#and i just started seeing my work as content and saw deadlines everywhere

[shipskicksandgiggles]

AHHH 3 of the meaningful gestures prompts us soooo cute and reminds me of ironhusbands and Parkner

oh my god yes. ironhusbands screams this. I hope I did it justice. I'm just having a lot of feelings about partners growing old together don't mind me

(holy shit, me posting twice in a weekend? who am I?)

prompt: Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance. (from this list)

Read Aging Beauty here on ao3

~~~

It was no secret that Tony loved talking about his work. When he got excited, he tended to ramble on and on about his projects until someone stopped him. 

Some people thought it was annoying. That he was a narcissist to be so proud of his work and to want to talk about it. 

Rhodey remembers him doing it when they were still kids, babies compared to the others in their class. He was so small, hands flailing everywhere, almost smacking Rhodey in the face once or twice or even dozens of times because Tony never learned to rein his movements in. 

He came to learn that this was a freedom, an excitement Tony never got to experience at home. His parents expected professionalism from him even before the age of ten. 

It took weeks of Rhodey expressing genuine interest in his work for Tony to show even the slightest amount of enthusiasm about it. 

Almost overnight, there was a change. It was like going from a drizzle to pouring rain and forgetting your umbrella at home. 

Thankfully, Rhodey never minded the rain. 

The older they got, the more complex Tony’s projects got, which meant there was that much more to listen to when he wanted to tell people about it. 

Unfortunately, because they were older, Rhodey wasn’t home with Tony as often as he used to be. Tony ranting on phone calls never quite matched up to the real thing. 

There was a period of time when they were in their 20’s where they almost never saw each other. The few times a year Rhodey was able to take off, he had to choose between going home to see his mom and sister in Philadelphia, or following Tony wherever he was. 

It was never an easy decision, but phone calls started to be his saving grace. He loved listening to Tony talk, and even if he couldn’t be there, he could still hear him. 

Now, they were approaching old age, but Rhodey was with Tony almost all the time. 

Finally. 

It was a long time coming, for them to be able to be together, happy and content in their years, and just get to relax without the pressure of deadlines and constant travel. 

No deadlines meant being able to spend the days however they wanted too. 

That included catching up on lab days. 

Lab days where Tony would talk and talk and talk about his work, and Rhodey was happy to sit and listen. 

“Well first of all, you have to understand that I’m not doing this just to prove that I can. There are real and incredibly valid reasons as for why I’m doing this.”

“Which are?”

“That asshole over at HammerTech thinks he could make an engine that can travel in space better than me.”

“Ah yes. That asshole. Otherwise known as Justin Hammer himself.”

“He doesn’t even do any of his own work, and come on now, even if he did, it’s not like he could beat my work when it comes to engines. He doesn’t even know how solar power works, let alone how to incorporate it into a seamless design that allows it to adapt based on proximity to the sun.”

“So now you’re building a new one just to, what, piss him off?”

“Yes, and I had this idea that since we’re starting to branch out with our space travel, I should make sure that the solar panels can absorb energy from all stars, not just our own sun. Which technically I know most stars have the same sort of gaseous makeup, it’s worth double checking so no one runs out of power in another planetary system, you know?”

“Makes sense. How are you getting the data though?”

“I have Carol and Valkyrie running my errands for me. They turned it into a competition, so I also asked Thor to help.”

“You want to tell me what you have so far?”

That was his ticket in. Even when Tony was clearly aching to talk about a project, that light poke into I want you to tell me all about this is the key to getting Tony to open up. 

Of course, Rhodey was an active listener, adding in his own input, and asking questions when he had them. He was no slouch when it came to engineering, and sometimes, like in times like these, parts of his field were relevant. 

“No, it makes perfect sense. We understand stars as gas and heat. Hydrogen and helium are part of the base makeup of our universe, along with water right? And we assumed that was a constant for a long time because all we had were the bounds of this spiral galaxy, but we can’t make those assumptions anymore.”

“Right, because we don’t know about any elements outside of our system, and what if those new elements affect the energy absorption?”

“So that’s why you sent Thor to ask Asgard’s scholars?”

“And Valkyrie to all the furthest planets she knows about because somehow she knows a lot about those, and Carol to talk to the Skrulls and any Kree allies she has left. That data should give us a better idea of what we need to adjust.”

On and on he went. At some point, he hit his stride, and Rhodey stopped responding entirely, happy to just listen. 

The longer he spoke, the more it seemed like years were disappearing off his face. He seemed younger when he was happy, just talking about the things he loved. 

Rhodey could see him at every age in a moment. At 14 with his hand gestures, erratic yet pointed. At 19 with the pacing. At 30 with the way his jaw never seemed to fully relaxed, always ready to brace for another fight. 

And then now, in their 50s, he could see the lines around his eyes. A mix of stress and joy and the ever present reminder that they were getting older, and he was beautiful. 

When Tony was close enough to him again, having planted his feet on the other side of the table he was sitting at, Rhodey reached up to catch his face in his hand. 

Tony stopped abruptly, staring at him. 

“You didn’t have to stop talking.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” Rhodey answered honestly. 

“Why?”

“Can’t I just look at you? You’re very handsome.”

“Thank you, but why?”

“Because I want to. Because your face fascinates me and I like looking at it.”

“What do you like so much about it that it has to interrupt my train of thought?”

“I told you you could keep talking. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I like these,” he said, brushing over the freckles scattered over Tony’s cheeks. “You can’t see them unless you get really close, but I like them.”

“And these,” he thumbed at Tony’s lip, “these are stunning. You speak, and the world listens, and sometimes I don’t think you understand the kind of influence you have. Your words bring hope and joy, and I’m honored to listen to you talk about the things that you love.”

“But these are your loveliest feature.” He stood as he spoke, leaning across the desk to press a kiss to the edges of the lines around his eyes. “I’ve known you for so long. I know every single part of you. And these are my favorites. Because it proves that you’ve lived a full life. That you’ve been happy and sad and stressed and you’ve lived, Tony. And you are so beautiful.”

Tony gaped up at him for a moment. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Rhodey said, already closing the distance between them. 

When they parted, Rhodey removed his hand from Tony’s face. 

“You’re handsome too you know, even if I don’t always say it,” Tony told him. 

He laughed. “Thank you, my love. You can go back to explaining the complexities of Asgardian universities now. I just had to say that.”

“I don’t even remember what I was talking about now, thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome. You were somewhere around graduation and post-undergrad opportunities I think.”

“Right, yeah, so-”

Yeah. This was one of his favorite things.

[sugurus-slxt]

Haikyuu Boys Walking In On You Dancing (smexy edition)

Lineup: Tsukishima Kei, Azumane Asahi, Kozume Kenma, Yamamoto Taketora and Oikawa Tōru.

Warning: cursing, one mention of alcohol, and suggestive smexy content

A/Note: So yes two in a day, I was extra motivated y’all don’t question it. It’s probably because it’s been so long. The songs are just what I like to listen to, m sorry.

Tsukishima Kei

♬♩♪♩ Sean Paul – She Doesn’t Mind ♩♪♩♬

Tsukishima was looking for his bluetooth headphones everywhere because he was positive he had left them on the couch, in the living room. However, they seemed to have grown legs and walked elsewhere, he joked to himself. “Y/N! Shorty! Have you seen my headphones?” he called loudly but no response. He walked through the house shouting your name but you were nowhere to be found. Tsukishima glanced at the clock on the wall; it read 4:30PM. He considered maybe you had been outside, possibly reading a book which you often did.

He was right; there you were blanket laid on the grass with the long-forgotten book and you standing up dancing with his headphones. You hadn’t seen him yet and he had considered stopping you but he just couldn’t. Kei stood at the door admiring the way your hips rolled and body moved. He wondered what you were listening to make you dance this way, so beautifully, so erotically. Tsukishima wasn’t much of a dancer but he’d love to be body to body with you right now. He had clearly gotten a bit too excited and the tent in his pants was proof. His cheeks burned red in embarrassment, you still dancing, unaware of his presence.

He quietly crept up behind you gently clasping his hands around your waist. You jumped a bit, immediately lowering the headphones. “I was looking for those you know,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “I- I’m sorry you can have them back now,” you apolgise trying to turn around. He held your body still, pressing his closer to yours. Then you felt it, the hardness pressed against your back, “But I want something else now. Hmmmm. Care to help me with it shortcake?” he asked his hands finding his way below your shirt, caressing your chest and brushing over your nipples. “K- Kei we’re outside. S-someone could see,” you tried reasoning.

“Really… Hmm you didn’t seem to mind a few seconds ago. So unless you want the neighbors to get a perfect view of your body being wrecked which I’m sure they wouldn’t mind get your ass on the bed upstairs right now,” he said biting your ear, eliciting a whimper from you. “I- y-yes sir,” you reply, pulling yourself from his grasp to go upstairs, he followed closely behind.

Azumane Asahi

♬♩♪♩ Bailando – Enrique Iglesias ♩♪♩♬

Asahi was busy at work in his office; with a tight deadline and 3 designs to perfect every waking hour was spent working. But he’s been staring at the blank page for the past 20 minutes with no breakthrough and it’s not because he couldn’t come up with anything, he just couldn’t concentrate. Why? Because right now you were just outside his door in the living room blasting music. It’s not like you meant to disturb him or had forgotten either, he just didn’t tell you.

He knows you’d insist on staying up to ungodly hours with him as he finished his designs so he told you he’d be in bed shortly, he just had some papers to sign. He hoped you would go to sleep but nope. Asahi wanted to leave you to your music he truly did, he knew you were happiest when you’re dancing and enjoying yourself but he wanted to enjoy it with you. The faster he finished the faster he could come and be with you, so he decided to tell you.

“Hey-,” the words died in his throat as his eyes landed on you. Asahi considered retreating to his office right now but he couldn’t move. You hadn’t heard him and he was kind of glad you didn’t. Your hips swayed to the beat, moving in just the right way, his eyes didn’t leave you. Your clothes hugged your body just right even if they were just sleepwear. Was that really what you wore to sleep he thought? If he had noticed all this sooner he was sure your nights would end a much different way. Asahi’s face flushed red; he cursed himself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts.

Your hands trailed up your body that was moving to the music as you finally turned to see him. “Oh! Hey, honey. I didn’t see you there,” you paused the music and walked up to him. “I- I wanted you to turn down the music. I- mean if that’s alright,” he said scratching his neck. “Yeah yeah. I’m sorry honey. Lemme do that and you can get back to your work,” you pulled his hand to your lips placing a kiss on them, and walking back to the speaker. “W-wait could you umm maybe help me with something. It's fine if you can’t,” he waved his hands in front of him. You look down to find a very turned-on Asahi and chuckled, “Mmmm Of course honey. Maybe next time you can join me dancing. I didn’t know you liked it so much.” Asahi hid his face in his hands as he followed you to the bedroom.

Kenma Kozume

♬♩♪♩ LUV – Tory Lanez ♩♪♩♬

Kenma was busy working a TikTok Livestream because his followers and subscribers have been bombarding his inbox with messages to get one. He was currently in the process of making sure everything was in order as people started popping in and saying hi. You were in the bedroom trying to strike up some inspiration but instead, you got so caught up in the music. Meanwhile, Kenma was telling them about his day but the chat was blowing up with questions so he had skipped over to answer them.

About an hour had passed and he was getting a bit hungry so he decided to headed over to the kitchen, phone in hand to get some apple pie from the fridge. Everyone started commenting typical Kodzuken, a couple people suggested that he ask you if you wanted any. His fan base was very familiar with your presence and often asked for ideas where he would interact with you. The community loved seeing the softer side of Kenma that came out when you were around. His phone was turned to face you so everyone could see you when he entered.

Not even five seconds after he opened the door he closed it. “Hey guys, ummm I need to go. I’ll come back later. Kodzuken out,” he quickly ended the stream and turned off his phone. “Hey, baby. Are you ok?” you peeked out from the door one side of your bluetooth earbuds still in. His face was tinted pink as he pushed you into the room, “I- Kitten … umm my fan base just saw… they … well how you were dancing and I-,” you stopped him pulling him to lay his head on your lap. “I’m sorry baby, but it’s nothing special. Was I bad?” You ask while stroking his hair but he sat straight up. “No! I mean no, you weren’t bad. It was just,” he played with his fingers, “It was just really seductive and it's that’s not really for my fan base to see. “

“Oh? Then who is it for then? Hmmm,” you asked in a teasing manner. He was embarrassed but still confidently answered, “For me ok. It’s for me now stop teasing me ok,” he pouted turning away from you. You giggled, “I’m sorry but maybe you want me to continue. For you alone that is?” He thought about it but then his stomach growled, “Ok I do but maybe eat some apple pie with me first?” You nodded and you both headed to the kitchen but don’t think he forgot about your suggestion.

Yamamoto Taketora

♬♩♪♩ Fast Wine – Machel Montano ♩♪♩♬

Today had gone by pretty slow, and you spent it watching movies and just spending time with Yamamoto. But now it was a bit later and you were feeling some creative juices flowing so you decided to put that to use you grabbed your stuff and set it up at the kitchen counter. He decided to up Kenma’s offer to play some games. About two hours had gone by and your shoulder was getting pretty sore. The playlist was pretty upbeat and just as you had gotten up a dance-worthy song had begun to play. You thought maybe it’d be a good warm-up.

You were swaying your body to the beat and getting in the rhythm. Your hips moved freely as you dragged your hand over your body and fit your dancing to the nature of the song. What you didn't know, is as soon as you started to dance Taketora was coming to get some snacks and check up on you. But his plans changed when he saw you dancing, he froze. If he went back now he’d definitely have to take a cold shower and he saw no difference if he stayed. So he decided to enjoy it for a bit. His cheeks were lightly dusted pink and the situation in his pants was only getting harder.

He felt weird just standing there, kind of like he was being a creep so he decided to quickly run to the kitchen and run back as the song came to a close. “H-hey baby. Just getting a snack and heading back,” he said hurriedly. “Oh ok. Did you enjoy the view?” you quirked your eyebrow smirking at him. “W-what? I didn’t see anything just you baby always se- I mean beautiful as ever,” he turned away from you and opened the fridge. You slowly walk up behind him, and start climbing your fingers up his arms, “Really nothing? I guess that’s too bad, I wanted to know what you thought. Guess I just have to assume it was terrible.”

“Wait! Baby your dancing is really amazing and sexy! How could you say it’s bad!” he shouted covering his face in realisation of what he just said. You burst out in a fit of laughter, it was so easy to get him to admit things, “Babe I’m sorry but I’m glad you like it. I didn’t know how much you saw I only caught you down to the end. But I’m glad you like it I but I do see that your little friend down there liked it much more.” You pointed down to his crotch which he covered while flushing bright red. “I’m sorry I- umm I’ll take care of it,” he apologised turning to leave. “How about we both have a shower and I can fix it for you hmm,” you held his hand and whispered in his ear. “Y-yes p-please. Thank you,” he looked down blushing as you led him to the bathroom.

Oikawa Tōru

♬♩♪♩ Hips Don’t Lie – Shakira ♩♪♩♬

Oikawa was gone for practice and you decided it’d be fun to catch up with your friends because it had been a while. You were on a video call and you guys had started talking about music and gotten into a bit of details about dancing. So now you and all your friends were showing their wining and grinding skills. This was a rather normal occurrence because in all honestly things always got wild between you guys. Put the three of you in a club and all eyes would be on you in no time. It was always a surprise how a couple shots could go such a long way.

You were going off to this song, all the seductive movements, hands dragging over the dips of your body and your hips moving at just the right tempo. Tōru had forgotten his water bottle and came back only to find you dancing. Turned on was an understatement but his time in Brazil gave him experience in more than one way and he was going to use that. This man was not shy but he did wait for the right moment to jump in. He came up behind you resting his hands on your waist, guiding your movement with his. “Hey cutie, moving that beautiful body of yours I see,” he whispered in your ear gently biting it. “You startled me,” you smiled still dancing as you put your arms back against his chest and dragged your body down his, slowly coming back up.

He started placing kisses on your neck, “Mmmm m sorry, fuck I’m not gonna make it to practice baby.” He twirled you away from his body only to bring you back and dip you. He smiled and pulled you up for a kiss. Suddenly, whistles and claps erupted, “Shit- I forgot I was talking to them.” He chuckled as they asked where they can find themselves an Oikawa Tōru. “Well ladies there’s only one and I don’t think Y/N-chan is sharing,” giving them a wink.

“Well, I don’t know you cause a lot more problems than fix them,” you joke as he clutched his chest. “How rude Y/N-chan! Maybe I’ll take your friends up on their offer then,” he crossed his arms and pouted childishly. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re all mine mister, and now what’s that about not going to practice. What did you have in mind?” you asked ending the call with your friends. He didn’t reply, just grabbed you by the waist and placed you on his lap, earning a small squeak from you.

Tell me if you'd like to see anyone else for this? Whether it's MHA or Haikyuu, maybe even Jujutsu Kaisen.

If you liked my writing, maybe you’d like to buy me a coffee?

[imerdwarf]

Part One: The First Meeting

Summary: Wanda invites you over to the compound for some unwinding girly time, when a man interrupts halfway through, taking something of Wanda's and your heart.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader, beefy!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, beefy!Bucky, stressed reader, fluffs, love at first sight, strangers to crushes? 🥰

Word Count: 1,350

Author's Notes: This is day one of The Week in Love challenge hosted by @the-ss-horniest-book-club, this is my first mini series so I hope you guys enjoy it 🥰

This week was just sucky, everything about it just sucked. Your boss ended up giving you a hard time at work, overworking you as usual by piling a ton of files on your desk with a strict deadline or the threat of 'you're fired!' and you feared your boss Rumlow may just follow through on it.

Work wasn't the only thing you were struggling with this week, your heating completely broke down and your landlord refused to get it fixed because it wasn't deemed as urgent. It was the middle of winter, a good foot of snow had completely blanketed the streets and sidewalks of New York City, you were left to freeze to death in your apartment and still, it was deemed as not urgent.

To make this week somewhat tolerable, you had been texting with Wanda and had told her just a couple of things that were going wrong and how stressed it was all making you feel. Wanda hated to see her friends upset and stressed, and invited you over to the compound to unwind and stay a couple of days with a promise she would do everything in her power to make sure you have a good time and that you leave in a better mindset.

And, it was exactly how she had promised it would be, warm, safe and comfortable. After she told you to take a hot shower and gave you one of her fluffy white robes, the wine was going down nicely as you cozied up in Wanda's room, giggling and blushing at the erotic scenes from Bridgerton, a Netflix series you were currently binging together.

An evening like this was exactly what the doctor ordered, it had been months since you last saw Wanda because she was away doing her avenging duties. Her celebrity status never played on your mind either, you loved Wanda as your sister and the two of you have been friends for quite some time now. Usually, when Wanda wasn't on missions, she would come and hang out at your small apartment in Brooklyn. But, seeing as you had no heating and in her own words, "your building looks like a run down dump," the compound seemed the obvious choice.

The next steamy scene was just starting when a fist knocked on the door, sending you tipsy ladies into a fit of giggles.

"Come- come in!" Wanda snorts, taking a sip from her drink and sitting up with her back against the headboard, you did the same.

The door opens and so does your mouth - in walks a man who looks like he was carved by the gods themselves. He was a tall, beefy-looking man in skin-tight sweatpants and an off-white tank top with his hair tied back in a messy bun. His left arm glimmers under the mood lighting in Wanda's room and you swear that he's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Wanda has never mentioned that she worked with gorgeous men before since she always talks to you about Vision.

"Evenin' ladies." The man smiles, his blue orbs meet yours and your heart feels like it's about to jump out of your chest and into his large hands. "Hello." He waves at you, noticing you were staring. Heat creeps up to your cheeks and you wave back shyly muttering a quiet hello back under your breath.

"Evening Barnes, what can I do you for?" Wanda cackles and her joke makes you giggle, he raises an eyebrow and grins.

"Are you two drunk?" He teases, his eyes momentarily flicking to the TV and blushing when he realises what the two of you are watching.

"Maybe a little." Wanda nudges you, a little too harshly that you nearly fall off the side of the bed, this prompts another round of giggles from the two of you.

"Oh well, I've lost my phone charger, can I borrow yours?" He asks politely, smiling at you before Wanda gets off the bed. You subconsciously put down your wine glass and tuck your hands between your thighs under your robe, feeling yourself growing shyer under his sweet gaze.

"I want it back!" She warns, jabbing her index finger in his chest.

"Yes ma'am." He salutes, "you two be good now!" He winks at you before retreating out of the room and closing the door behind him.

When he's gone, you push the air from your lungs and relax your shoulders. Your heart is still racing and his smile is engrained in your memory.

Wanda notices your flushed state and whistles, "my, my. Do you have a little crush already?" She teases, joining you back on the bed and topping up the wine. His presence made you sober up pretty quickly.

"Nooo, I don't know him!" You giggle and drop your head, your smile reaching your eyes.

"His name is James, but he goes by Bucky aaaaaand," she pauses to take a sip, "he's single, like you." She winks, putting her glass down on the bedside table and curling her tired body into yours.

The next morning, you're awake before Wanda and without a hangover. She's still snoring and fast asleep next to you, the air in the room is warm and through the parted curtains, the falling snowflakes makes you smile in contentment.

Pulling the duvet covers back, you reach over into your night bag and pull out your fuzzy socks, your leggings and an oversized sweater. Changing in quicktime, you leave Wanda's room and search for the kitchen for some coffee.

The compound was certainly larger than you expected, there were doors and hallways everywhere. Your head whipped left to right trying to remember which way you arrived last night when she brought you up from the common room after you met Steve Rogers and Natasha. You bite your nails nervously, afraid of stumbling into a room you weren't meant to be in.

A door opens further down the hallway, and your eyes widen. The man who entered Wanda's room last night appears with a yawn, his hand runs up and down his face as he attempts to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes.

Instead of his sweatpants and tank top, he's clad in skintight black jeans to accentuate his thigh muscles, and a black Henley with a silver chain hanging around his neck.

However, his stoic expression turns into a soft smile when he spots you standing there, looking like a deer caught in headlights and dare he say, adorable.

"Good mornin' doll, you okay?" He asks as he gets nearer. Your breath is shaky and you bite your lip when your heart skips a beat again just like last night.

"Um, I'm lost." You chuckle shyly, biting your nail. He slowly reaches out and pulls your hand from your mouth. His touch is electrifying, warm and soft all at the same time.

"Where are you headed?" He clears his throat and shoves his hands in the front of his pockets.

"The kitchen." Your cheeks heat up under his gaze just like it did last night and you're afraid if he keeps looking at you like this, you'll melt into the floor.

"I'm going there too, I can show you if you want..." He trails off and furrows his eyebrows, realising he doesn't even know your name.

"Y/N." You smile, "and yes please, I'd be grateful."

"Y/N." He repeats, your name tasting like drops of honey on his tongue, "I'm Bucky." He pulls his right hand from his pocket, extending it towards you for you to shake.

"It's nice to officially meet you, Bucky." You smile, taking his hand in yours and shaking it. His palm has rough skin, while the back of it is soft and warm.

"Likewise doll, Wanda has talked about you." he blushes putting his hand back in his pocket, "oh and uh, the kitchen is this way." He starts to walk down the narrow hallway, you trail after him, watching his back muscles ripple with each stride in his step.

"I hope she told you good things," you joke, your pace not being able to keep up with him.

"Only the good things, doll." He chuckles before adding, "did you have fun last night?"

"Oh, I did! Very much yes, Wanda has asked me to stay a few nights." He slows down his pace and waits for you to catch up.

"Oh yeah? I'm happy about that." He grins, looking down at you and watches you drop your head to the floor and smile triumphantly.

