#dangling over a cliff or some shit

[citrine-elephant]

cracking out an idea i had with my previous hyperfixation (to explain why he always had his neck covered)

as many times as leon's been strangled, what if.... what if, scars around his throat. specifically from being garrotted.

[gothamite-rambler]

Swamp Thing (entering Ivy's lab): Ivy, I dealt with Nightwing. We don't have to worry about him anymore.

Ivy (stopping her botany work, worried: Dealt with him how?

Swamp Thing (bragging): He's dangling off a cliff. He'll fall off soon. You're welcome.

Ivy's eyes widened in shock and she placed her test tubes on the table.

Ivy (racing past ST): God damn it, Alec! Nightwing, don’t lose your grip!

Swamp Thing (confused, running with her): Huh? I thought you wanted me to kill him.

Ivy (angry): When I said get rid of him, I meant lie! You could've waited for me to talk to him—not try to kill him! Shit! Shit! Nightwing keep gripping the cliff!

Swamp Thing: Okay, I am not a mind reader. I hear "get rid" and I think "kill."

Ivy: Just shut up, grip the vine, and help pull him up!

Ivy focused her powers and a vibrant green vine shot out, quickly extending toward the cliff's edge. Peering over, she spotted Nightwing hanging on with one hand. He was busy reaching for another part of the rock to hold on to, but seeing Ivy made him smile with a casual wave.

Nightwing (waving with his free hand): Hi Pam!

Ivy (relieved): Hey, kid. Here, grab on.

Ivy lowered the vine, and Nightwing gripped it with one hand, relieved that his foe-turned-friend was saving him. As he climbed back up, Ivy and Swamp Thing held the vine steady to support him.

Swamp Thing: Now I'm double confused.

Ivy (sheepishly): He's the only one I like. He’s defended my practices in the past, and he’s not bad for a hero. I don’t want him dying or hit with pollen. Don’t tell him I said this.

Swamp Thing (lying): Totally, secret is kept.

Nightwing's hand grasped the edge of the ground, and he pulled himself up. Once Ivy saw him, she walked over and shook his hand, knowing that hugging him in front of others would damage her reputation.

Nightwing: Thanks, Pam. I thought I was going to slip and... Nah, I would’ve made it back up, but thanks.

Ivy (patting Nightwing on the shoulder): No thanks needed. Seriously, never mention this to anyone.

Nightwing: Right, so I see you're committing some crimes here. Can I negotiate with you?

Ivy: We can compromise, but you have to make a pretty good argument.

Nightwing (shrugging): Works for me.

Ivy and Nightwing walked off as Swamp Thing rolled the vine back up.

Swamp Thing: By the way, Nightwing, Ivy said you’re the only Bat kid she likes—

Ivy lashed out with her vine, striking Swamp Thing across the face.

Swamp Thing (cont’d): Ow, damn it, Ivy!

Ivy (laughing nervously): He’s a compulsive liar.

Nightwing (smirking): Sure he is.

[sakiofwaterdeep]

(lowercase intended - tw: hints to abuse)

majority of the time when astarion gets all sassy and snappy, you ignore his remarks and his words, letting him have his drama and get it out of him. but sometimes, he can go far - too far. "astarion, im sorry i was just trying to help-"

it's evening at camp, and it's been a long day. exploring from where the goblins are you had come across a swamp in which there was a gur. astarion dealt with him of course but he'd been an absolute grump ever since then.

"Oh of course! It's always the same, you trying to help and be some hero - some sort of legendary tale in the making!" he snaps at you, turning to face you as the two of you stood by his tent.

"i'm not trying to upset you Astarion-"

"Oh, hells! give it over already! Acting like you're a saint-"

"im sorry, alright-"

"You're sorry? for what?" he stares you dead in the eye, a look you haven't seen on him yet, his eyes bore into you, almost cowering over you.

"for the monster hunter, i understand-" he's not letting you finish your sentences and it's getting too frustating.

"you understand now do you? You haven't lived for years and years in absolute pure shit - how in the hells could you ever understand?! You are nothing but- but a small pathetic wannabe saviour-" he's breathing heavy, and there's fire in his eyes but the stern look on his face stirs ever so slightly upon seeing the way you're looking at him right now. almost scared of him, tears brimming in your eyes. "you. know. nothing" you spit at him through a whisper before turning hot on your heel and storming away through the camp. all eyes are now on astarion, shadowheart and gale looking up from their books, glaring at astarion having heard everything. lae'zel pretending to not have heard whilst karlach and wyll are both looking a bit worriedly in the direction you left.

astarion just looks down, ignoring everyone and going back into his tent.

a few hours pass and others are asleep, but both you and astarion aren't. he finally gets the courage to find you, to which he does, not far from camp, sitting on the edge of a cliff rock, feet dangling, staring straight ahead - with tear stained cheeks.

"...may i?" your head snaps to astarion, and you quickly look away again, shrugging but moving slightly for him. he gingerly sits down next to you with a sigh, "darling, i-"

"you know i thought about what you said and yes, you lived through so much horror for almost 200 years but that doesn't mean that i didn't suffer" you say quietly with a big breath, eyes staring straight ahead, hands in your laps. the words rolled off your tongue quickly, like you'd been practising what to say for the past few hours.

"i know" astarion replies, pausing for a few moments, looking at you but you still looking away from him, "I think i got scared"

his words cause you to finally look at him, a bit confused, "scared?" you repeat, eyes a little furrowed. astarion can now see your red, almost swollen eyes from crying, you feel a bit embarrassed noticing his eyes flicker.

"yes, scared" he nods slowly and breathes out, his knee up - wavering at little, hands resting behind him resting on the rock, "i haven't had anyone care about me the way you did back there with that wretched gur. no one has stood up for me like that in well...years...maybe not ever. I didn't know how to react and now, i realise that perhaps maybe I didn't react correctly"

you raise your eyebrow at him, making a small face when he mentions 'maybe' but it is a fact that he reacted the way he did.

"okay, I didn't react correctly" he corrects himself, he's silent for a second, looking away and then looking toward you, his face softer than you'd probably ever seen it, "I'm sorry"

not once have you ever heard those two words slip out of his mouth before, you're not sure if he even had the ability to say them but he does, and his eyes repeat the meaning. you pause, nodding slowly, looking away for a few moments, "thank you"

the minute or so of silence that follows is comfortable, until astarion reaches over to the bottle of wine that sits next to you and takes a sip, quickly pulling a face. "gods, this is awful! remind me to never let you chose our drinks ever again"

you let out a small chuckle, "im sorry not all of us have such a refined rich palate. i just drink anything"

"yes, darling, i can tell" astarion replies, still drinking the wine he'd complained about seconds ago, nudging you with his shoulder lightly.

"such a dick" you laugh lightly, obviously joking, causing astarion to look amused in response.

and that's the night astarion goes to bed and realises that you're not like the others, you're not like cazador, you're certainly not out to get him - you actually care. and oh gods, maybe he cares for you in a different way.

[evilkitten3]

no he still dies. it's just that he has to listen to naruto and sakura bitching at him alongside sasuke.

sakura maybe could have tried to save him but. why would she

naruto crack au where kakashi manages to successfully drill the "never abandon your comrades" thing into team seven's heads

so when sasuke deserts naruto and sakura immediately desert with him. like he gets to the village gates and they're just waiting for him bags packed like "what took u so long we doing this or what"

he tries to get them to go back bc of course he does. "no you losers this is about me i'm going to kill my brother. also i'll have to kill my best friend for the super sharingan and you two are like the only people i talk to". but they do not listen. teamwork sasuke we will defeat your brother (OUR brother #communism) with the power of teamwork. just like kakashi-sensei said

suddenly orochimaru has to deal with three horrible little goblins with an even more codependent relationship than his old team

[hetchdrive]

Look At The Princess continues to hit it's just such a good episode. John and Aeryn doing whatever the hell it is they're doing, John and Scorpius doing whatever the hell it is they're doing, bizarre alien cultural practices surrounding relationships, Ben Browder's wife giving a stellar performance of a weird little freak of a woman as always, John dangling Scorpius over a vat of acid, Aeryn determinedly not leaving a himbo to die after falling off a cliff, John doing some fake spy shit, the introduction of the Scarrans and the implication Everybody Knows What Scorpius' Deal Is, D'Argo and Chiana banging in the background constantly, "Buffy the vampire slayer will be dead"... I could go on.

[stiltsthegm]

Trace's Forum Post

By popular demand: the text version of Trace's forum rant that I recited on Eidolon EDM episode 0. I made this several months ago as a way to try and solidify her personality and voice in my head.

>If you want to go back to Earth so badly, why don't you just move in with a human? There's gotta be a bunch of 'em that'd love to have a dolphin roommate.

this post was written by a human. i have no idea what you get out of browsing a cetacean forum but whatever floats your boat i guess.

and before some asshole butts in goin 'why are you assuming theyre human they could be a manatee or something'

no. fuck no. only a human would be stupid enough to make that suggestion.

in the extremely unlikely event im wrong [which im not because im a genius], heres why thats a really bad idea and you should be embarrassed for even thinking it.

dolphin fans are maniacs. like we all make fun of horses here and their spindly-ass legs and how nothing about their body makes any sense and someone politely chuckling a mile away could startle them into throwing themselves off a cliff. but horse people have nothing on dolphin people. its a whole other fuckin level.

yeah sure lets play this scenario out, lets get all hypothetical. i move in with someone rich enough and weird enough to spend a completely absurd amount of money bringing me back from the moon and also constructing an aquarium for me inside their presumably giant apartment or mansion or whatever. do you know what happens to dolphins in this situation? like, historically? wild shit. dolphin people dont want to just be your friend. they want to make a spiritual connection, whatever the hell that means. theyll spend hours every day talking to you like youre a baby, assuming that if they do it enough, theyll one day wake up to you reciting a sonnet to them. theyll put drugs in your fish hoping to 'expand your mind' and form a 'psychic connection'. theyll do shit with electrodes. and if you somehow do not immediately try to get your smooth ass out of there, its fuckin over for you. youll become a shadow of your former self, doing flips on command and squeaking out the best approximation you can manage for 'i love you, janice' to get just one more treat.

ive seen that shit happen. its fucking bad.

so no, i will not be taking your advice. im gonna get rich and then ill use my own goddamn money to buy a ticket back and then create a sickass aquarium mansion with reefs. and if i really want some human companionship ill just dangle some grant money in front of some middle-aged marine biologists whose idea of a good day is proving that an abyssal sea cucumber hasnt gone extinct yet. they understand what im about more than any 'dolphin fan' and are just as depressed as me.

[melkyt]

✨️Tarzan!LawLu au ✨️ (Dragodile, CrocoDad is a thing that is mentioned).

Luffy, the lost wild child of the jungle, raised by animals with no contact with the outside world.

Law as a historian and medic for an expedition run by Robin, when he gets a lead that he decides to follow up on and subsequently gets lost in the jungle, gets injured, and gets found by Luffy.

Luffy with long hair, no concept of human language, or even that there are others like him is immediately fascinated by Law, and his clothes xd

He takes Law, who is out of it due to his injury-induced fever and treats him to the best of his ability. Luffy has the basic knowledge of plants that treat most things thanks to the other animals.

It is too safe when Law is lucid, he has so many questions and also needs to find a way back to civilization. Finds out Luffy also knows about a ruin based on the trinkets and treasures he has around his nest/home, and most importantly the cloud necklace he is wearing. It is what they are looking for and decide that they need Luffy to find it.

Bonus points if Crocodile is the one funding/running the expedition and has a lot of money on the line with this discovery.

Luffy eventually gets Law back to civilization and well, Crocodile is there and he recognizes the cloud Luffy wears.

This leads to our fave wild child boi being captured and put in a cage, as he refuses to cooperate in a civil way, and puts more than one guy into the hospital until Crocodile subdues him.

Law argues this is inhumane, he is a doctor and the man needs treatment, not a cage.

Crocodile answers that he will let the brat go as long as he shows them the ruins, dangling the necklace in front of Luffy's cage.

Luffy gets what the man wants and refuses, he ain't going to do shit any human tells him, they hurt his friends. He has seen Croc and his men shoot more than one. So he stays silent. No matter how much they torture him.

That is until Crocodile notices how Luffy responds to Law, that they even found a language they can communicate on some level. So he makes a threat to hurt Law with clear intent that would be obvious to anyone.

Luffy growls and gives in with a nod. He will show them. They put him in chains and makes Law come with them to keep Luffy in line. The way to the ruins is past his nest, that he has called his home since he was lost.

The men start going through it. Luffy tries to fight them for disturbing it. They set it on fire, and Luffy runs in to grab the one thing he has from his life before the animals find him. It is a baby blanket, he gets burned in the process. Law takes this chance to overpower the guards and they run away. Luffy does not manage to get the blanket but it is saved from the fire by Crocodile who was trying to catch Luffy.

And he recognizes it as the blanket of someone he lost a long time ago, a loss that ended any hope of ever having a relationship again. It can't be the same child, not after all these years. He has been exploring this island/area for over a decade and never a sign?

LawLu meanwhile escape through the jungle. Luffy leads him to the ruins which is quite a climb through an overgrown area, then past a waterfall and a cave passage covered in vines. It is not surprising it was never found.

They heal up and relax. Obligatory bathing in a crystal lake scene where Law has a crisis over Luffy's muscles xd.

Luffy is determined to go back and fck up Crocodile for hurting Law and burning his home. Law tries to convince him that it's not worth it.

Crocodile finds a way to track Luffy through the winding Jungle, he comes alone. If this is his son, he has to know.

Drama, a confrontation. Luffy almost dies when they tussle and he falls off a cliff. The panic, terror. Law looking for a way to scramble down, getting a little bit banged in the process. Law being bloody and exhausted, focusing on nothing but Luffy's treatment.

Crocodile forgetting all about the ruins, for now. This is his son, he recognizes a scar or a birthmark that Luffy has, something distinct.

Law manages to stabilize Luffy. They carry him to an area where they can get helicoptered out. They go to some big hospital.

There is a lot of legal nonsense. Dragon shows up and wants to take guardianship immediately, arguing with Croc.

Law pulls some strings as quite the prominent doctor and gets Luffy signed into existence under his protection, not trusting the two people who lost him in the first place.

Robin while nobody is paying attention to her, registers the ruins and surrounding area as a historical site and an animal sanctuary, making it impossible or very unprofitable to loot it. It's on the radar now. Crocodile can't touch it even if he wanted to. Though he has bigger things on his mind.

