#please someone write this for me because i want to read it but i have so many other stories on my plate T_T

[azziesbattybaddie]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Chapter 1 - A little bundle

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.3k

💕 💔

Requested: Sorta. This prompt wasn't requested to me per se, but I saw @romantasyreader28 made a post wanting someone to write it and it inspired me.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

Author's note: I just wanted to say that this prompt pulled me out of a really bad writing slump after my co-writer/biscuit making master childhood kitty unfortunately passed about 2 months ago. So thank you @romantasyreader28, this story really helped me get back into writing and I hope you really enjoy it. It did deviate slightly from your original prompt but I hope that the fact that this will be a series makes up for it. Enjoy!

Author's note 2: hey so I lied, I got a boost of energy and actually finished this early, so I'm only 1 day late. I'm going to try and put a fic or drabble out every Friday but please be aware I'm in the middle of moving so if I miss a day or am late, it's probably for good reason.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of past child abandonment, non explicit memories of child abuse, brief mention of being pregnant, implied SA, some cursing but not much.

See normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to be mad, it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

"Please don't be upset, Devlon said that if someone didn't take him then he was going to send him off to another camp and he would end up just like Cass... I couldn't just leave him like that." His Shadows reached out to you invitingly, curling and spinning like they were excited. "Love, please say something..."

Your mate never rambled, it wasn't in his nature and that's what shocked you the most to be honest. So you sat where you were on the couch, mid bite of pizza, trying to figure out if he actually adopted a baby without telling you, or if he just decided to babysit Nyx for the night and is pranking you. No, no he definitely adopted a baby and didn't tell you, that sounds about right for him.

"Azriel, tell me that this is a prank and that, THAT little boy is just our nephew in a table cloth..." You set down your plate of food and walked over to your mate, Shadows now running up your back and sitting on your shoulders calmly. You knew, you just had a feeling in your gut that he was not just joking around.

Azriel was clutching the small bundle to his chest as if it would disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. You came and pulled back the fabric to see a small Illyrian infant tightly wrapped in a tattered excuse of a baby blanket. You gasped and clapped a hand over your mouth as you saw the most precious little thing, he had no clothes but the blanket. A lithe inky Shadow jumped from your hand and into the little boy. It nuzzled his cheek lovingly before returning to rest under your mates wing.

You scooped the baby up out of Azriels arms before he could react and headed upstairs to the nursery. You quickly set him on the changing table, and unfurled the raggy fabric. The poor thing didn't even have a diaper just mess of fabric pinned against him. You didn't have to even leave the changing station seeing as the shadows that followed you up the stairs had a clean garment waiting right next to you. As you were changing him into a fresh, actual diaper, you heard Azriel's footsteps coming up the stairs behind you.

"Babe, I know that you have a perfectly reasonable explanation but your timing is kind of horrible Azzie..." You said only half joking as you handed him the baby back gently and grabbed the nearest actual blanket to wrap around him snuggly. You quickly ran to dress your sleeping baby girl is some warm clothes and a blanket too. Barely 2 weeks old and the little Astrid was already mixed into the family drama.

"Where are we going?" Azriel asked tentatively. He was holding the baby like a statue, only holding him right because of how you handed him over. Azriel's Shadows swarmed Astrid the moment you set her down to go nuzzle and love on her. You had taught them to be careful to not completely smother her. It was said that a Shadowsinger's Shadows would only listen to their master. Maybe it was the mating bond, maybe they just liked you but sometimes it seemed that the inky void that shrouds your mate, liked you better.

"Az, you know how to hold a baby, you know cuz your and Uncle... And a Father..." You set your still daughter back in her crib for a moment and padded over and cradle your mates face in your hand, your other intertwined with his scared flesh. "I'm not mad at you. Just, you do realize that we've only had Astrid for a couple of weeks and now we have two, right?"

"I know, and I'm sorry for not telling you. I was afraid if I didn't bring him home, Devlon would have sent him off before I could get back." Azriels shoulders seemed to finally relax a shadow falling from his mess of curls to sit around his neck calming. His grip on the swaddled little one became natural again. "You still didn't tell me where we are going, it past 1 in the morning."

You picked up Astrid, shooing away the inky void that doted on her constantly and walked to your bed room to grab your shoes and your coat. Azriel stood in the hallway that lead back downstairs, waiting for you patiently. He was bouncing the little boy in his arms gently, this parental instincts finally coming back to him when the little one started to cry.

"Feyre always said that we could head over to the river house in a time of emergency and I'm detailing 'we just adopted a little boy with no clothes or anything we need to take care for of a second baby,' an emergency. She probably still has some clothes that is too small for Nyx laying around, for now at least."

You both decided to walk the short distance to you home to the giant river house. Your daughters wings fluttered at the feel of snowflakes melting on the every so often. You both walked close together, as you usually did, babys in arms, the quiet of velaris washed over the two of you like a blanket. You could feel Azriel's Shadows almost climbing up your legs and coming to rest on your shoulders to admire their masters daughter.

"Ok..." You said slowly your head clearing with the fresh chilled air. "I'm not upset. But I'm going to ask some questions and I need better than 'I don't know', ok?" You needed to hear what happened, as much as it happens, it's rare for a baby to end up with no one and you wanted to know everything about this little life that you were about to add to your family.

Azriel nodded his head, his eyes trailed over the white city. As tense as he always looked, Azriel's Shadows curled up under his wings comfortably. He cradled the infant tightly to his chest, scarred fingers gently played with the edge of the blanket as you both walked. Normally the Shadows would flock to you when you had Astrid but they seemed to have divided, wanting to look over and cuddle both babys.

"Does he have a name?" You start with. As you cross the Sidra you can smell the food coming from the rainbow, you could even hear the faint sound of music booming, Rita's not being far away. You still can't believe that days of going out and partying until sunrise with your family wouldn't be an option for a long, long while.

"Not that I know of." He shrugged, adjusting the blanket so the infants wings fan out comfortably after he started to fuss. The boy seemed to be a calm baby so far but you would be taking him to madja bright and early tomorrow just to make sure nothing was wrong.

"How old is he?"

"Devlon said he's not more than 6 months old, he didn't know specifics. He just said that his father was killed in the blood rite this year and his mother was... Like I said, he would have been just another Cass..." He bounced the little boy in his arms, more to soothe himself than the baby.

Your blood boiled in your veins, and you had to take multiple deep breaths to keep from crying. You loved your mate dearly, and his brothers were your family, the best you could have asked for but Illyrians in general made you so angry most of the time! They treat females like property and they steal them just the same. Then the female gets shamed for being pregnant, without a husband. If he really was like Cass, you prayed to the Cauldron that his mother had a peaceful second life after what she no doubt endured.

"Well, if we're going to keep him, he's going to need a name." You said with a smile as you neared the side walk that lead up to the river house. Your mate had the biggest heart and the kindest soul, you didn't care what anyone said, you knew him best. This male brought home countless animals so he could nurse them back to health. He always made sure that nothing bad happened to those animals, and if they didn't make it, they earned a spot in your backyard with the other rainbow pets, as Azriel likes to call them. If the Mother sent him a baby then she meant for us to be the ones to love him. Azriel thought for a bit. He only looked up once we stood at the front door of his brother's home.

"What about Rhain?" A shadow flew up and wrapped around the door knocker, knocking loudly before returning to your mates shoulder.

"Why Rhain?" You asked before knocking again louder this time before you saw a light turn on inside meaning you got somes attention.

Azriel shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with the smallest smile coming to rest over his face. He looked down at the bundled little baby with a fondness you only seen him show to your daughter. You head shuffling on the other side of the door and smiled at your mate before your brother in law opened the door, looking very much worse for wear.

"Rhain it is."

FYI Rhain, pronounced Rain or Rine, either is fine means strength, power, resistance, and potential. It also means 'the spear' in Welsh.

If you want to be added to the tag list or would like to be added to the tag list for the series masterlist plz comment or dm me and I'll add you.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat

[mikalilys]

Please stop publicly hating on fanfics. PLEASE!! Especially in a comment section of a video that’s about the fic or the fandom, because whether you’re aware of it or not, the author could have a social media account on that platform and see the hate. The hate on something they did for fun, for free. If you want more content then you have to stop hating. these authors aren’t celebrities they don’t have pr teams or people dealing with hate for them, they’re participants in fandom, and they’re real people.

Fanfics are not books, yes some are amazing enough to be, but you do not buy them, they’re provided to you for free. A fanfiction being popular is not like a book you bought sitting on your shelf, you should not feel obligated to read it because you spent money on it. Because you didn’t. it’s free. Fanfics no matter how popular should not be treated and reviewed like books, you do not get to publicly criticise or say “how are people buying this?!” Because they’re not. It’s free. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s overrated, it’s something someone did for fun, and you don’t get to criticise that, especially because it’s public for you to read!! Don’t be mad that something’s overrated, be glad that it was even up in the first place, someone could have easily just left it as a draft and never posted it, but they did. They decided to share this piece of themselves, to the fandom for anyone to read and that is a gift.

Ao3 is an uncensored website for fanfics, you can write about literally anything. And yet I see “no don’t read that fic it’s problematic!!” In a comment section. Fanfiction is not censored, if you want morals and every character being perfect and making the ‘right’ choices, then get off ao3. Also reminder that an author can write characters making decisions that they don’t agree with, for depth of the story. Just because your favourite character, that you see as the pinnacle of righteousness, makes a bad decision or says something mean does not make the story bad or problematic. It also doesn’t make the author agree with that decision. All the time authors of published books write about morally grey characters or villains. But when an ao3 author does it all of a sudden they must have committed the war crimes that they wrote their villain to commit. Do you realise how stupid that sounds?? 😭

Also don’t post vague negative videos about something/someone even if you don’t say who or what it’s about, it leads the comment section to gossip about who they hate and that’s just not cool. And tagging the fandom that they’re in??? 90% of the time they’re going to see that.

Public hate is not cool, if you don’t like someone, talk to you friends about it if you’re craving other peoples validation so badly. You don’t need to post something publicly. And I know hate gets more popular then love in fandom, no matter if it’s headcanons or fics or creators, but that doesn’t make it good. I don’t know why people are so negative all the time, like I don’t care what headcanons you hate, why do you even spend that much time thinking about something you hate?? I want to hear what headcanons you like, I want to know you fav characters, your kins, literally anything.

Sorry this is so long, it just pisses me off to see a fun video about fandom and then I open the comments and it’s filled with hate. This is a fandom, have fun with it!!! Please. 😭

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, I want to congratulate for gaining such big audience on this blog. Also wanted to say thank you for all your hard work. You are one of the blogs that made me come to this fandom in 2020-2021.And thanks for all emotions that you're precious writtings gave me.

As for headcanons, can you please write another "How it to be friends with... " but with Leona, Sebek, Jamil, Ortho and Deuce? The first one was cute and funny

Have a nice day and stay hydrated 💐💐

Thank you for your support!!

It’s been so long, I forgot I had written friend headcanons in the past 😅 (They’re here if you’re interested! Featuring Idia, Riddle, Ruggie, Floyd, and Kalim~)

Curiouser and Curiouser...

You do many of the typical things that friendly schoolmates do together: walking to class, collaborating on assignments, eating lunch in the cafeteria, studying, etc. You even get into trouble together, though Deuce attempts to be the "honors student" that keeps you two out of it. (He just ends up getting dragged into the situation with you anyway.)

He’s pretty low on pocket money, but if he notices that you don’t have much to eat yourself or you’ve forgotten or skipped over a meal, Deuce offers whatever he has on him. A protein bar, a juice box, whatever! You can always share, right?

The first to throw a punch in your honor! … Okay, maybe that’s not something to be so proud of, but he’ll still do it if someone’s really rude to you. Deuce will at least try to get them to apologize. If they put hands on you though, all bets are off.

Eager to help! Is your phone busted? Hand it to Deuce, he’ll try tinkering with it until it’s operational again. The snack you paid for isn’t falling out of the vending machine? He’ll kick the crap out of it until your chosen snack falls out (along with about 10 other items).

His mom knows all about you because Deuce is constantly telling her about his cool new buddy. Sometimes you’ll walk in on him on the phone and he’ll put his mom on speaker so you can say hi to her. She often thanks you for “looking out” for Deuce while she’s not there—he needs more people like you to support him!

Being friends with Leona grants you a number of "privileges" (which is what he calls them). These so-called "privileges" include: entry to Savanaclaw and/or the Botanical Gardens (without risking the threat of being wailed on to get out), slightly more patience when you call out to him in public, and the random chance for him to chuck his credit card at you and command you to run an errand for him. ("While you're at it, buy yourself something nice for the trouble," he adds.) How... kind (?) of him, right?

He's the kind of friend you have to practically harass to convince him to get out and do something with you. Leona would rather snooze or hang out indoors reading or playing chess or logic games. Sometimes you have no choice but to bend to his whims because otherwise you're not seeing him at all. It's his way or the highway!

If he's in the mood, he'll play a little rough. Leona's not exactly super affectionate (like, he's not going to hug you), but he'll occasionally ruffle your hair or get you in a headlook and noogie you. It's his way of greeting you or saying, "job well done".

A lot of your conversations with Leona are essentially extended exchanging of quips. He’s still every bit as sarcastic and snarky as he is with his enemies, perhaps even moreso with you. It’s not done out of animosity, but rather because Leona wants to keep you on your toes. After all, he let you into his pack—so you can keep up with him, can’t you?

In spite of how lackadaisical he may appear, Leona's the first person you know you can go to if you ever need help. A school assignment, physical training, life advice, whatever. He has this way of saying what you need to hear (even if it isn’t pleasant; he's a realist, not an optimist, and he's not going to sugarcoat it for you) and kicks your ass into high gear.

Definitely the “mom friend”, though out of habit and not because he wants to or actively tries to be. The kind of guy to fuss over whether you’re eating enough or sleeping at an appropriate time.

He often looks frazzled when you greet him in the halls or hang out after classes (which he so rarely does anyway because he’s usually for his hands full and with some Kalim-related task). Jamil vents to you later about what he has to put up with. You’ve never heard him use such colorful language and creative phrases outside of these vents. (He makes you swear to secrecy.)

On hangouts, Jamil comes overprepared. Even if it’s not raining, he brings an umbrella. Even if it’s not sunny, he brings sunscreen and bug spray. In fact, Jamil always shows up with this massive bag of what he calls “essentials”. First aid kit, water bottles, hand sanitizer, hand cream, portable battery, snacks, lip balm, sewing kit, travel toiletries, pens, spare eating utensils, a flashlight, a multitool, sunglasses, a notebook, a mirror, tissues—

His homemade lunches look so good; you tend to stare with quiet longing until Jamil sighs and asks if you would care for some. He acts like it’s a slight inconvenience to him (to salvage his pride and to come off as humble), but really he’s fishing for an excuse to share his food and get a compliment from you. In exchange for feeding you, you feed his ego.

Jamil insists he doesn’t need you to come to his basketball games, he can play just fine without you there. Well, that doesn’t stop you from showing up with a homemade poster to wave around and shouting his name. He acts embarrassed about it and scolds you afterwards, but he’s secretly pleased to have your support.

Ortho's the friend you feel the instinctive need to protect (on account of his small, boyish stature)--but don't be fooled! It's him who's jumping to shoot a laser beam at people who pick on you and you having to hold him back from firing.

He's cute and he knows it. Whenever he wants to get his way (like, say he wants to pick what you do today), he'll put his acting chops to use and pretend to get all sad or claim that you're bullying some innocent little kid to win the disagreement.

You play a lot of video games and board games together but you can never quite win most of the time. Ortho's advanced learning algorithms allow him to learn your playstyles and adapt on the fly, leading to him cinching victory after victory. He takes it easy on you once in a while though, just because it wouldn't be fun to go entirely unbeaten! More recently, you've been really into this racing game called Sugar Rush--and Ortho likes to play dirty and targets you with all the traps he can get his hands on.

You have movie nights too! Sometimes it's mainstream productions but sometimes Ortho shows you sneak peeks of the Film Research Club's latest projects (where he stars). He doesn't eat or drink, so you can monopolize all the snacks and chill as Ortho gets the film rolling... from himself! He has a built-in projector which makes it possible to watch movies on any wall.

Being besties with a supercomputer has its perks. Ortho can fact check you on the spot and provide any and all information you might be looking for in the blink of an eye.

Sebek is one of those friends who speaks callously even to his own friends. He does this with Silver, and he does this with you as well. Every nice thing he says is phrased like an insult (not necessarily aimed at you; it’s usually condescending others when comparing them to you), and it takes some time getting used to his… unique way of communicating.

Big golden retriever energy. He gets so excited when he sees you and practically charges over to give a greeting in the mornings. Same goes for him catching you in the halls--he'll shout from the other end and wave excitedly.

He's in the habit of making book recommendations to you, even if you're not a reader. Each book is selected with the utmost consideration for your interests and reading level; Sebek has oftentimes already gone to the trouble of reading these books and now is waiting on you to give them a shot so the two of you and talk over it and share your thoughts.

He strives for self-improvement and encourages you to do the very same. Sometimes he invites you to join him and Silver for a workout, but if that's too much for you then he can recommend some simple weight-lifting, stretches, or a brief jog.

If you're feeling down, he'll give you a thunderous pep talk that'll get you right back up on your feet! It's like being hit with a jolt of lightning--you're revitalized and ready to tackle the world again.

[befallenstars-archive]

Oh, my...I did not read the 15k words part. However, we are here.

Before I yap— Eris, have I ever told you that there's something about the way you write that catches my interest? Can't really put it into words just yet. Maybe if I read more I'll eventually formulate that feeling into words~

Alright, spoilers under the cut! And LOTS of yapping~

Blade

Going for the single bed trope I see...this'll be interesting (¬ ͜ ͡¬)

Okay, but I do find it funny that the reason he wanted to share the bed was for the reader and him to get better rest. Only for the two of them to NOT get a wink of sleep. Reader toss

Love to see a reader that doesn't back down and even takes on a challenge. And oop— would you look at that. Nobody's really getting any sleep now. Hopefully, the bed frame's sturdy enough! And that the walls are thick enough for the sake of the neighbors.

"Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you." Mnhmmm...I'm sure it did.

I think the maintenance of professional distance flew out of the window the moment he said they should share the same bed— to which was literally made for a single person alone. Also when the reader agreed.

Please, just fuck already—

Did I get slightly absorbed in reading that I forgot to make comments? Yes. Sorry. I actually came back to drop a comment about the headboard bc I'm praying for that thing to survive the night.

Also...whoooo *fans self* there's a reason I was a bit occupied with reading than commenting. That bit was VERY distracting.

Ah, a touch of sadomasochism. Love to see it.

Personally, I've always been weak when it comes to the magic phrase "pretty girl". Always will be actually.

Hey!!! The bed frame survived. At least they'll be able to sleep comfortably now.

And the softness of the ending. From passionate and almost feral but gently holding each other and savoring the moment <333

Sunday

THE TENSION.

Ohhh, the underlying yearning and fear of speaking out because of the status. Wanting to just close that small gap and yet it feels like such a wide wedge between two people who simply want to love one another.

I am unwell.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours. You don't.

What if I flatline—

Yes. Go, reader! Tell him! That man's holding back too much when he already has such a gorgeous being in his arms who clearly wants him. Stop trying to play hard to get, Sunday.

Did I get distracted? AGAIN? Yes. Yes, I did.

Came back to comment when he said that he'd be gentle. Oh, his constant reassurances, and the way he does his best to memorize and savour the intimate moment with the reader. I am sighing out dreamily and swooning into a fluffy couch. He's even focusing on the reader's pleasure and comfort!!

...all these praises have me looking the side blushing and fanning myself—

THE CONFESSION. I'M TEARING UP AS WE SPEAK. THE WAY HE'S BEGGING??? I'M ON THE FLOOR.

I actually wanted to pick a dialogue to put here and fawn over but all of them are actually too good. I can't pick one. All of them are just— URGH

"His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go."

Lemme see if I can find that one specific meme that describes how I feel rn...

AHA! FOUND IT!

Did you know? I'm actually an absolute sucker for the lines that go "You're home". Very much so. That was the final nail to the coffin.

Agrenti

Oop— fanboy behavior, huh?

Ngl, I'm fairly new to HSR so I don't really know this character. But he seems like such a sweet guy. Deserves tons of kisses.

"He didn't know whether to laugh or combust." Pretty understandable if someone as lovely and amazing as the reader offers to be your first kiss.

...giving me a wolf hidden in sheep's clothing vibes rn. Interesting. Nvm, he's still a sweetheart <3

He reminds me of a bunny somehow. Like I just wanna pet him and reassure him that he's fine. Very adorable too hehe

Reader has this man completely in the palm of their hand, I fear. Dude is absolutely SMITTEN.

He's so sweet huhu

The ending!! So soft and lovely. Just two people just enjoying the connection they have.

Aventurine

I will never tire of the way you write the reader, Eris! The sassy and confident attitude? Oh, please! I might just started simping for her instead of the men at this point—

"I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.” IM WHEEZING AS WE SPEAK.

“What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.” *cue incoherent fox wheezing noises* NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE REMARKS.

I just know the dealer's just there looking up to the ceiling and praying to whatever aeon there is to let the reader and this man just get a room before he has to call for both security and clean-up service.

Was the gap between feedbacks a bit...lengthy? Yes. But in my defense it's only 'cuz a certain writer over here really knows her way with words on how to make the tension so thick and palpable that I'm too busy drowning in it to make any comments.

"Let me take care of you." I dunno if you'll be able to tell which part I am on rn but I promise you that I am absolutely blushing and burying my face against my pillows.

"He moans in response" I am currently dying from a nosebleed.

Unsurprisingly, I'm weak towards the specific petname "love"...

I absolutely adore the softness of it all afterwards. My heart's melting huhu

Dr. Ratio

*breathes in*

THE INTIMACY—

Good gods, I am over here just reading the first scenes and I can already feel the tension seeping into my bones. I'm just here with a hand over my mouth, and completely invested in the way this all unfolds.

This one feels so...intimate somehow. I can't really explain it and I am absolutely loving it. I think it's in the way that most of the time the reader is more fiery and sassy while here? It feels like there's a bit more depth to it. Such a good read and I'm literally still at the first part.

"Let's move somewhere private." Yeah, I agree since I recall Aventurine saying they'll be back in a bit. Hell, I'm not even gonna be surprised if they were in the shadows making bets about how this all goes, and didn't want to disturb the moment.

"His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing." + "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

I AM WEAK IN THE KNEES FOR THIS.

"He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him..." Hands on my hips rn. I also had to take a moment to go 'Really?' with an exasperated expression on my face.

Devotion. First word that came to mind. I adore that so so very much.

I am feeling this fic was definitely the favorite child.

Wait. Just finished the fic. Lemme gather my thoughts. That— I...uhm..how...wow. Who knew a smut at 8AM could render me speechless in a good way, eh?

I just KNOW this fic was definitely the favorite child. Though the ending was a lot more bittersweet than I expected huhu

Jing Yuan

Ah, last but not the least. Unsure how to feel abt this one since I found him unnerving when I first met him in-game.

"Stop thinking so much." Goddamn, I wish it were a switch I could just turn off—

WELL, THAT THREW ME OFF-GUARD.

Was I once again sucked into the tension that I completely forgot to make comments? Yes. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Eris writes them too well.

By this point, I truly have a love and hate relationship with this man. Do I still find him unnerving? Yes. But he also extremely attractive that it's unfair when matched with the honeyed-tongue of his.

Struggling rn/lh

...having even more mixed feelings abt Jing Yuan bc of this fic—

But alas! Setting that aside...

Eris, I am positively in love with your writing <3

༉‧₊˚. Turning Page ˚.₊༉

Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti

sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)

a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333

༉ - 2k

The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.

You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.

But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.

The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.

You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.

“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.

“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.

He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”

It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”

You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.

He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."

It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.

"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.

Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.

He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”

You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.

Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.

You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.

You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.

You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.

"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.

The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.

"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."

You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.

His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.

"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."

The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."

You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.

"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."

The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.

His hands gripped your hips,  "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, your lips skimming his.

His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.

"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."

With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."

You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.

"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."

Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."

He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.

Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."

Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."

His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."

Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.

"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.

Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.

Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.

Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.

"That was..." you started, but words failed you.

Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."

༉ - 2.8k

The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.

The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.

"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.

Your brow furrows. "Were they?"

He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".

You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".

He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”

His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”

You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.

"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.

For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.

"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."

Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".

"And what if I don't want to?"

The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.

“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.

"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.

He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".

Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.

"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.

He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."

You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.

"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.

"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.

"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.

"I already have."

He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.

You don't.

His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.

His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.

"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.

"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.

He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.

“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”

Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.

The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”

You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.

His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.

"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.

That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.

His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”

You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Don't-please-."

He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.

You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”

His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”

As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.

He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."

As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.

"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."

He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."

With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.

He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."

With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."

He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.

"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."

He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."

He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.

"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."

His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."

He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.

"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"

You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."

The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.

"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."

His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."

You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."

His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone. 

"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.

"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."

His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.

"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. 

He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."

You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."

He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."

You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.

༉ - 3.1k

Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.