"I am too." You gaze into each others eyes for a few moments before you look away, knowing you're going to fall fast and hard for this man.

Bucky on the other hand, hasn't been able to get you off his mind since he saw you in Wanda's room last night, the way you became flustered when he looked at you, the shy smile you exchanged. Your smile was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes last night, and the first thing he saw when he opened them this morning. He only learned your name moments ago, but maybe Steve was right, maybe love at first sight really does exist.

Taglist: @smokeybluebrooke-lyn @pinkdiamond1016 @whatrambles @skkye @bestofbucky @ladyeliot @ddowii @randomfandompenguin @marvelgirl7

Series: @thefallenbibliophilequote @gudenuph @emmabarnes @halietigges @astro-ironman @aliceaddellheidde @justab-eautifulmess @toribentleyva @vicmc624

[troubatrain]

afterglow - k. hayes

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

You were having the day from hell. You were late for a work meeting, which only ended in being berated by your boss for the third time this week. You were positive she was just trying to push you to quit, which is just wonderful. You’d barely been working there a year, and the thing that you sacrificed for that job was one of the hardest decisions you’d ever made. Then, in true New York City fashion, you were six blocks from a subway station and it started to downpour on your walk home. You finally walk into your apartment, kicking off your now soaked beyond belief heels, walking into your kitchen immediately and grabbing a bottle of wine out of your fridge. You sigh, pouring it and taking it into your bedroom.

The worst part of your day was still looming. You pull out a box, filled to the brim with the memories of your past relationship. You called Kevin a week ago, after running into Mika at the Starbucks a few blocks away from MSG. You remembered you had a box with his, and you offered it to him when he came to play the Rangers. You didn’t think you would even get an answer, and you knew Kevin left things everywhere and he’d just replace them like it never happened. You couldn’t even remember how many ties of his would go missing by the time he would come back from a road trip. But, Kevin answered that he would swing by and grab them after his flight landed. You hadn’t seen Kevin since the night you kicked him out of your apartment, far too livid at him to form words.

February 25, 2018

You were on edge all day. Kevin had mentioned to you when you started dating that he might not be in New York all season. You both decided to ignore that, pretending like it wasn’t happening until it was. You had only been seeing each other for a few months, but with Kevin, you knew it would be him forever. 

You stared at the TV in shock, mouth hanging open at the news.

Kevin Hayes traded to the Winnipeg Jets

You didn’t care what the Rangers had gotten in return, you didn’t care about how far away Winnipeg was, you cared that your entire world was just torn apart. You hadn’t been dating long at the time, a mere six months, which put you in a bizarre position about what the future would hold for the two of you. You sat in your apartment in the West Village, waiting for Kevin to make the short trip from Chelsea. 

“Babe?” You hear him unlock the door with the key you’d given him a month ago.

“You’re leaving,” You whisper lowly, not wanting to admit to yourself.

“Y/N, it’s going to be okay, we’ll work it out. You can come with me, in the off-season I’ll sign a new deal and we’ll start making a new home for ourselves,” Kevin says softly, baby blue eyes looking into yours as he kneels in front of you on the couch to get eye-level with you. 

“Kev I can’t just pick up and leave, I have work and a life here,” You tried to explain, you’d moved to New York when you were 18 and headed to NYU, bright eyed and full of hope, and stayed after graduation, building a career for yourself in the city. You loved New York, the culture, the atmosphere, and on most nights the people. You’d just taken your dream job, and you weren’t in any position to give it up.

“I can take care of you, come September we’ll be able to settle down somewhere else,” Kevin whispers, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I don’t want that Kev!” You shout, not realizing your voice had risen, “I did all of this on my own, I’m not going to let you just take care of me, you know that.”

“Y/N what am I supposed to do? This my job, I don’t have a choice, I told you this might happen,” Kevin shouts back. 

He was right, he told you after your first date that he wasn’t sure if he would even be a Ranger for the rest of the season. His contract was going to expire and the team was in a rebuild, he knew if he had a good season he would be gone by the deadline.

“Kevin, I’m not that girl,” You start, you were upset and you were lashing out at Kevin for even asking you to leave New York, “I’m not going to follow you around and give my dreams for your job.”

“I’ve never asked you to be,” Kevin shouts back, “Can you be the kind of girl who’s there for me?”

“I’m sure you can find her in Winnipeg,” You deadpan, crossing your arms at him. It was the first time you’d ever fought, and most definitely the first time Kevin’s ever raised his voice at you. His face was red, veins popping out of his neck. He was mad, and you were mad that he couldn’t understand where you were coming from. Kevin was more traditional than you, and while it made him a gentleman, it made it hard for him to get that you liked to work.

“You want me to go off to Winnipeg and find another girl?” Kevin asks, his tone harsh, “It would make road trips fun again.”

His last words were muttered under his breath, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hear them. The second the words slipped out of his mouth, you both went silent. His sentence rocked your world. You never thought Kevin would cheat on you, he’d always made it clear to you that he was yours and you were his. But, the way the words fell out so easily made your skin crawl. You wanted to scream, cry, and fight with him for the next day - but you weren’t being given that time.

“Kevin, just go, I’m sure you need to pack,” You say, tears threatening to spill. 

He stands in the doorway, debating whether or not to leave, he looks at you defeated and walks out of your apartment. You sat on the floor of your apartment that night, tears flooding out of your eyes while you wore Kevin’s too big Red Sox hoodie that you loved so much.

--

You wipe a little dust off the box, it's been almost a year since that night. You’d seen Kevin, on the internet at least, not being able to stop yourself from Instagram stalking your ex-boyfriend. You unfollowed all of his friends, and most of his family - only following his sister just because you liked to see pictures of his niece. Which was fine, until she posted a video of Kevin trying to braid her hair when they headed to Winnipeg to visit, and you cried in the bathroom at work. You opened it, trying to even remember what was inside.

You pulled out a few of his hoodies, because his clothes were always thrown around your apartment. You laugh, pulling out the Patriots hoodie you’d borrowed after the first night you crashed in his apartment. You wore it on the walk back, ignoring hollers about the sports team on your chest while you weaved through the streets of Manhattan while you took a walk of shame back to your place. You hold the gray fabric in your hands, remembering the way it felt - soft like Kevin always was with you. You pull out a couple of his beanies, remember how many he would leave at your house and then just buy another because he forgot about it. You pulled out a few ticket stubs, random concerts you’d both been to that you tossed in there when you broke up. Then you hit the two small velvet boxes that you never stopped thinking about.

You pulled out the first box, opening it to reveal the necklace Kevin had gotten you for Christmas. It was so perfect, you were positive Brady’s girlfriend had to have helped him pick it out. You only tried to wear it once after you broke up, but the memories that flooded back when you put it on was too much. Then there was the other box. Kevin had gotten you the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen in your life for your birthday. He claimed it didn’t mean anything, but when his eyes sparkled when you slipped it on your left hand, to try it on in the restaurant you were in, you thought it may mean more than he was leading on. It was your favorite piece of jewelry, the ring was dainty and small just the way you liked it. You were surprised Kevin even picked it out, considering he lived by the motto that the bigger the better, but he told you he knew you needed it when he saw it in a shop window on a roadtrip in Chicago. You drop the box, hoping maybe he would give it to someone else one day, if there wasn't someone else already.

You hear your someone try to buzz into your building and you knew it had to be Kevin. You carry the box with you in the living room, buzzing him in and dropping it on the island in your kitchen. You sigh, hearing his heavy footsteps come down the door, opening it and letting himself in.

“Hey,” You say, your voice small.

“Hey,” Kevin breathes out, you were both nervous which you guess could be a good thing. He looked different, his hair was a little longer and his beard a little fuller. 

Suddenly, as if the universe decided to lay it all on you today, the power in your apartment shuts out, a loud crash of thunder following. You jump, feeling Kevin’s large hands on your shoulders when you do.

“Fuck, give me a minute,” You mutter, running into your room to grab some candles. You spread them around your apartment, lighting them until your apartment wasn’t completely dark.

“All of downtown is in a blackout,” Kevin says, reading the news on his phone, “Like all of it.”

You bite your lip, debating your options. You shouldn’t let Kevin go back out in this weather, and with no power on one half of Manhattan, it wasn’t a great idea. 

“You should stay, til this all blows over,” You offer, gesturing to your island where the box sat.

“That’s my stuff?” Kevin asks, opening the box and smiling at the contents. You watch them sift through the box, a wide smile on his face that could barely make out in the glow of the candles that littered your apartment. His hands gripped the same velvet box you dropped in just before he arrived.

“You should keep these,” Kevin says, “They were gifts.”

“Give them to someone else one day,” You whisper, sitting on your counter while you watched him, “That’s what you wanted right?”

You didn’t realize the words came out of your mouth. You’d been harboring this feeling of resentment for so long, your entire world was crushed in a matter of a night and you just wanted some closure. You thought you could get it by just giving him his stuff back, but it still wasn’t enough.

“I didn’t want that,” Kevin says back, “You said it first!”

“You asked me to be someone I wasn’t Kevin,” You say, your voice rising, “That wasn’t fair to me!”

“It wasn’t fair to me that I had to leave, but I did,” Kevin shouts, “And all I wanted was for you to come with me, because I love you.”

“Do you think that it was fucking easy to let you go? Or that I didn’t spend months of my life regretting it? Because I did,” You yell, tears welling up in your eyes, “Congrats Kevin you win, I was fucking miserable without you and the reason I stayed in New York isn’t working out.”

You stomp into your room, slamming the door and sliding down it. You finally just let yourself cry. About that fucking night. About losing the love of your life for some job that isn’t working out. About ruining your own happiness because you could just compromise once. Kevin knocked lightly on the other side, finally giving up after what was probably his hundredth time, sliding down the other side of your bedroom door.

“It was really lonely up there” Kevin whispers, loud enough for you to hear through the door, “In Winnipeg.”

Kevin talked for an hour. He talked about Winnipeg, how no matter what he did he couldn’t stop thinking about you. How he wishes you could have been there. He talked about his summer in Boston, mentioning how his sister got married and he wished you were there. He talked about how his mom asked about you all summer, but he just kept brushing it off because he couldn’t tell her it was his fault. Which leads up to now, where he is finally getting to the new city he set roots in.

“-I like Philly,” Kevin whispers, “You would too, everyone there is great. You’d love my teammates, and they’d love you.”

“Kev?” You finally say, your voice still trembling, “What happened to us?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin says back, his head tapping the door, “I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t know why I said it, but I didn’t mean it.”

“We were both upset, about everything,” You say back, standing up and opening the door, “I’m sorry for telling you to go find someone else.”

Kevin stands up, his hands finding both sides of your face to wipe away the stray tears that were left, “I’m never going to find someone else.”

“Kevin, I can’t pick up and run off with you,” You say, repeating the same thing you did a few months ago, “Just not right now.”

“Philly is barely three hours away,” Kevin counters, “I’m willing to do it if you are, because I can’t walk out of here without trying.”

You finally place your lips on his, soft and slow at first. But when your hands found the back of Kevin’s neck, playing with the hair that was starting to curl, you could feel him grunt into your mouth and you smiled against his lips because you knew it drove him crazy. That was the point, you knew everything about him because he was yours, and you were his.

[excitedlysuffering]

No Reason- Kakashi X Reader

@praisingkuroosbedhead hope this was what you were looking for!💖

I’m a bit behind on requests, I had a lot of school deadlines that just passed they were really stressing me out but now that I’m finished, I’ll definitely be more active!!

You laughed at the joke your most recent mission partner, Daichi, had made. You had just returned from Konoha after your third straight mission with the man since you worked together excellently.

“How about lunch, my treat?” You thought for a second. Your mission report to Kakashi could wait, he was usually pretty lax with you. “Sure! I’m famished.” Walking, talking, and laughing, the two of you made your way to Ichiraku ramen. (A/N: Ichiraku and Yakiniku Q are the only food places I know fml)

“So, what’s it like dating the Hokage?” He asked, eyebrows wiggling. You laughed, sipping (your drink). “It can be a challenge sometimes, Kakashi is always busy, but we make time. Oh, don’t forget the fangirls. They’re everywhere.”

Daichi chuckled. “I’m sure they are. People were always all over him.” The two of you continued to talk well after your food was gone, the two of you that wrapped in your conversation.

“I had a lot of fun, Daichi, but I have to turn in the mission report, so I’ll see you later?” You suggested. The man grinned, standing up. “I had fun too, we should definitely do this another time!”

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

You knocked on the Hokage office door, excited to finally see your lover. “It’s open.” You burst into the room, your grin as wide as ever. “Hey, Kashi!” His eyes brightened as they met yours, and he stood up to meet you.

You just about lost yourselves in the man’s arms, you had missed him quite a bit during your week-long mission. “Hey, (Y/N/N)... I was worried when you didn’t arrive when you said you would.”

You pulled back, a sheepish smile on your face. “Sorry about that, Daichi and I stopped for lunch on the way here.” Kakashi’s face soured, much to your confusion. “Oh. How, um, how is he?” Your eyes narrowed at the obvious change in his demeanor.

“He’s well, exhausted, unsurprisingly. How have you been? Have you been taking breaks?” The silverette nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Yes. anyways, I’ll be home soon, so I’ll see you there, (Y/N).”

Your jaw dropped at the obvious dismissal. You wanted to confront him, but his irritated expression stopped you short. There was no reason to start a confrontation, it would be better to discuss it when both of you were calm.

“Right… I’ll see you soon, love.” Still, it hurt a little, you had missed him and you had assumed he’d missed you a bit too.

When you arrived home, you felt more downcast than ever. You robotically completed your night routine, showering, changing, cooking dinner, unpacking your supplies. Nothing quite held your attention the way it usually did. Having no appetite, you picked up a book, content to wait for Kakashi to get home.

O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O

Arms curling underneath your back and your legs woke you up with a start. Kakashi was carrying you from the living room, but not once did he meet your eyes. “Kakashi?” He didn’t respond, just set you down on your shared bed.

He silently slid in next to you and that was the last straw for you. You sat up, turning on your lamp.

“What is your problem?! I come back from a week-long mission and you have nothing at all to say to me?” He didn’t respond, didn’t even turn over. You exhaled.

“Fine, cause I have a lot to say to you! I’ve been home for a total of five days this month. Every day I was gone, I was thinking about you. I was missing you. I would’ve thought you would’ve been a little excited to see me… but maybe I was wrong…” Your voice cracked towards the end.

“That’s not it, (Y/N)...” Kakashi sat up next to you, eyes cast downwards. “I was waiting for you to get back but getting lunch with Daichi,” he spat his name out like a curse, “seemed more important than seeing me.”

Your eyes practically bulged out at the revelation. “You think I enjoy his company more than yours?” The only reply was his scoff. “Well, you’ve requested that he be your partner for the last three missions.”

You chuckled humorlessly. “Really? You know our chakra natures go well together. He will never be as important to me as you are.” You saw that his cheeks were tinted pink, but he kept going.

“How do you know that he doesn’t feel that way about you though?” You smiled, holding his hand. “Daichi is planning on asking his girlfriend to marry him tonight. That’s what we talked about today. He wanted advice.”

Kakashi was silent as he mulled the information over for a second. “I love you, Kakashi, and only you, okay? I promise you have no reason to be jealous.” You wrapped him in a hug, hoping he was no longer hurt or upset. His hands landed tentatively on your back.

“I’ve been a real jerk, haven’t I?’’ You shrugged, laughing lightly. “You were just a little jealous, Kashi, it happens to the best of us.” He pulled back and laid a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry, baby.” You kissed him one more time. “All forgiven, Kashi. On one condition.”

He raised his eyebrow in response. “Cuddle me?” He smirked. “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t going to do that anyways.”

[98prilla]

Absorbing Anxiety

Based on @loveceit ‘s concept of Virgil being able to absorb the worries of the other sides! It was such a great concept and I loved it, so here’s my little take on it. Please let me know what you think!

They were all in the kitchen of the mindscape. Usually, they each grabbed food individually or just conjured up stuff when they wanted to eat, but Patton insisted once a week they all cook and hang out and eat with each other. A family supper, you could say.

Currently, Patton was looking over Roman's shoulder, trying to instruct him in making spaghetti sauce. Virgil was sitting at the kitchen island, watching them bicker, absolutely sure they were going to start the stove on fire. Then it would spread to the rest of the kitchen, the table, their rooms, it would be nothing but searing heat and dancing flames. He could taste the ash in his mouth, feel the smoke choking his lungs, his skin burning and blistering as he fought through the fire, trying to escape, but it was everywhere, there was no way out.

“Yo, edge lord!” He jerked at Roman's voice, cutting through his daydream. Or day mare? Whatever.

“what, prince of annoying me?” he asked, glaring slightly up at him from under his bangs.

“Honestly Roman, did you even bother to read over the recipe for this dish before you began cooking?” Logan asked, entering, distracting Roman. Virgil breathed out a slight sigh, glad to feel the attention shift away from him.

“Please, I’m a master chef! I can improvise with the best of them!” He replied, spucking spaghetti sauce against the wall as he gestured with the spoon he’d been using for stirring. Virgil snorted and Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses.

“He’s doing great, Logan! He just needs some more practice.” Patton countered, gently taking away the spoon from Roman anyway.

“So did Undyne” Virgil muttered to himself. He didn’t notice Logan’s attention shift his way, or the hint of puzzlement that slipped into his gaze. Virgil had seemed more, well, anxious of late, and he was going to solve this mystery.

They were at the table, Virgil having set the places while Logan monitored the kitchen, which helped put his mind at ease about the whole fire thing. Despite Roman’s best attempts, the pasta was quite good, and Virgil could practically live off garlic bread, which always accompanied this meal. It was relatively quiet as they all ate. Usually Patton would finish first, and then quiz everyone else about their day.

They all had their own schedules, though obviously they worked together quite a bit. Logan got them all up by 9am usually. They would all scrounge for breakfast, or Patton would make pancakes. Usually Roman would grumble and moan for twenty minutes before actually getting up, while Virgil was one of the first in the kitchen, making coffee. They’d socialize a bit, then split off, Logan trying to make sure Thomas followed his schedule, usually having to reign in Patton, who wanted to chase after every dog they passed on the street. Roman was usually brain storming or questing through the imagination for new and interesting ideas, sometimes bringing the rest of them along. Virgil hated to admit it, but he actually kind of liked these excursions. It was a bit like playing live d&d. He was a rogue type, obviously. And other than that, Virgil kept Thomas aware of his surroundings, of any dangers, of impending deadlines, of things that needed to be worked on urgently and things that could wait. Usually they all had some down time in the evening they spent together, or with Thomas as well, then it was off to bed. Virgil usually was up the latest, going down rabbit holes of conspiracy theories or loose ends from the day, trying not to keep Thomas awake.

“Could you pass the bread, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil smiled, coming out of his thoughts.

“anything for you, Pat.” He replied, passing the plate across the table to Patton. For a moment as the plate passed from one hand to another, their fingers touched.

Insecurities. About being too silly, not being taken seriously, not being listened to, being dismissed. He only wanted to help, but it seemed nothing he did was ever good enough, or just caused more harm. All his nostalgia and daydreaming just distracted from what was important, what was real and there and now, but he couldn’t let go of the past, even when it hurt. So he clung to it like a lifeline even when he knew it was better to let go, and it hurt…

Virgil bit his lip as he pulled his hand away, making sure no one else saw the slight flicker of shadow that vanished into his skin, absorbed by his being. He noticed with satisfaction that Patton chartered away the rest of the meal, eyes bright and filled with excitement, all the clouds gone from his mind. He didn’t notice Logan’s appraising eyes on him. Virgil went to bed early that night.

                 Roman was pacing the living room. Virgil was sitting on the couch, headphones on, playing some podcast he was only really half listening to as he watched Roman endlessly walking back and forth, wearing holes in the carpet. He was muttering to himself too, which was never a good sign. With a sigh he pulled the headphones down around his neck.

         “Having trouble, Romeo?” He asked, smirking despite himself. It was always fun to see Roman in a bit of a pickle, it didn’t happen too often that creativity couldn’t think of anything creative.

         “I’ve been brainstorming for hours, and I’ve got nothing, nada, zero! It’s hopeless. I’ll never have another idea.” He plopped dramatically onto the couch, arm splayed across his forehead. Virgil snorted.

         “Please. You’re literally the embodiment of ideas. How hard could it be to think of an idea for a video?” He asked, and Roman immediately sat up, a gleam in his eye as he looked at Virgil.

         “Oh alright. Hit me with something. Give it a go. What’ve you got, off the top of your head?” Roman asked. Virgil didn’t even blink.

         “Ghost hunting. Get an audio tape, an emf reader, and boom, video.” Roman shook his head.

         “You know that will scare Patton to death, and Logan will be talking our ear off the entire time about the scientific impossibility of ghosts. In the end, Thomas won’t believe we’ve found something even if a full bodied apparition appears in front of us.” Roman replied. “Anything else?”

         “Hmm could do more gaming stuff with his friends. Everyone seems to love that, haven’t done a Kingdom Hearts episode in a while. I know you love Disney.” Virgil teased.

         “Tempting, tempting, but been there done that. I’m trying to think of something different, something we haven’t already done before.” Virgil groaned, leaning back against the couch.

         “Alright, maybe this is a biit harder than I was giving you credit for. But you’ll think of something. It’s what you do. Go run around in the imagination for a while, beat up the dragon witch, I dunno.” Virgil replied, reaching up to push back his hair, grazing Roman’s arm with his own as he did so.

         Worries. Nothing he did was original anymore, was showstopping, amazing, attention getting. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out he was a fraud, before he ran out of ideas permanently, and then Thomas’s career would be over. He’d have ruined it for all them, for Thomas, let them all down. Or worse, he’d be deposed by Remus. Thomas’s content would turn into a dumpster fire and all of his loving fans would turn against him, the backlash would be on national TV, he’d be the laughing stock of the entire internet, no one would care about him anymore. And he’d be powerless to do anything about it, because deep down, he was just a faker. He was nothing, nothing at all.

         Virgil barely registered Roman’s rushed farewell as he hurried off to his room, alight with some new idea he needed to start sketching out before he lost it. Virgil flipped his hood up, looking at his arm. It took the darkness longer to fade this time, and he didn’t know why. It had never felt like this before, so overwhelming, so built up. He drew in a breath, trying to contain his own spiraling thoughts.

         It had to be something to do with being originally a “dark side” now living in the “light side”. It had to be something to do with the others. Deceit, if he had to place his bets. Because of him, he was so full on his own personal stress and worry that it was harder and took longer to absorb the other’s. But he had to. If they wanted to get anything done, he had to. He could handle it. He always had, anyways.

           It was dark. Whispers chased him through twisting corridors, faint voices that whispered he was worthless, he’d never be forgiven, he was unworthy of their love, he was a liar and a fraud and a cheat. He ran faster, trying to outrun those words, trying to scream, to say it wasn’t true, but his words caught in his throat until he choked on them, falling to his knees, unable to breath. The whispers buzzed around his head, burrowed into his skin, each one biting deeper than the last until there was nothing of him left and he dissolved into a shadow. Desperatly, he tried to reach the others, but they couldn’t seem to hear him.

         He watched them wait for him for breakfast, only for him to never arrive. Saw them knock on his door with worry, force it open to find no sign of him. He saw Patton crying, sitting on his bed, hugging tight the card Virgil had once made for him. He tried to reach out, to comfort him, but the scene burned away, flaking away like ash, leaving him once again in suffocating darkness, knowing there was nothing, nothing he could do.

         He jolted awake to a knock at his door, breathing heavy and panicked, unsure for a moment where he was.

         “Virgil? May I speak with you?” It was Logan. He furrowed his brow, looking at the clock beside his bed. It was early, seven am, but Logan was usually an early riser. Then he looked down, biting back a yelp.