Law is there as Luffy starts to get the basic idea of human society, but never loses that feral streak. They settle down in a home on the edge of the village, with Law studying the history of the ruins and working as a local doctor while Luffy takes care of the animals and leads tours through the woods, preferring being out in the wild over civilization but he always comes home to Law.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

Toi et Moi

A/N - Happy Birthday yesterday @leafs-lover - this is my fic for your birthday celebration. It’s waaaay longer than I had planned (11+k words) but I wanted to try and get some previous ideas pulled together into one fic.  This still falls under William Nylander and the reader who is a global super-star in her own right.  

I’m sorry - I can only write about Willy Styles for now but I’m starting to have some thirsty thoughts about a handful of other players; I plan to keep broadening my horizons 🙂

I hope you like this regardless.  

Warnings: 18+ content, general smut (p in v, oral m receiving), swearing, pregnant reader feeling insecure, discussions of jealousy

November, 2023 - Stockholm

“Fuck….William…” you pant.  “Oh…my…god…. – oh no…shit - what time is it?”

“We’re good - we got time” William grunts as he continues to buck his hips, pounding his cock deep into you.  “Fuck Y/N….you feel too fuckin’ good”.

You and William finally had a couple of hours to spend alone together after days of him being in the spotlight during the Leafs visit to Stockholm for the NHL Global Series.   With the first game against Detroit behind them, William had once again been thrust into the eye of the media hurricane that ensued after his 3 point showing.  His goal and two assists helped the Leafs win a come from behind game which only helped to bolster the overall frenzy over William’s (and the other Swedish members from the 4 teams) return to Sweden. 

While William, the team, and the WAGs that came along on the trip stayed at a luxury hotel in the city, you opted to stay at the apartment where you and William now consider “home-base” during the off-season; it was the safest bet for you to remain away from the cameras that were all but guaranteed to be following William this week. The apartment is, by far, one of the happiest places on earth for you and you had been looking forward to coming back to it, albeit a a different time of year.  The times that William and you have spent together in this space are nothing short of perfection and the present moment, with William underneath you, was certainly no exception.

William’s hands move skilfully around your body as your hips rock back and forth, grinding and forcing his cock deeply inside of you.  You catch William watching you; his expression is a mix of deep desire and ultimate pleasure and he smiles at you when your eyes lock on each other.  

“Fuck, William….” you sigh as the corners of your lips form a tiny smirk, followed by a full grin.  Your mouth drops open as the tip of his cock, coupled with his thick girth, hits the perfect spot while stretching you just right; your walls respond by gripping his cock even tighter.  You can feel a fresh release of slickness seep from your core and a distinct groan comes from William as thrusts become faster and harder.   

He sits up and kisses you madly; in doing so, you slide further down taking his entire length inside of you.  A jolt of pleasure shoots up through your body and you can’t help but to tightly grab a fistful of William’s hair as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.  It feels like you - your whole body is dangling from a cliff and you grasp at his body like he’s your only saviour.

What William doesn’t say with words during these moments, he more than makes up for it with a symphony of the most sensual and erotic sounds.  Normally every grunt, moan and growl that’s forced through his gritted teeth shows you what you do to him and you, in turn, close your eyes and allow yourself to completely melt into him.  

In this moment however, thoughts in your mind begin to converge between feeling the ultimate pleasure with the love of your life and uncertainty that swirls in your mind with William’s new heights with his celebrity.

You desperately try to stay in the moment with William as he sucks on your earlobe, sending another high-voltage shock through your body.  

You press your forehead against his jawline and graze your lips against the base of his muscular neck, mouthing the words “I love you” over and over against his skin.  You taste the delicious salt of his skin as you leave open mouthed kisses along his shoulder blades and over his collar bone.  

William’s strong arms have you fully enveloped, pulling you into him even closer, he pumps his cock upwards into you.  The slapping sound of William driving into you grows even louder, echoing alongside your strained cries throughout the entire apartment.   Your ass, tits and thighs give way to the ripple effect of each powerful thrust; your body’s reflection in a nearby full length mirror is on full display and it catches William’s gaze.  He watches you in the mirror as you ride and grind his cock with such fervent passion that he loses complete control and erupts deep within you, grunting and groaning with each twitch from the after effects of his orgasm.  He holds you in place for a moment, and once his lips find yours again, he kisses you deeply, releasing a long moan into your mouth as his hands glide effortlessly over your glistening skin.

“Shit, I came before you didn’t I?” he said, huffing breathlessly, his lips still pressed against yours.  His hands move up to your face, brushing some of your sweaty tendrils away from your face.  

He looks at you and smiles; his thumbs lightly stroke the delicate skin on either side of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking unbelievably beautiful…”

You bashfully smile, looking down from his gaze…your eyes landing on the shine of his thick chain around his broad neck.  “So are you,” you said softly.

You can feel William’s cock softening, still inside of you.  His seed begins to drip from your entrance but he remains holding you in place on top of his lap. 

“You ok?  I know we don’t have a ton of time right now to take care of you… but you know I’ll make this up to you, right?” William said gently.

“Mmmm-hmmm…you know you give me multiple orgasms regularly…I think I can let this one go” you said jokingly, followed by a soft kiss on his mouth.  

“But are you doing ok?  I know been a fucking circus since I got here…and I know I’m kind of being pulled in all different directions - ” 

“William” you gently interrupt him, cupping his face and smiling.  “This is such a huge moment for you…for every Swede on all the teams.  I’m just so fucking proud of you, I could almost burst.  And to watch your family get to see what you do…live…at home in Sweden - it’s fucking amazing.  This is a once in a lifetime thing, and I want you to take in as much as you can.  Trust me, I’ve loved watching every single moment of what’s happened here.”

William kisses you again, and helps you slide off his lap, murmuring words of love to you. He helps you onto your side, his arms wrap around you and you nestle your face into his chest.

“I sort of wish our relationship was more out in the open now though - I feel bad that you’re always sort of in the background and not out taking pictures with me” William confessed.

Since you and William officially began dating, both of your ultra-private tendencies kicked into high gear.  It’s not always been easy; when William is asked about any part of his personal life, he averts spilling any details except for a few crumbs about Pablo and Banksy, friends and family.  You have done the same during interviews and have become a master at giving answers with no real details associated with them.  It’s worked well for the most part, allowing your relationship to flourish without being under a microscope.  You were able to date, move in together, become engaged, get pregnant and married without a whiff to anyone that didn’t respect your right to privacy.  Up to this point, neither of you seemed to be in a rush to make your joint lives public; you both lived by the adage “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and it has led to a happy and harmonious life so far.  

Until now, that is.

Prior to arriving in Sweden, you thought long and hard about remaining in the background during the week, despite being involved in some of the more publicized events that would occur during the week. You were one of the primary investors in the “Börje” docuseries that was premiering early in the week, however, you opted to be dropped off at the back entrance of the theatre, while William, his teammates and his family took pictures together in the front.  It was during these photo ops that William began to feel very strongly that no matter the recourse with the media and the public, he wanted you next to him. 

You had also begun to wish you hadn’t covered-up and protected your relationship as much as you had now.  One of the biggest moments of his life, and you, his wife, pregnant with your first child, was nowhere to be seen, at least not in the pictures.  You had desperately wanted the attention to remain on the teams at the Global Series, but it now seemed with the sacrifice of your own making, it appeared like you did not exist in his life at all.  You had always thought it was not the “outside world’s” business to know about the details of your personal life but now, to be able to stand with William as part of his world, meant more than keeping everything under wraps.

The nights were even lonelier, leaving William at the hotel and you returning to the apartment without him.  While you were exhausted most of the time, too many thoughts derived from some of your deepest insecurities started to bounce around in your mind, keeping you awake for far too long.  

The pregnancy lately only exacerbated those insecurities.  Prior to leaving for Sweden, you had driven William to one of his last practices and hung out with some of the staff while the team was on the ice.  

While at the rink, you relaxed as you waited leaning back in your chair with your feet up on another, Mitch came into the lounge afterward bellowing a “whoa!  Big Momma’s in the house!  Tone - hey - …c’mere for a sec.”  

Auston enters the room giving you his normal shit-eating grin.  

“Doesn’t she look bigger than yesterday?”

You look at Mitch, your mouth slightly agape, trying to process what in the tom-fuck he’s got going on in his brain, only able to shake your head at the comment.

Auston tries to stifle a chuckle and turns to Mitch “She looks like she’s gonna fuckin kick your ass dude”.

“What?  Well - maybe not bigger…more like thicker…”

Mitch’s comment wouldn’t have bothered you so much if, let’s say, you hadn’t sat in the corner of your massive walk-in closet, hating how you looked in every single item of clothing (that still fit) the night before.  

“That’s essentially the same thing as being bigger - Jesus Mitch” you chuckle.

“You still look good though….look, I was just saying the baby’s getting bigger…” Mitch trails off, trying not to sound too defensive.  

You get up from the chair.  “Awh, Mitchy…it’s all good.  Big Momma still loves you” you said, patting him on the shoulder before walking out of the room.  You overhear Auston chuckling at Mitch saying “you’re such an idiot”.

You see Max (Domi) and give him a quick hug before heading into the washroom for some solitude.  It was these little moments in time - the little innocuous comments that weren't meant to be hurtful but just came out wrong - that badly skewed your perception of yourself when you allowed them to.  Being a performer, with all of its perks - it had dented your self-esteem in ways that you yourself are still trying to comprehend, even after all of these years.

Now that you are in Sweden, you’re acutely aware that there are an impossible number of beautiful women (yes - a Shoresey reference)  just in Stockholm alone, and have yourself convinced that 99.9% of them want your husband.  The way that your mind played out the scenario is that William might want a little taste on the side too.

“Y/N?  Did I lose you or something” William chuckles.

You look up at him and all of his handsome features and suddenly, you feel a pin-prick feeling from your eyes as a tear threatens to fall from the corner.

You hesitated saying anything for a few moments but quickly realized your emotions were getting the better of you.  “Fuck…we don’t have time for this” you quietly said, trying to discreetly wipe your eyes.

“It’s ok - we’ve got time…out with it, what’s going on?” 

You mentally joke that William has said ‘we got time’ already when he was balls deep in you so your radar is now up…he probably has no idea at all.

You paused a bit longer, gathering your thoughts together.  

“I don’t know…I’ve got all of this stupid shit running through my head lately.  I’m trying to get a hold of it but it’s really kind of fucking with me”.  

You try and not let out a sob and try to stop the tears. 

“Try not to judge me for thinking this….every time that I see a beautiful girl within 100 feet of you, I think you’re going to ditch me and run off with her….and given we're here, in the fucking land of the beautiful people…I just can’t get a grip….it’s driving me mental…”, you said, a tiny smile forms through your tears.

William chuckled lightly.  

“Please don’t get me wrong - I do love to see all the attention, all the recognition - all the outpouring of love for you this week.  All those times your character was completely ripped apart in the media coming out of Toronto…it made my blood boil.  I always thought ‘if those people only knew…if they could really see you - how gifted of a player you are, how hard you work, and how good of a person you are…they’d just shut the fuck up’.  But now….I don’t know…I guess now that everyone else has caught up to what your people already knew…and I hate myself a little for saying this but everything seems like it’s completely different now.  I’m feeling so uneasy about all of this…like maybe you’re going to want to be single again…maybe go on a bit of a sex bender, have a different taste of the week…something like that.”

As long as William had known you, he had always been perplexed about the level of self-doubt you had, but seldom revealed.  He could never quite figure out where it all stemmed from.  You were exceptionally talented, hugely successful, extremely intelligent, and had a heart as deep as an ocean.  You were amazing to your family and friends.  William often mused that he has never been loved so passionately by a partner,  nor had someone that was so openly devoted to him.  

All of this, and you were a total knock-out; an absolutely stunning beauty.  William would sometimes lie there quietly as you slept and just watch you breathe.  He tried not to disturb you but as always, he would give into the urge to glide his hand over and around your stomach; his fingers lightly and slowly trailing past your belly-button, and ever so delicately, his middle finger would touch the top of your slit.  His tongue would create a glossy trail along the curve of your breast and would move eagerly to your pointed nipple, lapping and swirling around the peak until he heard the moans escape from your mouth.  

It’s through these moments, touching you - the constant urge of knowing he had to have you, when William hoped you could feel how deep his love for you is.  Spending countless hours, with him talking into your forehead and you into his chest (simply because neither of you were willing to break free from your embrace) he felt you letting your guard down and any doubts kicking around in your head would dissolve.

Tears were beginning to fall steadily, saturating William’s chest.  You hated these moments when you were feeling so vulnerable, especially about William.  

You continued, speaking softly.  “It’s all the changes that are going to happen once Little One arrives.  Just picture it…after the baby’s born….how are you going to feel when you get home from a long road trip and I’m a grumpy mess and the baby’s crying and the dogs are barking, and there’s no food in the house and there’s just shit…everywhere.  This is what greets you when you walk in?  What happens if this…your new home life…drives you to feeling like you want to get out…escape back to your single life…and the first thing you end up doing is diving between some model’s thighs who slipped into your DM’s…”, you lament.  

You finally say “It’s just…with all of this" rubbing the roundness of your belly, “I just don't want to do any of this without you…and I’m having trouble shaking these thoughts,” your voice sounding small, filled with anguish.

William pulled you in even closer, your head rising and falling on his chest with each breath he took.  The wetness from your tears had pooled, trapped between your cheek and William’s chest.  You lift your head, wiping his chest off with your hand and softly pressed kisses along his skin before burying your face back into his body.

“Look Y/N, I get it.  I totally do.  I maybe never said it but I sometimes feel sorta the same thing.  Like, when we were at Lollapalooza, you were up there on stage with all these rock star guys just killin’ it.  I could see the way the guys looked at you, like they were in awe of you.   Like they worshipped you in a way.  I admit it, I got jealous. Like really fucking jealous.  I didn’t know the bands or the songs - fuck, even Linus and Sandy were singing along - I guess I felt like a bit of an idiot.  Like maybe you deserved a lot better than me”.  William plants a long kiss on the top of your head. 

William continued; “I know this stuff scares you and you’re spinning all of these worst case scenarios…do you really believe I’m just going to walk away from you, from our baby, from this life just to fuck other pretty girls?  And I know you’re going to say that it happens all the time…and yeah, it does.  But there’s also couples that are perfect for one another.  I think that’s you and me.”

William lifts your left hand so it’s within your view.  He thumbs your engagement ring that is nestled alongside your wedding band. 

“Toi et Moi…” William said, bringing your hand to his lips.  The duality of the reference makes your heart melt; for you, it not only alludes to the two-stone design of the ring, but the memory those three words hold.

*flashback to July, 2022*

William had first seen the Toi et Moi design vacationing with you and his family in Saint Tropez in the off-season the year prior.  The trip itself was one of the gifts you have given him for his 26th birthday; a trip anywhere he wanted with whomever he wanted.  Once the shock of your generous gift wore off, he barely needed to even think about it; William chose the French Riviera with the most important people in his life.