“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.

“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”

Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”

“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.

You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”

You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”

“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”

You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”

“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.

“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.

His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”

He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.

Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.

Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.

The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn’t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”

But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.

“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”

Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”

You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”

The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.

He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.

"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."

He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.

When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.

He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.

Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.

He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.

Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.

“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.

Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.

He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.

You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.

You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.

Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.

"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.

You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.

You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.

He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."

You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.

Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.

Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.

Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.

Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.

"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."

Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.

Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.

"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.

Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.

His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.

Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.

He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.

When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.

Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."

༉ - 2.5k

The casino floor was alive with energy, especially  at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.

“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”

Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”

You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”

Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.

Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”

The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.

“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”

The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.

He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”

Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.

You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”

He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”

—

You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.

Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."

You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."

He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."

Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.

His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.

You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.

He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.

He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."

And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.

You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."

You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."

"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."

And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.

"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.

Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"

He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.

He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”

You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”

You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.

"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."

He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.

With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.

"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."

You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."

You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.

He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.

"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.

The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.

You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."

You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" 

His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”

༉ - 2.8k

Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow  that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played  that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.

“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.

You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.

The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.

“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”

The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?

“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”

His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.

“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”

Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.

“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.

“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”

His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.

The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”

You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.

“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.

You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”

Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”

He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.

Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."

His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.

Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.

"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."

His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.

He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.

You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.

Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.

Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.

"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."

You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.

Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."

The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."

You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.

"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."

His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.

You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."

You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.

Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.

Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.

He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.

He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”

You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.

Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.

His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."

His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.

You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He  collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.

Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.

He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.

༉ - 2.5k

The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.

The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.

Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.

“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.

The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.

“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.

Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.

"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.

You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.

He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.

"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."

The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.

“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.

His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.

Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.

The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.

You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"

But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."

The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.

You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.

Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."

You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.

Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.

As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.

Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.

Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.

Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.

His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.

"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."

His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.

He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward

Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.

"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."

You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.

His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.

"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.

As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.

"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.

You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[kingkaizen]

Hello!! <3 I was wondering you can do Blue Lock x Kid! Reader? (Fluff), reader is about 10-11 years old

The plot is basically the blue lock allows children inside to train to become the next generation of Japanese soccer, reader is in the Bastard Munchen team for blue lock and then while reader is walking with some members of Bastard Munchen (specifically Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Yukimiya) to the cafeteria when suddenly they bump into a staff member which so happens to be reader’s biological dad. The dad is like “Oh hey there, sweet thing!” while reader is basically uncomfortable with their biological dad. Why? It’s because when reader was younger their dad would never take care of them and would sometimes lash out of them, which makes reader see him more of a stranger than a father. Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Yukimiya is like “back off bitch” because reader is CLEARLY uncomfortable with him. The dad does back off but sometime later in the locker rooms (all bastard Munchen members have clothes on) all of bastard Munchen are hanging out there when the dad goes into the locker room. Reader is now “fuck this shit I’m out” and hides behind one of members. All of them are like “Bro, LEAVE THEM BE” and when the dad says no, Noa gets involved with it and kicks him out. They basically now check up on reader and the rest is yours.

BRO I AM SO SORRY FOR COMPLICATING PLOTS 😭😭😭

— 💜 Anon (I would like to be anon please!)

∘ a/n: hiii 💜 anon, ty for this request. before you read, i do want to say that i did change some things up about your initial request just to make it more comfortable for me to write and make more sense in my head (although it doesn't change the overall meaning of your request). the reader is assumed to be around the same age as them and is a manager on the team. i hope you still enjoy <3

∘ ft: isagi, kaiser, ness, + kenyu

∘ includes: sfw, mentions of strained parental relationship

The halls of the Bastard München training facility buzzed with energy as you walked alongside Isagi, Kaiser, Ness, and Kenyu, a clipboard in hand. You’ve been keeping track of the teams’ statistics throughout the practice, which will be used in drills later on. The sharp scent of freshly cleaned floors mingled with the faint tang of sweat lingering from their practice session. The team was in high spirits, their camaraderie evident in the banter bouncing between them.

“You couldn’t score even if the net begged you to,” Kaiser quipped, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he nudged Isagi’s shoulder.

“Maybe if you stopped playing and actually passed, we’d score double,” Isagi shot back, rolling his eyes.

“Calm down, both of you,” Yukimiya interjected, chuckling softly. “Save the arguing for tomorrow’s match.”

You laughed lightly, the sound blending into the easy rhythm of the group’s conversation. But the laughter died in your throat when you turned a corner and nearly collided with someone—a man whose presence felt as cold and intrusive as you remembered.

“Hey there, sweet thing!” The man’s voice was smooth, but it grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

You froze mid-step, stomach twisted into knots as you studied the man’s features. His scruffy beard, slightly wrinkled uniform, and overly familiar tone—all of it belonged to someone you’d long hoped to forget: your estranged father.

“What… what are you doing here?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, the words thick with unease.

The man shrugged casually, ignoring the tension in their posture. “Got myself a job here. Thought I’d finally get a chance to see how you’re doing. You’ve grown so much.”

The others immediately noticed the way you shrank back, their expression going pale.

Kaiser’s sharp eyes darted between the man and you before stepping forward, his voice dripping with disdain. “Who the hell are you, and why are you bothering (y/n)?”

“I’m (y/n)’s father,” the man replied, puffing out his chest as if the title alone gave him authority. “Is there an issue?”

“Yeah, there is,” Kaiser snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ness stepped up beside him, his cold blue eyes narrowing. “(Y/n) clearly doesn’t want to talk to you. Take a hint and leave.”

Isagi and Yukimiya flanked you protectively, their presence reassuring yet firm. Isagi’s voice, though calmer than the others, carried an undeniable edge. “If they wanted to talk to you, they would’ve reached out. You should leave.”

The man hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over at you. “We’ll talk later,” he muttered, his tone tinged with annoyance as he walked away.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, you released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your hands trembled, heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“You okay?” Isagi asked softly, his gaze steady and concerned.

“I… Yeah,” you replied shakily, though the lie was evident in your voice.

The group exchanged worried glances but chose not to press further, instead walking silently toward the cafeteria.

…

The locker room was a sanctuary after grueling training sessions. The walls were lined with steel lockers, and the faint smell of detergent lingered in the air. After a quick meeting with the team, you decided to linger in the locker room with some of the guys from earlier. Perching yourself on one of the benches, you felt some of the earlier tension in your shoulders begin to relax. 

Kaiser leaned back against a row of lockers, tossing a soccer ball into the air with practiced ease. “Bet I could score on Noa tomorrow,” he said with his trademark smirk.

“You couldn’t even score on me,” Ness teased, earning a snort of laughter from Yukimiya.

You smiled faintly, your earlier discomfort fading into the background as you soaked in the light-hearted banter. But, the fragile peace shattered when the locker room door swung open with a loud creak.

Your father strode in, his presence as unwelcome as a storm cloud. “There you are,” he said, his tone too casual for the situation.

You felt your breath hitch, panic flashing through your mind. Without thinking, you moved to stand behind Kaiser, clutching the back of his jersey like a lifeline. Memories of your childhood began to flood your brain, the constant screaming, words of hate spewing from his lips. You haven’t fully healed from all of the constant pain that you had to endure, and seeing the person who caused it right in front of you did nothing to help that fact.

Kaiser stiffened slightly, then turned, his face darkening with fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m just here to talk to my kid,” the man replied, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“They don’t want to talk to you,” Ness said coldly, stepping forward with an expression so sharp it could cut glass.

“Get out,” Yukimiya added, his calm tone carrying an unmistakable edge.

You peered out from behind Kaiser, hands trembling. The protective wall formed by the team was reassuring, but the man’s presence still sent your nerves spiraling.

“You’re not welcome here,” Isagi said firmly, stepping closer to the man.

“This is between me and my kid,” the man said, his voice rising in irritation. “Stay out of it.”

Before the tension could escalate further, the door opened again.

Noa’s imposing figure filled the doorway, his piercing gaze sweeping over the room. The team fell silent, and even the father seemed momentarily taken aback.

“What’s going on here?” Noa asked, his voice low and authoritative.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but Noa’s icy glare silenced him. “You don’t belong here. Leave. Now.”

The man tried to argue, but Noa’s tone turned even sharper. “This is your only warning. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security handle it. Don’t come back unless you’re prepared for consequences.”

The man’s face twisted with frustration, but he finally turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

The silence in the locker room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. You slowly sank onto the bench, chest heaving as you struggled to steady their breathing.

Kaiser crouched in front of you, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Hey, you’re safe now. He’s gone.”

Isagi knelt beside him, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to deal with this alone. We’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Ness said, his usual sharp tone softening. “If he tries this again, he’ll regret it.”

Yukimiya offered a small, comforting smile. “We’re your team. No one gets to mess with you.”

Your vision blurred with tears, but their heart felt lighter than it had all day. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kaiser smirked, though his voice held genuine warmth. “Good thing you won’t have to find out.”

As the team resumed their lighthearted chatter, you realized they weren’t just teammates—they were family.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[captn-trex]

200 follower celebration event !

thank you so much for 200 followers!! very super cool of you guys for following me and interacting with the work I put out, it seriously means the world to me :)

to make it a little fun, I'm going to be writing song inspired fics, because music is definitely something that inspires me and my writing a lot! and also I like to know what other people are listening to because I'm nosey hehe. please make sure to read the rules !!!

this event will be running from today (jan 2nd) to jan 31st, ending 11:59pm GMT (may be subject to change)

how it works

please add all this information to your request :)

step 1: pick a clone, any clone

step 2: choose a dialogue prompt from the list below (or two, you can just give the prompt number)

step 3: give me a song to inspire the vibe/story of the fic

step 4: note any extra information you feel is important (such as any specific lyrics you love, tropes, story ideas, sfw/nsfw etc. etc.)

dialogue prompts

fluffy prompts

1. "I can't remember the last time I did this with someone"

2. "here, why don't we share?"

3. "I've missed this"

4. "you could stop staring now." / "oh no, absolutely not."

5. "read to me"

6. "come here sweetheart"

7. "you're just the cutest" / "you're the only one who is allowed to say that."

8. "give me your hand"

9. "come lie with me. let me hold you"

10. "look at that, your hand fits perfectly in mine"

angsty prompts

11. "did you really have to be that honest?"

12. "can we start over?"

13. "of course it meant something!"

14. "that isn't what I meant and you know it"

15. "everyone else might be buying it, but I'm not"

16. "I can't keep acting like I don't see something is wrong with you"

17. "we need to talk about that little stunt you pulled earlier"

18. "don't you ever wonder why I get like this?"

19. "what is your problem?"

20. "do you want my help or not?"

hurt/comfort prompts

21. "when's the last time you actually slept?"

22. "you're safe now"

23. "stop pretending that you're fine! you need a medic"

24. "I'm not leaving, okay?"

25. "how are you feeling?" / "will you stop asking me that"

26. "take these meds, they'll help"

27. "let me help you this time"

28. "I'm sorry" / "don't be sorry, it's not your fault"

29. "take your time, I'll be here when you're ready to talk"

30. "promise?" / "of course, I promise"

flirty prompts

31. "don't try to charm your way out of this" / "you think I'm charming?"

32. "bite me" / "I thought you'd never ask"

33. "why didn't we do this sooner?" / "you were too busy pretending you hated me"

34. "this isn't over" / "oh, I'll make sure of it"

35. "I can't help it, you're fun to mess with"

36. "why not tonight? I'm even wearing something pretty"

37. "you know... you're kinda cute when you're mad"

38. "were you always this pretty?"

39. "do you have a name or can I just call you mine?" / "does that line usually work for you?"

40. "hello beautiful, you alone here?" / "...we came here together"

smutty prompts

41. "hmm, you're not very patient are you?"

42. "can you kiss it better?"

43. "that's my good girl"

44. "you can do better than that sweetheart"

45. "I could make you feel better"

46. "is that a threat or a promise?"

47. "can you feel how much I want you?"

48. "staying quiet was never your strong suit, was it?" / "make me shut up then"

49. "louder. let me hear you pretty girl"

50. "can you be good for me?"

misc/extra prompts

51. "it's the middle of the night, what are you doing here?"

52. "I told you to knock first!"

53. "don't look at me like that" / "like what?"

54. "is that the best you can do?"

55. "I've been wanting to kick your ass all week"

56. "is that really necessary?"

57. "what are we?" / "you're asking me?"

58. "I can feel you staring at me. You aren't being very subtle, you know"

59. "do you have a crush on me or something?"

60. "you're so jealous it makes you look stupid"

request rules/guidelines

if your request goes against these, I will not complete it, so please read this carefully before requesting!

this event is exclusively for clone x fem/gn reader pairings, just because that's what I write for, but you're welcome to give suggestions like jedi!reader, medic!reader etc. but no clone x reader x clone

make sure to mention whether you want it to be sfw or nsfw !!!

I have the right to refuse any request if I'm just not vibing with it for whatever reason, or particularly if it's something I'm not comfortable with (non-exhaustive list incl: noncon & dubcon, aforementioned clonecest, AU stuff outside of the context of the star wars galaxy — like modern AU type stuff, motherhood/pregnancy/kids etc.)

abide by the request template; I want to keep all fics in this event within the same parameters

I will only be accepting requests between the given dates, any received afterwards will not be counted

if you don't plan on reblogging, don't request from me :)

extra info

I'll have anon requests on, but this is a follower event after all, so I'd prefer if you didn't use the anon function — the basic requirement is that you follow me and have interacted with my blog

feel free to message me if you have a more elaborate idea/want to discuss/clarify/bounce ideas off each other!! I'm always down for that anyway, so don't be shy :)

clones I'd like to write for if you want to take that into consideration: fives, wolffe, tech, echo (tbb), kix

alrighty! that's everything :)

as a reminder: this event is running until jan 31st so make sure to send in your request before then!

all works in this event will be tagged under #trex's 200 follower celebration, and will most likely be added to a masterlist at some point

I can't wait to see what you guys send in ! thank you again and happy requesting :)

— lia <3

[infantdisposal]

I'm going to break this down for you.

1. Not everyone has access to therapy, but since you're so obsessed with it let me tell you what my personal therapist thinks about being proship. "As long as you don't let it leak into your real life views and opinions, enjoy whatever you want." Therapists support proshippers most of the time because it's an outlet, coping mechanism, and not hurting anyone.

2. "Take a shower" is ableist to an extent. People with depression, autism, ADHD, and similar disorders often forget or don't have the energy to shower as a result of their disorder. I'm not saying you're an ableist, but please don't make not being hygienic an insult. Also, assuming someone doesn't shower because they disagree with you or do something you don't like is unfair and strange.

3. Again, ableism (and again not assuming you're an ableist). People with the disorders I've listed above and many other disorders struggle with hobbies either becoming too much or too little. Please don't make hobbies a sign of worth in someone's life because you just ruin it for the people who can't engage in hobbies. And I do have hobbies, I read books, I sing, I dance, I do diamond art, I write fanfiction, and I draw.

4. It's not "CP" it's CSEM. "CP" is the word predators use to describe it to make it seem like just another porn category, which it isn't. Accusing someone of possessing CSEM with no proof simply because they're a proshipper is strange as well, you only make it harder for people to take actual cases of predatory behavior seriously because everyone is tired of hearing "fictional CSEM" and assume it's just that over and over. And, in my country at least, as long as fictional works do not include an IRL minor, are inspired by an IRL minor, or resemble an IRL minor, it's perfectly legal to have/make.

"miku is a minor" "stop sexualizing miku"

well actually, miku is my wife and she likes being sexualized. sexualize her more. write that fic. draw that pose. imagine that scenario.

[penelopeswifey]

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

CHAPTER 3 — WEIRDO!

a/n: so.. hey.. happy new year.. merry christmas... happy halloween. I'm SORRY FOR SAYING ID UPDATE MORE THEN LEAVING AND NEVER COMING BACK. I really forgot about Tumblr after a few days ☹️☹️ but HERE I hope you all had a good 2024 and a even better 2025!!

You just sat on your chair, contemplating life while deciding if you even wanted to live it

This is so humiliating.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get worse, you got a notification from someone you would rather die than talk to.

There is no fucking way.

Y/N stared at their phone screen, frozen.

" Funny how you kept whining about how overrated I was, wanna talk about those stories you've made? "

No. No. No.

The words burned into your brain as you read them over and over again. Scaramouche. THE Scaramouche.. The idol you dragged through the mud on countless streams and tweets. The same idol who was, apparently, now aware of your other identity.. the anonymous fanfiction writer who had single-handedly written half the internet’s “Scaramouche x Reader” content. The same person who shitted on him so much time!

You dropped your phone onto the desk and buried your face in your hands. Nope. This isn’t real. This is all a dream. It can’t be real. Why would it be real? There’s no way this is real. But when you peeked through your fingers, the message was still there, on the phone like it demanded your attention.

“Why.. why is this happening to me?” you whispered to yourself. Your brain was screaming at you to respond, but also screaming at you to jump out of your window where you could die or move to the countryside and become a farmer. But your fingers refused to move. What could you even say?

" Haha, just a prank, broski! " No, too weird. Who the hell says that.

" That wasn't me!.. " Yeah, because your whole stream was definitely ai generated.

No, none of this would work.

Maybe you could ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see the message. But what if he posted about it? What if he already had? But, he couldn't right?! He's an idol.. but just out of paranoia, you frantically opened Twitter, scanning his feed. Nothing. Yet.

Dropping your phone back onto the desk, you screamed into your hands begging to be taken out. But you were going through that crisis, your phone buzzed again. Another message.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” you muttered as you grabbed their phone.

Please don't be him again.

" I have to say, you’ve got quite the imagination. Because some of those scenarios? Bold. "

Your soul left your body. He read them. He actually read them. How many? Which ones? Did he see the one where he- no. nope, nope, nope. don't you dare think about that.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, shaking. After a deep breath, you typed something anything- to atleast be able to solve this issue!

“ I can explain? 😁.. "

The response was immediate.

"Oh, please do. I'm very interested. "

You let out a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. Why did he have to be so smug about this?! This was his fault!, with his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid way of being the perfect material to write about! This is all his fault he knows damn well how he's acting In front of the camera does he expect no one to be taking one for the team and writing about him?!

“Look,” you typed, trying to sound calm, “it’s not like I’m the only one who writes this stuff. You just happened to find mine. "

His reply came in less than ten seconds.

“ Not hard to find when you've basically written half of the internet's fanfiction about me. "

You nearly chucked your phone across the room. Yes, death is definitely a better option, where's the nearest window? You couldn't even think straight before you typed back and sent

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you shot back

“ Oh, absolutely. This is the best thing I’ve seen all week. Do you always write such... intense stuff, or was it just for me? "

There's no coming back from that. You groaned, slamming your head onto the desk. There was no way you were living this down. Ever.

Driven by emotions instead of rationality, you texted back.

“I hate you.”

Another buzz.

“Doesn’t seem like it, judging by what you've written about me. "

You let out a soundless scream, shoving your chair back and pacing around the room, making laps as you ran around the house. Your heart was racing, your face felt like it was on fire.. out of embarrassment of course, NOT because you're interacting with THE scaramouche- the same one who in your fics did- yeah, stop.

Ignoring the continuous buzz of notifications erupting from your phone, you finally sat down from running laps and thought to yourself, knowing you just pulled yourself in a hole you sure as hell won't be escaping anytime soon.

He wasn't going to let this go, was he?

—

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

SYPNOSIS: You, a well-known streamer, have always kept your two hobbies separate. By day, you entertain thousands with your snarky commentary, but by night, you secretly write. fanfiction about your favorite idol, Balladeer. It was a guilty pleasure—until a late-night stream led to a slip of the tongue and exposed your secret to the world!

In a single moment of poor judgment and a misclick, which by the way was totally not your fault!.. I think.. clips and memes about you spread like wildfire! It was embarrassing enough for everyone to know about your fanfiction, but it spiraled down even further when they discovered you were writing about the very idol you  constantly claimed was overrated.

Just as you wallowed in self-pity, a notification pings on your phone. A familiar username and a blue checkmark.

Shit.

accidentally yours masterlist: chapter 4 —

-

taglist

@kaeuri @kazumiku @kyouzki @skyoverkill1 @flowzel @lalalaloveallmydays @sketcheeee @vi0let-writes @kunikuzushis-darling @js-a-silly-little-guy @simonisferal @jayzioxx @naevis-callingae @vxmp-loml @dxrling-xing  @suzueuieeeee @kinanahan @help-whatdoimakemyusername @khisuko @dearanemo @heusalettle @v4lerixxq @catorkitty @khsuvy

[ryuichirou]

TWST boys’ sleeping habits and routine HCs

Our first HC post of the year! Let’s talk about TWST boys’ sleeping habits.

Anonymous asked:

May I request sleep habits for twst? Who snore? Who drools? Who clings onto you in your sleep? Who falls out of bed w/o waking up? Who knocks others out of bed? Who has a constant sleep schedule? Who has the worst? Who likes to share a bed? Who doesn't? Who does no one want to share a bed with?

Anonymous asked:

In honor of the sleepover bday card (Tysm for these, yana) do you have any hcs about their sleeping habits? How long they sleep, sleeping positions, any bedtime routines and the like?

I got the first ask back in autumn I think (yikes), and with each new bday card I kept thinking “I really should write this one faster” lol With the new theme for those cards, as amazing as it is (we’re obsessed), there is a chance that they might drop some crucial information about the topic of this post! Which would mean the most horrible thing – there is a chance that my hc might contradict canon…!! 😱

Jokes aside, please keep in mind that I write them without diving into the new cards. Which is exactly the point I guess – those are headcanons after all…

Thank you for this prompt, it was a very fun one to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it <3 Sorry it took so long!

Anyways…

Riddle – he has a pretty strict regimen, and just like some other boys in the cast, he gets very obviously sleepy around the same time every day. The cutest eepiest slow blinks… He goes to sleep pretty early, maybe around 10 PM, and he is very strict with others in that regard as well, but in actuality sometimes night becomes his opportunity for a “me time” when he can get a little self-indulgent and read a book instead. He knows that he shouldn’t do it, and that he’ll be tired and irritable the next day, but it would be a lie to say that Riddle absolutely never does that. Once he discovers books that aren’t encyclopedias or study guides, he’ll start doing it more often… He also looks like an angel when he sleeps! And he drools a little bit, but also pouts adorably. He also loves pushing his face against the pillow sometimes and hugging it. He’d probably cuddle or press his cheek against someone if he got to sleep with another person…

Ace – a fighter, not a lover. If he sleeps with someone, he’ll steal both the blanket and the second pillow somehow. He’ll also kick and punch and occasionally even nibble a little, just to drool all over the other person and/or a pillow. But also, he wakes up during the night a lot. It’s not like he has insomnia, but sometimes he finds it difficult to fall back asleep, so he ends up just hanging out, scrolling internet on his phone and watching his roommates sleep. Well, mostly Deuce, because his bed is the closest. And even though Ace himself is a pretty obnoxious sleeper, sometimes he can spend like an hour just giggling at poor Deuce… Jokes on Ace though: because of his sleepless shenanigans he hates waking up! He is never rested enough..!

Deuce – he mumbles in his sleep and moves a little… you know when a dog starts suddenly whining and “running” while sleeping because it dreams of chasing someone? That’s Deuce. He is not too active at night, but Ace saw him punching the air once and saying something like “serves you right”, and Ace had to bite his own hand not to laugh loudly waking everyone up. Deuce also says embarrassing stuff sometimes. He also called Ace an idiot in his sleep at least 5 times. He wakes himself up doing that sometimes, but pretty rarely. When he does though, he usually sits up on his bed and takes a couple of moments to figure out what’s going on. Ace loves talking with him when he is in this confused stage…

Trey – he probably falls asleep pretty fast because he gets tired by the end of his busy days. But he never really feels properly rested, even though he sleeps a normal amount of hours… is it because he sleeps on his stomach? He also looks kind of angry when he’s sleeping, as if he’s seeing some very bad dreams. But he never really remembers them when he wakes up, maybe he doesn’t see any bad dreams at all! But it’s not unusual for him to frown and squeeze a pillow or a blanket in a very tight grip while he’s sleeping. He also doesn’t really snore, but sighs every now and then, so a potential roommate might hear a very deep annoyed and disappointed sigh from Trey, only to look at him and see that he’s just sleeping… If he was to sleep with someone though, he’d probably have a hard time relaxing and would wait until the person is asleep. Especially if it’s Riddle.

Cater – he spends the majority of the night in his phone lol he doesn’t even have much to do there, he just scrolls through Magicam or watches videos on topics he isn’t really interested in. And he is sleepy when he does that, he recognises that he should probably go to sleep already, but he can’t quite beat this habit, so he just keeps sleeping for like 3-5 hours a day. He wouldn’t do it if he had someone to sleep with though! Or at least he thinks that, but he’d probably still spend the majority of the night chatting with the person instead lol For now he gets away with it because he snoozes during the classes, but whenever he hears someone talk about how bad it is for your health to cling to your phone instead of sleeping, he gets mildly annoyed.

