#i'm a professional now and i've been for several years. it's time they saw me as such

[miyamizuna]

Is it that sweet? I guess so~

Haikyuu boys as lyrics from "Espresso" by Sabrina Carpenter part 1 | part 2 ft. miya atsumu, kuroo tetsuro, semi eita

I can’t relate, to desperation (miya atsumu)

Being the MSBY social media manager means work- especially when it comes to Miya Atsumu. It seems like every other week he gets himself. caught up in controversy. Whether it be him being too touchy with an already-married older actress, or even being spotted on dates with multiple female idols. It’s your job to defend his already poor internet reputation. 

“Y/n~ c’mon now, one date is all I'm askin’! Throw me a bone here!” He pleads for the 5th time today. He was sure to be persistent after the many rejections before.

“Miya, how many times do I have to tell you no?” You sigh as you reject him once more to add onto the tally of 56 rejections over the course of a year. 

Sure he was attractive, what normal person would say no to a 6’1” professional volleyball player? Sadly you know firsthand about his player activities. You understand it though, a young early twenties male is bound to act like this. though the severity of actions vary on a case-to-case basis; he happens to be on the far end of the spectrum. 

“Besides, it’s unprofessional to have a relationship between the two of us. I’m your manager.” You explain to him hoping finally you’d be able to get the message through his thick skull.

“Professional or not, who cares! give me a chance to prove myself! C’mon I've been good recently, no contreveries!” He explains trying to persuade your thoughts.

“If you call being spotted with a married woman in a fancy restaurant ‘good behaviour’, I don’t know what to tell you.” You frown as you avert your eyes from him, back to your laptop, typing out a public apology for Atsumu’s recent events.

With a frown, he steps forward and closes your laptop whilst leaning over your desk. His figure obviously towering over your sitting self. 

“Enough of that, It wouldn’t be the same as those famous women who only want me to have an affair. It’s different with you.” He explains with sincerity as if this time he actually means what he says.

You look up at him with a smirk and now with crossing arms, leaning back on your office chair. “Oh really? Maybe when you give me an easier time with your little affairs, I’ll consider it.”

That's when his face lights up and puts on a stupid grin and leans in closer to your ear. i’m

 “Oh you bet.” He whispers seductively in your ear before pulling away and walking to the door of the office. 

“Well, see ya around Y/n, ya better hold up yer end of this.” He tells you before walking out of your office.

God this man. He's so… desperate for attention!

and I got this one boy, he won’t stop calling (kuroo tetsuro)

42 missed calls. Are you fucking kidding me? You had met this hot guy today at the cafe you work at, he was a tall man in a business suit, kind of built as you could see some of his triceps through the dress shirt, a really classy guy overall, though odd his hair didn’t match the aesthetic. You left your number on his cup just for the slight off chance he wasn’t in a relationship. Clearly, he’s not in one.

You decided to call him back, afterall you were busy with the cafe with the 8 hour shift you had just worked. Now lying on your stomach first, your leg hanging off the bed, you hit the call button.

“Hello?” a male voice says after only one ring. 

“Uhm, Hi. You left 42 calls on my phone.” You informed him as if he wasn’t already aware of what he did.

“Oh yeah, I did do that~” He teases through the phone. “So what’s your name, coffee girl?” 

“It’s L/N Y/N, and you?” You ask with a semi-interested tone returning the energy of his voice.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsuro. Y/n is a pretty name ya know” He flirts through the phone. 

You can just imagine his silly smirk, the same exact one as when he saw the cafe when he read your number, and then the “call me <3” written under it. 

“So I take it you’re not taken as you’re calling me” You suggest as you twirl your hair and kick your legs, god you feel like a teenage girl.

“Nah, I’m not taken. Haven’t really had a girlfriend before, closest was talking stages.” he explains you hear the ruffling of papers in the background. 

So that explains the 42 calls. Takes a man's guts to admit that.

“You don’t exactly know what you’re doing, don’t you~” You tease as you hear a sigh from the end of the phone.

“Well no- I do know what I’m doing! Just I wanted to get to know you- soon!” He fumbles words trying to explain himself which brings a laugh out of you.

“Suuuure…” 

There’s now a long awkward pause in the conversation. In which both of you don’t exactly know what to ask each other next.  

“Soo- Are you a full-time worker at that cafe?” He suddenly asks, speaking up to fill the silence.

“Well no, I’m still in college. I’m going there for an English degree. How about you? You seem like you got a pretty good job.” You explain, then follow up with a question about himself. 

“Well darling, I’m a sports promoter, specifically for volleyball. I work for the Japanese Volleyball Association.” He informs you with a proud tone. 

This does pique your interest, not every day do you meet a guy who works for a sporting association who happens to walk inside a hole-in-the-wall café.

“Well shit, that's cool! Did you play in high school or something?” You ask now, flipping over onto your back to a more comfortable position.

“I did- made it to nationals during my last year.” He answers with a cocky tone. There is more shuffling of papers in the background, maybe he’s still at work-

“Kuroo! We need the papers finalised by tonight!” A voice from the background of his end says with a very demanding tone. Causing him to groan into the phone.

“Well you certainly heard my boss…” He sighs. “Call you back cutie. We still need to finalise our date.” He tells you before hanging up the phone not even leaving time for you to respond to his statement.

“huh…? DATE?” You shout to the void that is your room. 

Man, this guy is confident. Both him personally, and you being too willing to give this man a chance. You know one thing though. You’re definitely going to come back to 42 calls again.

I'm working late bc I’m a singer (semi eita)

Oh, Semi Eita, the lead singer and guitarist of his little band. The foundation of what his band is about all stems from him. His rock style is unique, flashy if you call it. He always felt the need to stand out from others. You know that best as his significant other. Since high school, he’s always been a show-off or tried to be. Because of his show-off nature, he was benched on the volleyball team in his 3rd year. 

Now here he is, slumped over on his office desk at one in the damn morning, struggling to come up with meaning to his new song. 

“You know, Eita, This song must really got you stumped. You haven’t stayed up writing this late in forever.” You smirk leaning on the doorframe to his office. You both know that you’re right.

Eita usually has a set schedule; sleeps at 11 pm, unlike his teen days when he’ll pull all-nighters for fun. He sighs and turns his office chair around. 

“Well, I guess you can say that.” He replies as he tiredly smiles at you. 

You walk over to his desk, the wood planks creek in the silence of night, and lean over his shoulder to look at the song. 

“So what’s this song about?” You ask him while reading the lyrics. 

“A boy who fell in love with a girl and sees her with rose-tinted glasses.” He explains as he taps the pen on the paper every few seconds, clearly in thought.

“Well is she a good person, or a bad person.” You ask, sitting yourself at the corner of his desk. 

He sits at his desk long in thought. “That’s the thing. I don’t really know.” He admits and he runs a hand through his hair, the other hand twirling the pen around.

“Well when you think of this girl, who do you think of?” You ask him whilst  playing with the drawer of his desk that sits above you. 

as he sits there in thought, an idea suddenly pops into his head. There is one girl in particular that comes into his head.

“I think of you.” He lets out with a grin as he ruffles your hair, causing you to let put a laugh

“Me, huh? You really love me that much huh..?” You grin in response to his actions, with a proud tone of voice.

“I guess I do huh?” He smiles at your proud self. “I’ll write about you being the girl who I view in rose-tinted glasses,” He says as she writes down his ideas on the paper, making light scribble noises.

That's just when you get up and try dragging him away from the desk. 

“You know its bed time right?” You tease and you put him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

“I’ll be there soon! Just, let me finish noting these ideas down!” He protests and he doesn’t look away from the page despite what you’re doing to him.

You sigh in response and let go of him. Walking to the door in the process. 

“Don’t stay up too late. We both know how grumpy you get without your beauty sleep.” You tell him in response to his protests. Finding a good opportunity to tease him in the process.

As you walk out of the room, all you can hear is a grumble in response. All for the fact he knows you’re right.

©miyamizuna 2024 do not repost

espresso is my spotify number 1 rn

[azrielgreen]

Looking back at the last 2 years🖤

Huge energy shift happening in slow motion the last few weeks. Either go with the change and embrace the new energy or stay another cycle.

I feel so happy and excited that I got to write everything I wanted in the Steddie pairing and was able to share it with the people who WANTED to read it. I've always written for myself and I always will, but to have touched a few people along the way and brought a little light where it might not otherwise have been, that's a beautiful experience for me. I'm so grateful to everyone who reached out with kindness and passion. I'm grateful to have been so inspired. And I'm so happy I get to share more with you now as I go with the energetic shift that March always brings and follow the river where she leads.

There are several works about to be completed by me over the next week and even more after that, which is why I haven't been around much. This is so thrilling for me, honestly. Completing works is even better than starting them.

I'll always be writing for me, and sharing it with anyone who might like it. But as the energy shifts more and more, I wanted to share specifically what I'm grateful for the last few years and some of my best memories.

One of the first long comments I got on WSJK, it made me cry.

The first time I randomly saw a TikTok about my fics, nothing like that had ever happened to me before.

When I sold out the YD tarot deck in a single day.

People encouraging me to start a Patreon and then so many signing up!

Waking up to 100+ comments on ch2 of BOD.

Everyone who read week by week on You're Divine and supported me.

The people I met here who are my beloved friends now in real life

Those who reached out to share their own experiences with me.

Fanart, all of it♥︎ but especially the first piece that was ever sent to me by someone who asked me not to share it. If you, the artist, sees this (Eddie with his wrist over his mouth) please know that I still look at it every day.

To have inspired anyone, even just a little.

The freedom to write professionally.

Every single learning experience, bad or good.

The growing confidence to write whatever I want and share it.

Writing with @thorniest-rose

Bringing Little Bit to life - a character I've always had inside me who never had a name until YD.

