#my notes are flooded with it and it's very exhausting to read

[gay-impressionist]

it's very funny bc right now my notes are divided btw the post i made about the riots in france after a kid was killed by a cop and my post about new queer rights around the world

deux salles deux ambiances mdrrr

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

i appreciated this study: "They Can't Read Very Well: A Study of the Reading Comprehension Skills Of English Majors At Two Midwestern Universities"

[ETA: if you are somehow finding your way here pls note some - not exhaustive!!!! - follow up notes in this reblog. sorry again i mixed up megalodons and megalosaurs]

essentially, a pair of professors set out to test their intuitive sense that students at the college level were struggling with complex text. they recruited 85 students, a mix of english majors and english education majors - so, theoretically, people focusing on literature, and people preparing to teach adolescents how to read literature - and had them read-while-summarizing the first seven paragraphs of dickens's bleak house (or as much as they made it through in the 20 minute session). they provided dictionaries and also said students could use their phones to look up whatever they wanted, including any unfamiliar words or references. they found that the majority of the students - 58%, or 49 out of the 85 students - functionally could not understand dickens at all, and only 5% - a mere 4 out of the 85 students - proved themselves proficient readers (leaving the remaining 38%, or 32 students, as what the study authors deemed "competent" students, most of whom could understand about half the literal meaning - pretty low bar for competence - although a few of whom, they note, did much better than the rest in this group if not quite well enough to be considered proficient).

what i really appreciated about this study was its qualitative descriptions of the challenges and reading behaviors of what the authors call "problematic readers" (that bottom 58%), which resonated strongly with my own experiences of students who struggle with reading. here's their blunt big picture overview of these 49 students:

The majority of these subjects could understand very little of Bleak House and did not have effective reading tactics. All had so much trouble comprehending concrete detail in consecutive clauses and phrases that they could not link the meaning of one sentence to the next. Although it was clear that these subjects did try to use various tactics while they read the passage, they were not able to use those tactics successfully. For example, 43 percent of the problematic readers tried to look up words they did not understand, but only five percent were able to look up the meaning of a word and place it back correctly into a sentence. The subjects frequently looked up a word they did not know, realized that they did not understand the sentence the word had come from, and skipped translating the sentence altogether.

the idea that they had so much trouble with every small piece of a text that they could not connect ideas on a sentence by sentence basis is very familiar to me from teaching and tutoring, as was the habit of thought seen in the example of the student who gloms on to the word "whiskers" in a sea of confusion and guesses incorrectly that a cat is present - struggling readers, in my experience, seem to use familiar nouns as stepping stones in a flood of overwhelm, hopping as best they can from one seemingly familiar image to the next. so was this observation, building off the example of a student who misses the fact that dickens is being figurative when he imagines a megalodon stalking the streets of london:

She first guesses that the dinosaur is just “bones” and then is stuck stating that the bones are “waddling, um, all up the hill” because she can see that Dickens has the dinosaur moving. Because she cannot logically tie the ideas together, she just leaves her interpretation as is and goes on to the next sentence. Like this subject, most of the problematic readers were not concerned if their literal translations of Bleak House were not coherent, so obvious logical errors never seemed to affect them. In fact, none of the readers in this category ever questioned their own interpretations of figures of speech, no matter how irrational the results. Worse, their inability to understand figurative language was constant, even though most of the subjects had spent at least two years in literature classes that discussed figures of speech. Some could correctly identify a figure of speech, and even explain its use in a sentence, but correct responses were inconsistent and haphazard. None of the problematic readers showed any evidence that they could read recursively or fix previous errors in comprehension. They would stick to their reading tactics even if they were unhappy with the results.

i have seen this repeatedly, too - actually i was particularly taken with how similar this is to the behavior of struggling readers at much younger ages - and would summarize the hypothesis i have forged over time as: struggling readers do not expect what they read to make sense. my hypothesis for why this is the case is that their reading deficits were not attended to or remediated adequately early enough, and so, in their formative years - the early to mid elementary grades - they spent a lot of time "reading" things that did not make sense to them - in fact they spent much more time doing this than they ever did reading things that did make sense to them - and so they did not internalize a meaningful subjective sense of what it feels like to actually read things.

like, i've said this before, but the year i taught third grade i had multiple students who told me they loved reading and then when i asked them about a book they were reading revealed that they had absolutely no idea what was going on - on a really basic literal level like "didn't know who said which lines of dialogue" and "couldn't identify which things or characters given pronouns referred to" - and were as best as i could tell sort of constructing their own story along the way using these little bits of things they thought they understood. that's what "reading" was, in their heads. and they were, in the curriculum/model that we used at the private school where i taught, receiving basically no support to clarify that that was not what reading was, nor any instruction that would actually help them with what they needed to do to improve (understand sentences) - and i realized over the course of that year that the master's program that had certified me in teaching elementary school had provided me with very little understanding of how to help these kids (with perhaps the sole exception of the class i took on communications disorders, not because these kids had communications disorders but because that was the only class where we ever talked, even briefly, about things like sentence structures that students may need instruction in and practice with to comprehend independently). when it comes to the literal, basic understanding of a text, the model of reading pedagogy i was taught has about 6 million little "tools" that all boil down to telling kids who functionally can't read to try harder to read. this is not productive, in my experience and opinion, for kids whose maximum effort persistently yields confusion. but things are so dysfunctional all the way up and down the ladder that you can be a senior in college majoring in english without anyone but a pair of professors with a strong work ethic noticing that you can't actually read.

couple other notes:

obviously it's a small study but i'm not sure i see a reason to believe these are particularly outlierish results (ACT scores - an imperfect metric but not a meritless one IMO for reading specifically, where the task mostly really is to read a set of texts written for the educated layperson and answer factual questions about them - were a little bit above the national average)

the study was published last year, but the research was conducted january to april 2015. so there's no pandemic influence, no AI issue - these are millennials who now would span roughly ages 28-32 (i guess it's possible one of the four first-year students was one of the very first members of gen z lol). if you're in your late 20s or early 30s, we are talking about people your age, and whatever the culprit is here, it was happening when you were in school.

i think some people might want to blame this on NCLB but i find this unconvincing for a variety of reasons. first of all, NCLB did not pass because everyone in 2001 agreed that education was super hunky-dory; in fact, the sold a story podcast outlines how an explicit goal of NCLB was to train teachers in systematic phonics instruction, because that was not the norm when NCLB was passed, and an unfortunate outcome was that phonics became politicized in ed world. second, anyone who understands anything about reading should need about ten minutes max to spend some time on standardized test prep and recognize that if your goal is truly to maximize scores... then the vast majority of your instructional time should be spent on improving actual reading skills because you actually can't meaningfully game these tests by "practicing main idea questions" (timothy shanahan addresses this briefly near the top of this post). so i find it very difficult to believe that any school that pivoted to multiple choice drill time in an attempt to boost reading scores was teaching reading effectively pre-NCLB, because no set of competent literacy professionals would think that would work even for the goal of raising test scores. third, NCLB mandated yearly testing in grades 3-8 but only one test year in high school; kansas set its reading and math test year in high school as tenth grade. so theoretically these kids all had two years of sweet sweet freedom from NCLB in which their teachers could have done whatever the fuck they wanted to teach these kids to actually read. the fact that they didn't suggests perhaps there were other problems afoot. fourth, and maybe most saliently for this particular study, the sample text was the first seven paragraphs of a novel - in other words, the exact kind of short incomplete text that NCLB allegedly demanded excessive time spent on. i'm not really sure what universe it makes sense in that students who can't read the first seven paragraphs of a novel would have become much better reader if everything else had been the same but they had been making completely wack associations based on nonsense guesses for all 300 pages instead. (if you read the study it's really clear that for problematic readers, things go off the rails immediately, in a way that a good program targeted at teaching mastery of text of 500 words or less would have done something about.)

all but 3 of the students reported A's and B's in their english classes and, again, 69% of them are juniors and seniors, so like... i mean idk kudos to these professors for being like "hold up can these kids actually read?" but clearly something is wack at the college level too [in 2015] if you can make your way through nearly an entire english major without being able to read the first seven paragraphs of a dickens novel. (once again i really do encourage you to look at the qualitative samples in the study, lest you think i am being uncharitable by summarizing understandable misunderstandings or areas of confusion that may resolve themselves with further exposure to the text as "can't read.") not to mention the fact that most students could not what they had learned in previous or current english classes and when asked to name british and american authors and/or works of the nineteenth century, roughly half the sample at each college could name at most one.

the authors of the study are struck by the fact that students who cannot parse the first 3 sentences of bleak house feel very confident about their ability to read the entire novel, and discover that this seeming disconnect is resolved by the fact that these students seem to conceptualize "reading" as "skimming and then reading sparknotes." i think it's really tempting to Kids These Days this phenomenon (although again these are people who in some cases have now been in the workforce for a decade) and categorize it as laziness or a lack of effort, but i think that there is, as i described above, a real and sincere confusion over what "reading" is in which this makes a certain logical sense because it's not like they have some store of actual reading experiences to compare it to. i also think it's pretty obvious looking at just how wildly severed from actual textual comprehension their readings are that these are not - or at least not entirely - students who could just work harder and master the entirety of bleak house all on their own. like i don't think you get from "charles dickens is describing a bunch of dinosaur bones actually walking the streets of london" to comfortably reading nineteenth century literature by just trying harder. i really just don't (and i say that acknowledging i personally have had students who like... were good readers if i was forcing them to work at it constantly... but i have also had students, including ones getting ready to enter college, who were clearly giving me everything they had and what they had was at the present moment insufficient). i think that speaks to a missing skillset that they don't know are missing, because they don't have any other experience of "reading" to compare it to.

just wanna highlight again that although they don't give the breakdown some of these students are not just english majors but english education majors a.k.a. the high school english teachers of tomorrow. some of them may be teaching high school english right now, in case anyone wishes to consider whether "maybe some high school english teachers can't read the first seven paragraphs of bleak house?" should be kept in mind when we discuss present-day educational ills.

[highvern]

Nights Like These

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: fluff, neighbor!au, Nightwing! mingyu based off this, bartender reader

warnings: very dumb people (mingyu x reader), suggestive but no explicit smut

Length: ~2k

Note: merry gyumas!!!!! this is revenge for spider woo from @gyuswhore if you hate it, it's bc i wrote it in like 3 hours. thank u @the-boy-meets-evil i will be enacting my revenge on you soon. MWAH!

summary: On nights when you close the bar late, a friendly hero always happens to be around to walk you home and share his woes about the crush on his neighbor.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

With the rain pounding down in thick sheets, you rush home. On nights like these, when you're the last one out of the bar, completely alone, are always the worst. The bus doesn’t run this late but at least you’re only a few blocks from your apartment. A ten minute run if you don’t stop.

The rain abruptly halts. Not that you’re lucky enough for the storm to pass but because someone falls into step beside you. “Need an umbrella?”

You don’t even need to look to know who it is. He always shows up when you have the closing shift. The man who runs around the city in a spandex suit and calls himself Nightwing. 

The first time, some creep had been trailing you from a distance. Thankfully, most of the businesses on the way back to your apartment stayed open later, the nice apartments have doormen so you could run into one at a moment's notice. But as soon as you noticed the weight of a gaze on your back it vanished with a short scuffle. When you turned to find the source of noise, Nightwing stood guard as the creep spirited away.

From that night on, if you got off after midnight, he was there to escort you home. 

The first few times he followed from a distance. A couple yards, then ten feet and then one night you waited for him to walk beside you like a normal person. Most nights you were too exhausted to make conversation but he kept you both entertained, asking easy questions or staying silent if you were particularly irritated. But usually, on those nights you felt his eyes on you from one of the alleys you passed, or from the rooftops. He gave you space but kept you safe. Even when you insisted there were far better things for him to do in a city that never sleeped. People who needed him more. But Nightwing shook you off each time.

“This storm came out of nowhere,” you say, huddling closer. He’s big, taking up most of the space by default. You try not to touch him but the heat of his body is pleasant considering your soaked clothes, chilled straight to the bone.

“Yeah, downtown is already flooded.”

“Already walked all the other girls home there?”

“Ha-ha,” he huffs. “I actually work in an office there.”

Oh. In all the nights he’s chaperoned you home, he’s been careful not to reveal too much about himself but some things naturally slip out. He wants a dog but is never home enough to take care of it. One of his friends burnt a fish in his apartment and wasn’t allowed to come back. He tried reading some of the books you talked about but wasn’t a big reader. This is the first time he’s offered information so personal.

“So even superheroes have day jobs?”

“Gotta pay rent somehow.”

“Maybe take up being a security guard. Or Uber but walking women home late at night.”

“Nah,” he smiles, a flash of white teeth between pink lips. “I do that for free. Part of the job.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Sometimes you think maybe he likes walking with you. But as he said, it’s a part of his job. His civic responsibilities to protect the street from creeps and weirdos. Besides, the only other personal information you know about him is the fat crush he has on the girl in the apartment next to him.

“How's your neighbor?” you ask.

“She’s okay. Still acts like I don’t exist.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“You said she’d like it if I gave her something I cooked, I did.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Damn.”

You think of your own neighbor and how grateful you are that he does something similar. Mingyu was overall, a great neighbor. Grabbed your packages from the mailroom and left them on your doormat when he could, shared food if he made too much which was frequently, and managed to keep his rowdy friends quiet when they were over. But you typically only spoke to him in passing. Strictly neighborly. How are you? They didn’t pick up the trash today? Can I borrow some salt? By the way, I made an entire pot of spaghetti and I cannot eat it alone. Want some?

Recently he offered more and more. A blessing really because by the time you got off work you were too exhausted to cook and too broke to justify paying for the fees for delivery. Everytime he offered you food though you weren’t sure what to do with the tupperware. He was rarely home when you were; conflicting schedules. Last time he brought you the extra brownies from his office party. The tote bag full of clean containers sat next to your door for whenever you saw him but lately he’d been MIA. 

Maybe Nightwing’s neighbor felt the same way. If he had a job and ran around town at all hours it was unlikely there was a good time for them to talk.

“Have you tried asking her out?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Your shoulder brushes his arm but you ignore the contact. Not like you can feel much with the numbness from the freezing rain.

“No luck.”

“Maybe she’s shy.”

He levels you with a look meaning that clearly isn’t the problem. For a second you wonder what he looks like without the mask. The tiny scrap of blue, black, and white obscuring so much. Obviously, he’s handsome. Maybe she’s a little intimidated. You would be. Even if his neighbor didn’t know who he really was, he had an aura around him. 

And even if he wore baggy clothes, they wouldn’t hide his physique or height.

But you can’t dwell on those thoughts because then you think of your neighbor who is also tall and muscular, and somehow reminds you of a golden retriever.

“Well, you seem normal enough. Even though you wear a weird amount of spandex for a grown man.”

He laughs, the edges of the umbrella shaking with him and exposing you back to the elements but you don’t mind. The sound is rich and warm, forcing the chill away. “What is a normal amount of spandex?”

“Probably zero,” you joke. “Maybe you should just ask her out. Honesty is the best policy or whatever.”

“Or whatever. I’ll remember that.”

“Well,” you sigh. The front of your apartment is in view. Nightwing will wait until you’re inside to leave, tucked safely behind the glass door and up the stairs out of sight. He hands you the umbrella for the last fifteen feet he always refuses to accompany you, and disappears out of sight.

You don’t tell anyone who walks you home at night. It’s a nice little secret between you and the city’s hero. But sometimes you wished you could. If only to explain how confusing it is that Nightwing reminds you of Mingyu. A bizarre thought. Mingyu is an architect and hardly has the time for a pet, let alone to save the city every night. You leave the thought at the threshold of the stairwell.

The trek upstairs takes longer than you’d like. Five flights of stairs down is a lot easier than five flights up and with your limbs just now warming up, it's a process to rally enough energy to climb even the first few. Good thing is with it being so late, you aren’t at risk of holding up a line to the top. 

By the time you reach the third floor, the sensation returns to your extremities. By the fifth, the only thought in your head is a shower and the cozy warmth of your bed. 

As you reach the final steps, shuffling like a zombie, the universe decides your night isn’t over yet.

Your neighbor, hair washed from a shower, white shirt and pajama pants wrapped around his figure, emerges from the opposite staircase, where the trash chute is. Maybe you have a crush on Mingyu but half the building does too. He’s a good neighbor, he’s nice, and he’s handsome. 

Okay, maybe it’s a big crush and you can’t figure out if he’s just nice or if all the nice things he does mean a little bit more. You should probably ask Nightwing what he thinks the next time he walks you home. He’s a guy, he’d know.

But right now, Mingyu gets to see your best impression of a drowned rat.

Lovely.

“Hey,” he says. His door is at the top of the stairs you just climbed, and yours at the top of the stairs he just climbed. When you pass by, you can’t help but get a whiff of his body wash. Cedar, citrus, and soap mingling pleasantly. 

You grunt in response. “Hey, Mingyu.”

“Late night?”

“Something like that.”

You both stand in the hallway, waiting for something else to say but nothing comes up. Somewhere below a door slams and the patter of feet echoes through the stairwell.

Mingyu turns away first. “Well, good night.”

“Wait!” you call, cringing at the harsh reverb of your voice.

He whips around, eyes wide, cheeks rosy. Like a little kid with their hand stuck in the cookie jar.

“I have your containers! I’ve been meaning to give them back.”

“Oh.” He deflates slightly but you pay no mind. 

You shove the metal of your apartment door open and rummage through your kitchen for the tote full of plastic containers. When you exit, Mingyu is waiting on your doormat, hands in his pockets.

Racking your brain for something – anything – to say, you blurt. “Um, the brownies you made were great.”

That pleases him. Behind the thick rim of his glasses his eyes soften, cheeks lifting from a shy smile. “Thanks. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“That’s nice.”

Neither of you move. Content rather than awkward. At your back, the rain pounds against the windows, thunder clapping, an occasional streak of lighting. A dull lullaby.

“Hey,” he starts. “Would you ever wanna hangout? Like a date?”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“A date?” you parrot.

“Or not! It doesn’t have to be a date if you’re not interested or…”

“A date sounds nice,” you grin, cheeks bursting. “What are you doing in thirty minutes?”

“Watching Survivor.”

“I’ll bring the popcorn. I just need to shower really quick.”

Mingyu blinks like he can’t believe any of it. Like you agreeing to hangout with him was never an actual option or that this entire thing is a fever dream. It’s cute. 

“Ugh—” he swallows. “Yeah! Okay. Just…knock wherever!”

Tucked away in the steam of the shower, you scrub and shave and scrub again. Feeling a little more human with each minute. You don’t bother with make up or anything fancy. Mingyu asked you out with mascara running down your cheeks in the hideous shirt the bar makes you wear. The bar is incredibly low. 

Settling on some sweats and a hoodie, you make the trip down the hall to 6F and knock just like Mingyu said. You sit a safe distance away on the couch but like two magnets you and Mingyu draw closer and closer until his arm is over your shoulder with a pretend stretch and you’re nodding off against his chest.

At some point, you both move to his bed. Or Mingyu asks and carries you across his apartment when you nod. His bed sounds like a great idea. The storm clears by the time you wake up. The first thing you do when Mingyu blinks awake, arm curled around your back like you considered leaving, is leave a gentle kiss on his jaw. 

You give him a better one as a thank you for coffee, and another when he makes pancakes. He lifts you onto the counter, taking place between your knees as thanks for the perfect whip cream smiley face decorating said pancakes. 

Next time you see your spandex clad friend, you’ll have to let him know honesty really is the best policy.

taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @wobblewobble822

@futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @scoupsjin

@isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy @lukeys-giggle

@aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee  @bokk-minnie

@cookiearmy  @AliceFortescue @moonlightwonu @Ateez-atiny380 @LexyRaeWorld

@melonacco @lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope

@whrryuu @wonrangwoo @xchaenx @Nuttywastelandmentality @champagnenoona

@kyeomofhearts @gyuchanator @archivistworld @spookyeomgoose @very-important-army

[synamartia]

“ Need A Hand … ? „

“ Let's make your thoughts a reality … „

synopsis ┊ ◜ For the weeks following your one-night stand, Alastor was beside himself with a desire still fairly new to him - his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of you and your shared evening. Night after night, he would watch you from the shadows, a familiar ache in the pits of his belly winding tighter and tighter as you tried to recreate the very same event in your mind's eye with your silicone toy. Eventually, having had enough of your failed attempts at self-gratification, Alastor takes pity on your tortured soul and decides to offer his assistance . . . ◞ wc ┊ ◜ 4,130 ◞ warnings ┊ ◜ Alastor x Reader ✧ Afab!Reader ✧ Non-sex repulsed Alastor ✧ No pronouns or Y/N used ✧ Explicit / 18+ Only / MDNI ✧ Sexual situations ✧ Slight Stalker!Alastor ✧ Shower masturbation (Reader) ✧ Mutual masturbation ✧ Vaginal fingering ✧ Tentacles ✧ Hand job ◞ notes ┊ ◜ Can't believe we're already two weeks down! Time sure does fly when you're having fun, huh? Go check out last week's work linked down below on the Coven's Kinktober 2024 masterlist, and don't forget to give some likes, a few reblogs, and a follow to my darling wives~! Heaven and hell knows they deserve it! And to all my Haunted fans: this was a scene I had planned out for Haunted, but decided to cut it after writing 4+ chapters of pure smut. I wanna try to focus on the plot real soon! But don't worry, there will be more sexy times in that series! So for now, enjoy this little snippet~! ◞ links ┊ ◜ syn's masterlist ✧ coven kinktober 2024 ◞

It was only supposed to be a one-night stand; a friend helping out another friend; a one-off occurrence contingent entirely upon your careless mistakes and Alastor's prowess as a deal-making sinner. Weeks had gone by, and you hadn't uttered a single word to one another about it, dancing around the subject almost as if you were afraid to speak of it. As if talking about it outside the safe confines of Alastor's bedroom would make the heated memories disappear and any unspoken thoughts or desires evaporate into thin air, along with the few scraps that remained of your now tattered business relationship and friendship.