Leona – a pretty seamless transition between his “just napping” and “sleeping” lol Sometimes he naps after dinner and then at some point it becomes “well it’s night already anyways so might as well go to sleep”. And then he wakes up during the night and walks around his dorm while everyone’s asleep… and goes right back because he is pretty bored, and there isn’t much to do. He changes his positions a lot throughout the night, but usually ends up sleeping on his back – it’s the most comfortable position to him. It’s not unusual to see him sleeping on his side facing the wall, or on his stomach with his butt in the air for some reason. Leona is a pretty quiet sleeper, but sometimes he makes little sniffing sounds. Sometimes he makes one (1) snore and wakes himself up and looks shook for a moment or two. He also calls himself a capricious prince, but sometimes he actually prefers to sleep on the floor. Not all the time though, he loves his bed as well. He also hates the idea of sleeping with someone, but it’s not like he would bother to wake up and tell the other person to leave if he was in this situation.

Ruggie – if he is in a very good mood, well-fed and comfortable and safe, he is a happy snoring starfish. He drools a lot, and even when he doesn’t snore, his breathing is still pretty loud and a bit hoarse, but it also sounds like he is pretty happy. But that doesn’t happen all the time, for the most part he curls into a ball and snores quietly every now and then, with his ears twitching, as if he is constantly trying to still be aware of his surroundings. For the most part he is a light sleeper and doesn’t even sleep for more than 5-6 hours, but when he gets especially tired, he doesn’t wake up easily. He hated waking up at night because when it happens, he has to get comfortable again – he wants his pillow to be super cold, but it’s already a little sweaty and all warm! This is the worst feeling.

Jack – as we know, he always goes to sleep at the same time, and he gets very sleepy at 10 PM. He wakes up pretty early though, probably the earliest in his entire dorm, at around 5 AM. It’s not as hot when it’s this early, plus he really loves the solitude: he feels like he gets more shit done this way, and of course it gives him plenty of time to exercise and jog. As for his sleeping habits, he doesn’t move at all when he sleeps. He just lies on his side, hugs the pillow and sleeps… similarly to Deuce, Jack gets those sleeping puppy moments, but his are a bit different: sometimes Jack growls in his sleep, he also frowns a lot. There are rare moments when he sleeps with his tongue out and breathes through his mouth, but it happens mostly when it’s too hot, and he starts throwing away pillows and blankets without waking up when it happens. He gets hot pretty easily… He also drools a little less than Ruggie, but still a lot.

Azul – he sleeps for exactly 7.5 hours each night to optimise his time, and he is an extremely cautious and light sleeper. Unless he is absolutely exhausted, he won’t fall asleep anywhere other than his bedroom, behind closed and locked doors. It’s not like he is expecting an assassin or two at all times to attack him at any moment, and life on the land isn’t as dangerous as his hometown underwater, but isn’t comfortable with the idea of becoming too comfortable, so to speak. It’s a habit, I guess. Any unexpected sound or movement would wake him up. Unless he is absolutely exhausted, that is; we’ve seen him falling sleep with his head on Riddle’s shoulder in ch6 after all… Azul also lives tiny and dark spaces, so he hides under his blanket. Even though his bed is pretty big, Azul doesn’t take up that much space at all, curling up with his knees almost touching his chin. He also absolutely wouldn’t call himself a cuddler, but it’s not really true: he hugs his pillow a lot with his arms and legs, and if he was to sleep with someone, he would probably hug them as well. It sounds cute, but he is actually too rough sometimes because he is used to grabbing things. He could also pinch the person he sleep with… octopus habits… poor Idia is covered in bruises :(

Jade and Floyd – they have different sleeping patterns, but a similar “base” for it. They go to sleep at different times, and since they share a room, it’s kind of a problem.  Jade goes to bed pretty much at the same time each night; sometimes because he gets tired, sometimes to spite Floyd a little by saying “I am so tired, can you please turn off the lights already?” Sometimes he genuinely wants to sleep, but it’s Floyd who is annoying him… and every now and then there are nights when Floyd is absolutely exhausted and goes to sleep early, and Jade takes it as an opportunity to troll him back by suddenly deciding to clean a terrarium while humming a song. Why now of all times? A sudden strike of inspiration <3 You can either blame neither of them, or both of them for that: both are aware that they’re annoying the other by not letting him sleep. Anyways, when it comes to their sleeping habits, both are swimmers. They either move their bodies in the same manner as if they’re swimming (sometimes it just looks like Floyd is aggressively humping his bed but that’s not it I swear), or rotate. Because eels love rotating, the second option happens surprisingly often, so both of them are at risk of falling from their beds and rotating on the floor until they bonk each other with their heads and proceed to sleep on the floor. The funny thing is, when they sleep underwater, they’re pretty calm and don’t move as much; I guess they do miss swimming… Floyd is also more of a cuddler than Jade, but Jade is more of a muncher. If Idia sleeps with both of them, the bite marks are going to be Jade’s…

Kalim – it looks like he sleeps without a care in the world, which isn’t really the case because his bad experiences have taught him to wake up very quickly and to react to sudden noises. He is actually pretty tender and capricious as well, if something about his sleeping conditions isn’t perfect, he’s going to react. Every now and then Kalim just goes to Jamil with “hey, Jamil? I can’t sleep” and asks for them to sleep together, or insists of chatting because he isn’t sleepy anyway. Kalim loves not sleeping alone, but talking through the night is something that Kalim absolutely adores. They used to do it a lot when they were kids, and always got in trouble for that (esp considering that Kalim sleeps for the entire day after a sleepless night)…Kalim also clings a lot, but then he suddenly gets too hot and pushes Jamil away without even waking up. But then he gets a bit chiller and starts clinging again. He drools and makes cute little sounds, and anyone other than Jamil would probably find sleeping Kalim as adorable as one would find a babbling toddler. Jamil, however, is very tired…

Jamil – another cautious sleeper, he is almost never 100% asleep, so in a way he is worse than Azul. He does get sleepy though, he is indeed very tired, and it sucks because the tiny window of time before he falls asleep is his only opportunity to get some “me time” and read a book or play games on his phone, but he never does that because he is always exhausted. So after his sleeping preparations, washing his face, brushing his hair and all that stuff, he just wants to sleep… he also hates sleeping with someone, because they (let’s be honest mostly Kalim) would accidentally tug on Jamil’s hair, plus it’s too hot to sleep with someone on a small bed, plus he isn’t really a cuddler anyway. Anyways, he goes to sleep like an hour after Kalim’s sleepy time, and wakes up ~3-4 hours before him. Which isn’t enough time to get a nice rest, but… let’s hope that when Jamil gets to travel and has a hotel room all for himself, he’ll have his first ever nice sleep…

Vil – one of the strictest ones when it comes to his sleeping regimen! Beauty sleep is important, discipline is important, and if one has to work or study during the night, they’re just very bad at time management! Of course, there are days when Vil has to stay up late too… but he hates when it happens; he just wants to have his evening beauty routine, wash his face without a rush, take a nice shower, apply an overnight beauty mask, brush his hair, put on his sleepwear, relax in his bed and have a nice deep sleep from 10:30 PM to 5:30-6:00 AM. Oh, he also wears a sleeping mask and even earplugs sometimes, and also tries to teach himself not to use his phone while in bed. It just ruins his mood, and it’s bad for one’s health too, but he still gives in and scrolls Magicam in bed sometimes. And when it comes to sharing a bed with someone, he is a bit conflicted – it’s not like he hates cuddling, in fact, he enjoys spending the night in his loved one’s embrace, and he doesn’t even get too pissy about feeling hot, sweaty or uncomfortable in that situation, but… I guess Vil just loves having a big bed all for himself lol This is his moment of privacy. So whether he’ll spend the night alone or cuddling depends entirely on his mood that day. He is a very quiet sleeper, and the most that could be heard from him is a cute quiet moan when he’s being disturbed by something.

Rook – does he sleep? Or is he too busy being in everyone’s walls? His roommate doesn’t quite get it: when he falls asleep, Rook isn’t there yet, and when he wakes up, Rook’s already left. He knows that Rook sometimes spends the night with Vil, but… In actuality, Rook does sleep, but he is very strategic about his sleeping schedule. He doesn’t sleep much during the night, 4-5 hours is his max because he has too much to do! Sometimes he takes short 20 minutes powernaps during the day while he’s hiding around. This man is, once again, a creature. Also, even though one would say it’s impossible to catch Rook sleeping, people do see him sleeping sometimes – it’s just that he learned how to do it with his eyes open and while sitting up. Which is… a bit scary, so anyways! When it comes to his bedtime routine, after all the beauty stuff is done, he spends quite a lot of time to admire the pictures that he took and the sketches that he drew of everyone that day – this is a very important ritual to him! But despite that, he actually really enjoys sharing a bed with someone, be it for intimacy or just for cuddling. He hugs and kisses a lot, even when the other person is already asleep. He also loves watching him sleep, which is not creepy at all!

Epel – he shouldn’t use his phone in his bed, but he does! When he manages to sneak it under his blanket, that is. But it’s also not unusual for him to fall asleep while holding a phone and to have it fall on his pretty little face, waking him up. So he tries not to overdo it… he is a very cute sleeper though! He makes sounds, but a little weird ones, like little whines or even tiny mewls sometimes. And sometimes he giggles very cutely! What kind of dreams are you having, Epel?! Anyways, he is a deep sleeper that munches on his pillow sometimes. It’s better than sucking a thumb, and I won’t say that Epel just taught himself out of that fairly recently, but I also won’t say that this isn’t the case. Alright, no more bullying lol I think he sleeps on his side while hugging a blanket. Very adorable, until he starts snoring or swearing in his sleep…

Idia – a lot of times he just falls asleep in front of his PC. Especially now that he doesn’t have Ortho to share a room with, but even when Ortho was his roommate, he’d go to the sleeping mode at some point and tell Idia to go to sleep as soon as possible, Idia would reply with “yeah yeah I���m going” and play games for 2 more hours until falling asleep in his chair… Sometimes he wakes up at like 5 AM, realising that he’s been sleeping for a while, and lazily crawls on top of his bed without even changing into his pjs. He doesn’t really have much of a routine… He also curls up when he’s sleeping, looking like a cute kitten, and you almost feel bad for him somehow when you look at him. Is it because his relaxed face is so pathetic? Or should we feel bad because of how troubled he is when he’s asleep? Anyways, Idia either sleeps for 3-4 hours and naps throughout the day, or sleeps for 10 hours and feels weird when he finally wakes up. He is also super not used to sleeping with someone else and would be uncomfortable, but there is a part of Idia that wouldn’t mind getting backhugged by Azul (until he starts pinching) or… sometimes Idia wonders if Muscle Crimson hugs his possibly existing wife when they sleep.

Ortho – I guess not applicable this time :( But he does consider himself charging in his sleeping mode to be his sleeping routine! Sometimes he “wakes up” earlier than everyone and just flies around the dorm though. Human!Ortho would be a very nice sleeper though, he would change poses like 10 times per night, even kick poor Idia a little. He would prefer to sleep in Idia’s bed even when they aren’t roommates anymore, and he would probably be one of the biggest cuddlers in the cast!

Lilia – no regimen, his sleeping schedule is a mess, pretty similar to Idia’s. He used to be very good at it when he was younger, but now he just plays games all night lol And then after saying good night to his internet friend, he decides to go to bed and… stumbles upon some useless junk in his room and decides to play with it! It’s okay, old people don’t need to sleep all that long, if at all sometimes. It’s not unusual for Lilia to completely ditch sleeping, but he can’t do it for more than one day… When it comes to position, Lilia just falls flat on his bed and starts snoring loudly. He has that dad snore… He also changes positions a lot, and he could kill a guy with how suddenly he moves and rolls. Sometimes he also sleeps upside down, hanging from his bed’s canopy. He also doesn’t mind sleeping with someone, he is pretty used to it! In a lot of ways… but people sleeping with him get punched and kicked unless he hugs them tightly, so not everyone is really up to that.

Silver – after his evening training, his nighttime routine and checking on his father to tell him to go to sleep already, Silver comes back to his room… and sleeps. Even his evening routine doesn’t take that long – I don’t think he uses any products on his face or even brushes his hair much. He washes himself, changes into his pjs and goes to bed… And for the most part he sleeps on his back, looking like a certain cursed princess. There isn’t much to say about the way he sleeps, but he breathes very quietly and cutely, and looks absolutely stunning. His roommates really want to kiss him sometimes… but not a single one dared to do it so far. Silver also doesn’t mind sleeping with someone, but to him it wouldn’t really make s difference one way or another.

Sebek – amazingly strict regimen that he follows dutifully! He’s never late, he always wakes up exactly one minute before his alarm and turns it off! He goes to bed at 11 PM and wakes up at 5 AM! And it doesn’t make him sleepy in the slightest – in fact he has too much energy to burn and too much things to do! That being said, sometimes he wakes up randomly in the middle of the night and has a hard time falling back asleep. I guess he’s just too agitated and overly excited sometimes… But he tries to quiet his thoughts and get back to sleep as soon as possible. When it comes to his sleeping habits, he is surprisingly… chill. One would expect him to be more obnoxious, but he yells in his sleep extremely rarely! Once every 2-3 months… so you never know when it’s going to happen next. He also looks at his liege’s portrait before going to sleep and when he wakes up, this is the first and last thing he sees every day, and it warms his heart and fills him with determination. As for sleeping with someone, he doesn’t mind if he has to do it, but he doesn’t see a point in that either. A silly boy…

Malleus – sometimes it feels like he doesn’t sleep at all. Maybe he doesn’t really need to sleep as much as humans do? Which is kind of ironic, but anyways, it’s not unusual for his bed to be empty at night because Malleus suddenly decided that he isn’t really sleepy, and figured he’d rather go on a walk. Sometimes he just walks around the dorm, but a lot of times he goes outside to get some fresh air. He loves the time of night when everything is quiet and everyone’s asleep, he finds it melancholic… perfect for drowning in deep thoughts, admiring gargoyles and reading. Anyways, when he does sleep, he almost doesn’t look alive: he breathes very quietly and looks so pale and cold… he actually gets much colder during the night, so he’d be naturally drawn to another person’s heat. He was very clingy when Lilia used to sleep in his bed~ He still is sometimes…

[ikkyfics]

Consequences

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: Remus had never hated himself more. He leaned against the wall of an empty corridor, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. He wanted to scream, but he felt like it would be pointless. Screaming wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t relieve the fact that he had hurt you in a way that never be fixed.

Warnings: angst

A/N: HEY, did you just stumble upon this? This is a continuation of another fic, so I advise you to read Sweet Lies first <33. And yes, @dearmy-diary, you convinced me to write this, so I hope you can enjoy it! More notes at the end of the post.

Masterlist

"I wish things were different," you finally said, your voice so low that you could barely hear it yourself. "But they’re not. Please, just... go away."

Remus felt the weight of your words like a punch to the stomach, leaving him breathless. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the right. He simply nodded, his legs moving automatically, as if each step away from you was a punishment he deserved.

He walked far enough to be out of your sight, but not far enough to ignore your silhouette in the distance. The way you collapsed onto the bench, hugging your knees as if that could shield you from the pain. He knew it couldn’t. He knew you were broken—and he knew it was his fault.

Remus had never hated himself more.

He leaned against the wall of an empty corridor, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling. He wanted to scream, but he felt like it would be pointless. Screaming wouldn’t erase what he had done. It wouldn’t relieve the fact that he had hurt you in a way that never be fixed.

The days dragged on. Every time he walked down a hallway, every time he saw you from afar, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched, it felt as though he was the cause of every inch of that pain. He wanted to approach, to beg for forgiveness, but the weight of his own shame held him back. He knew he didn’t have the right.

The common room, once a place of comfort, now felt claustrophobic. He avoided James and Sirius’s gaze, and even Peter seemed uncomfortable with the silence that hung between them. Remus knew Lily was aware of everything too. She was always the first to notice when something was wrong, and this time was no different.

She confronted him on a Sunday, late in the afternoon. They were in the library, a place she knew he couldn’t avoid. Remus was hiding between the shelves, pretending to read a book whose title he didn’t even know. When Lily appeared before him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, he felt his stomach churn.

"So this is it?" she said, her voice low but filled with accusation. "You really did this? You went along with this... this ridiculous bet?"

Remus didn’t answer right away. He looked down, unable to meet the disappointment evident on her face.

"It wasn’t supposed to end like this," he murmured, but the apology sounded weak even to him.

Lily let out a bitter laugh. "It wasn’t supposed to end like this? Remus, do you realize what you did? You played with her feelings. You hurt someone who trusted you. And why? Because James wanted a date with me? How could you agree to something so... so cruel?"

"I didn’t think it would..." Remus began, but the words died in his throat when he saw the tears in Lily’s eyes.

"Exactly. You didn’t think," she snapped. "And now she’s hurt. And you think an apology is going to fix that? Because it won’t, Remus. You made a choice, and it cost you. I can’t believe you went along with this!" Her words were like a whip, and he didn’t even try to defend himself.

"Lily, I—"

"No!" she interrupted, her face red with frustration. "You don’t have an excuse!" She paused, her voice shaking. "She trusted you. You know how hard it was for her to open up to someone, and you just... destroyed that! Why? To help James? To be part of some stupid joke?"

"I wish things were different," he whispered, more to himself than to Lily. "I didn’t want to hurt her. I never did."

Lily shook her head, incredulous. "You know that James and I broke up, right?"

Remus looked up, surprised. "What?"

"He thought it would make me happy," she continued, her voice heavy with bitterness. "But how could I be happy knowing he manipulated you all into hurting someone else? How could I look at him and not see that? James has a lot of flaws, but this time, he crossed the line. And you..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You were the last person I expected to agree to this. I’m disappointed in you, Remus."

Her words hit him like a punch. He felt the weight of his own guilt multiply, suffocating him. "Lily, I’m sorry," he said, finally raising his eyes to hers. "I know nothing I say can fix this, but... I really am sorry."

She shook her head, her expression softening just slightly. "You don’t owe me an apology, Remus. And, honestly, an apology wouldn’t be enough for her."

He knew Lily was right. There were no words, no gestures that could erase the damage he had caused. But that didn’t stop him from desperately wishing things were different.

Remus spent the following days wrapped in a fog of regret. His attempts to focus on classes or the obligations of daily life seemed futile. Each hallway he crossed, each room he entered, his eyes stubbornly searched for you, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

You were there, always present, but different. He noticed the way you moved, the way you spoke to others. There was a lighter weight on your shoulders, as if the world had, in some way, decided to ease your burden, even if only momentarily. But there was also something missing: the spark of enthusiasm that once lit up your eyes when you looked at him. Remus knew it was his fault. He had destroyed that.

It was on a quiet afternoon that he heard it. He wasn’t looking for it, but the sound reached him anyway, cutting through the courtyard like a sharp arrow. Your laugh. A light, melodious laugh, so full of life that it made his heart tighten in his chest. He froze in the middle of the path, the sound reverberating in his ears. For a brief moment, he thought about turning around and walking away. Maybe it would be better that way. But something inside him forced him to look for the source of that sound.

His eyes found you easily. You were sitting on one of the stone benches in the courtyard, sunlight playing in your hair. And you weren’t alone.

Next to you, leaning toward you, was Artemis Scamander. He had a serene smile on his face, his eyes glowing with a warmth that was hard to ignore. Remus knew who he was—a talented and kind Hufflepuff, known for his impeccable character. The kind of person who seemed to never make mistakes, the opposite of Remus.

Artemis said something Remus couldn’t hear, but whatever it was, it made you laugh again. A laugh so genuine, so carefree, that it hurt. Remus’s chest seemed to tighten with almost unbearable force. He wanted to turn away, to flee, but his feet were rooted to the ground, forcing him to watch as Artemis tilted his head and gently pushed a lock of hair from your face, with a reverence that almost seemed sacred.

Remus swallowed hard. He didn’t have the right to feel what he was feeling, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. The pain of seeing you like this—happy, but not because of him—was overwhelming. You looked so free, so at peace beside Artemis.

He realized, with cruel clarity, that he had lost his chance. He was no longer the reason behind your smile, nor the cause of your laughter. Someone else was filling the space he had left empty. And you were moving on.

As he watched you and Artemis together, Remus felt something break inside him. It was as if he were watching a window close, locking him out forever. He couldn’t blame you. You deserved this—deserved happiness, affection, someone who wouldn’t hurt you. But knowing that didn’t make the pain any less unbearable.

Finally, he found the strength to move. He turned and left the courtyard, each step heavier than the last. Your laugh continued to echo in his mind, a cruel reminder of what he had lost. And as he walked, alone with his thoughts and regrets, a single truth resonated in his heart: he would never again be the reason for your happiness.

A/N: yeeeeeees, I shamelessly decided to make the first appearance of an OC - I really hope to be able to make a proper fic for him soon. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your precious time reading this <3333

[mcrdvcks]

okay, so when i first saw this posted i couldn't wait to read it... but it was like the week before thanksgiving and i had two midterms and even more assignments due so i put it off. but now, i've finally had time to read this and it was well worth the wait!

so, here we go, it's gonna be a bit long so just work with me (this is my version of highlighting on my kindle)

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Logan replied, glancing at the door. His fists clenched instinctively. The thought of this guy forcing his way in, disturbing her, made his blood boil. “So maybe you should take the hint and get lost.”

i don't care if this trope is 'overdone' because it's gets me all giggly when a character is protective over someone, especially when they're so strong about consent. (no means no dude!)

The guy didn’t budge, his face twisting with frustration. “You’re being unreasonable. This is all because of that stupid job, isn’t it? You think you’re too good for me now, huh?”

i could be reading into this, but could she be the journalist? (i read too many mystery books as a child.) i'm writing notes as i read so i'm not sure yet

She took a breath, exhaling slowly as she glanced away, her jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guys like you think you’re doing me a favor, stepping in, trying to… ‘protect’ me. But all you’re doing is making me feel like I can’t handle my own life. Like I’m weak. And I’m not.”

this hit hard, because while i would like to believe if a man like logan had taken to protect me, in real life i'd probably be more like this. i love how reader, though shy, stands up for herself!

“Oh,” she said quietly, a forced, brittle smile tugging at her lips. “So… what? I only look beautiful when I’m dressed up? When I’m… like this?”

a-are you in my room? in my head?? please get out because this is absolutely something i would feel (and have felt before). it does hurt when the only time someone makes a nice comment is when your dolled up and not when you feel most like you.

Logan could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the urge to step outside and tell this guy to back off building with each word. But he held himself in check, forcing himself to stay silent, to let her handle it. She didn’t need him barging in like some kind of white knight, as much as he wanted to.

the fact that logan actually listened to what she said and followed through, letting her handle it? that's a real man.

Sanctuary - Part One

Logan and Wade are sent by Stryker to find a journalist who has been digging around trying to expose Team X. Logan isn't prepared when he meets an intriguing neighbor causing him to question himself and the mission.

origins logan howlett x fem!reader - team x mission, shy reader, no y/n, she/her pronouns used instead of you, logan's pov, origins wade, awkwardness, guarded feelings, angst, AU, crushes, logan kinda being a stalker, stryker and victor cameos, fighting, cussing, wade being a good friend, reserved logan

a/n: Okay buckle up because this is a long author’s note but when do i not make an essay? I’m an origins girlie and will find any excuse to write about origins logan (it was the first fic i wrote) so here we are with another one. Idk if this makes sense—maybe it’s an AU where logan just works with team x but somehow doesn’t go through the weapon x program idk, okay. It started as a one shot of shy reader (the club scene) then ended up becoming the longest thing i have ever written for logan. I’ve been working on it for the past 2…maybe 3 weeks and yeah…finally posting it after editing it. I was gonna make it a sad, angsty ending but i can’t do it, i just can’t. Logan deserves happy endings. P.s. it’s from logan’s POV that’s why it’s she/her pronouns instead of you. I’m used to writing in third person (creative writing major here) but for fics i usually do second person but here i just wanted to do something different. So sue me.

apparently this is too long to post in one go so here's part one and here's part two

word count: 40k

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the endless stream of chatter pouring from Wade’s mouth. It was like trying to drown out the buzz of a fly that just wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Logan?” Wade’s voice cut through the humid night air like a blade.

“Wade, for the love of God, shut up,” Logan muttered, low and gruff. “I can’t hear anything if you keep flappin’ your damn jaw.”

Across the street, neon lights flickered on the facade of a rundown bar, casting fractured shadows over a row of grime-slicked windows above. The air smelled of stale beer and gasoline, tinged with a hint of rot. Logan took a deep breath, focusing, scanning for any sign of their target—the journalist who’d gotten too curious about things he had no business knowing.

Wade just rolled his eyes, unfazed by Logan’s irritation. “I was just trying to tell you…that’s our guy,” he said, nodding towards a short, nervous-looking man slipping into the front door of the apartment building above the bar. The man’s hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets, head down, moving quickly, like he wanted to be invisible.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Something about the guy didn’t feel right. But they didn’t have much else to go on, and he didn’t have the patience to argue with Wade right now.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He gestured for Wade to follow, and they crossed the street, dodging a couple of potholes filled with oily rainwater. The entryway smelled even worse up close like someone had left a pile of garbage to rot right inside the door.