A few days into the vacation, parents Camilla and Michael departed for a day alone at the beach, followed by a trip to the open air market.  William and Alex had ventured into town while you and the sister contingent of his family stayed back at your villa, relaxing in the sun by the pool.  

The brothers meandered through the streets amongst the many tourists that flocked to the stunning French coastline during the summer.  The trip had been the perfect antidote for Alex; he had recently broken up with his girlfriend and had been testy and grouchy ever since.  Alex was in his element now, being surrounded by beautiful girls in short summer dresses, and he embraced his singledom wholeheartedly.  William ribbed his brother incessantly as Alex was constantly swivelling his head around to survey each girl as they passed by.  They continued on to the shops and cafes that dotted the waterfront, chatting about nothing but laughing at everything.

They stopped at Cafe de Paris which had a street level patio with an amazing view of the port.  The deep blue sky was completely cloudless and save for all the yachts in the harbour, it was hard to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began.    

Once seated under the outdoor canopy, Alex removes his sunglasses and soaks in the view.  

“Fuuuuuck….look at this.  This…is pretty incredible, no?” 

“Yeah, this whole trip has been amazing.  Y/N was a little nervous about going on her first Nylander family vacation but I think it’s going pretty good”, William said while taking in the view.

“I still can’t believe she gave you a trip…a trip for your entire family…just for your birthday.  Fuck dude…it’s not even a ‘big’ birthday”, Alex teases.  “Man, I don’t know what you must do to her….”

William laughs his trademark laugh.

“Scratch that.  I know what you do to her…I’ve heard you two going at it more than once”, Alex said, dripping with sarcasm and rolling his eyes.

“Bit bitter, eh?” William chuckles at his brother’s sour expression.

“Fuck, c’mon man….” Alex said, leaning back in his seat.  “It’s hard not to be a little envious….your girlfriend - she’s famous as fuck, stunning as fuck, rich as fuck.  You’re pretty fucking greedy….you know that?” Alex backhands William’s upper arm.

William laughs even harder.

“She’s also kind as fuck, funny as fuck, talented as fuck, and smart as fuck too…she picked me after all.  It’s the Nylander charm….”, William goads him on, as he backhands Alex’s arm in return.  “Maybe you should try it some time….” 

“Low blow fucker… I’ve heard enough out of you” Alex deadpans, followed by a smirk.

The banter dissipates as they both peruse the drink menu.  

“Ohhhhh yeah….Porn Star Martini” William chuckles.  

“Yeah…it figures you’d go for that, pornstar…seems fitting” Alex said sardonically, his lips curling into a smile afterward.  

“You might want to think about ordering a couple - maybe you need to up your game a little with the laaa-dies”, William said, tongue in cheek.

“Oh my God William - fuuuuuck off….” Alex said, shaking his head.

The server arrives at their table and William orders the drinks for both he and Alex.  The men had decided on a lunch full of rich French fare; Baked Mussels, Croque-Monsieur and Beef Tartar.

The Martinis are going down pretty easy so Alex tells the server to keep them coming.  They have nowhere specific to be, at least not for the next few hours, so they settle in for a relaxed afternoon.  The conversation is typical; they trade notes on their sister’s boyfriends (potential or otherwise), gossip about mutual friends and their ongoing sagas, family drama, and about what the next hockey season may bring.  They continue to people-watch - mostly girls (William’s not really looking - not that much anyway - just helping his brother out) that are out shopping or out sunbathing on the yachts that are moored at the marina.  

After lunch and a few too many beverages, Alex and William decide to move on, needing a walk to sober them up a little.  They take their time strolling along Rue François Sibilli and window-shop the luxury boutiques to see if there’s anything intriguing to buy.

As they continue to wind their way along the narrow streets, William’s phone buzzes with a notification - a text from his sister, Stephanie.  A picture of you and William’s parents appears, standing around the island of the gourmet kitchen in the villa.  You and Michael appear to be prepping food, and Camilla is standing and watching; all of you seem to be mid-laugh.  There are half-full wine glasses near each of you.  

William is entranced by the photo, his heart feels like it could burst with happiness.  

William turns to Alex and shows Alex the picture that Stephanie sent.  Alex smiles faintly saying “Awh…great picture”.  Alex leans in closer and reads Stephanie’s text [in Swedish] “I hope you marry her so we can keep her.  Or we can just vote Alex off the island and she take his spot” 

“Real fucking nice - she’s getting chucked in the pool for that one”, Alex’s slight irritation showing.  William had missed seeing the text, and giggled once he read it.  He felt a little bad for Alex, but he laughed at the expression on his face anyway.

 “I was going to do this after we all got home after our trips but…I think I want to get Y/N something now from the family to say thank-you to her”.  

“Yeah - good idea…..what would she be into - what do you think she’d like?” Alex asked.

“That’s the problem.  I could show up with an old t-shirt of mine wrapped in a paper bag and she’d be over the moon….”, William said.  “Well, maybe not that as a thank you for spending thousands of dollars on our family but you know what I mean…she’s seriously like that though”, William confided.  “I don’t know…I want to get her something that’s really special…something that will always make her remember her first vacation with me…with all of us”.   

“Ha - you are so fucking whipped….” Alex said jokingly as William shot him a warning glance

Alex put up his hands in defence “Don’t get all pissy - I was going to say that she really is awesome...Mom, Dad, the rest of the family - including me…before I get voted off, that is  - she seems to fit right in.  You’re lucky….considering what everyone thought about my last girlfriend, I can tell you that it REALLY fucking sucks to have Mom and Dad disapprove, let alone anyone else in the family.”  

Alex nods in the direction of a jewellery store.  “Get her some jewellery.  Fuck, you cannot go wrong with that”, Alex said.  

They enter the small but elegant boutique, and are greeted by a stylish and attractive young woman.   Her smile widens at the gorgeous Swedes, unintentionally blushing when they return the smile.  

In a demure voice, with a hint of seduction and a distinct French accent, she asks if the men speak English.  They respond yes, and just to catch her attention, Alex adds “Oui” after he responds.  It was a small gesture but it worked…Alex had no trouble getting her to focus on him.  Alex sees from her name tag that her name is Eloise and commits it to his memory.

“What can I help the gentlemen with today?” Eloise asks sweetly.

“Bonjour, Eloise…that’s such a beautiful name” Alex said, appearing more smitten by the second.  “My - my brother’s looking for a gift for his girlfriend”.

Eloise looks at William, and a wide smile appears on her face “You are brothers - ah oui, I can see it now!” she giggles.  

The group chuckles and Eloise smiles at Alex “Je m’excuse…excuse me - un moment” she turns as she heads through a door leading  into the backroom of the store.  The brothers begin to look at the brilliant pieces though the display cases while they hear Eloise faintly talking to someone else in French.

Eloise reappears with another woman, more mature in years than Eloise but equally as beautiful.  Eloise introduces the other associate as Juliette and explains Juliette will be assisting William, while Eloise helps Alex.  It was obvious it was a ploy for Eloise’s attention to remain solely on Alex, and Alex did not mind one bit.

Juliette motions for William to take a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of a glass display case.  She introduces herself and William does the same.  The two make small talk which flows easily.  Eventually the pair shoot a glance toward Eloise and Alex and jointly chuckle.  On the surface, Alex and Eloise appeared to just be looking at different selections of jewellery but their body language told a completely different story.  You could see the temperature rising between them every time they shared a mere glance at one another.

Juliette turns back to William and begins to ask questions about what he’s looking for.

“Eloise tells me you are looking for a gift for your girlfriend…how very lovely,” Juliette gently said, smiling.  “Is it a gift for a special occasion?  Birthday?  Anniversaire - oh, quel est le mot…your Anniversary?”

“It’s meant to be a thank you from me and my family.  She gave us all a trip here to Saint Tropez and I wanted to give her something special to show how much this meant to me…and well, to my family too.” William explains.

“Mon Dieu, that’s wonderful…” Juliette smiled brightly.  “Bien sur, of course…I will help you choose something perfect for your love.  Can you tell me a little more about what she might like?  Diamonds or Gemstones?  Colour of Gold?  Things like that.”

“I’m actually more into jewellery than she is, I think.  I’m really into David Yurman and have been since my Mom gave my brother and I these chains when we were little. So - um, I’m a little more flashy when it comes to jewellery than her”  William smiles.  “When I have seen her wear something for a long period of time, it’s mostly because it has a sentimental meaning behind it.”

“Have you been together for a long time?” Juliette asks.

William thinks for a moment.  “Well, we’ve really only been an ‘official’ couple since last fall, but we’ve known each other since 2016.  It took us a really, really long time to finally be able to be together.  It’s a long story.” William said with a grin.  “She’s a pretty amazing girl”.

Juliette smiles at William.  She can hear it in his voice that he is very much in love.  

“I’m so happy to hear that…I can hear how much you care for her.” Juliette said warmly.

William glances at Eloise and Alex for a moment and laughs to himself at the sight of them; flirting is in full swing between the two with doe eyes being exchanged.  He thinks that’s exactly how you and him look at each other, with the big difference being that he wants you for his forever, not for just a “perfect for right now”.

Having already discussed a budget (which William wasn’t interested in setting any kind of dollar limit), Juliette begins to bring pieces from various collections for William to view.  She lays the velvet boards out in front of him and smiles to herself when she sees his eyes grow wide and bright at the options presented.  

“Oh…wow…this one is interesting.  There’s something really unique about it…” William’s eyes dance as he looks intently at the details of the diamond necklace laid before him.  

“Ah oui - yes, that necklace is a very special piece and is part of the ‘Toi et Moi’ collection, meaning ‘You and Me’ en anglais..in English.  The design has historical importance, especially here in France.  In the 18th century, Napoleon presented Josephine with the very first ‘Toi et Moi’ ring, which we have in various styles in another case over there.  As with this necklace, two lovers are represented by each diamond, and the design, the stones being set together as they are here, represents the two loves meeting,” Juliette explains.  “Toi et Moi - You and Me….it’s very romantic, no?”

“It’s perfect” William said, running his fingers over the white gold setting and along each of the diamonds.  “I know she’ll love it….the history of it even….she’s even fluent in French, so the whole France/Napoleon connection is awesome.”  

“Oh, ma coeur, a girl after my own heart…that is lovely!  A very strong and loving connection, that is what I see you two have, so this necklace is the essence of you both.” 

Juliette couldn’t help it but William had already endeared himself to her.  She could feel his utter devotion to you, and it resonated with Juliette deeply.  She had found the very same thing with her late husband and to see William speak about you so adoringly, her heart felt full knowing that kind of pure love still existed.

“I will definitely take the necklace, and I see there’s a bracelet too….I’d like both please.”  

William looked toward the other display case.  “Can you show me a Toi et Moi ring?” he asked.

William's heart momentarily raced at the thought of looking at a ring for you, let alone an engagement ring…although, he knew it wasn’t the right time to propose to you, not just yet.  It wasn’t because he was unsure about wanting to be with you; he wanted the two of you to experience more of day to day life together and hopefully move in together for the coming season.  

Juliette brought a small selection of the rings to William and explained how the rings could be completely customized.

Eloise looked over at Juliette as she handed one of the rings to William to inspect.  

“Ohhh!  Alex…ton frѐre…is he looking at engagement rings?” Eloise gasped lightly with a wide grin.

Alex’s eyes darted toward William as he stood there holding the ring between his thumb and index finger.

“William…wait, are you serious?” Alex said, his serious tone apparent.  

“Don’t freak out, I was just looking.  The design of the ring is crazy…it’s perfect.  After everything we went through, I don’t think there’s any other ring that comes close to actually being ‘us’... this one definitely does.  When it’s time, I think this is what I want to give to her”,  

“Phew…ok.  Yeah - it’s really beautiful.”  Alex looks back towards Eloise, relief washing over his face.  Eloise giggles at Alex’s expression and they resume with their flirtations which are more apparent now.  

Juliette and William chat while she places the pieces in the individual velvet boxes which William requested.  The bracelet, he decides, will be from the family but the necklace, he’s planning on giving that to you separately when you’re alone later on that evening.  He’s fairly certain that it’s all you’ll be wearing once he places it around your neck, and he can feel himself harden slightly with the thought.  

Once he settles the invoice, William and Juliette exchange a quick embrace and warmly bid their thank you’s and goodbyes.  Juliette quietly reminded William that if you and he ever find themselves back in Saint Tropez next summer to come and visit her, she would be so thrilled to meet you.  

Alex, having already snagged Eloise’s number, flashes her a brilliant smile and quietly said “Call you later” followed by a wink.  Eloise’s cheeks are flushed with a red hue - a knowing smile formed on her lips, followed by “à bientôt, Alex”.

The men departed the store, both grinning like two idiots, totally in love - or lust depending on the brother.  If they had managed to sober up at all after lunch, you couldn’t really tell at this point…both seemed to be almost reeling, beaming with their own individual images in their minds of what the coming evening might hold. 

William takes in some of the scenery on the way back to Villa Margarido.  The cab ride thankfully is quick as a nervous-excitement begins to build in William’s stomach.  He has given you gifts before, but this set - these specific pieces - mean something so much more.  It’s undeniable now, he knows what he wants his future with you to look like.

The driver was pleasant and friendly, and given the kind of afternoon the brothers had, they tipped him generously - excessively even.  The driver thanked them profusely, secretly hoping to have them as repeat clients.  William and Alex’s mood continued to elevate as they breezed through the glass front entrance doors, stopping only for William to tuck his purchases away, and they made their way towards the lively conversations taking place on the large poolside terrace.   

Despite the dinner hour approaching, the hot July sun still hangs in the cloudless, azure skies  and is nowhere close to setting.  Light permeates every square inch of one of the spacious, white living rooms embellished with red accents throughout, which bordered the expansive and modern kitchen.  The private chef that was included for the duration of the week, Marco, greets Alex and William with fist bumps and animated repartee.  You had all established with Marco when you arrived that you wanted him to feel like an extended member of the family, which seemed to suit Marco’s personality just fine.  

William peered over the island to see the multiple creations that Marco had in store for tonight’s multi-course dinner.  Hunger pangs hit William suddenly, and he sneaks a piece of grilled homemade focaccia with cherry tomato and fresh burrata.  Marco catches him in the act and with a strong Italian accent, he tells William his hockey career will be over if he does it again.  Marco erupts in laughter, as does William while complimenting the chef with his mouth full.  They leave the chef to continue with his prep work and make their way out to the large, light stone terrace. 

