#was at a school retreat with no wifi

[thoughts-of-caly]

haven’t checked my email for four days

i’m too young for this...

[justawanderer]

The Mage’s Keep

A Magical Sanctuary for those Burnt Out on Life

Alec slams the car door a little too aggressively. He takes a deep breath and pinches his nose bridge to center himself. He takes a sip of the surprisingly delicious gas station coffee and refuses to feel guilty. He ignores the voices in his head of his doctors, his siblings, and his parents and enjoys the warm cup in his hands.

The coffee is Not what gave him an ulcer that presented as a cardiac event at the tender age of 27. No, he’s been drinking coffee since high school without issue….okay, maybe middle school…no one’s counting.

Anyway, point is, it wasn’t the coffee, it was the fault of the twenty people in Alec’s unit of the law firm who fucked up the County’s jump start to school initiative that Alec had spent all of the previous summer fighting to take lead on. His team fucked the paperwork up so grandly that the contract had to be pushed back a whole fucking year and now an entire grade of elementary schoolers in the city will be without the free laptops they were promised. And thinking about it is raising Alec’s blood pressure and he has to take a few more breaths to calm down.

The problem had been half of his team being freshly graduated lawyers from Harvard who only got there through daddy’s money and therefore having not a winks worth of intelligence in any of them. And the other half of his team being a group of raging racist bigots who intentionally sunk the program. He rubs his temples and tries to remember that his partner Lydia and his manager Jia both assured him that the problem would be fixed when he got back from his doctor recommended time off. The discovery of the sabotage and the people behind it-on the day it was to be sent to back to the county for official signing had lead to Alec keeling over in pain and waking up in the ER. Every single person in his life then took it upon themselves to ensure he’d make the most of the mandatory 2 weeks relaxation the doctor prescribed.

Which is how he found himself in this godforsakenly small car with no phone and an address preplugged into his gps. Izzy had been insistent that the retreat she had found was exactly what Alec needed and her and Jace and even his mom had all chipped in to pack him up and get him shipped out. If it wasn’t for all of them insisting that they had prepaid and max giving him the biggest sad eye in history-Alec would have turned around and checked into a hotel by the shore like he originally planned-with good WiFi and his work computer-but Lydia had taken his gear, and jia banned him from the premises for the foreseeable future and his dad packed the car and they all sent him off.

He just wishes they would have asked him about it. He hates the out doors-except the beach-but a two week stay at ranch upstate is not the beach vacation he would have preferred. Besides, don’t those ranchers hate gay people? Okay-he recognizes that that in itself is prejudiced but still-why should be be shipped 5 hours upstate to shovel horseshit when he’s in recovery? His doctor had the fucking nerve to nod vehemently in agreement to the retreat Izzy had presented him with on Alec’s behalf. So Alec is pissed about work, pissed about this retreat, and pissed that everyone in his life, including his parents have teamed up to send him away. He’s also a little pissed that they had the nerve to find him a retreat for and run by queer people. By a doctor who had had too much city life and opened a health retreat upstate.

It would be brilliantly diabolical if it wasn’t happening to him.

So instead of being impressed, he’s rage drinking his stupidly good trucker coffee and driving to the middle of bumfuck nowhere and going to have to pretend to not be terrified of horses, and horse shit, and who he is assuming are tough as nails butch lesbians taking care of said horses.

He angrily rakes a hand through his hair and calls himself out for his misogyny and assumptions. Anger turns him into his father and even his father has turned around. His new wife Annamarie is definitely the reason. His dad even paid for this retreat. Alec just likes to find reasons to hate things that don’t go his way. Which is right out of the Robert Lightwood playbook and whole turning into his father thing is not helping his blood pressure or his nerves.

The drive is mostly quiet, Alec not quite able to listen to anything and only just managing to abate his own feelings. He looks at the picturesque farmland around him and sighs. It’s beautiful….if you’re into it. He allows himself that he’s here voluntarily, if anything goes south or he really just can’t, then he’ll hop back in the car and drop down to the shore. And try to call Underhill and guilt the guy into faxing him work.

He nods at his improvised plan as he reaches the Mage’s Keep Ranch and rolls his eyes at the arcane symbols carved into the ranch sign that is also decorated with numerous pride flags and rainbows. He is pleasantly surprised by the polished look of the ranch and the numerous buildings on the grounds. Signs point him to a main building off set from what appears to be a large stable. He can see people riding horses and being coached by ranchers on the ground.

The clean earth smell that greets him when he steps out of the car is a surprise and he grudgingly admits to himself that he likes the fresh air. A beautiful woman with deep dark skin and long white braids smiles at him and waives him up the main building’s stair.

“Welcome to the Keep. I am Cat, I run the lodge for our guests. I am assuming your Mr. Lightwood?” Her smile is warm and welcoming and Alec smiles back, following her into the lodge.

“Your room is on the second floor, just up those stairs and down the hall on the right. Go ahead and get settled, your family paid for a suite so all of your towels and such will be in the bathroom. We serve dinner from 5-7 and you’re welcome at anytime. You can even take your food to your room or on the grounds if you wish. Your itinerary isn’t set in stone, but your sister I believe? Isabel? Informed me of some of the activities you may want to try so I curated a list for you. I have you set for archery tomorrow morning at our spring side range and a cooking class before lunch here at the main hall, then a few hours to rest and then a sunset ride for you. After that, you can pick and choose your activities for the rest of your stay.”

Alec is speechless, he had been terrified of force labor and group talking therapy but this really just sounds like a vacation. Not wanting to jinx anything, he takes his bags to his rooms, showers and then promptly crashes onto his bed.

He wakes up once, around midnight, groggy and alarmed by his unfamiliar surroundings. It all comes back to him as he turns on the bedside lamp.

Curious, he sees through the open bedroom door that a tray has been left on his sitting room table. He ambles out, sees a charcuterie board filled with heart healthy snack foods and what was once cold juice, but now room temp. There is card on the tray:

Alexander,

Welcome to the Mage’s Keep. I am sorry to have missed you at dinner, fear not, many of our guests sleep through their first night with us. This keep has healing magic if you let it. You will get all of the rest that you need here. I have left you a sampling of hand foods following your sister’s guidance, if you require anything else feel free to look around the kitchens.

I look forward to meeting you tomorrow.

Sleep well,

M

The letter is written it beautiful script on a piece of stationary with an embossed Dr. Bane at the top. Alec rolls his eyes at the pretension but does nibble on the food. After eating his fill and guiding himself through a stretch, he falls back asleep and dreams of demons and battles and magic and cat eyes.

The following day is one of the most relaxing yet invigorating days Alex can remember having. He wakes with the sun, runs around the whole of the perimeter of the ranch, enjoys the best whole wheat pancakes he’s ever had courtesy of Cat and hits every bullseye at the archery range under the watchful eye of a curmudgeonly Dr Fell who ensures he doesn’t over do it. He is walked through a delicious cooking class by a witty and charming Tessa and then spends the afternoon reading a book he had bought years before and never gotten around too. The other guest weren’t even as annoying as he thought they’d be. It seems as if everyone was healing from burnout or extreme work stress. Some of them had even had serious health incidents like Alec. But his first day had truly relaxed him.

Well, at the least the first part had. He was doing his very best to not think of the sunset ride and was trying to think of all of the logical reason he had for not needing to be on horse back. He’s arguing quietly with himself as he ambles down to the stable, surprised that he’s alone apparently for this activity. He comes to the open doors and sees empty stalls. They put him at ease as he cautiously walks through. Maybe the other people riding were already out. Which is a relief because he would not want the snarky teen punk Gretel-who was sent here by her parents after having a meltdown over college admissions packets- to see him fall off a horse.

A soft snicker brings his attention to the roan head sticking out at the end of the row. The horse is eyeing him and even if he doesn’t have any desire to ride her, he can appreciate her gentle beauty. He inches as close as he dares and exhales. “Hi beautiful” the horse lets out a whinny and tosses her head back.

“She’s asking if you have any apples to spare.” Says possibly the most alluring melodic voice Alec has ever heard. He turns as see a man hunched over a phone. He’s in jeans and a white tank with a large cowboy hat covering his face. Alec has to swallow three times to get moisture back in his throat at the sight of the man’s arms.

The man in question tips his hat with long delicate fingers calloused from hard work. He pulls his hat off and Alec has to touch his chest for the violent hard beat his heart skips at the sight of the most beautiful man he’s ever encountered. He feels his face drop into a dopey smile as the man smirks at him and stands up, almost to Alec’s own height.

“Delilah is a fiend for apples, she now thinks you have one.” The man moves closer to palm the horses noses. He fishes a green apple out of a side bag and hands it to Alec. Enchanted by why can only be a demo god before him, Alex reaches out for the apple. The man smiles, turns Alec’s hand palm up and places the apple there. He continues to hold Alec’s palm still as Delilah leans down to snatch it softly out of Alec’s hand. Her soft lips tickling his palm. Alec has too many emotions and sensations warring inside of him to panic.

He smiles, first at Delilah, and then at the mystery man still holding his wrist. The man speaks.

“Your sister Isabelle, was very thorough not only in the parameters for your menu, but also about how inspite of her belief that this place was for you, that you are scared of horses.”

Alec can feel the blush rush all over his face and neck. Made worse by the apparent appraisal of the man before him. The cowboy twists Alec’s hand around to be able to cup it in both of his calloused hands. Alec’s blush deepens at the wildly inappropriate intrusive thought his brain sends him about what those hands would feel like elsewhere. He clears his throat.

“Ah, not so much scared,” he says trying in vain to save face. “But uh, just not interested in getting on one.”

The man smiles. “Well, I’m sure we can find a ride for you. This place has a way of helping us all bend in the ways we need to.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Magnus, Magnus Bane. The founder of the Keep.”

Alec would blush even further at the fact that they never let go of each other in the first place, to be able to facilitate at handshake. If it weren’t for the appreciative up and down look the Doctor was giving him. The man’s warm hands in his had him convinced he could actually feel magic all around him, and Alec wondered if two weeks here would be enough.

@just-add-butter 🤷🏼‍♀️ this is your fault, your welcome.

[dearestones]

A Weirdo at the Library (Brian Thomas and Reader)

Warnings: Reader is too curious for their own good, slight horror.

Anonymous Request: Could I have the Prompt "Why should I trust you?" For Hoodie from Marble Hornets?

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There’s a strange man who frequents your library from the time it opens until it closes. He's dressed in a tan hooded sweatshirt, a black hat that looked better worn during the winter months, and a blank expression on his face that never quite seems to emote. Even though you usually arrive at work a few minutes before the start of your workday, the man is usually hunched over by the entrance, his stance clearly relaxed.

For as long as you've remembered, the man was always alone. Aside from the backpack that housed a laptop and a few other essentials you were not privy to, he had no other belongings. Briefly, whenever you decided to give him some thought, you wondered if he was homeless.

It would make sense.

The clothes usually stayed the same, the scent of mustiness that reminded you of campsites and forests filling your nostrils. However, other than his permanent outfit, you had the feeling that he wasn't an absolute slob. You had no right to judge, but you had the feeling that maybe he frequented public facilities like local gyms to accommodate his hygienic needs. 

Maybe he did have a home and you were overthinking.

Whatever the case, it didn't matter.

You always unlocked the door for him if you were the first to clock in and it went unspoken amongst your colleagues that it was best not to disturb the man.

And so, it went like that for months, maybe even years. You weren't particularly too detail oriented about the specifics of how long you had known the man in the tan hoodie, but you did know that it was rare not to see him in the library.

Even though it was none of your business, you often wondered if he worked solely through remote means. Perhaps he didn't have wifi wherever he lived and was utilizing the library's resources. Sometimes, whenever you glanced up from your desk or reshelved books into their proper places, you would find him leaving his laptop behind on one of the tables he monopolized for himself to peruse the bookshelves. He never checked out a book to take home, but you did catch him bussing stacks of texts to his table. Minutes later, he would end up scribbling on scraps of paper he would tear from battered notebooks. 