Inside, the dim hallway was narrow and claustrophobic, with walls covered in peeling, faded wallpaper that might have once been green. Logan’s steps were silent, practiced—Wade’s, not so much. His boots thudded against the cracked linoleum as he craned his neck, looking around like a tourist on his first big-city adventure.

They found the apartment number and pushed their way in, catching the man off guard as he fumbled to pull a sandwich out of a paper bag. He dropped it with a startled yelp, hands flying up in surrender, eyes wide and terrified.

His voice came out in a high, trembling squeak. “L-look, I don’t want any trouble! I can give you money—I swear, I don’t have much, but—”

Wade cocked his head, raising a skeptical brow. “Money? Oh, sweetheart, we’re not here for money.” He let the word drip like honey, and the man flinched. Wade leaned in, studying the man like he was an insect pinned to a board. “You don’t know anything about Team X?”

The man’s face went pale, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. He shook his head frantically, words spilling out in a stammered mess. “N-no, I swear—I’m just an accountant, alright? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Team…what? I’ve never even heard of it.”

Logan stood back, watching the guy’s every twitch, every dart of his eyes. Fear had a way of squeezing the truth out of people, and this guy looked like he was about to come apart at the seams. Logan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring slightly. He caught Wade’s eye and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. The poor bastard was clean—just some pencil pusher in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Wade’s grin only widened a slow, wicked curve that made Logan’s stomach sink. He recognized that look: Wade had just had one of his bright ideas.

Wade clapped the accountant on the shoulder, making the man jump. “Well, congrats, pal. You’ve just saved yourself from a world of hurt. But I gotta ask—you like it here?” He gestured around the dingy apartment, where the wallpaper was peeling into long, damp strips and the faint odor of mildew hung in the air. “Nice digs. Bet the landlord’s a gem.”

The accountant blinked, looking from Wade to Logan in bewilderment as if he was just realizing they weren’t here to kill him. “Uh…I guess? I mean, it’s not the worst place I’ve lived.” 

“Perfect.” Wade snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up like a kid who’d just been handed a new toy.

Logan shot Wade a warning look. “Wade. Don’t even start.”

Wade ignored him, snapping his fingers again as if he’d just solved world hunger. “Think about it, Logan. We get a lease here. Set up a cozy little base. I’ll bring a lava lamp, we’ll order takeout, and we can scope out every last tenant till we find this guy. Like fishing, but in an apartment building.”

Logan scowled, crossing his arms. “You’re saying we go through the hassle of a rental application. Background checks. And wait.”

“Come on, think of it as blending in! Imagine us as friendly neighborhood roommates, huh?” Wade slapped him on the shoulder, a little too enthusiastically. “We can get to know the neighbors. Borrow a cup of sugar. You’ll look adorable in an apron.”

Logan let out a low growl, but he could see Wade wouldn’t let it go. They were running out of options, and if this journalist were smart, he’d be laying low. A bit of patience might be the only way to catch him off guard.

“Fine,” he muttered, the word tasting bitter. “But if you so much as mention lava lamps again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

Wade’s grin was all teeth. “Deal. Now let’s go talk to the landlord. You want to do the talking, or should I?” He turned back to the accountant, clapping him on the shoulder again. “Thanks for the inspiration, buddy. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ll just let ourselves out.”

The accountant sank onto his couch, looking dazed, still clutching his sandwich like it was a life preserver. Logan followed Wade to the door, shaking his head. Somehow, he knew this stakeout was going to be the longest assignment of his life.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“Well, Stryker isn’t happy,” Wade was saying, his voice an incessant buzz in the background. “But when is that dude ever happy? I feel bad for his wife—assuming she exists. Maybe he just clones himself a girlfriend every year. Could you imagine? ‘Sorry, honey, I’ll be home late tonight, gotta send a couple of mutants to—’”

Logan ignored Wade’s rambling as he surveyed their new “home.” Calling it a dump would’ve been generous. The wallpaper was peeling, a thick layer of grime coated the windows, and the faint smell of mildew seeped out from behind the walls. They were at least lucky enough to have separate rooms, but even with a door to shut Wade out, Logan doubted he’d get much peace.

“Did he give you any more information?” Logan finally cut in, hoping Wade might actually have something useful.

Wade blinked, as if surprised that Logan was listening. “About the journalist?”

Logan clenched his teeth. “No—of course about the fucking journalist. Like what the guy might look like, or any other detail that could help us find him?”

Wade shrugged, completely unfazed by Logan’s irritation. “Nope. Stryker was being vague again. Just the usual cryptic bullshit. I swear, the dude is losing it. First, he sends us out here to find some mystery man—”

Logan rolled his eyes, tuning Wade out. They’d been here for a week now, trawling through this run-down building and questioning almost every unlucky soul who happened to live here, and they were no closer to finding their target than when they’d started. Stryker hadn’t given them much to go on, which only made Logan suspect that there was more to this mission than he was letting on.

Finally, Logan couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and headed for the door. “I’ll be back,” he muttered over his shoulder, already halfway out.

Wade called after him. “Where are you going? Got a hot date?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with an answer. He took the stairs down two at a time, feeling a grim sense of relief as he stepped outside and let the cool night air hit him. The bar below their building wasn’t much better than the apartment—it was dim, grimy, and smelled faintly of stale beer and spilled whiskey. But at least it was quiet.

He pushed open the door and made his way inside, hoping he might get a few moments to himself, maybe even a drink strong enough to dull the ever-present headache that came with dealing with Wade.

The place was nearly empty, just a few regulars hunched over the bar and a lone woman sitting in a booth near the back. Logan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than he meant to. She looked…out of place. Pretty, in a way that seemed wasted on a hole like this. 

She was sitting alone in a corner booth, a book propped open in front of her. Her hair fell over her face as she read, strands catching in the dim light, and she seemed oblivious to the world around her. There was a quiet stillness about her, a kind of focused calm that didn’t quite fit in a bar like this. Logan found himself wondering what a woman like her was doing here, in a place that looked like it had seen one too many bar fights and smelled like it.

For a moment, he debated going over, then caught himself. Not here to make friends, he reminded himself. Still, his gaze kept drifting back to her, curiosity nagging at him. She didn’t look like the regulars in this place—she was younger, softer, with a certain self-contained reserve that drew him in despite himself.

Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was the exhaustion of the past week catching up to him, but before he knew it, he’d grabbed his glass and walked over to her booth.

She looked up, eyes widening slightly as he approached. Logan stopped just short of her table, suddenly aware of how rough he must look after days on the road, stubble shadowing his jaw, his clothes rumpled and worn. He cleared his throat.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was softer than he intended, and he cursed himself for feeling the slightest bit nervous.

She hesitated, then gave a small nod, closing her book. Up close, he could see the way her eyes flicked over him, assessing but cautious. She didn’t say anything—just looked at him, as if waiting for him to explain why he’d interrupted her quiet.

“You live upstairs?” he asked, nodding toward the ceiling. He thought he might’ve seen her in the hallway when he and Wade moved in, but he hadn’t paid much attention at the time.

“Down the hall,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the dull hum of the jukebox. “I saw you moving in yesterday. You and…your friend.”

Logan almost chuckled at that. Wade was a lot of things, but “friend” was stretching it. “Yeah, sorry about him. He’s…a handful.”

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, a glimmer of amusement that made him feel just a little less like a stranger in a strange place. “I noticed.”

He found himself studying her face—the slight curve of her smile, the way her fingers toyed with the edge of her book as if part of her mind was still half in whatever story she’d been reading. Something about her felt…steady. Centered. It was a quality he’d rarely seen in anyone.

“Logan,” he said, finally offering his name, though he didn’t expect her to care.

She nodded, meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than he’d expected. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Silence settled between them, not quite uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken questions. He could sense she wasn’t the type to pry, but there was a curiosity in her eyes like she was trying to figure him out, just as he was with her.

After a beat, she lifted her book slightly, an invitation for him to leave her in peace. But instead of moving, Logan found himself asking, “What’re you reading?”

She blinked, a bit surprised, then held up the cover for him to see—a worn paperback mystery novel. The kind where the hero always catches the killer but loses something in the process. 

He smirked. “Not exactly light reading for a place like this.”

She shrugged, a hint of a smile returning. “I like the quiet here…and usually nobody bothers me.”

“Well, guess I’m breaking that rule,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She didn’t seem bothered. She just looked at him with those steady, curious eyes, and for a moment, he forgot about the mission, about the dirty apartment upstairs, about Wade’s grating voice. Here, in this booth, in this shitty bar, with a quiet woman and a book, he felt…still.

The moment shattered when he heard Wade’s voice behind him, loud and smug. “Already making friends, huh? Didn't know you had it in you, Logan.”

Logan tensed, jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder. Wade was leaning against the bar with that insufferable smirk, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. Logan shot him a look that could have peeled paint.

“Mind your own business, Wade,” he growled, then turned back to her, keeping his voice softer. “Thanks for letting me sit.”

She nodded, her expression as calm and unreadable as before, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—amusement, maybe, or curiosity. It was hard to tell. She watched him as he stood, and he found himself hesitating, not quite ready to break whatever strange, quiet connection had settled between them.

Wade wasn’t about to let it linger. “Come on, Romeo,” he called, grinning as he gestured for Logan to follow. “We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Or did you forget in all the charming small talk?”

Logan clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to punch the smirk off Wade’s face. Instead, he gave her one last look—a silent apology or a promise to be less of a stranger next time. But her gaze remained steady, unreadable, as he turned to go.

As he walked past Wade, he grabbed him by the shoulder, steering him roughly toward the door. “Let’s go,” he muttered.

Wade snickered, clearly enjoying the opportunity to needle him. “Touchy, touchy. Guess you do have a heart under all that grumpiness.”

Logan ignored him, shoving Wade ahead and out the door, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was leaving something unfinished. Her image stayed in his mind—the way she’d watched him with those curious eyes, her quiet presence a balm in a week filled with noise and chaos. He didn’t know what it was about her that tugged at him, but he knew it wasn’t something he could explain, even to himself.

Once they were back on the street, Wade was still talking, filling the night air with his usual nonsensical commentary. Logan barely heard him. His mind was elsewhere, replaying that brief encounter in the dimly lit booth. He’d come down to the bar for a moment of peace, maybe a clue, maybe just a strong drink. He hadn’t expected to find…whatever that was.

But there was no time to dwell on it. They had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he let Wade screw it up.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan was screwed. Ever since that brief encounter in the bar, she’d been wedged in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t dig out. He’d catch himself lying on the worn-out couch in the apartment, tuning out Wade’s endless chatter and focusing instead on the faint sounds of her footsteps from down the hall.

She lived across the hall, exactly three doors down. He knew that much, even though he hadn’t seen her again since that night. She didn’t come or go often, and when she did, it was only for short trips—a few minutes out, then back to the quiet solitude of her apartment. 

Logan found himself straining his heightened senses to catch any trace of her: the click of her door, the soft pad of her feet against the hallway carpet, even the faint murmur of her voice when she spoke on the phone. It was insane. He didn’t know the first thing about her, but somehow she’d settled under his skin.

Fuck, he thought, running a hand over his face. I’m a damn stalker.

He tried to shake it off, forcing himself to focus on the mission, but the building felt too cramped, the walls too thin, and her presence was always just out of reach. Wade, of course, noticed Logan’s distraction and was more than happy to exploit it.

“So, when are you gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?” Wade quipped one morning, sprawled across the armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. “Or are you just gonna keep sulking around, hoping she magically falls into your lap?”

Logan shot him a glare. “She’s not my girlfriend, Wade.”

“Oh, sure,” Wade drawled, smirking. “That’s why you’ve been lying here for the last three hours, sniffing the air like a bloodhound every time she walks past. I swear, you’re worse than a teenager.”

Logan clenched his fists, jaw tight. He’d deny it if he could, but Wade had a point, and it grated on him. He needed an excuse—a real reason to cross paths with her again, something that wouldn’t make him look like a complete creep.

Wade, apparently sensing an opportunity to meddle, sat up with a grin. “Tell you what, old man. How about you make yourself useful and take our laundry down to the laundromat? You look like you could use a walk, maybe clear your head a bit.” He tossed a balled-up shirt at Logan’s face.

Logan caught it, growling. “Since when do you do laundry?”

“Since never. But I’m feeling generous,” Wade said, smirking as he dropped a bundle of clothes into a bag and shoved it at Logan. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll run into someone interesting while you’re there. Just a thought.”

Logan snatched the bag, too annoyed to argue, and stalked out of the apartment. The morning was cool, the sky overcast, and the streets were quiet as he made his way down to the laundromat which was across the street from the apartment.

He told himself he was only doing it to get Wade off his back—but he couldn’t deny the faint flicker of anticipation at the thought of seeing her again.

The laundromat was nearly empty when he pushed open the door, the dull hum of washing machines filling the air. And there she was, sitting on a cracked plastic chair near the back, a book open on her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in her reading, a strand of hair falling over her face as she turned a page.

Logan froze, his grip tightening around the bag of clothes. Get it together, he told himself, forcing his feet to move as he made his way to an empty machine a few steps away from her. He tossed the clothes in, doing his best to look casual, though he could feel his heart thumping harder than it should.

After a moment, he glanced her way, watching the way her eyes skimmed the words on the page, her lips moving slightly as if she were tasting each sentence. She looked…content. Lost in her own world, soft and quiet in a way that felt like the exact opposite of everything in his life right now.

He cleared his throat, searching for something to say, anything that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete idiot. “Good book?” he managed, his voice gruff, and immediately regretted it. Smooth, Logan. Real smooth.

She looked up, surprised, her gaze locking onto his. For a second, he thought she might brush him off, but then she gave a small, shy smile.

“Yeah, it’s… a mystery novel,” she said, holding up the cover. Her voice was soft, and he caught a faint trace of lavender like she’d been folding fresh laundry just before he came in. “I like to read while I’m waiting. It makes the time go faster.”

Logan nodded, his usual stoic expression softening just a little. “Seems like a good way to pass the time. This place could use the distraction.” He glanced around at the flickering fluorescent lights, the chipped tiles, the machines rattling like they were on their last legs. “Not exactly a scenic spot.”

She laughed, a quiet sound, but it lit up her face in a way that caught him off guard. “No, it’s not. But it’s peaceful, in its own way.”

They fell into a silence as she went back to her book, and Logan found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye as he sorted through the clothes, feeding them into the machine one by one. There was a calmness about her, a quiet strength, and he couldn’t help but wonder what her story was—why someone like her had chosen to live in a place like this, so close to the kind of trouble people usually ran from.

After a few minutes of silence, Logan cleared his throat, searching for something to say. “You… uh, you live alone?”

She looked up, her eyes narrowing just a fraction, a hint of suspicion flickering there. He could almost see her calculating whether or not to answer. “Do you really think I’d tell you that?” she asked, her tone mild but pointed.

Logan’s heart skipped. Shit. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot. “I didn’t—I’m not some creepy guy, I swear,” he said quickly, stumbling over his words in a way he wasn’t used to. “Just… making conversation.”

She arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “And you expect me to take your word for it?”

He felt heat rise to his face and shifted uncomfortably, aware of how ridiculous he must sound. This wasn’t him—Logan didn’t do small talk, especially not with someone he barely knew. But something about her had him feeling giddy, bumbling his way through a conversation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “Look, I’m sorry. You have a point. It’s just… this neighborhood doesn’t exactly feel safe. I guess that’s why I asked.”

She sighed softly, closing her book and running her fingers along its worn spine. “Even more of a reason not to answer your questions, don’t you think?” Her tone was cool and cautious, but there was no malice there—just a quiet wariness that made him wonder what she’d been through to put up those walls.

Logan nodded, feeling a twinge of respect for her caution, even if it stung a little to be on the receiving end of it. She’s smart, he thought. Smart enough not to trust a stranger with more muscles than manners, asking personal questions in a laundromat.

An awkward silence settled between them, filled with the rhythmic hum of the machines. He glanced down at his laundry, watching the clothes tumble through the soapy water, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound stupid or intrusive. Finally, he let out a long breath.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly smooth,” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “I just… don’t see many people like you around here.”

She tilted her head, curiosity softening her guarded expression. “People like me?”

“Yeah. People who—” He struggled to find the right words. “Who seem like they don’t belong in a place like this.” He gave her a slight, self-conscious shrug. “You look… well, like you’ve got better places to be than a crappy laundromat in a bad part of town. That’s all.”

She studied him for a moment, the corner of her mouth lifting in what almost looked like amusement. “And you think you belong here?”

He let out a dry laugh, surprised by the question. “Probably more than most. It’s not exactly my first time in a place like this.”

“Figures,” she murmured, her gaze sweeping over him, taking in the worn leather jacket, the stubble, the roughness that clung to him like a second skin. “You look… I don’t know. Like you’re used to keeping people at a distance.”

Logan blinked, caught off guard by the accuracy of her observation. He shifted under her gaze, feeling exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. “Yeah, well,” he said, gruffly, “sometimes distance is a good thing. Keeps people safe.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening just a little. “Maybe. But it also keeps people alone.”

Her words hit him harder than he’d expected, settling into some quiet place inside him he’d thought was long gone. He didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze on him like a challenge.

After a beat, she gathered her laundry, folding it with careful practiced movements, her hands steady and precise. He watched her, mesmerized by the quiet grace in each gesture, the way she seemed to carry her world with her, self-contained and resilient.

As she turned to leave, she glanced back at him, something unreadable in her eyes. “Take care, Logan,” she said, her voice softer now. It wasn’t a question—it was a goodbye, or maybe a warning.

He swallowed, surprised that she’d remembered his name. “Yeah… you too.”

She lingered for a second, then gave him a small nod and walked out, leaving the faint scent of lavender and the echo of her words hanging in the air.

Logan watched her go, feeling the ache of something unfinished settle in his chest. He’d wanted to ask her more, to find out what kept her here, what kept her so guarded. But he knew better than to push.

As he turned back to the hum of the washing machines, he realized he’d be counting down the days until he saw her again.

▬▬ι═��═════ﺤ

“Stryker’s pissed,” Wade muttered, slumping against the kitchen counter in their dingy apartment. The usual smirk was missing from his face, replaced by a look of weary frustration. “Doesn’t understand how, after two weeks, we haven’t found the guy.”

Logan leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. The truth was, he’d practically given up on the mission. They’d followed every lead, shaken down every contact, and come up with nothing. At this point, the search felt pointless. Hell, he could barely keep his head in the game—his mind kept drifting back to her. He hadn’t seen her in days, not since that run-in at the laundromat, and the silence from across the hall gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Tell him this shit takes time. We’ve done everything we can,” he said, the words coming out hollow. He didn’t have the energy to pretend anymore, not even for Wade.

Wade sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I already did. But, y’know, Stryker’s not exactly big on patience. Guy thinks we’re machines or something.” He shot Logan a sidelong glance, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You all right, man?”

Logan grunted, brushing him off. “I need a drink,” he muttered, grabbing his worn leather jacket from the back of the sofa and heading for the door. He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for Wade’s response. The apartment felt too cramped, too stale, and he needed air—needed a chance, maybe, to see her.

He made his way down the narrow stairwell, taking two steps at a time, the dim light casting shadows over the worn wallpaper. The bar was quieter than usual, only a handful of regulars hunched over their drinks, lost in their thoughts. Logan scanned the room, his heart pounding harder than he cared to admit. He’d been hoping, half-expecting, to see her. But she kept to herself so much that even catching a glimpse felt like chasing smoke.

Then he saw her, and his breath caught. There she was, standing behind the bar, her sleeves rolled up, pouring a whiskey into a lowball glass with practiced precision. The faint glow of the bar lights softened her face, giving her an almost ethereal look in the dimness. She didn’t notice him at first, focused on her work, and he took a second just to watch her, feeling that strange pull tighten in his chest.

He slid onto a stool at the bar, waiting until she looked up and caught sight of him. Her eyes flickered with recognition, a brief, surprised spark that quickly settled into something more guarded.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

She gave a small, almost shy smile, setting the glass she’d just poured in front of an older man at the end of the bar. “Just part-time,” she replied. “Pays the bills.”

Logan nodded, glancing at the bottles lined up behind her. “Don’t suppose you’d join me for a drink?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, though there was something distant in her eyes. “I don’t drink,” she said, wiping down the counter with a cloth. “But I can pour you something strong if that’s what you need.”

He shrugged, trying to act casual. “Maybe I just wanted company.”

She paused, her hand stilling for a moment as she looked at him. “Rough day?”

Logan let out a humorless chuckle. “You could say that.” He hesitated, then added, “Work’s… complicated.”

She tilted her head, watching him with that quiet, steady gaze that always seemed to see right through him. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who likes talking about his job.”

“Not much to talk about,” he muttered, though he could feel the weight of it pressing on him, heavier than he wanted to admit. He took a deep breath, fingers tapping restlessly on the bar. “Let’s just say I’ve been chasing something that doesn’t want to be found.”

She nodded, her expression hardening just a bit. “Sometimes it’s better to let things go. Not everything needs to be caught.” Her words were gentle, but they struck something deep inside him, making him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

He ran a hand over his face, weary. “Yeah, maybe. Just… hard to walk away when you’ve got orders breathing down your neck.”

She arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement breaking through her usual reserve. “So you’re the type who follows orders, huh?”

Logan smirked, shaking his head. “Not exactly. But sometimes you don’t get a choice.” He picked up his glass, taking a slow sip of the whiskey she’d poured, savoring the burn as it went down. “What about you? Seems like you don’t mind keeping to yourself.”

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m used to it. Less complicated that way.”

There was a pause, and he could sense something unspoken there, a hint of a story she wasn’t quite ready to tell. He felt an unexpected urge to ask, to push just a little, but he held back, afraid of scaring her off.

Instead, he said, “This place doesn’t exactly feel like… I don’t know. The kind of spot for someone who likes peace and quiet.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm and unexpected. “Probably not. But I don’t mind it here. It’s… predictable.” She looked down, fiddling with the edge of her towel, a small frown creasing her forehead. “I’ve had enough surprises for one lifetime.”

Logan watched her, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t name—sympathy, maybe, or just the strange, unexplainable need to understand her. “Yeah. I get that,” he murmured, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “I’m not much of a fan of surprises either.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her expression softening. “Funny. Somehow, I think you’ve had your fair share.”

“More than I’d like,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to tell her more, to somehow convey the weight he carried without unloading it all on her shoulders. But he was used to keeping that part of himself locked away. So instead, he just took another drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey like a familiar ache.

After a moment, she leaned on the bar, closer than she’d been before, and he caught a faint whiff of lavender—a soft, almost comforting scent that didn’t belong in a place like this. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “you don’t seem like the kind of guy who belongs here.”

He looked up, caught off guard by her words. There was something raw in her gaze, something vulnerable she was letting him see, if only for a second. At that moment, he felt the urge to reach out, to say something real, something that might close the gap between them.

But the words stuck in his throat. All he could manage was a rough, “Yeah. Maybe neither of us do.”

She smiled faintly, a ghost of one, then straightened, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. “I should get back to work,” she said, her voice soft but distant again.

Logan nodded, watching as she moved down the bar to help another customer. The warmth she’d shown him vanished as she fell back into the rhythm of her job, her expression becoming neutral, polite, reserved.

He sat there for a while, nursing his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye. There was a part of him that wanted to wait until her shift ended, to walk her home, to find out more about the life she kept hidden behind that quiet, steady demeanor. But he knew better. They were both loners, both wary, both used to walls that kept the world at a distance.

Still, as he finally rose to leave, he couldn’t help but glance back one last time, catching her eye for a fleeting moment. There was something there—something unspoken, a silent understanding like they were both seeing the loneliness in each other.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

A door slammed somewhere down the hall, jolting Logan awake. He shot up, his senses immediately on high alert, ears ringing from the sudden noise. In this dump of an apartment building, chaos was as predictable as the peeling paint on the walls, but something about this was different. He felt it low in his gut—a tug of instinct that told him her door was the one that had slammed.

He didn’t even think twice. Rolling out of bed, he barely bothered to throw on a shirt, his sweatpants clinging to his legs as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick and stale, the smell of old carpet mingling with the faint, sour odor of cigarette smoke. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the weak fluorescent light flickered above, casting an eerie, washed-out glow over everything.

Logan froze when he spotted a lanky, rough-looking guy standing outside her door, his posture tense, fists clenched and white as he pounded on the wood.

“C’mon, let me in!” the guy snarled, his voice slurred and aggressive. “We’re not done talking!”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a surge of anger rising in his chest. He watched for a second, sizing the guy up—a wiry frame, greasy hair, clothes rumpled like he hadn’t changed in days. The man looked like trouble, the kind of guy who didn’t know when to take no for an answer. And if he was here banging on her door at this hour, that made him Logan’s problem.

Logan’s voice came out low and cold as he approached. “You wanna keep it down?”

The guy spun around, his eyes narrowing as he took in Logan’s broad shoulders, the scowl etched deep on his face. “Who the hell are you?” he sneered, but there was a flicker of hesitation, a hint of unease that Logan caught right away.

