#i wrote this at 4 am in the morning before 2 finals

[ithrysslurks]

The Fall of Gil-Galad: Bredlik version

his name was Gil and he was king, of him the har- pers sadly sing; his names mean 'prinse' and 'shiyning star' — but non know hu his parents ar.

hes Fingons son, haf many guessed, its sung in songs brot to the West, but theres much douwt he had a wiyfe, for Maedhros was his fren for liyfe.

the third age har- pers sing this some — from Orodreth he could haf come, but Gil was grayte, this elf, less sharp — of him the sing- ers rarely harp.

could Finrod fair haf been his dad? of this the har- pers think real sad, for Finrod lovd Amarië — and bak in Val- inor she stayd.

of Fëanor, some grasp for hints, or Sindarin: a long-lost prinse? a random elf got hipnotiyzed? or Findui- las, in disguiyse?

they call him Gil — Ereinion, ruld Lindon once, but now its gon; of sord, and lance, the harpers piyne, on shield and helm the stars did shiyne.

'but now hes ded!' cry harpers sad, not even El- rond knows Gils dad; unfinished til the Dagorath — the anchient tale of Gil-Galad.

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 2

Summary: after your last session with Aegon, you always feel him behind your back, when you were at home you could feel him here. And when your next session come, everything just got worse...

Warning: dead animals, just a little sex scene, minors DNI.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language and I wrote this at 2 AM alone in the home. So I'm sorry if it's not good, I was scared and I couldn't think. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4

That night, sleep came slowly to Y/N. The room felt colder than usual, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the window sent her heart racing. She pulled the blankets tighter around her, trying to convince herself that Aegon’s words had just been that—a mind game, an attempt to unsettle her. But the weight of his gaze from earlier lingered like a ghost in the room.

He didn’t actually watch me, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. He was just trying to freak me out, trying to get into my head. That’s what he does.

But as soon as she closed her eyes, she imagined him standing outside her window, staring in at her with that unsettling intensity. She quickly opened them again, staring at the window across from her bed. The curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, and for a moment, her mind played tricks on her, imagining a shadow behind them.

There’s no one there, she repeated to herself. He’s not here. He can’t be here.

She forced herself to roll over, turning her back to the window. But that only made her feel more vulnerable. What if he was watching her now, right behind her? She cursed under her breath, her skin prickling with the sense of being observed.

He’s not here. You’re safe. He just wanted to mess with you. That’s all.

But the thought looped in her head, becoming harder to shake. Every sound in the house became magnified—the creak of the pipes, the hum of the fridge, the rustle of leaves outside. Everything felt threatening. She tried focusing on her breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, forcing her mind to calm.

You’re a professional, she reminded herself, staring at the faint light coming through the crack in the curtains. You’ve dealt with difficult clients before. He’s no different.

But deep down, she knew Aegon was different. He was more than difficult—he was dangerous, unpredictable. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke about that dove, about watching her through the window... it was unsettling in a way that no other client had ever been. And that was what made it so hard to shake.

Hours passed before she finally drifted into a restless sleep, her mind plagued by half-formed dreams of shadows and cold eyes staring through the night.

The next morning, she walked to her office with a persistent unease in her chest. The street felt too quiet, and she found herself glancing over her shoulder every few steps, expecting to see Aegon trailing behind her. But there was no one. Just the usual early morning foot traffic—people heading to work, students with their heads buried in their phones.

He’s not here, she told herself again, quickening her pace. He’s not following you. You’re just being paranoid.

But every time she turned a corner, her heart leapt into her throat, expecting to catch a glimpse of his familiar figure. She tried to shake off the paranoia, but it clung to her like a second skin.

When she finally reached her office building, she sighed in relief, stepping quickly inside. The familiar scent of the lobby, the hum of the elevator, the bright, sterile lighting—everything felt like a small refuge from the gnawing anxiety that had been following her all morning.

But the moment she stepped into her office and closed the door, the unease returned. Her eyes immediately darted to the window, checking for any sign of movement outside. There was nothing—just the trees swaying gently in the breeze, the distant sound of traffic.

He’s not watching you, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time. He’s just trying to scare you, and it’s working. Don’t let him get to you.

But even as she tried to focus on her work, her mind kept wandering back to Aegon. His strange, possessive words about the dove. The way he described wanting to clip its wings, to keep it trapped and close. It echoed in her head, too close to how he might feel about her. She shuddered at the thought, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for her coffee.

Later, as the day turned to evening and she walked home, the unease intensified. The shadows stretched longer, darker, and with every step, she felt like someone was just a few paces behind her. She forced herself to keep walking, telling herself not to look back.

He’s not there, she repeated, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. It’s just your imagination. He’s not following you.

But the urge to turn around became too much. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, her breath catching in her throat.

No one. The street behind her was empty, save for a few distant cars and pedestrians.

Her heart raced as she turned back, walking faster now, nearly breaking into a jog. She couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard she tried. The shadows felt alive, watching her, waiting for her to let her guard down. And it was getting harder and harder to convince herself that it was just paranoia.

When she finally reached her apartment, she slammed the door shut behind her, locking it quickly. Her hands were shaking as she leaned against the door, trying to calm her breathing.

It’s over. You’re home. He’s not here. You’re safe.

But even as she said the words, she didn’t fully believe them. Every creak of the apartment, every shadow cast by the dim evening light seemed to take on a new, more sinister meaning. She jumped at the slightest movement, her nerves frayed beyond reason.

As she sat down on the couch, she glanced at the window, half-expecting to see Aegon’s face staring back at her from the street below. But it was empty, just the soft glow of streetlights outside.

He’s not watching you, she repeated to herself, her voice barely a whisper. He’s not watching you.

But the creeping feeling of being observed refused to leave, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, Aegon was watching—waiting for the right moment to make his next move.

A week had passed since their last session, but it felt like months to Y/N. Every day, her unease grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. The feeling of being watched never fully left her; shadows felt longer, eyes sharper. No matter how much she told herself it was just in her head, there was always a faint whisper of doubt in the back of her mind.

Now, sitting in her office once again, facing the man who had been haunting her thoughts, she forced herself to breathe. Aegon was different today. His usual agitation, the relentless tapping of his leg and biting of his nails, was absent. Instead, he sat eerily still, his eyes fixed on the wall to her left, as if he was watching something that she couldn’t see. His lips moved faintly, a soft, tuneless whisper escaping them. She strained her ears to catch it but could only make out fragments of sound—a hum, almost like a lullaby.

The silence in the room felt thick, oppressive, and she had to fight the urge to shift in her seat, to break the suffocating quiet.

I have to ask, she told herself, steeling her nerves. You have to confront him about last week. You can’t let him think he can do whatever he wants.

She took a deep breath and spoke, trying to keep her voice calm, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "Aegon, last time we spoke, you mentioned something… odd. You said I looked good last night… in my pajamas." Her voice faltered slightly at the memory, but she forced herself to continue. "I need to ask, what did you mean by that?"

Aegon didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes remained glued to the wall, his lips still moving faintly, whispering that strange song to himself. His hands rested on his knees, the skin pale and bruised, nails ragged from relentless chewing.

"Aegon?" she pressed, her voice tightening as her nerves frayed. "What did you mean?"

He stopped humming, but his gaze remained unfocused, distant, as if he were somewhere far away. After what felt like an eternity of silence, he finally spoke, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Sunfyre died this week."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Your… your cat?"

Aegon nodded slowly, still staring at the wall. "He was my only friend. The only one who understood." His voice was monotone, lifeless, as though the words were being dragged out of him.

"I’m… I’m sorry to hear that," Y/N said cautiously, watching his expression for any sign of reaction. But there was nothing. His face remained blank, his eyes never leaving the invisible point on the wall.

"He was beautiful," Aegon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Golden fur. Like the sun. That’s why I called him Sunfyre. He was always warm. Always there."

Y/N swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Aegon spoke—as if he was detached from the world around him, floating somewhere she couldn’t reach.

"And now," he murmured, his voice taking on a strange, almost dreamy quality, "he’s gone. And there’s just… noises." He finally blinked, but his gaze remained distant, as if the room had become too small for him. "The noises never stop."

"What… what noises?" Y/N asked cautiously, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair, trying to steady herself. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted.

"Them," Aegon replied vaguely, tilting his head slightly as if listening for something. "The whispers. The sounds in the walls. They’re everywhere now, you know? After Sunfyre… they got louder. He used to keep them away, but now there’s nothing. Just them. Always talking. Always laughing." His face twitched for the briefest moment, as if suppressing a shiver.

Y/N’s heart started to race again, an icy chill creeping down her spine. "Aegon… have you… have you spoken to anyone about these noises? Has this been happening for a long time?"

"They’ve always been there," he said in the same flat, detached voice. "But it’s worse now. It’s like they’re closer. Watching me all the time. Telling me things." His eyes, still glued to the wall, seemed to glaze over. "I try not to listen, but sometimes… sometimes they make sense."

Her throat felt dry, but she forced herself to ask, "What do they tell you?"

Aegon’s lips curled into a slow, unsettling smile. It was the first time he’d smiled since he entered the room, and it was chilling. "They tell me the truth. About everything. About you."

Her blood ran cold at his words, her mind racing as she tried to keep her expression neutral. "What… what do you mean, Aegon?"

"They tell me how beautiful you are," he whispered, his eyes still locked on that invisible point on the wall. "How you care about me. How you don’t want me to leave. They tell me how you wear that soft panty to bed. The one with the little flowers on it."

Her heart stopped. How does he know? How?

She felt light-headed, her vision blurring at the edges as panic surged through her veins. "Aegon… how do you know what I wear?"

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head again, listening, as though someone was whispering in his ear. Then, with an eerie calmness, he said, "The voices see everything."

Y/N’s hands trembled as she gripped the chair tighter. "Aegon, I need you to focus. What do you mean the voices see everything?"

"They watch. They’re always watching," he replied, finally turning his head to face her, his gaze locking onto hers. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and filled with a strange, manic intensity that made her heart lurch in fear. "Just like I do. Just like I watch."

The room suddenly felt much smaller, the walls closing in around her. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, to leave, but her legs felt frozen in place.

"Sunfyre used to keep them away," Aegon continued, his voice a low murmur now. "But he’s gone. Now there’s just me. And you."

She couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened, her thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. She had to end the session. She had to get out.

But before she could move, the clock on the wall chimed, signaling the end of their time.

Aegon stood up slowly, still smiling, his eyes never leaving her. "I’ll see you next week," he said softly, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness.

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N sitting in her chair, frozen in place, the echoes of his words reverberating in her mind.

The voices see everything.

The second Aegon left her office, she felt the walls pressing in, the whispers of doubt clawing at her. She packed up quickly, her hands trembling as she stuffed her notebook into her bag and threw on her coat. All she wanted—needed—was to get out.

By the time she reached her apartment, her fingers shook as she fumbled with her keys, her heart still hammering in her chest. As soon as she was inside, she slammed the door shut and bolted it, leaning her back against the wood as she tried to steady her breathing.

It’s just in your head, she told herself, her voice shaky and uncertain. He’s just a patient. He’s just trying to get under your skin. He’s not watching you… he’s not.

But the fear lingered. His words replayed in her mind, twisting around her thoughts like a poison.

With trembling hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. It only took two rings before she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, babe,” her boyfriend, Jacob, answered. His tone light and warm. “Everything okay?”

“No…” Y/N’s voice broke as the word slipped out. “Can you come over? Please. I—I need you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be right there.”

The next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. She paced around her apartment, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on her chest. She kept checking the windows, the corners of the room, every shadow stretching a little too far, every creak of the floorboards making her jump.

When the knock finally came, she practically ran to the door. As soon as she opened it, she fell into his arms, her body trembling with the weight of it all.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jacob murmured, holding her tightly. His hand gently stroked her hair as he guided her back inside, shutting the door behind them. “I’m here. What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s… it’s Aegon. My patient. He—he said these things and I don’t know, it’s just… he knows things, things he shouldn’t know.”

Her voice broke as she recounted the details, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. She told him everything—Aegon’s strange behavior, his fixation, the way he talked about her. The voices. The watching.

Jacob listened, his face calm and reassuring as he nodded. “Babe, I think you’re just stressed. This guy… he’s messing with you because he knows it’ll get to you.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “It felt so real.”

“I know, I know it did.” He pulled her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But you’re letting him get in your head. He’s trying to make you scared, but you can’t let him win, okay?”

She nodded against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “You’re right. You’re right… it’s just in my head.”

“That’s all it is,” he said softly, his hands running soothingly down her back. “Just some creepy guy trying to push your buttons. But you’re stronger than that. You can handle it.”

His calm, rational voice slowly chipped away at the terror inside her. She breathed deeply, letting herself believe his words, clinging to them like a lifeline. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

The tension in her chest began to unravel as she melted into his embrace. Slowly, the fear that had gripped her all week loosened its hold. He was right. Aegon was just trying to get under her skin. Nothing more.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. “How about we forget all about this guy, huh? Let’s just relax.”

She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her toward the bathroom. The warm steam from the shower enveloped them as they stepped inside, the water cascading over their skin, washing away the remnants of the day’s tension.

He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She responded, her hands sliding up his chest, the heat of the water matching the growing warmth between them. His touch was gentle but sure, his hands slowly roaming over her body as he deepened the kiss.

In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter. Not Aegon, not the fear, not the shadows that had haunted her all week. There was only him, the steady reassurance of his presence.

As they moved to the bed, their wet skin still warm from the shower, he kissed her neck, his hands sliding between her legs, slowly caressing her. She gasped softly, her body responding to the comfort and distraction he offered.

He kissed her deeply, and as his hands roamed over her, she closed her eyes, letting herself forget everything. For just a moment, she let herself believe that everything was okay.

The weight of Jacob's arm draped over her gave Y/N a sense of temporary calm, her mind finally lulled into a fragile state of rest after the events of the week. The sheets clung to their bodies, still damp from the shared heat, their limbs intertwined in a way that made her feel, for the first time in days, safe. Protected.

But that safety shattered in an instant.

A loud crash from the other side of the apartment jolted them awake. The sound of breaking glass ripped through the silence like a scream, sharp and sudden. Y/N shot up in bed, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest. Her boyfriend sat up beside her, his hand instinctively reaching for her.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice low, urgent.

"IーI don't know," Y/N stammered, already pulling the blanket around her naked body, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric tightly. Fear crawled up her spine like a cold hand, squeezing her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

Jacob swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice grim as he stood, leading the way out of the bedroom.

They crept down the hallway, the air thick with tension, their breaths shallow and uneven. The soft click of the floorboards under their feet was deafening in the oppressive silence that followed the crash. Y/N tightened the blanket around her, the fabric dragging across the floor as she followed behind, her senses on high alert, every shadow on the walls seeming to twist and warp into something sinister.

The moment they stepped into the living room, the metallic tang of blood hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze.

"Oh my God..." her boyfriend whispered, the words barely audible, as his gaze swept over the scene before them.

Doves. Dead doves, strewn across the floor like discarded dolls. Their once-beautiful white feathers were soaked in blood, their delicate wings from their bodies, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Some of them were headless, their necks bent at grotesque angles, the floor slick with their blood. Their wings were now broken, shredded, discarded in small, crumpled heaps.

The smell was overwhelming, suffocating. The stench of death and blood filled the air, thick and coppery, clinging to their skin like a second layer. Y/N gagged, one hand flying to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at the carnage before her.

It wasn't just the doves.

The walls were splattered with blood- thick, dark red streaks of it, smeared in long, jagged lines. Words. Horrible, terrifying words written in the blood of the doves.

"MINE"

"LEAVE"

"ALWAYS WATCHING"

The writing was erratic, desperate, the letters dripping down the walls like some kind of twisted arning. The word “MINE" was repeated over and over again, sometimes scrawled so large it stretched from floor to ceiling, other times tiny, scratched into the plaster as if done by someone who had lost control.

The words clawed at her brain, a primal panic bubbling up from the depths of her mind. They weren't just words-they were a threat, a message, twisted and dark, filled with rage. Her chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes scanned the room, wild and terrified.

"What the fuck.." her boyfriend whispered, his voice trembling now, his grip tightening around the lamp. "What the fuck is this?"

Y/N's legs were shaking, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as she stumbled backward. Her eyes darted to the window, and that's when she saw him.

A figure in the shadows, standing just outside the glass, watching her.

Aegon.

His pale, hollow face was half-hidden by the darkness, but his eyes一those wild, burning eyes一were locked onto hers, unblinking. There was something feral in the way he stood, the way his lips twisted into a sickening smile as he stared at her, his head tilted at a strange, unnatural angle, like a predator stalking its prey.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her throat was dry, her voice stolen by the sheer terror of the moment. Her body felt frozen, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Her boyfriend's voice cut through the fog of her panic. "What is it? What do you see?"

She tore her eyes away from the window, grabbing his arm with trembling hands. "He's here" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "He's outside... it's him..."

Her boyfriend whipped his head toward the window, but by the time he looked, Aegon was gone. The shadowy figure had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but the echo of his presence behind.

"I don't see anything," he said, his voice laced with confusion andfear. “There's no one there."

"No-no, I saw him!" Y/N insisted, her voice rising with hysteria. "He was there! I swear to God, he was right there, watching us!"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her as she trembled violently. "It's okay, it's okay. We'll call the cops. Someone broke in, this... this is some fucked-up shit, but we'll figure it out. He's not here anymore."

She nodded weakly, her mind spinning with confusion and terror. Her eyes kept darting back to the window, expecting to see those cold, unblinking eyes staring back at her. But the space was empty now, just an expanse of darkness and the dull glow of streetlights outside.

Jacob pulled out his phone and dialed the police, his voice low and urgent as he explained the situation. Y/N barely heard him, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind of fear and disbelief.

The words on the walls seemed to pulse in the corner of her vision, the blood dripping down in slow, thick rivulets: MINE. LEAVE.

Her stomach twisted into knots, her entire body shaking as she collapsed into the nearest chair, her legs giving out beneath her. The doves lay scattered around her feet, their lifeless eyes staring up at her, empty and soulless.

She couldn't escape it.

No matter how hard she tried to convince herself it wasn't real, that Aegon wasn't capable of such madness, the truth was there-painted in blood across her walls.

This wasn't just in her head. This was real. Too real.

“There’s not much we can do without evidence,” one of the officers had said, his voice neutral but with an edge of doubt. “But we can check on him, just to ease your mind.”

And so, at 3 AM, Y/N, Jacob, and the two officers found themselves standing outside the grand Targaryen estate. The imposing house loomed before them, bathed in the glow of the moon, its towering facade as cold and uninviting as the man who lived inside. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, her skin crawling with unease as they rang the bell.

It didn���t take long for the door to open.

Alicent stood in the doorway, her face pinched with confusion and irritation, her robe wrapped tightly around her. She looked from the officers to Y/N and her boyfriend, then back again. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Officers," Alicent greeted politely, though her voice held an edge of irritation. "May I help you?"

Y/N’s voice shook as she stepped forward. “It’s Aegon. He’s been stalking me—he came to my apartment tonight. He left… dead birds everywhere, and he wrote on the walls with blood. He’s been following me. Watching me.”

“I’m sorry, but what is this about?” Alicent’s eyes flicked between Y/N, her boyfriend, and the officers. “This must be a misunderstanding.”

“No, it’s not a misunderstanding!” Y/N yelled, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. “He broke into my apartment. There were doves—dead doves—and blood… He’s been following me, watching me! He’s dangerous!”

Her boyfriend squeezed her hand gently, trying to pull her back, but she yanked away, pointing toward the door. “You have to believe me! Aegon is sick—he needs to be locked up! He’s not right in the head!”

Alicent’s face hardened. “That’s impossible. Aegon’s been here all night.”

The officers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to proceed.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the officers, her mouth pressed into a thin line. “My son would never do something like that. He’s not… unwell. He’s just dealing with some personal things.”

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribcage as rage and fear bubbled inside her, her voice rising as she lost control. “He’s a fucking psycho, and he’s trying to ruin my life! He’s stalking me, and you’re just covering for him!”

“Ma’am,” one of the officers cut in, stepping forward to intervene, “let’s all remain calm. We’re here to investigate, but we need to speak to Aegon himself.”

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.

Aegon appeared, descending slowly, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken from a peaceful slumber. He wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and pajama pants, his blonde hair mussed, his expression calm, and his movements casual, almost lazy. He looked nothing like the manic, disturbed man Y/N had seen just hours before.

“Is everything alright?” Aegon asked, his voice quiet, soft, laced with concern. His eyes scanned the group, lingering on Y/N for a moment before turning to the officers. “What’s going on?”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. How could he look so normal? She knew what he was—she had seen him, heard his madness—but now, he was playing the part of the innocent. She could feel herself unraveling, her emotions spilling out uncontrollably.

Her blood boiled at the sight of his calm, innocent facade. He wasn’t the same Aegon she had sat across from in therapy—the one who whispered disturbing things and stared at her with dark, empty eyes. This Aegon seemed so harmless, almost apologetic, as if none of the horrors from earlier could be traced back to him.

"Do you know this woman, sir?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Y/N, who was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of it all.

Aegon blinked slowly, his expression softening into something almost pitiful. “Yes, she's…my therapist," he said, his voice low and even, a hint of sadness laced into his words. "But…I'm not really sure why she’s here.”

One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we’re here following a report. This woman has made some serious claims about your involvement in an incident tonight. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

Aegon’s face contorted into an expression of confusion, concern knitting his brow as he blinked at the officers. “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, his voice even, smooth. “I’ve been here all night. I haven’t left the house.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes going wide. “What? No—no, don’t act like this! You know exactly what you did, Aegon! You’ve been following me! You were in my apartment tonight! I saw you!”

Aegon shook his head slowly, his eyes filled with what looked like genuine confusion. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was home all night. I would never do something like that.” He turned to the officers. “I’ve been going through a hard time. I recently…broke up with my girlfriend, and I started seeing Y/N to help me deal with the depression. But…I don’t know where all of this is coming from.”

“He’s lying!” Y/N screamed, stepping forward, her whole body shaking with anger. “He’s making it all up! He’s dangerous—he’s not the person you think he is!”

Aegon didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer to the officers, his face calm, composed, but his voice took on a vulnerable tone. “I think… I think maybe she’s upset because I didn’t reciprocate her feelings.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck are you talking about? That’s not true!”

Aegon glanced at the officers, feigning embarrassment. “She…she made some advances during our sessions. I told her that it wasn’t appropriate, but I think she may have misinterpreted our relationship. Maybe she’s just mad that I didn’t…you know, return her feelings.”

Y/N’s world spun. The rage and helplessness surged inside her like a storm, the bile rising in her throat. “That’s a lie! You’re lying! You need to stop lying!” She lunged forward, her hands reaching for Aegon in a desperate attempt to stop him from spinning the truth any further, but her boyfriend grabbed her, pulling her back.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he pleaded, holding her tightly as she fought to break free. “Just stop!”

Aegon’s face twisted into something almost sad. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin her reputation, but…I’m worried about her. I think she’s struggling with some personal issues, and that’s why she’s saying all of this.”

The officers looked back at Y/N, their expressions unreadable, but she could feel their judgment. It was like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. They didn’t believe her. No one believed her.

“You’re fucking sick!” Y/N screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “You should be in a mental hospital! You—” She was hysterical now, her words a broken mess of sobs and fury. “You did this! You—”

“Ma’am, we need you to calm down,” one of the officers said sternly, stepping between her and Aegon. “We’ll handle this, but we need you to calm down.”

“I’m telling the truth!” Y/N cried, her voice raw and desperate. “He’s dangerous! He’s going to hurt me! He’s—”

But no one was listening. Not her boyfriend, not the police, and certainly not Alicent, who stood behind her son, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face as she watched the scene unfold.

Aegon rubbed his eyes again, stifling a yawn as if all of this was just an inconvenience, just a bad dream he would soon wake from. “I just want to go back to bed,” he said softly, looking at the officers with pleading eyes. “I promise I’m not who she says I am. I just…I just want to move on.”

The officers nodded, exchanging a glance before turning back to Y/N.

“I think it’s best if we leave now, ma’am,” one of them said gently, but firmly. “We’ll follow up on this, but…for now, you should go home and try to get some rest.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had lost. She had been defeated by his lies, by his calm demeanor, by the illusion of normalcy he had created.

Her boyfriend wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back toward the door. Her legs felt like lead, her body drained of all strength, her mind clouded with fear. But as they stepped outside, she turned back for one last look at Aegon.

And that’s when she saw it.

His eyes were wide now, bright and burning with a terrifying intensity. He stared at her, unblinking, a slow, twisted smile creeping onto his lips. And then, with a single finger pressed against his lips, he made a silent gesture.

Shhh...

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[myvoiddreams]

Fragments of Starlight (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Finally saved, there is nowhere else to turn other than the impending war.

Word Count: 4,666

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: First, I am SO sorry that this took me ages to get together. Second, I am SO grateful for all the amazing feedback and sweet messages I’ve received from everyone. This is a hobby of mine that I love and love to share.  Third, please don’t be mad at me after this.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

---

Before

It had been a long night, full of unsettling dreams. Not that that wasn’t normal. A yawn escaped my lips as I rolled over to the morning light peeking through the curtains, the haze of night still lingering on me. Morning, that meant training. Stretching off the daze and the dreams, I sat up in bed and an herbal smell crossed my senses. With furrowed brows I looked to the nightstand next to my bed.

There sat a steaming cup of tea. Tea? Where the hell would that have come from? I reached for it, pulling it from the nightstand. Under the mug was a folded-up parchment. Placing the mug back down, I reached for the note and unfolded it. Azriel’s neat handwriting adored it.

“No training today. Cass and I are off to meet Eris. Drink up in the meantime. – Azriel.”

A smile spread across my face as I sat the note back down and took the mug into my hands. Blowing some steam away, I brought it to my lips. Peppermint. My favorite. My heart fluttered at the hot drink. Azriel must have caught on that it was always peppermint tea I would drink when staying up to finish work, a book, or whatever it may be.

After a few more sips, I set the mug back down on its place on the nightstand. I picked up the parchment once more and flipped it to the empty side and with a pen adorning my nightstand drawer wrote, “Don’t forget to breathe between brooding sessions. Stay safe out there, Az. – Y/N.”

Settling the parchment back onto the nightstand I knew the house would have it delivered for me. By the time I had reached for another sip, the note was gone.

