#this just reminds me of the push for condos to 'help the middle class'

[awkward-teabag]

Whilst this is better than nothing, I'm extremely skeptical of the income thresholds, their definition of middle-class, and the people they think can afford these. They're targeting "teachers, nurses, transit operators, construction workers, small business owners" but the minimum income to rent a studio is $84,780.

Yes it's household income but it still means two people would have to be making $42k plus change a year to qualify to live in something that is under 500 square feet, possibly even smaller as there's no minimum size requirements I can find.

That's almost reasonable for a one-bedroom, but for a studio? One person's income should be enough to qualify for that.

Even the 2+ bedroom income threshold is absurdly high (minimum $67,205/year for two people) and I've never known anyone who makes that much a year in the professions they're targeting outside of small business owners. That and tenured professors but if they're tenured they're either old enough they have their own place already or make enough to comfortably afford rent (if not buy outright).

Like, more housing supply is good! But it's like they looked at the average (not even median) income in BC and are basing the thresholds on that instead of what people in those professions actually make.

B.C. Premier David Eby announced details Tuesday of the long-promised BC Builds program that aims to create middle-income housing on publicly owned land. “Everybody knows British Columbians are struggling to find affordable housing,” Eby said at an event in North Vancouver. “We know the middle class is struggling in our province.” The government has so far focused on helping people falling out of the housing market into homelessness, but too many families are paying half of their income or more on housing, he said. That hurts families and the province’s economy as potential workers can’t find affordable places to live.

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Tagging @politicsofcanada

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 2

September 9th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was late.  

“I’m late I’m late I’m late I’m late,” she got progressively louder as she tore through the condo like a tornado trying to get everything she needed for the day.  Mr. Shanahan’s driver, Lou, had already texted her and was already downstairs waiting as she rummaged through her things and stuffed them into her purse.  They were supposed to be leaving at 7am.  

“Do you want some breakfast?” Kasha called out from the kitchen.

“I’m late I’m late I’m late!” Aberdeen began screaming as she gathered the last of the files and handbooks Brendan had given her before slinging her purse over her shoulder.

“Some coffee?” Kasha called out again.

“I’m late!” Aberdeen bulldozed through the main living area, running to the door and slipping on her shoes so quickly they were barely even on her feet as she opened the door and ran out.  “I’m late I’m late I’m late!”

She ran through the hallway and frantically pushed the elevator button until the door opened, only to stuff herself into the already full cart (it was morning rush hour, after all) on its way down.  When she burst through the front doors of the building, she saw the town car waiting.  She opened the door and slipped into the backseat.

“Hello Miss Bloom,” Lou said from the driver’s seat, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.  “How are you this morning?”

“I’m good,” she said, very clearly out of breath.  She grabbed the seatbelt from behind her and snaked it across her body.  She felt the car start to move.  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” he shook his head.  “Sometimes I’d have to wait for Frances for fifteen minutes.  You – it’s only 6:58.  We’re early.”

She let out a breath as he turned the corner.  “Um, thanks,” she nodded her head, grabbing her bag and taking out the new iPad Pro that was set up last Wednesday.  It had Brendan’s calendar on it, and she swiped through some of the events of the day.  She would need to be prepped for when Brendan got into the car – and Lord knows where that was.  “So where are we picking up Mr. Shanahan?” she asked.

“Mr. Shanahan lives on the Kingsway in Etobicoke,” Lou informed her.  

Aberdeen laughed to herself.  Now she’d have to be back in Etobicoke every day.  She would be only several blocks away from her childhood home.  A completely different neighbourhood, but still close.  The audacity of the universe to do this to her.  Before Aberdeen could say anything about it, Lou pulled up to a curb and stopped the car.  “What’s going on?”

“You need to pick up Mr. Shanahan’s morning coffee.”

“Oh!  But what – what—” Aberdeen exclaimed.  Then she panicked.  Morning coffee?  What was his order?  He never told her!  He never mentioned picking up a morning coffee and now –

“Mr. Shanahan orders a venti, extra shot, extra hot cappuccino in the mornings,” Lou informed her politely.  

“Right!” she said as she opened the door and pushed herself out of the car.  The Starbucks was busy, of course.  She accidentally paid for the drink on her own debit card and the barista totally put her name on the drink instead of Brendan.  This was a disaster.  

But as she got back into the car, Lou greeted her with another friendly smile.  “The middle comes down,” he informed her, and she pulled it down for the cupholders.  “Miss Bloom, you have a lot of nervous energy,” he said as he drove away, heading west towards Etobicoke.  “You’ll be fine.  You need to let go of the nervous energy.  Mr. Shanahan will be able to sense it.”

Aberdeen laughed.  “I think that’s impossible.  It’s my first day on the job.  What happened to the last two personal assistants Frances tried to hire, anyway?” she asked.

“Argh,” he huffed, waving in disgust.  “They were bozos.  Very rude.  Only got into it for the title, then started to walk around the office like they owned the place.  Like they were the ones who were trading and drafting,” Lou explained.  “Idiots.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but giggle.  “Well, I won’t be doing any of that,” Aberdeen quipped.  “I don’t even watch hockey.”

“If you ask me, I think it’s better that way,” Lou said.  “Brendan likes people with different interests, anyway.”

The rest of the car ride was fairly silent.  It took them about half an hour to get out to Etobicoke thanks to traffic, which meant they rolled into Mr. Shanahan’s driveway at around 7:45.  His house was beautiful – as every house on the Kingsway was – big and in the old Tudor style, landscaped beautifully and kept neat and clean.  People dreamed of living in these houses.  Sometimes, during high school, Aberdeen would go on a run here just so she had something nice to look at.  It wasn’t like she lived far – she grew up south of Bloor in an adjacent neighbourhood called Sunnylea.  It was much different than the Kingsway though – much more middle class.  She still loved it.  

Almost immediately, Mr. Shanahan came out through the front door.  He wore a perfectly tailored, expensive looking blue suit, with leather oxfords and a red tie.  For her part, Aberdeen tried to dress modestly – like cover up her tattoos, however small and unassuming they were – while still maintaining a sense of fashion and style like she always did.  Lou exited the car to greet him, with Brendan greeting him happily, and Lou opened the door for him.  He slipped in beside Aberdeen.  “Good morning, Aberdeen.”

“Good morning Mr. Shanahan.”

“Brendan,” he corrected her.  She was uncomfortable with that.  He was a man in a very high position of power – she couldn’t just call him Brendan like he was her buddy.  “What’s my day consist of?” he asked.

She pulled up the iPad Pro.  “It’s pretty easy today, Mr. Shanahan.  You only have a meeting with the hockey operations department at 11am – no scheduled end time – and a quick half an hour meeting with a woman by the name of…Hayley Wick-in-heeser at 3pm.”

Brendan glanced at her through his glasses.  Did she say something wrong?  “Great.  Fantastic.  Thank you.”  He grabbed at his coffee in between them, took out the coffee stopper, and sipped.  “Who told you my coffee order?” he asked.

She looked at him like he just asked her to reveal her deepest, darkest secret.  He wasn’t smiling.  He wasn’t frowning.  He wasn’t doing anything.  Just giving her a blank stare.  She gulped and held her breath.  “Lou,” she answered meekly.

Mr. Shanahan let out a slight chuckle.  “Thanks Lou,” he said louder.  Lou waved.

Aberdeen kept holding her breath.  

***

Once back at 50 Bay Street, Mr. Shanahan took Aberdeen on a lightning fast meet-and-greet tour of the offices.  She met an array of people she had a hard time remembering the names of.  There was Arvind and Joe and Cressida, Rosie and Daniel and Parminder, Henry and Rita and Stefano, Brendan (another Brendan) and Michael and Tony.  There were so many people Aberdeen couldn’t remember them all, couldn’t remember their departments, and couldn’t remember their titles.  But she nodded along nicely, and shook all their hands, and listened as Mr. Shanahan introduced her as “my new personal assistant” and spoke with some of them longer than others.  

Eventually, they made their way to some of the more important departments – hockey operations, who he’d be having a meeting with as part of management, and media relations.  There were a few specific people that stuck out to her, mostly because she could tell Mr. Shanahan wanted to make sure she knew who they were.  

“Leanne Hederson is the manager of hockey operations.  You’re going to be seeing a lot of her,” he said, introducing them.  She had a firm handshake and wore a powersuit and Aberdeen loved her already.  “This is Steve Walker, director of team security,” he continued as Aberdeen shook the hand of the man.  “And this is—”

“New girl on the job?” a loud, booming voice asked from behind them.  Everybody turned around.  Aberdeen saw a man walk in – tall, conventionally attractive, with a Maple Leafs pin on his lapel – and smile at everybody in the room.  “What department?  Media?  Medical?”

Aberdeen looked over at Mr. Shanahan quickly.  He didn’t look too pleased at the interruption but he digressed.  “This is Ethan Baker – he works in tech and video playback,” he said curtly.  “Mr. Baker, this is my new personal assistant, Miss Aberdeen Bloom.”

“Nice to meet you, Abbie,” he shook her hand, sending her a beaming smile.

Her blood curdled at that name.  Absolutely nobody called her that – not even her family.  It wasn’t even her nickname.  “It’s Aberdeen.”

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“My name is Aberdeen, not Abbie.  Aberdeen,” she said.  She didn’t even care that she was asserting herself in such a way in front of everyone on her first day of work.  She didn’t want ‘Abbie’ to become a thing, so she was going to nip it now.  She knew she had a weird name but a nickname was ridiculous.  She was a grown woman.  People could say her name.  

Ethan chuckled awkwardly, and Mr. Shanahan had apparently had enough.  “We’ll see all you folks later,” he said, guiding Aberdeen out of the room.  

They walked through the offices and back towards their area, where Aberdeen saw her desk clean and cleared from all of Frances’s things.  She went to sit down and took out the iPad Pro.  “Alright,” Mr. Shanahan began, and she knew he was going to go into a long shpeal about what her job was going to entail.  “First of all, you answer the phone.  The phone must be answered every single time.  I hate when it goes to voicemail.  Plus hockey is very fast-paced.  If we miss a phone call, we may miss out on trade opportunities and other important hockey operations business.”

“Yes sir…but what happens if we’re not at our desks.  What happens if we’re in the arena or—”

“In that case the phone will be programmed to call you on your cell phone,” he said quickly.  “You’ll give us your phone number and we’ll program it in.  Every single time, Aberdeen,” he stressed.

“Yes sir.”

“You run errands as assigned.  You handle my schedule as assigned and remind me of my appointments both personal and professional, meetings, and important phone calls.  During game days, you’re here at the arena until the game is over, both teams have left, and I deem it fine for you to leave.  You will, of course, travel with the team when I travel with the team, within Canada and to the States.  You will show up to all practices, all team events including galas and fundraisers, and all other MLSE events not associated with the Toronto Maple Leafs if I am invited to them.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, today isn’t a busy day even though the team is in for a skate because I only have two meetings.  But there will be days where you’ll be running around here like a chicken with its head cut off,” he explained.  “Especially at the start of the season in a few weeks, and most especially at the trade deadline in February.  But until then…well, enjoy the calmness.”

“Yes sir.”

“Have you been reading the employee handbook I sent to you?” he asked, walking into his office quickly.  

“Yes sir.”

“Any questions?”

“No sir.”

“Great.  Then you can start familiarizing yourself with this,” he said as he plopped a giant binder on her desk.  It was full of protective sleeves and filled to the brim.  Aberdeen gulped.  “This is somewhat of a directory of every Toronto Maple Leafs personnel you should familiarize yourself with, as they will be your colleagues,” he opened the binder for her.  He was the first one.  “Study this.  They’re your colleagues.  Important colleagues.”

“Yes sir.”

