#this was originally going to be sent as an ask.

[supreme-burrito]

OKAY LISTEN UP

SO According to the OP this post (the one in the original chat)

Was supposedly posted between 12/9 and 12/10 according to the OP (thestar-and-thestorm) (no I am not directly tagging them because I am not starting a cancel culture cult over this) who originally sent out this information to the blog, ai-art-thieves who started spreading this information as a warning that it was real.

As the link, supposedly OP said that one of their friends saw this in the Wrong Organ Discord Server. Wrong Organ is the development company behind Mouthwashing. So I assumed that it was THEIR Official Discord Server. So obviously, I joined the server and poked around. I could not find a post implementing this or any kind of posts around that time that seemed...relevant to what the post was referring to. And I assumed that this troll got banned immediately when posting it.

So- I simply asked the mod team. Here was the response I got.

1. OP is spreading misinformation

2. OP's friend is in cahoots with a smaller server that is ALSO called Wrong Organ and saw the message there.

3. OP's friend is spying on Russian troll Discord servers.

Question: Who is OP's friend? You could have gotten a better screenshot with other messages and now looking at it, the Discord name and Image is pretty low res compared to the message which makes it more sus.

Also, what is 12 on Wagner referring to? I did a quick Google search and all I came up with was how Magic's (the basketball team) center has a torn ACL.

And I don't think the post is related to the Mouthwashing community at all....but it probably still involves Tumblr, possibly Reddit.

One quick Urban Dictionary search made me find this

Fagwashing: When non-LGBT characters get turned queer. Usually caused by Tumblr or Twitter.

What tipped me off that this was NOT about Mouthwashing AT ALL is the second thing mentioned "FP Shit"

FP, per Urban Dictionary's definition, it could mean several things.

favorite person, often used in the borderline personality disorder as the person they are feeling extreme emotions for and are focusing on.

fanpage

I personally think it's the former of the two, but to conclude.

In conclusion, it's fake in terms of who the attack is being reported to be against, go home and have yourself a Merry Christmas

However for people who fanonize straight characters as queer and for people with borderline personality disorder, I would be wary of your spaces online.

Because here is the kicker: THE ORIGINAL DISCORD POST DOESN'T EVEN MENTION TUMBLR AS THE RAID SITE

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[heavyhitterheaux]

Love Bites (NSFW)

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You bite your husband out of affection that leads to something else

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Did… baby…. Did you just bite me?” Joe asked as he glanced over at you noticing that you had now moved your position and was laying your head on his shoulder.

After you had bitten it of course.

“No.”

“Then what did I just feel on my shoulder? You know… the one that you're laying on?”

“I don't know. Beats me.” You replied as Joe was still eyeing you.

“I don't believe you.” He told you as he turned back to the movie that was playing on the television.

“Okay? And what am I supposed to do with that information?” You asked him as you picked your head up to slowly bite down once more. This time on his upper arm.

“BABY!”

“I can't help it! You look so biteable today! Well everyday but I have to stop myself because I would literally bite you for hours. I watched your presser and went FERAL.”

“You literally go feral from the moment you open your eyes. And is that why you sent me a text calling me a whore?”

“Says the person who got me pregnant. And yes those are MY ARMS not anyone else's!” You told him as you softly bit down again except this time leaving a kiss on the same spot in your path.

Joe didn't say anything in response except slip his tank top over his head and throw it across the room as he eyed you.

“Get over here and sit on my lap.”

“Oh?”

“Are you going to continue to stare at me or do what I told you?” Joe asked as you felt a light smack to your ass since your body was already slightly turned towards him.

He didn't even bother waiting for you to move before he literally pulled you onto his lap.

Several kisses were placed on your lips as he reached underneath the t-shirt that you were wearing and started to play with the waistband of your thong.

To give him easier access, the t-shirt was pulled over your head and added to the pile that Joe had originally started. Seeing you weren't wearing a bra, Joe smirked and began to place kisses on both of them, but before he did, little bites were placed on your sensitive skin first.

The wetness between your thighs began to increase and you knew on days like this that you needed for your husband to give you his undivided attention.

Joe's mouth found its way back to yours as your thong was pulled to the side and his fingers started to lightly graze across your folds making you moan as one of his fingers was placed inside.

He wasted no time in breaking the kiss and telling you to stand up so that he could get rid of the rest of his clothes along with the last piece of clothing that was covering you.

As he put you back in your original spot on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you slowly eased your way down making a moan escape from both of your mouths.

When you got into a comfortable pace and began to ride him, Joe took this opportunity to leave small bites accompanied with kisses all across your body where he could reach.

“Mmm, baby.” You breathed out as you threw your head back in pleasure and Joe held onto your hips tighter.

He then placed one of your nipples in his mouth and bit down lightly before he began to suck on it making the moans escaping from your lips grow louder.

“Shiiiit.”

“You better ride me and act like you want it. How bad do you want to cum, baby?” Joe whispered in your ear and your only response was riding him faster.

“That's what I fucking thought.” He told you as you felt another light smack to your ass.

Joe could tell you were tiring out and decided to help you from underneath. After a while his movements became sloppy and both of you hit your peak at the same time.

Your arms were still wrapped around Joe's neck as you were trying to catch your breath and moved to rest your head on his shoulder.

As he was rubbing small circles along your back, you lifted your head to kiss him, but as you did, you also bit down at the same time and could feel Joe smirk as you continued to kiss him.

“If this is the result of me biting you, I need to do it more often.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby. Now lay down because I'm nowhere near done with you.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about how eddie munson probably has a ridiculous collection of guitar picks. little jars of them. some collected at shows, some he picked up for a nickel at the only local music shop he's ever trusted to do work on his Sweetheart, some he was gifted for free at his local record shop that he's been frequenting for years now. the little old man running the record shop even gets excited when new vinyls are sent out with promotional merch, and he knows it's a band or musician eddie is into. probably even called eddie in at times and handed him a handful of metallica themed pics, hardly worth much, but solely because "i knew you like them and will find a good use for these, son".

my point is, he's got a pick for every occasion. shitty plastic thin ones for just fucking around with. thicker, nicer ones that might have been proper holiday gifts to him. the kind that are meant to hook on his fingers like rings (he tried using them a few times, especially for rifts, but ended up saying he played better when he felt the strings against his skin instead while picking away). novelty ones, ones that just looked plain cool. so on and so forth.

and he's got his collection just sitting in little jars across his room. he used to keep them in other things, like old ash trays or tin cans he'd cut and mold to be good containers. but then he started dating you, and you insisted on lending him any empty jars you weren't using. you had your own collections in yours: pretty stones found down by the creek, bottle caps of the sodas you and eddie get every time you stop at the gas station right on the edge of town by lover's lake - you even had one of every single crumpled up note eddie had ever given you over your time of dating. a few jars of those, actually. so what was lending him a few spares? at this point, the jars were a collection in themselves, and... well... it was prettier to see his vast collection in those glass jars anyways. being able to pick out the vibrant tones of the guitar pick you'd been with him as he'd purchased two weeks prior, or the pick from the show you'd gotten him tickets to last christmas. it was nice. a cute reminder of time spent, of what made eddie munson tick.