William spots you sitting beside Camilla and Michael; Camilla is stretched out on a lounge chair and Michael sits at the end on the same chair, tenderly rubbing her calves and feet.  The three sisters are wading in the pool as they discuss the scandals of late in the competitive world of women’s tennis and within their respective circle of friends.  You seemingly had just gotten out of the pool, your toned and tanned body still had water beading on your chest and arms as it dripped down from your long, slicked back hair.  

Two thoughts converged in William’s mind; the first thought being that nothing could make him happier than seeing you relaxing with his parents and thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, and the second thought, he wished you two were alone so he could throw you over his shoulder, stretch you out on the nearest comfortable surface and go completely feral on you.  ‘Fuck’ William thought to himself as he scanned your features, willing the uprising in his shorts to calm down. 

Everyone’s attention redirects to Alex and William’s arrival, the conversations now switch to greetings.  The men walk around the pool’s edge towards you and his parents and the questions start flying about how their day was.  The three sisters wade to the opposite edge of the pool, propping their elbows up on the warm stone to allow them to participate in the conversation. 

Alex spots Stephanie; he discreetly dips his foot into the pool and in one swift motion, he flicks water in her face.  Before she can complain, Alex cuts her off with a low “vote me off the island…you’ll go before me there, sunshine”.   

The two other girls in the pool splash water back at Alex, missing him by a mile.  He sets down his things on a table close by while greeting you and his parents. Giggles and laughter erupt when Alex suddenly rips his shirt off and with shorts and flip flops on still, does a cannonball into the water and promptly bombards Stephanie with the miniature tsunami that the jump, and his frame, generated.  

Whoops and hollers echo all around and even Marco came out from the kitchen onto the upper balcony to chime in when he heard the commotion.  You laughed and applauded at the sibling chaos, and finally afterward, you were able to cast your eyes on your beloved man.  Your gaze meets Williams, followed by wide grins and soft hellos.  Your heart already racing, William leans over and kisses you gently.  He tastes so exquisite that you are desperate to slide your tongue against his, but not with his parents and siblings as an audience.  You cradle his face with one hand, and quietly ask, while his face is still close to yours, if he had a good day.  “Very, very good” was William’s response as leaned in for one more kiss.  You place a dry towel for him to sit down on the lounge chair with you, and as he sits, you and Camilla resume chatting.  William began telling the three of you about the super yachts that he saw at the port, where they went for lunch and what they had, and how girl crazy Alex seems to be here.  Camilla and Michael look at each other with a knowing smile and then chuckle at William.  

He was just about to mention Alex meeting Eloise but he stopped himself, not wanting to give away the location of where they met her.  You saw him stifle himself but you quickly looked past it as he continued to answer more questions about his day.

Marco reappears on the upper deck and in his booming voice announces that dinner will begin in an hour.  The group all shout thank-you’s back and Marco bows down in an exaggerated, grandiose manner.

You finish your water and the remainder of your cocktail while the surrounding conversations begin to wind down.  Having multiple layers of sunscreen baked onto your skin throughout the day, you’re looking forward to a warm shower, preferably not alone, before dinner is served.  

You excuse yourself, being the first to retreat to your room.  William helps you gather a few things and explains that he needs to talk with his parents for a couple of minutes and he’ll be in soon.  You kiss him softly on the cheek and affectionately tell the group you will see them at dinner as you depart.  

You enter the villa and see Marco working away in the kitchen like a conductor in front of an orchestra.  The aroma of the various dishes that everyone will be enjoying this evening fills the air, and with wide eyes, you simply say “Oh my gosh, Braaaavo Marco” praising him and his incredible talents as a chef.  As you walk by the floor to ceiling windows that look out over the pool and terrace, you see the Nylander family gathered around William while he speaks.  It’s none of your business but there’s something…it’s not quite suspicious or unsettling…but whatever intuition you’ve been bestowed is giving you a funny feeling in your stomach that the discussion might very well be about you.

You softly pad across the bedroom while thoughts swirl around in your mind, wondering what Wiliam was talking about with his family. 'It’s none of your business' you tell yourself as you undress and step into the walk-in shower in the ensuite of your bedroom.

You turn on the shower, the rainfall shower head envelops you in streams of warm water.  Exhaling deeply, you lean your head back as the water gently pulsates against your face. You slick back your long curly hair which is now stretched out and hangs low, touching the cheeks of your ass.

You hear William enter the bedroom and shortly thereafter, he appears at the ensuite door wearing just his shorts.  He watches you with keen interest, a small grin appears on his face once you spot him.

You gather your ample breasts in your hands, not really doing much to cover them, looking at him with a look of faux sheepishness on your face.

“Um, excuse me….have we met?” you look at him with a slight grin.

“Oh…we’ve met…” William said cheekily.  He removes his shorts, his cock already appearing rigid.  He steps into the shower and his hands waste no time encircling your waist, landing on your round ass, pulling you into him.  

“You sure?” you say, teasingly.  

Your hands release your breasts, your nipples hard and protruding against William’s chest.  You glide your fingertips down from his shoulders, along his biceps, around to his lower back, finally settling your hands on his muscular backside. You scan his face as you gently sway your hips so the area above the slit of your pussy comes into contact with his penis. Your flesh brushes against the tip of his cock and incites a low groan from his mouth.  You feel the growing pressure of his erection against you and instinctively, you bite your lower lip as your own pressure intensifies between your thighs.

Your eyes are fixed on his mouth, the natural and sensual curves of his lips beg for a slow and passionate kiss.  William lowers his head, your mouths almost connecting, breathing each other in before succumbing to your primal urges.  Your kiss is deep and passionate, the longing you’ve had for William all day is now being unleashed and is completely untamed.  Hands begin to feverishly grasp at each other as the water streams over your interlaced bodies.  The taste of William’s mouth further ignites your already desperate need to devour all of him.  

It’s the second time today William felt intoxicated.  God, he needed you so badly.  The way your body felt pressed against his drove him wild; it always has.  The moans that escaped your lips alongside your murmurs in his ear of loving, wanting and needing him so much, nearly put him off balance.

You break from the kiss, your mouth descending down his body, leaving a trail of licks and kisses from his jawline, down over his neck, across his collarbones, and down toward his torso.  You worked your way further down his body, turning him around so the water from the shower is hitting his back.  You are on your knees now, his fully erect dick right in your line of sight, ready for the taking.  

“It looks like Wild Bill is happy to see me,” you purr as your lips ghost the tip of his cock.   Nicknames weren’t necessarily your thing, but one night in his bed, early on in your sex-plorations with William, the name ‘Wild Bill’ rolled off your tongue in reference to his cock after he had made you cum so hard that you thought you might pass out. 

You looked up at Williiam as he mutters “Fuck” , leaning his head back under the steady stream of water, his cock now throbbing with the anticipation of your next move.  

Torturously slow, you gently take the tip of his dick in your mouth. As the taste of William’s pre-cum hits your tongue, the nerve-endings throughout your pussy are electrified.  Streams of water continue to flow down his body, weaving paths along the protruding veins of his thick member.  

You run your hands up the back of his calves and then further up to his muscular thighs.  You’re in complete awe of his body as you caress the intricate designs of his muscle mass in his legs, his ass and that fucking perfect “V” on his lower torso.  As your hands continue to walk over his lower body, your long tongue continues to lap and stroke the head of his cock, encouraging more of the pearlized fluid to seep from the tip.  

William was starting to lose control.  You heard a strained moan and could feel the muscles in his body tighten and compress.  Your right hand firmly grips him around the girth of his beautiful thick cock and you guide it into your mouth.  Your tongue naturally moves along the underside of his shaft, and you accept his full length into your mouth again and again.  Your hand stroking and manipulating his shaft and balls compliment the expert work done by your mouth.  William clenches his jaw while a series of indiscernible words, possibly in Swedish, pour out of his mouth.  

“Jesus….fucking….Christ…Y/N…fuuuuck” WIlliam stammers as he begins to buck his hips to a faster rhythm.  More and more, you taste his arousal on your tongue.  You raise your body up slightly while remaining on your knees, your mouth never leaving his member.  The slight change in angle as you continue to work his manhood is marked by a long agonizing growl from his mouth.  One of William’s hands clutches a mass of your wet hair while the other hand presses against the marble wall of the shower for stability.  William’s thighs begin to twitch and his hips continue to pump his cock into your mouth in rapid, shallow movements.  

“Shit, Y/N - I’m cumming!” William bellows as he grabs the back of your head and fully erupts into your mouth; you allow the thick streams of his cum to slide down your throat.  Your hands are splayed on his hips, your fingertips press into his flesh as the involuntary jerking motions from his powerful orgasm subsides.  You gently grab the base of his penis to hold it steady as you slowly withdraw him from your mouth.  You hold the weight of his cock gingerly in your hand as you gaze up at him, smiling innocently.  His soaking wet hair has fallen forward as his head hangs, his chin towards his chest, allowing the water to hit the back of his neck.  His breathing is almost back to normal as he opens his eyes and sees you still kneeling in front of him.  

William extends his hands to you, interlacing your fingers with his, giving you some extra leverage as you stand up.  He wraps his strong arms around you and angles his head into the crook of your neck, the warm water creating a steam bath of sorts.

“You’re incredible, Y/N” William said as he grazes his lips along your neck, up toward your ear.  

Knowing you were left without any kind of release for yourself, William tells you how he’s got something special planned for you later on this evening.   Despite the warmth of the shower, his low voice purring in your ear sends a shiver down your spine, your clit now aching for his attention. You kiss him, moaning softly as your tongues connect while your hands continue to follow the expanse of each other’s bodies.

Sensing Wild Bill is getting aroused again, as well as yourself, you affectionately remind William that dinner’s going to be ready soon, and you don’t want to advertise to everyone what you two have been up to by arriving to the table late.

“We could skip dinner,” William said, raising an eyebrow as he hands you the shampoo for your hair.

“Mmmmm….I know it’d be totally worth it, but I’m fucking starving now…did you see what Marco made?” you smiled.

“I swiped one of those burrata things…it was pretty fucking good” William said before he’s immerses himself back under the shower head to rinse.

You stood there for a moment, finally responding with “You’re lucky he didn’t break one of your fingers for doing that you know” you quip.

William decided not to mention the (empty) threat Marco made about ending his hockey career after he lifted one of his creations.  In true Willy Styles form, William simply responded “Nah…he loves me”.   A wide grin appears on your face as you shake your head.  You don’t say anything else; you’ve known William long enough to know when he’s harmlessly stretching the truth.

You and William quickly finish showering, both of you stealing little kisses and touches while chatting about various moments throughout the day.  

You were trying to decide on something fairly simple to wear when William motions toward a white off-the-shoulder shirt, suggesting for you to ‘show off your tan’.  You grab the shirt and match it with a long and flowy white cotton skirt accented with lace embroidery and some simple low-heeled cross-tie sandals.  You tie your long locks into a low, loose bun at the nape of your neck, allowing some tendrils of hair to fall, framing your face.  William looks amazing as usual in just a nice t-shirt and shorts.  You curl your toes when he comes up behind you as you open the door to exit your bedroom, the scent of his cologne literally making you weak in the knees.  

“Jeeeesus, William” you say, turning to face him.  You start nuzzling his neck and you wrap your arm around his waist, pulling yourself towards him.  “Actually, maybe we could skip dinner, or just have it delivered outside here…I can give you more oral pleasure, monsieur William…” you say with a heavy French accent.  You smile mischievously while William rubs his hand over his face, and follows by a barely audible “fuck me…”.  The two of you take a deep breath,  intertwine your fingers and head out to the outdoor dining area, miraculously right on time. 

Everyone, including Marco, are seated at the table; the soft lightning further deepens the sun-kissed skin tones of the smiling faces that greet you and William.

The dinner conversations, as they always are at a Nylander gathering, are lively and animated and full of laughter.  You and Marco being the only non-relatives sitting at the table revelled in their family dynamic and ate up their stories as voraciously as the divine food.

At the end of the multiple course dinner, you could hear the collective sigh of pure contentment and satisfaction from the group.  You stood up and raised your glass, proposing a toast.  The wine had hit you a little more than expected but your words of praise and admiration for Marco and the Nylanders were heart-felt and the expressions on the faces of your audience simply beamed.  You sat back in your chair and William leaned in close and kissed you by your ear, sending tingles up your spine.  He reached one arm around your waist and pulled you in closer.  ‘Ha..he’s tipsy…he’s gonna be such slut tonight in bed’ you thought, chuckling to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” William softly mumbles in your ear.

 You shake your head, stifling a grin that eventually breaks wide open.  “I’m just happy,” you said quietly.  

Before William could respond, Michael rose from his chair.

He raises his glass, eloquently giving accolades to Marco and welcoming him into the Nylander family.  The group cheers and glasses clink together; everyone takes a generous sip of their drinks.  

“Now, Y/N.  I am truly speechless when I think of your generosity.  Throughout these past months, when William tells me of all the amazing things you think of doing for him, for his team, for anyone it seems, I am truly awestruck.  Camilla and I, the girls, and Alex are so happy that you and William found each other again.  I can see it every time you’re around each other…it’s so apparent how much love you share, how much love is felt between you…I know it because that’s how I feel about Camilla.  I recognize it when I see the way you look at each other.”

You try to swallow but the lump in your throat is working against you.

“To say thank you, we have a gift which I hope shows you how much we truly appreciate what you’ve done for our family”.  

You hadn’t noticed Marco leave the table; as he returned to the patio, he handed Michael a longer, rectangular velvet box.  Michael approaches you and places the gift  in your hands.  You hear murmurs around the table in anticipation of the gift’s unveiling.  

As gently pry the box open, the sparkle of what looks like a billion diamonds dance in your line of sight.  Your cheeks are flushed and you let out an audible gasp as you look at the exquisite bracelet before you.  

William takes the box from your hand and gingerly places it around your wrist, followed by a long but tasteful kiss.  

“I’m just overwhelmed,” you shook your head, fighting back tears.  “I don’t have the words…I can’t think of the perfect words right now - this is so unbelievably breathtaking.  Thank you all so much”.  

“To Y/N!” Marco cheers.

“To Y/N!” the Nylanders toast in unison.

Hugs ensue and the ladies surround you to get a closer look at the expensive bracelet.   

More wine is poured and eventually, everyone begins to clear the table to make room for the dessert tasting menu Marco has prepared.  

‘No other night has ever felt this enchanting’ you mused, soaking in the warmth of the evening sea breeze and the loving atmosphere that surrounds you.  

You can feel William’s gaze and as you turn to face him, he tenderly holds your wrist, angling the position so the lighting hits all the stones at once.  

You lean into him, kissing along his jawline up to his ear. “It’s gorgeous, William…”

“Do you wanna take Pablo for a walk?  We can just take him around the property…I’m stuffed so I’m not sure I could go any further anyway” William said, tapping his abdomen.  