But you still found your mind wandering back to that night, struggling to hide the way your cheeks would flush a bright red at the memories flooding your brain; how your voice would crack with both nervousness and excitement when speaking to him about an issue with the hotel or a resident; or how you would rub your thighs together for the smallest bit of friction when he would enter the room and flash you that wide grin of his, the knowledge of your endeavors dancing behind carmine irises.

And in the late hours of the night, after everyone in the hotel had long since gone to bed, you would desperately try to recreate your experience in your mind's eye as your fingers drew fast circles on your clit, your silicone toy plunging deeper and deeper into your needy cunt - Alastor's voice at the forefront of your mind, coaxing you closer and closer, just as he did back then. But you failed every single time; your imagination was simply not enough to get you there, your fingers and toy nothing but a cheap imitation.

It had become a nightly ritual of sorts; when it wasn't done properly, Alastor felt more restless than usual - unable to read more than a single paragraph of his favorite book or properly hunt the deer scampering through his bayou pocket dimension without it. At the end of the day, after all of Charlie's redemption exercises and your basic duties as an employee, you would immediately slink off to your room under the false pretense of exhaustion from a long day's work.

Although you were none the wiser, Alastor was never far behind, slipping into the shadows as you stripped yourself of the hotel's uniform the second you heard the lock on your door click into place. A rush of pride would wash over the Radio Demon when he noticed that you were wearing the new undergarments he'd gifted you, to replace the ones he'd made a mess of so many nights ago - followed by a sense of possession when he eyed the faint bruises and scratch marks on your thighs and breasts that had yet to fully heal.

Once completely nude, your discarded clothing laying in a heap at the foot of your bed, you would saunter off to the connected bathroom, turning the knobs of your shower until steam filled the small space, obscuring your view of anything more than five feet away. He'd listen quietly as you washed off the day's dirt and grime, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles and lulling you into a false sense of security and solitude, the now all too familiar scent of your shampoo wafting through the air and clouding his senses. And he would wait patiently for that tell-tale sigh; the same one you made when he touched you, signaling that his new favorite broadcast was about to start.

The steam was thick, making it so that your silhouette was all Alastor could see as you removed the detachable shower head from its hook, tracing the steel object down your front until you felt it against your heated core. Excitement coursed through his veins as he imagined the expressions you were making, hands gripping tight his microphone as his own muscles flexed beneath his now much too restricting clothes. Eventually, you would begin to moan quietly as the pleasure began to build, raising your leg high enough to rest your foot on the grab bar, using your free hand to spread your folds apart and turning the head until the warm water sprayed directly on your clit.

And when he caught a faint whisper of his name as it fell from your lips, he would sink his teeth into the inside of his cheek to keep himself silent. It was a grand symphony, the sounds you made, and the last thing Alastor wanted to do was interrupt such a beautiful performance before its crescendo and climactic end. He waited with bated breath as your moans rose in volume, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased that elusive high, but like so many nights before, it wasn't enough. Your body felt tense once more as you teetered on the edge of release, unable to push yourself off that cliff despite your intense desire for the freefall into ecstasy.

Soon, the pleasure died down, your orgasm eluding you once again and you eventually gave up on the shower head, a frustrated groan slipping from your throat as you moved to shut off the water. Alastor dissolved into the shadows just before you stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel folded neatly on a nearby shelf and wrapping it around your body. Careful not to enter your line of vision, he manifested nearby and admired your skin, beads of water rolling down your body to be absorbed by the plush fabric wrapped around your torso and upper thighs, or the bath rug beneath your feet.

For a split second, Alastor had gotten distracted by a faint bite mark behind your left ear made by him during your escapades, and barely avoided being caught in the mirror when you wiped away the thick layer of steam and condensation blocking your view.

Blissfully unaware of your company, you went about your usual nighttime routine, starting with your dental hygiene, then your skin care, then your hair. By the time you finished gently raking your brush through your damp tangles, your skin had dried almost completely despite the humidity of the steamy bathroom, and you discarded your used towel in the hamper near the door as you reentered the main room of your suite. Your frustration was clear by your stiff movements as you made your way to your wardrobe for a fresh set of undergarments and pajamas.

He almost felt bad enough to end your nightly routine in that moment, to help you reach your end that you had been chasing after so desperately night after night. But the promise of an even greater, more illustrious second act in an already superlative performance helped him to steel his resolve and remain hidden from your eyes. And just as he had watched you do so many times before, you closed the doors after picking out something to sleep in and turned on the balls of your feet, walking over to the side of your bed and tossing the clothes on top of the duvet.

Alastor had memorized this scene, eyeing your naked form as you grazed one hand over your abdomen, letting it drift up to your left breast and cradling its weight, slender fingers pinching the sensitive bud between your thumb and forefinger. With a light tug followed by an experimental twist, you sighed as you squeezed the squishy mound, your other hand coming up to mirror its twin. Another sigh, followed by your eyes closing shut and your head lolling back, and then another frustrated groan after a few seconds of teasing your own nipples.

"I should just go to bed..." you would whisper to yourself, your hands dropping back down as you reached for your panties and slid them up your legs. He eyed the way the lace bit into your flesh where the elastic wasn't as stretchy, baring his teeth as he fought back the urge to reveal himself and tear the offensive fabric from your body. Then you reached for the oversized tshirt, pulling it over your head and slipping your arms through, pulling it down until it covered the panties hugging you close.

Alastor wasn't sure why you bothered with clothes - you would end up removing them later on during your efforts. But who was he to question the mind and the methods of an artist as talented as you?

You stood there for a few minutes, looking between your bed and the table beside it, contemplating if you should even make an attempt tonight. You were almost positive that you would fail, just as you had the night before, and the one before that. Maybe if you tried a visual aid, that might help?

With another groan, you didn't waste any more time thinking about it and turned to the night table by your bedside, reaching into the bottom drawer for the obscene toy that had worked wonders for your tense muscles and stressed mind before he ruined your vivid imagination. Tossing it onto the bed, you slid your panties back off before climbing onto the soft mattress, crawling to the center and lying flat on your back. Spreading your legs open, Alastor inhaled sharply when he saw the glistening sheen of your slicked hole, his fingertips overlapping the shaft of his microphone and digging into his palm.

You sighed again, placing one hand on your clothed breast and giving a gentle squeeze, trailing it downwards until you touched bare skin. Grabbing hold of your toy, silicone heavy in your hand, you lowered it to your aching cunt and rubbed the tip between your folds.

Alastor's brows furrowed together in confusion when he realized you had skipped a step, not teasing yourself with your fingers like you had so many nights before. You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, which was odd but not entirely out of place for your behavior throughout the day. You skipped breakfast that morning, rushed through your work, barely ate any food during the communal dinner Charlie forced everyone to attend, and you had excused yourself much earlier than usual - now you were skipping steps in your nightly endeavors? Something was wrong. Perhaps he had waited too long to initiate a second encounter, and you were beginning to lose interest? Or perhaps you had fallen ill.

"Alastor..." you whispered, rubbing the length of your silicone toy against your clit for a moment or two, then lowered it until it was lined up with your entrance. Part of you wanted to give up before you even tried, knowing full well how this would end from past experience. Closing your eyes, you pushed the toy inside, wincing at the painful sting caused by the stretch, silently cursing yourself for not preparing before this step. But you thought, maybe switching it up might help in the long run, even if it was painful at first.

Alastor watched you from the shadowy corner of your dimly lit room, shamelessly palming himself through his slacks as you took your time in sliding the toy deeper into your aching heat. Part of him wanted to wait longer, to see how long it would take you to come to him, to ask for his assistance. But several weeks had already gone by, and he was beginning to lose what little sleep he was able to get just watching you try and fail over and over again. As much as he wanted to hold out, his impatience was getting the better of him.

"Need a hand?"

"H-huh-?!" you yelped, eyes shooting open and head snapping to your left at the sound of Alastor's static filtered voice. At first you thought you had imagined it, expecting there to be nothing there when you turned your head. "Oh my god!" you screeched when your eyes locked with Alastor's, your entire face turning a brighter shade of red than his hair. He was laying there on his side, head propped up on his elbow and eyes teasing, reveling in your scared reaction.

"Not even close, dear."

In a panic, you pulled the toy from your core and threw it to the side in an attempt to hide it, your legs slamming shut as you moved to sit up. But Alastor stopped you with a single hand to your chest, pressing you back down into the bed as he cradled his own with his free hand. "A-Alastor, what the hell are you-?!" you started, but he only pressed a single clawed digit to your lips, the corners of his mouth pulling up even further than usual. He waited until you were completely silent, then trailed his finger down your chin to your neck until he reached the collar of your t-shirt, tugging on the hem as his eyes traveled further south.

Humming to himself, Alastor looked back up at your face and raised a single brow at the confusion he saw in your eyes. Were you actually confused, or were you just pretending to be shy and embarrassed to get a rise out of him? "Let's not beat around the bush, darling. I know what you've been doing every night since our last encounter," Alastor told you, causing your face to flush an even brighter red, looking away from him as you fidgeted beneath his gaze. "I don't... how?" you asked, only to have him raise a brow at the question, as if he were asking you, 'really'?

Grinning wider, Alastor let his gaze travel back down along with his hand, slipping between your thighs effortlessly and grazing two fingers over your slick entrance. He didn't miss the gasp of surprise tumbling from your lips followed by that same delectable little sigh he'd come to enjoy so much - the same one that had him crossing his legs during Charlie's redemption exercises or pressing himself into the side of the island countertop to hide his growing arousal when you would taste test his dishes.

Dipping his fingers inside your quivering hole, Alastor gave a few shallow pumps before retracting his hand altogether, raising it up just enough for you to see your own slick glistening on his fingers. "Would you like me to help you?" he asked you as calmly as he could possibly manage, enunciating each word as he patiently waited for the consent he just knew you would give.

Releasing a shaky sigh, you didn't hesitate in making your decision, a rush of exhilaration you hadn't felt since the last time you were together coursing through your veins. "Yes," you whispered, staring at his face as something carnal took over, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on you again, to have his lips pressed against yours, to feel the burning stretch of his cock inside your needy cunt as he pounded into you with reckless abandon.

"Very well, dear. But first," Alastor responded, letting his hand slide between your legs again. "My price."

Of course. You knew Alastor was going to want something in return, which was why you didn't go to him after your first week of struggling to reach orgasm - there was no telling what he would ask of you, and seeing as his motives for even being at the hotel in the first place were still very much so a mystery to everyone, you were being overly cautious. And then there was the whole deal-making sinner Overlord thing. But something else that was plaguing your mind: why did he have to say it like he was taking pointers from your resident porn star? "Okay, Angel. What do you want?" you asked, unable to resist teasing him a bit by emphasizing the name.

"Ha! Funny," Alastor said, and suddenly his hand was gone from between your legs and your cheeks were being squished together between his clawed digits as he gripped your chin tight. "I want you to tell me all the naughty little things you thought about each night while you were fucking yourself with that toy," he spat the last word, almost as if he were offended that you chose a piece of plastic over him. And for a while, he was - which is one of many reasons why he waited so long to initiate a second encounter. He wanted you to suffer the burning ache of a lost orgasm every time you decided to use that thing instead of coming to him and asking for his assistance.

Alastor wanted you to be completely dependent on him for your pleasure, and until you learned to swallow that silly little pride of yours, he had planned to let you suffer every single night - plagued by the blissful memories he'd given you, unable to recreate them no matter how hard you tried.

But oh, best laid plans and all that, right?

"S-seriously?" you squeaked, your face somehow becoming an even deeper crimson as Alastor stared into your eyes, face unchanging as he rubbed his index finger against your bottom lip. "Deadly," he responded, pupils changing to radio dials for a split second, pushing his finger past your lips and against your tongue to let you taste yourself. A black tendril out of your line-of-sight slithered between your legs, prodding at your wet entrance unexpectedly. "Ah! Huh-?!" you gasped, looking down between your legs at the sudden contact.

It was only a second, but it was enough to have him gripping your chin once more and forcing you to look back at his face. "You know better than to look away, my dear," he chided your simple mistake, pushing a second finger into your mouth and pressing both of them flat against your tongue. When the tendril pushed past the first ring of muscle into your dripping cunt, you whimpered around his fingers, sucking gently at your fluids that still coated them.

Fuck, he's barely touched you and you're already so much closer to an orgasm than you had ever gotten by yourself.

Reaching up to grab hold of his wrist, you pulled his fingers from your mouth so that you could speak. "Alastor..." you started, a soft moan interrupting your speech as the tentacle pushed deeper into your core, a squelching sound filling your ears as it pumped slowly, your juices coating its black surface.

"Tell me, did you think about me?" Alastor asked, urging you on as he moved to wrap his hand around your neck, squeezing gently when you nodded your head. "Yes," you admitted, your walls clenching around the tentacle when it began to pick up speed. He hummed at your response, his hand moving further south to the bottom hem of your shirt and sneaking under it. "Did you think about me touching you like... this?" he asked, his fingers pinching the hardened nub of your breast, making you inhale sharply at the pain followed by the pleasure of him kneading the soft mound.

"Yes," you answered, your moans progressively becoming louder as the tendril began to move with more force, now pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. "Y-yes, Alastor... I thought about you," you breathed, digging your fingers into the duvet you were laying on. "About the way your voice sounded when you would praise me," you continued, inching your mouth closer to his as he released your sensitive bud, pulling it from beneath your shirt entirely, much to your dismay.

"Is that all?" Alastor asked you, to which you shook your head no, taking a moment as you searched for the confidence to continue with this debauchery.

"I thought about... how your lips felt on mine, and your tongue on my skin," you whispered, hearing the sound of his belt buckle being undone, but you dare not look away as the pleasure began to build higher and higher with each pump of his black tendril.

"And...?" he urged you on, his own face inching closer to yours as he pushed his trousers and briefs down far enough to free his leaking cock from their confines.

"And I thought- ... fuck-! Hahhh..." you moaned, fighting the urge to look down as you felt his hand take hold of yours. You were so, so close! The last thing you wanted to do was irritate him in any way, potentially risking him edging you even further than you had edged yourself night after night. "... I thought about the way you fucked me with your hand, and your tongue," you moaned when you felt a second tendril bump against your clit, rubbing up and down on the sensitive little bud.

"Keep going," Alastor told you, guiding your hand to his hard length and wrapping your slender digits around it, urging you to pump him - slowly, at first. But as your pleasure built higher and higher, your moans becoming more frequent and louder in volume, he gradually gained speed, wanting to match the pace of the tendrils as they pushed in and out of your squelching cunt. The sounds you made were divine, so much more beautiful than the ones you made with that thing now laying on the floor, completely forgotten by you.

Faster and faster, they moved, and soon it became difficult for you to form a coherent thought, focused solely on the way the tentacle stretched you open wide and the other applied the most delicious amount of pressure to your throbbing clit. "I thought... I thought," you tried to speak, jaw falling slack as you were right on the cusp of release, your walls quivering and thighs shaking as the knot wound tighter and tighter in the pits of your belly. "... I-I thought... about your cock in me," you gasped, your hips rising from the bed just barely and grinding down against the tentacles involuntarily, desperate for that blissful release.

"Don't stop..." Alastor whispered as he lowered his head, his lips mere centimeters from yours as he began to buck into your hand, his own orgasm not far off as he forced you to tighten your grip on his aching cock. Taking a little initiative, you angled your wrist and pressed your thumb to his leaking slit, smearing his precum and using it as lube to pump his cock faster. With the way that he gasped and how his hips jerked forward, you knew he was close to his own release.

"I thought about how you..." you swallowed hard, it was becoming difficult to keep your thoughts straight, to follow his no-looking-away rule, to keep jerking your hand up and down his hardened length as your muscles contracted almost painfully the closer you got to your end. "I thought- ... oh fuck, I'm gonna cum, Alastor-!" you gasped, eyes barely open as you reached with your other hand to lace your fingers in his hair, nails raking over the backs of his ears.

"Say it! Say it, and I'll let you cum," Alastor promised, his breath hitching in his throat as his cock twitched painfully in your hand, a third tentacle joining the first inside your wet walls and pounding into you roughly now, coaxing you closer and closer. Your eyes began to water as you felt the first tether snap, signaling your end as you opened your mouth to do as he obliged.

"I thought about the way you filled me up, and how you made me yours," you said, arching your back as you inhaled deeply, pulling his head further down until your foreheads were pressed together. "A-and about how you made me cum on your cock, over and over aga- ahhn, fuuuck!" you cried when, finally, the coil snapped, and your release crashed over you, your walls clamping down on the tentacles and your vision going white.

"Marvelous..." Alastor praised you as his hips bucked wildly into your hand, his own wrapped around yours and forcing you to maintain your tight grip through your orgasm, chasing his own as you rode yours out. It wasn't long before he was spilling his seed all over your hand and duvet, some of it landing on your bare hip as his own stuttered through each spurt.

"Fuck, fuck..." you mumbled, trying to regain your senses as you tried to come down from your high. You couldn't make sense of the world around you yet, barely taking notice of the tentacles retracting from your pulsing heat and his body from your own. When your vision finally cleared, you looked around for Alastor, soon finding him sitting on his knees between your legs. One clawed hand was stroking his half hard cock until it stood at full attention again, the other pressing against your overly sensitive mound, drawing lazy circles into your clit and sending jolts of pain and pleasure through your whole body.

"Let's make your thoughts a reality, my dear..."

story ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ header ┊ ◜ synamartia ◞ dividers ┊ ◜ kodaswrld ✧ strangergraphics ◞ summoning ┊ ◜ @hazelfoureyes ✧ @minkdelovely ✧ @sugoi-writes ✧ @fraugwinska ✧ @macabr3-barbi3 ◞

Please do not copy or repost as your own! Thank you!

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (Epilogue)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: semi-public sex, smut, angst, fluff, sexual tension, little domination & praise kink ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The first months after the shooting were both wonderful and terrifying for him. Contrary to his grandfather's predictions, he did not stop thinking about her; moreover, he missed her so much that he did not know what to do with himself.

He got used to their daily conversations, the embrace of her warm arms, falling asleep between her soft breasts, watching Disney movies together with her with a big bowl of popcorn.

She brought a breath of fresh air into his life, a smile, lightness and laughter, forcing him to let his inner child that he had always suppressed within him come to the surface.

With her, he was not ashamed to be weak, tired, sad, discouraged. She gave him the comfort of knowing that all his feelings as a human being were natural and desired by her, no matter how ashamed he might be of them.

They tried to see each other every two weekends, taking turns visiting each other. Although he wanted to spend time with her walking around museums and parks, they usually ended up staying in bed all the time off, trying to make up for lost time.

They also saw each other at interviews to promote the series, for which the producers sent the actors in pairs, and unfortunately, although they tried to hide it, a few gestures and glances during them caused both her and him to be flooded with a wave of comments from fans so large that they had to block them from being added to their profiles.

Nooo, they're not a good match. 😫

It's just a promotional trick. They're going to break up after they finish airing the series. 😒

Leave my prince alone!!! 🤬🤬🤬

I'd love to fuck her myself, not gonna lie 👀

It's already clear where the chemistry between them comes from, lol. Pathetic. 🤮

Both of them were very much affected by the nasty comments and criticism, fearing that the production would draw some consequences against them, but it turned out that this made the whole project generate even more interest before the premiere, which pleased them.

However, in between the nasty, bitter remarks, they also received messages filled with good emotions, wishing them luck, saying that they were great to watch, that they complemented each other perfectly in interviews, that it was clear from the trailers that there was genuine affection between them.

They tried to cope with it all by talking for hours on the phone, sometimes crying together from sadness and exhaustion, falling asleep with speakerphone on, waking up in the morning and seeing that they hadn't hung up all night.

He felt he was ready to move on and thought everything through, at the same time wanting to surprise her.

"– how was your audition? –" She asked softly, excitement in her voice.

"– unfortunately, not very successful –" He lied, fiddling with his pen between his fingers, sitting at his desk, having just exchanged emails with the director of her theatre, with whom he had spoken personally a few days before about the terms of his future employment.

"– oh no – I'm very sorry – how are you feeling? –" She asked clearly worried, making him feel remorseful for a moment that she would believe he was suffering.

"– fine – I wasn't feeling that role – I'm lucky that I can be more choosy now – and how are you, little one? –" He hummed, writing back in an email that, as agreed, he would turn up in three days to sign the contract in their town.

His girlfriend grunted, clearly very excited by the news she had to share with him.

"– apparently they've hired a new actor in our theatre, but no one knows who it is – the director is very mysterious –" She said, her voice light and warm, filled with joy.

"– mmm – are you excited to have a new colleague on stage? –" He murmured as he sent the email, closing his laptop with a quiet click.

He heard her laugh at his words.

"– not in the way you suggest –" She said.

"– are you a good girl when I'm not around? –" He hummed, licking his lips involuntarily, feeling the pulsation in his trousers at his words.

"– well –"

"– are you touching yourself? –"

"– I –"

"– answer me – don't lie –"

She was silent for a long moment making him grin, biting his lower lip.

"– so you haven't been a good girl, or am I wrong? –" He sneered and heard her swallow hard.

"– you know what happens to bad girls, don't you? –" He asked, looking at the display of his screen, feeling his heart pounding fast.

"– but –" She finally mumbled out in embarrassment.

"– mmm – I'll see you soon –" He murmured and hung up, knowing that he had left her in complete shock for sure with her panties wet with her moisture.

The third thing he enjoyed most right after fucking her and talking to her was teasing her.

The next day the removal van took his things to the flat he had rented on short notice figuring they would find something together later, and after two days he drove to her town straight to the theatre building.

He went inside through the main entrance and ran quickly upstairs, praying not to meet her on the way, heading for her director's office. The man welcomed him warmly, saying that he was very happy that an actor with such charisma would be performing on his stage.

From the audience it was impossible to see whether his eye was real or fake, and his scar could be covered up with make-up if necessary.

His grandfather was furious, saying that he was giving up a world-class career for second-rate theatre, but he was relieved.

He didn't want to go through again what he was going through now – being torn apart by paparazzi and fans, being in the spotlight all the time.

He was tired of it and decided that, although it was a great adventure, like her he wanted to work in theatre, where artistic sense, monologues and dialogues counted more than nudity and sex.

It was what he wanted for both of them.

