st. perpetual

S. Maria de Perpetuo Succursu

The shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in the Redemptorist church of St Mary in Clapham, London.

The icon was sent to London from Rome in the late 19th century and is a true copy of the original venerated in the church of St Alphonsus.

Delicates

*Pynch Laundry Mat AU, Part 3

Adam has a rare day off work and he sleeps in, waking up slow and lazy. The apartment above St. Agnes is perpetually warm during the summer meaning that more often than not Adam sleeps naked, waking up with the sheets pushed to the side of the mattress or strewn on the floor. Today the sheets are kicked to the end of the bed but Adam still feels hot and stifled. He realizes that he’s been hugging his pillow to his chest, curled up in the fetal position. He uncurls and settles the pillow beneath his head. Maybe it’s the heat or a combination of getting more sleep than usual albeit not restful sleep, but Adam does not want to get out of bed. He has no plans other than catching up on schoolwork but that can wait. Idly he wonders what Ronan is doing. He pulls his phone to him and goes to his contacts and considers his next course of action.

He could call Ronan or text him. He mentally composes several messages but they all sound banal or too friendly. He and Ronan aren’t friends; he doesn’t know what they are but he knows Ronan’s interested in him and he’s more than a little curious about Ronan. Adam turns over on his stomach and grins into his pillow. It’s probably a little scandalous to call Ronan while he’s naked in bed but he does it anyway, wanting to hear Ronan’s voice, wanting to see where this is going to go.

The phone rings several times and Adam waits, feeling impatient and nervous as the seconds pass. He checks the time on his phone: 10am. Ronan should be awake, right? Adam’s just about to give up when the call is answered though for several moments he’s greeted, not by a voice, but by a cacophony of sounds then, finally, a muted tirade of swearing. “Jesus fuck!” A muffled thud. “Bugger me sideways!” Scrambling. Adam snickers and rolls onto his back, his forearm draped over his eyes as he tries to imagine what’s happening on the other end.

“Lynch,” Ronan finally answers. His voice is hoarse, raspy, and Adam laughs again. “Fuck You? I mean, Adam?”

Adam covers his mouth to muffle his laugh before replying. “How did you know?”

“No one else would call me before noon.”

“Ah.” Adam grins and rubs his tired eyes. “Not an early riser?”

“Fuck no,” Ronan grumbles.

Adam waits for Ronan to say something, listening to Ronan’s uneven breaths. “What were you doing when I called? It was really loud.”

Ronan huffs and there’s the sound of a mattress creaking. Adam imagines Ronan trying to get comfortable in bed and he feels an unexpected thrill thinking about how they’re both in bed, talking. He wonders what Ronan’s wearing. He’s not going to ask. He’s not.

“I was sleeping,” Ronan complains. His voice is husky, probably from sleep. “Like I said, no one calls this early so when my phone rang I threw it at the wall and it ricocheted and went under my bed. I think I accidentally swiped to answer before I threw it so that’s why you heard everything.”

Adam chuckles softly. “Sorry to wake you. Should I hang up?”

“No!” Ronan’s answer comes swiftly and it surprises Adam. He cradles the phone to his ear, his chest flushing with warmth. “I mean… I’m awake now.”

“Okay,” Adam replies. That warm feeling is building, moving south. He shifts around as quietly as possible, back onto his stomach.

“Are you… are you…” Ronan stops and gives up. “When did you get up?”

“Hmm, not too long ago. I have today off so I slept in. Haven’t even gotten out of bed.”

Ronan is quiet for a beat too long before he answers. “Oh.” Adam presses his face against his pillow and bites down on the corner for a second. “So are you free today?”

“More or less. I have some stuff for school but not a lot. Are you free?” Adam’s heart has kicked up a few notches and his face feels hot.

“I’m always free,” Ronan answers quickly. “I mean, I’m not doing anything special today if you maybe want to hang out?”

Adam squeezes his pillow and kicks his feet against the mattress. “Yeah, that would be great,” Adam says. “I could meet you somewhere or did you have something in mind?”