“Let me go change my shoes - be right back”.  Feeling a little buzzed from the wine, you slowly pull his body toward you and kiss him seductively and sensually, your tongue searching for his.  Your hands slide up his toned chest and with that simple movement, you start to feel that ever familiar sensation between your thighs as that touch conjures up images of him being inside of you.   

“Jesus - can you guys just not?  I’m in blue-ball hell and then I have to sit next to my big brother as he eye-fucks his girlfriend all night. I was trying to enjoy my dinner for fuck sakes.” Alex said as he poured another glass of wine.  

You give Alex an apologetic look; you know it’s been a bit bumpy for him lately.  You walk over to him and give him a little side-hug squeeze.  Alex draped his arm over your shoulder; a wide grin full of mischief forms on his face. “You know, Y/N…you could just trade him in for the more handsome and younger model…”

Camilla swats her second born lightly on his arm as she comes up behind him to grab her glass of wine. She jokingly scolds him in Swedish, followed by a quick kiss on the cheek and grabs your hand, rescuing you from the conversation.  You stand chatting with Camilla, finishing off the last remnants of wine from your own glass.  You turn to see the brothers clowning around jostling into one another yanking at each other’s shirts.  With every movement, their muscular legs, arms and backs are on full display; you shake your head as you excuse yourself and head inside to freshen up.  Glancing back at the boys still horsing around, you laugh to yourself thinking ‘this family is too fucking perfect’. 

You return a few minutes later and greet Pablo with a couple of his favourite dog treats.  The mere mention of the word ‘walk’ has Pablo running and jumping around in anticipation.  

“You ready?  OK….break!” giving Pablo the familiar command that he can run around as fast as he can go.  You step shoeless into the lush and manicured grass that surrounds the terrace; the heat of the day has now dissipated and you welcome the coolness from the earth against the bottom of your feet.  You stand there for a moment watching Pablo as he darts about and a wide smile adorns your face with the adoration you have for him.  

The sun is beginning to set; the once bright, giant orb now resembles a fireball blazing deep orange hues as it recedes into the horizon.  William stands beside you taking in the mesmerizing view.  You begin to walk together; your fingers loosely intertwined as you meander around the property.  You and William often share quiet, serene moments where just being in each other’s presence fills you both with such bliss.   More often than not, those tranquil moments when it's the two of you together eventually give way to fits of giggles and lively storytelling.  

William leads you to a long and wide bench covered by pergola; sheer white curtains surround the loveseat and large, soft cream-coloured pillows line the back rest.  Pablo is in full zoomie-mode as he jumps up on the bench and leaps off again, running in figure-8 patterns on the lawn.   

William sits down and slides himself back so his muscular legs extend to the full length of the bench.  You see him lift his hips to pull an object from his back pocket, presumably his phone.  It’s odd that he slips the object between the pillow and the side of his leg, but in all honesty, you’re not focusing on that as he motions for you to straddle him.  The bench is wide enough that you have no trouble comfortably positioning yourself as he desired; the pressure in your core is rising, as is William’s cock as you gently lower yourself onto him.  You can feel a very distinct bulge at your scantily clad entrance and you arch your back, pressing your need against his erection.  Although the curtains have numerous layers of gauze fabric, it does little for true privacy as it wouldn’t take long for anyone that happened to walk by to know what business you two are up to.  

Your lips lock together; kissing though giddy smiles as hands wander over each of your bodies.

“I’ve got something for you too - a gift” William murmurs in your ear.

“Mmmm - really?  I can feel it” you said softly, your lips ghosting his neck.

You can feel William smile.  “Yeah…not just that though….something else”.

You sit up more, still straddling him, as William reaches between the cushions and pulls out another long, velvet box.

Your eyes grow wide and your cheeks flush with the sudden rush of emotion.   

He opens the box for you and the sight of the necklace has you covering your mouth from the overall surprise of the gift.    

“William….this is too much….it’s absolutely stunning…” you gasp, your eyes still wide as they scan William’s smiling face.

You feel patches of heat radiating through your face and neck; between the wine and the presentation of this exquisite gift, you hope your deep tan covers the blotches that usually decorate your neck under circumstances like these.

“You like it, right? The design caught my eye….and there’s a history to it that made me think of you and me.  That’s what the design is called - Toi et Moi”, William explains, his smile growing wider with each second.

Tears well in your eyes.  It had definitely been a long and winding road for your and William to get to this very moment.

“Oh my god - William….seriously….it’s exquisite - stunning – gorgeous… I- I honestly can’t find the perfect word - I am seriously overwhelmed here” you said just above a whisper.  

You lean over and kiss him gently at first, but the magnitude of his gift has you almost feeling breathless as your kisses deepen.

“Let me put it on you” William smiled softly, breaking from the kiss.

You slide off of him and turn so your back is facing him.  You gather your hair in your hands and lift it to not allow the necklace to tangle in your long curls.  

“Beautiful” William said in a low tone; he’s directly behind you; his breath tickles the sensitive area along your slender neck.  You reach behind so your hands lightly glide alongside his body.

He places the necklace on your neck, laying it gently across your skin and closes the clasp.

Your hand instinctively goes to your neck; you fingers lightly graze the perfectly cut diamonds.  You turn around and look at William; you’re certain you might very levitate right then and there and just float away. 

“I might be able to come up with something better than a simple thank-you a little later - my brain is overloaded in the most amazing way right now though.  Thank you, William…aside from you, this is the most amazingly gorgeous thing I have ever seen….and the bracelet - my god, I am completely stunned by all of this”.

“I just wanted to make sure you know how much you - everything you do - how much it means to me.  I’ll never be able to think of all the ways, like - all the different things, the kindness that is just there in you…fuck, everything you do just blows me away.”  

William knows he’s not great with words and sometimes he struggles with expressing exactly what he feels but all he can do is try, and hope that you know that he’s yours, totally and completely.

The sun has almost completely dipped out of sight; there are streaks of orange and red that help illuminate the incoming clouds in shades of purple.  The tall coniferous trees that line the property are all but cloaked in black, contrasted by the subtle lights that dot the various pathways.  

After the long, luscious kisses and loving embraces have paused (at least for the moment), the two of you walk slowly back to the villa, even more in love than when you left.  You enter through the already open doors off of the terrace.  The family have gathered in the large living room and as usual, they are laughing with hints of that unique and wonderful Nylander laugh, at a story that Michael is telling Marco about playing hockey.  It’s not that the story was necessarily comedical: Michael was animatedly explaining one of his most serious injuries, a broken neck of all things.  The laughter was at Marco’s expense with his heightened levels of shock and horror at Michael’s very descriptive recollection of the trauma.

Alex appears from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, freshly showered and looking devastatingly handsome.  There’s a collective “Oooooo” as he strides past the group and he smiles and shakes his head in response.  You catch the scent of his cologne as he walks past you and lean into your man standing next to you and inhale his own tantalizing fragrance.   

Alex is on his way to meet Eloise and as he runs out the door, he hollers back to the family to not wait up for him.  It’s a clear indication what he has in store once he meets Eloise tonight.

The rest of the family is following Marco to a music festival in town.  Marco implores that you and William join them this evening but William, seeing a rare opportunity to have the villa to yourselves, politely declines.  

Camilla catches a glimpse of your new piece of jewellery and her eyes light up with a mix of love for her son, and admiration for you.  She hugs you both and quietly says “I’ll distract Marco and the others, you both just go hide until we leave”.  She gives you a knowing smile and glides over to the kitchen, and calls Marco and the others over for a quick shot of Sambuca before they depart for the evening.

You both stealthily walk past the family and head into your bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you.  Almost if on cue, you overhear Camilla saying you and William were exhausted and have already gone to bed.  She wasn’t entirely fibbing….you and William had gone to bed, just not to rest.  

You and William made full use of the empty villa, testing the acoustics in various places until you both finally collapsed from “exhaustion”.

[jinxhallows]

Chris, werewolf or vampire au, you asking him to bite you for the first time while intimate. Anything else goes! 💜

I know you didn't ask for all dis but I felt inspired so thanks :) I picked vampire since most folx do wolfchris.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ sʟᴇᴇᴘs [ ʙᴀɴɢᴄʜᴀɴ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴀᴜ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ] ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: 𝟷𝟾+ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴄʜʀɪs, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴏʙʙᴇʀʏ, ᴇʀᴏᴛɪᴄ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟺.𝟷ᴋ

In that blurred state between awake and asleep, an unsettling jolt shakes you into consciousness, as if you were dangling on the edge of a cliff. Startled, you awaken on the couch, yawning and taking in the surrounding darkness. The paused Netflix series, interrupted by the persistent question, "Are you still watching?" lingers on the screen.

To be honest, you had long lost interest in the show, drifting away to find solace in the soothing embrace of slumber. Your weary mind, burdened by the irrevocable sorrow of losing your closest friend, sought refuge in the realm of dreams. As you glance around the dimly illuminated living room, you remind yourself to tidy up the scattered clothes strewn across the floor. Empty water bottles have accumulated like forgotten relics on any available surface, accompanied by a disheveled pile of unwashed dishes, a task that feels insurmountable in your current state of apathy.

It’s been exactly twenty four days, ten hours, and six minutes since you saw Chan die right in front of your eyes.  Time becomes your tether, an illusion of control amidst the chaos that now engulfs you. In the prime of his youth, brimming with aspirations, Chan was snatched away too soon. The bond you forged in college carried you through the vibrant years of your twenties, but now, as you approach the threshold of thirty, he is painfully absent, no longer there to mock your aging despite being a mere year your junior.

Chan would give you endless advice about issues that now seemed to be so petty and irrelevant, and when texts weren’t enough at 12am, he would phone you to try to get you to relax and go to bed, promising to destroy you in a good ol’ game of mario kart the next day if you’d get some rest.  He was wrong, you always dominated in mario kart, but the competitive shit talking would effectively distract you, which was the whole point.  You’d hang up the phone feeling lighter somehow, as if he snatched the problems right from your shoulders and cast them into the skies.

In the realm of forbidden love, Chan possessed all the qualities that could make him the perfect boyfriend. But destiny had other plans, tying him to a five-year relationship while you were bound in a three-year commitment of your own. When your unfaithful partner betrayed you once more, Chan became your guiding light, reminding you of your worth just weeks before his tragic end. As friendship kindled into something more, an intense love grew within you, surpassing mere friendship. Respectful of his relationship, you kept your feelings in check, even though you didn't truly care for Chan's girlfriend. She transformed from a cheerleader to an OnlyFans personality, lacking the depth you believed Chan deserved. But who were you to decide his path? Despite their arguments, he found fragments of happiness with her... at least, when their love wasn't overshadowed by bitter fights every other week.

Tears welled up, spilling over your waterline, as thoughts of him consumed your mind once more. Desperate to escape the crushing weight of guilt that enveloped you, you sought distractions, attempting to forget that you blame yourself for his untimely departure. His family held you responsible too, believing that if only you hadn't taken those shortcuts through dimly lit alleys after your bowling night, the mugging would never have occurred. It was in that moment, face-to-face with a hooded figure, demanding your wallet, that Chan's selflessness emerged. Without hesitation, he confronted the assailant, triggering a violent response. The stranger swiftly plunged a blade into Chan's abdomen, tearing upward through his fragile organs before vanishing into the night.

As his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, blood staining his shirt and spreading with alarming speed, you were rendered utterly helpless, reduced to screams of despair. With trembling hands, you pressed against the wound, begging, pleading for him to stay, to hold on, your desperate pleas piercing the air as you cried out for help. A cook on a smoke break nearby heard your anguished cries and dialed for an ambulance. He handed you a grimy towel, urging you to apply more pressure, even as Chan slipped away, inch by agonizing inch.

"I... I think I'm... dying," he choked, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, impeding his speech.

"No! You can't be dying! Don't you dare leave me, Chan! Don't you dare leave me like this!" you screamed, your voice strained and desperate.

He gasped, his lungs drowning in a sea of crimson. "I'm... sorry..."

Those were his last words before his body turned limp, the light extinguished from his eyes. You trembled uncontrollably, your body racked with violent sobs, cradling his lifeless form in your lap, willing him to awaken. It had to be a terrible nightmare, a cruel figment of your imagination. It couldn't be real...

Tears streaming down your face, you snatch a nearby mug and hurl it with all your might, watching it shatter against the wall. The sobs come pouring out, a torrent of frustration at the unfairness of life. How could it take away your best friend? You would have given the mugger everything you had, knowing that material possessions could be replaced, but not the irreplaceable bond you shared with Chan.

Without bothering to wipe your tear-stained cheeks, you rise unsteadily and stumble into the bathroom, flicking on the humming light above. The room comes alive, illuminating your trembling figure. In your hand, you clutch a bottle of newly prescribed psychiatric medication, its lid beckoning you to open it and plunge into a sea of pills. It's not the first, second, or even third time that you've contemplated consuming the entire bottle, escaping from this world altogether.

But then, as if echoing from the depths of your soul, you hear Chan's voice, a gentle reminder that pierces through the darkness.

‘Don’t be stupid, that won’t fix anything’

Taking a deep breath, you swallow the prescribed dose meant to help you weather the toughest storms. You tilt your head under the faucet, quenching your thirst as the water washes down the medication. With a swift motion, you turn off the tap and wipe your mouth with the side of your arm. Glancing briefly at your reflection in the mirror, you observe your disheveled appearance—a ponytail barely holding your hair in place, the emergence of weary bags under your eyes, a sight you've never witnessed before. The image worsens the pain within, reminding you of the toll this grief has taken. With a heavy heart, you exit the bathroom, your hand dragging along the light switch, plunging the room into darkness before retreating to the solace of your bedroom.

The bed lies in disarray, a nest of tangled sheets and blankets inviting you to seek solace within its embrace. Collapsing onto it, face first, you release a heavy sigh, shutting your eyes tightly, desperately wishing for a touch of magic to undo everything that has unfolded. Doubts persist, refusing to release their grip, leaving you questioning whether this reality is nothing more than a haunting nightmare or a cruel trance from which you are yet to awaken.

A tap at the window brushes against your senses, but you dismiss it as yet another figment of your restless imagination. The pills are beginning to take effect, gently lulling you into a peaceful slumber amidst the chaos of your bed. Another tap, insistent and persistent, echoes against the glass pane. Your mind races, reminding you that your apartment is situated on the fourth floor, rendering it impossible for anyone to be knocking on your window. Fear grips your heart, the notion of an intruder scaling your fire escape sending shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you lunge for your phone, intent on dialing emergency services.

"Don't do that!"

