#kael talks

[lazerbang]

for the fields of mistria girlies

basically i did some math on all the crops you can buy from the general store and if you want to maximize profit you should plant peas, tea, onions, and snow peas, the margin isn't even close

[lazerbang]

one reason i've heard, and why i prefer 'autistic person' is that person first language is meant to phrase it so that the disability is something distinct from the person, 'you are more than your disability' ect ect. with autistic people that kind of thinking can be harmful because there are huge groups of people who think autism can or should be 'cured' or moms who feel like 'autism stole their normal baby'. we can't and shouldn't be separated from being autistic, there is no 'non-autistic' version of us

it can be a huge struggle to be seen by allistics as an autistic person, to get them to stop trying to offer advice to 'help' you operate in the same way they do, when what you need is them to admit you simply have different needs. no amount of social anxiety advice is going to help me when what i need is sound blocking headphones/earbuds and everyone to acknowledge i need to be left alone after an event. that's not a behavior i need to 'fix', its something that needs to be embraced and allowed for me to be healthy and happy. my family only stopped shaming me about needing alone time, sometimes even during events, after i got them to understand that i'm not a damaged version of their brain software, i'm a whole different operating system.

to use the software analogy, 'person with autism' sounds like 'a pc running windows software' and 'autistic person' sounds like 'a windows pc.' which one sounds more like you should take it in for repair? and which one sounds like you should just stop trying to pair apple-only accessories to it?

obviously if an autistic person prefers 'person with autism' for themself that should be respected but as this poll proves, we VASTLY prefer 'autistic person'

sorry this isnt in replies like you wanted op i hit character limit a while ago

I found out my therapist is actively being taught to avoid saying "autistic person", he was surprised when I told him most of us actually prefer it that way.

But tumblr has polls now so I can actually ask people now rather than just claiming what I've been gathering the past years!

PLEASE REBLOG, also feel free to put your reasonings in the replies!

[everybodyloveshippos]

cryyyying i feel so bad for kael imagine wondering ur whole life what ur dad was like and then you get the chance to meet him via spirit possession/magic and its pharaun

[infamousmonkey-cat]

Byrne has a withdrawn, disembodied, sci-fi quality, and though there’s something unknowable and almost autistic about him, he makes autism fun.

From Pauline Kael's 1984 review of Stop Making Sense

[cosmicloved]

i am once again rethinking if i'm happy with the current plotline/backstory i have for kael.......hmmmmmmmmmmmm

[tarvalian]

Reunion

[dogencool]

Been slowly reading through Studs Terkel's Working and every time I pick it up and go through a new person's story I tend to get devastated all over again

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie II

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: sloooooowwwwww burrrrrrrnnnnnnnn

Warnings: angsty, fluffy, douchey ex-boyfriend, a little violent

Summary: Harry is one of the most annoying people she's ever met. It's unfair he's talented, hot, and way nicer than her ex.

“So getting to the side of the ice before the puck is there is offsides?” Marc asked.

She nodded watching the Warriors center faceoff against the Bears on her TV screen. They were in the third period with only five minutes to go and the defenseman from the Bears was in the penalty box for a foul against the center. She thought it was a death sentence. “Correct.”

“They have that in other sports,” he sounded like a child remembering a fact from preschool. She smirked.

“Yes,” she laughed. “Are you sure you want to date this guy?”

“I want to date his dick,” Marc shrugged. She snorted and shook her head.

“Fair enough.”

Her phone lit with a message from Kael. He wanted to see her when she was in town with The Chargers. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but it would have been nice to get some of her stuff back. If he kept it.

“Are you speaking to Harry again?” Marc asked.

It was impossible to keep the smile from growing on her face. She rubbed a hand over her mouth to hide it. “Yeah...” she nodded. “It’s kind of hard not to talk to anyone on the team.”

“The fact you went a whole week without talking to that hot as hell man is beyond me. You’re a better woman than me.”

She snorted. They were coming down to the final two minutes and the goalie skated to the bench and another player glided across the ice. “So, when the team is down by a goal or two, they send the goalie off the ice so they can get another scorer in position. But it leaves the goal open. It’s risky.”

“You are seriously doing that team a disservice by not dating them,” he murmured. “If I was into women I wouldn’t let you out in public. You’re so perfect.”

She laughed. “I am not perfect.”

“Babe, you are stunning, you know hockey, and you make the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.”

“It’s not enough,” she told him sipping her water and standing up. But sure enough, The Warriors scored without their goalie in the next. She had to get to the rink for the night game. She smirked, wiggled eyebrows at Marc, and turned off her TV.

“You should bet money on these things.”

She put on her regular outfit for a night of taking pictures at the rink. Her hands had to be free (and yes, they would freeze) but she wore a thick sweatshirt below the jersey. It had Niall’s name on the back. She figured he was the least likely to make a big deal of wearing someone’s name on her back. She honestly hoped no one noticed that she picked it. She didn’t want to make it seem like she had a favorite on the team. Because she didn’t. And it definitely wasn’t Harry Styles.  

Truthfully, she stole Niall’s old jersey out of the bin in the locker room. It got ripped in a game where someone got a little too irritated with Niall’s good goal tending. There was a significant tear along the seam because Harry was the first one to get to Niall when the incident occurred. Harry accidentally tore at it while trying to get his hands on the opponent and wound up in the penalty box for two minutes because of it.

She spent part of the following evening sewing it carefully back together while watching a movie on Netflix.

Once her winter boots were on, she slipped her camera bag and press pass over her shoulder and neck respectively. She was ready for the evening. Marc walked her down to her car. They both waved at Michael who was pacing outside while smoking a cigarette. “Hey Sweetheart,” he called. Michael was about five years younger than her and way too grumpy for his own good. But he often perked up on her behalf. “Good luck to the team.”

“Thanks!” She smiled as if she had any responsibility for how well they did.

Marc made sure she got in the car safely and winced when her car took two turns to start because of the cold. Once assured her car would remain running, Marc went to Michael’s side and bummed a cigarette from him as she pulled out of the lot in front of the building. What a weird little family she was creating in a weird part of town.

Her car seemed angry that it was being asked to do its job, and she worried that one day it was going to die on her way there. If it did, she was nervous it would be a thing and Uncle Charlie would be pissed. She could see it now. But instead, she listened to her music, stopped to splurge for a coffee made by someone else, and headed to the rink.

At the very least, she was happier than she had been in a very long time. There was no weight around her worrying she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend, the perfect arm candy for her hockey boyfriend. She didn’t worry about looking weird or awkward. She felt more like herself behind the lens, at the rink, and at The Locker Room, and at her apartment with her new friends than she had in years.

Maybe she didn’t need any of her stuff back from Kael. If she never spoke to him again, then she would be okay.

*

“Niall you lucky motherfucker!” Asher yelled.

She wasn’t paying much attention as the boys finally arrived for their game. She was in the middle of a conversation with Uncle Charlie as she went over the pictures she was planning to submit to the news outlets, looking over the tiny screen in her hands. She showed off her non-athletic photography skills. This included the senior pictures she took of her cousin (Charlie’s daughter), and she told him which ones she thought were best. This naturally led to discussing the holidays. Her hope was he was willing to carpool to her parents’ house. It was selfish, mainly because she didn’t think her car would make it the three-hour drive out of the city. Not that she was going to tell him that.