The director said it was time to introduce him to the whole crew.

"– I kept it a secret from everyone so that she wouldn't accidentally find out about anything –" The director laughed, a short, grey-haired man with a warm voice and a good-natured face, a visionary and a lover of the classic literature he was staging in his theatre.

"– I can see you with the eyes of my imagination in the roles of Hamlet and Ophelia – you've been wonderfully matched, I have to give you that –" He said softly, and he nodded, thinking in the back of his mind that indeed, this was a fantastic idea.

He felt excited like a little child and thought in the back of his mind that it was because of her, that she had changed him, making him fight for his fulfilment, his comfort, his joy.

"– my dears –" He called out, stepping onto the stage during their rehearsal for The Wedding of Wyspianski, his Rhaenys dressed in Slavic folk costume and a garland on her head turned towards them along with several other people.

Her eyes grew big in disbelief at the sight of him.

"– I would like to introduce you to your new colleague, who from now on will be playing on the stage of our theatre – I am very pleased –"

Everyone looked at her and she just stood there, looking at him and his grin full of satisfaction, breathing loudly through her mouth, her bright eyes hot with affection, disbelief and happiness that apparently shook her body.

Several people laughed as she threw herself into his arms and burst into a loud, panicked sob, whooping and panting with her own tears, his broad hands stroking her hair and back while his lips placed warm, reassuring kisses on her face hot with emotion.

"– shhh – it's okay, little one –"

She looked at him in disbelief, gushing with energy and joy as she introduced everyone to him one by one. He was relieved by the warm welcome given to him by the other actors, some of whom could have been his parents or even grandparents.

They seemed very close to each other and addressed each other warmly.

He was allowed to stay in rehearsal to see how they worked, so he watched as his girlfriend played a young bride, a village girl marrying a nobleman, during whose wedding many unexplained, mysterious events occur.

He smiled the whole time, watching her, satisfied that apart from one brief kiss there was no intimacy on stage between her and her partner, exactly as she had described it to him in their telephone conversations.

When it was all over she ran up to him in her folk costume, all hot, breathing loudly through her mouth, field flowers entwined together on her head.

"– what do you think?! –" She asked, and he hummed under his breath.

"– I really like your staging – I need to read this drama – you look amazing –" He hummed. He smiled under his breath as she sat on his lap – the seats in the audience were sunk in darkness so the people on stage couldn't see very well what they were doing.

"– I can't believe it – you've been lying all this time –" She muttered simultaneously embittered and delighted. He shook his head at her words.

"– I told you I had an audition – I just didn't say where –" He stated.

"– you said you did badly –" She said, wrinkling her eyebrows – she squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, making her feel the hard bulge in his trousers.

"– that was my subjective assessment which was clearly not shared by your director –" He grinned, looking at her with his lips slightly parted. They both sighed as her hips rubbed against his pulsing erection, her gaze hot and misty.

"– my little girl can't stand it? – shall I take you to the toilet? –" He sneered and she swallowed hard, red with embarrassment and nodded.

Nothing more than panting and moans left their throats as they locked themselves in one of the cabins, their mouths immediately clinging to each other in greedy, loud, messy, sticky kisses. Their saliva clicked each time their lips pulled away from each other, his hands pulled up the material of her skirt and petticoat, pulling her panties off her thighs.

"– turn your back to me –" He commanded, and she did so without a word of objection, in a natural reflex leaning over and bucking her buttocks towards him, knowing what he wanted to do. His hands exposed her bare hips to him and what was between them, her opening glistening from her wetness, pink and swollen.

He hit her womanhood with a sharp, short slap and she jumped up with a quiet squeal and whimpered.

"– quiet – I warned you – I said: no touching – didn't I? –" He asked, gently rubbing and massaging the little spot that pulsed all over and leaked from his stroke, teasing the puffy bud between her plushy folds.

"– 'm sorry – I tried –" She confessed with embarrassment, panting heavily, rolling her hips to the rhythm of the strokes of his hand, trying to find a better source of squeeze.

"– the deal was different –" He said coolly, parting and rubbing her throbbing, dripping wet slit, her cheek pressed against the wall all red with pleasure, her lips parted in a helpless moan.

"– it's all mine – the sight of your fulfilment, your moisture, your little cunt is meant for my eyes –" He continued, as if he was explaining to her some essential, eternal principle, something obvious and logical that she could not change. She trembled as two of his fingers slipped between her slick, throbbing walls, stretching her core.

"– yes – I'm sorry – I missed you so much –" She mumbled, rocking her hips to the rhythm of the thrusts of his fingers, which teased and pressed the spongy bud between her fleshy folds deep inside her, from which a trickle of her moisture ran down her thigh.

"– mmm – I know, baby – I missed you too –" He confessed, recognising that although he wanted to, he couldn't last much longer. This sight and the euphoria that gripped his body made him let go of her as his hands slid down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it – her eyes opened in hope, her breath accelerated and uneven.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, grabbing her by the waist, the other releasing his throbbing, fat erection, the tip of which he guided to her leaking, swollen slit.

"– thaat's it – there you go – fuck –" He exhaled, slowly forcing his way between her hot, fleshy walls, clenching greedily around his cock, sucking it inside her.

"– yes – yes, God, please, yes –" She mewled, immediately beginning to roll her hips to the rhythm of his impatient, fierce thrusts, fitting his pulsing erection inside her again and again, though they tried to restrain themselves, their panting and moans echoed around the restroom.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, sinking his face into her fragrant, hot neck, her scent wonderfully familiar, her insides moist and warm, welcoming him with ease. He thought about it, thrusting into her with slick, sharp stabs – how deep he was in her body, how much they united in this chaotic, viscous act of desire.

"– Aemond – o-oh, fuck, fuck, oh, God –" She cried out as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her, pounding into her with the deep, sharp pushes of his hips, opening her wide with his manhood throbbing painfully with longing.

"– shhh – shhh, little one – just a little more – yes, that's my girl –" He praised her, panting heavily as he felt her reach the edge, her breath heavy and loud.

Nothing more than moans and grunts left her lips, her little cunt gave him a few more thirsty, steady squeezes before she shuddered with sweet fulfilment, her wetness running down his thighs as with the last, loud slaps he reached his peak inside her with a sigh of delight.

Since she was taking the pills, he could fuck her whenever and wherever he wanted.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, embracing her tightly from behind, while still rocking his hips inside her and hugging her like a little, longing child.

He wished she would say that they were going to watch some new cartoon or comedy in the evening, that they were going to lie in their sweatpants, spread out comfortably on her bed, cuddled up, eating popcorn, kissing and caressing each other.

"– m-maybe – maybe let's go to my place – we'll watch something and relax – I can cook you something, but we need to do some shopping –" She whispered, stroking his arm, and he purred, delighted by her words.

"– yes – yes, that's what I need –"

[miss-tc-nova]

S/O with Sleep Apnea - Leona, Jade, Floyd, Malleus

Okay, so this one kinda threw me for a loop. Sleep apnea is weirdly vague treatment wise, so I had to kinda...guess how to go about this. But I hope this lives up to your expectations, Anon!

Sorry about Jade and Floyd, this is actually my first time writing them. Lol

Premise: The boys find out their s/o has sleep apnea

Words:

Leona: 594

Jade: 610

Floyd: 689

Malleus: 702

~~~~~

Leona

Leona is no stranger to daytime drowsiness, having his own wrecked circadian rhythm. Seeing you tired and maybe grumpy is like having a kindred spirit. Hell, he doesn’t even mind the snoring. It’s kind of cute; plus he can always tease you about it later.

However, the seriousness of your sleep malady becomes all too real when the lion drowsily rises to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. On his return, rounded ears note a distinct, unnerving silence. His gaze immediately honing in, Leona sights you still fast asleep on his bed—suspiciously still. A shock of adrenaline floods his system as Leona snatches your shoulders. The jostling is just enough to remind your unconscious mind to adjust your throat muscles and asleep you remain.

But Leona will not be getting anymore sleep that night. Grumbling, he tries to shrug it off and get back to bed, but the moment he suspects it’s been too long since he heard your snore, his head promptly leaves the pillow to check on you.

Whether you’re aware of the apnea or not, Leona confronts you the next day, exhausted and irritable.

This sparks the first motivated study session Leona’s had in a long time. He reads up on the condition and treatment, even during class time. He’ll be damned if he loses sleep over having to worry about you while he sleeps. No, he does not worry about you.

First off, he gets one of those mandibular splint things. Being part of the SpellDrive club…Never mind, he finds Ruggie—being part of the SpellDrive club—to help shape your new mouthguard to fit. If that doesn’t work, he’ll consider the more expensive options. Do you get a say? No. Which is why he’s starting out small.

Unfortunately for Big Kitty, other non-surgical treatments include routine and healthy habits.

Fuck.

Suddenly, alarms are much more important. On his phone, on your phone, and even on Ruggie’s phone, there are two to three morning alarms. Goodbye sleeping in. It is now mandatory for BOTH of you to attend morning SpellDrive training. Doesn’t matter that you can’t fly nor does it matter if you’re any good, Leona’s up, so you are too.

Probably the most killer part is the nap regulations. No longer are you allowed to have random naps throughout the day. They must be before 2 AM and no longer than 30 minutes. Maximum. He hates every bit of it.

By the time evening comes around on the first day, both of you are suffering, so abiding by a new bedtime is no problem. But for a while, things get worse from the exhaustion. Admittedly, Leona considers kicking you out, but the thought of losing his favorite body pillow easily throws him off that idea. So the lion sticks it out.

And his efforts pay off. As the two of you struggle through a new routine, the grogginess and irritability gradually fade. Hell, even Leona has been less grumpy as he settles in, but don’t push it. Of course, the sleep apnea never truly goes away, but you sleep better with a proper routine. And Leona sleeps better without that nagging worry ticking in his brain.

“Oi, wake up. Nap’s over. I don’t care that you’re still tired; so am I. Get up. If you don’t get up right now, you can forget about sleeping in my room tonight. I ain’t putting up with your jacked up snoring. No, I’m not lying. Wanna try me? Hey! Don’t roll back over! Ugh, stupid herbivore. Shut up.”

Jade

Jade was very surprised at the snoring. He’d heard of the phenomenon, but never heard the sound first hand. He didn’t know what to make of it, but eventually attuned and accepted that this is how you slept.

He was not aware that your brand of sleeping was…wrong?

Having ventured into his beloved mountains, Jade ends up returning from later than expected. Well informed, you’re already fast asleep upon his return. As he unpacks and gets cleaned up, a small smile etches onto his lips as he listens. Then it stops. His attention turns to find you perfectly still. Alarm quickly grows, spurring him to your side. An arm beneath you and your name on his lips is enough of a shift to clear your throat. The snoring resumes.

And Jade will not be getting any sleep. The young man resolves to observe you for the remainder of the night. His late night investigations lead him to sleep apnea. The symptoms check out: perpetual exhaustion, a smidge of insomnia, headaches, and yes, he had to concede that you could be irritable at times. Oh, and look at that, your particular snoring isn’t that normal.

From that moment on, the eel begins formulating a plan. From what he could conclude, sleep hygiene played a considerable role in the management of sleep apnea. He starts with monitoring your daily routines, taking notes on the things that need to be corrected—you know, the things you do just trying to survive the day.

After a week, he finally begins implementing his little tricks. It starts with a morning routine. It’s not jarring alarms that wake you in the morning, but Jade’s gentle coaxing until you’re up and ready. At the same time, every day. He ensures you’re too distracted for any afternoon naps, asking for your assistance with his work or perhaps doing some little activity together.

And you don’t even notice him starting to regulate your caffeine intake. Post 2 PM and you’re cut off. Whatever tea and/or coffee you drink comes decaf. Alternatively, he preempts your caffeine craving with something without the addictive substance. He knows your tastes well enough to provide something to make you forget about your caffeine deprivation.

About thirty minutes before your new, undisclosed bedtime, Jade, himself, becomes a distraction. This could be reading a book, listening to music, preparing for tomorrow, or just having an entertaining discussion with him. Whatever it is, it involves no screens for you.

In addition to your new, wind-down routine, Jade prepares the room to perfection. The bed is comfortable, it’s not too hot or too cold, no light permeates the darkness, and even a pleasant scent lulls your sleepy mind.

Thanks to your fastidious boyfriend, it’s quite easy to conform to this new routine. It helps alleviate some symptoms of your sleep apnea and does wonders for your mood. While the sleep apnea won’t be cured, Jade makes them easy to endure, even on the worst of nights. And honestly, it takes months before you even put together what he’s done.

“My dear, shall we start on the next chapter of our story? I’m quite invested in what will happen next. Hm? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. You think I would manipulate my lovely partner in such a way? I see. Your suspicion wounds me. Oh? Hm-hm. You got me. I wondered how long it would take for you to notice. It’s only been three months. No, no, I’m flattered you would be so comfortably oblivious around me. I’m glad you’re feeling better. That’s all the payment I need. Well, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss.”

Floyd

For like a solid week, Floyd thought snoring was the funniest thing. He’s not sure if snoring can even happen underwater, but he’s never heard it before. So needless to say, that part didn’t bother him at all. It did get him all miffed when you would get snippy with him, but he had to relent when you would complain of a headache.

One night, there’s a disaster in the Lounge and Azul keeps all the staff late until it’s clean—Floyd included. So when he gets back to his room rather late, it’s no surprise that you’re there, already fast asleep and snoring away. Just as he finishes changing and is about to get into bed, he pauses.

It’s quiet—too quiet. Lazy eyes fall across his sleeping partner. The usual snoring he’d come accustomed to is gone. You weren’t breathing. His first reaction is to reach out, calling out to you. By the arm, he shakes you enough to jump start your breathing, yet somehow not wake you. Suspicious, he watches you for a moment, waiting for it to happen again. But it doesn’t take long for Floyd to get bored and join you in bed.

He mentions the occurrence to Jade and Azul. The snoring is fine, but he’s not particularly fond of the not breathing thing. That’s kind of important for land-dwellers, right? The trio quickly discovers what sleep apnea is.

At first, Floyd lets the whole thing go. But the longer the information lingers in his brain, the more the symptoms begin to eat at him until he finally admits that this sleep apnea thing really sucks.  

The sophomore gets Azul and Jade to help him figure out how to fix this. Honestly, there’s not much he can do, let alone with his own erratic behavior. But he starts with little things that he remembers.

He’s not very nice about it if he catches you napping, immediately waking you up, consequences be damned. Though he does try to make you less grumpy for it with favors and snacks.

And these snacks HAD to be Floyd-approved. Anything after dinner is confiscated and caffeine is off the table after 2 PM. And so dedicated to his task, Floyd will recklessly devour any treats unable to be saved for later, but only because he got in trouble for hurling them across the room. By multiple people. No, it doesn’t matter if it screws him over—chugging something too hot or wired and wide awake later. He’s being chaotic, but he’s doing it for you.

Lastly, Floyd is aware that how you sleep can help keep your airways clear. He acquires an extra pillow—from Azul’s room—to help elevate your head. If you weren’t a side sleeper before, you are now. Sometimes, in the dead of night, the eel just sits up like the living dead. Bapping hands assess your situation, pushing and pulling until you’re sleeping on your side, head propped up on your new pillow.

These new habits soon alter your own. You give up on naps, fed up with being violently rattled awake. You stop wasting money and effort on food and drinks you know you’re not supposed to have. You can’t even sneak any of those things because Octavanelle is full of snitches. Actually, it’s full of people afraid of Floyd, but same thing. With these regulations, your sleep schedule slowly stabilizes—it’s not perfect, but better. Even the grogginess and headaches are significantly more manageable. And Floyd is rather proud of himself about the whole thing, knowing that he’s the reason you’re doing better.

“Heeeeey, what’s that you got there? Looks like something loaded with caffeine. I don’t think you should have that. Gimme! Huh? Gross. This isn’t caffeine. Man, I was hoping for something good. Huh? Yeah, looks like you’re being good. And you have been sleeping better. So, do I get a reward? Whadya mean what for? For fixin’ your jank sleep. C’mon, at least give me something better than this decaf crap. Mmm, I guess a kiss will do—but like a million of ‘em. You better get started.”

Malleus

Malleus is fully aware you’re a rough sleeper and he adores it anyway. He knows of your general disdain of being awake and is sensitive of your frequent headaches. This man thrives on learning about you: the good, the bad, and the noisy.

As a nocturnal fae, he’s often awake well after you’ve gone to bed. It takes mere days for an incident to occur. Content in the presence of your sleeping form, he listens and takes in the confirmation that you’re here with him.

So it comes as a startle when he realizes the room is dead silent.

Fear immediately overtakes his rationale when he turns to find you perfectly motionless. Swiftly dragging you into his arms, he rushes for the door. Then freezes. In his arms you lie, still fast asleep, now snoring again.

He does not join you in bed this night, far too afraid that you might slip away while he sleeps. It nearly makes him sick, but he’s filled with relief when you awake the following day.

That’s the day Malleus learns about sleep apnea. He doesn’t like it at all. He thought he loved everything about you, flaws and all. But this is detrimental to your health and happiness and he must do something.

He seeks guidance in books and his friends. Lilia is of little help with his recommendations of hare-brained remedies. Silver and Sebek are quick to shut those down for the sake of an innocent soul. Still, with their help, they’re able to come up with a plan.

Malleus would readily fund any treatment you’re willing to try, from the smallest medical device to the most extensive surgery. As the issue at hand is not currently life threatening, he won’t push too hard for surgery—for now.

Still, other lifestyle changes are an option. This turns into a very difficult time for him as he loathes denying you literally anything. Waking you from cozy naps nearly breaks his heart. Taking away treats you’re preparing to enjoy makes him feel like a villain. He’s invariably torn between his guilt and adoration of your pouty face. Only his wishes for your well-being keeps him going.

However, his favorite part of this whole thing has to be the new bedtime routine.

It starts with closing the curtains, blocking out all outside light from coming through. The temperature of the room is adjusted to comfortably cool while the scent of sweet briar roses wafts through the air. Songs fill the silence while a gentle interruption of whatever task you had at hand brings your attention fully to him. There’s no arguing with him, not this late. And you dance. Just peaceful swaying as you talk of anything and everything. Whatever you have to say, he’ll hear it. Because this is your time together.

Just as your eyes begin to flutter and the first yawns interrupt your sentiments does Malleus send you off to brush your teeth, put in your new mouth splint, and get dressed for bed. If for some reason, you fend off sleep long enough, he’ll coax you from bed to sway again. Or perhaps you’ll sit at the window while he tells you fairy tales he was taught as a hatchling. Once you start nodding off again, he returns you to bed. He’ll repeat this as many times as he has to until you’re truly asleep.

If you opt to accept surgery, your sleep apnea is practically cured and you’ll be incredibly pampered through recovery. If not, Malleus’s efforts still pay off. Not only has your health significantly improved, but so has your mood. And any new incidents are practically non-existent. While Malleus feels your bond has become significantly stronger with these changes, he pleased that, above all else, you’re feeling better.

“Come now, my love. It’s time to put the pen down. I’ll help you with the rest tomorrow. How was your day today? I’m glad. You haven’t been having any headaches lately, have you? Hmm, I suppose that’s still better than it was. I’ll have to ensure we have more painkillers tomorrow just in case. Of course I’m going to. I have to take care of you after all. I always will.”

~~~~~

Nova's Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[nectardaddy]

notebook paper | hinata shoyo

chapter fourteen | your mom [ ✎ ]

masterlist

no smau parts in this one.

cw: idk how to say it but that moment when the stress hits you all at once

He couldn't help the small chuckle passing his lips, leaving as a snort as brown eyes tracked scrawled words on a piece of paper. Repeatedly reading over the worksheet he volunteered himself to grade, but stopped at an answer he had found particularly funny. "Is 'deez nuts' the right answer to what can describe an object's motion?" He asked sarcastically through a chuckle.

The woman next to him let out a laugh at his question, "no way they wrote that." Looking over to the worksheet he had in front of him with a silly smile, "oh my god," speaking through a giggle as her eyes caught the answer. "I'll grade that one," she mused, "we can trade. I love writing notes on their papers when they write stupid answers."

They both sat at the kitchen table of her apartment. Papers and colorful pens strewn about and her laptop open to a draft of a lesson plan, long forgotten as she helped the man grade beside her. She slid the paper that was once in front of him towards herself, and gave him the paper she was grading instead. "Oh god, what are you going to write?" Questioning her with laugh, seeing as she had already started writing.

"You'll see," she mused. And he watched as she furiously wrote on the paper in red ink, a smirk pulling at the edges of her lips.

Leaning over to see what the woman was writing, arm brushing over her own as he did, he let out a loud cackle at only the first two words. Boldly written, with an arrow pointing to the very answer he said aloud, "holy shit!" He said within a laugh, "you did not just write your mom!"

Her smirk pulled further into a brighter smile as she finally stopped writing, placing the pen down and looking over to him. Just under the cheeky note, there were parentheses reading: (won't like the grade you're going to get with this answer. Do it over again.) "They think the notes are funny," she shrugged with a chuckle. "Most of the time they'll do it over again, too."

There was a brief moment of pause, barely lasting more than a few seconds but one the man found himself enthralled with. "You really don't know how amazing you are, do you?" Breaking the silence as he thought aloud, looking to her like a moth to a flame. Tracing over every feature of her face as if to memorize it, as to never forget how bewitching she truly was. "You're a really good teacher."

"You're just saying that," brushed off the compliment with a small laugh. Averting her eyes to look back at the worksheet with baited breath.

"No I'm not," he defended. "Majority of these papers are good grades, or at least looks like they're trying. You're teaching it in a way they understand it," he reasoned. "And you do things they think is funny; they obviously like you."

He saw the woman falter, her smile fall slowly as she thought about his words - an impact she never knew was possible. "Yeah," was all she could say before lifting her hands to her face, letting out a loud sigh as she did. Putting her hands to her eyes and dragging down, an exhausted look now taking center stage of her emotions.

He felt his heart plummet, thinking he, somehow, took a misstep with his words. Taking in a version of her he'd never seen in person, but allowing the space all the same. "Hey," trying to draw her attention, "you alright? I didn't mean to upset you, I just thought you needed to hear it."