Time freezes as the unexpected voice reverberates through the room. Your finger hovers above the final digit of 9-1-1, your eyes darting up to the window. Darkness surrounds you, but the moon's radiant glow and the streetlights outside offer a faint illumination, revealing the silhouette standing before you, but the math still isn’t mathing for you yet.

“You’re not crazy, I promise.”

You feel yourself growing nauseated.  What type of sick psychosis is this? Was someone playing a trick on you?

“Let me in.”

Surely that voice sounds just like Chan, hell, the silhouette is lit enough for you to see the outline of his face, but your brain still can’t make sense of it.

“Y/N let me in and I can explain, but it still won’t make any fucking sense.  I didn’t have anywhere else to go just…please.”

His plea resonates deep within your being, compelling you to rush towards the window, swiftly unlatching it and pushing it open. Disbelief washes over you as you behold the figure before you. It's Chan, undoubtedly, from head to toe, but he's adorned in a suit that exudes an unmatched elegance, surpassing anything he ever wore in his human form.

"I must be going insane," you mutter, the words escaping your lips at last.

"No, you're not," he replies, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. Casting a glance around, he heaves a sigh. "Can I come in?"

Furrowing your brows, you find yourself utterly perplexed. “W-What the fuck is going on?”

"I can't enter unless you give me permission," he explains, his voice tinged with urgency. "And I can't explain it all out here. Just... tell me I can come in."

Your mouth opens, then closes. With guarded uncertainty, you finally utter the words that will forever alter the course of this enigmatic encounter. "You can come in."

"Finally," he murmurs, effortlessly climbing through your window. You watch in wide-eyed astonishment as he surveys your room. "Did a tornado sweep through here or something?"

Silence hangs heavy in the air as you remain rooted in place, your mouth slightly ajar. Chan settles on your bed, patting the space beside him. "Sorry, probably not the best timing for jokes right now."

"Are you some kind of ghost?" you stammer, desperately seeking an explanation for the inexplicable.

"You're incredibly stubborn, you know that?" he retorts, patting the bed insistently. "Just sit."

Reluctantly, you take a seat beside him, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He reaches out and clasps your hand in his own. It's chillingly cold, like grasping an ice pack pulled from the freezer. Startled, you snatch your hand back, inching away from him.  “What the fuck is going on?”

"I'm still trying to figure that out," he admits, tilting his head slightly and hooking his index finger under his lower lip, revealing a lengthened fang that stands out amidst his otherwise perfect teeth.

"You've got to be kidding me, Chan," you exclaim, struggling to believe your eyes. "Are you... Are you a..." The word hangs on the tip of your tongue, too unbelievable to utter.

"A vampire?" he finishes your sentence, his voice tinged with a strange mix of resignation and disbelief. "I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't woken up in the crematorium, lying on an examination table."

He looks down at his hands, as if seeing them for the first time.  “The mortician came in once he heard me freaking out.  He was so calm, it was scary.  He handed me these clothes, and told me I had a second chance.”

As you listen to his words, the medication begins to take effect, both soothing and disorienting you. Part of you believes that this must be a dream, a hallucination that will fade away upon waking. "Vampires... they're real?" you mumble, the words feeling unreal on your tongue.

"The mortician, the one who took care of me after... after that night, he turned me," Chan explains. "He told me there are others like us, vampires, including the lead cardiovascular surgeon at Greatview Hospital and many more scattered across the country."

You freeze, your eyes scanning his figure intently. "No," you utter, rising to your feet. "No, this can't be true." You repeat the words, trying to convince yourself that you're experiencing a psychotic episode, a figment of your traumatized mind. "I saw you die in my arms."

"I remember," Chan replies gently, his voice now softer and more reassuring. Your guard momentarily falters, accustomed to finding solace in his voice. “Look, I haven’t shown myself to anyone.  Not my parents, friends, anybody.  I didn’t know where to go, so I came here.”

“I still can’t believe this.  I took my meds and I’m hallucinating.” 

Chan raises an eyebrow at the mention of medication. “Meds? Since when are you on medication? For what?”

You stretch out your hands in front of you, gesturing dramatically towards the undead being standing before you. "I watched you die!"

"Can you please stop reminding me?" Chan pleads, sighing and rising from the bed. You instinctively take a step back, then another, and another.  “I get it, this is really fucking weird, but I’m trying to figure it out too, and you’re the only one I can trust to help me sort through this.  Please,” He walks towards you and you take another step back, and another, and another.  Chan’s eyes were pleading, and even as a human, you had never seen him so desperate.  It was pulling at you in ways you couldn’t understand.  “Help me?”

Your back meets the wall, and you find yourself mere inches away from him, lost in his familiar comforting gaze. Perhaps it's the medication surging through your system or the undeniable connection you share, but your fear begins to dissipate, replaced by an inexplicable pull towards him.

"Okay," you whisper, surrendering to the magnetism drawing you closer.

In that instant, he closes the remaining distance, pressing his body against yours, and his lips meet yours in a kiss that defies all expectations. This is nothing like the countless times you've imagined your first kiss with Chan.  Despite the unnatural circumstances surrounding him, he is here, in your room, kissing you with lips colder than anything you've ever experienced.   Chan was cold like ski vacations that turn into arctic nights with blinding blizzards.  He was cold like making snow angels in the remotest sundries of Antarctica.  And yet, against your heated warmth, it melded and melted you into a dizziness that made you wonder how someone could kiss you like this.  His scent evokes the desperate burning of cedar by humans seeking warmth to survive. He doesn't breathe, his stillness reminiscent of being stranded in the untouched frozen tundra. His taste is like the hidden depths of an iceberg lurking beneath the surface of the sea.  Surely humans weren’t capable of such otherworldly capture of the senses in these inexplicable ways.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs securely wrapping around his waist, as his hand finds support on the wall. With graceful precision, he lowers you down the wall, gently laying you on the floor, making you feel weightless like a delicate dove feather. His lips part slightly, revealing the tips of his sharp teeth just beneath his pale, plush upper lip. You're captivated by the deliberate way he undoes his watch, letting it fall with a thud on the carpet alongside his jacket. His focus on undressing himself is almost ritualistic, as he meticulously undoes each cuff of his sleeves. Was he always like this, or did the blood of his maker course through his veins, influencing his every move?  The man above you existed twenty four days, twelve hours, and forty six minutes ago, yet he carries the essence of centuries within him.

“Have you drank blood yet?” you manage to breathe, your gaze fixed on his fingers skillfully unbuttoning his shirt. The question momentarily halts his actions, his eyes still locked on the task at hand. It's a brief pause, lasting only a second or two, before he resumes, his gaze now locked with yours.

“I haven’t bitten anyone.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“That’s what you meant, though, right?”

He looks down again, pulling his shirt from his slacks, the last button falling and revealing his sculpted shoulders as he works on his belt. Your heart races in your chest, the earlier ease dissipating. How did he know? You and Chan shared a deep connection, but it's as if he just read your thoughts without even glancing at your face. As your eyes follow his gaze to the golden, slender belt buckle, you can't help but notice the undeniable hardness that tents the front of his pants.

"The mortician who turned me... he said I'm not ready," Chan reveals, swiftly removing his belt in one fluid motion. Feeling the electricity in the air, you take charge and unbutton his pants, stealing the spotlight for yourself. "Your heartbeat fills my ears, it's so loud. I've been trying to ignore it this whole time, but it's like a pulsating drumbeat," he admits, his relief palpable as his hardness finds release, causing his head to tilt back. It's not just the longing he has harbored for being this close to you, although that's a significant part—it's the way you look at him, the way your pulse quickens, the hitch in your breath—it all makes him crave you, body and soul. He wants to devour you, if he's being completely honest. So he counts the seconds it takes to undo his cuffs, the buttons lining his shirt, hoping to distract himself from the thirst welling up in his mouth that he keeps swallowing.

"A drumbeat," you echo, your voice trembling. "But don't you love music?"

"I do," he replies.

"I thought you couldn't live without music."

"I can't."

"Then... we're okay, right?" you inquire, your hand running along the length of his hardened desire, the cool fabric of his briefs the only barrier between you and its icy touch. Your gaze never wavers from his, a silent plea for reassurance. You want to see the Chan who died protecting you; the Chan who would vanquish this version of himself, even if it meant embarking on a fool's mission.

"You won't hurt me, will you?"

He may not require breath for survival, but the sensation of your touch makes his breath audible, escaping in short, jagged gasps that his teeth can barely contain. You can see it, and you can hear it—the rhythm of his breath intertwined with the flex of his firm muscles, like woven iron beneath his pale, milky skin.

"I could never hurt you," Chan professes, his words laden with sincerity, yet tinged with a sense of unease. He wonders if he can truly bear the weight of that promise, given his newfound struggle with self-control. He captures your lips once more, as you navigate his briefs in a hurried frenzy, responding to his kiss with a fiery intensity. You strive to avoid his fangs, the smooth ivory points that pose a dangerous threat against your swollen lips. Your breath becomes heavy against his mouth as you feel him pressing against your entrance, teasing you with deliberate strokes, spreading slickness and igniting electric shocks throughout your body. Each tiny quiver you make when he brushes past your sensitive clit only serves to undermine his initial plan of taking things slow. Plan A was to resist giving in to desire, but that failed, so Plan B was to proceed with caution. And yet, you were compelling him to venture further down the alphabet until he had exhausted all his options.

Curiosity overtakes you, and you tentatively reach up to touch the tip of his fang, a tad too eagerly, causing your finger to prick. Your reflex pulls away, but before you can retreat an inch, he thrusts inside you and firmly clasps your wrist, bringing it to his lips. It startles you; you've never seen him move so swiftly, almost as if he had teleported. There's no escaping his cold vice grip, and fear grips your heart. You want to protest, to plead for your life, but the words elude you when he fills you completely, his strokes caressing your most sensitive spots again and again. He takes your finger into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the wound, cleansing the blood. In that moment, you sense a shared eroticism, amplifying his pleasure in a primal manner.

He must be on Plan D or E by now, but all semblance of order dissipates when you moan his name and rake your nails down his chest. "Please, bite me. Pretty please? God, I just... I need to feel you—"

Chan's body hovers over yours, his cheek pressing against yours. “Stop begging me like that–”

"Or what?" you challenge, your back arching, breasts pressing into him as your bodies move in sync and he ruts into you. The pace slows, intensifying the sensation, pushing you closer to the edge. It's like a row of slot machines aligning at the casino, anticipation building, and you're on the verge of breaking, so close, incredibly close.

“Shi–you’re such a fucking brat–” Chan huffs against your neck, taking in your scent.  It was like blueberries grown in the sunshine were in a basket underneath your skin.  He knew exactly where each vessel ran.  He could tell the difference between the pace of your veins and the race of your arteries.  Each stroke inside you sets his fangs throbbing with need, and soft, guttural groans escape him as he tightens his grip on your hair, propelling both of you towards the precipice.

"Chan..." You try to utter his name, attempting to warn him, to give him a heads up, but words fail you. You're reduced to incoherent babbling, your body spasming and your toes curling. Chan curses into your skin as his sharp teeth break the surface, sinking into your shoulder. He can't halt the inevitable rush of his bite, but he steers clear of major arteries. Regrettably, the bite is deeper than intended, its edges jagged. Once he withdraws his fangs, you feel the warm flow of your own blood cascading down your shoulder. The area quickly goes numb, sending tingling shivers coursing through your body, catching you off guard and propelling you into another climax. It's an unexpected surge of pleasure, enveloping you completely. You've witnessed stars in moments of intimacy before, but now your vision becomes veiled in ethereal auras, akin to cumulus clouds bringing tempestuous weather directly into your bedroom.

Chan's mind goes blank, his instincts taking over as he sensually licks your breast, tracing a path up your collarbone, and back to the healing wound where his hunger led to the mingling of his own blood with yours. Within seconds of savoring your life force, he’s filling you up, his dick buried inside of you as he pulls your hips harder and lets out a broken moan of release. The pleasure tears him away from his consuming desire to drink from you, his hips jerking as he empties himself inside you.

Finally able to catch your breath, you realize he was like oxygen, taking you to another world, albeit a temporary escape. But now, the metallic scent of blood brings you back to reality, a reminder of the way he ravaged your shoulder earlier. The carpet beneath you is damp and sticky, soaked with spilled blood. However, as you touch the area, there's no evidence of the incident on your skin.

"I think it's gone," Chan helps you sit up on the floor, examining the spot on your upper back. True enough, it's smooth, the dried stain of blood serving as the only reminder. "I don't know how, but it's gone."

You touch the area in disbelief. "Wow, it's like it never happened," you say, struggling to recall the intensity of the bite. Concerned for Chan, you ask him if he's okay, considering the overwhelming experience you both just shared.

Chan's expression turns uneasy, his attention abruptly drawn to the window. Confusion and worry cloud his features. "I think... I think I have to go," he stammers, hastily retrieving his clothes and dressing himself as if compelled by an unseen force. He buckles his pants, hurriedly pulls on his shirt, and stumbles toward the window, his actions urgent. You panic and follow after him.

“What’s happening?!”

"I... I don't know. I think I have to go. I just..." Chan collapses to the ground, clutching his ears, crying out in pain as images of the crematorium flash through his mind's eye. "I'll come back another time," he manages to say, raising the window, and in an instant, he's out and down the fire escape, disappearing into the whispers of the city winds.

[naavispider]

ALTERNATIVE, EVEN SILLIER PROMPT

Spider’s shoulder dislocated and he’s never experienced that before so he’s just hyperventilating, wondering why his arm is flailing around while Quaritch has to calm him down and pop it back into place.

This took me a while babes but here we are eventually 💞 Sorry it took me long 🤗

It was going to shit. You didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to see that. Fike’s attempt at wrangling an ikran had been going disastrously since he started, and although Spider had enjoyed watching the recom dodge the animal’s sharp beak in an attempt not to get his head bitten off, even he was starting to worry that the situation was fast approaching out-of-control.

Quaritch had already tamed his banshee, and was watching intently from the sky. Mansk had gone next, followed by Zdinarsk, but the majority of the group remained on the ground, shouting encouragement and advice from their vantage points.

Fike had seemed nervous from the start. It was clear, now, that he was struggling. The fourth member of project Phoenix had chosen a cyan blue male with green field marks - the kind of green Spider had seen in the aurora to the North. It was a beautiful ikran, but fierce. And Fike wasn’t prepared.

The recom was on the ground, pinned underneath his beast, who was snapping his beak trying to tear Fike’s head off.

“Watch it!” Prager shouted from beside Spider, who flinched when the animal lunged for Fike’s head again, this time managing to snap his ear. Fike let out a roar of pain as blood gushed from the place his ear used to be.