Logan took another step forward, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “I’m the guy who lives down the hall,” he said, his tone deadly calm. “And you’re about two seconds away from regretting that door you’re banging on.”

The guy’s sneer wavered, but he tried to puff himself up, stepping forward like he was going to make something of it. “This doesn’t concern you, man. I’m just trying to talk to my girl.”

“Doesn’t look like she wants to talk,” Logan replied, glancing at the door. His fists clenched instinctively. The thought of this guy forcing his way in, disturbing her, made his blood boil. “So maybe you should take the hint and get lost.”

The guy scoffed, but there was a nervous edge creeping into his voice now. “Look, we’re just… we’re going through some stuff. It’s none of your business.”

Logan took one more step, close enough that he could see the guy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Last warning. Leave. Or I make you leave.”

Before the guy could respond, the door opened a crack, and she appeared, her face pale and tense, eyes darting between Logan and this guy. “Logan, don’t. Please,” she said, her voice softer than usual but carrying a weight that made him pause. “It’s… it’s fine. I can handle it.”

Logan glanced at her, his irritation tempered by a flash of confusion. Handle it? The guy was practically foaming at the mouth, and she was telling him to back off.

The guy shot her a pleading look. “Come on, babe, just give me five minutes. We can talk this out.”

Her shoulders stiffened, and Logan could see the resolve in her eyes as she shook her head. “I already told you, we’re done. There’s nothing left to talk about. Just go.”

The guy didn’t budge, his face twisting with frustration. “You’re being unreasonable. This is all because of that stupid job, isn’t it? You think you’re too good for me now, huh?”

Logan felt his patience snap. He took a step forward, his voice a low growl. “She said go. Don’t make me tell you again.”

The guy’s eyes flicked back to Logan, the last traces of defiance draining out of him. For a second, he seemed to weigh his options, then cursed under his breath and turned, stalking down the hallway. He cast one last resentful glare over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Logan turned back to her. She was leaning against the doorframe, her face tight with frustration. He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, but she cut him off with a weary sigh.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she muttered, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

Logan frowned. “Seemed like he wasn’t getting the message,” he replied, keeping his voice gentler than usual. “Didn’t look like he was gonna leave you alone.”

She crossed her arms, hugging herself as if trying to put some barrier between them. “I just… I didn’t want to make things worse. He’s already been hanging around too much as it is, and now—” She trailed off, looking away, clearly uncomfortable.

Logan’s brows furrowed. He’d come out here ready to throw the guy down the stairs if it came to that, but now he was starting to see the other side of it. “Is he…?” Logan paused, not sure how to phrase it. “Your boyfriend?”

She shook her head quickly. “No–I mean he was, sort of. Not anymore.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “He’s just… he doesn’t know when to let go.”

Logan felt a flash of anger on her behalf, a protective instinct flaring up inside him. “If he gives you any more trouble, you let me know. I’ll make sure he stays gone.”

Instead of relief, his words seemed to frustrate her. She let out a soft huff, rubbing her temples. “Logan, I don’t need a knight in shining armor. This is… complicated. He’s just going through something. It doesn’t matter—” Her voice trailed off leaving the silence to hang between them.

Logan clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a step back. He wasn’t used to being told to stand down, especially when he felt someone needed his help. But he could see this only made her more anxious, that his interference was complicating things for her in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

“Fine,” he said, though it took effort to keep his voice steady. “But if he shows up again, I’m not gonna just sit by and watch him bother you.”

She looked at him, her expression softening for a moment. There was a flicker of gratitude in her eyes, tempered by weariness. “Thanks, Logan. I appreciate it. Really, but it won’t make things easier. He’ll just think—I just don’t want any more problems, okay?” 

He nodded, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. He’d wanted to protect her, to do something useful, but it seemed all he’d managed was to add to her stress. “Got it,” he said quietly.

She gave him a small, tentative smile, then turned back to her apartment. As she shut the door, he caught one last glimpse of her expression—tired, guarded, but grateful, like she was carrying the weight of more than just a bad ex.

Logan stood there for a long moment, staring at her closed door, hands clenched at his sides. He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d started to care until he’d felt that surge of anger seeing someone else give her trouble. But now he could feel her boundaries, a line she’d drawn that he hadn’t meant to cross.

Turning back to his apartment, he couldn’t shake the frustration coiled tight in his chest, or the quiet ache that came with knowing there were parts of her life he couldn’t protect her from.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

“You and that girl—have you made any progress?” Wade asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a lazy sip of his beer. They were sitting in their usual corner of the bar, ostensibly keeping an eye out for any sign of their elusive target. But Wade’s attention, as usual, had drifted to more entertaining topics.

Logan huffed, eyes scanning the room. “What did I tell you, Wade? I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Sensitive subject, big guy?” Wade’s grin only widened, clearly enjoying himself. “C’mon, I’m just saying—you’ve been pining after her like a lovesick puppy for weeks now. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Logan shot him a glare that could’ve cut steel, but Wade just shrugged, unbothered. “Look, I’ve got a way with the ladies. Maybe I can help you out.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Wade wasn’t listening. His eyes lit up as the door opened, and she walked in, pulling on her apron as she headed behind the bar. Logan tried not to stare, but he felt that familiar pull in his chest, his gaze drawn to her almost against his will. She looked tired, a little more reserved than usual, like something heavy was weighing on her mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if her ex had been causing her trouble again. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to ask, to do something to make it better.

That’s when Wade got up.

Logan’s stomach tightened as Wade strolled across the bar, his usual cocky swagger on full display. He watched, jaw clenched, as Wade leaned on the bar, flashing her one of his trademark grins. She looked up, startled at first, and Logan saw her eyes flick briefly toward him before settling back on Wade. Her expression softened into a polite, practiced smile, the kind she gave every customer. But Wade wasn’t satisfied with politeness.

He couldn’t hear exactly what Wade was saying due to his jealousy overtaking his senses, but he saw her give a small, hesitant laugh, the kind that looked like she was just being polite. That didn’t matter—Wade was relentless, leaning in closer, gesturing animatedly, probably telling some ridiculous story. After a few moments, Logan saw her laugh again, this time a little more genuine, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

Logan’s fingers tightened around his glass, the jealousy hitting him like a punch to the gut. He tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself it was nothing—just Wade being Wade. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them, his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Wade, sensing the effect he was having, shot a glance back at Logan, a smug grin flashing across his face before he turned back to her. Logan’s chest tightened. That bastard. He’d walked over there just to rile him up, and damn it, it was working.

Wade said something else, something that made her laugh again—this time a little louder, though Logan could tell it was still half-hearted, a courtesy laugh to appease the charming stranger who’d decided to bother her during her shift. She wasn’t truly engaged, but the sight of her laughing, even out of politeness, stirred something dark and possessive in Logan’s gut.

He forced himself to look away, taking a long drink to steady himself, but the sound of her laugh lingered, scratching at him. Wade was still leaning on the bar, still talking to her, probably laying it on thick just to make Logan squirm. Logan couldn’t help the flash of irritation that surged through him. It wasn’t like he’d made a claim on her or anything—but seeing Wade so close, making her laugh, it grated on him in a way he hadn’t expected.

After a few agonizing minutes, Wade finally sauntered back over, plopping down across from Logan with a satisfied smirk. Logan’s jaw was still clenched, his gaze flickering over to where she was now wiping down the bar, her expression already back to that familiar, guarded neutrality.

Wade raised an eyebrow, leaning in with a grin. “You see that? Had her laughing in no time. It’s called charm, my friend. You should try it sometime.”

Logan glared at him, his voice low and dangerous. “Cut the crap, Wade.”

“Oh, come on,” Wade chuckled, leaning back with a look of pure amusement. “Don’t be so uptight. If you’re not gonna make a move, someone else will.”

Logan’s fists tightened, and he forced himself to take a slow, steadying breath. “This isn’t a game, Wade.”

Wade shrugged, unbothered. “Never said it was. Just seems like you’re too busy brooding over her from a distance to actually, y’know, do anything.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “You afraid she’ll turn you down? Big, tough Logan afraid of a pretty girl?”

Logan’s nostrils flared, a quiet anger simmering in his chest, but he held back. He wasn’t going to give Wade the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he let his gaze drift back to her, watching as she moved behind the bar, her face calm but distant, like she was deliberately shutting herself off from everything around her.

The truth was, Wade wasn’t entirely wrong. Logan had been keeping his distance, unsure how to approach her, especially with everything going on in her life. He didn’t want to be another complication, another person who made things harder for her. But watching Wade talk to her, seeing that faint, forced smile on her face—it made him realize just how badly he wanted to be the one making her smile, not out of politeness or obligation, but because she actually wanted him there.

Wade leaned in, still smirking. “So? What’s the plan, big guy? You gonna sit here and sulk, or you gonna actually talk to her?”

Logan’s gaze snapped back to him, irritation flaring. “Unlike you, I don’t go around sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Hey, I was just being friendly,” Wade said, raising his hands in mock innocence. “You know, she’s pretty nice once you get her to open up a little. Thought I’d do you a favor, warm her up for you.”

Logan scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. “She’s not some conquest, Wade.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Relax, old man. I’m not trying to steal her. Just trying to get you to wake up and do something about it before she slips away.” He glanced back toward the bar, where she was now stacking glasses, oblivious to their conversation. “You think she’s gonna wait around forever? Women like that don’t stay single long.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his heart pounding with a mixture of frustration and jealousy he couldn’t shake. He took another sip of his drink, forcing himself to keep his gaze on anything else instead of glancing her way again. The truth was, Wade’s words struck too close to home. He’d been holding back, convincing himself that he had time, that he didn’t need to rush things. But seeing her with someone else—even Wade—made him realize how thin that excuse really was.

After a moment, Logan set his glass down, his eyes cold and hard. “You don’t know the first thing about her, Wade.”

Wade shrugged, unfazed. “Maybe not. But neither do you, at this rate.” He flashed another grin, leaning back in his seat. “Look, you’re not gonna scare me off with your brooding, so maybe just… I don’t know, think about it. You might find that going over there and actually talking to her works better than glaring at me.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his gaze drifted back to her, watching as she moved with quiet efficiency, her expression carefully blank. He could still hear her forced laugh echoing in his head, the way she’d seemed to tolerate Wade’s attention rather than welcome it.

With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. If Wade wasn’t going to back off, maybe it was time to take matters into his own hands.

He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t sit around and let someone else fill the space he’d been too afraid to claim.

Logan slid onto the bar stool in front of her, his presence a solid weight she couldn’t ignore, even though she kept her eyes down, focused on wiping an already-clean spot on the counter. She looked up briefly, her gaze flicking to him before darting away, a faint, polite smile barely gracing her lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“Hi.” She answered quietly, her eyes settling somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but on him. Her hands kept busy, her movements almost mechanical as she straightened the bottles on the bar and rearranged the napkins as if his presence alone made her feel she had to be doing something.

Logan felt a pang of something uncomfortably close to regret. He wasn’t used to this—a woman shrinking away from him, putting up walls before he’d even had a chance to say his piece. The memory of her ex banging on her door flashed through his mind, and he shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, about the other night,” he began, voice rougher than he intended. “I… I didn’t mean to, y’know, step in like that. I just thought—well, it seemed like you needed help.”

She finally looked at him, her gaze sharp and guarded, like she was measuring each word before letting it reach her. “It’s fine,” she said flatly, her tone clipped. “I can handle my own problems.”

Logan swallowed, feeling the rejection like a slap. He knew she was brushing him off, trying to make him back down, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to let it go. “Didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t,” he muttered, his voice softer. “Just… didn’t want to see you put in a bad spot.”

She let out a small, humorless laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she busied herself with the glasses on the bar. “Bad spots are part of the package around here, Logan. You don’t need to make it your business.”

He leaned forward slightly, brow furrowing. “Maybe I just don’t like seeing you get hurt.” The words came out more intense than he’d intended, and he saw her stiffen, her hands pausing mid-reach. She looked up, really looked at him, a flash of something unreadable in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or irritation. It was hard to tell.

She took a breath, visibly collecting herself. “Logan… I appreciate the concern, really. But I’m fine.” Her voice was steady but distant like she was pulling herself back behind a wall he couldn’t get through. “This kind of thing… it’s not new to me.”

That didn’t sit right with him, the idea of her having to handle men like her ex, people who didn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to ask her more, to understand what kind of trouble she’d been through, but he knew that line was dangerous. Respect her space, he reminded himself, even as the urge to push gnawed at him.

But he couldn’t help himself. “You don’t… you don’t have anyone else to look out for you?”

Her gaze flicked to him, sharper now, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just…” He faltered, feeling himself starting to drown in the weight of his awkwardness. “You don’t seem to have anyone around. Family, friends. Someone who could back you up if things got rough.”

She stared at him for a long, tense moment, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a slow, controlled exhale, setting down the glass she’d been wiping with careful deliberation. “Logan, you don’t know me. And frankly, I don’t know you. You and your friend…” She paused, glancing over at Wade, who was lounging at the other end of the bar, eyeing them with an amused grin. “You both keep… hovering. And it’s starting to feel a little strange.”

Logan’s jaw tightened and a wave of frustration and embarrassment crashed over him. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, a bit too defensively. “We’re just… we’re just looking out for you. This place isn’t exactly safe.”

She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. “And you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t understand the risks of living here?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, his words failing him. He realized he’d overstepped, pushed too far without thinking. She didn’t need a protector, at least not one who bulldozed into her life without an invitation. And yet, here he was, sitting at her bar, trying to fix things he barely understood.

“I’m just saying…” He trailed off, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “I see you here, night after night, putting up with jerks who don’t know when to quit. You’re not like them. You deserve better.”

Her expression softened, but only slightly, and she glanced away, a distant look in her eyes. “Better,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Right.” She looked back at him, meeting his gaze with something close to resignation. “I don’t need saving, Logan. I’ve been doing just fine without it.”

He swallowed, hating how small those words made him feel. He’d faced down enemies, been through battles that left him scarred in ways she couldn’t imagine, but sitting here under her gaze, he felt exposed, clumsy, like he was fumbling in the dark.

She sighed, glancing down, and for a moment, he saw a hint of vulnerability in her expression—a crack in her armor. “Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Why are you and your friend even bothering with me? I’m just… some bartender.”

Logan hesitated, feeling Wade’s eyes on him from across the room, knowing he was probably getting a kick out of watching him squirm. But this was more than just Wade’s meddling. This was him, unable to walk away, pulled back to her time and time again for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he said finally, his voice low, but steady. “You’re… different. Strong. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I know I’m not good with words, but… I see you here, and I just keep thinking you deserve more than this.”

She looked at him, her guarded expression softening, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something crack beneath the surface—a glimmer of vulnerability, something raw and unguarded. But then, just as quickly, she pulled back, straightening, her walls going up again.

“Oh, so I’m a charity case now?” she murmured, her voice tight and distant, the hint of anger simmering beneath her words. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight as she looked him over, her gaze cold and appraising. “Look, I told you—I don’t need anyone looking out for me, especially not some guy who doesn’t know when he’s made someone uncomfortable.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, each one sinking in deep. Logan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He felt his face go hot, a mix of shame and frustration twisting inside him. He wanted to explain himself, to tell her he hadn’t meant it that way—but the look on her face told him that anything he said now would only make things worse.

“I—” he started, then stopped, swallowing hard. She kept her eyes on him, unblinking, her expression hard as steel. He could see it now—the line he’d crossed, the space he’d invaded without thinking. He’d thought he was helping, protecting her, but all he’d done was make her feel trapped.

She took a breath, exhaling slowly as she glanced away, her jaw clenched. “You don’t get it, do you?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Guys like you think you’re doing me a favor, stepping in, trying to… ‘protect’ me. But all you’re doing is making me feel like I can’t handle my own life. Like I’m weak. And I’m not.”

Logan clenched his fists under the bar, forcing himself to stay quiet, to listen. He’d been on the other side of this before—people assuming things about him, trying to fix things they didn’t understand. Now, for the first time, he realized he was doing the same thing to her. He looked down, shame tightening in his chest.

She shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “You barely know me, Logan. You have no idea what I’ve been through. And I’m not interested in becoming some project for you to fix or some one-night stand.”

Her words stung, cutting through the last shreds of his defensiveness. He’d been telling himself he was looking out for her, that she needed someone to stand up for her. But now he could see how it must have looked to her—some guy she barely knew, showing up again and again, prying into her life, acting like he knew better.

He cleared his throat, voice rough. “You’re right,” he said quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “I… I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

She watched him, her eyes softened just a fraction, though the wariness remained. He could feel the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him, making him feel clumsy and exposed.

“Look,” she said, her tone gentler but still guarded, “I appreciate whatever it is you’re trying to do. Really. But you don’t get to decide what I need. That’s my choice. And if I want help, I’ll ask for it.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a strange mix of relief and regret. He could sense the walls she’d put up, and he knew now that he was part of the reason they were there.

He stood up, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a cold ache. “Right. Sorry if we made things weird,” he muttered, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Didn’t mean to… overstep.”

For the first time, she seemed to soften, her gaze losing some of its hardness. She let out a long breath, looking down at the bar as if collecting her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was almost kind, but there was an edge to it, a reminder.

“Just… maybe think twice before you go around trying to be someone’s hero,” she said, her lips curving into a faint, sad smile.

Logan felt the weight of her words settle over him, heavier than anything he’d carried in a long time. He nodded, swallowing back the urge to say more. For once, he knew he needed to let her have the last word.

She turned away, her attention shifting to a group of customers at the other end of the bar. She moved with quiet efficiency, her shoulders tense but steady, shutting him out completely.

Logan stood there for a moment, feeling the full sting of her rejection, the ache of realizing he’d overstepped in ways he couldn’t take back. She didn’t look at him again, didn’t acknowledge his presence, and he knew he’d lost whatever fragile connection they’d had.

“Smooth, as always,” Wade drawled, leaning back with an infuriating grin.

Logan ignored him, his jaw clenched tight as he sat down. He’d thought he was protecting her but all he’d done was drive her further away. 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The past few days, Logan had kept a low profile, barely leaving the apartment except to grab food or take out the trash. He didn’t want to risk running into her—not after the way she’d shut him down, her words echoing in his mind like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. She’d made it perfectly clear that she didn’t need his help, and he’d gotten the message. Loud and clear.

But tonight, Wade had barged in with new intel from Stryker. Apparently, their elusive journalist was on the move, spotted hanging around one of the local clubs. Logan hadn’t been in the mood to play dress-up and join the nightlife, but he didn’t have much choice. Stryker was breathing down their necks, and if this was their best shot at tracking the guy down, he couldn’t let it slip by.

So he’d reluctantly thrown on a clean shirt and made the walk a few blocks down to the club, Wade at his side, chattering nonstop as they reached the entrance.

“It’s a bit nicer than the bar we live above,” Wade noted, casting a glance around the neon-lit exterior with approval. A line of people waited outside, all glittering dresses and sharp suits, laughter, and perfume filling the warm night air. Wade smirked, nudging Logan with his elbow. “Maybe if you’re lucky, you can find another pretty girl to make up for your last crash-and-burn.”

Logan rolled his eyes, ignoring Wade’s jab. “We’re here to find the journalist. Stay focused,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way inside. The club was dimly lit, pulsing with low red and blue lights that throbbed to the beat of the music. Bodies moved on the dance floor, a tangle of arms and laughter and heat, and Logan felt a familiar irritation simmering under his skin. Clubs weren’t his scene. Too loud, too crowded, too many damn people.

He forced himself to concentrate, sniffing the air, trying to pick up any hint of their target’s scent. But the mix of sweat, cologne, and spilled alcohol made it nearly impossible to pick up anything distinctive. He scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing as he tried to catch sight of anyone who looked remotely like the guy they were hunting.

But then he saw her.

At first, he thought he was imagining it—a trick of the lights, or just his mind playing cruel games. But no. It was her, standing near the edge of the dance floor, laughing at something some woman was saying. She looked… different. Completely different from the guarded, quiet bartender he’d met. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a glossy, tempting shade that caught the light every time she smiled. She wore a dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, showing off a side of her he’d never seen before, a side he hadn’t even known existed.

Logan’s mouth went dry, and for a moment, he forgot why he was even there. All he could think about was her—the way she moved, the easy smile on her face, the way her laughter seemed to cut through the noise of the club like it was meant for him alone. He’d been trying to avoid her, trying to keep his distance, but seeing her like this, carefree and vibrant… pulled him in, like a magnet he couldn’t resist.

Wade must have noticed his distraction, because he gave Logan a light smack on the shoulder, pulling him out of his trance. “Logan, buddy, don’t tell me you’re still stuck on her,” Wade said, his tone half-amused, half-annoyed. “I swear, I’ve never seen you this pathetic over anyone. Rejection’s hitting you hard, huh?”

Logan shook his head, forcing himself to tear his gaze away, though his eyes kept drifting back to her. “It’s not like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to Wade. “We’re here for the journalist. Just… keep your eyes open.”

Wade wasn’t buying it. He crossed his arms, smirking. “Oh, I’m keeping my eyes open, all right. You, on the other hand…” He whistled, nodding in her direction. “You’re about one second away from abandoning the mission to go talk to her. I mean, come on. If you’re that obsessed, just go over there already.”

Logan clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to punch Wade then and there. But a part of him hated that Wade was right. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since their last conversation, and now, seeing her like this, he was barely holding himself back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he started making his way across the crowded floor, ignoring Wade’s low chuckle behind him. As he approached, she turned slightly, her gaze sweeping over the crowd until it landed on him. Her smile faltered, surprise flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it, her face shifting into something more guarded.

“Logan,” she said, her tone cautious, almost as if she were bracing herself. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling out of place, unsure what to say. “Yeah. Didn’t expect to see you either,” he replied, his voice gruffer than he intended. “You… uh, you look different.” He instantly regretted it, realizing how awkward it sounded.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Different?”

“Good different,” he amended quickly, his cheeks warming. Real smooth, Logan, he thought, mentally kicking himself. 

She glanced away, a faint frown tugging at her lips.“Thanks I guess,” she said, then gestured to her friend, who was watching the exchange with barely concealed interest. “I’m just here with my friend, Monica. She thought it was a good idea for girls’ night and dragged me out.” He could see a flash of uncomfortableness before she masked it.

Logan nodded, his mind racing, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a fool. But before he could gather his thoughts, her friend nudged her playfully, smirking at Logan.

“So, this is the guy you told me about?” Monica asked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

She shot Monica a warning look, her cheeks flushing. “I… I didn’t tell you that much,” she muttered, casting a quick, embarrassed glance at Logan.

A flicker of hope stirred in his chest. She talked about me? He tried not to let it show, but the thought sent a spark through him, making him stand a little straighter.

Monica gave her a knowing smile, then leaned closer to Logan, lowering her voice. “Just so you know, she’s been playing hard to get for a reason. But maybe she’s finally ready to let someone in.”

Logan looked at her, the guarded woman he’d met behind the bar now looking distinctly uncomfortable, her cheeks flushed a warm pink. She looked away, biting her lip, and he realized she was just as thrown off-balance as he was.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the thrum of the club’s music pulsing around them, the energy of the room fading into the background. All he could see was her—her flushed cheeks, the slight nervousness in her gaze, the softness in her expression that he’d never seen before.

Monica sighed dramatically, looking between them with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh, look at that. I need another drink,” she announced, clearly not needing one at all. She winked at her friend. “Plus, I think I see a cute guy over there. You two… have fun.” With one last grin, she slipped away, disappearing into the crowd and leaving them alone.

Logan took a steadying breath, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, to say what he’d been meaning to since their last conversation. “Listen… about the other night,” he began, voice low and careful. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She hesitated, searching his face. He held her gaze, hoping she could see he meant it. For a moment, he thought he saw the walls she kept around herself soften, just a little. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the thrum of the music. “It’s just… I’m not used to people getting involved in my life.”

Logan nodded, understanding more than he could put into words. “I’m not exactly used to… letting people in either.” The confession felt strange on his tongue, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t planned, but it was the truth. He could see that she understood, her expression shifting from guarded to something softer, that made his heart beat a little faster.

They stood there, inches apart, the pulse of the club and the chatter of people fading into the background. Logan wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, to bridge that last bit of distance between them, but he held back, waiting for her lead.

After a moment, she gave him a tentative smile. “Did Wade drag you out here?” she asked, the tension easing just a bit as a hint of humor crept into her voice.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, glancing away shyly. “You don’t… you’re like me,” she said, fumbling over her words. “I just didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy who’d want to go to a club.”

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I go to bars all the time. Almost the same thing, right?”

She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so. I don’t drink, but Monica always drags me out, says it’s ‘good for me.’” She made air quotes, rolling her eyes slightly.

“I know.” Logan’s face went hot. “I mean, I remember you don’t drink. That’s why… well, I guess that’s why I was surprised to see you here.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain his footing. “But you look… different tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression growing cautious. “You already said that. Do you make it a habit to repeat yourself?”

Logan fumbled for the right words, suddenly feeling like a teenager on his first date. “I mean…you look beautiful tonight,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. His gaze flicked over her, taking her in again.