Every comment showing the generosity of kindness people are capable of.

And most of all, the FUN I had every step of the way with these boys and the stories I got to tell through transformative works. You have no idea how much I ✨️LOVE✨️ writing, how fucking happy I am while working madly on a project. It's been INCREDIBLE to be so inspired for so long. It's not a chore for me, I don't care about reader numbers or popularity or anything like that, I just fucking LOVE to write and this pairing has been pure ecstacy to work with.

Bring on March, bring on the transformation and the fresh new ideas and the forward momentum. I can't fucking wait!!

Love, Azriel.

✨️💕💜💜💜💕✨️

[drvirgus]

Protecting (my heart)

Idol! Minji X bodyguard! Reader

Description: getting a new job as NewJeans bodyguard isn't really something Y/n thought would happen to her. What exactly happens when she suddenly felt attracted to one of the NewJeans members? Can Y/n stay professional or are her feelings for Minji too much to handle?

Warnings: stalking; harassment; kys jokes; suggestive language; death threats; mention of abuse; mention of murder;

Chapter: strange feeling (half-written)

Masterlist

———————————————————————————

With a gentle smile, I extended my hand to the taller one as I opened the door. Minji hesitated visibly, thankfully unnoticed by anyone but me. Her eyes briefly glanced at my hand and then at my face before she finally took my hand and stepped out of the van.

As she stepped out of the van, the screams and shouts began immediately. Minji had a meet and greet with some fans who bought over a thousand albums today. It was a small event, but quite a few people showed up. Some of them weren't even invited and now stood on the sidelines just to catch a glimpse of Minji.

I let go of the taller one's hand and closed the van door. I stood behind Minji, my face stern as I saw the faces of the fans. I glanced around several times. Minji was busy delighting some fans with autographs and photos. Her manager stood at the door of the event, impatiently tapping his watch.

I nodded hesitantly and moved closer to Minji. "I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this," I said loudly enough for Minji to hear me over the screaming fans. The taller woman glanced briefly at me before nodding and then smiling at the fans.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone throw something at Minji. With narrowed eyes, I immediately caught the object and examined it. It was a small stuffed animal. Apparently, it was a gift, but it definitely shouldn't have been thrown.

With a serious look, I immediately looked at the person who threw the object. I briefly looked at Minji. "Please continue," I said casually, handing the object to another bodyguard standing behind me. I put on a small smile again to reassure the idol next to me.

Upon entering the building, I stepped away from Minji, prompting the taller one to look at me questioningly. I simply smirked. "What happened?" she asked, looking at me. Her hands were placed on her hips.

"It was a stuffed animal," I replied, gesturing for the taller one to follow her manager. I immediately followed Minji and watched as she sat down at the long table. I positioned myself against the wall, far enough away not to disturb her but close enough to intervene if necessary.

I watched her interact with some fans, men and women of all ages. Minji's laughter filled the room, and she signed every album she received.

However, my eyes fell on a middle-aged woman. Her long black hair fell into her face, and she looked quite friendly. I observed her nervously playing with the stuffed animal in her hand. She immediately jumped up when it was her turn.

I fixed my eyes on every small movement, even taking a step closer. Now I could overhear the conversation between Minji and the slightly older nervous woman.

Honestly, I had a bad feeling. I didn't know exactly what it was, but something sent shivers down my spine. Even when another bodyguard tapped me and tried to get my attention, I just shook my head slightly, and he understood.

Fortunately, if my senior, who had been working for NewJeans for years, was not present, I was the head bodyguard. I had to make all the decisions and instruct the other bodyguards.

"Um, hi Minji, it's such an honor to meet you. I've been a fan for so long," said the nervous middle-aged woman. With a smile on her face, Minji looked at the fan and politely smiled, "Oh, thank you! It's lovely to meet you too. What's your name?"

"My name is Hee-Jin. I've followed your career since your debut, and I must say, you've truly grown into such a talented artist. I feel like I know you so well. Like we have a connection," the older woman said, her voice carrying a certain undertone.

"Thank you, Unnie! That means a lot to me. Would you like me to sign anything for you?" Minji replied professionally with a broad smile on her face. She didn't seem to find it strange at all.

The stranger nodded as she let out a small nervous laugh. "Oh, yes, please! Could you sign this album for me? It's been with me through so much."

"Of course! Do you want me to make it out to anyone special?"

The stranger only focused on Minji. Her eyes lit up as she shook her head briefly. "No, just your signature is perfect. Thank you so much, Minji."

Minji smiled and promptly signed the album cover. She handed the album back to the fan, who accepted it and bowed slightly. "You're welcome, Unnie. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Minji asked, focusing solely on the fan in front of her.

Hee-Jin smiled nervously as she now presented the small teddy bear. "Actually, there is one more thing. I have something for you."

Minji's eyes lit up. "Oh, how sweet! Thank you, Unnie. That's very thoughtful of you," Minji replied as she took the teddy bear and waved to Hee-Jin with one of its paws.

The woman smiled nervously as she repeatedly bowed. "I hope you like it. It's just a little token of my appreciation for all the joy you've brought into my life. It's been such a pleasure meeting you, Minji. I hope we'll have another chance to chat someday."

Minji smiled as she waved to the fan with both hands. "Definitely, Unnie. Take care, and thank you for your support."

My eyes followed the stranger woman, which Minji also noticed, but she said nothing and simply smiled at the next fan.

The bad feeling was still there... so it wasn't just about this fan?

Questioningly, I bit my lip as I looked around again and then glanced at the new fan. He was an older man who was trying to take Minji's hand. I could see how Minji, without attracting too much attention, skillfully pulled her hands back to her body. She smiled and nodded at the fan.

I cleared my throat as I stood next to the table. "We kindly ask you not to touch our idols," I said politely but firmly. The fan immediately apologized, which I simply nodded at with a smile. However, I didn't move away but remained standing next to the table.

My eyes then fell on Minji's empty water bottle, so I instructed one of the backstage managers to bring a new water bottle, which the woman immediately did. I thanked her with a smile through my eyes and focused fully on my job again.

———————————————————————————

[valentinsylve]

CW: Past suicidal ideation, mental health talk.

So, something very beautiful happened the other day, and I want to share it just because I know some of you are struggling with various forms of mental illness and perhaps have been diagnosed with personality disorders, which may or may not be professional assessments of misunderstood developmental anomalies and attachment trauma.

I've been working with my therapist, B., for over 10 years. When I first started seeing her, I vetted her with a longtime trusted friend who'd been her client, and I knew this friend had dealt with a lot of rage and traumas similar to mine. I asked her, "How comfortable is B. with anger?" and her response was "You would be in good hands with her."

Anyway. My therapist took me on as a high-risk client when I was already on the young side of middle aged. She quickly became aware that I was both unstable and halfway organized enough to take my own life. I was feral. I was a bitey whirlwind of grief and a kind of desperate need I found indescribable. I was 40 years old and had no idea of how to regulate my emotions. After we'd been working together for 2 years, I mused at the end of a session, "I think it's been several months since I verbally abused you." Her reply was, "Signs of healing." and she smiled and offered a hug, which I accepted.

The other day in our session we were talking about the usual sort of thing, and I was feeling emotionally soft but safe, and I noticed she seemed misty-eyed. I asked if she were OK. She told me, "I'm fine. I'm feeling very tender toward you, and after all this time you are able to accept this tenderness. You have had a hard time accepting love, because it's so often been entangled in betrayal; but now, in this space of trust you've given me, that we've worked hard to create together, I can communicate that I see you and in this way I love you."

I have always had a hard time with any kind of love. It feels so intense and frightening. I have lived with eruptions of attachment which were impossible for me to navigate. To be able to experience tenderness without pushing it away is relatively new to me. When that tenderness has appropriate boundaries, well, that's something.

I saw a therapist for the first time when I was barely 18. I have to emphasize that at the time I was required to see them. With few exceptions, my experiences with therapy in the following years were lacking or actively damaging. It took utter desperation to seek therapy again so late in life, but at last something took. I still have a ways to go, but so much is freshly possible now.

It's not too late for you, if you're worried about that. I guess that's my point. I think of my grandmother, the one whose physical, emotional and creative being I uncannily resemble, who took her mother-wounds from an abused childhood all the way to her grave, and I wish she could have met B. I hope you meet your B. as well. Maybe they won't be your therapist, but I hope they are someone who sees you and is not afraid to seek you out exactly where you are.

[el-ly-sha-give-no-f]

Hiii could you do a one shot on hakim Ziyech where he is married to the reader who is of Moroccan origin and he is a son Nahil who is 1 year old he looks a lot like Hakim but in a smaller version and his daddy's son he is constantly in the Hakim's arm which makes Hakim laugh because his wife sulks every time because when Nahil sees his father he stretches his arms towards him and when Hakim has to go to training he cries he sees his dad leave and the reader and lanpenfa't 1h to calm him down with these tears plsss 💕

My Little Clone

Pairing: Hakim Ziyech x female!reader

Warning: non just pure fluff

Words: 2106

Writer Note: sorry i've been silent for couple of months cause i've been busy with my editing, school and a lot more, but i'm back now, if you made a request before, please send it to me again. Thank you, enjoy this one. Thank you anon <3

P/s: not edited, grammar mistake and typo ahead!

Hakim Ziyech is a successful professional soccer player, playing for one of the top teams in Europe. He's known for his fast dribbling and accurate shooting, and is often called "The Magician" due to his ability to dribble past several defenders before scoring a goal. In addition to his talent on the field, Hakim is also known for being a devoted husband and father.

