripping with mock incredulity. “Try being on the receiving end of your constant growling.”

“Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either, sweetheart.”

Charles raised a hand, silencing them before the exchange could escalate further. “I trust the two of you can manage for the sake of the team.”

Both of them nodded, though they shared a small, sheepish smile.

“Good. That will be all for now.”

As they walked down the hall, the guarded tension dissolved entirely now that they were alone, replaced by an easy companionship they both found natural. The faint murmur of voices drifted from the dining room, and both of them slowed instinctively, ears pricking as snippets of conversation reached them.

“I think we’ve been too hard on E,” Marie was saying, her tone tinged with guilt. “They’ve got good instincts, and they’re a damn good strategist.”

“Agreed,” Ororo added. “Their fighting style is intriguing—fluid, adaptive. We could all learn something from that approach.”

Hank’s thoughtful voice joined in. “I did some research on kalaripayattu, their preferred martial art. It’s not just excellent for coordination but also sharpens the mind. A fascinating discipline.”

“You’re all missing the bigger picture,” Scott interjected, his voice edged with frustration. “Logan’s the real problem here. He’s been acting irrationally for weeks.”

Kurt spoke next, his tone hesitant but sympathetic. “He has not left the mansion in a long time. Perhaps he is… how do you say… getting cabin fever?”

“I personally think Logan is an ass, and that’s not gonna change overnight,” Scott added, drawing a few chuckles. “It’s just his basic instincts resurfacing.”

“Or maybe it’s some kind of twisted mating ritual?” Bobby quipped. “Am I the only one who noticed how they were watching each other during that fight? I couldn’t tell if they were going to kill each other or just have sex on the floor.”

Laughter rippled through the room, and Jean’s voice was the next to cut through. “I think he’s taking it out on E because they’re both such strong personalities. And, let’s face it, they couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.”

Logan and E exchanged a glance in the hallway, a slow, knowing look passing between them. A faint smile tugged at both their lips, underlining the shared triumph. Mission accomplished.

Neither of them said a word at first as they continued walking, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. As they reached the next corridor, Logan glanced around, checking to see if they were alone. Then, with a swift motion, he leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to their cheek, his voice low as he murmured, “See you later, Angel.”

The warmth of his words and the kiss lingered as he turned and strode toward his room, leaving E to stand there for a moment, their fingers brushing the spot he’d kissed. They watched him disappear around the corner before turning on their heel and heading in the opposite direction, a small, lingering smile playing on their lips.

To be continued…

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don’t forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

✨ Masterlist ✨

Don’t forget to follow the tags “Devilish Desires” and “xpressit writings” to stay tuned for the next chapters 😁

🔖 @quillycrow

[scarletts-scribbles]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Hey! Here's a compiled list of prompts for people to use, feel free to submit any of these for requests or to use in your own writing. I didn't come up with all of these myself so check out the credited creators! Requests are not limited to these prompts, feel free to think of your own or change these up!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 «» 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧

: ̗̀➛ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

“I’d rather sit and do nothing with you than do anything with anyone else.”

“Would a hug make things better?”

"You wanna cuddle for the rest of the morning?"

"Just hold me?"

"You're being extra cuddly this morning."

"Quiet night on the couch?"

“You make me want to be the best I can be.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you like to be the little spoon.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“You look really cute in my clothes.”

“You’re special. People like you don’t come around often.”

“I’ve only ever loved you.”

"You're hogging the blankets."

"May I have this dance?"

“Are you blushing?! That’s adorable.”

“Breathtaking. You’re breathtaking.”

“You should smile more often, it looks good on you.”

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”

“Should we make it official?”

“Can you wash my hair for me?” 

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you sleep on the couch."

"Can I braid your hair?"

"I'm not giving up on you, ever. I promise you.”

“You’re being very unsubtle with your heart eyes for them.” 

“I’m proud of you, no matter what.”

"You're the worst, I love you so much."

"You got me flowers?"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

“Did you ever really love me?”

"Why did you come back?"

“You couldn’t just let me have this, could you?”

“Just because you hate your life doesn’t mine to get to dictate mine!”

“Look what you’ve done…”

"You promised you wouldn’t forget me."

“I don’t have an attitude, I just answered your question.”

“Please say something!”

"I get it! You're jealous!"

“Us? There was never an ‘us’.”

“Is this how it really ends?”

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?”

“It’s too late for ‘I’m sorries’.”

"I thought I'd lost you forever."

“Ha… I told you you’d outlive me.” 

“Since when did you ever care about me?!”

“Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you, then. Tell me. Spare me.” 

“Kiss me one last time?

“Why did you think you could change this?! You’re nothing!”

“This is all your fault.”

“I vouched for you! How could you?!"

"God, how blind can you be?"

“You’re either a fool for not knowing or an idiot for not doing something!”

: ̗̀➛ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭

“Shut up and just let me take care of you!”

“Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. you know i’ll have no problem with either option.”

"How long have you been hiding this?"

“And just when were you planning to tell me you were sick?"

“Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

“Get behind me.”

“Here, lean on me. I can carry you.”

“Hey! Hey, relax it was just a nightmare, I’m right here.”

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

“Try and get some sleep. I’ll stay right here- I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear.”

“We’re gonna fix you up, brand new. I promise.”

“Bless you! Jesus that nearly gave me a heart attack, how about a little warning next time?”