---

The exchanging of notes had become a normal thing for me and Azriel after the first one I found placed on my nightstand. It was sweet really. They went from anywhere about having a good day, to meeting up later, or even just teasing one another. Teasing one another was my favorite.

Azriel, with his slinking shadows, was always sneaking up on me. Whether that be in the training ring, or in the library. So, I had left a note on his desk for him. Trying to get the house to understand that I wanted to deliver this one myself before it could simply just take it from under my fingers. The house had also grown accustomed to mine and Azriel’s note sharing.

Upon his desk in his room, I left a note that read, “If you keep sneaking up on me, I might have to start carrying a bell for you. -  Y/N.”

Satisfied with leaving it on his desk, I left his room and made for my own. I walked down the hallway, and as I was turning the knob to reach my own room, a hand clasped around my shoulder, “A bell won’t help you, but nice try.” Azriel’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

I swirled around and all but smacked his hand off my shoulder out of instinct. He chuckled at my response. His stupidly beautiful smile was something I still found myself grateful for being able to see. His usually stone-cold appearance would fade away when you knew him well enough. When you knew him the way I do.

“Damnit! How the hell are you that quiet and that fast!” I was smiling now, but still flustered with his surprise appearance. I was just in his bedroom after all. A blush crept up my cheeks at the thought.

“I have shadows in my room at all times, they just whispered to me about a certain someone sneaking around there. Then, they told me what your note said. I couldn’t just pass up on the opportunity to tease you a little.” His voice was warm. Azriel was always warm to me. He lifted his hand to my face and brushed some of the hair that had fallen into it from his surprise, behind my ear.

I’m sure my cheeks burnt bright now, at the touch, but I couldn’t help but just smile and shake my head. I pushed him away playfully and turned to my bedroom to enter.

As I entered, I heard his chuckle dancing in the hallway again and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of its chest as I shut my door.

---

Now

The pain that decorated my body was nothing compared to what was soaring through my hands and my heart. After being rescued I was taken directly to a camp where some of Rhys’ armies were. Instead of being put in the infirmary, they put me in a tent of my own, where Madja could tend to me personally.

I had asked Madja to tell the rest of the Inner Circle to leave me be while healing. I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

Madja was there, unwrapping my hands again. It has been a few days since I was saved, but my hands were not healing at the same rate the rest of me did. At the site of my hands, I became nauseous. Fresh, pink skin was covering the back of them, but the palms. The palms were still blistered. Still sloughing off with old skin and trying their best to cover it with the same granulated tissue of the backs of my hands.

“Listen Y/N,” Madja sighed, “I cannot express to you how important it is for you to keep resting. You need to keep these hands bandaged at all times for the foreseeable future. This war is something you may need to take a step back from. You have been through enough.”

I respect Madja, I respect everything she had to say to me, but there was no way. “I can’t simply sit out Madja. Not after what they did to me.” I said back quietly, not letting my gaze meet her’s.

“I was afraid you would say that,” sighed the older female.

“Madja, can I ask you something, personal?” I winced as she applied a balm to the palms of my hands.

“Let me guess, it has to do with that silly Shadowsinger?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing, but I took the invitation anyways.

“How the hell do I put this behind me? This entire Inner Circle has changed since those Acheron sisters entered it. I want to be able to know my friends, my court, is there for me as I am for them.” The words were getting harder and harder to get out of my mouth, but I ventured on, “They left me there, grabbed Elain, and left me there to die.” Tears started flowing then, “I have known them for centuries, and yet, they still chose her over me.” I was slightly embarrassed at my vulnerability with Madja.

She simply continued to wrap my hands after finishing applying the balm and hummed. She let some silence slip on as she thought of a response.

“Y/N, you are right, you have known them for centuries, and Elain not even a cusping a year. You have to understand that that’s why they left you there. They were under duress, either save her, who does not know how to defend herself, or you, who has proved time and time again you can withstand so much.” Madja looked up into my watery eyes and continued, “They were terrified out of their minds when you were up and missing. Cassian did nothing but blame himself. Azriel sent his shadows to all corners of Prythian searching for you.”

I calmed my crying and was only sniffling now as she went on, “They love you Y/N. Even if their misplaced actions are not great at showing it. They may not deserve it right now but consider finding some forgiveness to show them. They are your family.”

I let her words fumble around my mind as she got up and left the tent. As much I want to forgive, I just couldn’t.

---

Before

I was exhausted, truly exhausted. There was a meeting earlier in the day, about strategizing when it came to getting more information on Hybern. I had offered to become an inside agent. To follow Hybern, become one of his soldiers, and send the information back to the Night Court. Rhysand on the other hand had gawked at my offer, and utterly refused it. He then decided to reprimand me, in front of everyone, on how reckless I had been even suggesting such a thing. It was embarrassing.

My mind had been reeling since. I was no use just sitting around, waiting for shit to hit the fan. I wanted to be helpful, I wanted to do something. I was a warrior to this court, an emissary to Dawn. I was no stupid child, like Rhysand had diminished me to during that meeting.

After a day of sulking and my mind reeling, I needed out of the House of Wind. So, I went to one of my favorite places. It was one Azriel had flown me too once. But, I wanted to be alone. Without him to fly me, I’d have to hike there.

A high hill on the outskirts of the city, where the Sidra had broken off into many little streams and creeks. The hill was plush with fresh beautiful grass and a cool evening breeze made the grass sway. Night had fallen by the time I had made it there, to my favorite spot.

Right on time. I told myself as I laid directly into the grass, looking up into the expanse of stars above. It was here I was usually able to find some solace when my mind would wander. Everyone had their burdens to bear, but this place made it seem a little easier. Everything I loved was slipping away from me, I could feel it. That impending feeling of pure dread.

I tried to push it away as I looked up into the stars.

A few hours had gone by when I heard the beating of wings. I sat up in the grass to see Azriel landing on the same long grass, only a few feet from me. I gave Azriel a half smile as I sat up to meet his eyes.

“I was starting to worry about you.” Azriel sighed, playing with his hair as he walked over to me.

“I just needed to get my mind off everything. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Azriel sat down next to me, our knees touching now. “Remember when you brought me here for the first time?” A smile spread across my face for the first time that day.

“Of course I remember it.” Azriel smiled as he reached to take off his jacket. My brows furrowed as he handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I took the jacket from him. His comforting smell immediately filled my nose. Cedar and the night mist itself.

“Please, I can see your goosebumps from here.” He chuckled as I looked myself over. I had hiked up here during the warm of the evening, only sporting shorts and a short-sleeved leather top I usually dedicated to training. I hadn’t paid much attention to the cold that had slithered its way to my skin while I was trying to sort out my mind.

“Thank you,” I smiled at Azriel. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he knew me well. I placed the jacket over my own shoulders and placed my gaze on the sky again.

Azriel had joined me, our knees still touching, his wing behind me now. We looked up into the night sky until dawn neared. We didn’t speak, but Azriel’s presence made everything feel lighter somehow.

---

Now

I had made it clear to Madja that I didn’t want any visitors while I was healing. I knew that that would only last so long. I had just finished getting dressed when I heard my tent flap open. Those were not the light steps of Madja. I looked up to see Azriel entering. His wing cramped in the small space.

“Y/N,” his eyes widened at my appearance. While the bandages on my body were covered with clothing, my hands were wrapped out in the open for him to see and my face still held some of the fading bruises. He winced at the sight of my hands.

I looked down, away from him. I went to work on getting my boots on to the best of my capabilities. “I told Madja I wanted no visitors.” I said coldly, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s been days, I needed to see you. To check on you, myself” Azriel cautiously walked toward me.

I began to fumble with my boots, becoming frustrated at the laces. My healing hands did not have the dexterity they once did, and the bandages were not helping. I began to shake as Azriel’s form got closer. Tears were burning at the back of my eyes. It was evident to both of us that I wasn’t going to get my boots laced up by myself. His stupid, comforting, beautiful scent made its way to me. It was only making me lose whatever composure I was forcing on myself.

“Let me help you,” Azriel all but whispered as he reached to gently grab my hands in his.

My hands.

“Do not touch me.” I breathed out, ripping his closeness away.

He stumbled back, looking shocked. He pulled his wings in closer to himself at my outburst. I could feel him, feel his regret and agony through the bond. Through that annoying, patronizing, tug in the deepest part of my chest.

“Y/N, I care about you, let me help.” His hazel eyes were pleading now. I could almost see a silver rim aligning them. He looked helpless. I hated seeing him this way, it hurt me to know that I was causing such helplessness. But, how could I just let him in? Not after everything.

I all but laughed at his statement, huffing hair out of my face, I met his eyes, “You don’t care about me,” my voice wavered, “you showed me that when you left me there to die.”  I couldn’t help but let my lip quiver.

“Y/N, you have to understand-“ Azriel began to plead, but I would not hear it. I would not silence myself on his account.

“I’ve made my mind up Azriel. If I make it out of this, I’m not going back to the Night Court. I’m leaving.” The statement truly shut him up then. I almost couldn’t believe myself either. But this pain, the pain of knowing I would never be good enough in his eyes. I would never be good enough in the Inner Courts eyes. I had gotten myself taken into Hybern’s clutches, after preaching to Rhysand to let me do more. It was mortifying, I couldn’t even get myself out. I still relied on them even after they left me.

Pathetic.

“You don’t mean that, do you, Y/N?” His face completely fell. His hazel eyes wide, his hair pushed away from his face.

“I do. I can’t stay.” I started to shake my head now, tears finding their way into my face, “You lost me when you left me there. Hell, I fucking lost me in that tent. I lost me.”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t lost anything, please.” Azriel was pleading now, I turned from him. I couldn’t stomach the sight of him on top of his emotions flowing through the bond. “Please, listen to me. I lost it when you were missing. Cassian did too. Even Rhysand.” He took slow steps toward me. “I was ordered into that camp by Rhysand to get Elain, I had no idea that you would be there too.” He swallowed before nervously continuing, “We couldn’t grab you both, it was going to be impossible. I know you, I knew you could handle another day, and then we’d be back to get you, better prepared that time.”

It made sense, really, but it didn’t cut it. “That’s not good enough.” I finally met his eyes again. Mad, this time. “I was strung up. Beaten. Cut up. With no powers whatsoever thanks to their Fae Bane knives. I was dying, and you left me there. So, no Azriel, those words are not good enough.”

He opened his mouth to retort something, but a noise of the tent opening behind him cut him off. Peering over his broad shoulders and wings, Cassian was at the entrance of the tent. He was fully armored, weapons in tow, and concern was etched in all corners of his face.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but we have to go. Now. Hybern is moving in.” Cassian was on edge with his words, unknowing of the conversation that was at hand. I hated that seeing him gave me some ounce of relief as well.

With his words, I grabbed for my weapons. A sword, sheathed at my hip, and my bow and quivers strapped to my back. The set that Az had gifted me all that time ago.

Azriel grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him, “Madja told you to sit this out.” His eyes now were full of passion, his touch was unmoving, but light. At the contact my heart fluttered again. That bond sung between us, but only I could feel it.

I ripped my arm from his touch, no matter how badly I wanted to give into it.

“I’ll see you on the battlefield, Azriel.”

---

Before

Starfall was always one of my favorite times of the year. To just spend time with my family, to share gifts, drinks, and even dances. It had gotten late, the festivities finally winding down, and everyone going to their rooms.

I wanted a final look off the balcony before fully retiring. The present giving and gifting had gone great, everyone enjoying the gifts that had been gifted. I also loved the pieces of jewelry, the books, and even the apron, that Feyre, had gifted me, knowing how much I like to cook.

The midnight blue gown followed my footsteps out. It truly was beautiful. Backless, long, shimmering, Mor had gotten it for me, and of course dolled me up to go along with it. It wasn’t often that I got this way. Only when we had to take trips to the Hewn City or other Court business to attend to. My hair was curled and draped across my back. Light makeup littered my face as well.

I was leaning against the balcony railing when I heard those tall tale footsteps. I knew that if I was hearing them then he would want me to know he was there. I turned around and met Azriel’s gaze. He was stunning. In an all-black suit, but still sporting his blue syphons. I tried to hold back my blush at his appearance.

He walked towards me, a large, wrapped box in hand. I had already given Azriel his gift. I wrapped a leather journal, and a custom-made dagger, with a necklace that had Ramiel engraved on its pendant. He had thanked me, and did not give me one in return.

I guess he is now.

Azriel approached and handed me the large, slim box.

“What is this Az?” I took the wrapped package from him.

“Open it,” he nodded his head to it, “I wanted to give this to you privately.”

I smiled up at him and reached for the wrapping. Carefully, I unwrapped the box. Once completely unwrapped, I opened the box itself. Inside adored the most magnificent bow and quiver I had ever set my eyes on. I lit up at the sight of it.

“Az, this is amazing. Was this made in Dawn?” I took the bow and quiver from inside the box and admired it. Felt them in my hands, the beautifully intricate wooden long bow, with engravings from top to bottom. The quiver made of a light leather material, fashioned with some kind of fur on the strap.

  “Yes, Thesan helped me find it himself.” Azriel put his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

“Thesan himself, thank you,” I gathered the bow and quiver and gently set them down. Then, I reached for Az, my arms stretching around his neck. I buried my head into his collarbone. His arms found their way around my waist, and his head on top of mine. “You remember when I first came to Night? Nothing but my old bow strapped to my back?” I smiled into his chest.

“And it broke, on one of our first missions together. You hit that poor male right over the head with it,” he quipped, bringing one of his hands to the back of my head, patting down my hair.

“Thank you, Azriel, thank you.” I told him again. That bow meant so much to me. It reminded me so much of who I used to be.

---

Now

My hands were in no shape to be in a battle. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. Carnage was raining down everywhere. When I wasn’t striking with a sword, I was shooting with my bow. I was going to bring down anyone in my way.

Pain or not.

Sweat was beading down my forehead, and my back. The bandages on my hands were in ribbons, blood staining what remained. My hands made it difficult. I had to adjust to the sloughing skin and ignore what pain I felt jarring up from them to my arms and shoulders.

Rage fueled me as I made my way around the battlefield. Rage for myself not being good enough to save that first night. Rage for my family, who was scattered across the grounds. Rage for falling in love with Azriel. Rage for my unreturned bond screaming in my chest.

Screaming. It was screaming in my chest. A punch to the chest made me stagger back. I grimaced and looked up to my attacker, but no one was there.

Something was wrong. I scanned the skies.

Where are you?

There. Falling.

He was falling from the sky. A scream pierced my throat as the sight. He hit the ground on a hill above the main field being fought in. All my instincts were shouting at me to go to him. The bond was crying at me to go to him. So that’s what I did. Whether I was pissed or not, I could not lose him. Not like this.

I ran, taking out everyone in my way. My body was close to giving in, not fully recovered from my time with Hybern. The pain in my hands continued to radiate through me with every swing of my sword and draw of my bow.

I crested the hill to see Azriel had propped himself up against a tree. His head was lying back, and he gripped the side of his abdomen. I could see the blood from here. A naga was closing in on him.

The bond in my chest thrummed and hurt. It was pain, Azriel’s pain that I was feeling. Panic surged in my bones.

I pulled my bow from my back, skin ripping on my fingers as I drew. I aimed at the fast-moving creature and with a yell released my arrow. I was moving on instinct. No different than hunting for a meal.

It hit its mark. The naga slumped over not more than 10 feet from him.

Ignoring the blood dripping from me, I rushed to him.

He had blood running down his brow. His hair was strewn everywhere. His wings were limp at his sides. Limp. His breathing was ragged. His hazel eyes were shut, pain corroded his face. Even the gold of his skin was damped. I reached for his cheek, feeling his clammy skin. My other hand found his shirt and lifted to see his wound.

It was gaping, there was so much blood. Muscle was torn, ripped open.

“Az, Az, tell me what happened,” I begged him. He only lulled his head further against the tree in response.

The bond, it was fading.

Pure fear burned through me. If that bond was fading, that meant…

I gripped him by his shoulders and shook as hard as I could, “You cannot do this to me! You cannot leave me!” My voice was raw from the hours of battle, my entire being felt like it was being ripped in two.

“Cassian! Rhysand!” I belted at the top of my lungs, praying that someone would hear me over the carnage.

I again reached for his abdomen, placing as much pressure as I possibly could on his wound. He winced in response. Good, that’s good.

“Az, Az listen to me.” The bond was flickering now. “Get up. Get your ass up!” I reached for his end, tugged at it as hard as I possibly could, but I was met with a wall. Terror, true terror overcame me.

The Night Court might have been where I lived, but Azriel was my home. I was losing my home.

There was so much blood. Blood.

That’s when it hit me. I reached for a blade that was fastened to his belt. I didn’t hesitate when I sliced into my arm, deep enough to get good blood flow.

“I’m so sorry Azriel.” I cried as I put my arm to his lips, forcing his mouth open, and the warm sticky liquid into it. “I wish I loved you less,” I sobbed, forcing more into his mouth, “I wish you weren’t my stupid, fucking, mate.”

Saying it out loud, even if he wasn’t in a state to understand, made my heart stand still. Lightheaded, I moved from in front of him. I sat next to him, holding a hand on his abdomen, and a hand on my still bleeding arm.

I couldn’t scream for help anymore, not with the dizziness that clouded me.

So, I sat, holding our bleeding wounds together.

Slowly, I began to feel his end of the bond knit itself back together. Breathing was a little easier when I realized this. He was healing then. It worked.

I looked up from our battered state to see a red blur moving toward us.

Cassian, thank the gods.

He landed on the hilltop and ran to us, taking in our current predicament. Azriel started to stir at the sound of his brother approaching.

Cassian kneeled down, taking my arm in his hand, and staring between Az and I.

“I leave you two alone for an hour and you guys decide it’s a good time to die?!” His voice was rough.

“I don’t know that now is the time to joke around, Cass.” I winced as I sat up toward him. “I’m okay, but Az..”

“Where did all this blood come from?” Cassian said gazing over Azriel’s entire form, panic lacing his voice.

“I saw him fall, when I got to him, he was down, bleeding from his abdomen.” I lifted Az’s shirt to show Cass. The wound had started to close together thanks to his quickened state of healing.

“What about the blood on his face?” Cassian was looking him over for injuries.

My heart hammered. How do I just admit it? Out loud, for anyone to hear this time. It was a fact that I had held so close to myself for so long. I had pinned after Azriel for years now, in silence. I was nothing more than a friend to him, while I fell in love with him.

“Y/N?” He looked over at me again, panic danced around me. “What happened?” His face turned stone cold.

“I.. he’s..” I trailed off, swallowing my fear. I looked into Cassian eyes, more tears somehow finding their way onto mine, “he’s my mate. It was the only way I could save him.” It was almost a whisper as the words left my tongue.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone)

@saltedcoffeescotch @thirstyroses-world @kingshitonly @spidersfrommars15 @mariahoedt @missromantasy @breadsticks2004 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @vhjlucky13 @helo1281917 @i-am-infinite @emptyporsche @quiet-loser @watermelomsuger @anxious-cactus @rcarbo1 @latinxbipride @chelsiemp @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @marina468 @kennedy-brooke @myromanempiree @craftytrashprincess @fairydustblossom @st4r-girl-official @darkbloodsly @kitsunetori @historygeekqueen @ivy-34 @optimisticbabydreamer @fightmedraco @maruiin @thefandomplace @bxtchopolis @annamariereads16 @whosmys @toobsessedsstuff

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Part 4

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

[endo-bunny]

Sit Down Now and Rest

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Description: You had anxiety and depression, and Tony and Bruce were more than happy with getting you anxiety meds the moment that you asked. When you stop taking your meds, your mental health plummets and spirals as well as your physical health, and everyone notices. Don't worry though, they're there for you.

Pairing: (Platonic) Avengers x Teen!Reader

Type: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, sickness, fainting, dizziness, taking meds(both medicated and just vitamins/iron supplements), dehydration, insomnia, depressive and hurtful thoughts, reader doesn't talk very much in this, nicknames(Kiddo, Kid, Hun)

Word Count: 1,627

Note: I may or may not have written this with too much of myself being present… But it's fine! I also wrote this at like 2 in the morning so it's kinda rough but I just needed to get this typed out so here ya go! Also, the characters might be kinda ooc because I haven't watched any marvel movies in a little while but I've been hyper focused on fics with them lately so yea. And I am working on my tlou and tech fics, it's just hard to find the motivation to write them, but don't worry, I'm working on em.

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You were quick to notice that you stopped taking your meds. You knew that they helped you, but you couldn't get yourself to start the habit of taking them again. You wanted to, most definitely, but you couldn't. Every day was the same. Wake up, look at your meds, contemplate taking them, saying you'll take them later, go train, eat, and then not take them.

You also stopped taking them at night too. You had even set alarms so that you'd remember to take them, but it didn't help at all. Natasha was the first to notice that something was up, being the closest one with you. When she realized that something wasn't quite right, she made sure to keep a close eye on you. She was quick to pick up how dizzy you looked when you'd get up, sometimes not even being able to stay standing before you crumbled back onto the couch. You'd always play it off as if you just lost your footing but she and everyone else knew that that wasn't the case.

One morning you had gotten up much later than you had recently been getting up. When you checked the time, it was around two in the afternoon. You got up and went to the kitchen, feeling extremely hungry after forgetting, and also just not wanting dinner the night prior. When you arrived in the kitchen, Tony was there. He had kind of taken up the father role in your life.

The moment he saw that you had finally arose, he was quick to make a snarky comment in good fun, “Ah! The beast has finally awoken from their slumber, now off they go to find their beauty.”

You only roll your eyes, ignoring him. You felt exhausted, even though you got close to ten hours of sleep seeing as you fell asleep around 4 in the morning. You couldn't find anything easy to fix or that looked appetizing in the fridge or pantry so you just opted for a bottle of water that you would only take a sip or two of then leave with your other five almost full water bottles on your nightstand.

Before you could go back to the confines of your room, Tony had to ask you a question, “ Hey kiddo, did you take your meds?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting him to ask seeing as he hasn't asked in a real long time.

“Oh yea! I, um, took them earlier but fell back asleep. Yea, that's what I did!”

You try to make it seem like you weren't lying through your teeth, but weren't very successful because of how exhausted you were. However, before Tony could confront you, you book it to your room. You hide there for the rest of the day, not coming out for Dinner. Steve had come by to tell you that dinner was ready but you told him that you weren't very hungry as you just kept your

on the book that you had your nose in. You kept your light on all night, not feeling tired.

The next morning, Nat knocked on your door around eight, coming to get you so that you could train with her. When she opened your door, she saw you laying on your back staring up at the ceiling. You looked exhausted and had dark circles under your eyes. When Bat opened the door, you flung up in surprise. You hadn't heard her knocking so you weren't expecting for the door to randomly open. You couldn't tell who it was at first because your vision went fuzzy black as your body tried to accommodate the sudden movement that you caused. Nat waited for you to acknowledge her.

When you did after a couple seconds, you looked over at the time, confused. It had just been two the last time you looked at the clock. How could it be eight all of the sudden? You were brought out of your thoughts by Natasha trying to talk to you. You zoned back in, giving her a questioning look.

“I said, are you ok? You look exhausted Hun. I came by to get ya to come train but it looks like you need to rest for a couple days.”

“Oh! No, I'm fine. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready and I'll be down and we can get to work in no time!”

She gave you a skeptical look but nodded, closing your door behind her.

When you got down to the training room, Bucky and Steve were there with Natasha. They smiled upon seeing you walk in. However, Bucky and Steve's bright smiles dropped upon looking at your figure. You were slouched, tired eyes not fully open and your eye bags were extremely dark.

Bucky was the first to point it out, “Hey Kid, you ok? You aren't looking too good.”

You only shrugged, your body aching and your throat feeling scratchy and sore for some reason.

As you're sparring with Natasha, you continuously have to stop the match because you go into coughing fits. As finish with your last coughing fit you go back to Natasha, but she's packing her stuff up.

“Wait, where are you going?” You're voice comes rather harsh and rude as you ask the red head.

“I think you should rest for the rest of the day Hun. I'll come check on you in a little while. But go take your meds and also some cough syrup and eat something.”

You didn't say anything as you grabbed your stuff and walked back to your room. This was stupid. It was just a little cold. You can still fight. You need to train. Deep down though you knew you needed to listen to her and do as she said. In the end, you don't. You go back to your room, take a sip or two of water, get a small snack and then sit down in the living room with a book.

You try to read it, but you can't stay focused for long enough to. Your mind is spiraling and racing. You kept replaying how training went. You were so pathetic. And rude. How could you be so rude? Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You slam the book down onto the sofa, huffing.

You hadn't noticed that some of the others had joined you in the living room. They look up at you, surprised. They weren't used to seeing you like this. You tried to get up quickly, wanting to get away from this embarrassing situation.

The moment you get up, the world goes black, buzzing and ringing is the only thing you can hear as you collapse. You feel something picking you up and setting you down on the couch. You blink your eyes a couple times, slowly feeling sensation being restored in your body. You look around you and see that Bruce is coming over with a damp cloth and water. Nat has your head resting in her lap and Tony has your hand in his. They all look worried as they stare down at you. You hear gasped as Steve and Bucky walk in.

Questions are being thrown at you, too fast for you to comprehend. You instinctively put your hands on your ears, feeling overwhelmed. They all quiet down upon seeing this. Tony is the one to ask the questions from then on.

“Hey, it's ok. We're sorry, didn't mean to overwhelm ya like that. Can ya sit up?”

You nodded, feeling embarrassed now. Tony nodded and Nat helped you sit up, allowing you to lean against her.

“Ok, drink some water, you're ok,” Tony hands you the water that Bruce had brought over as Bruce is wiping your face with the cold damp cloth.

“Ya feeling better?”

“Ya, I'm fine.”

“Have you been taking your meds, kid?”Tony doesn't hold back, knowing what it looks like when you don't take the meds that have been helping you produce what your body needs.

You sheepishly look down at your hands that are fidgeting in your lap. You inhale sharply before shaking your head no.

They all sigh, Natasha being the one to talk this time, “Why haven't you been taking your meds, Hun?”

“I-I just don't want to… I don't like the feeling.”

They looked at each other, wondering what to say. As they look at each other, you go to stand up, but they make sure that you don't get up.

“Sit down now and rest,” Bucky's voice comes from behind you, his hands still on your shoulders.

“I'm sorry…” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

“You're forgiven kiddo, but ya gotta start taking your meds again.” Steve comes over and sits on the other side of you as he speaks.