Behind him, Spider heard the sound of Wainfleet loading up the gun that Quaritch had wanted to use. No way in hell, thought Spider. Bonding with any creature on Pandora was a sacred act, and to do so with some kind of artificial aid felt like a violation.

Without thinking, Spider jumped forward, entering the match to help Fike. He didn’t want the recom to succeed, but he had to stop Wainfleet from shooting the ikran. “Stop!” he shouted as he lunged over a rock and put his hands up to the animal, exposed.

The ikran paused its attack on Fike just long enough to stare at Spider in surprise. Fike was dangling dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, and any wrong move would send them both over.

“Easy there,” Spider murmured to the animal, not looking her in the eye. He knew how stupid this was. Unlike the Na’vi, he couldn’t simply bond with the creature if it decided to attack. No ikran had ever tried to hurt him in the past, but that’s because he gave them space and never interrupted a fight. Nothing could save him if the banshee attacked.

“Kid, what are you doing!”

“Spider!”

“Get back HERE!”

He ignored the various voices and took another tentative step closer to the ikran. “Easy, boy,” he continued, hoping that Fike could get his act together soon and make the bond.

With a grunt of pain, Fike wriggled out from the ikran’s belly. The animal realised almost immediately and raised a sharp talon to slash down through Fike’s arm. Spider heard Fike’s grunt at the same time as Wainfleet yelled at him. “Get DOWN!”

Knowing he was in Wainfleet’s line of fire, Spider jumped to the side, hoping to distract the ikran just long enough for Fike to clamber on top.

That turned out to be incredibly stupid.

The ikran screeched furiously at him, turning its attention from the injured recom to Spider, giving Spider just a second to brace himself before the animal swiped him with a huge talon, the force of it sending him back several strides. He landed disastrously on the hard rock and cried out in pain as he realised something was extremely wrong with his arm.

He looked up, expecting the ikran advancing on him to be his final sight. What he actually saw was Fike finally pulling himself together enough to leap onto the animal’s back, grabbing his kuru and plunging it next to the ikran’s.

Once he was sure the pair were bonded and the situation was under control, Spider threw his head back and allowed the pain in his shoulder to consume him. He tried to push himself up into sitting, but could only use his left arm to support himself.

“Fuck!” he cried, clutching his right arm. This did nothing to ease the pain - in fact it made it worse. He’d never felt something like this before, and it scared him. He’d broken his arm once, and that was nowhere near as bad as this.

Before he knew it, Prager was by his side, along with Ja and Wainfleet. “What happened?” demanded Quaritch over the comms.

Prager’s hands were gently trying to manoeuvre Spider's right arm into a more comfortable position, while a focused expression clouded his face. “It’s dislocated,” he muttered. Wainfleet relayed the information over the comms and within moments the squad leader had landed, all thoughts of Fike’s battle to the death long over.

“Is that bad?” Spider asked through clenched teeth, trying anything he could to not cry from the agony. He couldn’t move his right arm at all, and his shoulder felt like it had simply been blown off.

“It’s not fun,” the medic responded, “but we can fix it quickly.”

Spider was mainly focused on keeping his breathing steady, so he tuned out the rest of the conversation. Wainfleet and Ja had left at some point, presumably to go check on Fike if he had landed yet.

Despite the pain, Spider reminded himself that at least his ear hadn’t just been torn off.

“-don’t carry any human-“

“-fuck him up?”

Spider looked up at this alarming exchange, glancing between Prager and Quaritch. “What’s going on?” he demanded, but it came out as a very half hearted groan.

Quaritch looked at Prager, who was the one to explain. “I can pop your shoulder back in, no problem. But it’s gonna be… painful. I’ve only got recombinant painkillers.”

“Is it safe?” Spider asked.

“It’s never really been tested before. Theoretically, there’s nothing toxic in the gas and air. But it’s around seven times stronger for recoms.”

“Gas and air?” Quaritch interrupted. “How’s that gonna work with his mask?”

“I can hook it up,” Prager responded simply.

Spider groaned, his shoulder choosing that moment to throb especially hard.

“It’s up to you, boss.”

“No," Spider winced before Quaritch had a chance to reply. "Give it to me.”

“Are you sure?” the squad leader asked, looking uncertain.

Spider nodded. He was big for a human - he could take it.

Prager took off his back and started to rummage for the equipment while Quaritch took over holding Spider’s arm in place. “Small breaths,” Quaritch murmured, and somewhere deep inside Spider did an internal eye roll that his genocidal father’s clone was giving him tips on pain management.

As if Spider didn’t know how to deal with pain.

“Okay kid, in a second I’m gonna plug the medicine into your exopack. It will only take a few seconds to diffuse and you’ll start to feel it.” Spider wanted to tell the medic to just hurry up already. “Then I’ll pop your arm back into place nice and easy. Just keep breathing steadily. You ready?”

Spider looked at him before nodding. Prager fiddled with the exopack on Spider’s back, which in itself felt vulnerable. Before he had time to dwell on this though, a strange smell permeated his mask. He breathed in deeply, and was hit with a wave of dizziness. Woah. Whatever the hell that was, it was fucking strong.

“Fuck,” he cussed as he closed his eyes and leaned backwards, afraid he was gonna pass out. Arms caught him from behind, adjusting him to a certain sitting position. He could feel Prager’s hands on his elbow and shoulder, but the pain was muted, as if it was waving at him from across an ocean.

“Clench your teeth and don't bite your tongue. You hear me, Spider? Just relax,” Prager instructed, and Spider tried to focus on the words, although it took him a while to process that simple instruction. Relax? Relax? When he was captured by the enemy and having to rely on the murderous RDA for medical aid? “You’re crazy,” Spider slurred with a smirk. He should be scared of them, but he wasn’t. “You’re… delusional…”

No one replied to him - at least, he couldn’t hear them if they did, because all of a sudden his elbow was jerked into a new position, sending a muted wave of pain over his skin like goosebumps. “OW!” He protested angrily. He couldn’t remember why Prager was hurting him. He couldn’t remember why he was here. He didn’t think he could even recall his name.

“All done,” Quaritch said awkwardly.

“Wwhat’ss done?”

“Your arm’s back to normal.”

Prager was watching him carefully.

Spider frowned. “What happened to m’arm?”

Prager raised an eyebrow, which was entirely unhelpful, so Spider turned to Quaritch. This was equally disappointing because Quaritch looked constipated.

This only heightened Spider’s anxiety. What had happened? It must be bad. “Did it fall off?”

“Just stay still while I wrap it,” responded Prager. The medic proceeded to create some sort of sling for Spider’s arm, but Spider wasn’t paying attention. He was more focused on the strange pink patches of skin that interrupted his natural blue.

How bizarre. Suddenly, it seemed hilarious. Why did he have pink skin when he was from Pandora? Nobody else did.

He couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped him. He tried to stop it but it came out more of a raspberry and spit sprayed the inside of his mask. “Why’s m’skin PINK?!” he cackled, finding it difficult not to wheeze in hysterics. “Hey… HEY! Do you see it?”

Quaritch didn’t look half as amused as Spider felt. His face was set in a sour expression and even Prager looked a little concerned. What had gotten into them? “It’s pink…!”

“Okay, try and keep your arm still okay, Spider?” Prager said.

“My arm?”

Prager nodded. “You’ll need to wear the sling for the rest of today to help with the tenderness.”

“What’s wrong with my arm?” he asked in worry.

“It’s fine, Spider. You just dislocated it.”

“Dis…?” He looked down at his left arm and brought it up to his face. “It’s fine!”

Quaritch sighed. “The other one. No! Don’t try to move that one…”

Spider looked down and was surprised to find his right arm was secured to his chest in a folded piece of white material. There was a large knot at the back of his neck. “What’sss that?”

“It’s a sling. It will keep your arm still while the shoulder heals.”

“My arm? What happened to my arm?!”

Instead of being helpful and explaining what had happened to his poor arm, Quaritch’s face twitched slightly.

“Aaaand that’s enough of that,” Prager said, fiddling with a tube that was connected to Spider’s exopack.

“Hey! Get off, you’ll choke me!”

“Shh, kid, it’s okay,” Quaritch tried to console him. But Spider knew he couldn’t trust this man. He couldn’t remember exactly why, but he knew he was bad.

“Do you even remember my name?” Prager asked, looking bemused as he sat back to pack away the medkit.

Spider frowned. “Why would I not remember y’name? I don’t have brain damage.”

“Then what is it?”

He knew this. He knew it. Wait… why did he not know it? “I don’t want say,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if spies were lurking nearby. “Anyone could be listening.”

Prager gave Quaritch a knowing glance, complete with a half smirk. It made Spider feel like he was being left out of a joke. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, kid. Who’s listening?”

Spider glanced around nervously before replying in a hushed voice. “The demons.”

He heard a snort of laughter from somewhere, and looked up to see Wainfleet and Mansk had come back over to see what all the fuss was about.

“Shhh!” he told them irritatedly.

“Yeah, keep your voices down guys. The demons are listening…”

Wainfleet was the most thoughtful, being considerate enough to glance around and check if there were any nearby. "Shit, sorry Spider! Can you tell me what they look like so I can spot them?"

Spider's brow furrowed in confusion. What did the demons look like? It was like something was fogging up his brain, allowing their appearance to escape him. Wait... Demons? Who was he talking about?

"I don't know," he moaned, thoroughly confused.

"Aw, come on Spidey! I wanna know!" Wainfleet jeered.

But Spider's head was coming back to him. He looked at Wainfleet, and so did Quaritch. While Spider's look was of a hazy understanding, the Colonel's eyes flashed with warning. "That's enough, Corporal."

Prager stood up, having packed the equipment away, giving Spider a pat on his good shoulder and carrying his bag over to Fike, the next casualty of the afternoon.

"You still in space?" Quaritch asked, taking out his holopad.

"Huh?" Spider replied. What was Quaritch talking about? He'd never been to space.

"Are you with us yet? Or do you still think that having pink skin is hilarious?" Quaritch was scanning the screen of his tablet, which from behind looked like a satellite map.

Spider groaned. What had he been talking about? The pain in his shoulder was starting to come back to him now, though it wasn't as bad as before. It just felt like it had been over exercised.

Quaritch chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

"How long do I have to wear this thing?" Spider asked in disgust, gesturing to the sling. It was constricting and uncomfortable, preventing him from climbing and even running with decent balance. The sooner he could burn it the better.

"Prager said at least for today. But I'll get him to look you over again this evening."

"Right."

"Until then, you're staying with me."

"What-?" Spider said, alarmed, but Quaritch had already pulled him to his feet by his good arm, marching him towards his ikran.

"I clearly can't trust you on the ground. Within ten minutes you almost got yourself killed." He hoisted Spider up in front of him, and was only successful because Spider's senses weren't what they usually were after the anesthetic.

Annoyance burned away the last of the gas and air in Spider's system. "I'm fine," he protested at the indignant manhandling.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell that to the demons."

Spider swore under his breath.

[puc-puggy]

american primeval was better than most, so i checked out the revenant and holy shit i hate that movie. i wanna know how falling down a waterfall made him less injured.

the man's foot was literally detached at the bone (he didn't even splint it. he just crawls off. foot dangling), he gets to a river, is discovered and chased into the frozen mountain river in winter an indeterminate amount of time later but still the same winter, at which point he goes over a series of rapids, and he can fucking walk after it. he could not walk before falling into the frozen river in winter and going over the rapids. getting into a frozen mountain river in winter did not cause him to freeze to death in minutes and going over the rapids did not re-break whatever freshly healed completely un-set broken bones he had from the bear mauling. no, he regained the ability to walk from this series of events. he runs his horse off a 90ft+ cliff and a tree "breaks his fall" and also doesn't rebreak his fragile fragile fucking bones on the way down (that should have been rebroken 5 or 6 times on top of each other by now.)

who called this movie realistic. who on earth fucking said that. i need to talk to you. we need to have words. we need to talk about why you think a deeply injured man can fall asleep half buried in frozen ground and not freeze to death. and then we gotta talk about why you think a man can crawl across miles of frozen forest floor in winter on multiple broken ribs and two broken legs without freezing to death. he was coughing up blood, implying a rib punctured one of his fucking lungs with no treatment or intervention except crawling on the ground (bad), going over rapids (so healing), and charging off a 90ft cliff and crashing on every tree branch on the way down. we need to talk about why you think people in 1820 with no shelter and no other clothes were willy nilly jumping into frozen, ice-covered rivers up to the knee. every single person in that movie should have died multiple times over from waterlogged frozen fucking shoes.

we just watch him not die with no explanation over and over for over and hour. and if he does die and the implication is that some kind of ~indian magic~ brought him back via his wife's singing to get revenge, i cannot describe how unbelievably racist that makes the movie. that these directors have a fixation on superstrong superdangerous frontiersman who married into indigenous nations and are then the lone survivor of a massacre is already. so fucking bad. if this movie is actually trying to imply that his wife's singing brought him back to life to avenge the death of their son, i'm... i do not have words.

[frogspawned]

this is such incredibly poor reasoning. biden is actively alienating his own party, you know, the thing he needs to have behind him to win, the people who want him to win this fucked up binary of bad options, to appeal to people who absolutely will not vote for him. who cares if they are stirred up! they don't like him anyways! they were never going to be swayed to the left, particularly in the current extremely polarized political climate in the united states. you're alienating your base for ZERO return. why are mainstream democrats always pulling this same tired routine? it has NEVER worked! you're just cutting away your own support, like some idiot sawing at his own rope while dangling over a cliff, because some of the other guy's might slip loose (spoiler they won't).

if trump wants to be the most pro-israel president in history, why are you competing with him for it? let him fucking die on that hill. your actual voters, your staff, the whole fucking world world are all BEGGING you to get off the hill.

