#but we get one of the all italian songs tonight which !!!! im excited i hope they made an mv for this one too

[celticwoman]

hm. just saw rush's official tracklist and it looks like maybe 2 songs out of freaking 17 are in italian..... hm.

[enigmasalad]

Weddings Are Great And All But  My Mom Wants You Over For Dinner Tonight

It has been a boring day so far. Deceit was currently typing away on his fifth laptop (his personal one cause the other four are for his “business”). Remus had gotten a last-minute contract from a rather entitled older man who wanted one of his nephews or something killed. So here Deceit was, alone, bored and totally enjoying his day off. And even though he had just planned a “vacation” for them, he couldn’t get rid of the sappy loneliness in his chest. He groaned and shut his laptop because he needed a nap.

He went to their bedroom, a relaxed form of exhaustion seeping into his limbs once he entered the room. He turned his head to where Jekyll and Hyde were. The twin-headed snake was taking a nap after a rather indulgent lunch. Deceit smiled softly at the sweet creature before falling back onto the bed with his arms spread out. As he shut his eyes, he let his mind become passive, letting each thought come and go. With each thought he slowly drifted to that state between consciousness and sleep.

He didn’t know how long he was in this state, but he did know that he was now more on the conscious side. A soft, fond smile graced his lips before he even thought about it. “Hello Remus. How was the hunt today?” he asked.

 Just as he thought, an uneven pitched giggle revealed that the crazed man was indeed there. Deceit opened his eyes to meet wide green eyes that were filled with a mischievous joy, the kind of joy a child who stole a toy from a person they didn’t like had. “Boo! I thought I could surprise you this time!” Remus laughed.

“Were you about to jump on me or something?” Deceit asked, raising a brow.

“Yep! You looked so peaceful I thought it would be funny to startle you!”

 Remus crawled into bed, still in his lightly bloodied clothes and curled up by Deceit’s side. Deceit moved one of his gloved hands to Remus’s hair and gently scratched the man’s head. Remus let out a low, relaxed noise and snuggled closer.

 “Turns out the whole family was in on the kill. They gave me a large tip for not getting the floors bloody!”

 Remus paused before laughing.

 “Heh! Large tip! Heh heh!”

 Deceit rolled his eyes but smiled none the less at the crude joke. He gave a kiss to Remus’s head. Remus perked up and went to go kiss Deceit. Deceit moved his free had to Remus’s mouth to block the kiss.

 “Did you dispose of the body?” Deceit asked.

 Remus huffed and pouted.

 “I did!” “Remus.”

 Remus sighed and slumped a little.

 “I did not eat the body this time.”

 Silence.

 “Or anything else from the crime scene.”

“Good boy.” Deceit softly praised.

 Remus grinned as Deceit removed his hand and kissed him. Remus immediately and eagerly kissed back. And as usual Remus had to make the kiss filthy the second his lips met Deceit’s. They kissed for a while, enjoying each other’s presence. When they split Deceit decided to tell Remus the news.

 “I arranged our little vacation.” Remus grinned and wiggled excitedly, moving Dee with him a little.

 “Oh fun! Oh, we can use the blood money to get some things for the trip! Like toys! You know I love take two Ds at once!”

“Damn it Remus.”

——-

 “Roman get out of the kitchen.” “What? I just wanted to see what you’re doing! It smells good in here!” “Roman get out of the fucking kitchen I swear to go-don’t touch that!”

“Ow!”

 Roman huffed and held the hand Virgil whacked with a wooden spoon. Virgil glared at him and pointed the spoon at him. “Fine, fine! I’ll just go to Patton’s side of the kitchen!” Roman pouted and quickly moved over to where Patton was mixing batter.

 Patton giggled as Roman hugged him from behind and peppered his neck and cheek in quick kisses. Roman smiled and looked at where Virgil was making fresh pasta dough.

 “You could have this too, but you whacked me with a spoon! Also why are you making fresh pasta when we bought the quick pasta?” Roman had to ask.

 Virgil looked at Roman with a deadpan look, stopping the pasta dough making process.

 “I’m half Italian Roman. You fucking know this.” He said

“Well sorry for asking. Just figured with the time constraint you put on

 Patton laughed again, interrupting

 “Your mom makes the best pasta so I’m glad we’re having her recipe!” he praised.

 Roman grinned as Virgil blushed and ducked his head down. The argumentative tension instantly vanished. Patton had that kind of amazing power.

 “Anyways dear heart, what are you making?” Roman asked Patton, swaying them both gently.

“I asked Imaj what we should have for dessert this time and he asked if we could have brownies tonight so Im making brownies!” Patton replied before tasting the batter.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Virgil said while smiling a little.

 The Petrovs love pasta and brownies more than life itself.

 Patton and Roman chatted, Virgil putting his input every now and then. They talked about how Ginerva and Rosita were at the store, wondering what they were getting there.  Patton brought up how excited his boss, Adam, accepted to come as Patton’s father to the wedding. Adam was Patton’s boss, but the southern man from the Lone Star State was the closest thing to an actual father Patton had. Plus, he paid for Patton’s top surgery out of his own pocket without asking for anything back, so the definitely liked him.

Plus he threatened to shoot them if they ever hurt Patton so..

 “Is there anything I can help with?” Roman asked, mainly because he was bored

“No.” “Not really but I’ll let you know!”

 Roman placed a kiss on Patton’s cheek before rushing to Virgil and kissing his cheek. He ran out of the kitchen with a laugh as he heard Virgil sputter and went into the living room where Logan was sitting on the couch talking to Missy while Imaj sat near the corner with his ukulele and sheet music.

 “-used the blood eagle torture method to sacrifice to Odin and also get rid of people who have no honor in their lives.” Missy was rambling, probably about Vikings.

“You are very knowledgeable about Vikings in..many aspects Missy.” Logan attempted to praise.

 It was a little awkward on how it came out but it made the irritable girl grin widely with pride. She pushed her Viking helmet up so it wouldn’t slide over her eyes.

 “Well duh.” Is all Missy had to say.

“Hello Tiny! Teaching Logan about Vikings again?” Roman greeted.

 Just like that, her smile turned back to her usual irritated frowny face.

 “Don’t call me tiny! Im going to rule the freakin world one day! Im not small!” She said, which only made Roman laugh fondly.

 He remembered when he had given Missy the nickname. She leapt off the couch and headbutted him in the gut so hard he curled up on the ground. Good..weird...good times.

 “And how are you right now Imaj? Still practicing?” Roman asked.

 Imaj startled upon hearing his name but he looked at Roman with a soft smile.

 “Mhm. I think I got it this time.” He answered quietly.

“Good! Will you be playing it for us sometime soon?”

Just like that, the young teen squeaked with embarrassment and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head.

 “Nooooo..” he quietly whined.

“Alright, alright don’t disappear on me. I’ll leave you alone.”

 Roman sat down next to Logan and wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders, pulling the nerd closer.

 “And how are you my pocket protector?” Roman asked. “I am well as I can be.” Logan replied.

 Ah, Logan was nervous cause this was his first actual family dinner (and the first family dinner they’ve had since all four of them got together). It’s taken him a while to work up to this moment, but they were so proud of him.

Still didn’t mean Logan wasn’t nervous about it.

 “You’ll be fine mi amor. You know mama and Mrs. Ginerva love you.” Roman reassured.

“I know this, they’ve made it very apparent.” Logan said with a faint hint of a smile.

 Roman smiled and leaned in to give Logan a kiss. Logan huffed a laugh and met Roman the rest of the way.

 “VIRGIL YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE BEING GROSS.”

 The two men were startled by Missy’s loud shouting.

 “I can’t help you right now! Cooking food!” Virgil called back.

“BUT ITS GROSS.” “You’re gross!” “NO YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE GROSS.”

 Patton came in, apron gone, and hands washed which meant the brownies were probably in the oven.

 “What’s this about being gross kiddo?” he asked. “They’re kissing!” Missy huffed.

“Kissing!” Patton faked a gasp.

 Missy nodded and crossed her arms grumpily. Roman watched as Patton came over and put his hands on his hips and gave a disappointed look.

 “Boys Im shocked at your behavior. How dare you be kissing-“ Patton then grinned widely. “Without me!” With that Roman’s arms were full of his bubby, kind boyfriend and Logan’s lips were being kissed by said boyfriend. Roman laughed as Missy let out a shriek and stomped to the kitchen. Soon Patton was kissing all over his face to, each kiss slightly ticklish and with an audible “mwah!” sound. They could hear Virgil chuckle from the kitchen. Logan was smiling softly, more relaxed with the ones he cares about near. Patton got up and sat next to the other side of Logan and held his hand tightly.

 “I’m happy we’re doing this. I’ve had family dinners before but..they lacked warmth.” Patton admitted.

“That’s one thing our family doesn’t lack is warmth.” Roman said with a grin. “Indeed. You and Virgil have…exceptional mothers.” Logan agreed.

 Roman grinned and wrapped around Logan’s shoulders.

 “I wasn’t just meaning them my iridescent nebula. You both are part of this family too now.”

“Awwww Roman!!!” Patton squealed.

 The sound of the front door opening interrupted anything else that could have been said.

 “Booooooys! Missy! We’re hoooome!” Roman’s mother, Rosita sing-songed

“Hi Miss Rosita! Hi Miss Ginerva!” Patton called back.

 Rosita giggled and came into the living room.

 “Dawww I hope you weren’t mentally scarring poor little Imaj over there.” She said.

 Oh shit Imaj has just been sitting there quietly. The thing about that kid besides having almost crippling anxiety is he could disappear from people’s view despite being there.

 “Don’t worry Rosita. I don’t mind.” Imaj softly said with a smile. “This is why you’re my favorite.” Roman said.

 Immediately there was a loud, high pitched angry “WHAT?” from the kitchen.

 Rosita grinned and bent down to kiss Patton’s cheeks, the usual greeting she gives loved ones. Patton giggled and held onto her arms as she went “Mwah!” with the two kisses. She then bent down and did the same to Logan. His face went red as Roman’s varsity jacket, but he sat still and allowed her to do so, because he honestly didn’t hate it. He’s never had any form of parental love and he once admitted he liked the affection the mothers gave him.

 “I’m so glad you both are here today. Our first dinner as a whole family!” Rosita cheerily said.