“And you can take this home tonight, but it comes right back tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll call you if I need you,” he said, returning back into his office, leaving her with the giant binder.  She looked down at it and gulped.  She wanted to go back and hug every one of her high school teachers who remembered her name after having over 90 students a semester.  She didn’t know how any of them did it.  “Oh, and Aberdeen?” Mr. Shanahan popped his head back out, startling her a bit.

“Yes sir?”

“It’s Brendan,” he smiled before disappearing into his office again.

‘No chance’ Aberdeen thought.

***

Aberdeen couldn’t believe how many handbooks there were to read.  She understood why she had to read them, but God it was tedious.  She felt what she really needed was for Mr. Shanahan to slip her “How to Play Hockey for Kids” or something – she figured she may as well start to learn about the sport she was going to be surrounded by.  Her first email was Brendan emailing her the 2019-2020 season schedule, and asking her to record every game in both his and her calendar.  

After she finished that, she went back briefly to the MLSE Employee Handbook, the book that outlined the rules that employees had to abide by.  She had laughed at some of the more ridiculous ones.  Of course, there were the regular ones any company would have – employees couldn’t be under the influence on the job, employees couldn’t engage in criminal behaviour – but three stuck out to her most.  

The first to make her giggle was number 18:

NO EMPLOYEE OF MLSE SHALL USE ANY COMPANY CREDIT CARD OR LINE OF CREDIT FOR PERSONAL PURCHASES UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO STARBUCKS COFFEE, LUNCHES, DINNERS, ALCOHOL PURCHASES, ETC.

The second to make her giggle was number 27:

NO EMPLOYEE OF MLSE SHALL GIVE, REVEAL, OR PUBLISH THE PERSONAL PHONE NUMBERS OF ANY MEMBER OF THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS, PRESIDENT, CHAIRMAN, ETC., TO ANY OUTSIDE PARTY.

And, of course, the best one, number 32:

NO EMPLOYEE OF MLSE SHALL PURSUE OR ENTER INTO A ROMANTIC OR PHYSICAL RELATIONSHIP WITH ANY MEMBER OF THE COMPANY’S PROFESSIONAL SPORTS TEAMS, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO: THE TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS, THE TORONTO RAPTORS, THE TORONTO F.C., THE TORONTO ARGONAUTS, THE TORONTO MARLIES, THE RAPTORS 905, OR TORONTO F.C. II.

She wondered what happened to whatever poor schmuck to get that made into a rule and published in the employee handbook.  

“Aberdeen,” Mr. Shanahan’s voice interrupted her thoughts.  She looked up to see his head popped out from the doorway.  “I need you to go pick up coffee for the meeting at 10am.  Now write this down,” he said.  She grabbed a stickie note and a pen as quickly as she could.  “One no foam skim latte with an extra shot, and three drip coffees with room for milk, searing hot.  And I mean searing.  Get them here as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir,” she said, ripping the stickie note off the pad and jumping up from her seat, almost forgetting her purse.

“Yes Brendan,” he called out after her, chuckling to himself.  

As she made her way through the hallways, a tall figure appeared at the end, where the staircase was.  She recognized it as Ethan, the man who had called her ‘Abbie’ just hours earlier.  “Hey Girl Friday,” he greeted her, his voice sounding much sleazier now that he wasn’t in the company of colleagues.  “You doing a coffee run?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  We need two americanos with room for milk, one grande skinny vanilla bean latte, and one venti extra shot extra hot caramel macchiato with coconut milk.”

“W—What?” she asked.

“Write it down!” his tone was a bit harsh, but she did as she was told.  “Brendan’s assistant runs coffee for us all the time.  Do you need me to repeat it?”

“No,” she said, somewhat glaring at him.  She knew the role of personal assistants – she wasn’t an idiot.  “Anything else?”

“A blueberry scone,” he said as he disappeared into his office again, wiggling his eyebrows at her before shutting the door.  She shuddered.  

The Starbucks down near the foot of the building apparently liked to take it’s sweet-ass time.  She was in a rush because she knew the meeting started at 10, and they would have probably liked to have walked in to Mr. Shanahan’s office seeing their coffees, but that wasn’t going to be the case.  The baristas didn’t finish making them until 10:10, and then she had the conundrum of how she was going to transport eight coffees and a scone without everything spilling everywhere.  She wasn’t a clown despite how much this felt like a circus, so she couldn’t juggle them in her arms.  Eventually, one of the cashiers found cardboard cup carriers, so they hung all the cups from those and she was on her way, rushing through the building and back up to the floor.  

The second she got off the elevator, Ethan was there waiting.  “What took you so long?” he demanded as he finished typing something into his phone.

“Here,” she practically flung the coffees at him for him to carry.

“No no, you need to deliver them to the guys in the office,” he didn’t even reach out for them.  “Come on, this way,” he said, having the audacity to snap his fingers for her to follow him like she was a dog.

What the fuck had she gotten herself into here?

After she delivered the coffees, she made a beeline towards Mr. Shanahan’s office.  “Is there some reason the coffees aren’t here?  Has she died or something?” she saw him pop his head out of the room.  He was asking no-one in particular, of course, since she was the only one who was supposed to be there.  But then he heard her footsteps, and her saw her rushing down the hall, and he stepped out of his office, closing the door behind him.  “Aberdeen, where have you been?”

“I – Ethan – I had to get coffee for Ethan and his department—”

“What?” Brendan asked.  “Ethan who?  Please don’t tell me Ethan Baker.”

“Y—Yes—”

“Aberdeen, why would you go and get coffee for tech and video?”

She felt stupid.  She knew she fucked up, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to him in excruciating detail, although that’s perhaps what Mr. Shanahan wanted.  “He – he saw me in the hallway and told me your assistant gets coffees for them all the time—”

“Listen to me Aberdeen,” he said, his tone serious and his voice curt.  His voice was in one of those harsh whispers that could tear apart your soul.  “Your title at Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment reads executive assistant to the president.  I am the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey club, not Ethan Baker.  You run errands for me, you get my coffee, and you do as I say, not as anybody else in this entire hockey club says, the least of which Ethan Baker.  Do I make myself clear?” he asked.

She could feel tears welling in her eyes.  “Yes sir.”

“Good.  Now give me the coffee and man the desk.  You can take your lunch hour at noon.”

She handed the coffee over to him and he walked back into his office.  A small applause erupted at the arrival of the coffee.  Mr. Shanahan closed the door behind him.  

She felt like she was going to be sick.  

***

After finished inputting the game schedule into the calendar and taking a few messages from phone calls (one rudely hung up on her when she asked how to spell Bergevin), Aberdeen saw it was noon and took out her lunch.  She left her desk to go warm it up in the staff kitchen, but…couldn’t exactly remember where it was.  She panicked.  She slipped into the door where she thought she remembered it was, based on what Brendan had pointed out very quickly earlier in the day.  

When she walked through the door, letting it close behind her, she was not greeted with a kitchen.  She was not greeted with a staff room.  She was not even greeted with an office.  Instead, she was greeted with a room completely full of men who were shirtless and in either tight workout gear or tight underwear.  

Bulges out.

Thighs out.  

Eyes on her.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” she gasped, her eyes going wide before turning around violently and slamming her entire body into the door because she forgot to turn the knob.  She did it again before her brain registered ‘TURN THE FUCKING KNOB!!!’ and when she did, she slipped out quickly.

The first thing she saw were the words “STAFF KITCHEN” written on a door across from her.

She should quit now.  She should really just quit now and go live in a hole forever.  

She escaped into the staff kitchen, popping her Tupperware into the microwave and setting the time for three minutes.  Half way through, the door opened again, and a middle-aged man with a Maple Leafs t-shirt and shorts on walked in.

“Hello,” he greeted her politely.  When he got a look at who she was, he smiled.  “Hey, don’t feel bad.  Happened to me the first day too.  Luckily that was where I had to go, though.”  She smiled politely at the man.  Obviously he’d seen her be a complete idiot.  “I’m Jason Spezza.  It’s nice to meet you,” he extended his hand.

Jason Spezza.  Jason Spezza.  Where had she heard that name before?  Then it hit her – in the employee directory.  Jason Spezza was one of the Maple Leafs.  She had just walked into the Toronto Maple Leafs semi-nude.  She felt like barfing.  “Nice to meet you,” she said meekly, shaking his hand.  “I’m Aberdeen Bloom.”

“First day on the job, Aberdeen?” he asked.  She nodded her head.  “What’s your position?”

“Um, I’m Mr. Shanahan’s new executive assistant,” she said.  She didn’t even know if she was allowed to talk to him.  All the rules from the MLSE Employee Handbook were running through her mind.  Would she get fired for this?  He started it.

“Ah!  Cool!” he smiled.  The microwave began to beep, signalling it was done.  “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you then.”

“I guess so,” she mumbled, opening the door to the microwave and grabbing her Tupperware.  “Have a good day.”

She rushed back to her desk, wanting nothing more than to just crawl into a hole and die.

***

When Brendan was finished with his meeting, he called Aberdeen into his office.  She’d finished lunch by then, and was patiently waiting for the phone to ring.  He was still sitting at his desk as she walked in.

“Any phone calls?” he asked.  

“One from Tampa Bay, but they said it wasn’t urgent,” she informed him.  “And one calling on behalf of a Mr. Bergevin.  I think they said they were from Montreal.”

She could see a small smile appear on his face.  Maybe he was in a better mood now after his meeting.  “Thank you, Aberdeen.  Anything else?”

Yeah, I totally walked into your hockey team half naked.  “May I ask you a question, sir?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Am I allowed to like…talk to the Maple Leafs?”

Brendan removed his glasses.  “What do you mean?  Talk?”

“Um, well, I know you said – and in the handbook – I was in the kitchen during lunch and Jason Spezza came in and struck up a conversation with me and—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan interrupted her with a slight chuckle.  “Aberdeen…you can talk to the players.  I expect you to talk with them and to talk with any other employees of MLSE – Maple Leafs, Raptors, whatever.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Because he was very friendly and I didn’t want to be rude and—”

“It’s okay to be cordial and be friends in a professional setting.  You’re going to be around them constantly and be travelling with them almost as much.  You’ll be in the private jet with them and attending events big and small.  It’s going to be natural to become friends.  The problem is if anything goes further than talking.  Romantic relationships, friends with benefits, hooking up as the kids are saying these days—”

“I would never,” she interrupted him.  “I would never, Mr. Shanahan.”

“I know you wouldn’t.  Don’t worry,” he said, putting his glasses back on.  “And stop calling me Mr. Shanahan.  I told you that you can call me Brendan.”

Aberdeen was still uncomfortable with the notion.  “I don’t think you understand.  My parents are immigrants.  If they found out I didn’t call someone sir or ma’am or mister or misses they’d guillotine me.”

Brendan looked at her, a smirk on his face.  “You’ll get used to it, Miss Bloom.  Now come with me.  You’re going to meet the only other man you can take orders from.”  

His name was Kyle Dubas.  He was the young general manager of the Toronto Maple Leafs – the other man most responsible for the day-to-day operations of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  The “only other man you can take orders from” turned out to be a joke, because Kyle had his own executive assistant – Peter, much much nicer than Ethan – who was responsible for that.  Kyle was incredibly nice and welcoming, and Aberdeen had to admit it put her at ease.  Even Peter made her feel welcome.  

When she and Brendan got into the elevator after leaving, there was already a man inside.  “Ah, Mr. Tanenbaum,” Brendan greeted him warmly.  Aberdeen smiled politely, but internally she was freaking out.  She’d seen Mr. Tanenbaum on TV lift the Larry O’Brien Trophy after the Raptors won the NBA title.  Now she was stuck in an elevator with him.  What was her life?

“Brendan,” Mr. Tanenbaum nodded courteously.  “How’s the preparation for the season going?”

“Great,” Brendan said.  “I must say, our most organized ever.”