“I know.”

“How bout I take my medication with ya? God knows that I haven't been taking it as much as I should be,” Tony chuckles as he tries to negotiate with you.

You didn't know if it would actually help you but you were open to the idea.

“Good, drink some more water. Now what do you want to watch? Hm? TV's all yours,” Tony stood up, giving you the TV remote as everyone decided to sit down on the couch.

You picked your comfort movie as you snuggled up with Steve and Nat. Tony had gotten you some actual food, and by the time the movie was over, you had drank all the water, ate all the food, fell asleep, and almost everyone else had fallen asleep as well. You felt safe with the people that cared about you all around you. You knew that this would be a journey, but you also knew that you weren't alone.

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Tag list: @fakegingerrights @macchiato-dreaming22 @silnebula

[aggieharkness]

Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 1

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: Miss Stinton is sick so now you are Mr. Amberg's secretary and on one cold December night you go to your boss's residence to hand him some work only to be dismissed by him. Without a car to return to the studio you find yourself being driven by his gorgeous wife and finding a certain amount of work benefits that you hadn't even dreamed of in the form of Avis Amberg.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), a bit of praising kink as well as mommy kink, power play, pet names, tit play (sorry, I'm an absolute sucker for them)

Authors note: I wrote this at two o'clock in the morning, so please, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something, because it's been a moment since I last wrote smut, and I might be a bit rusty. Also, if it gets enough love, and if I feel like it, this might turn into an actual multichapter story. I am here for you, my dear people. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.4

Word count: 10K (it's fucking long, but I'm not sorry)

Have I earned it, mother?

It was fucking freezing and yet you walked all the way down the street with that thin coat of yours barely doing anything to keep you warm all because Miss Stinton was out sick, so you were her substitute. Miss Kincaid had asked you personally to be Mr. Amberg’s secretary until the poor woman was able to return, so you were doing double the work without a raise in your salary. Running up and down the building to assist Miss Kincaid while doing whatever Mr. Amberg asked of you had you practically forgetting to have lunch most days, with only a snack in your purse that you would have while in the bathroom, getting to work at six am and leaving at nine pm. This surely would kill you if Miss Stinton didn’t return soon. That’s how on an extremely cold night in December you found yourself walking from your car, another thing you would have to fix as it had just given up on you mid ride, all the way to the Amberg residence per your boss’s request carrying a bunch of scripts and documents that suddenly he needed at ten o’clock on a bloody Friday.

Finally getting to those big front gates you rang the bell. For over ten minutes no one came and there was a moment when you thought that perhaps you were at the wrong house, or it all had been a joke and Mr. Amberg was in fact out and you had just taken documents from the studio for nothing. Your train of thought was broken when you looked up and saw an older man unlocking the metal gates and opening them up for you. He smiled kindly and in the light of the streetlamps you saw that his face was adorned with gentle wrinkles around his eyes and his short moustache was trimmed, a greyish tone that matched his face. Without a word he walked you to the front door. You had been to the house very few times, mainly in the last couple of weeks but the mansion still amazed you. It had a Mediterranean look to it that you adored, a nostalgia for home that you had to push away every time you crossed those gates. The big oak doors stood before you, the man leaving you with a single nod and another smile before the darkness of the night swallowed him whole. With shaky hands your index finger rang the doorbell, your body moving to the side slightly out of habit, almost as you expected people to walk out of the home.

Noises at the other side made you grip the papers harder in your freezing hands before Gertie pushed the heavy doors open. She was gentle and kind and showed you in without so much as a gesture of her right hand, closing and locking the doors once you were inside the hallway. Like the well-behaved employee you were you stood until you were directed towards the living room. That was new. Up until that moment you had always been shown to Mr. Amberg’s office, sometimes he was there, others you had to wait until he arrived, so being escorted by Gertie towards the living room was a total surprise, not that you were complaining. Anywhere in that house would be good enough for you as long as it had some sort of heating system. Coming to stand under the threshold you saw your boss, still wearing his suit, resting comfortably in an armchair with a glass of what you suspected was whisky in his hands. He didn’t even lift his gaze towards you, simply thanked his maid and told her she could retire, that they would inform her if they needed anything. You took a step forward and when he didn’t stop you, you made your way to the coffee table that rested in front of him and placed all the documents for him to see.

He groaned at the sight but didn’t reprimand you, which you were thankful for. There was silence for a few minutes as he nursed his drink all while you stood on the side unsure what to do, where to go. He hadn’t even made an attempt to look over what he himself had asked you to bring, and that bothered you, but you bit your tongue. You were a well-behaved employee after all, Miss Kincaid had said it many times, and you would remain so. The silence was disturbed by the entrance of Mrs. Amberg. She really did fill up the space with her confidence and exuberant energy. Your eyes shot from the sight of your worn shoes to her as she walked in, a beautiful deep salmon dress hugging her figure in all the right spots, the lace sleeves embracing her arms as the bodice wrapped around her torso creating a plunging low cut neckline that showed off her full chest, the skirt flowing swiftly around her legs, her red hair curled and pinned in her usual updo, not a single strand out of place. It amazed you to say the least the way she was always so perfect, it made you feel like you were just a speck of dirt on her carpet, with your thin coat, old worn shoes and cheap dress that definitely needed the hem to be fixed. Not even your long hair could compare to hers. You always ended up with broken elastics and your dark golden locks running down your back all the way to your ass. Right now, was one of those moments when your elastic decided to give up on you, like your stupid car, the sharp pain hitting the back of your neck as it snapped, bringing a pained gasp out of your lips as one of your hands made its way to the back of your head.

The noise made both Mr. and Mrs. Amberg turn their heads towards you, but you were oblivious as with your thumb and index finger you took hold of the elastic and tried to untangle it from your hair. Mr. Amberg was quick to pick up the first script then, not giving a single fuck, not that you expected him to, all while Mrs. Amberg kept her eyes glued to your form as you pushed your hair over your shoulder to your front to finally get rid of the bloody elastic. Once that had been accomplished you pushed it over your shoulder once more before putting the broken item in your pocket and looking around the room. By the drinks was your boss’s wife pouring herself a martini all while still looking at you. Those deep brown eyes held an air of power and a certain level of longing that threw you off for an instant, but it was as if they were hypnotic, as if you could not stop staring until she took a sip from her drink and your eyes travelled to her plump red lips. No one should look that good with red lipstick. A grunt coming from Mr. Amberg broke the spell as you turned your head towards him watching as he stood from his armchair, script still in hand and began to walk out of the room.

-Miss Y/L/N, tomorrow I want you in the office. Tell Miss Kincaid that I will have you at the studio all weekend, because these scripts are shit and I need you to fix it.

-Of course, sir. Is there anything you would like me to do in specific?

-Fire this Mr. Conrad and have Jonathan fix his shitty text or he’ll be next. Understood?

-Yes, Mr. Amberg.

-Ace, Christmas is this weekend, are you really going to…

-I don’t care if it’s the President’s birthday. – you had never seen your boss talk to his wife in a such a manner before, and it made a sudden anger rise in your body. This lady, perfect in posture, glamorous in fashion and beautiful in looks had tried to look out for you and all she got was a biting remark from the man that was supposed to love her and cherish her. You had never wanted to stand before Mr. Amberg acting as a shield for his wife ever before, but you knew better than to stand between a couple. You bit your tongue instead. - This is bullshit. Go ahead Avis, read them, you’ll be wiping your ass with these pages in under five minutes. – he threw the script across the room so it would land at his wife’s feet before turning his face towards you. - Fix it Miss Y/L/N, or you will welcome the New Year without a job.

-Of… Of course, Mr. Amberg. I’ll get to it immediately.

-Good. Take all this back to the studio.

-Including miss Crandall’s contract?

-Yes. I’ll take a look at that some other day. Honestly, why did you bring so much stuff girl, as if I would read it all on a fucking Friday evening.

-I’m sorry Mr. Amberg. I should have been more thoughtful.

-Yes, you should have. I’m going to bed; Gertie will show you out.

-Of course, Mr. Amberg.

In all that time Mrs. Amberg, Avis, had not uttered a single word, she had simply watched it all unfold while sipping her martini. She must have thought you were a fucking twat, answering her husband as if he was fucking Lawrence Olivier, but what else were you going to do? Once he was out the door you sighed and began to pick up the documents from the coffee table before you were kneeling at Mrs. Amberg’s feet to pick up the script. Her shoe, a beautiful cream coloured stiletto showed from underneath her dress, coming to stand over the pages, preventing you from picking it up. Confused you lifted your head to look at her. She was watching you intently as she took a sip of her drink. Honestly, was that drink like being magically refilled or had she at some point poured herself another and you hadn’t even noticed. Either way, the rim of the glass was stained by her red lipstick and her deep brown eyes raked over your figure. After a minute of having you like that she lifted her foot allowing you to finally grab the script and stand. You could smell her rich perfume as she walked closer to you, the aroma filling your lungs making the air around you all too expensive.

-You are eager to please my husband are you not? – the question wasn’t asked with malice, simply with a tone of curiosity as she circled you. It felt as if you were prey and she was a predator, hunting you, waiting for the right moment to strike and kill you.

-I am his employee ma’am; I simply do my job.

-Is that what they call it nowadays? I must tell you that he’s not really that good in bed and whenever he gets tired of you, he will dump you and not look back

-I have not slept with your husband Mrs. Amberg.

-Is that so? Then why are you in my home at ten at night on a Friday?

-Because Miss Kincaid asked me to fill in for Miss Stinton. I would never sleep with him ma’am; I won’t disappoint those who think I am capable of doing this without using my body to achieve it. Not that he has ever shown an interest Mrs. Amberg.

-Never? – there was a tone of incredulity that caught you by surprise, almost as if she thought her own husband was a fucking imbecile for not throwing himself on you. She sat gracefully on the couch crossing her legs, her eyes watching your rigid form over the rim of her glass as she took another sip.

-Never. I’m nothing like you ma’am. He doesn’t even bother to look at me when addressing me. I believe tonight has been one of the very few times he’s done so.

-What do you mean by you are nothing like me?

-I don’t have your personality, your beauty, your style ma’am. I don’t know you, but what I’ve heard is that you are a strong, confident woman and anyone with eyes on their face can see that you don’t lack in the beauty department either. Why would he want me when he has you?

-You are such an innocent kid. – sadness had tainted her words and a shadow of it had crossed those deep oak eyes of hers as they watched the transparent liquid in her glass instead of you. You knew Mr. Amberg had had affairs; for fuck’s sakes many of your female colleagues had shared an evening or two with him, but now that you had his wife sitting in front of you, you could not understand why he would stray like that. Something in your heart and your mind wanted, no, needed for her to believe that she was exquisite even if her own husband could not see it. Over her eyelashes she stared at you once more with an intensity that made your breath hitch in your lungs. - I believe you really haven’t slept with him. You are too good, but you let him walk all over you.

-I need this job. Bills pile up and rent and various expenses that I’m not sure how I’m going to face. I’m sorry if you think I’m a foolish idiot who’s kissing your husband’s ass, but I can’t afford to be fired. Perhaps I’m overstepping with the way I’m addressing you Mrs. Amberg, but you must understand that as much as I like my job, it is still a job to me. A way for me to get money, and If I have to overwork myself, I’ll do it. I’m only a secretary after all, it’s not as if I bring creativity or joy to the world.

-How many times has he done this to you? Asked you to stay late or taken the weekends from you.

-A few.

-And now you’ll miss Christmas with your family because he can’t wait until Monday to fix his own problems.

-I’m alone here Mrs. Amberg, and I don’t have the money to go home, so I’m rather grateful for the work. I’ll be too tired to actually think about the holidays. I should get going, walking to the studio is going to take some time. – placing all the papers a bit better under your arm you began to walk toward the side of the couch before she grabbed your wrist, stopping you. It felt as if she didn’t want you to go, as if she didn’t want to be alone by the way her eyes practically begged you to stay.

-Don’t you have a car?

-I do. It’s on the side of the road. It has just broken down. That’s another expense that I have to add to the list. I really must go now, have a goodnight Mrs. Amberg. – she let go of your arm and with surprising agility she stood from the couch coming to stand right beside you, looking at you as if you were mad. Well, there went the concern, out the window, you thought for a moment before she spoke.

-You are not going to the studio by foot in this weather and alone at night. Do you want to get kidnapped or murdered?

-It’s perfectly alright Mrs. Amberg. I’ve done the trip before, and nothing has ever happened.

-Just because it hasn’t happened those other times it doesn’t mean it won’t happen this time. I forbid you from walking to the studio at night ever again. I’ll drive you.

-I cannot ask you to do that ma’am.

-Good thing you are not asking. Come on.

There really was no room for arguing, not that you were planning on it. The way she had spoken to you wasn’t how a mother speaks to her daughter, no, there was something different in the way she carried her form as she commanded you. No one had ever talked to you in such a way, with such worry and concern while at the same time dominating you with only words. It sent a shiver down your spine, and all of a sudden, the room was warmer than before. Having her turn around until she was right in front of you, her face barely a foot from yours, before handing you her half-finished martini, didn’t help one bit. Without thinking you rose it to your lips, downing it, letting the alcohol bathe your mouth and throat, tasting the carmine of her lipstick on your own lips before leaving the glass on the coffee table. Her pupils dilated at the sight; her breaths slightly irregular as she followed your graceful movements. This was something new to both you and her. Avis could watch you do anything if it meant getting this reaction all the time, the way her body heated, yearning for you, while you held her gaze like a professional temptress as your lips touched the glass over the mark of her own lips.

Before anything or anyone could break the spell, she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the hallway. Gertie was somehow waiting there. You began to wonder if this woman was a psychic because in her arms she had Mrs. Amberg’s coat. It must be a normal thing though, because she picked it up and placed it over her shoulders before dismissing the maid, grabbing her purse and keys from a little table next to the doors. Unlocking them she stepped out and you followed her without a second thought, still seeking the warmth of her hand on yours as if her skin was a drug and you were completely and utterly addicted. Making your way to the black Cadillac that you had seen her drive every once in a while, she didn’t wait for you before hopping inside, the top protecting the leather of the seats from the cold. Making your way to the other side you did not see the way her eyes racked over the shape of your body, accentuated by that thin coat of yours, her hands on autopilot pulling a cigarette out of her purse before lighting it, letting the smoke of her first puff fill up the car for a moment before it vanished as you finally sat down beside her.

When Avis had seen her husband arrive home without even throwing a glance at her she had thought her evening would be just like any other. Boring, unsatisfied, exactly like the day before and the day before that one, but now she had you in her car. For once she was the one who had a pretty lady all to herself, and the things that were crossing her mind, the ideas she was getting of what she might do to you brought a naughty smirk to her lips. For once she was the one who was going to get lucky, and this time she was not going to pay a single pretty penny for it if your reactions were anything to go by. With her right hand on the ignition she turned the car on, pulling the gear shift down and beginning to move, her left hand bringing the cigarette back to her lips, inhaling the nicotine deep before letting the smoke out her mouth and nostrils giving you a side glance as the car stopped before the gates. The rumours and stories about Avis Amberg could not compare to seeing her in real life only a few feet from you, as the red carmine left a mark on the cigarette, watching the smoke twirl around her face, in between her eyelashes, as it vanished into nothing when it touched the ceiling. You had never known of someone that could be this intoxicating even before you knew them, that could send tingles and shivers all over your body, that could send sparks over your flesh with a single touch of her hand. When the gates finally laid open Mrs. Amberg began to drive out into the road, her eyes glancing over your figure every few minutes.

-Do you always stare so intently at people?

-What? – you hadn’t realised just how much you were staring, your body practically turned in her direction, but you needed to take her in as much as you could, from the curls in her red hair to the veins in her hands as she held onto the steering wheel. A blush crept up your cheeks as you averted your gaze onto the window observing Hollywood at night, with its blinding lights, even in winter. Your grip on the papers had become harder.

-I asked you if you always stare at people so intently.

-I… No. I don’t think so ma’am.

-Good, I wouldn’t appreciate receiving such a treatment only for you to give it to others as well.

-I didn’t mean to… I apologi-

-Did I say I didn’t like it? – her tone was deep, thick as honey and husky in its undertones, the temperature in the car rising by the second as you once again glued your eyes to her face. She had such a characteristic profile, with such a distinctive and exquisite nose. You could drown in every inch of her skin if she’d let you, and something was telling you she might. Her left hand brought the cigarette back to her lips, puffing the smoke in your direction as if she was testing you, seeing how taken you were with her. You inhaled the smoke as if it were the last bits of air left in the universe which brought a smile to her face, her pupils dilating ever further before her eyes travelled back onto the road.

-No.

-Then keep on staring doll and you might get special treatment from me. Sure, my husband employs you, but I can offer advantages that he wouldn’t even read before signing.

-I don’t need privileges, Mrs. Amberg.

-Such a devoted worker. For once I believe my husband to be a fool for not trying anything with you but I’m also glad he has not tainted you with his stupid charming words and empty promises. You, my dear, will get anything you want as long as you keep staring. Because you like what you see don’t you?

-I… Mrs. Amberg…

-Answer the question doll.

-Yes.

The smile now was utterly triumphant and so utterly filthy as well, as if she had won a secret award, you being the prize. You hadn’t realised that your thighs were pressed together tightly until you felt a cramp on your left leg. You tried to relax your legs, feeling how much this woman was truly affecting you. It was sinful, but you didn’t give a single fuck, the woman next to you was perfection, an absolute temptress and somehow you already knew she had plans for you even before she had voiced them. You wouldn’t say no to her no matter what they were though. You hadn’t realised how close the Amberg residence was to the studio until the car stopped before the gates, Mrs. Amberg rolling down the window to talk with Jimmy, the security guard in charge of the front gates, the woman taking one last drag of the cigarette before she flicked it onto the road beside the car. Putting the car in first gear Mrs. Amberg drove and parked expertly in her spot before turning the vehicle off.

The redhead turned her body completely towards you then and as much as part of your brain was yelling to move away, a very small part of it in fact, the rest told you to stay put. She liked the fact that you were so eager to have her in your personal space. Her right hand was on the back of the seats while her left one was now holding onto the steering wheel. Her fingers ghosted over your arm as she pushed her body closer to yours, her hand raising towards your face until her fingertips were tracing the shape of your cheek and jaw leaving a path of goosebumps, a delicious shiver extending all over your body as her perfume now filled your entire being, every cell in your body.

-So receptive. And you really want me to believe you are all alone? No boyfriend?

-I never… I never looked for one Mrs. Amberg. Too much trouble.

-On that I agree. – her face was so close to yours you could have counted the spots in her deep irises had there been a little bit more of light in the parking lot. – These reactions are all for me and only me then?

-Yes ma’am.

-Good. – her stand never faltered, her hand never stopped caressing your skin, her thumb dancing over your lower lip. Her pupils had practically overtaken her entire eyes. The rush of heat you had been feeling since she had walked into the living room was skyrocketing by now, your underwear sticking to your thighs as you pressed them together involuntarily. She was so affected by you and yet she seemed as cool as a bloody cucumber, as if she was used to turned people on and then leaving them to fend for themselves. You hoped she wouldn’t do that to you. - You have to leave those documents in my husband’s office, don’t you?

-Yes ma’am. In specific drawers, or he won’t find them on Monday.

-And have you never wanted to sit on his chair, on the couch, alone or… with company?

-I… I…

-So easily flustered. That blush suits you, honey.

Suddenly she was no longer in your personal space but exiting the car leaving you about to faint from how worked up she had got you in such a short period of time. It was insane. Clumsily you opened the car door, closing it gently as you rested over it to control your breathing. You could swear that by how hot you felt you should be giving off steam in that freezing weather. Mrs Amberg began to walk towards the building without glancing back at you because you both knew she didn’t need to know whether you were following or not, you were practically her shadow. At this time of night no one was in the premises, and by the look of things the security guys were very far away from the main building. Mrs. Amberg was in her element, the confidence and power that poured out of every pore in her body was intense, you could almost feel it as she made her way to the elevator. It surprised you though how utterly patient she was being. You had been told many many times before that this exuberant woman didn’t like to wait and did things whenever she wanted, however she wanted, and she didn’t take it lightly when she was forced to wait. The Mrs. Amberg that stood beside you as the elevator doors closed was toying with you, feeding of your reactions and moving extremely slowly around your persona.

That was what you thought until she pressed you against the wall, her right hand resting next to your head while her left one had a bruising grip on your hip, her body pressed against yours, although you could not feel her fully because of the damn papers that were still in your hands. Her face was right on your neck, breathing in your camomile shampoo and your berries shower gel, her lips ghosting over the skin of your neck until the ding of the fucking elevator echoed inside the cabin and you were left with a single peck of her lips under your jaw. It made you gasp; it made you crave more; you needed more of her. Her hands on your hair, over your hips, her fingers tracing every inch of your body, her lips kissing every inch of skin they could. You wanted to unravel her, unwrap her like a Christmas gift until she laid bare before you. You wanted to do so many things to her and yet she pushed her body off yours as soon as the doors opened and walked out. You were still for a minute before following her hurriedly, the hallway you knew like the back of your hand empty, no voices, no noises to disturb either of you. Miss Stinton’s desk was empty expect for a notepad, a pencil and that fucking phone that somehow never seemed to stop ringing when you were sitting in that chair but that remined silent when she was there. But you didn’t care about any of that, not when Mrs. Amberg had pushed the doors to her husband’s office until they were wide open before grabbing your hand and pulling you inside.

The slamming of the doors made you jump, both out of sheer arousal and because it kind of caught you by surprise how loud they were, though Mrs. Amberg didn’t give you much chance of dwelling on it, not when she peeled her coat off, throwing it on top of the couch and signalled for you to follow her towards the big desk. She rested over it, her backside pressed against the edge as you stepped towards her with shaky legs. She pointed towards the coffee table and then at you and for half a second you were at a complete loss as of what she wanted until you saw the papers, in a slight disarray and barely in your hands, and you were quick to dump them there before turning back to her. She wanted your full attention, and you were going to give it to her. Raising her hand, she motioned with her index finger for you to move towards her, your feet barely making a sound over the carpet that decorated the floor until you stood a couple feet from her. Her chest rose and fell in laboured breaths, her full breasts practically battling the bodice of her dress, her eyes avid with hunger watching you as if you were the most exquisite being that ever graced the earth.

-Tell me, Miss Y/L/N, do you want what I’m willing to give?

-Yes.

-Yes, what?

-Yes ma’am.

-And you are willing to do as I say? – she took one step forward. You could not trust your voice, so you simply nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Mrs. Amberg. She grabbed your face, her lips inches from yours, sending a rush of heat between your legs. This certainly wasn’t how you had pictured this night going, not that you were complaining. – Use your words doll.

-Ye… Yes ma’am.

-Then you, Y/N L/N, are mine.

It was heaven, she was heaven, of that, you had no doubts. Her lips, soft, full, and so very delicious crashed onto yours, her hands shooting to grab you by the hips to keep you secured in place. At first it was only her mouth pressed against yours but in five seconds flat she was pushing her tongue over your lips, asking of you to open your mouth, which you did, gladly. Her taste, sweet and sour, mixed with the traces of the martini she just had, and the nicotine of her cigarette were an intoxicating mix that made you hum and moan gently against her mouth, your hands jumping to touch her shoulders until the settled on the back of her neck, your fingertips touching her soft hair. Her tongue dominated over yours, the urgency and need seeping from her core to her kiss, you on the other hand were simply exploring, taking in everything she was indeed willing to give. There would be time for you to dominate her if the occasion ever arose again, perhaps maybe even tonight. Breaking the kiss when your lungs began to scream for air you latched your lips onto her jaw, feeling her lull her head back, exposing her neck fully to you as you licked and sucked the skin gently; no need to have her husband find a hickey and go absolutely ballistic. Scraping the skin under her earlobe with your teeth brought on a gasp, the grip on your hips harder, her hips pressing harder onto yours. Your hands travelled slowly down her back bringing your palms to press firmly on her ass, squeezing as you sucked a bit harder on her pulse point. The mix between a gasp and a moan that escaped her lips was like music to your ears.

-You’ve done this before. – her voice was so thick with arousal that it had dropped into a low, husky tone. Separating your lips from her neck you stared at her heatedly.

-I said I hadn’t looked for a boyfriend, not that I was a nun. Ma’am.

That simple sentence sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, her hands pressing you impossibly closer to her as she claimed your lips once more. This kiss was fucking explosive, her tongue battling and tracing every inch of your mouth, her teeth scrapping and nibbling your lips, bringing out a groan as you twitched under her grip. Clumsily and without breaking the kiss you pushed her back until her ass was resting over the edge of the desk, your hands pressed flat over the wood. Pulling away you bit her lower lip, showing her that you could also be bratty, if that’s what she desired, a moan parting her mouth as your lips returned to her neck. God, this was a whole fucking new level of desire for Avis. Those boys at the gas station did show her a good time, but she paid them for it, with Ernie it wasn’t always a question of money, and he was most certainly the best of them all, but you had barely started with her and she already practically dripping. She felt your hands travel back up her back, your lips nibbling on her earlobe, pulling gently, sending a shiver down her body before you began to trace the shape of her jaw, her neck, sucking on her pulse point again, her eyes rolling back for a second at the feeling. Your hands moved underneath her arms until they were pressed over her stomach, though that wasn’t where you wanted them, no, you pushed your fingers under her breasts, feeling her hurried breaths as your lips kissed over her exposed collarbone, and yet you wanted more, needed more.

Gentle fingers traced the fabric of her dress, over the top of her breasts, raising goosebumps all over her skin before you pushed the material of her gown aside, revealing the top of an ivory corselette, lace cupping Avis’s breasts. The sight was to die for, her full bosom so perfectly dressed in white, begging to be released, begging to be touched. You would take your time with them, drive her mad with lust until she could not stand it anymore. Kiss by kiss you traced the shape of her collarbone, whines and whimpers breaking the silence that filled the office, your tongue darting out and licking the jugular notch in the middle of her neck. Avis’s hands shot from your hips to your head, one pressed against the back of your neck while the other wrapped itself among your hair, pulling softly as if to encourage you to carry on. Painfully slow you kissed and scrapped the skin of her chest, licking the marks to soothe them before you finally reached the swell of her left breast. The skin was soft, so very smooth under the touch of your lips, the freckles that painted her skin so faint in this light that you had never thought her olive kissed skin could be sprinkled with such beauty. As you continued kissing and sucking the top of her breast your hands travelled to her shoulders pushing the dress off her frame and down her arms, leaving her only in her corselette from the waist up. And what a sight she was in white lace.