 Roman grinned at his loves. They looked happy. Things were normal. This family was normal.

 “Well hello my dears. Patton, thank you for making dessert.” Virgil’s mother, Ginerva said as she too entered the living room, holding two rather thick books in her hands.

“It’s no problem! I love baking! Plus, a meal isn’t complete without a sweet!” Patton said.

 Ginerva smiled. Then she held up the book with a mischievous glint in her eye.

 “Would you like to see some baby pictures after dinner?” she asked.

“Oh my gosh YES!” Patton squealed.

“Absolutely.” Logan agreed, his own grin on his face.

 Roman gulped.

 Maybe this was a horrible idea.

———-

 “Going to the sex store~ We’re going to the sex store~” Remus sang, unashamed as they walked through the mall.

 People glared at them as Remus walked next to Deceit, arms swinging back and forth happily. Deceit has once thought maybe he should stop Remus. Here’s the thing though.

 He didn’t give a fuck.

 These poor bastards can deal with Remus happily singing the lewdest things for a small portion of their lives, even if they weren’t going to the sex store.

 A mother gasped, offended and covered her child’s ears.

 “Shame on you!” she shrilled.

 Deceit flipped her off with both of his hands while Remus held his index finger and middle finger in a V formation in front of his mouth, wiggling his tongue in between the fingers with a wicked grin. The mother shrieked in horror.

 Deceit laughed as they left her. However, Remus grabbed his wrist and yanked him back to where Remus was.

 “I want that.” Remus said, pointing into an arcade.

 Inside the arcade was a claw machine with many stuffed animals. On top of the animal pile was a plush green octopus with tiny black eyes.

 “I’m not wasting my money on a rigged game,” Deceit said.

“But Deeeeeeee!” Remus whined.

“that’s why I’m not going to.” Deceit continued, holding up a wallet that totally was his.

 Remus grinned widely and held Deceit’s hand as they planned to spend every pound of an asshole’s money.

————

 Dinner was good, as usual. Virgil was a phenomenal cook and every dish he made was some of the best Roman’s had (he wont tell mama that though). He blushed as they complimented him.

 “This is yummy! What is this called again?” Patton asked.

“Bucatini all’Amatriciana. It’s nothing.” Virgil replied, eyes averted and blush on cheeks.

“I have no idea how to pronounce that but I love it! Logan loves it! Roman does too!”

 Roman will deny he was shoveling the pasta into his mouth messily ‘til the day he dies. It never happened. No way. Thankfully he wasn’t the only messy eater in the family, for Missy was doing the same thing, but messier.

 “You did good. I’m proud of you.” Ginerva praised with a soft smile.

“Whatever.” Virgil said, faint smile on his face at his mother’s praise.

 “So how is the wedding coming along?” Rosita asked with a smile. “We found a venue. It has a garden area that looked rather appealing to us so we’re planning the ceremony will be there. The reception will be inside.” Logan found himself effortlessly saying to Rosita.

  Roman was so proud of him and judging by Virgil and Patton’s smiles they felt the same.

 Imaj smiled, looking a bit excited at all this wedding talk.

 “I like gardens. They’re quiet and yet they’re lively.” He said, his approval and delight making the four men internally sigh in relief.

“Fuck gardens.” Missy grumbled as she stuffed pasta in her mouth.

“Marietta Ursa Petrov, you will not swear at this table. Do it again and you’ll be grounded.” Ginerva warned sternly

 Missy huffed but nodded, shoving more pasta to get everyone’s eyes off her. Ginerva turned to Virgil with stern eyes as well.

 “You too Mister. I know what a mouth you have.” “Yes mom.”

 Roman snickered at the scolding.

 “Oh! Remy got us measured for our wedding outfits a few weeks ago!” Patton cheerily said, changing the topic.

“Im so jealous of you boys. Friends with a famous fashion designer and won’t even get me a dress.” Rosita teased.

 Roman chuckled.

 “Mama he’d freak if he got to make you something. He’s our very own Edna Mode.” He said.

“Good to know! He better not hit me with a rolled-up newspaper or have heavy security in his studio.”

 Yeah dinner was nice, but afterwards was downright embarrassing. You see, Roman was convinced Miss Ginerva forgot about the baby pictures. He was so wrong.

 Logan and Patton sat on both sides of Ginerva as she pointed to pictures. “-on that Halloween I tried to get Virgil to be a cat or a witch or even Wednesday Addams. Whenever I’d propose an idea, he’d pout. He insisted he wanted to be Elton John for that Halloween, specifically Elton in the Im Still Standing video.”

 And for sure there was a picture of a small Virgil standing next to Roman, who was dressed as Hercules from Disney’s Hercules in Elton’s iconic outfit. On the other side of Virgil was a kid dressed as a garbage can who looked almost exactly like Roman.

 As embarrassed as he was, Roman smiled to see the picture of Remus, back when the three of them were the best of friends. Innocent.

 “Oh, and this picture didn’t turn out the way we wanted it. Rosita sneezed so the boys started crying.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry at least once a year since then Ginerva! Get over it!” Patton giggled at the picture of Virgil in the middle of Roman and Remus in a purple onesie crying. Roman was in a red striped overalls outfit sitting up and crying just as hard. Remus was in the same outfit but green and he fell back as he cried. It was adorable.

 “Mom please stop.” Virgil weakly pleaded, hood pulled over his face.

“Hush. They need to see these.” Ginerva said with a laugh.

They avoided pictures of Virgil’s father, who just up and left one day to go back home to Russia without a word. A slightly angry aura surrounded her, but she pushed on.

 “Oh, this is Rosita’s favorite!” Ginerva pointed out.

“Is it the play time one? Oh my goodness I love that one so much! Their chubby cheeks and tiny hands aaah!” Rosita squealed with a grin, getting up from the armchair and hurrying over.

“Mama stoooop.” Roman groaned.

 Logan gave Roman a look that suggested yes, this was indeed blackmail material. Roman flipped him off, only to be whapped lightly from his mother.

Damn you Logan.

 The photo had a “castle” made from cardboard boxes. Inside the castle was a grumpy, if not bored looking Virgil with a plastic princess tiara on his head and a bright pink princess dress over his black sweater. Roman had a plastic crown and pointed a foam sword at Remus, who had devil horns and fairy wings on. That was the closest they could get to a dragon.

 Rosita smiled wide, but it held a small bit of sadness. Roman knows, cause he feels the same way.

 “Ugh this one?” Virgil grumbled, looking over.

“You guys are adorable! I love your princess costume!” Patton cooed. “It was Roman’s.”

Roman laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

 “CUUUUUTE!”

 Rosita was telling the story about that day, but Roman found he wasn’t listening. He just stared at Remus in the photo, his grin wide and his hands bared like claws. His eyes filled with his usual mischief. He always wanted to be the villain or the monster. He remembered a time when Remus built a city out of blocks and toy cars and proceeded to stomp through it and making monster sounds, making Roman laugh at his brother’s silliness as he altered between making noises or pretending to be the shrill voice citizens of the town either being afraid or just saying the weirdest thing like “Dang it I left my pudding at home and now my pants are on fire!”.

Memories came rushing. The times they tried to do a secret handshake but could never remember the steps. The times they slept over at Virgil’s home with red and green matching pajamas and sleeping bags. The times they’d fight over the last homemade churro and forced to split it and apologize. When Remus would come to him when he had horrible nightmares of terrible actions his mind told him to do and he’d cry while hugging Roman tightly, who would cry cause his twin was sad. The gap-toothed grin Remus would give him as they planned to do some mischief and even sometimes dragging Virgil into it. Their red and green “brothership” bracelets they wore until they broke.

 “Im going to the bathroom. Don’t start dessert without me!” Roman suddenly blurted out, leaving the room and rushing quickly up the steps to the upstairs bathroom farthest away from the stairs.

 He locked the door and turned the fan on. He let out a shuddered gasp and pressed his back against the wall.

“You’re fine Roman. You’re fine. You’re with your family, your loves are enjoying themselves. Don’t ruin this for them. You’re fine.”

 Suddenly a sob escaped his lips. He couldn’t stop it. Oh god he was a horrible person. A fraud.

 He was the one that abandoned the other two members of their little musketeer group just for some ill-deserved attention by horrible people.

He was the one who pushed his brother away, insulting him and ignoring him when Remus didn’t understand what he did wrong.

He was the reason Remus was gone, never able to attend his wedding, to see his loves or be part of their growing family and instead out there doing who knows what. Was he even still alive?

His loves had poor choice in men, since they were marrying him.

His mother was a fool to love him because he was a horrible son.

 His fault.

His fault!

 A knock interrupted his thoughts.

 “Hijo I know you’re in there.”

 It was his mom.

 “I’m fi-“

“Open the door Roman.” She said, usual sass or warmth in her voice gone.

 Roman gulped and unlocked the door. He opened it for his mother to come in. She stepped inside and locked the door behind her.

 “Roman, my sweet baby.” She cooed comfortingly and cupped his face, which was wet with tears. “Lo siento mama. Lo siento!” he sobbed, burying his face in her shoulder.’

 She stroked his hair as he sobbed and shushed him softly. He gripped her white blouse and sobbed, feeling like a child again, guilty for doing something wrong.

 “Lo siento. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for turning those pictures into sad memories!” he cried.

 It felt like a million eyes were glaring at him, a phantom hand was gripping his throat. Harsh voices whispered his guilt over and over and over until he was dizzy.

 “Hijo it’s not your fault.” She whispered.

“But mama it is! I’m the reason he’s gone! I’m the reason family dinners feel so empty! I’m the reason I split our family apart!”

“Roman.”

 Rosita’s stern voice made him push back to look at her. Her green eyes stared into his blue ones, filled with tears, but held a strong determination and a love he could never comprehend.

 “Roman, it’s not your fault. Yes, you’ve made some mistakes, but it’s not your fault.” She said firmly, wiping his tears away with her thumbs.

She sighed shakily and frowned, which was never a good look on his usually happy mother.

 “It’s mine.” “Mama how could y-“ “It’s mine because I didn’t do anything. I didn’t guide you to make better decisions back then, like a mother should.”

 Roman’s lip wobbled, god he was an ugly crier.