On the rare occasion that you were the sole person to reshelve the books he left behind, you realized that he was picking up books about codes, ciphers, and texts about computer programming and software.

In the beginning, you chalked it up to a hobby that he liked to pursue in the midst of his work.

That is, until you managed to get a good look at his laptop and the notes that he left on the table one afternoon.

At the very beginning, the man in the tan hoodie used to close his laptop shut and flip over his notepad or weigh it down with a series of reference texts. However, for some reason unknown to you, he must have felt relaxed enough to leave everything on his work station available for everyone to see. You spotted him retreating into the men's bathroom—not an unusual scene—but you happened to be only a few feet away from his table at that exact moment.

Your next few actions were unprecedented and unconscious.

As a librarian, you learned from the very beginning not to judge people for their tastes and preferences. So what if there was a middle aged woman reading erotica meant for women years younger than her? Or that was a young man reading a children's series about school mysteries? Or that there was a straightlaced businessman checking out a niche manga series from the nineties? Checking out books meant more engagement, which could potentially lead to more funding for your library. You only checked their library card and made sure that they returned their books on time.

But this was the man in the tan hooded sweatshirt.

He was a mystery who not only perplexed you, but also your coworkers. 

What you were going to do next was neither illegal nor immoral… Perhaps a little questionable, but that meant nothing! 

It wasn’t wrong to take a quick glance at someone’s work, just a passing glance nothing more. Everyone always caught a glimpse that wasn’t necessarily their business, so why was this any different? And if you were caught, you could say that you had dropped something near his work space… You were merely an unobtrusive, simple librarian. What was this man going to do to you for being curious?

Your interest had been piqued so long ago and you had been patient, you needed to know.

Before you could stop yourself, you swiftly walked over to the table and took a sneak peek at his laptop. 

What you saw on the screen looked banal and not at all what you expected to see from the man in the tan hoodie. He used a browser unfamiliar to you, but anyone from a mile away could initially recognize the layout of YouTube. You focused on the video player upon the screen, squinting at the video’s title.

It appeared to be nondescript and unassuming; it was titled “entry” followed by what you assumed was its corresponding number. 

The uploader of the video was also unknown, but their handle was far more whimsical than you had expected from the title alone. Marble Hornets, you read. What, were the hornets made out of marble? Or were they marbles with hornets in them? 

Still, the name stuck with you despite it all. 

You found your eyes drifting past the keyboard and onto the series of books and scraps of paper that littered the majority of his table. For some unfathomable reason, a number of those scraps of paper were littered with dozens of sketches of pine trees, strange circles that were crossed out, and vague, disturbing warnings about something watching in the woods. You dared not touch any of the scraps lest you leave incriminating evidence behind, but you did see that one of the reference texts was open to a page about encryption methods. 

Glossing over the contents, you didn’t learn too much except that whoever the man was, he was smart. 

Whatever the case, you didn’t want to any longer than you had to. It was one thing to sneak a glance at his belongings, quite another to be caught theorizing right in front of him. Quickly, you hurried off to another part of the library, something nondescript like the children’s section. 

No sooner did you help a child pull the newest picture book off of a shelf did you spot the man striding from the bathroom and towards his spot. Averting your eyes, you gently reminded the child to not tear the pages and to ask for more help if they needed it. Excited and eager to please, the child thanked you heartily and skipped away to whom you thought was their guardian. 

You happened to turn around at that exact moment—later on, you would contemplate why—only to find that the man in the tan hoodie was staring at you. Normally, whenever you found yourself locking eyes with the man—usually in passing—one or both of you would nod in acknowledgement before quickly turning away. That simply wasn’t the case now. 

For five complete seconds, his eyes held you in place, the expression on his face strange and surreal to see on his normally impassive visage. 

And then—

When you began entertaining the idea that maybe he knew or had seen you retreating, he turned away and began scribbling something in one of his papers. 

You could only hope that he wasn’t furiously drawing more trees. 

After that incident, you forgot about that strange man. 

At the end of the day, you were still a librarian and that meant that you still had to cater to a variety of people's interests. There were a group of young ladies who wanted to know if the latest romance novel by a famous author had been shipped. An older gentleman with a hearing impairment asked if there were any books about developmental psychology. There were other questions and requests; all of them, you were sure to fulfill to the best of your ability. 

Shortly after, the librarian closed and you watched as the stragglers gathered the last of their books, logged off their computers, or printed out the last of their research papers. Once that was done, you said goodbye to your fellow coworker, some of whom decided to stay a little later just to tidy up and gossip.

You laughed a little at that, but wished them the best for their evenings before you stepped out of the premises and into the chilly evening air. Having been working in this library for a while now, your guard wasn't up as you walked into the near empty parking lot, your car parked strategically near a lamplight so that it illuminated it perfectly. As you unlocked your vehicle, you began to feel a tickling sensation at the nape of your neck that trickled down your spine and raised the skin on your arms.

Someone was watching you, possibly from behind.

On guard, you immediately turned around, your keys wrapped in your fist as if you were brandishing a knife. Before you could initiate a stabbing or slashing motion should you find someone or something standing behind you, your hand was immediately intercepted by someone who was stronger than you. The shock of being caught without so much as a backup plan hindered you from recognizing the person holding you hostage until you noticed that the man was wearing a tan hoodie and that same expression on his face that you spotted him wearing him the last time you saw him, was aimed at you. 

It was wariness and suspicion. 

“What did you see?” 

His voice was raspy and soft, as if it had been a long time since he had used it. However, you could not deny that even though there was a lack of volume, there was a notable threat—as if the tightening hold on your wrist wasn’t enough. 

“W-what—”

“Don’t play stupid.” His grip flexed and you had no choice but to let go of the keys. As they cluttered onto the ground, he relaxed the hold he had on you, but the look in his eyes was still suspicious. But there was also an undercurrent of desperation. “What did you see?”

Maybe he had known all along that you had been watching him. 

You were stupid to think that you could get away with this, but it was all for curiosity’s sake! There was no way he was getting riled up over something this stupid!

“F-fine!” You gritted your teeth and answered, “All I saw was a YouTube video and some of your creepy drawings. Happy?”

His eyes hardened. “You’re the one snooping through my belongings. Why should I trust you?”

You bit the inside of your mouth. “Okay, it was wrong of me to take a look—it was just a loo!—and I should have respected your space! I’m sorry! I didn’t see anything other than that! Honest!”

Finally, after you thought that he was sizing you up for a mugging, the man in the tan hoodie finally let go and practically shoved you into your driver’s seat. You tripped, but managed to right yourself so that you could cast one more fearful glance at your attacker. 

“What the—”

“Go home, stay home. And don’t go snooping into places you aren’t supposed to.”

Had you the bravery, you would have retaliated, but you could barely stomach your shock when he grabbed your keys from the ground before throwing them into your lap. 

By the time you slammed your door shut, locked and made sure all of your windows were secure, and started the ignition, the stranger was long gone.

That was the last time you ever saw him. 

However, you couldn’t help but sense the feeling that something was following you. Always in the periphery of your vision, but never quite coming into focus. It was not the man in the tan hoodie, but it was something far more malevolent.

And it reminded you of the strange drawings that the man had scribbled. 

What else had you seen?

Oh. You remembered now. 

A tall, slender man hiding among the trees. 

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If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

MARBLE HORNETS MASTERLIST

[incohorace]

Spill about Cassia and Bianca <3

OOH OK YAY

so basically. they’re two princesses from different kingdoms. and their kingdoms have a very tenuous relationship. so cassia’s family invites bianca’s family to visit for like. diplomatic reasons. and because cassia’s family own this castle in the countryside that hasn’t been used in a while, they decide to renovate it and use that for the visit. like both families will stay there. and the castle is really nice, nestled deep in the mountains beside a loch, but it’s fallen into disrepair so cassia’s family have to renovate it. and that’s when the story opens – to cassia’s parents being really annoying about preparations and cassia retreating to her bedroom to avoid the chaos.

uhh so the main concept for the story is literally just:

and they’re literally so silly like lemme show you this blurry image of them (school wifi won’t let me load the original so)

THEM <3

and the concept of the dead guy haunting them is that two generations before them there was a princess of cassia’s family called lia. and she was betrothed to a prince of bianca’s kingdom for political reasons. but she fell in love with a peasant who worked on the fields surrounding her castle. and they kept their relationship secret and planned to elope together, but cassia’s family found out and enlisted bianca’s family’s help, and together the two families murdered the peasant and covered it up, and told lia that he’d abandoned her. but she was so heartbroken that she stopped eating and stuff and died pretty soon after. and after that all relations between the two kingdoms stopped. and it’s the peasant guy, who was killed in one of the secret passages beneath the castle that bianca and cassia are staying in, who’s been haunting them since their childhood, because he wants justice. yeah <3

[ladyofpembroke]

I’m not sure what my goal should be for my writing retreat on Thanksgiving (Thursday and Friday). I want to do at least one hike so I won’t be just writing the whole time. There’s no or limited WiFi though so writing should be my main outlet although I think I will bring a short book just in case I get stuck.

I’m also a slow writer which complicates things but I also want to be able to write enough that it was worth it to go (besides the other factors that caused me to go…)

I kinda want to say 6k but I don’t think I’ve ever written 3k in a day before(creatively, I’ve done more for school)…

[alifechoes]

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[myfavebandfizz]

Plnk Wifi Interview

A JOURNEY INTO FIZZVILLE

NOVEMBER 8, 2023

What happens when accomplished singer-songwriters and best friends dodie, Orla Gartland, Greta Isaac, and Martin Luke Brown are all faced with boredom? The short answer is, fate directed the four musicians to get into the studio together, and they all formed the most superb supergroup of all time: FIZZ.

The quartet recently released their debut album The Secret To Life, and I got to sit in on a virtual press conference to hear FIZZ spill the tea on how the project came together!

THE BEGINNING

The members of FIZZ had been friends for ten years, but decided to link up roughly two years ago. A trip to the Middle Farm Studios in the town of England was somewhat of an experiment for the members. They wanted to see how their chemistry would flow in the studio, and see what would come out of it.

Greta said, “We basically wrote the album across two weeks – one week in December 2021, and another week in July 2022. I think the intention was to see what happens. We didn’t have a name then, our managers didn’t know the band existed really, and the intention really was just to play and see what it was like to write together.”

MAKING AN ALBUM

It might be a little hard to believe that FIZZ created an entire album in just two weeks, but that really did happen. At the studio, producer Pete Miles was bursting with excited about the four artists being in one room together, and he had a vision that they’d come together to form a band. Pete worked his magic in the studio, and FIZZ just couldn’t help but feel excited – which drove them to create a whole lot of music in just a little time.

According to Martin, “We were just giddy. Super duper giddy for that first week. We were running around and playing the drums, plugging in guitars, and it was really noisy chaos. A lot of the big songs on the album came from that first week.”

After six months, FIZZ regrouped and returned to the studio to work on the second half of the album. Martin shared, “We think of the album and the sound as a time capsule, because we pretty much did the whole thing in those two weeks. Whatever we do next, we’ll probably have a similar approach. Whatever happens, happens… we just make the time to allow for it to happen.”

JUST DO IT!

Since The Secret To Life was a spontaneous project, a lot of the planning and polishing that might usually take place in the studio was non-existent for the group. Orla said, “Because we wrote and recorded it at the same time, there’s no separate demoing and recording process. I think often, what you’re hearing on the final version of the song is the first (or second, or third) vocal ever put down for that song. There’s kind of a really magic naïve-ity in that. There’s no overthinking, because there was no time to overthink. You can hear in so many of the songs us all singing different notes to each other, because we’re not even really sure what the note is… but it doesn’t really matter! Let’s just go!”

It was all about the vibes of one another’s company. Greta mentioned, “I think we’re so used to this way of writing and producing music, which is… you write with someone different every day, you go into a new studio every day, you write with a stranger, you try and get a song in five hours and move on to the next one the next day, and you don’t get time to tweak anything. It’s just very fast-paced, and it can be soul-crushing sometimes! I think with the way Pete produces, which is very old school (a lot of recording to tape, and capturing the atmosphere more than anything) I think that was something I hadn’t done since I was a teen. It felt like a retreat, but it felt like coming back to actually making music in the way we always loved doing.”