the important thing is, eddie munson isn't blind. he sees the way you look at that collection, especially after he fills the jars with it.

how some days, he'll be strumming away on his guitar, softly humming, and you'll just grab a jar to pick through. interrupting his nonsensical playing to ask him where he got one you didn't recognize, sometimes asking for the stories behind ones he knew you already knew. he'd caught on to the way you just liked hearing him talk, especially about the things he cared most about.

you also really, really liked the pick he wore as a necklace. it was probably your favorite in his collection, and you knew it was his favorite too. giving it as a gift to you was never an option, because it had been given as a gift to him originally by his mom.

so he does the next best thing.

he figures out your favorite pick in his collection. the one you always go back to, the one you ask for the story behind on a nearly weekly basis. one similar to the one always resting against his collarbones. pearly sheen, marbled tones, a slow indent the shape of his thumb being worn into the old tortoiseshell. it's a little less red, a little bit brighter, and he can't even strum it against his strings anymore without thinking of you. it's somehow become his lucky pick - the pick he cherishes most aside the one from his mom.

and the one he chooses to turn into a necklace, for you.

does it all himself. carefully piercing a hole through the top just like his own, picks out a nice chain that costs two paychecks of his, takes an old pocket knife to it and spends weeks carving your initials into the shiny material. he's gentle as hell with it, finishing it off with some gold paint to fill in the carving that matches the chain and swirling tones of the picks.

a week before christmas he nearly backs out of the gift idea, and almost begs wayne to help him go to the mall and pick out some other basic but safe gift for you. a perfume/cologne, a nice sweater, anything. wayne refuses to let him, and the only thing the gentle old man will offer is a nice box for eddie to place that necklace born of love into.

the look on your face on christmas morning, sitting in the center of the munson's living room, on the verge of happy tears as you lift the homemade necklace so gently, soothes away every single doubt ever had about it all.

and the look on wayne's face is a simple, caring, stern vision of i told you so.

[spdrvyn]

YOU'RE HERE, THAT'S THE THING — [ wc: 1.7k. college au. fluff-ish? ] nothing cute about uni life. nothing to romanticize about pulling off all-nighters. unless... ?

now that i think about this is the first miguel fic i've written that's not adjacent with spiderverse canon world-building wise 🤔 also kinda silly of me to write a college fic when i'm not even in college so be warned i'll sound probably like a dumbass but hope you guys enjoy anyway!

7:23PM in the evening. Twenty hours until your essay was due.

The blonded hues of the setting sun reflected onto your laptop’s screen, currently open with a completely blank Google Document and nary a draft or outline in sight. As the ice in your half-empty coffee had almost thoroughly melted, you realized that you were completely fucked.

Originally, there was a study group that you were intended on joining somewhere at the start of the week. Hell, you guys shared Notion calendars and made an entire group chat. Only when you courageously sent a message last night asking for a rain check on the plans, you were left on read and down one-hundred dignity points.

That’s how you ended up here, waiting for the adrenaline from the impending deadline to set in. The condensation from your drink wets your palm uncomfortably as you take a sad, bitter sip. Someone could be writing a story about your defeat, writing a ten-page analysis about it, and submitting it at least three days before the deadline like a normal person with a sense of urgency.

When you shut your laptop and concede to the pressure, Miguel walks in to your shared dorm. With thick textbooks and an open backpack slung over one of his shoulders, he pauses at the sight of you. “I thought you’d be out.”

The reminder that your group abandoned you sours your mood even more, you tersely reply: “They ghosted me.”

“Oh,” Miguel tries to sound sympathetic, but it’s obvious that he’s also struggling with a final of some kind with how he ushers all of his belongings to the table you’re currently occupying. He’s told you before that he rarely ever joins study groups, which makes sense. You’ve noticed he’s self-reliant and efficient to an almost terrifying degree when it comes to his academics, awake at ungodly hours of the night to pinch the highest grade that there is. If anything, it’s more likely that he’ll offer to tutor other people.

“What’s on your roster for tonight? I’ve got an essay,” You swiftly put on your document tab again, motivated by how he’s already flipping through his books and copying down notes on his tablet. God, you wished you could just start studying like that.

“Final tomorrow, haven’t started reviewing yet. I basically spent the last two days at the lab for my other final.” He’s writing at a speed that should be considered superhuman, all while he’s answering your pesky questions.

You don’t want to move to another spot, because it would seem rude. Not like his presence is unwelcome, his studiousness just makes you really, really envious. Also the fact that both of you are majoring in completely different subjects.

Majoring in Arts in Literature, while he majors in Genetic Engineering can cause difficulty whenever explaining plans to each other. Miguel puts in the effort to not confuse you with the STEM jargon while you try not to ramble about your current readings and explaining your interpretations of them to someone else instead of writing them down on paper to, you know, submit.

Either way, it hasn’t caused any big miscommunications with being so different and all. You hope he doesn’t mind you beginning to working with him too, as you shyly type a thesis statement into your assignment. Another sip of your coffee, sounds of Miguel scrawling, and you think you may be ready to take this assignment head-on.

~

12:40AM into the night. Fifteen hours until your essay is due.

Shockingly enough, you were able to finish three pages out of five. The grammar so far is probably going to drag you down by fifteen points and you usually send it to your friends to proofread, but it clearly isn’t an option given what time of the day it is right now. It’s still a lot better than the end you saw for yourself when you were left dangling on the edge of failure by your study group.

The caffeine had completely worn off by now, and your coffee had been drained somewhere around an hour ago. When that happens, you usually start to get antsy and it’s even harder to keep the momentum going and when that happens, you take a break and go for a walk or something.

Which is what you’re about to do, as you stand up, but you realize that Miguel is sitting still as a statue in front of one of his books and his eyes scan the words on the page, over and over again. You can’t tell if he’s also losing focus or if he’s knee-deep in focus.

“Miguel,” He sighs when you call his name and the noise makes you wince, fearing that you’ve upset him. “Uhm, I’m going to take a walk. Do you wanna come with?”

It’s an offer that you thought for sure he wasn’t going to take.

What you don’t expect however is for him to slam his reading shut, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose before getting up from his seat. With a huff of, “Sure.”

“Oh- we can go for a coffee run if that’s what you want. I don’t think I can sleep tonight.”

“Ok. Me neither.”

“Great, that’s- that’s great.”

~

Both of you stew in the (semi) comfortable silence as you make the trek from your dorm room and out to the expanse of the campus.

You realize how brisk a walk can become with Miguel considering how abnormally tall he is. Granted, you recognize his subtle effort to slow down for you when he notices how winded you got after only five minutes on the way to the gas station.