His wife Y/n and their 1-year-old son Nahil, is always proud to watch him play. His wife supports him from the stands and completely different comparing to their son, Nahil will be cheering on his dad, and waving to him when he saw him on the field and Hakim will smile and waving at his son or give him a flying kiss, their one-year-old son going to be the one who truly steals the show. Despite being so young, He already has a strong bond with his father. When Hakim is at home, he is always holding Nahil in his arms, making him laugh and giggle with his playful antics

☆☆☆☆☆

Hakim looked over at Y/n as she sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. He knew she was pretending to sulk, but he could not help but laughing at her wife cuteness.

 "You okay, Y/n?" he asked, settling down beside her. "I'm fine," she reply to her husband while she doing a crossed hand on her chest, her eyes still glued to the screen.

 Nahil, who was sitting on Hakim's lap, stretched out his arms towards his father. "Dada! Dada!" he squealed; his little voice filled with excitement. Hakim chuckled and lifted Nahil up, kissing his cheek.

"Hey buddy, what's up?" he asked, making silly faces at his son. Y/n rolled her eyes but could not help but smile at the sight. She knew she had no right to be jealous of her husband and son's bond, but she could not help it. As much as she tried to pretend otherwise, she loved seeing them together.

Nahil started bouncing in his father's arms, his laughter filling the room. In that moment, Y/n felt a surge of happiness wash over her. She was lucky to have such a wonderful family, even if it did make her feel a little like a third wheel at times. Hakim noticed Y/n's expression and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

 "You're never a third wheel, honey. You are the most important member of this family," he said sincerely. Y/n smiled, feeling a warm glow settle in her chest.

She knew deep down that Hakim was right, but hearing it from him still meant the world. As Nahil snuggled into his father's chest, Y/n leaned her head on Hakim's shoulder. She knew she couldn't ask for a better life than this - a husband who loved her unconditionally, a son who idolized him, and a home filled with love and laughter. She was the luckiest girl in the world.

☆☆☆☆☆

The trio spent the night relaxing on the couch, Nahil giggling and kicking his legs as he snuggled in Hakim's arms. Y/n couldn't help but watch them with a smile, her heart swelling with love for her happy family. She knew she was lucky to be a part of it

Hakim was the first to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. "You know, Y/n, sometimes I feel like the luckiest man in the world," he said, his eyes fixed on their son's sweet face. "I know," she replied, placing a hand on his leg. "You always say that when Nahil gets particularly adorable." Hakim chuckled.

 "I can't help it. He's just so perfect, you know? And I'm so grateful to have both of you in my life." Y/n smiled, feeling a lump form in her throat. She knew what he was saying was true, but it still meant so much to hear it from him.

As Hakim, Y/n, and Nahil settled in for the night, the room was filled with the sound of laughter and happy chatter. They spent the evening playing with Nahil, taking turns chasing him around the living room and tickling him until he was giggling so hard and he couldn't breathe, the origin Moroccan woman couldn’t help but feel a tug at her heartstrings every time her son ran into his father's arms.

She could tell that Hakim loved him fiercely, and it made her feel grateful to have such a loving and devoted husband and father for her son. Even with the laughter and the play, there was something deeper that connected the trio. They were a unit, a family that loved each other unconditionally.

☆☆☆☆☆

By the time Hakim left for training, Nahil's protests grew louder and more desperate, until he was outright sobbing in Y/n's arms.

“I want Dada!”

“Nahil your dada needs to go to work you know, so that he can buy you a lot of toys”

Despite her best efforts, she cannot really seem to soothe him, and the sound of his cries echoed in her ears long.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the day drew to a close, Y/n settled in for what she hoped would be a peaceful evening with her husband and son. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard Hakim's key in the door, Y/n settled down on the couch with Nahil sleeping soundly in her lap. Hakim settled down next to her, taking her hand in his, and she smiled at him cheerfully.

“Assalamualaikum” he greets her wife

“waalaikummusalam” his wife replies to his greet.

"I missed you today," Y/n said, her voice filled with warmth.

Hakim leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I missed you too, Y/n," he said softly

“He cried earlier when you left the house” Y/n tell her husband

“I know, I’ve heard him, he’s quite loud, can’t even know how you handle him, you’re a pro!” Hakim compliments his wife and they both laugh softy due to not wanting their son to wake up but Nahil seemed to know his father's presence.

Their son stirred on Y/n's lap, his brown eyes that cloning his dad, open slowly. As soon as he saw her dad already home, he quickly gets up from her mother lap and jump into his father arms and hug him.

“Hello buddy, you sleep well?” Hakim asks his son and he can feel that his son reply with a single nod on his shoulder

“Good, mama said that you cried when I left earlier, why?”

“I don’t want dada to leave, I want to play with dada”

Y/n looked at her husband and son, she felt her heart swell with love and gratitude. She knew that life wasn't always easy, but with them by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came their way.

“Nahil, dada need to go to work”

“why” their son asks Hakim and Hakim looking at his wife, y/n shrug.

“Well, boy, so that we can go out and eat some delicious food, buy you a new toy and a lot more, don’t you want that?” Hakim explains

Nahel nods

“After this, no more crying, okay?” hakim told his son

“okay!” He sequels.

Hakim kiss him on the cheek softly.

☆☆☆☆☆

Today, a match between Chelsea Vs Spurs, Hakim prepared for the match, he could feel the pressure weighing heavily on him. He knew that the eyes of millions of fans were on him, and he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. As he stepped onto the field, he could feel the energy from the crowd, but he didn't let it distract him. He was focused, and he was determined to win the match for his team.

When the match progressed, Hakim became more and more impressive.

His dribbles were fast and precise, and his shots were accurate.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, and his teammates were cheering him on.

But it was when he scored a goal in the dying minutes of the match that the crowd became truly electric.

Hakim ran to the corner flag and jumped up and down searching for his little family. The noise from the crowd was deafening, but he could still hear the sound of Nahil, who was cheering loudly for his dad. Hakim pointing at his son that is in Y/n’s arms, to sign that the goal was dedicated to him and his wife.

☆☆☆☆☆

After the match, Hakim doing the post-match interview, He was asked all sorts of questions: about the match, about the goal.

Journalist: Congratulations on a brilliant performance today, Hakim! Can you walk us through your goal?

Hakim: Thank you, it was great to be able to contribute to the team's victory. The goal was a result of good teamwork and timing. My teammate passed me the ball, and I was able to take advantage of the open space to make a run and get into a scoring position. It was a great feeling to see the ball cross the line and the crowd celebration.

Journalist: And overall, how do you feel about your team's performance today?

Hakim: I think we played well and followed our manager's game plan. We were able to control possession and play in the opponent's half. We also created plenty of chances and were clinical with our finishing. Overall, it was a solid team performance and a good result.

Journalist: And finally, who do you dedicate your goals to today, Hakim?

Hakim: Well, first and foremost, I have to dedicate these goals to my family, including my wife and son who is on the stand tonight, and who is always support and motivate me. They're my biggest fans, so I want to give them a special shout-out and I'm grateful for their support.

Journalist: Congrats again on a great performance today, Hakim. Thank you for your time. We'll let you go so you can celebrate with your family and your team

☆☆☆☆☆

Hakim made his way into the locker room, his blood pumping with adrenaline and excitement after the big win. As he entered, his teammates greeted him with high-fives and congratulations, and he smiled back at them, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment.

But the moment he had really been looking forward to was the moment he would get to hug his son and see his wife's smiling face. He could hardly wait to share the excitement of the win with them.

As he walked out of the locker room, he saw them waiting for him—his son running towards him with a huge smile on his face, and his wife standing there with her arms open wide. Hakim scooped his son up into his arms, feeling his little body wiggle and laugh as he swung him around in a circle. His wife came over and embraced him, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and he felt a rush of joy and love wash over him.

He held his son close, feeling the little heartbeat against his chest, and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for his family. They were the ones who made him feel strong and supported, and he knew that he could face anything with them by his side.

"Dada, you're so amazing!" Nahil exclaims after one particularly spectacular goal.

Hakim cannot help but smile. "Thanks, mini-me, did you see the goal?" he ask

"yes!yes!" Hakim smile and ruffling Nahil's hair.

☆☆☆☆☆

"You know, Y/n," Hakim began, breaking the comfortable silence, "I know that sometimes I'm not around as much as I'd like to be. And I know that it's not always easy for you to take care of our son when I'm gone, but I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you do."

Y/n smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "I know, Hakim. And I appreciate you too. You work so hard to provide for our family, and I am proud of you and I’m sure Nahil too. I love you both so much, and I wouldn't trade our life together for anything in this world."

Hakim pulled her closer, and they sat there in comfortable silence, listening to the soft sounds of their sleeping son. It was moments like these that reminded them just how lucky they were to have one another, and they knew that they would always have each other's backs, through thick and thin.

It was a moment he would always cherish, filled with happiness and love, and he felt grateful for everything in his life. He was blessed to have a family that loved and supported him, and he was determined to do all he could to make them proud.

☆☆☆☆☆

[concerningwolves]

I've been walking around with this hypermobility diagnosis my entire life, and no medical professional ever told me definitively what it means. My parents can't remember specifically when I was diagnosed or who by – I was a severely premature baby with a rare disorder and a slew of other health issues, and the hypermobility got lost somewhere in there with all the other medical noise. Mostly, I was left to see hypermobility as something that made me super bendy and was fun to pull out at parties when I made all my fingers bend weirdly.

Everything I have been told about hypermobility came to me piecemeal, usually by happenstance. A nurse who said that the hypermobility explained why it was always difficult to draw my blood. A GP who mentioned that hypermobility was likely why my ankle hadn't broken, but had instead subluxated and then been left to heal incorrectly because it'd been misdiagnosed as a sprain. A rheumatologist who I was only seeing because of a colossal fuckup, who explained that hypermobility makes you far more prone to bruising. Everything else, I had to find out under my own steam, trawling websites repeatedly over the years and watching as the body of information grew.