Dodie said, “We didn’t want to put so much weight on writing this album. We didn’t want to figure out what we were trying to say. It’s so interesting what comes out when you let go of those pressures.”

The Secret To Life is pure sonic fun, and keeping this context in mind makes listening to the album even more enjoyable. It’s the story of four friends chasing good vibes, and you, the listener, are invited to frolic in the sun with FIZZ as your ears embark on this magical journey. Listen to  The Secret To Life below!

a big thank you to °1824 for hosting FIZZ’s virtual press conference ♡

[richmondhillhouses2]

Buying a Home in Richmond Hill

Richmond Hill is a community that is rich in tradition and heritage. Many of its residents are multi-generational households, where grandparents, parents, and children all live under one roof or near each other.

New Richmond Hill homes are located in communities with easy access to Toronto and GTA. Richmond Hill houses

Langstaff

Langstaff is a popular neighbourhood for families, with a variety of houses on large lots. Many of the properties have older houses that were remodelled and upgraded over the years.

John Langstaff was the first person to settle in the area, more than two hundred years ago. He opened a blacksmith's shop and other businesses in the area, but there aren’t many relics left from that era.

Langstaff is a great place to live if you are looking for houses in Richmond Hill that have easy access public transportation. During rush hour, commuters can easily access the Langstaff GO station. There are also many buses that stop nearby. For those who prefer to drive, major highways are close by.

Temperanceville

Temperanceville is a popular area for families. It has large lots, family-sized homes for sale and outdoor recreational facilities. This neighbourhood is close to major highways and makes it easy for commuters in Toronto.

Richmond Hill is a wealthy area. Almost half the residents earn more than $100,000. Many people are employed in the fields of management, finance and business. Major corporations such as BMW, Acklands Grainger, and Staples are also located in the city.

The topography of some parts in Richmond Hill can play a role when it comes wildfire risk. The city has 337 homes that are at risk to be affected by wildfires over the next thirty years. Here are some ways to reduce the risk.

Vaughan

Vaughan, a large and prosperous suburban area, is a great place for raising a family. It has a number of livable neighbourhoods. The housing stock of the city is mainly made up of detached houses with large lots and excellent school systems. Langstaff and Temperanceville are great places to look for families looking for larger homes at a good price.

Small businesses thrive here, as do large employers like Acklands Grainger and BMW. It is a great place for commuters, with easy access to Highway 407 or Highway 404.

There are also luxury apartments available for rent in Vaughan, if you prefer to stay at home. These apartments are located near the Vaughan Mills Shopping Centre, Canada's Wonderland, and have a balcony. They also offer free WiFi.

Aurora

Aurora has a mix of homes on larger lots, which appeals to families. You'll find both older homes that have undergone renovations and newer developments such as the upscale Southshore.

Residents enjoy the many parks and greenspaces in the area. Throughout the year, there are a variety of community events, including plant swaps, picnics with family and concerts in the parks.

Visit open houses and talk to a local realtor (r) for more information about the Richmond Hill communities. You can also use Zolo to search through a comprehensive list of real estate listings. The site allows you to view 197 houses for sale, 72 townhomes, and 117 condominiums in the city. You can filter your search by price, bedroom count and size.

Whitchurch-Stouffville

The lion's share of residential property in Whitchurch-Stouffville is single-family detached houses. Residents can also enjoy recreational centres, excellent public schools, and a charming central district.

The Oak Ridges Moraine is the largest part of the landscape of the community. It is characterized by knobby, sand-like hills that were deposited by retreating ice sheets. Kettle lakes such as Preston Lake Van Nostrand Lake Musselman Lake form depressions in the moraine topography.

Residents can choose from a wide range of dining and shopping options along Main Street or in the historic downtown Stouffville. The vibrant core is home to over 140 unique stores, services and restaurants. Residents can also enjoy a variety of concerts, theatre performances and fundraisers at Lebovic Centre for Arts and Entertainment. Or they can visit eight curated exhibits at Latcham Art Centre.

[thcophagy]

elton hadn't exactly been subtle with his ongoing ogling of birdie's chest but he hadn't done so to make her uncomfortable, half the time he hadn't even noticed his gaze had dropped till she'd called his attention back to whatever conversation they were having with a tentative sweetness, one someone might offer a dog they were worried might snap at them if they moved too quick. if he were any other guy, then his wandering eyes would have been nothing to comment about, in fact, he knew he was a hell of a lot more respectful when compared to the other kinds of boys they'd gone to school with. it wasn't just their eyes they let linger in inappropriate places, yet they were conventionally attractive and confident enough to get away with whatever they wanted, they had a privilege elton could only dream of and which protected them from scrutiny- it had to go somewhere though, and why not towards the loner freak with no-one willing to defend him? seeing birdie heavy with guilt shouldn't have been so enjoyable, not when he claimed to care so much about her, but it was the first time he was witnessing someone show actual remorse for their treatment of him. even though she couldn't know how aware he was of her betrayal of his trust, simply retreating back into his isolation and letting her fester in her paranoia had brought him some satisfaction, not as much as spending time with her had but someone had to receive some kind of punishment for the constant belittling. she looked like a scared little puppy under the intensity of his narrowed gaze, if she had a tail it would likely have been tucked between her legs in pure submission, fear of his judgement. it was powerful, and completely at odds with the usual sensitivity he applied to his interactions with her. he'd worked so hard to try and replace the image of him she'd had in her head from high school with something positive, painting himself as the nice guy who listened to her stories about the pageants she used to do while they stood doing their laundry, or helped sort out her wifi after receiving a similarly pathetic knock on his door late one evening, yet falling back into old habits was strangely comforting. elton shrugged at her feeble attempt at apologising for the past and looked down to the book still in his hand, two fingers lay slotted between the pages to stop him from losing where he was before he'd been interrupted. "doesn't matter anymore." it did matter, it would always matter to him as it had come to form the very basis of how he perceived himself and the world around him and releasing anyone of their guilt for taking part would be purely for their benefit, it'd do nothing to help him cope. a nasty, malicious part of him still wished to have the chance to inflict even a moment of the pain he'd been forced to stomach on any of those ill-intended girls; and with birdie right in front of him, pathetically whimpering about her regrets, it was easy to place those desires onto her. "i didn't like any of you." he said casually, like he was explaining to her what an algorithm was. "but at least i had a reason for that, right?" he paused, contemplating going and further with his tirade but the words came before he had the chance to properly consider them. "i can see it, you know? when you look at me, sometimes it's like you think i'm going to snap. like everything you heard about me was true... but i guess i should have expected that. i don't know why i thought you'd be any different."

morality had always been of great concern to birdie, sometimes losing sleep over the varied nuances within "right" and "wrong". she wanted to do what was right, and be a good person, but more than that, she wanted to please her mother, and those two desires were sometimes at odds with each other. as a small child on the playground, the woman hadn't been afraid to drag her away by the ear if he saw the girl playing with an unfavorable sort of companion, preferring to see her daughter spend her afternoon alone than spending time with a weird kid, or one from a bad family. all the cartoons she watched and picture books she read encouraged her to share, to be kind, and to stick up for others on their behalf, but the one authority figure who mattered, the person she was modeling herself after insisted she be cruel and exclusionary. silence was her only form of resistance, not confident enough to speak up, but figuring she couldn't be considered a bad person if she never directly participated in the classic mean girl antics. at the very least, she should've done just that when her friends had begun to ridicule elton, but birdie just had to open her big dumb mouth and admit that he sometimes leered at her body with a strained sort of longing. she didn't know why she'd done it, really. it's not like it just slipped out, as things sometimes did when she was speaking to someone face to face, because she'd consciously typed each and every word, read it over, then intentionally hit send. maybe a part of her was looking for them to talk some sense into her, to confirm that he was, in fact, a sicko, and any attraction she thought she felt for him would make her one as well. only, she hadn't felt absolved of that attraction after reading how foul they found the concept of elton potentially lusting over her; it only made her feel worse, both for being the cause of such specific malice, and for her own complicated feelings. she'd never felt so small as she did under his gaze, shrinking into a microscopic little speck barely visible with even the most magnified lens, simultaneously insignificant and burdensome. it was all deserved, his detached coldness— in fact, she deserved so much worse. maybe if he were to treat her the way her friends had treated him all through high school and even now, maybe then she'd feel absolved of guilt. "i... i dunno, um..." her cheeks felt inflamed, likely a furiously bright pink hue as her eyes dropped to her shoes, sure he wasn't aware of how his words jabbed directly at the source of her guilt; surely they weren't targeted. "i guess i just feel... i could've been nicer to you. i should've." glancing up from her cutesy little heels that revealed baby blue painted toes, her big bambi eyes, wide-set like prey, blinked up at him, trying to ignore the twisting in her gut as their gaze locked. "i guess that's kinda silly... i wouldn't have even known what to say... you're, like... the smartest guy. i always thought... i-i thought maybe you didn't like me." it was that unreadable quality to him, the unpredictability of his thoughts that left her jumping to the most dramatic conclusions, assuming his refusal to reciprocate her smiles in the hallway must meant he couldn't stand her, or girls like her, at least. dumb ones, pretty ones, slutty ones— any combination, really, not that she even had the cognition to consider herself 2/3.

[leadpoisioning]

Lunch Date

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

SMUT! (18+ ONLY) ((teasing, orgasm denial, doggy style, missionary, praise, begging))

Word Count: 1,231

You learn canceling on Steve to get high leaves him feeling pretty jealous, and you have to make it up to him.

Sorry this one took so long to get out!! I live in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Florida and my WiFi is always cracking out. Anyway Robin or Nancy coming up next!! Feel free to leave any ideas in my inbox :)

You and Eddie snicker, laughing about old high school memories while passing a blunt between the two of you. He’d called you early this morning, wanting you to meet him over at Reefer Ricks because he didn’t want to be alone. You dropped your lunch date with Steve just this once to hang with Eddie- he just sounded so vulnerable and quite frankly scared when you answered the phone. You felt like you needed to be there for him. He appreciated it greatly, and even more that you didn’t berate him with questions.

Meanwhile, Steve was annoyed he wouldn’t be seeing you for lunch today. Robin teased him all day after complaining when he walked in and it’s been going downhill ever since. Especially when Dustin and Max come running in needing their help locating someone.

“There’s like ten Ricks here, how’re we supposed to know which ones the right one?” Steve scoffs, stepping back.

“Well, you can tell a lot about a person based on the movies they watch.” Robin smirks, quickly typing in the code to reveal the logs for the different accounts. Dead end after dead end appear- until they find one with multiple classic pot movies. “Bingo.” She pumps her fist in the air and writes down the address.

“Alright. Lets go find this freak.” He rolls his eyes, closing the store.

“Dude shut it!” Eddie’s eyes widen and he throws his hand over your mouth, muffling your giggles. “I’m serious (Y/N)- I haven’t been honest with you but you seriously need to be quiet.” He hushes you, sobering you up a little in the process. You nod your head and he retreats to the window, seeing an unfamiliar car pull up.

“Eddie what’s wrong?” You crawl towards where he’s crouched.

“There’s some people after me, they think I did something that I didn’t do.”

“Then hide! Here get under the tarp on the boat and I’ll cover for you.” You offer, motioning to the boat.

“What’re you gonna do?” You shrug, not seriously thinking about consequences at the moment. “Get in with me, they won’t think to look here.”

You can vaguely hear the door slam open and feel the shake of people walking in, but the boat and tarp mask the voices and what the people are saying. The movements get closer, and you jolt a little when something hits your side. Once again, you feel Eddie’s rings press to your mouth- until something jabs him in the leg. You look up at him, seeing him motion about jumping out and scaring the intruders off. You can’t give any criticism before the tarp folds over, revealing himself with a war cry and a broken beer bottle. Now, you can hear the voices a little better and you recognize Steve try to bargain with Eddie.