Her right hand grabbed your face before you could carry on tasting her delicious skin, bringing your lips to hers. God, her kisses were the most wonderful thing in the universe, her taste, the way she sucked on your tongue. Suddenly she pushed you away from her, and for a moment you were afraid she had changed her mind, but her lust filled eyes quickly reassured you that that was not the case. You had left small red marks all over her, nothing that would bruise, but the sight of her breasts practically spilling from her strapless corselette, her heaving chest and flushed skin was enough to nearly send you over the edge. The way your knickers were drenched under your dress and coat should definitely be studied because you were sure your own arousal should be dripping down your legs at this point. You were fucking boiling now, not having bothered to undress yourself at all before you had begun to please her, so before Avis could command you again you shed your coat, throwing it onto the floor. The sight of you in your tight dark blue dress was approved by Avis, who drank you in like a castaway lost in the desert as they found an oasis at last. Without uttering a word, she pointed at the floor in front of her feet, the gesture of her hand as commanding and domineering as her voice could be. And you obeyed. You knelt before her, watching her as she bent forward and grabbed a fistful of hair, pushing your head back.

-Undress me.

She barely whispered against your lips before she stood at her full height observing you through her thick eyelashes. You didn’t waste a single second as your hands found the hem of her dress, lifting slowly to reveal cream-coloured stilettos adorning her perfect feet as well as a pair of gorgeous shapely legs underneath, dressed in silk nude stockings. Beginning at her ankle, you kissed the skin of her left leg, moving upwards leaving a trail of pecks until you reached her knee. After licking behind it you lifted it off the ground placing it over your shoulder as your lips carried the path of her thigh. The room was filled with gasps and quiet moans, that as soon as you began to kiss along her inner thigh, the dress bunched around her waist, turned into throaty ones. It was amazing how soft her skin was and even more so once your lips actually made contact with her flesh above the lace of her stocking, where the garter clipped it in place. Her breath hitched in her lungs as your mouth came so very close to where she needed it the most, a mewl of disappointment escaping her lips as you knelt again, letting the skirt fall back into place. She was about to complain when she felt your lips on her right leg, the words dying in the back of her throat. Fuck, you were good, better than any of the men that she had had in the gas station. Reaching her inner thigh once more you were rewarded by a string of moans and her hands threading among your soft locks. Your right hand grabbed onto the bunched-up fabric, pulling Avis of the desk, dropping her leg of your shoulder but keeping them open for you, tugging the dress down her hips and onto the floor.

Then and there you took the chance, and sucked hard on her inner thigh, making sure you would leave a mark. She didn’t reprimand you, quite the opposite, she moaned loudly, her nails scrapping your scalp making you groan, the vibrations practically reverberating through Avis’s body. Pulling back, you observed your artwork, brushing your thumb over the red spot before lifting your head to look at her. Her brown eyes had been glued to you all that time, her lower lip in between her teeth. She pulled you up by the hair, bringing out a painful yelp that was quieted down by her lips crashing down onto yours once more. As much as you loved to explore her, you needed to see her loosing herself, you needed to taste more than just her neck and legs. Lifting her off the floor you sat her on top of the desk, a surprised yelp echoing inside your mouth, the kiss never breaking until your hands pushed her body backwards. She was now curious, you were taking liberties, not that she was complaining, and she wanted to see what you could do with that mouth of yours. Bringing her left leg over your shoulder you made quick work of the clips, rolling the stocking down her leg, leaving sweet pecks over the now exposed skin. Removing her heel the silk ended up on the floor, but you didn’t throw the shoe away, no, you wanted to see her in those stilettos as she came over and over again. Placing her leg back over the desk you repeated the action on the other one, finishing off with a kiss to the arch of her foot as you placed her shoe back in place. Now that her legs were free of any fabric your fingers traced the shape of her muscles, scraping your nails over her thighs as you bent forward and sucked on her soft skin again. Her hips buckled under your ministrations and yet you were unbothered by her needy whines. Avis Amberg would lose her mind tonight, if only briefly if you had a say in it. Paying attention to her left leg you made sure she had a matching bruise in her inner thigh, sucking harder to see if you could make her moans any louder. You succeeded as the noise practically echoed off the walls and yet it felt so very little to you. Satisfied, relatively, with her legs you climbed on top of the desk, your knees parting her legs even further, but before you could bend forward Avis placed a hand on your chest, stopping you.

-Take that dress off. Now.

You were thankful for the fact that you had decided on wearing a dress with buttons on the front instead of a zipper in the back. You hopped of the desk, your eyes never leaving hers as she propped herself on her elbows taking in every little movement you made. Your slender fingers undid each button slowly, observing how her chest rose and fell with her ever-growing arousal, until the fabric hung loosely of your shoulders. You let it fall, watching as she groaned at the sight of you in a beautiful pair of black lacy knickers and matching see-through bralette, your own heavy breasts fighting to escape the garment. Around your waist was a garter belt that clipped a pair of black nylon stockings. The sight of you in that outfit sent a whole new wave of pleasure down to her core and with cat like grace you climbed back onto the desk. She didn’t fight you this time as you bent over her frame, your chest pressed firmly over hers as you claimed her mouth once more your hands travelling down her sides until you felt the flesh of her firm ass, pinching and grasping it, drawing out whimpers and whines that you swallowed as you refused to leave her lips. Needing air once more you traced the shape of her neck once more, now a little surer of what spots she preferred, feeling the vibrations of her moans as you sucked over her right collarbone, her fingers once more pulling on your hair. Licking the perspiration layer that had began to collect all over her skin you made your way to the corselette, licking the valley between her breasts.

The garment, as beautiful and erotic as it was, was now an obstacle, and with skilled hands you unclasped the first hook, watching as Avis’s eyes snapped open as she felt the pressure on her breasts lessen. God, each hook you undid was an inch closer to you finally being able to do something about that ache that had settled in between her breasts, the need to have your mouth on her. It was utterly hypnotic to see you so concentrated in each hook, drinking in every inch of skin that the garment freed. With the last one finally out of the way you pushed the corselette open, freeing her full bosom for your eyes to see and by George, they were so deliciously beautiful. Without a second thought you dove in between them nibling and licking as your hands fondled them with care, unsure how sensitive they might be to your ministrations, not wanting to hurt her. You kneaded the flesh gently, drawing out such beautiful gasps and moans out of Avis, simple confirmations that what you were doing was exactly what she wanted. Her hips buckled onto your abdomen, nearly begging for you to take it up a notch and you did. Fuck if you did. Your mouth bit down on her left breasts, making your way to the rosy perky nipple, which you popped into your mouth, twirling it and sucking. Avis screamed in surprise and pleasure, her head falling backwards onto the desk, eyes closed, her hips buckling so hard upwards that they nearly sent you falling forward on top of her, but your hands resting on top of the wood prevented it. You sucked, hard, one of her hands shooting to the back of your neck to keep you in place as she moaned and gasped, her breaths coming in so fast you worried she might hyperventilate for a second there, lifting your head to observe her, liberating her nipple with soft pop.

At the loss of contact she opened her eyes and glanced down. The look of worry in your deep eyes melted her, and she graced you with a kind smile, her other hand caressing your cheek, bringing you back up to her lips. This kiss was nothing like the previous ones, filled with passion and desire, it was gentle, caring, it was almost loving, and to the both of you meant the world. The feeling of her now less raggedy breaths as she pecked your lips bathed you in such warmth and love that it could have drowned you and you would have gladly accepted such fate if the last thing you had seen had been those brown eyes filled with kindness. Separating your lips you rested your forehead over hers, both her hands caressing your cheeks. But the lust was still there, and it was not going to go anywhere, yet the trail of kisses that you gave her on her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose and both her cheeks before pecking her mouth were ever so soft. Your lips left feathered touches down her neck and in the valley between her breasts before you attacked her right one, that you had neglected earlier. This time you were rewarded with hums and contented whines. Finally popping her nipple in your mouth, you licked and sucked gently until you grew tired of how quiet she was being and so you bit down making her scream loudly, her hands once more on your head as you twirled it in your mouth. With your left hand you began to knead the now neglected left breast, pinching the other nipple, massaging the soft flesh. Fuck, your hands and lips were magical, and what you were doing to her breasts was absolutely maddening and yet she didn’t want you to stop.

Releasing her right nipple from your mouth you sucked under her tit, harder than you should, but you hardly thought anyone would see a hickey there, except for Avis herself. Now that her abdomen was also free of fabric you licked the taunt skin there, tracing each stretch mark your eyes could find with your tongue, the unique salty taste of Avis a wonderful flavour in your mouth, your hands now fondling lazily both of her breasts as your mouth came to kiss her lower abdomen, right where the waistband of her white lace knickers were. You felt her breath hitch when with your teeth you began to pull them down as you didn’t want to stop touching her tits, but she was lost in every sensation you were giving her, and you could not undress her if you were still in between her legs. You hopped of the table, releasing those fucking amazing plump breasts, much to your dismay and Avis’s, but you had a brand-new mission. Pressing your hands over her hips you caressed her flesh before placing your finger under the waistband, but the sight of her propped once more on her elbows watching you intensely, tits free and ever so alluring and beautiful rising and falling with each husky breath, her chest and cheeks flushed a deep red, her once perfectly coiffed curls now lose from her updo here and there, gave you a new idea. You bent forward, your ass up in the air as your lips kissed her inner thighs, but you didn’t like the position she was in, you wanted her sprawled out, wide open for you and so you bent her legs, placing her stilettos over the wood of her husband’s desk.

Now she was a sight to be reckoned with and you dove, delightfully in between her legs, kissing and licking her inner thighs getting closer and closer to her centre but never really there, her moans ending always in a frustrated huff before you switched onto her other leg. Maybe if you got the chance to do this with her again you would tease her and see up until what point you could get her before she took matters into her own hands, but today you would give her what she desired. One swift lick over the fabric of her knickers and she dropped onto her back with a loud bang and even louder moan, her hips buckling onto your mouth out of their own accord.

-Fuck!

At last, you were getting decent moans, loud and so utterly sexy as you kept moving your tongue up and down her slit over her underwear brushing purposely your nose against her clit drawing out even louder grunts now and holy shit, you were now really dripping down your legs. You needed to fully taste her. With two fingers hooked over the waistband you pulled them off her legs, her eyes half lidded observing you as you dropped them beside you after giving them a good long lick. She moaned at the sight. Fuck, she really was gorgeous fully naked sprawled before you with nothing but her cream-coloured stilettos on. Taking her in for a moment you traced the shape of her hip joint with your fingers before bending once again. One long lick and Avis’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, one hand shooting to your hair while the other one tried to hold onto the desk above her head as you worked you magic tongue around her. She was addictive, salty and so very delicious as you moved it in between her folds, each moan that you were able to draw out of her louder than the previous one as you felt her movements become more erratic. Travelling upwards you gave her clit a well-deserved suck, her pelvis thrusting upwards onto your face.

-FUCK! God! Y/N.

Another suck and she was nearly utterly lost, screaming your name once more, her hips buckling even if you were trying to hold her in place with one of your hands, but she was not there quite yet and you were sure you could give her the push she needed in about ten seconds flat. Two fingers inside her and you practically threw her over the edge and yet you didn’t feel her walls clenching around you the way you wanted them, no, you had to give her more. Moving slowly at first you were so gentle, curling them ever so slightly driving her insane as she whined your name in between pants.

-Please, Y/N, faster.

And who where you to not obey. Lapping your tongue over her once more you moved from pumping your fingers at the pace of a snail to pumping them hard and fast, and curling them until you could hit that sweet spot inside her every single time. And she screamed, so loud that you were sure if anyone was outside the building they could hear her.

-YES! FUCK! DON’T… DON’T STOP, DON’T STOP! FUCK!

One precise grace of your teeth on her clit followed by you sucking hard and she came loudly and all over your face, but you drank her, every drop of her delicious juices, forcing her legs to remain open as you carried on with that punishing pace, her thighs trembling and her hips trusting into your face, your tongue circling her overstimulated bud without a second thought. She had not even come down from her first orgasm when you were already building the second one, and although at first her hand had tried to push your head away by pulling your hair, she was now pushing you closer and closer if that was possible. She needed that release; she needed you to carry on fucking her like that. Her entire body was on fire, stars dancing over her eyes, the coil in her abdomen growing bigger by the minute but that tongue of yours was doing wonderful things to her and she wouldn’t fucking stop you now when she was so close already. She wanted your head buried between her legs forever. You pulled on her clit as her pants became less raggedy, earning a pull on your hair and several screams.

-YES! YES! DON’T… FU… AHHHH…

Pumping your fingers nonstop, practically slamming into her, every single whine and pant turned into screams that escalated at a speed that even surprised you, her walls clenching around your fingers as she fell over the edge once more. Her second peak had her arching her back of the desk so much you nearly thought she would sit on it, screaming your name as if it were every answer to every single question in the universe but you were not done. She had another one in her, you were sure. And so, you added another finger, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. You could draw out this second orgasm and practically throw her into a third one if only your arm could hold on a little longer and not falter in pace and strength. Her hips were meeting each thrust you gave her and every moan, whimper and pant now mixed into such a guttural sound that you weren't even sure if she would be able to scream, but you carried on in your relentless marathon, sucking her clit and lapping at her folds as your fingers curled and pumped once, then twice, and at the third one she didn’t see stars she saw the entire fucking universe as she came, utterly overstimulated, eyes rolled into the back of her head, back arched of the desk and thighs trembling so much you were sure she would suffocate you.

Her juices gushed out of her at first, but you carried on at the same speed, thrusting your fingers into her, and after a few seconds she squirted all over your arm, face and chest as she released the breath, she had unknowingly been holding screaming so loud that you were sure she would be hoarse tomorrow. You did not slow down until she stopped dripping, drinking every single drop once more, letting her come down from her height at last as gently as you could kissing her thighs, running your free hand over her soft skin as your fingers began to drop in pace. Her walls clenched still around your fingers, but after a few seconds, or perhaps it had been a minute her body fell back onto the desk, absolutely exhausted, only twitching every once in a while, still she was clearly too out of sorts for you to begin a conversation. Carefully you pulled your fingers out earning a disapproving whine from Avis still she did not move, trying to get her breathing into a normal rate. Her legs had dropped over the edge of the table, thighs clenched together now that you were no longer in between them. Watching her like this, so utterly spent and still without looking at you worried you and so you climbed onto the desk right beside her letting your clean hand caress her cheek. She did not pull away. Her eyes, still carrying a shadow of ecstasy opened, and those deep forests stared back at yours, a happy smile gracing her lips as she watched you.

-You, Y/N are quite something. – her words were tainted with desire still, but you would not subject her to another session so soon. The night was young, or as young as she wanted it to be, and if she was willing to wait for a bit until she was ready again, you would give her several other orgasms. But right now, you were content enough with watching her in that absolutely wonderful post climax state. - With a tongue like that I am able to say that my husband is an utter imbecile.

-I thought you would not want him to sleep around Mrs. Amberg.

-Oh, doll, after what you just did you can call me Avis. And well, I don’t, but I’m not willing to give up on someone like you, so he can keep on fucking as many girls as he wants.

-Someone like me?

-Yes. You are quite magnificent, and I think I would very much want to repeat this. So, this can be just sex, or we can let it become whatever we want. – her fingers lazily played with a lock of your golden hair, her body still twitching every once in a while after all three orgasms in one row was something she had not experienced in years. - Up to you, doll.

-I know we are not even acquaintances, but I can assure you that the sight of you utterly naked and so open for me is something I’m not willing to give up either, Avis.

-So just sex? – was there disappointment in her voice? Maybe you were hearing things, still so worked up and needing release of your own, but you had not intended your words to sound so superficial. This woman should be adored both in bed and out of it and she clearly wanted something more than just a dalliance.

-No. Let this be whatever it’s supposed to be. You are the most exquisite woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and if little me is enough for the grand Avis Amberg, I will not disappoint. Besides, I still have a lot of stamina left in me, and there are many many surfaces in this office that I can make you see stars on.

-Good. As for those privileges I mentioned earlier, I’m sure we can discuss a raise, amongst other things, but from now on you are to only please me, and if you are a very good girl, I will please you.

-Have I earned it, mother? Have I pleased you?

-Mother? – perhaps you had not given her enough credit, because by the look in her eyes she was very much ready to go already, and the nickname only added to her desire to ravish you. – I like it, and my good girl has definitely earned it.

She climbed on top of you crashing her mouth onto yours as she once more held the power over you, the control she so adored. She was going to fuck you senseless just like you had done with her. Perhaps she might visit you on Christmas if Ace was drunk enough or somewhere else other than the house, earn herself a holiday orgasm and a date even. She could take you dancing, she could spoil you rotten as long as you looked at her with that marvellous adoration that you had carried in your eyes since she had entered the living room. You moaned in her mouth as she bit on your lower lip, her hands lost in your hair. This was most certainly not the plan she had had for this evening. It had been much fucking better.

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt I

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

A/N: No Beta readers for any of my fics, so apologies for spelling mistakes. I wrote this originally on AO3, and it's still a work in progress. As with my other fics, I'll be uploading here and there when I get inspo

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 2

-----------------------

Your mind trails off to the strangest of things when you’re nervous. You’re staring out the window pane, and there’s a small robin, hopping from branch to branch. It’s entrancing in a way. Do robins have little bird interviews for their little bird jobs? Or does everyone simply know what their role is, without having to apply for it? Collect the sticks, eat some bugs, and raise the young. Simple little bird jobs for simple little birds.

But then the woman in front of you clears her throat and you snap back to reality. Lisa Cuddy stares at you, but it’s not coldly like some interviewers may have. She smiles and you are flashed with her rows of perfect, white and straight teeth. Across from her, you feel underdressed, and not only in the literal sense. Some light makeup, to hide the fact that you hadn’t slept the previous night due to nerves, form-fitting but very obviously last-season pants, and a coat that you had quickly folded onto the chair beside you, to hide the tea stain down its front. But outside of that, she held a certain properness and professionalism you hadn’t mastered yet.

Despite that, she had beamed across your resume, congratulated you on your achievements, and told you that the job was almost ‘as good as yours’. She did, however, warn you. You would have another, more unofficial, interview to complete with your team leader before you began work. With the infamous Gregory House.

She inhaled, and it whistled through her nose. “Now, can I trust you to give you the very blunt run down of House, without you screaming and running for the hills? Because I think you need to know, while this job is incredibly hard and taxing…You may find he’s the worst part of it.”

You laughed politely. “I’m sure he’s not that bad. I once had a boss who had me make him coffee and lunch for three weeks straight after I had completed my PhD. He said it was a ‘chance for me to relax’,” You gesture air quotes, “before I got into serious work.”

Cuddy pinched the bridge of her nose. “No. As condescending as that is, House is worse than that.”

She must have seen your eyes widen because she quickly waves her hands in front of herself. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s brilliant, and, don’t pass this on to him, one of the best doctors you will ever work with. But…He can be rude. Egotistical. Infuriating. There are some days when he will make you feel pathetic and exhausted and other days when he will make you feel like you’ve discovered the secret to medicine. I’m not saying this to scare you, but rather I think you need to know that the people who are able to manage House and manage to work under him, do so with a lot of patience, humour, and resilience.”

You nod your head, and your brow furrows in seriousness. “I understand. Regardless of how he treats me, this is honestly an opportunity that I can’t pass up. I’m not going to let someone else ruin that for me.”

She beams at you. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You smile back at her, and she begins to shuffle papers on her desk and sort them into a stack. When they’re ordered into a neat pile, she looks back to you. “Rather than an interview, House will see this as a test. He will try to push your buttons. Make you nervous; worried. Don’t let him. You’re young, you’re beautiful, you’re smart,” You find yourself flushing at the honesty she seems to hold in her words. Cuddy was genuine and seemed like someone you could trust. That would be important if House was as bad as she made him out to be. “And he will try to make you all the more miserable for it.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “At least I’ll have time to prepare myself. What day would you like me to come in next?”

She winces and hands you the stack of papers (perhaps some miscellaneous files and formalities that you’ll investigate later, in private). “There won’t be another day, I’m afraid. He’ll be expecting you by his office following this.”

You breathe out, but afraid to seem well…Afraid, in front of Cuddy, you grit out a smile. “That’s perfectly fine. Sometimes it’s better to rip the bandaid off sooner, rather than later. Can you please direct me to his office?”

—--------

You feel your stomach plummet when you leave the elevator and begin walking down the hallway, clutching at your files as you do so.

Your short heels still manage to clack against the tiled floor as you walk. You pause and peer into a glass office. Sure enough, beside the door is a small plaque reading Dr G.House. Your hands reach for the doorknob, but it’s locked and you can’t push through. You peer into the office and see an empty desk, among other things.

It appeared the G.House was not home. So much for Cuddy’s warning that he would be waiting for you.

You breathe in deeply and scan around you. There are four or so chairs across from you, lining the side of the hallway, and sprawled across one of them is a man, staring right at you. You smile, half out of politeness and half out of awkwardness, and move to sit on the furthest seat. You settle down your papers, but when you look back, the man is turned and still staring. He has cropped, greying hair and steely blue eyes, and you quickly skim over him. Worn out jeans. A shirt with some sort of stain on it. A scuffed, dark cane resting beside him. Ratty trainers. At least he didn’t have the professionalism or poise that Cuddy carried around.

You realise you’ve stared a second past the respectful amount and you smile, fully out of awkwardness. “I don’t suppose you’re waiting for Dr House too?”

“Me?,” He raises an eyebrow, “Noo, I just like to wait outside his office as a pastime. See if I can conjure him through my psychic powers alone.”

You snort and raise your hands to your face quickly. “Well, do you know when he’ll be back?”

The man clicks his tongue. “Not at all. He doesn’t seem to care at all for punctuality, especially for…Who are you? A new hire?”

You tilt your head at him. “How’d you guess?”

He mimics you, tilting his head in the same direction. “You don’t look sick enough to be a patient, or tired enough to be a worker. Then there’s only the patient's family, new hire, or hooker to choose from. And no offence,” He trails his eyes down your form. “You don’t dress the part for the last option.”

You bark out a laugh at his incredulous words, shocked. “God. I’d hate to see the new hire who does.”

You’re happy to turn from the man and count the minutes until the infamous House appears, but the man draws your attention back to him with a question. “Why do you want to work with him?”

You squint your eyes at him. “And why do you want to know? Weren’t you the one to say that sitting here means you’re sick, a worker, a new hire, or a hooker?”

He nods, and his eyes appear calculating for a second. But then they’re masked and replaced with a forced smile “Yes, I did. As you can tell from my wicked cane, I’m a cripple hooker. I charge $200 for the hour, by the way. $300 and I’ll bring out the wheelchair.”

You can’t help but smile. Its funny, in a very twisted way. But you breathe deeply and try to compose yourself. You had never met someone as strange or bold as this man, but you supposed hospitals were the perfect place to find such specimens. The perfect mix of medicine, death and life, and you were produced with nutjobs.

“I’ve heard he’s a brilliant doctor-”

“And incredibly rude. I saw him the other week for the pain in my leg, and he just shoved a Vicodin bottle in my hand and called me an addict.”

You sighed. “You’re the second person to tell me that today. While I’m sorry to hear of his bedside manner, there are certain things I’m willing to go without in trade for working with him. I’ll deal with any rudeness or arrogance if it means I’m able to learn from him and contribute to his team.”

Now it’s the man who snorts out a laugh. “You’ll deal with being disrespected and abused just so you can be the ‘teacher's pet’ of medicine?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No! Obviously, I’m going to stand up for myself and my own morals. But I think to some degree, people are set in their ways; if he is, I’ll learn to work around it, rather than break through it.” You huff, “And I won’t be a ‘teacher’s pet’. Been there, done that; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

The man says nothing, and you turn to him, waiting for a witty reply or another snarky hooker joke, but then another man strolls up to the two of you. He has tousled brown hair, dark eyes and a strikingly white lab coat. House.

You stand up quickly and offer your hand. He shakes it, and you introduce yourself.

He smiles at you, with a sincereness that nearly startles you. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re the new hire? I’m James Wilson, head of Oncology here.”

Oh. So not House.

You stutter for a moment but compose yourself. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were Dr House. Let me know if this is completely out of your ballpark then, but we’ve,” You gesture over your shoulder to the man still sitting down, “been waiting here for Dr House. Could you please point me in the right direction? He wasn’t in his office.”

The man raises his eyebrows at you, and you’re worried you said something to offend him -not like you made a hooker comment about him- but then he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, the same way Cuddy did. “House, would you like to introduce yourself to your new hire?”

Your eyebrows narrow. “I’m sorry, what?” Who was he talking to?

But then there’s the slight tap of a cane against the floor, and the man beside you rises to his full height.

You turn to him, perplexed, and he mockingly widens his eyes and raises his free hand to his mouth in faux shock. “Whoops! I forgot I transferred from being a Cripple Hooker to being a doctor. Don’t worry, I still charge the same rate.”

He shuffles past you, limping, and into his office. Wilson remains beside you, and he shakes his head, eyes cast upwards. “You’ll get used to him. Just don’t let him hassle you too much or he’ll get used to that.”

You turn to thank him for the warning, but House clears his throat loudly from within his office, and sits down at the wooden desk as if to say ‘well hurry up then’. Meekly, you gather your notes, tell Dr Wilson it was nice to meet him, and walk into the office to sit across from House

He stares at you, the same way he stared at you out in the hallway, and you find yourself prompted to speak first. “So, Dr House. While it’s nice to formally meet you, I’m wondering if it wasn’t for Dr Wilson, were we just going to sit outside and trade hooker jokes for the next few hours?”

His eyebrows narrow. “You don’t need to lie.”

“What?”

“It’s not nice to meet me.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve met me before. It’s not a pleasant experience.”

He runs his hands down his worn face and continues to speak. “I have your resume. Your, quite frankly, startling long list of academic achievements and medical mumbo jumbo. I could give less of a hoot about those things; they won’t help you here. Awards and experience and acting like you give a shit is Cuddy’s forte, not mine.”

You find yourself puzzled about how to reply, but he saves you the effort and continues speaking, first drawing out your last name in a long drawl. “You seem intelligent and as if you lack a backbone. Both are necessary things for my team. But,” He stares intently at you, “Why do you want to work here? With me? On this team?”