When I went to my paediatrician with joint pain, she told me it was growing pains on multiple occasions. I've been to physiotherapy three times and multiple OTs when I was younger and none of them noticed that my knees' resting position was hyperextended. (It took 22 years and the aforementioned colossal fuckup that landed me back at rheumatology instead of seeing the chronic pain specialist nurse for someone to tell me that that wasn't normal.) PE teachers and gymnastics instructors made me feel lazy and inadequate and work-shy instead of thinking hey, this child has told us he's hypermobile, maybe we should pay attention to that. For a little while I got to use a portable slanted desk in middle school which was meant to make writing easier for me in lessons (it didn't). In high school I got to use an AlphaSmart – not because anyone listened when I explained that writing caused me serious hand pain, but because I was writing too slowly to keep up in lessons (and I was still told repeatedly by teachers that they were surprised I needed the AlphaSmart because my handwriting was so neat, as if that had anything to do with anything). It wasn't until my GCSEs that I first got serious accommodations in exams.

Did all those doctors I saw about my pain just think I was, I don't know, too young to be sick? I was born sick. It was there in my records! They knew, and they either decided I was some other speciality's problem or they straight up did not care.

Children can be ill and disabled. More than that, they deserve to be given all the information they might need and be offered necessary accommodations. They should be listened to! Parents shouldn't have to fight and claw for something as simple as a crappy plastic slanted desk. If I could trawl my brain to extract everything I'm feeling right now and inject it into the minds of every doctor who failed me, I would.

[tsalexisandrews]

How common or uncommon is crossdressing according to you? How much of a taboo is it ?

While getting yourself a professional makeover at the several places you mentioned, have there been mishaps where you got excited turned on? How was that dealt with?

For a first timer maybe in Europe, which professional studio would you recommend?

Do you know any professional studios in Asia/india/china/thailand?

Has there been an incident ever thus far where someone who is a relative/friend has almost accidentally found out about you? How did you handle that situation?

How often do you get excited/ turned on looking at yourself? What do you do about it?

Ever picked up a man or a woman or a tgil/CD at a bar/night club or any LGBTQ events etc? How did it go? Describe an event?

Ever smooched/hooked up in public at any of the tgirl events you attended? How did it go?

I think the act of publicly crossdressing/transgenderism is certainly more common than in years past. I'd theorize the number of people who WANT to act on CD/TG urges is the same as its ever been. Its just now become more acceptable in society and its being publicized more, so it seems as though it is more common. Of course, its more acceptable in some places than others, so that certainly plays into how common it is.

I've been lucky to experience professional makeovers/transformations 15 times at 6 different places in the US and the UK. Contrary to what one might expect, I did not get sexually aroused at all. Perhaps it was the professional environment I was in, but these artists wo do the work don't see it as a sexual act so for me its not even considered. No accidents occurred and therefore I dind't get turned on. Now when I got home and looked at the pictures, thats anther story!

I will always recommend Jodie at the Boudoir in London as a first time experience, primarily because I think she's the best and shes a dear friend. But I did have very good experiences at Boys wll be Girls in London and Dafni Girls in Barcelona. Check any of them out!

I haven't been to any transformation studios in Asia, and the only one I know of is in Japan. A quick google search will find the name. They do a really good jo according to one of my friends.

I've been caught once and it didn't go well. I'll leave it at that.

I do occasionally get turned on looking at myself. Frankly, I'm at the point where I'm more critical of how I look and so any pictures I see I tend to see flaws. But occasionally there's a really flattering picture that stirs something in me. Same thing with a mirror. I'm always adjusting something and trying to perfect it.

I have been picked up at clubs in the past, and most of the times (like any non-queer instance) it ended pretty well. Maybe we have drinks, go out to another club afterward, and likely back to one annother's place for some fun. Not always, of course- some people are assholes. But one time that went well was at a club in Austin. I went there with a couple other trans girlfriends and met a really nice local guy. He bought me a few drinks, we hit it off talking about football, and left before closing time to a hole in the wall bar. A few more drinks and I coul tell this guy was ready to go. He was really cute, as tall as I am, and very polite- but direct and firm. Turns out, he's into bondage too and has a mini dungeon in his house. I let me friends know where I was going and ended up having some of the most mind blowing sex until 7am. He was very dom which matched to my sub, and it was fantastic. I left and never saw him again!

No, I haven't hooked up at the Tgirl events I go to, which is really just Viva Wildside in Vegas every May (check it out- it is a BLAST). The girls I hang out with aren't looking to hook up, certainly not with each other, and therefore its more about being able to party in public as ourselves. Its not a sexualized event (though I imagine it happens), as we're all just having fun in Vegas. I've never felt the desire to hook up while there, of course remember I'm more attracted to women and men than trans, so that may have something to do with it too.

[differenteagletragedy]

I made an OC and eleven whole people (including me) wanted to know more about her, so here is a little intro. Thank you and I hope you can grow to love her too :)

Ramona stood at the edge of the crowd, wide brown eyes taking in everything around her. She held her hands in front of her, pulling and twisting them in shaky, anxious motions. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or panic.

It wasn’t that she was nervous, not exactly. She’d been to the country club plenty of times before with her moms, and this wasn’t her first formal event either. She loved dressing up, so the fluffy dress she wore, all colors and rainbows and sparkles, and the heels, as high as Mom would let her get away with at 13, were adding confidence, not taking it away. Her brown hair that she normally wore loose and free with its wild waves was tied back in an elegant style, which only contributed to her feeling of poise. It was more the anticipation that was setting her on edge.

There was a feeling of possibility in the air. She was changing, growing up, and she was standing alone in a sea of people, waiting for someone to notice her. The waiting, and the yearning that came with it, was what was making her wring her hands and bounce lightly on the balls of her feet.

“Excuse me,” a voice said off to her side, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Are you looking for a dance partner?”

She glanced over to the source of the question, and there he was. A boy who towered over her, but looked to be about her age, if not a little older. He wore a well-fitted grey suit, and black hair swooped artfully over his warm brown eyes.

There were several things she wanted to say in response, and truthfully, a few noises that almost came out – this boy was beautiful. But, as it often happened with her, everything she meant to express got caught in her throat, an innate sort of fear choking them down. So instead, she nodded.

The boy gave her a lazy smile and held his hand out. A wordless invitation. She could work with that.

Ramona rose a shaky hand to place in his waiting one. She felt a squeeze, and he gently led her onto the dancefloor.

She wasn't a dancer, but she'd had a lesson or two at the Cypress over the years so she managed to hold her own well enough. But she quickly learned that it didn't matter if she'd been a professional or if she'd only just learned to walk: the boy took the lead, and with a firm hand on the small of her back and the other still grasping her own, he was in control of both of their movements.

He didn't speak as he took them across the space, and so of course she didn't either. She did, however, sneak little glances up at him, wanting to etch his face into her memory so she could keep this moment for as long as possible. When one of those glances caught him looking back at her, she felt her cheeks get hot, and she felt the chuckle rise up in his chest before it came out of his mouth.

"My apologies," he said after a moment, when she felt so flushed that she might as well have been burning. "It wasn't my intention to embarrass you, I'm sorry if that's what I've done."

She braved a glance upward again, and saw that he was smiling more easily now, wide enough that his teeth showed and she saw the dimples in his cheeks. It seemed that despite his apology, he was enjoying himself.

"It's fine," Ramona managed to squeak out. And then, as an afterthought, "Don't let it happen again."

There was that smile again -- it went to his eyes, lighting them up, and she could have sworn then and there, in her infinite 13-year-old wisdom, that he was the prettiest boy she'd ever meet in her entire life.

Far too soon, the song was over, and the boy stepped back. He offered a small bow, another lovely grin, then said, "Thank you for the dance. You have nice legs."

Before she could respond, he'd slipped back into the crowd. She was alone again. But this time, instead of anxiously awaiting what the night could turn into, she had this strange, incredible experience to reflect on.

"What the fuck was that?" she muttered to herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three years later, Ramona was asking herself a similar question, but unfortunately it didn't come from that same place of wonder. Instead, it came from a place of heartache.

Her first boyfriend had broken up with her, and she was lying on her bed crying. Cove sat on his knees on the floor, elbows propped up next to her and trying to think of ways to console his best friend.

"Please don't cry," he said earnestly, reaching out a hand to pat her shoulder. "He's not worth it."

"I know he's not," she answered quickly, "but I'm still sad."

Cove didn't know what to say in this situation, but for her, his presence was enough. She tried to soak up his warmth to blot out the darkness crowding her thoughts -- a notion she realized even then was ridiculously melodramatic, but it felt good to lean into that at the moment.

She ran her fingers along her bedspread, tracing over the bright pattern. Her eyes skated around her room, full of colors and packed with trinkets -- an explosion of rainbows and cuteness and sunshine. With a room like that, she always thought, she could scare away the real darkness.

There was a knock at the door, and before she could answer, Liz stuck her head in. Before she could get out whatever snarky remark she had planned, she saw the state of her little sister, and her expression softened.

"What's up?" she asked, looking away from Ramona and to Cove, who quickly explained the situation.

"Oh, baby sister," Liz sighed, going to sit beside her on the bed. She began stroking her hair, then asked, "What's going to help you here?"

Ramona considered for a moment, then said, "Be mean. But not too mean. Like mean with a dash of optimism for the future of my love life."

Liz pondered the request for a moment, then smiled.

"You know who would never do this?" she said. "Legs."

Cove sighed, and Ramona did too, but for a different reason. Where Cove was tired of hearing about this mythical boy his best friend had met years ago, Ramona was hit by the truth of it -- at this point, the boy she'd met at the country club, nicknamed "Legs" because of his strange compliment and because she'd never caught his name, was more of a legend than an actual person. A built-up magical person who could do no wrong, who had no flaws and could come to her rescue in any situation. Her knight in shining armor, based on a person she'd met so briefly but was so taken by that she couldn't shut up about him for weeks, which was apparently the amount of time it took to turn someone into a folk tale.