“Your hands are freezing! come here, let me warm you up.”

“Show me?”

“Your bedside manner is awful.”

“Your not exactly a good patient.”

"Did you eat something bad?"

“Would you like a heating pad?”

“I think I just started my period…”

“Oh darling, this fever, you’re totally burning up.”

“You can sleep in my bed, if it'd be of any help.”

"How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers."

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Did you remember to take your meds this morning?”

“Don’t be stupid, now sit down before you pass out.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Stay?”

“Who did this to you?”

“You’re not fine! You’re bleeding for gods sake!”

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

"I want to taste you so badly." 

"Make me beg for it." 

"Oh I can do this all night long." 

"Be a good girl and use your words darling." 

"You surprise me every day." 

"Let's find out how much you want it." 

"Kiss me, I can't wait any longer." 

"Come on, please, do it." 

“Don’t worry, I’d take you out for dinner before I eat you out for dessert. It’s the polite thing to do.”  

"Do you like it when I talk like that?" 

"Oh, you like that?" 

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" 

"Well, let's see what happens tonight." 

“I’ll be gentle, baby.  Don’t worry.” 

"Can you kiss it better?" 

"Keep the noise down, baby.  Someone's gonna walk in." 

“God, you look amazing like this.” 

"Let’s put that smart mouth to good use.” 

"Oh, you're hard to please." 

"I had a very nice dream that started like this." 

"Can you be good for me?" 

"It's so hot when you talk like that." 

"I'll go as long as you need." 

prompt sources: @.scealaiscoite, @.sleepywriter00, @.dumplingsjinson, @.euthymiaaa, @.novelbear, @.luvmmarner, @.promptsbytaurie, @.creativepromptsforwriting, @.rosewritingprompts

[houseofbrat]

Have it on good authority that Angelina was known as crazy at the UN by many of the staff members, and the actual reason she left is because she demanded to be made a Diplomat instead of Goodwill Ambassador and gave them an ultimatum, make me a Diplomat or I will leave. They said no, and she left.

Angelina has such a long history of using her children in the press I can't believe more people aren't critical of this.

Not taking away from what a nightmare Brad is, obviously he sucks.

Thank you for bringing this up. I have heard similar things from friends working in international aid organizations often contracted to work with the UN. Also, remember all of the press and accolades she received due to her association with William Hague and how they created an Initiative for violence against women in conflict zones? It was basically abandoned shortly after its creation. Granted Hague retired so she shouldn’t shoulder the entire blame, but considering Angelina continues to receive special treatment as an actress who isn’t like the rest of Hollywood — sHe AcTuAlLy CaReS — I find it astounding that this has had no impact on her. If she needed to take a step back due to family or health issues, that’s okay! It doesn’t take a lot to do a handoff to other (more qualified and capable!) individuals and cut a check and continue to support with fundraising. But to have an independent governmental body say that you’re “letting down survivors” due to your inaction or lack of interest is absolutely something that deserves attention.

Here’s a Guardian article which gives a great summary: https://amp.theguardian.com/global-development/2020/jan/09/letting-survivors-down-criticism-for-william-hague-angelina-jolie-sexual-violence-in-war-zones-scheme

And here’s the report: https://icai.independent.gov.uk/psvi/

Also have it on good will that when she visited the Houses of Parliament she was a diva nightmare from hell, so there’s that too

Her move to the UN was motivated by public relations. She contacted them and pitched that she be a representative for Unicef, the UN agency that provide humanitarian aid children. The UN said no. Her image at that point wasn't what the UN wanted associated with children. So she ended up working for refugees.

Not surprised by this at all. I knew a few people who did international aid work in various places and Jolie was well known as a opportunistic fake who came, took pictures, and then returned to her 5 star hotel.

I know someone who knew Brad and AJ in similar circles and his biggest takeaway is how very “not bright” they both are.

I’ve posted about this before and most people don’t believe me but that’s ok .. Brad wanted the kids to be disciplined, in school, not be spoiled - and Angelina wanted to be their bestie, buying whatever they wanted and letting them do whatever they wanted. Now she just talks shit about him, brainwashing them into to believing he’s the devil. He’s not perfect by any stretch, but from what I know, she’s way worse than what is presented in the media. Very manipulative, calculating and nasty. Source: I’m an almost 60 year old woman who used to work in the entertainment industry and still have many friends in their circle.

Everything you say! I have two solid sources who are a-list and one of them works with her, the other share a team member. Shes a menace. Im team no one but their kids but truly she is dangerously manipulative. Perfect example she paid someone to build her fashion line, promised them co-creator credit and when it was time for it to be debuted in Vogue, called the editor and specifically said don’t name the main designer. The main designer found it and when confronted Angelina continuously denied and eventually pretended it didn’t even happen. Shes not all there. Source: been in industry for two decades and around these two quite a bit

This is essentially what I had heard as well. He had a more traditional approach to parenting, like set bedtimes, cooked family meals together, time-outs when the kids acted up, asking them to do their share of chores, etc. and she just didn’t believe in any of it. It was a constant source of friction. He was supposedly really unhappy that the kids ate a lot of junk and fast food as their meals. And yes, when things tanked between them, she worked on them to alienate them from him.

I used to work in the executive offices at Warner Bros in the late 00’s and this absolutely tracks with everything I heard about them from the other assistants and receptionists.