She went very still, her eyes searching his face. For a second, he thought he’d finally broken through to her, that maybe she could see how much he meant it. But then her expression shifted, her lips pressing together, her eyes hardening. She looked down, and he could see her shoulders tense, her arms wrapping around herself as if she were closing off.

“Oh,” she said quietly, a forced, brittle smile tugging at her lips. “So… what? I only look beautiful when I’m dressed up? When I’m… like this?”

Logan’s eyes widened, realization hitting him like a slap. “No—no, that’s not what I meant.”

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper as she looked away. “I knew it was stupid to come out tonight,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Guess I’m just someone you feel sorry for? Want to just take pity on?”

“Hey, no—” Logan reached for her arm instinctively, but she pulled back, her face turning away to hide the tears welling in her eyes. The sight made his chest tighten, guilt flooding him as he realized just how badly he’d misstepped.

“I thought maybe…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, brushing a hand quickly across her cheek. “Never mind.” She looked back at him, her eyes glossy, her expression one of hurt and frustration. “Forget it, Logan. I don’t need this.”

“Wait,” he said, desperate now, his voice thick with regret. “It’s not pity. I just… I wanted you to know that I—”

She didn’t let him finish. With a tight, broken smile, she turned on her heel, pushing her way through the crowd and disappearing into the pulsing mass of bodies on the dance floor. He stood there, frozen, watching her slip away, her silhouette vanishing into the blur of lights and movement.

Logan felt an ache settle deep in his chest, the weight of her words sinking in. He’d tried so hard to find the right thing to say, to make her see how he felt—but all he’d done was confirm her worst fears, making her feel like he only saw her worth when she was dressed up, made up, transformed into someone she thought he’d want.

He stood there for a moment, lost in the noise and the lights, feeling the regret gnawing at him like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

Behind him, Wade sidled up, taking in Logan’s expression with a low whistle. “Well, that looked like it went well.”

Logan glared at him, too frustrated to respond. Wade shook his head, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Man, you’re really a disaster with women, you know that?”

Logan clenched his fists, ignoring Wade’s taunts as he scanned the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of her, even though he knew she wouldn’t want to see him right now. He’d messed up, probably worse than he’d ever messed up anything before. But he couldn’t just leave it like this. Not when she was the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind.

Without a word to Wade, he pushed through the crowd, determination hardening in his chest. He didn’t know how he was going to fix this, but he knew one thing—he wasn’t going to let her slip away again. Not like this.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan spotted her near the dimly lit hallway by the bathrooms, sitting on the floor with her legs curled up to her chest, her face buried in her arms. The sight stopped him. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and the thought that he’d been the one to put that hurt in her eyes twisted something painful inside him. He knew he should leave her alone—she’d already told him to. But he couldn’t. Not when he felt the ache of her words as if they’d been carved into him.

He took a cautious step closer, clearing his throat. “Hey… I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the muffled thump of music from the club. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and the guilt hit him all over again. Her gaze was sharp, guarded, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it—a weariness like she was tired of feeling this way.

“Just go away, Logan,” she said, her voice wavering as she hugged her knees tighter. “Haven’t you done enough?”

He wanted to reach out, to touch her shoulder, anything to make this right, but he held back, forcing himself to respect her space. “Please,” he said, his voice rough. “Just… hear me out. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She let out a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s not your fault,” she said, cutting him off. Her voice was shaky and raw, but there was a surprising steadiness underneath like she was trying to take control of her pain. “I… I overthink things. I read too much into what people say.”

Logan shook his head, his brow furrowing. “But I should’ve been more careful with my words. I—”

“It’s not about you, Logan,” she interrupted, her gaze dropping to the floor. She took a shaky breath as if she were forcing herself to let him see a piece of herself she usually kept hidden. “All my life, I’ve only ever felt… I don’t know, noticed… when I was all dressed up. People would tell me I was beautiful, but only when I was like this,” she gestured to her dress, her makeup, the polished version of herself that she’d put on tonight. “And somewhere along the line, I guess I just started to believe that’s all there was to me. That if I wasn’t done up, I didn’t… matter.”

Logan’s chest tightened as he listened, his discomfort fading in the face of her honesty. He understood, more than she realized. He knew what it felt like to wear a mask, to be seen in a way that didn’t match who you were.

“Look, I get it,” he said softly, his voice thick. “I know what it’s like to feel like… like you’re on the outside. Like people only see a part of you and ignore the rest.”

She let out a short, almost bitter laugh, her gaze flicking over him, taking in the rugged, handsome man who had sat next to her. “You? An outsider?” she said, the skepticism clear in her voice. “Come on, Logan. Look at you. How could someone like you know what it feels like to not… fit?”

He swallowed, feeling the old scars hidden beneath the surface ache in response to her words. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured, his gaze distant for a moment as he stared at the wall across from them. “People see what they want to see. This…” He gestured vaguely to himself, his broad shoulders, his gruff exterior. “It’s just armor. Doesn’t mean I fit in. Doesn’t mean I feel at home anywhere.”

She went quiet, studying him with a new kind of curiosity, like she was seeing a side of him she hadn’t expected. Her expression softened, and for a moment, the two of them sat in silence, the thumping bass of the club seeming to fade into the background, leaving them in their own little world.

“I didn’t know…” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

Logan shrugged, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I’m not saying it’s the same. Just… I get it. You feel like you have to be something else, just to be seen. But you don’t. You’re worth a hell of a lot more than some fancy dress and makeup.”

She blinked, looking down, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “I… I don’t know how to believe that,” she admitted, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.

He felt a strange surge of protectiveness, an urge to make her see herself the way he did. “You don’t have to believe it all at once,” he said softly. “Just… start small. You’re here, right? That’s a start.”

She looked up at him, a faint glimmer of hope mixed with hesitation in her eyes. “You really think so?”

Logan nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Yeah. I do.” He hesitated, then added, “And for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean that you’re only beautiful like this. I meant… I just meant that you looked happy. You looked… free. That’s what I saw.”

A soft, surprised smile tugged at her lips, and he felt a flicker of relief, like maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t ruined everything.

“I guess… I guess I did feel a little free tonight,” she admitted, her voice tentative, like she was still testing the idea out.

They sat there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Logan felt the weight of her gaze, his eyes shifting to look down at her glossy lips. He didn’t understand why it stirred something deep inside him. 

Finally, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Thanks,” she murmured, glancing up at him with a tentative smile. “For… understanding. And for not letting me just sit here feeling sorry for myself.”

“Anytime,” Logan replied, his voice a soft, steady rumble, grounding her.

They stayed like that, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her shoulder, neither of them moving to fill the space between them. It was rare for him to feel like this—like he could just be here, be himself, and have that be enough. She seemed to relax, letting herself breathe in his presence, a hint of comfort settling into her expression.

But then her friend’s voice sliced through the moment, loud and slightly tipsy, echoing down the hallway. “There you are!” Monica stumbled to a halt, her eyes narrowing the second she noticed the red around her friend’s eyes, the tear tracks still faintly visible on her cheeks. Monica’s gaze shot to Logan, her eyes flashing with instant, protective suspicion. “What the hell? Did this guy—”

She quickly got to her feet, hands up in reassurance, cheeks flushing. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said, glancing back at Logan with an apologetic look. “Logan didn’t do anything.”

Monica crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “You swear? Because I’m pretty sure I could kick his ass, even if he’s big.”

Logan almost laughed, but he held back, just giving a slight shake of his head. “I’m harmless,” he muttered, though the hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Monica narrowed her eyes, looking between them with obvious doubt. “Fine. I’ll let it go… for now.” She slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders, lowering her voice. “But hey, I found someone way more fun than this brooding guy. He’s tall, dark, and cute as hell,” Monica said, shooting Logan a sideways look. “Let’s go, yeah?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering back to Logan, lingering there for a moment. He could see the indecision in her eyes, the hint of a question, like she wasn’t entirely ready to walk away. Part of him wanted to reach out, to tell her to stay, to keep talking, but he bit the words back. He knew she didn’t owe him anything, and he wasn’t about to guilt her into staying.

She gave him a small, reluctant smile, a little sad around the edges. “I… I’ll see you around, Logan,” she said softly like she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Yeah,” he replied, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “Take care.”

With one last glance, she let Monica tug her back toward the crowded, neon-lit main room, disappearing into the sea of people. Logan stayed where he was, the ache in his chest unfamiliar and raw. He hadn’t wanted to let her go, but he’d seen the uncertainty in her eyes, the pull between her friend and whatever connection they’d shared just moments before. And he couldn’t blame her for choosing the friend who’d stood by her through who-knew-what, instead of the stranger who’d stumbled into her life.

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He’d almost forgotten why he was even here, but the reality of it settled back over him like a cold splash of water. The mission. The damn journalist.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the wall, heading back into the main area to find Wade, hoping he’d at least managed to keep his eye on their target. But as he scanned the crowd, a familiar laugh caught his attention, coming from the back corner of the club.

He sighed, already knowing what he’d find.

Sure enough, Wade was slouched in a booth with some girl draped over him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her lipstick smudged against his cheek. They were laughing, Wade’s arm wrapped possessively around her waist, clearly oblivious to everything else.

Logan clenched his fists, feeling a fresh wave of irritation rise. He pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of the booth, crossing his arms. “We’re supposed to be working, remember?”

Wade looked up, still grinning, completely unbothered. “Oh, hey, Logan!” he slurred, throwing an arm out as if he were inviting Logan to join in on the fun. “Lighten up, man. Haven’t seen you all night. What, were you off getting cozy with your lady friend?”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “We have a job to do, Wade. You know, finding the journalist? Stryker’s going to be thrilled if we come back empty-handed because you were too busy making out in the corner.”

Wade just laughed, leaning back with a lazy grin. “Relax, Logan. We’ve been chasing this guy for weeks, and he hasn’t shown up once. If he’s even here, he’s not coming out till way later. Might as well have a little fun while we wait.”

Logan shot a glare at Wade’s “date,” who giggled and nuzzled closer, clearly not bothered by the tension. He felt his patience snap, his frustration boiling over. All night, he’d been on edge, caught between his need to finish the job and the emotions he couldn’t quite bury when it came to her. And now here was Wade, throwing it all away for a quick thrill.

“Fine,” Logan bit out, his voice low. “You go ahead and have your fun, Wade. I’m finishing this myself.”

Wade chuckled, unfazed. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that, man. It’s just one night. Besides…” He shot Logan a knowing look. “I saw the way you looked at her. Maybe you should be thanking me. Gave you a chance to make a move.”

Logan didn’t respond, but Wade’s words hit uncomfortably close to the truth. He had been distracted. He’d let his focus slip, and now he was paying for it.

Without another word, Logan turned on his heel and stalked away, pushing through the crowd toward the exit. The night air hit him like a slap, cool and bracing, but it didn’t do much to ease the frustration roiling inside him. He’d let Wade derail the mission, let his own emotions cloud his judgment, and now the whole thing felt like a waste.

As he started down the street, his mind drifted back to her—the way she’d looked at him, the faint trace of hurt in her eyes before she’d walked away. He clenched his fists, a new determination hardening in his chest. He might have blown this mission tonight, but he wasn’t done. Not with the mission, and not with her.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan had barely made it back to the apartment before exhaustion took hold, weighing down his limbs. He kicked off his boots and peeled off his shirt, letting it drop carelessly to the floor before sinking onto the bed. His mind was still tangled with thoughts of her—her quiet smile, the guarded look in her eyes, the way she’d walked away with her friend’s encouragement. He’d messed things up, and the night felt like one long series of missed chances.

He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours when a noise jolted him awake. At first, he thought it was part of some half-formed nightmare or maybe just the usual racket from one of the neighbors. But then he caught something familiar—her voice, muffled through the thin walls. He strained his hearing, every instinct snapping to attention. A glance at the grimy clock on his nightstand told him it was 1:29 a.m.

She must have just gotten home. But she wasn’t alone.

Logan sat up, his heartbeat quickening. He knew he should let it go, should just lie back down and ignore whatever was happening on the other side of the wall. But before he could think better of it, he slipped out of bed, padding across the creaky floorboards to the front door. He pressed his ear to the wall, barely breathing, his heightened senses picking up every word.

The guy’s voice was low and easy, with that too-smooth tone Logan had learned to distrust. He sounded friendly enough, but there was an edge of expectation, a subtle suggestion that grated against Logan’s nerves.

“So… tonight was fun,” the guy was saying, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Maybe we could do it again? Tomorrow, maybe?”

Logan could picture her expression without even seeing it—those walls going up, that faint, polite smile she used when she didn’t want to let someone in. He heard her let out a soft sigh.

“I’m… not really sure about tomorrow,” she replied, her voice guarded, cautious. “I have a lot going on.”

The guy chuckled, but there was a forced quality to it. “Come on, just a drink or something. You don’t have to play so hard to get, you know?”

Logan felt his jaw clench, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The guy was pushing, trying to wear down her resistance, and it grated on him like sandpaper. He didn’t like the way it sounded, didn’t like the edge in the guy’s voice like he thought he could charm his way past her boundaries. Logan’s instinct to protect her flared, raw, and almost territorial, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way.

There was a pause, and he could hear her shifting, probably stepping back, putting a little distance between them. “It’s not that,” she said, a little too politely. “I just… need some space, that’s all. Tonight was nice, but—”

“Space, huh?” the guy interrupted, his tone slipping from charming to something a little sharper. “You know, you don’t make it easy, do you?”

Logan could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the urge to step outside and tell this guy to back off building with each word. But he held himself in check, forcing himself to stay silent, to let her handle it. She didn’t need him barging in like some kind of white knight, as much as he wanted to.

Another pause, and he heard her take a breath, steady but firm. “I appreciate tonight. Really. But I’m not looking for… anything serious.”

The guy let out a huff, barely masking his disappointment. “All right,” he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t happy about it. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Logan listened, tense, as he heard the guy’s footsteps retreating down the hallway. Only when he heard the click of her door closing did he let out the breath he’d been holding. His fists unclenched, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. He knew she’d handled it. She didn’t need him intervening. But the way the guy had pushed, the subtle pressure in his tone… made Logan’s blood simmer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slipped into the hallway, moving quietly until he reached her door. He hesitated, one hand raised, hovering just above the wood. Part of him knew he should just let it be, go back to his apartment, and leave her alone. But he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him, the urge to make sure she was really all right.

He knocked, softly at first, then a little louder when he didn’t hear anything.

A moment later, the door cracked open, and she peered out, eyes widening when she saw him. She looked tired, her makeup smudged, a faint crease of worry lingering between her brows. “Logan?” she said, sounding surprised, her voice soft and uncertain. “What are you…?”

He swallowed, his voice coming out rougher than he’d meant. “I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay. I heard him… y’know. Talking.”

She sighed, glancing back into her apartment for a moment before opening the door a little wider. “You were listening?” she asked, a faint hint of annoyance in her tone.

Logan shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just… wanted to make sure he didn’t give you any trouble.”

She looked at him, her expression softening, the guardedness melting away just a little. “It’s fine, Logan. Really. He was… nice, mostly. Just… maybe he wanted something I’m not ready to give.”

Logan nodded, relief mingling with an odd sense of satisfaction at her words. “Good. That he’s gone, I mean.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “I just didn’t like the way he sounded. Like he thought he could… push you around.”

Her lips pressed into a faint smile, something close to gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks. But I can handle guys like that.” She let out a tired laugh. “I’ve been handling guys like that for a while now.”

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze searching hers. “Yeah. I know you can.” He paused, then added, almost reluctantly, “But you don’t have to do it alone, y’know. If anyone bothers you… I’m right across the hall.”

She looked up at him, her eyes lingering on his face, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of vulnerability there—a quiet gratitude she wasn’t quite ready to express. But then she shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Logan,” she murmured. “But… I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep an eye on me. I don’t want to be someone’s… responsibility.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I just… I care. That’s all.”

Her eyes softened, and she looked away, swallowing hard. “I don’t see why you care. Why you would…given…we barely know each other.” She paused, carefully considering her words. “But it’s been a long time since someone cared,” she admitted quietly, almost as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Logan could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her shoulder, but he stopped himself, dropping his hand before it made contact.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he said, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here.”

She gave him a small, hesitant smile, a hint of hope breaking through the walls she kept so carefully in place. “Thank you, Logan.”

He nodded, stepping back to give her space, though he didn’t want to leave. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

She nodded, watching him as he turned to go, lingering in the doorway as if part of her didn’t want to close the door just yet. As he walked back to his apartment, he felt something shift in him—a quiet, steady resolve to be there, to be someone she could trust.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Logan was pacing back and forth in the small, dingy apartment, so agitated that even Wade seemed annoyed for once. Wade lounged on the couch, a magazine in one hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face as he watched Logan wearing a path into the floor.

“Why are you like this?” Wade finally snapped, tossing the magazine aside. “Did your parents not love you, or something? Because this level of brooding is painful to watch, even for me.”

Logan shot him a glare, but he didn’t have a comeback this time. His usual sarcasm was buried under a mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite untangle. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice coming out quieter, almost hesitant. “It’s just… she actually seemed like she wanted to talk to me last night. Like, really talk.”

Wade rolled his eyes, folding his arms behind his head. “God, I don’t see how I keep missing your late-night heart-to-hearts in the hallway,” he said with exaggerated interest. “Sounds like you’re one step away from serenading her or something.”

Logan’s eyes kept drifting to the door, that nagging worry gnawing at him. He hadn’t heard her leave her apartment all morning, and he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, Wade sat up, giving him a pointed look. “Look, man, there’s only one way to stop acting like a lovesick teenager. Just go knock on her door. You’re driving me nuts over here.”

Logan hesitated, shifting his weight. Part of him hated the idea of just showing up unannounced, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of urgency. He needed to see her, to know she was okay. Before he could talk himself out of it, he gave Wade a grudging nod and headed for the door.

"Finally," Wade muttered behind him, smirking. "Go get her, tiger."

Logan ignored him, stepping into the dim hallway. He crossed the few steps to her apartment, his hand hovering just above the door. He took a breath, steadying himself, then knocked—softly at first, then louder when there was no response.

Silence.

He waited, his heartbeat picking up as seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. He knocked again, pressing his ear to the door, straining to hear any movement inside. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no soft shuffle of her usual routine. An uneasy feeling crept over him. He hadn’t heard her leave that morning. Had he missed something? Was she—

Just then, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps echoing up the stairwell, and he turned, relief flooding him. But the relief was short-lived, quickly turning into confusion as he took in the scene.

She was coming up the stairs, but she wasn’t alone. Walking beside her was the guy from last night—the one her friend had set her up with. The guy was laughing, leaning a little too close to her, and Logan felt his jaw tighten instinctively. She had her arms crossed, her posture guarded but polite, and though she didn’t look particularly comfortable, she wasn’t pushing him away either.

Logan stood frozen, his hand still raised as if to knock, caught between relief and a prickling sense of jealousy. She looked up and noticed him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“Logan,” she said, stopping on the landing. Her voice was a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite place—maybe guilt, or hesitation.

The guy at her side glanced between them, raising an eyebrow. “Oh… hey,” he said, clearly picking up on the tension in the air. He smiled awkwardly, extending a hand. “I’m Jared. I, uh… guess you’re a neighbor?”

Logan didn’t take his hand, barely sparing him a glance. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and rough. His eyes were fixed on her, searching her face, trying to read her expression.

She shifted uncomfortably, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “We… just ran into each other downstairs,” she explained, her gaze flicking between Logan and Jared. “He was just walking me up.”

Jared chuckled, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent in the air. “Yeah, thought I’d make sure she got back safe, y’know? This neighborhood’s not exactly the friendliest.”

Logan felt a surge of irritation, but he forced himself to stay calm, to keep his expression neutral. “She can handle herself,” he replied, the words coming out sharper than he intended. He saw her flinch and instantly regretted it, but he couldn’t help the tension coiling in his chest.

Jared blinked, clearly sensing he wasn’t welcome, and took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “All right, man. No need to get territorial,” he said with a forced laugh. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He turned to her, flashing a hopeful smile. “So… maybe we could catch up tomorrow? Grab a coffee or something?”

She hesitated, glancing briefly at Logan before nodding, though her smile looked a little forced. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll… let you know.”

Jared grinned, clearly taking that as a yes, and gave a little wave before heading back down the stairs. Logan watched him go, barely breathing until the sound of his footsteps faded completely. Only then did he turn to her, his expression softening as he searched her face.

“Did… you need something?” she asked, her gaze lingering on him, one eyebrow raised in quiet suspicion.

Logan cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to knock on her door, but now that he was here, his brain seemed to be working at half-speed.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing himself to meet her eyes. “I was wondering if you had… y’know… some eggs I could borrow.”

Her expression didn’t shift, but he saw the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Eggs?” she repeated like she was testing the word.

Logan felt himself growing more flustered. “Yeah. Eggs. They’re… good for protein,” he added lamely, the words sounding as awkward out loud as they felt in his head.

She watched him for a moment, clearly trying to decide if she believed him or not. A small, skeptical smile played at the corner of her lips like she could see right through his excuse but was willing to humor him.

“Sure. I think I’ve got some,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in while I go grab them from the kitchen.”

Logan hesitated, then nodded, slipping past her into the apartment. The warmth of her space hit him immediately, and he found himself surprised by how… homey it was. The faint scent of vanilla and something floral hung in the air, and soft lighting cast a cozy glow over everything. It was nothing like the dingy, bare-bones apartment he shared with Wade. Where his walls were chipped and peeling, hers were lined with neatly hung prints and framed photographs, small touches that gave the place a warmth he hadn’t expected.

As she disappeared into the kitchen, he let his gaze wander, taking in the shelves along one wall, filled with books. Dozens of them, all stacked neatly, some with worn covers and dog-eared pages, like they’d been read and re-read over the years. He noticed a mix of genres—mystery novels, classic literature, a few non-fiction titles, and even some poetry. It was the kind of collection that spoke to someone who spent a lot of time alone, lost in worlds beyond these walls.

He moved closer to one of the shelves, fingers ghosting over the spines without touching. A few books were stacked horizontally, others arranged by height. There was a kind of organized chaos to it, a personal touch that made him feel like he was seeing a side of her he hadn’t glimpsed before. He felt a strange pang of… something. Envy, maybe, or admiration. This was her space, her sanctuary, carefully built to be hers. And here he was, intruding on it.

“Didn’t peg you for a reader,” her voice came from behind him, light and teasing.

Logan turned, a bit flustered, caught off guard by her sudden reappearance. She held a carton of eggs in one hand, watching him with that same amused expression, like she knew he was lying about the whole “egg” thing but was willing to let it slide.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, feeling like he’d been caught red-handed. “Not really. Don’t have time for it.”

She shrugged, giving him a small smile as she set the egg carton on the counter. “Reading isn’t for everyone.”

He nodded, still taking in her apartment, feeling a strange comfort settle over him in the warmth of her space. “It’s… nice in here,” he admitted, his voice gruffer than he intended. “Didn’t expect it to feel so… I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So what?”

“Homey, I guess,” he said, almost embarrassed to admit it. “My place… it’s nothing like this.”

A faint, sympathetic smile softened her face. “Well, your roommate doesn’t exactly scream ‘homey,’” she teased, glancing around as if imagining Wade sprawled across her carefully arranged furniture, disrupting the calm. “Not really surprised you don’t put much into decorating.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. Wade’s more… chaos than cozy.”

She laughed softly, a genuine, relaxed sound that made his chest feel unexpectedly warm. “I can’t even picture him reading a book.”

“Pretty sure he’d complain about the ‘small font’ and give up in five minutes,” Logan muttered, and she laughed again, a light, melodic sound that filled the space in a way that felt… right.

For a moment, they stood there in comfortable silence, the unspoken tension between them somehow lessened by the simple act of sharing a space. He glanced at the egg carton, feeling a little foolish now that he had no real reason to stay.

“Thanks for the eggs,” he mumbled, reaching for the carton but not quite moving to leave. “Didn’t need them, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, a knowing look in her eyes. “Yeah, I figured,” she said, her voice gentle but laced with amusement. “So… why did you come by?”

Logan hesitated, feeling a sudden vulnerability he wasn’t used to. “I guess… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After last night, and then seeing you with that guy this morning…” He trailed off, running a hand over his face. “It just didn’t sit right with me.”

Her expression softened, and she looked down, fingers tracing absent patterns on the counter. “Jared,” she said as if the name left a sour taste. “Monica’s idea. She thinks I need to ‘put myself out there.’” She rolled her eyes, a faint bitterness creeping into her tone. “It’s not really my thing, but… I figured I’d try.”

Logan studied her, catching the flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You didn’t seem too thrilled with him,” he observed, trying to keep his tone casual.

She shrugged, her smile a little sad. “He’s… nice. I just don’t know if ‘nice’ is enough.” She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary. “I guess I’ve got my own walls. Maybe it’s easier to push people away than to… let them in.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, recognizing himself in her words. “Yeah. I know how that goes,” he murmured, his voice low. “People tend to… make assumptions, think they know you just because of how you look or act. Sometimes it’s easier to let them believe what they want.”

She nodded, her gaze dropping again, her fingers still tracing absent shapes on the counter. “And what do people assume about you?” she asked, almost too softly.

