#...like i'm just at a loss for words this is so surreal

[starblaster]

i cannot fucking believe this, the city keeps saying that claims of there being survivors stuck in the building are somehow unsubstantiated. one of them was literally fucking waving for help from a window.

[happilyhertale]

My dragoness – Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Summary: Weeks have passed since the announcement of your betrothal to your Uncle Daemon. Since then, hardly a night has gone by without Daemon visiting you - without disregarding your wish not to take the final step yet. But tonight, on your wedding night, you will finally be fully his.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering, sex (p in v), breeding kink, size kink, loss of virginity

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

This is another part of my Shared Future series.

x3 When @targaryen-dynasty asked me if I would like to participate in celebrating her 3K follower milestone, of course I agreed x3

Some have asked for another part for the Shared Future series, which is why I'm celebrating Laura's milestone with this story.

I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5 k

Other stories of mine

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Your eyes are closed and your shaky breath echoes in the chambers. The rooms that you will share with your husband from now on.

The ceremony seems only distant in your memory and now so surreal as you lie here on this bed. How all eyes were on you when your eyes only looked into your uncle's. How you couldn't suppress a grin when you recognised the slightest smile around his lips. How he gently cupped your cheek with his rough hand before enveloping your lips with his…

"Hey... open your eyes," you hear Daemon say - almost softly.

You obey him and your eyes slowly open. The scenery shoots in on you as you lie on the bed in just your nightgown, your husband standing in front of the bed, looking at you, slowly opening his shirt.

"That's better," he says gently and smiles at you.

You don't know why you're so nervous. He's seen you naked countless times, driven you to ecstasy with his touch. But this time it's different, it's your wedding night.

He slowly approaches you as he slowly opens his trousers. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your nightgown as you try to breathe more calmly. Without looking at him, you hear his trousers slide down.

Daemon's eyes linger on you. He takes in every nervous twitch and quickened breath and he moves closer.

"There's no need to be nervous. I've seen every inch of you, explored every curve, and tasted your sweet surrender. Tonight, we seal our union, and I will show you just how much you belong to me," he purrs, his voice low and seductive, "It will be special," his soft voice sounds and you hear the words you whispered to him countless nights ago.

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a mix of anticipation and excitement bubbling within you. You know that Daemon is a man of passion and intensity, and tonight, he intends to leave his mark on you in more ways than one.

Daemon's eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness as he watches you fidget and nervously avoid his gaze.

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek before trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His touch is both tender and possessive, a contrast that only adds to the intensity of the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your nightgown, slowly lifting it up, revealing your body to him in all its vulnerability.

You feel the mattress give way as Daemon kneels on the bed. You look up and your purple Targaryen eyes meet. A gasp leaves your lips as his hand brushes across your thigh, gently grasping the underside of it and spreading your thighs slightly - his rough hand, a stark contrast to your soft skin. His other hand slides to your face, his index finger and thumb cupping your chin, lifting your head slightly.

"Look at me... focus on me..." he whispers and you nod slightly as you look into his eyes. Carefully, he pushes your legs apart as he kneels between them. His lips glide over your cheek, over your neck, while his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your eyes flutter shut as you concentrate fully on his touch. His warm breath glides over your skin as his lips caress you. The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers grip your inner thigh.

"That's my girl... concentrate on my touch..." he whispers against your skin. You nod slightly again and gasp as his fingers cup your folds - you'll never get tired of this feeling. Slowly, his fingers move, smearing the wetness along your folds. His fingers find your sensitive bud, light circular movements follow and as if of their own accord your hips move to follow their movement.

Daemon follows your movements, sliding his fingers to your soaked opening, applying light pressure. His fingertips are literally sucked in and a mewling sound comes from your lips. You exhale heavily, his fingers thrust deeper, your eyes still closed.

Daemon's lips curl into a smug smile as he watches your reactions, relishing in the way you respond to his touch. He takes pleasure in knowing that he can easily bring you to the edge with just his fingers alone.

His fingers continue their exploration, sliding in and out of your wetness, gradually increasing the depth and pace of his thrusts. He watches as your hips buck against his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're so wet... I don't even really need to work to get inside you," Daemon murmurs and you blush slightly, but your moans don't let up.

"Open your eyes" he whispers, "I want you to watch as I prepare you for me. See how wet and ready you are for my cock."

As you obey again, your eyes meeting his, Daemon's fingers quicken their pace, delving deeper into your core. He revels in the way your breath hitches, your body trembling with anticipation.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're ready for me, aren't you? You want my cock inside you, filling you completely."

You blush even more - you know that Daemon loves to fill your mind with filthy words. Even if they have the desired effect on you, you can't help but blush.

But suddenly you feel him pull his fingers out of you and a soft whimper leaves you. You feel your nerves again as you look down and see him pulling down his undergarments. You've seen his manhood many times before, on the nights he's visited you - but this is different.

His length is released and you gasp slightly - it's never seemed so big to you, so thick. His hand slides along his throbbing length and you hear him grunt slightly.

"Daemon... this... this won't fit..." you suddenly whisper nervously and your hand slides to his arm.

Daemon smiles, still pumping his hardness.

"Hey... look at me," he whispers again and you look up. But then he kisses you, wrapping his lips around yours, swallowing your doubts.

The kiss is filled with a hunger that ignites a fire deep within you. His hand roams your body, claiming every inch, as if marking you as his territory. The intensity of his touch, the way he dominates your senses, leaves you breathless and wanting more.

"It will fit... we will make it fit... It will hurt at first, but the reward will be all the better," he whispers against your lips. You can't help but nod as he slides the tip of his hardness through your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut and you inhale sharply. Your fingers dig into his skin as his length presses against your pearl. Again your hips move towards him, seeking more of that touch.

Daemon looks down, between your bodies, watching closely as your wetness and his precum mingle. His growl echoes through the chambers. You concentrate fully on the sensation as he guides its length to your entrance.

Slowly he pushes forward and you feel the pressure as his manhood tries to penetrate you. A slight whimper leaves you as your heat envelops his tip. He growls slightly, senses your tightness and starts to move slowly.

"You're doing great..." he whispers in your ear, gently kissing your cheek as he pushes further. You feel the pressure, biting your lip as he impales you on his hot length. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, is overwhelming. Your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate to his size. Daemon's pace is slow and deliberate, relishing in the tightness and warmth of your core.

But Daemon still feels a lot of resistance, he's nowhere near all the way in yet.

"Love... it's going to hurt for a moment now... but it has to be," he whispers and your eyes open again, looking at him. You whimper, but you nod slightly. He leans his forehead against yours, lets his nose slide gently along yours before kissing you softly again. His rhythmic movements don't let up as his tongue searches for yours and you moan slightly.

When suddenly he thrusts and you cry out as the sharp pain runs through your abdomen. He swallows your cry, his hand on your hip as his thick length works you open. "Uncle Daemon..." you whimper into his mouth as he slides in and out.

"I know..." he whispers, but he keeps moving. The pain slowly subsides. Your cunt, clenching around his cock in protest, slowly gives way. He feels the fluttering of your walls and closes his eyes briefly.

"Gods you feel so good," he growls. Slight mewling sounds leave your lips as your hips begin to move with him. He smiles at you, "That's my girl," he whispers a little breathlessly as his hips move faster. He can feel you soaking his cock, your pleasure increasing, and it spurs him on.

His thrusts get harder as he tries to bury himself completely inside you. He revels in the feeling of your tightness around him, the way you yield to his every thrust. Moans escape you now as your hands grip his upper arms. His hand still on your hip, holding you in place.

He watches your face, observing every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, marking you as his.

"You're so tight, so wet," his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. "You were made for me... Made to be filled by me," he grunts as he feels the tight grip of your cunt.

You are completely overwhelmed by the sensation as your cunt is fully stretched. You feel his balls slapping against you with every thrust and you whimper. His grunts echo through your chambers as he feels the continuous spasming of your wet walls. His eyes drift down again, seeing his glistening length disappear into your perfect womanhood again and again - the moment he's been waiting for so long, finally fulfilled.

He looks at your face again, sensing your impending climax - your eyes closed, your lips slightly parted as you try to follow his movements. Your noises a mixture of moans and whimpers. His hand slides to your abdomen, pressing lightly against it. He wants to feel his hot length sliding into you, bringing you to climax.

His thumb begins to tease your bud as he thrusts harder and faster into you. You cry out slightly, but you can feel the pressure in your abdomen. Your fingernails dig deeper into his skin as he pumps in and out, his thumb rubbing faster.

"Come for me... Soak my cock, suck up my seed..." he growls in your ear and you moan again. You open your eyes and look into his - blown wide with lust.

As your climax approaches, Daemon's pace quickens, his thrusts growing more powerful. He can feel the walls of your core tightening around him, signaling your imminent release.

With one final powerful thrust, he plunges deep within you, his cock pulsating as he finds his own release. The sensation of him emptying himself inside you pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You moan out, your walls milk his cock and he grunts loudly. He watches your face contort with pleasure as moan after moan leaves your lips while your warm walls spasm around him. He's never seen anything so perfect - you're finally his.

He leans down, kisses you, swallows your moans of pleasure.  His hips move more slowly as you come sliding back to reality from the veil of lust.

When his movements slow down completely, he releases the kiss. You can still feel him inside you, his nose slides gently along yours, you see him smile slightly.

"Are you all right?" he whispers a little breathlessly. You just nod and a breathless "Okay," leaves his lips. You whimper slightly in protest as he slowly pulls out of you. His length glistening with a mixture of your fluids. He watches you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, before leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

In this moment, there is no one else but the two of you, lost in the aftermath of your shared passion. Your bodies are entwined, your souls connected in a way that words cannot describe.

Your heavy breathing echoes in your chambers as he slowly releases the kiss, his gaze travelling down your body as he leans back.

His gaze is fixed on your womanhood and you feel something unfamiliar dripping out of you. Your hand instinctively wants to slide between your legs, but you only notice a slight shake of his head before he stops your hand. His other hand slides to your folds and slowly he pushes his fingers inside you, but you are overstimulated, your hips jerk back slightly.

"Don't," he whispers, "My seed must stay inside you.... I want a perfect heir to grow inside you"

You blush slightly, but his fingers slowly slide inside you, pushing the seed deeper inside you. Your eyes flutter shut slightly as you surrender to this feeling.

Daemon's eyes darken with possessiveness as he watches your reactions, his fingers still buried deep inside you. He can feel the wetness and warmth around his digits, evidence of the pleasure he has brought you. The thought of his seed filling you, the possibility of creating an heir, sends a surge of pride through him.

His thumb brushes against your sensitive pearl, eliciting a shudder from your body. He can sense your sensitivity, the overstimulation that threatens to overwhelm you. But he doesn't stop, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on your pleasure.

"You're mine… My dragoness" he murmurs, his voice low and almost commanding. "And I will fill you with my seed until you bear me a child. You will be the mother of my heir“

Daemon watches you, his fingers still buried deep inside you. His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. He can feel the tension building within you, your body on the precipice of another climax. He wants to take you there, to see you come undone in his arms once more.

As the waves of pleasure begin to build once again, you can feel his fingers curling inside you, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks of ecstasy coursing through your body. It's almost too much to bear, the pleasure threatening to consume you.

And as your moans fill the air, your body convulsing around his fingers, he knows he has succeeded. He watches with satisfaction as your pleasure washes over you, your walls clenching around his fingers. In his mind, your precious womb sucks up his seed with every contraction.

Finally he slowly pulls his fingers out of you – a mixture of his seed and your arousal covers his fingers. He smiles and collapses next to you on the bed, his breathing still heavy and laboured.

He looks at you, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. You smile almost shyly before his arm wraps around your middle and pulls you closer. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. His fingers glide gently over your abdomen as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear - your heavy breathing and light giggles fill the air.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[slaaverin]

Sorry but HOLY SHIT.

I'm?????? At loss for words.

This is the gayest shit I've ever seen.

AAAAAAAAAAAH.

Park Jimin is devious, he is sneaky, he wants everybody to know JK is HIS and Jungkook just sat or lied there letting him writing his own name ON HIS CHEST and also let him take a picture of his creation while Jungkook smiled like a..a..proud boyfriend? Idk. HIS SMILE???? LIKE HE'S HAPPY HE JUST GOD CLAIMED BY HIS MAN

ALL OF THIS IN FRONT OF STAFF AND TAE.

This is??? I'm baffled.

You can't defend them. You can't. Who agrees to have someone else's name written on their chest? If they are not a couple? NO ONE. IT JUST DOESN'T HAPPEN. I REPEAT THIS SHIT DOESN'T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE THIS IS NOT A THING

Jimin made sure everybody knew JK his HIS. He claimed his boyfriend as property of The Park Jimin but WE KNEW THAT.

The fact he thought funny to just do it again for good measure AND TAKE A PICTURE FOR HIS PERSONAL ARCHIVE TO REMEMBER. Jimin looking at the picture month later and telling himself "Oh yeah, I took a picture of MY MAN on the boat my little Jungkookie is MINE AND MINE ONLY" while looking at it fondly and a little devilish.

This is surreal.

This is the type of shit that couldn't have been predicted.

IT FEELS REALLY SEXUAL TOO. IDK??? LIKE??

I'm losing my goddamn mind.

Guys guys we have come to this type of insane stuff OK. ok.

This is fine. This is perfectly fine. Let me breathe.

I'M NOT OK???

God couples are so annoying and insufferable.

We get it guys you're really in love in a kinky way. We. get. it.

Do they know some people are single?? Do they not care? No those two lovebirds are too occupied being completely obsessed with each other of course 😐

They are completely insane, those two.

I'M SO DONE. BYE.

[irmawrites]

Night encounter

Summary: Living in Dragonstone, claiming a dragon, it all seemed surreal to Ulf. Having a Targaryen princess in his bed all to himself even more so.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: Ulf the White x Targaryen!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, she's his niece but she could be Rhaenyra's daughter or Alicent's daughter, it’s all up to you)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, slight degradation, corruption kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2017

Author’s note: hi everyone! Not too long ago I received the following request: "I was wondering if you would do one where Ulf is infatuated with the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin after meeting her after he claims Silverwing and could it possibly progress into smut?". To say that I was delighted to receive a request for Ulf would be an understatement. I am literally obsessed with this character and I really wanted to write something for him <3 HOWEVER I am incredibly sorry it's filthy, it's inappropriate, honestly I'm almost ashamed I wrote it ahaha

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

From the first moment he saw you, Ulf knew he had to have you. Such a sweet little thing, all soft smiles and happy giggles. A real ray of sunshine. He and you may have been related, but you couldn't have been more different. Uncle and niece like the moon and the sun. Where he was rude and boorish, you were polite and gentle. Where his lack of manners and unkempt appearance worked against him, your tact and polished looks made you stand out among all the inhabitants of Dragonstone.

But while he appreciated your sensitivity and gentleness, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like when he finally robbed you of your innocence.

And a little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was just a facade, a role you only played in public. You weren't the perfect princess you pretended to be, of that he was almost certain. After all, hadn't he noticed your eyes wandering to his fingers several times while he licked off the meat juices that stained them? And then there was that one evening, during a meal, when your hand had wandered to his thigh. You had gently brushed his crotch, where a bulge was already stretching the linen of his breeches, without even looking at him, too busy laughing with Jacaerys. The older man remembered clearly how he had had to excuse himself in a hurry, feigning sudden fatigue and retreating to the chambers assigned to him. That night he had imagined your lips wrapped around his impossibly hard member, your silver curls between his fingers and your eyes locked with his as he pressed your nose against his pelvis, forcing you to take more, always more. He had come with a loud grunt, painting his palm white, and then swore he would have you. It was almost a matter of life and death for him at that point.

Perhaps the Seven had heard his plight, if they existed, for they soon offered him everything he wanted on a silver platter.