You suck in air. “Well, as I said earlier, you’re brilliant. I know your cases and I know the work you’ve done. To put it blatantly, you’ve saved lives where others would have prepped the morgue. I want to know how to do that, and how to become the best doctor I can be.”

He laughs. “Being a suck-up isn’t a requirement for being a good doctor.”

“Neither is being an arsehole, but you seem to have that covered.”

Shit. Shit. Did you really just say that? To your boss? God, he was infuriating yes, and rude and-Oh. This was what Cuddy was warning you about. Losing your cool in face of his taunts and remarks. Well, low and behold, you lost your cool.

He narrows his eyes and leans forward to rest his head on his steepled hands. “Do you usually call people names during interviews or just the ones where you don’t want the job?”

You huff, exasperated. “I want this job. Hell, I need this job.”

“Everyone needs a job. Everyone has bills. But you’re avoiding the question.”

Your jaw clenches. “Well, not everyone has tenure. And, to answer your question, I only call people names during interviews because you made an incorrect assumption about me; I do have a backbone.”

He leans back in his chair and studies you. “Snarkiness isn’t a backbone. It’s a defence mechanism, sure, but a backbone would be walking out of here and knowing that your worth as a doctor means you shouldn’t be disrespected like that.”

Staring into his icy eyes, you speak. “You’ve got to ask me question after question. Am I a hooker? Why do I want to work with you? Now, I’m going to ask you a question. Why are we doing this?”

“Well sweetheart, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this amazing thing, but there’s an interview you have before you start a job to see if you’re suited to-”

“No. I mean why are you ‘interviewing’ me if you’ve already made up your mind?”

At that, he stays silent. Confirmation. You get the sense that if he hadn’t made his decision even before you saw him, he made it the second you sat down outside. Maybe it was the way you walked, or the awkward smile you passed to him. Whatever it was, he couldn’t give less of a shit about your credentials; or you.

You nod and gather your things again. “Thank you for your time, Dr House. Please pass my regards to Cuddy.”

You reach the door before he speaks again. “You didn’t ask me what my decision was.”

You huff. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear.”

“You’re hired.”

Oh.

[gorgeouslypink]

hi gorgeous!!! idk if u rmbr me but I told u that I was going to delete tumblr and only comeback with a success story and I have not just one but two!!

the first time I entered was through a meditation, I just used this subliminal https://youtu.be/b66f_Ca0jBQ and I meditated and I entered within 30 minutes or so? it was soooo calm and quiet and i only affirmed that I had my desired face and that I always wake up in the void state completely aware every night. i woke up and had my desired face and just marveled over my face and cried because it took so long but i finally got it. i also wrote down everything that I wanted onto a list like money, desired body, social life, and stuff like that and then I went to sleep and woke up in the void state and I manifested everything to come true and now I'm living my dream life.

for my advice to everyone, first of all, read gorgeouslypinks doubt post. Like rlly read it and understand what she's trying to say and make sure that you read the proof section until you really believe the void is real. Then I suggest reading these two posts by Edward art supply hands: https://www.reddit.com/r/EdwardArtSupplyHands/comments/l28q2o/no_one_or_nothing_to_change_but_self/

And

https://www.reddit.com/r/EdwardArtSupplyHands/comments/l3g0iz/let_go_of_control_and_control_self/

Now before you're like "ugh, Edward art" and don't even read it, I still don't even know what states are but these 2 posts just rlly explain manifesting and how to know that you desire is coming even when the 3d doesn't reflect it.

Have u guys ever read those edwardart bloggers who are like "you shouldn't care if it shows up in the 3d" and you're like but that's the entire purpose?? Well I was too but after reading those 2 posts I understood that they just used his words out of context. Just read those 2 posts, trust me it will make manifestation click for u and help u stay motivated until you enter the void and if u follow it correctly u will enter the void quickly (I entered 5 days after reading and implementing what he talks about).

Basically I would just do the Mary kate meditation that gorgeosulypink recommended in the morning and just know that the void is easy for me and I enter instantly and easily. Then I would go about my day and just like if any inconvenience happened I would just be like it's okay I'll enter the void and fix this and if I ever thought abt the void I would just tell myself I always enter the void instantly and easily, like I feel like it doesn't sound special reading it but once u read those two posts and understand you'll see what I mean. I was basically like Neville when he was in the army just keep telling yourself that u enter the void easily even if the 3d doesn't reflect that.

Then everyday I would meditate for the void. I did 4 guided meditations but they didn't rlly work for me so I switched to just void subliminals and then I entered! I basically just let myself calm down and relax, focus on just my breathing and breathing slowly and once my head cleared up then I rolled my eyes to look at the center of my forehead and imagined like a black hole surrounding me and just started affirming I am in the void and I entered.

Thank u gorgeous and everyone just follow what I did and I promise it will work for you.

Hi love! Sorry for the late response and omgosh I'm so proud of you and you deserve everything! 💗

[finnsbubblegum]

Best First Date I’ve Ever Had (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com, smut

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: Pov: You had an unforgettable first date with Joel Miller.

Words count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 10 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

It’s been a while since I wrote smut. I hope you like it. Lol. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

“So when can I take you out for a date?” Joel asked you on a date as he chewed his dinner.

“Aren’t we always on a date?” You mumbled as you munched.

“Sarah’s always third wheeling.” He directed his eyes to his baby daughter.

“Oh..” You nodded.

What Joel meant was a real date with only the two of you. He loved spending time when there were the three of you. But he wanted to have a moment when he felt like there were only you and him in this world.

“I guess we’ll have to find a babysitter then?”  You raised your eyebrows.

“Can you ask Flo?” He only trusted Flo to babysit his daughter.

“Ask her if she’s free on Friday night?” Joel added.

“I’ll ask her tomorrow.” You nodded.

The next day at the cafe, you asked Flo to babysit Sarah and she said yes. Flo was always willing to help you and she loved babies. 

It was finally Friday and it was the day of your first real date with Joel since you dated him. You dressed up for him and he dressed up for you. Even though both of you had seen each other's morning faces, the two of you wanted to look good for each other. It was a special day and it was your first date after all. 

You tidied your hair one more time and put on more lipstick before you knocked on Joel’s door. You inhaled and exhaled. Then you knocked on his door.

“Hi.” You waved your hand nervously.

“Hi-you-uh-” Joel was tongue tied. 

You looked so beautiful and he ran out of words. His hand was still resting on the door, jaw dropped and froze in front of you. You raised your eyebrows and let out a chuckle. 

“Sorry, I-uh-You look absolutely gorgeous.” His cheeks redden.

“Thank you, Joel. You look handsome, too.” You kissed his cheeks and it made his cheeks red even more.

“So, Flo isn’t here yet?” You walked in the house.

“Yep.” Joel answered as you heard a knock.

“That must be her.” You pointed at the door.

Joel went to open the door for Flo.

"Hi, am I late?" Flo was panting as she walked inside the house.

"Only 5 minutes. That's okay." Joel took her jacket and hung it to the coat hanger.

"Thank God. Where is she?" Flo washed her hand on the sink. 

"She's sleeping in her room." You answered her.

"Okay. I got this. Don't worry. You two enjoy your date." Flo dried her hand with a towel. 

"Go on." She shoo-ed the two of you. 

"Okay. Call me if you need anything." You turned your head to her as you walked to the door. 

"I will." Flo opened the door. 

"Have fun. You know what I mean." Flo raised her eyebrows up and down as she whispered to your ear.

You gasped and slapped her upper arm. 

"Ouch." She rubbed her upper arm. 

"What's wrong?" Joel turned to look at you and Flo.

"Nothing. Come on, Joel. Let's go." You held his hand and walked to the car. 

"Have a great night, you two!" Flo waved her hand goodbye from the porch. 

At the restaurant

"Thank you." You sat as Joel pulled the chair for you.

"Okay. What do you want to eat?" Joel read the menu.

"I think I'll get the chef's menu." You closed the menu book. 

"Okay." Joel closed the menu book on his hand too.

Joel and you both ordered the chef's menu for the night. It was a good choice. You liked the meal. It was delicious. 

"Hmm. It's really delicious." You chuckled. 

"Yeah, this is amazing." Joel nodded as he chewed.

"Oh!" You gasped as you dropped your fork to the floor. 

"Nuh-uh. I'll get you new ones." Joel stopped you from reaching down the table to get your fork back.

"Excuse me, Miss." Joel raised his hand to get the server's attention. 

One of the waitresses saw Joel and walked towards your table. 

"What can I help you, sir?" The waitress asked.

"Can we get a fork, please?" Joel asked the waitress.

"Yes, of course." The waitress went to get you a new clean fork and brought it to your table.

"Thank you." You and Joel said it at the same time.

The dinner went amazing. You enjoyed the food, the vibe, and the place that Joel had reserved for your first date was beautiful. You appreciated him for choosing a beautiful restaurant. You offered to pay but he insisted that he paid for the dinner. Joel was a gentleman and he said "a gentleman pays on the first date.".

"Wanna take a walk?" Joel offered to take a walk as he opened the door for you.

"Yeah, I'm full. A walk sounds good." You rested your hand on your tummy.

You walked slowly side by side with him. Then Joel suddenly put his hand on your left upper arm, pushing you gently to the right so he could walk on the outside of the sidewalk. You felt butterflies in your stomach at his chivalrous gesture. Pouting a few times, holding yourself to smile every second. 

The two of you talked as you walked but then you had a quiet moment. Your heart beat faster as your hand and his hand brushed on each other's as it swung when you walked. You had the urge to hold his hand but you were too nervous to make the first move. But before you knew it, Joel's hand was already on yours. Your fingers and his were now intertwined. You looked down and smiled. You didn't want Joel to see you blushing. Little did you know, he was blushing too. The two of you just walked on the pavement enjoying the night breeze under the street lights. No conversations, just fingers intertwined, swinging your hand, and smiling while looking in the opposite direction to hide your butterflies.

“I remember you told me you love ice cream.” Joel suddenly started a conversation and looked at you.

“Yeah, I love ice cream.” You smiled because he remembered what you liked.

“I know a good place around here. Want some?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Of course. I always have room for ice cream.” You chuckled. Joel chuckled.

You chose chocolate ice cream just like you always did. Your love towards chocolate was so big that you never chose any flavor beside chocolate. And Joel remembered that. The two of you spent an hour at the ice cream place and talked again. Even though you met Joel every day, there were always things to talk about. The connection between the two of you was so strong that you had never run out of topics and neither did Joel. 

“Is this the last stop?” You asked Joel as you walked near to the car to open the door.

Joel smiled then he took your hand, spun you, and pulled you closer to him. You chuckled as you bumped into his chest. 

“One more.” He kissed your forehead.

Then he let you go and opened the car door for you.

“Where are we going?” You put on your seatbelt.

“It’s a surprise.” He started the car.

“Okay, Mr. Miller. I trust you.” 

After a few minutes of driving, you recognized the streets. You guessed he was bringing you to that hill with the beautiful view again. 

“Joel Miller’s favorite place.” You smiled and shook your head.

“It is. You told me you’re in love with me at this place. How can I not like this place?” He chuckled.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded.

“Do you wanna go outside?” Joel took off his seatbelt, his hand on the car handle, ready to go out.

“Let’s just stay here for a while.” You held his wrist.

“Okay.” He let go of the car handle. 

You closed your eyes, rested your head on the headrest, and took a deep breath in and out. 

“I’m so happy, Joel. Thank you.” 

“Me too. It’s all because of you. So, thank you.” He took your hand and rested it on his thigh.

“It’s because of you, too.” You opened your eyes and faced him.

Joel and you looked at each other with admiration, affection and love. Joel leaned in closer and so did you. Both of you smiled before you shared a deep kiss with him. 

“You taste so sweet.” He sneaked in a compliment in between the kisses.

“It must be the ice cream.” You smiled and continued the kiss.

You were caught in the moment. And you started unbuttoning his shirt as you kissed him because you were so madly in love with him.

“Are you sure?” Joel stopped your hands from unbuttoning his shirt.

“Uh-huh. Isn’t this why you brought me here?” You smirked.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t catch up.

“I remember the last time we were here, you told me this “We’re not *peck* done yet.”.” You did the same thing he did to you the last time he brought you to the place for the first time.

“When did I do that?” He acted dumb.

“Don’t act like you forgot about it. I know you’re lying.” You booped his nose with your index finger and he blinked.

Joel chuckled in embarrassment. He didn’t mean to have sex with you by bringing you to the hill. But if you wanted to, of course he couldn’t refuse your offer. You were so beautiful and he had imagined a million times making love to you. 

“Make love to me, Joel.” You whispered to his ear.

Joel got shivers from your whispering voice. Then he dragged your head closer to his. Kissing you so passionately like he was hungry to eat your lips. You kissed him back while your hands moved to unbutton his shirt. He threw his shirt to the back seat after you were done unbuttoning him. And you crawled to him on the driver’s seat. He helped lift you to sit on his lap facing him. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this. Watchin’ you takin’ care of my daughter. Actin’ like her real mom. Actin’ like my wife under my roof. I couldn’t wait to make you feel good.” Joel cupped your cheeks.

“Me too, Joel. Tonight is your chance.” You put your arms around his neck. 

Joel continued the kiss and his hand started to move around you. Caressing you, adoring every curve your body had. He suddenly lifted your dress to your waist and snaked his hand to cup your pussy. 

“Already wet for me darlin’.” He mumbled in your mouth. You chuckled.

Joel’s hand now sliding inside your panties to find your clit and started rubbing it in circles. Slowly and passionately while he was still kissing you. You gasped at his touch on your sensitive spot. 

“Do you like it slow or fast, baby?” Joel asked while his fingers were still inside your wet panties.

“Fast.” You answered while panting.

Joel listened to you and did what you liked. He wanted to make you feel good. Just like he had told you, he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. This was his chance. After he started to find his pace and a few moves, you felt you were reaching your orgasm. You moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it. Your fingers gripped the headrest behind his head and squeezed your eyes shut. You pulled away from his lips and rested your head beside his while you panted. You caught your breath and kissed his hairy jaw. Then you looked through his eyes and took his hand. 

“Touch me.” You brought his hand to your breast and he cupped it.

The two of you kissed again, licking each other’s tongue and lips while his hand kneaded your breast. You were too aroused and you wanted him to touch you bare. So you pulled your dress up and took it off. You threw your dress away to the back seat while Joel helped you take off your bra and put it away. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Joel took a moment to admire your naked body before he buried his face to your chest. His hand held your breast and brought it to his mouth so he could suck your nipple. You moaned at the feeling as you put your hand behind his head and slightly pulled his hair. He moaned as he kept sucking, licking, and kissing your breast. You could feel his cock hardened under you so you started grinding on him. Feeling his hard cock under his jeans. He groaned at your tease.

“Let me ride you, Joel.” 

You begged him as you took off your wet panties hurriedly while he undid his belt. You helped him pull his pants down and free his cock. Your jaw dropped when you looked down to see his cock poking out under you. He smirked and you cupped his jaw to kiss him. His hand moved his cock to your folds gathering your juices before he slowly slid himself inside you. You gasped as he stretched you wide. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight.” He buried his face on your shoulder.

You started to move your hips grinding on top of him with his cock inside you. Both of you moaned, feeling each other skin to skin. You rode him moving your hips in circles feeling him touching every inch of your walls. 

“That feels so good.” You whispered in his ear again.

Joel moaned at your voice. He loved every part of you including your voice. So you were giving him an ear orgasm by whispering to him. Of course you didn’t know about that, but you felt like you hit the jackpot when you realized he enjoyed listening to your whispers. Joel wanted to make you feel good and you wanted to make him feel good too. You two loved each other so much.

You wanted more so you braced yourself holding on to the shoulder of the seat and started to bounce. Joel groaned at your sudden movement. He rested his hand on your waist adoring your bouncing tits. You leaned in closer to kiss him while you still bounced on him. Then he started to thrust into you too. The two of you moaned feeling one another but you swallowed each other’s moans. You gripped his hair and bounced faster. 

“Fuck baby. I’m close.” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside me. It’s okay. I’m on birth control.” 

“Fuck!” You kept bouncing on him and you felt close too.

You clenched your fist burying your nails on the headrest behind him. And Joel groaned, releasing his seed inside you painting your walls. Then he buried his face on your chest and you rested your chin on his head. 

“You’re amazing.” Joel mumbled on your chest and kissed it before he looked at you.

“You’re amazing, too.” You caressed his hair.

“What time is it?” You remembered you promised Flo you would be back before midnight.

“2 am.” Joel looked at his watch.

“Shit.” You cursed as you pulled back and bumped to the steering wheel.

*car honked*

You let out a little scream as it startled you. 

“Sorry.” You shrugged.

“Don’t worry. No one’s here.” Joel giggled at your clumsy actions.

“We need to go back.” You chuckled. 

Joel chuckled as you moved back to the passenger seat. He saw his seed dripping out from you. Then he took some tissues and leaned in to clean your inner thigh. 

“You made a mess.” You chuckled as he cleaned you.

“I did.” He chuckled and gave you a peck on the lips.

Then he extended his hand to the backseat to grab his shirt and yours. 

“Here.” He passed you your clothes.

“Thank you.” You put on your clothes and tidied your hair.

After the two of you finished putting all of your clothes, Joel drove home. 

“Thank you for tonight. You planned it so perfectly. I really appreciate it.” You rested your head on the head rest while facing him.

“Glad you enjoyed it because I did.” Joel took your hand and kissed it.

“This is the best first date I’ve ever had. I love you, Joel.” You kissed his hand back.

To be continued…

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

[couldawouldashoulda50]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything okay?

Loren?

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

Loren, talk to me. Please.

Is something wrong? I’m really worried.

Just let me know you’re okay.

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

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

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

“Loren?”

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

“William.”

He knew immediately—she’d been crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It broke William hearing her voice so defeated.

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

—

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

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

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

It was early one morning when it happened.

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

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

That’s when she saw him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William’s brow furrowed. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, the irony of that comment Loren thought.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But first, they had their home opener to win.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loren nodded her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pablo and Banksy?” he asked.

She nodded. “Especially those two.”

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

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

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

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

Loren raised her eyebrows. “McCabe?”

William chuckled and shook his head.

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

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

“Pacioretty?”

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

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

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

[dear-ao3]

how i met my boyfriend - the designer axe story

as promised, since we have both now graduated the statute of limitations has expired on this story and i can now share it all with you.

some notes: ra is resident assistant and this story occurred in august of 2021. i wrote this all out the day after it happened almost 2 years ago. we did not actually start dating until october 2021 after we both realized we were in love with eachother. yes, we are still together as of may 2023.

without any further ados, the much anticipated designer axe story.

so part of RA training is that we have to make door decorations and bulletin boards for our halls and buildings. i had finished my door decks at 1 am sunday morning and the bulletin boards weren't due until 9 am monday morning. so i had all of sunday to work on it.

my building has no less than seven bulletin boards per floor and an additional 4 on the entrance floor. i dont know who the hell built this building but we need to have a serious talk about when too many bulletin boards is too many fucking bulletin boards.

so i was in charge of three on my floor. one about me, one covid policies and one sloth (his name is sam and i love him). and i am a chronic procrastinator. so i finished my about me and got through about 95% of my covid one by like 9pm and had to go back to the res life office to cut out a few more letters and get some scrapbook paper.

at this point its probably important to know that the only people on campus at this point were the RAs, some students getting mentoring training, and a few random first years here for an early arrival program. plus some staff.

now, i need you all to understand that there are 42 RAs. all of us have the same deadline. all of us had between 2 and 5 bulletin boards to complete. plus door decks. and room condition reports. so we were all moving at literally 600 frames per second, 120 miles per hour, or about as fast as a child does when they are told there's cake.

which is to say, we were all frazzled and stressed out of our minds.

so i open the door to the res life office at around 9 pm to cut out the word "but" in orange construction paper and grab 2 sheets of purple scrapbooking paper. in the office are the four RAs that were on duty that night, plus a good 7 other people are running around asking about glue sticks and construction paper and keys.

i knew that i only had my sloth board left to complete so i decided to take my sweet ass time, knowing that i was in need of a good break (and also im just a procrastinator) so i cut my letters and grabbed my paper and stood at the desk for no less than an hour talking to everyone about things like the fact that i fell out of a suitcase when i was 2 and that tamper proof lids exist because of the chicago poison pill murders and the flagship l.l. bean store in maine. it was very productive.

so i finally slink back to my dorm at around 10pm, very confident that i would finish by midnight and could watch some netflix or something before i went to bed. if only i knew what was in store for me.

i enter my dorm building and walk to the elevators. and then. one of the RAs from the third floor was like "oh saph. [another RA in the building] is looking for you."

and me, of course, didnt bring my phone to the res life office so i didnt know this.

i go up to the second floor and see one of the RAs from the second floor and another from one of the other buildings working on a bulletin board. they say "oh saph. [the same RA in the building] is looking for you."

i run up to my dorm and discover that somehow we missed the bulletin board by the downstairs elevator. seriously there's too fucking many bulletin boards. and they were asking me to do it. because they wanted to put covid policies on it.

and i know i said this story was about axe body spray. and it is. we are getting there.

so panic sets in because its 10pm and i still have two whole bulletin boards to make now. one of which i have nothing planned for. so i threw some soup in the microwave (because i had forgotten that dinner existed) and opened my laptop.

thankfully, i could reuse some of the same stuff from my own covid policies board in my common room. i just had to print it. which meant, yep you guessed it, another trip back to the res life office!!

at this point i think i had taken a grand total of at least 7 trips to the res life office that day alone. its a good 5 minute walk. not terrible, but just annoying enough that you hate yourself a little more every time that you have to do it. and now its 10:30pm. i am starving. i have two boards to complete. it was crunch time.

i make it to the office and this time i had no time to sit around and debate how popular l.l. bean is. i had policies to print and letters to cut.

as im struggling with the printer (because those fucking things can smell fear), someone else in the office starts loudly discussing timothee chalamet.

and now, this is where you want to actually pay attention because this man would be the reason i ended up only getting 4.5 hours of sleep.

said man in question is quite the character. he's in my grade and im pretty sure he's a polisci major (and maybe creative writing? there's some kind of writing) and he plays lacrosse. i dont really know how to describe him other than the fact that the first interaction i ever had with him was two years ago at freshman orientation when he complained to me in the dining hall that there was no milk for his protein powder.

that interaction is in my top 10 favorite interactions ive had in college.

but the one we are about to unpack definitely takes all of the cake.

so here i am, struggling with the printer and my tiny knock off dongle. the other RA on my floor starts discussing timothee chalamet's outfits with the protein powder RA.

and so apparently the protein powder RA worked in some major fashion designer brand corporate something or other thing over the pandemic. he told me which one but i was so shot and only thinking in construction paper and glue and staples that i didnt process any of it. but it was a fancy one. the store that is.

and so here's what happened:

me: "timothee chalamet? isn't he like, 17?"

protein powder RA and the other RA on my floor: "nah he's like 25. ive checked."

yet another RA: "yeah i just googled it."

me, a wimbo: "oh im thinking of finn wolfhard. but i dont think he's 17 either."

listen before you slam me, remember it is like 11pm and i have to still do 2 bulletin boards and we have training at 9am the next morning.

so protein powder RA pulls up some photo of timothee chalamet and starts telling me about all the brands he's wearing and i literally said "i understand all of the words that you're saying separately."

and he said "exactly!! he's just so great that when you put it all together you can't understand it!! he's just too perfect!!"

and the i made a detrimental decision.

there is life before this decision and life after.

i said "well. bring your fashion designer knowledge into the lounge and help me decide what color to cut my letters."

and he said okay.

so after severely debating the different color purples that we had and listening to the finer points of the fashion industry, i noticed something important.

he smelled like axe body spray.

see i bet you thought i forgot the point of the story. i did not.

let it be known that we are juniors in college (that's 20-21 years old if you dont know). axe is very common in middle and high school boys locker rooms. i have vivid memories of avoiding that hallway so i wouldn't be choked.

so im trying not to inhale too deeply because the smell has permeated my mask as i cut my "covid safety" letters in the color this man has dubbed "light lilac" and half listening to him talk about the fashion industry.

but i finish quickly, somehow escape the smell of axe, and grab my laptop and print outs before tagging along with the same protein powder RA and the other lax player RA back to the dorms. its now 11:15 pm. i still have 2 bulletin boards to complete. my soup is sitting in my microwave in my dorm, almost forgotten about.

halfway back from the office i realize that i forgot my dongle. i say so out loud and protein power RA says that he will go back and look because he's just that guy who likes to help. i say okay fine. and i sprint to my dorm building, drop the print outs and letters downstairs for later, and start the sloth board.

several minutes later, my soup has been inhaled, my papers glued, a sloth cut out, and im sitting in a mess of construction paper and staples in the hallway when i get a text from protein powder RA that quite simply said:

"its not there. do you need help with your boards?"

and me, being me, because i am exhausted and in need of company, say "yeah sure."

by the time he finally shows up, he's changed his outfit.

as a side note, every time ive seen this man during the last 5 days of training, he's been wearing a different outfit. oh and he works for lulu lemon. forgot to mention that.

but alas, here he came, holding my papers and reeking of axe as he walked down the hall to me, who is failing to staple a sloth to my bulletin board.

so for the next two hours i did my boards and he sat and talked. he wasn't physically helping me, but he was helping me stay awake, cause this man is a ball of fucking energy, and that was very important.

i only remember about half of what he said but essentially he was talking about how he was trying to be a better person than the one that he was freshman year. which is admirable. but he does still reek of axe.

at around 1 am i finished my last board and went upstairs to clean up. he came with me and sat on the floor and continued to talk while i cleaned up my disaster of paper and staples and glue among other things. at this point i was so relieved that i had finished that i was actually able to engage in the conversation, which was surprisingly deep and interesting.

and then. its about 1:45 am. i am about to wash my dishes so i can shower and go to bed. because remember that i need to be at training at 9 am the next morning.

and he says something about trying to be a better person again. and me, in all my sleep deprived glory, says:

drum roll

"and yet you still wear axe body spray."

and all hell broke loose.

i would like to preface by saying that he freaked out in a very joking matter and was not actually mad at me. but he was definitely disappointed and in shock. the next hour pretty much consisted of:

"are you kidding me? this is prada something something cologne and all these celebrities wear it!! how dare- it could not POSSIBLY SMELL LIKE AXE!!! well i guess its a little dry and axe is kind of dry smelling...bUT I SPENT SO MUCH ON THIS BOTTLE and the lady sold me on the larger one and it was like 150 bucks and UGH i cannot smell like axe! you know i got four compliments on how i smelled today??! and you're telling me i smell like fucking- *sniffs shirt* no! there's no way!! well i mean... no i cannot. i cannot smell like designer axe. damnit saph! im gonna have to sell this whole bottle now cause i can't use it! BUT ITS PRADA!!"

for an hour.

but it was very entertaining.

eventually i dragged him to the common room cause i needed to do my dishes and sleep and he continued ranting about it there, going as far as to call his best friend (who was asleep) and another RA and ask them if he smelled like axe. i meanwhile was laughing my ass off and 12 kinds of tired but couldn't find it in myself to care.

eventually he decided he needed yet another opinion. so he went to find the other RA on my floor, which, if you remember, is the same one who was thirsting over timothee chalamet with him in the res life office all of those fateful hours before. but that RA was nowhere to be found. so he ran down to the common room below us and scared the shit out of three freshmen.

and he asked these freshmen if he smelled like axe.

the answer was yes.

after that he left because it was 2:30 in the morning, and all the while he was yelling about how he was going to come to training tomorrow with different shirts with all his different colognes on them and have me sniff them because he couldn't smell like designer axe.

and i did the only logical thing. went upstairs to my my dorm and made him a door deck that looked like a bottle of axe that had a post it on the front that said "designer."

and so. now you all know not to buy cologne because its expensive because there's a good chance it will just end up smelling like axe.

and i didn't get to smell his other colognes because i almost passed out in training and left to take a nap. but maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

we’ve been dating for a year and seven months and just graduated college :) and in a fun twist of events, prada no longer makes that cologne anymore.