There’s a strange noise coming through the phone. It sounds suspiciously like someone jumping up and down on a bed but Adam isn’t prepared to believe that Ronan Lynch is doing that.

“How about I pick you up and we’ll figure it out? I actually hate talking on the phone.”

Adam laughs. “But you gave me your number!”

“How the fuck were we going to talk otherwise?” Ronan asks. “I couldn’t very well give you a carrier pigeon.”

“There’s e-mail or social media,” Adam suggests.

The bouncing noises continue. “That’s even worse,” Ronan gasps into the phone.

“Agree to disagree,” Adam concedes. “Fine, come pick me up.”

“Where do you live?”

“Do you know St. Agnes?”

The line goes dead quiet for a moment before Ronan answers, “Yeah.”

“Well I live in an apartment above the church office.”

Ronan’s silent for several beats and then cackles loudly, right into the phone. Adam holds the phone away from his ear, squinting but still smiling. “Oh my God, are you fucking shitting me?” Ronan asks.

“No, I am not. By the way, did anyone ever tell you that you swear a lot?”

“Pfft,” Ronan scoffs. “My brother, all the damn time. I just… I go to mass at St. Agnes. Or I used to. Whatever. I know where it is.”

Adam nods even though he’s having a difficult time picturing Ronan sitting through a church service. He imagines what Ronan would look like in a dark suit and tie and… it’s a nice image.

“So,” Ronan’s voice breaks into his reverie and Adam startles like he’s been caught looking at something he shouldn’t. “I can pick you up in an hour? We could get something to eat?”

“Yeah. Yes. Perfect,” Adam fumbles his words, trying to regain his cool. “I just need to get dressed.”

“You’re not… not dressed?” Ronan’s voice suddenly sounds much rougher. Adam blushes even though Ronan can’t see him.

“Ah… not yet.”

“Oh.”

It’s stupid and Adam really shouldn’t ask but now he’s curious and he knows Ronan owns a lot of briefs… “Are you dressed?” Adam flips to his back, closing his eyes. It feels ridiculously hot in his apartment.

“I’m wearing briefs.” Ronan’s voice is deliberately teasing. Adam laughs quietly.

“Yeah? What color?”

“That’s a secret. Maybe you’ll find out later.”

Before Adam can think of a witty reply – his brain is, admittedly, not functioning at its best at the moment – Ronan hangs up.

Adam stares at his phone watching until the screen goes dark. He wipes the smudges off and finds that he can’t seem to slow his racing heart or cool the fire that’s burning under his skin. He gets up and heads to the tiny bathroom for a long, cold shower. He scrubs at his sensitive skin and wonders how talking to a guy he barely knows has got him all bothered.

—–

Ronan shows up punctually an hour later. Adam has spent most of that time fussing with his appearance even though he knows he’s being ridiculous. Ronan has seen him, both times, when he was disgustingly dirty and sweaty. Maybe that’s why he feels pressured to make a better impression this time around. He pulls at the neck of his shirt, feeling self-conscious in the plain white tee. Most of his clothes are in the laundry bag, again, so he has to settle on his khaki cargo pants. He examines his reflection in the small bathroom mirror and sighs. At least he’s not covered in grease or sporting fresh bruises. The knock at the door finally puts an end to his fidgeting and Adam hurries to answer it, feeling a rush of nerves.

Ronan is lounging against the railing that circles the tiny landing outside Adam’s apartment. He looks so effortlessly cool and handsome that it’s just not fair.

“Hey,” Adam says, smiling easily. He tells himself not to slouch against the doorjamb, does it anyway.

Ronan swallows and nods his head. His shoulders and cheekbones are flushed a very light pink that Adam finds endearingly attractive.

“Hey,” Ronan answers. He smiles a little and there it is – that too direct stare that caught Adam’s attention back at the laundry mat. It feels like a tractor beam, pulling him in. He’s out of the door before he realizes that he’s taken a step. Ronan’s grin is wider now, even his eyes – blue, blue eyes – are sparkling with amusement or attraction or… Adam runs out of adjectives.