"You're right," she told her sister. "This never would have happened on Legs' watch."

"Legs would break this guy's legs," Liz offered.

"Legs would break this guy's legs and then beat him up with them," Ramona agreed.

"You know what he would say then?" Cove asked suddenly. When Ramona turned to look at him, he smiled and said, "He'd say 'legs go.'"

She smiled at the pun, her first smile since the breakup. In thanks, she reached over to flick Cove's nose.

"You're getting it, kid."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Ramona had turned 18, not much had changed. She'd graduated high school, so that was something -- her life was about to change in a major way. But for now, as she stood on Cove's porch, waiting to meet the new neighbor that, according to town gossip, was moving in that day, things were much the same.

She still wore as many colors as possible, and she still worked her hands and fingers desperately when she felt anxious, which was still often. She'd filled out more over the years, large breasts and wide hips coming to join her already thick thighs and plump stomach. Where she'd grown outward though, she hadn't grown upward. Standing next to Cove, he easily dwarfed her.

They'd been guessing who the new neighbor would be -- he brought up that it might be another older couple, and she countered that it could be another single father and his child. He tweaked her idea, saying that maybe a child would move in alone with some tragic backstory. To that, she suggested that Sunset Bird might be getting it's very own brothel -- not because the idea made sense with the logic they'd been using, but just for fun.

As Cove was getting out his next idea, something about a band of mermaids who would slither down to the beach every morning to get to the ocean, a cab pulled up, and their question was answered.

It wasn't a mermaid or a madam or anything else they'd suggested. It was a boy with black and white hair, wearing black and white clothes who picked a black suitcase out of the trunk. They watched as he leaned down to speak to the driver, sliding him a tip, and then the new neighbor glanced their way and smiled.

Something about that smile pulled at Ramona, some little tickle in her brain that told her that it was important. She didn't know what to make of it at first. Watching as he walked smoothly to set his suitcase down on the sidewalk, the muscles of his legs visible under his very tight jeans, she thought that honestly she just might be, as Cove so often teased her about, horny.

But when he finally sauntered over to them and his brown eyes met her own, she was struck with the realization.

It was Legs in the flesh.

Or, as she learned, it was Baxter in the flesh. After five years, she had a name to put to the legend. It was a bit unsettling, honestly, and while she normally would have had a difficult time speaking to a stranger, this made it all the more difficult.

Things only got harder when Baxter looked at her, studying her face. She blushed immediately under his stare, then he pointed at her and said, "We've met before."

"We have," she agreed, astonishment taking over the nervousness.

He kept looking at her, his mind obviously working, and this time she managed to do what she couldn't at 13: she held his gaze.

"The Cypress," he said softly. "Five years ago. The girl that sparkled."

Her mouth fell open, not so much a full-on jaw drop, but enough for Baxter to notice. He smiled again, eyes dropping briefly to her lips.

"Wait, this is Legs?!"

Whatever was happening between Ramona and Baxter stopped, at least for the moment, as they both turned to look at Cove after his outburst.

"What was that?" Baxter asked, while Ramona let out a similar but somehow very different "What was that?!"

"Oh, I just ... I was just ..." Cove sputtered. He was trying to come up with something, but it just wasn't working. He looked from Baxter, who looked sympathetic but pleased, to Ramona, who looked like she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

After what felt like several excruciating minutes, she remembered something -- a tray of cookies she's baked for the new neighbor. She'd set them on a little table the Holdens kept on the porch, and grabbed them and presented them to Baxter.

"I made these," she said, eyes on the baked goods and not on the smirking boy in front of her. "To welcome you to the neighborhood."

He let out a little laugh, and his smirk, which had looked a little diabolical, turned warmer.

"Thank you," he said kindly. "I will enjoy these, just as I'm sure I will enjoy this summer, very much."

Looking back on it, that was the moment she knew for sure that she was a goner. That he could have proposed anything, asked anything of her and she would have willingly given it to him. That she'd do anything and everything in her power for those sweet words and sly smiles.

After a few more pleasantries, and some flirty banter on Baxter's part that sent both Ramona and Cove reeling, the young man formerly known as Legs took his leave. They watched him as he walked down the sidewalk, took his suitcase and then retreated inside his house. When he was safely inside, the two old friends immediately looked at each other.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked him.

[sysmedsaresexist]

This may be overstepping my bounds or you may not want to talk about this on this blog and if so please feel free to just delete this ask but on the chance this is alright here I have a question or two.

In the recent posts about Colin Ross and other professionals you've mentioned your 'professional circle' or your colleagues being therapists and it sounds like you work in the mental health field? If you do I'm just curious if you'd be willing to talk about that at all?

That's rather vague but I've been thinking about going into the mental health field and I'm curious what that might actually look like especially as someone with trauma.

This must be really odd if I've misunderstood what you've said, or uncomfortable if this just isn't something you want to talk about, and either way I know it's not really similar to what you normally post here so I'm sorry. Whether or not you respond though thank you for reading through this. I hope you have a good day.

I don't mind talking about it! I don't particularly enjoy talking about myself, but I have no issue sharing most information like this.

I do not currently work in the mental health field and I have never been licensed.

Like most of us, I'm sure, I was one of those "gifted" kids. I finished high school early with a several year scholarship, and fast tracked through 4 degrees.

My first degree was in social services and counselling. I worked in the field for about a year as a requirement for my education. In Canada, we have satellite schools for "troubled youth", and one was run out of a high school near me, so I counselled and provided support for about 30 students.

However, I was only 18/19 myself, and I was VERY OBVIOUSLY too traumatized to be working in the field. Some of the students were older than I was, and the things I heard and saw, the students that acted out violently that were twice my size...

I wasn't ready. My supervisor at the time, a woman in her 50s, told me, "In a field like this... you can't help others until you've helped yourself."

So I graduated, but switched into law. I wanted to work with those same youth, but maybe from a legal perspective (there were always police and lawyers involved). I finished my legal degree, took two more legal/business management and administration courses, became licensed, and worked for a few years in that field.

I really wasn't happy, though, as a woman and being so young, unless I wanted to start my own business, I was going to continue to face a bunch of condescending, old white men calling me, "high-school," because I don't drive and carry a backpack to and from work.

I work in sales now, making more money than I had ever hoped for, and for a company that is really, really good to its employees. I'm really happy where I ended up, though it was kind of a fluke. I voluntarily relinquished my legal license a couple of years ago because there's zero point in paying $2k a year in upkeep when I'm not going to use it.

Point is, though, I've kept in contact with a number of people in both the legal and sw field. My first therapist and I developed a bit of a weird relationship (not bad) but I was able to go to her on several occasions to talk as colleagues, not just client/therapist. I'm still in touch with her and occasionally reach out for questions. She gave me the info of a couple other specialists, of which I spoke to two of them.

I don't drop these names because it would really narrow down where I am, but on top of Colin Ross and Kymbra Clayton, I've also spoken with Marich, Loewenstein, I've tried to talk to the CTAD clinic, uhhh... Sunshaw is pretty open about her opinions. I'm trying to think of some other big names.

On the second part of this question...

Once you have a handle on your own trauma, you can be very, very successful in the mental health field. You have a unique perspective that can really help others.

It was an amazing experience, and I wish I had been older. I wish I had been through multiple therapists at that point, to see how others behaved. Being in therapy yourself is such an important step that no one talks about.

Trauma fatigue is a real thing that beats people in the field down into nothing. You'll hear every therapist say, "make sure you have your own therapist," and everyone nods their head but never actually goes to therapy. It's not just good for your own mental health, sitting on the other side of that chair can be terrifying and it's important for therapists to remember what that feeling is like, and to see how other clinicians handle clients. What do you like that they do? What do you hate? What are you not going to do with your next client?

You would be shocked to learn how many clinicians out there actually have DID! It's possible and highly rewarding. Just take your time and make sure you're actually ready for it.

There's no age limit on changing careers or going into a new field. Go slow, and take care of yourself first. Then you can be the best resource for others.

I hope that answers both questions <3

[peaches2217]

Hello, dear friend! For the ask game, how about ❣️ and 👤?

Hooray!

❣️—What inspired you to write your story?

Hm... I guess I've got a lot of inspirations! The vast majority of what I write is just random scenarios I tend to come up with in bed while trying to get to sleep, then I'm like "Oh shit, I should write that down!" I also tend to take inspiration from comments and conversations on posts, my fics, other fics, etc. I know that's kinda vague, but each fic has its own inspiration, and that's the overall gist of it!

👤—Tell us five things about yourself that you are proud of.

I'm proud of the fact that I can answer this question without extreme hesitation. I saw this question, briefly panicked... and then realized I could come up with five things easy. How long has it been since I've felt that self-assured?

Tying into that, I'm proud of the progress I've made. These past several months, I've decided I've been floundering in a purgatory of poor mental health for far too long and made some major pushes to get SOMETHING changed. For the first time since I was a literal toddler, I got evaluated by professionals that were actually intent on helping, got life-changing diagnoses, and got on medications that are actually WORKING... and that in turn inspired me to take the reigns and seek HRT as well. This is the most peaceful and average I've felt in years and it's incredible; getting here has been hard, and I feel like a badass for that!

Phew! Less heavy now! I've got a really good ear for music. I can write sheet music and make MIDI/VSQX/SVP/TSSLN/etc. files from scratch purely by ear.

I'm quite proud of how much my writing has progressed! I've always wished I could write pieces that stir powerful emotions again like I used to in college... and if responses to Untarnished and Everything's Okay and Summer Rain are any indication, I'm doing pretty good! 🥹

I'm pretty proud of my perfume collection too! I found my niche: discovering hidden gems at discount stores. 80% of my collection I bought for under $20. If anyone tells you you've gotta have designer or niche brands to really get into the world of fragrance, they're a damn liar.