That seems like her PR spin though. I’ve heard (from reliable sources) that her refusal to set any kind of boundaries or discipline of any kind with the children was the main issue between them and ultimately was the match in the powder keg of the ugly airplane incident. Her older kids especially have no respect for authority. He wanted more structure and discipline. Now they are *gasp “troubled.” Who could have foreseen it? He “lunged at” the oldest kid (who is also “troubled” now) and Angelina jumped on his back. Not his best moment for sure but he doesn’t have a history of violence. Since then he’s been sober for eight years.

[warmaidensrevenge]

Love and pinball

Pairing: Eddie x Plus!size fem reader

A/N: Oh man it's been a long while. I've been taking a long needed break. But now I'm back and I have a bunch of ideas that need to be written. So I'm looking forward to what's next. I would also like to add that I had help from @salenorona23 to write this fic. I would liked to thank you. You honestly come up with the best ideas.

Thanks for sticking around. I appreciate all of you. I hope you enjoy the conclusion of Love and Pinball.

The song I added was an inspiration to me. Kay love ya. Byyyye.

Word count: 3,199

I do not give permission for my work to be published anywhere else. Please respect all creators. All the pictures I used for my collage were taken from a Google search. A credit to the original posters

Warnings: 18+ no minors please. Sexual implications, loss, grief, heartache and angst. Not proof read.

Part 8: Together

Summary: Grief will rip us apart. But love, real love can help us back to each other.

You stirred a little and placed a hand on your stomach. There was something wrong. You felt empty.

You weakly called out for Eddie. " B-baby?"

Your eyes opened slowly and the sun was blinding. You looked around and saw Paul and your mom. Then you saw Eddie who was sitting next to the bed, holding your hand. He had never looked so bad.

It was quiet. The silence and the single heart beat on the monitor was ominous. You remembered a little of what happened when you got to the hospital. But you were in and out of it.

"Is-ugh-is the baby okay?" You asked, trying to sit up.

Eddie and Paul stood quiet as your mom came to your side and started stroking your hair.

" Honey…I'm so sorry."

-

You cried for four days straight, with your mom never leaving your side. Even though you knew Eddie had to be with Liam. It hurt so much more to go through the loss of the baby without him.

Those four days were the worst in Eddie's life. When he was away he wished he was with you. And when he was with you all he did was hold you as you sobbed.

He felt like he was the reason you guys were suffering.

On the fifth day, you were going to be discharged from the hospital. Eddie had left work early to be the one to take you home. However, when he got there you were already gone.

Confused and worried he went home. Only to find suitcases by the door.

" Sweetheart?" He called out.

He found you in the nursery clutching the baby blanket from the hospital.

" Sweetheart?"

When you looked at him, he had never seen so much pain in someone's eyes.

You were dreading this moment ever since you decided to run. The only thing that kept you from taking off without a single care was the respect you had for Eddie. He deserved more than him coming home to see you were gone. He needed to know that you would be okay.

You looked back at the empty crib and felt such heartache. To the means of something you could not put into words.

" My mom went to say goodbye to Paul and Natalie. She's going to be back soon."

Eddie remained quiet and watched you. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

" I-I'm gonna go back with her."

His heart sank.

" I need some time…"

You didn't need to finish for him to understand what you needed. And though it tore him apart, he wanted you to be okay.

He took a few steps towards you. "Y/n, I think it's a good idea. You should be with your mom for a few days."

You tensed under his hand that was suddenly on your back. He almost lost it. He almost broke down. But he couldn't. So he didn't.

What he did instead was help put your bags in the trunk and helped you with your seatbelt.

Not once did you look at him. You barely said anything at all.

" Sweetheart, I'll be here when you get back."

Your head was hung while you nodded.

Eddie's heart shattered all over again watching the car fade into the distance.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe it wasn't what was best for him. But it was what you needed. Right now all you needed was family.

…

3 weeks later

You always did hate how hot New Mexico was. You hated the bugs and the disgusting dry heat. But all of those things didn't bother you anymore. Those inconveniences were nothing compared to the suffering you felt.

It had been three long weeks since the loss of your baby girl and you couldn't find it in you to get out of bed. Or to really talk things out with Eddie.

Sure he called countless times, asking when you were gonna come home. But the answer was always the same. You didn't know.

That wasn't true though. You were never going back. How could you? How could you go on and pretend that baby Claire never existed? How could you face the man you loved knowing it was your fault she didn't make it? That the family you wanted was gone.

Chrissy gave him something you couldn't. A baby. And you hated her for that. You hated that she had a healthy beautiful baby boy, while you were left with this empty feeling.

That wasn't the person you wanted to be. And it was definitely not something you wanted Eddie to see.

It took everything you had to breathe. To wake up and not blame yourself.

But the agony you felt wouldn't go away no matter how hard you tried. And no matter how many tears flowed, there was always more.

It especially hurt when Eddie would call and you could hear Liam crying. It was excruciating to hear cries that weren't hers.

Deep down you wanted to be with Eddie. And you really did love Liam. But you just couldn't do it. It was too hard.

On the fourth week you were woken up by a tiny human.

" Tee? Wake up Tee."

You opened your eyes and found big blue ones looking back at you.

"Morning Tee."

You smiled as she climbed into bed and gave you a big hug.

" Hi baby. Oh I've missed you."

Natalie giggled when you gave her a bunch of kisses.

" Hey champ."