“Breakfast?” Ronan asks. “Or, I guess it’s closer to lunch but fuck it.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah,” Adam replies, clearing his throat because why is he feeling this parched all of a sudden? His stomach growls unhelpfully. “Let me just lock up.”

Ronan heads down the stairs, each step creaking loudly under his weight. He waits at the bottom for Adam, posture relaxed, watching as Adam skips lightly down the steps; he’s figured out how to climb them without making a racket and he’s kind of proud of that.

The BMW is warm; the windows rolled all the way down, and in the passenger seat are two white paper bags, the bottoms and sides shiny with slowly spreading splotches of grease. Adam picks them up and takes a seat, pulling the seatbelt over his chest and fastening it. Ronan buckles up and starts the car; AC blasting out like an arctic blizzard, music loud enough that Adam wants to cover his ears. Ronan turns the music down and takes one of the bags from Adam.

“Breakfast is served!” Ronan declares. He pulls a pair of sunglasses from above the visor and puts them on. Adam stares at his reflection in the mirror-like lenses of the aviators. He’s kind of pleased to see that he doesn’t look as out of place as he feels. “You’re not like vegetarian or anything?” Ronan’s voice carries a hint of worry.

“Nope,” Adam answers, digging into the bag. Inside are a wrapped biscuit and a small container of potato wedges. Adam unwraps what turns out to be a hot and very greasy bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit. “Oh my God this looks so good,” Adam moans. “I haven’t had one of these since… I don’t even know.” He takes a big bite while Ronan watches with a pleased expression.

“I also got coffee. And water. And orange juice.” Ronan grabs a plastic bag full of cold bottles. Adam takes one of each, sticking them in the pocket of the door.

“Thanks,” Adam says. “It’s really nice of you to do all this.”

Ronan shrugs and unwraps his own biscuit before reversing out of the unpaved packing lot. “Well since I’m kidnapping you for the day I figured I needed to feed you first.”

Adam almost chokes on his biscuit. “You’re what?!”

“You said you weren’t busy.”

“I meant… well, yeah, I’m not busy but…”

Ronan takes a right heading, not into town, but away, towards the mountains.

“It’s gonna be fun, trust me.” Ronan somehow manages to eat, steer, and shift all at once. Adam watches with horrified fascination.

“We’re going to die.” Adam mutters, and shoves one of the seasoned potato wedges into his mouth.

“You’re not going to die,” Ronan reassures him. “That would be a terrible first date.”

“First?” Adam teases. “You’re implying there will be more?”

Ronan turns onto 74 and accelerates, his words almost lost in the roar of the wind and the growl of the engine. “I hope so!”

…to be continued…

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[In case it’s not obvious, each part is titled with something that has to do with laundry! Delicates because soft, awkward, early morning phone conversations]

anonymous asked:

29 or 38?? and i love it if you make it into masquerade verse!

29.sweat Masquerade-verse :) NSFW

It was that time of year where St Petersburg was perpetually freezing, and Yuuri would hate it if it weren’t for the source of his salvation from the cold. 

Inside their own world, with Victor lighting fire to his skin and kissing heat into his veins, his breath, hot enough to make Yuuri melt as he trailed kisses down his stomach, down over his hips to wrap his lips around Yuuri’s throbbing length.

It was cold as death outside, ice on the windows and sleet on the wind, and Yuuri didn’t feel any of it, because Victor made Yuuri sweat.

St. Perpetual and St. Felicity St. Perpetua and St. Felicity (3rd Century AD) lived in North Africa in a time when Christians were persecuted. St. Perpetua was a noble woman and St. Felicity was her slave. When St. Perpetua was arrested for being a Christian, her father begged her to renounce her faith but she refused to. Her slave, St. Felicity was also arrested for being a Christian and she gave birth to a child in prison. Both saints were martyred with many other Christians in a stadium. St. Perpetua and St. Felicity’s feast day is on 7 March.