Claiming Silverwing was the achievement of a lifetime, and yet it seemed like a dull moment when he opened the door to his bedroom and found himself face to face with the woman he had been lusting after for weeks. Dressed in an almost transparent silk nightgown, you looked like one of his heated dreams. Instinctively, he even pinched the skin at the crook of his elbow to make sure it was all real and you weren't a figment of his wild imagination. "I couldn't sleep," he heard you say, your voice almost shy, "with this storm." Oh, but he knew that your nocturnal visit had nothing to do with the lightning that tore across the sky, or the thunder that shook the walls of the fortress. If you were there, it was simply because you too were unable to resist the tension between the two of you for a single minute longer. "Come in," his hand automatically came to rest on your waist to guide you inside, "I wouldn't want to keep a princess waiting".

If asked, Ulf wouldn't have been able to explain how he ended up in bed with your body pressed against his. Maybe it was you who had taken his hand and made him lie down beside you. Or maybe it was he who had persuaded you to slip into his arms, into his sheets, to find some welcome comfort. Everything seemed a blur now, especially as your buttocks pressed against his crotch.

You wiggled your hips. Maybe accidentally, maybe consciously, he didn't know, but the effect was the same. He could feel the warmth of your body under the layers of fabric, and he was desperate to show you what happened to women like you in the arms of men like him. It felt like a punishment, forcing himself to remain chaste and not give in to his desires in such a situation. Not to touch you when you were so close to him and his length was already so painfully hard.

He moved his lips to your ear, his breath caressing your skin. His hands slid down your chest and he let his thumbs lightly caress the two small, hardened buds. "Tell me to stop," he whispered as his fingers slid lower and lower, grazing the hem of your underwear in the hollow where your thigh met your hip, "tell me to stop if that's not what you want". "That's exactly what I want," your voice sounded like a breathless moan as your hand rested on his, as if to encourage him to give you more, " and I want you to continue."

The idea that he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted, made his head spin.

Between your legs, his fingers found your wet folds. "You're soaking wet," he breathed as he traced your slit from your entrance to that sensitive spot that sent shivers down your entire body, "we've barely started and you're already soaking wet." It was almost inconceivable that a beautiful, delicate princess like you would agree to give herself to a gruff old man like him. "How does it feel, here?", he asked as he kissed your neck, your back still pressed against his torso as his index finger circled your little pearl beneath the fabric of your underwear. "It's... It feels good", your voice was choked, a broken moan, "warm". Ulf gave an approving grunt. "And here?", his tone became more authoritative, and soon two of his fingers were inside you, stretching you just right. Tired of waiting, he barely gave you time to get used to the new sensation before he started moving back and forth, leaving you breathless. "Answer me". He could already feel you clenching around him, the friction against your inner walls something you'd never felt before. "I can feel your fingers inside me," you finally managed to answer, and to reward you he pressed a little harder against that sensitive spot that made you see stars, "I feel... full." He couldn't help smiling against the soft skin of your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart," as if to back up his words, he pressed his fingers impossibly deeper, burying them in your wet warmth, "you'll feel even fuller soon."

He withdrew them almost immediately with an obscene noise. That would leave you empty, he knew, but he also knew that he wanted you to come around another part of his body for the first time, and not just on his fingers.

"Undress," the older man ordered, pointing vaguely with his chin at the little bit of clothing you were wearing. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips as you stood completely naked before him, kneeling between his thighs. "Such a pretty body," his voice sounded almost distracted, his fingers busy sliding down your sides as if to show you were to his liking, "a pretty mouth too, I wonder what it would look like around my cock." He saw you bite your lower lip before finally answering, emboldened: "Perhaps I could show you." Your hands rested first on his chest, brushing against the linen of the tunic he wore for the night. Then they slid lower, much lower, replaying a scene Ulf had seen a hundred times in his dreams. Your fingers undid the drawstring that held his breeches together and he had to remind himself not to make you pick up the pace, to give him what he wanted right then and there.

A curse escaped him as your hand finally wrapped around his manhood. It looked so big, massive, between your forefinger and thumb, which couldn't quite touch. And when your lips finally brushed the head, where he was already weeping for you, he threw his head back on the heavy silk pillows. It took all his strength and resilience not to close his eyes from the pleasure he felt from your back and forth movements and the wet warmth of your mouth. "You're doing so well," he growled as his hand made its way to the back of your head, finding refuge in your silver locks, "sucking my cock so well, like the perfect little whore you are." Around his member he could feel the vibrations of your audible moan. It seemed you liked it when people didn't really treat you like the princess you were supposed to be, but more like a cheap slut from a seedy pillow house. A discovery that couldn't have made him happier.

The vision was royal, the sensation divine. He felt like a king, he felt like a god, with a dragon under his feet and a Targaryen princess pleasuring him with her mouth. He had everything that he had ever wished for and yet he wanted more, needed more.

Bloody greed.

His grip on the back of your head tightened, forcing you back a few inches. His gaze fell on your red, swollen lips, glistening with spit and something else that testified to your sinful actions. You smiled at him, obviously proud of yourself, and he couldn't help but kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. "On all fours," he ordered, right against the skin of your neck, his voice hoarse with desire. The order may have been short, the tone a little awkward, hurried, but you understood immediately what he was trying to tell you. With your face now pressed into the pillows and your hips raised, Ulf could hardly believe that this was your first time, and yet. One of his hands cupped his still aching manhood while the other gripped the flesh at your waist. Captivated by the sight of his member disappearing into your wet heat, his eyes couldn't leave the spot where the two of you were joined for a single second. "Fuck," he groaned as he gave you time to adjust to his presence, "such a tight cunt." Despite his vast experience, he had never tasted, never felt anything like this in his dull life of Flea Bottom brothel escapades and quick embraces with nameless prostitutes. Perhaps it was because he was now living with real royalty, or perhaps it was because your exchange was different, more intimate, almost affectionate.

He withdrew almost completely, the friction against your inner walls agonisingly delicious. Your juices had left his member soaked and glistening, a sight that drove him deeper into you this time, the headboard hitting the wall with a thud. "M... more," you begged as he pulled out again, your voice like a broken moan that made his head spin with desire and possessiveness. The older man was more than happy to comply, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Soon the pleasure became too strong, too great to articulate anything coherent. He wanted to tell you how good you felt, how perfect you really were around him, but the words remained stuck in his throat and only grunts managed to break through the barrier of his half-open lips. But you weren't any better. Beneath him you were a mess of moans and gasps, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. You were close, he could tell, you had grown impossibly tight around him, and he was tired of making you wait. So, in an act of mercy, he let his own fingers slip between your thighs to briefly rub your pearl and finally, finally, push you over the edge. He joined you almost immediately, his approaching climax accelerated by the rhythmic clenching of your walls around him.

It was probably foolish to pour into you with white ropes, to fill you in a different way this time. But when exactly had Ulf ever been responsible? The sight was simply mesmerising, the mingled evidence of your release flowing from your still clenching hole as he withdrew. So divine that he could hardly tear his eyes away. And as you pressed against him, seeking the warmth of his arms, your noses brushing together in an achingly tender touch, he mused that he was prepared to do many more foolish things to keep a thing as sweet as you by his side.

[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part Four

CW: brief mentions of trauma and aftermath of traumatic events Word Count: 1605 Summary: Logan awakens to a world transformed....

A/N: Because I was gone for a few days I decided to post back to back chapters for y'all! 😘😘😘 I really hope you've enjoyed the series thus far and I'm planning on uploading the FINAL part tomorrow at some point, so please stay tuned!

(Epilogue)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Logan awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as he gasped for breath. For a moment, the shadows of the past clung to him, the memories of a world consumed by darkness and death. But as he blinked, the world around him began to take shape—bright, warm, and full of life. He was in a familiar room, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the wooden floorboards. The scent of fresh linen and the distant murmur of voices filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile silence of the future he had left behind.

His heart still raced as he sat up, the echoes of battle and loss fading but not forgotten. This was the mansion, the X-Mansion, but it was different. He could feel it in the air—a peace, a serenity that hadn’t existed in the timeline he had fought so hard to change. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Logan stood, his body tense with anticipation as he took in his surroundings. The room was simple, familiar in its layout, but the life that pulsed just beyond the walls was something he hadn’t felt in years.

He moved quickly, almost urgently, through the corridors of the mansion. The halls, once filled with the memories of battle and loss, were now alive with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Students hurried past him, their faces bright and unburdened by the horrors of war. Familiar faces appeared—Ororo, Hank, Jean—all smiling, unaware of the darkness that had been averted. It was surreal, this world that he had only dreamed of, and yet it felt achingly real.

But as Logan walked, his mind was focused on one thing: finding you. Each step felt like an eternity, the distance between you and him stretching out like a never-ending chasm. He pushed through the crowds, ignoring the curious glances and greetings, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. What if you weren’t here? What if the changes he had made hadn’t been enough?

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Logan found himself standing at the entrance to the mansion’s gardens. The sight before him took his breath away. The garden was bathed in the warm, golden light of the setting sun, the colors of the flowers and trees vibrant and alive. And there, standing amidst the beauty of the garden, was you.

You were gazing out at the sunset, your silhouette framed by the fiery orange and pink hues that painted the sky. The sight of you, so peaceful and serene, made Logan’s breath catch in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as if time itself had stopped. The world around him faded away, leaving only you, the one person he had fought so hard to protect.

Then, as if sensing his presence, you turned. Your eyes widened in surprise, the sunset casting a soft glow on your face. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved, the weight of all that had been lost and regained hanging in the air between you.

“Logan…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mix of disbelief and relief. It was all he needed to hear. In an instant, he was across the garden, pulling you into his arms with a force that spoke of desperation, of fear, and of an overwhelming need to hold you close.

The embrace was fierce, almost too tight, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you would vanish, a figment of a cruel dream. His heart pounded against your chest, and you could feel the trembling in his hands as he held you, the remnants of a fear so deep it had rooted itself in his very soul.

“You’re here,” Logan breathed, his voice rough, choked with emotion. “You’re really here.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him just as tightly, feeling the strength in his body and the vulnerability in his grip. “I’m here,” you murmured against his shoulder, your voice thick with tears you hadn’t realized were falling. “I’m right here, Logan.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you seemed to hold its breath, the garden bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. The only sound was the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the steady thud of Logan’s heartbeat beneath your ear.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders as if to reassure himself that you were real. His eyes, usually so guarded, were filled with a storm of emotions—relief, joy, and a profound sadness that made your heart ache.

“You remember everything, don’t you?” you asked softly, reaching up to brush your fingers against his cheek. The stubble on his jaw was rough against your skin, a grounding sensation in this moment that felt too good to be true.

Logan nodded, his gaze intense as it locked onto yours. “Every damn thing,” he admitted, his voice low, gravelly. “The other timeline… It’s still in my head. I remember what happened, what you—what we went through.” His voice broke slightly, the words catching in his throat.

Your heart tightened at the pain in his voice, the memories of a world that no longer existed weighing heavy on both of you. You could see the haunted look in his eyes, the shadows of battles fought and lost, the ghosts of a future that had been wiped away.

“But it’s over now,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You did it, Logan. You saved us all. You saved me.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours, as if seeking reassurance, as if needing to believe that this moment, this world, was real. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, the fear and doubt that had gripped him loosening their hold. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he let out a shaky breath.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “You kept me sane when everything else was falling apart.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the depth of his gratitude and love hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. You could feel the weight of the future that had been averted, the sacrifices made, the battles fought and won. But here, in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you and the sun setting in the sky, you felt a peace that you hadn’t known in a long time.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I would have done if—” You broke off, the thought too painful to finish.

Logan’s grip tightened on you, his voice a low rumble as he spoke. “You don’t have to think about that. We’re here, now, together. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you fought back the tears threatening to spill over. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart—a sound that grounded you, reminded you that this was real, that he was real.

For a long while, you stood there together, the sunset painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. The garden around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The peace of the moment was almost surreal, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had defined your lives for so long.

But even in this peace, you could feel the undercurrent of all that had been lost and regained, the scars that would never fully heal. You knew that Logan carried those scars too, that the weight of what could have been would always linger in the background.

Finally, Logan pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he looked at you with a softness that made your heart ache. “I never thought I’d get to see this,” he admitted, his voice low. "It almost doesn’t feel real.”

You smiled softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair, the familiar gesture comforting in its simplicity. “It’s real, Logan. We’re here, and we have a future—a future we can build together.”

Logan’s eyes softened at your words, the tension in his body finally beginning to melt away. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “A future together,” he repeated, the words a quiet promise.

As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, you stood there in the garden, wrapped in each other’s arms. The darkness of the past still lingered, but it no longer held the same power over you. Together, you had faced the worst the world had to offer and emerged stronger for it.

And now, as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you looked toward the future with hope—a hope that had been hard-won, a hope that you and Logan would nurture together.

No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything. And in that moment, with the world at peace and the future full of possibilities, you allowed yourselves to simply be—to cherish the life you had fought so hard to protect, and to find solace in the love that had brought you back together.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨

Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus @angelofthorr @swthxrry @ayamenimthiriel @charlyrmv @alex21705 @penguinsravioli @mxtokko

[prouddogboi]

Stray dog (Part 1)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.

Word count: 1852

Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.

It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor. 

“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.

“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.

“It was.”

“Did you get injured?” 

“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You seem to do your job very well.”

You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.

“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.

“They have things to do.”

“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”

Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”

“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”

“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.” 

“Who?”

“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”

“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”

This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”

“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”

“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away. 

“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other. 

Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.

A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in. 

Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying. 

“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.

Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”

The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”

Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant. 

“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair. 

As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings. 

“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.

“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed. 

However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable. 

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.

“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words. 

Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.

to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D

[theagstd]

One Night Stand; 05

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter Five ; wc | 4.7k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

"Ah, fuck." You mutter softly. Your head feels heavy, with one side numb and swollen. You sit up, holding your head as you slowly open your eyes. Your vision is blurry at first, then clears, revealing the feet of a man standing before you. "Awake?" The man asks, towering over you. You look up to see Mr. Jeon. "W-where am I?" you mumble, groaning from the pain in your head. 

It seems you took quite a fall. "In my office," he replies shortly, walking to his desk and leaning against it while you adjust yourself on his velvet couch. "I must've passed out from starvation," you mumble to yourself, though your CEO hears you clearly. He frowns and tilts his head when he hears you well. "Don't I pay you enough to buy groceries or at least takeout?" he asks sharply, the man was supposed to act like he didn't hear a word but he couldn't keep his mouth zipped up. You sigh deeply. His salary is more than sufficient, even allowing you to save, but that's not the issue, it's a you problem. you've not been eating well due to the loss of appetite. 

"It's not about the salary, I just didn't have lunch, dinner yesterday, or breakfast this morning." Jungkook's scowl grows deeper by the end of your words, puzzled why you haven't eaten for so long. He'd in fact noticed you only grabbing a croissant from the café when there are more filling options. And that's the only thing he's seen you carry around, or it's what he assumes. 

He wonders if he's overworking you. "And why is that?" He seems to be quite interested in you which is very much unlike him and it honestly amuses you even though you've got that throbbing pain in your head. You rub the most painful spot on your head as you speak; "I've lost my appetite the past few days. but it's funny that you're concerned about me, Mr. Jeon. Are you?" He snorts at your question, his hip leaves his desk as he moves closer to the couch and takes a seat. "Of course not, I'm concerned about my creative team and my business." 

That was an expected answer, of course.

"But you shouldn't skip meals. It's not good for you." "Says the one who only drinks coffee all day," you retort sarcastically, making Jungkook clench his jaw. "Getting quite chatty, Ms. Lee?" You roll your eyes before wincing at the pain. He notices your discomfort as his eyes flicker to your hand that presses the spot where you hit your head. "You should take the day off and rest-" "I'm fine, and I have a presentation to finish," you interrupt, suddenly remembering your project.

