freakypumpkin:

I thought about Magnus’ first meeting with the Chairman, from the Chairman’s POV :3 I just have those moods sometimes. ^^ Not beta’d.

-+-

My world is cold and white. Little balls falling from the blue-blue sky. Cold water, co cold. Humans pass me by. Only a few eyes find me, but they never stay. Many ears are simply annoyed.

Meow. Meow.

I’m cold, always been cold. My world is cold and white and sometimes black. Winter. Winter. Snow. Poor kitten. Words are drifting by. Fading smiles. I wonder what humans see when they look at the sky. Do they see the same blue color? So blue, so far away, too far away to be a part of my world.

Meow. Meow.

I’m watching little white balls dancing in the air. Take me with you. Are you cold like me? I want to play with you.

Meow.

My world. So cold. So white. Sometimes black. So lonely. Blue-blue sky turns darker, turns almost black. Less humans pass my little place, my world. Less eyes to see me. Less smiles to be thrown my way.

Meow. Meow.

Suddenly I am warm. Suddenly there’s a chuckle. I like the sound. Suddenly there are colors. So many, flooding my world. And eyes, only looking at me, staying with me. So different, much nicer than all the others.

“Are you cold, little guy?”

Meow. Meow. Not anymore. Don’t go.

Little stars. Every color. So warm. My world isn’t cold anymore. My world isn’t white anymore. Now I there is my very own smile, only for me, not fading. Now there are ears, that aren’t annoyed. 

Meow. Nice human. Colorful and warm. A part of my world. 

ilikeyouxactually:

This is super cute honestly and I’m sorry that it’s late (the day after Valentine’s Day, welp). But here’s what I think Oliver would have planned for a cute Valentine’s date. Enjoy.

Valentine’s Day was never a holiday that Connor liked or even looked forward to. It was sappy, and just an excuse for couples to act even more gushy than they normally did. And “couples” wasn’t a thing that Connor did. The idea of commitment was terrifying and horrific. After so long of just doing what he wanted, and not making a conscious effort to “settle down” with an actual boyfriend, he just grew to detest the idea even more. That is, until Oliver. They weren’t dating. They weren’t boyfriends. They never determined what they were. They were a possible something. Connor didn’t know what that something was, but until then, he wanted to stick around.

They were still seeing each other without really “seeing” each other. A few times during the week, they would get together—usually at Oliver’s apartment—and have dinner and watch a movie or play some video games. That was the routine. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but Connor always looked forward to the days where he went over to Oliver’s. And today, Valentine’s Day, wasn’t supposed to be any different. Only it was different. Oliver had texted Connor, telling him to meet him at the Starbucks on 2nd by the park. When Connor read the message, he was confused at first, but decided to not question it. Getting coffee wasn’t a spectacular thing. It was coffee. Coffee was fine.

Connor decided to walk to Starbucks, it being close to his apartment, there was no sense in driving. The chilly weather, and faint snow made him justify bundling up. He always got cold easily, even as a kid. His mom would always scold him, telling him to dress warmly, but he would just be defiant and refuse, only to regret the decision in the end. He would shiver and blow on his hands, covering his face in an attempt to keep warm. But he wasn’t going to do that today. Even Oliver has scolded him for not dressing warm enough. He slipped on his favorite black coat and a scarf, staring intently at the gloves on his dresser, contemplating. He probably didn’t need them. It wasn’t that cold out, and if it did get cold, then he could just put his hands in his pocket. He gave the gloves a once over one more time before deciding to ditch them.

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jaydeemz:

dolanx said:Coliver Valentine Prompt: creme brulee 🙂

Here you go, darling. I hope you like it! Just a little warning, it becomes very very slightly NSFW for like… one line (no clothes are removed), but you should all be warned to be careful of who walks behind you when you read this. 😉

Anyways, enjoy! And happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! xo

***

“Oliver.” The IT technician bit his lip to keep from smiling at the stern tone of his boyfriend’s voice. He continued wiping down the counter, ignoring the heavy silence that hung in the kitchen, and struggled to keep his composure. After a few moments of near torture, he finally folded the washcloth in a square, placing it by the sink before pushing his glasses further up his nose, still refusing to face the other man.