 “It’s my fault that I was so focused on fixing Remus because I was scared for him that I didn’t even think about how he felt or wanted. Yes, your brother’s actions were troubling, deeply so, but I did nothing to help him. I did nothing to understand or support him. And now, its my fault for having you endure so much guilt.”

 It was quiet for a bit. Too quiet.

 “You may never stop feeling that guilt, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry you carried this with you for so long. But honey, I’m so proud of you!” Rosita said with a wobbly grin.

“What?” Roman shakily asked.

“I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself and making a change. I’m proud of you for making things right with Virgil. I’m proud of you for being such a hard worker, and an amazing dreamer. I’m so proud of you for being a kind and determined man who puts everything into what he does.”

“And honey, I’m proud of you for being a good lover. For being true to yourself even though its scary. I’m proud of you for saving Patton from those god-awful people and supporting Logan during this dinner cause I know he was nervous. I’m proud that you and Virgil and Patton and Logan love each other so much. That despite polyamorous marriage not being legal here, you all said fuck it, cause love conquers everything.”

 Roman whimpered before sobbing again. He may never get over the guilt, but with time he can move on. He was so fortunate to have people who he loves with all his heart, and they love him with theirs. He had the best family and the best friends, even if it was hard to see that at times.

 He had the best mother.

————

“Why don’t we break it?” “Remus we need to remain as anonymous as we can.” “Boo!” “Do you want this octopus or not?”

 It was their last dollar out of like, three hundred. They took a break ‘cause they got hungry, but they came right back. Remus watched, eyes looking between the claw of the machine game and his love’s concentrated and yet frustrated face. He looked like he was about to scream “YOU LOSE! Good DAY SIR!” in a shrill tone.  The claw once again picked up the green octopus. Its floppy tentacles hang limp as the claw started to slowly move over to the little dispenser chute. It suddenly slipped through the claw’s metal arms.

 “NO!” they both almost screamed.

 Ah, but a miracle has happened! One of the octopus’s tentacles was caught on the claw! The claw moved over the chute and dropped the plushie down into it. “YEAH!” Remus cheered, hearing a startled yelp from someone.

—————

Roman came down with his mom, face clean and no longer blotchy. He smiled as he saw his family still sitting downstairs. They turned to him and Patton grinned, looking relieved. Logan and Virgil just stared at him like he had done something stupid.

 “Dude I can’t believe you got your hand stuck in the faucet drain. What were you doing?” Virgil asked.

 Roman turned to Rosita, who grinned. Oh, his mom made up an excuse to check on him, which was nice, but still that’s embarrassing. He came up with a lie to not seem like too much of an idiot.

 “I was washing my hands when one of mama’s earrings she left by the sink went down the drain! I had to rescue it! It was her favorite pair!”

“Well now that you rescued the earring, we were gonna have brownies and watch Frozen 2! Interested?” Patton proposed.

“Definitely!”

 Roman felt so much better. He sat down on the couch with Virgil pressed against his side and Logan’s head on his shoulder. Patton came back with brownies for everyone and gave Roman a peck on the lips as he gave Roman his treat. Rosita and Ginerva argued over how Disney Plus worked, only for Logan to instruct them carefully. As Ginerva got the movie set up, Imaj sat down on the floor with his knees drawn up in between Patton and Virgil, happily nibbling on his brownie. Missy walked over and crawled into Roman’s lap, still looking irritated, but there was a shy plush on her face. He decided not to say anything and just ruffled her hair. She smiled a bit at that. Then, she grinned a mischievous grin that reminded him of when Virgil jump scared them as a vampire last Christmas and..someone he used to know.

 “I hope Olaf dies.” She said.

 Patton and Rosita gasped in horror as Virgil laughed loudly.

———-

 “What are you going to name it?” Deceit asked Remus.

 Remus looked at the cute octopus in his hands.

 “Can Mr. Squishyboo join your tea party Roman?”

“Yeah, but he can’t poison the tea this time! Ms. Fluffybottom got sick last time!” “Fiiine. Then you can’t call him a squid. He’s an octopus!”

 Remus smiled softly down at the octopus’s happy little face.

 “Squishyboo jr.” he said.

“Oh thank god. I thought you were going to name it hentai.” Deceit sighed.

“Oh! His full name is Squishyboo jr Hentai Lokir!” Remus laughed loudly.

“Do not use my last name for your stuffed animal.” Deceit huffed.

 Remus giggled and kissed his love’s forehead. They walked hand in hand out of the arcade, past Pac-man games and children giggling and playing ski-ball. They were near the entrance when a man with a pink Sailor Moon T-shirt stopped them for a moment.

 “Oh my stars I love your Invader Zim crop top sir!” he said, Irish accent prominent.

“Thank you! I love your anime titty lady!” Remus greeted back as they left, Deceit snickering and squeezing his hand with affection.

——-

 The man just blinked for a moment before noticing his phone was ringing. He smiled and answered it.

 “Heeeey babe! How’s your like, family reunion going?” a voice spoke from the other end.

“ ‘ello Remy. Its going fine! Mum, Mama and Dad want you to come next year!”

“Maybe I will go. Like, making wedding stuff is okay, but like, when its for your friends, it sucks. Like, I know im the best bitch in this business, but it has to be so perfect they cry.”

“You are the best Remy. They wouldn’t ask you if you weren’t”

 A laugh on the other end.

 “This is why I love you Emile, my little piece of Picani pie.”

 Emile Picani giggled.

 “So, what are you doing now?”

“I’m about to set a high score on the DDR machine. I saw they had some Miku songs and I wanted to try them!”

“Fuck yeah Miku. Hey, face time me so I can see you like, totally shame on everyone’s scores.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 5: Don’t Even Think About It]

Hi y’all! I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long...finals and job hunting got the best of me. I will be updating more frequently going forward. As always, thank you so much for reading!! 💜😘

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, very very very little sexual content.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re in the crowd at The Rainbow, although you aren’t sure why; this has already happened.

Freddie is skulking across the fog-draped stage as he belts out the chorus of In The Lap Of The Gods...Revisited, all glistening tan skin and teased hair, a pillar of nimble black leather; John is only a silhouette in the mist. Brian looks like something that’s crawled out of a cocoon: leggy and insect-like, the sleeves of his flowing white blouse like a pair of wings. And Roger...Roger’s in the back, of course—“the hardworking one in the back,” he always says—with a glittery black kimono-like shrug hanging loosely off his bare shoulders. He’s drumming feverishly, sprays of Heineken flying off his floor tom, his forehead and blond hair dripping.

“Whoa, whoa, la la la, whoa...

I can see what you want me to be,

But I'm no fool,

It's in the lap of the gods...”

Somehow, as the fog clears, Roger’s eyes find you in the crowd. He grins in that effervescent, blameless way that he does. And now you know for sure that this is a dream; because there’s no chance Roger could see that far without his glasses.

There’s a banging noise coming from somewhere, but it’s muted, distant, splintered like an echo.

Dream Roger is fading away, dissolving as the lights shade to black on the stage. He disappears, and then Freddie does too, and then Brian, and finally John. The crowd you’re standing in is a sea of churning, indistinguishable faces.

The banging grows louder, closer. You can hear a new voice now.

You swim up from unconsciousness and punch into daylight. You’re laying on your back in bed in a small, rustic hotel room; it takes you a second to remember what the world looks like now. It’s not November at the Rainbow Theater. It’s December 11th, and you’re in Rome.  

You sit up in bed and turn towards the door. Whoever is out there is knocking so forcefully that the distressed wood rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, Dorothea Dix, wake up!” Freddie is shouting through the door.

You rub your eyes as your feet touch the cool teak floor. The band flew into Rome late last night, and has one full day to burn before their concert on the 12th. You’d pitched the idea of visiting a few museums, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Roman Forum, St. Peter's Basilica, maybe even the Baths of Caracalla or the Temple of Venus and Roma; but it had been difficult to get anyone to commit at 2 a.m. when you were all exhausted and dragging luggage into the modest, quite geriatric hotel. Queen may finally have a Top 20 album in the U.S., but the streets aren’t paved with gold just yet.

“Darling, need I remind you that this was all your idea, you simply must wake up this instant—!”

You swing the door open. Freddie is standing in the hallway in a vivid yellow-and-black jacket and white jeans, tall boots, dark hair huge and curly, folded aviator sunglasses peeking out of his pocket.

“Get ready, bitch,” he says, grinning, then slips the sunglass over his dusky eyes. “All those gorgeous marble blokes with their cocks hanging out aren’t going to ogle themselves.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You start with the ruins, then end up at the National Roman Museum after lunch. Brian and Chrissie meander through the halls of cracked marble goddesses and heroes and piecemeal fractions of bodies, their hands intertwined; Chrissie took a few days off work to meet the band in Rome, and she’s glowing with the thrill of being reunited with Bri. Freddie is contemplating the displays, tapping his chin thoughtfully and chatting as John nods along and sketches in his notebook. There’s a photographer scurrying around snapping photos of the band for some magazine, to the vexation of the museum employees. They scowl from the corners of the rooms, their suits pristine and arms crossed, muttering to each other in Italian.

Roger leaps in front of a hulking statue of Perseus and mimics the pose. “What do you think?” he asks you, wielding an invisible spear. “Am I courageous? Divine? A mirror image?”

“You’ll have to work on the hair. And gain like a hundred pounds.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Pounds?!”

“Whoops. Kilos. A lot of kilos. But I think I like you as you are. Can I see your hands?”

Roger falls out of his pose, smiling. “Yes ma’am.” He presents his palms for inspection. The first weeks had been hell for him as his hands were worked into touring shape, repeatedly blistered and worn raw, iced and treated and bandaged by you each night only to be pummeled all over again the next day. Of course, Roger hadn’t described it that way; he shrugged at the blood and swollen knuckles, his eyes already alight with the promise of future shows. That’s just a casualty of fame, love, he’d told you. I’d take it all again and more. The last of his blisters have healed now into discolored callouses, rough whirlpools of memories from cities like Glasgow and Bristol and Helsinki and Munich. “I can get more pounds too, you know. I’ll be swimming in them. I’m gonna buy you a mansion when we get home.”