You've worked hard on it and can't let Park win! Jungkook walks to his large windows, hands in his pockets. "Firstly, you're not fine, and the meeting is postponed until the creative team is available. It wasn't an official meeting anyway-" "But it's just me. I just need to present my idea."

Jungkook turns to you, now standing from the couch as he sees your wide eyes indicating how desperate you are to finish your presentation. He sighs and looks around his office. "The creative team is busy. Take the day off and rest at home. You'll be paid for a half day-" "Will Jimin take my position?" you ask, eyes growing big and pleading, he looks at them, left to right and then heaves a breath. "No, nothing will be finalized until you present your work." 

You sigh in relief, smiling softly. Jungkook turns back to the city view with his palms inside the pockets of his office pants. "You can go, Ms. Lee. Go home." "Can't I just finish my work here?" "No, come back tomorrow. Today, you're excused." You nod, understanding his concern, and head for the door. "Yes, Mr. Jeon, I'll leave now." He nods, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"Get a checkup. You need it." You stop, confused as you raise your eyebrow.  'a checkup?' "I'm fine, Mr. Jeon. I can't afford to spend money on an unnecessary checkup just because I didn't have breakfast." "I suggest you get one just this once-" "I won't waste money on a $250 checkup." Jungkook sighs, rubbing his forehead, questioning why he even bothered.

"Do whatever you want," he whispers, exhausted by the argument. You leave his office, slightly regretting your tone. On your floor, Rosè greets you with a hug. "How are you feeling?" she asks, pulling back to see your face with a concerned look on her features. You smile softly, truly appreciating her worry. "I'm fine, Rosè. I just skipped breakfast. That's all." She frowns and sighs."You shouldn't skip meals." You groan internally. You're not a baby, you eat when you're hungry.

Instead of explaining, you nod and head to your desk to gather your things. You're exhausted, both physically and mentally, you don't feel like yourself anymore. you walk to your desk to grab your belongings before leaving the building when you're greeted by the one person you did not want to meet. "Impressed by my presentation, Ms. Lee?" Not Park Jimin. He's the last person you wanted to encounter, and he had the nerve to question you instead of showing concern for your well-being. He's incredibly arrogant and completely repulsive. You didn't bother to reply to him.

You ignore him since your head is throbbing. He leans against your desk, taunting you. "You fell hard for my idea," he laughs, that his eyes almost close. "I wouldn't be surprised if I get the position even without your presentation. You're not good enough for this company, Ms. Lee. You should stick to your café job. That was more you know, your league."

You grab your bag and walk away, not looking back, you're tired of this crap. Not today, you're not interested in messing with him. you just want some sleep. Jimin follows, annoyingly persistent. "Ms. Lee-" "Leave me alone, Park Jimin!" you scream, loud enough to turn heads.

Jungkook, just exiting his office, hears you and frowns by the loud sound of your voice and approaches. Your face is red with anger, your ears burning and so are your eyes. Jimin steps back, surprised. Jungkook doesn't like this, he's aware of Jimin's behavior towards you and other employees but he'd noticed how Park is persistent with the bulling towards you, the CEO does not encourage this behavior. You storm into the elevator, leaving everyone in shock. You don't know why you exploded, but Jimin pushes your buttons like no one else.

Jungkook remains silent, not wanting to interfere, while Jimin stands embarrassed, he rolls his eyes and gets back to his desk, so he doesn't make it more obvious with the commotion that took place.

-

You're lying on the bed, with half the evening free and nothing to do. There's only so much you can entertain yourself with, and right now, you're in the mood to do nothing. Sometimes, you feel sad that there's no one to talk to or hang out with when you're bored. You only have Kayla, and she's busy during the weekdays, and you're not really close to the other girls.

If you were back home, your mom would keep you company, asking for help in the kitchen to bake cookies or inviting you to watch her boring dramatic TV shows just so she wouldn't have to watch them alone. At least she made you feel like you had someone. But here in Seoul, you feel completely alone. You decide to relax while watching another thriller movie, and to your surprise, you receive a text message from Hoseok.

Hoseok

Hey y/n? Are you okay?

I heard you got half day because

you weren't feeling well?

Are you fine now?

Y/n

Hey, I'm good Hobi.

I passed out during the meeting,

I'm assuming it's because I didn't have my breakfast.

Hoseok

This is why you need me!

You laughed at his text because, honestly, it was true. Every morning, he would buy you a freshly baked croissant or a grilled cheese sandwich and leave it on your table since you were always running late.

That one morning, you didn't have breakfast because your appetite had been dwindling due to stress from the projects, and you ended up passing out. But was skipping breakfast the only reason you fainted? 

Y/n

Right, I can't possibly survive without you

Hoseok

ㅋㅋㅋ ㅋㅋㅋ

So did you have lunch?

Y/n

Um-

Hoseok

Okay that's it,

I'm coming there rn

Y/n

Hey no no, you don't have to

Hoseok

Send me your address

NOW!

You couldn't resist complying with Mr. Jung Hoseok's persistent invitation to come over for lunch. It wasn't lunch time now, nearing 4 pm, but you were indeed hungry. You decided to wait for him to arrive so you could enjoy a meal together while watching a movie or simply chatting. You just craved some company, and Hoseok always provided great company.

It dawned on you that this would be the first time a male friend visited your place. Sure, you'd had boyfriends before, but never just a guy friend or someone random. Glancing around, you quickly tidied up the area, picking up the dirty laundry strewn around the couch.Already dressed in a crop top and sweatpants that were decent enough, you lounged on the couch and scrolled through TikTok until Hoseok's arrival. Though you couldn't deny feeling hunger creeping up slowly. 

After 15 minutes, the doorbell rang, and you were met with Hoseok's cheerful smile as you opened the door. He looked relaxed, as if he had been spending time curled up on his bed. "Hey, Ms. Lee!" "Hey, Mr. Jung." You exchanged jokes and laughter at the doorstep before inviting him in. Leading him to the couch, you grabbed the bags from his hands and headed to the kitchen. In your small apartment, the kitchen was on the left while the TV area was on the right.

Hoseok glanced around, admiring the modern and minimalist room, quite the opposite of his own colorful and vibrant home. "This place is so cute," he commented after taking in the space. "Wait, you draw?" he exclaimed, noticing the little art pieces on the table, along with vases and canvas featuring quotes and paintings of your favorite Disney princesses and cute bunnies.

You smiled as he picked up the drawings, the first person to truly notice them. "Yeah, I used to. Not anymore," you replied, seeing him admire the pieces. A drawing of a lovely house, a portrait of a young woman, and adorable little bunnies and hares. "Why?" "Lost inspiration and had no time. Dining table or TV?" "Which is easier?" "Come on, just tell me!" "TV?" You nodded, and he helped you set the table. The aroma of Chinese cuisine filled the room.

Your stomach grumbled, and Hoseok chuckled as you both sat on the floor to eat. Everything tasted great except for the chicken balls, which usually you loved, but today tasted horrible. You forced yourself to swallow them, hoping Hoseok didn't notice your discomfort. Quickly changing the subject, you suggested, "Let's watch a horror—" "Hell no," he interrupted, choking on his noodles. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, you couldn't help but laugh when he admitted he was scared. Hoseok was embarrassed, avoiding your gaze and trying to open his Sprite. 

"You're afraid of something other than Mr. Jeon? Seems like Jung Hoseok isn't as brave as he claims," you teased, still laughing at his expense. Hoseok placed the soft drink on the table with a thud, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Y/n, stop." "Okay, okay, let's watch—" "Elemental." You agreed, and he put on the movie as you both settled on the couch with your Sprites. It was a fun time, with Hoseok cracking jokes and laughing so much that you found yourself laughing along without reason. Hearing him laugh was contagious.

"Need another Sprite?" "Oh no, I must leave now. My bedtime is in 30 minutes," he replied, surprising you with his bedtime schedule. "Damn," you chuckled, realizing he had everything pla*nned while you... didn't. He stood up after spending three hours with you, and you were surprised to see it was almost 8 pm. "It was fun, Hobi. Thanks for coming by," you said, genuinely grateful for his company.

He shook his head, indicating you didn't need to thank him. "You should come over often, you know," you suggested, and he playfully exclaimed, "Ayeeee!" As he gave you a friendly hug, you felt comforted by his warmth. A hug from a guy felt warmer and more soothing, just what you needed. "Finally, you admitted that you like my company," he joked. "When have I ever said no?"

you retorted with a smile. He nodded, walking beside you to the door. Turning back, he gave you the softest smile he could manage. "Goodnight, Y/n." "Good night, Hoseok. Thanks for today. See you tomorrow," you bid him farewell as he exited the elevator, and you walked back inside. There wasn't much to clear up, Hoseok had even lent a hand with the dishes, which was a sweet gesture. Now that your stomach was full, you decided to do a bit of work before hitting the hay. You were tired and not in the mood to watch anything new, so work it was.

While working, you realized how enjoyable it was to be in the company of a guy friend. The vibe was different. With Kayla and the other girls, it was mostly gossip and chatter. But with Hoseok, it was fun. There was small talk, but the comfortable silence you both shared was refreshing. He was so lively and humorous, making you laugh so much, it's one thing you've missed a lot, laughing. And about work, you thought about it and realized it wasn't right to yell at Jimin, especially in front of your colleagues and Mr. Jeon. 

That wasn't like you. You need to resolve that, the first thing you would do upon entering the building was to apologize to both Jimin and Mr. Jeon. It was unprofessional. You had been so loud that Mr. Jeon was bound to be upset about causing a commotion. Yes, that's what you'd do.

-

Entering the building, you felt a little nervous after the previous day's events. The plan to apologize was still on, but as you stepped out of the elevator and walked towards your desk, there was no sign of Park Jimin. It was kind of a relief, but—oh, there he is. He glanced at you briefly and walked away. You sighed, trying not to roll your eyes. It was his fault anyway. Why did he constantly tease you and humiliate you for something you didn't do intentionally? You decided to apologize later.

You placed your items on the desk, took a seat, and turned on the desktop to tackle the pending work from yesterday. It seemed quiet around, or maybe you were imagining it, but you pushed that thought away and focused on your tasks. "Ma'am? I was waiting for you," Hoseok spoke as he leaned against your desk, holding a brown paper bag in his hand. Drawing closer to him, you sighed. Of course, he's here with breakfast. "Here's your cheese and onion croissant, Ms. Lee," 

he said in his fake British accent. You took it from his hand and nodded. This man is so thoughtful, you're so grateful for his gesture although you woke up with a slightly nauseous feeling. Hoseok has got that lovely morning smile that just makes you know that the day is gonna go well. he's so bright, like the sun. positive vibes. "Thank you, Mr. Jung. you both giggled after exchanging words. "Don't leave it on the desk, have it right now. It's still warm. i got you one from the fresh just baked batch," he instructed, and you followed his advice, taking a big bite in front of him to assure him you wouldn't forget about it. the way he got you the oven fresh croissant, it's so giggle worthy.

"I'm heading to a meeting. Let's catch up at lunch." "Sure!" After he left with a soft smile, you decided to have your breakfast before diving back into work. There was nothing more embarrassing than passing out again during work. It was still puzzling to you, you had never passed out before, ever.

"Hey, Y/n, how are you feeling today?" Rosè asked, placing her hand on your shoulder like she always does. You turned to face her. "Hey, Rosè, I've been great." "That's good, by the way Mr. Jeon wants your presentation." "My presentation?" "Yes, copy it to the spare pendrive." You nodded as she left. It was a good sign that he wanted to see it; at least it showed he was interested in your work. You placed the leftover croissant aside to copy the presentation; you couldn't wait anymore. You wanted this to be over, to be chosen over Park Jimin.

You unplugged the device, took the croissant in your hand, and headed for the elevator, munching on the last bit. Knocking on his door, you asked, "May I come in, Mr. Jeon?""Come in," he replied. You quickly swallowed what was in your mouth and stood in front of him. He glanced at you before speaking, "So, you had your breakfast." You nodded, feeling conscious if you have any bits of flake around your mouth and being a little embarrassed about yesterday.

"Pendrive?" You handed it to him and asked if everything was okay and if you could leave. "How do you feel?" His question caught you off guard. Why was Mr. Jeon Jungkook so concerned about you, as if you had passed out due to some serious illness? "I'm absolutely fine, Mr. Jeon." He nodded and dismissed you without any further words.

Jungkook's pov

"Sit down, Bam," I commanded my excitable puppy, who eagerly obeyed, his tail wagging in anticipation as I filled his bowl with kibble. Every morning, like clockwork, Bam had his breakfast at 7 am, followed by a day spent in the care of Ms. Taylor, our dedicated housemaid, who ensured he had company and training while I was at work. I placed a kiss on Bam's head before heading out to work, Leaving Bam behind always tugged at my heartstrings, despite the months we'd spent together. There was a pang of guilt every time I closed the door behind me, knowing he'd be alone until I returned, often late, to find him already curled up and half-asleep.

Work had been smoother lately, a welcome relief after years of navigating through turbulent waters. The disputes between employees had been managed well, replaced by a sense of purpose and teamwork that I took great pride in fostering and managing. However, one persistent source of commotion in the office was the escalating tension between Park Jimin and Ms. Lee. Jimin was undoubtedly one of our most talented graphic designers, his ideas consistently pushing the boundaries of creativity and innovation. 

Jimin's been stirring the pot lately, causing some tension with his coworkers, mostly Lee Y/n. But when I step back and think about it, maybe he's due for a promotion considering his time with the company and the talent he brings to the table. Those upcoming presentations are going to be key in deciding his next move. Plus, dealing with this urgent task from Kim Enterprises, our rivals, is really adding to the stress. When those important documents didn't show up on time, I felt the heat rising. Can't afford any hiccups, especially with such a big client on the line.

It's almost 1pm and I haven't received it yet. "Where the fuck is it?!" I immediately phoned Hyunjin and questioned him, "Where's the file?" "Pardon Mr Jeon, which file may I ask?" "Kim enterprise's!" "Yes Mr Jeon, Ms Lee Y/n was supposedly said to have the file, I will inform her to deliver it to you." Ms Lee? That irresponsible woma- I rang up her office phone, and she answered it right away.

"Lee Y/n speaking-" "to the office now!" If she doesn't come within the next 2 minutes- "Bring it to me, right fuc- right now." Yes I shouldn't cuss but when it comes to work. If it isn't done in my way, you'll only see a new me. She looked genuinely taken back by my choice of words, it's not like I said it intentionally but I want my work done on time and done responsibly.

As the meeting drew near, I braced myself for the impending encounter with Ms. Lee, though I had little choice in the matter. Settling into my seat, I wasted no time in initiating proceedings. Park Jimin's presentation was undeniably impressive, effortlessly capturing the attention of everyone present. "Excellent work, Mr. Park," I praised him even though i disapprove of his smug behavior. He presents well, interactively and just naturally grabs everyone's attention

I could see how her confidence crumbled after Park Jimin presented. How? How is she the same woman? Alcohol does wonders. I observed her as she stood from her seat, her nervousness was evident as she prepared to present, fidgeting and taking deep breaths.

She does not seem fine, neither is her behavior normal. What's with her today? There were obvious deep lines of frown in my forehead, she looks a little pale and her behaviour is quite questionable. Is she oka- in a matter of seconds, she collapsed to the floor, leaving us all in shock.  The employees looked at each other's face and gripped the table to stand from their seats but before they could reach Ms Lee, I was already beside her, directing the others for medical assistance. "Ms Lee?" "Ms Lee?" The employees called out her name, so did I. "What happened? Why did she pass out?" "Is she even okay?" Her face was almost completely pale and she was cold. Really cold.

I placed her head on my lap, keeping calm and not panicking like the other employees. I looked at them, they stared back at my face like fools. "What are you looking at? Bring the medical team!" Park Jimin was just standing by his seat, looking down at Ms Lee who was lying on the floor. He didn't say a word. "Ms Lee?" I mumbled, hoping she would wake up but she didn't move. The medical team arrived and I asked them to take her to my office as the couches are comfortable and so is the room temperature.