You looked up from Natalie and saw Paul standing by the door.

Your eyes started to swell and your chin trembled." H-hi."

After hello hugs you went to the kitchen and sat there watching Natalie eat.

" What're you guys doing here?"

Your mom poured you and Paul coffee and put a hand on your shoulder.

" Honey, your brother is leaving Natalie here for a while."

You looked over at Paul and he nodded. " I uhhh Natalie needs you…and I think you need her too."

You frowned and tears filled your eyes again. Then you nodded and sniffled. " I do."

You wiped away your tears and lightly laughed. " I'm sorry."

" Tee don't be sad."

You smiled softly at her. "I'm just really happy to see you."

She giggled and got down from her chair and raised her arms up for you to pick her up. Once on your lap she started humming.

" Tee, can we make cookies?"

You kissed the top of her little head. " Of course baby."

You looked up at Paul and your mom and saw them giving you small smiles.

For the first time in a month, you felt ok…Better.

-

Eddie was going through it. Sure he still had Liam, but he lost a daughter too. And he started resenting you for leaving him. Especially since you were only supposed to be gone for a little bit.

It was now a month and a half later and you still haven't said when you were coming back.

That was until you called him.

" Hey sweetheart."

" Hi."

He sat down on the bed. " How are you?"

You sighed. " Better."

His brows pinched together. " Yeah? That's good. I uhh miss you.”

“Eddie I- ummm I left a few things and I was hoping you could send them to me?”

He was quiet for a second. Didn't you miss him too?

“ Uhh yeah. Yeah. Sure baby. What do you need?”

He wrote down the list of things and was confused. Photo albums, jewelry and your diploma. Things that were important and likely irreplaceable.

“Umm sweetheart? Do…do you really want me to send this stuff?”

You cleared your throat before answering. “ Yeah.”

He nodded and fought back his tears. Why did it feel like you weren't coming back?

" Y/n? You're coming home…right?"

He heard you sniffle and knew your answer.

" Baby, please. I-I-"

"I have to go. I'm sorry."

-

When you hung up, it was like you felt everything you felt a month ago. But ten fold. It was horrible.

You originally hoped calling him would change your mind about not going back. Instead, all it did was solidify that you could never go back and face him.

You laid in bed that night thinking of all the things that you should've said to him. You should have said you were sorry for falling that day. For losing Claire. For running away. But most of all you wanted to say you loved him very much.

All the pain you felt started making you cry. After a minute or so you felt a little bit of movement behind you. Then you felt a tiny hand stroking your hair.

You turned around and saw Natalie staring at you.

" Don't cry Tee."

You whimpered a little as you wiped your eyes.

She grabbed your hand." Everything's gonna be alright."

" I know, baby. I know."

" Then-then why are you crying?"

You sniffled. " Everyone cries baby."

Natalie frowned. " I don't like it when you cry Tee. It scares me."

Your brows pinched together and you reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. " Why honey?"

" Because when big people cry, that means something bad happened. And I don't want bad things to happen."

You sucked in a breath and nodded. " I'm sorry. I-I won't cry anymore."

She held out her pinky. " Promise."

You let out a small laugh and hooked your pinky with hers. " I promise baby."

She leaned in and gave you a hug and a kiss before getting under the covers. Then she started humming a familiar tune until she fell asleep.

You squeezed her gently and thought of the day you guys went shopping with Eddie replayed in your head.

It was at that moment you knew what you had to do.

It was time to work on getting better. For your family. And for Eddie.

-

Eddie cried after he hung up the phone. He never felt so alone before. Or so sad. What did he need to do to get you home?

He wanted to go to you, but with Liam and work he really couldn't. On top of that he was heartbroken.

But what made things worse was that Chrissy decided to give him full custody of Liam. All she said when she dropped him off was that Jason proposed to her. So she handed him Liam and paperwork that she had a lawyer draw up.

That was a week ago.

Thank God for his friends. He didn't know what he would do without Gareth or Robin. They were his saving grace. But the only person he really wanted was you. Looks like he wasn't going to get that happy ending he always wanted.

-

Two weeks later

It was a stormy Saturday afternoon. Eddie had just put Liam down for a nap. He had been so fussy today. He had this little cough that scared him. So after a doctor's visit he gave him some medicine and put him to bed.

Eddie went outside to sit on the porch and look at the paper. He was searching for an affordable place that he and Liam could move into. He felt that it wasn't right to stay in your place without you.

However, the only place he could afford was in Forest Hills and he wanted better for Liam. But there was no other choice.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “ Wish you would come home.”

He then heard a car door close. When he looked up he saw you standing there. Umbrella in one hand and a suitcase in the other.

When the cab drove off you started towards him.

He was in shock. With no clue what to actually say or do, he just sat there.

You reached the steps and stared at him. All you could think about was how much you've missed him.

“I…I know there's nothing I can say to take back what happened and how I reacted to it. Just know that I am so sorry for leaving you.” You moistened your lips and continued. “ I should've known that losing our girl was going to hurt you too. I was selfish and a jerk… and I get it if you can't forgive me. I just came back to apologize and to say if you need me, I'll be here... And I need you to know that I'm not 100% right now. And...and I don't think I ever will be. But I'm willing to try and be. For you and Liam...For me too.

He stood up and dropped the newspaper. Just then the slight drizzle turned into a downpour. He went down the steps and pulled you into a hug. Your body trembled in his arms as tears filled his eyes.