“Not so fast, blondie.” You graze your thumbs over his rugged palms and release him. Aside from your annoyingly incessant concern for Roger, your job hasn’t proved to be too taxing: there have been sprains, minor lacerations, severe hangovers, some alcohol poisoning, and one case of syphilis that you identified and sent the unfortunate man to a doctor for, all of which afflicted the roadies rather than the band.

“How’s Jo doing?” Chrissie calls over from where she and Brian are scrutinizing a sculpture of Apollo. She tosses Roger a smirk.

“Fine,” he replies briskly. “It was amicable. She understood. Nothing personal, just with the tour and everything we knew it wasn’t going to work out. Bad timing, that’s all.”

“Hm. That’s not exactly how she described it.”

Roger sighs, irritated. “Well, Chris, I really can’t control what she chooses to tell you, can I?”

“Shhhh. Play nice, love,” Brian coos, massaging Chrissie’s shoulders.

Roger pops a cigarette between his lips and moves to light it. A museum employee rushes over, waving his arms frantically. “Per favore, signore, no smoking near the exhibits—!”

“Oh, right, right. Sorry.” Roger tucks the cigarette away, then turns back to you. “Okay, no mansion then. What’s your fancy? Diamonds and gold? Tigers on leashes?”

“A harem of sensual Italian men?” Freddie suggests. Chrissie bursts out laughing.

“I hope not,” Roger says.

“You know what I really want?” you say, eyeing busts of Hadrian and Nero.

“What?” Chrissie asks.

“A camera. A really good one. To document all of this, our adventures. I mean, I know we have...” You wave towards the magazine photographer, who’s mostly snapping shots of Freddie and Roger. “But it would be nice to have my own photos. Carry them around in my wallet, force strangers to look at them, cover my refrigerator with them, all that sentimental stuff. So the minute you kids start making real money, I’d like a nice Canon. Or a Nikon. Or whatever the best camera is.”

“The Canon F-1 is quite good,” the photographer offers.

“Perfect! Clearly, I know nothing about cameras. And will need a hefty instruction manual. But I’m still excited.”

Roger winks. “I believe in you.”

As you all wander into the next room, Freddie spies a grand piano and sprints to it. He slides onto the bench and begins testing the keys. A distraught museum employee appears instantly.

“Signore, please, this is for the museum staff only, please signore!”

“Oh relax, darling, I won’t break it.” He begins experimenting with some light, jazzish melody.

“I love Rome,” you decide as you stroll past the Aphrodite of Menophantos. “Are you sure we can’t stay here forever?”

John frowns as he shades in whatever he’s drawing in his notebook. “It’s too bad we couldn’t make it to Florence.”

Freddie rolls his eyes from the piano. “Deaky, darling, this Dante’s Inferno obsession has got to go. It’s positively morbid.”

“He ends up in paradise,” John protests wryly.

Freddie snorts. “Yes, well, Florence is a three hour drive each way. Next time perhaps. Once we’ve all got private jets and Nurse Nightingale over there has her posh camera.”

“And we’ve acquired trophy wives to pose with us,” Brian jokes. Chrissie squeals and shoves him good-naturedly.  

“We could go to the beach,” John proposes.

“A seaside rendezvous?” you say playfully.  

Freddie hums and nods as his fingers fly over black and white keys.

“Signore...” the museum employee begs. The photographer circles Freddie and the piano, snapping picture after picture.

“The beach?!” Roger whines. “It’s too cold for that! We can’t swim, we can’t sunbathe practically naked, what’s the point? And we’re checking out that club tonight. The one by the hotel, what’s it called, Fred? El Fuocolio?”

“Il Fuoco,” Freddie corrects, amused.

“Ah. Forgive me for not keeping up with my Italian.”

“We don’t all listen to opera, you know,” you tease Freddie. He peers over at you thoughtfully, then continues playing. “I’ll go to the beach with you, John.”

He almost drops his notebook and pencil. “Will you?”

“Of course. I’ll have fewer opportunities in my life to see the Italian seaside than get tipsy and evade dodgy men at some bar, most likely. Although I will miss seeing your dancing.”

“Aww!” Now Roger is dejected, his huge blue eyes pleading. “You have to come with us.”

“Next time,” you promise him.

“This time.”

“Next time.”

“Fine.” He points at John. “Don’t let her get eaten by a shark or run off with some Italian playboy.”

John grins. “I’ll do my best.”

Two burly security guards arrive and begin shouting at Freddie in Italian. “Oh fine, fine!” he snaps as he stands and abandons the piano. The museum employee beams triumphantly.

“Fred, I think we’ve tormented them enough,” Brian says.

“Bri, can we go to the beach too?” Chrissie asks. “Please?”

“It’ll be chilly.”

“I have a jacket. And I can borrow yours if necessary.”  

Brian chuckles. “Okay. We can go. Ostia’s the closest one, I suppose.”

“You’ll love it,” you tell him. “It’ll be like time travelling. You get to stand on the same shore that the ancient Romans did, bury your feet in the same sand, watch the same sunset. That should appeal to an astrophysicist such as yourself.”  

“How poetic,” John muses.

Roger comes to you, shrugs off his black leather jacket, drapes it over your violet sweater.

“Roger, don’t—”