"The meeting is postponed until whenever we have free time." I informed Hyunjin and he nodded to my words and I continued to follow the medical team to my office. Ms Lee was placed on my velvet couch, the female doctor examining her pulses while I stood beside her. 

"Mr Jeon, I need some time with the patient alone." "Sure." I walked out of my office, waiting by the door until I was called inside after a few minutes. "Is she alright?" I questioned the female doctor who checked Ms Lee. "She's fine, she definitely hit her head hard, placing an ice pack would help her feel much better when she wakes up, I'll get the nurse to-" "no its fine, you can leave the ice pack here-" 

"And I'm not sure if she's aware of it or not but through my physical examination, I'm guessing she's pregnant." "Pregnant?" What? I mean okay, she should know about it and inform her boyfriend and family soon too. I was still pretty surprised at it though. She could be pregnant or not? And I've surely given her more stress than she's already got. She should've told me before?

Wait, does she even know about it? "Okay, thank you." I just say to the doctor and let her out the door. Ms Lee was still unconscious, the paleness in her face has decreased alot. The dots aren't connecting, she's pregnant and that's absolutely okay, normal. So if she's in a relationship then what was that night? It's not too long ago, about 2 months even but? Okay I'm being nosey.

Back at home, Bam's presence provided a welcome distraction, but my mind kept returning to Ms. Lee and the events of the day. The revelation of her pregnancy added a new layer of complexity to the situation. Was she aware of it? Should I have noticed the signs earlier?

-

"Hyunjin, I need Mr Park and Ms Lee's presentation in their respective pen drives." "Sure Mr Jeon." I must finish this off before it gets too late. There's a meeting scheduled today for Kim enterprises and I'm feeling a little nervous.

Kim Taehyung and Kim Seokjin, the two men. The threat to our business wants us to do their ad campaign, are they in their right minds? I could've easily declined it, however, it's Seokjin and Taehyung at the end of the day and whatever I do, I can't possibly deny my own friend's deal. "Mr Jeon?" "Come in."

Park Jimin walked in with his pendrive and he placed it on the table, giving me a slight smile before bowing and then he left. I plugged his pen drive in, reading the details before another knock was heard. "Come in." Ah, it's Ms Lee. I took one glance at her and she looked no different, munching something and trying to make it less noticeable. She placed the pendrive on my table and was about to leave.

"So you had your breakfast," she simply nodded to answer my question. "How do you feel?" I'm sure I caught her off guard because she looked at me confused, because why would Mr Jeon be concerned right? I know that's what she thought, heck I'm thinking the same too.

"I'm absolutely fine, Mr Jeon." I nodded at her words and dismissed her. Once I was done with Park Jimin's presentation, I plugged in Ms Lee's and that was definitely not what I expected. Her idea was great, fucking great even better than Park Jimin's and I'm surprised, I really am. Her presentation was detailed, colourful and to the point. She's capable, she's just not as confident as Park is. She just needs a push. 

"Mr Jeon, the Kims have arrived." "I'll be there." I took the elevator, it stopped at level 22, the doors opened and my eyebrows crossed, is that Ms Lee? There she was covering her mouth and gripping the table tightly, there weren't many people around her and she was trying not to cough. Should I be concerned? I stepped out of the elevator.

She's supposed to be in the meeting too. She tapped her chest a few times and took a deep breath, walking inside the meeting room and I followed her. "Good afternoon." I greeted them as I took my seat. Kim Seokjin was present, not Kim Taehyung. That's unlike him but okay. Lesser the tension. Ms Lee was finding it difficult to breathe, I could see her from the corner of my eye as she was seated beside Park Jimin who didn't even bother to look at Ms Lee once.

"So Mr Jeon, as you know my latest collection of clothing for Kim enterprises, for the autumn are ready. Of course, Jeon Industries has the best creative team, doesn't it? The advertising campaign is all yours. I'm sure the best of the best ideas come from this very room." Kim Seokjin spoke with that smirk on his face. He's so unbelievable.

He acts as if he owns the world, but that's simply not the case.

"Surely Mr Kim. My creative team is always ready for a new challenge. What have you got for us, team?" Park was obviously the first one to boldly volunteer to present his thoughts. "Go ahead, Mr Park." As Park was about to stand, Ms Lee gripped his wrist tight. Park Jimin looked at her in confusion, Ms Lee was covering her mouth again and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Are you okay Ms le-" Y/n immediately stood from her seat as she made gagging sounds before abruptly making her way out of the room, leaving everyone having exchanged puzzled glances. The costume team was now whispering to each other while Kim enterprises managers were trying to figure out the reason for her sudden departure.

The atmosphere was surely filled with curiosity and disruption. Now I'm pretty sure Ms Lee isn't aware of her pregnancy. I've had pregnant employees before and they always managed to know how to deal with it or they take a leave but Ms Lee? She seems clueless.

She remains oblivious to her pregnancy, but it's essential that she becomes aware. I can't allow her to continue to be a focal point of attention, especially if it disrupts crucial meetings. I've reached my limit; it's time to address this issue directly. to her.

next chapter ⇢

[faeriekit]

🥭 Rank from most enjoyable/fun to write to least: Fluff, Smut, Angst, Crack.

I can't remember which fic got me into your writing but I am really enjoying health and hybrids I think the attention to detail with language barriers is neat 😊 I feel like these options can be mixed a lot in writing would the ranking change depending on the combos?

I need you to know before anything that I had half this post penned and my computer randomly refreshed my post and burnt all of it. 💀

So. I can't. Uh. I can't do all of my fics on a scale, because of, um,

that. So. I'm just going to do a straight best to worst. Sound good? Great because I have no other idea how to tackle any of this.

Fluff:

Best: Snowdrift Sanctuary. Although even my best fluff has a little bit of angst in it, this is a sweet, warm story of inter-species fostering and the care it provides. What's not to love? It was even a Phic Phight fill, so I got to surprise someone with it.

Worst: Rituals and Rites. There's nothing wrong with this one; it's a cute ask fill, it's got some great silliness in it and a little irreverence, and I'm always happy to archive my stuff on ao3 lest tumblr finally pull the plug, but I always dislike uploading individual lil' things onto ao3 when there isn't much to them. It's not bad, I just...don't have a lot of fluff to pad out this binary lol

Smut:

Best: Lazy Sunday. By the time I got to this one I'd largely already hit my stride writing smut stuff, I liked how this couple gelled (and even have a few as-yet-unwritten scenes of their relationship I may never get around to!) and I like the couple as they are: weird and complicated and persevering into a yet-unseen realm of intimacy! I'm also not super into the kink in question, so it was super nice to see the piece well received by people who are into it and thought it worked well lol. How sad would it be if you tried to write a niche kink and it ended up completely flopping lmao T_T I'd never show my face in this town again.

Worst: A Visitation. Do not get me wrong, I love this fic, but you gotta remember that I wrote the first chapter completely exhausted and out of my gourd with fucking cauvid. 😭 I'm shocked it came out coherent at all! And everyone helped me workshop the last chapter, and it took forever to the point where I was writing like thousands of words a day and it was eating up my whole life...and sometimes I still go back in to reread it and I find MORE errors! 😭😭 This fic had all the birthing pains! Worth it, but OW!

Angst:

Best: Dig Three Graves In Apartment 31C. I rreeeeeeally almost put Hybrids here, but in the end, Hybrids is a hopeful recovery fic. This fic is all grief and loss and the stench of the aftermath of acute trauma in the air. It is sad— sometimes I still get comments shocked at how well it worked lol— and although the excruciatingly tough epilogue yon author had to write lifts it a little, it's not... There's no cure for this. Everyone in this picture is dead. That's just the way it is.

Worst: Feet on the Ground. A similar deal: I really like this fic but there wasn't a great ending line to close on so it's just...mediocre. I probably should have just waited to see if time would fix it, but it was a Phic Phight fill and we're kind of on a timer during the event, and I wanted to get it out so I could start working on other people's asks, so... 6/10. Fascinating concept, mid execution.

Crack:

Best: Infection versus Infestation. It was either this or one of the MPreg fills lmao, and I just. There's just so much going on here. The support network. The mental health. The powerpoint presentations. Bees. Medical pamphlets. Aliens. QPRs. Maybe the real fic is in the groupchats you made along the way. No notes hands down my one true rec for weird fics; all the way up and all the way down, it's inherently GenderFucked and surreal and young idiot adult bullshit. I love them your honor.

Worst: Percy Jackson, God of the Shrimps. A discord in-joke never makes sense as a discord out-joke. I am astounded people read this to this very day. I make it worse every time I even mention it in a post, but hey, that's showbiz. If you read this and actually found something there, more power to you. If you read this and were like "???"...yeah lmao

I'm glad you're liking health and hybrids so far! It's so funny to think that Hybrids used to be my downtime fic to recover from my other fics lmao...now it's beating Blister Pack to the tune of an additional 100,000 hits. I genuinely can't even conceptualize that number in my head. It's a such a bonkers concept that so many people could be glancing at a medical trauma fic from lil' ol' me. High school Faer who took anatomy classes for fun would be ecstatic. In the end, I tried to get a couple of unique fics to fill each category just because I like them so much. Sue me. It's my fic and sometimes I wanna talk about them with people lol.

Thanks for asking! 🧡🧡🧡🧡 This was fun!

[julianalvarez9]

love's dead / christian pulisic

summary: christian and you announce your breakup online, and twitter mourns the loss of your relationship.

author's note: i still don't know if this should have a second part or not :/ but tell me if you like it nonetheless!! :)

yourusername

Liked by cmpulisic, masonmount and others.

yourusername woke up with the urge to remind you how much i appreciate you. you're the best human i know, and i'm happy to be the one who gets to love and be loved by you. my sweet boy. you're all i could ever want.

View all comments.

cmpulisic 🤍 words can't describe how much i love you. i'll get home soon, love.

yourusername can't wait to see you 🥹

masonmount stop you're making me feel lonely

yourusername i'm sorry mase :(

cmpulisic

Liked by yourusername, masonmount and others.

cmpulisic still feel surreal that i get to wake up next to you every day. but somehow, i feel luckier to be by your side on every birthday. there are no words in any language that can explain what i feel for you, but i try to find them every night before going to sleep: i'm sure you've heard all about it already, because you're only pretending to be asleep. i love you, my sweet girl.

View all comments.

yourusername you're gonna make me cry 😭 i love you so much christian, i'm the lucky one 🤍

liked by cmpulisic

masonmount happiest of birthdays to my twinnnn

yourusername let's keep being insufferable together 🤝🏻

yourbff ok so the wedding when

puliyn speaking for all of us like a true queen

cmpulisic it's coming soon

yourusername

Liked by masonmount, cmpulisic and others.

yourusername happiest of birthdays to the silliest boy i know! hope you liked the cookies i've sent! did you like the flowers? 🤭

View all comments.

benchilwell mason: guys should get flowers too! the second he gets flowers: *turns bright red*

yourusername he's just a little boy don't embarrass him

cmpulisic i wanted flowers too :( yourusername

yourusername you'll get a whole garden my love cmpulisic

benchilwell he's giggling like a schoolgirl you've broken him

yourusername it's been a pleasure 😚

masonmount the cookies were great!

masonmount ...and the flowers... were nice... thanks...

masonmount but i didn't turn bright red ❗ stop spreading misinformation on the internet

[woman-of-balnain]

Have you ever written smut w Arthur Morgan unvirgining shy female reader ? thank you in advance 🥸

Masterlist | A03 Ver.

Title: The First Shall Not Be the Last

A/N: I have not - until now 😈.

I hope you like this anon! Although, I'm a little worried that the Reader is not as shy as you intended, but hopefully it's okay!

Please Note:

There's literally zero plot. It starts with you both kissing and ends pretty much right after you both cum.

You and Arthur are in a hotel room. How you got there is entirely up to you and your imagination.

You’re not wearing any undergarments, simply because I didn’t have the patience to write in Arthur getting rid of them lol.

Warnings: Smut, pwp, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, female reader, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (female receiving), NOT proofread, I literally wrote it and posted it, so there might be mistakes.

Word Count: 2,721

Dividers by: cafekitsune

Your mind was in a daze as Arthur’s lips moved against yours. You couldn’t even remember what had led up to him finally kissing you; all you cared about was that his arms were wrapped around you, holding you tight to him as he made everything else melt away with the way his mouth teased your own.

A small moan escaped your throat as your fingers found their way into his hair, lightly tugging and pulling in your desperation to have him impossibly closer. You’d been attracted to Arthur for a long time, so to actually be able to freely explore him was a little surreal to you.

His own hands weren’t staying idle; he squeezed at your waist, then your hips and then finally your ass, pulling you closer until you felt his hard cock pressing against your lower stomach. A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips, and he broke the kiss with a light laugh, pressing his forehead against yours.

One of Arthur’s hands then came up to brush his fingers along your cheek sweetly, but you couldn’t stop the nervousness that suddenly rose within you. Still, you didn’t want to ruin the fact that he was finally giving you what you’d been wanting for so long, and so you tried to quell your apprehension and hide it.

“You all right, darlin’?” He asked quietly, picking up on the change in your mood anyway.

You just nodded, not trusting yourself to speak and that seemed to be good enough for him. Arthur laid you gently down onto the hotel room’s one and only bed, his own body moving to cover your own and then his lips were on you again, trailing kisses along your jawline while his hands moved to lift up your skirt.

“Arthur…” you breathed out.

“Hmm?” He hummed against your skin, lips moving down to your neck.

“I… I’ve never…” your voice was quiet and shy, and you were unable to finish the words you needed to say.

He pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes gazing heatedly into your own. His fingers never stopped trailing up your thighs, buried under your skirt and teasing your skin.

“You want to, though?” He asked, making sure that you were okay with where things were inevitably going.

You just nodded again, looking up at him shyly. His gaze darkened at that, his pupils dilating as his eyes filled with lust and desire.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head back down to yours until his lips brushed against your own. “I’ll take care of you.”

Then he was kissing you again and any thoughts of trepidation fled your mind until all you could think about was Arthur. Your body shocked you when your hips bucked up wildly, like they had a mind of their own when his fingers completed their ascent up your thighs and brushed against your folds.

He kept one hand there, fingers testing your small and tight entrance, while his thumb moved up to circle around your clit. It was so different to touching yourself and your head fell back into the pillows as you were overcome with feelings of ecstasy.

His other hand moved up to slowly unbutton your shirt and soon your naked chest was exposed to him, allowing him to squeeze one of your breasts. He alternated, teasing each nipple until they were both hard and aching for more.

Arthur pulled back then, eyeing you with a deep sense of hunger and desperate need as his hands moved to take hold of his gun belt.

“Darlin’, I need to see you properly,” he groaned out, already working to get rid of his own clothes.

You understood what he meant, but that didn’t stop the nerves from building inside of you again. Still, you pulled your already opened shirt off slowly, your eyes peeled to his own movements. The swell of desire you felt as his body was gradually exposed was not unfamiliar, but the depth and intensity of it was definitely new.

You were still sliding your skirt down your legs when he pulled his pants down and it made you pause, unable to look away from the sight of his long, hard and thick cock. It made a range of emotions rise inside of you.

Lust was one of the most prominent, as your entire body seemed to sordidly imagine the things that he could do to you. But there was also trepidation of how the hell he would even fit.

But then Arthur’s body was covering yours again as he pulled your skirt the rest of the way down and let it fall to the floor. His hands were on you again then, running up your legs and spreading your thighs as his heated gaze took in the sight of you.

“Christ, sweetheart,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers against your core. “You’re beautiful…”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise and turned your head to the side with embarrassment. Arthur noticed and squeezed down tightly on one of your thighs until you looked at him again.