         His arms were covered in inky shadows, no doubt the result of his nightmare. It looked almost like his skin was luminescent with darkness, like he was becoming a shadow himself. His breath hitched again at the thought. What if his nightmare was a warning? What if he was going to fade away and only be able to watch as everything fell apart, and no one would be able to keep Thomas safe anymore, and he’d no doubt do something stupid and get himself killed.

         Or worse, selfishly worse, what if nothing changed? What if Thomas was happier, what if he was more productive? What if he got videos done on schedule and came up with innovative ideas and found someone good to love, because all this time he had only been standing in Thomas’s way, and they’d all been too blind to see it?

         “Virgil?” He barely heard Logan’s voice anymore. His airway was constricted, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The room was swirling, closing in around him, and he didn’t have any space, any air, there wasn’t any room, any light, any sound…

         “Stop it.” He whispered, the buzzing words swirling around him, eating away at him. He covered his ears, tears tracking down his face as they grew louder and louder, drowning him out. Coward, useless, stupid, foolish, childish, dreamer, idiot…

         “STOP IT!” He shouted, and suddenly the whispers ceased, the darkness vanished from his skin, the room expanded and it was blessedly silent. He collapsed against the bed, curling into himself, unable to stop shaking. It was so much, when had it all become so much? How did he ever do this without any problem? This was his job, it was what he was made for, made of, why was it hurting so much now?

         “Virgil. Please. Please just… just open the door.” Logan’s voice was steady as ever, but something about it, the tone, the octave, made Virgil listen without registering what he was doing, and his door clicked open.

         He heard footsteps, slow and soft, like Logan was afraid of scaring him away, like he was a startled deer ready to bolt at any moment. He felt the bed shift beside him, felt Logan’s weight on it.

         “You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, and Virgil didn’t bother answering, no point in denying it. Then Logan reached out.

         “Don’t-“ He yelped, trying to pull back, but Logan had already grabbed hold of his wrist. As he watched, it turned almost translucent, revealing the shadows swirling around inside, thick and viscous, like a combination of oil and smog roiling beneath his skin. He heard Logan inhale sharply, felt his eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. To see the disgust and fear and pity on his face, to see him recoil now that he’d seen what lay beneath the surface, now that he knew what he really was.

         “I thought so.” Was what he mused instead. Virgil’s head jerked up, looking at Logan, who was staring into the distance, as if calculating something in his head. “How long have you been using this ability?” He asked. Virgil hunched his shoulders, hugging his knees to his chest.

         “What ability?” He muttered. He felt Logan’s stern gaze on him again, then heard him sigh.

         “I noticed you doing it to Patton the other night. You touched his hand, then he became noticeably more… well, cheery. And Roman, the other day. He’d had writers block for hours, then two minutes with you and he’s writing up a storm. I’ve noticed other times, too, where short interactions with you suddenly leave one of the others more lighthearted and you more downcast, especially and concerningly so as of late. So, I will ask again. How long have you been using this ability?” Virgil bit his lip, hesitating, before shrugging.

         “Always. I’ve always had it. Always used it, even when I was... was one of Them. Makes sense, right? Anxiety can absorb other Sides’ anxieties. Makes it easier for everyone to function, doesn’t impede me doing my job. After a while it just, I dunno, fades away from me.” He replied.

         “But now it isn’t, is it? Instead of gradually fading away, it is instead accumulating to previously unforeseen levels, perhaps dangerously so and to your detriment.”

         “I’m fine, teach. Just some added worries. Nothing I can’t handle.” Virgil replied, giving Logan a smile, stretching. Logan simply frowned.

         “You’re not fine, Virg. I could feel you, the whole mindscape could. You’ve never felt like that, not even during a panic attack. This, what you’re doing, I don’t know why it’s hurting you this way now, when it wasn’t before, but you need to stop using it, at least until we can figure out why.” Virgil looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then he deflated, seeming to sink into himself.

         “then what good am I? If I can’t even do my job, what’s the point?” He whispered, voice shaking.

         “Oh Virgil. This isn’t your job. It’s not your job to take away everyone else’s worries, it’s not your job to put all of that on yourself, it’s not your job to keep it all inside you until you fall apart and your emotional well being is compromised. Your job is to keep Thomas safe, and doing what he needs to, in order to survive.”

         Then Logan was suddenly hugging him. He blinked in surprise before leaning into it, letting all his own stress cry itself dry. Virgil was too preoccupied to notice, but Logan wasn’t, as he watched some of the darkness swirling inside Virgil slip onto his own skin, and sink into it. He felt a bit heavier, a bit more stressed for no particular reason than usual, but it wasn’t cumbersome, and it wasn’t a hinderance to his function.

         He realized that just as Virgil could siphon away other’s stresses and worries, he too, could siphon away some of Virgil’s. He wondered if all of the others could do it. It made sense, that it would work both ways. He supposed it would naturally fade away over time, but that it faded faster the less there was, just as worries, once stacked on top of each other, lingered longer than if they had been one single thought.

         He ran the calculations in his mind. He could take a bit from Virgil, make sure it dissipated fully, then take some more, and soon he would be back to normal levels. As long as he monitored the situation, and started easing some of the added worry before it built up to such high levels again, it shouldn’t affect either of them. He would have to be discreet, of course, just as Virgil didn’t want anyone to know he was siphoning away their anxieties, Virgil wouldn’t approve of Logan taking away his.

         “It’s ok, Virgil. It’s ok.” Logan whispered, hesitantly stroking Virgil’s hair as he rocked him. He generally wasn’t the one dealing with emotions, and was slightly out of practice in comforting people, but his efforts seemed to be working as Virgil’s sobs slowly came to a halt, and he drew away, wiping his eyes.

         “I don’t know why it’s so much. Why it… it hurts, so much. It’s never been like this before, never. Something must be wrong with me, something isn’t working right.” Virgil rambled, wiping his nose on his sweater sleeve.

         “Just take a break from using it for a while, alright? You have so much accumulated right now, it just needs more time to break down. Don’t use it for, let’s say a week, and then we’ll see how you feel. As long as you are honest with me about the state of the build up. Ok?” Logan asked, Virgil meeting his eyes as he nodded.

         “Ok teach.” Logan smiled softly.

         “good. Now, do you want to try and get some more rest, or do you want to come help with breakfast?” Virgil smiled wryly.

         “I think sleep is out of the question. Might as well make sure the kitchen doesn’t go down in flames.” They made small talk the rest of the morning as they cooked, the repetitive pattern of it soothing Virgil’s mind somewhat, letting him relax without realizing it, making Logan sigh with relief.

         It seemed he’d managed to get this power of Virgil’s under control once again. But that begged the question, if it had been previously under control, who had been siphoning away the stress from Virgil? Certainly not Remus. So, it must have been… Deceit?

Not for the first time, Logan wondered how close Virgil had been with the others before moving to the other side of the mindscape. Close enough that small touches of affection were acceptable, if Deceit truly had been managing Virgil’s skill. Yet Virgil seemed to hate him so vehemently now. He sighed, flipping pancakes. That was a mystery for another day.

[originofjaehyun]

Constantly, Consistently, Continually, You. | Prologue

CCCY Masterlist

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: None just hoping you guys would like it ha-ha

Prologue – She is stillness in the world of chaos

“We never had to force love. We were drowning in it the moment we met.”

Next

There’s no other sound except the sound of your pencil scratching the paper. Messy is an understatement if someone were to see your table. Pencil and pens, markers, fabric samples, are just a few of the things that are visible in a glance. You’ve been sitting on your desk for hours now and the clock on your laptop has shown you that it is a little bit past 10 PM. Before you knew it, you’ve been doodling instead of being productive.

You know the reason, your neighbor who happens to be a NEET has been playing whatever online game since yesterday and he’s still going strong. The walls between your unit are quite thin and you could hear him ferociously screaming “MONSTERS ON YOUR LEFT! MONSTER ON YOUR LEFT!!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

You had enough. You barely get any sleep and sleeping has been a struggle because of your neighbor. You don’t even know how he was able to pay the rent when all he did was to play games all day long.

“I need to go somewhere.”

All you wished were to lay down on your bed, still with the messy duvet because you really don’t have the energy to even make up your bed. But ever since you were hired as a fashion designer at 0MILE – one of the hippest Korean fashion brands – you were so busy at work especially when you entered the company during the preparation for Seoul Fashion Week. You really have to make more progress on your work and your neighbor is definitely not helping.

You packed all the necessary stuff on your tote bag and tied your hair into a top bun. You can’t be bothered with contacts at this hour so you grabbed your glasses, wear your black jumper while pairing it with a cozy black track pant before exiting your apartment.

You feel refreshed as the night breeze slowly dances around you. It’s been a long while since you live in this neighborhood. The first time you moved here was when you’re just 22. After college, you decided to move here because it’s really close to your first workplace. Now that you’re 25, even if you’re blindfolded, you can probably still press the passcode buttons on your apartment door. This place has grown on you, and while you’re making more money than before, you can’t just move just because of that reason, knowing how expensive the rent cost is in Seoul. You’re saving up for your dream.

Before you know it, you are already in front of the door of a cafe just around the corner. Sun&Moon, as the vintage-looking gold sticker reads on the door’s glass. You’re glad that this small coffee shop in your neighborhood actually opens until late. As you pushed the door open, you can see two male baristas-turned-waiters behind the counter. The cafe is relatively empty, considering it’s almost 11 PM. There are only a couple and a group of four people left in the cafe.

As if you’re on autopilot mode, you took a seat on the corner and put your tote bag there before making your way to the counter to order your coffee. This is your third coffee of the day but you really can’t afford to fall asleep while the deadline is chasing you. 

You actually know what you’re going to order your usual – cafe latte, considering how late it is, plus, having Americano as your third coffee of the day might not be the best idea. But seeing the cakes on display kind of stimulates your appetite. When did you have your last meal, anyway?

Raspberry and Rose Eclair sounds good

Oh, but so does Chocolate Salted Caramel Tart

But having sweets at this hour is a sin, no?

Then a soft velvety voice snapped you back to reality.

“Uhm, miss?”

“Yes!” You answered almost instantly

He chuckled, and the most prominent set of dimples on both of his cheeks appeared.

“Are you ready to order? Or do you need more time browsing our cake?”

You felt both of your cheeks are now slightly warmer. It’s kind of embarrassing because you are so concentrated while you’re looking at the cake display.

“Oh yes please, I’d like to order. Can I have a hot latte? And also…”

“Nonfat milk and make them extra hot, regular size. Is that correct?” He cut you off before you finished your sentence. On top of that, he got your custom order correctly.

You knit your brows together. How did he know my custom order?

“Oh no need to be alarmed,” as if he knows you’re slightly judging him right now and probably think that he’s a stalker or something.

“You happen to be our regular and you’re very specific with your orders. We, the baristas here thought it would be great to start learning our regular’s order, especially the custom ones.”

You soften your facial expression and it instantly curled-up your lips into a smile.

“Why, that’s a very nice gesture.”

He smirks, “So, did I get your order correctly Miss?”

Unconsciously you let out a small giggle, “You bet you do. Congrats on memorizing my recipe.”

“Well, this is nothing. One latte coming up!” He said it in a playful tone.

You gave him your card as the final numbers of your bill appears on the cashier screen. He then gave you the receipt and politely asked you to go back to your seat as the waiter will deliver your order to the table. You turned back to your seat, allowing him to start making your drink while his co-worker is busy washing the dishes.

You checked the receipt after you sat down.

Your cashier: Jaehyun. So that’s his name.

You typically don’t do this, as you find it slightly… odd to be attracted to someone who’s going to prepare your coffee. But the thing is, he undoubtedly one of the most good looking people you’ve seen in a while. His pale skin that paired perfectly with his soft brown hair that he just messily styled, with eyes that are in the color of deep sienna. They glisten with something else, something that gives you shivers and wraps you in a warm embrace at the same time.

What Am I thinking? Focus, [Y/N]!

You took out your laptop and plugged in your charger to the nearest power plug, before connecting the two. You then spread your notebook on the bench, since the table beside you is empty. In a flash, you are already deep inside your own little world.

After a while, you automatically took a sip of your latte.

Wait, when did this arrive?

You lift your head, eyes searching for Jaehyun. He was in the middle of cleaning up the table from the couple before. You then took a glance at the clock on your laptop screen. 

It’s already past midnight. You were so immersed in your work that you didn’t realize the waiter already delivered your order and there’s only you and another group of people left. You kind of regretted it though, that you forgot to say thanks to the waiter. If it’s Jaehyun who delivered it to you, at least you’ll get a chance to hear his voice again.

You brushed off the thoughts and you immediately start working again. As boring as it might sound – that you missed a chance to exchange eye contact with Jaehyun – you really got to finish your work.

The clock keeps ticking and suddenly you could hear a clink of a plate. You lift your head and now your eyes are locked with the delicate pair of brown eyes.

“I didn’t order this.” You said in a confused tone.

“It’s on the house.” As he said while putting a plate of the eclair you stared before.

He continued, “You’ve been working for a few hours now, I thought by now you’ll need some sugar rush. Plus, I know what you’re working for it's probably important and I don’t mean to rush you but we’re closing in about 30 minutes.”

“Oh!” You quickly saw the time. It’s already 1.27 AM.

“Shit, I hope that crazy neighbor is asleep.” You mumbled.

“Sorry?” Jaehyun raised his brows, wanting to confirm what you said.

“Oh, nothing. Well, thank you for this. I’ll eat this and I’ll pack immediately.”

“Please, no need to rush. You are our esteemed guest, after all.” He said this with a smile, turning his eyes into a shape of a half-moon and as if he knows this is his best feature, he showed his pair of dimples.

As he walks away from you, you asked yourself: Is this a cafe or is this a host bar? He is very soft-spoken, and even though you only hear a few sentences from him, you’re already addicted to his tender voice. You wonder why you haven’t noticed this guy previously.

You quickly take a bite on your eclair, you saved your project before closing your laptop while still chewing your food. You’re slightly embarrassed because Jaehyun saw you in this messy state. Your stuff is everywhere, taking spaces even the table next to you as you are the only person in the cafe right now. You quickly shoved everything to your tote bag and frantically carrying some stuff that couldn’t fit inside. How come everything can fit when you go out but now that you’re rushing it felt like your items are multiplied?

“Thank you for tonight. I enjoyed the cake, good night!” You said as you were about to leave the cafe.

“Ah, yes, thank you. Please be careful.” Jaehyun stands up, a bit surprised with your sudden leave. He was reading a book while waiting for you to finish. He was about to approach you but you already turned your back before he’s able to. 

You would never guess that night is where the string of fate started.

***

“Shit, shit, shit!”

You repeated frantically as you scattered the content of your tote bag. You lost one of your fabric samples. This season, 0MILE material revolves around checkered plaid and without the sample, you might not be able to move forward with your design.

You searched throughout your room that looks more like a shipwreck instead of a room, you even search at weird places like the inside of your freezer but the sample is just nowhere to be found. 

“Fuck, I might left it at the cafe yesterday.”

You grabbed your phone and took your bag in a hurry. You’re moving your feet like the flash as you speed up on every turn towards the cafe before you realize it’s only 10 AM and the cafe only opens after lunchtime.

But you can’t afford to lose anymore second as you have already gone more than halfway to the cafe. As you approached the cafe, you saw a familiar figure.

Isn’t that yesterday’s barista?

He looked in your direction as he heard your footsteps. His eyes sparkled before he showed that warm smile moving towards you so that you meet mid-way.

“Uhm, hi, uh, morning… uhm…” You’re busy finding the right sentence.

“Hi, I think you forgot this.” He handed over the fabric sample you’ve been looking for all morning.

“Oh my God!” You excitedly took it from his hand. Realized that you’re probably being rude to him, you quickly apologized to him.

“Uhm, sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve been looking for this all morning.”

“Don’t sweat it. I noticed that this is important as you were always referring to this before registering it to your laptop last night. So when you left it, I thought you might be searching for this first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, so you’ve been waiting for me?” Your eyes widen.

“Well, I would feel bad if you’re waiting in front of our cafe all morning. Also, I was the last one who cleans up the cafe and that is when I found your stuff. I brought it home because today is actually my day off.”

You’re stunned. As you examined his appearance, his eyes are slightly teary, with ears that have turned red due to the cold weather.

“How long have you been waiting?” 

“Uhm, around an hour I guess?” He said like it's not a problem when it actually is. He has been waiting for an hour in cold weather, and as far as you can see there’s no seat available so its either he’s been standing for an hour or he probably squatted. 

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry you have to do that! I mean, it was my mistake to leave my belongings, but you didn’t have to go that far for a stranger.”

He knows that you are panicking because of your tone, but he just chuckled before giving his reply.

“Well, you’re not entirely a stranger.”

“I mean, you are our regular for quite some time now.”

You let out a sigh, “But still, we don’t even know each other. I’m glad I got this back because it is important, but how could I ever repay you?”

Then he gave a devilish smirk, “We can fix that,”

“How about you treat me for brunch today? I didn’t get to eat my breakfast today because I thought you were already waiting at the cafe, but it’s already too late for breakfast now.”

You’re startled. Did he just ask me for a date?

No that can’t be it. He’s just a kind person that happens to be hungry at the moment, that’s all.

You would actually agree to his condition instantly, but then you saw your slippers and you realized how unkempt you are right now. The person standing in front of you is blessed with his look. He’s definitely bare-faced but he looked photoshopped.

“Uhm, how about lunch instead?” You said while fidgeting with your fingers.

“I’m… not exactly confident with how I look right now. Let me fix myself first, then we can go for lunch? I know the best sundubu in this area, it’ll be perfect for this kind of weather.”

“You’re fine the way you are right now, you know?” Your heart almost jumps because of how smooth he is with his words. 

You shook your head, “I promise we’ll meet at lunch. Here, let me give you my number in case I run away. Which, I would never because I always keep my promise.”

He then handed out his phone to you and you added your contact details to him. He then dialed your number and your phone rang, confirming that the number that he’s calling is in fact yours.

“[Y/N].” He said, in a low voice.

“It’s funny, huh? We never introduced ourself and yet I know your name because of sundubu”

Only then you realized you guys never properly introduced yourself to each other.

“I’m Jaehyun, nice to meet you, [Y/N].”

“At least let me introduce myself,” You pouted.

“I’m [Y/N]. It’s also a pleasure meeting you, Jaehyun.” You acted like you don’t know his name when in fact you already know it yesterday.

“Feisty, aren’t you?” He said with one of his eyebrows went up.

You let out a small laugh, “Well, I’ll better get ready.”

“Uhm, so… where do you want to wait? I mean, you can wait at my place if you want.” You said that and instantly your face turned red. Did I just ask him to crash at my place? You literally just know his name a few seconds ago and it almost felt like you invited him to do something dirty at your place as an added bonus for his lunch. He then laughed.

“I’ll be a gentleman today and wait at the cafe.”

“Let’s keep that one for another time.” Jaehyun continues.

Your brow furrows, “Hang on, you had a key all along?”

He answered with a nod.

“Why didn’t you wait inside? It’s cold out here!”

Again, he smiles.

“The cafe owner is slightly stingy, especially with the utility bill. Also, I could see if you’re coming better if I wait outside, so you don’t have to walk too much.”

You can feel the heat on both of your cheeks. He could definitely see you blushing.

Seriously, how sweet could this guy be?

“Well, I’ll see you at lunch. I’ll be fast, let’s meet again here?”

He grinned, “Take your time, [Y/N]. I’m looking forward to it.”

***

“So you’re a fashion designer?” Jaehyun said while he’s busy preparing the cutleries for both of you.

“Wait, how did you…?” You said in a confused tone. Clearly you haven’t told him anything about you.

“Before you’re getting any weird thoughts,” he chuckled, as he might felt like you just labeled him a stalker.

“One, you carry things like that to our cafe. Secondly, I accidentally saw some of your sketches before.”

You’re in awe. How observant.

“And last but not least,” he continues

“You’re always dressed well. Even though there are times when you visit our cafe in the most comfortable outfit, everything is still very pleasant to the eye.”

Your ears started to turn red. 

“Oh you don’t need to flatter me. The meal is still on me.”

He chuckles, “No, I'm serious. You really do have a great sense of style.”

“Well thank you. You’re a charmer as well.”

Then it’s his ears started to turn into a shade of pink. You think to yourself that it is the most adorable thing as he clearly tries to hide it. So he blushes when he’s embarrassed.

The conversation goes you guys started to eat your meals. He told you more about himself, about the reason why he lives alone right now. He said his family lives far away and he moved out because he wanted to live his dreams. He wanted to be a musician, but since he is supporting himself he currently worked in a tech-startup company at day and took part-time jobs like becoming a barista at night. He does music on weekends, sometimes he would compose his own songs, or do a cover and upload them on his SoundCloud. There are days where he would perform at a cafe or a bar, but he said it’s been a while since he last did that ever since his current day job has been so demanding.

Once you guys are full, you settle the bill and Jaehyun politely thank you for the meal. He constantly insisted that he should pay at least half but you really want to show how grateful you are, at least with a meal.

“I guess we can call it even?” You said it to him while tugging your hands to the pocket of your coat.

He smiled, and you still can’t faze at the sight of his dimples. 

“You really don’t have to, you know. But yes, let’s call it even.”

Then an awkward silence came.

“Uhm, I guess I’ll see you when I visit the cafe again?” Fidgeting your fingers, you really hope that he doesn’t notice that you’re nervous. Am I asking him out?

“Sure.” The response was almost immediate and that is when you noticed he’s also feeling nervous. “I’ll see you around. Again, thank you for the meal.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

After sending your greetings, you finally parted ways with him. Not sure where he’s heading, but he walks on the opposite way of where you’re heading. You are lost in your thoughts until you snapped out of it, after walking just two blocks from where you’re coming from. A notification from your phone brings you back to earth.

Jaehyun (Sun&Moon Barista) 01.27

Hey

Jaehyun (Sun&Moon Barista) 01.27

On second thought, I don’t think it’s even yet. I actually waited more than an hour and we only had 30-minutes lunch.

Jaehyun (Sun&Moon Barista) 01.27

Care for a coffee? I’m still around the area.

You felt the heat start to rise to your face as the color of your cheeks starts to turn into a rosy-pink shade. If this were your room, you would scream your lungs out.

You quickly type in your reply.

“Gladly.”

[matrixaffiliate]

Vicissitude

New Story! FFN and AO3

Hermione’s one request with Ron’s YouTube career is that he keep her and their daughter off-camera. But with Hermione expecting their second child and both parents beyond exhausted, one sweet little girl is about to make her YouTube debut. 

A gift for @onceuponmystory and a sequel to my story Preponderance.

Vicissitude

Ron didn’t feel like a regular YouTuber.

For one he was sponsored by his brothers’ company, so even if the channel tanked, he’d be able to move seamlessly into their marketing department and still bring home a paycheck. Not that the channel would tank, Ron had 8 million subscribers now. For another, he had an incredibly private wife. Where most YouTubers he knew personally and those he only knew of used their families as part of their content, Hermione had never appeared in a video, nor had Ron ever showed a picture of her.

And his subscribers had no idea he had another girl in his life either.

Hermione had been very specific that their children were not to be mentioned or involved in his channel. She wanted the privacy and distance and to not be targeted by crazies. And Ron agreed. He’d had to block a subscriber here and there over the years because they’d gotten obsessed. Thankfully nothing awful had happened, but it proved Hermione’s point and Ron was for the most part in her camp.