“I’ll miss you,” he interrupts, smiling, then presses his lips fleetingly to your forehead.

~~~~~~~~~~

The four of you take a crowded, decidedly unglamorous bus to Ostia and walk the beaches under the fading afternoon sun. It is chilly by the crashing water, and the wind whips across your cheeks forcefully enough to sting; but none of that stops you. Brian and John collect seashells, and Brian retreads all the details of the tour—all the things he wishes he could do over, all the things he wants to change going forward—as John listens, smoking and nodding when appropriate. You and Chrissie kneel in the cool sand and shape castles with your hands, giggle about how messy and lopsided they are, scribble notes in the soft sifting remnants of stone and quartz: Chrissie loves Bri, Buy Sheer Heart Attack today, Queen was here. And you’re thinking about Roger more than you should be, and Chrissie knows it; but she’s not going to say anything about that now.

When the boys come back, Bri sits in the sand next to Chrissie and begins to decorate her castle with the shells he found: scallops and clams and tulip shells and oysters and tiny lightning whelks. She claps and hugs him, leaps into his lap, pulls him in for a kiss.  

“This is terribly unfair,” you say, staring morosely at your now even less impressive sandcastle.

John appears beside you and offers a massive pink conch filled with very small, pristine, glossy shells. You gasp and clasp a palm over your heart.

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says, puzzled. “Who do you think I picked them for?”

“You’re the best. The absolute best. A treasure. I owe you my life. Wait...” You pick up a thin shard of driftwood and write into the side of your sandcastle: John Deacon, and then a heart encircling it. “You are officially lord of the sandcastle.”

“A prestigious position, surely,” he says, smiling, then passes you the conch. “Go on.”

As you place the shells, he finds a dried bit of seaweed and impales it on the piece of driftwood, then plants the makeshift flag on the tallest tower of the castle.

Brian glances over and shakes his head, his mess of curls shivering. “Chris, love, I fear we’ve been outdone.” Then he nods to the words you and Chrissie carved with your fingertips. “Leaving letters in the sand?”

“Promotional material,” you quip; but you can tell the wheels in Brian’s magnificent mind are whirling.

As the sun sets over the Mediterranean Sea, golden speckles of light floating disembodied on the waves, the four of you get gelato and browse through bookstores and wander down cobblestone streets. And on the bus ride back to the hotel, Brian points out constellations as you hold the conch shell in your lap and doze against John’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian and Chrissie depart to get dinner when you arrive back at the hotel, taking the rare opportunity for a date night. You try to think of a more romantic destination than Rome. Paris? New York? Venice? Probably none of those. You push the images that flood your thoughts away: candlelit meals with violins serenading in the background, the warm cascading glow of streetlights, tossing coins into fountains older than either London or Boston, gazing over the table and into the ensnaring oceanic eyes of the person who won’t be there. Roger.

“Do you think Roger and Fred are back yet?” you ask John in the lobby. He’s still got his notebook in his jacket pocket, but he won’t let you see it.

“I doubt it, but let’s find out.”

You ride the elevator to the band’s floor, still clutching the conch shell, as John fields ideas for dinner.

“Roger’s going to want pizza and beer, but we might be able to get Freddie to go for something more swanky. Actually, he’ll probably order dessert first. There’s a restaurant down the street that I heard has phenomenal tiramisu and lasagna.”

“Oh god. I would kill for a good lasagna.”

“No need for all that,” John says. “We don’t have enough cash for your bail.”

“If they serve lasagna in prison, you can leave me here.”

“But then who would patch up our debaucherous roadies?!”

You laugh as the elevator lurches to a halt and the doors open. “Just call me up in prison and I can talk you through it—”

You step out and turn down the hallway; then all the air vanishes from your lungs. Roger’s fumbling with his key as he tries to get into his room...and pressed between him and the door is a raven-haired, modelesque woman in a short red dress. His eyes are closed, her tongue darting between his lips, his free hand skating up her bare thigh and beneath her dress. And suddenly you’re being dragged back into the elevator, John’s arms locked around your waist. He hits the button for the lobby then reaches for you uncertainly.

“Are you okay—?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m totally fine, I’m...” But for some reason, your throat is burning and your eyes are blurring with tears. You try to blink them away and they drop down your cheeks like rain.

“You’re not,” he realizes softly.

“Goddammit,” you choke out, sobbing.

“Hey, don’t do that,” John pleads. “Please don’t do that, please don’t cry—”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, this is so stupid...” You fan your face and try to wrangle your breathing. The way he was touching her...I can’t forget the way he was touching her. “I am so stupid.”

“You’re not,” John flares. And when he opens his arms you rush into them, burying your face in his jacket as he pulls you closer, drowning you in his warmth. “You’re not stupid,” he says, quietly but severely. “You’re wicked smart and wonderful and perfect, so you’re not allowed to say anything to the contrary. Alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper. And it occurs to you—as your breathing slows, as your tears subside—how incomparably comfortable this feels, homey even.

John clears his throat. “Hey, not to break this up or anything, but you’re sort of stabbing me with the conch shell.”

Incredibly, you laugh as you back away, swiping at your eyes. “Sorry.”

The elevator doors open, and John leads you out into the lobby. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says. “We’re going to go to that restaurant on the corner and I’m going to order a lasagna—”

“John, I don’t think I can eat anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. Did I say you were going to be forced to eat it at gunpoint? No I did not. I’m going to order a lasagna, and if you want some awesome, and if you don’t we’ll just sit and talk. And you can nibble table bread or drink so much wine you forget today ever happened, whatever you want. You make the rules. But we’re going, and I’m ordering lasagna.”

“Okay,” you reply, sniffling, smiling up at him gratefully.

The restaurant is teeming with tourists, and you end up seated at a tiny table near the back with very dim lighting and a roaring fireplace. It’s deliciously hot, burning away your misery; or, at least, making it feel as if it might belong to someone else, as if maybe you heard about it from a friend or in a song, maybe even dreamed it. You take Roger’s leather jacket off and hang it on the back of your chair. When the waiter arrives, John orders for you.

“One lasagna, the biggest one you have, and extra table bread, and uh...” He skims the menu. “Two red wines and a Coke. And a sparkling water. So the lady has a selection.”

“Si, signore. Grazie.”

When the waiter leaves, John lifts off his jacket too, then unbuttons his shirt to his navel. The sweltering glow of the firelight dances across his pale skin in a way that is mysteriously distracting. “Well, it definitely doesn’t feel like December in here.”

“I’m sorry, maybe they could move us—”

“No, that’s alright, I know you like it. And one should be sweating in Southern Italy, don’t you think?” He tears off a hunk of bread when it arrives and plates it for you. The conch shell lays on the table by the salt and pepper shakers, to the visible confusion of the waiter.

“Thank you. For everything, John. Really.”

He gazes at you with those blue-grey eyes that can look like either clouds or steel depending on the occasion. Tonight they are misty, like the froth over waves, impossibly soft. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he says gently. “I don’t know if that helps at all, but I think it should. It doesn’t mean anything to someone like Roger, what you saw tonight.”

You sigh. “I guess it doesn’t. And I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous, I know that, and I’m just so frustrated and...and...I get it, I get that I have no right to care about anything Roger does, which is why I feel like such an idiot for reacting this way, but I just...I just...I’m just so...so fucking torn up about it and I’m sick of being surrounded by it all the time and I’m...I’m so...I’m...look, I’m sorry, can you button your shirt or something? That’s very distracting.”

“Oh, it’s distracting, is it?” John asks, grinning.

“Don’t you dare—”

He undoes several more buttons. “How about now, are you sufficiently distracted?”

“John, no!” you wail, laughing.

“I wouldn’t want to do anything to distract you from your tortured inner monologue...” He removes his shirt entirely and tosses it to the floor. “How are you now?”

“Very distracted,” you wheeze.

“Excellent.” He smiles, resting his face in his hands, the firelight flickering over his bare chest and shoulders, reflections of flames in his eyes. “See, you don’t look so sad now.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” You bite into your hunk of bread. But still, the way he was touching her...  

John sips red wine and smirks teasingly. “You know...if you ever get tired of the celibate lifestyle...I’m always game.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and open the Coke bottle. “That’s very much appreciated. But I don’t just want sex.”

“I know,” he replies, solemnly now. “You want him.”

“That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic at all.” That seems like it must be a lie, but John sounds genuine.

“You’re my best friend, you know,” you tell him. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Certainly not get treated to authentic Italian lasagna.”

You chuckle. “I’m sure that’s the least of your talents. Veronica is a very lucky woman.”

John nods, staring down at the table now, pushing crumbs around with the back of his hand. “If you say so.”

And, in the end, you managed to eat your half of the lasagna after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you get back to your hotel room, it’s very late in Italy...which means it’s only early evening in Boston. You pick up the phone and resolve to use the last of your miniscule weekly allowance for a long distance call.

Your mom answers on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Guess where I am right now.”

“Hopefully on a date with that nice Roger boy.”

“Oh my god, Mom.”

She titters pleasantly. “Tell me, dear. Germany? No, no. Spain.”

“Rome.”

“Oh!” she sighs, steeped in nostalgia. “Daddy and I went there on our honeymoon! Ages ago, of course. But it was wonderful, otherworldly. Like getting lost in a fairytale. How do you like it?”

“I love it,” you murmur. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Always, dear.”

You twirl the phone cord around your fingers anxiously. “How did you know that Dad was the one?”

“Hm.” She pauses; and you can envision the way she takes a step back and glances up at the ceiling whenever she’s thinking something over. Oh, maybe I do still miss parts of Boston. “Well...you know Daddy wasn’t single when we met. And neither was I.”

“Yeah, I think I remember that part of the story.”

“I’m not sure if I can explain it, dear. Truly. I...” She drifts off, pondering it. Finally, she says: “I’d had plenty of other boyfriends. I’d been interested in other people. And people are all so different, they all have something unique to offer to your life, whether good or evil. But when I met your father...I just felt like I couldn’t live without him. Suddenly nothing else seemed possible if he wasn’t in the picture. Like if he wasn’t there I’d spend the rest of my life missing him. Does that answer your question?”

“It does, yeah.” You close your eyes and feel the dark Mediterranean night air breeze in through the open window. The conch shell has found a temporary home on top of the antique dresser. “I love you, Mom.”

“Aww, I love you too, honey. And you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is.”

You look out into the constellations that Brian introduced to you earlier, Aries and Fornax and Perseus. “I hope so.”

[dinoyoongi]

Romance Is Dead

SYNOPSIS: You try to surprise Yoongi with a night full of romance but he manages to ruin all of your plans.

PAIRING: Yoongi x You

GENRE: Angst, Fluff

WARNINGS: Language, *Implied* smut

WORD COUNT: 4311

_________________________________

Yoongi: Practice ending in twenty. I'll be over after. Do you want me to bring anything?

You: Just yourself. ❤️

You drop your phone onto the counter, doing a quick study of the dining room. Plates, cutlery – check. Ambient lighting, candles – check. Dinner that you spent a whopping five hours slaving over – check. You had gone over this checklist in your head about six times now but it didn't seem enough. Everything needed to be absolutely perfect. It wasn't an anniversary or birthday, although you know Yoongi might momentarily suspect so when he walks in and sees your usual cluttered apartment so romantically decorated. Perhaps it was the marathons of dramas you've been binging lately or perhaps you were just hit with the lovebug, but you craved romance.