“Don’t do that,” he chided. “I want you to watch. Want you to see everything I’m about to do to you.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of what he intended to do, but then he was kneeling down until his head was right between your legs.

“Oh god,” you moaned out, realizing his intentions.

Arthur just grinned before dipping his head and flicking his tongue out to lick fervently at your clit. Your fingers seemed to automatically find their way to his hair, tangling into the soft length of it and determined to keep him right where he was – not that he needed any convincing.

He eagerly worshiped your sensitive nub, sucking and licking until you could no longer watch and instead fell back into the mattress, your body writhing with unrestrained desire. You felt the way your pussy was quickly getting wet in anticipation and then Arthur’s fingers were teasing your entrance again.

He pushed one finger in slowly, aware of how tight you were and cautious not to hurt you. Your pussy clenched around him at first, but then you relaxed, and he pushed in deeper. Your entire body was hyper-aware of him, every part of you seemed to suddenly ache for his touch.

“Oh my god,” you suddenly moaned out as his finger curled and stimulated a previously undiscovered part inside of you.

Your back arched and you felt a deep and raw desire build up in your lower belly. His movements were precise and tailored specifically to your pleasure. The coarse feel of Arthur’s short beard ticked and teased your skin, only stimulating you further. He added another finger, stretching you out a little more while his mouth continued to lavish your sensitive nub with attention.

He used his teeth gently to pinch at your clit, while his fingers pushed down on the bundle of nerves inside of you again and you were so hypersensitive, so unused to his impassioned and perfect touch, that it sent you crashing over the edge.

Your thighs squeezed tight, keeping his head in place as your body spasmed and your back arched right off the bed. His free hand moved to grip your waist, holding you still while the other kept moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. Your clit was overstimulated, but he kept teasing it, sucking and licking until your body couldn’t take anymore.

“Arthur…” you breathed out. “It… it’s too much… I can’t…”

He didn’t let up though, continuing his ministrations until a second wave of your orgasm came over you. He left you a complete mess, your body collapsing back onto the bed as you became lost in the absolute euphoria of it all – and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

Finally, he pulled his mouth away from you, letting you settle for a moment. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, noting the way his lips glistened with your fluids and the way his gaze was dark with desire. He licked his fingers clean, never once looking away from you and it turned you on all over again.

Then your eyes fell down to his cock, as he began to stroke it. You wondered if it was uncomfortable, since he was so thick and hard, and your shyness won over as you tore your gaze away. But then he was on top of you again, settling between your legs so that his hardened length brushed against your core.

He moved his hips, so that the underside of his cock was moving up and down your pussy, gathering up your juices and stimulating your clit. His eyes fluttered closed, just for a moment, and you knew that he was holding back.

“Arthur,” you said softly, voice filled with trepidation but also conveying your underlying desire.

He opened his eyes again to look at you and your expression must have told him that you were ready because he gave you a questioning glance in return. You just nodded, your fingers running through his hair before your hips bucked, showing your eagerness to feel him inside of you.

Arthur’s own fingertips ran up your thighs before holding onto them, keeping you steady as he lined himself up at your entrance. You were nervous and slightly apprehensive, but you trusted Arthur and that alone made your desire swell with anticipation.

“Darlin’, you’re so tight,” he groaned, the tip of his cock barely pushing into you. “It’s gonna hurt, but I’ll go slow.”

His brow was furrowed in concentration and his hold on you was incredibly tight, showing you how badly he was trying to keep his sense of control.

“It… it’s okay, Arthur,” you assured him shyly. “I… I want to feel you… please…”

Your words seemed to make his control snap a little, as his hips pushed forward, and his cock thrust slightly deeper inside of you. You clamped down on him automatically, because despite how wet and filled with lust you were, the way he stretched you out for the first time was a bit uncomfortable.

“Christ, sweetheart… if you keep squeezing down on me like that, I ain’t gonna last long.”

You forced your body to relax, causing your tight walls to ease up on him and allowing him to push in deeper. You bit down on your bottom lip as several new sensations washed over you. He was so big, your pussy sitting so snugly around him that you felt every aspect of his cock inside of you.

The protruding veins and the silky, smooth skin that covered the hard shaft underneath… the way his cock twitched slightly from the way you were stimulating him. It was all too much, but the feelings of pleasure seemed be gradually outweighing any pain.

“You okay?” He asked, taking in the way your eyes seemed glazed over and the slight parting of your lips.

“Yes…” you nodded, still shy from all of the new feelings he was eliciting in you.

“You want more?” He guessed, although he was really just hoping that would be your answer because he was struggling more and more to keep holding back.

You nodded again and he thrust in hard, getting it over with in one quick stroke.

“Oh god,” you moaned out.

There was a sharp sting of pain as he forced himself the rest of the way inside of you, but as you relaxed around him again, it began to fade. Arthur stayed still, letting you adjust to the size of him as he looked down at you, searching your gaze.

You gave him a small, hesitant smile, showing him that you were okay and then he started to slowly thrust his hips back and forth, letting you feel the way his cock moved tightly inside of you.

One of your hands moved in front of your mouth, curling into a fist and attempting to cover it in order to stifle your moans. Arthur didn’t like that, reaching out to take your hand in his and entwining your fingers together while his hips never faltered in their deep movements.

“No, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Let me hear you.”

An involuntary whimper escaped your lips at his words and he grinned lasciviously.

“That’s it,” he coaxed you. “Don’t hold back, darlin’.”

You took his words to heart, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Your hips moved up to meet his thrusts and you squeezed the hand that held yours as he filled you so perfectly.

You allowed the sensations he was eliciting to take over, your thoughts drifting off until you were only focused on Arthur and the synchronized movement of your bodies. Your eyes almost drifted shut until you remembered his earlier words, the fact that he wanted you to witness everything he was doing to you.

So, you sat up slightly and tilted your head forward a little, looking down at where his cock was now effortlessly gliding in and out of your tight, wet pussy. A deep moan left your throat at the sight of it, as you saw first-hand the way your bodies met and became one.

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he praised you, quickening his pace. “Wrapped so tightly around me…”

You moaned again, giving in and just letting yourself get lost in the feel of him as your head relaxed back into the pillows. The distinct sounds of sex – your unrestrained moans, the slap of his hips meeting yours, the quiet sounds of pleasure that Arthur let out – it reverberated throughout the room until you no longer cared if anyone else could hear. You only cared about the feel of his body and how perfectly it was molded to yours. Your only concern was to chase your release and ensure that he found his too.

That heated feeling built up inside of you again; you thrust your hips to meet his strokes more desperately, and your pussy was squeezing down like you were already milking him, over and over again.

“Damn it, sweetheart,” he groaned out. “You’re driving me crazy. I’m so close…”

Your grip on his hair tightened and you pushed his head down until his lips met yours. He kissed you with a primal hunger, like he couldn’t get enough. Then, one of his hands moved in between your thighs, his fingers seeking your clit before he rubbed down on it with just the right amount of pressure.

When his cock twitched again inside of you, signalling that he was about to cum, your orgasm washed over you with a fierce intensity. His lips left yours, moving to trail kisses along the column of your neck, his tongue darting out and reminding you of the way it had felt against your pussy.

It drove you wild and your body thrashed beneath him with unbridled pleasure. As your pussy contracted around him, Arthur lost the last semblance of his control, pushing as deep inside of you as he could go. Then the feel of his warm cum filling you up just made your own orgasm become more powerful.

All rational thought left your mind until it was like only you and him existed, in the most primal way, your bodies stuck together and bringing insane pleasure to one another. His breath was hot against your skin as he groaned through his release. It turned you on deeply, to know that you were the one causing these kinds of reactions in him.

Eventually though, your bodies settled, and your mind came back to itself. Arthur was looking at you now, the backs of his fingers affectionately stroking your cheek.

“Christ alive,” he murmured, causing a blush to spread over you. “You’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

You smiled shyly up at him, becoming lost in his gaze. He returned it with a devilish grin before he dipped his head to capture your lips in another searing, passionate kiss. Arthur held you close, clearly having no intention of letting you go and that made you feel content. There was no one else you would have wanted your first time to be with and you hoped desperately that it wouldn’t also be the last.

--

--

[scullysflannel]

maybe obscure but what are some of your favourite moments of script spareness in tv, whether it's no words at all or arrestingly simple straightforward dialogue

really love this, especially because it's what I'm drawn to in tv in general. it's a visual medium! vince gilligan caught flack for being completely right when he said dialogue "often carries too much weight in writing." some favorites:

for silent episodes, buffy's "hush" and evil's "s is for silence." I'm so interested in fact that robert king said "s is for silence" was so hard to write and edit because they couldn't use dialogue or adr to bridge the gap if they cut a scene or used a different shot. everything had to be deliberate.

buffy's "the body" also uses silence dizzyingly well, and there's no music at all in it. it really captures the disorientation of sudden loss.

likely thing for me to bring up, but there's an alias scene where sloane tells his wife that he's a bad guy. the dialogue was scripted (ron rifkin talks about it in the dvd commentary), but it's drowned out by music, like the show is taking his voice away when he tries to justify himself. I don't know if they always planned to cover the dialogue or if it was an editing decision, but it's exquisite to me. plus it keeps the focus on amy irving giving it everything she's got (!). perfect song choice too.

the end of "never again," mulder trailing off as he finds his words inadequate. I know the shooting script says scully knows what he was going to say, but it doesn't remotely play as a moment of unspoken understanding. it plays like a moment of realizing the impossibility of complete understanding, which I love. it's a paradoxical sign of respect and an admission of defeat. it sticks with you.

better call saul as a show is a testament to spare, deliberate dialogue, but especially "but so what." the powerlessness in that line, especially for two characters whose job depends on the power of a good speech — I still can't even think about it. no further comment.

kim and jimmy throwing bottles off the balcony in "the guy for this." that's unspoken understanding. but it's so sad and dangerous.

"we fucked up with nora" on the leftovers. yeah you sure did!! that whole big surreal action movie of an episode all boils down to this one basic truth. I especially love "we"; kevin's only company is himself.

"not penny's boat" on lost. a classic for a reason.

so many halt and catch fire scenes fit this mold, but for pure silent revelation, joe recognizing that haley is gay in season 4. gorgeous.

the americans tooth pulling scene!! we all see it!! just like in evil's silent episode, silence is erotic.

I also love the choice to stage the most decisive moment in the americans finale — paige getting off the train — in a way that makes it impossible for them all to talk about it (ever).

the last scene of the sopranos. obviously.

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Part 15: A change of scenery

A/N: This ones a short one but enjoy!

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

3.3k words

It's been two weeks since I arrived at the X-Mansion (not counting the week I was in a coma), and my memories are still as elusive as ever. Every day feels like a blur of confusion, each one bleeding into the next with no real sense of progress. The pieces of my past are like scattered puzzle pieces, tauntingly close but just out of reach.

I found out that Laura is a mutant—though, like everything else here, no one really told me directly. I saw it with my own eyes. She was in the lab with Hank and the blue girl—Raven, I think they call her. Laura extended her claws, sharp and metallic, and I felt a strange mix of fear and familiarity. It was like déjà vu, but twisted into something unsettling. The realization that Laura is a mutant made everything feel even more surreal, like I'm living in a dream that I can't wake up from.

Since then, I've been keeping my distance from everyone. It's easier that way. There's a part of me that doesn't want to get too close, to avoid the inevitable questions and the awkward silences that follow when I can't remember something important. I've built up walls, shutting out the confusion and the pain as much as I can.

The only people I've been able to tolerate are Vanessa and Charles. Vanessa, with her warm smile and easy laughter, has been trying to catch me up on pop culture, as if seeing familiar movies and hearing familiar songs might jog my memories. It hasn't worked—not really—but I appreciate the effort. There was one moment, though, when she showed me a scene from It—the old version. For a brief second, I remembered watching it with someone. I could feel their presence next to me, hear their breathing, but when I tried to see their face, it was like looking through a fog. The memory slipped away before I could grasp it, leaving me with nothing but a lingering sense of loss.

Charles has been a somewhat good support—probably the best I could ask for in this strange situation. He's the only one who truly understands what's going on with me, the only one who doesn't make me feel like I'm a problem that needs fixing. He's been trying to help with my headaches, using whatever techniques or powers he has, but we've only been able to keep the pain under control. He can't read my mind because something is blocking him from doing it, maybe he thinks I'm doing it subconsciously, but who knows. The voices, though—they still linger, always on the edge of my mind, like a distant echo I can't quite silence.

And then there's Logan. Ever since our conversation in the backyard, all he does is stare at me. It's like he's waiting for something, but I don't know what. Avoiding him has been tricky—he's everywhere. Every time I turn around, it feels like he's there, those intense eyes watching me, full of something I can't decipher. It's unnerving, and I don't know how to handle it.

Wade, on the other hand, has been a different kind of problem. I thought I could trust him—I wanted to trust him—but he's said nothing about the last two months, nothing to help me understand what I'm missing. Every time I bring it up, he changes the subject, cracks a joke, or finds some excuse to leave. It's frustrating, and it hurts more than I want to admit. So, I've decided to avoid him altogether. It's easier than facing the disappointment of his silence.

Hank has been a little helpful, though he's mostly focused on checking my vitals and helping Charles figure out the extent of my powers. He's not as involved emotionally, but I appreciate his calm, steady presence. He treats me like a person, not a project, which is a welcome change.Together, we've discovered that I can manipulate reality. It sounds crazy, but it's true. I can change the way things look—like two weeks ago, when I changed my clothes with just a flick of my wrist. It's not hard to do, but it requires a level of concentration I've never needed before. I have to focus intensely, blocking out everything else to make it happen.

And then there's the flying. That was a shock. I discovered it during a training session with Charles and Raven. We were fighting against some machine bots, and one of them pushed Raven off a balcony. Without even thinking, I flew up to catch her. It wasn't something I knew I could do—I just did it, instinctively. 

These abilities are strange, foreign, yet somehow they feel like they've always been a part of me, just hidden beneath the surface. It's exciting and terrifying at the same time, and I can't help but wonder what else I might be capable of—what other secrets are locked away in the corners of my mind, waiting to be discovered.

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It was 1 in the morning when I finally made the decision to leave. Last week, I overheard Raven talking to Charles in his study about a guy named Magneto. Apparently, he's in a sanctuary for mutants. The conversation stuck with me, a seed of an idea that took root and wouldn't let go. I decided then that I'd give myself a week—one week to see if I could gain my memories back, to see if something would change. If not, I'd leave to find Magneto.

Well, it's been a week, and nothing's changed. The memories are still as elusive as ever, and the frustration is eating away at me. I'm grateful to Charles for keeping me here, for trying to help me, but it's not enough. There's an edge in me that I can't quite escape, a restless, gnawing feeling that I don't belong here, that I need to do something—anything—to take control of my life again. It feels like it's driving me crazy, this endless waiting, this constant uncertainty.

I don't know what I expect to find with Magneto, or if he can even help me, but staying here isn't working. I need answers, and if I can't find them here, then I'll have to look elsewhere. Even if it means leaving behind the safety of the mansion, leaving behind the people who've tried to help me, I know I have to do this. I have to find out who I am, or I'll never be able to move forward.

So I packed a small bag with the essentials and made my way quietly through the halls, careful not to wake anyone. It wasn't easy to leave, but the decision had been made, and I was determined to see it through. As I approached the front door, I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the lock. Just as I was about to turn it, I heard a low, rough voice behind me.

"Where are you going?"

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I turned around slowly, and there he was—Logan, standing in the dim light of the hallway, his eyes sharp and focused on me.

"Logan, I—" I started, but he cut me off, his expression darkening.

"You're not leaving," he said, his voice firm, almost commanding. "Not like this."

Anger flared up inside me, a mix of frustration and desperation. "You have no right to tell me what to do," I shot back, my voice rising with the intensity of my emotions. "You're not in control of me. You're no one to me."