It’s a new height that you’ve reached with him, not like you never wanted to grow closer with him or anything. He is your roommate after all, so it only makes sense. Although despite your love for reading that has fender-bendered into a Literature degree in the making, you were never too great at reading people. Miguel is one of the hardest people to read considering his outward stoicism, and both of you being naturally introverted didn’t help at all.

Still, this was the perfect time in your life to make new friends and life-lasting connections. Besides you would also consider yourself pretty pathetic if you wouldn’t be able to make a new one out of your roommate, A.K.A someone who is confined to a room with you for a whole school year. Literally no other choice but to do so.

You wonder if he feels the same way too, but asking each other of your first impressions is a conversation that is really only befitting for people that have been together for years. A status that you have no idea that you’ll ever achieve with him someday.

Though you are quickly broken out of your kind of depressing spiral when Miguel opens the door to the store for you, with a muttered ‘thank you’ you behold the fluorescent lights and hint of smoke. The walk to the coffee machine is instinctive, and you pluck a bag of spicy chips from the shelf on the way. Miguel follows suit, only he picks a bag of pretzels and a pack of gum.

The dispenser chokes out a splatter of coffee into your plastic cup and you flinch at the noise, Miguel spares you a glance but goes back to fidgeting with the pointed edges of his pretzel bag.

“So, what’s your final about?” It’s a stupid question being completely transparent, but fuck it. You’re bored, and the silence only gets more uncomfortable the longer both of you keep quiet.

“Genetic inheritance, the traits passed down from a parent onto a child. That kind of thing,” He muses. “And you?”

“Oh, Les Miserables essay. Five pages total.”

“Long book, and long film.”

Your cup is nearly on the tip of overflowing so you quickly slide it out and put one under for Miguel. “Yeah, I had to do a re-read because it’s been a while. I only finished around two days ago and I started it again at the beginning of the month.”

He gives you an honest chuckle, you take it and you think you’ll remember the sound forever. “One of my, uh, friends sat me down to watch the movie. Fell asleep halfway through, but I do remember it being decent in the parts that I was awake.”

“Well if I can find a totally legal recording of the stage play, maybe that would pique your interest more.”

When you look up at him, he smiles and it might be the happiest you’ve seen him ever since becoming acquainted with each other. It’s not a lot, but you feel over the moon over a small talk about your stupid essay.

…Your stupid essay!

You cut the moment short by haphazardly closing the lids on both of your coffees, you hand it to Miguel who starts to emanate your hurried energy and the walk back to your dorm is very swift.

~

Morning. Some time before your essay is due.

That is what you can assume anyway, the sun is back and its rays peek at you from the gaps in the blinds. Your hair is a frazzled mess as you lift your head off of the pillow which is perched up against the armrest on the sofa, the blanket on top of you shifts, and this was also… definitely not where you fell asleep last night.

You were expecting neck and back pain, along with a mild headache once you woke up. As you came to the sloppy completion of your work, you called it a night, slammed your laptop shut, and decided to just sleep right then and there. Doing your night routine and getting into bed would simply be too much time and work when you probably wouldn’t even be getting that much rest anyway.

There’s a fresh glass of water on the coffee table and a sticky note from Miguel, who you could only assume was the one who put you here.

‘Had to head out early for my exam. Good luck with your essay, there’s food on the counter.’

You slump back into your makeshift bed and pull out your phone from your back pocket, there’s still seven hours until your essay is due and you only need around two for revisions.

Maybe you could sleep in just a little longer, dream about conversations that will never happen, cafe dates that never come to be. But after last night, rather earlier this morning, those odds shift in your favor.

[russellsppttemplates]

Am I late to send an ask?????

Newlywed Christmasy pierre and yn,pretty please? I miss pierre

Note: you're not too late, don't worry! I'm hoping to write a few more requests over the next couple of days if people send them in! And I'll write the other one you sent in too 👀

"Can you get me that box there, please?", Pierre asked as you set what you thought was the last box of Christmas decorations down.

"What is this?", you asked, handing it to your husband only for him to give it back to you, "I'm confused".

"Please open it", he encouraged.

"Pierre, we spoke about this when he cleaned up the decorations - there are boxes for every type of ornament so everything is organised - why isn't this one sorted through- oh!", you gasped.

Inside the box, there was an ornament which you had never seen before. It was delicately designed with the outline of two figures you recognised as your and Pierre on your first dance at the wedding. The original photo was one of your favourites from the day because the moment was a proper bubble of love. Nothing else mattered, and it seemed like no one else was there, just the two of you.

"This one could not have been organised by your categories, amour", Pierre chuckled, "I just got this done last week and the shipping took a few days", he smiled as he watched you inspect the piece. When he saw the idea, he was quick to find someone who could do the intricate ornament for you.

"This is our first Christmas as a married couple", you smiled, hugging your husband and kissing his lips.

"I know, and I wanted this for us to remember it - they also put the date on the back so we know when it was too", Pierre showed you.

Going up to the tree, you and Pierre hung it in the perfect spot, "here's to a lifetime of Christmas with you", he smiled, kissing the side of your head.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[myveryownfanfiction]

Rickmas day 21: heartfelt confessions

continuation of days 8 and 17

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @deepperplexity, @smilingformoney

warnings: swearing, death, snake attack, voldemort

I paced the boathouse, waiting for Severus to arrive. Voldemort had sent word to him and left me as bait. I turned as Severus entered.

“professor?” Severus asked as he saw me, a small twitch in his fingers as he scanned the room. Voldemort emerged from the shadows and smiled at the two of us. “My lord.” He bowed his head as Voldemort came to stand in front of him.

“Severus. Thank you for joining us.” Voldemort said. “There have been some…revelations of late. One that involves our lovely charms professor here.” Severus gulped as he looked between us. “I do believe you dared to defy me, saying you’d run away to join the muggles if it meant I wouldn’t find you.” Severus didn’t move, not emotion on his face at all. I bit the inside of my cheek hard to keep my face blank. Severus glanced at me and I noted the glimmer of fear in his eyes.

“my lord…” Severus started but stopped when Voldemort held up a hand, circling him.

“I must say Severus. I never expected you to choose a pure blood. Given your status and the unfortunate choice of a bitch you originally made.” I felt the shiver go up my spine at the mention of lily. “How much do you love our little professor? Hmmm? Enough to die for them?” Severus went pale, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced at me.

“Die my lord?” He asked. “I…what…are you…” I stepped forward and stood in front of Severus. His hand came out to grab my arm, push me out of the way should anything happen but I grabbed his other arm and squeezed.

“you can’t kill him!” I cried. Voldemort looked at the two of us. He laughed darkly.

“I can’t can I?” He asked. “You little bitch, I think you forget your place. Unless you want to die alongside him.” I stood to my full height and stared down the most dangerous man in all of the wizarding world.