It wasn't that your relationship with Yoongi wasn't great. It definitely was. Your personalities fit together like a glove, you got along with each others friends and families, you made each other happy. You were … comfortable. And while the two of you had some memorably heated moments, it's been a long time since you felt that spark of excitement in your relationship. You didn't blame Yoongi though. Being one out of seven members of the biggest music group in the world at the moment, his mind was always preoccupied – recording songs, producing songs, learning choreography, filming videos and comeback appearances, putting on concerts, etc. You didn't begrudge him his job and you certainly didn't expect him to have the energy to initiate anything extra into your relationship.

So that's why you're going to do it instead. Tonight.

You have a three-part plan of action. First? Dinner. You've spent the majority of the week watching YouTube videos and cooking programs on cable, looking up and purchasing the necessary ingredients and utensils to make the greatest plate of carbonara that Yoongi has ever tasted. Second? A romantic movie. You've converted your living room into the ultimate cuddle area. Both couches have been rearranged and pushed against the wall. You've lined the width of your floor with pillows and blankets and bowls of snacks that you know he enjoys. You even rented a new release that you've heard is super romantic – The Sun Is Also a Star. And third? Well, after the cuddle session, being pressed up against Yoongi for so long, you know your body and you know what it will be craving. That's why you've saved and used two of your paychecks to purchase the most expensive, scandalous yet sexy black lace lingerie you could find.

You were definitely getting lucky tonight.

After making sure everything was in place in the dining room, living room and bedroom, you go to the mirror to confirm you still look as good now as you did an hour ago when you first got ready. You've worked hard on your hair and makeup and put legitimate effort into your outfit – a dark yellow sundress with a flowing, loose black cardigan. The lingerie feels uncomfortable under your clothes but at the same time you feel a boost of confidence knowing you're wearing such sexy undergarments. You can't wait for Yoongi to see them.

There's a beeping on the other side of your door and your heart immediately skips. Yoongi is here. Typing in the passcode to your apartment. It's showtime.

“Y/N, why is it so dark in here?” you hear your boyfriend grumble softly, kicking his shoes off at the front door. You whirl around the corner, meeting him at the entrance of the dining room. You take satisfaction in watching his eyes widen, moving up and down your body before settling on your face. “Why are you so dressed up? Did I forget plans or something?”

You giggle nervously. “No, I just felt like getting dolled up.”

You wait with bated breath for him to compliment you. Tell you that you look beautiful, that you look nice, that your hair looks shiny or your skin looks dewy. Something, anything. Instead, he shuffles past you into the dining room, tossing a plastic bag onto the table. You swallow down the hurt. It's not in his nature to be affectionate but you're determined to have him swooning over you by the end of the night.

“I was craving some Chinese so I got us a few dishes. What do you want?” he asks, popping open boxes. You frown, watching as he moves away some of the fine China you've set out to spread his takeout containers.

“Yoongi, I told you not to bring anything. I made us dinner,” you say, motioning toward the big bowl of pasta and plate of steaming bread sticks in the center of the table. His eyes move over the carbonara before he looks down at his sweet and sour chicken.

“I just had pasta yesterday. Can you put it in the fridge? I'll take some back to the dorms to eat tomorrow.”

Part 1 – officially crashed and burned. You stare at him for a few hard seconds, mentally wishing that the damn Chinese food would be spoiled so he wouldn't touch it. But from the way he happily plops himself down onto one of the chairs, yanks apart his disposable chopsticks and digs in like it's the best food he's ever had in his life, you give up hope. Fixing yourself a small portion of pasta, you sit across from him, stealing quick glances at his plate. The Chinese does look delicious but what romantic dinner has ever been served with sweet and sour chicken?  He might not be eating the food you cooked, but you can still enjoy the romantic atmosphere together.

Almost as soon as you sit down, Yoongi hops up off of his seat, jogging over to the switch panel and flipping them all on. The sudden brightness hits you like a punch to the gut and you wince, dropping your fork. You've suddenly lost your appetite. Yoongi sighs in satisfaction as he sits back down and without a word, dives back into his food.

Okay. That's okay. It was just a few candles. This night is not ruined. You may not have gotten him with the food, but you can hook him in with the romantic movie and cuddles, you're sure of it. After the two of you finish your meal, you move to the living room. You notice Yoongi is frowning as he takes in the layout.

“What's going on with the couches?”

You flash him a grin, nodding toward the floor. “I thought we could stretch out and get comfortable on the floor while we watch a movie.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “I've just finished four hours of practice. My back is killing me and you want to lay on the floor?”

A bubble of annoyance rises up. Why is he fighting you on everything? “I put like four layers of blankets and pillows down, Yoongi. You won't feel the floor, trust me.”

With a disgruntled huff of acceptance, he throws himself down ungracefully. You mentally count to ten. He's either going to get some love or get some ass-kicking tonight and right now, you're not sure which one. After pressing play on the blu-ray machine, you lay down next to Yoongi. You half expect him to throw another wrench in your plan by pushing you away but he's full of surprises, fingers gripping you around the waist and tugging you against him.

You sigh happily. Maybe there's hope for the night after all.

“Oh! I've seen this movie already.”

Okay, maybe not.

You groan loudly, tilting your chin to stare at your boyfriend in disbelief. He frowns at you. “Why are you looking at me like that? My laptop died on the flight home last week so I watched this film to pass the time. It's not that good.”

“Why would you watch a romance movie by yourself?” you ask, restraining yourself from using the vicious tone that waits dormant at the base of your throat.

“I didn't watch it alone. Jin watched it with me.”  Oh my god. Jin was getting more romance out of your boyfriend than you were? Yoongi suddenly emits a gasp, finger pointing at the television screen where he has pulled up the On Demand menu. “Detective Pikachu is already out on digital? I'm renting this one!”

You're wearing a dress and expensive lingerie for … Pokemon? You sit up abruptly, moving your bewildered gaze to your boyfriend. You didn't expect him to initiate the romance, no, but you expected him to be smart enough to catch on that you were. A candlelit dinner with Italian food? A romantic movie and your girlfriend dressed to the nines in her own apartment for no reason? Have you always been dating the largest idiot in the world or is this a new development?

Yoongi glances up at you, meeting your furious stare. His eyes shift down to your choice of clothing and you think maybe – just maybe – for one moment, he's going to use that creative brain of his and put everything together.

“You and Pikachu kind of match right now,” he chuckles, pointing to the red blush on your cheeks and the yellow of your dress. “Y/N, I choose you!”

“Oh my god,” you mouth silently, slumping to the floor next to him. You watch in stupid amazement as he turns up the volume of the television and throws the remote next to him, another satisfied smile on his face. Seeing the bowls of snacks lined up, he grabs a few and sets them down in front of him. Plucking a strawberry from a bowl, you can't help but feel defeated when he tosses the entire thing into his mouth in one go. You had plans for those strawberries. You had daydreams and visions of seductively biting an end off, of slowly and sexily crawling over to him and gently feeding him the rest. It was then that he would toss you over his shoulder, take you to your room and toss you onto the bed. It was then that he would find the lingerie.

Part two of the plan? Obliterated.

Despite actually having a genuine love for Pokemon and a desire to see Detective Pikachu, you begin to get restless about forty minutes into the film. Yoongi is engrossed, eyes glued to the screen as he blindly reaches for the snack bowls and throws handfuls of whatever he can reach into his mouth. Instead of watching the movie, you've been imagining new scenarios that involve getting Yoongi into the bedroom. Okay, the scenarios went a little beyond just getting him into the bedroom. All of your hard thinking has left you anxious, the lingerie suddenly feeling suffocating. This needs to happen. Now.

“Yoongi,” you whine, gripping his upper arm. He hums in response. “Can we finish watching this tomorrow?”

He frowns. “We're more than halfway through. Why would we stop?”

“I want to go to bed.”

His eyebrows lift questioningly. “So go lay down. I'll be in whenever the movie is finished. I don't think there's too much left.”

Wow. He really is dumb. Yoongi has been your first relationship so you weren't sure – does every woman have to work this hard to get some from their man or is it just you? You decide to stop playing around. He's obviously incapable of grasping any of your attempts to be sexy and coy.

“No, Yoongi. I don't want to go to sleep. I want to go to bed. With you.”

That get his attention. His head snaps over in your direction so quickly that worry he might have given himself whiplash. There's a faint dusting of pink tinging his cheeks and you giggle inwardly, relieved that you've managed to crack whatever stone wall he's had up all night. It's not as if the two of you haven't had sex before – oh, definitely not. You've been together for years and have done it many, many times. You have never been so straightforward with him about it, though. Feeling bold by how flustered he is, you reach over him for the remote, wordlessly turning the television off before lifting yourself to your feet. He watches you closely, accepting the hand you offer to help him off of the ground. When you're both standing, you take advantage of your grip on his fingers and lead him to your bedroom.

This is it – the grand finale. There's absolutely no chance of ruining this. Yoongi is a hot-blooded man who has the same cravings and needs as every other living, breathing male in this world.

You push him gently onto your bed. He sits on the edge, resting back on his elbows. He watches you intently. His heavy, hooded gaze is like electricity, filling you with jolts of desire and contentedness. This is what you wanted. This is the feeling, the excitement, that you've been craving.  Leaning down into him, placing your palms next to his elbows, you catch his lips with yours. It starts off chaste, pulling away every few seconds for quick, little pecks. But after a few seconds, the aching between your legs begins to intensify and you decide that you're done with being soft. The kiss deepens, a moan vibrating from Yoongi's chest as you slide your tongue against his. You feel his hands grip your waist, massaging the skin of your hips through the fabric of your dress before his fingers start to dance downward. Pulling away breathlessly, you grin down at him.

Your cardigan goes first, tossing it haphazardly somewhere in the corner of your room. You make of slow show of unbuttoning the straps of your dress, keeping eye contact, doing your best to be the most seductive woman Yoongi has ever met. You know that you weren't his first, or his second or even his third. But you want to be the one who makes him forget about everyone that came before you. Your dress drops to your feet. You feel triumphant when his eyes widen, moving slowly down your body as if he was taking in every single detail. You watch as the corners of his lips turn upward. You close your eyes. This is the part where he completely ravishes you.

He laughs.

He laughs hard.

It's like a balloon pops and you start to deflate, your eyes snapping open in hurt and surprise. Yoongi lays back on the bed, arms wrapped around his stomach as if the sight of you in lingerie is so funny that it causes him pain. You look down at yourself, at the swell of your breasts encased with satin, lace and ribbons. Was it that funny? Did he not find you beautiful enough to pull something like this off?

You watch as Yoongi continues to laugh, absorbed in his own amusement. The sound of his guffaws are like punches to the gut, over and over and over again. Though you've never voiced it out loud, you've always felt a touch of insecurity in your relationship. He was Min Yoongi. He was Suga. He should have supermodels or equally beautiful idol girls standing beside him. Despite that, he always had a way of making you feel pretty, like you had something that no other girl in the world had.

But now? Now you question everything. Would he laugh at a supermodel if she stood here in lingerie? Would he laugh at any of his frustratingly beautiful ex-girlfriends?

Feeling like he has maxed out your hurt tolerance, you shamefully retreat into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind you. Your first order of business was getting out of the frilly contraption, the complete waste of two paychecks. The second was wiping every bit of product from your face. If he didn't think you were beautiful, why should you even try?

Making quick work of the lingerie, you whip it into the corner, wondering what the most effective way to burn it would be. You change into a normal pair of panties and toss on an old, baggy BTS concert tee that you use for pajamas. It isn't until you're washing your face that you realize you're crying.