[theladyofshalott1989]

 🎉 30,000 Reads on Like Moths to a Flame!!!

This morning, I hit 30,000 reads on Wattpad, Like Moths to a Flame's first home, so to speak. <3 When I started writing my series on Wattpad in March 2023, I had absolutely no idea where it would take me. In fact, I thought it was only going to be a one-shot. Silly me! In the past year and half, I'm learned so much about myself. It turns out I can write 3 whole books in that relatively short period of time, alongside a plethora of one-shots, a short story, and a spin-off fic. All combined, that amounts to over 300,000 words. (I'm including the currently unpublished word count for the third book, chapters of which I'm posting weekly.)

I've also gained so much, the best of which are the wonderful, creative, and kind friends I've met along the way. Even during the hard times, just thinking of you all (you know who you are!!!) can turn my day around. <3

Some other things I've gained:

1. My writing skills have improved considerably, despite the fact that I've been writing on and off since I was a pre-teen. Writing daily will do that (haha). 2. I finally have an AO3 account! I've been reading on AO3 for over a decade but I never had my own account. I finally joined last August and I'm so glad I did! The AO3 community is so wonderful and I'm thrilled to finally be contributing to it as a writer. 3. I rejoined Tumblr. In January of this year, a reader on Wattpad recommended I check out the HL community here, so I said, why the hell not? And now look where we are. :)

4. Fan art! Last summer, a wonderful reader reached out to me on Wattpad with fanart and it snowballed from there. Every piece I receive from an artist, even to this day, I tear up in the best way. I've never been able to create art in this way (believe me, I tried for years LOL), and I am in absolute awe of all you amazing artists that can do so. The fact that so many of you have been inspired by my work and have had the courage to reach out and share your beautiful creations with me is truly astounding. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 5. Last, but certainly not least, HL rekindled my passion for writing. Prior to last spring, it had been years since I'd written something for myself. The moment I set pen to paper (yes, I wrote the first chapter in a notebook first because I wasn't sure if I was going to share it with the world!), I knew that was it for me. I was done-zo. I was sucked back into the world of writing. And I'll forever be grateful to the game for doing that for me. Finally, here's to Sebastian and Damien, who have taken on a life of their own. They're my boys, my brainrot, my children (besides my actual child - Sorry K, LOL - and yes, she may only be three but she could absolutely point out Sebastian in a lineup), and they'll hold a special place in my heart for all time.

Thanks for being on this journey with me! It's been a blast. :)

And just because, here's my Sebastien relationship playlist, which I think I've only shared here on Tumblr once before. It has a lot of fun, upbeat songs on it. Enjoy!

[stashandtell]

Nobody Asked For This: My Rankings of the Hermione x Weasley Ships with REASONS

I drafted this weeks ago and had set it aside with no clear plan to publish it. Then, after a stroke of 2 AM genius this morning, I wrote a piece called Ranking the Weasleys, (to be posted on 19 Sept 2024 in honor of Hermione's birthday) and it seemed like a great time to finalize this post and share it. Feel free to tell me your rankings in the comments, be it your list of the fittest Weasley as you find them or your ranked-list of pairings with Weasleys, whatever you fancy to share. Enjoy! - - - - I made a loooong post with recs for each of my top Hermione/Weasley ships that you can check out here. Read Ranking the Weasleys or see the related post where I talk about writing Ranking the Weasleys and I share just a few initial thoughts on the fetishization of war wounds in the fandom here. - - - - I've recently dove into the world of Hermione x Any-Of-The-Weasley-Brothers pairings, which is what happens when you're burnt out on the regular ships you read and looking for something more. Personally, I'm surprised I gravitate towards so many Hermione-focused pairings, especially het pairings, but that's just what I've been into lately. I hadn't considered pairings with her and any of the Weasleys until someone recommended Charmione fics in a thread for Theomione. Once I dug into the fandom's characterizations of the Weasley brood and had a better sense of who each of them were on their own, I found I really like many of these ships, some more than others. The rankings of my top-three rotate pretty regularly depending on the last great fic I've devoured. This is a snapshot of where things stand today but it could move around. Before we dive in, I've preview my rankings and the major themes of the pairings in the most popular fics shipping Hermione with a Weasley. 1. Bill: Wolf-ish Daddy 2. Fred: Uplifting, Fun, and Romantic 3. Charlie: Sexy and Rugged 4. George: Growing Through Grief 5. Percy: Acceptance of Self, Also Rules Daddy 6. Ginny: A Firecracker and a Friend 7. Ron: Angsty Best Friends-to-Lovers 8. Gideon or Fabian: Time Travel AU or Ghost Lover(s) 9. Arthur or Molly: I haven't read these ships so they're going in the bottom of the list. I'm not opposed to reading these pairings but there's already such a trove with all the brothers in my tbr list that I'm not sure I'll ever dive in. 10. Weasley Progeny: I haven't read any of these ships. I have not read many pairings that include anyone dating their friends' kid in the next generation. (Though I have read a small number of fics pairing characters like Hermione or Ginny with older characters like Kingsley or Sirius...shoutout to the older/younger Nottcissa ship.) 11. Aunt Murial: Technically she's a Prewett but I think I would be into a Murmione ship if we got there. So far nothing comes up on AO3. - - - - 1. Billmione: What I love about a Hermione x Bill dynamic is his position as oldest-sibling and caretaker. If the author has resolved the relationship with Fleur as one that has ended in divorce or death, that extra element of emotional tenderness really can push the story to complex depths. I also find it interesting to see how writers engage with Bill's hybrid/half-werewolf affliction. I'm hard-pressed to really fall in love with any Billmione fic where their relationship starts pre-Battle of Hogwarts, though I do get it. I personally enjoy stories that can be canon compliant so I want to see how the Fleur issue is handled. I also find that with such a significant age-gap for that developmental stage of teenager-dom, (not like Fleur was THAT much older than Hermione but still...), it's incredibly rewarding to see an older Hermione that brings some kind of life experience to the relationship so she can be more equal with Bill.

In some of the fics, especially a few of the multi-Weasley, reverse-harem style pieces I've finally started reading, Bill's older-brother position and wolfy streak create the core dynamic of the group.

I'm not the biggest fan of the multi-Weasley pairings with Hermione but what I loved most in the standout fics are the group dynamics and individual roles that come out. Hermione can be incredibly stubborn and independent on her own and it's always interesting when she's in opposition to Bill to see how the others in their relationship choose sides.

- - - - 2. Fremione: On it's face, I don't even know if I like this ship all that much but I keep finding myself suckered in. I suspect a big part of it is that it hits me in the sentimental feels. My inner-teen just loves a Hermione x Fred story that traces their young love to whatever conclusion the author brings it to. Even if they get together when they're older and Fred lives through the final battle, they both usually end up with a friends-to-lovers scenario that's full of light sweetness and sometimes romance.

There are some truly fantastic works in this ship and I go 50/50 on whether I prefer ones where Fred lives or not. Depends on my mood and the tone of the story I suppose. There are very few stories in this pairing that I haven't enjoyed and the element of pranking really can make shorter fics fun.

I REALLY enjoy past Hermione/Fred relationships being included in fics where she looks back on their love fondly while she navigates new relationships, sometimes with one of his brothers. Fred is often portrayed as a goof, which seems to encourage authors to consistently write a more engaging and dynamic version of Hermione instead of following some of the fanon's (beloved by me as well) personality tropes/traps of her being insecure, slow-to-assert-herself, angry-broken-or-both and etc. His character brings out some of her best qualities consistently across fics, imo.

- - - - 3. Charmione: I quickly realized when I started reading Charmione fanfics that I do not give a shit about dragons but deeply wish I did. It's a cool plot device and part of the world to hang out with but it's not for me. Tons of appreciation for writers who have thoughtful plot lines and research interesting medical maladies-- but it's hard to hold my interest. (A million kudos when a dragon-centered fic does though!) The Reserve is usually full of original characters, which is fine, but I find myself less invested in the story if we don't know much about these OCs to build out that world.

I often find in the dragon-reserve heavy pieces that I was getting part-way through were objectively GOOD multi-chapters but I kept stalling out in favor of reading something else. Usually whenever there's a Hermione that ends up at the dragon Reserve, she's characterized by her unyielding passions for creatures' rights, spurred on by house elf and werewolf activism. Those are interesting characterizations for her but they just don't keep my attention. That said, I have yet, to date DNF'd any Charmione work so clearly it's not a huge imposition. That said, Charmione is in the top third because there's so much that can be done with this character. I've read a number of fics where Charlie is ace (asexual, demisexual, etc.); where's he's inexperienced because he's married to his job; where he's "too free-spirited" and very experienced; where he's enthusiastically bisexual; where he's not interested in marriage; where he's pining over Tonks; and so much more. His sporadic attendance at family holidays and the ability for Hermione or others to visit him on the Reserve lends to great plot opportunities.

- - - - 4. Geormione: I haven't been around long enough to fully understand why Fremione is a more popular ship than Geormione, but here are some observations: - Fred is portrayed in the fandom as the more loveable, airy goof while George tends to be painted as the more serious and quiet of the two - Generally, in the canon, Fred speaks more than George, from what I've been seeing, as I notate up my secondhand copies of the books - Fred's death or, depending on the fic, brush-with-death, is ripe for the reimagining of his relationships and personality - According to internet gossip, Hermione with Fred were considered for pairing in the canon originally but it didn't suit the overall plans for the series. Source for this can not be verified but it's come up in multiple places. I believe this contributes to the numbers: Fremione has 2182 works and Geormione has 548 works on AO3, as I draft this. All that said, George is usually characterized as the quieter and possibly more serious twin. He might be more shy than the outgoing Fred. Post-war, he often mourns the loss of his twin brother, his best friend, and his sense of himself as part of the pair which can, frankly, be kind of a drag if a writer is looking for a pairing to write a hot romance about. (Not that people can't be sexy or have healthy sexual relationships while grieving!) However, when works take the journey to establish Hermione and George, it's often incredibly rewarding. It tends to feel like Fremione with the temperature turned down on the lightness and has the ability to go deeper into any darkness that needs to be explored. I do love a Geormione but there are statistically fewer works out there than some of the other pairings, thus it's earned it's spot mid-tier. - - - - 5. Permione: There's not much to say because there aren't that many longer fics with this pairing written and most times it's tied to a Hermione x Multi-Weasley scenario. This gets the 5th and some days I would rank it higher because there are worlds in which this is the actual correct pairing of all of the brothers, based on what we can surmise from the canon.

A swotty, uptight prefect-turned-Ministry drone with a regretful heart of gold, Percy's guilt over abandoning his family and Fred dying before him is well-matched for how many writers imagine Hermione's coping with the aftermath of the war. Hermione would have known him during some prime formative years and knows he'll date muggle-born or half-blood witches, a la Penelope Clearwater. It's easy to dismiss Percy as being "not fanciable" if you don't read this ship but some of the writers out there make a compelling case for him, particularly when they make a logical transition from his personal fastidiousness to him seeking to play with control and BDSM elements in his private affairs. I love a good Permione piece. He's often positioned as the conservative punching bag of the family and it's a thing of art when a writer makes us root hard for him.

- - - - 6. Herminny: I haven't much of anything in this pairing yet. Truthfully, I've been holding off on it because I'm sure I'll do a deep dive once I start. It shouldn't come as a surprise that I've read almost no Harmony works either. I love a F/F fic but tend to read in waves and I've been working my way through the Weasley brothers pairings (when I'm not refreshing for Nevmione and Theomione works.) If you have any excellent recs for Herminny or other pairings name, please drop me a line! The reason Herminny is above Romione is because I love many of the fanon characterizations of Ginny in all the other fics I've read, especially when she's mischievous, cheeky, in tune with her sexuality, and ready to take on her own adventures in the world. The ones I have read where she and Hermione have been together were lovely but most were very short fics in collections. - - - - 7. Romione: I read A LOT of Hermione-centered works and authors very often find a need to resolve the young romance with Ron or use him and their relationship as a catalyst that propels our heroine down a path into the arms of another man. I can honestly say that I have read ZERO Romione endgame fics to date, and that includes one shots AND drabbles (~100k words or less.) WILD, right?

I really enjoy angst and Ron is one of the punching bags most often leaned on by writers. One of these days, I'm going to go on a Romione bender as an offering of penance to his character for all of the times I rooted against him in every other fic.

- - - - 8. Lowest Tier: I have never read a Hermione x Molly nor an Hermione x Arthur fic, and while I'm not fundamentally opposed, I'd be flabbergasted to find either pairing beating Romione. I'd much sooner read an Arthur/Molly fic than one that ships either with Hermione because that's just where I'm at right now. I'm happy reading works that aren't smutty in any way but damn if some smut doesn't help along a work that really isn't capturing my interest. While I love when I see versions of Arthur and Molly who are loving friends and/or parental figures to Hermione, the angst-lover in me doesn't mind a solid bashing of either of them and it's hard to get that out of my head. As for the other possible pairs with Hermione and Gideon, Fabian, Murial, or the children of the other Weasleys, I'm just not well-read enough in any of those pairings to have an opinion. I literally only started reading Marauders-era works two weeks ago (and really ONLY well-known Wolfstar fics so far.) A Note About Fleur: One character who's excluded from this list is Fleur Weasley nee' Delacour. I've only read triad- or multi-Weasley fics that put Hermione with her and Bill. While I do love a Bill/Fleur/Hermione work, it seemed disingenuous to rank Fleurmione against the others with what little I've read. That and I'm so clearly jazzed about a Billmione where Bill's free-and-clear to be with whoever, that my ranking of Fleurmione would be heavily biased.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I refuse to do anymore work on the group project we already missed the deadline for, but can still submit?

I am extremely tired of being walked over and doing all the work. I'm a 3rd year uni student and multiple times I've been the main person doing group project work. The latest example is what prompted this ask. Our task was to do a discussion and then write an essay based on it, the group consists of 4 people including me. We talked for 10 minutes at the end of last week and a little bit yesterday. We did the majority of the work yesterday as well.

There are 14 points/questions we need to cover. Multiple people not only are advised to, but must cover the same questions so there's substance to be worked with. While the rest of the group covered some, it's insufficient and I did the majority of the work on the first half of the questions and all of the second half. A worked on 4/14 questions (pretty short answers), B also did 4/14 questions (one longer answer, three pretty short answers), C wrote 2.5/14 questions (2 medium length answers, one single sentence answer) and D, me, did 11/14 (mainly long answers with a couple of shorter ones).

After I made a Google Doc to make communication easier, they submitted their answers and basically ghosted me. I asked multiple times for help but was met with silence or jokes about checking the grammar and typos later for me. Again, we don't have enough substances to work with, the essay CANNOT be completed with what we have so far.

And here's where the issues get deeper. I asked for someone to at least look at what I've written down so far multiple times, proofread it if you will. Silence. I know for a fact A and C were FREE and could've continued working on the project, while B might or might not have been at work. Finally C said they'll do it. We were left with less than an hour to wrap it up and submit it before the deadline at this point.

2 minutes after saying that they'll read it, they sent me a "it's great" message. They shameless lied to my face.

I was inside the Doc the whole time and no other users were shown to be viewing the page, let alone reading 3 lengthy paragraphs in 2 minutes.

At some point during the day I was so desperate, I was ready to delete all I've written, comments, intro and first few paragraphs of the essay, everything and beg to join a different group. But a friend managed to calm me down and I didn't go that route.

I can't write to the professor and explain the situation to him, it's just not an option, that's not a practice in my country when the subject only consists of lectures and the professor has to look after 100+ students. My last hope is tomorrow morning those 3 will see the newest messages of me asking for help to finish it and will help me. If that doesn't happen, well...

What I can do is say fuck it and give them the same treatment they've given me – ghost them, don't do additional work on the questions and essay and take all of us down for not finishing and submitting the final project. I don't really want to do it and fuck up our grades (we have no idea how important this homework is for the final grade) but I genuinely see no other way. So WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[neewtmas]

12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 10

Hello everyone! It's the second-to-last post for this advent calendar, and today, it's time for my personal favourite. I wanted to include an x reader fic for every member of the agency, and after Lucy (day 2) and Lockwood (day 6), it's finally time for George! Seeing as this is a certified George-Fanblog™️ of course his fic is gonna be the grand finale.

But the best thing about today's post is that it is actually a collaboration! I wrote this together with the wonderful and insanely talented Eden (@givemea-dam-break) who understood my vision for this so well and I am so proud of what we created together. Thank you so much for doing this with me Eden, it was so much fun!!! love you🫂🫶🏻

make sure you don't miss out and go check out Eden's other writing here: masterlist

Brother Knows Best

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 6.3k

short summary: George's brother shows up at 35 Portland Row and shakes things up between George and reader

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

my masterlist

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5 day 6 day 7 day 8 day 9

It was a beautiful day in the middle of winter when (name) realised she was in love with George Karim.

The two of them were walking side by side, their breaths forming little puffs of white in the freezing air. It had snowed the night before, but all that was left were some dirty grey piles on patches of grass by the road. She’d had her hands buried in the warm pockets of her coat the whole walk, but still, her fingers felt stiff as she pushed open the gate in front of 35 Portland Row. George followed closely behind, carrying a bag full of books and newspapers they’d borrowed from the Archives. 

(name) bounced up the stairs like she always did, not considering what the puddle of melted snow on the steps that had wet her shoes this morning would turn into over the course of the cold day. The worn sole of her boot slid over the patch of ice, and she lost balance, trying to grip the railing to prevent a fall. 

But that wasn't necessary. George was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her and steadying her until she found her footing again. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded, finding herself unable to speak. 

He released her from his grasp, taking a slow step back. (name) could do nothing but stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She had no idea if it came from the adrenaline of almost falling or the shock of having George be so close to her so suddenly. She watched as he picked up the bag he had dropped on the ground in his rush to catch her, and then searched his coat pockets for the house key. His fingers trembled slightly, probably from the cold, as he pulled it out and turned it in the lock, keychains jingling.  

Inside, the kitchen was deserted, but the kettle was still warm so (name) just had to choose two mugs and quickly reboil it while George laid out the books they had gotten. At this time of year, the warm, cosy kitchen of Portland Row was so much more inviting than the somewhat chilly archives. They could turn the heating up as much as they wanted here, which was why they had opted for just a short trip over to gather some books and then return to the warmth of their home. 

(name) brought the two steaming mugs over to the table and made herself comfortable on the chair beside George. He had already grabbed one of the books and was intently skimming the table of contents.

“You can get started on the newspapers," he said without looking up, flicking through the book to find a specific page. “We’ve got a few to work through.”

She knew that, of course, because she had been the one to go on an hour-long hunt for all the ones he claimed they needed. Silently, she pulled the heap of newspapers over and started with the one on top, dating back 15 years. 

George took a sip from his tea and grimaced. "You forgot the sugar." 

That wasn’t like her. She always remembered the sugar. What was up with her?

George leaned over and reached past her for the sugar, and (name)'s breath hitched in her throat at the proximity. She could faintly smell his shampoo and was near enough that she could see the little scar on his temple, barely visible, from a case they’d taken on a month or two ago. Wordlessly, and seemingly oblivious to the thundering of her heart, he poured some sugar into his cup and stirred, all the while focusing back on what he was reading.

(name) tried to do the same, she really did, but the fact that George was now so close that their legs were touching made the simple task everything but. How was she supposed to focus when all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; hearing him muttering quiet words under his breath as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs?

It was when she looked at him then, a picture of serenity in the winter sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, that she felt it in her heart. Some urging sense of need, of want. A desire to do this for the rest of her life - to sit beside him, whether it be to research something or remember to put sugar in his tea or God knows what. To spend an eternity pressed up to his side, feeling this thrum of her heart. To feel the thrill of his fingers brushing hers as he reached over to peek at something in the newspaper she was reading.

There was no guarantee he would feel the same, she knew that. She didn’t expect him to, not when his life revolved around uncovering the root of the Problem. But she was grateful for what she got: the time he spared for her; the books he would gift her after visiting a bookshop on his way home from the Archives; the tea he’d make in the morning, served with some partially burnt toast he’d forgotten he’d put in the toaster until the moment it popped out.

And that was okay. Truly, it was.

—

35 Portland Row was in chaos.

George was in the middle of a cleaning spree, rushing around in a flowery apron and blue rubber gloves, scrubbing at every crack and crevice to be found - and, well, there were many of those. Lockwood was straightening the pillows in the living room, something he would seldom be found doing, and it was likely that he was stuffing things under said pillows to save having to find space for them in the cluttered house. Lucy, bless her soul, was making tea quicker than her hands could move and had spilt boiling water on her toes. Many curse words ensued.

This chaos, however, did not extend to (name). 

Standing by the living room window, staring out onto the street beyond, she felt an odd sense of calm mixed with a hint of excitement.

Why? What incredible company could they be having that had the ability to send the members of Lockwood and Co. into such a frenzy?

Issam Karim.

She had been set on guard duty, ordered by the younger Karim brother to shout out when she saw him approaching. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why George was making such a fuss about it. He had four older brothers, Issam, or Sam as he preferred, being the youngest of them and, according to Lockwood, the one most similar to George. So it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

Even still, when (name) saw a familiar mop of dark curls, she called out to the others and hurried over to the front door.

The knock came soon after; two slow taps followed by silence. George was there, staring at the door over her shoulder, tugging his rubber gloves off. And there was Lucy and Lockwood, peering from the end of the hallway like overly interested parents meeting their child’s friend for the first time.

(name) swung the door open.

Seeing Sam was like looking into George’s reflection, minus the glasses and with slightly neater hair. He was a little taller, broader, and, well, more adult-looking, she supposed. But he was most definitely a Karim.

And, god, did he smile like George, too.

It was the same kind of smile that George showed when he was proud of something - full of teeth and elation, with a sparkle of dark eyes to top it off. If it had been George smiling at her like that, her knees would’ve buckled and her heart would’ve threatened to beat out of her chest, but there was something different about Sam’s variation of the smile. Something extremely fraternal.

George ushered his brother in, scooting past (name) with barely any room thanks to the narrow hallway. Her heart lurched at the feeling of his arm brushing against hers as she hurried to move out of the way.

“Oh, Georgie,” Sam said, smiling at the decorations covering the walls, “you’ve been holding out on me. If I knew you stayed in a house like this…”

He plucked the nearest mask off the wall, scrutinizing it, and Lockwood looked as if he wanted to tell him off, but he refrained after the warning look George gave him.

(name) could understand that. He wanted to impress his brother, especially after years of feeling excluded from his family simply for pursuing a life revolving around ghosts rather than engineering.

She just hoped that he knew he impressed her regardless.

The five of them sat down in the living room, the coffee table laden with mugs of steaming tea and plates stacked high with biscuits and doughnuts. Sam plucked a Hobnob from one of the plates and chewed on it carefully, glancing around the room like a child at a theme park. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that (name) so often saw and admired in George’s.

“You’ve met Lockwood before,” George said from beside his brother. “But this is Lucy, and that’s (name). They’ve both been here a year and a half now.”

“Oh. This is the infamous (name)?” Sam’s smile was dazzling despite the scathing look George gave him. “Wonderful to meet you.”

(name) and Lucy shared a look. Lucy looked like she was trying not to smile as she caught Lockwood’s eye. It seemed like the two of them knew something that (name) didn’t, and it had her feeling a little uneasy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” she said, offering up a smile. 

The conversation went well enough thanks to Lockwood, who started asking Sam about his university life and how classes were going. Most of what he said, however, was just confusing to them. As agents, they hadn’t gotten the chance to experience much of a school life, so all this talk of complicated maths and big, fancy words went straight over their heads. Sam didn’t seem to mind. It appeared that he just liked having people he could sound incredibly intelligent to.

Definitely related to George. Although George was much more willing to simplify what he was saying so that the others understood.

Not that (name) minded. She could listen to George speak in his overly-complicated way for the rest of their lives and she’d be grateful.

An elbow dug into her side. “You’re staring,” Lucy murmured, leaning close.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. At George. Hard.”

(name) blinked. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! Look, over his shoulder, there’s a tear in the sofa cover. That’s what I was looking at.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, with lovey-dovey eyes, huh? You can’t even give a half-decent fib.”

(name)’s face felt awfully hot, and she couldn’t even get herself to look in George’s general direction. She hadn’t been staring at him, right? She had just looked for a moment, finding herself particularly fond of how his hair flopped over his forehead in soft curls; how his fingers fiddled with the loose threads from a rip in his jeans, and - 

With a silent curse, she realised that, yes, maybe she had been staring.

At least it was Lucy who had noticed and not George. Although, she likely would have to deal with incessant questions at night when she was trying to sleep.