[apparentlybychance]

Sold Out for Their Love Story: How I let go of my need for a Happily Ever After for Louis and Harry

(I need to give a bit of backstory before we jump into the ooey gooey sappy love story part. Please bear with me.)

In October 2021 I saw a picture of Harry Styles hand in hand with a woman I didn't recognize (like at all). He looked like he'd rather eat dirt than be near her. That was was the day I fell down the rabbit hole harder than when Harry fell on stage after fighting with the mic wire.

About me: I'm a PR and Social Media Marketing Director. Recognizing a carefully crafted marketing campaign is easy for me and that's exactly what this was. So I did some research because I wanted to prove myself right about it being a PR stunt. What I didn't realize was that I was about to discover one of the greatest love stories of our generation.

I'm Gen X and not Gen Z so I did my research about this awkward coupling on Google and not TikTok (shade not intended, I think). From there, the Larrie gods led me to YouTube and I found the Cosmic Leeds videos. (Side note: pour one out for their 2022 video when you think of them, because Jesus, Mary and Joseph, they have a job ahead of them!)

That led me to Twitter (don't judge - social media marketer here, remember?) and I was legit skerred. (Translation: skerred is southern for scared.) The Twarries are a rare and passionate breed, but it was all me, really. I honestly couldn't keep up! From there I found my way to Tumblr and settled into several months of quiet lurking. It wasn't until a bomb shell that I considered H-U-G-E in the fandom happened. I won't mention names, but a "big" TikTok-er was unlarrying.) *GASP*

I'm not ashamed to admit that my fetus Larrie heart was SHOOK. TO. ITS. CORE. I panicked. Were these two beautiful boys who I had been watching fall in goofy, sloppy, sappy love in hundreds of videos and interviews, possibly not together anymore? I couldn't even imagine such a travesty. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I had to do something.

I did the only thing I could think of. I took a deep breath and tentatively messaged a blogger here on Tumblr. I had followed her for months and trusted her for her level-headed responses. As I hit SEND on the message, I panicked. Would she ignore me completely? Or worse, just brush me off with a "get-a-life newbie", remark? Who was I but just a newborn Larrie? I was even newer than the pandemic Larries. Yikes! Imagine the shame I felt.

She responded almost immediately and she couldn't have been more welcoming and kind. She didn't treat me like a know-nothing newbie, but listened to my question with patience. She walked me through my first Larrie breakdown. (I've since learned that breaking down is a rite of passage in the fandom.) I now consider her a friend. Always in my heart @twopoppies. Yours sincerely, @Apparentlybychance.

<Insert one of may fav Harry and Louis pics to make sure you're still paying attention>:

Now onto the good stuff: the romance of it all.

(One more tidbit: I'm also a novelist. No, I don't write fan fiction. I leave that to the professionals, but my day job does allow me to indulge in my passion which is writing stories. This is where our sweet boys had me.)

Do I blame Louis and Harry for the fact that I've devoted more time to them than cleaning my house the last few months?

Yes. Yes I do. I mean just LOOK at how stinkin' adorable they are. My god.

As a fiction writer, I see a story in everything and everywhere. When I found Harry and Louis' story and watched with my own two eyes the genuine love they had for each other, I jumped in feet first and landed too hard. I saw the heart eyes and infatuation of the baby boyfriends and was hopelessly lost in their story.

Harry...sugar, wow. Just wow. You were a mess falling all over yourself to impress and attract your golden, bright as the sun, idol. And Louis sweetie, bless your little heart. You spent at least a full year trying to convince yourself this beautiful creature with the soft curls and the potent pheromones that you called "his smell" was real.

We get it. We really do. You both were (are) so smitten. And that feral need to touch each other every waking moment developed into a settled, hard fought, partnership between two committed lovers by 2015. It was breathtaking to watch.

What's not to love about their love story?

That's where I went off the rails. Maybe you see yourself in this, too? Let's discuss.

Story is ingrained in our very beings as humans. Our ancestors verbally told stories to pass down traditions and legends from one generation to the next. This wasn't only because they hadn't invented the alphabet yet, but because they knew that story was the best way to get to the heart of a person. To captivate them.

Harry and Louis' captivated me because it has all the elements of a good story:

No. 1: Captivating protagonists. Exhibit A, Your Honor: Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles. Have you ever seen more gorgeous, sweeter, more talented, more adorable protagonists? No, me neither.

No. 2: Vitriol inducing villain(s): Simon Cowell/Modest Management/Syco. Do I have to say anything else? Here we have our villain, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. The evil entity who want to keep the lovers apart, cancel their love, and crush their sweet spirits because of greed and the strong possibility that Simon isn't getting any in his own life. (Bless.)

No. 3: Magic and glamour: This is the part where story reigns supreme. (Genuinely sorry if that word was triggering.) Here we have two members of a global popstar boy band that had a meteoric rise to fame. They are rich, gorgeous, uber talented and travel to places they can't even pronounce. Not to mention, they look amazing in every article of clothing that has the privilege to grace their bodies. Will they be able to defeat the villain and finally express their love for the whole world to see? Their story is swoon-worthy. No exaggeration.

With all the makings of a good story, we are mesmerized by our star-crossed lovers, raise our swords and vow to see them through to the end. Standing behind us, they will be rescued from the nasty villain and finally be free to ride off into the sunset together to make beautiful music and raise curly-haired, ocean-blue eyed, chubby babies together. And then the famous last words cross the final page of the book: And they lived happily ever after.

Let's all just bask in that moment for a second. Our boys are free to be whoever they want to be. TOGETHER. Isn't that the pinnacle? The climax?

Am I the only one who didn't find themselves right here in this story? I definitely did when I joined the fandom. I assumed that Harry and Louis' total goal was to free from their shackles and ride off into the sunset. Surely, it was imminent. Right?

A year later, I understood why I that was immature of me. I realized that this is no fairy tale and Louis and Harry are real people. They have ambitions and goals and passions and talent and yes, immense, mature love for their partner of over 12 years.

They've been generous to share their love with us and give us signs about when they were happy and signs when they were in distress and needed support. They are still so grateful for our love and support. But I think I have to realize that they aren't ready to ride off into the sunset with their little cherubs just yet. They still have stuff to do. Goals to achieve. Talent to use. And they've chosen to pursue it the ways we are watching. With (nausea inducing) stunts that help them create a story that sells to a wider audience. It's hard for me to watch them make decisions in their lives and careers that I don't agree with or even condone. But, hey, my teenagers do it all the time so why am I surprised?

What I personally need to do for my sanity as a forever Larrie is to learn to trust them. I need to learn to let them tell their own story in the way they want. And if they don't like how their new teams are trying to get them to sell themselves, I have to believe they are strong enough together to do what they need to do to change it - though it may take time. And I need to stop looking for the Happily Ever After just around the corner. I'm really working on this part because if I was writing this damn story, they would have lit a match, set fire to the industry and watched it burn a long time ago. But I digress...

These are some things I'm doing now to release my need for the Happily Ever After and still make me feel like I'm supporting them:

I'm taking their contagious affection, care, attentiveness, hot af sex life, and sappy love declarations and bringing that same energy to my personal relationship. So far, I'm getting a good response. (wink, wink)

Despite facing incredible industry adversity, Harry and Louis are both driven to create art that is as authentic to themselves as possible while realizing that they also have to create something that other people want to buy. I've started applying that philosophy to my own art (my writing) and am releasing the fear of not being good enough. It's made for some interesting stories!

I've reached out to a local organization in my area that supports LGBTQI+ teenagers to support them in a volunteer capacity. I'm not queer myself, but I'm a good listener and I have some skills I can share to help the organization tell their story and build support. Maybe I can't take on a multi-billion dollar industry like the f-ing music industry, but by putting my time into supporting queer teens in my area, I can do something in the name of closeted queer artists all over the world.

I think it goes without saying that I'm also still on Tumblr reading all the posts from all my favorite bloggers enjoying "everything Louis and Harry" both together and individually. Maybe someday I'll get that Happily Ever After. ❤

[donnerpartyofone]

I can't believe I'm about to do this. I mean don't get too excited, it's not interesting, I'm just forced to talk about it because that's the only power I have in this stupid situation.

A couple weeks ago I was prescribed this new asthma medication, even though my problem is almost definitely from muscular-skeletal pressure but nobody can figure that out yet, so for now I just have this inhaler so I'm not constantly suffocating. The first time I took it at the recommended dosage I had a bad panic attack that took me out for an entire day. I reduced the dosage so I didn't feel dangerously insane anymore, but it still causes my fucking rosacea to go completely out of control, which is not really something I can just ignore; it drives me crazy that insurance companies just treat rosacea like it's some fancy cosmetic issue, as if it doesn't affect your entire life when your skin is visibly deteriorating at an escalating rate, but that's another story... So anyway I have a giant bag of medications that either didn't work at all or actively harmed me (my typical experience with everything) that I haven't disposed of yet, so I dug around in there for a tube of Rhofade that like I don't even know how I got it because it's the premiere celebrity-endorsed thing and it's psychotically expensive, but anyway I decided to give it another shot because I'm desperate. First couple days it worked great. I thought all my problems were solved, except that I'd have to find a way to keep paying for it. Then it seemed not so great for a couple days. Then things started to get pretty rocky. I wondered if it had to do with not being careful enough in the sun or what, but I started to worry about the medication, so I did something that will sound insane, but oh well.