“better to die together than live with the pain of losing a loved one.” I shot back. Severus tightened his grip, still intent on pushing me out of the way. ‘Bastard thinks he killed Harry right?’ I thought. The brief squeeze of my arm confirmed it. I took a deep breath as Voldemort raised his arm.

“then you shall die alongside him.” Voldemort warned me. I stood defiantly in front of Severus as we watched nagini come closer. I counted down in my head, pulling Severus into apparition at the last possible second. I pulled him down just outside the boathouse as Voldemort roared with anger. Nagini was hanging off his arm, body falling at the wave of energy Voldemort gave off as the horcrux in the snake died. Voldemort stumbled against the wall as the venom coursed through his body, no horcuxes left to bring him back. I breathed out and leaned my head against Severus’ chest as a tear escaped my eye.

“How did you know that would work?” He breathed out, arms wrapping around me tightly. “How did you…”

“I didn’t.” I said, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “I just wanted this to end.” Severus cupped my cheeks and kissed me deeply.

“you brilliant idiot.” He whispered, leaning his head against mine. “You absolute brilliant nut case. I love you. So so much.” I giggled and wrapped my hands around his wrists.

“I love you too.” I breathed out before kissing him again. He hugged me to him before rising. “Is he…”

“he should be.” Severus nodded, slowly making his way into the boathouse. He kept a tight hold on my hand as I trailed behind him. “Free. Finally free.” Severus breathed out, tears of his own rolling down his cheeks. “We’re free.”

“oh Severus.” I cried as I covered my mouth. Severus swept me up, spinning me around before kissing me again.

“let’s go. Let Harry find him.” Severus breathed out. “I have a mind to apologize to Minerva and then disappear to spinners end until this all blows over.” Severus looked at me with shining eyes. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always have you Severus.” I confirmed before following him back up to the castle.

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 8

And here we are! The last chapter! Thank you to everyone who liked and comment on this wonderful story. I had a blast trying to make it as a Hallmark Christmas-y as possible!

Steve gets what he always wanted for Christmas, people who love him!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

It had been six weeks since I sent my little elf off into the big wide world and I was anxious to see how they were doing.

They had been sending progress reports on their person they chosen to help bring to the joy of Christmas. They had originally chosen a battered and worn down secretary, but when she unexpectedly passed away, they were forced to change tack and instead began to focus on the son of the business owner.

The young man had had a rash of bad Christmases and didn’t believe in the holiday anymore. The elf had been working tirelessly to help the poor man out and they had done a stellar job.

I walked up to their stall at the Christmas market and asked for a cup of hot chocolate.

“Santa!” they cried cheerfully and then covered their mouth with a blush.

“It’s alright,” I told them. “There are enough people around that any old man with a white beard might be mistaken for the jolly, old soul.” I winked.

They grinned back.

“He has really turned around and loves Christmas now,” they said proudly. “I did it!”

“You most certainly did.” I pull out a small box and hand it to them. “This is for that young man. So if you could find away to get it to him, I’d appreciate it.”

Their eyes went wide and their smile was incandescent. “You trust me to deliver a present for you?”

I nod.

They clutch to their chest and then salute.

I laugh. It’s good to see them so happy.

~

“Come on, Stevie!” Eddie implored. “You can’t leave Hawkins without seeing the Christmas Market! It’s what the town is known for.”

Steve shook his head. “The last time I went to one of those things it was held together by duck tape and Elmer’s glue. It had three shops and shopping mall Santa who was more drunk than he was jolly, and my best friend left me stranded there to go make out with his girlfriend when he saw what a disaster it was.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie huffed, eyes wide. “You are Christmas cursed!”

Steve waved his arm in front of him. “See? And that wasn’t even the worst of it.”

“What could be worse then that?” Eddie asked cocking his head to the side.

“My dad couldn’t pick me out for three hours,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I was wandering around looking for something to do and somehow got roped into being Santa for two of those hours while their paid Santa slept off his booze.” He threw his arms in the air. “I didn’t even get paid. I was told I was ‘volunteering’ and that my payment was the joy on the little tykes’ faces.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “Babe, now you have to come to ours. It is so not like that. At all.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie said with a fond, dimpled smile. “I promise.”

~

Eddie drove Steve’s car because he wanted Steve’ to be blindfolded but didn’t want to take his van. It was having issues and Eddie had to wait until after they tallied up all the money from their close to Christmas sales before he could get it fixed.

Finally they came to a stop and Eddie hurried around to the passenger side door and opened it for Steve. He carefully guided him out of the car and toward the entrance, making sure the car was locked behind them.

Then Eddie removed the blindfold.

There was a huge sign welcoming them the Christmas Market in red, green, and white. The entrance was framed by two massive Nutcrackers. Beyond the entrance were shops and booths galore. People dressed as elves and old-timey carolers wandered around, cheerfully singing Christmas songs.

It was what Steve always imagined what the North Pole must have looked like.

“Eddie...” he breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

Eddie grinned back at him. “Just wait until you see what’s inside.”

So they walked in and immediately Steve was struck by the sounds, sights, and smells of Christmas. It was bright and cheerful, but with a homey atmosphere that Steve had never experienced before in his life.

Suddenly he was tugging on Eddie’s wrist and dragging him over to the carolers dressed up as though they walked out of the pages of Dickens novel.

Eddie laughed.

They had bought cookies from the German shop and chocolates from the Swiss shop.

Then Robin came bounding up to them. “You made it!”

Steve wrapped his arms around her and swung her around. “This is amazing!”

“Is it just?” she cried happily. “Come on, you have to come with me to the beverage booth. There is a pretty girl there and I need you to make sure she’s not some angel or something, she so gorgeous!”

Eddie and Steve laughed, but followed her to the beverage booth. Sure enough there were a pretty red-headed girl with bright green eyes and sweet smile.

“She’s so your type!” Steve said bumping her shoulder with his.

“Shut up!”

Steve walked up to the booth. “Two hot chocolates please.”

Her name tag read: Chrissy. Perfect.

Once Chrissy handed over the two cups in beautifully decorated red styrofoam cups, Steve smiled brightly at her. “And your number for my friend?” He jerked his head to where Eddie and Robin were standing.

“I guess that depends which one it’s for?” Chrissy said with a wink.

Steve grinned. “The pretty blonde.”

Chrissy looked back over at them and then nodded with satisfactory smile. She pulled out a pen and wrote her number on a napkin, handing it to Steve.

“I’d say to tell her I get off at seven,” Chrissy said with a smile, “but I think she knows that.”

Steve laughed and walked back over.

~

“They’re so perfect together,” Robin said with a sigh. “Just look at them. So pretty and sporty. Just think of the babies they’d have.”

Eddie frowned. He hadn’t liked the way she kept looking over here at them when she was supposedly supposed to be working.

Then Steve came up to them with a big grin. He handed the hot chocolate to Eddie. “A hot chocolate for the handsome gentleman.” Then he handed the napkin to Robin. “And the pretty girl’s number for Robin. She gets off at seven and likes to watch the carolers.”