The tarp swings off of you as you quickly sit up and stumble out of the boat. Steve’s eyes move to you and his heart drops.

“(Y/N)?” His voice waivers, partly due to the glass poking his neck, other part betrayal.

“Eddie!” You hiss, grabbing his wrist holding the beer bottle, causing him to drop it. “It’s just Steve and them! They’re nice I promise.” You defend, going to hold onto Steve’s arm- until he swerves back. “Steve?” Your grin falters upon seeing his mildly disgusted face.

“You canceled our lunch date to screw around with Munson?” He asks in disbelief. The rest of your highness subsides and suddenly you can understand how this looks to him.

“No Steve! That’s not it at all!” You wave your hands, trying to get him to come back after he promptly turned and stomped out.

“Really (Y/N)! Because you flake on me right when I wake up, and now I find you here getting friendly in a boat with Eddie Munson!” He shouts, quickly drying his eyes.

“No dude that’s not what was happening I swear!” Eddie agrees, running over. “I called (Y/N) this morning because I didn’t want to be alone after last night.”

“Last night?” Steve scoffs.

“What happened with Chrissy last night?” Max asks, taking over the questioning.

You and Steve sit quietly in the car after dropping everyone off at one place or another.

“I’m sorry I canceled on you and hung out with Munson instead, he just sounded really shaken up and needed someone there for him. He doesn’t have many people, Steve.” You plead with Steve, telling him your side of the story.

“I know, I believe you. I’m just hurt you didn’t tell me.” He sighs. You think for a moment.

“Let me make it up to you.” You murmur, his eyes meeting yours, surprised. The light from the moon seeps in, allowing you to see his cheeks redden. He nods and puts the car in drive, heading to his house.

Once in his room, he stops you, putting his hand on your cheek.

“If I go too far just tell me to stop, alright?” As soon as you agree his lips are on yours, hands roughly pulling you against him. He pulls away, your head moving to kiss him more before he stops you, lightly holding your chin. “Whose are you?” He questions, watching you intently.

“I’m yours Steve.” You whine, seeing him mildly amused by your response.

“That’s right.” He smugly agrees, laying you down on his comforter, kissing you roughly again.

“Steve-“ you sob, face pushed down into a pillow. He’d spent the last twenty minutes teasing you, and getting you all riled up only to let your hopes to release die down.

“Yeah baby?” He mocks, squeezing your thighs.

“Please,” you sigh, moving your ass back to push against his cock.

“Ah, that’s right.” He sighs. “Whose cock are you begging for right now?” He leans over you to whisper in your ear.

“Yours Steve, oh my god- only yours.” Your whining is music to his ears, and the confidence boost he wanted.

“That’s right baby,” he praises.

“Need you so bad-“ you start, before your voice is reduced to a quiet moan as he pushes into you. He slides in with ease due to your soaked cunt and builds up a rough pace. He slams into you a few times before he flips you onto your back, now getting a better view. You’re thankful for the fresh air and sloppily gasp for it in the midst of your moans. Steve watches his cock disappear inside of you, creating a small bulge he presses down on. Immediately you react, fluttering around him and squeezing him nicely. He throws his head back, getting lost in the feeling of your walls encasing him deliciously. His half lidded eyes gaze down at you when your moans start to get shorter and more frequent.

“You want me to come in you?” He asks, watching as your head nods happily. He leans down to kiss you as he reaches his own high, hips stuttering against your own as you feel him release deep inside of you. You choke out a moan at the feeling of his cock leaving your cunt, feeling empty because you didn’t get to finish. You whine and press your legs together after he gets up. “That’s what you get for canceling on me for Munson.” He shrugs, going to his bathroom to run a bath for the two of you.

[amchara]

Not the distance that scares me (2/4)

Endings / Brighton and Los Angeles / Canada and Tokyo / New York and Beginnings

Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn (Kit/Ty)

Wordcount: 2,954

Rating: Teen (canon-typical descriptions of alcohol and drug use), brief Kit/OC

Post-TWP, Kit finds he has a choice in what he does next.

Yeah- so this was supposed to be a quick one-shot or maybe two parter. It's now four parts... *shrugs* Still gonna get that happy ending but we're gonna go on a self-discovery journey first. :D

Chapter Preview:

In the twilight hours, as street lights flickered to life, sometimes Kit fantasized about an old banged up convertible pulling up beside him. Driven by a laughing Livvy, sunglasses perched on her dark hair and blue-green eyes flashing. “Get in loser, we’re going demon hunting.” While Ty sat in the passenger seat, pipe-cleaners wrapped around fingers, earphones hugging his neck and his illuminating smile emerging as Kit hopped the door to sit in the back seat, dressed in the same dark gear as the twins, a weapons bag at his feet and freshly-drawn Marks inked black on his skin.  

But it was dangerous to dwell on what-ifs, Kit told himself. The past was the past, and though they had tried to move heaven and earth and Faerie, Livvy wasn’t coming back. 

Much like London, some parts of Los Angeles felt off-limits,  grief-covered precipices that lurked dangerously. 

--

Brighton was a small city on the south coast of England, about an hour’s train journey from London. While apparently a popular summer tourist destination, when Kit arrived in January the low grey skies (the colour of Ty’s eyes) and the closed beachfront shops gave the appearance of hibernation. 

Kit didn’t mind the stasis. In fact, he embraced it.     

Over Christmas in Devon, a chance run-in with a school friend had given him a potential soft landing within the mundane world. And so when handed an apron and morning’s barista training from Ben’s harried mum, newly divorced and stressed with launching her first cafe, Kit makes the most of it. In short order, he found himself being shoved in front of the cash till, serving skint students nursing single cups of tea for hours, hosting small herds of mums and babies and their corresponding giant prams, and alongside providing writers the free wifi code.  

It wasn’t the most glamorous spot to start his mundane year but Kit relaxed into the routine. It was nice to wake up each morning and not have to consider which Faerie faction was going to try and kill him that day, or which Prince of Hell would try to convince him to leverage his powers to end the world. 

In Brighton’s narrow, windy streets he learned to stop looking for danger out of the corner of his eye (usually it was just a senior on a mobility scooter). At the cafe, he gradually became more comfortable turning his back to an open door (while still always having the back door to the alley unlocked and available). 

In the evenings he stayed in the basement conversion of Ben’s mum’s house, paying minimal rent and occasionally venturing into the upstairs house to be plied with baking experiments for the cafe. He still slept with the silver Herondale knife under a pillow and was woken up like clockwork by the usual nightmares… but he didn’t feel as exhausted in the mornings.  

On weekends, Ben would come home from university in London, and they’d hang out, running along the sparse, gusty beachside promenade before retreating to play video games for hours at a time. A couple of weekends, Kit made the trip to London, crashing on Ben or his friend Ade’s dorm floors. 

“So? What do you think- is uni life for you?” Ade had to yell over the pounding beat of Sia’s Cheap Thrills, the garish lights from the student union disco flashing over his face.  

Kit took a drink of his cider. “I dunno-” he leaned in. “All I know is the partying. I don’t know how I’d actually fare with the actual lectures and studying side.”

Ade grinned, and he grabbed Kit in an affectionate side hug. “You’d be fine, mate- how much studying do you think I actually do?”  Kit exchanged a wry, knowing glance with Ben. They both knew that was a lie. While Kit huddled hungover in his sleeping bag on Sunday mornings, Ade was at his desk, pounding back black coffees and outlining anatomy notes. 

Kit didn’t think he was going to be a university student. 

While in London, he carefully avoided the west part of the city, or anywhere close to Chiswick. He also avoided the London Bridge area for the same reason but his desire to visit the Shadow Market was almost non-existent.  

At times, the heart-pounding adrenaline and seductive magic of the Shadow World seemed like a distant bad dream, faded memories. Kit actively pushed other thoughts out of his mind. Like what Ty was doing. What was happening in Faerie, under Ash’s rule. Why he still occasionally felt like running to the ends of the earth. What to do with the nervous energy that pulsed under his skin. 

For the most part, he was content, if occasionally restless.  

Brighton wasn’t his ultimate plan- more of a waystop - but Kit wasn’t sure what his next step was, until one evening out of boredom, he checked his online banking. 

“How does money keep arriving in my bank account?” he asked, leaning on his desk, chin resting on his forearms. “It’s definitely more than I earn.” He squinted suspiciously at the tiny mobile screen, propped up in front of him. 

Tessa smiled serenely. “What’s the use of being an immortal warlock if I can’t take advantage of compound interest and spoil my children?”

At Kit’s blank look, she let out a small laugh and told him the next visit home she’d explain the basics of stock market investing. And to use the money for an emergency in the meantime.

So- while it wasn��t exactly an emergency… at the end of March, after Mina’s fourth birthday party, Kit withdrew enough money to buy a one-way ticket to Los Angeles. 

--

Stepping off the airport tarmac, Kit breathed in warm air that held hints of jasmine and car exhaust. It was a homecoming of a sort. He knew he had unfinished business in the city.

He hadn’t been back to Los Angeles since the summer he discovered he was a Shadowhunter. Four years away had dulled his memories of the endless traffic, Hollywood glitz contrasting with the sprawling homeless encampments, and the forever hustle to make it in a city that swallowed its young whole and spat them out, all chewed up and dried out. 

He used the last of his money to buy a 2002 Toyota Camry, and sublet a studio apartment from a UCLA student who was going on exchange. Shortly after, he found a part time job bar-tending in a trendy mermaid-themed bar in Venice Beach, thanks to stretching of his barista skills, a quick call to Tessa to change his birthdate on his passport, and his patented charming smile.     

“You’re gorgeous, baby,” the man in front of him wasn’t bad looking himself, if slightly botoxed, and trying too hard to remain youthful, despite pushing the wrong side of 40.

Kit smiled cockily, as he pulled down another bottle of tequila, only briefly fumbling as he opened it. He dropped his gaze, before looking up through his eyelashes - he knew flirting was the way to better tips. 

“But you’re a shit bartender.” The man smirked. He dropped two twenty dollar bills and a business card in front of Kit, collecting his drinks. “Call me if you’re interested in exploiting that pretty face for more than just tips.”

(Kit wasn’t sure he hadn’t just been solicited for porn work. But it ended up being just a run-of-the-mill model agent) 

So while he kept his bar-tending job, he also occasionally found himself attending calls, amused at the antics of the modeling world. It was selective work - “You don’t have the body for high fashion, darling” - but he occasionally found himself front of the camera for wholesome catalog shoots, where he’d play at being an all-American surfing and football dude. 

Which led him to Felicia, at an afterparty for the Abercrombie fall campaign. 

“Thanks for saving me.” She was tall and heart-dropping gorgeous, with black mermaid waves, and warm, sparkling brown eyes. 

“Not a problem,” Kit said. And it was true, he had barely broken a sweat dispatching the two frat boys who had been harassing her. It was his first physical altercation since the final battle and Kit could feel the adrenaline racing through his veins.  

“I’m Felicia,” she said, smiling. She gently reached out and relieved him of his phone, keying in a number and handing it back to him. 

“Call me sometime,” she said. 

Kit watched her walk away but there was a pounding in his head and an eager anticipation, and before he knew it, he had jogged back up beside her. “Do you want to get a drink?” 

--

He dialed the number before he lost his nerve. 

Ty picked up on the second ring. “Who is this?”

“It’s me.”        

“Kit,” Ty’s voice sounded tired, and Kit suddenly remembered it was early morning hours in Europe. 

“I kissed someone,” Kit said, feeling the guilt curl around in his stomach. 

There was silence on the other end before Ty cleared his throat. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“I…” Kit wanted to ask if Ty cared. But he knew that was stupid. 

“You’re experiencing mundane life, right? That’s the whole point of this experiment.”

Kit wasn’t sure how he felt about it being called an experiment. But he didn’t protest. “Yeah.”

“Hypothetically, your experiment should involve exploring all aspects of it,” There was a careful quality to Ty’s voice. “Including relationships- exploring to understand what you want. What you’re looking for.”