“Oliver, I said—”“That you hate Valentine’s Day,” Oliver replied in an even voice, feeling the laughter threaten to emerge as he looked as far away from Connor as he could. He exhaled loudly to keep the grin away. “I know. We’re not celebrating anything.”

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ohcaptainmycaptain1918:

Hahaha yeah sure, here you go. The following is NSFW:

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sulkybbarnes:

sulkybbarnes:

The lovely monicashipscoliver prompted me “X marks the spot!” for the valentinescoliver challenge and I made that into a Pirates!AU. I really hope you like this, hon, and happy late Valentine’s Day!
Read on AO3

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up the moment he heard Connor’s
request.

“You can’t be serious,” The scribe announced with a shake of
his head. “Both you and I know that you don’t need me out there, Connor. You’re
amongst Keating’s best sailors, you can hold your own in a fight and you can
definitely read a map.”

“Aye, princeling, that’s all true and well but I’m not
asking you to defend my honor or lead us there. Just to keep me company along
the way.” Connor assured with his most disarming smile on display but Oliver remained
a tough crowd. He raised his eyebrows again skeptically and continued to
scribble in his journal, which prompted Connor to add, “You can also read a map
far better than I can.”

“If it’s maps you’re worried about then ask Gibbins or
Castillo. They have more experience with this than I.” Oliver sighed, his lips
twitching when Connor pouted at the response. “I’m no pirate, Connor, just a
scribe. That was the deal from the start; no stealing and no fighting for me.”

“You’re able to kick half of the men and women on this ship
into oblivion,” Connor protested.

“That,” Oliver pointed out with a grin. “Is beside the
point. Why can’t you ask anyone else to accompany you, at any rate?”

“It’s that fucking time of the year again.” Connor muttered.
He hated the Romans and their ridiculous traditions. Who needed a day to
celebrate love and its glory when you could hit yourself with the hilt of a
sword and feel the same way. Love was just one big flower scented, silken lined
bile of shit and Connor didn’t believe in it for a second. Or so he kept
telling anyone who’d listen. “Most people I tolerate are either celebrating it
or drinking themselves into a stupor because of it. The rest I can’t
take to shore because I might strangle them and burn the bodies, and the
Captain won’t be pleased with that.”

“And you won’t strangle me if I go with you?” Oliver asked
with a small smile, his eyes flitting momentarily to Connor’s and then back to
his parchment. They had been at this game for over a year; the one where Connor
tried his advances at Oliver but didn’t push too hard, and Oliver played along
with hesitant smiles and occasional blushes. Connor equally hated and loved
their little arrangement.

“No,” Connor shrugged, a hint of warmth coloring his cheeks.
“You’re one of the few ones I tolerate. I might even like you, actually. Just a
little.”

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wesgibbinns:

• for my lovebug, conwalshs, happy valentine’s day, cutie pie!
• i really hope you like this sappy mess xoxo

Connor lights the final candle, annoyed with himself for the sudden case of nerves running rampant through him. Never in his life did he think he’d actually be doing something like this. The idea always seemed laughable, that one day of the year could reduce a person to sentimental mush but here he is, going above and beyond for a holiday he never thought he’d feel inclined to celebrate.

He looks over at his work, proud of the ambiance he was able to achieve. If it weren’t for the candles he’d be standing in sheer darkness but intimacy is the effect he’s going for this evening.

The sound of keys at the door takes his attention away. He waits with bated breath as Oliver lets himself into his apartment and closes the door behind him.

“Oh, great,” Oliver mutters, flipping the switch on and off before giving up and sighing. It takes a beat for him to notice the glow, Connor discerns.

He remains perfectly still, feeling a bit foolish to be standing there, practically in the dark but for Oliver, Connor has been learning there’s just about nothing he wouldn’t do. He draws in a breath, hearing the motion of Oliver stepping further inside and rounding the corner.

Oliver freezes at the site of Connor decked out in a fine suit and bouquet of roses in his hands, rooted before a perfectly set dinner table.

Connor smiles at him, taking in the shocked expression of the other man and the warm grin that etches into his features. He can’t see his eyes, however— the reflection of the candles doing a good job of obscuring his view but Connor feels safe in thinking that Oliver just might be tearing up.