Eddie and Robin shared a shocked glance.

“You asked her out for me?” Robin asked in amazement.

“Sure,” Steve said brightly. “Everyone deserves a little Hallmark cheesiness for Christmas.” Then he winked at Eddie, who turned as bright red as the cup in his hand.

~

Far too soon the place was closing up, Robin and Chrissy had long since gone home together and it was just Eddie and Steve under the glistening stars.

“Thanks for making Christmas special this year,” Steve murmured as they got into the car.

“It’s not over with yet,” Eddie said, slipping into the passenger seat. “There’s still Christmas chaos with everyone. There’s going to be lots of food courtesy of Claudia with no orange to be found,” he started ticking off on his fingers, “Joyce and Hopper are bringing the drinks, everyone is bringing presents. You don’t have to buy something for anyone, your presence will be the gift. But I, uh. I got you something.”

Steve lit up and dared to glance over at him. “I got you something too. I really hope you like it.”

Eddie’s answering grin was enough to keep Steve warm all the way back to Indy.

~

He called his parents to tell them he was moving out of Indy which was met with the same disdain he had gotten from them his whole life.

“You’ll regret that,” Mrs. Harrington sniffed. “He might be pretty now, but once you run out of money, he’ll do the same.”

“Think about what you’re doing, Steven,” Mr. Harrington grumbled. “You know you’re not smart, you’re only importance is as my son and if you walk away from that no one will even look at you twice.”

“Seriously, Steven,” Mrs. Harrington continued, “there is no amount sex that will make being with someone like that palpable. There were several young ladies at the party who would have been willing to put up with your flaws for the amount of money you make. They were just frightened off by that riffraff you brought with you.”

“There are plenty of opportunities in the company,” Mr. Harrington huffed. “You just need to put your back into it.”

Steve burst out laughing. “We both know that the junior partner was going to Tommy or Billy. It was never going to be me. I hate what we do. I always have. But I’m tired of wasting my life for a job I never wanted. I have a lot of money saved up, I’m not going for some guy. I’m going because that person looked at my unhappy life and showed me it didn’t have to be that way.”

“If you walk away from this,” Mr. Harrington growled, “you’ll never see another cent from us.”

“We’ll never see or speak to you either,” Mrs. Harrington twittered. “Is that really what you want?”

Steve let out a happy little sigh. “Oh god, yes.” Then he hung up and blocked both of their numbers.

He felt free for the first time in his life.

~

Steve pulled into driveway of the Munsons’ house. It was small and homey and gave off a warmth that all the other houses he had been to did. Nothing like his bland apartment or the Macy’s catelogue worthy house he grew up in.

He grabbed the red velvet bag he brought just for tonight and made his way to the door. He knocked and instantly it opened up to Eddie in a Santa hat.

“Stevie!” Eddie cried, big grin on his face. “You made it.” Then he spotted the bag and his eyes went wide. “And with gifts, too. You are a very welcome sight!” He stepped back to let Steve in.

Steve slipped past him, so close that their chests brushed against each other and Steve felt a spike of warm lance through his chest and settle down into his belly.

He sat down next to the tree and suddenly Joyce was at his side with a steaming mug of Jim’s apple cider.

“It’s a good thing Jim doesn’t like orange in this otherwise we would have had troubles,” she said handing him the mug.

Steve blushed. “Oh I checked before I poured myself some. I’m aware that most recipes call for it and was very happy to find out it didn’t. Didn’t need it either.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Steve,” Joyce said with a smile.

“Me too.”

Then it was time for presents and Steve got to play Santa. Not everyone got a present from everyone else, but everyone had a stack of presents so no one felt left out.

But every time someone opened a present from Steve they would gasp and say that was just what they always wanted.

Finally when Eddie opened up a black wooden dice box complete with sparkling red dice, did anyone ask the question.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “It’s beautiful, but how did you know?”

Steve shrugged. “Robin helped me pick out gifts from everyone.”

Dustin tilted his head to the side. “But how would she know? She’s only been here since November.”

Steve mirrored his expression and blinked. “Huh. It just always felt like she’d always been here, you know?”

Everyone agreed that it felt that way to them too, and everyone moved on. Then it was time for Steve to open his.

He got warm woolly socks from Robin, hand-stitched pillows from Dustin and Claudia. Dustin picked out the colors and material and Claudia sewed them. A box of Eggo’s from Ellie. A nice hat and scarf from Eddie and a few things from everyone else.

“Hey Steve,” Robin said, “I think one of your presents dropped.” She indicated under his chair with her chin.

Steve looked down between his legs and sure enough, there was a small present took behind one of his legs. “Oh thanks!”

He picked it up and unwrapped it. It was a necklace box, the kind his dad would buy his mom when he cheated on her. On top was a note and when he read it, tears streamed down his face as he pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle his cries.

Eddie came over and sat down in the chair next to his. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve handed him the note to read as he opened up the box with that little sproing and snap that jewelry boxes have.

“Dear Stevie,

I’m sorry I’m fifteen years late, but it took me a while to find the perfect match. Take a chance and I think you’ll find I’m right.

xxSanta”

“What’s this about?” Eddie asked lifting the note.

“When I was eleven I wrote to Santa begging him to send me someone who would love me unconditionally and would never leave me. Not like my parents who more concerned with appearances then the health of their own son.” Steve shook his head. “When nothing came under the tree that Christmas, I stopped believing in him.”

He lifted the necklace. It was red guitar pick on a black leather cord and he frowned at it in confusion.

“Holy shit! That’s mine!” Eddie gasped. “I thought I lost it that day our at the Sinclair farm when I rescued the horses. It must have fallen off then.” He reached out to rub the surface of the pick between his finger and thumb. “I thought it was gone for sure.”

Steve put the necklace around Eddie’s neck and used it pull this beautiful man to him. Then he sealed their lips with a kiss.

~

“You did a good job, Robin,” I said, appearing next to her as she watched Eddie and Steve whisper their ‘I love you’s. He bumped her shoulder with his. “And yes you can stay here. You’re happier here than you ever were in the North Pole. You found your people.”

Robin blushed a bright pink. “Thanks, boss. I thought for sure the job was sunk when Dolores passed away, but I think he had more influence on this sweet little group then she would have.”

“I think if there is a God,” I said warmly, “I think he was looking out for our Stevie, too.”

“What will happened to Steve now?” she asked fondly.

I chuckled. “He’ll move out here to Hawkins and go to school at the state school, get a degree in doing something he loves and continue to deepen the connections he made here over the last month.”

Robin nodded. She looked up at Santa and he appeared younger than when she saw him at the Christmas Market.

“The more Christmas spirit there is,” I explained to her unasked question, “the younger I appear. It’s nice to be able to straighten my spine, it’s been awhile.”