His question hung for a moment, voice kind and tone nothing but caring, looking over at her with a concern beyond him. "I did," her voice was soft, a crack within her comment that caused his shoulders to drop. Oh fuck I made her cry. "You have no idea how much I did."

He wanted to comfort her, to remedy whatever flood he had caused within her mind; wanted nothing more than to see her smile again rather than look away with watery eyes. So it was a natural instinct for him to gently draw her forward, to pull her cautiously within his arms - to hug her. "I'll tell you every day then," giving her a small, rather anxious, smile. One she didn't see as she closed her eyes, not wanting the man to see the large effect his words had, but hugging him back regardless.

yes the answer and what yn wrote is my experience lmao

if a man doesn't treat you like this LEAVE HIM

suga is freaking out in his room over this interaction. hell yeah he was eavesdropping

hinata got her coffee too on his way there <3

if you want to know the real answer though it's speed and direction (the middle school answer at least)

this chapter was supposed to be funny but turned into feelings idk but I like it a lot more than the original plan

taglist under cut

@muyyie @wyrcan @eggyrocks @eclecticeggknightpsychic @nbcvs

@marzzn @naweirdo @yukii-1 @girlkissersco @yuminako @kunimix

@empress-pug-pug @cherrypieyourface @lvtilzs @punkhazardlaw @localgaytrainwreck

@crownj1min @sereniteav @madiexuberant @st4rdusttx @chizunata

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @muskratlove @mollyrolls @cryptictheseus

@theycallmenanamisgirl @jaeminsbuckethat @deluluforcarlos55 @bunninio @jeonsfizz

@causenessus

[couldawouldashoulda50]

From Completely Different Worlds - The Sweden Chapter - Part Seven "The End"

Previous parts 1 2 3 4 5 6 7a) In continuation of @misshoneyimhome's birthday celebration, this is the final part of this entire series From Completely Different Worlds. This chapter I believe is the longest one out of them all. I know how I originally wanted this chapter to end - the thing is I could have kept going but I thought perhaps I could do a follow-up summary for this, as I have other blurbs in mind too.

I do fear repeating myself, but I feel endlessly grateful for the notes throughout this storyline. The comments and asks that have come my way have made me laugh, made me beam and some really made me question and explore motives behind thoughts and actions of the characters.

I want to take the opportunity to anyone who even stops just to look at the cover - I wish you all the very best for the remainder of this year - joyous holidays - and the mindset to pursue all of what you dream of in 2025.

Word count on this one - I am truly sorry - I hope this is not arduous to read - approx 13.5k

Warnings - Profanity. I can't believe I wrote all of this and there's no smut.

William sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, staring at the unanswered messages he’d sent over the past two days. He knew that something was off. Loren always replied, even if just a quick "busy but will call later." But now, nothing.

Hey, just landed. Hope you’re having a good day. Can’t wait to see you soon.

Miss you. Let me know when you’re free.

Everything okay?

Loren?

As the hours stretched on and his unease grew, his texts became shorter, more direct, a mix of concern and frustration. By the second morning with no reply, his messages bordered on frantic.

Loren, talk to me. Please.

Is something wrong? I’m really worried.

Just let me know you’re okay.

Finally, his phone buzzed with a notification. He exhaled sharply, relief flooding him—until he opened the message. It wasn’t a response to any of his questions. Instead, it was a series of screenshots from Loren.

William’s brow furrowed as he scrolled through them. Margot’s name at the top of the thread made his stomach drop. His eyes darted over the words, disbelief quickly giving way to anger. The photos—the interview link—all of it. It felt like a sucker punch.

Before he could begin to type out a response, his phone rang. Loren’s name flashed on the screen. Without hesitation, he answered, his voice filled with concern.

“Loren?”

He could hear his heart in his ears in the silence that followed . Then came her voice—hoarse, croaky, and broken.

“William.”

He knew immediately—she’d been crying.

“Jesus, what’s going on? Talk to me,” he urged, his voice softer now, desperate to understand. “Please.”

The faint sniffle on the other end was like a dagger to his heart. “I—I don’t even know where to start,” she finally managed, her words shaky and congested.

William ran a hand through his hair, frustration simmering through layers of worry. “Start anywhere, Loren. Please just talk to me.”

Her hesitation felt like an eternity before she finally spoke. “I’ve been sitting with this—those messages, those photos—for days, William. They’ve said a lot. Showed me a lot of things I didn’t know about.”

The words hit him like a freight train. Days. She’d been holding onto this while he’d been tied up at the rink with medicals, team meetings, and the whirlwind of preseason media.

“Loren,” he started, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, let me explain.”

Her exhale traveled through the line, heavy with exhaustion and doubt. “I don’t know if I want to hear it. The messages from Margot, the interview responses are one thing, but the pictures... those pictures—they’re pretty self-explanatory.”

William clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the phone as he paced the room. He forced himself to stay calm when he thought about Margot sending her those messages. “Those pictures - they…they’re not what they look like,” he said, his voice steady but urgent. “I swear, Loren, it’s not how she’s making it seem.”

“That’s a pretty standard response, eh? ‘It’s not what it looks like’.” Her tired voice cracked, the emotion breaking through. “William, I let my guard down because I thought—I believed—this was becoming something real. I get it - you know, I really do. Or I tried to at the beginning - I was ok with being the non-exclusive, noncommittal, go-with- the flow girl. But I allowed you to lead me on with saying you missed me and all the rest of it. William - seeing those pictures, your words in the interview confirming that there’s ‘a lot of women’….what, that you’ve been dating? Spending time with? And then, receiving messages from your side piece, Margot, confirming that there are more side pieces... holy fuck, I’m an absolute fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he said quickly, his voice firm. “Loren - Margot wasn’t my side piece - I told you the truth when you first came to see me in Stockholm. She’s twisting things because she’s bitter and—”

“She’s bitter because you fucked her, William and she wanted more - I get it.” Loren’s tone was low and matter of fact. “You told her there might be a chance for another time. And not just her. She said you’ve got others in the city, ready and waiting for your call*.*” Her voice cracked again, softer this time. “I guess that just makes me part of all of that pussy that’s always so available.”

William’s mind raced back to their candid conversation in the hammock.

William tried to calm his temper - he had been honest about how it worked with women when she asked him, and it felt like she was using that against him now. The silence that followed was deafening. William stopped pacing, his hands started to hurt from gripping the phone as he struggled to find the right words. “You’re not - that’s so unfai - that’s not how I think about you,” he finally said, his voice raw. “You’re not just another girl, Loren. I wouldn’t have asked you to visit me - I brought you into my world—introduced you to my family, my friends—you’ve become - or always have been….so, so important to me. I care for you so much, Loren.”

Her sniffle was faint, but he caught it. “None of this makes any sense to me, William. But I can’t ignore everything that she sent to me. I can’t unsee any of it. And I’m sorry William but usually, where there’s smoke, there’s fire….”

“But Loren - do you think I have been out seeing other women since you’ve been back here? We talked, we’ve been talking everyday almost,” he said, the frustration evident in his tone. “Margot... she’s bitter because I didn’t want anything serious with her. The one time I slept with her, that was before I understood how I felt about you —and then you came to visit and everything changed. I want - I want to be with you,” William finally admitted. “And those other pictures... I’m telling the truth. Yes, they’re hugs, but they’re random people, fans just saying hello—I don’t even remember exactly because it’s just how it has been for so long…a fan - or like an acquaintance comes up and they want a hug. It’s all been twisted around to make it look like something it’s not.”

“But then there’s the reporter, William - your eyes in that interview,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You looked at that reporter like... she really wowed you. I could feel your attraction towards her. I’ve seen that look - you’ve given me that same look. You could see it, William.“ Loren began to cry once again. “Even if it’s all innocent, this kind of thing will be a constant occurrence. There will be other women claiming the same as Margot. Sending messages. Photos. Fuck William - you smile at some girl and they post it like there’s something between you - it might be delusional and I know it’s totally out of your control but….William,” Loren sighs before continuing, her voice cracking once again. “True or not, I'll be on the receiving end of this. It will be me that has to try and decipher what’s bullshit and what’s not. And that’s not the worst of it. It breeds resentment and bitterness, William. I’ll be the one always left wondering what is true - do you know what that does to a person over time? I’ve already gone through my fair share of deceit at this stage of my life. I don’t want to be mistrusting. I don’t want to feel like one day I’ll just happen to follow your stare into the crowd and wonder if there’s a women that’s caught your attention. I don’t want to feel that way towards you.”

“Loren,” his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Please, give me a chance to prove to you that this isn’t what it looks like. This isn’t what it will be like.”

Her silence felt like an eternity. When she finally spoke, her words were barely above a whisper. “You can’t say that last part with any kind of certainty. You cannot anticipate what lengths other people will go to in order to get your attention.”

It broke William hearing her voice so defeated.

“I don’t know if I can do this, William. I care for you so, so much but I really don’t know if I can handle this part of your life.”

—

For days, Loren’s lifeline was her work. She tethered herself to it, filling every available moment with tutoring sessions, group home shifts, and hours spent editing the language content for her growing online audience. Just like before, she went through the motions of her day-to-day life, wearing a proverbial mask to hide how hollow she felt, and kept to herself as much as possible.

Every once in a while, as she scrolled through social media, photos of William would appear from Leafs preseason events. There he was, smiling with his teammates, laughing, looking completely at ease, as if nothing had changed. He didn’t look broken—not like she felt. Seeing him appear so carefree only deepened the ache inside her, solidifying her belief that William knew exactly how to make things look perfect on the surface while leaving chaos underneath. She closed her phone and wept.

Her parents, Kathy, and even Alice—Simon Benoit’s girlfriend with whom she became fast friends with—had noticed the change in her. Their questions were gentle but persistent. Loren brushed them off, offering unconvincing reassurances. “I’m just busy, that’s all.” They weren’t fooled, but they respected her space.

It was early one morning when it happened.

Loren was running late and had just downed her green drink as she flew out the front entrance of her house and hurriedly locked the door. She rummaged through her tote bag making sure she had everything she needed for the day and slung it over her shoulder with her keys in hand.

The air was cold that morning, visible in the puff of her breath as she exhaled deeply while quickly walking down the steps of her front porch.

That’s when she saw him.

William stepped out of his car near the end of her driveway. His eyes were locked on Loren as she stood on the middle step of her porch. He walked toward her slowly, and there was nothing hiding the weight in his expression. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced with something heavier, and the faint dark circles under his eyes hinted at restless nights.

Loren froze, her breath hitching. Her keys jangled in her trembling hand.

His voice broke the silence, soft and hesitant. “Hey.”

She swallowed hard, struggling to muster a response. “Hi, William.”

“I know I shouldn’t just show up like this,” he said, taking a cautious step toward her. “But I didn’t know what else to do. You won’t answer my calls, any of my messages—I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”

Her chest ached at his words, but her guard shot up instantly. She tightened her grip on the strap of her tote bag and didn’t move closer. Her voice came out quiet but steady. “I’ve been trying to figure out this absolute shit-show, William. And the truth is... I don’t know.”

“I just need you to let me explain,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “Please.”

Loren’s throat tightened as she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’ve spent days trying to make sense of everything. And I’m not asking to hear all the details right now, because I don’t think I can really handle anything else. But please try and understand - there wasn’t just one message. There was a barrage of messages full of information about you that completely bulldozed me. It wasn’t just one photo either - there were multiple photos. Your words in that interview - none of it was rehearsed William. Those words were your words, you confirmed you’ve been dating women - and there’s a lot of them. It was a total landslide of all of this shit hitting me all at once. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know who to believe…because there’s just so fucking much of it.”

“I do understand how it looks,” William said, his hands outstretched, almost pleading. “But it really is not what you think. I know I keep saying this but it’s Margot—she’s gone out of her way to play this fucking game of twisting lies and making them sound like the truth. She didn’t even translate parts of the interview right - I never said there was a lot of women. I said there were a lot of rumours about my dating life.”

Loren’s voice cracked, but she kept her tone measured. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t erase how this feels. Do you understand that? It’s the hurt. I’ve tried not to have doubts and I know I have my insecurities - I battle really hard to let go of the negative thoughts that creep into my head. But this whole thing just feels like a punch in the face. At this point, I’m not trying to figure out the why’s or how it happened - all I feel now are the bruises and the pain because of it.”

William raked a hand through his hair, his expression desperate. “Loren, I don’t know what to do if you won’t even let me sit down with you. Talk to you.”

“It’s not that I won’t let you,” she said quietly. “I’m so confused and I need time to let my thoughts settle a little bit. I can barely think straight…I’m just overloaded now.”

Her expression seemed to darken and she knew she might be crossing a line with her next remark. She didn’t even know why it popped into her mind. “But hey - based on the team posts that seem to be everywhere, you look like you’ve managed all of this just fine. I really don’t know that anything actually phases you.”

“That’s not true, Loren. Pictures aren’t always what they seem - someone could look happy because they have to - just to get through the moment, but can never fully know what’s going on behind the smile,” William bit back. His icy words hung in the morning air, each one landing like a heavy weight between them.

Loren looked down, her fingers brushing the edge of her tote bag. “I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have said that.” She kept her head down. “But, I do have to go,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

As she moved toward her car, William’s voice broke again. “Wait. Please Loren.”

She paused, her head hung downward as tears threatened, but didn’t turn to face him.

“I’d planned to ask you something before... everything happened,” he said softly. “I had planned to invite you to the home opener.”

A lump formed in Loren’s throat. She swiped at the tears that pricked her eyes and steadied her voice. “I’m already going.”

William’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The organization gave Gary tickets to make up for him missing the Easter Seals skate,” she explained flatly. “He’s supposed to meet some of the team, afterward I think - or before, I’m not sure.”

“Oh,” William said, nodding slowly, as if trying to process her words. “That’s... that’s good. He’ll love that.”

There was a long pause, the tension between them almost unbearable. William’s gaze remained fixed on her as walked down the steps. “So, I’ll see you there?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of hope and hesitation. “Maybe we could—”

“I’ll be working,” Loren interrupted gently, her voice remained distant. “I’ll probably see you there, William. But I really have to go now.”

He nodded, watching as she walked toward her car and slid into the driver’s seat. His heart twisted as he stepped back, giving her the space she so clearly needed but wishing he could close the ever-growing gap between them.

As Loren pulled out of the driveway, William stood and watched from the walkway, his breath visible in the chilly air. He’d come here hoping to make progress, to try and explain, to see her. But now, watching her drive away, he felt lost. He hoped he hadn’t made things worse.

—

Loren sat cross-legged on the Benoit’s couch, gently patting little Adelaide Benoit’s back in soothing, rhythmic motions. The baby let out a burp, then another, and Loren cooed softly, relieved as the baby’s fussing finally began to settle. She shifted Adelaide to a more comfortable position, and soon the little one was fast asleep against her chest. Across the room, Alice slumped into the love seat, her damp hair wrapped in a towel. She exhaled deeply, exhaustion still etched across her face despite the reprieve of a hot shower.

The team had left the day before to do their traditional team-building getaway north of the city, and Loren had offered to stay with Alice while Simon was away.

[Speaking in French] “Thank you for this,” Alice murmured, her eyes closed and her voice heavy with gratitude. “I don’t know what you’re doing differently—she’s been fussy with me since Simon left, but she’s an angel with you.”

Loren subtly shook her head. “You’re exhausted, Alice. You needed a break. Besides,” she added playfully, “I’m auditioning for the role of your number one babysitter when you and Simon start doing date nights again.”

“You’re hired. You could just move in with us. Rent out your house, work one job instead of what, three? Four?” Alice stretched out on the cushions, adjusting a pillow to account for the towel still wrapped around her head. “And hey, if you get this mess with Willy sorted, we could even be WAGs together.”

Loren chuckled lightly, though the idea of being a WAG felt about as likely for her as a trip to Mars. One hand cradled Adelaide’s bottom while the other gently stroked her back. “I really don’t know what to believe, or even what the right thing is to do—for me, anyway. It’s getting to the point that it’s not just the Margot stuff anymore, or what he said in that interview, or the way he gazed at that reporter—” Loren rolled her eyes, her voice sharpening with indignation at the word gaze.

She sighed, her eyes dropping to the baby in her arms. “It’s all of it, and then add the fact that he’s turning into this huge celebrity. I mean, he already is, but with that docuseries coming out in a couple of days, it’s going to catapult him into a whole other realm of stardom.”

Alice opened her eyes, studying Loren carefully, but stayed quiet as she let her friend pour her heart out.

“It goes back to how I felt when I first met him,” Loren began. “I mean—it was Willy Nylander, one of the “core four”, a star forward for the Leafs, right? Young, hot, wealthy—and insanely talented. Every time we got together, I assumed it would be the last time, that he’d just move on to the next girl because he could, and why wouldn’t he,” Loren admitted, reflecting on when she and William first met in March.

“But then I got to know him. His personality, his quirks, how caring and funny he is. And suddenly, it wasn’t ‘Willy Nylander, the hockey player.’ He was simply William—I would literally forget “what” he was and I loved spending time with “who” he was,” she said, her expression softening with a small smile.

Her voice dropped, tinged with uncertainty. “But now, with everything—the messages, the past hookups, all of the attention he gets, all of it—I feel like I’m back to being just another girl that he’ll eventually pass over - like, another stop along the way. But all the feelings I have for him? They’re still there.” Her eyes lifted to look at Alice. “Does that even make sense?”

Alice leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “It makes perfect sense, Loren. But listen to me—because you’re overthinking this. You’re not being ‘passed over,’ and you’re not just ‘another stop along the way.’ If that’s all you were to him, he would have passed you over already and he sure wouldn’t have invited you to Sweden. He wouldn’t have brought you to meet his family, his friends, the places he loves. That’s not something someone does for a fling.”

Loren opened her mouth to argue, but Alice held up a hand. “I’m an overtired Mommy now so you have to listen to me. Look Loren - I get it. It’s scary. The guy has options—more than most people will ever dream of having. And yeah, he’s maybe got a reputation, but based on what? Reputations don’t tell the whole story. You said it yourself: when you’re with him, it’s not about ‘Willy Nylander, the hockey player.’ It’s about William. And let me tell you something—my feeling is someone like William doesn’t waste his time on people he doesn’t care about.”

Alice softened her voice. “And about those messages? Of course they rattled you. That’s what they were meant to do and pretty much anyone in your position would feel the same. But if he’s been trying—really trying—to explain and make things right, don’t you think that says something? The question - to me anyway - is whether you can let your guard down enough, just to hear the guy out.”

Alice gave Loren a wry smile, sitting back on the couch. “And for the record? You’re the only person I’ve seen get that guy to light up the way he does when he looks at you. So maybe you should give yourself a little more credit and for the love of God, get out of that head of yours.”

Loren paused for a moment before shaking her head. “Agh - you just had a baby and here I am blathering on about my boy troubles. I hope you know how much I appreciate you,” Loren smiled.

“I appreciate you too, especially if you’d put Adelaide in the bassinette so I can crawl into bed? I’m so tired,” Alice said groggily.

“Of course - I’ll take the dogs out for a walk too.”

After doing some tidying up, Alice and Adelaide were long tucked away for a nap and Loren soon ventured off with the dogs. October weather in Toronto could bring multiple climates together in one week, or in one day, depending. That day, it felt almost like summer was beginning again, and Loren felt her mood lightening as she walked briskly with the dogs towards the large off-leash dog park near the Benoit’s home. The walk also gave Loren time to sit with her thoughts, and with Alice’s remarks about the situation with William. The morning he waited for her outside of her house, their conversation resulted in William relenting and giving Loren her space. The steady flow of messages that he had been sending her prior to that morning ceased. Now, with no communication, an even greater fear of the unknown toyed with her mind.

The hardest part wasn’t about deciding whether to trust William—if he still wanted to even pursue a relationship with her. No decision regarding William came with a guarantee. She couldn’t know if walking away would spare her from future heartache anymore than trying to mend things between them would.

At the park entrance, Loren gently commanded the dogs to wait as they began to pull excitedly toward the gate. Determined to refocus them, she stopped and gave the leashes a light tug. “Wait,” she said firmly. The dogs turned their attention to her, and with a sharp “sit,” they obediently complied. Loren rewarded them with praise and their favorite dried liver treats.

Once inside, she latched the gate behind her, laughing softly as the dogs’ focus shifted from her commands to the excitement of the park. She unclasped their leashes, and they bolted off, running in wide loops to sniff and explore.

Her phone chimed with an incoming call. The screen lit up with “Benny,” Simon’s team nickname.

Loren answered quickly, unsure why Simon would be calling. “[In French] Hi, Simon. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Simon replied, though his voice carried a note of concern. “I’ve been trying to call Alice, but she’s not answering.”

Loren smiled. “She’s asleep, and so is Adelaide. I took the dogs to the park to give them some exercise and a little extra quiet for their nap.”

“Oh, perfect. Phew. I was getting nervous… but yeah, makes total sense now. Dad nerves are real. Holy shit,” Simon said, laughing now, the tension in his voice easing.

Loren and Simon talked about Alice and the baby, eventually shifting to their plans for Thanksgiving dinner at Loren’s. They quickly agreed on a few menu details before Simon asked to see the dogs. Switching to FaceTime, Loren angled her phone toward the open grassy field. Simon laughed as he watched the dogs zoom around, darting and weaving like kids playing tag.

After a few moments, Simon glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “Looks like I’m being waved over. I’d better go. But hey—Loren, thank you so much for everything. I’ve been able to focus and even relax knowing you’re there with my ladies… and manning the zoo.”

“I love your ladies, and your zoo, so I’m happy to help. Go have fun, and message me if you have any other ideas for next Sunday,” Loren said with a smile.

“Will do. Thanks again, Loren. À bientôt,” Simon replied with a grin before ending the call.

As Simon pocketed his phone, Ryan Reaves walked up alongside him. “Talking to Alice? Everything okay at home?” He paused. “Wait—don’t tell me Alice is there with little Cashew and your mini-farm all by herself.”

Simon chuckled at the name “Cashew” that the team voted on for his baby girl, before he and Alice decided on Adelaide. “Actually, Loren’s staying with her. They hit it off when they met and have gotten pretty close. Really thankful she’s there. Alice and the baby are asleep right now, and Loren’s out with the dogs.”