“Great.  I hear we’re close to signing Mitch.  It should happen any day now.”  Brendan nodded his head silently.  “What’s that costing me?”

“Ten-point-eight million, on average,” Brendan revealed.  Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head.

“Must be a great winger,” Mr. Tanenbaum commented, causing both men to laugh.  He then focused his attention on Aberdeen.  “Larry Tanenbaum,” he extended his hand across Brendan for her to shake.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  This is Aberdeen Bloom, my new executive assistant,” Brendan introduced them quickly as the elevator pinged and the doors opened.  

“Congratulations young lady.  A million people would kill for that job,” he pointed at her as he left.  

Brendan looked at her.  “That’s Larry Tanenbaum, chairman of MLSE.”

“I know who he is,” she said.  Brendan looked shocked.  “I mean, I watched him lift the Larry O’Brien in June.”

Brendan smiled – a real, genuine smile at something she’d said.  “So you watch some sports.”

***

“We can be done for the day, Aberdeen,” Brendan announced once his meeting with Hayley Wickenheiser was over.  It was only 4pm, and she had expected to be at the office until later, so she was pleasantly surprised.  “You’re free to go.  Do you need Lou to give you a ride home?”

“Oh gosh no.  I live within walking distance from here.  I wouldn’t make him do that,” she said as she gathered her things into her purse.  

“Maybe if it was raining,” Brendan smiled, almost to himself.  Aberdeen decided not to respond.  “Come on, I’ll see you out.  How was your first day?”

I got yelled at, I went to fetch coffee, and I walked in on the hockey team half naked.  “Great,” she responded.  “Thank you for your patience with me.  I know I’m still learning but I promise I—”

“Don’t worry about it, Aberdeen,” he said as they walked towards the elevator.  “It is very much a learn as you go environment.  Especially for someone like you.”

As they stepped into the elevator together, a voice from the end of the hall screamed to hold the door.  Brendan stuck his arm out until the person appeared in an impeccably well-tailored suit, slipping by his arm into the elevator.  “Hey hey, William!”

“Hey Brendan!” William responded.

Aberdeen looked up.  As she did, she looked into a familiar pair of piercing blue eyes.  She saw a familiar head of blonde hair.  Familiar lips that kissed hers and all the way down her body, making her feel some of the greatest pleasure she’d ever felt in her short life.  

Will.  It was fucking Will.

“Aberdeen, let me introduce you to William Nylander, one of our star forwards,” Brendan said, introducing them with a giant smile on his face.  “William, this is my new executive assistant, Miss Aberdeen Bloom.”

She was going to faint.  She was actually going to faint.

“Nice to meet you,” Will said as he shook her hand.

“Likewise,” she squeaked out.  She was absolutely fucking mortified.  

“You’ll be seeing a lot of William in the future, Aberdeen, as one of our star players,” Brendan kept talking, but she could barely register his words.  Will was still looking directly at her, directly into her soul, and she felt ready to faint.  “He’s going to have a great season, this year.  We’re all looking forward to it.”

She had hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.  Oh my fucking God, she had hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.  And now they worked at the same company.  For the same team.  Under the same roof.  They’d be flying together.  Travelling together.  Attending charity and gala events together.  The words from the MLSE Employee Handbook flashed in her mind.  No employee of MLSE shall pursue or enter into a romantic physical relationship with any member of the company’s professional sports teams, including but not limited to: the Toronto Maple Leafs…

“I look forward to working with you,” Will said, his eyes flashing as he continued to look at her, a smile playing on his face.  

She gulped.  She’d slept with a Toronto Maple Leaf and she had to keep it a secret.  Nobody could find out that they hooked up.

Absolutely nobody.

[ivyglow]

You don’t go out there kissing everyone - Mat Barzal NYI

Author notes: So, I got a lot of Mathew requests and some of them were very alike, so I decided to mix some. In this piece we have three prompts which are: 

99. “it’s just a kiss”; 35. “I don’t want to be just friends with benefits anymore.” and 11. “we’re not just friends, and you know it” I hope you guys like it! Feedback is always appreciated. 

Word count:  3.196

Also, IMPORTANT: It’s not proofread aaaand I wanted to know if someone wants to do it (before I post on here) with almost every piece I write. Sorry for the confusing talk, I’m at the airport rn but I wanted to post it fast since it’s been a while I got the ask.  

Things started months ago when y/n went on a horrible date and Mat wasn’t in the vibe for dating someone neither having random hookups on the weekends, so he suggested to try put some benefits in their friendship, at first it was a good idea since there was this tension between both of them but as time pass by things got a little out of planning.

It wouldn’t be a real friendship with benefits if one of them -or both- fall in love, huh?!

First, the kisses started to linger longer than usual, then they happened in moments other than sex like when y/n arrived at his house to shit talk about anything or when they were alone together and one of then needed to go. Then affection started to grow, but y/n kept telling herself that it was the kind of thing they used to do before, therefore Mat bringing her coffee at college or sending texts to remind of drink water and lunchtime wasn’t news. 

The clock hits 8am when y/n’s cell phone starts ringing and bringing the noise to all the room. She curses before reaching for the bedside table and turning it off. The bedroom was in a perfect scenario for sleeping all day long, blinds were closed, the air was cool and she was completely naked - covered only by the comforter -.

“pssst, wake up” she hears the whisper, smells the lotion and feels the hands in her hair. 

“Too early” 

“Honey, it’s already 8:30, the guys are arriving soon” 

And suddenly her eyes were wide open. 

Shit! She didn’t mean to stay the night when she got into his condo after a hell of a class. Eventually, they slept together the whole night, but not always, especially when they have breakfast with their group of friends. Mat seemed to sense her nervousness and kissed the top of her head sentencing “You were too tired last night, I choose not to wake you up.” 

“Matyyyy” she whined closing her eyes again and sinking further in the bed. He chuckles. “I gotta go home to clean clothes an-” “There are enough options in my closet” he explains finally letting his weight falls into her, but with caution, so she doesn’t get hurt. 

“You’re wet!!!!” y/n cursed one more time once she felt the drops of water hit her face and collarbone. 

“Just got out of the shower” Mat states simply. She rolls her eyes playfully and let a kiss into his chin.

“Smells good” she whispers “and you shaved…” 

He nods smiling. “I saw you were getting some scratches in the inner tight, so It was no big deal for me to solve this” 

Scratches…

Inner tig-

Her thoughts are interrupted once she understands what he meant. The pitch of her stomach gaining the well-known feeling. Mat loved to go down on y/n so once he noticed that the growing beard was a little inconvenient to her sensitive area he didn’t think twice before shaving it off. 

“I gotta go home to clean clothes before everyone arrives.” she changes the subject after the silence, actually, the silence wasn’t something uncomfortable between them. 

“I told you there are enough options here” he repeats himself and she reaches for his neck, lacing her arms around it. 

“How come?” 

“You always forget something, so I usually just wash and put it with my clothes” 

Y/n stays silent, she knew she left a pair or two of panties since the last time they ended up ripping the one she was wearing, but she didn’t think Mat was so careful and kept everything clean. 

It was kind of overwhelming, to be honest, she already had a toothbrush and some books at his place, but clothes in general? Space in his closet? That was...scary. 

It meant something and she knew it. 

“Babe, you have to get up” Mat pokes her side. 

“Honey”, “babe”...the nicknames, the soft kisses, the attention, the cuddles while sleeping at night...how they let things got this far?! This was far from the established line, wasn’t it?! 

Y/n gives no response, just trying to sink more in the cushions, Mat chuckles and stands up, pushing the comforter off. 

“Barzal, I’m naked!!!!” she grumbles covering her chest with one arm. “and it’s cold” 

“First, I see you naked always and second, it’s not cold. C’mon, go take a bath, y/n” he pleads and she puffs finally getting up and heading to the bathroom. 

She takes her time while washing her hair, brushing her teeth and choosing between a lot of clothes that -as Mat said- were at his closet. When she was finally dressed and combing her hair the doorbell rings. The voice of Tito, Joe, Emma, and Ed is heard from the bedroom and y/n takes a final look at the mirror before heading downstairs to her friends.

Joe is the first one to notice her and then Emma who’s sitting in the couch in front of the stairs, she gives y/n a well-known look, even tho y/n never talked about her ‘relationship’ with Mathew, Emma seemed to sense -but never enough to prove her point, so things usually consisted in Emma saying that she liked him and y/n denying every word. 

“Good morning, Y/n” Tito compliments heh with a strong hug. “You got here early?” 

“Yeah, it’s been ten minutes or so…”

“I see your hair still wet” Emma whispers while planting a kiss in her friend’s cheek.

“I came right after a bath, so yeah”. 

“Mhm, sure, gonna pretend I believe you” the blonde girl jokes and y/n rolls her eyes playfully. 

Ed and Joe are the next ones, Joe lingering a little bit longer in the hug and adding a small kiss in y/n’s cheek. “You look good today” he smiles before letting her body finally go. That, however, didn’t pass unnoticed by Mat. 

“So, what you guys brought to breakfast??” Barzal asks while walking to the kitchen, followed by the others.

“I brought the watermelon juice, y/n’s favorite” Joe states while walking right behind his friends.

Mathew discreetly rolls his eyes and y/n is fast to see, shooting him a small giggle. 

Everyone putting their designed plates in the table minutes before the loud voice and laughers start along with mouths full of food and eventually some choking and more laughs. 

The group of friends left Mathew’s house around lunchtime, but they would meet at some Tito’s friend party in the evening, which probably was the main reason why y/n went home...or maybe she needed some alone time to put straight her thoughts. Barzal drove her home and they said their goodbyes with a small wave, something seemed off and both could feel it, the tension almost touchable. Happens that during all morning Joe kept flirting with y/n in a way he never did before, which was funny to all of their friends who were seeing all of that as one of Joe’s typical class-clown behavior. He was a funny guy, but Barzal was sure at that moment he was not kidding, he meant it and the way his eyes were trailing her body made his blood boil.

But what Mathew could do? 

Nothing! 

They were not dating, he couldn’t simply demand him to shut up, not when y/n didn’t look at him pleading help with her eyes or showed some kind of discomfort, she was apparently seeing all the situation as comic. 

He wanted to feel comfortable with someone praising y/n cause Mat was sure she deserved all, but he was afraid. And not from the praise or guys at all, he was afraid of her falling for someone else, seeing the possibility of the same relationship with someone that wasn’t him. 

Hell, he wanted to show her off to the whole world and praise her in every way possible. 

In the monarchy times, she surely would be his queen almighty. And him...he would be just a fool in love.

In love.

These words were his only company all day long while his mind raced with thoughts about what the hell was happening until he felt tired enough to fall asleep. 

Mat woke up with the call from Tito asking if he would make it in time and he was confused once the sleep made him forget about the party. Mathew raced for the bathroom, taking a batch, changing and finally leaving thirty minutes later for the party. 

Bruno Mars was blasting through the speakers of the club while the group of friends talking in a discreet corner. Y/n standing beside Emma with her drink in hands a small smile displaying on her face. Her waist was moving slightly and as much as she wanted to feel the music and delightfully dance something was missing…

Almost forty minutes later his perfume is close, her stomach does some flips and finally, the voice is heard. 

“I fell asleep, sorry guys” he states while going to compliment everyone in the friends' circle.

Tito is fast to start chatting and so the night goes with a lot of talks, dance, music, laugh, and glances. When the club started to get full and they wanted to keep the conversation and subjects between their group Emma suggested to go to Ed’s house that was close from there. 

They did as suggested and when everyone was getting comfortable in the living room Joe started “we should play truth or dare”.

“Don’t we have something better to do” it’s Ed’s turn to speak and he glances at his friend with a curious and sarcastic face. 

“C’mon, it will be fun! We gonna talk shit anyway…” Emma jokes and y/n chuckles, her friend was always open for adventures and since it was only their group she felt safe to be who she was and to do all the things she wants as well. 

“You see, Em’s by my side?!” showing his tongue Joe disappears into the house getting back some minutes later with a bottle.

All the five already sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. Emma is by y/n’s right and by her left is empty and then Tito talking with Ed and Barzal. Joe takes the opportunity and sits by her side which doesn’t go unnoticed by Mathew one more time, but whatever, they were all friends, it was normal to eulogize and give attention and take care and...right?! 

Because of her excitement, Emma is the first to start throwing the bottle that lands with the bottleneck pointing to Edward.

“Truth or dare, Ed?” 

“Truth” he exhales. 

“Ok...were you in love with our physic teacher in college?” she’s straight into the point and Joe laughs seeing his friend become bright red and then pale.

“Oh, c’mon Ems, we don’t even have this class anymore!!”

“You said the truth” Tito chuckles standing for his friend. “Let’s go, man, answer fast.” 

Ed grumbles before giving their friend a positive answer that made all of them cheer and laugh.

When Ed spins the bottle and it lands for y/n she arches her brows. 

“Truth or dare?” 

“Dare” she rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her drink. He would probably send her to ring the doorbell of the neighbor or walk barefoot in the sidewalk, or so y/n thought.

“Kiss Joe”

“What?” Tito chuckles not believing in Ed’s command.

“You gotta be kidding me” y/n curls her lips into a funny way.

“Am not. I dare you to kiss Joe” 

She rolls her eyes that land into a pair of honey already staring. His eyes were dark and he had this stressed face that he does when some player hits him in the ice. Mathew wasn’t happy with that little game not even a little. 

She waited to see if he was going to say something, but as nothing left his lips she used hers to kiss the boy by her side. Joe's hand’s found her cheek and he was looking for some kind of dominance in the kiss, trying to get her close every second so so different from Barzal kisses, she remembered. Mat always holds her close, wait for some sign of consent and usually tangles his long fingers into her curly hair. 

Emma does this surprise noise when Joe and y/n break the kiss and Mat looks a little disappointed. 

“I’m gonna grab some air,” the number 13 of the nyi says before leaving the room. Y/n was fast to notice the change in his tone, he was mad. 

Emma glances at her and she stays still, not really being able to understand everything including the mood swing from Mathew. “Your turn to spin the bottle” Ed mumbles noticing that his dare wasn’t one of the best ideas. 

“I...I gotta talk to Mat” she stands. 

“You should wait h-” Emma was not able to stop y/n from standing up neither changing her mind. She knew her best friend and she knew that once y/n decided to do something it was pretty hard to convince her otherwise. 

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Tito’s voice is the last thing y/n could hear before leaving the room. 

Mat was leaning in the wall, the empty corridor not doing much to hide her presence even with the constant beep of the elevator. 

“What the hell was that?!” She was starting to get angry, but with the fact that he acts like something was happening, he left evidence to their friends when they had made it clear that thein fling could never ever be known. It would make the friendship a little complicated. “What?” “Don’t act like you have no idea about what I’m talking about. That scene in the living room in front of our friends...it was so...childish!” 

“C’mon, I’m not gonna stand here to hear you say that shit” he answers.

“We’re friends, Mat, that was not the attitude of a friend and you know it! Emma is always talking about us and I know Tito is all about jokes with you too.” 

“We’re what?” 

“Friends, Mathew!” 

“We’re not just friends, and you know it!” he speaks almost softly. 

Y/n freezes in her spot, the elevator still not there, but Mat wished it was for some seconds. It was not easy to start a relationship discussion in the middle of their friend’s apartment corridor. 

Knowing y/n like he knew, Barzal expected her to say some shit about his statement, some sass comment or even a roll of eyes, however, just like she had nothing against it she said: “Ok, but it’s just a kiss…” 

“You don’t go out there kissing everyone!” 

“Don’t you?!” she furrows her brows.

“Gosh, what image do you have of me? I’m your friend…”

“But if I recall we both agreed with the not serious status, and the main reason is our friendship.” She bites her lips and starts to tap her bare feet in the ground. 

“See, that's the thing!” he sighs. “Mat, stop talking to me like I’m able to fucking read your mind!! You have to tell me stuffs, we should take like we usually d-”

“I don’t wanna be just friends with benefits anymore” 

She goes silent and the elevator finally arrives. It’s like her mind still racing and processing what he just said. He was jealous. He confessed he didn’t want to do that anymore. But what did that means? Mat want them to be over or does he wants to start something serious?! 

Before she was able to speak he enters the elevator, however y/n’s able to see the look of disappoint in his eyes, the eyes that she knows so well..the eyes that she woke up beside during some days of the week, the eyes that usually made her body shiver, the eyes that spoke into words that not ever she could read. 

So when she finally put the things together she calls the elevator, praying for the time to be by her side. That’s what they say in the rom-com movies, that the time works perfectly when it comes to two lovers.

This time it does not take long to the elevator arrive and she hops in, barefoot, messy hair and a racing heart. 

When it comes to a stop she runs looking for his car in the parking lot of the building. It’s not even open yet, he’s standing in the side of it. Hands holding the door like he was looking for some kind of strength to his body. 

“Mathew!!” she tries to run faster catching his attention.

“I…” he starts but she cuts him off. “I guess I don’t wanna be just friends with benefits anymore too…” her voice was puffy, gasping for air. Mathew opens his mouth to talk once again, but she rolls her eyes speaking first again “Why couldn’t you just wait for my answer?! I’m not a professional athlete like you…” 

He chuckles. 

“Sorry” it’s a whisper, she knows it’s not just him making her run, it’s about no being patient, not waiting for things to calm down to talk...not telling her before. But as they said, love has its own time huh?! Or that’s what he wants to believe. 

She gets closer, hands holding his shoulders. 

“And now?” 

“I mean...we go on a date or our nights' count as it?” he jokes and laughs softly. 

“Where would you take me?” she asks, brows furrowed.  

“As I already know you, I know you know where I would take you...but let me make this as a surprise” he pecks her lips. 

“With how many dates we can kiss?” y/n gets closer.

“I don’t know, you tell me” 

“Can we start it with the kiss first and then the date?” she jokes and lean even closer, her barefoot almost leaving the ground.

“We can start however you want”

And so they kissed, in the underground of the building, in a very unexpected night. Just like that, no complications, no need to worry. Things would find its ways for the better. Call it fate, love or simply their actions. Y/n and Mathew were ready to face it together. 

[ehlestina]

you’re one inch away / jaemin

☆ jaemin x reader 

☢ fluff, smut, anger, comedy (not really)

─

It’s 6:07 pm, you just finished school since your friend, Lee Jeno needed your help for his exams tomorrow.

“Guess it’s that hard to be smart...” You talked to yourself while walking at the street where you live with your best enemy, Na Jaemin. 

you never wished to be dorm mates with your your ex-crush, it’s never fun. you finally arrived at your dorm, you took a deep breath before entering your unit. 

“You’re here.” A deep voice surprised you as soon as you stepped inside, making you flinch. You ignored his presence.

“Are you really just going to ignore me?” Jaemin asked you, making you stop. You sighed deeply before looking at him who’s looking at you already.

“What do you want, mister I-Don’t-Like-You?” You asked him with one eyebrow raised at him.

“Showing me your bitch attitude won’t make me feel better.” He said, making you laugh sarcastically.

“Do I look like I am making you feel better, you moron?” You said, making him shocked of your words.

“You’d you come home late?” He asked, making you laugh.

“Are you my dad? I went out with Jeno.” You said, trying to make him jealous, you know his weakness.

“Don’t try to make me jealous. We are not a thing.” He said, said, slamming his hand on the wall.

“That hurts, eh?” You said, followed by a chuckle. You run your fingers thru your hair.

“If you’re here to mess up with me, I have no time for your shits, Jaemin.” You said and rolled your eyes at him, going to your bed.

“We’re not yet done arguing, hoe.” He said, pulling you to make you sit down. you sighed.

“Please, Jaemin. Just rest, you must be tired.” You said, looking at him.

“Why did you follow me?” He asked, making you tilt your head. “Eh? Excuse me. I reserved this unit first.” You said while pointing at yourself.

“But why did you let me stay here?” He threw you another question.

“You pity me, don’t you? Or, maybe... you still like me?” He said in a smile, making your stomach upset.

“Sir, Are you drunk?” You asked him with your eyebrows furrowed. Him shaking his head made you angry.

“I still regret writing you the love letter. Never thought you would make fun of me.” You said, making Jaemin smile.

“Remember when you kissed-” You cut him off by throwing a pillow at him.

“Fuck you, Na Jaemin.” You said, Jaemin still laughing his ass, making you frown.

“Look, you even don’t know how to kiss before. Haha!” He said while laughing, making you sigh.

“I know how too. I practiced with Jeno.” You said, making him stop laughing, looking right into your eyes. 

“Jeno, hmm?” He said in a smirk, making you raise your middle finger. “I know that’s cap. Jeno could never kiss you.” He said, making reality slap you real quick.

“What if he really did?” You asked him, making Jaemin giggle.

“Jeno’s type is a girl who is silent, pretty, and smart.” He said, making you nod.

“And that is never you, bitch.” He said, making you laugh. “I know. I am nobody, Jaemin. Thanks for reminding me.” You said, looking down.

“By the way, you said you know how to kiss, right?” He asked you, making you tilt your head.

“I don’t know.” You  replied, making Jaemin approach you.

“Wanna see if you can kiss?” He asked, making you widen your eyes.

“I want to, but if it’s with you then, it’s a no.” You said in a smile, tugging your blanket. You laid down

“Aha, now is my chance.” He said quickly, hoping on top of you.

“Hah, Jaemin. Don’t try me. I hate your small dick.” You said, making him smirk.

“uh-oh, not a good move.” you said to yourself.

“Get off me, Jaemin.” You said and kicked his dick, making him fall off your bed, groaning.

you are still laughing at him, when he suddenly grabbed onto your shirt, pulling you. Making you fall on top of him.

“Sup, baby?” He said while smiling, you slapped him.

“Jaemin stop fooling with me.” You said, trying to stand up, but his grip on your waist is too strong. You tried to resist, but it’s no use.

“No.” He said, making you tired of moving your body, trying to escape his grip.

“JAEMIN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD.” you said, screaming on the top of your lungs, making Jaemin laugh. “Aww you are really cute. I wish I liked you back.” He said, still looking at you while you were busy trying to resist. “Jaemin, please. I-” He cuts you off by carrying you.

“YOU’RE RAPING ME JAEMIN.” you tried to resist his grip on your leg, but he is too strong.

“damn.” you talked to yourself.

“BDSM?” Jaemin started teasing you as soon as he put you on top of the counter.

“You have tools?!” You asked him with shock, making him laugh and nod.

“Oh god damn. You probably had lots of one night stand.” You said, making him think.

“About... 3.” He said while smirking.

“Ayo that’s... never mind.” You said in a smile.

“Go, ruin me.” You said, making Jaemin widen his eyes.

“I though... you-” You cut him off by kissing him while cupping his cheeks, after a second, you pulled away. 

“Good night, Jaemin.” You said, jumping off the counter when you felt a tight grip on your waist. You looked at Jaemin with lust.

“Want me to get you condo-” He cuts you off by pulling you into a deep kiss. Pushing you yo your bed without breaking the kiss.

“It’s been years since I rejected you, but I still know where your sensitive spot is.” He mumbled while kissing you, going down to your neck.

━

You bobbed your head as Jaemin moans.

“what a music to my ears.” you mumbled, still sucking the hell out of his dick.

“Ahh there, there.” He said, pulling your hair. You’re still gagging because of his length.

“I-I, I’am coming...” He said, with his shakey voice. He threw back his head. you smirk, fastening your pace.

“Just like that, little slut.” He said, followed by his groans, after some seconds, he bursted right into your mouth.

“Wait for me, I’ll get you tissues.” He said, pulling his dick out from your mouth, getting you tissue.

“Here you-” He cut himself off when he saw you playing with his semen, using your mouth.

“I- here spit.” He said handing you the tissue. You gulped and wiped your sweat using the tissue he gave you.

“N-no way...” He said, looking at you.

“Ew I thought semen tastes good.” You said, tasting Jaemin’s semen made your stomach upset.

“I told you to spit it out.” He said, making you nod.

“yes, i’ll listen next time.” You said in a smile.

“Is it unfair that I am the only one who is completely naked here?” He said, making you sigh.

He started undressing you, making you feel so embarrassed. He removed all of your clothing, making you plant your head to the pillow.

“Tsk, stop. You’re beautiful.” He said, making you look at him.

You both collided, the feeling of Jaemin made you feel like fantasy. His kisses are always your cravings.

“Hmm, this is your spot, eh?” He said, thrusting into you harder, making you arch your back.

“Sorry, baby. I’ll not do it again.” He said, stopping his actions. After a minute, he continued to thrust into you.

“Fuck.” You gasped. 

━

“Hey you slut! Faster! We’ll be late!” Jaemin said, almost dragging you at the street.

“Wait, Jaemin! My legs are really weak, hold on.” You said, trying to maintain your balance.

“Eh fuck it.” He said and grabbed your inner thigh, carrying you.

━

“psst, am i good in bed?” He suddenly asked while the both of you are in class.

“really? ask that now?” You asked, making him shake his head while smiling.

━

“I’m home~” He said, entering the dorm.

“Hello Jaem!~” You greeted him with a smile.

“You’re in a good mood eh?” He asked, making you nod continuously.

“Finally, dating my dream guy.” You whispered underneath your breath.

“Tch, finally, dating the girl I hate the most back in middle school.” He said while looking at you. You rolled your eyes.

“Ehmm, there is a kid here.” Renjun cleared his throat.

“Oh yea, I forgot Jisung is here.” Jaemin said while clapping.

“Let’s go now! I am fucking hungry.” Jisung said, making you shocked af.

“Did you just curse, Jisung?!” You said, pointing at Jisung. Jisung looked at Jaemin, letting you know that Jaemin taught him.

“You crazy! What did you tell Jisung, eh?” You said, pinching Jaemin.

“He is a minor you Jaemin!!” Mark said, while laughing.

“Eh quit the noise, i’ll treat y’all.” Jeno said, making you all scream out of happiness because finally, Jeno is treating dinner.

•

“hey you, wake up.” Your sister, Yuna woke you up.

“Eh?” You rubbed your eyes, looking at your surroundings, making you cry out loud.

“MAMAAAAAAA” You screamed while crying, making your mom enter your room.

“Oh!! What is happening in here?!” Your mom asked you with much panic.

“I dreamt about Jaemin.” You said while crying.

“I DREAMT ABOUT AN IDOL DATING ME.” you said, still crying. Yuna laughed at you.

“Aren’t you contented with your sister who is an idol too?” Yuna said, posing infront of you.

“I’LL GO SEE JAEMIN, MOM. I HAVE TOO.” You said, making you look like a psycho.

“how? in your dreams.” your mom said jokingly, making you sadder.

“yes, i know. i am just a fan but, Yuna. I am your older sister. Make me see Jaemin. Use your power.” You said, making mom and Yuna laugh.

“C’mon! At least you will not be useless anymore. Go, give me Jaemin’s number.” you said, making Yuna stick out her tongue.

“It’s okay, dear. There is someone for you except for Jaemin.” Mom said, patting your back. 

[justlookfrightened]

2: "close the door" and 25: "I want an answer goddamn it!" With zimbits ;3

Jack closed the door and let his bag slide from his shoulder to the floor.

The condo was quiet, with one lamp left on in the living room and the light over the kitchen sink still burning. So Bits was here, somewhere.

But there was no smell of maple or cinnamon, no music playing from the bathroom or bedroom. He was probably already asleep.

Jack turned off the light in the living room. He paused in the kitchen to fill a glass with water and drink it.

As he sipped, he considered. He could wake Bitty. He could strip out of his clothes and slip into bed naked, crowd up behind Bitty and pull him close. Bitty would scrunch up his face, push that round little butt into Jack’s groin … this plan was sounding better and better, at least to some parts of Jack.

And if Bitty mumbled, “‘M sleeping, Jack,” Jack could tell him that they could sleep in tomorrow, and stroke Bitty’s belly in the way that he liked, use his lips and his hands to remind Bitty how much they liked being in bed together.

But if Bitty pulled away again, said, “No, Jack. I’m tired. I need to sleep. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Jack would be left keyed up and lonely. And feeling like a demanding prick for waking his boyfriend in the middle of the night.

But Bitty had stayed up to watch the game. He’d texted Jack when it was over, congratulating the Falcs on their win. He hadn’t made it to see the game in person like Jack had been hoping, but Bitty had plenty on his own plate. Jack wasn’t sure what, exactly, delayed him today, but Bitty hadn’t made it to the arena for the game. Instead, Jack got a text before warmups that Bitty would watching from the condo.

Jack left his glass in the sink and crept into the bedroom, getting ready for bed as quietly as possible.

Bitty got up before Jack the next morning and was gone by the time Jack got out of the shower.

Bitty poked his head into the bathroom before he left, saying, “I’m pretty tied up the rest of the week, but I can come down Saturday after our game,” Bitty said.

Jack had grunted his agreement before ducking his head under the nozzle to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.

Later, he wondered how Bitty would get to Providence late on Saturday night. He still didn’t have a car of his own, and buses and trains weren’t scheduled that late. Was he planning on getting a ride-share? But Bitty usually didn’t want to spend that much of his money on a ride, and he hadn’t asked Jack about using his account.

And Jack would have to leave for the training facility by 9 a.m. Sunday, ahead of leaving on a four-day road trip. Maybe it wasn’t worth it for Bitty to make the trip. Then Jack could come home, collapse into bed and sleep until eight.

But if Jack suggested that, maybe Bitty’s feelings would be hurt.

Jack was waiting when Bitty logged on to connect their Skype call that evening.

After going over their days (Jack’s practice had gone well, Bitty was pleased with a B on his anthropology essay), Jack tried to broach the question gently.

“Um, if you come Saturday night, how were you planning to get here?” Jack said. “There’s no trains or buses then, right?”

“I’ve got it taken care of,” Bitty said.

“You can use my Uber account,” Jack said. 

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, sweet pea,” Bitty said. “Don’t want to get hooked on it, you know? I’d be going back and forth five days a week.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Jack asked.

Bitty did come to Providence on Saturday, arriving at Jack’s door, only a little flustered and out of breath, just minutes after Jack arrived home. They collapsed into bed together, traded quick hand jobs and fell asleep. Bitty wasn’t up yet when Jack left.

They managed to connect on Skype twice over the road trip. The Falconers were home the next weekend, but the Wellies had a game in Boston, and Bitty was going to busy with his team.

Which was okay, Jack thought. When he was captain of the Wellies, his entire life was focused on the team. Except for the part he devoted to academics, but even that was in service to the team; he couldn’t play if he didn’t maintain good academic standing. But everything else, including his social life, had revolved around SMH. Of course Bitty needed time to spend with the team.

Jack remembered what it had been like, before he graduated and went pro. When he had a small bedroom with a shared bathroom in a falling-down house instead of a three-bedroom luxury condo where he lived alone, most of the time.

Where threats to his diet plan were more Hot Pockets than dinners in expensive steakhouses. And pie, but that hadn’t changed.

Where if he needed company, all he had to do was go sit in the kitchen while he studied, instead of calling someone and making plans. And where if he needed to be alone, he had to hole up with his door closed and headphones on instead of just … be.

Where he’d fallen in love with a boy whom he still thought of as sunshine personified, whose warmth drew the team close and made Jack feel that maybe, just maybe, a relationship was something he could have. That Bitty’s warmth would be enough to overcome the ice that ran in Jack’s veins.

“No Bitty today?” Tater asked, plopping on the couch next to Jack in the players’ lounge. “He hasn;t been to a game in a while.”

“No,” Jack said. “He has a game in Boston tonight and team bonding time tomorrow. Not enough pie for you?”

Tater shrugged.

“I’m not going to ask him to make one to send you,” Jack said. “He’s busy enough.”

“”Busy?” Tater snorted. “You keep him busy, right?”

Jack just rolled his eyes, but when Tater got up to get water, his mind wandered to what Bitty’s experience of captaining the Wellies was like, especially when he was trying to spend time with Jack. It wasn’t something he’d honestly thought much about. He’d just assumed that since Bitty was in the position Jack had been in two years earlier, it was pretty much the same.

But Bitty was forever trying to balance his schedule with Jack’s. And Bitty … well, he had a harder time focusing on his studies, so classes in general were harder. A long-term project like his thesis was a real challenge. And while Bitty was no doubt a talented hockey player, he wasn’t NHL-ready like Jack had been; he couldn’t just tell the team how they should play and let his skills do the talking.

No wonder Bitty had seemed so busy lately. Jack had tried not to resent it (or at least not to share his resentment with Bitty), but Bitty probably knew. He probably was spending more time with team because he had to, but maybe he was enjoying time there more? With people who knew how awful the dining hall enchiladas were last night, and lived in fear of what new drill Murray would dream up, and would keep him company in the Haus kitchen while he spun between his homework on the table and the pie in the oven?

Maybe one of those people was special to him.

The thought crept into Jack’s mind unbidden. But once it was there, it curled up and settled in.

Jack could see how it would happen. Maybe it was just because of how he fell for Bitty, but he remembered the kitchen at the Haus with almost a magical glow. Of course other guys on the team had crushes on Bitty; if a guy liked guys, who wouldn’t? And Bitty was always most relaxed and most open when he was surrounded by the scent of butter and sugar and cinnamon. If there was someone who was always there, helpful and friendly and available? Unlike his boyfriend, who was distant (literally, as well as emotionally sometimes) and cold? Who took him away from his warm kitchen and comfortable home – and his team and school responsibilities – just to fall into bed and sleep?

Fuck. Was Jack a bad boyfriend? 

Jack skated through warmups and texted Bitty just before going out to take the ice.

Good luck tonight. I love you. Let me know when I can talk with you tomorrow.

Then he locked those thoughts in a box. The Falconers had a game to win.

When the game was over, he had three missed calls and a text from Bitty.

I’ll be back at the Haus by 3

Jack called Shitty.

“Do you think Bitty is happy?”

“Wait up a sec, Jack-o,” Shitty said. “Are we talking right this minute? Because BC beat the Wellies 3-2 and Dex had to leave the game with a suspected concussion, so just tonight, probably not. In general? With you? Yeah, I think so. What brought this on?”

“I just wondered,” Jack said. “I wondered if maybe he likes someone else. Because he’s not coming down as much as he used to.”

“Jacky, he’s busy,” Shitty said. “He’s a senior in college and captain of the hockey team.”

“I know,” Jack said. “And it’s not like I have lots of time to support him.”

“But cheating on you? That’s a big step to take,” Shitty said. “You seriously think he’d do that?”

“Maybe not cheating on me, exactly,” Jack said. “Just, I think about him in the Haus, baking, and someone sitting at the table and talking to him and him dancing around in his little gym shorts …”

“And now I know more than I need to about how you fell for him,” Shitty said. “I mean, yeah, sure, he has friends in the Haus. Of course he does. You weren’t the only one who used to hang in the kitchen, y’know?”

“I know,” Jack said. “And a couple of weeks ago, he came down and he never told me how he got here. What if he got a ride with someone? Who drives someone to a place an hour away at midnight on a Saturday?”

“To see their boyfriend? Not usually their other boyfriend,” Shitty said. “Unless, you know, that’s the way they roll.”

“He was all hurried and flustered.”

“Because he wanted some hot hockey lovin’?” Shitty suggested.

“There really wasn’t much of that.”

“Okay,” Shitty said. “I think you know the answer, right? You have to talk to him, because there’s no way I can convince you he’s madly in love with you.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I asked when he’d be home tomorrow.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’d be home at 3,” Jack said. “Eight words. No ‘I love you.’ No emojis.”

“It’s late,” Shitty said. “They had a sucky game.”

“I know.”

The next day, Jack pulled up in front of the Haus at 2:57. Dex opened the door to his knock.

“How’re you feeling?” Jack asked. “Your head okay? Or should you be resting?”Dex shrugged.

“Hurts a little,” he said. “But I should be okay in a few days. Bitty’s upstairs if you’re looking for him.”

Which was unusual in itself. He was usually in the kitchen if he was awake.

Jack headed upstairs. Bitty’s door was open, but he wasn’t there, so Jack took a seat in the desk chair in front of where Bitty’s laptop was set up on his desk. Maybe he was trying to get his writing done?Jack was looking at the blank screen when he heard Bitty come in behind him, still drying his hands.

“Jack, you’re here!” Bitty said. “I thought you wanted to talk on Skype!”

“No, we really need to talk,” Jack said. “Close the door.”

Bitty did, then sat on the bed, near Jack. He patted the mattress next to him.

“Want to sit over here, sweet pea?”

“I’m fine here,” Jack said.

Bitty’s smile faded.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Us,” Jack said. “You, I guess.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bitty said.

“I just realized that you don’t seem to be coming to Providence as much,” Jack said. “And you’re busy so much, and I don’t know what you’re doing – like how you got to Providence last time.”

“I wasn’t aware you had to know all my movements,” Bitty said, and now he sounded annoyed. “Especially when you’re on the road with your boys half the season.”

“I don’t need to know everything,” Jack said. “But is there something important you’re not telling me?”

“Like what?”

“Someone else you’re not telling me about?”

“What?” Bitty said. “They only people I see are you, the team, and sometimes the other captains. Oh, and my professors. I am doing my best to hold it all together here, Jack, even when I see photos of you and hot guys all over the country, so I’d appreciate you going easy on the accusations.”

Hot guys? What?

“We were on the team together,” Jack said. “Is there someone you like? Are you happy with me?”

“Bless your heart, sweetpea, you’d best stop before you accuse me of cheating on you,” Bitty said.

“I’m not accusing, I’m asking,” Jack said. “Because I feel like maybe you need more than I’ve been giving you, and if you want out, I’d like to know.”

“What?” Bitty was looking at Jack blankly.

“I want an answer, goddammit!” Jack said. “Do you want to keep dating me?”“I should be asking you that question,” Bitty said. “I know I’m not much compared to the guys you’re on the ice with every night, but the shirtless pics are a bit much.”

Shirtless?“You mean the ones from Dallas?” Jack said. “You know I’ve known Tyler for ever. He was having people on an off day, and we were by the pool. I didn’t know anyone posted pictures.”

“You never post pictures with me,” Bitty said.

“Because I want our private life to be private,” Jack said. “But I didn’t even think of that as private. There were like a dozen people there.”

Jack took a breath and tried to think about what Bitty had said, and what he actually meant.

“And you’re hotter than any of them,” he said. “Really. Which is why you could be dating anyone you wanted, and like half a dozen guys on your team probably have crushes on you. But if you say there’s nothing going, I believe you. Even if I don’t believe you teleported to Providence.”

“I borrowed Dex’s truck,” Bitty said. “Once he believed I could drive it. But it was nearly impossible finding a parking space big enough. I didn’t even realize I didn’t tell you. Were you working it up into a big thing?”

Jack nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just been so long since we had any real time together.”

“No, I’m sorry I made you think I was keeping secrets,” Bitty said. “And we’re together now.”

He got up and pulled the bedclothes back.

“What do you say to a midafternoon nap?”

Jack stood up.

“Sounds good,” he said. “But come here. Let’s post a selfie first.”

[truthbeetoldmedia]

The Bold Type 3x02 "Plus It Up"

Hello friends, and welcome to the second episode of the current season of The Bold Type. While last week fell a bit flat, I’m happy to say that this episode hit every mark. It was funny, heartwarming, meaningful, and as always, well acted.

Employee of the Month

Now, Sutton’s portion of this episode was the least gripping, but heartwarming nonetheless. Oliver has some uncharacteristic absences from work, both worrying Sutton and causing her to put in more time for the magazine. Oliver isn’t sharing what has him missing work and snapping at Sutton, which worries her.

To complicate things, she’s also struggling with sharing these things with Richard. On one hand, he’s her boyfriend, so of course she wants to discuss what’s happening at work and why she’s having to stay late. On the other, she can’t forget that Richard is also part of HR. She can’t exactly vent about Oliver without revealing he’s been missing work, so she’s forced into silence.

While handling this crisis at work, Sutton also has her new move to deal with. The change from her apartment with Jane to Richard’s penthouse is pretty stark. Living in a super nice New York City penthouse isn’t what makes her uncomfortable, it’s the “perks” that come with it. Richard has a housekeeper that does his laundry (really), which is something Sutton isn’t here for.

Sutton is super relatable when discussing this uncomfortable situation with Kat and Jane. While Kat also grew up with a housekeeper and Jane admits that having one herself is something she would want if she’s successful enough, Sutton quips that not only has she never had one, but she almost WAS one herself.

(She also reveals she didn’t get the job because she failed the drug test. Never change, Sutton)

I have to admit, I’m team Sutton here. I don’t care what other people choose to do, but I would never be comfortable having a housekeeper, ESPECIALLY one that does my laundry. My mom cleaned houses when I was a kid, and I did the same for a little bit in college. I really can’t imagine hiring one myself.

Essentially, Sutton is doing two jobs at once while having exactly no time to do her laundry. Honestly, who among us. (Later on Richard ends up doing Sutton’s laundry for her, bragging that even though he had a maid as a kid he still knows how. Congrats I guess?)

Sutton does find out that the reason for Oliver’s absence is actually really heartwarming. Apparently, Oliver’s ex-boyfriend had something of a drug problem before they were together and has relapsed after thier break up. The issue is that this ex has a daughter, to whom Oliver was essentially a step-dad, and she’s now in danger of being sent to a group home since there is no one to take her. Oliver is in the midst of applying to be her legal guardian to prevent this from happening.

Not only is this super sweet, it’s an important conversation to have. As Oliver mentioned, it’s not exactly easy for a gay Black man to adopt a child. As someone who happens to work for a group home, I’m really happy that The Bold Type is approaching this subject. Here’s to hoping that they go into depth with this and don’t just leave it as a side story.

Write it Out

This episode we see Jane begin her fertility treatments, the first step in the process of freezing her eggs. The whole thing is pretty daunting: she needs to inject her medicine every day at the exact same time, visit the doctor every other day, and stay away from alcohol, carbs, and sex for 10 days.

The irony is that none of those things bother Jane too much, especially when compared to her anxiety about sharing this process with Pinstripe. After all, she tried the same thing with Ben in season two: introducing the added stress of the egg freezing process (and Ben’s not at all helpful response) is essentially what drove them apart. She’s more than happy to do all these things on her own, but our new resident Terrible Dude ruins her plan.

Patrick, said Terrible Dude, decides that it would be a great idea for Jane and Pinstripe to write an article on the process together. They’re both writers, they’re dating, and they can offer two unique views on the process. Great idea, right?

Jane definitely doesn't think so. Throughout the episode we see her anxiety at not wanting to share this process with Pinstripe, worried that this will disrupt the happiness that they’ve settled into in thier relationship. She doesn’t want to make things “heavy.” Pinstripe interprets this as Jane not wanting to open up to him, so the disruption that Jane predicted becomes a reality.

Because this is The Bold Type, the negativity doesn't stay for long. Jane realizes that Pinstripe isn’t Ben, and his willingness to support her outweighs her worry.

However, I’m afraid that they’re glossing over a pretty problematic point (say that ten times fast) of Jane’s arc this episode, which is Patrick’s complete disregard for Jane’s feelings and privacy. As a man, Patrick has no idea of the physical, emotional, and mental stress that Jane is dealing with. He completely ignores her when she’s clear about not wanting to write the article with Pinstripe. Jane’s right to discuss her own body and her own medical journey isn’t a thought. Sure, she was willing to write an article on her own, but doing so ensures that she writes it on her own terms. The article and her relationship with Pinstripe worked out in the end, but Patrick’s disregard for Jane the person at the expense of Jane the writer wasn’t lost on me.

We saw the same behavior from Patrick last week as well - he all but forced Kat to use her Blackness and her Queerness to lift up Scarlet. Now, Kat doing that is not the issue, but her choice of when and how to do so was taken away.

Patrick is also pretty rude to Jacqueline this episode - he’s insulted when he realizes that both he and Jacqueline are gunning to interview Cardi B, claiming that he needs to “up his game” since he feels that he is more on top of things than Jacqueline is. He also talks down to her later, over explaining what Rupaul’s Drag Race is with the assumption that Jacqueline is a little too out of touch to be familiar.

We do see Jacqueline put Patrick in his place later on by bringing Sasha Valor of Rupaul fame to Kat’s Queer Prom, revealing that her and Sasha are great friends and that she’s been her long time supporter. Melora Hardin deserves an Oscar for the look she gives him when he realizes that he’s underestimated her.

Raising Some Hell  

Before I start, I need to mention how good Kat (Aisha Dee) looks in this episode. Her dress? Her hair? She’s a gift.

Kat’s journey this episode is by far my favorite. She’s back to being proactive and ballsy, throwing everything she has at a Queer Prom fundraiser for a local Lesbian bar that’s in danger of shutting down. She also discovers the reason for the shutdown; the neighborhood is looking to gentrify, and that means pushing out businesses like the aforementioned Lesbian bar. Apparently there were some fines that were brought up from many years ago that the bar wasn’t aware of, and combined with late fees they need to pay over $42,000 or close.  

Here’s a definition for gentrification, just to put this into perspective:

“The process of repairing and rebuilding homes and businesses in a deteriorating area (such as an urban neighborhood) accompanied by an influx of middle-class or affluent people and that often results in the displacement of earlier, usually poorer residents.”

It’s the displacement aspect that we’re paying attention to here. The bottom line is that the influx of wealthy white people would rather live next to a Lululemon than a Lesbian bar, and by design gentrification seeks to clear neighborhoods of People of Color, Queer folks, and anyone who happens to be poor. I suggest reading a bit about this, so you should check out articles like Examining the Negative Impacts of Gentrification and 7 Reasons Why Gentrification Hurts Communities of Color.

Also, just a fun reminder that neighborhoods can and should be improved FOR the people that currently live there.

Before Kat thought of throwing a Queer Prom, she met with the local councilman to discuss options. She discovers that he’s written the bar off as a lost cause, telling Kat that unfortunately there is no way to get around paying the fine. He would love more than anything to save the bar for his constituents, but it’s just not possible.

Turns out, that councilman doesn’t actually care about the bar or his constituents. Shocker, I know. He shows up to the Queer Prom for some photos, and while talking to Kat he lets slip that the new condos they’re putting in when the bar closes wouldn’t be so bad afterall. She calls him out for attending the event and using it as a photo op to prop up the illusion that he actually cares about his neighborhood, which was amazingly satisfying to watch. During the end of the episode we see Kat searching up and coming female candidates for office, in what I hope is a bit of foreshadowing.

I’m super happy with this episode. It was uplifting, entertaining, and well executed. I can’t wait for next week!

The Bold Type airs Wednesdays at 8/7c on Freeform.

Alyssa’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

[your-highnessmarvel]

Gate Keeper part seven

Masterlist

Summary: Some say it’s not the journey that matters, but the destination. The destination justifies the journey. However, for him, the hunt was much more pleasurable than the meal.

A/N: This is a beautiful and (smutty) ending to this series. I regret, but this is the end my friends. We’ve seen and explored all we can. I hope you enjoyed this series as much as I did. I am always so pleased with the feedback from you guys, I love y’all!! Next week I will be uploading a new series which will include Loki x reader. Hope you’ll join me in that one! If you want to be added to that tag list already, feel free to drop by my ask box!

Word count: 2981

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, language

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x reader

(Tags at the end)

Weeks passed without any news from Tom. You went to work, and even there, Tom was elusive. He never made an appearance, and even in the lobby, you didn’t see him. Your days passed in a blur; school, homework, and work. People came in and out of your life, but there was no one like Tom. Teachers asked you questions and you answered, but everything just slipped out of your mind. Nothing stuck like Tom.

He was in your every single thought. In the shower, during class, randomly while walking back to your dorm. You hadn’t cried since the night at Tom’s condo, but you always felt like you were on the verge of tears. Yet, with weeks passing and no news from him, the feelings started to subside. You could go for hours, at first, without thinking about him. Then something would remind you of him and this sour feeling in your chest would just bubble until you had to stop whatever you were doing just to breathe. Especially at work, when you’d cross Josh in the lobby and he’d give you a curt nod, your brain would do this thing where it would replay all the moments with Tom. But then you could go for a day, then two, then almost a week without having any invasive thoughts of Tom.  

But then things changed. You were going along so well until your phone vibrated on a Monday afternoon.

Can we talk?

-TH

Of course, things had to come to this. After all this time, despite the fact that he’d practically vanished from your mind, you could still feel your heart clench when you looked at his initials. Even after you’d gotten over the fact that you might see him in the lobby, you were completely unhinged by his text.

He didn’t even give you time to answer. He sent you a time and place, surely after your evening shift, and signed with hope that you’d be there. If you listened to yourself, you would not go, but there was something deep inside you that had been left unsaid. Strings were still attached, and you couldn’t be totally free of him. Maybe you could fix yourself by ending things properly with him.

Boy were you wrong.

The address he’d given you was for a very low-key coffee shop, stuck between two old apartment buildings. Inside was very cozy and private, with lounges and private booths. You arrived before him, as you’d planned, to make sure you could scout the terrain. You didn’t want any surprises.

The clientele was very middle-aged if not white-haired. You chose a booth near the window, which was so dirty that you could barely see through. You ordered two cups of tea, the steaming cup which was supposed to be Tom’s almost mocking you as it stayed untouched on the other side of the table.

Since the last time you’d seen Tom, the weather had gotten frisky. You’d snuggled into a warm burgundy sweater, a black skirt, and stockings that reached just above your knees. You were warm and cozy, sipping on your tea, anxiously waiting his arrival. Your knee was constantly bouncing, your eyes darting to the door every time the bell rang.

You thought he’d stood you up, until his dark figure walked gingerly into the café, eyes scanning the room to finally land on you. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie and black pants, his freakishly long legs looking delectable as he took a couple steps in your direction. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. Mesmerized, as if he’d cast a spell on you, there was nothing in this world that could stop you from staring. He bore a look of restlessness, and the more he approached, the more you could see that he was a mess.

His hair was unruly, as if he’d let it grow and did not care to style it. His chin adorned the shadow of a stubble, the rough hair rusty. His eyes were two dark pits of a tormented blue, blonde brows creased as he took a seat across from you. He slid into the booth, wrapping his fingers around the hot cup.

“Y/N, thank you for coming,” he greeted. His voice was rough, as if he’d been screaming all night.

Your heart was beating savagely against your breast bone, your fingers trembling in your lap, your breathing stuttering in your lungs.

“Tom, you…” you trailed off, looking at him with round eyes. “You look like shit.”

He huffed, the right corner of his lips turning in a half smile. You couldn’t help but find him adorable.

“I haven’t been sleeping right,” he answered, tugging his fingers through the ungodly mess of his hair. He took several deep breaths, his eyes darting from you to your cup and back, until he was almost avoiding all eye contact. This was not typically how he acted, which left you unnerved. Had something happened?

“Tom, why am I here?” you asked slowly, trying to calm him down. His eyes snapped to yours and he sighed.

“I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I just don’t want to be away from you anymore.” His brows turned upwards, his eyes glistening and red. “I feel like I hurt you, that I tore you apart, and it kills me to know that I did that to you. There’s nothing in the world that gives me the right to ask for forgiveness, but I would beg you on my knees, Y/N, if I had to.”

Your throat contracted, tears ready to fall. It’s funny how you hadn’t cried over him since the day you left his condo, and you hadn’t thought about him until his text, but now all those buried feelings were resurfacing. It’s like you’d built a wall around his memory, but you built the wall with straw and with those words leaving his mouth, everything just collapsed.

“I was never close to anyone before,” he said, staring at you deeply and passionately. “I feared rejection. But there was never anyone like you, and I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

“What do you want from me now, Tom?” you asked, your voice thick, tears brimming your eyes. “I fell hard for you, but you weren’t there to catch me.” There had been feelings awoken in you that you could never explain, that he had siphoned from you, but he hadn’t been able to reciprocate. Or maybe, you didn’t evoke those feelings in him.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he whispered. “I’m scared that one moment, you are mine, and the next moment, you’re gone. I thought I could live with that, but when you left, I…” He sighed again, his bottom lip trembling as he caught it between his teeth.

“There you go again,” you said. “You’re not expressing yourself.”

“I was falling for you and when you left,” he answered, “you tore me in half, and I’ve never been more hurt in my life.”

You gulped, trying to keep yourself from feeling the sour emotion in your chest. “You fear rejection and pain, but here you are, running right back to it.” He stared at you, his mouth parted, your words cutting deep.

“Because I want you,” he murmured. “And I will do everything in my power to please you.”

You felt, in that instant, like you held the world in the palm of your hand. It was as if he’d handed you a crown while on his knees. Like he had fought against your worst enemies and handed you the sword stained with their blood. He was yours and only yours.

You put your elbows on the table, crossing your arms. “I won’t be treated like a midnight whore,” you said, in the darkest tone you could muster. “I will not be left in the dark of your life. Your business is yours, accorded, but I can’t just be apart of a portion of your life.”

He nodded, looking relieved.

“I don’t want to rush us back into this, but it cannot be like it was before,” you finished, leaning forward so as to make sure he understood.

He finally took a sip of what must be a cold tea. His eyes never left yours, like you were an apparition and you’d disappear if he lost sight of you. You drank your tea in his company, his sweet and very missed company, while he brought you up to date with most of his cases. He was still as adamant as ever, so eager to prove he was right. He still kept that harsh lawyer attitude; the one where he was cold and calculated and cunning, yet now he also wore compassion and comprehension.

When you’d finish recapitulating the past weeks to each other, you offered for him to come back to your dorm.

“Are you sure?” he asked, but truthfully, you’d missed his smell and his touch and the way his hands felt on you.

“It’s a couple minutes’ walk from here,” you answered.

It had been weeks and months since you’d seen him. As you got to your feet and exited the café, you were drawn to him; to hold him by the arm, to look at him. It’s like he’d never been gone.

When you arrived at the door to your dorm, he was hesitant. “Anyone home?” he asked as you unlocked the door.

“I sleep in a single room,” you answered, taking his hand in yours, guiding him up the stairs. “I don’t have a roommate.”

This seemed to please him as he followed eagerly, putting his coat on the hanger once you’d entered your room. He looked around at the blue and red bed sitting by the window, the lonely couch and small TV, and the tiny bathroom in the corner. “Nice place,” he commented, although rather sarcastically.

“It’s not the Grand Plaza, but it’s cozy,” you answered.

You sat on the couch, patting the space next to you. When he sat down, you propped your feet onto his thighs, making him smirk. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered. You’d left the lights untouched, the room bathed in moonlight, half his face hidden in shadow. He slowly put his hand on your ankle, tracing his finger up your stocking until he reached your knee, where he hooked his index under the clothing and slid it off your leg. “This is cute,” he said, which made you giggle. He looked at you with a rose brow.

He took the stocking off your foot and gave the same treatment to the other one until both your legs were bare. You leaned forward until you could practically smell his cologne off his skin, brushing your nose against his neck, your eyes closing in content. “I missed you,” you murmured.

His hand came to rest on your cheeks, his thumb brushing your jaw. He lifted your head until he could pose a very chaste and gentle kiss on your lips. You let him kiss you slowly, the feel of his mouth on yours like paradise. His hand slid until it was buried in your hair, tugging you closer the deeper the kiss got.

You didn’t want to waste any time. This man had come into your life like a bomb, sweeping you off your feet, giving you a taste of what real pleasure was. He’d worshiped your body until he’d reached the soft emotions within you. You wanted him, right then and there, like you’d always had him before.

You swept your left leg until you were straddling him, pushing your hips against his. The kiss became heated, his tongue sweeping across your lips to gain entrance. Your hands were tugging at the long roots of his curly hair, hips rolling against his, enticing a groan to leave his mouth.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked between kisses, his mouth chasing yours, his hands moving to settle on your hips. “What about taking it slow?”

“Fuck that,” you answered, leaning back to tear your sweater over your head. He didn’t waste any time, his hand skimming along the smooth plane of your tummy until he’d gathered each breast in his hand, your nipples hard and waiting. Both your breaths had become labored, mouths parted and chests heaving.

Your hands fell to his belt, where you tugged and unzipped until he was raising his hips to help you pull his pants down slightly. It was almost all a rush; you had been apart for so long that now there would be nothing keeping you from each other. It was like at any moment, this instant could end, and both of you did not want to waste any time.

He pinched both nipples between his index and thumb, enticing a groan from you. He wrapped his lips around your pebbled nubs just as you wrapped your hands around his hard girth. Groans echoed in the dark room. Your hips grinded against his leg, his lips and tongue working wonders against your skin. He was flicking and suckling, massaging your other breast in his hand. You were pumping him up and down, swirling your thumb on the glistening tip. 

“Tom, fuck,” you gasped, your head falling back, hand slipping from his cock. He let go of your wet nipple with an audible pop, kissing along your chest and up your neck, finding your lips.

He slipped his hand under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, smiling against your lips when he found you soaking and ready. “You’re soaking, baby,” he hummed. You grinded against his hand as he slid a finger along your wet folds, finding your nub, rubbing until your mouth fell open. “You’re so ready for me, huh?” You glued your forehead to his, hips rolling against his fingers as he continued to swirl his index against your clit.

“Tom,” you moaned, gripping his hair, unable to contain the pleasure coursing through you. He pushed your panties down your thighs until they were visible. Then he took the fabric in his two hands and ripped it in half, chucking the poor panties onto the floor. You wiggled higher into his lap, raising on your knees, until you felt his swollen tip aligned with your drenched entrance.

He caught your mouth in a deep and rough kiss, biting onto your lip, his hands digging into the flesh of your hips. He’d bundled up your skirt over your ass, the material sure to tear by the upcoming events. He grabbed a handful of your ass with both hands, spreading you wide, until you could easily slide down onto his awaiting shaft. You both groaned when you’d impaled yourself to the hilt, his cock already hitting the spot inside you that could make you cum so easily.

Your hands were ruffling his hair, your face hidden in his neck as you started rocking your hips, up and down, feeling every inch of his cock. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight,” he breathed, still gripping handfuls of your bare ass.

He helped you rock, using his hands to guide your hips up and down. The fabric of his jeans was burning the backs of our thighs, but the pleasure that was building in the pit of your stomach was making you forget everything around you. His body was all you could think of, all you wanted to think of.

You clenched around him, feeling the end coming, your moans muffled in his neck. He was hitting the spot so sensitive, over and over, the movement of your hips creating friction on your clit. “Come on, baby, cum for me,” he breathed, groaning as your hips picked up, rocking faster and harder.

You let out strangled moans and whines, biting into his shoulder to keep yourself from waking up the neighbors. You were getting closer, his hands roaming all over your body, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You rocked harder, feeling his cock twitching deep inside you.

Your walls clenched impossibly tight around him, making him release a disbelieved groan. Stars danced behind your eyes as your rose onto your knees, tilting your head back and moaning his name, still rocking your hips against his. You were riding your own orgasm out, which made it incredibly hot for Tom, who watched your writhe and clench around him.

When you’d slowed your pace down, your legs weak and unable to continue as hard as you had, Tom shifted until you were lying flat on your back. His pants fell to the floor as he settled between your legs, finding his rhythm. His hips were snapping yours harshly, your head hitting the arm rest as he fucked you senseless. You were sensitive, yet he was chasing his own end so rapidly and violently that you found a new pleasure starting to build inside you. Using your hip as leverage, he was starting to get sloppy, his breaths coming harder against your neck. “Y/N I’m gonna cum,” he growled, thrusting harder, searching for his bliss.

“Cum baby, come on,” you whispered, encouraging like he had you. His thrusts came to a harsh apex until he groaned against your neck, spilling himself inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him there as he thrust one last, final time, collapsing atop you.

You stayed lying on the couch like that for a while, until you were both dry and had regained your spirits. His thumb came to trace your lower lip, making you giggle. He rose on his elbows, peppering kissing along your jaw. “You know what?” he said between kisses.

“What?” you asked, chuckling when he pecked your nose.

“You finally wore a skirt,” he said, lips spreading into a breathtaking smile.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him tenderly, feeling like this moment could last forever.

Tags:  @emegeek @@papi-chulo-bucky @fluasch @coley0823 @aekr@lavalavalaura@oxblood-is-a-creative-color @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme@spudsandbandit @shaunamart @mydashmyrule @proud-of-being-me@everevening913 @avengersohyeah @beautiful-tiger-loves-it @sincerelyflh (didn’t work) 

[jammixes-blog]

Everybody’s Business

Ironically, as a public person, a politician cannot be cyber bullied. But, any bad politician can cyber bully entire Nations, or the whole world, tweeting like a twat.

We live in an age of shameless voyeurism...

The biggest threat to Humankind’s soul and progress is privacy. Never was privacy so important to be conscious of, and so jeopardized.

Privacy has become an illusion in cities, big or small. The only way to have privacy is to be “off the Grids”, in the middle of nowhere, far from any network... I experienced it, for a short time, in California, 5 hours away from San Francisco, in the Californian wilderness. Otherwise, we are all, without exception, not vulnerable, but watched and listened to...or, at least, recorded... In today’s world, if you really want privacy, you do not use a smart phone or the internet. None of us can. So, it’s time to regulate the whole thing, before it starts becoming a dangerous, complex, and overwhelming problem...

I’ve seen so many Google Map cars, around different cities in the world. My question is: What happens to the original footage, the one before the pixelated one?

I am very perplex about Americans letting Google, Twitter, Facebook, Apple, and the rest of Silicon Valley evade trillions of dollars in taxes, every decade. Shouldn’t that money go back to the American people? And, why do all the internet Gurus are warning the rest of us that these same corporations are making thousands of dollars, yearly, from each one of us, without telling us, selling our datas? They all say “Free For Life”, who is? I’ve read Google’s Terms of Agreement and Privacy Statement, it’s bullshit, I have a Law degree. They basically officially state that they are responsible for nothing and can change and do anything with your datas. Truly, something there is very fishy, illogical, and dishonest. Who is going to stand up to them? It might be a rhetorical questions. I could do it. But, with the help of La Hague, and the support of Canada and the rest of the world.

I am never wrong, when I am consciously being subjective... But, you would be, to think it’s wrong.

Everyone is free and entitled to personal opinion. And, also, everyone is free and entitled to cover their ears and ignore other personal opinions. But, no one is free or entitled to deprive anyone else from their personal opinion, under any pretext, since they would all be based on personal opinion.

Maybe it’s age, growing impatience, or laziness, but, from writing short stories, to make a point, I got to just state the point.

Usually, you are only conscious of something, when you have to directly experience it yourself, body, mind, and soul. Otherwise, it only happens to others.

Compassion is experiencing the other willingly and consciously, to help out. It extends to ALL life forms that exist in Nature and our Atmosphere.

I will gladly invest in any company that will provide me with an umbrella or roof against pieces of the trash we put in orbit, around the Earth, when they start falling down.

Luckily, they are still stars in the Toronto night sky. Not as many as in Kobenhavn, only the closest and biggest ones. But, it’s still a consolation. Hopefully, we stop building those soulless condos, and start creating a Happy City. I say “we”, I’ve swore allegiance to the Queen, i.e. Canada, when I was 14, in winter. I got the Citizenship Card stolen. I don’t regret the picture. As a young punk, I had my hair trimmed short, with my ears protruding... and, you can’t proudly show your 3-holes steel-toe Docs in those official pictures...

As a punk in my teens, I had a collection of Doc Martens. My old friends remind me, a detail had forgotten, that I cleaned them constantly, and didn’t let anyone dirty them or get too close... That was my main instrument of rebellion, since I had steel-toe Docs I bought in London, every summer, at the time, they were too expensive in Montreal and they didn’t have the 3 holes steel-toe. I had them in black and red, as well as different 8 holes. I was lucky, I had a Kool gang of friends, Kokis, Rodriguez, outside school, and the rest of the class, like Bertrand, Bert, the 2 Nicolas, one of them a fucking good cartoonist, who initiated me to Bahaus. That’s because he never changed his T-Shirt, the one with Bahaus on it, I was curious. With Kokis though, we started jamming musically, it was too funny, him on the guitar and me singing. That’s because my parents refused to let me buy or play a musical instruments, fearing that it will take my focus away from studies and sports. Nevertheless, I was very keen on music. Thanks to Kokis’ big bro and stepdad, I got initiated to heavy metal and a lot of 60s band. Thanks to me, Kokis got every Beatles album, the Who, Jimi Hendrix, French punks like Garcons Boucher’s “La Lambada”, or 1/2 of the Beru albums he didn’t have, and my poems/freestyle punk tunes. Thanks to him, I got to discover Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, a lot of French punk bands, Iron Maiden, Siouxies and the Banshies, the Cult, the Smiths, and many others, including classical music. Kokis and I also played chess together, on self-made boards. I bought the pieces and made a board on an old square coffee table. When Rodriguez came, the trio was complete. We played ping pong in my basement. Then, Rodriguez and I would pogo dance on punk tunes, then start practicing martial arts on each others, then, take our leather jackets, our jack knives, and wonder aimlessly along the subway stations, hoping to pick a fight with racist skinheads, or idiots who would provoke us. It never happened, these times. I did provoke, however, a fight, with the public school, a block away. Not my fault. Innocent. I was walking out of school with two female classmates I happened to like, in the middle. A guy from the other school walks straight up and pushes one of the girls with his shoulder. I turned back and I said in French: “Calmes yes coulees” i.e. “Calm your balls down...”. I kept on walking, said goodbye to the girls, and, as my Mum was pulling her car to pick me up, she’s always the one to bail me out of trouble, somehow, maybe her instinct. Anyway, I get pushed violently from behind, I turn back, it was the idiot, with two friends. He was pulling a knife from his pants. My brother came out of the car and pulled me in. He does that, when I fight, most of the times, to defend his ass. I told the guy I had to go, but to come back tomorrow. The three idiots ran after one of my two best buddies, that year, Lambert, into the school. He was saved by the friends of his famous big bro, a star broomball player, in his final year, build like a hockey player. The news travelled fast, the next day, every guy in my class had a weapon, was cool-ass. There were nunchakus, sticks, knives, sprays, etc. The other school never showed up.

[fireflyskitters-postgrad]

one week into a 9-to-6

Adulting checklist is almost done (save for, well, having kids, which I’m not planning to do anytime soon):

Got my TIN; gave up on wading through my taxes and hired a bookkeeper for the dirty work

Managed to rush my SSS, PhilHealth, and Pag-Ibig in one week, along with other tedious paperwork

(Also, not quite related, but learned how to fish out my poop with a toothpick)

Went on several condo viewings, shuddered at overpriced prospects where you’re still squished claustrophobically with other people, and finally got a place at Makati, courtesy of my mom

Finished my first week of regular, conventional work, which was as tiring as I expected

Contrary to the typical reaction, I was shuddering in fear before my first week of work because if there’s one thing I dread and promised to do as little of as possible, it’s a 9-to-6 job. With long commute times—a surefire guarantee of corporate slavery where you cease to have a life outside of work and your hobbies shrivel up because your 24 hours per day are all used up. Which is kinda what’s happening to me: I haven’t moved to Makati yet (ten more work days to go), so I’m sacrificing around four hours every day to just getting through the traffic. I’m also prioritizing sleep over how interesting I am as a person, which means my bedtime is early. The one hour that I have left is reserved for yoga / meditation. When push comes to shove, health goes above everything else—although I’m reminded of that fitness girl who died from a cream whipper that malfunctioned and drove a shrapnel through her chest, implying that you can tick off all the checkboxes with regards to your health, but it doesn’t guarantee nice results.

With my complaints aired out, I do like the company. All of my work experience has been with tech startups, and I’ve gotten too attached to the culture—I have no compulsion to experiment with going corporate, which is terribly stiff and formal and bureaucratic. The company fulfilled all of my expectations, probably because the co-founder took it to Silicon Valley and is actively trying to follow Google’s culture. On my first day, we had free lunch (shawarma, pad thai, beef steak, sticky rice with mango!) while listening to a talk about wellness from the founder’s dad, who happens to be a doctor. They’d written 47 ways to implement a wellness-oriented work culture (including healthy snacks in the pantry). Right now we have muay thai classes twice a week and free massages every Friday. The massages are the best—I was lying down on the floor while the therapist was blissfully kneading my back, and the person right before me was giving out sinful moans.

I’m also still not sure how I did it, but I managed to worm my way into the marketing department. Our team head is brilliant. He’s pretty much a prodigy at digital marketing—was already earning money online at sixteen, founded his own business at eighteen, made a substantial amount of income at twenty from ghostwriting rap lyrics for artists who are now shockingly famous. I love how, during the interview, he waved off my concerns about freelancing while having a full-time job. I was worried that there’d be rules against it, but he quipped that multiple income streams are good, and he does have his own side business. He also announced that he’s making it mandatory for all of us in the marketing team to create our own websites—the company will pay for the funding, and we have to present a new post every week in our meetings.    

To top it off, my first day didn’t have me staying in the office the entire time, crushing my desk job anxiety. The company organizes free monthly workshops that anybody—usually people from the startup scene—can attend, with topics ranging from software development to digital marketing. My first day coincided with a UX design workshop, so I got to help out, listen to a very detailed UX design talk where I was already suffering from info overload after an hour, and got to chat with interesting people afterwards (including a cute, painfully witty guy who gave me tips on writing and said he’ll be back again). Oh, and every Friday, we have zero hour, supposedly adapted from Google culture: it’s an hour in the middle of the workday set aside for working on your personal project, not related to the company at all.

Fuck it, I’m tired and trying not to think about how much freelance work I’m cramming on weekends, but I’m very happy with my choice—plus it doesn’t hurt that BGC is such a pretty, walkable place. A 9-to-6 job is still a temporary arrangement, though. I’m planning to learn as much as I can from this, then after a few years, branch out on my own and start a business or freelance full-time. Control over my working hours—not to mention my freedom—is imperative, and I’d rather earn as much money with minimal effort: passive income over having to trade blood and sweat for every cent.