Months ago I complained to my GP that I was having a hard time finding a "real dermatologist" in the city, as opposed to a salesperson for predatory beauty treatments. I've been treated pretty badly by a variety of dermos over 15 years, I often had the feeling that I was neglected because I had a medical concern as opposed to like an expensive anti-aging concern or something. Sometimes a dermo advertises themselves as a medical professional, but when you get there you realize they're a glorified beautician and you're fucked. I went to a well-reviewed practice that's now called The Dermatology Specialists several times, and every time there was a mad rush to get rid of me. The actual head of the clinic saw me a couple times, and both times he came running at me with a needle without telling me what he was doing, to try to lance a mole that I wasn't there to discuss. One of these was right over my eye and you can imagine how scary this was. I eventually realized I didn't have to take that shit and swore him off. Years later when I decided to look for a dermo in my new neighborhood, I made an appointment at a "new" place that I realized too late was the same guy; he had rebranded and expanded his thing into a giant chain that's all over the city, like half or more of the dermos in my searches are attached to his practice and it's not always obvious until the appointment is made. Fuck. I thought, maybe things will be different at this location, I'm seeing a new person and I'm the only one in the waiting room, seems pretty chill. I actually had to get a mole removed that time. I sat down with the new doctor who frantically explained what she was going to do to me before saying "OK BYE!!!" and racing out the door, which she had almost closed all the way behind her before she remembered that she still had to actually do the procedure. I couldn't believe I'd fallen for this clinic's bullshit yet again!

So that's when I talked to my GP and she wrote me a referral for what I took to be a real doctor. His office was clean, simple, and unpretentious. When I got there, an exiting patient was thanking the doctor profusely for something, like from the depths of his soul. We sat down together and he calmly denounced all the lasers and other expensive snake oil that had been upsold to me over the years. He told me to scale back to just a basic Aveeno face wash and moisturizer, and I was so relieved that he wasn't some greedy hipster asshole...however. He also told me that the active ingredient in Afrin, an OTC decongestant nasal spray, has the same effects as the top of the line rosacea medication Rhofade, and many of his patients have success just applying it to their skin. I was so impressed that he wasn't trying to sell me anything, and that he was empowering me to just take care of my own shit at home, that I believed him.

So flashing forward to the past week: I use this new inhaler that I need if I want to breathe, my face blows up like a bomb, I try Rhofade and it seems to make things worse...and then I buy some Afrin and put it on. It pretty much burned my face off my skull. My skin was purple and my face completely changed shape for more than 24 hours. I thought, at least I have this cold pack that's made for faces, for swelling from dental surgery and shit (it was recommended to me by my TMJ specialist who is also fucking with me right now but that's another story). I applied it, and it made everything a thousand times worse than it had ever been. I had to cancel all my plans. I took Tylenol, antihistamines, drank tons of water, whatever I thought would help. A colloidal oatmeal-based moisturizer kind of did something for me, but not remotely enough. It's a couple days later, now, and I'm still not completely over it, and I'm having random intense and painful flareups. I've never had exactly this problem before. And by the way "just using a moisturizer" has not helped anything at all this entire time, even though it's the advice I always get (sometimes VERY rudely) no matter what I say. Dry skin is not my problem, someone could tell just from touching it. Just being mindful of the sun and trigger foods and shit is not the answer. I know there's something else going on and like nobody cares to find out.

So anyway I'm having a followup appointment with my GP to explain all this...and in the meantime I'm going back to the fucking snake oil clinic. I just absolutely need something for right now, I don't know if it will be an antibiotic or what. I've spent years looking for a real medical dermatologist and I know I'm not going to just find one overnight, so I'm subjecting myself to more humiliation at the most convenient place, and I'll deserve whatever I get I guess. At least my appointment is with a guy I haven't seen before. Cross your fingers for me that he doesn't give me something else that just melts my face off of my face.

[raedear]

"Nicky? Nicky di Genova? Is that you?"

'Nicky? Nicky di Genova? Is that you?'

'Not on Wednesdays,' replied Nicky, without thinking, and without looking up from the tomatoes he was considering.

'I'm…sorry?'

Blinking, Nicky looked up.

A vaguely familiar man with a thick beard was staring at him.

'No,' said Nicky, 'I'm sorry. Work joke, I'm tired. Yes, I'm Nicky. Can I help you?'

He really was very familiar. He got more familiar when his mouth twisted at the corner and his expression became more uncomfortable with every second. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nicky beat him to it.

'Joe al-Kaysani.'

Joe looked relieved for a split second, before looking more uncomfortable than ever.

'Yeah,' he said, slowly. 'Yeah, it's me. How…how have you been?'

Fifteen years ago Nicky walked away from Joe and promised himself he wouldn't think about him again. He hadn't been hugely successful; thoughts of their last conversation tended to haunt him as he tried to fall asleep, one of several crushingly embarrassing memories he couldn't quite shake. In his memories though, Joe was a weedy teenager with a patchy beard and adolescent acne.

The Joe standing in front of him was a man grown; tall and strong and beautiful.

And Nicky was in Aldi on his one day off wearing his scruffiest jeans and a beanie to cover the fact he hadn't showered yet.

'Good,' said Nicky, faintly. 'I've been… I've been good. You?'

'Good,' said Joe, too quickly. 'Yeah. Things have been…good.'

There was a long, intensely awkward silence. Nicky was starting to crush one of the tomatoes in his hand, but he couldn't seem to stop.

'I saw the posters,' Joe said eventually. 'For your concerto series? The royal Albert hall is a beautiful venue. Did you… did you go to-?'

'The royal academy,' Nicky said, through Joe's stuttering question. 'I did, yes. Did you go to Julliard, in the end?'

A muscle twitched in Nicky's jaw. He knew Joe saw it; could see how Joe's eyes lingered on it.

'I did.'

The world of professional classical musicians was vanishingly small, but by virtue of their different instrument families, Nicky had managed to avoid Joe professionally all this time. He knew though, that Joe had been successful in bridging the gap between classical and modern violin, and his tours continually sold out. Andy had accompanied him a few times.

The silence thickened between them again. Joe looked painfully uncomfortable now, and Nicky knew his own face well enough to know that his expression was stony and cold in his embarrassment.

'It was…nice to see you,' Nicky said eventually, when he couldn't take it anymore. It didn't feel great to have to walk away from Joe in humiliation again, but he'd survived it once before. He could do it again. 'Goodbye, Joe.'

Nicky dropped the slightly bruised tomatoes in his basket and started to walk away, already restructuring his shopping list in his head to account for having to blanch and cook the tomatoes sooner than he expected.

'Nicky—Nicky wait,' Joe said, moving suddenly. He grabbed Nicky's arm gently to stop him, and dropped it immediately when Nicky looked at him sharply. 'Sorry, I'm sorry, please just—wait.'

'What.'

'I just,' Joe stopped, swallowed hard. 'I… I wanted to apologise to you. I've wanted to for a long time.'

Nicky blinked at him. Joe carried on, but there was a ringing in Nicky's ears he couldn't hear over.

'No,' said Nicky, interrupting whatever Joe was trying to say. 'No, thank you, but no. That's not necessary.'

'Nicky—' Joe looked stricken, but Nicky had had enough humiliation for a lifetime.

'Goodbye, Joe.' Nicky said again, stressing the words.

Joe's eyes shone, even under the shitty supermarket lights, but Nicky was done. He turned and walked away without another word, leaving Joe firmly in the past.

Keep in mind you asked for this when you're cursing my name

Part one

Part three

Send first line prompts here

[mooifyourecows]

What typically gives you inspiration to write your stories? How do they become fully developed concepts after you gat hit with inspiration?

I'll get inspiration from anything tbh. Dreams, videogames, movies, tv shows, books, other fics, songs, something i saw at the grocery store, etc. Sometimes I just have a character or relationship dynamic that i want to write and build around that.

I'll think up a new story idea almost every other week. Not all of them become something though lol some of them are just a flash in a pan idea that i quickly forget about/abandon because i just can't really sink my teeth into it, you know?

When i do have an idea that i want to pursue, it slowly grows into fully developed concepts over the course of weeks or months. I keep notes in my phone and add to them when ideas come to me. Eventually, when the story is starting to hold water, I'll make a playlist for it because having that musical connection really helps me develop even more of the story/character/mood. I've changed whole story ideas because the playlist i put together had a different vibe from my original plan haha it's VERY vital to my creation process. which is why everyone should listen to my story playlists because THEY'RE IMPORTANT AND REALLY DRIVE HOME THE VIBE! (ehhh some of them are more important than others. some are mostly for my own benefit, having certain music playing while i'm writing to keep the mood/voice)(but still)(pls like my playlists, i put a lot of effort into them)

I'm not the type of writer who can get an idea and then just write it. (if those types of writers even exist. do they exist?) I really take my time planning stuff out. I have several stories/story ideas that I've been consistently thinking up and jotting down notes on for literal years. I think of a lot of really great stuff when i give myself the time to do it. And I'd miss out on absolute gold if I just sat down and wrote them the instant I had enough to make a story.

Some stories do grab me immediately though. Like recently I got an idea for a new DaiSuga fic and I've very excitedly spat out 12k words in the past two-ish weeks. In cases like this, the story just fleshes itself out so perfectly that I can't help but get it out of my head. I might hit a block on it soon and have to put it on the backburner until I figure out a way around it, but for now, I'm just putting whatever I can onto the page, regardless of how good it is.

And a lot of the time, it's garbage, you know? I just write total trash. Boring dialogue, zero description, scenes that cut off in the middle because I don't know how to progress to the next one, etc. Most of my stories are in this horrible Pre-Frankenstein state where it's just pieces and parts I have to figure out how to sew together and shoot some life into them so they move the way I want them to. And sometimes that takes a long time to accomplish, so they just kinda sit in my wip folder, waiting for me to get the sudden motivation to dust them off and fix them up. (or on occasion, restart from page one)

I'm really not super organized or professional or anything. I just think things and I write them down so I don't forget. Somehow they manage to fit together into something people want to read. It helps that I'm constantly watching movies/TV or reading. Once you get a really good feel of how stories of all different genres work, you can make your own. And I can't really say for sure how good of a writer I am, I definitely don't think I'm on the same level as a lot of writers that I've read, both in fandom and in original fiction. I can see how my vocabulary, grammar, description, etc doesn't hold up to those people. But if there's one thing I know I can do, and feel confident in my ability to do, it's telling a story.