What Ron hadn’t considered was how utterly exhausted he would be when Hermione was in her first trimester with their second child. Ron was doing his best to take Rosie so Hermione could sleep undisturbed, but he also had videos to plan and film and edit and slot for posting and the standard ten comments a video that he limited himself to replying to. He’d long ago given up on responding to every single one. On top of that Ron actually was helping with the non-YouTube marketing of the company as well, with deadlines to make there.

He honestly felt lucky they ate each day because he was so swamped and Hermione was so sick and Rose was the handful any toddler would be when you upset their schedule.

That stress was probably why he answered Ginny’s call with a touch of sharpness.

“Oh good,” she sounded relieved, “You already know.”

“I already know what?” Ron jumped from his computer to stop Rosie from pulling a box of Wheezes down on her head.

“Oh,” she paused a moment, “well I’m about to add to whatever already has you pissed off.”

Ron groaned, “What is it now, Ginny?”

“Your channel now knows Rosie exists.”

Ron felt like he’d been gut-punched.

“What?”

“Go watch your last video,” Ginny said, “And no point in taking it down, it already has probably 100 comments dedicated to the fact that you have a little girl.”

Ron felt the panic rising as he moved back to his computer. “Where in the video, Ginny?”

“My darling niece must have missed her daddy because she was playing behind the frosted glass of the French doors you used as a backdrop for that magic trick with the smoke colors.”

Ron opened the file and groaned as he dragged his courser until he found the scene.

Sure enough, little pink dress and head of bushy hair pulled back into that enormous bow his mum had given them sat behind the frosted glass.

“I’m so dead.” Ron moved the courser and saw that Rosie was there for the whole trick. He’d been so focused on making sure that the trick was perfect in editing that he’d completely missed Rosie.

And now he had to tell Hermione.

“At least you can’t see her clearly,” Ginny’s voice sounded through his earpiece.

“Well, if you hear about us on the news for spousal homicide, you and Harry are supposed to take Rosie.”

“Good to know,” Ginny huffed, “Best of luck, Ron.”

Ron turned as the call ended and looked down at Rosie as she made her plastic horse gallop along the floor.

“I love you, Rosie, but I really wish you would have stayed in the playroom when I filmed that trick.”

“Daddy do magic?” Rose looked up happily.

“If your mum doesn’t kill me we’ll do a trick to celebrate, alright love?”

“Color trick,” she nodded and went back to her horses.

“Come on then, you’re serving as my ‘please don’t kill me’ card.”

Rosie proceeded to trot the toy horse up to his shoulder and over his head as he walked them down the hall to Hermione’s office.

“Hermione?” Ron tapped quietly on the door.

He pushed it open to find Hermione asleep in her desk chair.

Ron wasn’t surprised. Hermione’s pregnancy with Rosie had begun just as poorly. Constantly ill, constantly passing out, and if this round followed the same pattern as before in its entirety, Ron was going to suggest that they stop with two kids - he didn’t fancy his wife going through physical hell more than she absolutely had to. He would have stopped with sweet Rosie, but Hermione insisted they needed two, and Ron knew it wasn’t worth the fight.

“Hermione, love,” he moved to her desk and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She started and blinked up at him. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.”

“Let’s get you to the couch or our bed for a quick kip,” Ron shifted Rose in his arms.

“No,” Hermione shook her head and moved her computer mouse, “I’ve got work to do.”

Ron watched her for a moment before leaning against her desk, this arms still wrapped around his daughter.

“So, I was thinking, what if we had a backup plan for if anyone did figure out we have Rosie, or if anyone figures out when we have this baby. That way we’d be fully prepared to handle the situation if it ever were to come about.”

Hermione shrugged, “It won’t happen, we’ve kept Rosie safe for two years now. I’m sure we’ll do just fine with this baby as well.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, “Right, I just supposed an agreed-upon plan would be like a safety net in case we were to slip one day.”

Hermione shrugged again before going very still. Slowly she spun her chair around to face him and Rose.

“Please tell me this is hypothetical.”

Ron really tried to hold her gaze, but his guilt weighed in his chest like a dumbbell.

“Ron,” Hermione’s voice was shrill, “it’s hypothetical, right? Tell me this is a hypothetical scenario!”

Ron shook his head, “I’m sorry love, I slipped up. But,” he finally looked up at her, “she was only visible through the frosted glass of the French doors.”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth agape.

Ron was so busy racking his brain for the right thing to say that he nearly jumped out of his skin and dropped Rosie when Hermione burst into laughter.

But this laughter didn’t sound terribly happy, in fact, it sounded a bit… hopeless?

“Are you alright, love?” He set Rosie down to gather his wife in his arms.

“Of course, I’m not alright,” she continued to laugh, “my world is collapsing around me and I’m too exhausted to properly care!”

“Right,” Ron had no idea what the right thing to do was. “Listen, Hermione, no one from the channel actually knows what Rose looks like. Here,” he pulled out his phone and opened the video, “I’ll show you exactly what they saw.”

He set the phone down on her desk and set the video to play where he did the magic trick. Hermione reluctantly picked up his phone and watched.

Ron snagged Rosie around her middle with his calf before she could grab at the cup of pens on the desk. When he looked up, Hermione was smiling.

“Is, is everything, er, you're…”

She looked up with tears in her eyes.

“Have you read the comments?”

“Er, no, I, I only just realized…”

“realmagic: romione has a toddler! omg i bet they make the cutest kids!”

Hermione scrolled and then read again.

“candyandwheezes: RON AND HERMIONE ARE DEFINITELY THE BEST PARENTS!”

Ron chuckled, “Some of these crazies aren’t half bad, eh?”

Hermione gave a teary laugh and read again.

“LavB6: romione is my life goal! romance, fun careers, and beautiful kids!”

She set his phone down and reached for Rosie who gladly took the opportunity to be closer to her mum’s pen cup.

“So,” Ron scooted closer to her and slid his phone away, “How do we handle this?”

“Isn’t this how we’ve always handled it? We slip little bits of our lives into random videos and your hardcore fans think it’s part of the plan.”

She looked down at her barely swollen belly.

“I’m sure someday this little one will find a way to make their appearance as well.”

Ron took her hand, “I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione smiled at him. “We’re stressed and exhausted and honestly, there’s not a whole lot of harm in it. I still don’t want our kids or me on camera, but I suppose it isn’t the end of the world if they know we have children.”

“You are absolutely wonderful.” Ron felt relief rush through him so fast he felt light-headed.

“I’m also three months pregnant and my hormones are everywhere so if it had to happen, I suppose this is the best time for it. I have a feeling I might have had you for lunch if I weren’t completely off-kilter.”

Ron laughed and pulled his girls into him.

His subscribers weren’t all idiots, he mused. They had a few things down, specifically how absolutely perfect his wife and daughter were.

[goldenhemmings]

Stealing Second | Baseball!Shawn

Whew. If you know me at all, you know I am a sucker for any AU scenario where Shawn is an athlete, so naturally I’ve spent the last three days neglecting all of my academic responsibilities to crank out 8.3k words (!!!) of Baseball!Shawn. I tried to keep the jargon in check, but here’s a little study guide of the things I wrote about in case you’re not super well versed on all things Major League Baseball: 

MLB teams are divided into two leagues: American and National. Each league has slightly different rules. The Toronto Blue Jays are in the American, and their home stadium is Rogers Centre. Rookie of the Year is an award given by each league to the best first-year player. Players often wear compression sleeves over their throwing arms because it reduces soreness, and eye black under their eyes to reduce the glare of the sun or stadium lights so that they can see better. If you have any more questions please ask, and without further ado please enjoy Baseball!Shawn!!

When you got the call from “Greg with the Toronto Blue Jays” that you had been selected from a field of over two-hundred applicants for one of the team’s few coveted internship positions, you almost stopped breathing. The sun was making its descent as you sat at the kitchen table of your quaint suburban apartment, having just finished the leftovers you’d microwaved a few minutes before when your phone sounded its familiar siren. It was an unknown number, but the Toronto area code immediately made your stomach flip. It was a straightforward phone call, Greg simply offering you a congratulations and saying you started at Rogers Centre in two weeks’ time, but to you it meant the entire world. You managed to breathe out a “thank you” as you hung up the phone, eyes blurry with tears and hands shaking as you struggled to dial your mother’s phone number--the only person you could think to call.

You cried as you talked to your mom about how all of your hard work had finally paid off; four years of suffering as a double-major student to obtain two bachelor’s degrees, almost entirely giving up sleep and a social life as the price for your scholastic success, and eight months of waiting tables post-graduation to (barely) sustain yourself while you looked for a job. The sports industry was harder to find a place in than you’d thought, and you couldn’t believe the opportunity had finally come. Your mother was beyond proud, and after the phone call you sat at the kitchen table and cried because you didn’t know what else to do.

You’d wanted to work in sports your entire life; the love had been ingrained into you by your parents when you were young, and it never faded as you’d grown. You’d sent your resume to every sports franchise with availabilities, prepared to emigrate to the States for your dream job if you had to, but with this internship for the Blue Jays you thankfully only had to move an hour or so away.

Moving, however, caused you great stress. The ballpark was in the heart of downtown Toronto, which meant that every apartment or condo within a reasonable distance of the stadium would be exceedingly out of your price range; not to mention that the deadline of two weeks only added to your panic. You expressed this concern to your mother the next morning when you were level-headed enough to hold a steady conversation, but the words your mother spoke were enough to send you spiraling down yet another path of overwhelmed emotions: your mom and dad would help you pay to live downtown until you were financially stable enough to take the reins on your own. You had paid your own way through college, and your parents didn’t want further financial struggles to stand in the way of getting your foot in the door of your dream industry; they’d let you pay them back whenever you were able. With a cushion of temporary aid from your family, finding a place to live was a breeze; you settled on a one-bedroom apartment about a twenty-minute walk from the stadium. It had a perfect view of the Toronto skyline, and you could already imagine yourself sitting on the small balcony at night just watching the city lights twinkle before you.

On a Thursday in May, not three days after getting the phone call, you and your parents loaded the contents of your tiny apartment into the back of your barely-running sedan. You sighed as you realized how out of place the old car would look juxtaposed to the sleek vehicles that surely filled the streets of the city. Oh well, you thought. I’ll probably be walking everywhere, anyways. You shut the hatch of your trunk and smoothed over your favorite Blue Jays player’s jersey--a parting gift from your mother--before hugging your mom and dad goodbye. You took one last look at your small apartment complex and climbed into the driver's seat before reversing out of your designated parking spot and driving away in the direction of your dream life.

As you merged onto the 401 and the Toronto skyline came into view, you had to turn your music up even louder in a desperate attempt to distract yourself and therefore control your pounding heart, an exhilarated smile unable to keep itself from spreading across your face. You were finally here. This was finally happening. You pulled off the highway and drove into the parking garage of your new apartment, awestruck at how tall and sleek the building was. You went into the lobby to get everything sorted, and you were all set when the manager handed you a key to your door and sent you on your way with an enthusiastic “Welcome!”

You made your way back out to the parking garage, popping the trunk of your car and beginning the grueling back-and-forth process of taking the boxes up to your apartment one by one. You made your way back down to the car for what felt like the hundredth time, sighing in relief when you saw that there were only two boxes left. You pulled the larger of the two out, which was exceptionally heavy, and as you tried to shut the trunk while still holding the box your balance completely failed you.

“Fuck!” you cried, as the contents of the box went tumbling onto the ground next to your car. You sighed as you knelt down to place the box upright when you heard a voice echo from behind you in the parking garage.

“Do you need some help?”

You snapped your head around, your eyes settling on the figure of a tall man who was far enough across the lot that you couldn’t quite make out his features. “Um, I think I’ll be okay,” you called back, ducking your head down in embarrassment over the fact that someone had seen you clumsily and inadvertently dump the box onto the ground. “Thank you though!”

The man continued talking, the sound of his voice getting closer despite the fact that you had declined his offer. “Are you sure? I’m more than happy to--hey. Nice jersey.”

You turned around and looked up to meet the man’s smug eyes, and as you did you felt your cheeks immediately begin burning. You fell back onto your ass as though you’d been pushed, the box’s spilled contents suddenly disregarded. You looked down self-consciously to the Blue Jays jersey you had on, all-too-aware of the Mendes 98 embroidered onto the back, and slowly let your gaze travel back up to the real number 98 standing right before your eyes. You’d been in Toronto for twenty minutes and you had already come face to face with your favorite baseball player...while wearing his jersey. If you weren’t embarrassed before, you surely were now.

“I’m Shawn,” he said, kneeling down to your level as you hadn’t yet picked yourself up from the pavement. He extended his hand, and you weren’t quite sure whether he expected you to shake it or help yourself up with it.

“As if I don’t know who you are,” you muttered, laughing nervously as you disregarded his hand altogether. You opted to stand up on your own, brushing the asphalt off of the back of your jean shorts as you forced herself to meet his eyes. Eyes that, to your surprise, seemed almost bashful.

Shawn’s hand, marked with a tattoo you couldn’t quite see the shape of, came up to rub the side of his neck. He looked strange in his fitted shirt and black Nike shorts; you weren’t used to seeing him without his jersey on--or in person, for that matter. You’d known he was a rookie and therefore one of the younger players on the team, but standing this close to him you realized he couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. Who’d have known that his ball cap was hiding such curly hair, or that underneath his compression sleeve were several concealed tattoos, his short sleeve shirt now putting them on full display?

Shawn Mendes was a first-year second baseman for the Blue Jays, and nearly every Major League Baseball commentator had pegged him as a top-three contender for the American League Rookie of the Year award. He’d quickly become your favorite player at the start of the season, with his ability to flawlessly handle any ball hit his way and his red-hot swing racking up the most hits on the team. But it was his character, however, that really drew you to him. He was his teammates’ biggest fan, always making sure to give players words of encouragement after a bad game or a celebratory smile and high-five after a big hit. Even though he was only a rookie, he was loved by players, coaches, and fans alike, and he’d quickly become one of the Blue Jays’ greatest assets.

You were snapped from your reverie by Shawn’s voice once again cutting through the air, and you refocused your eyes so that they were looking up into his. “W-what did you say?”

He smiled. “I said I really don’t mind helping you carry your things up, I know how awful it is to move on your own. I’d have loved the help back when I first moved in here.”

“You live here?” you squeaked out, but it sounded less like a question and more like you were stating it to yourself, as though repeating the words would have them make more sense.

“Twelfth floor,” Shawn affirmed, shooting you another smile that almost made you dizzy.

You cast your eyes downward, nudging at the ground with the toe of your Converse. “Fifth,” you responded. The view got better the higher up you were--which meant the price also rose with the floor number. “It’s close to the stadium, though, so I’d really be set no matter which floor I ended up on.”

“Plan on making it to a lot of our games?” Shawn teased, smirking as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

“I actually just got an internship with the team’s public relations department, which is why I moved out here. I’ll officially work for the Blue Jays in about a week and a half, so I’m sure I’ll be at most of the home games.” As you heard yourself say it, you couldn’t keep the childish grin from your face. It still barely felt real to you, and you found yourself wishing there weren’t ten long days standing between you and the beginning of your dream career path.

“No way!” Shawn grinned, making the corners of his eyes crinkle and revealing a set of teeth so perfect you found yourself nearly mesmerized. You’d thought that he was handsome on TV, but the in-person effect was a million times stronger. “Guess that makes us co-workers, then.”

You let out a strangled laugh at his comment, but it sounded more like a yelp. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just one of the little people working behind the scenes.”

“But you make us look good,” Shawn insisted, his genuine smile unwavering.

“You make yourselves look good,” you scoffed, timidly looking at the ground as though it were suddenly interesting you. “You of all people should know that. You don’t make any errors in the field, your batting average is sky-high, and you’re on the short list for Rookie of the Year. I’m not sure there’s anything I or anyone else could do to make you look any better.” You could hear the gushing words spilling out of your mouth before you had time to process that you were even saying them, and when you finally managed to stop talking you wanted to crawl into a hole. Your favorite baseball player was talking to you like a normal human being, and you had to go and ruin it by fawning over him like the crazed fan that you were.

But, to your surprise, Shawn seemed unphased by this. “You really know your baseball,” he replied, and your eyes shot up to meet his brown ones.

“I’d hope a pro baseball team weren’t hiring people who didn’t,” you teased in a brief moment of bravery, Shawn letting out a little laugh.

“I guess I’d hope so, too.” As the words left his mouth, you both fell silent. His eyes were still on yours, and you’d have been a fool to look away. It was strange, having this seemingly intimate moment in the middle of a parking garage with a box of your personal belongings still scattered at your feet.

“Um,” Shawn cleared his throat, the first to break the long pause. “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything? The team has the day off today and I’d feel like a dick if I knew you were moving all these boxes by yourself while I sat on my ass doing nothing.”

“That’d be awesome, actually,” you finally assented, bending down to start putting the spilled box back together again as Shawn followed suit.

“I never caught your name,” Shawn said as the two of you carefully repacked your belongings.

“You’re a baseball player, you should catch everything,” you joked, to which Shawn chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Kidding,” you continued, smiling in response to Shawn’s laugh. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, and your heart fluttered at the sound of him saying your name. “That’s pretty.”

“Thanks,” you giggled, continuing to pack up your things and forcing the giddiness that was threatening to spill out of you back down with all of your might. If this was how your luck was going to be in Toronto, you hoped you’d never have to leave.

“Oh, this is too good,” you heard Shawn say, and you looked up to see him smiling down at the framed photograph his large hands were clutching. Without even looking, you knew what it was: a picture of your mom and your dad holding baby you in between them, the Blue Jays’ stadium filling the background. They’d put you in a onesie covered with the team logo, and you sported a smile just as big as your parents’, except yours was toothless. You really were born and raised a sports fan; this picture was evidence of that.

“You were made for sports, weren’t you?” Shawn asked, placing the photograph gently inside the box.

“Absolutely,” you responded, flattered that he seemed so interested in your life. “My parents totally ingrained it into me. I don’t think I’d be happy with a career involving anything else.”

He smiled. “I can understand that. I’m pretty sure I knew how to throw a ball before I knew how to walk.”

You laughed, standing up as you placed the last of your things inside the box. “I’d expect nothing less. The greatest athletes always start young.” You moved towards the trunk of your car to grab the last box, shifting to balance it between your thigh and your arm in order to have a free hand to close the trunk with. You quickly pulled your keys out of your pocket and locked the car, shoving them back out of sight and taking hold of the box with both hands.

“Do you want me to get this one?” Shawn asked, pointing at the one you’d both just repacked.

“Yes, please. We both know what happened the last time I tried to carry that thing.”

Shawn chuckled as he turned his back to you and bent down to grab the heavy box, and you had to force yourself to keep your lips together as you watched the way his back muscles flexed and strained under the fabric of his skin-tight Under Armour shirt. “Lead the way,” he said, turning around to face you. You felt your cheeks get hot as you moved in front of him, sure that he’d caught you staring.

“Is this your first job with a sports team?” Shawn asked as he quickly fell into stride next to you, the both of you making your way into the apartment building’s lobby and towards the elevators.

“Yeah, if you’d even call it that,” you sighed, pressing the up button with your elbow. “It’s just an internship. But an opportunity is an opportunity, and I plan to make the most of this one.”

The elevator doors open and the two of you filed inside. “Guess we’re both rookies, then.”

You smiled, comforted by his kindness. “Yeah, I guess so. Except your season officially started in March. Mine doesn’t start for another ten days.”

“Are you excited?” Shawn asked, hitting the five button, and you felt yourself smiling again as you realized he’d remembered what floor you said you lived on.

“I only cried for two whole days after I got the call,” you giggled as the doors opened onto your floor, and Shawn laughed with you.

“I’ll take that as a resounding yes,” he said as you set the box down at the door and fished in your shorts’ back pocket for the new key to your apartment. You pushed the key in the lock and flung the door open, pushing your box inside to join the pile of all the others.

“Forgot how empty these things look at first,” Shawn remarked, gingerly placing the box in his hands down with the rest.

“I kind of like it,” you responded, taking in the space that was now all yours. Your kitchen was off to the left, and there was a large open space in front of you waiting to be converted into a living room. Your bedroom and bathroom were just beyond the kitchen, and there was a floor to ceiling window that revealed your quaint balcony and a decent view of the Toronto skyline directly across the room from the front door. “Kind of like a blank slate that I can do whatever I want with.”

“I don’t suppose you have furniture packed away in those boxes?” Shawn joked, stepping further into your empty apartment.

“Nope,” you giggled. “It’ll be me and my air mattress tonight. But most of the furniture I ordered should be coming Friday...which I guess is tomorrow.”

“We’ve got a three-game series against the White Sox starting tomorrow. The Friday and Saturday games are pretty late, but the Sunday game is early...I think it’s at one in the afternoon. I should be home by six, and I’m more than happy to help you with any furniture assembling. N-not that I think you can’t do it by yourself,” he rushed to add, eliciting a giggle from you.  

“I’d like that,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek to restrain your giddy smile. “Hopefully I won’t have too much trouble, but I already know I won’t be able to do it all myself.”

“Cool,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black shorts. “I’ll swing by. And, um...You know...If you’re ever free on any of my off-days and you want someone to show you around the city or something, I’d be more than happy to.”

“I’d like that, too,” you smile, your quickened pulse echoing in your ears.

He grinned. “Perfect. We’ll figure something out.”

“Sounds good. Oh, and good luck tomorrow night,” you called as he began making his way towards the door. “Not like you need it.”

He turned around, his eyes bright and a smile playing on his lips. “Will you be watching?”

“Yeah, on the TV that I don’t have yet,” you giggled, and he smiled and ducked his head.

“Right, right. But knowing you, you’ll find a way.”

“Oh, I definitely will. With an extra-trained eye on number 98.”

“No pressure,” he chuckled, running his inked hand through his brown curls.

“You’ll play amazing,” you said seriously, folding your arms around yourself. “You always do. And thanks for the help today, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s nice to know someone else living here.” He swung the door open, stepping halfway in and halfway out of the entryway. “I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Mhm. And I’ll see you on the big screen tomorrow.”

“Hopefully I don’t disappoint,” he laughed, and you did too. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Shawn,” you answered, and with that the door was closed behind him.

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Come Sunday afternoon, you’d managed to assemble most of your furniture with the exception of your bed. The pieces were heavy, and there were too many of them for you to figure out exactly what part went where. As you walked out of your apartment’s sole bedroom and into the kitchen to make lunch, you remembered that day’s Blue Jays game was on at 1; in ten minutes.

Your television had come in last night, and it had taken a while but you’d managed to set it up by yourself. You had nothing planned in the days before you started at your internship, and though assembling your apartment was grueling, you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had something to occupy your time with.

You sauntered over to where you’d put the small TV, reaching for the remote and flipping the channel to the Blue Jays game. Your heart nearly dropped when you saw that the cameras were currently focused on a pre-game interview between one of the announcers and Shawn. You flung yourself down on your new couch, cranking the volume and completely disregarding the fact that you’d meant to make lunch.

The brim of Shawn’s baseball cap concealed most of his forehead (and those perfect brown curls), but the camera still picked up the youthful excitement behind his eyes as he spoke. He had fresh eye black painted under his eyes, and you knew that the two strips would quickly become smeared once the game started and progressed.

“With the White Sox winning the first two games in this series,” the announcer began, Shawn leaning in and listening intently, “What do you think is going to be the key to stopping their streak and winning this game?”

Shawn answered immediately, and you were shocked by how well-spoken he was. You’d heard him speak before, of course, but now you found yourself paying extra attention to every detail about him. “I think we just have to focus,” Shawn started, adjusting his hat. “We have to not get caught up in the last two games because right now, today’s game is all that matters. We took some tough losses but we fought hard, and today we need to fight a little harder.”