There's a timid knock on the door. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

You ignore him, the sound of his voice propelling you to scrub your face even harder. When you pull the cloth away and look up into the mirror, you wince at your own reflection. Wet and puffy eyes with skin tinged red from scrubbing it nearly raw. It only makes you feel uglier and you can't help the cry that slips out.

There's another knock on the door, quicker this time. When you still don't answer, he tries the doorknob to no avail. “Y/N, are you crying? Open the door for me.”

You contemplate spending the night in the bathroom. The tub is nice and spacious. There's a pile of clean towels on top of the hamper than you could use for blankets, padding and pillows. You already ate so you won't get hungry. This could work – you could stay here until Yoongi has to leave for his schedules tomorrow morning.

“Are you really not going to open the door?” Yoongi demands, the knocks turning into pounds with his fists. “I'll just kick the door in. You know I can.”

You huff in annoyance. There goes your plans for a sleepover in the bathroom. Others might think Yoongi is bluffing but you know what he's capable of doing and you know he won't mind ruining your door if it inconveniences him too much. You exhale deeply before flipping the lights off and throwing the door open, studiously ignoring your boyfriend who has to jump out of your way as you storm past him. You can feel him following close behind as you hastily retreat to the living room, throwing yourself down in the middle of the blankets. You turn your back to him, tucking the thickest blanket up under your chin. You hear Yoongi sigh from behind you.

“Are you that angry with me? I'm sorry that I laughed,” he apologizes. You continue to ignore him, eyes blurred with tears as they fixate on the fibers of your blanket. He groans in frustration, reaching out to grip your shoulder. As much resistance as you put forth, he still manages to twist you to face him. When he sees your face full of tears, he drops his grip in surprise. “Jagiya, what is this?”

“Jagiya, what is this?” you mock him in disbelief. You can't take it anymore. Seething, you sit up, wiping your eyes before fixing your glare on him. “Your girlfriend is absolutely and understandably fucking devastated because she not only worked SO hard to plan a perfect, romantic night with her boyfriend – which he ruined every fucking chance that he got, I might add – but when she tried to surprise him by attempting to spice things up in the bedroom with really fucking expensive lingerie, he laughs in her face! I wanted to look and feel sexy for you, Yoongi, and you laughed at me. Hard. So yes, I am that angry with you.”

You throw yourself down again, this time pulling the blanket over your head. Yoongi sighs heavily. “Jagiya, talk to me.”

“Go home, Yoongi. I don't want to talk to you anymore tonight.”

Exploding on him released a lot of your anger but now you just feel sad. Every time your head replays the image of him rolling across the bed in laughter at your expanse, your chest throbs and a fresh round of tears build behind your eyes. You feel Yoongi plop down beside you, arm reaching around your shoulders to turn you once again. You throw an elbow to dodge his attempt. “I'm not going home. We're going to talk about this. If you insist on sleeping here tonight, I'm going to sleep right here next to you whether you like it or not.”

“Do whatever you want. I'm not the one who will have a stiff back at dance practice tomorrow.”

“I thought you said you put enough layers of blankets down that I won't feel it?” he jokes. You decide to ignore him. He sighs heavily again. The blankets shift and you feel his head rest against the middle of your back. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. And I didn't mean to ruin everything you planned – you should have told me we were going to be romantic tonight.”

You scoff. “I shouldn't have to tell you that we're going to be romantic. Romance isn't something you plan, it's something you feel.”

“Well then, what did you plan for if not romance?”

He's got you there. You knew Yoongi wasn't the most romantic man in the world but you still tried to force it on him. Maybe this is your karma. Maybe this is a wake-up call. If he doesn't feel any kind of romance for you … why are you still together?

“Yoongi,” you croak, blinking away more tears. “I want to ask you a question and I want you to be completely honest with me – do you still love me?”

His head pops up from the floor. Not even a full five seconds pass by before he's forcefully gripping you around your shoulders, pinning you flat against the floor as he hovers above you. His eyes pierce you with the most intense gaze you've ever received from him. “I can't believe you even have to ask me that.”

He seems almost angry. “What am I supposed to think? Okay, maybe I planned for romance, but did you have to brush off every single thing I tried to do with you tonight? It just seems like you're not that interested anymore.”

He groans, moving into a sitting position. His hand rubs down his face, a habit of his that you know usually comes out when he's frustrated. “I'm interested in you. I love you. I brushed off everything you planned because to be honest, that's not us. That's not who you and I are, it's not our relationship.”

You frown. “But that doesn't-”

“You love Chinese take-out, you love Pokemon and you've mentioned many times how ridiculously silly and overpriced you think fancy lingerie is. Do you think romance is defined by a certain meal, genre of movie or undergarments? If you ask me, we would have had a perfectly romantic night without all of your planning.”

He renders you speechless because – holy crap – he's actually right. Okay, maybe the two of you have your lazy moments but when have you ever been unhappy in your relationship with Yoongi? He knows you. He knows what you like. He brought over Chinese and rented Detective Pikachu for you. In a weird, comfortable way … it's your own Yoongi kind of romance.

With a dramatic sigh, you turn towards him, scooting close. With his soft cat-like eyes, he gives you a gentle smile and you nearly swoon on the spot. “You're right. I'm sorry for being so cheesy tonight. I think all of those dramas I've been watching lately have gone to my head.”

He laughs, reaching out to pull you against him. “It wasn't a total waste. I really am going to tear that carbonara up tomorrow.”

You giggle in agreement, resting your head against his chest. Your eyes close in satisfaction of being so close and so relaxed with him after a night of pushing him away with stupid expectations. Although you feel a million times better, there's something that still causes your chest to ache when you think about it. “Yoongi? I know that you laughed at the lingerie because you thought I was joking but … I mean, you laughed really hard. Did I look that ridiculous? I didn't look … good?”

He laughs again and you pull back to punch him. Still chuckling, his large fingers envelope your fist, pushing it down. “Jagiya, stop fishing for compliments.”

“I'm not fishing for compliments,” you argue defiantly. “A girl genuinely tries to be sexy for her boyfriend and he laughs at her? That's enough to make her feel ugly. I just want you to confirm whether or not you think I'm ugly.”

“It's like I said before – that lingerie was not you. It didn't suit you. Of course you looked gorgeous and tempting. However-” he pauses, reaching down under the blanket. You gasp when his hand grips your ass, moving you impossibly closer until even a feather couldn't come between your bodies. “This is what I find sexiest. Just you. No fancy underwear. Well … no underwear at all, really, if you're giving me the choice.”

You slap him playfully, not bothering to fight the stupid grin on your face. He buries his face in your neck. You can feel his smile against your skin.

“We should finish what we started earlier,” he whispers, his lips peppering soft kisses along your collarbone, his fingers dancing along the waistband of your panties. You hum in pleasure, craning your neck to give him better access. An embarrassing moan escapes you when he sucks the skin a bit harder.

“Detective Pikachu? Sure, I'll grab the remote,” you joke, twisting as if you're going to move away. He grunts, pulling on your waist until you're straddling his hips. You lean down, ghosting your lips against his.

“This romantic enough for you?” he asks, his mouth moving softly against yours. You narrow your eyes to glare at him.

“Yoongi, shut up,” you mutter as you throw the blanket over your heads and lean back down to thoroughly ravish him this time. Min Yoongi would be doing a lot of swooning tonight.

[bdluejay]

TWRP + The Protomen Concert

So I just wanna infodump about the TWRP concert tonight before I forget everything (walls upon walls of text under the cut, youve been warned)

So it was a 1hr 45min drive up to Richmond and it was a fairly nice drive aside from the inevitable traffic. I listened to TWRP’s discography minus TTT because time. About 30 minutes into the drive I’m singing along, dancing a little, and then I realize. I forgot. My fucking. Tickets. Left em right at home. Fuck. So it takes me 20 minutes to overcome the shock and try to figure out what to do. I didn’t have enough time to turn around and drive back, but the interstate was too narrow and going too fast for me to pull over and figure out what to do so I kept driving and hoping that I was gonna figure it out when I got there. So the rest of the drive goes smoothly, not too much traffic, and I didn’t get lost after I exited the interstate! I got a spot on the lot right next to the venue so I didn’t have to walk at all which was awesome. So I get down to the end of the line and say, “Is this where the cool people are? Haha!” y’know, like a nerd, and I start talking to the people in line with me. And I shit you not, before I even get to say much, the person in front of me goes, “Hey, do you need an extra ticket?” Like, holy shit, really? How fucking lucky was I! I get in line right behind a person who has an extra ticket and they offer it before I even say anything. What a godsend. So I relax finally and enjoy talkin to the folks in line and try not to piss myself because I’ve had half a bottle of water and a smoothie in the past 2 hours.

So it turns 6 and the doors open and we come flooding in, I get to use the bathroom and the head over to the stage to secure a spot. I get about 3 or 4 people between me and the stage and I’m pretty content because it’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to the stage at a concert before.  Then I feel a tap on my shoulder and this guys says hi and gestures to my shirt (I was wearing the shirt for NSP’s Tour de Force tour) and asked which show I went to. Apparently we both went to the one at silver spring which was sick and we started talking about our mutual love of TWRP and a bunch of other stuff. He (collin was his name, im pretty sure?) was super sweet and nice and easy to talk to and we both went hoarse because we talked for the whole hour we were waiting for the show to start lol. He actually had some cough drops bc he was overcoming a cold and gave me one which was super nice.

SO the lights dim and the boys come out one by one, Havve, Meouch, Phobos, then Sung on his stupid hoverboard that I love. And they start playing Back in Town and I’m like o FUCK and they play generous dimensions and im like fuck yeah and they do their dumb schtick that never gets old “that was song #5, and next is song #11, and song #11 goes out to all the ladies out here tonight” and like a sucker i laugh and cheer every time. the setlist is super fuzzy for me but they played life party and i kinda almost cried cause god i really love that song a lot. and they played this like, holy shit amazing medley of a bunch of their songs all the way from 2nite to TTT and i totally wasnt expecting it at all but it was really amazing, i wish i had recorded the whole thing (fingers crossed that someone else has) but they played parts of pale blue dot which is my fave TWRP song and thats all i wanted and needed. ladyworld was awesome, and ending it with all night forever was absolutely perfect, kinda tying the whole set together with the beginning and end of return to wherever. TWRPs whole set was phenomenal and i had so much fun dancing and singing along. i didnt wanna blink the whole time because i wanted to see everything i could and they were just great and i gotta stop talkin about them cause im just gonna end up in a loop saying how much i love TWRP and how amazing they were tonight. 

but then. the protomen come out. and they play phantom racer. and just. holy. fucking. shit. twrp has such a chill vibe and their energy is good but the second the protomen came out the energy went from 100 to a MILLION. twrp and protomens performance of phantom racer was just. amazing. no, amazing is an understatement, but theres really no words to describe just how fucking fantastic they both were together. i wish i could relive that song over and over again forever. the feeling of absolute joy and excitement and happiness i felt during that performance is something i wish i could bottle and experience forever.

so onto the protomen. i had never listened to any of their music before the concert other than phantom racer. but holy SHIT. they fucking rocked it. i was blown away by how talented everyone was. the two lead singers were powerful and amazing, the music was just, *italian finger kiss* MWAH that good shit, like, tomorrow i gotta listen to all their music because every single song they played i immediately loved. and i cant neglect to mention their stage presence. these guys were so cool and intense and their whole vibe was so fuckin rockin. i mean, the metallic gray facepaint and bandanas and sunglasses and masks and helments and robot gun arms????? fuck YEAH!!!!! like i had hopeful expectations for the protomen but they blew me outta the fucking water holy shit. seriously i regret that i didnt listen to them beforehand or i woulda been headbanging so hard. also at the end one of the guys stage dove and i almost got to touch him but i was scared to get under him cause im not very strong and i didnt wanna drop a whole man onto myself. but yeah they were sick.