Within earshot, William overheard their conversation. At the mention of Loren, his stomach flipped—an uncomfortable mix of butterflies and a twisting ache. Even here, surrounded by teammates and fans, his thoughts constantly drifted to her and the icy wall between them.

He’d been thinking of her almost non-stop but forced himself to continue giving her time and space. But hearing Simon mention her, he was desperate to hear her voice. Swiping open his phone, he tapped Loren’s contact before he could overthink it.

When she picked up, her voice was slightly breathless. “William—hi! Sorry, just a second.” He heard muffled sounds and the sound of a zipper, followed by her clear commands: “Okay, boys - sit. Good. And break!”

William chuckled softly, his chest warming at the sound of her voice.

“Sorry about that,” Loren said, her heart racing as she refocused on the call. “I’m out with Benny’s dogs right now. They’re a handful.” She laughed lightly. “How are you? How’s Bracebridge?”

Relief washed over him. She sounded more like herself again. “Good. Up here is nice. You know, usual team bonding stuff,” he said, his voice carrying a smile.

“Oh, right… just another day being William Ny-laaan-der,” Loren teased.

He laughed. “So you’re out with Benny’s dogs?”

“Yeah, just helping Alice out for a couple of days. Extra set of hands, that type of thing,” Loren replied, brushing off her helpfulness.

“You should grab Pablo and Banksy for a doggie playdate,” William teased.

Loren’s heart sank at the mention of his dogs. “Well, thanks for bringing them up—it’s not like I was missing them or anything,” she teased, her sarcasm very apparent. “I’ll just lie down here in the dirt and cry,” she said wistfully with a chuckle. She fell quiet for a moment, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her. She did miss them terribly. But the truth was, she missed William even more.

“They’d be happy to see you,” William added gently.

Loren swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure how to respond. “I read - or well, saw that awful fall during the game last week…are you okay?” she asked tentatively.

“Not my finest moment,” he replied with a chuckle. “But I’m okay.”

Silence hung in the air, which was rare for them.

“Oh! I almost forgot, I was going through the millions of pictures and videos from Sweden….I had taken some photos of the boys by the water - I think they turned out pretty well. Can I send them to you?”

Loren’s voice sounded so timid and uncertain, reinforcing how uncomfortable she now felt with him. That realization twisted the dagger already lodged in his heart. He hated how far they’d drifted—how the easy connection they once shared had been replaced by awkward silences and hesitant words.

William squinted his eyes shut for a moment. The fact that she now felt the need to ask for permission to send a simple picture was almost unbearable. “Loren—you can send me anything you want, anytime you want.” The words came out steadier than he felt. If he could slip through the phone and magically appear in front, he wouldn’t hesitate to hold her and let her melt into him. She had admitted once or twice to him that wrapped in his arms was her favourite place to be.

Loren could hear voices and rustling in the background at William’s end and sensed their conversation was winding down. “Sounds like you’re on the move - I’ll let you go, okay?”

As William stepped into one of the conference rooms at the hotel, he hesitated. He wanted more—wanted to see her, to address her concerns, to air out everything that had happened between them. The impatience and longing tormented his mind, but he knew he had to tread carefully. The call had been unplanned, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t sound withdrawn or despondent. Her voice carried a liveliness and openness he hadn’t heard in far too long.

“Yeah, okay—we’re just starting something here, so—” William paused, trying to steady the flurry of thoughts racing through his mind. “Do you—could I reach out again when I’m back? Oh—and, yeah, the pictures… I’d love to see what you’ve got.”

Loren lightly kicked at the dirt beneath her shoe. “Sounds good, William. And for sure, I’ll send some along. Enjoy the rest of your time, okay?”

Some time after the call ended, as he sat listening to the Event Coordinators, his phone buzzed with a new notification. Loren had sent the first picture. He glanced at it briefly, noncommittally at first, but then he froze and did a double take.

Loren’s description of the photo did not come close to doing it justice. The image of the two dogs sitting side by side on the dock, silhouetted against the wildfire hues of an orange-red sunset, was breathtaking. The lake was utterly still, its surface like flawless glass, reflecting the wild colors of the sky.

William’s throat tightened with a sudden rush of emotion. It wasn’t just the beauty of the picture—it was the way it transported him back to the bliss they had shared in Sweden. He desperately hoped they could find that same happiness again, this time while sharing their lives in Toronto.

—

The days following her conversation with William felt like uncharted territory. Loren sent a few more photos from Sweden, each one met with brief but heartfelt replies from William. Their exchanges were light, almost painfully polite, but beneath the surface, yet one could sense a mutual longing that neither could bring themselves to fully express.

Though the sting of the Margot situation had begun to fade, it was gradually replaced by a deeper ache—one that came from missing William in ways she almost did not want to admit, even to herself. She missed their conversations most of all, the easy way they used to connect, and the warmth he brought to her life. But no matter how much she longed to see him, she couldn’t ignore the weight of the conversations that still needed to be had - conversations about Margot, their future, and everything in between.

With William busy with practices and going on the road—first in Detroit, then Montreal, and finally New Jersey—their chances of being in the same place at the same time were nonexistent. The physical and emotional distance between them gnawed at her, and only exasperated how she was already feeling.

Loren, however, had more than enough on her plate to keep her busy and her mind occupied. A handful of new students, classmates of her existing clients, had reached out requesting help with literacy and speech practice in French. The influx of tutoring sessions provided enough of a financial boost that she could scale back to more sustainable hours at the group home.

Meanwhile, her online audience continued to grow as her digital language content gained traction. Her marketing manager was thrilled with her output and began brainstorming new opportunities for Loren to be involved in, some of which even included potential travel. As her schedule filled and her prospects expanded, Loren couldn’t help but feel good about the path she was carving for herself.

One afternoon as her last student left, Loren let out a deep sigh, finally allowing herself to relax. She decided to keep things simple for the night—cooking wasn’t in the cards, so she threw together a platter of fruit, vegetables, and snacks.

With her plate balanced on her lap, she poured herself a glass of red wine and sank into the couch. The first sip brought a flush to her cheeks, the warmth of it displayed by blotches on her neck. Scrolling through streaming options, she couldn’t settle on anything, her mind wandering as the quiet of the evening began.

Her phone began to vibrate and dance on the end table beside her. Glancing at the screen, her cheeks went from flushed to white hot when she saw William’s name on the screen.

Hesitantly, she picked up the phone and tapped on the green icon. She answered with a soft and friendly “Hi.”

William’s voice was low and gentle, the same one that always had an effect on her. “Hey - um, just wanted to call and see what you’re up to?”

Loren smiled . “Oh, well - hmmm,” she paused as she shifted her body to a more comfortable position. “I wish I could come up with some fantastic answer but I unplugged my brain about an hour ago. So, really, nothing interesting…looking for something to watch, right now.” She tried to sound blasé, but the smile in her voice gave her away. “What about you?”

“Some Leaf fan you are—you’re not following the schedule?” he teased. “We’re playing tonight. First game of the season. Against Montreal.”

Loren’s cheeks flushed deeper, this time in embarrassment. “Ah, shit…I completely forgot. Thanks for the guilt trip. Arrête de m’énerver, William,” she added with mock drama in French.

His trademark laugh sounded through the phone. “See - yeah, I was thinking you could remind me of some of the French things you told me in Paris so I could shout them at Cole Caufield during the game.”

The wine combined Loren’s adrenaline fueled her banter. “William, I think the French things I said to you in Paris would be wildly inappropriate to shout at Cole during a game.”

William’s laugh turned staccato, that contagious sound that always made her giggle too.

“However,” she continued, her tone faux-serious, “Va chier basically means ‘Screw you.’ Honestly though, I really don’t know how much French Cole understands anyway, so I think you just need to give up this idea altogether, William.”

"You could still remind me of those other words,” William replied, borderline flirtatious. “Inappropriate or not, it might throw him off his game.”

Loren paused, grinning. “I guess if anyone could pull it off, it’s you.”

The two continued to chat, the flow of their conversation sounding more at ease.

Before ending the call, William asked again if Loren still planned to be at the game that coming Saturday. She confirmed she would be.

As William lay stretched out on the bed in the hotel in Montreal, he felt the tension lifting more and more between them. If he could just keep inching the momentum forward, he felt confident they could get back on track.

The past month had humbled him in ways he didn’t expect. When the pictures and messages from Margot first reached Loren, she could have lashed out—screamed at him, hurled threats or insults, or done any number of things to exact revenge. Instead, even in her pain, she had handled it with a kind of control that still amazed him.

It wasn’t something he’d recognized immediately, but his parents had pointed it out after learning what had happened. His mother had been especially vocal, emphasizing how rare it was for someone to respond with restraint instead of anger—to simply articulate her hurt feelings in the face of what felt like a violation of trust.

The more William thought about it, the more it reflected who Loren truly was—steady, thoughtful, and kind, even in moments of turmoil. She hadn’t shut him out as a malicious attempt to make him twist in the wind. She had needed space and time because he realized what they had developed was too important not to press pause.

At the end of the day, he missed her. Her absence hit him harder this time, and the knowledge that she might not remain in his life left a knot in his stomach. He had no idea if the conversations they still needed to have would fix things.

In the quiet moments between games, William considered how he might have reacted if the roles were reversed. If someone had sent him photos and messages implying Loren had been making a fool of him —whether about an ex, a fling, or anything in between—he would have shut down. His walls would have gone up immediately, trust shattered, and he wasn’t sure what lengths Loren would have had to go to earn it back — if he even allowed her to. It wasn’t a side of himself he was proud of, but it was one he couldn’t deny existed.

For now, he pushed those worries aside. Years of sports psychology had taught him to quiet his mind before a game, especially when personal issues arise. But before he did, he allowed himself one more glance at a photo he’d taken of Loren in Monaco—her long hair flowing, a flower tucked behind her ear, her eyes fixed on his full of affection and desire. It was one of his favorites.

—

Michael Nylander sat on the couch in their Stockholm home, the glow of his laptop screen reflected off his face as he watched the first game of the new NHL season, with the Leafs playing the Canadiens in Montreal. He gently blew the steam from his mug of tea, his eyes remained fixed on William, who almost got a tip-in goal on a power play.

Michael audibly sighed as the puck traveled down the length of the ice after William’s attempt.

[In Swedish] “How is the game so far?” Camilla asked as she padded across the room, her hair slightly tousled and her eyes heavy.

Michael patted the spot next to him on the couch, and soon Camilla’s head rested on a pillow in his lap. “Was the volume too loud - did I wake you?” he asked.

Camilla shook her head and smiled, reaching for the blanket that was folded neatly on the back of the couch. She covered herself followed by Michael lovingly stretching the blanket over her body.

“It’s only just begun - Leafs just finished a power play. William had a good chance, the team looks pretty good so far,” Michael replied softly. He strokes Camilla’s arm as the resume watching the game in comfortable silence.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about Loren and William,” Camilla wearily admitted.

Michael nodded. “It’s certainly a mess. I can’t get my head wrapped around what would possess Margot to go after Loren like that?”

Camilla shifted under the blanket. “I never asked but I think something happened with her and William during our family vacation.”

Michael was silent for a moment. Taking a sip of his tea, his eyes remained fixed on the laptop screen. “So, it’s jealousy. I think I can see it coming together now,” he sighed.

Camilla continued. “I’ve seen everything Margot sent to Loren. It was upsetting enough for me to read the way that information was positioned to Loren. There was a nastiness to her messages, almost like Margot was trying to befriend Loren by ripping apart William,” she explained. “I don’t know if Margot really understands the magnitude of what she has done. I know maybe William doesn’t help by getting into these situations to begin with, but all of that damage done to Loren—”, Camilla stopped speaking as Montreal just scored the first goal. She adjusted herself to nestle into Michael’s side. “I just wonder if I should reach out to Loren. William’s got the start of the season going on - and it’s already been a month….” Camilla’s voice trailed off. “I could help her understand what the truth is. That’s what William has said, that Loren’s so confused - she doesn’t know what to believe, and rightfully so. She hasn’t shut the door on anything and Michael - William adores her - I hate to think that they’re both in misery when they don’t have to be.”

Michael nodded. “You are so wise and kind, my wife - and I don’t think it could hurt to talk to Loren.”

She paused to watch the game for another minute before she stood up, tied her hair in a pony tail, grabbed another laptop and walked toward the study.

“You’re doing it now?” Michael called after Camilla.

All he heard his wife says is “No use wasting time getting this fixed.”

—

Loren had long passed out on the couch after her conversation with William and her one glass of wine. She forgot where she was momentarily when she awoke to her phone pinging and vibrating on the end table next to her. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed her glasses to first look at the time and then the text notifications. Her heart raced furiously when she saw the text was from Camilla.

The message was kind and apologetic, asking if Loren could join a video call. She was completely bewildered by Camilla’s request - but mostly because it was in the early morning hours in Stockholm. Her stomach was in knots thinking about all of the possibilities of the purpose for her call. Loren messaged her back right away and opened her laptop, connecting to the call shortly thereafter.

Loren greeted Camilla with a wide smile, although all of her emotions are just under the surface.

“It’s so nice to see your face, Camilla. How are you? Are you up watching William’s game?” Loren asked.

“I’m doing well, my darling. Yes, Michael is watching- I had seen enough when Montreal scored,” Camilla admitted with a chuckle. “I hope I didn’t take you away from anything?”

Loren’s tone was sheepish. “I actually fell asleep on the couch,” she admitted with a grin. “I’m just exhausted lately.” Loren immediately regretted say she was exhausted - it felt like a hint to her goings on with William.

Camilla lowered her gaze for a moment before her blue eyes found Loren’s once again. She smiled warmly at Loren but her furrowed brows showed immense concern. “Loren, I know this might not be my place but I wanted to call, first to ask how you are and second, to tell you how sorry I am about everything you and William are going through.”

Loren’s throat felt tight, wrought with emotion. She could feel her face begin to twist as she tried to hold back her tears. “I’m - I’m doing okay, Camilla. I really appreciate you calling,” Loren said, her voice wavering.

Camilla continued carefully. “I would not normally interfere - I want my children to sort out their own business. But, I have to tell you I have not been able to think about much else since I heard about the messages Margot had sent you. I can’t even imagine how you’ve been feeling.”

Loren’s throat began to ache from being constricted with trying to suppress her emotions. “It’s been tough - it’s just such an odd - no…I guess upsetting and confusing situation.”

“It absolutely is,” Camilla agreed. She gave Loren a comforting smile through the screen. “Loren, Michael and I think so highly of you. When you were here, and we saw the two of you together, we could feel how much you care for one another. I don’t know if William told you this but he and I spoke at length while you and his dad made lunch that day before you left. He wanted you to stay so you both could return to Toronto together. The way he looked, the way he expressed himself Loren - I honestly don’t know if he’s ever felt this strongly about someone before,” Camilla added.

With this admission, the flood gates opened with Loren. She could not hold it back any longer as she ripped away her glasses and covered her face with her hands, tears streamed through her fingers. Camilla’s heart aches watching as Loren’s body began to tremble from the force of her sobs.

“Oh, Loren.” Camilla’s voice is tender as she speaks soothingly through the speakers. “Let it out. It’s okay, just let it all out.”

Loren continued to weep, apologizing to Camilla for letting her emotions get the better of her.

“Please don’t apologize for being upset. Loren, you have every right to feel the way you do. I’m just glad I can be here for you,” Camilla comforted.

After some time, Loren’s tears began to subside, and she began to speak. “I’m just - it’s such an awful feeling. I mean - at first, all I could think about were Margot’s messages - the amount of distrust that I allowed her to plant in my mind about William. But then, and I hate saying this to you - but they’ve earned the reputation of being players in every capacity so I just feel like I’m blindly tripping along here not knowing what to think,” Loren said, her voice still full of anguish.

“I can understand that,” Camilla began thoughtfully. “But I’ll tell you something—when it comes to my boys, I’ve always worried about how easy it’s been for them to attract girls. They never had to try; the girls just flocked to them, like moths to a flame. It always concerned me—what if they didn’t know, or worse, didn’t care, if someone truly special crossed their path? Would they even recognize it? And if they did, would they know how to treat her—or would they simply expect her to always be there for them, without ever giving back?”

Camilla paused, her voice softening as she smiled at Loren. “But while you were here, I saw something different in William. Yes, his family will always be everything to him, followed closely by his friends—but you, Loren…” She leaned closer, her voice sincere. “I feel he’s created a very special place for you in his life.”

Loren remained silent, her expression still clouded with sadness as she considered what Camilla had explained. More and more, Loren felt the distrust toward William fading. What she felt added up perfectly in September with all of Margot’s “evidence”, now it made less sense than ever before.

The two women sat in silence for a moment before Loren spoke. “I have been able to work past what Margot said in her messages and while the other things she said bothered me, I can explain most of it away. It’s just the pictures now that I keep coming back to, but even those…he said they were just random people saying “hi”….they weren’t what Margot made them out to be at all,” Loren expressed, still riddled with confusion.

Camilla’s expression turned to regret. “I know, Loren - I understand your need to protect yourself and it’s hard when there just seems to be so much information that leans on way. I was not there myself to say one thing or the other. But, if I may, Loren, I just cannot see William doing that to you - not after seeing how the two of you are around each other.”

Loren swiped away the fresh tears that ran down her cheeks and put her glasses back on, smiling at Camilla now that she could see her more clearly.

“Loren, älskling, being with someone like William isn’t easy. I can only speak from the experience of being a wife of a professional player, and the mother of two more. There are things I have seen and heard that I would have preferred not to. There are hurt feelings and moments of frustration. For William, I can absolutely understand why you have reservations about his life and how it will affect you in your relationship with - hmmm, so much “interest” in him. There are so many challenges, even with the greatest and strongest of loves, but there are also choices. Every day, you’ll have to decide if the love you share is worth those challenges. And he’ll have to make that choice too,” Camilla concluded, followed by a warm smile.

Loren nodded her head. She took a deep breath and looked back at Camilla through the screen. “We’ve been talking a little, William and I,” Loren said quietly.

Camilla’s eyes brightened with Loren’s admission, her smile widening. “That’s wonderful, älskling,” she said softly, her voice full of encouragement.

Loren swiped away some dust from her keyboard, almost lost in thought. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk once the home opener is over,” she smiled.

Loren tried to sound optimistic but she could not begin to guess how this all might turn out.

—

The second Saturday in October was circled on calendars across Toronto and beyond, a date that marked months of anticipation after the Leafs shortened playoff run. For Maple Leafs fans, it wasn’t just a game—it was the event, the beginning of a new season brimming with hope. Across the country, hockey reclaimed its spotlight, and Scotiabank Arena stood as a glowing beacon, welcoming the return of one of the league’s storied Original Six franchises.

Kathy stepped out of the elevator from the parking garage, holding the door as Loren guided Gary’s wheelchair toward the large glass doors of the office tower bordering the square in front of the arena. Though they were still 45 minutes early before the gates even opened, the blue of their home jerseys quickly blended into the growing sea of fans. The city’s sights and sounds converged around them as Loren and Kathy maneuvered Gary through the bustling crowd. Fans milled about, snapping pictures and chatting animatedly about the new season, the coaching staff, and the newly minted captain, Auston Matthews.

Locating Gate 1, the three queued in line, with Gary completely mesmerized by the massive murals of current players displayed above the doorways. Being among the first to arrive, a Security Officer approached, offering guidance on what to do once the doors opened. When Kathy mentioned they were meeting with Fan Services, the officer nodded, spoke into his radio, and quickly disappeared, leaving them to wait amidst the growing line of fans.

Passing through security, they were greeted by Eriika from Fan Services, a wide smile on her face as she introduced herself. After a few pleasantries, she guided them on a quick tour, pointing out the key spots designed for accessibility, including the section where Gary could get a perfect view of the Leafs during warmups at ice level. Finally, Eriika led them to their seats, ensuring they were settled comfortably before leaving with a friendly reminder to flag their usher if they needed anything.

For once, Gary was completely speechless. He slowly scanned the area, looking from the banners of retired players to the banners of their championship wins. Loren could not have been more thrilled for Gary. His life were the Maple Leafs. If anyone bled blue, it was him. He never bad mouthed the team, his support was rock solid. To see him gaze with such an air of both disbelief and awe, made her heart swell.

Eriika had arranged for a wheelchair escort, Josh, to assist Loren and Kathy with navigating the different levels and accessible entryways. He guided them through the maze of hallways and ramps until they emerged at ice level, the freshly cleaned sheet of ice, with the Maple Leaf emblem in the centre, illuminated by the low lights of purple and blue. Gary’s face remained in awe as he absorbed his beloved team’s arena.

Josh leaned down toward Gary. “Let’s see this sign you’ve got,” he said with a grin. Gary proudly held it up, revealing a poster with a large arrow pointing downward and the caption, “Hey Boys! Look all the way down here. Next Leafs Power Forward ON WHEELS - pass me the puck!”

Josh’s grin stretched from ear to ear, his laughter echoing above the hum of the arena. “Man, this is gold,” he laughed, giving Gary a fist bump. “This should definitely get some attention—just be ready….those pucks can come flying over the glass pretty quickly,” Josh light-heartedly warned, saying it more to Loren than Gary.

“That’s why I bring her,” Gary said, jerking his thumb toward Loren. “It’s her job to protect me—she gets paid for it, so she can take the puck to the head, not me.”

Josh laughed at Gary’s apparent heckling of Loren, who just shook her head and rolled her eyes at Josh. “Gee, thanks Gare. You really are such a charmer.”

Gary waved off Loren’s remark with a smile and placed the sign carefully on his lap as they waited.

Soon Kathy joined them at the glass, and they took turns taking pictures of their group with the arena as the backdrop.

Through her smile however, Loren couldn’t shake the nervous energy building inside of her. Her stomach churned—not just for the sheer excitement of waiting to see Gary’s reaction to warmups but also because she knew William was close by, getting dressed and preparing to hit the ice.

The thought of seeing him again made her heart race. She had not seen him since their bittersweet moment at Arlanda airport, when he placed soft, lingering kisses on her mouth before she stepped out of the vehicle. Beyond that, she and William hadn’t spoken since their brief conversation before the season opener. As much as she felt that the conversation was light with hints of amusement, it was still far from their usual easy chats. They were both far too aware of the things that still needed to be said.

During the drive into Toronto, Loren had filled Kathy in on the latest development with William - her call with Camilla. She explained how Camilla had calmed so many of the worries that still plagued Loren’s mind. The fact that Camilla didn’t “choose sides” - she acknowledged Loren’s feelings and gave her gentle guidance, with the understanding of what it might feel like to navigate William’s whirlwind life. It was as though Camilla was reassuring Loren, in her own way, that with her strength and the kind of person she is, that she’ll be more than okay no matter what she decides.

The sudden image of the exit from the Leafs dressing room appeared on the jumbotron screen, couple with the announcer’s voice, was met with the rumble of growing cheers from the crowd. Loren looked at Kathy and inhaled, while Kathy shot Loren a knowing smile while mimicking the Lamaze breathing technique for some much needed humour to ease the tension.

As they showed the players being lead out by the newest Leafs goaltender, Anthony Stolarz, Kathy and Loren positioned themselves on either side of Gary, holding up the sign for him and trying to make it as noticeable as possible. At this stage, all Loren really hoped for is that someone saw Gary’s sign, and would give him something tangible as a memory for that evening.

Loren fished out her glasses and slid them on - if a puck did come flying over the glass, at least she’d have a better chance of seeing it with her glasses on.

Bright white lights suddenly lit up the entire arena as Stolarz and the first handful of players stepped onto the ice, their blades audibly slicing through the surface as they skated their practice laps.

One by one, the Leaf players in their blue home jerseys emerged from the tunnel. Loren could not figure out where to look first as the players whipped by the glass with the sound of pucks ricocheting off the boards.

She finally saw the unmistakable jersey number 88 through the sea of jerseys that flew by her line of sight. Seeing him in person again sent a jolt through her entire body and her head started to pound with the sudden rush of adrenaline. Unaware that Loren had already spotted him, Kathy discreetly nudged her arm and nodded toward William, who was still on the opposite side of the ice, practicing some of his stick handling moves.

William had only been out on the ice for a couple of minutes, but he swore he glanced up and down the faces at the glass about a hundred times, with no luck in seeing Loren. He went about his routines - skating low and fast while making tight turns with the puck never leaving the tape on his stick. After a few turns, he shot the puck at the empty net which naturally went in.

He skated toward the blueline, sending a few pucks in different directions before turning back around. A sign caught his attention which had an arrow pointing downward - the sign seemed to dance along the glass until it was shifted to the side and revealed a man, barely visible at the glass, sitting in a wheelchair with a woman standing behind him.

He hadn’t recognized her right away with her glasses on, but the second he had, his heart swelled - the mixed feeling of relief, happiness and nervousness coursed through his body. She looked even more beautiful than ever - her locks swept up into a pony tail, her skin still miraculously golden despite autumn being in full swing.

When Loren spotted him gliding toward their spot at the glass, the pounding in her head gave way to a twisting knot in her stomach. Her eyes followed him as he read Gary’s sign, a smile tugging at his lips before he interacted briefly with a couple of players leaning against the boards.

Loren shifted nervously behind Gary’s chair, her fingers gripping its handles tightly. She prayed she looked poised and composed on the outside, even though her insides were anything but.

William’s gaze locked on hers, his lips curving into a subtle smile. He motioned for her to catch the puck he was about to flip over the glass. Loren’s eyes darted upward to the tall glass panels that separated them, and then back to him with a panicked expression that made him grin. The background music and chatter from the crowd drowned out his laughter as she exaggeratedly mouthed, “It’ll probably hit me in the mouth,” punctuating it with a wry roll of her eyes.

Still grinning, William motioned for her to head toward the camera hole in the glass. Loren hesitated for only a moment before moving toward it, the surrounding kids pressing closer to see what was happening.

Sliding off his glove, William scooped up a puck and reached through the opening. Loren stepped closer, her hand brushing against his as she took the puck. Her gaze lifted, and as she smiled softly to say thank you, his fingers lingered, gently wrapping around hers for a brief moment. Had it not been for the handful of children that converged around them, their shared moment might not have ended so quickly.

Loren made her way back towards Gary. She turned to see William using the blade of his stick to balance and vault pucks over the glass to the awaiting fans that had gathered. She handed Gary the puck she had been given, and glanced back towards William who needed to get on with his warmup. Before skating away, he looked at Loren and motioned for her to show him the back of her jersey. It was same the Auston Matthews jersey she was sporting the first time they met. Mocking his disapproval and exaggerating his disappointment, William gave Loren a confident grin as some fans cheered at his antics before he skated away.

A spectator hollered from his seat nearby “He may have asked you out if you had the right jersey on!” the man laughed.

Oh, the irony of that comment Loren thought.

—

Josh had guided Loren and Gary back to their section and their seats, and the two silently watched the video segments on the overhead screen as the clock wound down for the start of the introductions. A wide smile spread across Gary’s face as the lights dimmed, and the familiar voice of Mike Ross echoed through the arena. Loren couldn’t help but smile as she watched Gary’s reaction between each introduction -from the staff, the coaching team, and then the players—each called out in ascending numerical order.

Loren found herself gripping the armrest of her seat, her knuckles whitening as she counted down the moments. She hadn’t consciously realized her reaction until her heart gave an unexpected jolt when she heard the unmistakable, deliberate style of Mike Ross’s voice announcing, “From Stockholm, Sweden, number 88—William KNEEEE-LAAAAN-DER!”

The eruption of cheers was exhilarating. Loren instinctively whooped and hollered as she applauded, her smile stretching wide as her heart swelled with pride. She couldn’t stop herself from beaming at the sight of him stepping onto the ice, his easy smile flashed across the jumbotron as he skated to his place along the blueline next to Ryan Reaves.

In that moment, everything about William came into sharp focus. He wasn’t just the hockey star with unwavering self-assuredness or the man who was often a breath of fresh air to her. He was both. He was William—one of the most exciting players to watch on skates and the man who made her laugh until her cheeks hurt. She finally saw both parts of him converge in front of her eyes and her realization that she could be in awe of both versions simultaneously. This realization was coupled with knowing she missed him more than ever.

It was not long before the arena fell silent for the national anthems, and William stood in his usual spot at the bench and faced the flags as he had done countless times before. The camera swept across the team, lingering briefly on him. He was aware of it, the way players always were, but he didn’t adjust his expression. Instead, his eyes scanned the crowd, focusing on the accessible seating sections until he spotted her.

There she was, standing beside Gary’s chair, her hand resting lightly on the handlebars of his backrest. His grip tightened slightly on the shaft of his stick, the curved blade supporting his chin as he leaned against it. He stood still, watching her sing—or at least mouth the words—her glasses perched on top of her head where she would always unconsciously put them.

Seeing her through the glass partition during warmups had pushed his longing for her to the limit. The words about a thousand women versus one woman had played on his mind since she first said them. Now, amongst the faces of thousands of women, hers was the only one that he cared about seeing. He just hoped he could steal five minutes of her time after the game to tell her that.

But first, they had their home opener to win.

The game progressed quickly, with the Leafs improving as each period unfolded. Early in the second, William scored his first goal of the regular season, a perfectly executed play set up by Max Domi. His reaction was priceless—grinning widely, he pointed toward Max as if to give full credit to his teammate. Skating past the bench for the customary fist bumps, the thought of Loren in the stands, undoubtedly cheering along with the rest of the fans, gave him an extra spark of pride.

In the final minute of the third period, with the Penguins’ goalie pulled, William secured an empty-net goal, sealing the Leafs’ 4-2 victory. This time, as his teammates surrounded him, he caught a glimpse of Loren on her feet, clapping enthusiastically. The sight gave him a flicker of reassurance that maybe, just maybe, the night wasn’t over yet.

As the final seconds wound down and the team left the ice, Kathy approached Loren and Gary’s section. She bumped into Eriika, who had arrived to escort them down to the dressing room.

Eriika led the way through a maze of back hallways, the cheers of celebrating fans still echoing from the concourse above. Loren followed quietly, pushing Gary’s wheelchair while Kathy walked alongside them. The muted hum of the arena gave way to the buzz of media activity as they neared their destination. Off to the side of the dressing room entrance, Loren could already hear Mitch Marner’s familiar voice carrying through his post-game media scrum.

Eriika waved the three through, mentioning as they entered, “A few players, including Morgan, have something special for you, Gary—a signed jersey. They’ll be by shortly.”

The dressing room buzzed with post-game energy, the players scattered between chatting, packing their gear, or doing media interviews. Max Domi was the first to spot Gary and Loren, his face lighting up as he strode over, still partially in his gear.

“Hey, buddy! Great to see you again—and you brought the ‘ole ball and chain, I see,” Max teased, throwing Loren a playful wink.

Gary didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not allowed to call her that anymore,” he deadpanned in a slow drawl, looking up at Max. “She said she’d roll me off a cliff if I said it again.”

In the next room, William could faintly hear the conversation and laughter as he waited for his media availability. He was in a good mood from the win, but his focus was split. All he wanted was to get this part of the night over with and find Loren as soon as he could.

Standing shirtless, his hair slicked back under a backwards ball cap, William showed his typical casual demeanor as he answered questions about what he saw on Max’s play. But thirty seconds in, there was a slight pause in the reporters’ questions which seemingly gave him an opportunity to exit the scrum.

“All good? Thanks, guys,” William said, pushing himself off the wall, and started to walk away with a cheeky grin. The reporters paused for another second until one began asking another question, keeping William from escaping, eliciting some chuckles in the crowd. William was good-natured about the continuation of questions, and laughed at his attempt to make a run for it and getting caught in the act.

After fielding the remainder of questions, most of which could be considered obvious, William tossed a quick “Thanks” over his shoulder and left the reporters while giving the next player up, Anthony Stolarz, a friendly grin as the media readied themselves for the next round of questions.

William slipped back into the dressing room, immediately scanning the room until he spotted Loren standing next to Simon Benoit and the two Max’s, Domi and Pacioretty. He watched as she laughed at Simon explaining the story behind the team vote to name his little baby daughter “Cashew” before he and Alice settled on Adelaide for her name. “All because I call Alice peanut,” Simon chuckled, while Loren laughed and shook her head.

William’s heart raced as he approached the group, his eyes fixed on Loren. She did not notice him right away, her attention still on Simon who was explaining his excitement for the next day’s Thanksgiving dinner with Loren.

When her sights finally landed on him, everything around her seemed to slow. Her lips fell slightly open as her eyes first fell upon his bare chest, and then the rest of him. The second her eyes finally locked on his face, it was like a bolt of lightening traveled through her body.

Loren was so overwhelmed by the sight of him, she constantly averted her eyes in order to not simply melt into a puddle.

William appeared relaxed as he greeted Loren with a quiet “Hi” and a hug. In that one moment, his body felt starved for her.

“Can I borrow you for a sec?” William asked Loren, the tone of his voice serious.

With an air of uncertainty, Loren nodded. They excused themselves from the group, and he was soon leading her down a small corridor.

“Shit - sorry William, just two seconds - let me just let Kathy know, okay?” Loren said quietly as she turned back towards the main dressing room. William followed, realizing in that moment that he had yet to say his hellos to Gary.

Kathy sat with Jake McCabe and Morgan Rielly in Morgan’s stall, with Gary by their side and his newly signed “Rielly” jersey. Kathy was deep into explaining the sordid details of Gary’s early life experiences.

Loren approached Gary’s chair from behind and she rested her hands on his shoulders. Gary looked up at her as though he had found heaven on earth sitting in the dressing room. She patted his shoulders and apologized for interrupting.

William lowered himself to Gary’s line of sight. “Hey Gary - it’s great to see you again - how’ve you been man?”

Gary’s eyes lit up. He struggled at first with his words but Loren’s reassuring hands on his shoulders grounded him as he spoke. “Been real good. I think you’re gonna have a good year, Willy.” He slowly began to hand William the jersey in his lap. “Will you sign this for me?”

Kathy smiled at William and handed him a marker. Her eyes briefly connected with Loren’s as if to say “Go and get this sorted out with him now.”

William scribbled his signature on the shoulder of the jersey, and handed it back to Gary. He could see Gary’s eyelids started to droop from exhaustion and that Kathy and Loren need to get him home soon. “Gare - it’s good to see you again - and really nice to meet you,” he smiled at Kathy. “I won’t keep her but I just need Loren for a minute, is that okay Gary?”

“Agh - you can keep her,” Gary waved them off and chuckled when he saw Loren’s less than impressed expression.

“You know you’re not funny - right, Gare? Anyway, Kathy - I’ll be back in a sec.” Loren then turned to Jake and Morgan. “It was really great seeing you guys. And Congratulations again to you and Tessa on your little man, McCormick,” Loren grinned as Morgan and Jake leaned in for a hug.

Loren stepped back as William touched her shoulder, nodding his head subtly back toward the hallway. Loren’s nerves gripped her stomach as she followed his lead. She watched in mild amazement of how he glided past the buzz and the noise of the post-game activities without distraction. Somehow, he was still discreet as he lead her down a short corridor that ended at an unmarked door. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he opened it, revealing what appeared to be a small medical supply room.

While passing by, the only person that seemed to notice William and Loren was the new coach, Craig Berube. Fucking guy works fast, I’ll give him that he thought as he chuckled to himself .

William stepped aside to let her enter. She stepped though, her heart racing as he followed her in, the door clicking softly behind them, muting the laughter from the dressing room.

A singular fluorescent light flickered on, and Loren glanced around the room just to get her bearings. Her hands fidgeted, subtly but compulsively pulling at the hem of her jersey as she stood across from him. Her cheeks burned as she glanced at William, still shirtless, still with his backwards cap, and still the man she cared deeply for, and missed every day.

William leaned against a counter, watching her nervous movements. His heart sank seeing how unsure she appeared to be.

Despite her nervousness, she broke the ice with William immediately. “I’m disappointed I didn’t get to see you in your garters.”

William broke into a wide smile and hung his head. “Oh yeah? I carry them off pretty well, do I?”

“It’s humbling to know that you still are the sexier one in garters between the two of us,” Loren grinned.

“Says you - I think most men on the planet might disagree,” William chuckled.

Although their conversation had a lightness to it, silence eventually fell between them. William could see Loren struggling to keep control of her emotions.

She was cracking inside. Her shoulders drew together as she tensed, not wanting to break in front of him.

But it happened as soon as he asked her how she has been.

Her head lowered, hands soon covered her face as she wept. William himself felt tears prick at his eyes seeing how upset she was.

He gently pulled her into him, and felt her warm wet tears against his chest. As her body shudder, his arms completely enveloped her. He soon felt her palms along the side of his body which eventually circled around to his back.

His hand moved up to her hair, cradling the back of her head as she leaned her forehead against his chest. He felt her tears falling as they landed near the waistband of his shorts.

When Loren finally spoke, her voice hardly registered above a soft whisper. “I got it all wrong, didn’t I?” She let out a sob as her body trembled. Her fingertips pressed firmly against his skin.

“Loren, fuck. No. No.” William spoke into her hair. “You did not cause any of this. This was never - none of this was your doing. I need you to understand that.” William’s words were gentle but firm. “What else could you have done with all of that shit that was sent to you?”

It took a moment before Loren responded. “I don’t know, William,” she sniffled.

“I should have thought - I should have maybe thought to mention that interview stuff to you, just so you understood why I said what I did. It’s no excuse but I’m so used to these questions but - I’m not used…used to having someone in my life that I needed to explain this stuff to. I hope I’m making sense?”

Loren nodded her head.

William continued. He could feel Loren’s body beginning to loosen up in his arms as he pulled her a little closer. “The rest of it. I mean, some of the stuff I had planned to sit down with you once we were together and just sort of hash out, like - my past…"single" activities…in the offseason with a girl here and there.” His voice was soft as he spoke, stroking Loren’s hair as her sniffles began to subside.

“The two weeks you were with me - Loren, I was just - amazed - you amaze me - and how great that time together was, and I knew I wanted to - want to - whatever the fucking label is - be together, be in a relationship, date you - whatever it’s called. So I figured we’d have all the serious talks once I got back…but then all of this happened.”

Loren’s hands dropped down to his lower back, her forehead still resting against his chest.

“I know - or I feel like I’ve been the one that’s sort of fucked things up, more that a few times with you…and I know I suck when it comes to saying the right things…but I am so sorry, Loren, for the all of the shit I have put you through. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and a lot of shit decisions that I regret.

William paused, wanting to allow Loren to say something, but she remained silent, save for the odd sniffle. She stood still, absorbing William's words. She believed that they were genuine and heartfelt. His apology began to diffuse the pain of the past month, offering a glimpse of the regret he carried for the months that preceded this moment.

When she did finally speak, he wasn’t expecting her response. “You really need to wear a shirt—I’ve got tears and…other stuff all in your chest hair,” she said, her voice congested.

He released her body temporarily and grabbed some cotton pads nearby.

Loren tried to conceal her face a little as William pulled her back towards him. “I’m a fucking mess,” she said, embarrassed. “Yes, I’m a ugly crier too.”

William cradled Loren’s face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing her damp cheeks. He leaned in, his forehead pressing lightly against hers. “There’s nothing about you that comes close to ugly -- you’re absolutely beautiful.”

Loren let out a small laugh, shaking her head as her hands rested on his chest. “I’m a puddle - nothing like smeared mascara and tears all over your chest to impress you,” she muttered, dabbing under her eyes and then swiping the pad across William’s chest.

“I can handle the mascara, the tears… and hmmm - whatever else you’ve got going on here,” he smiled. “Anything to make things right again, I’ll do, Loren.”

She reached around William’s shoulders, and he responded by wrapping his arms around her body, lifting her up and turned to set her on the counter. His hands fell to her hips as he positioned himself between her legs.

As he scanned her face, his expression became more reflective. “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t want to rush you so whatever you feel - whatever you want to do, just tell me, okay?”

“I’ve missed you too - so much, William.” Loren looked at him, her eyes soft with a hint of regret. “I know we need to talk - a little - or a lot more about things, but I’ve gotta get Gary back.”

William squeezed her hips - he tried to think of a way for her to stay with him. “I guess it would be shitty if you just let Kathy handle Gary on her own,” he said as he answered his own internal question. “What about tomorrow?”

Loren toyed with the gold chain around his neck. “I’m having Benny and Alice for Thanksgiving. I think he’s mentioned it to a couple other guys but they might do something else - it was up in the air, last minute kind of thing.”

“So - like turkey and stuff?” William smiled coyly. “I like turkey,” he hinted playfully.

“You’re welcome to come up, if you want to. There’d be enough to feed an army of Nylanders - knowing how much you guys like to eat,” Loren smirked. “If Alex is around and wants to, he’s more than welcome to come too.”

“Pablo and Banksy?” he asked.

She nodded. “Especially those two.”

Loren glided her hands down the front of his chest. The only thing on her mind was her mouth on his. She leaned forward, and brushed her lips against his. The kiss started softly but quickly deepened as the past unresolved emotions funneled into their longing for one another.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as their connection ignited.

William’s hands found their way under her jersey, he slowly pulled away slightly from their kiss and looked at the jersey again, shaking his head.

“We really need to get you a new fucking jersey - and not one with Matthews on the back.”

Loren raised her eyebrows. “McCabe?”

William chuckled and shook his head.

“Wait - “ Loren darted upwards muttering last names of the Leafs roster.

William raised an eyebrow as he nodded his head. “Ahhhh - I see it now…you’re using me to get to….”

“Pacioretty?”

William laughed his iconic laugh. He was truly dazzled by this woman.

Loren cocked her head to the side, her voice soft but teasing. “Nylander - I always sort of liked him. But he’s super hard to get.”

“Not if you ask nicely,” William countered with a smirk, leaning in closer. “And maybe if you agree to model it for me sometime, throw on those stilettos and the garters we just talked about, and I can definitely get you a Nylander.”

[blue-jisungs]

minhyun always needs to have u on set for long kdrama shoots (esp overnight) cause he gets so tired :( but once he gets some kisses from you then he'll feel energized enough to shoot the next scene skdjsk

charged

author’s note. i decided to combine this req with kyky’s one, i hope yall don’t mind!!! i also hope it’ll make your mood lighten up even a bit:( not proof read, sorry!

word count. 760

maybe it was just his character.

he was shy, introverted and preferred quiet and peace over being in a loud room filled with people.

or maybe he was just tired… exhausted even.

not an ounce of strength or energy in him to do anything. minhyun just wanted to melt into his chair, become one with it, fall asleep– no, stop. backspace. he wanted to go home, to you, to fall asleep in your arms.

but he has to finish shooting this very exhausting scene.

as much as he loved being an actor, he just let out an annoyed sigh at the mere thought of the upcoming shoot.

“where’s my super star?!”

his eyes peeked open, not moving an inch.

you barged into the room and it was like sunshine flooding through an open window. (even thought the night sky was widely displayed behind the window in the room).

“min, here you are! i’ve been looking for you! it’s so cold here, why won’t you close the window?” you asked, voice filled with excitement.

he let his eyelids drop again.

“don’t… wanna… move…” minhyun mumbled and heard you walk up and close the window.

“i stopped by a nearby cafe and brought you and staff some food! i might be broke now but at least everyone’s stomach is full” you hummed happily and the sound of your energetic footsteps reached his ears.

he couldn’t control the smile that creeped on his lips: your presence and the energy you emitted was contagious, whether he liked it or not.

“yah, mr hwang! wakey wakey!” you grinned and suddenly there were cold hands on his cheeks.

letting out a gasp, minhyun’s body jolts and eyes open wide.

“your hands…!” minhyun groaned but broke into a bigger smile upon seeing your face up close.

“are they cold? sorry… i left my gloves at your place… anyway, wake up! i brought you some coffee, warm one! and bunch of snacks – sweet bread, milk bread, chocolate croissant, muffins…” your voice was so pleasant to listen to that he zoned out, losing control over his body once again.

“…but the cashier said that they can throw in some discounts so obviously i agreed…”

just for a second. his eyelids weighed like a ton, unable to keep open. neck giving up and letting his head drop down.

“…and then a tiger ran into me…”

one more minute. he was just resting his eyes, totally listening to you and keeping track of–

“…the aliens kidnapped me but i did a flip and escaped their ship!”

minhyun slowly rose his head up and you observed his tired face. a glowing smile adorned your lips as he visibly processed what you just said.

“what?” minhyun blinked slowly and a bubbly laugh escaped your mouth.

“you weren’t listening, huh? don’t worry. here, have some coffee” you hummed and after handing him the warm paper cup, you pecked his temple.

he was just trying to keep up with the story but gave up as soon as he felt your lips brush against his skin.

the coffee was tasty, just as he liked it. while he was sipping on it and munching on the sweets, he listened to you. to attempt on keeping him awake, you decided to talk to him: starting from how your day was and finishing on the fact that you just found out the difference between chipmunks, eurasian squirrels and american squirrels.

a knock on the door interrupted your rant about hamsters (“they are just squirrels without tails!”) and all of the energy that was back in him started to flow out again.

“minhyun, we’re waiting. whenever you’re ready” one of the staff members called and he just whined, putting his food away.

“come on, baby. you can do it! let’s just get it done and we’ll go home” you encouraged him and started planting kisses on every single spot your lips could reach.

his soft cheeks, perfectly shaped nose, cheekbones, forehead… even his jaw and chin. minhyun started giggling, feeling a bit ticklish.

his battery was about 99% charged.

“i think you missed a spot” your boyfriend teased playfully and you grinned, cupping his face.

landing a tender kiss on his soft lips, you could taste the sweetness of snacks he ate. minhyun melted into the kiss, pulling you closer. you felt him smile just before he backed away suddenly.

“100%. i’ll try to be quick, baby” he hummed and stood up. you weren’t sure what he meant but minhyun’s face was glowing with excitement again.

masterlist <3

taglist. @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@primoppang ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

[corawithfanfiction]

I Should've Kissed You Longer I Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Episode 4

episode 3 - episode 5

MY MASTERLIST! - EVENTS!

This is an original story and may not be copied or translated into another language without permission!

Summary: Steve is awake and after he wakes up, nothing is going the way you expected. The Avengers are trying to support you.

Warnings: loss, denial, uncertainty of death, amnesia, loss of memory, non-contact, obscurity, mourning, unconsciousness.

Author Note: I know that a few chapters are short, but the first chapters are a bit short as I need to cut the story in logical places as the chapters will get longer and longer. According to the current plans, our story will be around 27-28 chapters, enjoy your reading.

Friday, June 28

afternoon

Believe me, I'm trying not to let it end, but I'm exhausted.

Tony came up to me after I wrote earlier and asked why I didn't give you the notebook. It's not like you're gonna read three pages and get a flashback. In short, I feel like it's not going to work, so I've decided not to give you the notebook yet. I don't know when I'll give it to you…

I was talking to Tony, and after a long time, your door opened and you came out, followed by Bucky. Not for a moment did your eyes find me, Steve… Not for a moment. As you opened the door, you glanced at Tony, who was leaning against the wall next to me, nodded, and left, followed by Bucky. It was like a dagger through my heart. Just the sad look Bucky gave me told me how I was, how I looked on the outside.

So Tony took me to his lab, he knows I like his place, but no way. How could he dare to go anywhere near the concept of me being in a good mood? How can I have the possibility of recovery? I don't push this hard at university or in my specialty exams. Most things suck!

Anyway, let's not go on about that, Bruce came up and talked to me a little bit. He said a few things but I couldn't even listen. I was -

Forget it, you don't care.

Y/N

Saturday, June 29

In the morning

I'm cold, my skin is numb. I feel like I'm dying. I'm crying here like a teenager when I should be in churches because you keep breathing, but the situation we're in is terrible. I thought I could handle everything as effortlessly as water. Stupidity. How did I ever get through college with this idiocy?

A few hours ago Wanda was with me. Normally we are not very close, just greetings from a distance. But she came and told me about your memories of the missions you went on together. I'm still at the headquarters now, so she didn't have to travel far to get to me. I didn't meet you because I locked myself in my room and I think you are outside the headquarters. But I'm still locked in here. Anyway, then Wanda told me about you. Your advice, your strategies… It felt good to hear you from someone else. After a while, she put her hands on my temples and it was incredible.

I relived my memories with you, Steve. It was so incredible.

For example, the first time I saw you. Oh, my God… When you made me relive it, I literally felt you in my bones again. That feeling when I first saw you, that big contraction in my diagraphram… Everything went out of my mind for a moment. There was only you, walking in. I didn't care about your clothes or anything else. Whatever it was that made me turn my eyes to you, you turned to me for the same reason, and my gaze and our eyes met at the same time. I trembled from head to toe. It was like a flood, the heavens rumbled, the earth split open. All I cared about was you. I wanted to live in that moment forever.

Then I saw the first time we lived in the same house. The first day. Seeing you up close, at least again. It's just something unattainable for me right now.

Well, you may say, according to you, we were together only a week ago. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how long this time has seemed to me. You may think I'm telling you now, but no, you don't.

I still have this feeling in my stomach. If I say it's my period, I don't have pain at that time, and if I do, it kills me. You might be wondering why I'm telling you this. Something's coming, I feel it. I'm writing this to you because… I'm writing it.

You should know something, Steve. I love you. I love you so much. And I want you to know that I'm here for you whenever you want me.

No matter what,

We can go home…

Y/N

TAG LIST: @nekoannie-chan@delilah-heythere-blog@delilah-hey@calimoi@nanamiswh0r3@shamrockqueen@afrapic@bstrgar@schrutepark13@shadyloveobject@tfandtws@katmock@veryempathatic@temmxi@bobgirllll@just-a-hungry-reader@svechniswift@biancsthings@thesorcererstale@dxbrevgrey@smallmarvel@chrisevansbuddy @caplanreblogsfics @slavicangelmuah @nekoannie-chan

[xanax-orig]

Universal Divide

Loki x fem!Reader :)

Part 4

authors note: OMG HI SO SORRY, i didnt actually think anyone would read my shit but hey, next part at least. Its a bit short but i just wanted to put this one out bc i felt a bit bad but here we are babes. also im not gonna keep doing summaries cause im lazy and dont really know what to even write lmao. (also not my GIFs)

part 3 babes ^^^

Around the Tower, everyone had slowly picked up on the multiple days Loki kept coming in absolutely exhausted, eventually, one of the team would force him to his room for rest. But of course, he did anything but. Instead, he'd visit you, of course still hidden, but just to be near you brought him a new, strange sense of comfort. After watching you at the bar that night, and afterwards, a new surge flooded his system. A surge of protectiveness.

Loki watched over you for another two nights, wasting his precious hours debating how to show himself to you, how to ask.

How to convince you.

As another morning seeped through your curtains, another circle portal appeared, signalling to Loki. Its time to go. He stood reluctantly, his magic fading in a beautiful green shimmer, Loki barely takes a step before a small rustle stops him in his tracks. Barely glancing over his shoulder back to your bed, he sees you. Staring. At him.

Loki freezes in place as the small portal closes and realizes he has to explain himself now, he turns to face you better, smoothing out his nonexistent creases along his black, tailored suit. Slowly you creep up from the covers, your eyes wide and lips slightly parted as you gaze up at him.

You both sit (and stand) frozen, both from shock but entirely different reasons. Slowly, almost inching your hands towards your nightstand, your fingers curl around the first thing closest, being a bracelet, and hesitantly throw at him. As it hits his suit, and doesn't pass through, falling to the carpeted floor with a small 'thunk' a small smile flashes across your face. Whether or not it was of nerves or excitement - you're unsure.

Loki lets out a small chuckle as the bracelet hits his chest, watching it drop to the floor he quickly leans down, twirling the bracelet in his long, slender fingers. "That's a very fair move, my darling, perhaps too many movies though, I haven't done that move in quite a while, let alone would I do it with you, my dear."

His voice reverberates through your room, a strange glint dances through his eyes as he speaks, he slowly raises his fingers which still hold the bracelet, which gleams in the dim sunlight. Hesitantly, you take the bracelet from him, feeling his finger tips linger on your hand for a moment too long before placing it back on your bedside table.

"What- Why- I don-" Exasperated at your own stuttering you groan as your fingers run over your face, gently tugging under your eyes dramatically as you tilt your head back, trying to process any of what is happening.

Lokis chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at your stunned stuttering, running his own hand up through his hair, he slowly sits down on the edge of your bed, leaving a decent amount of space between the two of you. "I know this probably seems absurd, mental even, but just let me explain."

Nodding softly as words fail you once more, closing your mouth as a small, broken stutter is all that comes out. "I'm not here to hurt you, or anything like that please, do not be scared, Y/N." His voice soothes your ears as it falls from his tongue, dripping in an odd tone of sincerity, "Why're you in my room then?" You barely squeak back to him, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the blanket shrouded over your legs, pooling at your waist.

Loki lets a small sigh fall from his lips before he turns to face you once more, "I.. I wish to get to know you, Y/N." A small, almost nervous smile curls the corner of his lips, his gaze holding yours as your shoulders slowly slump, relaxing as he continues. "I shouldn't have woken you like this, I was hoping for something more... graceful, if you will." You nod softly, your eyes drift over his features in the slowly growing sunlight, he looks more... Divine. His jawline sharper than you'd thought, his eyes a piercing blue with intensity you had never noticed before, his suit almost impeccable as he slumps forwards himself.

As much as his features seem sharper, more perfect than ever, his eyes seem sunken in, his cheeks seemingly more hollow than what youd seen, even his hair more disheveled yet, still somehow charming. Loki's gaze boring into yours is almost painful as his hand twitches at his side, barely a breath away from yours now. "I know you probably have a lot of questions, but I just.." Loki sighs hard, his words catching in his throat as he tries again, "I want you to know.. the real me, not just the one in the movies you watch."

Slowly your expression softens as his fingers brush against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'd like that, alot." Once more you flash him a small smile, letting your fingers brush back against his, hooking your pinky into his reassuringly. Loki's eyes flick back to yours with new found intensity, this time with a strange flicker of hope crossing his usually stern features. "Really?"

Your smile widens as you nod, his pinky tightening in yours as a portal reopens in your room again. You both glance over to see Strange tapping his wrist knowingly before Loki reluctantly turns back to you. "I'll be back, don't worry." His voice seems weaker now, almost vulnerable as you nod, watching him stand as you take your hand back from his, "Okay.. When..?" Curiousity overtakes you as he steps towards the circular portal, sitting up straighter as you're hesitant for him to even leave on such little information.

Loki turns back, taking a few steps back over to you, his hand reaching out to brush some hair from your face, "I will be back tonight, don't fret you'll live without me." He teases, thought his voice lacks it's usual bite as he steps back, offering a small smile and nod before stepping through.

Loki leaves you alone in your room once more, your mind reeling at the fact, the God of Mischief was just standing in your room. Wanted to get to know you.

Note: OMG SO ik ik its short, but hey you met the boy himself finally 🥹.

tag list (just ask to be added babes 💋): @soulpiercing

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Your lieutenant has something against you, treating you differently from others. One day, you're exhausted and slap him on the face. But strangely...he asks for one more?

PAIRING: Lieutenant¡Ghost x F Sergeant¡Reader

WORD COUNT:2.138k

WARNINGS: SMUT/NSFW Dom¡Ghost. Masochist¡Ghost. Dirty talk. Ghost being slapped. F¡Being fingered. Masturbation. Cumming in gear. Praises and petnames! Hate sex(kinda?)

NOTES: I've been wanting to write for Ghost for a long while, now that i got time and the perfect plot, here's the meal <3 (want to write König next)

It's been a long while since you joined task 141, and since then, you have a big of a problem to deal with. Your lieutenant, Ghost, is a huge man, who wears a balaclava and a skull mask, that only makes him even scarier, he make you very scared whenever he's around, sneaking close without making sound, and you just notices by the big shadow forming behind you, and when you turns, you see him, standing with his arms crossed on his chest, looking down at you with a face you couldn't read, even if you tried your best, he's impossible to read. You can't know what he thinks about you, he doesn't talk too much, and when he does, it's only to make you foam in anger.

Some days, everyone is training, while Ghost keep an eye at the rookies, walking slowly close to them, his arms crossed on that damn big chest as his boots made a big stomp sound on the ground, each time he's getting closer, and it scares the shit out of you that he's staring at you. He comes closer, and says in his cold deep voice, not showing any emotions at all.

—"You're making it all wrong. Start all again, rookie." —His voice floods your brain, what are you doing wrong? You're doing just like the others. He notices how hesitant and scared you look at him, his voice gets a bit louder and commanding.

—"Do. It. Again." —He says leisurely for you to understand, there's no empathy in his voice. And you start all over again, recounting how many seconds and reps you're doing all over.

And after it, it just keeps going worse, he yells with you almost every day. Making you do more repetitions than the others, making you clean the bathroom on days that weren't yours, making you run for more time than the other, making you do more push-ups. You simply can't believe he's doing this only with you, you're the only one he keeps teasing and making do that kind of thing. It makes you completely angry, you breathe in and out and count to ten, trying to remain calm by the way he keeps treating you. Every damn day, he keeps yelling at you with his harsh voice, he's very rough with his words and his eyes don't show any sip of emotion. You're sure that the problem isn't you, he is the one that has some problem.

—"Here. Clean the bathroom." —Ghost says in his same tone, while he hands you the mop and other things for the cleaning. You sigh and it's decided. You won't accept his orders this time, it's insane how you're the only one he keeps messing with.

—"No." —Gathering the best courage you could, you gulp down and say. Looking him in the eyes, you were confident while standing in front of him.

—"I said…clean the bat—" —He's interrupted by your firm voice, saying it again.

—"And I said I won't do it. It's not my day of cleaning."

You're trembling, your firm voice disappearing slowly as you finish your sentence. You look him in the eyes, your pupils don't stop moving, while you can see that he lifted a brow at you.

—"Who said I care? I'm commanding you to do so, and you will. Because i'm your superior." —Ghost hisses out for you, leaning closer to your figure and pointing at your chest, his voice sounds a bit angry this time. You made him show some emotion, at least.

—"I won't do it!" —You said a bit louder, not looking him in the eyes this time, you look away and say firmly, your fists clenching.

—"How dare you talk to me like this, rookie? Have you lost your mind?" —He grabs you by your chin, forcing you to stare into those deep cold eyes that are eating you alive. Your patience is at the limit, you lift your hands and look away, giving him a full handed slap on his face covered by the mask and the balaclava

You lean back at the same instant, your eyes wide as you notice what you just did. You put your hand in front of your mouth as you gasp. Slowly you step back, wanting to run away from that place and never returning. Ghost is silent, without a word as his face is turned to the other side due to the slap.

—"Do it again."

—"What?!"

—"Slap me again."

Oh my, you are officially a dead woman, you made a big mistake and you're going to regret this. You gulp down and look at his face, he's still looking the other way, and you can't notice anything on his voice as always.

—"I…. i'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." —You tries to step back one more time, but this time, Ghost catches you by your wrists and brings you closer with no gentleness.

—"Do it again."

—"Sir, i can't—"

—"Don't call me sir now." —You start to feel dizzy, feeling your throat becoming dry as you gulp down one more time, you're starting to lose count.

—"Just do it again, it's an order." —With his order, you just close your eyes and do it again, this time a bit more gently. And you hear Ghost groans roughly, his hand on the cheek where you slapped him, even with the mask on.

—"Shit." —He mumbles against his breath, and you can finally notice something different in his voice. Something that you never felt in his voice before, some kind of emotion. He turns his face to you, and you take a good look at his eyes, seeing how for the first time he has a sparkle on it.

—"It's the…first time someone had the audacity to slap me in the face." —Ghost groans again, still feeling the tingle sensation on his cheek.

—"Do it again, it's so goddamn hot." —For a moment, you're silent, as your jaw falls open in shock. Is your lieutenant…liking this?

—"What did you say?!"

—"You heard it. It fucking turns me on." —He leans closer to you, pinning you against the closest wall as his breath hits your face. He's breathing heavily, his body wandering above you as he's groaning like an animal.

—"Sir…this is…" —There's no words to describe how shocked you are. In that small basement room where Ghost pushes your body against the wall, you can feel something hard against your thigh for the proximity, that makes your eyelids flutter

—"Just…just do it again." —And you do so, this time a bit more roughly as you bite your lower lip, a bit confused about what you're doing. But it just felt right, somehow. Ghost is completely amused by the sensation of it, he groans loudly, it's very animalistic.

—"Shit…that's it…" —He mumbles, his breath getting even more heavy as he keeps pushing you into the wall, you're feeling the "thing" on your thigh getting even more bigger, and your eyes are wider than a scared deer. For the first time you hear Ghost chuckles, and he does while looking at you, it makes your core ache for a moment.

—"I knew you were something more, rookie." —Ghost presses you the max he can against the wall, he leans closer to you, his voice breathing warm against your ear as he whispers to you.

—"Then why did you keep treating me differently?"

—"Because I knew you were the perfect one." —His voice is low and drips in desire, it's very new for you. —"Asking for more push-ups...for more reps only so I could see your perfect body, didn't you ever notice?"

Ghost look you into the eyes, the proximity, your bodies glued together, the air of this room keeps getting thicker and your mind blurrier with the desire you're feeling for that man that could only make you foam in anger some minutes before.

—"I never…noticed…" —You whisper, your voice sounding so weak and pathetic. Ghost just chuckles and brings you closer

—"Soldier…let me show you how much I've been craving for your body. How much I was making you angry just to have a look at you. How much I crave for you while jerking off every damn day."

Your face is all red as you're shocked by it, your hands go to his arms, and you grip there, so you wouldn't fall after hearing that. Your knees are weak as his deep voice keeps going into your brain. It's weird to see a man that you could swear that hates you, craving for you now. Every fiber of him yelling in desire as he keeps breathing closely to you.

—"Let me touch you…please?" —He's…asking you permission to touch your body. Your mind is messy, you can only nod with your head and whimper softly. His hands immediately goes to your body when you give him permission, traveling to your waist, and you look so small compared to him.

—"Are you sure?"

—"Yes…yes you can touch me."

—"Good girl, I love hearing you use your words." —His knee goes up from your thighs, only to find his way in your throbbing core, he could feel how much you were wanting this. Ghost chuckles, changing his knee to his hands, going down to your body to meet your wet pussy.

—"My lord…look at this. Already that wet?" —Ghost groans at the feeling of your wetness against his fingers, he even took off his gloves for that, his fingers playing with that thick liquid on your pussy. He chuckles softly.

—"It's okay, baby….you liked slapping me, don't you?" —Your brain is a full mess, you can only grip tight on him as he keeps talking dirty to you. Ghost plays with your clit as he's staring into your soul.

—"Look at me while i play with your clit." —He whispers to you, you lift your pleading eyes to meet him, his eyes have a sparkle of desire that he didn't have before. His fingers go at a fast pace, playing with your intimate part like it was everything he's been wanting for all these months. His fingers are fast, lengthy and he has no pity for you.

Ghost keeps playing with your mental sanity, sending you to the edge of the pleasure while inserting one finger inside your core, and you could only moan loudly for that sensation, it almost made you fall, if you weren't holding his arms, it makes your heart flutter and the pleasure it's making you nonsense. You close your eyes, hiding your face into his big chest, your whines muffled by his body as you keep closing your legs against his hands.

—"No, no…spread those legs for me." —He's playing with the rest of your sanity, making you insane. His other hand forces your leg to keep open, just so he could keep fingering you like this. The sensation can't be described, you felt your anger fading away as he kept touching you like this. Ghost inserts two more fingers in once at you, without any warning. That made you feel all the rest of your sanity vanishing away.

—"Oh sorry…I didn't prepare you well? Come on, I know you can take it."

His voice sounds so hot like this, he keeps groaning at seeing you having your pleasure, it's enough to him, only hearing your soft sounds and how your body reacts to his fingers. He keeps fingering you without shame, his pace getting faster and faster and you're feeling you're getting close to your climax.

—"I'm…close!" —It's all you can manage to say, the words slipping from your tongue with difficulty as you keep being a moaning mess from him. You feel Ghost enjoying this as much as you, as he groans against your ear.

—"Cum for me, princess…you're doing so well." —His whisper is all you needed to hear. A bit seconds after his words, you just came, arching your back a lot as you moan like never before for your lieutenant. You never thought you would do that for someone like him, and Ghost enjoyed it a lot, moaning with you as you came. You're driven to heaven and it's back in seconds, it's overwhelming, you feel your body trembling as you try to recover your breathing slowly. Ghost slowly takes off his fingers, showing the mess you made into his fingers.

—"What about…you?" —Your bashful voice asks, still a little dizzy from the recent climax reached. Ghost just chuckles and shakes his head to the side.

—"Don't worry, your pleasure is everything that matters to me. And after all…i just came together with you."

You look down and notice that his gear is a little wet close to your thighs. He just came with the sight of you having pleasure.

[cinnamoodles]

the language of flowers — part two, irises

warnings: more angst than part one which is great, also reader throwing stuff bc she’s a badass, and in character Anthony which is honestly more of a red flag than ooc Anthony but you love him anyway you nasty :)

word count: 1.4k (wow I impress myself sometimes)

author’s note: we love this part bc reader stands up for herself and Anthony is one major daddy issues boy.

read the other parts! — part one, daises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

ii. 1804, iridaceae versicolor. irises, trust

Anthony paced the length of this study—which wasn’t all too large, but stress relieving nonetheless. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, a tempestuous mix of newfound worry and lingering doubts. Today marked one year, one year without his father, one year his mother was cast into a depressive state, one year since he had taken on the mantle of viscount, and become the father figure that his youngest siblings did not have.

It had been far too long since he had last spoken to you—days? Weeks? He had never gone so long without even seeing your face, and that was a stretch. He’d spent his last few months mourning, brooding, and perhaps being a tad overbearing on himself, but he had to, for the sake of his family’s honour, it’s prestige. 