"my opponent wants to wear the shit crown, but gosh, his followers -- who hate me viscerally and will never support me under any circumstances -- won't like it if i don't fight for the shit crown. oh well! guess i better wear it first!"

i'm already holding my fucking nose knowing i'm going to have to vote for this joke, because the alternative is the the same but worse! at least i can try to shame biden, and pressure him! we've moved the needle incrementally, and the momentum is building. too slow, but it is. the us abstained for the last UN vote for ceasefire. which is not enough, laughably paltry by any stretch, but at least it's creeping in the right direction. trump's going to continue to fund israel's war machine gleefully, with no hold's barred, if not ramp it up. he will actively enjoy any protest as red meat for his followers. because then he can whinge and posture and puff himself up. biden has an emotional attachment to the idea of israel? who gives a shit joe! maybe one should care more about the reality than the idea, and the reality is undeniable at this point. it's standing stark and naked before the world.

the reality is the united states has poured BILLIONS into a genocide machine who openly celebrates ethnic cleansing. idf soldiers put up selfies and funny tiktoks, and loot the homes of the palestinians they've slaughtered for the crime of existing on land they want. idf snipers target aid workers and doctors and children. they block food and medicine. they blow up trucks of flour. this is not speculation -- even if someone doesn't believe what their own eyes can see, every day, of the horrors pouring out of palestine, then take israel's word for it. they're proud of what their doing. they celebrate it. they snipe old women and beat old men to death, use children as bait for ambulance drivers, tear down homes and temples and mosques and centuries old olive groves then post it for their friends and family to see. they actively corroborate their own war crimes on tiktok.

but because it's easy, because the us has always done it, because it makes money for contractors and makes evangelicals giddy about the apocalypse, we'll just continue to pour anti tank rounds into their hands, missiles, drones, whatever tools they need to """mow the grass"""" in gaza. the military industrial complex has the us in an inescapable chokehold, in every facet of our lives, and god forbid we stop throwing lives and money and blood down the endless money hole. they might stop bombing people if we stop sending them bombs! and then how will israel sell that prime beach front property?

and in a decade we'll wring our hands and coo about what a tragedy it was, how sad, how inevitable, and throw up a fucking memorial in some park so we'll never forget.

[lanternlightss]

so !!! was talking with @gracefullilyofthevalley and they gave such a good idea that the brainrot immediately hit and !!! have to inflict upon you all now.

Who is this woman?

It’s the question most prominent on Percy’s mind, right after, I wonder if I could shove a tree up Gaea’s nose?

Gaea, whose breath makes the ground tremble, whose face barely twitches in the dirt of the cliff.

Gaea, who dangles a woman, one who looks so achingly familiar that his chest hurts, over the end of it all.

Choose, Percy Jackson, comes a voice that haunts his waking steps. Choose. A second chance.

A second chance?

Percy glares at the dirt, wondering if he could spray some water and wash away her mouth. Wash those foul words, and whatever.

“A second chance?” He repeats. What is that supposed to mean…

Choose. Sally Jackson, or the world.

(Not again, not again, not again.)

Sally…. Jackson?

(Not again not again notagainotagain—)

His head hurts, his heart—twists. Who…?

The ground around him trembles. Columns of dirt burst forth, spraying all kinds of earth into the air. A few rocks get into his hair, and one leaves a parting gift of a cut across his forehead.

The columns warp, twisting and curling. He takes a step back as they surround him, reminding too much of—of—

He regrets it, immediately, as a deep crevice cracks and expands just centimeters away from his foot. A fire blazes from it, spreading out, burning away all the grass and forest. In the distance, he thinks he can see cabins set ablaze?

The woman—Sally, who is Sally?—is shaken once more. She bites at the vines around her, an arrangement of curses muffled behind them.

Choose, Percy Jackson, Gaea demands. Choose.

(Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it—)

Percy looks between Sally and Gaea, a little frantic, more than confused.

“What do you want?” He hisses. Sally has to be important somehow, Gaea only ever taunts him with shit like that. For why she’s important…

Sally is shaking her head. Don’t, she’s trying to tell him.

There isn’t a look of fear in her eyes. There isn’t even hesitance. All that’s there is determination, and, astonishingly, an ocean's worth of… love? A deep, shielding love that…. a mother… could….

Choose! What will you sacrifice?

The ground rumbles once more.

Sally is looking at him more comforting, now. It reminds him of the blue drink he had, way back then, when they were about to first set out. It makes his throat close, it makes his eyes burn.

She looks at Percy as if everything will be okay.

(Stop it, stop it! This will be the last, I can’t—)

He stands, legs trembling, chest heaving with unshed tears.

The vines constrict around her, squeezing. Percy startles, his hand reaching out, feels the bit of moisture in the air respond to him, feels the water trapped in the soil—the choice has been made, he has lingered too long.

Around him, the world washes out into grey and black. Sally, though, begins to glow instead.

He tilts, as something comes to mind, of a scene far too similar. Of his mother—(his mother, his dearest mother, please you can’t take her away again!)—trapped in the hands of a monster. A minotaur.

She’s yelling at him, (she’s smiling at him), telling him to go go go (it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay)—

The glow is bright, now, blinding. It pauses for all a second, and—

(Please, I can save her again, I can save her—)

It fades, the glow draining in an instant, and she crumbles into dust. It slips through the vines, falling to the ground, in an awfully, awfully somber way.

Percy stares, hand still outstretched. A part of him feels like it crumbled alongside her, alongside his mother.

(That’s not what’s supposed to happen. That’s not what happened. This isn’t right.

What have you done?)

“What have you done?”

The ground rumbles, once more, but it isn’t Gaea who’s the cause of it. Under his feet, it trembles, dirt skittering this way and that.

Gaea does not answer. Her closed eyes seem to burn into him.

It does not affect him—not as much as she might want it to. It does the opposite, and something inside him roars, angry and upset and devastated and bring her back bring her back—

“What have you done?!”

He brings his hands up, his stomach twisting, and all he feels is rage, rage, rage, (a horrific emptiness), rage, rage.

A jet of water bursts out in front of him, ten, fifteen, then twenty feet high. It responds to his rage (responds to his desperation.)

In a voice that shakes the very core of the earth, he screams, “Bring her back!!”

The water shoots forth, expanding as it does so, until a tidal wave crashes into the cliff. It seems to have done nothing, as when it flows back, flows through the fires that blaze around him, Gaea has vanished. The dust has been swept away, not a trace left.

His body shakes, his expression one of terror and rage. He wants to find Gaea and rip every detail of her face off, wants to swear and curse the gods for forcing him into another godawful world-ending quest, wants his mother—

Wants…. his mother….

Percy sinks to his knees. His throat burns. The images of his mom exploding into gold and fading to nothing overlap in his mind.

A tear drops down his cheek. More follow, until he is heaving and sobbing and wailing and cursing at the injustice of it all. He keels over, holding a hand to his mouth, as he grieves.

“Bring her back,” he croaks.

(I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, mom, I couldn’t—

I couldn’t save you again.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…..)

[helterskeletors]

sympathy song

heyyy rlm oomfies this is mostly for my twt followers since i have nowhere else to publish it. a short story about god and fetishes hope u enjoy if u read [crying emoji] muah!

God snuck up on me last night. I was drunk on the edge of a quarry cliff with a cigarette dangling from my fingers. Wet from rain and the sickly sweet tar of tobacco, I heard God call to me.

“May I sit with you?”

“Knock yourself out.”

He descended down from heaven and laid his rotund body on the rocks next to me.

We sat in silence. He got a glance of my wrist from my sweater.

“Have you been hurting yourself again?”

“You know the answer, Father.”

“I would like to hear it from you, child.”

I looked at him with annoyance dripping from my eyes and pulling my mouth down. “I cut myself again, yes.”

“Why?”

“Father, I am tired. I am especially tired of rhetorical questions.”

“I know.”

The silence had returned, intercut with splashes and screams from a group of kids who’d snuck to the lake. I couldn’t help but pursue his question out of nothing else but curiosity.

“Father, the answer is embarrassing. I’d rather not say why.”

“I already know what it is. I asked you to say it for yourself.”

“Admitting is the first step,” I joked, then coughed from the smoke stinging a dry spot in my throat. “I had sex with Tim last night. He said he didn’t want to choke me during it anymore; it made him feel weird- to hurt me. I said that was okay. He finished and I ran to the bathroom and sliced my arm open over and over. Then I was gratified. By the time I got done bandaging it he’d already gone to bed. I guess he’d thought I was just washing his scent off of me.”

God listened intently. He was always surprisingly patient about my complaints towards his gifts. He must’ve been used to people being upset with him.

“He said he was worried about me recently. “You look so tired,” or “How many drinks have you had?” have been his favorite phrases lately,” I shook my head. For someone reluctant to even open this can of worms, I was showing them off quite a bit now. “Whether or not I know the real answer, he’s getting the same ones every time. I can’t be bothered to hurt him now.”

“Hurt him?” God asked, a bit of shock flew out with his words.

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded. “If I tell him everything, he’s just gonna leave and feel sorry for himself. Besides the obvious fact that I love him, Father.”

“You see the future?”

“You’re always so literal,” I grunted. “I mean, I’d like to think I know him well enough to where I can say something like that with confidence.”

“You’ve just finished telling me that he knows nothing about you.”

I flipped his words around my mind like the next cigarette I fiddled out of my pocket. “Father, tell me what he’ll do.”

“I can’t tell you what you’re not supposed to know.”

I feigned frustration, and some unwelcome tears collected behind my eyes. “Am I sick, Father? Is this some disease or-or a disorder?”

“What is? Sexual gratification from pain or your inability to be honest?”

“Any of it,” I spat out. “Why would you give me all of this shit if you wanted me to be happy?”

“You think I am more attentive to detail than I actually am, sweet thing.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t pick my cards, like you didn’t. I am your creator and you are my creation. To think either of us chose our role is a limited perspective that I’ve never expected you to look out from. I can’t control everything you are; you’re organic.”

He'd let me simmer in what he’d said. The kids down below continued their racket. The excitement had somehow made them able to ignore our conversation.

“Do you think you are unlovable because of your flaws?”

“No, but these are…a very different set of ‘flaws’. They’re hard to digest.”

God shrugged. “Is your life something to be understood, or something to be lived?”

I looked down at the sparkling quarry.

“For humans, all flaws are hard to digest. But if you believe Tim loves you, he would ask for seconds.”

“That’s a corny metaphor, Father.” I laughed.

“Maybe so. But it’s a truth I’ve granted you.”

He gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder and climbed back up the stairs to heaven. The kids below me ran through cycles of screaming and giggling to suddenly remembering they were breaking the law, shushing each other.

Don’t worry, I thought, I won’t tell on you.

[bengoodridge]

Story-Averse

When the pandemic hit, I was stuck inside the house for long periods of time without much to do. (I described it to my Mum as "a slow motion hurricane.") Of course, when you're that keyed up and that anxious for that amount of time, it's a good idea to turn to self-care to reduce the amount of stress in your life. My drug of choice was 1980s episodes of the Price Is Right.

This requires some explanation. The Price Is Right is a show I watched fairly often when I was a kid. There was something easy to romanticize about 1987, when I'd help my parents out in the shop in the morning, break off in time for lunch, watch the Price is Right, and head out to hang out with my friends or hit the lake. So, I spent the early part of the pandemic watching a 60-year-old Bob Barker on YouTube.

After a while, I noticed I was skipping some of the games. Clock Game, for instance. Didn't like that one. Also, Switcheroo. Skipped it. A few other games got skipped over as well. I started to notice something interesting: I was skipping any game with a timer.

I realized that I had become so averse to anxiety that I was actively avoiding suspense. Even in a game show as schmoozy and inoffensive as the Price is Right, I wanted low-key drama at best. That's not a safe spot for a writer to stand. I want to dangle my protagonist off a cliff in the back of a garbage truck full of spiders and then smash cut to a bad guy in an office shouting into the phone about his stolen loot.

In fact, there may be a limit to the amount of suspense I can manage in my life. Right now I'm trying to close a lucrative business deal with a lot of moving parts and I find that my current favorite channel on YouTube involves washing dirty rugs. Not exactly "Alien."

I've worked on five short-form books this year trying to get a series off the ground, but they're meant to be kind of cozy and familiar. That's not to say shit doesn't happen, but I'm aiming for a kind of comfort food feel, the sort of book you can read in an afternoon or three of in a week. There's certainly plenty of conflict - the relationships are deceptively unstable - but every once in a while, circumstances tighten around the characters, like running into a misplaced candy-coated almond in the middle of a chocolate chip cookie.

It's worth wondering whether an aversion to suspense in real life can affect artistic results. I've actually stopped writing until I can close this business deal, but I'm relieved to say that I did re-read some of this work and found it competent, at least. I think suspense is about what you, personally, find suspenseful; I'd never call a PG Wodehouse story suspenseful, though I've devoured them as assiduously as Terry Pratchett. But someone who finds suspense in relationship drama might have a different opinion.

I don't want these stories to be too comforting, after all.

[percontaion-points]

Firstlife chapter 11

Today’s review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 11

Hanks [sic] of snow and rock fall over…

I would ask where the editor was, but I think we all know that there was none. 

“I can do a lot of things, Ten, but I can’t be everywhere at once, and I can’t override free will.” 

Melting...gone! “Are you saying Clay chose to die? I assure you, he didn’t. He begged me to save him.” He begged me, and I failed him. My tears return, my chin trembling. 

“He begged you, but didn’t ask me.”

Once again reminding everybody that neither Troikan citizens nor Myriadian citizens give a shit about when you die, so long as you’ve signed with them. 

“I would have found myself in Many Ends,” Sloan says, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Have you ever...visited?” 

We’re seated inside another four-by-four square, but I take no comfort in the warmth. I deserve the cold. 

“No. I’ve tried,” Archer tells her. “We hear the screams of the people inside, and we’ve even attempted to follow spirits through the veil, but we’re always blocked.”

Again, every single word from his lips about the realms sounds like pure propaganda. 

He places his right hand over his heart and his left over his right, and a second later, he’s gone.

Chapter 11 summary: Ten grabs hold of Sloan, and then Clay and the three of them try to outrace the avalanche to the side. But they aren’t fast enough. The writing is kind of vague about the specifics, but at literally no point does Ten actually get covered with shit. Bad writing is bad. 

When it’s over, Ten realises that Sloan and Clay are both dangling off the side of a cliff. She can only save one of them, and she choses Sloan because she’s also unsigned. But in the time it took to haul Sloan up, Clay lost his grip and plummeted down. He wasn’t moving, and there was a huge pool of blood, so Ten is pretty sure that he’s dead. 

The two of them fall back to where Archer is, and Killian is nowhere to be seen. Ten naturally blames the all-powerful angel for failing to save her friend. He blames Clay’s death on Clay’s inability to ask for help. (He cannot help unless asked.) But the entire thing is really victim-blame-y, and I am NOT here for it. 

After resting for a bit, the three of them start going again. As they walk, Ten composes a list of points she has against both sides. Troika failed to save Clay. Myriad picked the fight that led to the avalanche. Her parents are with Myriad. Troika refuses to help unless directly asked… Even if it’s to literally save a life. 

They get to a little town, where Archer tells them that they’re in a well-known environmental disaster area in Russia. (In this hellscape of a book, at any rate.) He warns that there might be guards who live there, but sends them to a bed and breakfast nearby. That the owner is trusted, and he’ll ensure that the two of them get to wherever they need to go. Ten dismisses him, but then tries to ask about Dior. He tries to play off her curiosity to convince her to join, but she’s like “Nah, fuck you buddy.”