“Does that mean Mrs. Claus also gets young and hot, too?” Robin asked with a grin.

I laughed my jolly ole laugh. “Too bad you won’t be heading back to the North Pole with me to find out.”

“Rude.”

“I punished Myrtle, by the way,” I told her. “The elf who sabotaged your sleigh.”

Robin cocked her head to the side. “Yeah?”

“I told her that I was taking her with me on my around the world trip,” I explained.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a punishment,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms with a pout. “That’s like the dream come true of every elf in the workshop.”

I tucked my thumbs in my belt loop and rocked back on my heels with a grin. “As reindeer scooper.”

Robin blinked for a moment as she took in what he just said, then she threw her head back and laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Robin,” I said kissing the top of her head.

Merry Christmas, indeed, she thought with a smile.

~

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

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9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight @themoonagainstmers

[luciferanalyzestar]

unpopular opinion: I am glad that zoophobia got abandoned cause as much as it's beautiful vivziepop would ruined it just like what she did with HH and HB,I rather someone else make something similar to it (not 100% copy of it just something similar) and avoiding all viv's mistakes since she's too coward to admit that her writing is shit,maybe if she listened for once her writing would have been improved long time ago

This ask sent me down a rabbit hole I was not ready for.

I never read Zoophobia because I did not hear of Viv until 2019. I was 11 when it released, and I was too busy obsessing over Sonic. From what people who have been following Viv and her history for that long, it was a warning sign of her writing abilities and the lack of variety in her character designs.

The main premise is toss aside for a different premise with no build up: I mean just look like the descriptions of the finished and scrapped Books. How do we go from "woman with a fear of animals becomes a guidance counselor at an academy for anthropomorphic animals" or "mythology"???? How does get from furry hijinks to mythology??? That is a huge jump. Imagine if the Owl House did that? Season 1 stays the same but in season two, Luz goes to a futuristic sci-fi setting like Star Wars or something.

Hazbin was at first: The Princess of Hell opens up a hotel to help Sinners go to Heaven instead of being murked every year.

Hazbin from episode 1 to 8 has a huge in its premise too. No one was asking for a war with Heaven at the end of the season. The whole season was just Charlie pitching the hotel which she already did in the pilot, why are we wasting time of watching her pitch it again??? Season 1 could have focused on the hotel not Heaven, that is should have been saved for season 2.

Helluva was at first: A lower-class imp opens up an assassin business with his fellow imps and his ab going to Earth to kill humans and fucking up shit in the progress. There is a little bit of failed edge in the show too, this is not my little pony! This is a show for adults who grown up Invader Zim and live breath Hot Topic. Now Helluva is just, 2000s core Yaoi that used to be posted on fanfiction.net.

The main female character is sidelined: Cameron was gone by Book 2 (at least from what the wiki states) and was not even featured in the Back Luck Jack short. There are no sources for this, but it is claimed on Cameron's page that Viv was planning on giving her multiple love interests. Why does she always bound female characters to romantic relationships? Also, German chromosomes????? 💀

There are too many characters: Some characters' wikis listed their extended family, their allies, and enemies. I did not click on every character listed but the ones I did were minor background characters who just exist. Why does Kestral and Jackie's mother have a design if she does nothing for the plot? My OCS have parents of course but I am not going design all of their parents, only the ones who are a part of the plot.

The character designs all have the same vibe: Of course, they are all skinny, some are skinny as a broomstick or slim thick.

I found characters with top hots, ashy skin, characters with tannish skin tone with straight hair, the bow ties and pin stripes combo or pin stripe shirt and shorts combo for Mirage. Some characters do not have pronounce feet like they have little numbs like Vaggie and Niffty.

None of the characters who are human or transform into humans have ears! Where are their ears??? Viv cannot draw ears to save her life lmao. The only humans I found with ears was Cameron and this guy. This design "quirk" is still on full blown display in the Hellaverse.

I notice that a lot of characters have similar lore or quirks to the Hellaverse cast:

Cameron has a decease mother = Blitz and Moxxie also have a decease mother.

Addison was originally had a twin sister who was scrapped = Angel and Blitz both have twin sisters.

Camilla (Viv must really like that name) is a pole dancer = Angel is a sex worker is a striper. Also, Camila, who was 21 was supposed to have a crush on the 17 years old Addison.

JayJay has a gold tooth = Angel and Val have a gold tooth.

There are probably more examples, these are the ones that popped out.

There is a pack of wolf lead by the character Queen which is similar to Verosika's crew but there is the twist: Queen is just Kesha. Why was Viv so obsessed with making Kesha into a furry? Why is her name close to Kesha's full name? I have characters based off of celebrities from media I like but I did not name them straight up after that person.

Viv should buy Kesha a fursuit at this point. /j

There is this dude who makes a similar expression to Lucifer. I am losing my goddamn mind.

This reminds how she designed Smoke from Cartoon All-Stars to the Rescue looks in her part of the reanimated project.

I wish someone would make a deep drive video about Zoophobia and have a section comparing it to the Hellaverse. Viv published Zoophobia back in 2012 when was around 19 years old. She is now in 32, I do not know about the writing. How she designs characters still has not changed, she is DEEP into that comfort zone.

[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.

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.

At the end of the day, he missed her. Her absence from his life this time hit especially hard. He had no idea if any of their future conversations that they would certainly need to have would fix any of this.

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.

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.”

[p-taryn-dactyl]

l'amour de ma vie

a/n: hi! it's been awhile since i've written for agatha but I though this was a fun idea! kind of an AU? everyone is alive and well, i've taken over. i tried to capture the same feeling of the avenger compound 2012 fanfics bc they have a special place in my heart, but also theres slight 🌶️ in this one than any of the fics i read in 2012

word count: 2.6k

warning(s): science written by someone who barely scrapped by in any type of science class - agatha being agatha - exes to lovers - discussion of a bad breakup - suggestiveness - slight jealous!agatha - top!agatha - slight 'knee thing' - mention of insecurity - slight manipulative!agatha - i love agath's hands, this isn't a warning but a confession -

pairing: agatha harkness x fem!reader, r is tony's younger sister

prompt: you thought being the sister of iron man, helping your brother not accidentally kill himself in the lab, was the hardest part of your life. turns out, it's keeping your mind objective when your ex is brought in on a mission

The lab was quiet, save the sound of Dummy bumping into tables while trying to feed you a smoothie made from bananas and motor oil, as you wandered around, your mind going over calculations and equations. Tony had mentioned wanting to create a new suit based off of the absorbent energy of the Black Panther and you, being the good sister you are, decided to try and create a prototype as a surprise. Turns out, it was a lot more complicated than you originally anticipated. While Tony was off on a well-earned vacation with Pepper, you spent your nights on the phone with Shuri as she excitedly discussed how she originally made her brother's suit. You thought it was hard to follow Tony when he went on his ramblings about new scientific breakthroughs. Now, it wasn’t as if you weren’t smart, you had a very high IQ, but sometimes it seemed as if Tony and Shuri just understood everything. As you stared at the white board against the wall, smudged questions and equations blurring together, you heard knocking against the windows of the lab. Turning, you saw Natasha and Yelena waving at you, the blonde holding a box of your favorite donuts. Sighing, you signaled JARVIS to let them in, leaning one hip against a table, arms crossed. 