But the boys interrupted before she could get that far. She turned, smiled brightly at her team of restless twenty-something-year-old puppies. She set her coffee on the ledge of the window of an office for one of the team assistants and gave the boys a proper wave. “Are you all ready for gameday?” She asked.

But no one was paying any attention to her greeting. Instead, their gazes were focused on the number on her body. The black-and-silver-lettering and logo was riveting it seemed even though it was on all their own jerseys as well.

So much for it not being a thing. “Sweetheart, I’m honored,” Niall chuckled. Were his cheeks pink in embarrassment? That was cute—he looked so nervous. Niall was adorable. She could see why Harry was so protective of him. In the time she had gotten to know him, she seriously didn’t know how someone so sweet and nice could be roped into a rough and tumble sport like hockey.

“What?” She asked curiously, hoping that if she acted confused, they wouldn’t make it a bigger deal than it needed to be.

It seemed there was little chance of such a thing. “You’re wearing my jersey,” his grin remained shy and so, so adorable.

Well, maybe she could use it to her advantage. “Well, don’t tell the others but you’re my favorite,” she winked.

But it wasn’t quiet and everyone heard it. The gasps and scoffs of disbelief echoed loudly as they entered the locker room to drop some of their stuff. First there would be game day entrance photos, the boys looking dressed in not quite formal but not so casual attire. The stuff that made hearts throb to look at them (and other organs throb if she was honest). They would pose as if they hadn’t already walked in, and no one would know except for them.

Niall turned a shade redder and headed in. “Don’t break my goalie,” Charlie warned.

“I would never break Niall!” She pouted petulantly at her uncle. “Why are they all up and arms about the jersey? It was free and I fixed it. Is it not allowed?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Sweetheart,” he chuckled. “It’s just a dumb hockey-guy thing,” he patted her on the back and headed into the locker room.

“Harry’s running late,” Lang said as he returned with just a duffle bag and an overpriced water bottle that was part of his sponsorship deal. “Hit some traffic or something. So, you might not get his game day entrance,” he told her with a shrug.

She nodded. “That’s fine,” she shrugged and snapped a picture of him while he wasn’t really focused, testing the lighting and frame once more now that she had a subject. “There’s enough of you guys to suffice as eye candy for the day we probably won’t need everyone’s picture.”

Lang laughed, covering his mouth. “Sweetheart, please say that in front of Harry while I’m around and you’re wearing that jersey,” he begged. She frowned unsure what he meant by that specifically. Instead, she shook her head and began ordering the captain and his teammates around to get the first part of her evening’s tasks done.

*

Harry showed up just as she took the last shot of the team walking into the locker room. He was pouring the last bit of his protein shake into his mouth while she examined her camera once more and sipped her coffee that she left on the ledge of the window. There was so much more activity back by the locker room as game time approached. There were team doctors, athletic trainers, assistants, and more milling around.

Harry hated being late. It messed with his pre-game rituals. But there wasn’t anything he could do about traffic. Plus, Hayden lived on the exact opposite side of the city. He really shouldn’t have bothered with trying to sneak a quick hook-up in before the game. But he needed something to take the edge off and nothing was working.

Granted the hook-up left him feeling unsatisfied as well. Although it wasn’t Hayden’s fault. She was lovely, truly. It was all Harry’s brain. Something was off and he couldn’t quite place it.

But one look at the pretty photographer wearing the number thirty-one on her body reminded him that he was much more aware of the issue than he was willing to admit. He blinked hoping his eyes were mistaken. But no, the name Horan was on her back.

“Rookie!” He called.

What the fuck was he going to say? It didn’t even make sense for him to be mad. She didn’t do anything wrong. God, Harry was an idiot. She was off limits. For all he knew she had one of everyone’s jersey and was going to rotate through.

It was probably not a good sign that she looked up when she heard that nickname, right? It wasn’t good to get used to knowing it was Harry calling her the moment she heard his teasing. But right then, Harry didn’t look teasing. His gaze was laser-focused on her torso (and not the way she would expect him to be focused on her chest). “Hi Harry,” she smiled, sweetly; hoping vehemently that this wasn’t about the jersey. “Do you want a game day photo?” She asked gently holding her camera up.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He snapped.

This hoping thing ain’t shit. She thought. Glancing down at her outfit once more, she frowned. “I thought I looked cute,” she pouted.

Harry was all but half a foot in front of her. “You’re wearing Niall’s jersey.”

“It’s from the locker room, it was going to get thrown out, so I just sewed it,” she shrugged. “Is that not allowed? No one said anything.”

He seemed to bristle but settled at the same time. She really didn’t get what the big deal was. “S’fine,” he grumbled. “Y’do look cute. You always look cute,” he rolled his eyes and pushed the locker room door open with a little too much power. She shook her head and heard laughter from behind the door.

“Boys are weird,” she sighed and headed for the tunnel to get to the ice.

*

She texted Michael from her car when she got back to the apartment at one in the morning. It was dark, cold, and she had a weird feeling as she pulled into the small lot. He hurried out yawning as he did. He was wearing only shorts, a t-shirt, and slippers. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she frowned and hurried to the front of the building. He waited patiently for her to lock her car.

“S’fine, Sweetheart,” he shrugged and yawned.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. She really needed to find a new place, so she didn’t have to bother them. But she swore she could feel someone’s eyes following her as she closed the entry door to her building. Michael headed down the first-floor hall to his place without another word. She stopped at her small little mailbox, locked on the inside. Only a slit in the wall from the outside to get in. It was all junk and bills. She didn’t give her address to anyone. Not even Uncle Charlie had her real address. She mentioned some apartment complex on the good side of town. But when pressed, she immediately diverted and asked if he would be okay with shipping her Amazon packages to his house. It did the trick, fortunately. Her parents didn’t think much of it either because they knew Charlie was keeping an eye on her.

It was all she could afford after not working much because of Kael and his weird obsession with making sure she played the proper part of picture-perfect hockey girlfriend. This was a sketchy part of town, and she knew it and didn’t like living here either. But what could she really do? Making friends with Michael and Marc was easy and she was lucky. So very lucky to have people keep an eye out for her when she got home late and felt like she was being followed.

So, when she turned to the stairwell behind the little mail room and saw the very angry hockey player outside the door of her building peering through the glass, she practically jumped back a foot and immediately and nearly screamed.

She clamped a hand over her mouth and pressed the other one to her heart, dropping her mail in the process. “What the fuck are you doing?!” She whisper-screamed opening the door.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Harry hissed stepping inside. He gathered up her mail handing it to her. He continued glaring as he took in the run-down place. “Do you live here?”

“Yes!”

“Rookie, this is not a safe area. Why are y’living here?”

“Because I can afford it? What kind of fucking question is that?”

Harry looked so good having just played a grueling game that included overtime and a shootout. His hair was still damp from his shower. His face glowing that way he managed to do in the dead of winter that was so unfair to her. He smelled good—too good. He wore a black hoodie, black pants, and black sneakers. Like he was trying to blend in with the night. The only not good-looking thing about him at the moment was the sour expression on his otherwise extremely pretty features. The furrow between his eyebrows looked angry. The green of his eyes appeared darker, almost black to match his clothes. His mouth was pressed in a flat line.

But even angry, Harry looked hot. He had been angry all evening. Since he set foot in the arena. He didn’t relax when they all went to The Locker Room either. He hardly spoke to Niall and barely acknowledged his good goal tending. “Does coach know you live here?”

She shook her head. “Harry, shut the fuck up. Why did you follow me home like a creep!?”

“Because s’one in the morning and y’said y’were exhausted and that your car was a piece of shit! I was making sure y’made it home. I didn’t know home was even scarier!”

“Hey babe, everything alright? Michael texted you would be on your way up and to keep an ear out.” Marc called as he approached them descending the stairs.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she whispered and rubbed her temples.

“Holy shit,” Marc gaped.

“Harry, this is Marc,” she introduced the pair, but lacked any enthusiasm. “He’s my neighbor.”

Harry glared at him—even though he didn’t deserve it. “Hi,” he said curtly.

“I’m fine,” she told Marc. “Harry followed me home.”

“Great game today, man,” he looked awestruck; no longer concerned about her well-being at all and entirely concerned about the beautiful man in front of him. “That was a bogus penalty in the second period.”

“I said the same thing,” she nodded in agreement hoping it would remind Harry that she made her own little place here and he didn’t need to worry. That he was her friend.

Harry softened just a little. His shoulders untensed ever so slightly. “Thanks,” he nodded curtly, trying to remain polite to a fan when he wanted to shake the sweet photographer. “Rookie, show me your place,” he ordered.

“Michael and I keep an eye on her,” Marc offered sensing there was a deeper issue.

Harry eyed him up and down and then turned back to her. “Show me your place,” he repeated.

“No!”

“Jesus, babe, show the hot man your apartment!”

She pressed her fingers to her forehead and slid them down her nose and over her lips as she spoke. “Marc,” she sighed. “Go away.”

“Huge fan,” he held his hands up in surrender and made his way upstairs.

Harry was staring at her in disbelief. “You’re not living here.”

“Harry,” she sighed.

“I’ve had a shit day, Rookie. Don’t fucking test it,” he snapped and headed up the stairs figuring he would find it on his own because he would just know? She shook her head.

“Third floor,” she mumbled following behind him. He sighed with relief from ahead of her.

“Take that stupid fucking shirt off,” he said once the door was shut.

“Why are you so angry today?” She shed her camera carefully setting it on the small table. Then her badge. She dropped her keys on the table too. Quickly, before he could get angrier, she rid herself of the jersey and her hoodie.

Harry sighed again, relieved it seemed of what she didn’t know. Without broiling in irritation over his friend’s name all over the girl he had a massive crush on, he was able to focus a little more. Glancing around he inspected the small place. It was cute, adorable even. Just like her.

She bent to take her shoes off. “Do you want water or something? You’re so keyed up... Maybe you want a sedative?” She rolled her eyes at him.

He snorted. “Pass,” he continued looking around. “S’nice, really,” he murmured

“It is,” she agreed. “I don’t plan on staying here forever, but it’s what’s affordable right now. Not all of us make seven figures a year for their talent.”

He ignored her and wandered around the little rooms she had. On all of her walls were more photos she had clearly taken. It didn’t take much for him to figure out her style. It was natural and lovely. “S’cold in here.”

“Heat’s expensive,” she remarked. “Do you want some tea?” She asked.

He shook his head. “No, thank you, Rookie,” he mumbled relaxing more as he inhaled deeply. Everything was so intoxicatingly her in this room. It smelled so good. She smelled so good. “Is Marc in love with you?” He asked offhandedly.

“Not unless I identify as a man, which I don’t.”

He smirked, unable to hide the amusement. She was so funny, it was unfair. Beautiful, talented, kind, and funny. She was made in a lab and meant to tempt every one of Harry’s desires. “What ‘bout the guy that walked y’in?” He picked up the book that was on her coffee table and read the back of it, wondering what kind of books she was into and if she liked the same things as him. He set the book down carefully.

“Michael? No. He’s a baby.”

“He’s taller than you,” he murmured.

“He’s not in love with me. Well, actually, I do make him cookies. So maybe,” she shrugged.

He shook his head wishing he could focus on his own questions. But she was too quick and Harry was too tired.

On the wall of her living room was an array of small frames. Probably fifteen or so four by six photos that his mom would have put in a photo album. He recognized Charlie and Ray. A man he could only assume was Charlie’s brother and her dad as they looked like twins with different hair and eye coloring. Girls in their teens, a dog that never seemed to age even though the family around it did, and her gorgeous smile.

There was also a stupid fucking picture of Niall on her wall beside a team photo which made him want to yank it down and stomp on it like a psychopath.

Poor Niall did nothing to deserve Harry’s wrath. The team teased him the moment he went into the locker room telling him all about how she said Niall was his favorite. It wasn’t surprising. Niall was nice and sweet. He didn’t hook up with a bunch of girls nor did he go from city to city hoping to be entertained by a different girl. He was a nice guy. Probably the kind of guy she did deserve. Especially after whatever it was that Kael did to arguably ruin his life by losing her. He barely congratulated him on his saves in the game. Didn’t even buy him a drink at the bar either. To Niall’s credit, he didn’t take it too harshly. Merely smirked at him as he glared. Knowing it really had nothing to do with him at the heart of it.

But the picture of his best friend on her wall just made him grumpier all over again. It didn’t help that Harry was exhausted. He dreaded having to drive home this late. Especially when he was mad on top of everything else. But having seen where she lived, he was glad he followed her home. Didn’t care that it was creepy. It would have made him insane to know she wasn’t safe.

There wasn’t much he could do but turn his attention to her kitchen so he could avoid the stupid picture of his stupid friend who he didn’t like very much at present.

Right there on the fridge door was one of her family photos—clearly taken at a wedding or something. A quick glance showed she wasn’t in it which made him sad. How often was she left out of pictures because she was always the one taking them? Beside her family was the side-by-side duo picture of herself that he saw on her website. A photo of her parents’ dog next to that. A couple landscapes of the ocean and sun.

Right in the middle of all her photos was a picture of Harry.

He swore time stopped. All his anger towards Niall disappeared. Why was he on her fridge? It was the picture of when he scored a goal, from one of the first games she photographed this year. The one she sent him the first time she texted him. “Why’s this on the fridge?” He asked, straightening it alongside the others it. There was a magnet on the back and Harry felt his chest constrict a bit knowing he wasn’t on the wall, but he was in her house. She cared in some way enough to put him among her pictures of family and friends.

She shrugged. “I put all of my favorite pictures on the fridge,” she said it so simply. It wasn’t a big deal to her. The pictures belonged there and that was it. It just was.

His heart sincerely skipped a beat. Like if he were a cartoon, a graphic of a little heart monitor would appear in a cloud bubble, and it would show an irregular rhythm representing the way she made him feel. His gaze flickered to her briefly, but he was worried he would stare and never look away. He cleared his throat and looked toward her wall of photos. “What ‘bout the wall over there?”

“Those are nice pictures too, but I don’t really look at the wall much. It’s behind me when I sit on the couch, you know...? The fridge however,” she had a smile in her voice. “I love snacks and cooking and baking. So, I’m in the kitchen a lot. So, I like to look at my favorites.”

Harry felt softer. Relieved. Less mad and annoyed than he’d been in hours. Maybe even days if he was honest. Harry was one of her favorites. Even if she didn’t mean he was her favorite and merely the photo.

“Bunny?” He asked softly staring at the other half dozen or so of her favorites.

She didn’t miss a beat answering to the nickname that she didn’t really like. But she did really like the way it sounded when Harry said it. “Yeah?”

“Would y’ever wear my jersey?” His voice was quiet, he felt stupid for asking. The question wouldn’t leave his brain until he said it. Whatever the answer was, he had to ask it.

She frowned and sighed. Harry hated that. It seemed like a terrible question, and he was dreading her answer immediately. “I hate to say it, Harry, but I can’t afford a Styles jersey.”

He rolled his eyes. “Would y’wear it?”

“Of course I would, Harry. You’re my friend just like Niall is. And Asher, Callie, and Lang. I really only wore it because you guys were throwing it out.”

Harry rubbed a hand on the side of his face. He could live with that. “Alright.”

“Did I miss something?” She asked. But he knew how perceptive she was. She had to know how much it bothered him that she wore his friend’s name and number on her body today and not his. She had to know he had a crush on her. Even if he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Nope,” he shook his head not wanting to get into it further.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?” She asked again. “You seem really out of sorts...maybe you need something without alcohol?”

“Sure,” he sighed. She could give him whatever she wanted. She wouldn’t be able to tell, but he was relieved now. He didn’t need anything else. “Tea would be nice...” She nodded, gently nudging him out of the way to get a pitcher of water from her fridge. “Can I stay here?”

“You want to stay in my crappy little apartment? After you went on and on about how unsafe it is?” She questioned filling the kettle on her stove.

Fair point, Bunny. “M’exhausted, Rookie. I told you I had a bad day.”

“I see that,” she pouted and scanned him up and down. “Of course you can. You have to take my bed though; the couch is too small for you.”

He shook his head. “M’not kicking y’out of your bed when I barged in.”

“Well... it was... kind of nice that you made sure I got home safely. I’m glad it was you, but I was pretty nervous... so if it wasn’t you...” she shook her head and looked at her hands wringing them awkwardly. “I’m sorry you got stuck here,” she pouted.

More of him softened somehow. It seemed impossible that she could make him feel any softer. He was certain he never felt softer than when she said that his picture was one of her favorites. The way she spoke was so gentle.

“I fall asleep most nights on the sofa anyway,” she shrugged, unaware of the thoughts rolling through Harry’s head. She probably hadn’t a clue how she made him imagine her adorable body curled into the small sofa with a blanket around her. What it would be like for him to come home from a game and find her snuggled into a sweatshirt with his cologne on it, the TV playing the post-game highlights, and her hands tucked under her cheek. Did she snore? Harry ached to know.

God he was fucked. How did she walk into the arena and do that? Harry thought of nothing but hockey and hookups. Now he wondered if she snored at night.

She carefully poured the hot water into a mug with The Charger’s logo on the outside and dipped the tea bag in and out a few times letting the water do its thing. She slid it across the small counter before she poured her own mug. They stood silently for a moment, sipping tea.

“I might have something of Kael’s for you to sleep in.”

“I’d rather die than sleep in that piece of shit’s clothes.”

She smirked around the edge of her mug and shook her head. “Are you cold?” She asked.

He shook his head. It was cold but he wasn’t cold. He would be fine with a few blankets. A warm body beside him would be good too, but he wasn’t sure he could convince her.

She put her mug in the sink and went to the bathroom without warning. After a few minutes, she returned. Her face was washed of makeup, her hair pulled back, and she wore a pair of sweatpants instead. She grabbed a pillow off her bed. “Normally I’d change your sheets, but... It’s too late. I hope you don’t mind.”

Wrapped up in sheets, blankets, and pillows that smelled like her? Fine by him. “S’fine, Rookie. Thank you.”

She grabbed more blankets from under her sofa cushion; a space for storage hiding in plain sight. She placed them at the end of her bed and then went to the sofa. “Make yourself at home,” she offered. “Night, Harry,” she yawned and settled into her pillow and blanket, nuzzling into the warmth just as he imagined, her hands tucked under her cheek.

“Night, Rookie,” he mumbled and climbed into her bed. He was practically asleep before he was fully settled.

*

It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours later—it was still very dark out. Her bed was warm, soft, and smelled so fucking good he thought he might sew himself into the sheets just so he never had to leave. But it was undeniably cold. Even in his hoodie and sweats.

He glanced across the room and could barely make out the shadow of his pretty crush curled into the sofa. She looked chilled and Harry felt so immensely guilty. He got out of bed, his feet nearly stinging on the cold floor. Without more thought he scooped her up. His arms looping around the back of her knees and the other around her waist. He tried to move her without jostling her too much. Her head fell toward him, pressing into his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He settled her under her sheets and blankets. He wanted nothing more than to cozy up to her, but he wasn’t going to ruin the progress he made that night. Instead, he slipped between the sheet and blanket, draped the pair of them in the other blankets.

She sighed loudly in her sleep. Like she was comfortable.

Harry didn’t think there was anyone cuter than her.

*

Harry woke up to her burrowed into his side. He didn’t dare move. If she wanted out, she would have to make the move. There wasn’t anything that would get Harry to remove himself from her warm body in the same bed as him. It was almost too warm, but well worth it.

“Jesus,” she whispered suddenly and scooched back in the bed. “Harry!” She hissed.

He smirked. “Good morning, Rookie,” he yawned. “Sleep well?”

“How did I get here?”

“Y’must have tucked yourself in with me,” he smiled.

She rolled her eyes, shook her head. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

“Y’jus’ looked cold,” he shrugged. “S’plenty of room.”

She sighed. “Well thanks, it was cozy,” her cheeks turned red. “Do you want something to eat?” She asked, immediately pivoting from their little late-night cuddle.

“Y’make breakfast too?”

“It’s actually my favorite meal...” she trailed off pushing the covers off. “I love going out to breakfast,” she got out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt from her dresser. Harry sensed there was more to that, but as soon as he saw her sweatshirt, all previous thoughts left his mind.

Niall’s number and name on her body made him mad.

The words Glacier Wolves across the front in it’s hideous font was going to send him to an early grave.

“No,” he shook his head immediately. “Take it off.”

“You’re awfully bossy about my outfits, Harry,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s cold. I need a sweatshirt.”

Harry pulled the one he was wearing off. “Here.”

For a moment she eyed it. Harry couldn’t figure out her expression or the pause that lasted as she examined it. “Harry it’s like ten degrees out,” she pulled the hem down and walked toward her bathroom again.

He pouted, grumbling to himself as he put his clothing back on. “M’burning that,” he mumbled.

“I heard that!”

*

Harry left after breakfast. He didn’t bug her about her sweatshirt. But he did beg her to turn the heat on for a little bit. He helped her with dishes and not once did the conversation feel forced, awkward, or like there was a lull that lasted too long. He watched her take pictures of her food, then the way the light streamed in through the window, so it hit her coffee table just so. She adjusted her book to an open page and set a hot cup of tea beside it.

With a couple of snaps, Harry watched her while biting into his toast. “Can I see?” He asked.

“It’s nothing special. I just take random pictures sometimes for practice,” she explained.

He wiped his hand on his leg and held it out expectantly for the priceless equipment. It felt weird, awkward. Tentatively, she handed it to him. Not only had she captured the beauty of the early morning in her little place, she took another picture of Harry drinking tea in between bites.

He smiled. “Aw, Rookie, me?” He teased. She didn’t say anything, looked anywhere but him while her pink cheeks spoke for the emotions she was feeling. “M’not sure why but m’still really impressed,” he tabbed through the pictures she took on the little screen.

She must have faced the camera backwards because her pretty smiling face with the ice rink as back drop behind her illuminated the screen. Harry loved everything about the photo. It had her and his beloved hockey rink. “Can I have this one?” He asked.

“I was going to delete that,” she blushed. Harry frowned.

“No way, Rookie, y’look adorable. Let me have it, y’got me on your fridge.”

She looked away shyly, nodded silently. “I’ll text it to you.”

Harry was unbelievably talented and attractive. He could outthink his opponents on the ice and he was sweet enough to make sure she got home safe. Carried her to bed in the middle of the night to keep her warm.

It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t have him. Even if it was her own doing.

Around ten or so, Harry had to head out and she hated to admit it, but she really missed him almost the moment he left.

*

The following day she headed to practice taking pictures for the team’s social media posts. Ray and Charlie were at the center of the ice waiting for the team to file out of the locker room. She took a picture of her uncle and surrogate uncle. Then she setup for some detail shots while waiting. The score book and pen on the bench. A stick propped up behind the bench. She laid flat on the ice and got a shot of the coach’s shoes on the center of the ice.

“Hey Sweetheart!” Callie called from across the rink—first one on the ice. Ray threw a puck at him, and he shot it into the net. Charlie threw another and he pushed the puck back and forth near him. “Laying down on the job?”

She snorted, shook her head with a smile. “Come here!” He glided over and stopped in front of her without getting ice all over her and her equipment. “Put your stick flat on the ground,” she ordered. She reached out and touched the puck and pushed it in front of the slight bend at the end of his stick. “Take your helmet off, and your gloves.”

“You gonna tell me to take more of my uniform off, Sweetheart?” He teased but followed her directions.

“You wish.”

“I do wish, Sweetheart, I do.”

She shook her head while centering her view on the shot she wanted. “Don’t move.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed dreamily. He was enjoying her bossing him around too much and she couldn’t help but smile while she clicked the shutter taking several of the same photo.

“Okay, thank you,” she carefully maneuvered so she would flop awkwardly back on the ice. Callie immediately grabbed her camera and then took hold of her arm to help her up. Once righted, she brushed the ice off the front of her body. She was quite chilled from lying on the ground for so long. Plus her apartment was cold, naturally her car’s heater was chilly, and it felt like she never quite got out of the cold ever because of it.

“Can I see?” He said excitedly.

She turned the camera to show him. Her teeth chattered a little more than usual. Callie put an arm around her shoulders to add some warmth. He was tall and lean like most other hockey players. And undoubtedly attractive too. “You’re pushing it, Kian,” she shook her head but didn’t mind how warm he felt.

“No one calls me Kian except my mother, Sweetheart,” he reminded her. “You’re cold. Don’t read into it,” he took the camera from her and thumbed through the photos pressing the buttons beside the screen to view them. “Wow,” he murmured. “That’s so cool, Sweetheart. It looks really beautiful.”

She blushed with pride and ducked her face. “Thank you.”

“You know... I’m not sure what he did, but Kael is an idiot to lose you,” he affirmed clicking through more of the photos. “Can we take one?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure,” she turned the camera around and pointed where Callie needed to look. He squeezed around her a little tighter as she clicked the shutter. He immediately took the camera back and examined the photo. “Cute, Sweetheart,” he grinned and continued flipping through all her photos. Including the ones from her breakfast with Harry the day before. “Ooh... what’s this?” He cooed. “Did you and Styles have a sleepover?!” He gaped.

She took her camera back. “No,” she didn’t even blush. It wasn’t his business. She didn’t want Charlie to hear.

And she definitely didn’t want Harry to hear.

Harry slid onto the ice his eyes zeroing in on his teammate’s arm wrapped around her almost immediately. She felt a little awkward knowing that he seemed to be a bit territorial about her even though it wasn’t really within his right. He glowered at the puck that Charlie tossed to him, and it sailed almost immediately into the net from where he stood. “I can’t compete with him, Sweetheart,” Callie frowned. “Please tell me you don’t actually like Styles.”

“I like all of you, Kian,” she rolled her eyes, tearing her eyes away from his broody skating.

“But you like me most, right?” Asher appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“She likes you least,” Lang said assuredly skating by just as quick. She laughed and shook her head.

“I like you all equally,” she promised.

“Bull shit, you can’t sell a twenty-way-tie!” Asher frowned.

She loved her little family away from her real one. This team made her feel more loved and appreciated than Kael ever did. It was eye-opening in so many ways. Was it just because she took pictures on the team? Would they behave this way if she was just a girlfriend? Or the coach’s niece without special treatment? She got special treatment from the other girlfriends and wives of the Glacier Wolves simply because she was Kael’s girlfriend.

At about the same time she started to feel drained by her relationship (the last six months before it ended), she overheard two of the significant others talking about her in the bathroom. While she was using the bathroom... They said Kael was an idiot to stay with her. She was a leech and nothing more. For three years she had been nothing but a good girlfriend. She attended every game, catered to Kael’s workout schedules, practice schedules. She monitored his calendar and made sure his stunning, penthouse apartment was cleaned. She hosted parties for his teammates. For three years post-graduation she didn’t take photography gigs, skipped family parties, and let her degree sit on a shelf unused to it’s full potential.

Maybe The Chargers boys were just being kind because she was the coach’s niece. Maybe her skill really was subpar. Wasn’t she really just a leech in a new way now? Her uncle got her this job and they didn’t really need her.

Kael fucked her up good. Made her feel worthless. He didn’t value her skill and made her believe she wasn’t good enough in any part of her life. “Hey Sweetheart?” Callie asked, giving her a squeeze, bringing her mind back to the present. “You good?”

She nodded. “Sorry, just daydreaming.”

“About me?!” Asher grinned. She smiled. At least for now, this family she had was sweet. She wanted to believe they valued her for her and savor it for however long she could.

*

While the boys practiced, she went to the locker room and tidied up, brought the dirty uniform hamper to the laundry room, and brought the clean laundry back. She took more detail shots without the boys around. It was fun to get them in the shots, like the ones she took with Callie. But ever-like puppies, it was easier to get pictures without them milling around eagerly. She took some really nice shots of their locker space. With the right lighting, it would look like they were ready for battle—she could see it in her head, and she couldn’t wait to get the shots of their numbers alongside equipment on her computer to play with the settings.

But after about an hour of that, she ran out of things to do. She sauntered back to the rink and watched from the bench. Ray and Charlie stood at the center dictating where they should go and what to do next. It was mesmerizing. The beauty and graceful agility these tall, lean, padded men exuded was incredible.

“Take a picture it will last longer!”

The team burst into laughter as Callie called out to her. She shook her head but certainly did just that.

“Hey Sweetheart,” Niall grinned coming over during another break. “Heard you had Harry over. Hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

She smiled. “No, he was good,” she assured him. “It was nice he followed me home. To make sure I was safe.”

“Yeah, he’s decent like that. His sister Gemma made him a real gentleman,” he agreed. “He didn’t like you wearing my jersey,” he told her.

“I’m well aware.”

“I won’t say no if you wear it again.”

She laughed. “Will do.”

“Want to make him madder taking a picture?”

“Maybe tomorrow, Kian made him pretty mad today with that one already.”

“Who?” Niall furrowed his eyebrows. She shook her head and silently laughed. “Is that what the silent treatment was for?” Niall asked with a laugh and skated off to rejoin his team.

*

At the end of practice, she took shots of them leaving the ice, the empty net. In her head she had a series of photos. The sequence of a hockey game and maybe she would put it into motion one day. She sat on the bench looking at her camera screen and sifted through some of the multiples she didn’t need.

“Hey Rookie,” Harry said softly.

She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Harry.”

Dangling from his fingers were a pair of figure skates. All white, pink guards, pink anterior cushioning, and pink laces.

“I got you these.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“To practice.”

“Harry, I cannot accept that. I know how much ice skates cost. Those have to be close to 400 dollars.”

He shrugged. “That’s what a good pair cost.”

“Harry, I can’t even stand on the ice. Return them. I’m not taking a 400-dollar pair to ruin because I can’t even stand still while wearing them... And they’re practically giving me blisters from just looking at them. I don’t have the right socks..." Harry looked disappointed and he frowned. "But... that... that was very sweet of you,” she added. Because she hadn’t said thank you yet, and it was sweet. It was extremely thoughtful of him. “Thank you,” she added gratefully. “That was so nice of you.”

“Do you like Callie?” He blurted.

“Do you think I’m in love with every man I meet?” She countered.

“You two looked cozy,” he mumbled.

“I was cold,” she admitted. “He offered his jersey, but I didn’t want a repeat of the other night,” she quipped. Harry smirked and looked away from her. “I’m not dating hockey players, remember?” She grabbed her camera and bag ready to leave the rink.

“Yeah...” he sighed, rubbed the back of his head. “I know, Rookie.”

*

There was a knock on her door later that evening. She assumed it was Michael asking if she had baked anything after feeling a bit on the munchier side of life. It probably wasn’t Marc because he had a date with the hockey lover. But maybe it was an early night for them, so who knew.

Instead, Harry was there. A pair of skates dangling from his fingers once more. The guards were still pink, there were scuffs on the toes and heels. The interior was cushioning was a light brown. “They’re a good brand. Used, so they didn’t cost a lot. But full disclosure, they were the most expensive used pair I could find because m’not gonna let y’skirt on the quality because of the cost. They won’t hurt your feet with blisters being brand new.”

Harry, with used ice skates, was the last person she expected to see. There was a tug in her chest where her heart would have melted for Kael to do something as kind as that. But she couldn’t fall in love with Harry. It was just a bad idea. He was a celebrity. There were millions of women he could choose from.

“Have you had it with dragging me around the ice or something?” She asked.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, but... I want t’help you, Rookie. Y’should know how t’skate. Think of the pictures y’could take even if y’jus’ learn t’skate a little,” he shrugged.

That tug in her chest felt an awful lot like Harry worming his way into the center of her universe. But she didn’t want to do that again. Not really. She didn’t want to dote on Harry the way she did only for it to backfire on her. She still had a lot of time, but she felt behind. Kael made it so she didn’t have tons of money. She ‘didn’t have to worry about it’ because he made plenty. But it wasn’t about money. It was about her independence and now she felt like she literally paid the price. “I got y’some socks too,” Harry added.

Goddammit.

She was going to fall in love with him.

--

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[saltedearths]

His old shady government job has him gauge the man upon reflex. The niceties were exchanges, and caution is thrown to the wind as quickly as the invite is placed—if he didn't know anyone, Dante would have declined. Maharth seems to think differently, keeping the suggestions and riffing off of the conversation playfully. Either there's an optimism about people there, or Dante is too wary for his own good. Antioch's getting to him. Or the job. But looking at dead bodies arranged as if it were art really isn't good for anyone's mental health.

"No. Just a transplant, like you. Used to travel for work," he says, checking the rearview mirror as he he drives off. His migraines at least, were cooperating with him, his tone steady and even. "How 'bout you then, why come to Antioch? I just wanted somewhere to chill out and collect a paycheck. You seem like the kinda guy that should be in Loch Ness or something."

As  much  as  the  professor  finds  those  who  have  encountered  the  spiritual  world  fascinating,  he  is  equally  intrigued  by  those  who  avoid  it.  Finding  non-believers  feels  just  as  sacred,  especially  in  a  town  as  historic  as  Antioch.  What  codifies  one's  belief?  What  doesn't?  These  questions  have  been  at  the  heart  and  soul  of  Maharth's  intellectual  pursuit.

"  Honestly,  the  places  you  mentioned  are  justly  important,  "  Maharth  says,  emphasizing  his  statement  with  a  light  tap  of  the  air  with  his  index  finger  as  he  comes  to  his  conclusion.  Shepherded  by  the  other  man,  Maharth  verges  upon  a  nearby  parked  car  that  stands  out  among  the  typical  models  on  Antioch's  streets.  Its  coating  is  glossy  like  a  candied  fruit  and  just  as  tempting.

While  others  may  hesitate  to  get  into  a  car  with  a  stranger,  for  the  professor,  it's  second  nature.  The  very  manner  of  his  studies  requests  the  goodwill  of  local  people,  and  he's  probably  hitchhiked  more  than  a  thousand  miles  in  car,  wagon,  boat,  even  a  camel.  His  senses  are  astute  enough  to  pick  up  on  nefarious  intent,  and  Dante  doesn't  trigger  any  alarm  bells.  "  Why  not  if  I'm  already  tall  enough  to  ride?  "  he  says,  playing  off  of  Dante,  "  and  if  the  pie  is  as  good  as  you  make  it  sound,  I'd  love  to  taste  it  myself.  "

After  getting  the  go-ahead  to  come  in,  he  sits  in  the  front  passenger  seat  and  thanks  the  driver  for  the  ride.  While  Oregon  is  lovely  this  time  of  year,  a  spot  of  air  conditioning  is  even  lovelier.  Plus,  does  he  get  to  make  an  acquaintance?  A  friend?  Glancing  over  to  Dante,  Maharth  chances  a  conversation,  hoping  it  won't  be  a  distraction.  "  Have  you  lived  in  Antioch  your  whole  life,  Dante?  "

[lazerbang]

listening to the small gods audiobook and 'people start out believing in the god and end up believing in the structure' took me out at the knees

[yandersluv]

Kael the stalker

ᴛᴡ: ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇs: ʜᴀʀᴀssᴍᴇɴᴛ, ɪɴᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴘʀɪᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ɴᴏɴ-ᴄᴏɴsᴇɴsᴜᴀʟ sᴏᴍᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ . ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴅɴɪ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇsʟᴜᴠ — ♡

Kael was a man consumed by an unhealthy, obsessive fixation on [Reader]. His light blue eyes would often gleam with an unsettling intensity when glancing at her, as if analyzing every detail of her appearance down to the face. This clingy stalker would appear unexpectedly wherever [Reader] went - in front of her home, at her favorite cafes, even lurking in the shadows around the college campus. Kael's very presence seemed to exude an air of possessiveness, his towering figure (at 6'4") making [Reader]'s body frame look almost doll-like in comparison whenever he loomed nearby. The Yandere's sole desire revolved around [Reader]- being near her, talking to her, learning everything about her, even if it meant violating her personal space. His fingers would frequently brush against her arm or hair as he "accidentally" bumped into her or playfully came very close .Kael's words dripped with insidious affection, often bordering on the verge of possessiveness. He'd profess his undying devotion, proclaiming [Reader] as "his light in a dark world" or "the air he breathes.""

As Kael's fixation intensified, his behaviors became increasingly inappropriate and borderline disturbing. One memorable instance was when he "discovered" [Reader]'s secret crush on a particular boy from school by rifling through her diary. Kael proceeded to confront the poor fellow, proclaiming their "common interest" in [Reader] and "offering" him a chance to step aside. The poor boy was understandably terrified, having no idea what Kael was capable of. Kael also started showing up at [Reader]'s window at night, his silhouette clearly visible as he whispered her name with an almost desperate urgency. If she didn't emerge, he'd leave her gifts or love notes, sometimes even small trinkets he'd stolen from her room while she slept, under the guise of being "get a souvenir." He would often corner her in secluded areas, pinning her against walls or trees as his hands roamed over her body, claiming she was "made for him" and that he could feel their souls connecting. His breath would grow hot against her ear as he muttered filthy promises, his hardening erection pressing against her through their clothes. Kael even went as far as to break into [Reader]'s house, hiding in the shadows as she prepared for bed.

As Kael's obsession with [Reader] deepened, his actions became increasingly perverted and depraved. One night, after tailing [Reader] home from a late shift at work, he found her curled up on the couch, half-asleep. Her fatigue only seemed to spur his desire, and he moved in silently behind her, his hands roaming her body with an ungentle touch. Kael's fingers slipped beneath the hem of her dress, tracing the warm, supple flesh of her thighs. [Reader]'s sleepy protests were muffled as his hand continued its invasive path, sliding higher to cup the swell of her ass. He squeezed roughly, pulling her back against his rigid erection. "Mmm, so responsive even in your sleep," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "I wonder what else you're craving, my little [Reader]..."His other hand slid up to roughly fondle her breast, thumbing her nipple through the fabric of her bra.

[glaciiermonarch]

Six and a half feet of beanstalk leaned up against the side of the dark blue Nismo 400R—only one of a handful of rides with Taka's name on the title—and aphotic kobicha-colored eyes appraised Kael and his predicament. Most others unfamiliar with the fathomless, cutting gaze ended up being intimidated or unsettled, which didn't bother her; and it also rendered any dirty looks against her as impervious. "How in hell you end up over here, mate?" Aussie baritone commented as monotone as ever. "Thought you'd be havin' your boys scrubbing your bike up." Taka's alignment with the gang was probably about as casual as an outsider would be, based entirely off of proximity and a deeply personal friendship with its leader. If there was a Friends and Family card for the Bastards, she probably would have received the first one. She'd taken her own Kawasaki Ninja to be maintained and cleaned up at the gang shop multiple times (always leaving a meaty tip for everyone she saw). "Might not be able to get back up on 'er if you eat shit on the pavement too hard, though." Regardless of any shit-talking, Taka had already decided to pay for whatever Kael's bike needed. "You right, mate? Need a light?"

WHERE: the elephant's trunk car wash WHEN: 5th february, just after noon WHO: anyone! ( @anchoragestarters ) CAP: 3/6

Kael was not in a good mood. But could you blame him, after the morning he'd had? Oh, sure, he'd heard about the pileup earlier that day but, elsewhere in town, he'd driven his motorbike straight into a hot, steaming pile of reindeer shit. Unwilling to make a mess of the gang bike shop by cleaning it himself, he'd been forced to take the bike down to the Elephant's Trunk and pay to get the job done (although he was not convinced any amount of washing could clear away the smell that was still trapped in his nostrils). He'd made his stance on the stench clear to the employees, the specific argument being something to the effect of 'if you keep me in here a minute longer, I'm going to be sick all over the floor', and marched outside for a smoke. He'd only just gotten the cigarette carton out of his pocket when he crashed into a stopped vehicle and tripped over it. Kael managed to land on one knee but half the cigarettes had scattered into a pile of snow on the curb and he'd caught his lip on one of his rough metal rings. As if to rub salt into the wound, he had also drawn the attention of some unsuspecting customer who'd just been waiting their turn. Hoisting himself up, his weight on the vehicle that had committed this heinous crime against him, Kael snapped his attention to this undeserving soul. "What are you looking at?"

[meyjiji]

ARKAEL JAMES CONTRIDAS — ARI (02) (NSFW)

"I'm no force for the world to see. Trade my whole life just to be"

⚠ NSFW WARNING

The following content contains material that may not be suitable for work environments or certain audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.

"I need to talk to you," Kael said, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. You glanced up from where you lay on the bed, instantly catching the seriousness in his expression. "What’s on your mind?"

He sat beside you, his broad shoulders tense. Despite the subtle awkwardness between you, the weight of your recently renewed vows hung in the air. It was surreal, the idea of starting over. But deep down, you knew one thing you were ready to try.

"I think we owe it to ourselves to make this work," he said after a moment, his gaze unwavering. You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I agree. I mean... I don’t hate being around you anymore. Actually, I don’t mind it at all. If I had to do this with anyone, I’m glad it’s you."

The faint curve of his lips in response sent a strange flutter through you. That approving look of his had a way of softening even the heaviest of conversations. "You can have this room," he offered, his tone lighter now. "I’ll take the one next door."

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "Or… maybe we should share the bed? I mean, I’ve heard it helps strengthen trust and connection in marriages." The words tumbled out hurriedly, and as soon as you finished, you regretted it.

Kael arched an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of playful amusement. "You sure it’s not intimacy that strengthens a marriage?" he teased, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. "Fine, take it or leave it." "I’ll take it," he replied smoothly, standing to grab his clothes. As he walked to the closet, you ducked under the covers, silently berating yourself for your clumsy words. But your self-reprimands were short-lived. When you peeked out again, your breath hitched.

Kael stood by the bed, casually buttoning up his silk pajamas, his toned abs momentarily on display. The subtle scent of his cologne mingled with the warmth of the room, and your traitorous body reacted instantly.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you squeezed your thighs together, helpless against the way his presence affected you. Whether it was his cologne, his piercing gaze, or disarming confidence, he had a power over you that you didn’t fully understand. "You’re staring," he said suddenly, his voice tinged with amusement.

Your cheeks burned as you groaned, quickly pulling the blanket over your head. Kael climbed into bed beside you, the mattress shifting under his weight as he slid closer, his body warm and comforting next to yours. He gently tugged at the edge of the blanket in an attempt to coax you out. "Relax," he murmured, his voice soft with an edge of playfulness.

"I’m all yours now, remember? Husband, and all that." The sincerity in his tone, mixed with his teasing grin, made you bite back a smile. You peeked out from under the blanket, just enough to meet his gaze. Maybe starting over wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing slightly as you adjusted yourself under the covers, feeling both nervous and oddly excited. The idea of this new chapter, one where the two of you could rediscover each other, wasn't something you had fully expected, but now that it was here, you found yourself welcoming it.

Kael shifted closer, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, and you couldn't help but melt a little under his touch. He rested his hand on your side, his thumb stroking the soft fabric of your pajamas as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur, a touch of tenderness in his words.

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, your eyes searching his for any trace of doubt. Instead, all you found was a quiet determination, a deep desire to make this work. "I'm sure," you whispered back, your fingers finding their way to his, gently intertwining them. "I want this. I want us."

Smirking mischievously as he traces patterns on your inner thigh, his touch maddeningly light and teasing. "Come on,love... don't be shy." Arkael's voice is a low, seductive rumble. "Tell your husband exactly what you need." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"I want to hear you say it, Y/N. Beg me to fuck this needy little pussy until you can't take anymore." He punctuates his words with a sharp nip to your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers dance higher, pushing your panties aside to expose your dripping slit. A low groan escapes him as he feels your wetness.

"Fuck, you're absolutely soaked, baby. So wet and ready for my cock..." He runs a single finger along your folds, gathering your arousal before bringing it to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting you, savoring your essence. "Delicious..." He murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours.

Arkael settles himself between your legs, his hips nestling perfectly against yours. You can feel the thick, hard length of him pressing insistently against your thigh, promising pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. "I'm going to fill this tight little cunt so full tonight, Y/N."

He promises darkly, the head of his cock kissing your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so deep and so hard that you'll forget your own name. The only thing you'll remember is the feeling of your husband's cock splitting you open again and again."

He rocks his hips forward, the tip of his member catching on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. "Beg for it, love." Arkael demands, his voice rough and urgent.

"Beg me to claim this pussy, to make it mine. I want to hear you scream my name as I take you, as I ruin you." He rolls his hips again, the head of his cock pushing insistently against your entrance. Grinning roguishly, Arkael's eyes gleaming with lust and desire as he looms over you, a predator ready to devour his prey.

He leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you to conquer you. It's a kiss full of hunger and desire, a promise of the pleasure to come.

Arkael pauses, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face as he takes in your flushed cheeks and heaving chest. He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Mmm, you want me to strip for you, baby?" He purrs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Want to see all of your husband's body?" He sits back on his heels, his hands going to the hem of his shirt. With one swift motion, he pulls it up and over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Arkael's chest is a work of art, sculpted with lean muscle and sinew. His abs are clearly defined, each one a perfect square of power and strength. A light dusting of hair trails down from his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. His biceps flex as he leans over you, caging you in with his arms.

He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and his boxers, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly, teasingly pulls them down. Inch by tantalizing inch, he reveals more of his thick, tanned thighs, the muscles taut and coiled with power. Finally, his impressive erection springs free, slapping against his stomach and throbbing with need. Arkael's cock is enormous, easily over ten inches long and thick as your wrist. The head is an angry purple, the skin velvety soft and hot to the touch. A bead of moisture glistens at the tip, a testament to his intense arousal.

"Like what you see, love?" He growls, wrapping a hand around his impressive size and giving it a slow, deliberate stroke. "This cock belongs to you now. It's your husband's dick, only for you to use and enjoy." He pumps himself a few more times, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches your face, taking in every little gasp and moan.

Arkael smirks wickedly as he settles back between your spread thighs, his naked body on full, glorious display. He takes your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing, demanding kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, conquering you, leaving no doubt about who you belong to. He rocks his hips forward, the thick, hard length of him sliding along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. The head of his cock pushes insistently against your entrance.

With a deep, animalistic growl, Arkael snaps his hips forward, burying his massive cock deep into your tight heat with one powerful thrust. He hilts himself fully inside you, his heavy balls pressed tight against your ass as he fills you completely.

"Fuck, (Y-Y/N)" Arkael roars, his eyes squeezing shut as your scorching, velvety walls grip his throbbing shaft like a vice. He takes a moment to savor the feeling, drinking in the exquisite sensation of your body accepting his, welcoming his invasion. Arkael starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside you, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt once more. He sets a brutal, punishing pace, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room as he fucks you with wild abandon.

"Take it, love." He snarls, his voice strained with lust and effort. "Take your husband's cock like a good little wife." Arkael leans down to capture your lips in a biting kiss, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip hard.

One hand grips your thigh, hiking your leg higher up his hip as he pounds into you relentlessly. The other hand reaches up to squeeze your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly as he tugs and pinches your nipple. Arkael bends down to take the stiff peak into his mouth, suckling hard as he grinds his hips in tight circles, stirring your insides with his thick, pulsing cock. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body shaking and trembling with every powerful thrust. Arkael feels your walls starting to flutter around his shaft, your climax approaching swiftly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder, faster, his hips slamming against yours with a force that rocks the bed.

Arkael pistons his hips feverishly, the wet squelch of your needy cunt being split open by his pistoning cock filling the room. He drives into you with wild abandon, spurred on by your wanton moans and the way your pussy clenches greedily around his plundering shaft. "Come all over your husband's cock." His heavy balls slap against your ass as he ruts into you, the force of his thrusts jostling the bed and rattling the headboard against the wall.

Arkael leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh where your neck meets your shoulder, marking you, branding you as his. The force of his thrusts jostling the bed and rattling the headboard against the wall. Arkael leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh where your neck meets your shoulder, marking you, branding you as his.

Arkael's fingers find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, furious circles as he slams into you one last time. With a moan that echoes off the walls, he hilts himself deep and erupts, his cock jerking and twitching. He bellows, his hips jerking erratically as spurt after spurt of his potent release paints your insides white. Arkael grinds his pelvis against yours, stirring his seed deep into your core as he rides out the waves of his intense climax.

Finally spent, he collapses onto you, his muscular body blanketing yours as he catches his breath. Arkael peppers your face with soft kisses, his touch almost tender now that the heat of the moment has passed. "My perfect little wife..." He murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. He rolls to the side, pulling you with him.

Arkael holds you close, his strong arms encircling you possessively as he nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin. He can feel your heart pounding in time with his own, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the intense high of your coupling.

"I'm going to spend the rest of our lives showing you just how much you belong to me."

[chaotic-zora]

@squibbl3 and I have been talking about how their zora oc Kael (who becomes one of Silvyr's partners 😌💕) would be the most popular visiting merchant in Volca, due to how he always brings a ton of food with him.

Without fail, he'll be swarmed by excited zora (recently recovering from a famine) eager to try out new foods, and any remaining stock he has gets boughten up by Silvyr.

Bonus:

[freys-goblin-kid-lokis-spy]

I have returned, Kael will leave now.

@lordofsummergodofrizz father we have to talk about the fact that you did not look for me

[shutupdevvie]

hi kael my cat loki likes to lay in the sun and also like chicken treats wow

do you guys want to see a picture of my dog