oh and speaking of headbanging there were a few dudes in front me who were SO energetic and pumped for the protomen like, it was infectious. they danced so hard and they like did this little dance with a couple other people that kinda reminded me of a ska dance?? like yknow the one where you just kinda kick your legs?? idk but they seemed to be having a lot of fun and it made me smile. they also had a 4 person mosh pit and i got knocked around a few times (its okay, i know how it is getting really excited and a lil too rowdy, i was fine) but like those dude were so fun and their excitement was so infectious i couldnt help but smile and have more fun. i got to talk with them some while we were in line for merch and since i was there for TWRP and they were there for the protomen we both gushed about how much we loved each band with all our hearts. they were also super sweet and walked me to my car because i was anxious to walk alone in a city that id never been to before.

so yeah!! tonght was an amazing experience that i hope to never forget. i met some super nice people and talked myself hoarse and had such an amazing time and im so glad that everything turned out how it did. thank you to twrp, the protomen, the broadberry staff, that one person in line, collin, and those two rockin protomen fans for making tonight a wonderful and perfect night.

[the-burning-tiger]

In honour of Eurovision tonight Im bringing this back ‘cos we all know if Magnus  Bane threw a Eurovision party t would be the best party ever...

Read it on A03 or below the cut

It had all started so innocently. They had been lying on the sofa in the loft just watching some nonsense tv show when Magnus had suggested it. How about a little soirée ? His exact words. That probably should have been a hint. You know to celebrate you moving in…just a few close friends. It had sounded fine and as he knew his boyfriend loved to throw parties it seemed mean to say no, not that he was any good at refusing anything to his wonderful warlock.

Alec remembered the look of absolute joy on the warlock's face as he grabbed for his phone to check dates. The mischievous glint in Magnus’ eye when he selected the date may also have been a clue that a quiet night wasn't really on the cards.

Magnus had suggested a themed evening, excited that in little over a month there was a annual singing contest in Europe that would be perfect for a get together. Apparently it was called the Eurovision Song Contest and was incredibly popular with loads of countries in Europe and even some not (Australia and Israel had been invited) all getting involved, and Magnus had pointed out as Idris was technically in Europe it was high time the Shadowhunters got involved.

How bad could it be? I mean some nice music in the background and Magnus had sworn he'd just invite a few people. He had finally settled on a very select group. First of all Izzy, Clary, Jace and Lydia were obviously on the list and if they were coming then Simon had to come and with him Raphael and Lily. Magnus had insisted that seeing as there were vampires coming for courtesy’s sake he had to have a couple of werewolves so Maia and Bat were invited as well. Then Magnus old friends Catarina and Tessa completed the group. Hardly anyone. It would be fine.

Except, as often happened the list kept getting longer, first it was some seelies (after all it would be rude not too) then a few more of the vampire clan and some more of Luke's pack. It was soon apparent that this was going to be less of a soirée and more of an out and out party.

Still Alec didn't worry too much.

Alec had started to feel a little trepidation when he had seen the invites which were unsurprisingly very glittery..

Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood

Cordially invite you to celebrate

The musical spectacular that is

The Eurovision Song Contest

Fancy dress mandatory Come representing your favourite European country

He had felt then that things were getting somewhat out of control. But seriously how bad could a singing contest be … Right?

The next few weeks had passed in somewhat of a blur although despite the fact that he'd been pretty busy at the institute he couldn't help but notice that Magnus was spending an inordinate amount of time planning the perfect themed nibbles and researching drinks from around the world. It was, to be fair nice to see him so excited. It was, however slightly worrying when the warlock roped in Izzy and Clary to help with the arrangements. It became a regular occurrence to find the pair of them giggling conspiratorially in corners, although they assured Alec that it would be a fabulous evening. Apparently Magnus had shown them clips of previous shows to give them the inspiration, which was odd as every time Alec had asked him the warlock had insisted everything was in hand and not to worry.

A week before the party it seemed that everyone was obsessed with talking about what their costumes would be. Izzy had told Clary and Lydia excitedly that Simon was going to simply die when he saw what she was wearing and Alec had to stop himself from pointing out that as the vampire was already technically already dead it wouldn't be that hard. He still had no clue what he would be wearing, Magnus had assured him he had it all under control and not to worry and he hoped that the warlock had been joking when he'd mentioned lederhosen.

On the morning of the party the loft was a flurry of activity. Magnus was overseeing the instillation of a large amount of ginormous flat screen TVs and a spectacular sound system, whilst Clary and Isabelle were decorating every available inch of the loft with bunting and flags assisted by a very disgruntled looking Jace. Every available surface was filled with exotic delicacies, French snails jostled for position next to Swedish meatballs, German sauerkraut and Swiss fondue and many others that Alec didn't recognise. Magnus had set up an equally impressive bar area with drinks themed by country, Russian vodka, Greek ouzo, Italian grappa and many more. Beside the bar there was a stack of laminated cards, Alec picked one up to examine it more closely. There in bold letters was the title “Eurovision Song Contest Drinking Game Rules” followed by a list of instructions..

Fireworks…drink Wind machine …drink Costume change…drink Key change…drink

The list was apparently endless.

Alec had started to realise far too late that the situation was getting rapidly out of hand and equally that there was no way to back out now.

So that was how Alec Lightwood came to be standing in his new home dressed as a Roman gladiator in the middle of raucous party and much as he hated to admit it enjoying himself immensely. Alec Lightwood. At a party. Having fun. Now who would have thought that was possible a year ago.

Alec leaned back against the bar feeling decidedly tipsy as he sipped on a martini and gazed around the scene before him.

He had started to get the idea that perhaps it was a bit more than a singing contest during the very glittery opening credits but it was only when the contest actually began that it became evident that this was possibly one of the most ridiculously camp things he had ever seen. There had been a plethora of different songs from the actually quite good to the deeply bizarre and within minutes the loft had been filled with people shouting

“Fireworks…drink”

“Costume change .. Drink”

From there things had rapidly degenerated. Apparently now they were well in to the voting and quite frankly Alec didn't have the foggiest idea what was going on or in fact who was winning. Magnus had cranked up the music once the singing was over and medley of classic Eurovision songs was playing.

Alec smiled as he watched his sister dance sinuously around a quite frankly stunned looking Simon. His sister of course was an excellent dancer but her extremely provocative French maid outfit was certainly helping. Even Raphael, dressed in a resplendent matador outfit had almost cracked a smile.

The middle of the loft was filled with people dancing and he caught a glimpse of Clary's red hair flying around as she whirled around hand in hand with Lydia. Lydia's blonde hair was in thick plaits to complement her Swiss maid outfit and she was glowing with happiness. It was more than Alec could have hoped for.

Over in the corner Jace and a young werewolf.. Jordan was it… were first bumping like old friends which was funny considering that not half an hour earlier they were arguing over whether that was actually a key change in the Greek song.

“Sweden 12 points…drink” the shout went up

Closely followed by a very drunk Jace, in full Viking regalia, exclaiming loudly that he was Denmark obviously not Sweden but then drinking anyway.

As the music changed to pump out the pure euro pop strains of Gina G’s Ooh ahh just a little bit Alec noticed that Simon had broken out of his mesmerised state. He was clearly trying to do some very drunken Russian dancing to complement his Cossack outfit but despite having vampire strength was failing miserably and spending an inordinate amount of time landing heavily on his butt. Clary and Lydia had wandered over to watch and were laughing heavily, Clary's Greek laurel wreath headdress slightly wonky.

Alec felt someone lean heavily against his shoulder and looking down saw a slightly wobbly looking Lily looking up at him her smile wide and very fangy.

“Great party Alec..” She was slightly slurry and waving around a rather large glass of Bloody Mary… Emphasis on the bloody.

Despite her slightly inebriated state the vampire as always was immaculately dressed in a baby pink skirt suit.

“Hey Lily, missed the memo about fancy dress…” Alec admonished lightly

“It's vintage Coco Chanel darling..” She pouted back

Seeing Alec raising a questioning eyebrow Lilly was soon shouting across the room…

“Bane….. Bane … I love your boyfriend, I really do, but you simply must teach him something about fashion…..”

Magnus who was dancing with a group of Bavarian barmaid seelies looked across grinning broadly..

“Darling… It's a lost cause..” He shouted back winking at Alec.

Lily sighed dramatically and started to lecture Alec on the importance of Chanel. Alec wasn't really listening, the sight of his boyfriend was, as ever, captivating, the silver glitter in his hair sparkling in the light as he wove around the seelies. He was wearing a silver skin tight sequinned catsuit open to the waist showing off an expanse of polished bronze chest adorned with a wealth of necklaces. It occurred to Alec as Magnus sparkled under the party lights that he looked like a sexy mirror ball closely followed by the realisation that he was probably more drunk than he had realised.

Lily punched him firmly on the arm..

“So you see it's practically French national costume…”

“Huh”

“Oh you're hopeless..” She huffed “Fine… I'm going to rescue Raphael, at least he appreciates good dress sense”

As Lily sashayed off Alec overheard Maia’s friend and fellow werewolf Bat, who had been roped into DJ duty, announcing that the next one was for all you lovers out there in his most cheesy voice.

Magnus was practically flowing through the crowd towards him now, watching him was making Alec breathless. He stepped forward to gather the warlock in his arms as Johnny Logan’s Hold Me Now started to play. Alec ran his hands lightly down the warlock's sides.

“Remind me again which country your supposed to be” he teased gently “Well these sequins are rather like fish scales so.. Let's go with Finland” Magnus smiled mischievously looping his arms round his boyfriends neck.

“Cheater..”

“Always”

Alec pulled the warlock into a soft lingering kiss.

They rested their foreheads together as they swayed to the music together, Magnus’ ridiculously high platform boots making them almost the same height.

“So much for a quiet soirée ..” Alec murmured

“If I'd told you would you have wanted to do this…”

“Hmmm maybe not…”

“Are you having fun though..”

Alec pulled back a little and smiled at his boyfriend.

“Definitely …”

“I don't think you’re the only one” Magnus nodded his head to the right of them where a pinstriped suited Raj was currently entangled with a very handsome seelie knight.

“Raj.. Really…when did that happen…”

“Ah my boyfriend the trendsetter”

Magnus grinned at him wolfishly.

“We should do this more often …”

“Mags…”

The warlock threw his head back and shouted..

“Same time next year everyone?”

A huge cheer erupted .

“See they agree…” He smirked.

“You're impossible…”

Alec leaned in and kissed the warlock lightly.

“I love you Magnus Bane”

“I love you too.”

Magnus leant in to return the kiss, this time with more intent. The music was changing into something more upbeat as the warlock started to writhe against Alec fingers tangling in his hair. Alec broke free and growled softly into his boyfriends ear..

“I swear Magnus if you don't stop moving like that I'll have no choice but to drag you out of here and tear that catsuit off you..”

“Now that sounds like an excellent plan..” Magnus breathed starting to manoeuvre them away from the party “I'm sure everyone's Far too busy to notice.”

The last thing Alec noticed before they bundled into the bedroom was Jace leering suggestively and giving him thumbs up.

As Magnus dragged him in for a hungry kiss Alec reflected that it had been an awesome night and, he thought it was about to get a hell of a lot better.