The conversation carried on for a while longer before Sam sat his empty teacup on the table and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"Alright, that was lovely, but I’m going to head off for a bit. I have some friends in the city that I haven't seen in a while", he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Lockwood stood up as well, brushing some imaginary dust off his trousers as he so often did. "Will you be back for dinner?" 

"(name) is cooking", Lucy added. 

Sam turned to (name) and shot her a smile. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure I'll be back. Wouldn't want to miss that."

(name) lowered her head, embarrassed at the attention that was on her now. "I'm not even that good,” she mumbled. 

"I think you're great", George blurted out, though if the slight pink tinge to his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it.

(name) was sure she was blushing now. She knew George appreciated her cooking, but considering his cooking skills, she sometimes wasn't sure if he didn't just say so to make her feel better. 

Sam left the house a few minutes later, and any indescribable tension that had built up dissipated. Lockwood and George started up a conversation while Lucy and (name) grabbed the dirty mugs and took them through to the kitchen.

"So… What do you think of him?" Lucy asked as she dumped the dishes into the sink. 

"He's nice", (name) replied, adding the dishes she was holding to the pile in the sink, though much more carefully than Lucy. She frowned at a chip in the top of one of the mugs. "But I didn't expect anything else. After everything George has said about him, you know, I half expected the sun to shine out of his ass."

Lucy snorted, leaning back against the counter. "George seems a little on edge, though, don't you think?"

(name) wasn't sure where Lucy was going with this. "He's probably nervous if we'll like him. He's family after all."

Lucy looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. "That must be it,” she finally said, before leaving the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the dishes that were still waiting in the living room.

----

(name) was quietly humming to herself as she sliced some tomatoes, periodically checking if the water in the pot on the stove next to her was boiling already. The house was still and quiet, just how she liked it. Sam was out with his friends, Lucy and Lockwood were out doing whatever - they had been gone since lunch - and were, in all honesty, probably fawning over each other in that way they so often did, albeit obliviously. George had buried himself in the library since Sam had left, mumbling something about 'important research and experiments'. (name) had the sneaking suspicion that that meant he was doing something with the skull, but what exactly, she didn't really want to know. Based on the faces the skull always pulled after a day like this, his expression more horrid than ever, it couldn't be anything good. 

The evening sun was shining right through the kitchen window in front of her, and in her peripheral vision, she saw movement in the garden. She looked up and spotted a small red squirrel running through the high grass before racing up the tree. She smiled at the sight of the animal and its simple joy in the winter garden, but a sharp pain tore her from her stupor, and she couldn't help the yelp that slipped past her lips.

Immediately, her gaze fell to her hand, where a deep cut on her finger was bleeding heavily. Shit, there was blood all over the cutting board. Without thinking, she hurried over to the sink and held her finger under the water, cursing at how cold it was. The water faded to red after running over her finger, and she could already feel herself starting to get lightheaded. The shock of the cut was wearing off, and the pain was intensifying.

It was stupid, really, that she was in such a fuss over a small slice. Nevertheless, she yelled for George in what was probably a futile attempt. If he was deep in his experiments, there would be no tearing his attention away. Lockwood had tried many things in an attempt to get his attention, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

But just a few seconds later there he was, suddenly in the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows were raised, lips parted in a silent question as his eyes found her finger in the tapstream, leaking a seemingly endless amount of blood.

"Oh shit, (name), what happened?"

“Thought I’d add a bit of my finger to dinner." She spoke through gritted teeth, joking in an attempt to ease herself, or even George. It didn’t work that well.

She’d never had any problems with blood, and she’d cared for many injuries her teammates had sustained over the last year, but her blood - that was an entirely different story. George was next to her in an instant, rummaging around in the medical cupboard for a plaster of the right size. She almost laughed upon hearing him complain that they needed to reorganise the whole thing as he tore a long strip from a box and cut it with a pair of scissors.

"Can you turn off the water?" 

(name) did what he asked. Before she knew it, one of his hands was gently holding her wrist, bringing her hand closer to inspect the cut. It wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance, just long and thin, but it was still oozing blood. Most of the issue had been the sheer shock of it and the throbbing pain that filled her whole finger.

It was easier, though, to forget about the pain when his skin was touching hers. He held her so softly, dabbing blood away with such care that her heart swelled as she watched him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to avoid the cut itself. He pressed slightly too hard, and her breath caught.

"Sorry, I'll try and be gentle,” he promised.

He led her over to the kitchen table, where she could rest her arm atop the scribbled-on cloth as he worked away. He was quiet as he took the plaster off the paper, slathering on antiseptic cream before wrapping it carefully around her finger. Something in his cheek twitched.

She watched as the concentration moulded his face into some softer version of a frown, the kind of one he often donned when working away in the Archives on a more complex case. Delicately, he stuck the remaining side of the plaster down before relaxing a little. His hand rested on hers, enveloping it in comfortable warmth, and she had to question if the lightheadedness she felt was still from the blood or just from the way he smiled at her. 

For a wonderful moment, neither of them moved. His hand squeezed around hers ever so slightly, and his eyes found hers; his gaze encapsulating her very soul. She couldn’t look away, trapped in eyes that no artist could ever replicate, and found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could’ve stayed like that forever, would’ve given anything for this moment to last just a little longer, but it didn’t. 

George cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and tearing his gaze from hers as he stood. (name) looked down at her finger, wrapped snugly in its waterproof plaster, and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"I'm going to take over dinner", George said, shuffling awkwardly. "There is no way I'll let you cook with your hand like this.”

“But -”

“Research can wait before you say anything.”

And that was that. 

(name) reluctantly did what he said and stayed in her seat, watching as he washed off the cutting board and then continued where she had left off. It was frustrating how much neater he sliced tomatoes than she did.

The pain that had momentarily subsided had come back worse, and her whole finger was pulsating with waves of dull pain. She tried her best to keep up a conversation with George, and not let on how she was feeling. No need to make him more worried than he already was. But it was clear that he was still concerned, what with his short glances back every two minutes. She had to fight back a little smile at that.

A bang sounded, signalling that somebody had just come in the front door, and she turned to look through the kitchen doorway to see who it was. 

Sam, upon seeing the kitchen door open, made his way down the steps after taking off his jacket, smiling as he entered. 

"Man, that was exhausting", he said, making himself comfortable on one of the seats - Lockwood’s. He wouldn’t be happy about that. “Forgot how big London is.”

"Do you want something to drink?" (name) asked.

"That would be great."

She squeezed past George, half-annoyed at the small walking space in the kitchen and half-grateful that she had another excuse to be closer to him, and reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass.

"What happened to your finger?" Sam asked, gaze fixed on the plaster as she filled the glass with water.

"Just a little cut", she said, plastering on some semblance of a smile. The pain was worse now after bashing it on one of the shelves. “Nothing much.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in a way that looked so much like George. "That doesn't seem like just a little cut", he said. "Can I check it?”

(name) didn't know what to do. She looked over to George, who was busy stirring the contents of the pot, seemingly not listening to their conversation. 

“Oh, no, George has already patched me up. I’ll be fine.”

“George is about as good at first aid as our dad, which is to say shit. I insist. It’ll be quick.”

With one more glance at George, she sat back down, setting the glass in front of Sam. No harm in letting him check, she supposed.

He shuffled his chair around, sitting so that her legs slotted in between his, then took her hand and inspected the plaster. A shadow of blood was already peeking through.

"I'm going to take this off and see how bad the cut is, alright?" 

(name) nodded in agreement, already dreading the pain this was surely going to cause.

George had turned down the heat of the stove and now leaned against the counter to watch them, his arms crossed. There was something in his expression, a sliver of unfamiliar emotion hidden in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips.

"Is that really necessary, Sam?" he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

Sam moved closer to (name), slowly peeling the plaster off and revealing the cream-covered, blood-stained finger that had her feeling lightheaded again. 

"Oh, it’s necessary. After that one time you tried to patch me up when we were younger, I wouldn’t trust you with a paper cut.”

George huffed. “I was eight. It’s not like I was going to be an expert. Besides, you’re an engineer, not a doctor.”

Sam only hummed, glancing at his younger brother for less than a second. A shadow of a smile haunted his lips.

(name) shuffled uncomfortably, gaze flickering between the two. Tension was rising for some reason unknown to her, and she had a feeling that she was the root of it. But why? She’d only cut her finger. That shouldn’t have been a cause for anything.

“Just as well I’ve checked,” Sam murmured. “That’s definitely more than a little cut.”

“It barely hurts now,” (name) lied. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

And it was. It had been. She had liked it when George had held her hand so tenderly, making sure not to hurt her. Sam doing the same wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt wrong. Especially with that look on George’s face. He looked ready to kill.

That look alone had a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Did it mean he felt the same as she did, even just a little bit?

No, she told herself. This was George. George loved his books and scribbling insults on the thinking cloth for Lockwood to find later and reading away in the Archives. There wasn’t enough room for her to fit in his heart. Surely.

Sam was quick to put a new plaster on, this one more neatly cut than the one George had rushed to tear, though there had been an essence of care in it. In reality, she preferred his jagged edges over Sam’s cleaner ones.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was thinking about plasters now.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand back out of Sam’s grip. “Uh, George, how’s dinner coming?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then George seemed to remember that there was a world beyond the little bubble that had encased the three of them and hurriedly glanced back at the boiling pan of vegetables.

“Fine,” he said eventually. 

“Hope you’re better at cooking than you are at first aid, Georgie,” Sam jested.

It was clear he meant it to be a joke, but whatever had soured George’s mood had twisted it into something different. He all but scoffed as he turned back to the pan, stirring methodically.

“George is the best,” (name) said. “If we didn’t have him, we’d be living off of Lockwood’s toast and jam.”

George’s shoulders eased slightly at that. “Either that or spag-bol every night. There’s only so much of it I can eat.”

(name) laughed and so did George, albeit breathy and quiet. Even still, it had the pressure building in her chest ease off a little and had her heart aching to hear more.

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Dead silence. There it was again - that suffocating tension. (name)'s heart felt like it had stopped in her chest entirely, and George had ceased every movement. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered over the simmering water, dripping and dripping and dripping until the sound became unbearable and, somehow, too loud.

Did she mind someone assuming she was in a relationship with George? No, of course not. She couldn't imagine anything better for herself. But the hesitation in his movements, the way he looked back at Sam with what could only be described as acute disbelief, had her lunch making its way back up her throat. That tiny sliver of hope she’d felt earlier? Gone.

“No! We’re not - ” George stammered helplessly, eyes wide. 

“Oh, my mistake,” Sam said nonchalantly. There was a glint in those dark eyes of his. Mischief. “Just from what I’ve seen today, and how much George talks about you, (name), I kind of assumed…”

“Sam!”

Sam closed his mouth, apparently unwilling to be further berated by his brother, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

- - - -

Dinner, to begin with, went as smoothly as it could after the bomb Sam had dropped. Lockwood and Lucy returned from their escapades, rosy-cheeked and laughing, but their demeanours soon shifted upon feeling the tension filling the kitchen. With nothing more than a look, Lucy seemed to gauge the situation and began talking about some of the strange stuff she and Lockwood had encountered on the streets of London.

Well, to her and (name) it was strange. To the native Londoners, it was an everyday thing. But truth be told, (name) was much more concerned about George… it was strange seeing him behave like he did.

George was often quiet, unless he was talking about a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about or insulting Lockwood or the Fittes team they’d dubbed their rivals. Yet there had always been a sense of peace in those silences, a comfort that allowed (name) to know that he was okay, either just listening or pondering away in his own little world.

Now, though… This silence was new and different and she knew that it was caused by the implication that they were acting like a couple. (name) tried to think over everything they’d ever done to make it seem that way - the lingering touches and long-held gazes, the time spent together and the happiness they always seemed to feel around each other - and she could see why. And if Sam had been telling the truth, George had talked about her to him in what she had to assume was a positive way.

So why was he reacting like this? Why did he seem so distressed by the thought of her?

It was halfway through dinner when she decided she couldn’t bear it anymore. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t answer her questions on how his research was going. Wouldn’t listen to Lockwood droning on about heaven knows what.

She stood from her chair and moved away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

That seemed to perk everyone up.

Lockwood frowned. “You all right?”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam shifted in his chair, making to stand. “I’ll come along. I know some good places to clear your head -”

“No, it’s fine,” (name) insisted, and her voice came out rather firm. “I’ll not be long. Just a walk around the block.”

And then she was gone, fighting not to look back to see if George was concerned or unbothered. 

Why did she care so much if he was? He had practically ignored her throughout the whole of dinner, despite her effort to have a conversation, all because his brother had assumed they were a thing. Was she truly so inadequate? Was the mere prospect of being with her so terrible?

It didn’t matter. She’d be just fine on her own. She’d managed it all of these years, and she’d do just the same regardless. What did it matter whether or not he liked her?

But, as she strolled through the wintery streets, it became abundantly clear that no matter how hard she tried, it would always be important to her.

(name) loved George more than anything she had before. She would give him the world if she could. And part of her wanted to believe that, even if he didn’t feel the same, she would always hold on to those feelings.

But that sentiment was just for the romantic movies and sappy novels she spent her free time reading. In reality, she didn’t have it in her to give and give and give and get nothing in return.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she crossed her arms as she walked, trying to preserve any warmth that she could. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a thicker jacket on her way out, or changed from her trainers into the pair of boots she’d left out because, god, the frost was seeping through the canvas material. 

She almost jumped out of her skin when something wrapped around her neck.

In a burst of fear, she whirled around and stumbled backwards before realising that the thing was soft, and it was warm. And the person who had wrapped it around her was someone extremely familiar.

“George?” she asked, frowning. Her hand reached up to the thing he’d wrapped around her, nails catching on the knitted fabric. “You brought me… a scarf?”

George, who looked mildly shocked by his actions, nodded. “Uh, yeah - yes. You, um, you left without it. I didn’t want you - didn’t want you getting cold, you know?”

“Uh, thanks.”

And for a moment, she lingered, waiting for him to say something. George stood still before her, looking at her in a way she was sure he had never before - slightly wide-eyed, awe-like - but he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground.

It was then that the feelings she’d been consumed by just moments ago began to creep back again. Why was she still standing here? So what if he'd brought her a scarf? He hadn’t even been able to stomach speaking to her after Sam assumed they were together.

The thought was enough to convince her. With a tight, thin-lipped and awkward smile in his general direction, she turned to continue on her walk. She’d come out to clear her head, and although she was grateful for the scarf, George was jumbling her thoughts again, just as he always did. And, well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then she was just going to continue her stroll.

“(name), wait.”

She was half-tempted to keep walking, but the tone of George’s voice was enough to stop her feet from moving. He was nervous. Yes, sure, she had seen him nervous many, many times, but this was different. With the slight tremor in his voice, so very subtle, he had all the power at that moment to stop her.

Slowly, she turned to face him again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”

There was a look in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. They had softened considerably from when he had been talking to Sam, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that showed a hint of worry she would usually have to search for in his movements. Never did he show his anxiousness as clearly as he did now.

“I -” His voice caught, and he tore his eyes from her face, instead looking at his muddy trainers. “I’m sorry. About how I’ve been acting today.”

She shrugged. “I get it. Your brother’s here. You want us to like him, but he’s getting on your nerves. It’s what siblings do. None of us mind, George. Sam’s nice.”

“That’s not…” It wasn’t what he had meant, and it was clear that he knew she was trying to avoid the topic. “Sam is a lot of things, you know. He’s annoying and insanely smart and kind and -”

“I’ve met him,” (name) said, not unkindly. “I know.”

George ran a hand over his face. “I know, but what I mean to say is that he isn’t a liar.”

Usually, George Karim was not someone to beat around the bush. It was one of the things that (name) admired about him. If there was something he wanted to say, then he would say it, straight and upfront. But to see him now, fumbling over himself and avoiding the point…

“You’re making no sense,” she said.

“What he’s been saying about me… me talking about you a lot.” There was a brief pause. “He’s not wrong. I do talk about you a lot. I think my mum knows more about you than about me.”

A smile tried to fight its way onto her lips, but she held it back. If this was going where she so desperately hoped it would, it wouldn’t hurt to have him say it directly.

“I suppose that’s what friends are like,” she said. “Growing up, my dad knew every detail there was to know about my best friend.”

If one were to describe George Karim, bold would not be a word they would use. Smart, of course. Sarcastic, yes. Awkward, yes again. Bold? Absolutely not.

But there was no other way to describe his actions at that moment. The certainty he stepped forward with, the soft yet assured feel of his hands wrapping around hers. God, he was so close now that she could feel his warm breath ruffling her hair. And his eyes, lord, his eyes. Despite the slow-creeping darkness in the evening sky, his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. She could see the anxiety creeping beneath the surface, whether it be for the actions that may follow or her possible reaction. 

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear the words as clearly as she would if he had shouted them.

She had known the words had been coming or had hoped, but hearing them was an entirely new thing. She could feel her heart swell with joy and relief, feel the smile that had so badly wanted to break free rise onto her lips. Her hands shifted carefully, cautiously, until her fingers could fit in between his.

“I’m sorry again about how I’ve been acting.” His words were beginning to rush out the way they did when he had too much to say. “I hadn’t felt ready to tell you, and Sam kept pushing and pushing. I thought if I ignored him I could sort my feelings out, but then I got too nervous and couldn’t even speak to you. God, you make me nervous. Did you know that?”

Her face scrunched with delight. “Georgie?”

He looked a little out of breath. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging from the look of pure shock on his face, he had not expected such a straightforward request. He didn’t speak, but he nodded.

(name) grinned, slowly pulling one of her hands from his grip to push his glasses up his nose before placing it on his shoulder and leaning forward.

As a child, she had not liked to watch the kissing scenes in movies. They had always felt awkward and, at the time, she had never been able to imagine sharing an intimate moment like that with anybody, nevertheless enjoy it.

But here she was, kissing her best friend, and loving it. 

It was a little stiff to begin with but after a moment, they relaxed into it - into the feeling of fireworks and butterflies and warm lips. George’s hand squeezed hers, and his free hand slipped around to her back, pulling her a little closer.

The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but (name) found herself unable to compare the breathtaking moment to anything she had ever experienced. And, well, the look on George’s face told her that he felt much the same.

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” she said, finding herself feeling somewhat shy after such an uncharacteristic moment of confidence. “If that’s okay with you.”

George nodded with such vigour it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck. “Okay with me.”

thank you for reading!

[aller-geez]

Blood Isn’t Always Thicker

written & illustrated by: allergeez 🖤

Hello yes this is my first Svelex fic, so hopefully I wrote them to @thekinkyleopard ‘s vision! A little bit over 8k words, lore heavy allergy snz Sven. Just a warning, there’s no snz until around 3K words, but I swear he makes up for it! Strong Language, snz obviously, allergies, family drama, etc.

Sven's gentle, purr-like laughter rumbled through the spare bedroom, the walls now adorned with posters of his favorite games and technology. The badger and himself had spent countless hours renovating the room, transforming it into a cozy "game room" where the Cheshire could stream to his heart's content.

“Alright guys, it is getting late here… I think I’m gonna end this stream for tonight and go bother Elex to go pick up some Taco Truck.. I’m starving!” The cat laughed again, a warm, charismatic sound that was accompanied by a slightly toothy grin as he placed the PlayStation controller onto the desk sitting in front of him, which was lit up with bright orange LED lights underneath it.

The choir of friendly insults that were thrown in the cats direction from others in the stream made him grin even wider, a wholehearted laugh rumbling from his lips.

“Hey! Shut the fuck up!” Sven adjusted himself in his— admittedly a little too expensive —gaming chair with a wave of his hand towards the camera, planting his feet firmly on the hardwood floor so the chair didn’t start to roll away.

“I told you, I’ll start streaming Red Dead Redemption 2 tomorrow! You’ll just have to wait…” The feline snickered, lifting his hands to adjust the custom headset sitting on his head, cleverly tucked away behind his thick teal fringe. Elex had surprised Sven with a custom headset that allowed him to wear it while his cat ears were still out, and it had been such a confidence boost for the Cheshire, although he wouldn’t admit it if you asked him.

“You could try sleeping, yknow…. Isn’t it like 4 am there? Don’t you have work in the morning?” Sven asked toward the camera, obviously getting another snarky reply that caused the cat to shake his head with another wide grin. “Well that’s on you, man. Personally, I’m gonna con the badger out of a super burrito so—“

A sharp, distinct cough from the doorway behind him ripped Sven from his playful banter to see the annoyed scowl on his boyfriend’s otherwise beautiful face.

The feline flashed the green haired man a sheepish smile before hurriedly facing the camera again, moving the cursor to hover over the ‘end stream’ button. “Okay, gotta go! Join tomorrow for some Red Dead, I promise~” Sven winked at the camera with a small wave, before ending the stream and quickly snatching off his headset.

“……how much of that did you hear?” The feline’s orange ears flattened to his head as he looked over at Elex again.

The badger had his muscular arms crossed over his chest with an increasingly disapproving scowl tugging down on the corners of his mouth around the sharp canines that jutted out from his lips just slightly.

“Enough……” The man stood silent in the doorway a second, and a tinge of anxiety flooded the cat’s chest. After an uncomfortably long few moments, finally the badger snorted a laugh, unfolding his arms from his chest and burying his hands into the pockets of his torn jeans. “okay but let’s get one thing straight, you aren’t CONNING a badger out of a super burrito, okay? I’ll go pick ‘em up, but that’s because you’re gonna be paying for both of us, AND calling in the order, alright, you little shit?”

The corners of Sven’s mouth instantly pulled up into a coy grin, and he raised his palms in front of him in defense. “Alright, alright, I suppose that’s fair~” The cat purred another laugh with a quick flick of his large orange tail, dropping his gaze to locate his cell phone among the massive amount of electronics around him.

“Call it in, I’ll go pick it up right now. I still have your card from earlier and I’ll use it to pay. You know what I like… and I swear to fucking god if they fuck it up again I’m going to swing on someone…” Elex tossed over his shoulder as Sven fumbled to unlock his phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call it in. Be safe!” He replied rather quickly as his boyfriend closed the front door behind him. When the feline finally got his phone unlocked, the notification of a new text message from an unsaved number instantly caught his attention. As quickly as he could, the cat opened it, his slitted eyes widening as he read the full message.

??? — Hello Sven, I hope this message finds you well… This is your Father. I know you’ve tried to keep this number from me, and I’ve been told that trying to contact you was a bad idea but I couldn’t help but try.

??? — I was wrong about you, Sven. I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel alienated from the family. That was never my intention. But honestly, everything I want to say to you couldn’t be fully conveyed to you through a text message…

??? — That’s why I want to invite you to dinner at the house on Saturday, if you’d be willing to come. You may read these texts and laugh and not even reply and I’d understand if that was your choice. But if you would be willing to hear me out and hopefully at least be on speaking terms, I would love to hear back from you.

Sven's heart raced as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. How had his father gotten his new number? He had made it very clear that he didn't want any contact with him...but then why did the message say "I was wrong"? Sven squinted at the words, his eyesight possibly failing him once again. But there it was, unmistakable. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions as he tried to make sense of the unexpected message. Was this a trap? Or was his father truly admitting fault? Sven didn't know what to believe anymore, and it terrified him.

The text took him so off guard that he had to lock his phone again and place it facedown on his lap, his orange slitted eyes drifting off as his thoughts raced through his head.

What was he going to do? Would he really be able to go back to /that/ place and eat a whole meal while being face to face with his dad and be patronized for god knows how long, just to MAYBE get a half assed apology from the man?

However desperately the cat wanted to gain a shred of acknowledgement from his father after he became invisible behind Draeko’s shadow, he had no idea if his psyche could handle the man that made him run as far away from the circus as possible and get a place in secret with Elex in the first place.

Suddenly, his phone that still lay face down on his lap began to vibrate wildly, jerking Sven from his thoughts and back to reality.

Lifting the phone to his face, Elex’s contact photo plastered itself across his screen, which made the feline curse under his breath, preparing himself for an angry badger on the other end when he answered.

A dull clawed finger answered the call, lifting the phone a good foot out from his ear, and before Sven could even say “Hello.”, Elex’s angry voice poured through the phone, causing the cat’s ears to fold flat on his head sheepishly.

“SVEN WHAT THE FUCK? DID YOU NOT CALL IN THE ORDER? CAUSE ITS GONNA BE A PROBLEM IF THIS FUCKING DICK IS LYING TO ME RIGHT NOW…”

“Lex! Sorry, sorry! I got distracted and forgot to call, my bad!” The feline cried out frantically, and the frustrated grit of the badgers teeth was audible through the phone, making Sven want to be as small as possible.

“There better be a good fucking reason, Sven..” Elex mumbled, and the sound of a car door slamming shut could be heard on the other end as the badger got back out of his car.

“There is, I promise I’ll tell you when you get here— you won’t fucking believe this shit…” Sven snorted, trying his best to sound nonchalant and mask the fact that he was honestly scared shitless over the entire situation.

— but Elex could sense something was off by the tone of his boyfriends voice, and decided to let up on the cat. Whatever the distraction was, it was clearly heavy and weighing on him.

“Just — fuckin’ A, you’re annoying..” Elex sighed dramatically, seemingly put out that he had to place the order himself.

“You love me~” Sven replied with that same faux nonchalance, making Elex silently cringe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Click — the line went dead.

Sven hung his head low, swiping up his phone and hiding it under the couch cushion as if that would make the situation any better. The silence of the house was almost deafening as he thought about how to tell the badger about the texts...

He needed to clean something. Anything.

A loud sigh escaped him as he got up from the couch, making his way to the kitchen. In all honesty, the kitchen was already almost spotless, but there was plenty of stuff that could use a wipe down. His heart raced anxiously as he grabbed a dishtowel and started on the counters.

Tap, splash, scrub, tap, splash. The sounds echoed through the otherwise quiet house as he went about cleaning up any and all messes he could find. The sink faucet squeaked with every turn of the handle, the dish soap smelled strongly of lemon, and the warmth of it against his palms felt comforting.

The humming of Elex's car in the driveway snapped him out of his thoughts once again, reminding him that the badger would be home soon. A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought of seeing his face when he walked in, and having to open up to his boyfriend on that level... Being vulnerable was kind of a hit or miss with the green haired man.

He quickly rinsed off the sponge and threw it into the sink before taking a moment to straighten up around him; even standing on his tiptoes to wipe down the very top of the fridge.