Kit held his breath but Ty was finished. “I wasn’t asking permission,” he ventured. 

There was a small hiss of annoyance on the other line. “Then why call, Kit?” 

“I don’t know,” he said, knowing he was lying to himself. 

For what seemed like eternity but was likely less than a minute, Ty didn’t speak. 

“We’ve been wrapped up in each other’s lives for so long,” he said thoughtfully. “But- I have been reading psychology books to supplement my forensics and profiling knowledge, and there’s this thing called ‘co-dependency’.” Ty sighed. “It’s not a good thing to have.”

“It doesn’t seem to work like that for most Shadowhunters… particularly Herondales,” Kit muttered. 

“But you don’t want to be most Shadowhunters,” Ty pointed out. “You’re still figuring out if you want to be one at all.”

“True.” But Kit now wasn’t sure how to extricate himself from the conversation without breaking both their hearts. 

“I’m going to hang up now.” He gripped his phone in suddenly sweaty hands. “It was a mistake to call… I’m sorry Ty. I shouldn’t have. ”

“Okay,” Ty said. There was an odd tone to his voice. “Before you do, you should also know I kissed Anush.”

“Oh,” Kit said. He cast around for anything to say. “I guess we’re both living our lives then.”

“I guess.” There was another pause. “Enjoy your time in L.A., Watson.”

Kit hung up the phone and lay on the bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. He turned over and grabbed his phone to text.

Shortly after, there was a knock on his door, and he rose, letting Felicia in.

--

L.A. often felt like a fever dream. Kit worked night shifts under blue and green aquatic lights, while pulsing crowds gyrated below him, and lived his days beneath dark sunglasses, in a haze of sleep deprivation and a diet of too much alcohol and too little food. He began to get callbacks for high fashion shoots as his clothes started to hang loosely. Kit pretended not to notice Jem’s small sighs or Tessa’s increasingly worried tones during his calls to Devon. 

He grew familiar with the city again, learning where the best taco vans parked up, which side roads provided traffic jam shortcuts and the best non-tourist swarmed beaches. He hiked in the dusty, charred chaparral trails and swam in the Pacific, feeling its cleansing cold kiss his skin. 

In the twilight hours, as street lights flickered to life, sometimes Kit fantasized about an old banged up convertible pulling up beside him. Driven by a laughing Livvy, sunglasses perched on her dark hair and blue-green eyes flashing. “Get in loser, we’re going demon hunting.” While Ty sat in the passenger seat, pipe-cleaners wrapped around fingers, earphones hugging his neck and his illuminating smile emerging as Kit hopped the door to sit in the back seat, dressed in the same dark gear as the twins, a weapons bag at his feet and freshly-drawn Marks inked black on his skin.  

But it was dangerous to dwell on what-ifs, Kit told himself. The past was the past, and though they had tried to move heaven and earth and Faerie, Livvy wasn’t coming back. 

Much like London, some parts of Los Angeles felt off-limits,  grief-covered precipices that lurked dangerously. 

Although Kit was avoiding the Shadow World, he still had the Sight - enhanced by his disguised Voyance rune - and he noticed in contrast to England, Downworlders were increasingly integrated into L.A.’s everyday fabric. Selkies hawking their seafood wares in small vans on the pier, nixies and pixies organising morning raves, vampires using the local bdsm clubs to advertise for willing blood-letters. 

Kit wondered if it was a natural evolution, or if Helen and Aline’s influence had played a part. He didn’t go to the Institute- the closest he got was driving along the Pacific Coast Highway, feeling the air in his chest grow tight and having to pull off the inter-state to have a small panic attack. 

Anytime he tried to drive close to Echo Park, or close to the L.A. Shadow Market, he’d feel the same suffocating feeling. He contemplated walking up to the market, free of his Faerie heir past and without Shadowhunter ties. But as much as he tried to think of a future at the market, it always slipped away, like ephemeral smoke.

He wasn’t Kit Rook anymore. 

So he stayed in the mundane world. 

Felicia was unchallenging as a girlfriend- or whatever they were, as Kit realised one day, they had never had that conversation - who had spent two semesters at USC before dropping out to pursue her modelling and Hollywood career. She wanted to make it big on some CW or Hulu show and was slowly getting small walk-on roles when she met him. She liked green smoothies and PSLs and going to yoga. She was a basic SoCal girl and she was absolutely okay with that. 

She knew Kit had grown up in L.A. and spent several years away, and that he didn’t want to talk about it- and as long as he was okay with that, she was too. “You sure you don’t want to go to therapy, babe?” she’d ask, eyes wide with concern when he’d wake up from another nightmare. 

She was uncomplicated- and Kit liked that. But her friends were another story. 

And sure, Kit knew he wasn’t making the smartest decisions (he told himself the last few years gave him a few free passes, right?) but at least he wasn’t blindly self-sabotaging in destructive behaviour. 

Kit frantically dropped down beside the girl slumped beside the toilet, watching her off-white face and rolled up eyes. He felt for her pulse, feeling it race beneath his fingers. He thought about how six months ago, he could have reached deep within, and a white light would have emanated from his hands and the colour would immediately return to her face, and she’d open her eyes, probably pushing past him to vomit in the toilet. She’d definitely be alive. He moved into a recovery position, pulling out his phone. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Felicia knelt beside him, clutching his arm, her breath smelling of sweet gin and mixer. 

“Yes, maybe- I don’t know,” Kit told her, distracted, dialing an ambulance. In front of him, the girl vomited. 

This was the third time that evening Kit had had to step in- once, to prevent a guy who was having a bad trip from opening the second floor window to fly, and the second time, to dive into the pool to rescue a drunk woman in an expensive ball dress. 

“My knight in shining armour,” Felicia cooed in his ear. 

But all Kit felt was tired. 

--

He pulled up across the road, looking at the unprepossessing bungalow in front of him. The address was on a piece of paper tucked in his wallet, given to him by Tessa before he had left Cirenworth.  

It was just before five am. His head was aching from the party’s loud music and his jeans were vomit-flecked. In the passenger seat beside him, Felicia snored lightly. 

Kit sighed quietly and opened the car door. Then he hesitated- he wasn’t glamoured and he didn’t want the current occupants of the bungalow, or their neighbours to notice him. 

What would he say? “Hi, this is where my estranged mom was murdered, living only a few miles away from me and my dad. No- I didn’t know her past three years old. See, this murderous faerie cabal were on the hunt for her and any of her blood and she was in hiding to protect me. No, I don’t have to worry about those faeries anymore- they were flattened by giant flaming angels who were my friends.”  

But he walked around and perched on the hood of his car, looking at the house anyway. Behind it, there was a well-tended garden. It all looked peaceful. 

The early morning sun was rising, setting the hills aglow, and Kit took a deep breath. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. 

“I wish I’d gotten to know you,” he said finally. “The First Heir curse has lifted, and I have the ability to live an ordinary life- from what mu-Tessa and Jem told me, that’s all you wanted. Well, that and to be a family again.” He thought about what that would’ve been like. “I don’t know if that would’ve worked out- you know what Dad was like.” The half-healed ache in his heart when it came to Johnny Rook was still very much present. Kit pushed past it. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay. Or- I will be. And I’m sorry that I didn’t come by earlier.” 

He laid down the flowers he’d swiped from the foyer of the party on the driveway. 

Kit got back in the car and as he was driving away, he had the sudden realisation that he needed to leave Los Angeles. 

Someday he’d be back- but at the moment too many ghosts from his past were preventing him from moving forward. 

----

Taglist: @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @of-same-steel-and-temper @thomastaircompassrose @sandersgrey @thechangeling @mferraz @kestrafagnor @gabtapia @alldagayships @blindbandit1515 @silvermagnolias @chaotic-halfblood-kit @fighting-god-69 @lifeofbrybooks @all-this-panic-still-no-disco @heloisacosta23 @kitheronthorn @idk-i-just-really-like-tsc @t0wergirl @immortal-enemies @ahumanbeingtryingherbest

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

How about a coffee shop au where the reader gets Cal's order wrong and gives him a matcha latte when he ordered a regular hot coffee with his breakfast sandwich and you can go off form that :)

Taking limited requests. 3 slots left.

Gender Neutral Reader.

___________________

The morning shift--Calum had been told about how chaotic this shift could be. During his closing shift training, it was all they really talked about. How glad they were that they didn't have the opening shift. And of course, closing shift took a lot of heat because maybe not everything got done like it was supposed to. And sometimes even if they did do everything right, one particular manager was a known hard ass and nothing really seemed to appeased them.

And though Calum woke up at the ass crack of dawn, not even the sun hitting the horizons just yet, the start didn't seem so bad. But the second the clock hit six it was as if the dam broke. Being two weeks into the job, he felt like he had a pretty good handle on everything. Though the thing that still made his hands shake was fucking up someone's order.

"Matcha latte with a toasted egg and cheese bagel," he calls out, setting the two out together. Another drink is done and he caps it. "And a regular black coffee."

He doesn't even pay attention to who comes up--vaguely responds to the thanks with a quick 'you're welcome' and goes back to the blender for the next drink on the line.

The frother is a distinct buzz in his ears as Sydney, one of his trainers and now slowly becoming a work best friend, works next to him. But even with that noise, the soft "Excuse me" catches his ear. Calum glances up, grabbing the towel from his apron to clean his hands.

"What can I help you with?"

The smile is still bright in front of him. "I think my drink order got mixed up. I ordered a regular coffee with vanilla syrup. But this is a, uh, green," you laugh.

His heart thunders in his chest. Fuck, he knew he should've double checked that ticket like he was taught. He just assumed. "Oh I'm so sorry about that! Let me fix it. You said regular coffee with vanilla syrup right?"

You nod at the man, his brown eyes blown wide. He apologizes again and before you can tell him not to worry about it--that it happens sometimes, he's spinning on his heels. You watch him, towering over most of the other people behind the counter. His hair tucked up underneath the black dad hat and the gray t-shirt he's wearing hanging loose around his torso but tight over his shoulders.

You've never seen him before--not in the mornings at least. Not that you're a regular, but you do come in consistently. "Hey," Sydney smiles at you, shouting out another order for the customers waiting. "Everything alright?" And maybe you were a regular.

You nod. "Yeah, just a small mix up."

"Shucks, sorry about that. Is someone on it?"

"Yeah, um," you look behind her to the man with a cup of coffee that looks more like your usual. "He's on it," you say, looking back to Sydney."

"Calum--he's new," she says, leaning against the counter for a moment and just in that moment, Calum returns with your correct drink, setting it onto the counter for you.

"Sorry about that again!" he states again.

You shake your head at him. "It's really not a problem. Things happen. We're human and all."

"Oh, ain't you just the sweetest," Sydney teases before walking around Calum to go back to the machines. "Just don't be too sweet on him."

You laugh at her comment, taking hold of the cup in front of you. Something brushes along your fingers and when you look, Calum's holding out a straw for you too. "Thanks. Don't let Sydney be too hard on you."

"Oh--I can handle her," Calum laughs, knowing the glare that's landing him right now from Sydney. "But really, I am sorry about getting that drink mixed up."

You look up to him, noticing the bags that have just started to form and can see he means it. "Calum, it's not the end of the world. And even if it was, at least you were nice."

"God, I really hope it wasn't the end of the world." He's not phased at the sound of his name from your lips. He knows the name tag is pinned to the outside of his apron. But he likes the way it sounds when you curl your tongue around the 'L' in his name.

And the two of you linger in a deep gaze, only for a moment before he hears down the line the shout of needing more clean blenders. "I," he starts, throwing his thumb over his shoulders, "I should probably get back to work."

You nod, "Yeah, yeah. I'll see you around, Calum?"

You say it like it's a question, like you're hoping he says yes. "I'll be here for the foreseeable future," and he pauses, not having caught your name.

You give your name and he tries it over his own lips, then grins when you grin. "Well, good luck with the rest of today," you offer and then take a half step from the counter. Calum does the same, but retreating further into the eye of the storm.