You smiled, folding your knees up under your chin and resting your head on top. Good answer. The announcer continued. “I’m sure you’ve been following what the sportscasters have been saying, so I have to ask how you feel about the buzz for you to win Rookie of the Year.”

“I’m honored that they see so much potential in me, but it’s still so early in the season. Right now I’m just trying to focus on playing my position and helping my team win games.”

“Good man,” the announcer said, laughing as he clapped Shawn on the back. “Thanks for your time, and good luck today.”

“Thank you, man,” Shawn said, and with that he was off camera as he made his way back to the Blue Jays’ dugout on the third base side of the field.

The announcer sent the program over to a commercial, telling the audience to stick around because the first pitch was right after the break. You took this as your chance to finally make lunch, throwing together a sandwich with the few groceries you’d picked up from the store yesterday and then making your way back over to the couch. You pulled the blanket you’d laid over the back of the sofa down and covered yourself with it, the blasting air conditioning leaving you a little chilly in your spandex and old Maple Leafs t-shirt. Now that you were settled, you were ready to be glued to the screen for the next three and a half hours.

The game passed uneventfully, both teams’ pitchers throwing an amazing game. The score was still 0-0 in the bottom of the sixth inning, but the White Sox pitcher’s arm was clearly starting to get tired, evidenced in the two consecutive hits he’d given up. You perked up a little bit at the potential scoring opportunity, with only one out and Blue Jays players at first and second base. A single would score one, and a double or triple would likely get both runners home. You could hear the crowd through the TV, and your stomach swirled with the excitement of knowing that you’d be a part of this atmosphere in just over a week. You waited with anticipation to see which Blue Jays player was up to bat next, and you almost screamed when you saw that it was Shawn.

A graphic displaying his statistics flashed on the screen, the announcers gushing over the Blue Jays’ beloved young rookie. Shawn stepped into the batter’s box, raising his bat over his shoulder and watching the pitcher with anticipation. Your eyes raked up and down his body, his arms flexed beneath his jersey from the weight of the bat and his white baseball pants hugging all the right parts of his lower half.

The pitcher started his windup, refocusing your attention on the game and sending a pitch flying over the plate for a strike that Shawn didn’t swing at. The screen said the ball came across at 83 miles per hour, which was beyond slow for the kind of pitch he’d thrown. His arm was tired, and your legs were bouncing up and down as you silently prayed that Shawn could take advantage of the opportunity. Another pitch--this one ruled a ball. As the pitcher began his third wind up of the at-bat, your breath hitched. The ball hurdled towards the plate as Shawn brought his bat around, a crack echoing as the barrel made contact, sending the pitch soaring into left field between the left and center fielders, who both went chasing after it. Both runners had crossed the plate, scoring two for the Blue Jays, and Shawn slid headfirst into second base to avoid being tagged out. The umpire called him safe, and dirt was stained all down the front of Shawn’s uniform as he popped up from the slide.

You could hear the crowd going crazy just like you were, reflexively jumping up from the couch and cheering as the camera showed the Blue Jays dugout high-fiving the runners that had just scored. The White Sox manager walked out to the mound, signaling for a new pitcher to come in and replace the current one. With the score now 0-2, Toronto winning, the game had a new life to it--and you were as hooked as always.

The game went by pretty quickly after that, each team managing to score another run, which left the final score as 1-3 Blue Jays. You smiled, clicking off the TV to get back to work until Shawn (hopefully) stopped by in a couple of hours.

You walked over to the pile of boxes, most of which you’d emptied, and chose a random one to begin unpacking. As you looked inside, you laughed to yourself; it was the box you’d spilled in front of Shawn. You pulled your hair into a sloppy ponytail and set about unpacking, placing photographs where you wanted them and arranging the decor from your last apartment how you liked it in your new one.

Before you knew it the sun was starting to go down, and you’d unpacked the rest of your boxes. You took a proud look around your apartment, satisfied with how everything had turned out. There were still a few tweaks you wanted to make here and there, but for three days’ work you were pretty damn happy.

You’d walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water when there was a knock on your door, and you dashed over to open it, practically sliding across the hardwood floors in your fuzzy socks. You swung the door open to reveal Shawn, wearing black workout shorts and a white Blue Jays t-shirt, his hair slightly damp from the shower he’d surely had after the game.

“Hey MVP,” you grinned.

“So you’re a hockey fan, too?” Shawn asked, pointing at the Maple Leafs shirt you had on.

“I’m an every sport fan,” you giggled, turning and allowing him to pass by you into the apartment. “Even football.”

“A Canadian who likes football,” Shawn mused as you shut the door. “Don’t come by those too often.”

“You’d be surprised,” you said, walking into the center of your apartment as Shawn took in his surroundings.

“You really whipped this place into shape.”

“Makes it easy when you’re stuck here all day with nothing else to do.”

Shawn smiled. “Well, how can I help you finish up?”

“I actually need help with my bed,” you said sheepishly, running your fingers through the ends of your hair. “The pieces are too heavy for me to lift on my own.”

“No problem,” Shawn answered cheerily, following you down the short hallway into your room.

“Oh, and good game today,” you remarked as you walked.

He smiled, his cheeks getting rosy. “You watched?”

“Of course I did,” you laughed. “Every minute of it.”

“Well, thank you. Glad we could win at least one game in the series.”

“And there will be many more wins where that came from, especially if you all keep hitting as well as you did today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I hope you’re right.”

The two of you set to work on the piece of furniture, assembling the frame and attaching it to the headboard. What you couldn’t even finish on your own only took half an hour with Shawn’s help, and there was, of course, the added bonus of getting to see his muscles bulging under his shirt as he did your heavy lifting. You pulled your new queen-sized mattress from where it was pushed up against the wall, tossing it down so that it fit perfectly inside the white bed frame, and let out a little cheer over the finished project.

“That’s everything!” you exclaimed.

Shawn grinned, brushing his hands off and moving over to where you stood. “Feels good to be all moved in, doesn’t it?”

“No kidding,” you laughed. “Now, how about a drink?”

“Oh, I don’t really drink much during the season. Thank you, though,” Shawn sighed, but you weren’t having it.

“Come on!” you teased. “You just helped me with half an hour of heavy lifting after you played a hell of a game. Tomorrow’s a travel day for the team, anyways. All you’re going to do is sit on a jet for however many hours until you get to San Francisco. I think you can afford one glass of wine, and it’s the least I could do for your help.”

“Of course you’ve memorized the team’s schedule,” Shawn chuckled, and you felt a wave of heat rising to your cheeks. “But I guess you’re right. Pour me a glass.”

“Always am,” you teased, heading to the fridge. “Red or white?”

“Whichever you’re having. You’re pretty convincing, you know,” Shawn continued as you poured two glasses of red wine, handing one to him and leaning your back against the counter right next to where he stood. “And you always know what you’re talking about. I have a feeling this internship is going to turn into a job more quickly than you think.”

You let out a sigh, tilting your glass back to let the wine past your lips. “I seriously hope you’re right. I need a big-girl job at some point.”

“What day do you officially start?” Shawn asked, angling his body so that he was leaning up against the side of the counter and facing you.

“A week from Monday. Same day as the first home game back versus--”

“Boston,” Shawn finished, and you both laughed. “I’ve heard.”

“Sorry,” you giggled, picking up your glass for another sip.

“Don’t apologize. It’s cute how you know everything.” At this you almost choked on your wine, but you managed to force it down and suppress your coughs. Shawn kept talking, which you were exceedingly grateful for; you wouldn’t have immediately been able to form the right words to respond to his compliment. “There’s a long corridor at the stadium that connects the offices to the Blue Jays locker rooms, and there are a bunch of random rooms off to the sides of that hallway. If you can manage to get away, you should meet me in the one closest to the locker room, like, fifteen minutes before the game starts. I wanna hear about your first day.”

You smiled at him over the rim of your wine glass, trying to keep your butterflies in check. “Fifteen minutes before game time...got it. I’ll do my best.”

You smirked. You’d do more than your best; you’d be there like your life depended on it.

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The rest of the days went slowly, with you desperate to pass the empty time in any way you could. You arranged your artwork, then rearranged it, then rearranged it again. You paid several visits to the apartment complex’s gym--something you’d normally never do, but resorted to out of pure boredom. You went on walks to explore the area around your apartment, identifying which restaurants looked good and the shops you wanted to look in when you finally (hopefully) had money to spend. You watched every Blue Jays game from the comfort of your couch, now with the added excitement of seeing Shawn on TV while also knowing him personally.  

When Monday morning finally rolled around, you were out of bed much earlier than you probably needed to be. You put on the flowy dress you’d picked out, which was blue with white polka dots to match the team’s colors. It was cute but still professional, and when paired with simple jewelry and sandals it was perfect. You did your hair how you liked it and put on a touch more makeup than you normally would, checking the time to see that you still had an hour to be at the stadium and it was only a twenty-minute walk.

You headed into your kitchen and brewed yourself some coffee, making sure that it was decaf; you didn’t need caffeine adding to the jitters you already had. You sat at your kitchen counter and sipped it slowly, trying to think about anything but how nervous you were. When half an hour had passed you opted to start your walk, grabbing your purse from the hook you’d put by the front door and plugging your headphones into your phone to listen to music on your way.

You arrived at the stadium offices with seven minutes to spare, as you weren’t set to meet with Greg until nine o’clock. You were hit with a rush of excitement as you walked through the office doors, Home of the Toronto Blue Jays proudly displayed on a blue banner directly above the entrance. Once inside, you felt like a kid in a candy store. You could see past the receptionist’s desk, the front of which was adorned with a giant Blue Jays flag, to all of the cubicles in the center of the large space. The walls were lined all down the sides with door after door concealing the offices of higher-ups in the organization, shiny plaques displaying each occupant’s last name pasted to the doors. Additionally, there were two silver-doored elevators tucked into the left corner by the front, where you’d come in. The walls inside the reception area were lined with framed newspaper clippings, photographs, and jerseys, and everyone working seemed to have at least one article of clothing that matched the team’s blue; the entire space was a giant homage to the Blue Jays.

Before you had time to ask the receptionist where you were supposed to go, you were met with the sight of a tall, bald man who couldn’t have been older than fifty walking briskly in your direction, his gray suit pressed to perfection and adorned with a royal blue tie. This man, you assumed, was Greg--the one who’d called you to give you the job.

“Are you my intern?” he asked cheerily, reaching out his hand for you to shake before you’d even given him an answer.

“Yes,” you smiled, shaking his hand. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“I’m Greg, and the pleasure’s all mine,” he said with a smile, and it seemed truly genuine. “Your application was beyond impressive, I remember it well.”

You blushed at his compliment, filled with pride for your hard work and dedication. You felt your nerves slowly slipping away in Greg’s presence, his exceedingly friendly demeanor making you more comfortable by the second.

“If you’d follow me,” he continued, setting off into the giant office area, “I’ll get you situated and introduce you to the other interns.”

“Are the others already here?” you asked, filled with a new wave of anxiety. You’d been almost ten minutes early, how had they all beaten you?

“Yes, but don’t worry--you’re not late. I told you all to come in fifteen minutes apart from one another so that you had time to adjust. It can be overwhelming on your first day, and I didn’t want the added pressure of a crowd,” he explained, sending you a smile from over his shoulder. You relaxed at this; not only was Greg friendly, but he was thoughtful. “I’ve got them all sitting in a conference room at the end of the offices--” he reached out to push in a door handle, “--right here.”

He led you into the room, where five people sat around a large conference table. Five men. They all stopped their side conversations, looking up to you. You felt the heat of five pairs of eyes sizing you up and down, and you swallowed hard in an effort to stay calm. Greg clapped his hands together once and took a seat at the table, you following suit.

“Alright,” he began, your eyes glued to him. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s introduce ourselves and then I’ll get you each started in your individual departments!”

You and the five other interns, who all appeared to be about your age, went around the table as though it were an icebreaker on the first day of high school and introduced yourselves with your name, hometown, and the department you were interning for. There was Chris who’d be interning with Finance, Matthew with Operations, David with Medical, Tony with Marketing, Brandon with Sales, and you with Public Relations. The difference between Finance and Sales, you learned from Chris (who seemed like a massive know-it-all), is that Finance deals with how the team spends money, whereas Sales is concerned with making money.

Once the rounds had been made Greg stood up, announcing that he’d take you one by one to your departments to get you situated. Know-it-all Chris was first, and as soon as he and Greg were gone the guys started talking to each other again. This left you sitting awkwardly, wanting to join their conversations but they were too quiet for you to hear. You tried to push the thought that they were excluding you on purpose into the back of your mind.

You looked down into your lap, pretending to be fascinated with a detail on your purse, when you felt the chair to your right slide out from under the table. Your head shot up, met with Brandon smiling warmly and sliding in next to you. “It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, and you nodded. “Brandon.”

“I remember,” you grinned, and he smiled back. Brandon had tan skin and light eyes, and he wore a black suit that seemed a little large on his frame despite the fact that his shoulders were so broad. His smile was friendly, and though it was early to tell, you thought he seemed kind.

He must have caught you noticing the size of his suit, because he ran his hands over it and let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s big. Couldn’t really afford a new suit, so I had to borrow this one from my dad. Anyways, I could tell the others were ignoring you so I wanted to come say hi. This place is nerve-wracking enough without having to be by yourself.”

“Thank you,” you shrugged, giving him a smile as you felt yourself relax. “You said you were from America, right?”

“Texas,” he confirmed, leaning back in his chair. “Really small town. Nobody ever moves in and nobody ever leaves.”

“Wow,” you quipped, intrigued. “What drew you to Toronto, then?”

“They took my application,” he answered, and you both laughed in mutual understanding of how challenging it was to secure a position like this. “I actually played baseball all through high school and college. Was projected to make the major leagues as soon as I graduated, but then I got hurt and nobody would sign me to play for them. But I knew even if I couldn’t play in the majors I wanted to work there, hence the reason why I’m hoping this internship leads to a higher position.”

“That’s quite a story,” you remarked, and Brandon shrugged. “I know what you mean about the internship, though. I hope it opens up something bigger for me, too.” Brandon nodded in understanding, continuing the small talk with you until Greg called him away.

You were the last intern that Greg pulled, and you were more than ready to finally have something to do after sitting in the conference room for an hour. “So you,” he started, leading the way towards the elevators, “are my lovely PR lady. Which means you are working to make sure that the team is positively received by the fans. You’ll mostly be making written contributions--conducting research and interviews to contribute to articles for the Blue Jays website--and eventually writing articles yourself once your training is done. The website is the main way we keep the community updated on the team both on and off the field, so it’s very important to the success of our organization. You’ll additionally get practice guiding post-game press conferences, which are also very important.”

You listened intently, making mental notes of everything Greg was saying. The man spoke very quickly, almost to the point where you couldn’t keep up, but your focus was razor-sharp.

The elevators opened onto the third floor of the stadium offices, where the PR department was housed, and you followed Greg as he stepped out onto the tiled floors. He took you into every single office, introducing you as The Intern to more people than you’d ever met in your life, whose names you only prayed you remembered.

Lastly, you were introduced to a woman named Cassidy, who didn’t seem much older than you. She stood up from behind her desk with a bright smile and, instead of greeting you with a handshake like everyone else had, she pulled you in for a hug. You learned from Greg that you’d be working very closely with Cassidy; she’d be your “mentor” throughout the internship, and your desk was inside her spacious office. Greg shook your hand one last time before saying he’d “leave you two to it,” and with that he started back down the hallway for the elevators.

Very quickly, you realized Cassidy was beyond cool. She was young, intelligent, and well-respected in her job; everything you aspired to be. She handed you a folder, containing the transcript of an interview she’d done with one of the players regarding his nonprofit work. She told you she was writing an article about how charitable the player was, and asked you to seed out several quotations that you thought would fit the article.

After several hours of doing back-and-forth work with Cassidy, breaking once for lunch and again for dinner, it was nearing 6:30--and that night’s game started at 7. “Me and some of the other PR staff are going to watch the game in the clubhouse, you’re more than welcome to join us,” she said, her eyes bright.

“I will!” you exclaimed, grabbing your purse and standing up from your desk. “I just have to check in with someone first.” Cassidy nodded and made her way out of the office, turning to lock the door as soon as the both of you were out. You were sure she assumed the person you had to check in with was Greg; little did she or anyone else know that you were about to sneak over to meet with Shawn Mendes. The simple thought of it sent adrenaline coursing through your body.

You took the elevator down to the first floor, retracing your steps back to the door you’d noticed was marked with Stadium Access. You checked to make sure that nobody was paying you any particular attention (as if anyone cared about The Intern), and you pushed the door open to reveal a long corridor much like the one Shawn had described.

You found the door closest to the locker rooms just as he had said, gingerly tugging it open and breathing a sigh of relief when you saw Shawn leaning against the wall in waiting. His head perked up at the sound of the door opening, and he smiled from ear to ear when he saw it was you.

“Your dress matches my uniform,” Shawn remarked, pulling you in for a hug after you’d shut the door behind you. This took you by surprise, but your arms found his waist as his squeezed around your shoulders.

“That was intentional,” you grinned, pulling away from him.

He smiled. “How was your first day?”

“Overwhelming,” you admitted. “I’m the only girl of the six interns, and only one of the guys has been all that nice to me. But there’s a girl named Cassidy who works in the same department as I do and she’s really cool, she’s not much older than me. I met a lot of people with such awesome jobs, though. I’d kill to be where they are.”

“First of all, those guys are insecure and you can’t let their fragile egos get inside your head, especially since you’re probably ten times smarter than them. And secondly, you’re gonna rock this internship. You will be where those people are, I know it.”

You smiled, suddenly shy from his compliments. “Thanks, Shawn. I really hope that’s true.”

“It is. How do you feel about the game?”

“You’re asking me how I feel about the game?” you laughed incredulously.

“Your opinion’s as good as any,” Shawn said, looking down at you with a closed-mouth smile that touched his eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling your heart beat a little faster under the weight of his stare. “Well, I hear the Blue Jays’ rookie second baseman has quite the batting average right now. Think as long as he keeps hitting like he has been the game will be just fine.”

It was Shawn’s turn to be bashful from your playful compliment but, right as he was about to answer, you heard the loudspeaker announce that there were ten minutes until the first pitch.

You sighed. “You should go. You don’t even have your eye black on yet.”

“Do it for me?” he asked, reaching into the back pocket of his white pants and handing you the tube.

You felt another shy smile cross your face. “Move your hat,” you said softly, not wanting the cap’s brim in the way of the marks you were about to put under his eyes. Shawn reached up to take his hat off, placing it backwards on your head with a smug smile. You bit back a grin as you reached up to paint the lines on his face, gingerly taking hold of his chin to get a steadier hand. You could feel his gaze on you, and your heart was hammering in your chest so loudly you’d have sworn he could hear it.

“There,” you said, your voice scratchy as you slid the lid back onto the tube and handed it back to him. “Bright lights have nothing on Mendes now.”

There was a pause, each of you wishing you’d had more than five minutes with the other and knowing you both had to go. “Same time here tomorrow?” Shawn spoke up, evoking a confused frown from you.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, fifteen minutes before game time,” he answered matter-of-factly, and by this point you were grinning like a little kid.

“Okay, yeah. Same time tomorrow. But now,” you said, grabbing his hat off of your head and reaching up to place it back on him, “You have a game to win, and the team’s probably looking for you.”

He sighed. “You’re probably right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. Give ‘em hell, rookie.”

“You too,” he grinned, and with that he left the room, his metal cleats echoing as he jogged down the hallway to the locker room.

You leaned back against the wall, feeling like your breathing had stopped and relishing in the fact that this was actually happening to you. You smoothed down your hair, tangled from where Shawn’s hat had been, and made your way back to the offices to watch the game.

Oh, how you were starting to love Toronto.

Feedback is so appreciated, and let me know if you want a part two!! 

[canaryatlaw]

okay, it’s late so let’s go. today was kinda a clusterfuck in a bunch of different ways, but had a pretty solid ending so I’m willing to forgive some of the earlier fuckery. Woke up at 6 am, same deal, I’m usually the first person to get to the office in the morning, but there are two other people who sometimes come in like way earlier, but not all that often. I was on the train this morning (so the second half of my commute) when I got an email to the office from one of those people saying when she arrived the sheriff escorted her back to the office because apparently somebody had broken a window in our office. I got there like 15 minutes later and hoooooooooly shit, it was so bad. it was a huge window and pretty much all of it was completely shattered, and there was glass EVERYWHERE. it was insane. thankfully it wasn’t my office directly, it was in my work buddy’s office next door. so all throughout the morning we had people coming in and out and documenting what happened and cleaning things out and eventually boarding up the window, and of course it’s fucking cold because it’s freezing outside and there’s now a gaping hole letting all of that cold in. but yeah, it got boarded up for now, hopefully they’ll get around to actually fixing it soon. so that was a little bit of a fun pre-work adventure. it was my clinic day which normally means if I have court I’ll get someone else to cover the cases, but I had a motion up that I had been working on so I needed to cover that. court went well, the motion didn’t end up going but after talking to OC it looks like they’re just going to strike the motion and set a hearing date after I pointed out that his motion completely ignores the part of the law we’re using, so....lol, so that was satisfying. clinic was a bit of a mess, we had an older client who didn’t speak English and had a complicated situation, and it just ended up going up to the wrong judge who just dismissed the case without any opportunity to explain, and it was a huge mess with nothing we could do about it, so that was super frustrating. then none of our afternoon volunteers showed up so I had to pull the two that were there all day onto different cases. all that was going well till I realized at like 4:40 that the case I approved like half an hour ago hadn’t actually filed yet when the filing deadline is 4:30, so that was a major FUCKKKK and then we had to fight with the clerks office over it because they’re the fucking worst and it turned into this whole big deal where I just had to be like, look, when I was asked if we had another case to go up I said yes, I can’t tell you what happened from there. but thankfully we did get the case to go up and the order was granted which was a huge relief to me because I would’ve been really livid if that hadn’t happened. I was able to leave around 5:45, not bad for a clinic day I’d say. commuted home, friend came over for legends and I cooked dinner. I was making chicken fried rice but I didn’t account for the sodium content being higher in the chicken and rice because I’d cooked both of them in chicken broth, so when I added the soy sauce it ended up being very salty, but strangely had an almost addictive quality to it?? it was very odd but I just kept wanting to eat it, lol. anyway, Legends. ahhh. this is probably my favorite episode so far this season, and so so much of that has to do with the fact that I adore Courtney Ford as both an actress and a person and I so loved that it was clear she had so much fun filming this episode and that really just made me so happy to know because she is the loveliest person and it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen her and I’m so so so excited to see her next month at a con because she really is the best and the last time I saw her she totally mom’ed me while talking and we had a really heartfelt conversation, and when we had to say goodbye she legit hugged me for a minute straight, not exaggerating, and gah, I love her so much. okay now that I’ve gotten that out, other parts of the episode that were also awesome was definitely Ava and Zari, I absolutely loved their working together this episode, it worked so so well for them and just made me so happy to see. I know a lot of people have been ragging on “Zari 2.0″ as being dumb and wanting old Zari back and I’ve largely stayed out of that discussion up to this point, but I think it needs to be acknowledged that the Zari we have now is the fulfillment of the Zari we had’s greatest wish, to save her family and be able to live an actual life. this is what she was working towards. and even if she seems vapid now we know the character that is still there and is obviously going to come out as things unfold. This is Zari who’s led a life with so much less trauma, where she got to keep her family and isn’t forced to be a fugitive on the run, this is what she wanted, and I think it’s very short-sighted to judge her character from the very little we’ve seen from her so far. I’ll probably go on a tweet rant about this at some point tomorrow as I clearly have strong feelings on the matter. but anyway. legends was over, friend went home, I watched tonight’s episode of The Resident, then the news for a bit before deciding to shower and start getting ready for bed, and now I’m here and like I said it’s late, almost 1 am now and I am going to sleep till 6:30 tomorrow but even still I need to be getting to sleep, so I will be doing that now. Goodnight dearies. Sweetest dreams.