“What happened?” You immediately asked, taking in the slight guilty expressions the sisters wore, super spies your ass. Natasha and Yelena shared a look before the red-head shrugged, plopping down on Tony’s swivel chair. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Yelena took a donut out of the box, sitting on the table you were leaning against, legs crossed as she handed the box out to you. Taking a donut, you raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between your two friends. 

“Guys come on, these are bad news donuts. You only ever get these if it’s my birthday or something has happened? Did you set the laundry room on fire?” You asked Yelena pointedly, remembering the footage JARVIS had sent you two weeks earlier. She gasped, faux offense painting her face as Natasha snorted. 

“You can’t prove that was me,” yes you could, “and fine, yes, we do have news. News that Natasha is just so happy to tell you.” 

Natasha glared at her sister before she sighed, looking up at you. 

“Strange encountered something on one of his last missions, something that wasn’t sorcery but witchcraft.” 

You looked at Natasha, shrugging while slightly shaking your head.

“So? Did he call Wanda? Oh shit, is she hurt?” Worry for your friend clouded your mind before Natasha shook her head, looking away from you as she caught a donut Yelena chucked at her. 

“Wanda is powerful, yes, but she doesn’t have the knowledge required to fully take out this threat. He called in someone known for her magical expertise, after all she’s been around a while.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach once you realized who Natasha was talking about. 

“No…” You whispered, now fully sitting on the table, eyes glued to the floor as Yelena continued where Natasha left off.

“Apparently, this threat is going to take awhile to understand and Strange has offered her a place at the compound until everything is over. He needs you or Tony to sign off on that and Tony is in Ibiza right now.” 

You just nodded wordlessly, not fully understanding what Yelena was saying. The blonde noticed this, placing a hand over yours. 

“She’s upstairs with him now.”

Your vision tunneled slightly, panic clawing at your throat. Taking a deep breath, you remembered what your job was. 

Protect the people. 

Even if that meant dealing with your ex-fiance, Agatha Harkness.

Your relationship with the infamous witch started out like every Hallmark movie Tony forces you to watch. It was a rainy morning when you ran inside a small cafe near the Avengers Tower, ran straight into Agatha herself. From there, everything was a blur. Now, you’ve pushed the memories away into a box in your mind, forbidden to open. But sometimes you find yourself thinking about the happiness that bloomed in your chest every time you were near Agatha, how your heart almost exploded when she proposed, how happy you were to finally use the wedding book you had made and continued to add to since you were six. Then you remember how Agatha, mere weeks after proposing, started growing distant. Any question about her wedding preferences were waved away with a perfectly manicured hand, claiming that she would be fine with whatever. Her response seemed romantic to you at first, thinking she would just be happy to marry you, no matter the color scheme or the flower arrangements. But then it quickly shifted to her not caring at all. Date nights got canceled, cake tasting was done solo, and you shrunk deeper and deeper into your insecurities. She was obsessed with her own power, constantly chasing leads of witches and wizards who could be easy targets. It all came to a head one night, silently. You remember sitting in the dim lighting of your shared apartment, an anniversary gift from Tony, fiddling with your ring. A glass of wine sat on the counter, untouched but tempting. Agatha had promised to come home at three in the afternoon so the two of you could design the wedding invitations, something you thought could bring her back to you. 

But she didn’t show. 

It was half past nine when you broke, tears pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision as they fell to the floor. You cried silently to yourself as you gathered up the markers and papers you had set out, ripping the designs you had happily scribbled down at sixteen. You left the pieces in the trash, glaring at them for a few moments before you wiped your eyes and took a deep breath. Then promptly burst into tears once more. You wish you had handled the situation with the grace and dignity of a Stark but no. You put all the wedding stuff in a bin, stuffing in it a closet, then you left your ring on the counter. You didn’t know when Agatha would be back, sometimes she was gone for days, but that gave you some sense of peace. If she showed up as you had finally decided to leave, you probably would have fallen for her spell once again. All your things in the apartment you just left, knowing that you hadn’t fully moved in and, not to sound too incredibly privileged, you could just replace everything you left behind. You still had that key to the apartment, probably rusting away in a drawer somewhere. Leaving should have felt like a weight being lifted but all you felt was pain. The week after you left was filled with silence, you spent it curled up in your room at the compound, being forced to watch movies sandwiched between Natasha and Yelena, Tony joining occasionally. Your brother showered you with gifts of candy and books, doing everything in his power to bring a smile back to your face. Eventually, it worked and now, a year later, you thought you had healed. 

You were wrong.

The elevator ride up to where Strange and Agatha waited felt like time was being stretched around you. Yelena stood protectively at your side, arms crossed as she glared at the elevator doors, Natasha had wrapped an arm around your waist as you had slightly stumbled from the shock. You felt both protected and exposed as the doors opened, Stephen smiling as he realized it was you, his expression growing concerned as he took in the positions of the two assassins flanking your sides. You didn’t blame him, he didn’t know, but some part of you was angry at the innocent gratefulness that was apparent in his eyes. You felt her eyes before you saw her, they pierced into you before moving down to where Natasha’s arm wrapped around your waist. Swallowing, you nodded at Nat, silently letting her know you were okay. The two sisters moved to sit on the couch across from where Agatha now stood, her eyes never leaving you despite the looks she was receiving. Clapping your hands together, you refused to look at her, instead smiling at Strange as you painted on the familiar Stark charm. 

“I heard you needed my signature?” It was more of a statement than a question as you held out your hand for the tablet Strange held. He nodded, relief painting his face as you signed the permission form, allowing JARVIS to assign your ex a room. 

“Normally we would stay in Kamar Taj but whatever it is we’re facing seems to target places of high magical energy.” 

Yelena scoffed, her eyes still boring into Agatha.

“That sounds familiar.” 

Agatha finally looked away from you, her expression almost confused until her face went blank as she raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. Stephen rocked back and forth on his heels for a second once you had finished signing all the forms, obviously thrown off by the awkward atmosphere. He suddenly snapped his fingers as if he had remembered something, giving you an apologetic glance before explaining he had a meeting with Wong starting in a few minutes. Your eyes widened as he turned to Agatha, formally introducing you and explaining you would show her to her new room. At this, Natasha and Yelena shot up, both offering to instead be the guide. Strange looked both confused and scared, opting to just nod as he walked backwards into the portal he had summoned, quickly disappearing. 

“Guys, it’s fine. I’ll show Ms. Harkness to her room.” 