He swallowed, feeling a familiar pang of vulnerability that he usually kept buried. “They see… this,” he said, gesturing to himself, to the rough exterior, the scars that lined his knuckles, the tension that seemed to live in his shoulders. “And they think I’m nothing but that. Just… rough edges. An animal.”

She looked up, her gaze soft and understanding, and he felt that ache again, the need to be seen, really seen. “You’re not just that,” she said quietly, her words barely more than a whisper. “I can see that you're more than that…now.”

A warmth lingered between them, subtle but undeniable. Logan could feel it settling over him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Standing here, in her space, surrounded by traces of her life, he felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging—like, for once, he wasn’t just some outsider passing through.

She let out a small sigh, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Anyway,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, almost shy. “Thanks for checking on me.”

He nodded, swallowing back the impulse to reach out, to close the last inch of space between them. “Yeah. Anytime,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.

She led him to the door, holding it open as he stepped into the dim hallway. Logan hesitated, lingering just outside her apartment, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. The words were out of his mouth before he could second-guess himself.

“Would you… maybe want to come over?” He forced a small, awkward smile. “I’m sure Wade would love the company.”

She looked up at him, her expression caught between surprise and something softer. A small smile touched her lips, but she shook her head, a hint of apology in her eyes. “I would, but… being around people sort of… drains me.”

He watched her, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying, something fragile behind the simple explanation.

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the door, her gaze flickering up to meet his. “Not you, though,” she added softly, almost as if the words had slipped out without her permission. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away quickly. “Just… people in general. Introvert thing, I guess.”

Logan felt a flicker of something warm and unfamiliar in his chest. She hadn’t meant to single him out, but the admission hung in the air between them, as delicate and unsteady as a breath. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “No problem.”

She looked back up at him, a softness in her eyes that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to let him in. It wasn’t much—not yet—but it was enough to make his pulse quicken, to make him feel like he’d taken a step closer to something he’d been chasing without even knowing it.

“See you, Logan,” she whispered, her voice lingering in the quiet air, her eyes holding his for just a beat longer than necessary.

“See you,” he replied, his voice equally soft, reluctant. He took a step back, the warmth of her presence already beginning to fade, and gave her a small nod before turning away.

As he made his way down the hallway, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—a door, barely open, but open nonetheless.

[carcasscounty]

Quick discussion post because there's stuff happening in the fc5 community and it has been high-key bugging me. Please actually read the post before adding on because I fear there's been a LOT of people hopping on this without having actually seen the work being called into question here

Feel free to add or correct me if I've missed something or made any mistakes, I am human and do make mistakes

Content warning for mentions of incest, this one's a doozy

You are not in the wrong for creating art that depicts or represents your trauma however you want or however helps you cope with it. It is your life experiences and it is entirely up to you how you go about expressing it, nor are you in the wrong for exploring more dark and uncomfortable topics in your art. That is not what is being criticized here, and anyone who has gone out of their way to harass you and anyone that associates with you for it is very much in the wrong and needs to knock it off

However, what you ARE being criticized for is how you've gone about posting it. There were no warnings or tags that this was, in fact, oc x canon incest art, nor is it clear in the specific pieces of art that this is what it is about. THAT is what the problem is. Your art contains seriously triggering content that could be a hazard for the people that have the context, and as the artist, it is your job to ensure that the posts are tagged properly to avoid having people who don't want to see that stuff come across it. I myself even saw the art on my dash at some point and thought, "Oh ew, that's just oc x canon nsfw," and thought nothing more of it until i actually looked at your account. And if i, someone who has all the appropriate tags ("tw incest," "tw rape," "tw sa," etc) blocked can stumble across your art without it being hidden, THAT'S KIND OF A PROBLEM.

And I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, but the fact that there's no proper warnings in the tags or anything mentioned in the actual posts has me a bit worried that you are trying to hide it and get people to engage with the art without fully even knowing what they're looking at, which isn't a good thing

Screenshots just to prove that the art pieces in question currently have no warnings tagged at the time of writing this

I'm pretty sure the only post that had the incest warning was one brief fic on the account, and then there was one mention on a sfw art piece that mentioned that she is supposed to be his daughter. But other than that, that's it

As someone who has gone through a similar brand of trauma that you have, you have my deepest sympathy and I am so sorry. However, you are in the wrong here, your posts should have been properly tagged.

It frustrates me deeply that the people who have spoken up about this in a civil manner (not referring to the anons who were harassing people) are being treated like the unreasonable ones here, and it frustrates me even more that people are hopping on a side without even actually understanding what the problem is. Almost everyone has fucked up here in some capacity

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 63 Cool Posting

Hi, kind void. Today's chapter is straight out of an action movie! It's light on lore but chock-full of cool stuff (and some names at long last) so let's get into it.

Rough TL of editor's notes (don't take as competent):

Colour page: 音を割ぎ, 匂を割ぎ, 獲物の元へ忍び寄れ- [] Cut all sound, cut all smell, then sneak up on your prey- This one's fun because "cut" as in "eliminate" works in both EN and JP! Last page: 巻墨とチ-ムで!! [(Nakama) to chiimu de-!!] Teaming up with allies (the Masumi)!! The kanji for Masumi (巻墨) have Ruby over them spelling out nakama (なかま), the word that usually means ally/partner.

Really cool perspective shot on the colour page, by the by!

Code Name: Uh...?

Please live.

So, we finally got names for our Masumi Ninja Maids. But they're kind of, um. I feel bad for these guys if they aren't code names or nicknames ha ha.

"Ms. Masumi" is Sumi (炭): charcoal/coal "Minimura" is Rou (郎): son/young man (archaic) "Masumi Bro" is Moku (杢): woodworker/figure pattern in wood

Normally these kanji are combined with others to make a proper given name; they basically don't exist by themselves as a way to refer to someone outside of a family/surname from what I can find. I think I feel the worst for Sumi since her full name sounds like a Lalafell's from FFXIV: Masumi Sumi (巻墨 炭) lol. But yeah. Names at last, even if they're kinda headscratchers! Just like the nature of this ink sorcery.

Random bullshit, go!: the ability

At this point I'm definitely operating under the assumption that Sumi's sorcery is basically just Rule of Cool: Ink Version. I guess she can manifest anything she wants or needs if she has the time to write whatever inscriptions are necessary. I've never read Naruto in full (fake weeaboo, cancel me on TWT) but apparently this is similar to how Fuinjutsu works in that series? In the sense that a user can write a "seal" and concentrate their power into it to do something crazy cool that may or may not actually have anything to do with sealing something.

In the Masumi's case, I think their surname literally meaning "rolled up ink [scroll]" is a dead giveaway that this is basically how the technique functions- the user channels their sorcery into a written inscription for a desired effect. So they're basically OP if given infinite time to train and prepare for a fight, and will have all kinds of ass-pull types of clutch factor if they stick around.

...Speaking of.

I have a kind of ominous feeling about these guys beyond the jokes about how elite squads have a high mortality rate in this series. I don't want to be one of those doomsday prophecy guys, but this chapter ends pretty optimistically in a way that makes me think we'll be saying goodbye to them at some point. We have some significant emotional investment in them by now but they're not critical enough to keep around despite the deep ties to Samura. I don't think it'll be next chapter or anything, but... they could be another Elite Squad Statistic sooner or later is all I'm saying. I want them to live though. Rou's kind of growing on me, Moku's got amazing himbo energy in a series critically lacking in hunks, and Sumi can pat my head and call me a "good boy" any day.

(Warning, pure speculation ahead.) Also, referencing chapter 53 where it seems like Chihiro's hellbent on taking his own path but is trying to rely on others- if he loses the Masumi after seeing Uruha die and Hakuri be gravely injured, then he's probably going to spiral down even further and try to go it alone for real like Samura is. That could be when Hakuri comes back in for the save where Uruha tried and failed with his mentor. But I'm just spitballing with this so I'll leave it be until we get a better idea of where the Chihiro/Samura and Hakuri/Uruha parallels are going. Don't want to get too attached to a development that may well not even happen.

For now I will pray they live and keep supporting Chihiro in all kinds of silly and cool ways. Buck the trend and don't become an Elite Squad statistic!

"Quality" Analysis Section

Just in case you forgot how fucking exhausted Chihiro must be.

The author lampshading his own breakneck pace isn't just a cheeky jab at the people fretting about it- I see this as a deliberate callout that Chihiro is going to run himself into the ground and truly break. Referencing chapter 53- Chihiro thinks he's an irredeemable monster and is rushing down the path to hell. So maybe the rushed pacing of chapter 60 was intentional after all? As in Chihiro won't give himself a break so we don't get one either. I don't want to assume too much but I'll keep that in mind as we get closer to his breaking point. How he collapses and why will be very important. As will be the people who help him recover.

Chihiro looks fucking tired man. The new scars and extra thick sketchy lines under his eyes even when he's being a badass give me the impression that he's pushing himself too hard. The only other character consistently having the tired look right now is Rou and I'm willing to bet that it's done to give him a slightly more mature look to remind us of his true age- he's had them ever since he was woken up from his nap in ch. 55. I swear to God, if Hokazono-sensei has Chihiro buckle and shatter because he won't let himself rest, I will forgive absolutely everything about Chapter 60 onward and never doubt him again. Well, almost everything.

I'm not just saying this to cope. I went back through the whole story to check Chihiro's expressions up to chapter 62 and there's a pretty clear trend. Apologies for the huge cluttered images, probably should have made these on my smaller monitor.

Chapter appearances: 18 Examples: 18

Chapter appearances: 25 Examples: 22 (not present in ch. 35) I will mention Hakuri in every post one way or another.

Chapter appearances: 14 Examples: 41 (not present in chs. 55 & 56)

Basically: Chihiro is the most exhausted and emotional he's ever been in the shortest amount of chapters (even accounting for the lines under most character's eyes getting thicker starting around chapter 47). So yeah, he's tired as fuck and absolutely should not have been so gung-ho to do a rescue mission.

The real give-away is the end of Chapter 60:

Zoom in on the second to last page: he tired and burdened AF bro

Squad roll out on the last page: cool, calm, collected

Extreme zoom-in shots to character's eyes are how a mangaka draws attention to how the character's truly feeling without having them say anything out loud. Doing this to show Chihiro is exhausted before zooming back out to have him looking like his usual self reads as him burying that tiredness to get things done with the others. He is focused and ready to do whatever's necessary to protect Iori- but Rou knows how he's really feeling and called him out which is why we suddenly see all those panels of Chihiro looking as wiped out as he feels this chapter.

Like so.

Chihiro's exhausted but won't give himself a break. And this chapter's making a point of that, because now Chihiro's at the point where even shots of him being a badass have that tired look. He's going to break from pushing himself this hard sooner rather than later or I'm sixty toads in a wooden onesie. (Surely I won't regret making this assertion...)

I haven't forgotten about this flag from Chapter 1.

I feel like a colossal idiot for needing this to be pointed out to me, but I'll admit I'm dumb. At least I took the closer look I should have been doing all along for this post- better late than never and all that.

Rokuhira Chihiro: Forever Badass

Always the coolest guy in a 3781.2km radius

Yeah, Chihiro absolutely reminded us why he's the MC this chapter despite not having as much screen time as Sumi and the Hishaku. He's just that awesome- Hokazono absolutely nails every entrance this guy makes.

Shame the general public doesn't seem to agree.

Not so above it all (but we knew this)

Nice to see that people being frightened and thinking he's a mass-murderer still gets to Chihiro a little. It won't stop him from pursuing his goals, but he is absolutely not above caring about how he's perceived. Maybe fighting against the guy who broke through the window and threatened to kill defenseless students will help some people change their minds?

Iori's definitely going to have to take some time to reconcile her dismal first impression of Chihiro with who he actually is. I'm actually looking forward to how that plays out- Chihiro probably won't go out of his way to convince her he's a nice guy, so we'll get to see her evaluation of him evolve as they spend time together. Hopefully. Maybe. I can only rarely guess what's going to happen next in this manga and I'm not at all confident we'll get significant time devoted to developing the relationship between Chihiro and Iori. I'd like to see it though. Hakuri is the best character from anything ever, but Chihiro would benefit from getting to know more people his age- especially ones that have been able to lead a relatively normal life. She can bring a fresh viewpoint to this series that's so far mostly been limited to traumatized action hero types.

Kuguri Impressions

This guy is a piece of work. Definitely obsessed with "slicing" to an unhealthy degree.

Talking through fighting, that time-old tradition.

Taking a page from his... inspiration? Mentor? Whatever? Sojo, he wants to "talk" with Chihiro in a high-octane way. Sure let's go, love the fights and the spread of them engaging each other this chapter was epic! There's an interesting line from him that caught my attention, though.

The vibes are "these guys should have just let me kill them, now look at this mess."

We're reminded on the same page that "The Hishaku have no qualms about involving innocent bystanders." And this seems to hold true for Kuguri- he killed an unarmed teacher in cold blood, sliced up a bus full of people, was ready to kill students, so on and so forth. He's not a good guy. But talking about how more lives need to be sacrificed now snagged at me- it's a total 180 from Hiruhiko's joyful bloodbath approach.

He strikes me as the type of person who takes the shortest path to everything in life and killing is just a tool he can use to achieve that. He might actually be closer to Chihiro in that he doesn't really enjoy committing murder but views it as necessary. Just in way too many circumstances and with way less morality involved than our protagonist- again, Kuguri is absolutely 100% a bad guy who will deserve whatever death is coming to him. You don't have to murder your way through unarmed civilians to reach a defenseless target.

I'm a lot more interested in seeing more of him now to find out what he's really like and what makes him tick. I especially want to see him clash and contrast with Chihiro. Our poor protagonist is getting challenged on way more fronts than ever before, and in way finer detail, but I know he's up to it. At least for now...

Miscellaneous Thoughts

"This is a surprise tool that will help us later."

I will absolutely accuse people who ask "is Chihiro using Enten?!" or "where did Chihiro get the sword from?!" of speedreading. Yes, it's very silly that the motorcycle that appeared from a magic ink scroll had a katana built in to it. We're definitely not meant to think hard about the how and why of that- it's there because Chihiro needs a proper weapon to fight with while he can't use his magic fish nuke. Hopefully it's existence isn't on a timer or something.

It will be interesting to see how he fares with a regular weapon against a guy who can cut a bus in half with his own mundane katana. How good are Chihiro's basics, really? How much did he manage to pick up from Samura and others before he started to train with Enten's powers? We're probably about to find out!

Please don't let this raise a flag for the Masumi.

These front shots always look so damn cool. Chihiro is the kind of protagonist those edgy wish-fulfillment series wish they had. If Hakuri didn't exist he'd definitely be my favourite character, no contest. Pretty rare for a shounen series honestly! He might even win an official popularity poll if/when Kagurabachi gets one! Usually that honour goes to the deuteragonist or characters with wide appeal like Gojo while the MC is in second or third. Maybe. I want to collect the data on this but I've already got a ton of other half-finished things I'm working on, so maybe that'll wait until a poll is actually announced.

A lot of shounen MCs are good guys with a lot to learn and Chihiro's not much different in that regard. But all the little details about Chihiro add up to make him the first WSJ protagonist I've been sincerely attached to in eons. ...I'll get around to finishing that "why Chihiro is a uniquely compelling protagonist" write-up one of these days.

Hooray for magic skirts that ignore physics

Not much to say here other than I'm really happy for the yuri fans. They finally have "shippable" girls interacting with each other in Kagurabachi. And an innocent-yet-brave girl is clinging to a cool, deadly beauty for safety no less- that's really potent stuff. Let the lilies bloom!

Okay, dear void. We have one more break for brain rot before resuming a normal weekly schedule on the 19th. Great time to re-read the series for the five millionth time, wouldn't you agree? Yes? Wonderful! See you in two weeks or so if I don't finish up something that's gathering dust in the drafts before then. Take care of yourself and may 2025 be your best year yet.

[skyfallscotland]

I don’t know if this is weird, but I don’t have many friends and I am weird, admittedly so…yolo, but this is just a diary post really of all the things on my mind right now.

• The response on ink & mistletoe was really lovely and I’m especially grateful for it while I’m still having a rough time.

• I really wanted to write more this week because I wanted to finish off ink & mistletoe and Truth & Talon before Onyx Storm comes out, but I have a migraine again and I’ve just been so exhausted it’s not happening, which sucks.

• I did start a new book though—my first of 2025—Just For the Summer by Abby Jimenez. One of my resolutions for the new year is to read more actual books, so I’m off to a start at least. One thing that wigged me out though, it’s first person past-tense? What the fuck is that, why are we doing that? My brain does not like.

• Speaking of Onyx Storm, should I start posting my theories now as I write them, or just save it for one big post a few days before?

• I’m still incredibly bothered by not only the continuing trend of oh surprise another special edition with content not available to you! But also mostly the response from other people to it, mostly Americans, because no one else is saying “no one’s making you buy them all” or “having choices is a good thing” because uhh *checks notes* we don’t? We just pay twice the amount of money you do for made-in-a-sweatshop, falling apart crap with less features.

• Also, just as an aside so you all are ready, I’m fairly certain there’s a special edition of Iron Flame coming…probably with bonus content. Someone asked if she was going to do one because it just had plain edges and she replied with a winking face. I’m going to say in Feb/March, and with dragon edges to match OS & the original FW print run. Call me Cassandra, idk.

• My (undiagnosed, I guess) OCD is getting worse, so if anyone has any tips or tricks for that throw them my way because seeing a psychiatrist in this town is not only the price of a small car, but almost impossible. Everyone’s books are closed, because we’re all a fucking mess apparently idk. They did say they had someone who might find me and my eclectic collection of mental illnesses “interesting” though, so I at least get to send my referral through 🙃

• Lastly, I am once again calling for people to stop drowning. If you come to Australia, please understand how rips work. If you’re not a strong swimmer, don’t swim anywhere there aren’t lifeguards. You are not as safe as you think you are, I promise you. Almost every day there’s been another drowning death that’s been entirely preventable and it’s infuriating, half the time there are kids involved. Don’t put your kids at risk for fuck’s sake. View the below if you’re curious (or coming here). I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t spot them from front on, most people can’t unless they grew up on the beach, but again, if you can’t that’s why you shouldn’t swim anywhere help can’t get to you. 31 people drowned in four weeks is madness when there are over 600 patrolled beaches in this country. And people worry about the wildlife, good lord.

[freesia-writes]

Behind the Scenes of a Writer's Mind

I noticed something tonight that I thought might be helpful to share. You [hopefully] often hear fanfic writers urging interaction and support. It may seem selfish or prideful at first glance, but there's a lot more to it. Have a seat. 😉

The best metaphor I've heard is someone who loves cooking for others. Yes, they do it because they like it, but there's a deep gratification in sharing that work and talent with others and getting to hear how much it was loved and enjoyed. Same with writing.

I asked my favorite author @dystopicjumpsuit about her works -- which had the most emotional impact, which was the tastiest smut, which is her best piece, etc -- and was delighted to hear her answers because there were elements that I hadn't known or noticed, and it made me so excited to read them again (and a few for the first time, haha). It gave a new appreciation, a neat back story, and a richer experience to the fics. (READ THE ASK/ANSWER HERE)

She turned the ask back on me, and while I hadn't expected that, I was surprised at the process as I tried to answer. I had taken a good half a year off from writing after finishing the Hunter longfic. I had poured my heart and soul into it, and when it was done posting, it was kinda... empty. Life also was fairly crazy, so this side of me kinda went away for a while. I still wanted to write. I missed being here. But there was just no inspiration or motivation, and you can't force that.

But something neat happened when DJ gave me the chance to consider my own work. I reread some oldies. I smiled at things I'd forgotten about. The questions forced me to look at the good parts, my favorite parts, the best parts that I'm most proud of.

As a writer, it's easy to forget that. You get used to writing, you get used to your style and approach and voice, and sometimes it just gets to a point of "why bother"? ESPECIALLY if there's no feedback from readers. But it was awesome to be reminded of how my writing brings me joy, and that it's a particular area of gifting but also something that's honed and developed and refined over the years.

Considering the beautiful elements of what I've been able to create breathed fresh life into me. It brought confidence where there had been indifference. It reminded me of the fun of writing and the unpredictable nature of how it all goes down. It rekindled some of that joy of bringing delight to others with my time and effort. It rejuvenated the creative part of me that loves the process as well as the product.

So WRITERS -- if you're in a pit, perhaps read some of your own stuff. Enjoy it. Read works by other authors you love and ask them about it -- it'll likely remind you of some experiences of your own. But also, if the motivation isn't there, don't sweat it. Enjoy what you can and, if the fickle mistress of inspiration returns, bang that thang til fics fall out. (I'll see myself out, thank you.)

And READERS -- you enjoy what we create, yeah? Do you know that you'd likely enjoy it wayyy more if you had a lil behind-the-scenes knowledge? It truly enriches the experience all around, AND it's so encouraging to authors to be able to share not only the finished product but some of the joy of the process. So don't be afraid -- drop some asks, leave questions in reblogs, engage!!

If you've read this far (without skipping, you weasels), please consider this a free ticket for a fic request. ;) Drop one in my inbox and we shall see if the gods smile upon my mushy brain and clumsy fingers. But also, thank you for reading, and I hope that both writers and readers are encouraged to enjoy this space more fully!

FREESIA OUT 😘

[meowsticmarvels]

Does Phi want to live or die: an insane essay because I can't stop thinking about it [PART I]

hi!!! so i said not too long ago (like literally a few hours ago) that i'd been working on this analysis but considering this post is getting very long and tumblr's glitching and bugging out a lot (it's over 6k words!) i'm gonna post this part first as is as a little treat, and the second part will come a bit later once i write the rest of it. i'll link it here once it's done!

I've been meaning to write a proper analysis on Phi for a while (see my more proper grammar while writing this which is Unusual for me) and while there is too much of her I think abojt a lot to write ONE BIG ANALYSIS I think this topic is a pretty good one. There's a lot to be said in the wake of all of this on how Phi feels about herself and the roles she's meant to play and her own self-worth, the affects of Radical-6, and the impact the events of VLR have left on her onto ZTD (spoiler alert: it's trauma) which I will get into here. Will be up for further commentary if anyone has any + if there's any other particular topic I find interesting about her (I.e. her familial relationships, the matter of trust in her dynamics with others, her backstory/mysterious presentation and framing, or analyses where i could say how a hc would affect the narrative e.g. her being trans. id love to talk abojt that sometime.) i might get into that another time

i will preface this with a few notes:

1. If you're a little confused at why I'm even asking this it's because there's a bit of a disparity on if Phi seems to be okay with the idea of dying or not. it seems to vary by timeline and circumstance and by what the purpose of her death would be and THAT'S what I'm digging into. basically "is she okay with the idea of being a sacrifice". parts i will be looking at PRIMARILY will be K End and Another Time End in VLR and Fire / Outbreak (D-END 1) of ZTD, but others will be mentioned obviously

2. she is NOT okay with the idea of people dying FOR her and I will get into that also

3. Of course spoilers for VLR and ZTD will be in this post, and while 999 isn't really going to be discussed at all since she's not in that game by proxy as sequels they will spoil it too. So please I'd reccomend only reading this if you've played all 3 games and/or are okay with spoilers if you haven't. But I won't be giving exposition to the plot here.

4. Additionally, I'm going to warn for talks of a lot of death (obviously), trauma, and self destructive behavior/suicidal ideation. Radical-6 by nature IS going to cause this but the nature of the topic also means the things I'm going to be talking about in the way Phi views herself is going to be a little fucked up. She's fucked up.

5. Any screenshots used will likely be taken trom someone's playthrough or the LP Archive, however I'm planning on just inserting quotes into the text when possible.

anyways!!! here comes the analysis. LONG post incoming

TABLE OF CONTENTS (only I-VI are in this post)

- VLR -

I. SURVIVAL OF THE SELFISH

II. K END

III. RADICAL-6

IV. ANOTHER TIME

- ZTD -

I. SURVIVAL OF THE SELFISH

V. AFTERMATH

VI. FIRE

VII. OUTBREAK

VIII. SUPPRESSION

IX. SELF-DEFINITION

At the start of Virtue's Last Reward and throughout most of the plot mostly early game Phi could very well be described as a selfish person. She acts in her own self interest primarily and will betray others if it means guaranteeing her own survival. It's not that she's completely against cooperation, otherwise the end wouldn't happen, and she isn't willing to go so far as to kill to save herself, but this is still important to consider. One day I'll get more into the nature of trust and how she pushes people away but I'm just going to mention it a bit here. The nature of the AB Game requires complicated moral dilemmas like this. Some characters are more selfish or selfless than others and will betray or ally in specific circumstances, and during the start of VLR, Phi could definitely be seen as the latter.

SIGMA: Damn... you're pretty cold, you know that? PHI: I prefer bold, but whatever. I just don't let emotions get in the way.