[buttsonthebeach]

Overwhelmed

EVERYONE! I had the distinct pleasure of writing a full scene commission for @lauren-draws-things/@lauren-draws-xxx based off of one of her very NSFW and very amazing drawings! (The link might not work - Tumblr is giving me a hard time, of course)

Thank you for letting me write Lenneth, and I am so pleased that you think I did her justice <3

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions (Slots for February coming SOON!)

Pairing: Solas x Lenneth Lavellan

Rating: EXPLICIT. Content warnings for double penetration, dom/sub dynamics, and inappropriate uses of magic.

**********

Solas was always entirely too controlled, in Lenneth’s humble opinion. He didn’t misplace a single spell or word. He considered each bite of his food, each sip of his drink. He was mild-mannered to the rudest of nobles, quiet in noisy arguments. Of course, she did have to admit that that made it extra fun to rile him up. To be the only one who saw another side of him. To creep up behind him as he stood in front of his desk in the rotunda, wrap her arms around his waist, nuzzle into the space between his shoulder blades, feel him relax into her touch – and then to stand on tiptoe and place a wet, smacking, sucking kiss on the soft skin where his neck met his shoulder. “Lenneth!” He was trying to be scolding, but there wasn’t much use in trying to be scolding when one had just yelped like a dog. “You’ve been at this for far too long. Those oculara skulls won’t get any deader, you know. They will still be here in the morning. Come to bed, vhenan.” She wrapped her arms around him again and cuddled into the crook of his neck. He smelled like ink and lyrium and his own skin and it was perfect, and she wanted to drown herself in that scent. There was already a prickle of heat between her legs, and she would stoke it to a flame before the night was done.

“I am close to done.” He said, gently extricating himself from her grasp, giving her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. Lenneth looked him over from head to toe. “Really? You don’t even look like you’ve started.” She let her gaze linger on the part of his sweater that preserved his modesty in order to make her meaning clear. He rolled his eyes. “You are more clever than that.” “When I want to be, perhaps. Right now I just want to be underneath you. Or on top of you. Whichever you prefer, really.” She rocked up onto her toes and then back onto her heels, full of her own excitement, her affection for the stoic man before her. She would peel back every layer soon enough. “No,” Solas said breezily, walking around to the other side of his desk. With a lazy wave of his hand, he reignited a candle that had fizzled while they talked.

That gave Lenneth a thought. One that had more to do with said prickle of heat between her own legs, and less to do with actual candles.

“You know,” she said. “You could always try using your magic on me instead.”

The aura of her own magic heightened around her at the thought, as though prickling with a hundred needles. It was one of those things she’d always wondered about when she was younger, and coming into her power. Things were always complicated with other mages in her clan and outside of it. She hadn’t had a chance to try with anyone else.

And Solas - the creativity in his spells, the way he confounded Vivienne and Dorian and Bull with them, the way he always seemed to be holding back some of his power - he was the perfect person to try with.

It helped that he was also handsome, and charming, that he loved her, and that she loved him, of course.

It also helped that goading him into giving it a try would be the most fun Lenneth had had in a long time, and the gods knew she needed the fun after the tension and horror of Halamshiral and Adamant.

She sent one long lick of her mana towards Solas and used it to trace the curve of his ear. She could feel the lightness that always filled her body when she stood halfway between both worlds - Fade and reality - and that only amplified that hunger growing within her. It did good things for Solas, too, from the vibration she felt in his aura at the touch of hers. The way he stood up straighter and breathed in through his nose was a good indication, too. A grin broke across her face.

“I have no idea what you are implying,” Solas said mildly.

“Come on,” she pleaded, following him, draping herself around him, nuzzling against his back and running her hands down his sides, perilously close to the fronts of his thighs. “I know how much you love to show off.”

“Lenneth, I promised this report to your council by the time you have your morning meeting.”

Solas’s tone was exasperated but he did not draw away from her. She knew how much he craved touch, how under that confident, austere veneer he was desperate for it, so desperate he could not even admit it fully, and had to show it in the way he would inevitably take control from her so he could have exactly what he wanted, needed, and from the way he seemed to hate every inch of space between them once they were alone, and bare.

Lenneth liked the role she played in that dance. She liked teasing, teasing, prodding, until she reached the soft, vulnerable center of him, and he had to react. She knew he liked it too. He didn’t know how to let it out otherwise.

“Well, that’s the marvelous thing about being in charge,” she said. “I hereby push your deadline to the afternoon meeting instead.” She traced a line down the front of his left leg with just one finger. He shivered but did not react otherwise.

Solas shook his head. “You know full well that the Seeker asked for the report. She wants to know how it intersects with what she learned from Lord Seeker Lucius. And she will not be present at the afternoon meeting.”

But he was starting to lean back into her now. Lenneth let her wandering finger wander inward, away from the warm muscle of his thigh towards the warmer, softer part of him that she most wanted to touch.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for you to amuse me for a little while, and then finish your report later,” she said as she cupped him and felt the beautiful weight of his sex in her hand.

Solas sucked in a breath.

“Lenneth,” he said. “We are in public.”

“And?” she said, cupping him closer, tighter, feeling him start to swell. “Am I not allowed to embrace my lover in public?”

“I believe that you are currently doing much more than embrace me,” he said, voice pitched low. It vibrated in his chest and she wondered if he could make his magic vibrate like that.

“Oh, my mistake then,” she said, withdrawing the touch, stepping back around to the other side of the desk, adding a twirl because she was alive and happy and she knew the dance between them had begun, and she was taking a night off from thinking about anything else. She retreated to the couch, feeling Solas’s eyes on her the whole while, knowing he was eyeing the sway of her ass as she walked.

“I have never known you to be so easily convinced,” Solas said.

“Disappointed?”

“In you? Never.”

It was such an unexpectedly sweet response. His smile was so genuine. Lenneth curled her toes with delight and then slouched down on the couch so she was reclined, and let her legs fall open, and Solas’s gaze was so heavy on the place between them that she could feel it, as real as if it was his hand.

“I must finish this,” he said.

“Would you really have me believe that you can’t finish me at the same time?”

She could see the delicate flaring of his nostrils, the flicker of his gaze from her casually spread legs to the report on his desk. He was weighing his obligations and the challenge she’d just thrown down for him. His parents, whoever they had been, had done well to name their son Pride.

Solas sat down at the desk and picked up his quill, as calm and poised as if their conversation had never happened. Lenneth deflated, dropping her head back against the sofa, and sighing theatrically. But Solas’s timing, as ever, was unerring. At the exact moment that she began to think she really had fallen in love with the most stubborn, unyielding man alive, she felt a row of wet kisses trickling down her neck. They were plush, warm, exquisitely placed. She would have sworn she felt Solas’s breath brushing across her skin with each one, that his weight was braced above her on the couch. But even as she let out a pleased hum and arched up, seeking more, she saw that he was still at the desk.

His left hand was busy with his quill, and his right hand was somewhere beneath the desk, on his knee, perhaps, and that was the trick. That was how he was doing this. He had so much power, so much control, that he could make her feel his presence with just a few subtle, out-of-sight gestures of his fingers.

Lenneth knew exactly what else he could do with a few subtle gestures of his fingers.

The ethereal kisses went lower, between her breasts, towards her navel. She whimpered, then slapped a hand over her mouth. It was late enough that the tower was mostly empty, but there was forever a spy in the rookery above, or one last scholar in the library scribbling notes, and she did have to be some sort of figure of authority at the end of the day.

“I cannot believe I ever found your focus indomitable,” Solas said, a chuckle warming the words.

He ended whatever sentence he was writing with a decisive stab of his quill onto the parchment. She could see the muscles in his right arm tense and before she could respond she felt a wash of sensation all over her body, a rain of a hundred kisses all over her skin, as if her clothes didn’t exist, as if nothing existed except his affection for her. He was kissing her breasts, her shoulders, her earlobes, her thighs, her ankles, the length of her spine. He was kissing her everywhere except her throbbing sex. She felt unbearably hot there, unbearably slick, unbearably swollen, already half undone, and she was still fully clothed, and he had not actually touched her once.

But Lenneth had some pride, too. She bit back the final mewling cry that threatened to spill from her when the rain of kisses faded, the last six or so being placed strategically around her lower belly and the tops of her legs, accompanied with a gentle nuzzling sensation. She propped herself up on her elbows and met Solas’s gaze.

“You know, I really thought your tricks would be more impressive. Is that all you can do?”

“Oh?” Solas said, returning to his writing, looking away from her. “I did not think I had to impress you. I thought I had already won you, my heart.”

And there, again, that disarming sweetness that made her want to melt into the floor, that made her breath catch in her throat. She felt a final ghostly kiss, this one on her forehead. She loved this side of him. But it wasn’t quite what she was after tonight. They could have all of that later. For now, she wanted him to transport her, to shed every pretense, to make her forget they were anything but animals.

“Didn’t you say something to me about Halamshiral? How no victory is permanent?” she replied, sitting up now - but keeping her legs spread wide, her feet planted firmly on the stone floor, and invitation and a challenge alike.

“Ah, so you do listen to my - what did you call them? My ramblings?” Solas continued writing, and now there were gentle fingers whispering up and down the outside of her legs, hands kneading the tension from her shoulders and running through her hair. Lenneth moaned in spite of herself, widened her legs further.

“Occasionally. And if I didn’t?” She did not bother to hide the breathlessness in her voice, even if she did not yet beg for him to stop teasing and fuck her already.

“That would be your choice. But I do so enjoy talking to you. You have the loveliest voice, you know.”

And that was when his magic placed a sloppy, open-mouthed, hungry kiss right on her cunt.

Lenneth arched, keened, scrabbled for purchase on the sofa, tried to press forward into a touch that wasn’t there. Other sensations joined that of his mouth - she felt hands spreading her legs, pushing them onto the sofa, felt the bulk of his shoulders, and even if she stared at the empty air in front of her, even if she stared at Solas, whose eyes were lowered demurely to the report, she could not convince herself that the feelings were anything less than utterly real.

“Oh, please, oh, more, yes, more -” she cut off her own babbling, felt her face go flame red, rode against the shape of his jaw and the press of his tongue. Her clit twitched, grew, ached for more.

“More of what?” Solas said. “I thought my talents were not impressive.”

That was, of course (of course) when two fingers slid inside of her, when he sealed his lips around her aching clit and sucked, when she had to bite down on her wrist, and even then her desperate whimpers still echoed off of the stone walls, and even then the ravens in the rookery rustled and clucked.

He kept working her. Lenneth’s smallclothes clung to her body, each stroke of his fingers and his tongue bringing a fresh wave of slick welling up from within her, and she was pulsing with her own need, writhing against the couch, shuddering every time he fluttered his tongue around her clit and calmly continued writing. The space between them was an ocean now, a gap so vast it took her breath away.

“Please, please - I want you and this, you and this, you and this.” She babbled her own refrain, not even really sure of her own meaning, just knowing that she needed all of him, every last scrap of Solas she could have, that she needed to be totally and utterly overwhelmed.

She opened her eyes. Solas had stopped writing. He was staring at her, hard, the muscles in his jaw working, like he really was there between her legs, eating her like she was his last meal. They locked eyes. He guided her closer, closer, closer to that precipice, she felt all the pleasure gather in one place, felt it about to explode outwards, felt a scream building in her throat - and then all the sensations stopped. She hovered, locked, at that precipice, panting, her throat raw.

“Upstairs,” Solas said, that one word a command. Then, smiling slyly: “If you can stand.”

Between the two of them and their ability to warp the Veil around themselves for speed and silence and cover, they made it up to her bedroom relatively unnoticed. Lenneth started shucking off her clothes on the stairs. She wasn’t sure who reached for who first - if it was Solas who clutched at her, or she who clutched at him, but before they ever reached the bed they were wrapped up in each other, clawing, biting, kissing. There was no magic now, other than the magic of their own connection, of how they bent and swayed together.

“More,” Lenneth said, reaching between them, cupping and grasping him, already ramrod straight and painfully hard in her hand. Solas made a muffled, gutted sound against her throat, where he was leaving sucking kisses behind. His hips rocked forward and so did hers.

“Bed,” Solas said.

And like that, Lenneth knew she had him. He had gone from his usual eloquence to single words, to ripping the hem of his tunic as he drew it over his head, to dropping his jawbone necklace with a clatter against the stone floor instead of setting it gently aside - he had gone from carefully controlled forays with his magic to a crackling power that seethed around him as he followed her onto the bed, crawling over her, his eyes all hunger and his hands all need.

“More,” she begged again. “More, vhenan, please, more -”

She was still soaked from their earlier play, and that had to be the only reason it didn't hurt when Solas drove himself into her, filling her up. She looked down the length of their bodies to watch his cock pumping in and out of her, the steady, driving rhythm of his need, the way her body parted for his, the shine of her slick on his rosy, rigid flesh.

“More,” she whined again. “I can't ever have enough of you, give me more.”

“Patience.” Single words again, this one little more than a growl.

“No.” Lenneth nipped at his chin, his throat, the corner of his mouth, squeezed herself around him.

And like that, she was on her stomach, and he was hauling her hips back, keeping her legs spread, pressing down between her shoulder blades, spreading her with two fingers. She ached with her own emptiness, leaned towards him, utterly wanton now.

“I am going to fill you with my magic,” Solas said. She could not see his face but she could hear his harsh breathing. “Will that satisfy you at last?” He stroked the length of her spine. It was a soothing, gently touch that made her skin prickle.

“No,” Lenneth said. “I want you, too. I want you everywhere.”

Solas's hand paused in its journey on her back. Lenneth turned her head so she could see him. His blue eyes gone black with desire, the flush on his high, sharp cheekbones, the angle of his jaw, his parted lips.

“I do,” she said, raw in her own need, her own vulnerability. She was spread before him, needing him, opened up to the most primal parts of her self. Nothing else mattered but this. She had wanted that tonight. After everything she had given for others. She just wanted this and all it meant.

Solas slid two fingers into her, curled them down, and her belly hollowed out with pleasure. He pressed on that rough spot within in her over and over again.

“I want all of you, too,” he said. “Will you give me that?”

“Of course,” she said. A wave of pleasures rippled through her, made her wetter, made Solas groan, finger her harder. “Please, gods, Solas - fuck me.”

Solas pulled her up by her waist - their bodies were flush together - he turned, they stumbled a bit, they ended up against the headboard of the bed, Lenneth spread wide between his legs. Another moment of fumbling, hands and legs - a lifting - and he was inside her again, but still this time. It was his mana that was stirring, rising, thickening from the ethereality of the Fade into something she could truly feel. Something pressing against her opening, close against Solas's length, rubbing shyly, teasingly, not quite breaching her.

A shiver ran through Lenneth's whole body.

“Oh, please, please, please -”

“You beg so prettily,” Solas said. She could feel his grin against her cheek.

The magic pressed inward by the smallest margin, stretching and burning her. She was full of Solas's body and she would have his magic now too, the essence of him, every ounce of him. She thought of him coming like this, filling her up the way she liked best, how he would groan and shudder behind her. Her cunt clenched. The magic slid in further. It was heavy, thick, blunt, pulsing with energy. Solas muffled a sound into her shoulder. Lenneth squeezed around him again, whined high and loud at the fullness, the vibration coming off the magic, the flex of Solas's own flesh within her.

“Wicked thing,” Solas murmured, rocking his hips, easing the magic in further.

“More, more, more,” Lenneth begged, and probably more besides that. She was not really in the business of paying much attention to what she was saying at the moment. All of her focus was reserved for swiveling and grinding her hips against that all consuming pressure within her.

“Needy thing,” he murmured.

And then he thrust hard, up into her, and she was so full she could not breathe or speak at all.

She burned, she ached, she felt herself on the verge of coming, her core so hot and so wet and so built up that surely all that pleasure would spill over soon. Solas seemed to sense that. He withdrew.

“No - no no no, please, vhenan, I need you, I need you to fuck me, right now, please, fuck me -”

She was being loud (as usual) and she did not care (as usual). Solas chuckled. The sound reverberated between their sweat-slick bodies. Lenneth looked down between them, caught a glimpse of the swollen red head of him, leaking clear fluid, the way his cock twitched and bobbed and the way he held back his own need.

“Noisy thing, too,” he said. “Perhaps I shall find a way to silence you. Would you like that, my heart? To be so full of me you cannot even speak?”

“Yes, please, yes -”

“Then have -” he paused, inched himself in, nestled his head into her folds. “Patience.”

Then Lenneth watched as the magic swelled beside him, a pale, shimmering phallus that found its own way into her body. They slid in together. She tried to watch but her eyes rolled back and it was good, so good, so overwhelming in the best way, there was nothing but sensation, pressure, friction, closeness. Her own magic hummed with the touch of his, the core of her connection to the Fade swelling at the same time as her clit, the walls of her cunt. She started up her sounds again, her noisy cries and moans and pleas. Solas worked her, held onto her hips to give himself stability, bounced her up and down and both the cocks filling her up. It was too much and not enough, when she came she would only get tighter and tighter, and she was going to come, her skin was all sparks and she was shouting now, feeling the wave building, her head tipped back -

And that, of course, was when her mouth was filled as well.

If she had not watched Solas’s own cock disappear inside her body, if she could not feel the slow, powerful pumping of his hips beneath hers, she would have sworn that that was what happened - that he had pushed himself into her mouth and was fucking her there, too. The cock that filled her mouth was smooth, thick, heavy, warm, as urgent in its movement as the two inside her sex were.

Lenneth only shouted all the louder. She was sweating. Solas was too. Beneath the sound of her own pleasure (trapped in her throat as it was) she could still hear him grunting his own joy. It was perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect - the rough jostling of their bodies, the ecstasy of feeling him everywhere, of not being able to think of anything but how fucking good it all felt, how wet she was, how tight - tighter, tighter, tighter, she’d come so close the first two times, this time would she tip over the edge, would all that pleasure spill out in wave after wave, would that make Solas come too -

Solas nuzzled against her ear. He pinched her nipple. How did he still have a hand free? He went slower, harder with each thrust, and the sheer power, the power in him - he had such control over his magic and over himself -

“Do you think you will ever doubt me again?” he crooned.

The cock in her mouth slid further, teased the back of her throat. She tasted salt. She wanted it to spill all over her mouth. She wanted him to spill all over her belly. Her clit twitched, twitched, twitched. She wanted to come. She was babbling all of that but he couldn’t hear it, of course. Although - maybe he did, because he bit down on her shoulder and resumed one last driving rhythm, filled her, filled her, filled her, sent a spark of magic down to the place between her thighs and then -

And then her whole world was light, and sound, and pleasure.

She was coming, coming, coming, jerks and spasms, long keening cries, her whole body shaking, and she felt the ethereal shaft in her mouth jerk and spasm too, felt Solas’s whole body go tense - felt the magic dissipate, suddenly, half of the fullness leaving her body just as the last pulses wracked her - and then he pulled himself free from her body just in time to splash her with his spend, groaning and shaking all the while behind her, and he had been full, too - he went on and on, rope after rope, until he too was weak with the force of his pleasure.

Lenneth lay back against him, trembling. Solas barely held her up. He was panting. Lenneth was sore, and exhausted - and alive, so alive, and in love, so in love. She did not ever want to move or think again.

“Are you well?” Solas asked some time later. Lenneth wondered if she had dozed off and worried him. But, then again, he was like that - solicitous, caring, aware of her needs, perhaps even to the detriment of his own.

“I am perfect,” she said. He hummed and kissed her shoulder in response.

“Shall I clean you off?”

“After you worked so hard to make a mess of me?”

He laughed. She burrowed against him, determined not to let him move her off of him. She could not see his face this way, but she could feel every part of him - could feel him softening against her thigh, could feel the rhythm of his heart - and that mattered far more.

“Oh, Lenneth,” he said, absently. Maybe he was falling asleep, too.

“Are you well?” she asked, no mockery in her repetition of his question.

Solas was quiet a moment before answering. She wondered if it disconcerted him when she pushed him to lose control, or even if it just drained him. She waited for his answer, attentive.

“I am more than well,” he said. “As always, vhenan, you - transport me.”

She wondered what he meant by that. It was an odd choice of words. A careful one.

“I hope I transport you somewhere good,” she said. “Especially when we play like this.”

This time she had to turn around to see his face, to be sure. She flopped over inelegantly, so that she was still lying on top of him, but face to face this time. He was more flushed than she expected, but his face had a dreamy relaxation.

Solas cupped her face in both his hands, like she was something precious.

“Always,” he said, kissing each of her cheeks. “Except, perhaps, when you refuse to clean up, and then roll over on top of me, and make a mess of me too.”

Lenneth laughed, and that made her more sore, but once again it was the best kind of soreness - the kind that came from connection, from happiness. From feelings that overwhelmed.

[og-danny-dorito]

s u n l i g h t

{ A/N: 

     Hey there!

   This was requested by @victoryfroststarlight, who was very sweet and kind when requesting this! Go check out their page too, I saw their icon and almost died cause it's so cute. Anyway, I hope you like it. There wasn't any Cullen x Duke fanfiction to base stuff off of for headcanons so I just made some of my own for guidelines. Basically Duke is closeted as a bisexual and is having issues with his girlfriend relationship-wise. A long time ago he and Cullen got drunk and Duke spilled about his feelings. After this they formed a much stronger connection and it eventually turned into a secret affair. Duke I said under a lot of stress because of work and since he bottles himself up, he usually goes to Cullen to help ‘'let's off some steam’ (aka, pretty much railing him to spend his time with Cullen cause he feels like he's asking to much to spend time with him normally). Duke is stressed, and Cullen offers a talk and some knowing silence.

       - Danny ✌🏼👽 

<---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

The sun shone brightly today.

  Cullen couldn't help but notice it as he woke up, his eyes cracking open to let rays of gold enter his eyes and light his mind back into ignition. It was nice out, and regardless of whatever foreboding thoughts of deadlines hung upon his mind like vines do from branches, he couldn't help but smile as he made his way out of the apartment. Maybe it was the clothes he was wearing, or maybe it was the pleasant smell he was greeted with in the morning when he'd walk past the cafe sometimes. Whatever it was, his sister had to ask him what was "wrong" as he technically skipped out of the apartment.

"You look like you're in a good mood today."

    Blurred eyesight focused on the figure in front of him which was hunched over a coffee and scrolling through whatever the contents of his phone were selected. Although it wasn't all that early, the illumination of Duke's eyes in this light made them look like sap from a fresh, untouched tree. But there was obviously a hint of mischief in his voice, leaving it decisive that he wasn't all that pure. Of course, that was a known fact though. They were grown men, they didn't need to sugar things up.

   He couldn't help but let out a slight laugh. It sounded like he was stopping himself a little to Duke, considering he usually didn't do things like that in public spaces. He wouldn't have minded regardless though. Maybe he'd like to see a few people turn their heads at them, their variously appearing expressions turning to the table by the window that left them both with exposed backs to tables behind them and exposure to the sun like hungry plants. Maybe he wanted them to see that he could make him happy, or at least feel something a little like it.

  The response jarred a very obligatory grin, Cullen's head swaying a bit with the motion of his muscles pulling taught at the corners of his eyes. He supposed he liked feeling this airy, this in his element with someone to talk to. "Why, is it not a good look on me?", he asked. Duke rolled his eyes with a dumb smile on his face. Of course it looked great in him. Everything looked great on him. He's pretty sure that if Cullen walked up in a t-shirt with a bean print and tight leather cut-out pants he'd still think of him as the most beautiful thing on the planet.