Your friends looked apprehensive, like they would rather swallow a wasps nest than let you be alone with the witch but thankfully they stood down. You closed your eyes as you turned around, heading back towards the elevator, beckoning for Agatha to follow you. 

Time to face the music.

Once the doors to the elevators shut, you focused all your attention onto the screen in your hands, hoping to ignore the way Agatha was staring at you. You heard her sigh before the elevator stopped suddenly. Thinking you were at the right floor, you took a step forward only to be face to face with very closed doors. Confused, you turned to finally face Agatha, finding her eyes slightly glowing purple, same as the emergency stop button. You opened your mouth to ask what was going on when suddenly you were pushed up against the wall, purple magic pinning you down as Agatha stood inches away from you, arms trapping you and one leg in between yours. Her eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment before they snapped up to yours, 

“Is this where you’ve been?” You heard a slight tremor in her voice, breaking her illusion of strength. You didn’t respond, your words stuck in your throat as your body reacted to being close to Agatha once more. She didn’t seem to care about your silence, continuing to speak. 

“You look very comfortable here, especially with that assassin.” She spoke with a sneer, her hands moving to now cradle your waist, her grip tight as her thumbs slipped under your shirt. You blinked, absorbing her words before you unwillingly let out a small laugh. She tightened her grip, her hips now practically flush with yours. 

“Natasha is just a friend, I’m not-” You cleared your throat, stopping yourself from justifying your personal life with the person who had torn apart your heart. Agatha leaned in close, her nose brushing against your jaw as she kissed your neck softly, causing you to gasp. 

“Not what?” She prodded, her breath hot against your skin as her tongue traced up your neck before she lightly bit your ear. 

“Agatha…” you sighed, your hands now resting on her shoulders, as if you were debating whether or not to push her away or pull her closer. Her teeth bit hard into your neck before she kissed over the spot, her knee now pressing up against your core. 

“Answer me, Y/N.” 

This was exactly why you didn’t wait for her to come back to the apartment that night, you crumbled too quickly under her hands. 

“I’m not with anyone, especially not Natasha, she’s like a sister to me.” 

Agatha nodded slightly before she leaned her forehead against yours, one of her hands fiddling with the elastic of your sweatpants. 

“Have you been with anyone since you left me?”

Her words were accusing yet tinged with slight fear, worried about your answer. You hesitated before you shook your head, embarrassed at how pathetic you had been after you ended the relationship. Sure, people offered and you tried a few times but always chickened out before anything could ever happen. 

No one was like Agatha. 

Your ex smiled, lightly bumping her nose against yours. You felt your own lips quirk slightly before you realized the position you were in. She was here for a mission, not to fuck you against the walls of an elevator. 

“Agatha-”

Before you could finish speaking, Agatha's lips crashed against yours, immediately establishing her dominance. The kiss was deep, her tongue battling yours before she pulled away, her teeth pulling at your bottom lip. Her hands left your waits, instead now cradling your face. She smirked at your expression, your eyes glassy and your mouth hanging slightly open. Her thumb rubbed your cheek as her other hand brushed a hair out of your eyes. You allowed yourself to bask in the peace of the moment, reminiscing about the time when Agatha sent butterflies ablaze in your stomach. It was quickly ruined, however, by Agatha’s next question which hit you like a bucket of ice water. 

“Why’d you leave me? No note, no explanations, just your ring on the counter and cancellations of our wedding vendors. I thought you loved me, Y/N.” Her last words were almost a whisper, like she hadn’t fully meant to say them outloud. You felt the sharp pin pricks of tears, hurriedly blinking them away, averting your eyes from Agatha. You shook your head, a dry, humorless laugh escaping from your lips. 

“Agatha, what’s done is done, we don’t need to-”

Her hand grasped your chin, forcing you to look at her, to take in the icy fury that was ablaze in her eyes. 

“No.” Her voice was firm, commanding, as you both examined each other’s expressions. “No, I need to know what I did.” 

You didn’t know why, but those words opened the floodgates, both of your tears and your words.  

“It’s what you didn’t do Agatha! You were never there, you didn’t give one shit about our wedding, about planning our life together. Power is your true love, Agatha, and I’ll be damned if I’m just a rebound,” You took a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that were blurring your vision and falling down your face, “You were bored of me, Agatha, I understand that now but by god, you could of just told me instead of stringing me along and single handedly crushing my dreams!”

Agatha looked shocked, the anger disappearing from her eyes, now replaced with something akin to despair. 

“Is that really what you thought? Still think?” 

You bit your lip as you nodded, heart about to explode in your chest at how intense this day had become. Agatha shook her head, leaning so her head now rested on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. It was silent for a moment before you felt the atmosphere shift, Agatha’s hands making their way into your pants, her experienced fingers rubbing your clothed clit as she whispered into your ear. 

“I guess I have to prove you wrong.”

a/n: plz don't hate me i wrote this in two hours and i have to get up early tomorrow or else this fic would be wayyy longer and would probably banish me to self isolation bc i think im ovulating. is that tmi? who cares. ik this wasn't the best but thank you for reading! im sleep deprived

[painsrequiem]

╼ ༺ :||        It had only been a week here since coming to Baaj, and the newness wore off quickly. Despite the lack of cruel words and sneers, he didn't like it here and he was certain mother would have much rather be back at Guadosalam, too. Or at least he thought so. Mother and father had a fight before they left home...

Father never said, but it was because of him they had to leave. He had said the Guado didn't understand and this would protect him and mother. And yeah, he looked a little different, but what was it they didn't understand? Father was the leader. The Guado have to listen to him, right?

...or was it that father actually didn't love him and mother anymore?

Having said his prayers for the night, he prayed for just that: That the Guados would understand. That father and mother would make up. And that him and his mother would be able to return quickly.

[meamiki]

(You gently drop the flower in their open palm, and act like nothing out of the ordinary happened.)

(Loop does, too.)

[betweenlands]

how we should be naming our minecraft builds, a helpful guide by Cait Machina

[musubiki]

the search for solutions (and none to be found)

[moeblob]

Rey, who is in my very biased opinion, one of the funniest "girls" I have because she's just a guy, truly. Like Rey is just short for Reynold because he was recruited by a a goddess to help the hero she selected and the hero is conveniently Reynold's younger brother. So he agrees to help under the condition that the goddess gives him a female body for the other world. She's like "really odd flex but whatever" and gives him a female form and he's like "you know. I can't really blame anyone but myself for not specifying 'please don't turn me into a Lisa Frank personification'."

[cas-theghostking]

Hi, sorry if this seems like a bizarre request, but I feel it would suit him. Zane seems like he'd be a dancer, and I'd like to see your design of him dancing (it can be as uncomplicated or as complex as you please)! And if you'd like, you could include another Ninja (or as many as you'd like)! It's all up to you; I would like to see him as a dancer! :D

So this ask was from two years ago and I completely forgot it existed but I absolutely loved this idea so here's zane and pixal doing the lindy hop!