He watches you though, pushing on the side door and then out into the finally morning sunrise. He's grateful for a moment that he works mornings this week straight, clinging to the smallest hope that you step back through the doors again.

Tuesday you don't show, having to leave Monday in the day to out a few towns for a conferences. When Wednesday comes around and the morning's pushing afternoon, Calum's hope wanes, but doesn't completely fade. People live busy lives. He can't fault that. But he just hopes he's not being a fool to watch every person that comes through the door, or even passes by the windows.

And just an hour before shift change, as the day's quieted, Calum's mind fills with the rest of things he needs to do. He has to go to the pharmacy to pick up some toiletries and then try to get home to get a couple readings done before his evening classes.

"Hi, Calum."

He pauses his work on the table he's wiping down to spin around. And there you are, a backpack slug over one shoulder and giving him a small wave. "Hi," he returns, feeling a small flutter in his gut. "Whata-what's on the menu today?" he asks, moving to go back behind the register.

You try to stop him, noticing only a few people in the place sitting with their laptops or books around them. "Oh, no, I-I'm not here to get anything really."

His brows furrow as he spins back around, leaning now up against the part of the counter that finished drinks are served. "Not here to get anything?"

You shake your head. "Well, not right now. I'm on my lunch and came by hoping to catch you, really?"

"Me?" he questions, trying to keep the silly grinning to a minimum.

"Yeah," you nod, and then drop your gaze to the floor. His black Nike's fill up your vision for a moment as you exhale and then look back up to his face.

His cheeks fuller than you remember them being, but maybe it's just because now you're really getting a good look at them. "Well, here I am," he teases with a tuft of laughter.

"So like, I really don't want to ask this while you're working because that just feels awkward. And you totally don't have to answer my next question either. I just wanted to let you know I get it, if you're comfortable with it." And he just watches you rambles, part of it because he likes the way you fiddle with your fingers and use your hands as you talk. Part of it because he's too frozen by fear to respond in any capacity.

So on you continue, "I wanted to know when you got off--so that I could ask you what I really wanted to ask you not when you're working. Because like, that just feels presumptuous and also you're doing service so I don't want to make you feel like you can't say no without it affecting your job. So like, would I be able to talk to you? Once your shift is done?"

"I'm off in about an hour. But if you're on your own lunch break I don't want to impede your work either," he returns.

"I-I can work remotely. I was at our shared office space downtown. But like as long as I have WiFi and my computer I can do my work anywhere."

"As long as you're sure and don't mind having to wait? But also you should probably actually eat on your lunch break?"

You tap the side of your backpack and only now does he see a small lunch box attached. "I packed it assuming I'd eat at the office. But then I realized due to my travel this week, I hadn't been by and I definitely want to drop by."

And it's the way you say definitely, like you're dreaming while looking at him, or breathless. And maybe you are giving the whole spiel you've just given. The doors open again and Calum glances over, to greet the new person, but glances back down to you. And fuck, your eyes are just too pretty not to get lost in. "Well, enjoy your lunch and our free WiFi and when I'm done, we can talk, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you rush out, grinning and then watch him shuffle back to the registers. You turn, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth. And holy fuck, it feels like you're in middle school all over again dealing with your first crush. But there you didn't make any moves, especially not as outlandish as this one.

But you just need it to work out--that's all. Finding a table, you settle down, back facing the window, but able to see Calum at the register if you look up from your computer screen. He smiles whenever you catch his eye. The drink doesn't seem to take him long to make and before you know it, he's back out from the register, making rounds to wipe at tables and make sure no one else needs anything before heading back to you.

And he talks as he works, wiping more tables, putting chairs back where they belong. You find out he's in school, working as he takes night classes for his master's in Literature. He finds out you're working remotely for an agency, and though it's marketing, or that's what he gather he still doesn't quite understand it. But it makes you happy and he loves it when you laugh about your coworkers.

And the hour's flown by when the shift switches, Calum disappears to the back for a few minutes and you start the process of shutting down your laptop. But he's back before you get everything tucked away and he slides into the seat across from you with ease and a bit of a sigh of relief.

"You don't have to pack up unless you want too," he says.

And you pause, your laptop in its sleeve. "You really want to hang around your job after hours."

"It's not so bad. It's just the standing that's killer." You nod, understanding the struggle. "So," he starts. "What was this thing that-that you wanted to ask?"

And you can tell he's nervous, his gaze on the table and not on you. And it shouldn't be so goddamn endearing but it is. "I-I wanted to see if you wanted to go out sometime. With me?"

His head shoots up, his infectious grin lighting up his own face, even causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle. "I'd love too. I'm off next Thursday--if that works."

Thursday is nothing special, well you have your monthly town hall meeting that's just about the growth of the company, but you could take a half day and then make up the hours next week. "Thursday is good. Should we do lunch since you have classes?"

"Yeah, if you're okay with that. I heard about this new place, it's mostly breakfast but they stay open for lunch."

"Anya's?" you question and Calum nods. "Some coworkers say it's good. But I-I haven't gone yet."

"So there then?" he asks.

"Yeah--is it okay if we do it a little early. 11:30?"

His heart is a thunderous roar in his chest and he's really glad today he work a darker colored t-shirt because his pits are dripping right now. "Yeah, that's fine with me," Calum answers.

The two of you exchange numbers and he helps you carry your bag to the car. You insist he doesn't have too, but he does it anyway and up against the side of your car, you're kind of glad you took the leap of faith. The hat comes off and you can see fully now the mass curls on his head.

"Thanks," Calum starts. "For waiting to ask. I would've said yes, like literally either way. But I appreciate it."

"Yeah, no. I worked retail before this. It's hell with people hitting on you while you're on the clock. Don't even worry about it."

The sun is higher now, getting into your eyes just a little until Calum shifts and blocks most of it. "So I'll see you Thursday, for sure, at 11:30. Anya's."

"11:30 next Thursday at Anya's for sure. But I may also need a matcha latte before then," you tease.

"Oh, c'mon," he laughs. "It's barely been three weeks. And I apologized."

"I'm only teasing, Calum," you giggle.

He takes a small step backwards--he parked in the second row as to give customers the spots up front. "I'll have that matcha waiting on you next time then."

"I'd expect nothing less." And the two of you give one last wave before he spins completely around his apron thrown across his shoulder and he pauses for cars before crossing the parking lot. And you know you shouldn't thank the heavens you asked for a lunch date at the sight of his ass in jeans, but you do.

Inside your car, you laugh at your own giddiness. It's only one date. And who the hell knows how it's going to end--but for fuck sake, you did it. The phone rings through the bluetooth of your car as you dial your best friend to tell them the good news.

And unbeknownst to you, Calum sits in his car too, smiling to himself as he texts his housemates about scoring a date with you. And the entire thread rattles his phone from the coffee holder.

[katasstrophy]

you’re both still in your pajamas. the poor stewardess on call for your boyfriend’s traveling whims offers to brew some coffee. reo politely declines because the bakery he’s taking you to apparently serves a mean melange and he’d like to share one with you.

“we aren’t actually going to france, right?” you stammer in disbelief, even though you’re very much airborne and peering down at the retreating figure of your home country from a bird’s-eye view.

reo looks genuinely confused. “of course we are? you said you’re craving a pain au chocolat.”

(his pronunciation is flawless. it’s both hot and fucking infuriating. the rich boy bastard.)

“yeah—from the convenience store two blocks away! need i remind you i have work in two hours?”

“no, you have a meeting in two hours. there’s wifi on the plane.”

reo’s face is neutral but the indigo hues in his eyes are dancing. he’s treating you to a special, ridiculously lavish breakfast because you mentioned offhandedly that you’re craving a pastry. he wants to sip from the same coffee cup as you because he probably thinks it’s more romantic.

he remembered your work schedule. you’re helpless against him.

“this better be the most drool-worthy melange and pain au chocolat combo i have ever— don’t fucking snicker you dick i didn’t study french in some fancy private school like you.”

reo’s still beaming when he takes your hand and offers a light squeeze in apology. he tells you you’re a natural. it’s the moment you realize he’d do anything for you.

good morning you wake up and tell reo that you’re kinda craving a pain au chocolat this morning and you’re suddenly on a private jet to france

[technicallymilkshakes]

Reciprocal ❂ || 1 of 2

A Manager!verse story Genre(s): Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut (in future chapter) Pairing: Jongin x Reader Word Count: 4.1k No warnings for this chapter, but note that the next one will contain mature content.

Next Chapter >>

Less than two hours outside of Seoul, the night air already seemed easier to breathe. The windows were open and a rain-scented breeze blew in to riffle the top of your hair. Brake lights reflected red on the slick roadside ahead of you before fracturing into ten thousand raindrops against the windshield. This was a Friday night kind of feeling. You felt reckless and emotional, free for the first time in months and brimming with life.

Jongin had told you that he would halfsy the drive. Instead, he was deep asleep in the passenger seat, head slumped sideways, shoes kicked off within minutes of entering the vehicle. Promotions had been particularly brutal this time around. Without the other members to help ease the burden, Kai had to be on at all times. He was charming and dorky and witty—he flourished under all the attention—but it came with a toll. You scheduled PT sessions in any brief moments of respite you could cram then in. He slept wherever and whenever he could and when he couldn't, he drank coffee.

Running point for this solo had been just as taxing for you. Time moved in recordings, photoshoots, and appearances. You'd fall asleep and wake up reviewing the itinerary. Promotions were occurring across a variety of platforms and you spent countless hours researching and breaking down offers, liaising with event managers and security, monitoring press reviews and social media. You were in so deep, you didn't even realize you weren't living until someone else pointed it out. Nine, Baekhyun's manager, encouraged both of you to take a vacation. Pronto. Their experience shepherding Baekhyun through multiple solo albums had been invaluable, so you weren't about to argue.

Besides, you hadn't been to the mountains since your first year of high school.

It had stopped raining by the time you pulled up to your destination. Jongin was already awake, blinking heavily at the sight that greeted him.

The mountain lodge was modern but inviting. The lights were on and they spilled pleasantly out into the night. You turned the car off and stepped out into chilled air enlivened with the sounds of leaves rustling, insects chirping, and nocturnal animals stirring.

Inside, golden wood warmed the open space. The retreat was divided into two levels—living/dining area and one bedroom on the first floor and the master bedroom with a balcony that would be rich with fresh vegetables in the summer on the second.

You looked out on the living room. The designer had impeccable taste. Plush seating with cushions and pillows in sumptuous fabrics curled around a fireplace. Your toes sank into lush, layered carpeting, which bracketed and defined the space. It was comfortable and intimate. You could easily imagine yourself sinking into a chair and nestling in for a nap, lulled into a trance by the fire.

The kitchen gleamed in the opposite corner, all straight lines and modern appliances. And the dining area next to it. Table and chairs had been regally arranged in front of wall-to-wall sliding glass doors that, for now, looked out onto darkness.

But there was one particular feature that had clinched the deal when you booked the place.

“There's a spa bath here,” you said, and suppressed a smile at the soft 'ooh' Jongin let out as he disappeared to investigate.

A quietness settled over you in his wake. There was no wifi here, no work to haunt your waking nor sleeping hours. The other managers were under strict orders not to contact you unless there was an emergency.

You felt oddly vulnerable, stripped of the last vestiges of responsibility holding you together. Listless and exhausted, you climbed upstairs and fell into bed without a thought for anything else.

**

You woke early the next morning, body too used to being tired. You stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable time, thoughts eddying around without any clear distinction, like static noise that only resolved itself into proper words when you concentrated.

You'd been managing Kai for almost five years now. Hard to believe. You loved this, the sense of belonging and the endless opportunities to learn, but the pace was grueling. Five years was a long time. You couldn't imagine how some of the older managers had kept up. You weren't sure how you had kept up. And, if you were being honest, you weren't sure anymore if you should.

But that was too much thinking for this early in the morning. You rolled over in bed and shut your eyes.