Suddenly, the front door flung open, and Elex came charging through with both of his hands full of large styrofoam cups full of soda, and a white plastic bag full of various foods hanging from his arm, an annoyed scowl across his face. Although, instantly upon making eye contact with Sven, seeing the stress weighing heavy on his features and the wad of paper towels he used to wipe down the fridge clutched tightly in his hand, the badger gave a knowing sigh as he slammed the door behind him with his foot.

“I’m so sorry, Lex, I didn’t mean to—“ Sven started to explain himself but was quickly cut off as Elex set down the drinks and the bag of food on the counter in front of him with a loud thump.

“Nah, I don’t care about that shit. What I do care about is what the fuck distracted you so much. You’re obviously stress cleaning, so it has to be something.” Elex quickly snatched the paper towels from Sven’s hand, throwing them in the trash. “Now spill it before the food gets cold.” He demanded, eliciting a cautious breath from the feline, his bright orange eyes locked on the floor.

Well, here goes nothing…

“Well… you know how I got my number changed so my dad didn’t have it anymore, when I moved, right?” Sven asked quietly, pulling on a loose string on his jeans as he spoke.

“Err… yeah? Of course. It was a pretty fuckin big ordeal if you remember….” The badger replied, one eyebrow cocked with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well…” the Cheshire swallowed before continuing. “I got a text from him…. A few actually..”

“Oh, this aught to be good… what the fuck did that prick have to say?” Elex scoffed bluntly, leaning his back against the wall with a snort.

The cat’s heart was pounding in his chest as he spoke, "He invited me to dinner. Saturday evening, at his house," Sven mumbled, looking down at his feet. He took a deep breath before continuing, "I know I shouldn't go... but it's been so long since we've spoken... and I just want to see him... and maybe make things right..." He trailed off, biting his lower lip as his ears flattened against his head.

Elex rolled his dual colored eyes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Fuckin A, Sven. You're an adult now, you don't have to go crawling back to that asshole just because you feel bad. It's not like he'll actually apologize or anything," he scoffed again. The badger shook his head, disgusted with the idea of Sven even considering going through with this. "You know what he put you through."

"But it's not just that," Sven mumbled, looking up at Elex with pleading eyes. "I miss him... I miss— the circus, a bit…"

Elex huffed, leaning against the counter. "Well then," he started, "honestly, it sounds like you already made up your mind… But I don’t think it’s a good idea at all.”

Sven’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, although he knew from the beginning that Elex wouldn’t support him going either way.

“I mean, I haven’t replied to him yet, but… after really thinking about it… I can handle just one dinner on the very slim chance it’s not bullshit this time... And if he starts being his same ol self, I’ll just leave.” The feline shrugged, trying to put up the same faux nonchalant facade that he had tried earlier on the phone.

“I mean whatever, Sven. But don’t fucking hold your breath for that fucker to suddenly stop being an asshat to you out of no where. It’s been 26 years and he hasn’t gotten it together.” Elex shook his head with a sigh as he pulled a travel sized bottle of hand sanitizer from his pockets and squirted a small amount onto his palm before holding it out to Sven, who offered his hand. “You’re just going to get fucked over like always and he’s going to treat you like you wear a fucking helmet or some shit, and it’s going to be a disaster like it always fucking is.”

The cat’s tail twitched in annoyance at his boyfriend’s negativity, but he didn’t push the issue any further to avoid any arguments; instead he simply rubbed his palms together to sanitize his hands before silently removing his burrito from the bag on the counter.

“Thanks for this by the way.” He gestured to Elex with his unwrapped burrito before taking a large bite, to which the badger simply nodded as he removed his own food from the bag. “You’re fucking lucky I’m feeling generous today. Don’t let it happen again though.” The green haired man snorted, shaking his head back and forth as he sipped on the straw to his beverage.

As the two sat and munched silently on their food, Sven quickly typed out a reply to his father.

Sven - Hey, Dad. I just got your texts… uh, yeah… I’ll be there for dinner on Saturday night so maybe we can get shit off our chest and catch up.

Instantly the little blip in the corner began to show that his father was typing a reply. Typical.

??? — I’m so happy to hear that, Sven. Thank you for giving me a chance. I’m excited to hear how you’ve been. Dinner will be at 6 on Saturday. See you then.

Sven let out a deep breath as he finished his text to his father and looked up at Elex, who was already digging into his burrito as if nothing had happened. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, occasionally glancing at each other as they enjoyed the warmth of their food. Once they were done, they cleaned up the kitchen and headed to their room to unwind for the night. They both changed into their pjs, Sven donning a small tank top and shorts while Elex wore boxers and an oversized t-shirt. The room was cool despite the air conditioner running, but it made for comfortable sleeping conditions. They turned off the lights and crawled into bed together, cuddling close as they always did when it was time for sleep. Their bodies molded together like two puzzle pieces, two halves of one whole. For now, there was peace.

The room was dimly lit by the glow from the city outside their window, casting a soft blue hue over everything. The sound of cars honking floated in through the open window, mingling with the low hum of conversation from people walking by on the sidewalks below. It made Sven feel connected to something larger than himself—something grounding. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep but found himself unable to stop thinking about this decision he'd made that could potentially shake up his life in ways he couldn't predict; he tossed and turned throughout most of the night, trying not to wake Elex up, but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

The days leading up to the dinner were filled with countless arguments between the two. It was as if the tension in the air had a physical presence, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to ignore. They would start off fine in the morning, exchanging gentle nuzzles and soft whispers while they got ready for the day. But by the time they would end their days, tired and drained, their tempers would often flare up over minor things like leaving shoes in the wrong spot or forgetting to buy milk.

The cat, usually so patient and understanding, found himself snapping at Elex for no reason at all, and of course the badger would fire back. Sven was usually so level-headed and considerate, but instead he would lash out in anger over trivial matters that would normally be brushed aside. Their nighttime routine remained unchanged; they would cook dinner together, watch TV, and cuddle in bed before sleeping. But now it felt forced, like two strangers going through the motions instead of lovers sharing their space. The food they cooked together lacked flavor and sparked more arguments about whose turn it was to cook or who forgot an ingredient. The TV shows they watched would always be interrupted by sarcastic commentary or change of channel without notice. Their warm embrace before sleep turned into cold shoulders as they tried to find solace in their own thoughts instead of each other's touch.

Sven couldn't help but feel a knot forming in his stomach every time he thought about facing his father again after all these years. The last time they had seen each other had been tumultuous, to say the least. He just hoped that this dinner could be a fresh start for them both. However, part of him feared that it would only lead to more arguments and hurt feelings. As Saturday drew closer, so did their anxiety levels, making them both irritable and snappish towards one another.

That is— until Saturday morning (or, more accurately, 2 pm… but to Sven, it was morning..) finally rolled around…

It was his phone buzzing on the nightstand that finally woke the cat from his deep slumber. Opening one of his golden eyes groggily, Sven snatched it from the nightstand in annoyance and sat up, his teal hair splayed wildly in every direction. Still half awake, he squinted at the text message on his screen before clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the sudden itchy feeling that snaked down his esophagus. It was from his dad.

Dad — Hello Sven, just checking to be sure you’re still going to be here for dinner tonight? Looking forward to seeing you.

Clearing his throat again, Sven sniffled absentmindedly, rubbing the sleep from his eye with one balled up fist, using the other hand to tap out a reply. God, was he thankful for autocorrect.

Sven — Yeah, Dad, I’ll be there.

The cat left it at that, locking his phone with a loud yawn, his large orange ears flattening to his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and plopped his feet onto the floor with a heavy thud. Guess it was as good of a time as any to get up…

The night before had ended in another heated argument with Elex, and the badger had slept on the couch in the living room, allowing the feline to not have to be as worried of how loud he was being to avoid waking him.

Instinctively, Sven sniffled again before reaching up to scrub small circles into his nose with his palm. So itchyyyyy…

With a disapproving grunt, the cat pulled open the drawer to the nightstand shoved up against one side of the bed and fished out a blister pack of Claritin, half of the pack already punched out and foil hanging loosely from the back. He’d be damned if his allergies were going to choose today of all days to be a problem…

With a soft sniffle, Sven positioned the pack over his other hand, but before he managed to remove one of the small round pills from the pack, his breath snagged suddenly in his throat, a desperate gasp parting his lips before his head snapped downward with a soft, “Hehh.. n’gtx!”

The sudden, unexpected sneeze caused one of the cat’s nails to puncture the foil on the blister pack, one of the small round pills clattering against the hardwood floor beneath his feet before quickly rolling out of sight under the bed. But with the intensity of the buzzing within his nose, the Cheshire knew better than to assume the single sneeze was the end of it.

“K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch! — Hhh—! Ktch! Nkcht! Hh‘gsch!! Nngch!”

Wave after wave of sneezes overtook Sven as he tried to catch his breath, each one more intense than the last. "Ngt’chh! hptt’CH! h’gTShhHh! hiIh’nGkt!!" He couldn't seem to stop; his nostrils quivered maddeningly and his eyes pooled with allergic tears before they streamed down his face. Desperate to calm his overly sensitive nasal passages of the all encompassing sensation licking down the bridge of his nose, the cat frantically knuckled at his septum, but it didn't stop there; his nose still tickled mercilessly, demanding release.

“Hh—… H-Hhh—! H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! God damnd it!” The cat hissed angrily once finally able to, quickly getting up off of the bed and darting into the bathroom with one hand cupped over his nose and mouth. He slammed the door behind him as hot tears of frustration began to stream down his cheeks, his head feeling like it was about to split apart from all of the sudden, intense sneezing.

Sven hated this feeling. The uncontrollable urge to sneeze; the intense tickling sensation in his nose that demanded his full attention and refused to go away no matter how many times he was caught up in an endless, desperate fit. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

“N’gxt—! Heh’n’gtx—!” The feline couldn’t even catch a break in the safety of the bathroom as another round of sneezes overtook him. He snatched a handful of tissues from the box on the sink counter and furiously blew his nose, trying to clear out the allergen that was causing this hellish reaction.

But no matter how much he blew his nose, it just seemed to make things worse. And with every forceful exhale, more tears leaked out of his eyes until he could barely see clearly anymore.

Fuming with frustration, Sven reached for a glass on the counter and filled it with water before yanking open the medicine cabinet and swiping yet another pack of Claritin from the shelf. He popped two of the pills from the foil package and threw them into his open mouth, chasing it all down in one gulp.

Even after multiple rounds of blowing his nose and sniffling desperately into tissues, the Cheshire could still feel that annoying tickle in his nose. It felt like there was something lodged deep within his sinuses that just wouldn’t budge.

Feeling utterly defeated, Sven slumped down onto the edge of the bathtub and rested his head in hands.

Why did he have to be such a fucking mess? Why couldn’t he have normal allergies like normal people, like dust or pollen? The cat honestly felt like the butt end of some sick joke from the universe to have such debilitating allergies to his own body.

With a suddenly very waterlogged sniffle, more hot tears began to sting at his eyes before spilling over his cheeks and splashing against the tile floor below him. How was he supposed to show up at his dads like this? It would be like asking for it at this point…

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the bathroom door ripped the cat from his thoughts.

“Sven?” Elex’s voice poured out from behind the thin, wooden door, followed by a few seconds of silence. When he was met with no response, the badger tried again. “—Sven?”

“Ghhh— go away..” Sven muttered softly, still sitting on the edge of the tub with his chin resting on his palms, followed by an almost inaudible gasp as his breathing shuttered. “Nnch! Nkch! Ktch! Nkcht!”

“You okay in there?” Elex’s concern was evident in his voice as he pressed for a response. The worry in his tone was enough to make the cat’s heart ache with guilt from the way he had acted towards the other the night before.

“—I’mb fide,” Sven managed to say, his voice muffled by the tissues he pressed against his face. “J-just dealigg with... allergies.” He let out another stifled sneeze, followed by a defeated sigh.

Elex’s gentle exhale was barely audible over the sound of Sven blowing his nose. “I’m coming in.” He stated simply despite the cat’s previous objections.

When he pushed open the door to the bathroom, he was met with the sad sight of his boyfriend huddled up on the edge of the bathtub, a wad of tissues tented over his nose and mouth and tears staining his pink cheeks. Any argument between the two the night before was easily forgotten.

“Geez, kid… One of those days?” Elex asked with a tilt of his head, a sympathetic expression on his face as he came to sit on the tub next to Sven. He couldn’t say he was jealous of the Cheshire’s plight, that’s for damn sure.

“Obviously…” The cat sniffled miserably, clearly getting lost in the sensation as he scrubbed at his sensitive nose, his large orange ears pinned back against his head in embarrassment. “Of course it w-would be— thhh— today—! Hh‘gsch! ngsh!” Growling in frustration, he blew his nose again, to which the badger offered a soft smile.

“At least that gives you a reason to cancel on your dad, yeah?”

Sven rolled his orange eyes. “Ndo, El. Cadcelligg dow would just prove himb right..”

Elex scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, what the fuck are you going to do then? Going like this is definitely going to make you a target.”

The look that the cat shot his mate was like daggers, despite the red rimmed appearance. “See, I was hhh— hopigg it would b-be differedt thhh— H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! SNNRRFF!! —guh…”

Without even finishing his sentence, Sven yanked more toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose yet again, still to no avail, his expression getting more and more frustrated and hopeless as his fit continued.

This time, it was Elex’s turn to roll his eyes. As utterly adorable as his boyfriend was currently, he was also utterly stupid to think his dad was ever going to change.

Sven sniffled and wiped his nose again. His eyes were watering prefusely, his face red and splotchy from all the rubbing. He looked at Elex in frustration before slowly shaking his head. "I dod't dow, El. I guess I'll have to sugg it up add go."

Elex sighed heavily, beginning to get slightly annoyed at his stubborn boyfriend. He reached out to gently pat Sven's back comfortingly as he watched him struggle with his allergies. "If you say so," he muttered under his breath, knowing full well that it wasn't going to be an easy task for Sven. "You sure you don't want me to come with you? You know, for moral support?"

Sven shook his head again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his discomfort. “I'b sure it’ll be fide…," he replied between sniffles. “I thought you diddt wadt himb to dnow that were together, adyway.”

The badger’s expression turned up in amusement as he shook his head. “People live together without being in a relationship, Sven… Just tell him your room mate is coming with you, and the old man’ll be none the wiser.”

Sven’s shoulders slumped a little as he let an exasperated, defeated sigh escape his lips. “Fide… but if these Claritid kick id before I have to leave, imb goigg alode, alright?”

The badger raised his palms in front of him defensively, grinning as he rose to his feet. “Okay, okay. Just hurry up and get ready.”

Despite the embarrassment and discomfort, Sven managed to step into the shower and rinse off, letting the steaming hot water run over his body. The warmth felt nice against his skin, but it did nothing to alleviate the itching in his nose or the burning behind his eyes. He threw his head back and closed them tight, trying not to make too much noise as he gently washed himself. His allergies were relentless and already taking their toll on him, leaving him feeling weaker by the minute. Every few minutes he was forced to stop and endure yet another itchy “Nkch! Ktch! Nkcht!” before he could continue.

After rinsing off and patting himself dry with a towel, the cat emerged from the bathroom and into their shared bedroom. His large, fluffy orange ears hung low as he shuffled through his closet, trying to decide on an outfit that wouldn't make him stick out too much. The last thing he needed was for his father to make some snide comment about his choices or the way he dressed.

Sven finally settled on a simple pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt that would hopefully hide the fact that he was having an allergic attack. As he pulled them on, his movements were slow and clumsy; with every breath, he winced slightly from the sting in his nose.

His nose was still running slightly as he sat down on a stool at his vanity, reaching for a bottle of nasal spray. He squirted some into each nostril before inhaling deeply; the cool mist offered some relief from the fire burning within him. He took a deep breath and reached for a hairbrush, running it through his thick teal hair until it shone softly under the dim light of the bathroom.

Walking out of the bedroom, he grabbed his wallet and phone from the coffee table where Elex was sitting on the couch flipping through the TV channels with an absentminded air. Sven looked slightly better than when he'd gone in but the badger could still tell that something wasn't right.

"Well?" Elex asked without looking up at him. "Got everything you need?"

Sven nodded, rubbing at his nose as he walked over to stand by Elex on the couch.

The cat suffered through another itchy, sniffly “H’KngxsstSH! nXGtCHhh!” before responding, "Think I'm good to go. My nose is still pretty hhh— messed up though. Hopefully Dad will just keep his fucking mouth shut.." He sniffled sharply before standing up straighter, adjusting the neck of his shirt to make sure there weren't any wrinkles as he looked down at Elex.

“Sounds like that Claritin didn’t do shit, huh?” The badger asked knowingly.

“No, I just love sneezing my ass off...” The feline shook his head with a scowl, and the badger chuckled under his breath, shoveling his own belongings into his pockets and rising to his feet.

As they walked out of the apartment, Sven could feel every muscle protest as they navigated through the hallway and down the stairs. The scent of fresh paint filled his nose, making him want to sneeze even more but he managed to contain it with a few quick sniffs. The outside air was cool and crisp against his flushed cheeks while Elex held open the door for him - a small gust blowing by carrying with it the scent of autumn leaves burning somewhere off in the distance. The sun was low in the sky painting hues of orange and pink across the horizon; it felt like they were driving into a painting.

The ride was quiet save for the sound of tires against wet pavement and occasional gusts of wind that caused their car to rock ever so slightly. Sven sat rigidly next to Elex, his heart racing with anticipation as he wondered how his father would react to him bringing home the badger as his "roommate". He'd never mentioned anything about having one before—would he be angry? Disapproving? Or would he simply shrug it off like everything else and pretend like he didn't care?

They pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, stepping out into the cool evening air. A sudden rush of moisture hit Sven's skin as he shut his door behind him; he shivered slightly despite the warmth lingering beneath his clothes. His ears perched on the top of his head took turns swiveling to each side, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly, the Cheshire pitched forward into his shoulder. “N’gxt! Heh’n’gtx! Hehh—! n’gtx!”

Elex tossed him a glance. “Bless you.” But Sven simply waved him off.

After a few minutes, the front door flew open and a tall, slender man with a thick pair of feline like ears between his black curls and a large fluffy tail behind him began to jog down the driveway towards the men, and Sven’s ears and tail both sagged in embarrassment. His father’s expression held a broad smile, but there was an emptiness in those eyes that didn't match the joy on his face. He rushed towards them with open arms, engulfing Sven in a tight hug before looking past him to Elex with raised eyebrows.

"Oh! Hello there! I wasn't expecting a guest," he said cheerfully, even though it was obvious from the way he said it that he was anything but pleased about having visitors.

"This is my... room mate, Elex," Sven said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as they walked inside together. His father led them through a maze of familiar hallways until they reached the living room where they sat down on a plush couch covered in worn fabric from years of use.

His father's tail swished back and forth behind him in a playful manner, his ears twitching with curiosity.

"Oh? A room mate, you say?" He smirked, setting two mugs of beer on the table in front of them.

"Well," he chuckled lightly, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets, "I hope you two aren't planning on getting any funny ideas." His eyes darted towards Elex suggestively as he winked. He loved playing games like this; it was just one more way he could belittle Sven and make him feel small. He knew how much his son hated it when people thought he was 'different' or 'weird'.

The tension in the air hung palpably as Sven's father's words made their way through the room, causing the cat’s tail to stiffen and his ears to lay back flat against his skull. The badger crossed his arms over his chest defensively, glaring at the man who seemed so nonchalant about everything.

"Excuse me?" he snapped, a low growl in his tone as he shifted from foot to foot under the table. "I assure you, we're not planning anything “funny”. We're simply roommates—and very happy ones at that." He gave Sven a quick sideways glance before looking back at the elder man. "Your son has shown me nothing but kindness and respect, which is more than I can say for your treatment of him." His voice was icy but controlled, his fangs thinly hidden behind pursed lips.

Sven squirmed in his seat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame. He hated it when Elex stood up for him like this; it only made things worse.

His father's eyes narrowed at the comment, flashing with anger for a moment before he forced a laugh. "Oh ho," he chuckled darkly, "you think you know me so well, don't you?" He stepped forward, leaning down close to Elex's face so their noses nearly touched. The scent of his breath was sour from the alcohol he'd been drinking earlier.

"You think I don't care about my son? Well," he growled lowly, "you're wrong. I just want what's best for him — and what's best for him is to be strong."

He straightened up again and took a swig of his beer.

Sven winced, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while glancing away from both men. He couldn't believe this was happening again. Why did everything have to be so hard with his dad?

Elex sat up straighter, eyeing the man warily but not backing down.

"I didn't say you didn't care about Sven," he replied coldly, "but your method of toughening him up leaves something to be desired." He gestured at Sven's flinching form. "Constant belittlement and humiliation isn't going to fucking make him strong; it'll just make him bitter and mistrustful."

The room fell silent as they all sat there staring at each other across the table.

“Ooooohkay, that’s enough of that…” Sven finally chimed in, punctuating his statement with a clearly forced, awkward laugh.

His father continued as nothing happened, leaving the room to serve dinner.

"Who's hungry?" he asked cheerfully, carrying over a large pot of steaming soup to the table. He ladled out bowls for each of them, the savory aroma filling the room. Sven glanced nervously at Elex, but his father hummed a tune, seemingly oblivious to the tension still hanging in the air.

The three ate in relative silence, slurping spoonfuls of the hearty vegetable stew. Sven's father made idle small talk between bites, asking about their work and interests. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know his son's new roommate, though the lingering awkwardness made the conversation stilted.

As Sven sipped his hot soup, he could feel that familiar tickle begin to dislodge itself from deep within his sinuses and his eyes began water. “God fucking damn it..” he thought, “not now...”

The car tried to subtly wipe his running nose and blink back the tears, but it was no use. Despite his objections, his eyebrows knit together before he ducked to the side, away from the table. “Hh‘gsch!! Nngch! H’tshhkt!! ngsh! H’NgXt! Hh—! HeHh—! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! Ngt’chh! hptt’CH!!”

He started sneezing violently, nearly upending his bowl of soup. His father glared at him from across the table.

"Ugh, here we go again with the sneezing and sniveling," his father grumbled. "It happens all the time, Sven. When are you going to grow out of it?"

Sven flushed with embarrassment, hastily grabbing a napkin to blow his nose. "S-sorry," he stammered. "I can't really hhh—help it—! K’tchh! Nnch! Nkch!"

His father rolled his eyes. "It's those weak genes from your mother's side of the family. I keep telling you to toughen up, but you just keep sniffling and wheezing at every little thing."

Sven sank deeper into his chair, mortified by his father's harsh words. He wanted to disappear completely. Elex shot Sven's father an icy glare.

"Allergies are not a fucking sign of weakness," The badger barked sharply. "They're the result of an overactive immune system, not some kind of character flaw."

Sven's father snorted derisively. "Spare me the science lesson. The boy just needs to learn some self-control, that's all."

Sven stared down at his bowl, pushing his carrots around listlessly. He had lost his appetite, the soup now just a swirling reminder of his failure to meet his father's impossible standards. How could he have really thought this dinner would be any different? He still hadn’t even heard an apology from the man.

Elex opened his mouth to retort, but Sven interrupted before an argument could erupt. "It's okay, really," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for the interruption. Let's just enjoy the meal."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table once more. The only sounds were the clinking of spoons against bowls. Sven's nose still tickled maddeningly, but he resisted the urge to rub or sniffle, not wanting to invite more criticism.

After several tense minutes, Elex could hardly contain his anger as Sven's father continued to belittle his son, just like the badger had predicted when the Cheshire first told him about this shitty dinner. As the cat stared miserably into his bowl, Elex knew he had to take a stand.

"Sven's allergies don't make him weak," Elex snapped firmly. "In fact, I happen to find his sensitivity and kind heart to be his greatest strengths."

Sven's eyes widened in surprise. His father let out an incredulous laugh.

"Oh, is that so?" he jeered. "And just how would you, a room mate, know anything about my son's character?"

The badger met the older cat's gaze steadily. "Because Sven and I have been dating for the past few months. And in that time, I've seen how caring, thoughtful and brave he is every single day."

Sven gasped softly. They had kept their relationship secret until now because Elex wasn’t out of the closet yet…

His father's eyes blazed with anger. "Dating? Don't be ridiculous. I won't have my son gallivanting around with the likes of you!”

"The likes of me?" The green haired man retorted. "What's that supposed to mean? Is it because I'm a badger? Or is it because I actually care about your son's feelings!?”

Feeling the tension in the room grow to a fever pitch, the Cheshire flew to his feet, grabbing Elex by the arm. He could feel the badger’s muscles flexing under his tight grasp, rearing up quickly for a fight.

“L-let’s jhhh— ngsh! Hh‘gsch! Let’s just go, El.” Sven choked out between each itchy sneeze that he tried to muffle into his closed fist.

Elex shot one last glare at Sven's father before following Sven's lead and rising from his seat. He kept a protective hand on the Cheshire's back as they headed for the front door.

"Don't you dare walk out that door!" Sven's father shouted after them. "If you leave now, don't even think about coming back!"

Sven paused with his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. Elex gave him an encouraging squeeze.

"It's okay," the badger said gently. "Fuck him, kid. We've got each other. That's all we’ve ever needed."

Sven turned and gave Elex a small, grateful smile. Then he threw open the door, and the two of them stepped out into the cool evening air.

As soon as they were outside, Sven doubled over with a characteristic fit of rapid-fire sneezes. "H’NgXt! Hh‘gsch! k’gnsh! Heh—! Ngt’chh! hptt’CH! h’gTShhHh! hihh’nGkT—!”

The badger sighed with a smile as he shook his head, already sliding into the driver side of his car, anxious to get out of this particular level of hell. “Bless you, kid. Who would have thought those allergies of yours would be so problematic, huh?” The green haired man chuckled softly as Sven slid into the passenger side with a small frown.

“Stop callin’ me kid, I’m older than you.” The cat sniffled, buckling his seatbelt before glancing over at Elex sitting next to him, a glint of admiration in his orange eyes.

After a second of silence, the badger finally cracked.

“What the fuck are you staring at me like that for?” He asked with one eyebrow cocked.

“You didn’t have to come out to my dad like that…. I know that was a touchy subject for you…” Sven replied with a soft smile, reaching out one thin hand to rest on the badger’s thigh and give him a grateful squeeze.

“Yeah, well…. I love you, kid. And I won’t let anyone think they’re going to talk to you like that. Not even your shit eating dad.”

“Thank you, Elex. I— hhh—N’gxt! love you too…“