  But instead of stating it he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He didn't bother to run a pick through his hair today, mainly because Cullen said he liked it better natural, giving him this sort of 'I just woke up' look. He never thought it looked different until Cullen told him so. "It's just different. I'm glad you feel better than you did last night.", he responded, sipping at the drink in his hand.

   For a second, Cullen's heart sank a little. Oh yeah, that. That was...rough. He didn't really want to go to the party in the first place, but Duke insisted it would be a good way to get out of his apartment for a while. It was pretty much what he expected; Duke spending time with him as a friend and then going off with his girlfriend to talk to some people or do god knows what. It didn't take him long to get caught up in a few bouts of self-doubt and loathing by the time his secret lover’s girlfriend had to drive home, and Duke found him curled up in one of the back rooms with his arms hugging his knees like scared kid. You could tell he felt bad about it from the way he sat next to him and just held him there for a while, saying that he was sorry.

  He was sorry it had to be this way, that he couldn't say anything about it or make this situation better. And Cullen knew that he just...he just wanted better anyway. They had started these secret "meetings" a while back after Duke said something about himself he wasn't supposed to. Cullen, from that point forward, offered a shoulder to cry on, regardless of the fact that he knew Duke couldn't openly tell everyone else about his predicament he had set himself in by existing. His girlfriend wouldn't know, and neither would anyone else. Besides Harper of course, because that was someone they both trusted the most, but she promised to keep her lips sealed.

  Duke seemed nervous the first few times they actually got engaged in something more than just fooling around. For instance, the night they spoke of at the moment eventually became a little more than really emotional hugging. Duke made sure to lock to door on his way in for privacy, of course, but as Cullen held onto him he couldn't help but groan a little under his weight and thank himself for doing that. They had gotten in a position where their limbs were entangled to one another, causing them to brush against each other in more than one place as they moved. And so, as the accidental rubs and nudges turned not-so-accidental anymore, burning fingertips began to trace the lines of each others' skin.

  Their chests stayed close, breathing erratically as they struggled to be free of the bonds most called clothing it hadn't taken him long to get Cullen a whimpering mess on the floor when they were done, and it felt as if they had splintered the wood of the bed's frame leg and given each other carpet burns with the desperation of their movements. Of course, after such an ordeal they resorted to hanging around in the room and talking things out because Duke always pressured the importance of communication (he didn't have much of that in his 'public' relationship, but at least he could try here). Cullen had told him he felt jealous that he wasn't able to live up to his girlfriend and how put together she was, but he quickly saw through that.

  Both of them were dissatisfied with this secrecy. In a perfect world they could run off somewhere and forget all of this and do what they wanted. But they knew, on the surface and deep down, that they were the closest thing to paradise to each other. Of course, Duke couldn't stop being The Signal and Robin, and Cullen couldn't leave behind his sister and his friends he'd only recently begun to get comfortable with, but it was something to think about every once and a while. In some perfect, flawless and infinitely vast world, there was a possibility that they could live happily together.

  But for now they did this, asking about small gestures or changes in body posture while ignoring the fact that they were most likely going to be both literally and metaphorically cast into the fire for this. Cullen admitted to himself that he would rather burn with him than live without him. He sighed a little at the question. He didn't order anything to drink originally, but Duke bought him a hot chocolate anyway. It was getting progressively colder out lately. 

"Thanks, dude." 

"You know I hate it when you call me that." 

"Yeah, I know."

  The both of them smiled, and Duke couldn't help but let out a chuckle of embarrassment. Cullen smiled, seeming to lean in a little closer. It seemed he was whispering, considering there were eyes and ears everywhere. He also enjoyed being pointlessly dramatic, especially with someone who was so easily entertained by his antics. "How's work going? With the boss man and stuff?", Cullen inquired. Duke, for a second, let his chest rise and fall with the sudden tenseness of his brow. He seemed to be thinking, but the lackluster curve of his lip that remains previous to an erratic laughing fit remained, so he couldn't have bad news. "Not to bad, just a little repetitive. I like helping, and it's an honor honestly, but I feel like there's some things a person does better on their own, yknow?" Cullen nodded. He wasn't good at giving advice, but he was a damn good listener.

  "I mean that from both perspectives. There's just some things people can handle better on their own, me or him. But regardless of the daily philosophical pondering I'm pretty good." The response made him feel...lighter. And Duke couldn't place it perfectly, but he felt a little better about it. Things could get stressful, but at least someone cared. At least he knew someone did. Cullen had resorted to intently stirring the contents of his hot chocolate in vacant notice although it had cooled down quite a long time ago. He wanted to ask about his girlfriend, how she was doing, but he felt out of line doing so.

  Like yeah, they fucked trice a week and probably told more to each other than they told to themselves, but there were things like that he left alone. If he could know about everything else, he was satisfied. Duke didn't need to be in that position for his sake. "Good. Good is good." And the quiet. For a long time, too. It felt like the whole cafe was listening in that silence. The distant murmur of people around them. Music seeking to faintly hold it's tune in a way that would make you want to place where it came from while thinking about it later. Even the scent of the coffee and assorted baked treats that were not nearly as good as he thought made him feel like he was being listened to.

  Duke was used to it since it was technically the truth, but Cullen had never much liked being observed without consent and/or expected to preform because of it. Normally he wouldn't break the silence, but he was in a god state of mind, so there would be an exception. "Should I come over later tonight?", Cullen asked. Duke stopped for a second at the suddenness of the statement, but his brilliant white teeth shone through his soft lips as soon as he caught on. Of course he dipped his head with that smile like some bashful teen in a romance movie, but he could t help but bask in the fact that he could still get a reaction out of him.

  With all of these responsibilities he seemed to be more on edge, more aware of his surroundings but not the people in it that cared. He could try to talk some sense into him, although he may have been overreacting by caring too much again. In these small moments all of it felt real and safe, not like some hidden drug deal they had caught themselves in through loops of the same thing. Duke was flexible and willing to listen, but in that he often overthought things and pushed people away knowing full well he shouldn't. Cullen was kind and understanding, but he often found himself thinking too little and rushing into things without a second thought. They had of course improved, but one can never be perfect. If only though, right?

  Duke was silent for a few seconds before nodding his head, glancing once at the vintage clock on the wall and slowly standing. From the way he hesitated, looked over Cullen's face for bit before shaking his head a little, he knew he didn't want to go back to whatever work he had to do. Work as in putting up a front in all the situations he found himself in, which were many nowadays.

  But Cullen wouldn't complain. Not to feed the flame of displeasure or make it known that he was suffering too. No, he'd rather stay positive, and as Duke said he'd see him later and he responded in turn with his own farewell, he couldn't help but notice the sunlight's effect on the dark eyelashes that lined his eyes and the shine in his hair as he moved as if the strands were little webs to capture it.

  The sun shone brightly today, doing little to lessen his excitement for the rest of the day and make his smile much wider than before.

[bards-witcher]

There isn’t enough VanOhm content so I decided to add my 2 cents to the mix. Hope you enjoy.

Just thought this was an interesting idea, and I’m planning on a couple more chapters where they will get together.

Evans POV

It was 2 am when they’d finished their recording session, the other guys having already left discord in favour of their own beds, leaving only him and Ohm left in the call. It wasn’t often that they’d have a catch up after their sessions but sometimes it was nice to just chill with his friends as he waited for himself to get sleepy.

Ohm was currently telling him about his new dog, Tiny, about how much of a menace he was, and that Ohm had already lost 2 pairs of shoes to him. Evan though was content to simply listen to Ohm, giving a small laugh or grunt hear and there so that Ohm knew he was still there. He liked listening to Ohm, his smooth voice, when not screaming down the mic or in a fit of giggles, was quick to soothe him, and late at night could help lull him to sleep. Not that he didn’t like the other noises Ohm made, his growing archive of 32 Ohm noises was proof of that, and it was even better when he was the one to get the older man into his giggly state.

“Ev, you still there?”

Evan blinked and shook his head a little when his name was called out, he really needed to sort out his schedule.

“I guess you’re asleep then” he heard Ohm huff a laugh at that “I’ll speak to you later Ev. G’night”

“Wait, Ohm I’m still here, I was just, err, grabbing a glass of water”, his voice thick with sleep. Evan put his head in his hands and groaned quietly, that was probably the worst acting he’d ever done. But, what else could he say? Please stay and talk to me longer because your voice comforts me? That was a sure-fire way to make things awkward between them.

“Ev, you okay?” The worry was evident in Ohms' voice, in truth he probably wasn’t okay, he felt stretched thin and at breaking point, but if he was good at anything it was lying to himself.

“Yeah I’m fine Ohm, why’d you ask?”

He heard a sigh on the other side of the call, he knew what that meant. “I’m worried about you Evan, I think you’re overworking yourself too much. You’re doing your music and YouTube and I can see the strain it’s having on you, I don’t have to see you to know that it’s breaking you down bit by bit. I care for you, you’re a great friend, a great content creator and your music is fucking awesome, but you need to know when to stop.”

Evan felt tears brim his eyes, he couldn’t deny the truth in Ohms words, but he also couldn’t stop his work, he had fans counting on his videos and demands to meet by his manager.

“I’m not saying you need to stop YouTube or your music, just slow it down a bit, take it easy and look after yourself.”

Evans' head was racing through Ohm’s words leaving him unable to form a proper response, instead just saying a simple ‘G’night Ohm’ before ending the call. He’s sure he can feel Ohms frown through his screen and sure enough, he hears a notification from their private chat.

Take care Evan 😊

The Canadian smiled a little at the message, he knew he’d been a bit of a dick to Ohm, he was only trying to look out for him after all, the man was too caring for his own good. With that he shut off his setup and made his way to his bedroom, trying not to trip over the bits of clothing littered on his floor. He didn’t even get changed as he fell onto his bed, sleep however restless, was quick to come.

He heard his 7 am alarm go off and groaned as he rolled over to turn it off, he rubbed his head as he felt a headache coming on and simply sat up to take 2 Ibuprofens dry. As if on autopilot he simply stripped down and went for his shower, simply standing under the water trying to ignore the growing pain behind his eyes.

He made the brief mental note to do his laundry later as he put on what was probably his last clean set of clothes. He ignored the plates piled high in the sink and the takeout boxes everywhere in favour of pulling out the last few slices of pizza from the night before.

He quickly checked his phone, seeing one of his discord chats.

Sweaties:

Ohm: Sorry guys I’m gonna bail tonight, had a family emergency come up ☹

Moo: Sorry to hear that I hope everything’s okay.

Ohm: Yeah just an old friend of mine got sick all of a sudden, it’s supposed to be quite serious so I’m gonna go check up on them tonight.

Moo: Well I hope everything goes alright and remember we’re here if you need us.

Nogla: Yeah I hope your friends alright, but don’t worry I’ll be sweaty enough for the both of us, it’ll be like you’re actually here.

Ohm: Wish I could’ve sent you my world-famous sweatpants XD

Brian: Ugh

Brian: I hope your friends alright Ohm but Nogla’s sweaty enough as is without compensating for you.

Moo: As if you’re not already the sweatiest one here Brian.

Ohm: XD

Nogla: :’D

Brian has left the chat

Evan: Hope your friends alright Ohm, take care.

With that, he shut his phone off and left to start his long walk to his meeting. He’d briefly thought about calling an Uber but decided the fresh air would do him good. He was on autopilot as he made his way to the building, even throughout the meeting, simply writing down the odd note, answering a couple questions on deadlines and having a brief discussion on his future work.

It was early afternoon when he started walking home, in the back of his mind he noted that he needed to do a grocery shop but then he thought about how much easier it was to simply order in food, and his mind was made up.

When he got home he chucked his keys onto the kitchen table and put his jacket on the nearest chair. Discarding his shoes, he made his way to the couch where he started flicking through channels until he found some thriller to watch. It wasn’t long before he started falling asleep, he briefly thought about moving to his bed but that involved moving, so instead adjusted himself slightly and waited for sleep to take him.

He woke up to knocking on his door, which is strange because he wasn’t expecting anyone, as shown by the dire state of his studio.

He looked at his phone, 6:52 pm, he panicked slightly, he hadn’t meant to sleep that long, in fact he only had a few hours before he was supposed to be recording with the guys. He was brought back to attention by another knock on his door.

He rubbed at his face and combed through his hair as he made his way to the door, trying to look somewhat presentable for the unexpected guest. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a somewhat rugged man about the same height as him, cheeks red after being in the cold, beaming a smile at him. Evan wasn’t going to deny that he was good looking, he had soft hazel doe eyes and his trimmed beard framed his face nicely, he had what looked like soft brown hair currently sticking out in various directions he’s sure was caused by the wind. Some part of him for some reason wanted to comb his hand through the man’s hair, but before he could take that thought further he hears the man in front of him clear his throat.

Evan snaps his eyes back to the strangers when he realizes he’s pretty much been drooling over him, except the man doesn’t seem to mind, smile still on his face and mirth in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, can I help you with something?”. The man lifted his arm a little bit and Evan saw the pizza box in his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t order any food”. Evan was confused about what was happening, the guy didn’t look like a delivery driver, and he made no move to leave.

“Who said it was for you? I’m fucking starving, although if you ask me nicely I’ll share” There was no denying who’s voice that belonged, this time Evan couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping. “Ev, your corridor is really cold, is it alright for me to come in?”

Mouth still open Evan opened his door for the man to come through, he entered the flat, suitcase in tow, before trying to make space on the kitchen counter to put the pizza down. Seeing this made Evan flustered, the fact that he was seeing Ohm for the first time and Ohm was seeing how bad his living situation was only affirmed what the man had told him last night.

Evan quickly moved to the counter, picking up empty takeout containers and shoving them into the bin although it made little difference. “What are you doing here Ohm? How are you here? How’d you know where I live? What about your friend?” Evan couldn’t stop the onslaught of questions until Ohm raised his hand.

“I asked a couple of the guys where you lived, took a bit of persuading and some sort of lifetime deal to Craig but here I am. I was worried about you, so I decided I’d come to see you myself, make sure you were doing alright. Although your flat Eva….”

“I know I live like shit at the moment and I really would’ve preferred you’d call first; do you know how embarrassing it is for you to see me living like this” Evan didn’t mean to snap like that, he knew the American was just trying to help him.

“If you were taking care of yourself like you should be then you wouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with. I know it’s hard dealing with this shit on your own and I know you’d never ask for help which is why I flew my ass down here.

“Up here.”

“What?”

“You flew your ass up here you mean, you see Canada is above America, therefore, you’d have to fly up to be here”

Ohm just stared at him before he started to laugh, the tension between them started to melt away after that.

“I’m gonna need some help finishing this pizza you know, I hope pepperoni’s alright?”

“Sure, you want a drink? I got a couple beers in the fridge if you want one?”

“You’re alright thanks, I came prepared” Ohm grabbed the pizza and his rucksack before making his way to the couch.

Evan grabbed a beer from the fridge before joining his friend on the couch. Evan stared at Ohm in disbelief as he saw several cans of drinks in his bag. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is”. Ohm laughed as he opened one of the cans he’d pulled from his bag.

“Told you I came prepared, nobody else ever has Brisk Iced Tea so I have to take it into my own hands”.

“You’re such a nerd”. They sat there talking and laughing for a couple of hours, simply enjoying each other’s company. Evan was often finding himself stealing glances at the man whilst he was animated in telling his stories, content to just listen and watch.

It was about 9pm when he pulled out his phone, pulling up discord and sending a quick message to the guys that he was gonna bail on recording for the next few days, instead taking some time for a much-needed break. He expected to receive a couple of small jabs about it but all of them were nothing but supportive, and at that moment Evan couldn’t have wished for better friends.

He then pulled up Twitter and posted a similar message for his fans, most of them sending him their well wishes. He smiled when he noticed Ohm, who was just in the bathroom, liked and commented on his post, the man really was a nerd.

“You know I’m right here, you don’t have to post on my twitter, you nerd.”

Ohm laughed as he sat back down next to Evan “First of all I wear the term nerd as a badge of honour” Evan scoffed at that, “and secondly, of course I’m going to support you online. Would you rather I tell them that I’m on your couch whilst you’re drooling over me? That’d start up the fanfictions” Evan turned pale after hearing that, he thought he’d been keeping his observations secret, but the smirk Ohm was aiming at him said otherwise.

“I don’t mind you staring at me Ev, it’s a lot to take in, Luke was the same when I first met him.” Ohms words reassured Evan a little, the older man sending him a smile before turning back to the Tv.

“You know there’s already fanfiction about us”. Evan beat himself up silently in his head, why on earth didn’t he keep his mouth shut.

Ohm turned to him with a curious look on his face which Evan couldn’t quite make out. “Any good?”

Getting over the shock of Ohm not being freaked out, Evan smirked before facing Ohm “I enjoyed the ones I’ve read, but I don’t think you’d enjoy them as much”

“Oh yeah why’s that” Ohm now turned his body towards Evan, the look on his face vanishing in favour of a teasing smirk.

“Because you’re my bottom bitch in all of them”. Ohms' eyes widened, and his face turned bright red as Evan could do nothing but laugh.

“No way, I’m older, wiser and more experienced, if anything you should be the bottom bitch” Ohm was still flustered as he stuttered out his response, Evan still laughing at the man trying to defend his authority.

“Clearly the fans know what they’re talking about. I can send you the links if you want, but the facts don’t lie” Evans laughter had died down, but still enjoying the bright red on Ohms' face.

“Send me the links then”. Now it was time for Evans' eyes to panic, he hadn’t expected Ohm to follow through on his remark. He tried to formulate a response, but nothing would come out of his mouth, he couldn’t send links of fics which had himself fucking his friend, to said friend in front of him.

Ohm seemed to sense his discomfort and put his hand on Evans' knee, causing him to blush at the contact, Ohm seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on the younger man. “I’m joking Ev, besides I’ve read most of them anyway”. Now Evan was shocked but for a completely different reason, he’s sure he’s starting to go crazy. He’s questioning whether he’d actually heard that or not when Ohm simply stands up and wishes Evan a good night before heading to the guest room.

Evan stayed on the couch thinking about what just happened. He’s not going to lie when he says he may have had a small crush on the masked gamer, and him turning up on his doorstep seemed to have increased it tenfold. Was this Ohms way of saying he felt the same?

Evan tried not to think too hard about it as he made his way to his own room, stripping down to his boxers and collapsing on top of his bed. It took a while to quiet his racing thoughts long enough to sleep, where his dreams were to be plagued by a certain man in the room next to him.

[alicewhitmore]

Part Two

Jesus Fucking Christ, this is why I never give myself deadlines.

“Stay here,” the blond barked as the bodyguards unceremoniously dumped Davey on a couch near the front door. Apparently a verbal warning wasn’t enough because the redhead stood next to the couch, probably to make sure he wouldn’t make a break for it. Specs went directly upstairs and Davey took the time to look around. The mansion was huge, there were at least three couches in the living room and an almost movie theater sized TV. It didn’t necessarily look like a mob headquarters, in fact with all the empty beer bottles and bongs everywhere, it looked more like a frat house, but looks can be deceiving

After a few minutes Davey heard footsteps and looked up to see Specs coming down the main staircase, looking as unimpressed as he did when he first saw him, with another man trailing behind him. The other man who looked about 25, presumably Jack, had dark hair and tanner skin, a relatively sharp jawline, and was wearing...jeans and a blue t-shirt? There was a streak of grease on his face and his hands were almost black from soot, he looked like he’s been working in a garage. Ok so maybe the mob wasn’t a great guess, unless this Jack owned a car garage as a front. When Jack got downstairs he smiled wide and held out his hand to Davey, “Jack Kelly, nice to meet ya.” Yep, definitely a Don. Specs was standing next to him, like he was overseeing the whole interaction. Davey glanced over to where the redhead was still standing with his arms crossed intimidatingly before looking back to Jack who frowned. “I think we’ll be fine Al, I doubt this kid is gonna get the leg up on any of us any time soon,” he remarked pointly to the redhead. A mutual glare was shared between the two before Al left the room without a word. Davey did not want to know what that whole thing was about. “What’s your name kid?” Jack asked after turning back to Davey. There was just a twinge of an underlying southern accent in the man’s voice. “Davey Jacobs, sir” he answered, standing up to give Jack a firm handshake, it was what his father had always taught him to do to show respect. “No need for all that sir business,” Jack answered, stifling a laugh. “Don’t be so nervous. Come on, let’s sit down and chat.” Davey sat back on the couch as Jack sat in an armchair across from him, Specs seemed content to just lean on the back of Jack’s chair and give Davey suspicious looks. “Ok let’s chat. I just have some questions, like why I was dragged in here by two bodyguards against my will,” yeah, it was a risky move and yeah, Davey was already regretting it, but it was almost worth it to see the look on Jack’s face. Specs looked more on the irritated side while Jack had been completely taken aback. Which was good because he didn’t trust Jack’s friendly demeanor and he wanted him off his game. “Well I have some questions myself, like why you were trespassing on private property and terrorizing my foster son,” Jack answered after he’d recollected himself, right back to that easy smile. “He was spying on me!” “So you decided to chase him down onto private property?” Ok, Davey had to admit that he had a point there. Maybe chasing that kid wasn’t the best idea, but he hadn’t exactly been thinking when he’d done it. Besides, foster son? Jack looked way too young for that, there was something off about this story. “Kid, what’re you even doing this far into the woods?” Davey glanced at Specs, he was kind of dedicated to his story now, there was no way out of it. “Like I told those guys outside, I'm looking for my little brother Les, he went missing a few days ago.” Jack didn’t seem to be surprised by this, Specs probably told him this upstairs. “In all honestly, Specs thought you were making up a story to get out of trouble, that you were a vandal or a thief. We’ve had a couple instances with high school kids before, I guess they saw the ‘No Trespassing’ signs as a challenge,” Jack admitted.     “That still doesn’t give you the right to drag me in here and interrogate me,” Davey shot back, he was tired of all this already. “You’re lucky Specs didn’t make a citizen’s arrest, you really scared Finch,” Jack said sternly. Davey just scowled at the ground in response. This was ridiculous, the whole idea of this mysterious house in the woods was ridiculous, he just wanted to go home. “I’m sorry about your brother,” he looked up to see Jack’s face had softened, become more sympathetic. Davey didn’t trust it for a minute. “If you don’t mind me askin’, why would your brother be all the way out here?” “He loves to play in the woods, I used to bring him here all the time. I know they already did a search and everything but I guess I just thought I’d look for myself,” Davey supplied. Jack and Specs shared a look that the teen couldn’t place. “My parents are probably worried sick about me, I really should get going.” “Right. Of course. Specs can drive you home,” Specs didn’t look too happy at those words. They seemed to have a habit of pawning things off on each other like that. “I’d rather walk.” “It’s already dark out kid, those woods are pitch black. I promise he’s not going to drive you into a lake, even if his driving says otherwise.” For some reason, Davey agreed. Maybe because he remembered the times him and Les stayed out too late and were terrified trying to get out of the woods, and now he’s deeper than he’s ever been. In the end there was no reason to worry, Davey never made it to the car. As they walked Davey out they passed the staircase and were standing in front of it to say their final goodbyes. There was a sound, weak but still intelligible, coming from upstairs, “Davey…” Everything after that happened so fast. Davey’s eyes went wide and he bolted, running to the stairs and taking them two at a time, he could hear the footsteps behind him. He called Les’s name the whole way up. At the top he heard his brother’s voice again, louder and clearer coming from the room at the end of the hall, it was a broken voice shouting his name. “Les!” he shouted back as he ran, he couldn’t believe these maniacs kidnapped his brother. The door was locked from the outside, Davey knew Jack and Specs weren’t far behind him so he wasted no time unlocking it before throwing it open. There was Les, in a dark, windowless room where the only things were a cot and a bucket next to it, his brother was in the cot, sweat soaking the sheets and shaking like he had a fever. Next thing he knew, before he could get another word out, pain exploded across the back of his head and he collapsed to his knees, holding his head in his hands as his vision started going black. “Davey!” he heard Les scream through the ringing in his ears before he felt a sharp pain in his neck and everything faded to black.