After the appropriate amount of indeterminable time had passed, you heaved yourself out of bed. Sleep wasn't coming back for you. Duvet wrapped around your shoulders, you slinked downstairs to find Jongin rummaging around in the cabinets. He spun around, flinching as a drawer clanged shut behind him, then relaxed.

“You too, huh?” he said with a lopsided grin.

You nodded.  It was no surprise to find him here. You were just two bodies too accustomed to being together.

You turned your gaze to the counters. “What are you doing?”

“I was trying to make some coffee.”

He looked wan and tired. One armed wrapped around his middle, the collar of his shirt sunk low enough to expose his collarbones... like he was holding himself together, trying to stay warm.

A sense of fierce protectiveness overcame you. You were both overworked. But at least in this small bubble, this moment in time and space, nothing could hurt him, including himself. No work excuses allowed.

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen,” you said, and he gave a weak laugh before getting an armful of duvet shoved at him. “Go sit down, I'll bring it over.”

Jongin stood there a moment staring at you. Under-cabinet lighting slashed over his chest, the rest of him slipping into shadow before he disappeared completely as he pulled the duvet over your head.

You felt a light kick to your backside.

“Hey!” You wrestled with the duvet. “As soon as I get out of this thing...!”

But he was grinning at you when you finally pulled it off, and you felt your urge for vengeance abate far too quickly as your fatigue flared. You still punched him in the shoulder, though.

He pouted, rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh, don't give me those puppy dog eyes. You deserved it.”

“I can make coffee...”

“You can,” you agreed. “With adult supervision. Now get the kettle out.”

**

The sunrise was something pulled from a poet's imagination. The lodge perched along a low ridge and peered down into the valley. Jongin had pulled open the curtains to what only last night had looked out into darkness and now found the world at his door. Together, you watched as the sun spilled over the mountain peaks opposite, then glissaded down powdery slopes to the tree line. The trees across the valley, where the mountains were taller, were still snowcapped, and the first sun rays lit them up like jewelry before setting them aflame with light, their trunks like matchsticks to the fire. Shadows tucked themselves in to sleep at the feet of the brightest places.

Day woke and stretched its radiant fingers across the sky to tangle in the wingtips of greeting birds. And with the sun came some clarity. These last few months had tested your commitment and shaken the bedrock upon which you had built your future. But if everyday the birds could rise and welcome the the newborn morning so lovingly, you thought you could keep trying to find beauty in it, too.

Next to you, Jongin had fallen asleep wrapped in your duvet. You leaned over and tucked his toes in.

**

The village was quaint and small, situated on a scenic one-lane-each-way route that wound through the mountains. The cashier at the grocery store greeted you as you entered. You felt her eyes on your back as you moved through the store.

The cabin came stocked with various dry foods, but you needed to pick up the perishables. Most of the in-season vegetables and fruit had been grown in the area, with little signs detailing farms and their locations. Strawberries, kumquat, apples, wild parsley and chive, and even shepherd's purse laying in baskets, some of which had been foraged from the mountainside just this morning. There was a vibrant freshness to the produce here that you just couldn't find in the city.

You gathered everything you needed, taking no heed of diet restrictions or nutritional value, and went to ring up your purchases. The cashier gave you small smile and talked quietly of some of the hidden gems to visit around here, hands sweeping back and forth over the scanner as she spoke. She had a soft and lilting accent you found pleasant to listen to.

You hid your embarrassment. Was it that obvious you were from out of town? She probably knew from the moment you had stepped inside. Heck, you hadn't worried about fitting in for so long. Over the years, your accent had eroded away against standard Korean and harsh edges of the city. And the boys had been so welcoming. At least she was friendly, though. Soon enough, you were hauling your bags out to the car, but not before thanking the woman for her advice.

**

Jongin was still lying on the couch when you got back, barely awake. Two cold mugs of coffee lay abandoned on the table next to him, one still nearly full. He sat up when you walked in with the bags, frowning.

“You went shopping?”

You heard the missing “without me?” and gave him a calm look. “You were asleep and I needed something to eat for lunch.”

He gathered himself up with a frown, wrapping the duvet around himself just as you had this morning. It already felt like a day ago even though it couldn't be past 11 in the morning. He inspected the bags, pulling them open and poking through them. You watched with amusement between putting the contents of the already-poked-through-bags away.

“What are you, a dog?”

“You got pig bars?!” He pulled out the ice cream, the item cradled in his palms. He looked at you wide-eyed, some mixture of reverence and fright.

“Yes. No chicken either.”

He kept staring down at his hands and you chuckled awkwardly to fill the silence. He opened the ice bar and jumped up onto the counter.

As you put the groceries away and then began making soy bean soup with the shepherd's purse, Jongin remained quiet and watchful. You enjoyed living alone back in Seoul, but you found you didn't mind his company. His presence was comforting—a constant, quiet companion. Not a dog, then. Your lips quirked. A cat.

The kitchen filled with the beat of knife against cutting board, the melody of soft burbling from the pot on the stove. You found yourself slipping back into the rhythm of cooking, like a dancer remembering the steps to an old song.

“What song is that?”

You startled, knife slipping, nicking the knuckle of your middle finger. You hissed, dropping the knife to inspect the cut. “Shit. What?”

Jongin jumped down from the counter, grabbing your hand, apologies tripping themselves over his lips.

“It's fine, it's really shallow, don't worry about it.”

His grip tightened, and his head remained bent low over your hand, examining the cut. “Let me worry,” he said.

So you sat in muteness after washing the cut. He took your hands and dried them with a towel, soft pats and delicate swipes. His eyes would flick up to your face now and again, carefully observing your expression. Sometimes, you would catch him doing it. His lips would arc gently into a smile and you would look away, scalded by the softness of lips and eyes. You stared instead at his fingers. They moved as light as butterflies over you as he applied a bandage.

Jongin lifted himself away, a lightness to his shoulders.

The words cast themselves from your throat, thrown out like hooks, that old part of you reeling to keep his attention.

“Thank you.”

Something glittered behind that gaze. He looked you straight on with that smile like honey and said, “I was glad for the chance to take care of you.”

**

After lunch, you went straight up to your room, sank onto your bed, and stared blankly at the wall.

What was that? Your mind sped in a circuit, thoughts looping back on each other. Why'd he do that?

Surely your brain had short-circuited. He was like that with everyone, you reminded yourself, sweet and concerned. The type to ask a stranger how they're doing and stick around for an answer. But without the barrier of work, things felt different. It dredged up old feelings, back when you were half-way in love with him. It embarrassed you something fierce now, but in the beginning you used to make a playlist of all the songs you knew he listened to. You'd play it at night after work, lying in bed in the dark and wondering if right now, he wasn't doing the same. It made you long for him and feel closer to him all at once. You always paid Kim Jongin too much attention.

But at some point, you changed your focus. You threw yourself into the role of manager head first. Taking care of him was number one. You spent so much time around him in various states of undress over the years, helping with quick changes or applying therapeutic patches. You'd stood behind the cameras, watching other people fall in with him with a smile. You'd seen him at his worst, in pain, angry and sullen with the confinement of the world. It was the ultimate form of exposure therapy. Gone were the nights filled with music and yearning. You'd prepare for the next schedule before you sank exhausted into a deep and dreamless sleep. You thought you were immune.

You should've been immune.

So why did it feel so very much like you weren't?

**

You acted skittish around him at dinner, skirting over things and racing through the meal. You felt his cool gaze on you as you ate and felt yourself hunkering lower and lower over your plate like some threatened beast.

“Did you want to take a bath?”

“What?” you squeaked.

He looked up at you over his forkful of pasta, eyebrows raised.

“The bath in my room. It's like a spa. I thought you might want to relax while you're here. You're welcome to use it anytime.”

“Oh.” You swallowed thickly. “Um, maybe later. Thanks.”

Safe to say you did not take a bath in his room that night.

**

You woke first the second day. Sleep hadn't come easy, and you spent much of the night thinking of how to stop thinking, daydreaming of a long walk to purge all thoughts from your head. And so you dressed and headed downstairs on quiet socked feet. The owner of the lodge kept galoshes for the guests, and you pulled a pair out, slipping them over your shoes before walking out into the world.

Most of the snow that remained on this side of the mountain had melted, leaving behind stretches of mud that sucked at your shoes. Around you, the birds trilled. The forest was full of forest noises—pine needles brushing against the wind, woodpeckers drilling against bark. The website for the lodge mentioned that there were a number of trails maintained by a grounds crew throughout the property. A stream bordered the western edge of the property, and you thought you remembered something about a Buddhist shrine located near there.

You missed this, you realized about a half hour into the walk. Seoul had its share of scenic parks and river walks, but it felt like a held breath. Something temporary, a quick break before you returned to the rushing arteries of people making a living.

Life felt impossibly lethargic here in contrast. You realized, with one moment of panic, that you hadn't yet checked your phone this morning, before it dissipated slowly. You were on vacation, you reminded yourself. The others could hold down the fort while you were gone.

The path you were following rounded a corner into a scenic corner of the world. A small waterfall fed by snowmelt spilled over a mossy rock face into a pool surrounded by sweet grass. You stayed there for a while by the edge, mist falling over you in fine sprays. Small diamonds of water accumulated along the woolen fibers of your sleeves.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, the urge to move was back. The trail branched off here, and a lichen-covered stone marker sat in the intersection. You recognized it as one of the landmarks the woman from the grocery had mentioned. The hanja carved into it had grown worn and faded. 'Grove of the Elders' it read. You took the path to the left.

Soon, you found yourself in the Grove of the Elders. Erman's birch trees filled the clearing. The branches were still spindly, buds just forming on the tips. Papery bark peeled away from the trunk like old men's beards. White forsythia was in the early stage of blooming along the periphery. You understood why it had been named the way it had.

You made your way through the grove. The trees were well-established, some with trunks thick enough to wrap your arms around. You were making your way through the grove, marveling at the open blue sky above you, when you almost stepped on Jongin.

“Whoa.” He jumped up from where he had been reclined against the base of a tree, rubbing a hand along the backs of his thighs. “What are you doing here?”

It was disorienting to run into him here, out in the middle of the woods. You had forgotten about him, about everything if you were being honest. But confronted with the realness of him again, your worries returned.

“Me?” you asked. “I was on a walk. What are you doing laying here?”

“I was trying to read.” He flashed a heavily dog-eared paperback of Papillon. “Didn't really get that far,” he said with a wry grin.

“Oh, sorry. I'll let you get back to it.”

You made to leave when his hand stretched out and gripped your sleeve.

“That's not what I meant.” He seemed flustered at your misunderstanding and he released his grip on you. “You don't have to. I was actually thinking about stretching my legs. If you don't mind the company.”

“I don't,” you responded quietly, even though you weren't sure if that was the truth. You had come here to be alone with your thoughts after all, not spiral into a silent panic.

Jongin smiled at you and shoved his book in the back of his jeans as he fell into step.

**

It felt surreal to walk through the woods like this with him. It was like being on the set of a music video, except you were the subject. The perfect setting for a story.

“Is it okay if I tell you something?”

Jongin sent you a questioning look. Something about his eyes caught you. You realized that this was maybe the first time you were about to confide something in him. Secrets were dangerous things.  “Yeah, of course.”

“Sometimes I wonder how much of a person I am without you.” You laughed. “It's silly, I know. But I used to be so spontaneous. One time, I volunteered to pose nude for an adult art class just because, I dunno, it seemed like an experience. I liked collecting memories. My friends always used to ask me what I was up to.

“Now, they ask me what you're doing. Because it's the same thing now, I guess.”

You exhaled, then felt a hand wrap around your own.

Jongin looked at you, really looked at you. There was a particular intensity to this, a piercing quality that you had never been subjected to.

“You are more than me,” he said.

You were taken aback at his response.

His grip tightened. “I couldn't do this without you,” he continued. “I should've told you before—but I'm not like Jongdae, I forget. I think,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I thought you already knew, but it was stupid of me too assume when I wasn't... I didn't... You're the best manager I've had. I'm not saying that just to flatter you.”