“Connor…what is all of this?” Oliver asks in disbelief, tentatively coming closer.

“According to my calendar, it’s February fourteenth so I’m thinking it’s Valentine’s Day.”

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past-and-future-queen:

Inspired by the text post: have you ever felt that tension with someone where out of nowhere you just want to grab them, kiss them and make them beg, make them ask for more. their eyes and body drive you nuts and you just want them and you’ll do anything to get them, touch them, hear them, own them and you know you just crave for them and it’s like your life depends on it and you will never get enough

---

Connor didn’t know what a junkie felt like. A confident man on his way to success – yes. A seductive gay man on the prowl – fuck yes. A man emotionally run through the meat grinder until all that’s left is a trembling mess at six in the morning … yes. But not a junkie.

Honestly, Connor had no idea where the stupid excuse of drugs came from when he arrived at Oliver’s door that morning. He was Connor fucking Walsh for Christ’s sake. He had enough common sense to know to stay away from drugs if he ever wanted to be a successful lawyer.

If that wasn’t enough, If even the slightest whiff of drugs came from his general direction, his sister would bring the Spanish Inquisition to the twenty-first century, history be damned.

Gemma was fully accepting of his sexuality and wasn’t overbearing at all like some older siblings tended to be. But she sure as Hell would stop Connor from ruining his life and badly influencing her two sons.

He was almost offended that Oliver had so readily believed him in the first place. Then again, considering the way he had acted that night, and the fact that he hadn’t ever shared much of himself outside of the bedroom, it made sense that Oliver would believe him. Besides, it wasn’t like he could actually tell Oliver the truth about what happened.

God – Oliver.

Oliver was too good for him. Sure, he wasn’t the most handsome man Connor had ever slept with. But God, was he attractive. Not in outward appearance, but how he continuously drew Connor back again and again.

One of the many great qualities of Oliver was his honesty. He was honest in every aspect of his life, and not a single manipulative thought existed on his body. Connor had checked. Thoroughly.

It was in the way he clenched his hands around you during sex – pouring himself to bring you pleasure just as much as he did himself, if not more. It lay in the way his entire face lit up when he smiled, or how you would tell exactly what he was thinking simply in the way he looked at you. There were no personal agendas hiding behind smooth and practiced lines meant to seduce and entice. Even when he was doing illegal hacking for Connor, he did it in the belief that it was the right thing to do. Every moment spent with Oliver, whether it was at a bar or the couch or the bedroom, he was always honest and he was always present.

That’s another thing that made Oliver attractive. If Connor is feeling particularly poetic, he might even say that Oliver was like a planet. He orbits the solar system, doing his own thing and basically not messing with anyone. Some people stay away, choosing to stay close to home, and others venture closer to surround him, intrigued by something other people didn’t get to see. As you get closer, the pull of gravity drags you further and further down.

Connor guessed this was similar to the appeal of getting high. It was a consistent pull that you can never get enough of. The drug does not offer false promises; it’s utterly honest and doesn’t hide anything. And if you leave, even if it’s for a long time, you end up coming back almost as though the entire thing is inevitable.

That’s how he felt about Oliver, sometimes. Just out of the blue Oliver would do something like laugh at some geeky movie he rented, or struggle to hide a smile after Connor makes a particularly clever comment, and Connor would be overcome with the bone-deep desire to kiss him. The need to grab him, kiss him, feel Oliver’s skin under his hands and make him beg, listening to his desperate gasps for more as they drown into each other’s sea. It’s as though Connor’s very life depends on him getting that fix, of being able to do all of that and more – to be able to just hold him, grab his hand, look into each other’s souls and accept what is there for better or for worse, and for once not worrying about the fact that Connor will never be good enough to deserve him.

But he can’t take that, at least not now. Because if he did, Oliver would never forgive him, and he would leave. By doing that, Connor would destroy himself.

So he supposed that in a way, Connor did know what being a junkie felt like.

fakebaked:

guacs-deactivated20170408:

a moment’s deliberation (ao3: x)
Connor’s falling apart, and Oliver doesn’t want to play the bad guy.
Coda to 1×12.

“I don’t want to be a lawyer anymore.”  