Prologue   Part One 

@disney-princess-sized @purplelittlepup @poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow

[muneerahwrites]

The Rain in Spain

[I was trying to be clever but there was no actual rain - rain meaning my tears LEL. I want to share contents of the lessons too inshaAllah but this will come slowly and surely. Bc there was really A LOT. This post is dedicated to my unsorted-out feelings – an attempt to rationalize and understand why I felt what I felt and to attempt to move forward with clarity of heart.]

Came back to SG from Granada to find myself plunged into deadlines and unfinished work. Grappling with jet lag, acne, a worn out yet, invigorated soul, and an unsettled mind, I dragged my body to work for the past 4 days trying to refocus and get myself into my comfortable SG work routine.

I haven’t had the time to reflect properly on my Ramadan and then, the 2 weeks Critical Muslim Studies – on what I’ve learnt and about myself. Why was I crying so much everyday? I mean, I cry occasionally but Spain was something else. I felt like I was ALWAYS crying lol. I couldn’t speak without tears bubbling beneath the surface. The garden behind the school became a regular witness to my tears (and on one occasion, the whole class but I’d rather bury that in the depths of my mind.)

I did not fully understand it at that time, but I concluded in Spain that it was probably for four reasons:

1.       PMS is real.

2.        I came to learn about decolonial theory and largely expected “head-work” about Critical Muslim Studies. Instead, there were discussions about dealing with the metaphysical catastrophe of coloniality, the counter to that being weeping and praying (Fanon), embracing other ways of being (the soul as a way of decolonising) and that I’ve been approaching the Qur’an or my faith (something I hold so dear to and I thought was the anchors of my always changing life) incompletely, maybe even self-indulgently. I realized that I usually leave my soul out the door when I enter “secular” spaces. Of course, I hold on to prayer and du’a but the reminder that the soul is there with your mind and body as a way of understanding and communicating was such as shock to my system. As I realise this, my body was so still but I felt so moved. Therefore, the tears.

 3.       I felt inadequate. What was I doing in this space? Neither activist, content producer nor scholar, I entered the space positioned as a student, only to be overwhelmed by everyone else. I felt that I was not fit to talk about decolonisation or liberation theologies. What limited struggles have I gone through as compared to everyone else in the space? I shut my mouth, I listen, I took in everyone’s pain. I felt so much guilt that I did not have my own pain (or I thought I didn’t). What have I done in my life? I have nothing to share that is important in this space. Bc of these negative thoughts, I brought up all my weaknesses as excuses not to engage. I am not critical enough, not eloquent enough, my heart beats too fast when speaking in front of many people. Anyway, everyone needed to speak so I shouldn’t, whether inside or outside class. I concluded that I shouldn’t be here. I felt even more guilty because it’s Allah’s will and plan that I was in Granada and I felt that His plan was wrong. I retreated. Therefore, the tears.

 4.       Another level of inadequacy was from the fact that I was from Singapore. I have nothing to contribute coming from Singapore. Who cares about Singapore anyway? Was I even Singaporean, being away from Singapore for 5 years of early adulthood. What does being Singaporean even mean?? *Existential crisis* Other experiences seemed more valid, more pressing, more outwardly violent. The need for social justice in other parts of the world was more pressing because people are constantly dehumanised and stripped of dignity. What is Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo to Singapore’s ISA and prisons? What is racism and white supremacy in the US and UK/Europe compared to racial politics in Singapore? Was my experience not important? Or was it relegated as unimportant? Did I do this myself or was this another power dynamic that is playing out? I was confused but also, I am not a personality who insists that my voice be heard. (WHY MOO? I need to examine this more?) I was frustrated. Therefore, the tears.

As the classes come to an end plus the long trip back home, I realised that I was crying because of all those reasons and then some. I was mainly crying because I was so uncomfortable. I realised through the classes, my reflections, my interactions with the other participants and with my interaction with Granada as a place, that I am still colonised. It’s not just a theory I use in my research or studies. My self, my being and thoughts are so unchecked and it’s suddenly being called out in Granada. The process of decolonisation of the self, that the summer school was pushing me to do, was/is an extremely uncomfortable one. Therefore, the tears.

Colonial domination is often understood as a historical process that has ended with independence of nation states. It is easy to recognise that there are legacies in our political, education, economic systems but I don’t think I understood the far-reaching creeping fingers of coloniality – it is in the domination of mind, body and spirit. But coloniality didn’t end in 1963, when the British left. It is not just concerns of “unfortunate Third Worlders” and diasporic communities in distant lands, battling corruption and poverty because they lacked the vision and the statecraft of a Lee Kuan Yew. The logics, practices and legacies of colonialism disrupted our local/faith/indigenous epistemologies (ways of seeing, being and understanding), our social orders and norms and forms of knowledge.

Singapore was colonised but emerged as “crown colony”. Someone from Guardian even wrote a whole article about how we “benefited” from colonialism LOL: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/jan/04/colonialism-work-singapore-postcolonial-british-empire We’re so good at being a “modern nation-state” with our policies based on race and hierarchies created by meritocracy – but always framed as having the promise or intention of equality. We (or rather, I will say I myself, Idk about other people) just internalised coloniality (the colonial mindset) so much that we became model global citizens. White masks, yellow, brown, black skins. Wanting to be “modern”, to imitate. But as someone who has multiple levels of otherness (global south, woman, muslim, brown, introverted etc), when I imitate, I never feel enough or belonging to anywhere.

Discussions came up about how we should not to compare issues, but to be relative. And that’s when I realised: The logic of coloniality remains the same – whether we are talking about clear individual acts of Islamophobia in the UK or the state control of our asatizah in Singapore. No matter how it is being framed.

So returning back to discomfort in decolonising the self. The solution was not to retreat to the soul or to some pristine, native state of being. I was called to recognise the narrowness of my “broadened” mind: whose standards are you trying to meet? Whose questions are you answering? What are your own questions? What are the standards and values decreed by Allah? Why did I think or feel my personality, skills and socialisation not enough? Why do I think that I could not offer anything when everyone else could (especially those from the West?) How was I reproducing coloniality even in the way I was thinking about myself in relation to others? I was called to take my sensing and knowing beyond dominant ideas of what was natural, true and good.

Also, I don’t think my highly introverted self was ready for how short of a time, intensely close and intimate spaces (physical, mind and heart) I would share with so many diverse women (mostly Muslim WOC from everywhere). Everyone was so loving, embracing, warm, spiritual but at the same time, brave, strong, eloquent, unafraid of their thoughts and femininity, critical and aware of power and power dynamics and so quick to call out BS and violence when they saw it. They are honestly so aspirational and I have so many conversations/advice embedded so deeply in my mind (or heart? Allahu ‘alam). So honoured and grateful to have met every single one. Farid Esack (an absolute legend) advised us: “our interactions with other people are sacred. No matter how you differ, do not pee [desacrilise] on this sacred space.” Jasmin Zine (or was it Amina Teslima?) also read this hadith at the start of class which explains why some souls feel inexplicably drawn to other souls:  The Prophet (pbuh) said: "The souls are (like) an army joined (in the world of spirits) whichever souls knew each other (in that world) are attracted towards each other (in this world) and whichever remained distant and indifferent (there) are disinterested to each other (in this world)" (Saheeh al-Bukhaari)

It was truly a blessed group to be around. I regularly got advice and reminders that were so on point and poignant, I wish I had just took out a notebook to write all of it down. One of the ladies shared Audre Lorde’s concept of self-love as a radical act. I found the quote: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” A few other girls too had a discussion over salty seafood paella haha that self-love requires us to accept our flaws and understand that as Muslim women, Allah is there to forgive us and complete us for anything lacking. Our flaws aren’t meant to be overcome or pushed away, its meant to remind us of our humanity, how everyone is flawed. We can use what we think as “flaws” as strengths. When our life isn’t in alignment or we aren’t what we expect ourselves to be, we shouldn’t blame ourselves. Rather, it is an opportunity to grow and learn, make a change. Listen to yourself, how do you feel. How is your body responding? How is your heart? I need to learn how to cherish my authenticity and forgive the times I forgot my strengths and my power. Rather than treat myself as a blank sheet that can constantly be recreated everyday to be my ‘best self’, I must realise that I have a history, experiences, pains and triumphs that make me complex and valuable, if not to society, then, to God. “Make your voice the clearest and centred in this creative space”, another wise lady told me during the trip.

[Ok I will conclude for now]: Being in St Andrews as someone from “the rest” (from Southeast Asia, Muslim and woman) in a distinctly white space, I never felt fully “integrated”. In a way, I am grateful I didn’t. My sanctuary and solace was being with women of colour after uni and during Fridays. SOAS was interesting for me to dip my feet and see what using post-colonial and decolonial theory looks like in academia. But I think, if I am deciphering my thoughts and feelings correctly, Granada was a proper introduction for me into what a decolonial/liberation/social justice space looked like, it is not only a space for pain to be shared but also one of empowering resistance, love for each other and self-love. It also taught me that decolonising the self as well as histories, faith traditions, etc is going to be a long and uncomfortable process, with a lot of learning, praxis as well as reflection.

what about this theory.

the fear of not being enough,

and the fear of being ‘too much’

are exactly the same fear. 

the fear of being you. (@nayyirahwaheed)

[j-esbian]

Just Go With It

I’ve got an @mlsecretsanta​ gift for... *squints at the shipping label* @ladyblackcats​! Hmm. This box is pretty heavy... feels like there’s some good adrienette content in there for you <3

on ao3

Words: 2.9k

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had worked her ass off at school and at internships and the graveyard shift at a fast food place, but it was all worth it, because today she was starting a new job, and it was one that she hoped would take her all the way to her dreams. Today was her first day as Gabriel Agreste’s personal assistant.

Temporarily, of course. No one could ever replace Ms. Sancoeur, but she’d just adopted a child, and was taking maternity leave. In her stead, Adrien had suggested his friend, who was presented with an opportunity he couldn’t let her miss out on. Adrien was nothing if not supportive of his friends’ dreams. Gabriel had met her before, and she’d left the impression of a strong-willed, mild-mannered young woman, with a firm voice, impeccable organization, and a penchant for running late. He’d already received five emails from her when Adrien’s recommendation sealed the deal.

Thanks to Tikki, Marinette managed to show up at the Agreste house five minutes before she was due. Nathalie had given her a brief orientation the day before, and she was confident to face any obstacle she might encounter. Her skirt was pressed, shoes shined, scarf knotted neatly, hair twirled tightly away. She tripped on her way up the stairs to the front door, but thankfully, no one but the security cameras caught it, and it was her job to monitor that once she got inside.

She slipped through the main doors and through to a little office off of the foyer. It looked different than she remembered, from the first time she’d been there, years ago. Since Adrien’s fifteenth birthday party, no doubt much of the furniture in the house had been cycled out to keep with current fashions, but the only thing that had stayed current in this office was the computer monitor on the desk. Wires snaked from the display to the baseboards where, she knew, they connected to the systems in the house: heating, security, electricity.

A single cord ran to a small roll-top desk that sat underneath the window, and she opened it and turned the computer on. The monitor flickered to life, as did a tablet mounted on the wall by the door. Marinette leaned back in her swivel chair as she waited for the computer to boot up. The light fixture was impressive for such a small room, but then, everything in Mr. Agreste’s house was fancy and expensive and just screamed fashion . It was the perfect mix of antique and high-tech. Marinette was really going to like it there.

She’d declined to put her purse in the closet, and had set it underneath her desk, where it was hidden from view by the front panel. Tikki flew out and sat on top of the computer monitor.

“Big day, Marinette,” she chirped. “When are you going to see Mr. Agreste?”

“In a few minutes,” Marinette said. She typed the password into the computer and waited as the system continued to load. “I want to make sure everything is up and running when I check in for the morning.”

She'd left the office door open, and while Tikki wasn't in plain sight, she was still more visible than may have been wise. They both heard footsteps echoing through the foyer, and by the time Marinette had ensured the kwami was hidden and looked back up to see who was coming, Adrien had fully descended the stairs and was waving hesitantly toward her. She smiled sheepishly and waved back. The close call and close encounter had her heart pounding, and when the tablet on the wall buzzed, she jumped in her seat.

It buzzed again impatiently, and she scurried over to accept the call. Gabriel’s face blossomed into view. He graced her with a rare smile.

“Mr. Agreste!” she stammered. “Good morning, sir.”

“Yes, it is morning, isn't it? Who can say if it's a good one,” he remarked dryly. “And two minutes past the hour, if I'm not mistaken. I hope it's not too much trouble to inquire as to when I may have an assistant?

“Right. Yes,” she said. “Sorry. I was just making sure that everything was operational. I'll be over momentarily, sir.”

As she spoke, her fingers flew over the tablet, bringing up the day's schedule and to-do list.

“I believe Nathalie took Adrien’s tablet last night and forgot it somewhere; you'll need to find it and return it to him so he has his schedule for the day,” Gabriel continued, unfazed. “Quickly, please, for we have much to do.”

“Yes, sir, I'm aware,” Marinette replied, trying to keep the bite out of her voice. “The deadline for the final fall line is in six days, and there's still a lot you haven't done.”

Mr. Agreste raised an eyebrow at her. “I'm on my way,” she said, and then hung up. She snatched the tablet off the wall with one hand and pressed the other against her mouth to keep it from shaking. “It's been five minutes and I'm already fired,” she whispered.

Tikki, meanwhile, had been searching for Adrien's tablet and found it in a drawer under a manilla folder. “It's not that bad,” she reassured Marinette. “You've got spunk. That's a good thing!”

Marinette scooped up the other tablet and patted Tikki on the head. “I appreciate it, Tikki, but I'm pretty sure I just blew it.” She walked out, leaving Tikki to snuggle into a niche in the drawer. As she strode across the foyer, she unlocked Adrien's tablet, smiling for a moment at his background; he and Nino were hanging out in his room, locked in a comic, over exaggerated video game battle for the camera. Their elbows were cocked to the sides, faces screwed in concentration. Nino was leaning his whole body to the left, and Adrien's tongue poked out between his lips.

She brought up his schedule on her tablet, then synced it over to his. She looked up just as she entered the dining room, where he was seated at the end of a very long table with a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of fruit. One of his t-shirt sleeves was flipped inside-out, his pants rode a few inches above his ankles, and there was a stain along his collar that might have been blood, or jam, or coffee at one point, but had faded into a vague brown blotch over time. Adrien smiled at her and self-consciously smoothed his hair down.

Marinette tried to keep her composure as she took in his bedhead and pajamas. Once upon a time, she would have fainted to see Adrien up-close and fresh out of bed, and even now that her crazy infatuation was left years in the past, she still found it kind of cute. He’d done a terrible job of removing his makeup the night before and his eyes were rimmed with smudged eyeliner.

She cleared her throat and held out the tablet to him. “This is yours, I believe,” she said.

He rubbed the heel of his hand along his forehead and gave her a tired grin. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. Good morning to you, too.”

“O-of course. Good morning.” She smiled faintly at him. They were friends, of course, but she was here on professional business, right? There was no mixing of work and pleasure.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he continued, still grinning.

She gave him a puzzled look. “I… I’m working for your father now. Or, at least until Nathalie gets back. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh, I know.” He arched an eyebrow, but if he was trying to share in a joke with her, she was missing the punchline.

“Anyway,” she said after a moment. “I should go. I’m kind of… keeping your dad waiting. To fire me, most likely.”

He grabbed her elbow. “Hey. I’m sure you’re doing fine. My dad’s an ass sometimes, but I guarantee you can’t have done anything already to make him angry.”

“Right,” she said slowly. “In any case, I still need to go. I’ll see you later, I suppose.”

“See you later,” he said cheerily, turning back to his breakfast.

Marinette walked briskly back into the foyer and across to Gabriel’s office. She paused for a moment in front of the door, wondering whether she should knock or just let herself in, before deciding on both; she rapped her knuckles on one door while turning the other handle. Mr. Agreste looked up as she entered the room, and she kept a straight face as she strode coolly to him, all professionalism and punctuality, turning her tablet, her lifeline, back on and using it as an excuse to avoid his icy stare.

Before she could say anything, however, he asked, “What do you think of this?”

She looked up. “Sorry?”

He gestured to his side, where a row of mannequins were assembled; all were bare except one, which wore a jacket. Before Marinette could stop herself, her lip curled as she took it in. She caught his eye, and saw there was no going back, so she took a deep breath.

“It’s just… what’s special about it?” Marinette frowned. “Denim jackets are everywhere . This one looks like it could be from any label, even those cheap mall stores. I don’t see anything that makes it stand out. It doesn’t seem like it would sell.”

Gabriel tilted his head. “An excellent assessment,” he allowed.

Marinette stood up a little straighter.

“However,” he continued, “your initial impression is insufficient. You’ve barely given it a first look, much less a second. Come at look at it from the back.”

She walked around to the other side, and found that butterflies were embroidered on the jacket’s back, in shimmering purple and black and silver. And now that she was closer, she could see the faint flowers embossed on the jacket’s lapels and cuffs.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “That’s beautiful!”

“So, after consideration, what do you think?” he asked.

“Well…” Gabriel’s face was inscrutable, to her frustration. “To be honest, sir, it still doesn’t seem like much. I’ve always admired the hidden details in your designs, but there needs to be something to catch your eye, or no one will be interested in looking further.”

“And what would you suggest?” he pressed.

“A zipper?” Marinette winced internally.

He rubbed his chin. “A zipper,” he repeated. “On a denim jacket? Interesting… Call Alain and tell him I want to see that, by noon at the latest. And in the meantime, hold off on any of the jackets. You’ll need to check the back room and see what items we have already, but if they haven’t already finished with the corduroys, tell them to get them here by the end of the day. Now, I’ll need you to run me through this morning’s schedule…”

By her fourth day on the job, Marinette had fallen into the rhythm of things. It helped that, as the deadline neared, her job became more and more passive; making sure that boxes were checked and things were on schedule. Lately, everything was down to the photographers and their models, and there wasn’t much for her to do.

This season would mark the modelling debut of one Chloé Bourgeois, and Marinette retreated to her office the moment she heard those familiar, shrill tones echo through the mansion. She would be working from her desk today.

Through the open door, Marinette could see the bustle of people passing through the foyer, but she managed to remain uninterrupted for a few hours. That streak was broken just before 11:30.

The office door slammed shut, and Marinette swiveled in her chair to see what had happened. Adrien was pressed against it, palms flattened and head craned sharply to the right; his head tilted, as though he was listening for something, but after a few seconds, he relaxed, and turned towards Marinette, shooting her a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. My father,” was all he offered.

She leaned forward. “What happened?”

“Some new guy managed to confuse suede and velvet.” Adrien grimaced as the sound of shouting faintly reached their ears. “And when my dad noticed…”

“He started giving him an earful,” Marinette finished. She smirked. “How does that even happen?”

“Hey, now,” he laughed. “Don’t get too cocky. Isn’t it your job to catch that kind of stuff? He’ll be coming after you, next.”

He froze, smile still in place but dread slowly dawning in his eyes, as he realized what that meant. The shouting upstairs faded away.

“Oh, shit. He’s coming after you, next,” Adrien repeated.

“So much for getting away,” Marinette said. She tried to bring back the banter, but her palms were sweating. The click of Gabriel’s heels against the tile sounded sharply in their ears.

“Hide me!” Adrien hissed, diving underneath the desk she was still sitting at. Marinette barely had time to react before Gabriel was upon them.

He rapped on the door. “Marinette?” he said sharply.

She dried her palms on her skirt and straightened in her seat. “Come in.”

Gabriel pushed the door open and strode into the room. “Marinette,” he said. “Would you care to explain to me how, in all of your checks and double-checks, an error might have slipped in? And why yesterday evening, when I asked if everything was ready for today, you told me everything was, quote, perfect ?”

“I… don’t know, sir.” She wanted to look away, but she held eye contact with him. Maybe she could fool him into thinking she was more confident than she felt. “It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know,” he sniffed. “You know, negligence and incompetence are qualities I can’t stand, especially in my employees. And all of you are complicit in this; not one person noticed anything amiss. Not one of you looked at the skirt closely enough to realize it was the wrong material. Suede? ” He pinched his nose. “I’m getting a migraine.”

Marinette went to stand up. “I’ll get you some--”

He waved his hand at her dismissively, and she dropped back into her seat. “Don’t bother. I’ll get it myself. Have you seen Adrien? He seems to have disappeared.”

At the mention of his name, Adrien squeaked from under the desk, and Marinette’s eyes widened. Gabriel’s, however, narrowed, and he took a step backward.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know the nature of your relationship with my son, and frankly, I don’t want to know. But I expect that, while you are working for me, you will remain professional and not let yourself get… distracted from your work. Am I clear?”

“N-no!” Marinette protested. “I mean, yes, but no! Adrien and-- I’m not-- We’re--” Her shoulders slumped. “I understand, sir.”

“Good.” He nodded firmly and spun on his heel. “I’ll be in my office.”

As soon as his footsteps faded, Adrien burst from his hiding place, crawling out and gasping as though he’d been hiding underwater. “Do you think he knew I was here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that,” Marinette replied bitterly.

“Oh, god. What did he think, we were...” He laughed nervously. “What? No. No, no. Right? No.”

Marinette buried her head in her hands. “Oh my god. My boss thinks I’m secretly dating his son.”

“Hi? Son, right here,” Adrien reminded her. “Oh, shit. Now he probably thinks--” He pressed his lips together.

“Thinks what?” Marinette asked.

Adrien sat back on his knees and said in a small voice, “That I only got you this job so we could bang.”

Marinette waved her hands, like she was batting away all the other thoughts in her head. “Hang on, you got me this job? I applied for it. You didn’t…” She groaned. “God, so I’m only here as a favor?”

“What? No, of course not!” Adrien leaned forward, still on his knees. He shuffled closer and put a reassuring hand on her knee. “Marinette, you definitely deserve this job.”

“I mean, thanks, Adrien, but that’s not the biggest issue right now.” Marinette groaned again. “God, what do we--Do we say something to him? I don’t want to bring this up again. What if we just… don’t do anything out of the ordinary. Act professionally around him. And then he’ll realize he was wrong. Easy!”

Adrien frowned. “Yeah, that’s cool and all, except my dad isn’t going to pay enough attention to ever pick up on that. And then, two years from now, he’ll probably still think we’re dating. And then he’ll be mad that I didn’t say something sooner.”

Marinette spread her hands at him, clearly exasperated.

“I don’t want to talk to him about this either!” he yelped. “So…”

“So,” she responded. “Do we-- I mean, we should, um. Your dad already thinks we’re dating… Do you want to get coffee, sometime?”

Adrien blinked. “Wha-? I mean, yeah, definitely! Uh, hang on, let me just, like, run upstairs and change, and--”

Marinette giggled. “Not right now. I’m working, and you--oh, shit. Your dad’s still looking for you. You should go.”

“Oh. Right, right, yeah.” He scrambled to his feet. “I’ll… text you?”

She beamed. “Sounds good.”

When his footsteps faded, Marinette turned and wrenched open one of her desk drawers. “Hey, Tikki?”

“Yeah?” The kwami blinked up at her; she was swaddled in a handkerchief, and had clearly been napping when all the ruckus started, and she yawned as Marinette tried to form a question.

Marinette pointed towards the door that Adrien had just disappeared through. “That… just happened, right? Like, you heard that, and it was real?”

Tikki smiled. “Yes, Marinette.”

Marinette leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I think this is the best day of my life.”

Adrien messaged her two hours and seventeen minutes later. Not that either of them were keeping track.