Logan stepped closer, his posture tense. "I won't let you go," he said, his voice low and determined. "It's too dangerous. You don't even know what you're doing."

"Get out of my way, Logan," I demanded, my voice shaking with anger. I wasn't going to let him stop me, not when I was finally taking control of my own life.

Logan's eyes narrowed, and in a swift movement, he reached out to grab my arm, trying to pull me away from the door. "I can't let you do this."

The touch of his hand on my arm was like a spark that ignited something deep inside me, something powerful and uncontrollable. Without thinking, I reacted, my telekinesis surging to the surface. With a wave of my hand, I pushed him away, the force of it sending him flying back into the couch with a heavy thud.

Logan looked up at me, shock and something else—pain, maybe—flickering in his eyes. But I didn't stop to think about it. I couldn't. I needed to leave, needed to find answers, and nothing was going to stand in my way.

I turned away from him, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I unlocked the door. Then, without a second glance, I pushed it open and stepped outside. The cool night air hit me, and with a final burst of energy, I lifted off the ground, flying into the night, leaving Logan and the mansion behind.

As I soared into the sky, the wind whipping around me, I tried to push the image of Logan's face from my mind. But it lingered, a reminder of the choice I'd just made, and the path I was now committed to.

I was on my own now, and there was no turning back.

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As I flew through the night, the wind rushing past me, I reached into my bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was the one I'd taken from Charles's study—a place I knew I shouldn't have snooped around in, but I didn't have any other choice. Desperation had pushed me to do things I wouldn't normally consider, and now, this scrap of paper was my only lead.

Unfolding it carefully, I glanced down at the hastily scrawled address. It was where Magneto—or Erik, or whatever he called himself—was located. Last night, after I'd made the decision to leave, I'd looked it up on a computer in the library. The sanctuary was in a remote area, surrounded by trees, isolated from the rest of the world. The map had shown that it was about 20 hours away by car, but maybe, just maybe, it would be faster flying.

I stuffed the paper back into my bag and focused on the horizon. The night was vast and dark, the stars scattered across the sky like tiny pinpricks of light. There was a sense of freedom in the flight, in the vastness of the sky around me, but there was also a weight—a reminder of everything I was leaving behind, and everything I still didn't know.

I didn't know what I would find when I reached Magneto's sanctuary, or if he could help me at all. But I had to try. I couldn't stay in that mansion, surrounded by half-truths and lingering questions. I needed answers, and if that meant flying into the unknown, then so be it.

I had been flying for three hours now, the cool night air whipping against my face as the landscape below me passed by in a blur. The adrenaline that had fueled my escape from the mansion was beginning to wear off, and with it came a sharp pang of hunger. My stomach grumbled in protest, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since lunch. I decided to stop at a diner that popped up on my GPS, nestled in a small town just off the highway. It looked like the kind of place where the coffee was always hot and the food was comforting in its simplicity. Before I entered, I used my powers to change my outfit into something more appropriate for the scenery—jeans, a cozy sweater, and a pair of boots. I needed to blend in, not draw attention.

Pushing open the door, I walked into the diner and immediately felt a wave of warmth and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The place was quiet, with only a few late-night patrons scattered at various tables. I chose a table on the right, away from the windows, and slid into the booth. As I picked up the menu, my stomach grumbled again, louder this time, at the sight of pancakes and bacon. I could almost taste the syrup and crispy bacon, and I realized just how much I needed this break.

A young woman with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing a pink apron approached me with a bright smile. She had a friendly, easygoing demeanor, the kind that put you at ease right away.

"Good evening, hon," she said, her voice cheerful. "What can I get for you tonight?"I glanced up from the menu, returning her smile with a small one of my own. "I'll have the pancakes and bacon, please," I replied, my mouth already watering at the thought. "And a cup of coffee."

"Coming right up," she said, jotting down my order on her notepad. "Anything else for you?"

I shook my head. "No, that'll be all. Thanks."

She nodded and turned to head back to the kitchen, leaving me to settle into the cozy atmosphere of the diner. As I waited for my food, I let my mind drift, the events of the night playing over and over in my head. The tension from earlier still lingered, but the prospect of a warm meal and a brief moment of normalcy was enough to help me relax, if only a little.

As I ate my food, savoring the warmth of the pancakes and the crispy bacon, my mind kept drifting back to the interaction I had with Logan just a few hours ago. No matter how much I tried to focus on the comfort of the meal, his words, his face, the look in his eyes—they all kept replaying in my head.

I stabbed a piece of pancake with my fork, my appetite fading as the memory of our confrontation crept in. The way he had tried to stop me, the desperation in his voice, and the moment I pushed him away with my powers—it all felt surreal now, like something out of a dream. But it wasn't a dream. It was real, and the guilt of leaving like that, of pushing him so forcefully, gnawed at me.

Logan had been so determined to keep me from leaving, to protect me from something I couldn't see. But why? What was it that made him so insistent, so unwilling to let me go? And why did it bother me so much that I had left him there, looking at me with a mixture of pain and something else I couldn't quite place?

I took another bite, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. No matter how justified I felt in leaving, no matter how much I knew I needed to find my own answers, a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that I'd hurt him. And that realization made me uncomfortable, like an itch I couldn't scratch.

Why did it matter so much? Why did he matter so much? He was just a stranger to me—a stranger who clearly knew more about me than I did about myself, but a stranger nonetheless. So why couldn't I just let it go? Why did his presence, his words, linger in my mind like a ghost that wouldn't leave?

I sighed, pushing my plate away slightly. The food had been good, comforting in a way, but it couldn't fill the emptiness inside me. It couldn't answer the questions swirling around in my head, the questions that Logan had only made more complicated.

As I sipped my coffee, I tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on the road ahead, on the task at hand. But it was harder than I'd expected. Logan's voice, his eyes, the way he'd looked at me with something akin to sorrow—it all stayed with me, no matter how much I wanted to leave it behind.

And I couldn't help but wonder if, in leaving, I had made a mistake that I wouldn't be able to take back.

I finished my food and left a generous tip on the table, trying to push aside the lingering thoughts about Logan. As I walked out of the diner, I quickly changed my clothes back into my suit with a flick of my wrist. With a little jump, I launched myself into the air, flying in the direction of Magneto's sanctuary.

The hours passed by in a blur as I flew, the landscape beneath me gradually shifting from towns and highways to dense forests and mountains. My mind wandered, but I kept my focus on the task at hand, pushing down any lingering doubts or second thoughts. This was what I had to do—no turning back now.

After a few more hours, my phone buzzed, indicating that I had reached my destination. It was now 10 am, and I realized with a small sense of satisfaction that it had only taken me half the time that Google Maps had estimated. Nice, I thought to myself, feeling a small spark of pride at my ability to cover ground so quickly.

I pulled out my phone, intending to check my exact location, but I was greeted with four unread messages. One from Charles, asking me to come back, two from Vanessa, and one from Wade. I couldn't help the surge of annoyance that flared up. I guess Logan already went to tattle-tale, I thought with a scowl. Typical. I didn't even bother to open the messages; instead, I turned off my phone and tucked it away. I didn't need any more distractions.

As I descended to the ground, I decided to change out of my suit. I didn't want to seem threatening, especially if I was about to walk into a place filled with mutants who might be on edge. With a flick of my wrist, I changed my outfit into something more casual and approachable—boot-cut jeans, a small green tee, a leather jacket, and matching leather boots. The look was practical but still had an edge, a balance I thought would serve me well in the situation I was about to face.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and began walking towards the entrance of what I assumed was the sanctuary. From a distance, I could make out the inside through the surrounding fence and trees. It was unlike anything I had expected—stacked semi-truck containers, arranged in a way that made them look like small, makeshift apartments. The scene was surreal, a patchwork of steel and nature blending together, creating a unique, almost otherworldly environment.

As I stepped closer, I could see people—no, mutants—moving about inside the sanctuary. They seemed to go about their day with a sense of purpose, but there was also an air of wariness, as if they were always on alert. It made sense, given that this was a place where mutants sought refuge. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the reality of the world I was now a part of.

Finally, I reached the entrance, a large metal door that stood tall and imposing. The surface was smooth and cold, reflecting the muted light of the overcast sky above. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over a button on the side of the door. This was it—the point of no return.

I pressed the button, and a soft, metallic hum echoed through the air. A moment later, a small speaker crackled to life, and a voice, deep and measured, came through.

"State your name and purpose."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. There was no turning back now. "My name is Violet," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm here to see Magneto. I need his help."

There was a brief pause, the silence stretching out uncomfortably. Then, the speaker crackled again, and the voice responded.

"Wait there."

The connection cut off abruptly, leaving me standing alone in front of the massive door. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, wondering if I had made the right decision. But there was no time to second-guess myself. I had come this far, and I wasn't about to turn back now.I waited, the tension in the air almost palpable. After what felt like an eternity, I heard the heavy clank of gears turning, and the metal door slowly began to slide open. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever was on the other side, and stepped forward into the unknown.

Next chapter: Part 16: The inevitable

[just2bubbly]

ab kal ke match ka heartfelt ramble ka waqt aaya hai honestly there's sm energy in me and it has to go somewhere, I'm gonna start off with the tournament as a whole, because some teams like Afghanistan and South Africa do deserve their appreciation as well. They both managed to do what their own teams before then failed to- playing a final and semi-final is a feat worth achieving ✨🙌🏻 and they managed to do it. We saw some good old West Indies back and that brought back a sense of childhood who had seen the likes of DJ Bravo and Chris Gayle play. Now as a fellow indian, seeing the Australian being defeated by Afghanistan and then later us 🥳 only to pin down their hope on Bangladesh- IT FELT SO SURREAL, LIKE YES BITCH CUMMINS THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING SO RUDE (and 19 Nov ka badla hum toh Aussies se bohot baar lenge, with dugna lagaan)

Ind vs Eng, was the ultimate banger for me, the whole transition from a 10 wicket loss to 10 wicket haul was just amazing!! And sometimes we Indians forget the essence of our own bowlers in our team, but this wc was all about bowlers (ours and other countries)- after the ipl bashing, this entire month must have felt so hopeful to them. We got so many players like Bumrah, Maharaja, Rashid Khan, Naveen-ul-Haq defending low scoring matches- these matches that kept us as audience on edge. What a beautiful time to be a skilled bowler!

Now coming to yesterday, as a person that had nothing against South Africa as such but only had love for India- I deeply feel sorrow for your loss. I guess, we Indians know better than anyone how it feels to win all matches and then lose the final. I believe, your captain Markram is gonna do the magic our Rohit Sharma did last night. You just have to believe in him!

And to my beautiful Men in Blue- kal toh dil jeet liya 🥹🙌🏻 Everyone had been so worked up in the entire tournament. All of 11 players deserved the world cup, especially those that had played the 19 Nov. Last night's match was taking my breath away every over, it was so suspenseful and thriller and in the words of Sidhu "yeh match nazuk dil walo ke liye nahi hai" and it definitely wasn't and Bapu tumne toh humari jaan leli kal with that over (jeet mei sab maaf hai) but thank you Sky for taking the catch which people will talk about 10 years from now and thank you Hardik for not breaking our trust in that last over (Rohit did kiss you on behalf of 1.5 billion people yesterday 😚) but more than thank you to Captain that ended the trophy draught and thank you to the Coaches! ❤️

To Rahul Dravid, who was so intense yesterday- Indiranagar ka gunda jag gaya kal full 🥹😂 but thank you so much for making us what we are!! We are going to miss you so much 🫂🥹 and to Rohit and Kohli, we aren't sure if t20i will ever be same without you.

to the indian cricket team, WE ARE SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU!! 💙🇮🇳

[misshoneyimhome]

Struck by Lighting I William Nylander

Tropes; Angry!William; Friends-to-lovers; bestfriend!TimothyLiljegren; Fluff

Summary: In the midst of a difficult game, William appears to lose his composure, suggesting more than just frustration over a bad loss; [credits: inspired by a scene from Ted Lasso]

Author's Note: I wrote this a little while ago and just decided to share it today 😉 It follows the familiar friends-to-lovers plot, yet a little different, you know? 😅 Nonetheless, I hope you'll find it enjoyable; By the way, a quick thank you to everyone reading my work! I never imagined anyone would enjoy what I write, and I'm incredibly grateful to be able to share my thoughts and ideas with all of you! Having 1️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ followers might not seem like a lot to some, but to me, it's beyond anything I could have imagined 🫶🏻

Word count: 3.4K

➼｡ﾟ

The atmosphere was crisp as the five of you strolled through the streets of Toronto on a regular Friday evening.

The lad's hockey season had started just a month ago, and tonight, you were out with your group of friends: William Nylander, Timothy Liljegren, Pierre Engvall, along with his girlfriend Mathilda. Yet, this evening wasn't solely about the five of you chilling together; it was also a chance for Willy to introduce his new romantic interest to the tight-knit group. Being his close friends, he valued your opinion on this matter.

_

William had become, quite unexpectedly, one of your closest friends. It was something you hadn't quite anticipated from the day you were introduced to the inner circle of the Toronto Maple Leafs – particularly the inner circle of the Swedes.

Morgan had been your entry point, having known him back in Vancouver, and upon your move to Toronto, he graciously showed you around, and after a few months, he introduced you to his team. It was a bit surreal to suddenly find yourself among friends and partners of an NHL team, but undeniably, you felt like you belonged.

The entire team had been incredibly kind and welcoming. You hit it off particularly well with most of them. Auston and Mitchy were an absolute riot, always incredibly funny. Woll, alongside Mo, was among the kindest individuals you'd ever encountered. Tavares was the living legend, and the new guy, Knies – those eyes and that smirk – had a way of making anyone feel weak in the knees.

Everyone treated you kindly, but you could also sense a closer bond among the Swedes. It wasn't something frowned upon by the guys; in fact, it seemed this group genuinely encouraged everyone to become more open and mingle better with the rest of the team. Timothy, in particular, stood out as a genuine sweetheart, perhaps a tad less outgoing than the others.

And it was Tim that was the one who paved the way for you to join the Scandinavian friends' circle. You were consistently kind to him, offering help whenever needed, and being there to support him if he ever felt anxious. It all began with a simple, clumsy mishap in the hallways where he had lost his things, and you swiftly lent a hand. From there, it blossomed into casual conversations about various topics. And soon enough, you found yourself getting him a coffee, guiding him through breathing exercises before facing cameras, and keeping him company after tough losses.

And your efforts had earned you a cherished place in the hearts of the Swedes.

William, on the other hand, was a different story. He had to grow on you.

At first, you genuinely found him rather off-putting. With that way too satisfied, smug smirk on his face all the time, the way he knew all too well how good he was at hockey, and how he so effortlessly just sashayed onto the ice, scored a couple of goals, and became the hero of the day.

However, as time passed and you spent more moments with Tim's friends, you gradually peeled back the layers of William Nylander beyond the dazzling performances and mischievous grins. The more you hung around him, the clearer it became that it wasn't an act; it was simply his natural way of being - in a good way.

After each match, road trip, and workout session, you began to grasp the immense effort he invested in his training. How he'd show up early, stay late for workouts, constantly study technique videos, and engage in discussions with his father about his game.

You witnessed the sheer amount of energy required to uphold his positive mindset. In fact, it amazed you how he managed to stay so rooted and composed, even after a tough loss or demanding day filled with media responsibilities. And what struck you even more was his indifference to the attention and accolades he received; his primary focus remained on playing the sport he adored, striving to perform his best, and feeling proud of his achievements. He aimed high and held himself accountable to those lofty expectations and goals he'd set.

He simply impressed you.

On William's end, he hadn't given much thought to you initially. You were there, seemed nice, and that was about it. He wasn't one to dwell on things, so as he noticed your genuine friendship with his close friends, he didn't really have any negative opinions about you.

But much like he grew on you, you gradually made an impression on him. At first, he didn't pay much attention to you. But as you integrated further into the group, he began to notice your playful nature, your sense of humour, and the banter that developed among the lads. What initially elicited a light chuckle soon evolved into hearty laughter, echoing through the halls of the Scotiabank Arena after almost every home game, and Willy found himself thoroughly enjoying it.

Yet, beyond the good times, the real turning point occurred when William allowed you to see his more vulnerable side.

It had been a terrible game. For him at least, and he just wasn’t feeling good about it. And while he’d normally remain composed and all calm despite the challenging night, he’d involuntarily spat at his teammates about something regarding the play. 

And though there was a mutual understanding among the teammates, that outbursts like these were rather common and no one should take it personally, as it’d all be forgotten the following day, you couldn’t help but stand up to him. He’d said something that was clearly targeted towards Tim, and you were just not having it. 

So, after the match as everyone besides William had left, being one of the last ones as always, you’d stayed back just to offer him a quick remark. 

“You know you can’t talk to him like that,” you’d spoken in a low voice, yet your words been firm and sharp as you’d confronted him in the hallway on your way out. “He played his heart out and you know it. Everyone made mistakes tonight, even you, and you shouldn’t be saying things like these to him.”

William had been slightly baffled by your words. And though he knew you were right; he didn’t think it was your place to talk back to him like this.

“Timmy’s a grown man, he can take it.” He’d said in response. “He needs to know what he did wrong so he can do better next time.” 

In a way you knew he was right too. This was simply the way the boys showed their love and affection for each other as teammates, but you just couldn’t accept the way he’d speak to his close friend.

“I know, Willy. And I know you mean well, it’s just… Tim looks so much up to you, and we all know that you’re an amazing player, who gets a lot of attention, but that doesn’t give you the right to talk down to the others. You’re a team, and you also need to support each other in down times like these.” 

And your words had had a way to walk straight to William’s heart. The way you showed so much care for your mutual friend had really opened his eyes for you. You were more than just giggles and funny puns. You were indeed caring and protective of the ones you loved – just like him. 

“I’m sorry…” he’d murmured, which had taken you slightly by surprise. You hadn’t expected for him to give in to your confrontation so easily. But the softness in his eyes had given away that he might just feel a little regret of how he’d spoken to the lads, and quickly you found yourself feeling softening your facial expression as well. 

Though there’d been no yelling or shouting, you’d unintentionally tightened the muscles in your face, raised your shoulders, as you’d gathered the confident to speak to him. But then as you saw his expression exude a hint of vulnerability and his composure softened, you instead tried to flash him a gentle smile and simply show that this was all about your shared love for a person. 

And as concern and frustrations slowly faded away, you both shared smiles and light chuckles. And yet to another surprise, William had suggested for you to grab a late dinner snack, which you’d enjoyed at his place, while talking for hours about pretty much anything. 

You’d shared family details, stories from the past, future aspirations, along with casual dating experiences and ups and downs from what had you both still at the single stage. 

From that day on, your friendship had become almost closer than yours and Tim’s. 

You’d be the one to confront him when he was merely being a brat, just as you were there to shower with love and affection whenever needed. 

_

So, as the evening of the triple-“date” (you were there with Tim, though you weren’t romantically involved), was coming to an end, William turned to face you all, mentally preparing for the virduct of his new flirt.

“So, what do you think?” he timidly asked. 

“I think she’s sweet,” Mathilda had started out. “She seems kind and nice… friendly and funny, I suppose.” 

“Yeah, she’s got a nice laughter, doesn’t seem dum or without ideas,” Pierre had added. 

“And she’s attractive.” Tim chimed in with a lightning spirit. 

William nodded at the feedback, taking in that everyone seemed to approve of the girl he was becoming interested in. 

“Yeah, you could be a good match,” Mathilda spoke once again with her sweet, gentle tone of voice, as she tried to reassure William that he had found someone good. However, as much as you tried to remain composed, you just couldn’t hold it back.

“Oh, come on,” you blurted out. “Tell him the truth.” 

The group of friends looked stunned at you as you’d broken the silence, you’d maintain during the walk from the restaurant, earning you to elaborate. 

“She’s fine… that’s it,” you spoke gently, before continuing. “Which there’s nothing wrong with. Most people settle for fine. The question is just why the fuck you think she deserves you. I mean, you’re William bloody Nylander – you’re gorgeous, talented, funny, and overall, not too empty headed. Honestly, you deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning.” 

Your words echoed through the heads of your friends as your bold honesty slowly sank in, and the others couldn’t contain their amusement. In fact, they just smiled and nodded in agreement as William maintained an intense gaze at you. 

“Anyway, that’s just my opinion,” you offered a sweet smile, and shrug your shoulders. 

And in the evening, William couldn’t help but reflect on your words. It was incredible how you’d always have a talent of speaking so freely and directly to him. And he couldn’t help but deeply appreciate it.

_

A couple of weeks later, the lads were back in Toronto for a home game after a lengthy stretch on the road.

And this time around, it was your turn to spill some news about someone you'd been seeing.

His name was Matt, a few years older than you, working as a chef. He had a kind and sweet nature, and in your view, he was an all-round good guy. Just what you needed after a string of let-downs. Each person you'd dated before had been either completely unfazed or overly dramatic about every little thing. You'd been with all sorts, from the typical sales rep to the cliché sports jock, the soft-spoken preschool teacher, and the imaginative journalist. Yet none of them shared your zest for life and love for outdoor activities or your calm and drama-free outlook on life.

But Matt seemed to be the right fit.

Even your friends' reactions seemed to back it up.

You all shared laughter and excitement during a coffee break - known as "Fika" as the Swedes called it. And soon after, he joined you and Mathilda among the other partners of the team for a home game.

However, the match turned out to be rather awful. The Leafs were trailing 4-0 at the start of the third period, and their gameplay displayed no signs of a potential comeback strategy or strength.

The atmosphere weighed heavy on everyone, evident in the collective sighs as the Senators once again slipped the puck past Woll and into the net. Fans covered their faces in resignation, acknowledging the likely outcome of tonight's game. Equally frustrated were the players, especially when Mitch received a 2-minute penalty for holding, granting the Senators another Power Play opportunity.

The tension only seemed to ratchet up from there.

Then came William; he pushed himself, maintaining a rapid pace, maneuvering around opponents with confidence, controlling the puck as he charged towards the opposite end. He searched for an opening to take a shot, almost finding the perfect opportunity. With an intense focus, he swung his stick high, eyes fixed on the target, aiming and letting loose his shot.

But the puck didn't find its mark.

And a resounding disappointment reverberated throughout the arena.

William, unable to contain his usual composed demeanor, vented his frustrations, taking it out on his stick. He forcefully slammed it against the boards, the rage causing it to snap into two pieces. It seemed like nothing was going right for him tonight.

And your heart sank as you witnessed his outburst.

You'd never seen him this angry or out of character. Typically, he was the one who kept his teammates grounded, but in that moment, he held nothing back.

The game ended with a harsh 7-1 scoreline, and while Auston managed to net a goal, it did little to lift the spirits of the team.

One by one, they departed from the arena after their showers and media commitments. Partners took their hands, quietly making their way towards the exit, understanding that the night ahead would be spent in quietness at home, focused on care and relaxation, as the lads mentally geared up for the next match.

Finding yourself among the last few standing, you exchanged concerned glances with Tim and Pierre, aware that Willy was likely still in the locker room, possibly berating himself.

Offering a reassuring nod to their unspoken worry, you turned to Matt.

"I'll go check on him. This isn't like Willy, and I just want to make sure he's alright," you said to him.

He gave you an understanding smile as you slowly walked towards the locker room.

Inside, you found William, seated in his stall with his head bowed, almost completely removing his gear. His body still gleamed from post-match sweat, hair damp and sticking to the sides of his face.

With cautious steps, you approached him, prompting him to glance up.

"Hey," you said in a hushed tone.

You knew how hard he was on himself after such games. There was no need to vocalize it. But you wanted to convey unwavering support to your friend, so you attempted to offer your best, concerned, and caring smile.

"Hey," he replied, his tone subdued.

There fell a brief silence between you two.

"Alright?" you asked gently.

"Yeah, sure..." he shrugged, his voice lacking its usual spark.

But you knew him too well.

"Babe, I know it might not mean much, but tonight wasn't your fault," you offered in an attempt to console him.

"I know," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Really? Because it seems like you're shouldering blame that isn't yours to carry," you ventured further, aware you were nearing sensitive ground. Yet, seeing him like this hurt, and you couldn't hold back your concern.

"I said I know, y/n," he replied firmly, his tone indicating an end to the discussion. "You don't need to keep digging.”

"I'm sorry. I just want to ensure you're not getting lost in self-pity. This was a team effort, and you all had a tough night," you persisted, trying to express your worries.

"And what do you know about that, huh?" he suddenly snapped, rising to his feet.

William was completely unlike his composed self. He was on edge, filled with an anger so unlike him. And it startled you.

"I don't..." you attempted to speak. "I'm just worried... Willy, I've never seen you like this before, and I just want to make sure you're okay," your voice quivered, conveying your genuine concern.

"Well, I'm not okay!" he burst out.

Never before had William raised his voice at you like this, not even following a devastating game. Something deeper seemed to be at play here than just the outcome of a hockey match.

"Then please, let me help you..." you urged, hoping to diffuse the tension.

"You can’t,” he retorted.

"Why not?" confusion laced your words.

"Because it's you I'm pissed at," he declared.

You were taken aback. He was angry with you?

“Why? What have I done to piss you off like this?” you questioned, bewildered by his accusation.

William struggled to steady his breath, trying to contain the fury coursing through him. Slightly lowering his voice to a more controlled but still assertive level, he continued.

"You always tell us that we deserve someone who makes us feel like we've been struck by lightning... yet you're with a dull, ordinary guy who isn't even close to your league, and you expect me to believe that he makes you happy?"

Wait, what?

"It that with this is all about… you playing a shitty game because I'm seeing someone you don't approve of?" you expressed disbelief. How dared he?

William exhaled sharply, standing with his hands on his hips.

"That's not… no, we just played a shitty game, we'll get over it," he attempted to gather his thoughts. "I just don't understand why you feel entitled to dictate what the rest of us deserve when you don't hold yourself to the same standard."

You struggled to fully grasp his words.

"What are you trying to say, Willy?"

"Don't you see... you should be with someone... not like him... someone who also makes you feel the way you want the rest of us to feel..."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that just won't happen," you spoke loudly, your mind racing faster than you could rationalize.

"Why not?"

"Because the only person who'd ever made me feel that way is you!"

A heavy silence filled the room as your confession hung in the air. 

You were left breathless, realizing you had verbalized something you hadn't even admitted to yourself before. A fleeting thought that had crossed your mind briefly but had never lingered for more than a moment. However, as the words escaped, they felt undeniably true.

And the truth was, you had deep feelings for William.

The laghter and playful banter between you. The affection you both had for your friends and families. How he always showed his genuine self with you, offering a listening ear and a supportive shoulder. You simply liked every part of him.

And as William gradually absorbed the sudden confession, he regained control of his breathing following his emotional outburst. He gazed intently at you, focusing on your worried expression, acknowledging your unintentional heartfelt disclosure.

Yet, he found himself speechless. There were no witty remarks or playful comebacks. He didn't feel compelled to challenge you or demand explanations. Instead, he took a step forward, gently cupping your head with his hands, leaning in to tenderly kiss you.

As your lips met, you couldn't resist, placing your hands on his chest, feeling all frustrations and negativity dissipate from your mind.

Relaxation flooded your body, sinking deeper into his touch. His hands moved down to your hips, drawing you closer, while yours wrapped around his neck.

His tongue delicately sought permission to explore beyond your lips, and you eagerly welcomed the intimacy.

It was an true, heartfelt moment where you both surrendered to desire and passion.

As you parted from the kiss, both breathing in the air that was momentarily lost, smiles couldn't be contained as you stood close.

Being in his arms felt incredibly right, and you wished for that feeling to never end.

However, reality beckoned, so you looked up at him with a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his handsome face.

"I suppose... I should let Matt know that I can't see him anymore," you chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, he should probably know that you’re already taken,” William replied with a hearty laugh.

[princess-lvcifer]

new year's eve

euro/dead • +4K • CW: smut (T!P x B!Ø), emotional hurt/comfort, implied alcohol and self-harm 🇪🇸 ao3

It had been a couple of hours since New Year's Eve, and Øystein was lying in a bed that wasn't his trying to process everything: the year, the night, his feelings for the person next to him trying to sleep in handcuffs... He didn't want the feeling to go any further, but he didn't want him to go away from him in any way. He wanted the year that had just arrived to be a good one and not to take him away from him, and to be with him for many more.

"I'm cold," the blond beside him said annoyed, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him turn his neck to his right to look at him, though he could barely see anything.

"You're Swedish," he said as he noticed him turn to his side and curl into a ball, face to face in the dark.

"And you're Norwegian, so?" This amused the guitarist, eliciting a sly grin and a snort through his nose as he turned to get into the same position. "Go ask for another blanket."

"Metalion will be asleep by now, I don't want to wake him," he replied.

"Then there's nothing left to do but pull your insides out to warm you up like in The Empire strikes back," Pelle joked not knowing that the guitarist wouldn't mind being destroyed by him in any way he could, just to make him happy.

"What if I just hug you?" he asked moving closer, putting his arm under his head so that he could use it as a pillow while he used his own hand. With his other arm he put his arm around him and even dared to stroke his back a little.

Pelle was a little surprised by such a gesture, almost freezing for a few seconds trying to process the moment because he wasn't used to physical contact, but it felt good and less cold, so he let it be and even made himself comfortable by intertwining their legs. They fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The blond's nose brushed against his neck, and he could feel his breath. He wasn't the only one who could feel something, as Pelle could feel his heartbeat against his hands, close to his chest without being able to take them anywhere else.

But the heat was warming them both up, and the night and the alcohol didn't help because it made everyone feel too warm and secure.

"Øystein," he whispered to check if he was still awake after a few minutes.

"Mm?"

"Can I bite your neck? I want to know what it feels like," he added quickly not wanting to sound too weird, but he felt he was being provoked by having his neck so close. If the guitarist expressed discomfort in any way he would excuse himself by saying he was joking, lying.

For a second Øystein thought he was dreaming, that maybe he didn't remember that he'd had too much to drink and had ended up in a drunken coma. It all seemed too good to be true, he couldn't believe it. It was surreal enough that he'd ended up sharing a tiny bed with him, and that they'd ended up cuddling in the cold, without adding that to it. He knew there was most likely no ulterior motive behind such a request, and that maybe he should stop it as he wasn't quite himself because of the alcohol and blood loss from the cuts he'd given himself earlier, but he'd been drinking alcohol too, so he couldn't help but be equally sincere.

"Yes," he answered quickly but trying as hard as he could to hide the fact that he wanted that and much more, "but don't hurt me," he added knowing how his friend was fascinated by blood, not wanting to get hurt and above all not wanting to stain more sheets with blood.

"Relax, I'll be gentle," he said as he brought his hands wrapped around the collar of his shirt before slowly planting small kisses on his neck, testing the ground before deciding where to bite him.

At those words and such an action Øystein couldn't help but blush, opening his eyes like vinyl records and staring into the dark nothingness as he noticed his lips up and down, and he could even swear he could notice a small smile. Then, at last, Pelle opened his mouth and dug his teeth into his flesh. At first he did it with no force and he could even feel his tongue retract, but then he pressed harder and caused the guitarist to let out a small moan that embarrassed him, but to his luck Pelle ignored it. What he didn't know was that he liked that and it provoked him even more, causing him to bite him on other parts of his neck.

The atmosphere warmed up, the cold was long gone. They were too excited and both could feel it, in their own bodies and in each other's bodies. Needing more and almost without thinking Øystein put his hands on the blond's cheeks and bent down to kiss him now, on the lips. At first it was a shy and awkward peak as it was the Swede's first kiss and it caught him by surprise, but he quickly gave him to understand that he didn't dislike it and played along until their tongues were deep inside each other. When they broke apart for lack of air Pelle bit him and stretched his lip, teasing him but making him laugh quietly.

Then the guitarist got up and sat on his crotch, and though he could barely see anything, he could swear Pelle smiled — or at least he wanted to believe he smiled, the same way he did. He leaned over him as he rested his hands on his chest and slid them down to his shoulders, bringing their torsos and crotches together to kiss him on the lips and neck as the blond had done to him earlier.

If he hadn't been handcuffed he probably would have grabbed his hips or buttocks, he had to settle for draping his arms over his head. The guitarist felt the cold metal chain of the handcuffs on the back of his neck, pushing him down, but he didn't care because he didn't want to be separated from the vocalist's lips, who was trying to move his hips to brush against his erect crotch. Well pleased, Øystein decided to whisper in his ear:

"Can I touch you?" he asked, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I promise I'll make you feel very good."

"Yeah," he answered quickly, and as needy as he was.

He sat back up and adjusted himself, pulling down both their trousers and pants. He warmed his hand by rubbing them together and spitting saliva into his dominant hand before he began to massage his member, feeling it so close for the first time — feeling even his veins as he massaged it from bottom to top slowly at first, and tightening his grip when he reached its tip.

But masturbating is as boring as it is tiring, and Øystein also needed satisfaction and rubbing, so he settled back to sitting on top of his crotch, bringing their penises together at the bottom of both of them, the most sensitive part. He put his hands on his abdomen, grabbing his shirt; and then he began to move his hips rhythmically.

"You look like a dog in heat, rubbing yourself against me like that," he said with a certain mocking tone, but not maliciously.

"Better than a cat, isn't it?" he asked playfully.

He wished they were with the light on so he could see Pelle's facial expression, so he could know if he was doing it right and behold his beauty. And he wished they were alone so they could make noise and try to go further.

"Fuck, I want your hands on me and to feel you from the inside..." He dared to moan in a whisper, and to his surprise, the Swede brought his cuffed hands over his and said:

"There is a way you can feel me from the inside" and he was right. He didn't want to let go of his hands, but he wanted to satisfy him and time was rewarding, so he let go and slid back into the sheets.

He grabbed his cock again and masturbated it a little as he wet his lips with his tongue, still not processing what he was about to do once and for all. He had imagined it many times, and didn't think he'd ever get to do it for real at some point. With the tip of his tongue he brushed from the lowest to the highest, causing the blond to shiver and his breathing to quicken even more. When he reached the tip he sucked it like a lollipop, causing the blond to stifle a moan at such pleasure he had never felt before and bringing his hands to the brunet's head, grabbing his hair and pushing his head down wanting to feel more. That satisfied Øystein as it showed he was liking what he was doing to him, but he also felt nervous as he didn't know if his mouth was big enough to fit his entire member inside him. Putting that aside, he dropped saliva which he collected in his mouth to moisten it, so that his lips would slide in better. When he opened his mouth he slowly pushed his member in, and Pelle clung tighter to him. He tried to give him as much pleasure as he could with everything his mouth had to offer, except his teeth. When he got tired, which was often due to lack of practice, he went back to massaging it with his hand.

"I'm going to cum Øystein," he moaned clutching his hair even tighter as he was giving him oral sex again. That was music to the Norwegian's ears, his new favourite style of music now that he had finally heard it.

"Cum in my mouth," he said at one point pulling his member out of his mouth as he masturbated him, wanting to answer him as he didn't want to stain the sheets leaving evidence of what they had done — but for better or worse, Pelle couldn't help but cum before he could merge their bodies back together (though technically he did cum in his mouth as some of his semen jumped to his lips, and he wiped it off by running his tongue over it). Wanting to avoid staining the sheets but still wanting to satisfy him, he just kept masturbating his tip with his hand, capturing his cum inside his palm as he listened to him sigh deeply.

When the room fell silent again he knew he was done. Wanting to clean himself up and finish satisfying himself, he clumsily climbed out of bed. When he landed his feet on the floor his legs trembled a little, from the change of position and the fatigue of sitting spread-eagled. He pulled up his pants and trousers, went to the door and opened it slowly and quietly, opening it a little to peek in and see if anyone was there: as he suspected, there was no one in the hallway and no light was coming from the other rooms. He went to the bathroom on the floor he was in, using his left arm as a blind man's stick, and when he got there he locked himself in without turning on the light, not wanting to attract anyone's attention or disturb his eyes.

Once there he pulled down his pants and trousers again, carefully took toilet paper and still with his dominant hand full of his Swedish friend's semen he started to masturbate himself in the same way he masturbated him, imagining he was doing it until he cummed on the paper which he threw in the trash. He would have preferred to flush it down the toilet and flush it away for good and leave no evidence, but he preferred not to make any noise if it wasn't absolutely necessary, and probably neither Metalion nor his parents would be looking at the little bin in that bathroom with a magnifying glass. Then he poured soap on his hands and turned on the tap, running a thin trickle of water to wash them, then wiped them on the hand towel and finally went back into the room.

"Did I do well?" he asked once he was back in bed, with both of them staring at the dark ceiling.

"You ask as if I were an expert."

"Right," laughed Øystein quietly, and also very tired. How could he not be tired at that time of the morning and after drinking alcohol, having sex and cumming?

They cuddled up again and there wasn't much more to say. They didn't have time to process what they had just done either, as they were so exhausted that they fell asleep quickly, not noticing how their eyes were closing.

The next morning it was the guitarist who woke up first. He was bored and wanted to eat breakfast and take an Ibuprofen for the hangover, but he didn't want to wake Pelle up so he just stared at his back in silence (as there was finally some light in the room, coming in through the window), waiting patiently for him to wake up while he remembered what happened the night before and wondered what his relationship with him would be like from then on. He couldn't help but get a little excited.

Figuring out that Pelle had woken up wasn't difficult, his breathing changed a lot but he still looked like he was sleeping because he acted like he was. Øystein thought that maybe he acted like that thinking he was sleeping and not wanting to wake him up if he was, like him.

"Good morning," he said daring to hug him from behind, even though he was smaller.

"Good morning," he replied as he pulled away from him and got out of bed to go to the door, not even looking at him for a second.

Øystein was a bit puzzled, but thought that maybe it was just his imagination, that he was simply in a hurry to go to the bathroom to relieve himself and/or have breakfast. He followed, there was no point in staying in bed alone.

When they went down to the first floor of the house they saw that they weren't the only ones awake and they all had breakfast together around the living room table with the TV on (although without paying much attention to it because they were just awake and hungover). Metalion handed out Ibuprofen like bingo cards and they waited for it to take effect as quickly as the coffees they drank. Øystein thought he might have to help Pelle eat breakfast, considering his hands were cuffed, but he managed fine on his own. What he did help him with was changing the bandages on his arms and re-disinfecting his cuts in the bathroom while the others cleaned the house.

"Yeah, yeah," the guitarist whispered after the vocalist winced and grunted in annoyance at the stinging the Betadine was causing in his wounds, trying to calm him down and let him see that he understood it wasn't a pleasant sensation. The scene was not pleasant for him either, and it was worse to see him self-harming.

He silently bandaged his arms with great care, as if they were made of porcelain and about to break. When he was done Pelle whispered a small "Thank you" and there was nothing more to say, like last night. The Swede was the first to leave the bathroom, almost seeming to be in a hurry. At no point in the morning did he look him in the face, and though he knew he was shy and found it hard to do such a thing, it didn't happen with him being close. He knew he was tense, and that he was running away from him for some reason. Øystein looked at himself in the mirror, searching for evidence of the crime on his neck — luckily for him there was none as Pelle didn't bite him too hard the night before, the only evidence he had was his memories and his groin pain.

When they left they didn't go straight to their house, they went to a police station to have the handcuffs removed, as they didn't have a key. Luckily they didn't have to wait long to be attended to, nor did they have to give many detailed explanations, nor did the policemen see the state of Pelle's arms as he was wearing a black leather jacket.

The car rides were silent, oblivious to the metal music playing in the background while Øystein drove and Pelle looked out of the passenger seat window, fist to his cheek.

And then they finally arrived home. No one was there, they were alone at last, but still the Swede locked himself in his room. The Norwegian didn't want to take it personally, he knew that after being surrounded by people he needed to recharge his social battery by being alone and that he was probably still tired. He locked himself in his room to write letters and a few hours later Jan and Jørn arrived.

Although he didn't want to accept it because he was very positive as the hours passed and the more they were forced to interact by living together, he realised that he was probably the problem, and that made him nervous and desperate. He didn't know what he had done to make him uncomfortable, he didn't know what was the straw that broke the camel's back — he didn't know what was going through the Swede's mind, he didn't know what he thought of him or whether he was angry or disappointed.

On the evening of the second day of January all the members of Mayhem were in the living room, relaxing watching a movie on TV after eating leftovers they had brought home for dinner, and the moment that made them both most uncomfortable came: a sex scene, and to top it off, it was between a blond boy being mounted by a girl with long black hair.

"I want your hands on me," moaned the girl in the film as she grabbed the boy's hands and put them on her breasts.

"You're fucking joking," thought Øystein as he swallowed nervously, but a sudden movement he saw out of the corner of his eye caught his attention as well as an all too familiar voice.

"Good night," said Pelle as he got up from the sofa and headed for his bedroom.

"Enjoy the handjob," Jan said matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off the screen.

He sighed deeply as he watched the Swede's back as he headed for the stairs to the first floor, knowing that he didn't want to keep things so tense with him and that he had to do something about it. If Pelle wouldn't go to him, he would have to go to Pelle. And that's what he did as soon as the two of them were alone in the house.

As soon as he approached the open door of his room he saw him lying on his bed (or rather, filthy mattress) staring at a fixed point on the ceiling, though he wasn't disassociating with a blank stare. He knocked on the door to let him know he was there, and with permission to enter.

"We need to talk," he said approaching him, ignoring the mess that was in many ways the room — he was used to that and many other things. Pelle didn't answer, didn't even look at him and tried to ignore him as he took the liberty of sitting cross-legged in front of the mattress to the right of his head. "I know you're uncomfortable," he began to speak crestfallen and looking at the floor, this time he was the one avoiding eye contact, "and I know I'm to blame..." He paused and sighed deeply, trying to find the right words even though he thought about it time before, but with his nerves they left his mind. "I don't know what made you uncomfortable but I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention. I don't want to make excuses but I was drunk and horny, and I like you," Pelle finally reacted the instant he heard that confession opening his eyes like vinyl records, turning his neck to his right to look at him and getting up to sit in the same position as the guitarist, "so I got too excited, I'm really sorry."

"Do you like me?" He asked surprised as well as confused as soon as he had the chance to speak, and Øystein finally looked up to look at him, but the look only lasted a second as he turned his eyes away nervously, his heart pounding. Again he couldn't believe what he was experiencing.

"Yeah, I know it's probably a little weird and I'm sorry if I'm grossing you out and making you uncomfortable..." He shrugged apologetically.

"No, it's not that," he hastened to correct him. "It's just that I don't understand why..."

"Fuck, Pelle," he said reattaching his eyes, now longer, "how can I not like you?" he subtly shook his head, letting hin know that he didn't understand. Øystein swallowed and looked away for a second, searching for the right words and realizing that he finally had the chance to express everything he really felt for him — which he wanted to do but at the same time he was afraid to open up so much. But one thing was for sure — Øystein was brave, and it was that moment or never, so he got emboldened and looked back into those blue eyes he loved so much. "You are authentic, unique, interesting, funny, attractive, passionate and talented in all the art you create. We have tastes in common and you take the band as seriously as I do. We've known each other for a long time and we've been through a lot together. I like being around you, and I miss you even when you're by my side without talking to me. Touch makes affection, I guess," he added with a shrug.

"Of course," he said holding back his laughter, referring to what happened between them in Metalion's bed, but without malice. He simply wanted to defuse the tension with humour, and luckily for both of them it worked, for it made his friend laugh quietly, and he looked away, blushing and shaking his head.

But when the humour passed he looked down again as he fiddled nervously with his hands, silently searching his mind for something to add, and mostly processing what he had just admitted out loud — no, he just didn't like him, he was in love with him.

"Thank you," the blond whispered grabbing his hands in an attempt to calm him down and show him how grateful he really was, and making him raise his head to look at him in surprise. They both looked at each other directly and fixedly, though Øystein couldn't help but look at his lips for a microsecond, and when he looked back at him his eyes began to water with nervousness. "I have to..." Now it was Pelle who looked away, as if he was going to find the words he found by looking around the dark-haired man, "think and assimilate a lot of things, really. That's why I've been so distant these days, not because of anything you've done," he said shaking his head subtly, making his long and beautiful blond hair move, "but I want you to know that you don't disgust me and I appreciate your feelings a lot," he said tightening his grip, "I appreciate you," he said now, nodding.

Øystein smiled with a warm and relieved smile. He had gotten what he wanted, which was to clear up doubts and get back to normality between them. He hadn't asked him any questions, so he didn't expect any answers from the Swede. It is one thing to confess what you feel and another thing to ask someone to be your partner — they are two different things, not to be confused although most people do. Luckily for him Pelle understood him in many ways, and that was another thing he liked about him. He didn't want to burden him with such a request. If Pelle wanted to be with him, he would leave it up to him to decide when to start a romantic relationship if he felt ready for it — although he would settle for being friends, flatmates and bandmates.

[amoripomoea]

i keep getting hit with these like. weird waves of sadness over liam's passing yesterday?? a big chunk of what shaped me as a person during my teenage years is gone and it's such a weird and sad feeling.

i don't really have the words to describe how i feel about this (well, i do, but they're not like. brief. or clear). the liam payne i'm sad about losing was gone awhile ago, i know that, but part of me always hoped he would get to receive the professional help he so clearly needed.

anyone who was obsessed with one direction knew that liam really lost his way and fell into addiction almost immediately after the band broke up. he's needed help for years. he did go to rehab awhile back and started to heal a bit but clearly things got bad again.

i'm aware that death does not make someone innocent. you are allowed to be surprised and sad by the tragic loss of a life while also holding them accountable for the shitty things they've done. those two things can and should coexist. i know the internet is allergic to nuance but PLEASE exercise some critical thinking and perspective. this is not as black and white as it seems to be on the surface. keep in mind that there's also a lot that we just don't know.

this grief is so nuanced. like i said, i don't support what he has done in the past -- i haven't supported him in YEARS because of the things he's said and done. i stand w all of his victims that spoke up, and i hope they're all doing okay rn and that they know that none of this is their fault.

there's something so weird and sad about combing the emotions of coming to terms with the fact that the person you idolized as a teen turned out to be a bad person, along with the rough and weird feelings of grief that come with that same person dying suddenly, gruesomely, and tragically.

this is all so tragic, so weird, so surreal, and SO hard. there's a lot of weird conflicting and nuanced emotions running through not just me, but so many of us who grew up loving one direction. i'm aching for 12-15 year old me who wouldn't recover from this. i'm destroyed for his son who survives him, his family, friends, and the other one direction boys. my heart also aches for his victims, who i'm sure are experiencing a lot of conflicting and weird emotions about this. i can't imagine what they're all going through right now and can only hope they're doing okay.

this is the first major celebrity death ive experienced, at least with a celebrity i genuinely loved and obsessed over growing up. ik a lot of people feel the same way too.

whatever you're feeling about this right now is valid. you have the right to feel however you feel. you can mourn the loss of someone who meant a lot to you as a child while also remembering that they turned out to be a bad person.

sorry i keep talking abt this but it hits so hard. like i said like 30 times this is so weird and hard and confusing to a lot of us one direction fans who stopped supporting liam a while back bc of his actions. grieving with perspective and nuance is necessary here but it's not easy.

i hope my fellow one direction fans are doing okay today <3