I may not be able to describe a setting but boy howdy can I tell a story 🫵

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #32

Did you know that in my world, there's such a thing as professional merfolk?

And did you know that not too terribly long ago, I was training to become one?

I imagine you must be terribly confused; "Lumine, what in Gaia's vast, green expanses do you mean by 'professional merfolk'?" you might be asking. So I'll send along a couple videos and some images of me training, so that you'll understand:

I even had an account on Instagram called MerrowAuryn, to document my various shenanigans. It's got videos of me diving, pictures of the various fishies (and even a turtle!) that I befriended on my adventures, and pictures of other neat things that I happened across while derping around in the water. It's still there, but... I don't really use it anymore...

There is an aquarium within reasonable driving distance from my house. They occasionally put on merfolk shows, where a person gets into this sort of costume and performs for anyone nearby who wants to watch. I was training by myself and building up a kind of portfolio of videos and images, with the intention of becoming strong enough to perform in an aquarium tank in this kind of heavy gear for up to 8 hours every day.

I was apnea training, too - my personal best time for holding my breath had gotten all the way up to four and a half minutes. Apnea training involves holding one's breath in cycles to build up a person's tolerance for high carbon dioxide levels and low oxygen levels in the blood. It also pushes the limits of how far one can expand and contract their lungs. Real professional merfolk can hold their breath for five minutes or more. And then you get professional freedivers, who can hold theirs for up to 8 minutes! It's really quite amazing!

For a decent span of time, I had been spending several hours a day, nearly every day, swimming in the heavy costume that you saw in the videos and images above. I apnea trained with a carbon dioxide table every two days. I was improving quickly, and I was feeling pretty confident!

…And then I had to stop. As it turns out, I have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. This is a genetic defect of a person's collagen that makes it fragile and way too stretchy. I'm sure you know this already, but collagen is what builds things like our skin and our cartilage and all our connective tissue; tendons, ligaments, all the things that keep our organs in place, all that fun stuff.

If you have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, then your cartilage has a hard time keeping your bones together, because it is built with cheap knockoff collagen; there's no cure. I'm also dyspraxic, so often enough, when I move my limbs, my body doesn't like to tell me how far is too far; things are prone to coming undone for me, but up until this point, I've been accustomed to things popping back into place without it being a big deal.

Well… I guess this time, it was a big deal. And unfortunately, we're not sure what exactly came undone, or it if came undone due to moving around vigorously while holding my breath in the tight costume, or perhaps by expanding or contracting my ribcage too far while apnea training, or the length and frequency of my training exacerbating an already-existing injury. The set of bones, tendons, and ligaments that keep the shoulder joint together (ribs, collarbone, scapula, parts of the neck, and the humerus…) is… well… it's a lot. There's a lot of moving parts to it. And as I'm sure you already know, if even one part of it is compromised, the rest of it falls apart pretty quickly; it's annoying like that.

Regardless of the cause, the fact remains that I've lost most pain-free use of my right arm, and most movements that involve my neck, diaphragm, and ribs also hurt. Though I've been seeing fancy doctor people and going to Physical Therapy for a over a year now, no one really knows exactly what's wrong or how to fix it. My right arm is my dominant arm, so naturally, this means that, while I still can kinda-sorta do the things I love (like cooking and weaving trees and and various other stuff), it hurts a lot to do these things now, so I can't do them nearly as often as I used to. And… I haven't been back in the water meaningfully since. I miss it more than I know how to say.

But that's the way things go, sometimes, right? You grow up and you find out that being able to bend and twist in abnormal, eldritch ways is an ACTUAL PROBLEM™, and not just a cool party trick. Nothing for it but to keep trying to figure it out and fix it, and try to stay positive in the meantime.

So on the one hand… I haven't been able to be in the water in a very long time now. But on the other hand, it gives me lots and lots of time to do other things. Like for example, I can write to you, and that's pretty neat, right? I wouldn't have the time or the energy for this if I was still training in the water for 3 or 4 hours every day.

…When bad things happen, it's surely important to take the time to mourn those things. But it's also important to reframe certain things so that you don't stay in mental/emotional agony forever. It's important to find reasons to still be grateful, even if certain other things are kinda lame. Like me, right now; I'm quite literally kinda lame, hahahaha!

I wonder if you like to swim. If you enjoy it, then have you been able to go do it? And if you enjoy it, but haven't been able to do it, do you miss it? I wonder…

Anyhoot. I suppose I better wrap up this letter now. I have some friends picking me up for a get-together fairly soon, and I have to make sure I haven't gone and forgotten anything (ah, the perils of having poor working memory and only barely functional object permanence, hahaha!). I've gone and prepared a few simple tasty snacks for the occasion; one of those snacks is the confit garlic that I had written to you about before, and I'm pretty excited to share it with these nice folks!

May you find reasons to remain grateful, even when your situation gets really weird. Don't succumb to despair. Don't let the difficulties of your everyday challenges get you down. Remember that you're smart and strong and capable and so very, very loved. And please stay safe out there as you do your various things, okay?

I'll write again soon, as I always do.

Your friend, Lumine

[catharsisxf]

'Tis the Season

Rating: T

Prompt: Running into an ex at a Christmas party

AO3 link

_______________________

"Remind me again why we're here?"

Scully playfully nudged him as they stood in the center of a large hotel ballroom. People in formal wear mingled about, stopping at various tables situated around the edges to place their bids.

Skinner had informed them they'd won (lost?) the lottery this year to staff the charity silent auction the FBI sponsored annually. Most agents were thrilled at the chance to spend an evening dressed up and mingling with the DC elite...but they weren't most agents.

Although Scully initially balked at the idea of spending a precious Saturday night at a work function she admitted she didn't hate the fact that they weren't off on some case hundreds of miles from home so close to Christmas.

She stole a glance at her partner as he surveyed the crowed warily. She'd second guessed herself when she put on the black floor length gown with an asymmetrical neckline earlier this evening. But any doubts were erased when Mulder stopped by to pick her up and his jaw practically hit the floor. She'd blushed and told him he didn't look so bad himself. Which was the understatement of the century. He looked devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo.

He looked at her then, a smile forming on his lips. "What?"

Their relationship had been teetering toward something the past few months. She could feel it. In the past she would've been embarrassed to be caught staring at him so blatantly but she simply shook her head slightly and smiled back at him.

After a beat, he grazed her shoulder and motioned to the bar at the far end of the ballroom. "I'm going to grab us a couple drinks."

"Mulder, we're working," she gently admonished.

"Hey, 'tis the season," he winked.

She watched as he purposefully made his way through the crowd.

"Dana!"

She turned and her eyes widened as she saw a familiar face approach. "Daniel? But...what are you doing here?"

"I'm on the Board of Directors at GW University Hospital. Moved here a few years ago." His eyes skimmed her from top to bottom and back again before adding, "You look fantastic." She caught the subtle predatory gleam in his eye that made her uneasy. "You know," he continued, "I've been to several of these but it's the first time I've seen you here."

"Well, I don't usually attend these types of functions."

"Ah yes, you're busy saving the world through...what was it I read?...investigations into the paranormal?" He gave her a sarcastic smirk.

She considered the man before her. Was he any different than the one she'd left all those years ago? The self-assuredness that she'd once found appealing just felt patronizing to her now. Nothing like Mulder, she thought. Even when he didn't fully trust her in the beginning there was still respect. He had questioned her motives for staying too but it came from a place of concern and, dare she admit it, love.

Just then her partner appeared at her side carrying two flutes of champagne and she quickly grabbed one. "Oh! Um...Daniel this is Agent Fox Mulder. Mulder, this is Dr. Daniel Waterston. He was my...professor in medical school."

She could see the older man sizing him up as they shook hands. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a way that sounded like he was anything but. "I was just discussing with Dana how her talents are being wasted at the FBI."

She saw a slight tensing of Mulder's jaw that would be imperceptible to anyone who hadn't known him as long as she had. "Actually, I'd say it's a perfect fit. Her medical expertise is critical to the success of our division."

Daniel scoffed at him, "Right, I'm sure chasing aliens and monsters is exactly what she'd hoped to be doing at this point in her career." He turned his attention back to her. "You know, I'd really like the chance to reconnect...both professionally and personally."

On instinct she grasped Mulder's free hand with her own. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea." She looked up at her partner as he raised his eyebrows slightly. She sincerely hoped their unspoken communication wouldn't fail her now.

Daniel's eyes narrowed as he waved his hand vaguely between them. "So you two are..."

"Together, yes," Scully interrupted him before he could put a label on it.

"I assumed you were just coworkers."

Mulder, not missing a beat, simply stated, "Well, we're not just coworkers although we certainly started out that way. She means more to me than I can ever truly express."

His voice had dropped to almost a whisper as if the last sentence was meant only for her. He brought their interlaced fingers to his lips to place a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She blushed from head to toe under the intensity of his gaze and she felt the air crackle with energy between them.

After what felt like an eternity Daniel cleared his throat. "Well...good seeing you, Dana." She was only vaguely aware of him retreating back into the crowd.

Mulder absently rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. "So...old friend of yours?"

"Not really," she smiled affectionately at him.

A waiter passed them and they took the opportunity to place their untouched champagne flutes on the tray.

She decided right then she wouldn't be content to wait and see when the teetering would finally send them over the edge. Their hands still entwined, she pulled him determinedly towards the ballroom exit.

"What are you doing?" he asked, amusement in his voice.

She slowed only long enough to give him a heated look. "Giving fate a push."