The words tumbled out of him. You'd never seen him so discombobulated, and that threw you off kilter in turn. You hadn't expected anything from him, had let go of the words like balloons released from clumsy fingers, where an appropriate response might be “oh no.”

“You're knowledgeable and accountable. Do you know how much I rely on you? I was so nervous this comeback, I only made it through because of you.” He swept your hand up to his chest. You could feel his heart beating frantically against your knuckles, like it, too, was trying to tell you something. “I do better when you're around. I want to make you proud. So get that through your stubborn brain: I wouldn't be even half of what I am now if it wasn't for you.”

The tears came, unbidden. In a heartbeat, Jongin had pulled you in close, your head against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your back, while the other lay now at your sides, his fingers still intertwined with yours.

“I don't even know why I'm crying,” you laughed through your tears.

“You're always fighting for me. I just wish I could do more for you.” His fingers grazed over the bandage on your finger.

The laughter faded into full-throated sobs. Your heart squeezed with an uncomfortable fullness. You were overwhelmed. Lately, it had felt as if work was a crushing void, a thankless pit that sucked everything out of you. You felt isolated, living life without reciprocation or support. Jongin wouldn't know it, but he made you feel like a person again. He brought back the colors.

Dew drops dripped from branches around you, soft patters against soft spring grass. Jongin was warm and solid against you.

“I get scared that I can't do this forever.” The words were spoken softly. Jongin wasn't looking at you when you lifted your head, focused instead on something in the distance. “I don't know what I would I do without EXO.” He finally dropped his gaze to yours. You saw your own uncertainty reflected back. “Or you.”

You knew then that everything you'd been through lately, the uncertainty, didn't matter. You were both a little broken. So you pressed yourself against him harder, a pair of fractured hearts holding each other up. “You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon.”

Jongin sank into the embrace, his cheek pressed against your temple. You felt his chest build with a sigh, felt the exhale on the baby hairs of your nape. Dry lips grazed against you. His wordless thanks lingered upon your skin.

**

By some unspoken agreement, Jongin's hand remained in yours on the trek back to the lodge. You walked close enough to brush arms and skim each others thighs. A small part of you dreaded that you'd have to let go once you got back.

“The first time I realized I trusted you was when I told you I didn't know how to iron,” he confessed out of the blue.

You laughed. You remembered that day. Jongin had been adamant about wearing a bear-print shirt to the airport the following day, but it was so wrinkled. The collar pointed in two different directions and one sleeve was longer than the other unless someone held it down straight.

“I didn't know how to iron a shirt either,” you admitted.

Jongin grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We had to look up a tutorial on Naver, remember?”

“Oh yeah, the one with the Kyungsoo look-a-like, right? I took screenshots and sent them to Cho-hee.” You told him how Kyungsoo's manager had coerced him into recreating the shoot. Jongin had gasped delightedly and you made a mental note to show him the pictures when you got back. “But hey, wait, you still don't know how to iron, what the heck! I just ironed something for you last week!"

“Ah I don't know, I don't know,” Jongin chanted, plugging an ear with his free hand. “What tutorial? I don't know anything.”

“Kim Jongin, you are shameless.”

Laughter rang through the trees. Here was the morning you would rise to greet every day.

___________________________

A/N: The second, and final, chapter should be up next weekend (June 19-20). Me, releasing more than one thing in a month? Who am I??

Thank you for reading!

A/N 2: Second part is now up.

[ ❂ Read more Manager!verse here ]

[hiiro-writes]

diluc/zhongli (zhongluc??) single dad au because yes

diluc. so he's the owner and manager of this cute little coffee shop but it's so fucking expensive

his employees consist of his good friend jean and her girlfriend lisa

along with his brother kaeya who never seems to shut the fuck up about diluc not getting laid

every day is the same. same customers. same drinks. same habits

at this point he just looks at people and observe what they usually do

one of his regulars, ningguang, orders oolong tea along with her wife who would...drink her protein shake

another one would be albedo who only drinks black coffee. how he's able to concentrate with his younger sister constantly bothering him is a mystery diluc would want to solve one day

there was mona who came in every day for the free wifi and complementary water. when it seemed like a rough day, jean always offered half of her lunch until lisa would pay for a sandwich instead

lastly there were the twins who constantly bicker back in forth over what drink or sweets they should try next. sometimes kaeya likes to place bets if they would just order their usual or get kicked out by diluc for making too much noise

but a not-so-consistent person in his life would be his son bennett who never fails to find himself in a troubling situation

no he doesn't fail his classes (but his grades could do better) but he mostly just find himself at the wrong place at the wrong time

he's really clumsy. if diluc turns his back one bennett comes home to the cafe, suddenly there are three glasses breaking and a plate of spaghetti on the floor

one time diluc got a call from the school nurse saying that bennett nearly tripped and broke his arm. it gave him a heart attack and had kaeya take over the shop for now

but every time diluc has a bad day, his son always cheers him up with a big smile on his face

he still really loves him no matter how much of a mess he makes

《 ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ 》

zhongli is the ceo of the company. he's proud of his achievements but nothing makes him prouder than his kids xiao and ganyu

xiao is the star of the class but doesn't interact much with others

ganyu on the other hand gets too busy with her extracurricular activities that she doesn't interact much with other people either

he has his secretary childe look after his kids when things get too busy for zhongli and for the times he would have a business trip for a few days or a few weeks

so when he comes home from this one business trip, he offers his children a date, just the three of them

ganyu offers to bring them to this cafe she discovered with the help of her friend lumine. they wanted to hangout for drinks and lumine brought her here

from the outside, zhongli was already interested since it seemed calm and cosy. a perfect place for the three of them

after the get inside and when xiao mutters "just get me anything" before finding a seat, he finds himself looking at a man who might be the manager

they stared for a solid. 3. 4. 5 seconds before ganyu asked him to order something for her

that seemed to wake up the barista who was in some sort of trance

after settling in their orders, zhongli take a good look at the place. it seemed perfect for a break room for his employees and the smell of coffee and tea was divine

the same man who got their orders served them as well and zhongli glanced at his name tag

"thank you diluc." he smiled. but diluc cleared his throat before replying and retreating back to his place by the cashier

after taking a sip from the coffee he order he was. struck. he never tasted coffee this good in his entire life

then it gave him an idea, he would ask the manager if he could sell his coffee and tea inside the office. besides, the cafe that sat there now were running out of customers. it was perfect

so after they had their drinks and laughed together with his kids, he asked for diluc

for someone reason, another barista whose name was kaeya kept laughing at himself when zhongli mentioned diluc's name

"i'd like for you to sell your coffee in my office" he proposes, in which he is met with surprise faces from diluc and kaeya

though diluc turned more serious and refused the offer. "for now, i have no plans in expanding, you see."

zhongli hums. "a shame, though i should come back here. your coffee was delicious and now, i will become one of your new regulars." he smiles and leaves the cafe with his kids, unknowingly leaving a blushing diluc

THIS ISNT THE END BTW SO CONSIDER THIS AS PART 1

hope yall enjoyed tho WSHKDSBD

EDIT:

here is part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

[richincolor]

*images above are the covers of the titles listed below

New Releases

There's a nice lineup of new books hitting the shelves this week.

An Emotion of Great Delight by Tahereh Mafi HarperCollins

It’s 2003, several months since the US officially declared war on Iraq, and the American political world has evolved. Tensions are high, hate crimes are on the rise, FBI agents are infiltrating local mosques, and the Muslim community is harassed and targeted more than ever. Shadi, who wears hijab, keeps her head down.

She’s too busy drowning in her own troubles to find the time to deal with bigots.

Shadi is named for joy, but she’s haunted by sorrow. Her brother is dead, her father is dying, her mother is falling apart, and her best friend has mysteriously dropped out of her life. And then, of course, there’s the small matter of her heart—

It’s broken.

Shadi tries to navigate her crumbling world by soldiering through, saying nothing. She devours her own pain, each day retreating farther and farther inside herself until finally, one day, everything changes.

She explodes.

An Emotion of Great Delight is a searing look into the world of a single Muslim family in the wake of 9/11. It’s about a child of immigrants forging a blurry identity, falling in love, and finding hope—in the midst of a modern war. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Sunny Song Will Never Be Famous by Suzanne Park Sourcebooks Fire

Sunny Song’s Big Summer Goals: 1) Make Rafael Kim my boyfriend (finally!) 2) Hit 100K followers (almost there…) 3) Have the best last summer of high school ever

Not on Sunny’s list: accidentally filming a PG-13 cooking video that goes viral (#browniegate). Extremely not on her list: being shipped off to a digital detox farm camp in Iowa (IOWA??) for a whole month. She’s traded in her WiFi connection for a butter churn, and if she wants any shot at growing her social media platform this summer, she’ll need to find a way back online.

But between some unexpected friendships and an alarmingly cute farm boy, Sunny might be surprised by the connections she makes when she’s forced to disconnect. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

A Chorus Rises (A Song Below Water #2) by Bethany C. Morrow Tor Teen

Teen influencer Naema Bradshaw has it all: she’s famous, privileged, has “the good hair”— and she’s an Eloko, a person who’s gifted with a song that woos anyone who hears it. Everyone loves her — well, until she’s cast as the awful person who exposed Tavia’s secret siren powers.

Now, she’s being dragged by the media. No one understands her side: not her boyfriend, not her friends, nor her Eloko community. But Naema knows the truth and is determined to build herself back up — no matter what.

When a new, flourishing segment of Naema’s online supporters start targeting black girls, however, Naema must discover the true purpose of her magical voice. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

The Passing Playbook by Isaac Fitzsimons Dial

Fifteen-year-old Spencer Harris is a proud nerd, an awesome big brother and a Messi-in-training. He’s also transgender. After transitioning at his old school leads to a year of bullying, Spencer gets a fresh start at Oakley, the most liberal private school in Ohio.

At Oakley, Spencer seems to have it all: more accepting classmates, a decent shot at a starting position on the boy’s soccer team, great new friends, and maybe even something more than friendship with one of his teammates. The problem is, no one at Oakley knows Spencer is trans – he’s passing.

So when a discriminatory law forces Spencer’s coach to bench him after he discovers the ‘F’ on Spencer’s birth certificate, Spencer has to make a choice: cheer his team on from the sidelines or publicly fight for his right to play, even if it means coming out to everyone – including the guy he’s falling for. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Simone Breaks All the Rules (Simone Breaks All the Rules #1) by Debbie Rigaud Scholastic

Simone Thibodeaux’s life is sealed in a boy-proof container.

Her strict Haitian immigrant parents enforce no-dating rules and curfews, and send Simone to an all-girls school. As for prom? Simone is allowed to go on one condition: her parents will select her date (a boy from a nice Haitian immigrant family, obviously).

Simone is desperate to avoid the humiliation of the set up — especially since she’s crushing on a boy she knows her parents wouldn’t approve of. With senior year coming to a close, Simone makes a decision. She and her fellow late-bloomer friends will create a Senior Year Bucket List of all the things they haven’t had a chance to do. On the list: kissing a boy, sneaking out of the house, skipping class (gasp!), and, oh yeah — choosing your own prom date.

But as the list takes on a life of its own, things get more complicated than Simone expected. She’ll have to discover which rules are worth breaking, and which will save her from heartbreak. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon Penguin

Evie Thomas doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the strangest thing occurs one otherwise ordinary afternoon: She witnesses a couple kiss and is overcome with a vision of how their romance began . . . and how it will end. After all, even the greatest love stories end with a broken heart, eventually.

As Evie tries to understand why this is happening, she finds herself at La Brea Dance studio, learning to waltz, fox-trot, and tango with a boy named X. X is everything that Evie is not: adventurous, passionate, daring. His philosophy is to say yes to everything–including entering a ballroom dance competition with a girl he’s only just met.

Falling for X is definitely not what Evie had in mind. If her visions of heartbreak have taught her anything, it’s that no one escapes love unscathed. But as she and X dance around and toward each other, Evie is forced to question all she thought she knew about life and love. In the end, is love worth the risk? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads