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satorusugurugurl · 6 months ago

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I Think He Knows: (Chapter Eleven)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,764

Warning: angsty, softness, fluff, language, mentions of illness

A/N: i’m sorry sorry for the delay!! I had a really terrible stomach virus and I was sleeping it off! Lol woke up with my laptop on my bed while trying to edit! Just one last part, and it's just going to be a final chapter no epilogue! Then I’m going to finish Single Dad Club and LSIAH! Ah!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Why the fuck was he doing this? Why was he letting you go? I didn’t feel right; it made his stomach sick. The way your face twisted with pain and confusion when he brought you to the airport almost destroyed him. But he knew he didn’t tell you to go. It was okay. You would never get to Europe.

It didn’t matter if he hated it. As long as you were happy, that was the only thing he cared about. And you said you wanted to stay with him in Okinawa while he finished his work. He knew how much this cottage meant to you. But he also knew how devoted you were to being there for and helping him.

So it was time for him to show you how devoted he was to you.

This will hurt; it will hurt like hell, watching you leave through security. But as long as you were happy. Nothing else mattered. That pain would go through a throbbing stabbing sensation through his heart, which would turn into a more numbing tingling sensation like when his hand would fall asleep. And this wasn’t goodbye forever. It is more like an ‘I’ll see you soon.’

The way you looked up at him with tears welling in your eyes, he released his resolve and begged you to stay. If he were to do that, though, you wouldn’t get on that plane. You would have to wait another two years before you’re given an opportunity to stay at your cottage again. So he would let you go even though he didn’t want to.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“And I love you more than you’ll ever know. But you have to go and see your muse.”

You were his everything, so he had to let you go regardless of how bad it hurt. “Suguru.” Suguru smiled sadly, watching as you tried to find the words. “I-I—" he added, bringing you closer to his face. The words weren't there, but he knew what you were trying to say.

“I know, Princess. I love you too.” He pulled you in and kissed you deeply; he heard you choke on a sob before your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

This kiss had to be the Suguru’s favorite kiss you’d ever shared. Everything he felt for you was put into the kiss. How he'd fallen in love with you, how thankful he was to have you there to help him heal, and how much he would miss you. It hurt so fucking bad to be saying goodbye. But everything was going to be okay. Suguru groaned as he felt you deepen the kiss; your grip on him tightened; you didn't want to let go, to say goodbye just yet.

However, Suguru pulled away first; if he let that kiss continue, it would end up with him begging you to stay. Contradicting everything he had told you up to this point. He pressed his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes with the softest gaze.

“You need to go. Utahime has everything for you. Text me, please. I want a tour of that little cottage the second you get inside. I want to see that smile on your face. I want you to be happy.”

“Hey, love birds, can we get a move on? We still have paperwork to sign, and I can’t do that here at the security checkpoint.” Utahime interrupted Suguru’s goodbye, which was for the best because he might have said screw the cottage, screw you leaving, and begged you to stay with him.

With a sigh, Suguru nodded as he helped put your backpack on. “Iori is right; you got stuff to do before your flight. Text me!” Watching Utahime pull you to the line, watching you look back at him, made his stomach feel like it was being twisted into a present. Suguru couldn’t believe he was standing there watching you walk away, watching you disappear down the line towards security, but he didn’t show it. He put on a soft grand or shield every time you looked back at him

He stayed in that same spot, watching you slip away with each step closer to the security checkpoint. Only when he could no longer see the top of your head did he finally peel his eyes away from you? Turning away from you was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do.

The tip of his nose began to burn along with his eyes. Tears started to swell up as he took a step forward, increasing the distance between you both. The distance would continue to grow until you were thousands of miles away. The distance might be daunting to other couples, but as long as Suguru had you in his heart, no distance would be too far.

Everything would be okay, even if it felt like the end of the world. Suguru knew this was only temporary, even though he told himself it didn’t lessen the pain.

Suguru mumbled as pain settled in his heart and stomach as he made his way through the growing crowd of the airport. God, he wished he could hear you say you loved him just one more time before you left. He would do anything, literally anything, to kiss you. To hold you tight, smell your perfume, and hear your voice in person.

“Suguru!!”

The sweet sound of your voice flooded his ears, even through the buzzing sounds of the airport. Rolling around, he watched as you shoved through the line of other travelers. You stumbled, nearly falling before you managed to catch yourself before straightening up and bounding forward. You were chasing him down like you were in one of those romance movies. Seeing you running forward, barely avoiding other people, Suguru ran towards you.

There was a certain relief in watching Suguru whirl around, eyes wide, as you called his name out. God, he could’ve cried when you watched him start running back towards you, bumping into people as if reaching you is the Aunt to poison wrecking through his body. That action, the look in his eyes, and how he moved as fast as he could only assure you that you were right about him.

“What are you doing?!” he questioned, running the remaining distance between you. “Did you forget something?”

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down, kissing him as hard and as deep as you could. Suguru stumbled back, going wide as he tried to process what was happening. That shot covers slowly faded as your lips feverishly against his, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him down tighter against your height. Your boyfriend growled, his hands grabbing the sides of your face as he kissed you back with as much passion

There were no other people in the airport. You were the only two people in the country, even the world. Had stopped with the second her lips remained still when you slowly pulled away. Suguru, his forehead melting into your body as you press the palms of your hands firmly against his chest.

“You're wrong,” you whispered gently, pressing another kiss against his lips.

“I’m wrong?” his eyes focusing on yours that glittered with unshed tears, “about what?”

“The cottage being my muse, sure, was the cottage initially. It inspired my book and helped me form the story. But honestly, the cottage hasn’t been my use for a very long time.”

Your boyfriend sighs softly, eyes widening as you speak. “It hasn't?” You shook your head, leaving Suguru with more questions than answers. “So the cottage isn’t your muse?”

“No.”

“Okay, then, what’s been the source of your inspiration?”

You giggle, nestling your forehead against his. “It isn’t a what Sugu.”

“Uhm—okay then—”

“It’s you.”

He blinked, breath slipping through his lips. “W-What was that?” he wanted to make sure he had you correctly.

“You’re my muse, Suguru. You are my inspiration. Not some cottage in the middle of Europe. It’s you, my best friend, the man I fell in love with.” A relieved laugh sounded from your chest. “Suguru, it’s you, baby.”

“M-Me? It's me?”

“It’s been you so long. You helped me with research and inspired me. Fuck you’re literally Ilsan!” Tears of happiness flow down your cheeks like the words leaving your mouth. “It wasn’t the cottage that helped me with my writing. My writing has improved because of you!”

Suguru felt like his heart was in his throat. That cottage had been your everything in the beginning of your plotting and brainstorming. Your whole story was rooted in that place you had never stepped foot in, but you felt love for it. For you to tell him that the cottage, the place that had been your inspiration, was now his title, his honor, made him move without thinking.

Suguru grabbed your face as he slammed his lips against yours. He was pulling you into his chest, pinning you firmly against his body. His warmth wrapped around you, making you feel at ease, like you were at home. That was a feeling you’ve loved one you never wanted to lose.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily against his mouth, just for him to pull you back in for another. This time, you fisted your hands into his shirt tighter, holding yourself up as you tried to push yourself further against him to mold your body into his. Feeling that desperation in your touch only urged your boyfriend to kiss you harder and more profoundly, both of you seemingly forgetting that you weren’t in the comfort of your apartment, but we were in public.

The reality of the airport came back as you heard someone calling your name, but you refused to break the kiss, only deepening it. It wasn’t until there was a crashing sound near you that Suguru pried himself away from you. His tongue darted out to wet his red, swollen bottom lip as he glanced to the side. Following his lead, you turn to find Utahime. Picking up the suitcase that had fallen over while she adjusted the three bags she was struggling to carry.

“Oh fuck.” You cursed, rushing to help her with the bags. “Sorry Iori!”

Your agent gave you a look normally reserved for Gojo, which let you know she was furious. “A warning would have been nice, but no, you left me standing in line by myself with your bags. The last time I checked, I was your agent, not your maid.”

“Right, of course, I know that! I’m sorry, I just had to do something.” That special something chuckled from behind you, his hand gently massaging your shoulders.

“Uh-huh, well, now that you’re done doing,” she gestures to your boyfriend, “‘something’ we need to get going.”

Looking over your shoulder, you gave Suguru a gentle nod before looking back at Utahime. “Yeah, you’re right; we need to go.”

It was early afternoon as Suguru stood in the aquarium, looking at his progress with the mural. Paint coated his arms and face, and he glanced down at his phone to see if you had texted him at all. There had been no notifications or missed calls so far, and that just seemed to make him worry. He was just about to text himself when the plastic to the area he was working in rustled.

“I'm back!” Gojo announces, holding out a drink for his best friend. “And I brought you a drink because I alone am the best.”

“Yeah, you are.” Suguru snatched the bottle of green tea from his friend, chugging it down. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He pushed his sunglasses onto his head before landing at Suguru's progress. “It looks great so far.” The mural was getting close to being finished. All of the base colors and shading were done. The only thing Suguru had to finish was the small details and highlights.

“Yep, I think I just need another month to finish it. I’m gonna get this done way before the deadline.”

“Oh, for sure. Are ya’ going to take some pictures for your girlfriend?”

At the mention of you, Suguru huffed a sigh before nodding. He had been working just as hard as he had lately, finishing up the first draft of your book, and the stress from that alone was draining you. Noticing the silence, Satoru smacked his hand against Suguru’s back several times before helping him grab his stuff as he took some pictures.

“Hey, she’ll be okay, man.”

“I know.”

The warm summer breeze pushed Gojo and Geto forward, hurrying them back to the condo. Suguru constantly checked his phone for any calls. He knew you had been working hard, and you were exhausted lately. You needed to take better care of yourself even when he wasn't around. That worry had him all but running up the stairs to the condo, flinging open the door to find Shoko and Nanami sitting on the couch.

“Welcome back,” Shoko said, swirling her whiskey around in her glass while Nanami was focused on his laptop. Suguru hummed, heading into the kitchen and looking around. “What, no thanks? Some host you are.”

Suguru poked his head out from the corner, cocking a dark brow in his friend's direction. “You all come to spend a week with me, and I'm being a bad host for not saying hi?” He watched as she twirled some dark hair around her finger before taking another sip.

“Ignore him, Sho, he's just worried about you know who!” Satoru butted in, throwing his arm around Suguru’s shoulder as he watched his best friend wash off his arms.

“Of course, I’m worried about her; she's been pushing herself too hard.”

“Tch.”

The sound of Nanami scoffing had Sughrh shooting a glare in the blonde's direction. “What’s with that reaction?” Suguru looked between the two, and when they said nothing, he groaned. “Or ignore me like you have been.” Nanami’s eyes finally broke their connection with his laptop as he shut it, his honey-brown eyes darkening.

“You haven't realized what’s wrong with her? I'm not even near her, and I know what’s happening. All because you couldn't keep it in your pan—”

A door opened, and Suguru snapped his attention to it, finding Utahime leaving the bathroom. She slipped her phone into her pocket and adjusted her baseball cap. She didn't say anything as she grabbed Shoko’s hand, helping her stand.

“Let’s go out for a bit, Nanami, come with us. There's a cafe down the street I wanna try.” Gojo perked up at the mention of a cafe, rushing towards the group. “What the fuck do you want Gojo?”

“I wanna come! I heard they have great sweets!”

Suguru could see the vein throbbing in Utahime’s forehead from the kitchen and underneath the baseball cap. “Fine, you can come, but you’re paying since you decided to invite yourself!” Gojo laughed out loud, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You act like I’m not swimming in money.”

“And you wonder why people don’t like you.”

“Everyone loves me! Isn’t that right, Suguru? Come with us and tell me how much you love me being your best friend.”

Before Suguru could answer, which would be no, Utahime slammed the door to the condo open. “I didn't invite him to come with us!” Gojo winced, looking into the kitchen with a shrug of his shoulder.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t even want to go. I would rather shower and relax while catching up with my girlfriend.”

None of his friends said a word as they left the condo. He did, however, receive very nasty looks from Utahime and Nanami. Looks that sent a chill down his spine as he headed into the bedroom. Suguru had no clue why they were acting the way they were. They were treating him as if he had hurt you in any way, shape, or form, which he hadn’t. He had taken you to the airport and set up your flight to Europe. He wanted you to see your muse.

But you didn't want to go.

That day, he took you to the airport, and you had decided you wanted to stay with him. You had Utahime retract your offer, and luckily, since you hadn’t signed any of the forms, the cottage owners understood what had gone on. From their website, they had given you noticed that a young couple from Spain had rented out the cottage instead. You weren’t even upset about it; you were just hopeful they would be as happy as you were.

And you were happiest when you were by Suguru’s side.

Things have been great for you in the last month and a half. You were thriving as a couple, working on your projects at your own pace and helping each other out when you needed it, either with your research or when you needed help getting more paint. Life has been nothing but good to both until recently.

You have been feeling down and under the weather for the last week. Suguru thought it was due to the late nights and the anxiety you had due to you trying to finish the draft of your second novel. Suguru didn’t think anything of it at first. He assumed that it was just the stress and everything getting to you, but when you started throwing up two days ago, he began to worry.

He tapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “Princess?” He asked with a frown. “Are you okay?”

From before the door, he heard you gasp before several boxes hit the floor. “Uhm! Yeah! Yeah, just a second!” Your tone wasn't all that convincing, so he knocked again.

“Look, I can hold your hair back if you're sick again. I don't mind.” When he heard you moan in embarrassment from the other side of the door, he slowly pushed it open, peeking his head inside. “That's like one of my duties as a boyfriend.”

Suguru had half expected you to sit on the ground, hugging the toilet like he had left you this morning. Instead, you had showered, and we were sitting on the edge of the tub, down on your bottom lip, picking your nails as you glanced up at him. The dark circles under your eyes were more prominent in the room's lighting. They made him want to do nothing more than throw your new laptop out the window and tell you to take a break.

“Sweetie,” he whispered, the tone of his voice enough to make your eyes water. “Oh baby, what’s the matter? What happened?”

You hiccuped, covering your face with your hands. “I-I’m sorry.” The tone of your voice was so broken, making your boyfriend rush forward, kneeling in front of his hand, gently rubbing at your knee.

“Baby, why are you sorry? You don’t have to apologize for working so hard.” When he gently rubbed circles on your knee, tears finally breached your eyes, rolling down your cheeks. “I know how important getting this done is. I think you need to take more breaks.”

God, why did he have to be so sweet and considerate? This would make what you had to tell him harder than it already was. Your hand it up, resting against the top of his own, your stomach twisted as you shook your head.

“I—It’s not that—”

Suguru's thick paint-stained fingers intertwined with yours. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”

Unfortunately, there was no easy way to tell him what was happening. So, without saying much, you picked up a box next to you and handed it to him. Suguru glanced at your face briefly before opening the box, letting its contents fall onto the closed toilet.

Several sticks, with pink lids, blue lids, and small strips, fell out. All of them had either a plus sign, two lines, or a smiley face in the center of them. He had seen them before; of course, he had it in movies and television shows, but the reality didn't seem to hit him indeed until he picked up one of the tests that said pregnant on a digital screen.

His dark eyes stared blankly at the tests, causing your anxiety to swarm like bees. He looked at each test and read the results before gulping. This was terrible, horrible; it couldn't be any worse. You felt as though you had failed him. You told him you had the IUD, which was an excellent contraceptive! But like all other birth controls, it wasn't one hundred percent accurate.

Your OBGYN had told you there was a one out of a one hundred chance of getting pregnant with an IUD, and you were that one percent. Maybe you should play the lottery.

“I’m sorry—I feel terrible; I’m sorry!” Your boyfriend said nothing. “Seriously, we have—options that we can look into; I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“B-Because I told you it was fine! And now I- I’m in this—”

Suguru cut you off by holding you tight against him. “You think I’m mad at you? Princess, I’m not mad at all.” Tears in his eyes, he shakes his head, a soft smile gracing his features. “Baby, this—” he stares at your stomach, “this is amazing.” You stare at him in shock, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears as you softly cry.

“You’re not mad?”

“Baby, no, princess, come here.” He gently pulled you into his lap, his arms snaking around you, holding you close. “I love you. I have always wanted to have children with you, and God, I want to marry you. It seems we’re just doing this a little bit out of order.” He planted kisses against your cheek as his hands gently rubbed up and down your back.

“Oh—” your voice cracks, “oh, that makes me feel so much better.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tight against you. “We got this baby; no matter what happens, I’m gonna be by your side.” His hand slowly trailed over your lower stomach, rubbing it gently. “Both of your sides.”

It was funny to think that soft, gentle moment in the bathroom with a condo in Okinawa would be the first stepping stone to your future. A future that was full of doctor appointments, deadlines, and diapers. An amazing, bright, happy future Suguru had only dreamed about, one you never thought was possible. But you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Your boyfriend, scratch that, your husband, had stayed true to his word. He went to have a doctor's appointment, held your hand during your delivery, and worked twice as hard to provide for you and your daughter. He spoiled you both rotten. Never once did you yearn for anything because your best friend, since you were in grade school, made sure you had everything your heart desired.

Suguru couldn’t have been happier that your IUD had slipped. Sure, your pregnancy wasn’t planned, but he loved you and Kiko more than anything. And before he knew it, three years had passed. In those three years, you had finished your second novel, and we’re working on your third, and he gained popularity over his mural at the aquarium. His commission requests grew, and he was elated that he had an opportunity to provide between raising your daughter and working full-time, but time had a funny way of coming around full circle. It was late July, and Suguru looked up at the aquarium's water tanks. Different species of fish and whale sharks swam by as a tiny little hand gripped his tightly. Looking down at his dark-haired daughter, Suguru smiled as her eyes, the one feature she inherited from you, sparkled with amazement.

“Ooh! Daddy, look!” She called out, pointing to a giant whale shark. “Fishy!”

“That’s right, baby. You did so well listening to the tour.” You praised sweetly, shifting the baby carrier to your front, where your son peacefully slept.

In that moment, Suguru took a chance to take you in. You looked tired; you hadn't been sleeping well between taking care of Satoshi and working on your draft. Neither of you had been sleeping well. Suguru couldn’t even remember the last time you guys had a vacation with just the two of you.

He wanted to take you out to spoil your rotten just you. You both needed a little vacation. Plus, your parents begged you to drop the kids off with them for a weekend or two. So, it might be the perfect time to take advantage of that. He just needed to figure out where to go. While Suguru thought of different destinations to travel, he let Kiko drag him across the hall towards the wall, where his murals still stood.

“Mommy! Mommy look it’s Uwcle Toru!” Kiko shouted pointing to her uncle. “And Uwcle Nana, and my aunties!”

“Mhmm—and whose is that right there?” You whispered, stroking Satoshi's dark hair as you pointed towards you and Suguru.

“Mommy and Daddy!”

“That’s right, my sweet girl.”

Suguru crotched beside Kiko, pointing towards Riko with a sad, melancholy smile. “And who’s that baby?”

“Riko!” Your daughter proudly announced. “I’m named after her, Nanako and Mimiko!”

Suguru kissed his little sunshine’s temple as he glanced back up at the mural, which depicted both of you holding hands while you had a copy of your book in your other hand. He stared at the painting before lingering on the book in your hand, before his eyes slowly peered back at you. Looking at the painting, he suddenly knew exactly where he would take you.

You were smiling at your daughter before you felt his gaze lingering on you. “What?” You asked softly as Satoshi yawned.

“Oh, nothing, just admiring my pretty wife.” He lifted Kiko into his arms as the four of you headed out of the aquarium, returning to the hotel you were staying at. “And I was thinking we need to take a trip just the two of us.”

“Oh really? And just where do you plan on taking me?”

He glanced back to the wall, grinning wide. “It’s a surprise.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

INHK Tag List (TO BE ADDED AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@lemonintrovert01 @spankmydepression @renttheannihilator @witchbybirth @missmuffinr @lialia3945 @theobsidianempress @aquasan29 @toffeebrat @aussiemeerkat @chimichangagirl @zoroisminty @spankmydepression @em-aizawa @gojosimp26 @moonlightazriel @candy-s72 @makingtimemine @strflp @angel-academia @xocandyy @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

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jcollinswrites · 2 months ago

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New update 23/11/24

I can finally announce that *drumroll* chapter 2 is like 99% finished. There are a lot of things to report, so here is the most important stuff first:

What's new:

Added the rest of the scenes to ch2 on every route

I, uh... made a decision that will probably be quite unpopular. Narmer can't be romanced by late teen MCs. I was trying to make it work, but the scene just felt... off. Until I realized I already wrote down the answer to the problem in this ask. So, yeah. Sorry about that. I adjusted the age warnings in the beginning of ch2 accordingly.

If you played the previous update, you'll notice that some of the previously greyed out choices disappeared. That's intentional because:

I felt like an extra scene in the tavern with Tabiry was unnecessary because you'll talk to her right after it anyway

I felt like it was unfair to the non-RO companions to appear together with the ROs where you have to choose between who you want to spend time with on the boat. Let's be honest here, everyone will choose the ROs anyway lmao. So I decided to put the non-RO scenes somewhere else in ch3 where you won't have to choose between them. If you are playing a no-romance route, then you'll just get the friend-only scenes anyway with the ROs.

Next week, I'm going to tidy up the code a bit, and put some more variations in the ch2 scenes because I noticed that some were lacking. I will also edit some scenes that I wasn't satisfied with.

After next week, the regular weekly updates will move to patreon (which isn't open yet but I'll work on that next week too). However, I will still update the public demo! 😌 I think maybe once a month, or when enough new content collects to make a nice hefty update.

The cogdemos website introduced local saves this week. That means that you don't have to be logged in to make saves anymore. In fact, you can make an infinite amount of saves like that because you can export them into your own device, and you can also restore them the same way!

I'm also starting to see the end of the move-in to the new apartment. I'm still elbow-deep in wall paint, but I think I can slowly return to my regular schedule.

Old saves in the game should work, as long as you saved before the new content (so around the time you step on the road to Abydos at the radish field).

Edit: NO I'M WRONG! Saves made in CH1 after 15th of Nov will work. CH2 saves will always tank. Sorry 💀💀💀

LINK

Happy reading and please send feedback! I am especially curious of what you guys think about the BIG MASSIVE SPOILERS 👀 (I won't answer spoilery asks for a little bit, but you can still discuss spoilers freely in the proper Discord channel. I'm much faster to answer there anyway)

#interactive fiction #weeping gods #new update #lots of news #development log

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ranticore · 3 months ago

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I've often seen people ask you for drawing advice(which yes absolutely!) but what kind of writing advice could you give someone who wants to start? (or just narratives as a whole)

Ok my biggest advice and the thing I always spend most time on when editing is that u should tell the audience way less than you think you should tell them. Provide information sure but don't draw connections and don't hold a reader's hand. Like for example one minute ago I was reading over a paragraph with the final two sentences (paraphrased): "The word 'faery' didn't quite make it out of his mouth [in reference to himself]. He'd never thought of himself in those terms" and my editing comment was to nix that last sentence entirely because it's just saying out loud what the previous sentence is telling us, like holding ur hand and pointing at it saying "hey this is what that last sentence meant btw". it's easy to end up with a lot of that but you need to go back and cut all of those out. think about a reader drawing their own judgements, how much more engaging it is

Other random stuff I've picked up over the years

Kerb your worldbuilders disease ur writing a story not an encyclopaedia

Read your paragraph aloud to identify repetitive or weirdly structured sentences

There should be a clear causal chain running the length of the narrative - x happened because of y, which happened because of z, and so on. No matter how many links in the chain you should know it start to finish

Written media gives you an unlimited time budget, a reader can take as long as they like with it. You don't have to make it quick and snappy. You get to show & explore things that visual media can't, so take advantage of it. Also ditch every piece of writing advice which is like "trim all the fat and also imagine camera angles and scene cuts like it's a movie" because it's not a movie and you aren't constrained into a short runtime.

First draft is rough it's supposed to be rough just write it

It's impossible to write dialogue that nobody would ever say.. easy to scoff and think "nobody talks like this" but they do

I can't in good conscience advise everybody do this but the slush draft (draft 0 as it were) of stbh was narrated entirely in first person by the pov character in each chapter, with the framing device that they were explaining their actions to a judgemental third party. This was just done for fun before any other world building or even plot it was just to get the characters right first & to sort out how they would attempt to justify their actions, when they'd try to make themselves sound better (or worse), and just their voice in general. It ended up being absolutely invaluable

#now the shit i just posted is unedited and bad #the way i type here u would barely know i can string a sentence together

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ataleofcrowns · 2 years ago

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CH11 Release Dates

Hellooo, hope your summer is going well so far 🌻

It's been a while since I gave a solid update but I wanted to wait until I was absolutely sure I could finally announce the CH11 release dates.

I'm at 62k words at the moment, having finished A's route and filling in the last scenes for D's route as well. The drafts for each LI route will be finished within the week, but there are some portions I'm not completely happy about, so I will have to take time to do rewrites as well. I've already been doing a LOT of editing of the past month lol.

But, I can finally get started on writing the last 15-20k words that consist of the main plot for this chapter!! It does mean that if I want to make it in time for an early access release, it might be a situation where only the LI routes are released for Patrons, and then the full chapter will be released together with the public release.

Hopefully it won't come to that, but I've never written a chapter this huge before, so I'm letting you know just in case that ends up happening!! As for the release dates:

Tier 3, Crown: August 17

Tier 2, Successor: August 24

Tier 1, On the Run: August 27

Public release: August 31

So there you have it!! I'll also be opening up beta reader applications during the coming weekend, so keep an eye out for it.

That's it for now!! Until next time 💖

#a tale of crowns #interactive fiction #progress report

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insert-witty-user-name-here · 8 months ago

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Lokius Fic Recs

Less than 10K words, Season Two Edition

Admittedly, I am very behind reading all the fabulous fics that came out after season 2 so I’m sure I’ve missed some gems. Nonetheless, sharing a few of my favorite post-season two Lokius fics, less than 10K words.

See my less than 10K season one Lokius fic recs here. And Lokius multi-chapter fics here.

If you’re looking for…

Angst with a hopeful ending (aka post S2 reunions or near reunions)

Come back. even as a shadow, even as a dream. by harleygirl2648- Loki and Mobius, steal what moments they can together following the events of season two and eventually find a way to make it permanent.

time will pass, darling (but my feelings, they won’t) by burnthatbridge- Another! Loki and Mobius steal what moments they can together following the events of season two and eventually find a way to make it permanent. (Okay this one is just over 15K words).

Serendipitous by emilieee- Mobius dreams of all of the moments over the centuries that he had forgotten. Meanwhile, Loki tries to find his way back to Mobius.

auld lang syne by Mirilya- Mobius experiences the first New Year's Eve that he can remember… and finds something worth celebrating.

Purpose Shared by tishae- Loki hears Mobius across the timelines and finds his way back.

Dream of me by Tears_and_smiles- (explicit) Mobius falls asleep in his motel bed and disappears into his dreams to find Loki. When he gets there, they share a night of pleasure.

with, no withouts by dinosuns- Sylvie and Mobius deal with the aftermath of Loki’s decision and begin to make a plan to get him back. (I remain delusional/hopeful that this fic will be finished. Regardless, the first chapter is spectacular on its own).

Their Burden to Bear by PerpetualDaydream- listed as Sylkius but vague to ship whoever you like. Focused on Mobius and Sylvie finding Loki and deciding to save the multiverse together.

Tell Me Some Things Last by Tears_and_smiles- Sylvie and Mobius work through the aftermath of Loki’s decision. Lots of healing vibes (and Sylvie and Mobius friendship my BELOVED).

Angst with little comfort, but beautiful:

Off The Beaten Path by ChaosAndOrder- Mobius deals with the aftermath of Loki's choice and makes one of his own. No reunions here but a gorgeous character introspective with a hopeful ending.

After They Left by ebeatrice- told from an OC POV, a TVA agent reflects on how much quieter the TVA is now after they take over Mobius’ old desk.

Centuries by TheVulcanBobDylan- (explicit) Throughout the centuries, Loki seeks comfort in the arms of different Mobius variants.

I know what I want by beandogger- (explicit) During one of his timeslips, Loki shares one more moment with Mobius before facing his fate.

Season two finale canon divergent fix its:

Let Us In by DewdropReader- How it should have ended IMO. Loki is convinced that the only way to save everyone he loves is to carry the burden of the multiverse. Sylvie and Mobius aren’t willing to allow it. What if instead of sacrificing himself, Sylvie and Mobius were able to stop Loki and were able to convince him to let them help. (I’m a big believer in The Power of Friendship endings and will always crave them.)

Kissed You Atop The Ferris Wheel by kittyhazelnut- Loki accidentally freezes time. He and Mobius share (no spoilers) a ✨moment✨. The next time Loki timeslips, things are different.

Missing Scenes, Season Two:

Portraits of your fidelity by Aliencritters- After the events of episode S2, ep1, Mobius convinces a panicking Loki to calm down and take a much needed break.

remember me (for centuries) by bookinit- Loki and Mobius throughout his timeslips.

No Time to Rest by startingatmidnight- (explicit) After the events of S2, ep1, Loki and Mobius sleep together, literally and otherwise ;). (I am obsessed with Mobius’ characterization here. Snarky, manipulative yet deeply caring Mobius, my beloved)

once more to see you by thumbbird- canon divergent S2, ep5, a Don/TVA!Loki fic! Loki has lost TVA Mobius and is determined to make a life for himself with the only Mobius left—timeline Single Dad Don. But how long will Don remain ignorant of the strange circumstance that brought them together? Obsessed with this pairing!

Fluff:

Camellia by 19960821- Settled on the timeline with Mobius, Loki thinks about how far they've come while gardening.

The Veins and The Branches by Love_is_Green- Loki reflects on his and Mobius’ journey while listening to a thunderstorm.

Lokius Fluffuary by blackbirdofasgard- okay I technically haven’t read these ones yet but I adored blackbirdofasgard’s last Fluffuary fics so including their latest here too.

And that’s it for now! My to-read list is miles long so excited to dig in more to the fabulous post S2 fics.

Happy reading!

#loki series #loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #loki season 2 #loki x mobius #mobius x loki #wowki #not my fic #fic rec #lokius fanfic rec #lokius fanfic #I’m behind in the post S2 fic era #if you’ve got a favorite fic that’s not here let me know!#would love to read it

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x-press-it · 1 month ago

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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.

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 frown.

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, nestled against him, their breathing steady. 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 his teammate 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 his 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!

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yuriisclumsy · 5 months ago

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𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾, 𝙰𝚌𝚝 𝙸𝙸: Honorary Knights

First Chapter | Last Chapter | Next Chapter

𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒. 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:2430

Authors note: Sup, how's everyone's day? Amazing as usual I presume? Anywho- I've been trying out this new style of drawing as mine solidifies. Also, I've realized that if I make less drawings with colors these chapters go a lot faster because I can't continue writing if I have an idea for a scene. I NEED to finish the drawing then go back to writing (It's rare if I continue writing after an idea).

A week has passed since I discovered I was in a game.

Sirius helped clear the final temple, returning Mondstadt's elemental flow back to normal after a week straight of work. Paimon and he were on their way to Acting Grand Master Jean to report the good news.

Unfortunately for me, I happen to be walking in the same direction to renew the book I borrowed from librarian Lisa, lest she comes looking for me if I don’t inform her I need more time with it.

Talk about bad luck.

“So, [Name], what’s new? Do you have something interesting to tell us?” Paimon questioned me.

“Nope. Got nothing new,” I did not look at her when I said that.

She stumps her little foot in the air. “What? What about that book you’ve been reading?! Have you not learned anything new after a week of reading it!?”

“Well, it’s nothing new for you. But it’s new for me. Lost memories, remember?”

“...What is the book about anyway?” She asked instead of responding to me.

“Teyvat’s history. I finished reading it, and I’m getting another one. This one was a very old edition.”

“Is Teyvat’s history that interesting to you?”

“Yes, very,” I nod. “What about you two? Anything else besides reporting back to Master Jean?”

“I wanted to ask them about the teardrop we found in the forest,” Aether responded. “It was left behind by Stormterror, so maybe they know what it is.”

“Good thinking! It could also help us deal with stormterror easier.”

Reaching the Knight's Headquarters, we saw Master Jean who appeared to be talking with someone.

“Look, it’s Jean!” Paimon pointed at her. “Who is she talking to?”

She seems to be talking to a woman. She had a black outfit with purple here and there; her hair a burned-blonde, bangs that rested right above her eyebrows; her face hidden behind a gray mask.

She spelled trouble through-and-through.

“Don’t know. But I have a gut feeling that she’s no good,” I said, eyeing her with distrust.

“Let’s wait for her to finish,” Sirius said. “We can wait on the side over here. I don’t want to be in the middle of the street.”

As we waited, we saw the frustration from both ends of the party. Jean looked adamant about her position, while the masked woman seemed to be irritated; she looked like she was trying hard to convince Jean to whatever she wanted from her.

I remember this part of the story. Jean gets pressured by a Fatui agent –a Snezhnayan diplomat– Anastasia, to kill Dvalin. Amalia warned me about them:

“Never. Ever. Trust the Fatui.”

The scary part about that was how she looked dead serious. Before then, I had never seen that side of her. The fact she changed so quickly too… I got nightmares for a month straight; Amalia would come in and tell me how I was a bad friend.

Ahg, I get shivers just thinking about it… I looked back at two political figures. I’ll trust Amalia and my gut feeling about the Fatui. Note to self: “Don’t talk to the Fatui.”

“Looks like she’s done talking to that person!” Paimon announced. “Let’s go talk to her.”

Jean’s gaze followed the masked woman, face laced with worry. Her eyes then darted towards us as we got in her peripheral view.

“Oh, Traveler, you're back,” she noticed I was with him, “and company… Is she the one you and Amber were talking about?”

“Yup!” Paimon confirmed. “This is [Name], our traveler buddy and official cook!” Her eyes sparkled at the mention of cooking.

I sighed, turning my attention to Jean. I smiled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Master Jean.”

“Likewise,” she reciprocated the smile.

“Now that everyone is acquainted, Paimon has to ask. Who was that just now?”

“First, I would like to thank you,” she looked at Sirius, “Lisa informed me that the elemental flow is finally stable because of your help, and skill. For that, you have Mondstadt’s gratitude.”

Sirius scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed for getting compliments.

“Is someone getting shy now?~” Paimon teased.

“Leave him alone Paimon. He actually did something, unlike someone.”

“I told you, Paimon is moral support, moral support!”

“Anyway–” Jean intervened before she had to break up a fight, “the aftermath of Stormterror’s last attack is finally settled for the moment. But not the pressure from the delegation, in fact, it has become too big to ignore.”

“Delegation? From Liyue, or Inazuma City?” Paimon asked.

“Snezhnaya,” she paused and then continued, “they choose to follow the god of Cryo. Their envoys go by a particular name: The Fatiu. Heard of them?”

“Are you kidding? They are famous! Wait, infamous is more of the word.”

“Let me guess, the Fatui wants to take Stormterror down, right?” I said fully knowing the answer to the question.

“Correct. I don’t think killing Stormterro will do anyone any good, nor do I think it’s the right action to take. The Cryo god’s Fatui have always coveted the Anemo god’s power.” She had the same worried face I saw when the Fatui woman left, “I don’t believe they have Mondstatd’s best interest at heart.” I nod in agreement.

“Speaking of power…” Sirius began.

“What is it?”

“I have something I need to show the Knights,” he finished.

“Oh? Then let us go inside the Headquarter. We shouldn't discuss important matters…” she looked around, “out in the open.”

Jean led us inside. Before I stepped foot inside her office I stopped. Jean noticed and turned to see if everything was fine.

“Sorry guys, I need to return this book to Lisa,” I said from just outside the office.

“I see,” she understood and said nothing else about it, she knew how Lisa could be when a book was missing. “Before you go, could you do me a favor?”

“Yes. What is the favor?”

“Once you’re done, tell Lisa to come to my office please. We might need her.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her,” Jean closed the door dismissing me. I skipped a few steps to reach the other side of the building faster.

I opened the door to the library and went in. I looked at the front desk only to find it empty.

Lisa’s not there… Maybe she’s over here. I walked through the first floor, but no Lisa in sight.

Not here either… Going downstairs, I ran through the whole floor as there wasn’t anyone in the room, yet she wasn’t there either.

Where is she!? I yelled internally. So, she can miss a day, but we can’t? Talk about unfairness.

“Hi, darling.”

“AHHHHH!” I turned around but managed to slip due to a paper on the floor. “Ouf–! Awo! That hurt…!” rubbing my butt, the voice reached out their hand to help me up. I looked up and saw, the one-and-only, Lisa!

“Oh, dear, are you alright?” I took her hand and responded.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” I lied. My butt still hurts.

“You keep on getting scared whenever I greet you. I’m not that scary to you, am I?” She sounded hurt asking that.

I rolled my eyes. You look harmless, but you’re a rose with pesky thorns… That’s what Amalia has said anyway.

“Of course not, miss Lisa,” I dismissed her. I faked an innocent smile and said, “You look average to me.”

It looked like an arrow had hit her bullseye in the heart. She was mumbling how cruel youngsters are nowadays, and how, begin quote, ‘her beauty is fading because of her age,’ end quote.

I didn’t mean my comment obviously. I only said that to get back at her for the two times she’s given me a heart attack. She looks young for her age, that’s for sure.

“What are you back here for, returning the book I presume?” She asked me, leaving behind the commentary I made like I never said it in the first place.

“Yes, you see, the one I have is outdated–a century outdated to be precise–of the history of Teyvat,” I explained.

She hummed, “yes, I remember. I found it quite odd that you wanted to read such an old book. Now I know why.” She turned and waved her hand in a follow-me motion, “Come, I know exactly where the newer version is.”

We moved to the section that Amber showed me when I came here last time. Looking at it now, the history section was much bigger than I remembered.

“Here it is!” Lisa handed me a book. “This is the newest version, it came out a year ago.”

“Thank you again, miss Lisa,” I thanked her as I eyed the book.

I wonder what they added.

“Please, this is nothing compared to the work I had to do the past week,” she rubbed her shoulders. “Taking care of the Temples of the Four Winds was more of a hassle than I had imagined.”

We walked up the stairs and stood by the front desk.

“You’re being too modest. Thanks to you and the others, Mondsatdt has one less thing to worry about.”

“Thank you again, sweet-pie,” she smiled. “I checked out the book already, so you’re as free as a bird.”

“Thank you,” I lightly vowed and walked toward the door.

I almost forgot!

“Oh! Miss Lisa?”

“Yes?”

“Master Jean asked for you, she is in her office.”

“Ah, thank you for informing me. Now shoo, off you go,” she pushed me out of the library as she herself went out, locking it with a key after she made sure there was no one else inside.

“[Name], if you ever find yourself unable to find a quiet place to read, go to windrise. It was nice weather, and if you’re lucky, you’ll hear the soft strumming of a lyre.”

“Thank you for the advice,” I thanked her for the third time today. I walked out of the Headquarters and made my way to find a place to sit and read.

I can go to Windrise like Lisa suggested, I looked up to the blue, and the sky is clear. Oh! There is a Statue of the Seven there! I can try and obtain powers similar to how the MC did in the game— well, better said how Sirius did. Plus, there is a big space to test out the System.

The air near the sea is the best… I breached in the air.

I basked in the atmosphere underneath the massive oak tree, the symbol of Mondstadt’s hero – Vannessa.

The trail from Mondstadt City to Windrise was perfect. Not a single monster interfered, with a few slimes that minded their own business when I passed by. It was a bit strange, since I remembered they attacked on sight. But, this is the world of Genshin, some things are bound to change.

“All right, time to get to work. System!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t make a proper analysis at the moment,” Lisa said.

“Huh? But Paimon thought you were able to see some impurities.”

“Correct. But it’s not enough for me to come to a conclusion,” she turned to Jean and Sirius, “give me some time. I’ll take a look through the library's restricted section.”

Jean nods. “I’ll leave all the research to you then, Lisa,” she looks at the outlanders.

“I’ll notify you all if I make any progress,” she went closer to the crystal, “thought I wouldn’t go getting your hopes up. They are incredibly ancient texts, not to mention—Ouch!” Lisa retracted her hand from the object as the force of the impurities hurt her. “Gosh, that hurt!”

“Are you okay?” Jean worriedly asked, checking her friend from any injuries. The other two were just as concerned.

“Now, now, you three are looking at me like I’m half-dead. I’m fine. The impurities in the crystal…” she looked at it before continuing, “it hurts when I get close…” She hummed in thought. “It appears to react to Visions, repealing it even.”

“What? How can that happen?” Paimon asked.

“I’m not going over the details, if not we'll be here for days-on-end. All you need to know is that the impurities and the elemental energy we embody repel each other.”

“Really?” She looked at Sirius, “then why is he able to hold it?”

“That is a good question, and a question I don’t have the answer to, unfortunately.”

“...” Sirius stayed silent through the whole interaction. What could be in his mind?

“Anyway, the crystal would be better left in the hands of my cutie,” Sirius places the crystal back in his bag. “It will be a pain if left with – both literally and metaphorically.”

“Okay. I will keep it.”

“Fascinating… Do you know anything about what makes you special?” Jean asks Sirius in wonder. He nods in solidarity.

“Well, that's the end of that,” Paimon said.

“Traveler…” Jean called, “the knights of Favonius have another favor to ask of you. Please accept the title of honorary Knight and the gratitude of the Acting grand Master.”

“Honorary Knight…of Favonius?!” Paimon gave Sirius a smirk, “look at you go. You just arrived in Mondstadt and already have a super cool title! Paimon is impressed.” Sirius puffed his chest with pride.

“We gotta tell [Name] once we see her. Oouu, she’s going to make that angry face again, Paimon can just tell!” she says excitedly with a small fire in her eyes when she thinks of your face.

“Then this is a meeting concluded,” Jean dismissed then. “We’ll meet back here if you find anything.”

“Okey-Dokey! Let’s go!” Paimon and Sirius walk out of the office leaving Lisa and Master Jean alone.

“What peculiar little creatures they all are…”

“What are you mumbling about?” Jean inquired after hearing Lisa mumble.

“Oh, nothing. Just complaining about how I haven’t had a proper nap since the incident with stormterror started,” she lied.

“Don’t worry. Soon, we can all rest properly,” Jean reassured.

A little far from the Knight’s Headquarter…

“Okay, we’re far from the knights to hear us,” Paimon stands–floats–in front of Sirius, making him stop. “There’s something you didn't tell them. The boy. The one that communicated with the dragon, kinda hard to miss.”

“I know, Paimon. But I’d like to investigate on my own first,” Sirius explained to her. “And I don’t think he’s a bad guy.”

“So you do remember him,” a boy in green caught her eyes, “he looked just like the guy down there!” Sirius looked at the guy Paimon pointed at.

“The exact same shade of green, what a coincidence. Seems like green is a popular color.”

“See? See? Wait… Hold on a minute… that… that's the same guy!”

“Hmm… looks like him,” he said nonchalantly.

“Stop joking around and let’s go after him!”

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#genshin impact x fanfic #sagau genshin #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #reader input #genshin isekai #genshin impact isekai #reader insert #the divine city #blond traveler #paimon #aether #dvalin #stormterror #lisa #jean gunnhildr #Anastasia Fatui

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