“ I missed you so much baby.” he leaned back and kissed you.

After a few seconds you guys heard Liam cough.

He looked down at you and put his forehead on yours. “ I know what you're gonna say. But I don't care. I like how much of a cliche we are together…That's how I know it's real.”

You nodded. “ I guess you're right…Curls?”

“ Yeah sweetheart?”

“ I'm not leaving again. Not ever. Well not willfully.”

He chuckled and went to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest.

“ Common bud, I wanna see Liam.”

He nodded and grabbed your luggage. Following you inside.

-

You never ran. Not when Chrissy came back crying that Jason left her and then tried to take Liam. Not when he was let go from the plant. Even when things got overwhelming when Hannah and Layla were born. When postpartum hit you like a truck. You didn't leave.

Even when things got better and the band got a record deal and he spent more time on the road than at home. You stayed and supported him. You said and did all the things a partner should. You challenged him to be better and you were honest with him. You did so much for him and the family. You took care of the house and the kids, even though you needed help. You didn't leave when he missed so many birthdays, little league games and ballet recitals.

Because you loved him and he loved you. No matter how hard or easy things were. You both showed up for each other. No matter what, you had each other's back.

-

Eddie hadn't been home in a few months and you never missed him more. Maybe it was because the kids were asking when he was coming back. Or maybe it was because your anniversary was coming up and you needed your anniversary kisses. Either way he was way overdue for a cuddle session.

All day you tried to focus on the daycare. And for the most part you kept it together. That was until you were about to leave for the day.

He was there. Leaning against his red BMW with his legs crossed at the ankles and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

You could cry right now. But instead you melted seeing him smile at you.

“ Hey Mrs. Munson. Beautiful weather we're having.”

You shook your head and went to him. Giving him hugs and all the kisses you've been saving just for him.

“ Mmmmm sweetheart. Let me get you home first.”

He led you to the passenger side and opened the door. As soon as you slid in, you climbed down from cloud nine. You opened your mouth to say something when he closed the door and held up his hand.

“ Don't worry, your car will be safe here and the kids are at Paul's. It's just you and me tonight.”

-

You didn't make it past the living room. You were on each other as soon as the front door closed.

Eddie sighed with satisfaction. “ God I've missed you.”

“ Better have.”

He chuckled and placed a wet kiss on your cheek. “ I always miss you when I'm gone. You and the kids.”

You swallow and nod. “ So how long do we get you for?”

He hummed and pulled you to lay in his arms. “ I'm not sure. 1 or 2, maybe 3 years.”

You lifted your head and gave him a surprise look.

He grinned at you. “ The band decided we needed a break. To get back to our roots and be with our families. So we all agreed that a long vacation would do us good. Obviously, we can't just disappear for 3 years.”

“ Right.”

He reached up and tucked your hair behind your shoulder. “ Yeah. So we set it up to only do local shows a few times a month and do 9 big venues in the surrounding states. But only in the summer so I can bring you guys with me.”

You were speechless. You've been wanting to hear those words from him for a long time now. It was the best thing he had ever said to you.

You smiled softly.“The kids would love that.”

“ What about you?”

You laid your head back on his chest. “ Well I don't know. I guess I can take it or leave it.”

He gasped. “ I beg your pardon!” He then started to tickle your sides and made his way on top of you.

“ Ahhh curls! Okay okay!”

He stopped and grinned down at you.

You smiled back at him. “ I would love nothing more than for all of us to be together. I love that you're home…I miss you bud. So much.”

He nodded slightly before leaning for a kiss.

“ Mmm sooo speaking of all of us…I was thinking maybe we could work on baby 4 and 5.”

You clicked your tongue. “ Hmmm that sounds fun. Maybe pinball after?”

He chuckled lightly. “ Love then pinball?”

“ Or.” You raised a brow. “ Love and pinball?”

“ Oh you're naughty baby.”

You both grinned at each other for a moment before he got up.

“ I'll get us snacks and juice boxes.”

You laughed as he helped you up. “ I'll be down stairs beating your score.”

He smacked your bottom. “ We'll see about that “

-

As you stood in front of the thing that started it all you couldn't help but feel joy. The very same Grand Prix game you guys played all those years ago was now yours. Well it has been since Eddie gifted it to you as a wedding present.

You sighed happily as you took the quarter from the return slot and popped it in. The lights and music were the exact same as always.

You pulled back the spring handle and the ball was off. Whirls and dings were all too exciting. It was perfect. And in a few minutes you were almost to the high score. But then there were hands on your hips pulling you back so that you were flushed against his chest.

“ No distract-” you tried to say but cut off as you watched as the silver ball fell right between your paddles. Then you heard a slight chuckle.

“ Sorry sweetheart. You lost.”

Sighing in defeat, you turned around in his arms and wrapped yours around his neck. “ No bud. I think I won.”

Eddie looked back and forth between your eyes and understood what you meant.

He put his forehead on yours. “ We won.”

...

@marsmunson86 @browneyes528 @erinsingalong @salenorona23 @emsgoodthinkin @eddie-is-a-god @manda-panda-monium

[skunkes]

I've talked about this before I think but I think "art theft culture" is actually what makes scenarios like this worse... and I Know because I've mentioned that it happened to me before, where a few years ago I was heavily inspired by an artist for a couple of style study drawings without acknowledging them as inspiration, they contacted me after their friends notifed the similarities, and it was resolved as I explained that I had no "plans" for long term theft or passing off as my own, I was just passing by and figuring out what I liked about the style. But I should have just mentioned them!

And that's the point I'm trying to get at here, I feel for a lot of people there's still either shame in using references (I took the upper half of a pose for a recent comm from one of the first memorable google image results for it... How embarrassing!), and there's similar in openly admitting that somebody is currently directly inspiring you, or that you liked something someone made so much you're making your own spin on it.

This is probably because you don't know how people (your audience or the original creator, or THEIR audience) are going to react with regards to """theft""" (which I also feel varies. Like everyone I've seen trying to emulate my style has never gotten close. Which is how it works! Its a good thing! Absorb it into your own! Thats what I do!

But I've also had someone lift every aspect of my art identity and basically try to replicate exact pieces, poses, and dialogue of mine with their characters like oh ok nvm this is kinda weird.) so I get it, because it's scary! It happened to Me, I was a perpetrator LOL and that's that it was style inspiration and not direct copying so I get it... I feel it all the time too, but I wish it wasn't like this in General ykwim. Wish it didn't feel so humiliating to admit influence

EDIT: THIS IS ALSO NOT ME SAYING "you need to list off all your inspirations every single time you post a drawing"

Its more like oh this person is using my exact brushes and exact colors and exact half traced poses and my handwriting and exact dialogue and personal symbols to the point where they're pretending my autobiographic doodles happened to them while pretending they've never seen my stuff in their life, or even shit talking me. Some of these individual aspects are okay (I've literally shared all my brushes with everyone, for example, who cares. My colors are awesome...who cares. 4 petal flower shapes don't belong to anyone, I don't care.) But all of them in combination is what's weird. Ykwim. Like that level of "hey man what the fuck"

I'm about to answer an ask going more into depth about this but I also need to explain that it's hard being on the other end of this too because it really isn't that serious ykwim... I see ppl on twitter get clowned on every day because "you can't steal a style" and that's mostly true. Me and some mutuals "steal" aspects from each other all the time without "crediting" because it's obvious, or we know each other, as well as the "stolen" stuff being something we already made our own thing, so I promise this isn't about that. Art is meant to be shared and inspire and influence.

I'd never point fingers unless it got severe over a long period of time (not adapting it into your own style), with someone who wouldn't talk it out with me but sometimes I wish I could show some of these specific examples, like I promise I'm not blowing up because someone """stole""" uhhhh the little squiggles I add to my commissions. I myself "stole" that from deco sticker sheets. Who gives a shit.

[swan-lite]

Dang it, okay, I have thoughts

James Somerton made an apology video in which he says "I'm sorry" several times but

Couches it in a pity party

Does not directly address any of the people whose work he stole by name

Never uses the word "plagiarism," instead referring to his theft almost exclusively as "citation errors"

James discusses how many videos he and his team were releasing and the frequency of releases as if someone was pressuring them to release a high volume of videos, as if to say it isn't his fault that there were quality problems

James offers to make his videos public again and add "citations" in a pinned comment or in the descriptions as a means of crediting the people he stole from

He also insists that some of the videos won't need these citations because some of them were his own "original work"

(In other words: that he has nothing more to hide)

James states that he isn't bigoted against ace folks, bisexual folks, trans folks, or women and that the several disparaging remarks he has made against these communities in his videos were not written by him

Because we have receipts for several of these remarks thanks to Harry's (hbomberguy's) video on James, we know that they didn't come from the articles and books he was stealing from, so if James didn't write them then the only other person who could have was his cowriter Nick

James then immediately says that he's not trying to blame Nick

James does not try to explain the ace/arophobic, biphobic, transphobic, or misogynistic remarks he has made on his Twitter or Patreon accounts

James mentions - and seems genuinely bothered by - the "people online" who are spreading lies and misinformation about him

Finally, James discusses future projects he would like to work on

He then deleted the apology video

Harry states near the top of Plagiarism and You(Tube) that "When someone more competent than Filip uses [his] techniques in a subtler way, we can recognize them for what they are."

This is not competent. It's not even subtle. James's career was so thoroughly eviscerated literally overnight that this is the best he can do, and it's not even good.

James says that he's sorry, but doesn't actually explain what he's sorry for. He doesn't admit to, or take responsibility for, the extent of what he actually did. In this way, he can now say when confronted that he apologized. But with the wording, he still manages to avoid actually taking ownership of his actions. In other words, it's using passive language to imply that what he has done just happened. He definitely didn't sit down and choose to commit extensive plagiarism - of course not! What really happened? *shrug* Anyway, sorry for it.

When iiluminaughtii (henceforth referred to as Blaire) tried to explain the many times in her video essays she has misspoken or misused words, she played it off as a byproduct of the amount of "work" she churned out for her fans. James is trying to do the same thing here, only it is deeply ineffective. It's quite upsetting to me to think that some of his fans - young queer folks who are probably used to having to make themselves small - might on some level fall for this trick. The idea is to make you the viewer feel guilty for the demands you have placed on this creator, when in reality this is a grown adult who knew exactly what he was doing.

I'm not going to spend too long on this next point. If you've read this far, you're probably invested enough to be well aware that James has used the trick of burying a citation under a mound of text no-one will read many times. It's the same trick Blaire used, and the one The Internet Historian used as well after he was caught.

James stops short of making a "Colombo villian speech" in this apology video. He does, however, take the time to say that he has nothing more to hide. Again, if you've watched Harry's video, you know this literally always means that the person who insists they have nothing to hide is absolutely hiding something else. Whether this is more plagiarism or some other skullduggery we haven't yet found out about, I'm sure it will come to light eventually. I'm honestly surprised and a little disappointed that James tried this tack. Obviously he's thought better of it, since the video is gone now. But I would think a grown human who has just been the subject of an hours-long piece of, frankly, journalism would know better than to say something like this.

With the comments about his bigotry, James is trying to simultaneously redirect attention and perform allyship by saying "Look, I have an asexual friend! Who may or may not be public about his sexuality at this time!" This is the kind of thing I think a lot of us in the queer community are used to - supposed allies downplaying microaggressions by pointing to folks in the ally's proximity who happen to have an identity that they are being accused of speaking badly about. "This one person can stand to be around me, so clearly I can't be all bad." Personally, as someone whose racist parent tries consistently to downplay their own racism by pointing to me, their mixed race child, I can tell you that this is always misleading. In this case, I feel comfortable saying it's intentional. James tries to excuse the bigotry that "ended up in the videos" by saying that he didn't have time to edit the scripts properly. He doesn't seem to realize that time constraints often make people much more honest. In reality, this is James trying to make excuses for the bigotry he put in his videos because the time constraints he put onto himself made it much more difficult to disguise how he really feels.

James then directs some indignation at the people who are online discussing what he did. I would interpret his discussion of his income as an oblique reference to Dan Olson's thread about his recording equipment if I had a degree in literary analysis. My degree is not in literary analysis, so I'll leave it there. Ahem.

James makes reference to future projects he hopes to work on, as if this endeavor has in any way preserved or helped to bolster his shattered reputation. Jessie Gender makes a great point in saying this feels like a promise of work we could get out of him if we all just collectively decide to ignore all the harm he has caused. And James has caused harm. Whether he meant to or not, given the sheer magnitude of his plagiarism, there is absolutely no doubt that he has caused significant harm to a community he claimed to defend.

I want to spend a moment on something others have already pointed out. Actually, Harry pointed this out too. If James's theft were in any way defensible, he would have defended it. He would not have gone to such great lengths - up to and including deleting videos - to hide it. He wouldn't have used Nick as a shield, he wouldn't have outright lied in his livestreams, and he wouldn't have deactivated his Patreon (before reactivating--y'know what, this post is long enough, we don't need to get into that). James lied and dodged and beat around the bush for years BECAUSE he knew what he was doing was wrong. I had a justice studies professor once tell my class that nobody wakes up in the morning and decides to be A Criminal. People make choices, and choices have consequences, but most people don't choose consequences. People choose the thing that benefits them and consequences follow. James made a long, long series of choices, and I would like to remind everyone that they always had consequences. Even before Harry's video came out, James was facing consequences. Those didn't come from nowhere, they came from the people he was hurting. He knew about them, he just didn't stop because of them. He stopped because he literally couldn't keep going anymore.

Finally, James deleted his misguided response to the multitude of accusations against him. I don't think I need to explain to anyone what that indicates.

I would like to finish by saying that nobody should be harassed. Nobody should be bullied, or dogpiled, or doxxed. Nobody should wake up in the hospital because their dad realized he needed to call an ambulance. James's life is undoubtedly in a really difficult place right now, and while he absolutely deserved to lose his career, that's all he deserved. I hope he regains his health, I really do.

And I hope Harry and his team don't feel any responsibility over this. It seems easy from the outside to believe they wouldn't, but I also know that if I had just released a 4-hour long video detailing someone's fraud and then found out they had been in the hospital because of an incompleted suicide, I would feel pretty conflicted about a project we know Harry already felt conflicted about.

I hope Harry and his team are doing okay, and I hope James starts doing okay soon, and I hope James realizes this was the wrong damn time to try to release an apology. It was a bad apology.

[astralexpressarchives]

Dan Heng, the Imaginary, and the Lunarescent Depths

So I was recently discussing lore with a friend of mine and we came to a very interesting conclusion about Dan Heng that just makes a little too much sense for me to not make post about.

Dan Heng is an artist who uses the blood of Long to paint imaginary realms into existence and also Long is probably an Imaginary Aeon

Okay hear me out.

So everybody has the 4 star version of Dan Heng on their account. Everybody would have seen his ultimate ability and should be quite familiar with his line:

This sanctuary, is but a vision... Break!

The animation begins with a zoom in on his sphere - very likely the same sphere he uses in his Dan Heng: Imbibitor Lunae form for his spells. He closes his eyes.

Now, the camera zooms out quickly so that we can see the sanctuary that is but a vision.

Then he attacks the enemy, his weapon trailing black splatters of...

Ink!

Alright, now let me back it up a bit for a brief intermission and introduce you to the Judges of the 10 Lords Commission. The Undestroyed Notes makes this statement about the Judges:

A sister among the disciples once described to me one of the judge's brushes — it could write talismans out of thin air, which would make the written words come true.

Of course, we now know this is likely a reference to Hanya as her recent promo material shows her using a magic brush:

She specializes in reading the karma and sins of criminals, and records their crimes and punishments with the Oracle Brush.

It's unclear is this Oracle Brush is in fact the brush that can write things out of thin air, but it's worth noting regardless.

The point is that there is precedence in HSR for characters using brushes/painting/writing to make things real.

Back to Dan Heng, though. It doesn't stop at his 4 star variation, either. Dan Heng: Imbibitor Lunae's ultimate is a very similar story.

A zoom in towards his sphere, his eyes are closed - this time, the (drawn!) clouds are circling him.

Then a scene where the entire thing looks painted! But it doesn't stop there.

Dan Heng and Blade

Now, as with any analysis of Dan Heng, it's basically impossible to make one without also mentioning Blade since Hoyo is obsessed with them:

Blade's sword graveyard (the Hellscape, as he calls it) is very similar to Dan Heng's heavenly moon realm. I believe this is because these locations are mirror images of each other - that is to say, the mountainous area is a real location and one or both of their ultimates are mirror/s of this location.

Also note that he also accesses this location by "slicing" it out of thin air with his Blade.

Also note the drawn aesthetic of the spiderlilies, I think this is implying they are in another realm - same as when he is in his ult and the spiderlilies are projected on his attack! In that same scene, if you look very closely you can spot some lotus the water (extra credit to my friend for spotting this one!)

The realm keeping commission has this image of a dragon's face over the moon between two sets of mountains, one set is upside down mirroring the other set.

A few more examples of Dan Heng and Blade as mirrors:

Blade in the reflection of the water. Note the presence of the moon and leaves surrounding Dan Heng vs the Arbor roots surrounding Blade.

We also know the arbor roots are a real location because we fight Phantylia there beneath the Scalegorge:

The Azure Dragon enters through a circular cloud formation and arrives at the mountainous location on the Xianzhou.

Blade in his fansong shown at the circular clouds swapping identities of Blade vs Yingxing (this happens when he is "marastruck" as seen in his trailer). In his fansong, the clouds lead to the red moon.

This is important because Blade is the creator of Cloudpiercer - the weapon attached to the orb Dan Heng uses to paint his imaginary landscapes - and Blade also created the sword he uses that cuts open the portal to the hellscape. It's unclear if the connection is the weapons or something else, like Dragonheart theory would would mean Blade's blood contains Long's blood which could be the triggering tool.

Anyway, we know these mountains are a real location because Dan Feng was imprisoned there. I believe this location is the Lunarescent Depths Delve below the Scalegorge:

We also know there is a moon present at Blade's Hellscape:

Keep in mind that this splashart features the moon (piercing through the clouds, very subtle Hoyo), destroyed arbor roots, the sword graveyard, and the spiderlilies. Now compare these images:

This is the same area before and during/after the sedition. Note the arbor roots that were present in the reflection of Blade, the water, the chains, the moon (eclipsed, too) that he is drinking the power of...

To drive the point home even further, here's Blade seated during Kafka's companion quest, courtesy of my friend:

Doesn't that painting look... familiar??? Other than in this location, the painting only shows up in two other locations on the Xianzhou one of which is the Realm-Keeping Commission office (which is literally covered in Vidyadhara mountain references - seriously go check it out for yourself).

Hoyo is definitely hinting at something with this set up, lol.

Genshin

It's hard to talk about a Hoyo game without mentioning Genshin Impact. Honestly, a lot of the Vidyadhara story mirrors the story in Genshin, especially Fontaine, for example:

Special water, potentially people made of water

Water dragon making rain in idle animation

Small female child contained by local scientists might have the soul of a god or could be a scam

And more... but the point is people who play Genshin might be familiar with the story of the melusines who were created with the blood of a dead dragon and they live inside it's corpse and also one of them is a painter using the blood of said dead dragon and also fiction is real and they can enter it in an imaginary space?

Yeah... I think they might have copied that idea and applied it to Dan Heng, allowing him to paint using the special water (probably the Blood of Long) and allowing him to create imaginary spaces. "This sanctuary is but a vision" a vision he literally painted!

I swear I'm not crazy.

Long the Permanence

Now here's an additional theory I have about Long the Permanence.

Long could be an Aeon that exists within the Imaginary space.

By this I mean the reason noone has met him or knows where he is or what happened to him is because he's always been imaginary. His scions exist in the primary reality, of course, but Dan Heng's power comes from the Imaginary element in his Imbibitor Lunae form.

This is further supported by the fact that the moon in reality (outside of the mountain scenery) only shows up briefly at key moments for corresponding characters.

It shows up briefly in Fu Xuan's trailer when she recites lines from a poem about the moon but otherwise is absent. Note how she has Long's constellations on the back of her outfit and dragon heads on her tools.

Jingliu's power is also moon based and you also see the moon in the reflection of her ice/nearby water. The reflection of the moon is actually the real power behind her attacks and the moon that appears behind her is a mirage projected from the reflection (not the other way around!). And in the recent Jingliu Myriad you can tell at the start that the moon only just appeared because the moon flowers are only just blooming! IRL these flowers only bloom at night time, presumably in the moonlight, so the fact that they only just opened implies the moon was not present earlier in the scene. This is the same flower eternally bloomed on her shoulder.

Also note how both scenes where she is drawing upon the moon's power also becomes drawn in an inky art style! Just like Dan Heng.

I might stop here because this post is already very long but I might do a whole post dedicated to dissecting Jingliu's lore and symbolism in greater depth, especially as more Jingliu content is released over the coming days.