There’s a sharp knock on his door, it’s most likely Colin or Daphne, who are frequent in irritating him. He makes no effort to open the door, and with a practiced gesture, he dips his quill into the inkwell, resuming his task of poring over the estate's financial matters. How often had his father sat here, absorbed in these very same calculations? A pang of longing pierces through him at the thought, his heart echoing the emptiness his father's absence had left behind.

Another knock.

It must be Colin, his eyes sparkling, attempting to irritate him once again. “I’ve got a job,” he snaps, “and I suggest you get one as well, one that does not involve vexing me at every given minute.”

The door creaks open, candlelight flickering over the stacks of leather bound tomes and haphazardly organized scrolls, casting lanky shadows over his face, playing upon the strong angles, highlighting the lines of exhaustion that marred his usually composed countenance. His normally impeccable attire was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and his ink-stained fingers spoke of long hours spent in diligent work. He wasn’t in a position to meet anyone, much less usher yet another one of his young siblings out of his room.

“Oh, I vex you? Is that why you've been evading me like the plague?” Your presence was like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through the storm clouds—startling, yet warmly welcomed. The quill slipped from his fingers as his eyes widened in surprise, locking onto your face, a vision that brought back a flood of memories and feelings he had attempted to suppress.

Your stormy eyes burned through his deep brown ones, and you crossed your hands across your chest. Your soft hair was tucked behind your ear, and your eyes were wide, as if staring directly into Anthony’s soul, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to become lost, to dream, and to gaze into them as if he was merely a boy again, holding you in his arms.

“Say something, Anthony! I’ve not seen you in weeks, properly, and you’ve barely held a conversation with anyone other than your butler, and frankly, I—” 

Anthony quickly wrapped you in a hug, burying his face in your shoulder, your cotton dress soft to the touch. He mumbles. “I missed you.” He can feel you stiffen, but soon gently relax into his arms.

“That is why I came,” you smile, and pull away, holding him at an arm’s distance. “Oh, and my brother is getting married. I wanted to invite you personally to the wedding.” Your oldest brother, twenty eight years of age, was getting married, Anthony recalled. He was, of course, to be the next Duke when your father inevitably passed.

Anthony rubbed his eyes. “My sisters will come, of course, but I may not be able to.” Your invitation was tempting, and the prospect of seeing you again filled Anthony with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed you until this moment, when you walked in the door. But his responsibilities as the viscount weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he feared that leaving the estate at this crucial time might jeopardize his mother’s already precarious emotional situation.

"I wish I could attend, truly," Anthony replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "But with the estate's financial matters in such disarray, I can't afford to be away for long. I must attend to my duties here."

You frowned slightly, concern glazed across your soft, delicate features. "Anthony, you can't carry the burden of the entire estate on your own. There must be someone who can assist you, even for a short time."

"I've considered that," Anthony admitted, his mind aching from the internal struggle. "But finding someone trustworthy, capable, and knowledgeable enough to handle the estate's affairs is not an easy task. I fear leaving things in someone else's hands might cause more harm than good.”

You crossed your arms, frustration evident in your expression. "Anthony, you can't keep shutting yourself off from the world. Your family's honor and prestige won't matter if you run yourself into the ground!"

He takes a step back, feeling defensive under your stern gaze. "I am taking care of things. I'm doing what I need to do to ensure the estate's survival, which is all that matters to me, at this point in time."

"Are you?" you snap, your voice tinged with disappointment that Anthony could see etched in your face. "You've barely spoken to anyone, including me, for weeks. You're burying yourself in work, and for what? To prove some sort of point? That you’re fit to be the man of the house?"

"I don't have a choice," Anthony replied tersely. "As the viscount, it's my duty to oversee everything. And after losing my father, I can't afford to let anything else slip through my fingers."

"You can't live in the past, Anthony," you urged, taking a step closer to him. "Your father's gone, and while it's natural to mourn, you can't let grief consume you. Of course, you have responsibility—"

His jaw clenched, and he shot back, "Responsibility? What would you know of responsibility? You don't understand the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I can't just leave everything behind and go gallivanting off to weddings, like an immature child."

Pain flashed across your face, but Anthony was much too in his head to take a look at his surroundings. He continued, as if possessed by some spirit. “You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You’re spoiled, and the only thing your family has ever thought of doing for you is getting you married.” He spit. “So why don’t you worry about your responsibilities, and I’ll worry about mine.”

A single tear fell from your eye, and in that moment, Anthony wished he could take it all back, swallow the poison he had thrown at you so mercilessly. “I…” you bite your lip, and he wanted to take you in his arms, comfort you, and hold you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. “I’m sorry for whatever sin I’ve done to have you treat me like this.” You quickly wipe your tears and rush to the door. Anthony wanted to stop you, to scream about how he didn’t mean any of the words he said.

You quickly turn around, revealing a bouquet of irises, the specific ones Anthony had commented on the last time he visited your estate. He could barely remember when. “By the way, I bought you flowers. I thought they’d cheer you up,” you retort, before throwing the delicately tied bunch of flowers straight to his head, hitting his nose.

The door slammed, and Anthony was once again left alone, only this time, he’d have done anything to bring you back. Slowly, the petals of the irises cascaded down onto the ground, fracturing the flowers, and Anthony noticed a small piece of paper.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: In the quaint world of botany, the charming iris blooms have long been regarded as symbolic emissaries of trust and faithfulness. Like an ancient scroll unraveling before our very eyes, the iris, with its alluring hues and delicate petals, unravels the story of steadfast devotion and allegiance. Just as an honest man's handshake vouches for his sincerity, the iris bestows its trust upon those who approach with an open heart and gentle touch, and a receiving of this gentle bloom from either gender discloses that the gifter trusts you with their whole heart. Its regal demeanor, reminiscent of a gallant knight in armor, instills in us the assurance that this flower is a beacon of loyalty and constancy.

Trust. You had trusted him, and what had he done with that? He’d tossed it away, and your gift had broken. Anthony wasn’t usually one for symbolism, but these broken irises were pretty damn apparent.

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } a different kind of morning after. marc learns a little more about what emma is going through and emma becomes more certain than ever that marc might just be an honest to god angel. { pairing: } | eventual | original character { emma harper } x marc spector, emma harper x steven grant, and emma harper x jake lockley { contents: } mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, slight bullying by another patient, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes { warnings: } severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. bullying by emma's roommate. typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of emma's psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. { author's note: } I recently finished reading "tear down my reason" by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about emma and the boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really aren't works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. this series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. { word count: } 1,599 { taglist: } @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

The next morning, Marc wakes up on too little sleep, vaguely aware of the nurse wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

He takes in a deep breath, forgetting where he is for a second before the memories come flooding back to him.

He releases the breath in a heavy sigh, inwardly hating himself for winding up here. Again. The nurse finishes taking his vitals and tells him they’ll be leaving for breakfast soon.

Somehow, eating food seems like the last thing he wants to do and he debates whether or not to stay back.

His eyes pop open with a start when he remembers her. His resolve to talk to her again is challenged by both his exhaustion and the self-loathing belief that he couldn’t possibly help her.

‘I want to see her again, Marc…’ Jake sounds off.

‘And you need to eat something—can’t go runnin’ around on nothing…’

“I don’t plan on doing any running, Steven…”

‘Marc…’ Jake presses.

Marc pushes out another sigh, swinging his legs out and leaning over the side of the bed, burying his face in his hands.

He walks over to the small plastic cubby on the wall that holds his clothes, pulling on an oversized sweatshirt and running a hand over his face.

He steps out into the hallway, looking in either direction, and notices he’s one of the first to be up. Typical. He releases a yawn and moves toward the day room to see if she’s in there.

The room is all but empty but he finds a seat, slumping back the same way he had the night before.

‘I hope she’s doing a bit better today…she looked so frightened last night…’

Marc doesn’t want to show any concern for her, a girl he doesn’t even know, but there’s an underlying worry in his gut.

“Me too, buddy, me too…” He mumbles, telling himself it’s only for Steven’s sake.

More patients filter into the room and still she’s nowhere to be seen.

Half an hour later they’re calling everyone to line up if they’re going to breakfast.

He pushes from the chair and makes his way to the line.

She catches his eye, coming out of the room furthest to the end of the hallway on the right, just before the locked entrance to the wing. He notes that she’s still wearing a standard issue hospital gown instead of real clothing.

She’s talking to one of the floor staff, looking confused the same way she did last night, before they usher her to the end of the line.

Marc abandons his place near the middle to join her.

“Hey…” He gently greets her. “How’d you sleep?” He asks, hoping she’s more lucid today.

“Sleep?” She repeats, her mind working over his question.

Another voice chimes in over her, “she slept in the shower after she put on my clothes…” Another girl says grumpily, before she really looks at Marc.

When she takes him in, she clears her throat, straightening up a little bit and smoothing out her clothes. “You’re new…” She says, brightening a little.

Marc pays less than an ounce of attention to her after she explains what happened with Emma.

“Are you okay?” He asks her softly and frowning, wanting to reach out to give her some kind of physical comfort but knowing he shouldn’t.

Emma’s eyebrows pull together, shaking her head quickly just before their attention is pulled away to the staff leading them out of the wing and down through the building to the cafeteria.

As they go through the line, Emma takes hardly anything to eat which only settles more worry in Marc’s stomach.

She goes to sit alone, setting her tray down and pulling her hands into her lap, fiddling anxiously with her fingers.

Marc makes his way over, eyeing all of the other tables of people who’d grouped up.

Her roommate can be seeing staring at her from one such group, clearly gossiping about ‘the new girl’ to avid listeners.

“Can I sit with you?” He asks, keeping his voice as light as he can.

Emma nods quickly, scowling at her lap.

“Thanks,” He replies, trying to get her to talk as he slides into the chair next to her that intentionally blocks her from her roommate’s view.

“You should try to eat something, it’ll make you feel better…” He suggests.

Emma shakes her head, avoiding his eyes.

Marc nods, scrunching up the side of his face, “yeah…I’m not really hungry either…”

The other two in his mind watch quietly with bated breath.

“Y’know, I wanted to say last night…you’re not dead, you’re in the hospital, this isn’t—”

Emma looks up at him wide-eyed, so sure once again that it’s a test. She can’t even form coherent words.

Marc pauses, able to tell that no matter what he says, she’s just not capable of understanding right now.

“Are you scared of me?” He asks gently.

Emma is quick to shake her head.

She wants to tell him that she’s sure he’s an angel, sent to guide her through this process.

After all, no one had been nearly as kind to her since she’d gotten here. And he had been there as soon as she’d landed here, wherever here was.

Her response provokes Marc to worry that if Steven or Jake were to come forward she might become scared.

He tries to find a way to tell her without perpetuating whatever confusion is going on in her brain right now.

‘Careful, Marc…’ Jake reminds him.

Emma seems to be lost in her own thoughts as Marc watches her. He can almost see her battling people within her own mind.

“Are you hearing people in your head?” He asks, keeping his tone in check.

Emma nods quickly, casting her eyes to her lap again.

“I know what that’s like…” Marc nods.

Again, he wants so badly to explain to her about Steven and Jake but he knows how tricky it would be to do so without scaring her in her present state.

“Sometimes—…” He starts.

He presses his lips together with another scowl.

“Sometimes, I might not be…me…sometimes you might see Steven…or Jake…they’re friends of mine and we…we sorta—share— a body…”

Emma’s eyes fly to his, widening again, looking more than a little nervous, her voice tremoring, “l-like possession?”

‘Well done, Marc, scare the poor girl…’ Steven rolls his eyes.

Marc keeps his tone light, with a quiet, tense laugh. “More like roommates…in my brain…”

“A-are you sure they’re not…demons?”

“I’m sure…” He nods, taking no offense to the question as he starts to piece together what her brain is going through at present.

“Is that what you think you’re hearing right now?” He asks.

Emma nods quickly and then shakes her head, “That is what I’m hearing…and—I think some of the people here might be—ya know—” She pauses, giving him a look, “too…”

Marc glances around, nodding again with a pinch of his eyebrows. “I can see why you’d say that. But they’re not…they’re just sick…”

Emma stares at her untouched meal tray, swallowing, unconvinced.

“I promise if you see Steven or Jake, you don’t have to be afraid of them, in fact…they help me when I’m  scared…”

“Th-they do?” She stammers.

Marc gives her a look of certainty, nodding slowly with a warm hum of an, “Mhmm…”

“So they’re more like, angels then?” She asks hopefully.

Marc can’t help a soft but good natured laugh, “Yeah, kinda I guess…”

His laughter puts her more at ease. She nods in seeming understanding.

Marc eyes her tray, knowing it can’t possibly be good for her condition to not eat.

“I’ll eat three bites if you do?” He offers, strategically inserting a number of significance to the kind of spirituality that her brain seems fixated on.

Emma summons a deep breath and lets it out in a huff of a sigh through her nose, scowling at her plate.

But her brain deduces that three is a good number, like God. So she agrees.

Marc can just see the gears turning in her brain, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping using the number three specifically wouldn’t make her more inclined.

She reaches for her fork, stabbing at her eggs haphazardly. She gives him a questioning look when she raises the first bite to her mouth, waiting for the go ahead.

Marc nods and offers a quiet smile, likewise reaching to take a bite of his own.

Emma watches him carefully, waiting for him to do it with her.

As they take the bite together, in some indescribable way, it makes her trust him.

She takes the second bite more easily, doing so without him but still keeping an eye on him to make sure he’ll eat too.

She’s not sure if angels eat human food, but her logic is that if it’s good for her to eat, it must also be good for him. And despite everything, she wants so badly to help him too.

Marc takes a sip of orange juice and then repeats the bite from before.

This affirms to her that he keeps his promises and she takes the final bite.

‘Nicely done, Marc—think she’s starting to like you…’ Steven tells him more genuinely this time, the grin in his voice evident.

Marc likewise can’t keep another light smile from his lips as he finishes his own third bite.

It doesn’t even occur to him, that in this moment, he’s all but completely forgotten the real reason he’s here.

[gravitytrips]

Bits of Glass 12

From the Organized Medical Journal of Felix Ludwig.

File name: Bits of Glass

Note: This document will be written in English so that the Lady Administrator may read it with ease.

Date: 14.02.1969

Unfortunately, my illness persists. I have been caring for myself as much as possible so that I may return to Jeremy’s side.

Tragedy struck last night. Mick has fallen ill as well.

I assume that this is because of his visit in the vents.

He attempted to isolate himself in his camper van, but eventually had to come back inside due to his flooding of his van’s facilities.

Of the four hours he has been in here, he has been in the bathroom for at least three. The sickness is coming from both ends, to put it nicely.

I have put him on the same medication that I am taking, so he should be well soon enough.

I will be well enough to return to Jeremy’s side tomorrow. 

———————————————————————

Good news! My fever broke almost immediately after my previous entry. After a few hours, I was well enough to return to caring for Jeremy.

When he first saw me, he was incredibly frightened. I had completely forgotten to approach him slowly and gently in my rush to ensure his health. I am also sure that my disheveled appearance may have surprised him.

Fortunately, I caught myself in time and retreated to make a slower approach.

When Jeremy recognized me, he seemed relieved. Mikhail informed me that all of them were very worried while I was gone.

Jeremy’s health has seemingly remained constant, so I will instead write on Mick’s health.

He is bad off.

Fortunately, the diarrhea has stopped, but his ceaseless nausea continues. None of the nausea medicine I give him helps. He dry heaved for nearly an hour before his body was too exhausted to go on. He is asleep in my office now.

I need to give him his medicine, but I hate to wake him. Sleep is a kind path out of illness and he struggles to get into this state. If I wake him now, he may not be able to go back to sleep, and that would be quite the curse.

He is sweating profusely, but cannot keep any fluids down. I worry about how dehydrated he is becoming.

I have been able to force him to keep solid medicine down, so he shall hopefully recover soon.

I will update tomorrow.

@aerowolf

@callme-adam-iguess

@paranoidginger

@wokeuptraveledstraightintothesun

@ratlordsarah

@treatsf

@scouts-cosplays

[thegeminisage]

soundtrack for the ossuary

sometimes i put music suggestions in my fic notes, but i didn't make an exhaustive list, so i decided to make a tumblr post of what songs i listened to while writing or editing any particular selection. this is mostly so i don't forget but partially so if anybody else wants to feel insanely authentic about it they can. some of these choices are really embarrassing, so if you read it, you have to pinky promise not to judge me, ok?

reapify - desolation - listened to this while writing the prologue. i'm big into "music that sets a strong tone without having a specific melody or lyrics that can distract you" and this is the first of many such cases. it's got a slow build that lends itself well to that "something is about to happen" feeling.

atrium carceri - leviathan - i probably beat this one up the most while writing this fic. specifically, the is the music i played when writing lucanis waking up underwater, but i also played it a TON throughout other scenes with quiet moods when i couldn't decide on something more definitely. it's haunting and creepy and aquatic and even has ambient background noises. could not have asked for a more perfect ossuary song. i haven't played the game this is from, but i'd like to one day!

hans zimmer & lorne balfe - down, but not out - this is from veilguard's ost! i played it while writing the first escape attempt, where lucanis ran into the qunari prisoner, and the fight scene with zara. the part where it picks up is perfect "wandering the halls but very quickly" music.

the allergorist - dark forces (robert koch rework) - this one was for lucanis getting tossed back in his cell after the escape attempt, realizing what's happening, and being told to eat the horrible thing. sinister and dramatic!

steve roach - void memory 3 - for most of chapter 3, where lucanis is forcefed spite. it's very sinister and creepy and definitely lends itself well to an atmosphere of being trapped in a tiny room with the object of your own demise. also listened to this during the scary ch5 torture scenes.

daniel licht - void theme - this was what i listened to while doing the actual forcefeeding scene; it's a great song to introduce spite, as it introduces the outsider in dishonored 2. also listened to this during the scary ch5 torture scenes.

øneheart - this feeling - when lucanis wakes up to discover he is, shockingly, still alive and not a monster.

beauty & the beast's "prologue" - one by moisés nieto and one by diana dream - it's a song that lends itself to a "trapped in a tower" feeling. i added them to my playlist after the fic writing process had already been finished, but i listened to them while editing a lot of the quieter scenes where lucanis is Still Stuck In Prison, and especially the mid-scenes of chapter 4.

hiræth - whiteout - for the scene where lucanis finds out spite has wings, and correctly guesses his name. interestingly, this one is melodically similar to the song i listened to at the beginning of the chapter.

hans zimmer & lorne balfe - from a trickle to a flood - another one i listened to this during the scary ch5 torture scenes. it's just got a creepy feeling of dread around it!

henry jackman - taking a stand - okay, now we are getting to the embarrassing choices...this is what plays during the elevator fight in, um, the w*nter s*ldier. i was writing an elevator fight in the escape attempt at the end of chapter 5, so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ actually, i listened to this a little bit too hard. without having seen the movie in a very long time, i accidentally choreographed my action scene so that it matched the movie perfectly. i had to go back and edit it, lol.

nikola zolkiewska - smoothness - didn't hit on this one until i got to the editing process, but it made perfect music to edit the "nyrys" scenes to. it's very sad and intimate, which fits the mood, until, you know. and uh, for the "you know" scene? total silence. just so we're clear.

philip steele - another rain - for the beginning of chapter 8, after lucanis has been brought to his lowest and is being affected by the desperation demon. i've loved this song for many years, and i actually had a spotify playlist with nothing but covers of it, but this one seem to match the mood i wanted the most.

hans zimmer & lorne balfe - love and ashes - another one from the game. this is actually what i listened to while writing spite and lucanis's...mind meld? flashback? after spite kisses him (in a very buffy/faith way...check the fifth gif) to snap him out of the desperation demon's hold. the flashbacks from spite's pov, the reveal that he cannot leave lucanis's body, and his stopping lucanis from committing suicide were one of the first parts of this fic i dreamed up (along with the assault scene), and it just so happened that i was dreaming them up in the 40-minute car ride to and from work, and the dragon age soundtrack was what i was playing on loop. the lucanis/spite relationship may not be overtly romantic in this fic (though it probably will get closer to that in the sequel), but this is, to me, more or less a confession scene: it is when lucanis and spite realize they love each other. i got myself pretty choked up writing it!

marlene t - safe & sound (piano version) - i happened to come across a fanvid with a piano cover of this song in it right as i was writing the dream with illario in it during chapter 8. i'm not sure if this is the same cover, but it has the same vibe. definitely misted over writing this scene too; this is such a warm, tender song, which is how lucanis thinks of illario, who he misses so badly...And Yet.

henry jackman - fury - is it my fault the w*nter s*ldier soundtrack fucks? not only can i tell you that this song is what plays when lucanis opens his eyes, fights off the venatori, and flies to the artifact, i can tell you that in the movie in my mind, the wings flap open right after the drop at 1:56. it's got such great rising tension, it's so action-y, it's the perfect tone to take us out of that emotional dream sequence.

hams zimmer & lorne balfe - sea of blood - theee iconic lucanis theme song, this does of course play in his intro in the game, so it's what i listened to while writing him being dragged to the crystal prison and escaping it to finally meet rook.

nima fakhrara - crossroads (connor) - another slightly embarrassing choice. i am a little biased by, unfortunately, being familiar with the game and soundtrack this song is from (and i have quite a few more ambient songs from it on my very big general writing playlist - mixed feelings on the game but NOT on the music), but it plays in an incredibly tense moment where a character has to make a huge choice with high stakes, and the preceding conversation has another person basically talking him down off a ledge. this is more or less what happens to lucanis after he stops the elevator and accuses rook of being zara, so it fits perfectly. rook and neve have to talk him down from the very justifiable fit of crazy he's having so he doesn't just kill them all before they can escape. it was a scene that gave me a LOT of trouble, but well worth it - it wound up being one of my favorites.

amtrac - intermission - i listened to this while writing both the first and final scenes of the last chapter - the scene where lucanis recalls the warning he gave zara, and the promise illario and he made to each other, and the scene where he watched the ossuary slowly shrink into the distance until it's gone forever. the quiet anticipatory feeling of this song makes it one of my all-time favorites.

birdy - keeping your head up - if this fic was a movie, this would be the credits song. spite literally kept lucanis's head up, and now they're out! i'm picturing the credits rolling over the iconic treviso skyline as the rowboat shrinks slowly into the distance, lol.