The words break the silence of the apartment, and Oliver wonders when he got used to a quiet Connor, one who turns up at his apartment with few reasons and even fewer words. It takes a moment for the words to register and Oliver almost drops the book he was reading, unable to comprehend what Connor’s just told him.

Connor doesn’t want to be a lawyer anymore. Connor took four years of prelaw, overworked himself for an internship under a tyrant with questionable practices and even more questionable morals, slept with strangers to get an edge on cases and Connor doesn’t want to be a lawyer anymore.

“What?” Oliver looks over at Connor, whose eyes are trained resolutely on the floor. Connor’s newest habit (but certainly not his most dangerous); Oliver can’t remember the last time Connor actually looked him in the eyes.  

“I don’t-” Connor’s words catch, break off, and Oliver can tell by the way he’s staring at the floor that the law student is seeing something other than the carpet in front of him. "I don’t want to be a lawyer. Or a law student. Or work for Annalise fucking Keating anymore. I just don’t.”  

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ramblesandreblogs:

ramblesandreblogs:

I don’t even know you guys…

It’s the smell of smoke that’s bugging him.

Oliver picks up his phone to check for new messages, zero, and fiddles with it in his hand. He’s a little keyed up; he’s been a little keyed up for a while now. He clicks play on the video again and the local news theme chimes out of the tablet speakers. He aims for detached as he watches the segment again. It’s his sixth time through and he’s not sure what he’s hoping will be different this time around.

The solemn reporter explains that they found the body of Connor’s boss’s husband. His body was burned and disfigured. Separated into trash bags and thrown out with the rest of the garbage to end up in a landfill. The victim had been reported missing weeks ago. The police are actively investigating and have no suspects they’d like to announce at this time. Everyone is still being considered.

Oliver remembers the victim had been reported missing the day Connor showed up on his doorstep tweaking out. The office calling him into work to help handle the burgeoning crisis had been what pulled Connor away before the two of them had a chance to talk. What an unfortunate twist of timing.

Oliver remembers how the scent of smoke lingered in his apartment and the hallway for hours after Connor left. He’d had to wash the set of towels Connor used twice to get the trace of firewood and ash and something else that Oliver couldn’t quite place out of the cotton. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Everyone knew it was the night of the Middleton bonfire and everyone who wasn’t a nineteen-year-old college student also knew to give the blocks that make up Middleton a wide berth on that night.  Connor didn’t strike Oliver as the school spirit type but still Connor could have stopped by. It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. It was horrible that the victim’s body had been burned the same night of the Middleton bonfire. What a terrible coincidence.  

Oliver remembers hacking into the Department of Transportation database to help Connor in proving the victim could have been in Philly that fall night in time to kill that poor girl. He’d handed over the information with little fanfare but Connor had been suitably impressed. “Jesus Oliver. Is there anything you can’t hack?” “Quite a number of things I imagine.” “I know but—I mean—what about— like traffic cameras?” “You don’t think the tolls are going to be enough evidence?” “No—not for this case. Just in general, do you think you could hack into a traffic camera—for like fun or something?” Oliver’d been puzzled at that. What an odd question.

Alone, none of this means anything, he tells himself. Hell, none of it put together means anything. But still…

And now Connor isn’t answering his texts or calls. Connor, who once texted Oliver from the table on the middle of a date to ‘Hurry it up’ getting their next round from the bar, is avoiding him.

It’s all just a little strange, he thinks as he calls Connor’s cell again. Hanging up as the voicemail message starts (he’s already left three messages that have gone unanswered, what’s the point of leaving another one), Oliver pushes replay on the news segment and watches it all again.

Just a little strange.

monicashipscoliver:

(based on this post!)

“What I’m trying to say is… Ollie.” Connor takes a breath. It’s shaky. He must have really practiced that. “Will you marry me?”

Oliver forces his smile wider. “Of course, I will, Connor!”

The other ice cream shop patrons burst into applause. Behind the ice cream counter, their waiter starts to scoop up two fresh cones.

Oliver thanks everyone at the tables around them before turning to face Connor’s chair again. But Connor isn’t in the chair. He’s still on his knee beside their table. Still holding up that fake ring.

Oliver leans down and kisses him on the cheek. “That was a good one, baby,” he says, voice low. “Did you see that speech on tv or something?”

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