This is an interesting line in of itself that she doesn't actually LIKE being perceived as cold - and states here that she just "doesn't let emotions get in the way". Which I assume is both her own and other people's. Despite her cold and unemotional demeanor she does really feel a lot of things quite deeply, as evidenced by Way too many scenes for me to list, it's just something she tries not to let get in the way of decision making. Usually. This is important. But what's also important is her actual opinion on acting this way, on routes where she talks about the Prisoner's Dilemma:

PHI: In this game, if each individual acts for the benefit of the whole group, everyone benefits. But if everyone starts looking out for themselves, it'll impact the group negatively... And eventually it'll impact them negatively too. If all of us choose "betray" then the group gets 0 points. Ultimately, nobody benefits. Not even the individual. In other words, selfish but logical decisions hurt everyone, and they hurt you.

before I get into what this means, I'll also bring up this segment:

SIGMA: What you're saying is that I should pick "ally". PHI: No. I mean the opposite. SIGMA: What?! PHI: If you're going to make the most logical choice here, the only option is "betray". SIGMA: What?! Why?! You just explained why that was a terrible idea! PHI: No, I didn't. It's not the prisoner's solution. It's the prisoner's dilemma. Even though there's an outcome where everybody's happy, the choice you'd have to make for that outcome isn't the rational one. You want to pick it, but you can't. A dilemma.

This is at its core the heart of how the AB Game works, really. The ideal of the game WOULD be for everyone to Ally and escape together, which is what happens in Phi End, but not with countless (we see 20+) other timelines in which that doesn't happen because of various reasons that people can't cooperate or die too soon. It's a dilemma. You can't really guarantee how the other person will act, unless it's someone like Dio or Luna who will almost exclusively Betray or Ally respectively, but even they don't always act that way and have reasons for doing so. It's incredibly difficult and perhaps even ridiculous to expect all 9 players - all strangers - to vote Ally, especially with preconceived notions of eachother and secret personal goals to escape. And Phi is incredibly conscious of this. She knows she can't trust anyone to for sure Ally, but Betraying is a "safe" option especially in the first round and the more logical to protect yourself. Even if it means getting others into the 1 BP territory. She plays the game carefully. Even though in the first round she isn't actually supposed to know that dropping to 0 BP or below will kill you and only really knows because of morphogenetic field/time jump stuff, based on that inexplicable feeling she acts this way. The fact that everyone Allies in Phi End at the later point is almost a fucking miracle.

There's a lot I could go into in terms of Phi and the nature of trust in the AB Game but my main focus for bringing this up is protecting herself to survive. A desire to stay alive, in some way, e.g. instances where she has only 1 BP.

In contrast to all the Phi End talk here's the "everyone Betrays" scenario on tbe way to Alice End. Naturally Betraying when going against Dio is the logical option but there's a LOT of risk involved here.

ALICE: Two other people just tried to kill someone! SIGMA: Phi and Dio. ALICE: Yes! If Dio had chosen "ally", Phi would have killed Tenmyouji. And if she'd chosen "ally", Dio would have killed her.

Funnily enough this is not the only time Dio attempts to kill Phi (see: Dio End which Phi also DOES retaliate at him for. i love violence). But my point is here the weight in the decisions here. Both Allying OR Betraying is insanely risky for Phi in this scenario. An Ally, and Dio has no qualms with letting her die. With Tenmyouji out of the picture to take care of Quark, Betraying is the safest option. Even Alice says it's a "valid defensive move". But what's really interesting is the conversations this sparks.

TENMYOUJI: Hmph. Hard to trust someone who tried to kill me. PHI: Same to you. I told you letting Dio vote was a stupid idea. What did you think he was going to do? You might as well have pressed the button yourself! TENMYOUJI: I couldn't just leave Quark alone. PHI: That's no excuse. And where do you get off telling me I shouldn't have picked "betray"? Did you even think that through? What, I was supposed to pick "ally"? If I'd done that, I'd be dead right now! TENMYOUJI: I could say the same thing to you! Damn good thing Dio didn't choose "ally"!

This conversation is so so interesting to me. It puts a rift between Phi and Tenmyouji where there wasn't before because the other could've been killed, and Dio stands in the way of all of this by virtue of voting for Tenmyouji. There's a LOT I could say here especially on Tenmyouji's sake about Quark, but my focus is Phi here. Take a look at the text I put in bold above - "If I'd done that, I'd be dead right now". Which doesn't mean a whole lot on its own other than that Phi is willing to protect her own life at this point, but keep this in mind for future reference as it's a major contrast from a lot of other things she says on the topic of death.

II. K END

I'm not going to preface this by listing everything that happens in this ending, but all you need to know is at the point I'm focusing on, eventually K(yle), Dio, and Phi need to go through one of the white Chromatic Doors together. That's the only way they can go through. Dio is killed and has his bracelet smashed and nonfunctional which leaves both Kyle and Phi up for a penalty. Death. That's the gist of it, at least. Of course I know that Kyle was the one that killed Dio and smashed his bracelet in a fucked up way of seeing if Sigma would pick Phi or him as a method of testing his father's love, but really, the focus of my analysis here is on Phi as one of the sole remaining survivors in this ending. Many of the lines in this end are self-explanatory so I won't comment too much on the ones I selected but I pulled a few I felt were relevant.

PHI: Go on ahead, Sigma. You have those bracelets K gave you, right? You should be able to get through the secondary door with those. So just— SIGMA: Fuck that! You know I can't just ditch you guys like that!

^ Phi is surprisingly okay with the idea of Sigma just leaving them to die (likely since him staying behind puts his life at risk too, and as will be shown she does not like the idea of people dying for HER)

More text incoming as Sigma decides to have Phi be the one to be saved with the neostigmine due to Kyle's armor and Sigma not even thinking about himself. This is one of the most interesting parts of the route to me:

PHI: S-Sigma... What the hell...did you... SIGMA: I injected you with neostigmine... It's a type of cholinesterase inhibitor...It's the antidote to the muscle relaxant... PHI: Why did you...pick...me?

A bit self explanatory here and will make a bit more sense when discussing Fire but I really like Phi asking why she would be the one to survive. It's interesting IDK

PHI: No... Screw this... I don't want...to live if it means...being in debt...to you... No...goddamn...way... I'm not...gonna...

Once again pay very close attention to the highlighted text. That particular line is fucking fascinating to me. There's the idea of a "debt" to be paid with sacrifice here, as if she feels she owes Sigma some eternal debt that she can never repay in this timeline. And that's not worth living for in her eyes. She doesn't want to live with that weight. But she's doomed, in a tragic way, to survive it. I'll continue more on this idea when I get to Fire in ZTD on the nature of Phi being incredibly against sacrifices made for her life to be saved, but for now I think it's just worth pointing out how much she hates the idea. Hell this dialogue implies she would rather have just been let to die than to live with Sigma's sacrifice weighing on her and that's fucking interesting. And also really sad. Being forced to live in a doomed timeline where only a few people are alive is almost worse (if memory serves right I think Quark is still alive here but then again he's a 10 year old child). Nothing is elaborated on further in this timeline as Phi passes out from the anesthetic and Sigma and Kyle die, but this is a timeline where she's doomed to wake up eventually to their dead bodies. Not many people are left here other than Quark and maybe Luna. It's a dead end.

III. RADICAL-6

I was going to have to talk about Radical-6 eventually, wasn't I. Before I really get into this I'll mention the obvious: one of Rad6's main symptoms is causing suicidal ideation. This isn't shown outright with Phi in particular at any point, but she does show the symptoms, in its most extreme way, in Clover End.

SIGMA (NARRATION): In the middle of the lake of blood, like an island of flesh, were bodies. They were a bloody tangle of lifeless limbs and dead eyes, with too much blood and chaos for me to tell who was who. Had they sliced themselves open? Or stabbed one another? I couldn't tell.

Phi slices her own throat.

The effects of Rad6 are, obviously not actually a person's real intentions nor are they thinking clearly to do so, but it's still worth addressing in this case because Phi will very likely remember this ending in Zero Time Dilemma. She very well has the possibility to remember what it's like to feel feelings exacerbated and caused by the virus and the act of suicide itself because of all the esper shenanigans possible here. So although this says little about Phi's ACTUAL intentions and opinions towards death because of Rad6's influence, it's still a point I felt was worth mentioning due to that. And it's hard to discuss the topics of death and suicide without bringing up Rad6 in some capacity.

IV. ANOTHER TIME

As stated I'll go into Another Time End a little bit but mostly just exploring the idea of more doomed timelines here. This is where I managed to put the dialogue from failing to disarm the bombs in Phi End.

PHI: Our time's up. This is it. Before...well, before it ends... I wanted to tell you thanks. You knew we were about to die, but you still stuck with me. A lot of people wouldn't have done that. You're a good person. There's...one more thing. ...I'm glad I met you. The moment I saw you, you seemed...familiar. Anyway, thanks. It looks like our time's almost up. Hopefully the others will make it. There isn't much hope for us, though. I think this is— SIGMA: Don't you dare say "goodbye." PHI: ...What? SIGMA: We'll meet again. Somewhere. Somewhen. I guarantee it.

Sigma is right, by the way, in terms of things like SHIFTing its entirely possible he was alluding to that here, but it's the sentiment that matters. Dying is not either of their decisions at that point, and a cruel fate since this timeline only exists when neither of them can find the necessary passwords. And god is this interesting. Granted this says more about how much Sigma actually truly meant to Phi as much as she refuses to admit it but I still feel it's relevant. This is what happens when a threat of death becomes fate. I want to point out a specific part of that segment just because it's really interesting to me:

PHI: [...] You knew we were about to die, but you still stuck with me. A lot of people wouldn't have done that. [...]

I can't really explain why I like this line so much. But this entire part is a really interesting moment of an example of character growth, even if it spans however many timelines Phi ended up seeing and jumping between. And this line... I don't know. I'm not sure if it's a comment on that most people wouldn't stick with her specifically or just most people are selfish by nature, but either way I really like it. The focus of this analysis isn't Sigma and Phi's incredibly close dynamic even though they rarely will actually admit how much they mean to each other but it's so so necessary to think about I think. Despite everything, all the deaths and betrayal and hardship, Phi's glad she met Sigma. On the topic of character growth and/or Phi caring about others more than she lets on, though, there's also this part from the same excerpt:

PHI: [...] Hopefully the others will make it. There isn't much hope for us, though. [...]

It's important to think about the fact that Phi isn't completely selfish and cruel. She has her moments and is notoriously very cold and blunt but is nowhere NEAR the level of selfish that people like Dio reach and at least cares enough about the safety of others to hope they're okay. There's way too much other evidence for me to bring up the fact that she does actually care about people more than she lets on (especially Sigma and Quark most notably), so I'm not going to bring up every single piece of evidence that proves this but there's a lot. My point is that even though she has her relatively selfish and cold moments in VLR a lot of them can already be justified as an act of self-defense AND she's got a lot of actually genuinely caring moments beneath face value. She's just got a bit of a prickly exterior and isn't really used to people getting close. And by this end she's already begun to warm up to getting a bit closer to the participants of the third Nonary Game (bar Dio obviously she still very much hates him in this timeline)

This is relevant because very soon I'll be getting into the changes she goes through between VLR's Phi End and ZTD, so really understanding how she operates throughout VLR is necessary for really getting into the change. Setting up a basis for how she acted before and contrasting it to her ZTD characterization - that's pretty much what I'm doing here.

I want to go more into Another Time END a bit later (in the context of D-END 1 and in the context of her self-definition) but I'm putting this quote here for necessity and to get you thinking. Pay very close attention to the text I put in bold.

PHI: I'm kind of an unknown variable in this situation. You could think of me as a kind of... x-factor. It's taken me the last three and a half months to understand it. ?: And I haven't understood anything in the last three and a half seconds. Could you please explain? PHI: It's kind of like the relationship between classical mechanics and modern physics. Strictly speaking, you can't combine velocities with (v1 + v2). (v1 + v2) / (1 + (v1 x v2) / c^2) is the actual equation. Of course, the sort of velocities we encounter in day-to-day life don't come close to being c^2, which is the speed of light squared. That means that (1 + (v1 x v2) / c^2) is usually going to evaluate to something pretty close to 1. Since that would mean dividing by 1, it's usually okay to just skip that step and use (v1 + v2). You see what I'm saying? In most situations it works, even if it isn't technically correct.

And this, from the part where Sigma and Phi jump back in time to stop Dio from killing Akane. I don't have too much commentary on it but in the grand scheme of things I felt it needed to go somewhere.

SIGMA: People have died for this. I mean, let's count how many different ways people died... Murder, antimatter explosion, suicide... I've died. So has Phi. So have you.

V. AFTERMATH

AKANE: The purpose of the AB Project was to send the two of you into the past. Or your minds, at least. In order for that to happen, some death was necessary. When a human brain is faced with danger, its processing speed increases. Information is processed more quickly, and time almost seems to slow—a few seconds can feel like an eternity.

I don't think I have to prove that the events of all three main Games across the ZE series are incredibly traumatic for everyone involved. Junpei in ZTD is the most extreme representation of this but practically nobody really leaves any of these games the same. Granted, danger is necessary for a SHIFT to occur - as stated above and in many other parts of the series danger increases esper abilities - but this does not make the presence of danger any LESS catastrophic to Fucking You Up Quite A Bit. Most espers end up remembering their own deaths by the end of it all. While one of the less obvious cases, Phi does seem to clearly be damaged quite a bit by the events of VLR at least in my opinion.

She has virtually no dialogue in the written Prologue, so instead the best I'm getting for this part of the game is the flashback in Fire with her and Diana:

DIANA: Something the matter? PHI: No, not really... It's been three days since I came to Dcom… But nothing's happened. Nothing strange at all…

[...]

PHI: Hey, Diana. I want to ask you something... Would you mind…giving me a hug? DIANA: …Huh? PHI: I'm just... really tired...

I don't think I have to go into detail how especially the last part is a stark contrast from how she acts throughout almost all of VLR. She lets herself be vulnerable and exposed to Diana in a way she really doesn't allow other to people see here and it's so fascinating to me. Diana is someone she can trust to let down her barriers. Someone Phi can actively ask for support when she needs it as much as she doesn't want to admit she does. Their dynamic is REALLY interesting and what this is really indicative of is too I think. The first quote brings up her, Sigma, and Akane's time at DCOM specifically to stop the spread of Radical-6 - and they've got a few days of DCOM where nothing happens. Only a few, granted, mentally Phi has just experienced VLR and went straight to DCOM afterwards, but even these few days feel strange now that nothing's happening. After experiencing the insanity that is VLR this completely makes sense that it's just weird to be in some sort of neutral zone where nothing's happening but it's STATED to happen. And it does, the Decision Game happens later, but how does it feel to just be in wait? The second quote is interesting, also, as she lays it out plainly: she's tired. Maybe this is just situational and not a result of exhaustion or anything similar but I do believe it definitely impacted her to a great amount - as evidenced by her change in behavior to ZTD. She's much more trusting and has learned that since, but much more self-sacrificing at the same time. These next few quotes I'll elaborate on more in the self-definition segment, but they're important:

DIANA: "Not even gods can return to the past, so live in the moment so you have no regrets." That's not the right interpretation? PHI: Well, if you take it at face value. I guess that'd make sense, if I was a normal human being. DIANA: Does that mean that you're not?

This is what Phi and Diana say about Phi's brooch - "Not even jupiter can find a lost opportunity". Phi's wording is interesting, here - she's talking about her status as an esper, but as of this point in the story that's something Diana's not supposed to know (never mind her being one), but her phrasing as labelling herself "not a normal human being" is really really interesting. She certainly isn't, but it feels all the more permanent - can she ever go back? Will she ever be able to? What's considered 'normal' to her? Similarly,

PHI: Hey, this isn't normal, right? DIANA: It is. You're a completely normal girl, Phi.

Not a lot I can say here - I want to roughly try to stay on topic, but in terms of analysis I really like this line. Phi doesn't consider what she's doing 'normal', at least not with someone she barely has met. I also really like Diana's response to this; she reassures Phi by telling her that this is normal, what she's feeling is okay and normal to feel, and she is too. While Phi isn't 'normal' by definition of not being an esper, despite the weight of the world on her shoulders and her cold exterior she is still human. She's not perfect, she DOES feel things, and that's okay. This has gone slightly off topic but I feel like this part's worth mentioning somewhere in the grand scheme of things or for ANY analysis at all, and will be brought up again in the self-definition section. But there's more to Phi and Diana's relationship once the actual Decision Game begins, and what it means for Phi's idea of her own self-worth.

VI. FIRE

SYSTEM: Incinerator startup... will now commence. Incineration in... thirty minutes.

This is the big one. The big fragment I've been building to, and part of the reason I wrote this analysis at all instead of focusing on a different theme related to Phi such as family or trust (both interesting still, though). Once again, I won't preface this by explaining the fragment - but here, Phi's in the incinerator (reminiscent of 999...). A lot of the way she acts here is of major interest to me, especially after the puzzle room - notably she's incredibly self-sacrificing. I won't say that she's completely apathetic to her death, because she isn't:

PHI: I need to stop firing myself up or else I really will be… PHI: ...Stay calm, Phi.

But, I mean, who wouldn't when placed with the threat of burning to death. It's a slow and painful way to die, at that. But you'll see a lot throughout this fragment is Phi's mentality of "rather me than them" - as painful as death is, at this point she'd rather be the martyr to save their lives than the opposite.

PHI: Diana and Sigma are over there... Damn! Why am I here... But it's better that I'm the only one who got locked in.

At this point she doesn't know her death would save their lives (the true rules of the decision in this fragment haven't been revealed), but is still willing to be the martyr as she's the only one currently at risk of dying as far as all of D-Team knows. Maybe it's because she can SHIFT out, maybe it's because she sees herself as a worthy sacrifice, maybe it's both. This is also all the more noteworthy knowing she and Sigma both remember VLR - they've both died, both had to make sacrifices, and been through many of the same circumstances. Although where it is in their memory is different - for Phi it's mentally a few days prior and for Sigma it was decades ago but he's spent those decades creating it (and without the ability to talk to Phi) - that doesn't get rid of their bond. Phi's bond with Diana is a little different since the only scene they get is the flashback (if you want my personal opinion, I feel like Phi should have taken a bit longer to trust her or at least be wary; maybe not as slowly as it took her to trust Sigma, but it feels out of nowhere IMO. it could still show her development with coming to trust people but still provide an interesting and heartbreaking bond), but nevertheless still important. And then comes the decision.

DELTA: Diana, both of their lives rest upon your decision.

PHI: How dare you not consider everyone else's feelings, Sigma! What if the shot is a live bullet?! Do you really want Diana to end up blowing your head off with her own hands?!

What does Diana do? Sacrifice Phi's life for a guaranteed chance of saving Sigma? Or risk Sigma's life - a 50/50 chance of him living - to save Phi?

This analysis isn't about Sigma so I won't go too far into detail about his lines, but the important thing is that he's willing to risk his life for Phi - and it's the logical decision in his mind, since there's a chance of everybody living. If Phi dies, someone's guaranteed to die, but if Diana shoots Sigma, there's a 50% chance they all make it out alive. It's the more pragmatic decision, however Phi is very against it.

It feels a bit like the expected roles they'd play have reversed since VLR, or at least for a scenario like this. In a way, she's right - Sigma barely considers the fact that he might die. And the implication of her bringing up Diana is also a really interesting point of consideration that Sigma also doesn't think about - Phi knows Diana won't be able to handle the guilt of killing Sigma. She knows that, and in the timeline where that does happen, she's right. Sigma's sacrifice isn't just a simple detached death like with Phi's; if Diana chooses to shoot Sigma and he does die, she had an active role in his death. Which is sort of the complexity behind the trolley problem in the first place (it essentially is a sort of trolley problem - except there's a chance they'll both live and both victims are asking to be a martyr to save the other). I also want to call to attention Phi's specific wording of everyone; she mentions just Diana at the end, but given her difficulty with expressing her own feelings it doesn't feel like a stretch to assume that this is about her feelings too. Looking at her reaction in the ending where Sigma DOES die (which I will get to), it's clear she really can't bear to lose Sigma either. Not after everything. Not after all of this.

DIANA: But Phi, if I don't pull the trigger, you'll... PHI (facing away): Don't worry about me.

Like I said, she seems to believe herself to be expendable in this situation. Sigma can't die - she can't handle that, but in her eyes, she can. If it means he and Diana live. She basically asks Diana to let her be the sacrifice, even though there's a chance they can all make it out alive. I also will point out that while Phi had some moments of this in VLR, this is a stark contrast between her much more self-interested characterization there. Also, note what I wrote down in the quote - while ZTD's models aren't the best or the most expressive, I think it's an interesting detail that she faces away from them for a moment and while saying this. So what's Diana meant to do? Pull the trigger, and leave open the possibility of everyone living while it risks her killing Sigma? Or let Phi burn to death? Sigma wants her to pull it - it's the more pragmatic choice, they can all live, maybe - and Phi wants to ensure that Sigma won't die. Even if it means she burns to death. We're able to see all three options, but most of them aren't pretty.

As it's the shortest of all three options by a long shot, I'm going to first discuss Shoot: Live; where Diana shoots Sigma and he dies. There's not much to preface this with other than what's on the tin: Sigma has died by Diana's hand in an effort to save Phi.

PHI (crying): Why?! Why did you do it?! You murderer! Murderer! I wasn't... I didn't matter at all! I didn't...! I didn't...! So why... Why did you...

Yeah. It's a pretty heartbreaking route, and probably the most emotional Phi is seen as being apart from near the end where she yells at Delta, maybe. Every part of her that she's held together up to this point just falls apart. The subtitles/captions don't do it justice as her VA sounds a bit more like she's struggling to get out what she wants to say at all. Like as if she's so upset and broken by witnessing Sigma die right in front of her, and FOR her, that she basically breaks down right here. Hell, right after this line she stops actually saying anything and just cries until Diana picks up the gun. (side note: not to nitpick but the some of pauses here sound like the type of pause that would be used with an em dash rather than an ellipsis. take that as you will)

It's easy to wonder why she'd call Diana a murderer, of all things, considering the extremity of that accusation and Phi KNOWING she was forced into that situation, but once again you have to consider Phi's emotional state. It doesn't even sound like she's speaking clearly, and grief and trauma makes people do and say pretty fucked up things sometimes (and especially when it's someone so close to you. Phi also WATCHED Sigma die). Given the fact that she already didn't seem to be doing the best in the first place it mostly just seems to be something she said in the moment out of grief rather than an accusation with any real weight behind it. It's not completely out of nowhere - and may imply some sort of resentment towards Diana for choosing to pick that (which I will also get into in Shoot: Blank) - but my point is this line should be taken with a major grain of salt. Maybe some of it comes from somewhere, such as hidden feelings suddenly being vocalized and taken to their extreme, but not all of it may be how she really feels and just an inflation due to her mental state.

Another thing to consider is her constant questioning of why - why would Diana ever pick Sigma over her? Why would she make that decision? Phi can't fathom it. Even though Sigma did say it's the more logical situation because that means there's a chance they all could've survived, she still doesn't understand that she'd even be worth sacrifice. See the K End segment for more on Phi hating people - especially Sigma - sacrificing themselves for her (I'll get to it in Suppression but she seems to cope better when the death isn't FOR her to live, if it is she seems to deal with it a lot worse), but here its taken to its extreme.

I also need to point out the text in bold. It's so so important to this I think. She doesn't think she's worth the sacrifice. She didn't matter, doesn't matter, so why would Diana do it? Why would she risk Sigma's life? Again I'll point out that Phi's self-sacrificing nature here could be a result of many things; maybe because she can SHIFT out and she's done it before (too many times, maybe), maybe because she's just that willing to die for Sigma and Diana to live, maybe it's a mix of it all, and any of those could ring true here. But my point is that it seems like she doesn't understand Diana's decision or that she could really be worth dying for. She didn't matter, after all. (once again, take this with a grain of salt, but still.)

This route ends not long after this but I do want to mention how much of a horrifying dead end it is. Phi was right about Diana being unable to handle the guilt, and she kills herself - leaving Phi alone. On the topic of how Phi's more emotional here than before, she literally screams at the end of the fragment before the "Game Over" screen plays. This is the worst possible end to Fire, I think - two people die instead of the expected one, and the sole survivor is struggling to cope with even one of the two deaths she just witnessed. That was enough to cause her to break down completely. Adding onto that another death of someone she cares about, especially a suicide, is A Lot. For anyone it would be. It makes sense why it just ends right there; where else would it go, really, and anything that could happen is fairly bleak, but it's interesting to think about. Anthropic Principle confirms she lives, and considering the revelation that all of D-Team is poisoned from the start in Don't Shoot it implies she drank the antidote. But where does she even go from there? In the timeline where C-Team all dies, she ends up as the sole survivor, even. I don't know. But it's an interesting thing to think about for an absolutely heartbreaking and tragic end. It's a dead end, really. What's Phi meant to do now? After all this? After losing the people she cared about?

in the second part I'll continue starting from Shoot:Blank - but the rest of the analysis will go there. i'll link it in this post once it's done! i'll even include some deleted lines from Fire from TCRF because they're quite interesting ! feel free to leave any commentary you have (so far) in tags or replies because i'd love to hear :} (also note: everything up to near the end of Aftermath was written months ago, the rest was written in the past few days)