#i swear i posted this earlier but my shit was lagging

[h4venpha]

me when baby knives who had just as shiny, sparkly, big ol downturned eyes as vash. so full of wonder and joy and curiosity!!!

poor baby :((( pls look at his gentle eyes and little sheepish smile

[rubynationwins]

Hard To Handle

Soft!Dark!Sebastian Stan x PlusSize!Handler!Reader (Fem!Reader) (RPF)

My Masterlist

Summary: You risk your safety trying to find Sebastian when he runs off, but you don’t understand why he’s so upset. As his handler, it’s your job to keep him in line. Plus, why would any man try something on a girl like you? He decides to show you just what men are capable of.

Warnings: 18+, minors plz go away, dark fic(or my attempt at one), dub/non-con, soft!dark!Sebastian, smut, enemies to lovers, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking, manhandling, choking, edging, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, angst, light dom/sub, swearing, fat shaming/name calling(not by seb), mentions of body image issues // If there are warnings I missed plz lmk so I can include them. In general, if this type of content is triggering for u DNI. Read at ur own risk

Word Count: 5,100

A/N- This is my first dark fic, or at least kinda dark? Idk but I hope you enjoy it! Seb is obviously OOC (since this is a dark fic) he’s also a bit of a brat😉 I tried my best w/ the Romanian but I don’t speak it so take it at face value plz. Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story is also on my AO3 account, Ruby_Nation, but should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

I want to shoutout the writers who lured me to the dark side with their incredible fics @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @kinanabinks @angryschnauzer @lanadelreyscokewhor3​

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

Famous actor Sebastian Stan was a lot of things: charming, intelligent, insanely talented, a hilarious goofball, and, of course, drop-dead gorgeous. There was something about his chiseled jaw and hooded gaze that made it impossible to look away from the celebrity. What Sebastian Stan was not, however, was good at following rules. Your rules, to be exact. As his handler, you had specific stipulations set out for him to follow. But did famous actor Sebastian Stan listen to said rules? No, of course not. This made your job as his glorified babysitter immensely more challenging. Since, every time he disregarded your directives, you were the one who dealt with the repercussions. He knew this, and yet on the very first stop of his press tour, he decided to run off and galavant around an unfamiliar city unsupervised. 

5 hours earlier

When you arrived at the hotel with Sebastian, it was 7 pm. Your jet-lagged self was still on LA time, though, so it felt more like 9 pm to you. At least your room was nice, even if it was connected to Sebastian’s by a single door. You quickly changed out of your travel outfit, unpacked your toiletry bag-since hotel shampoo was a cruel joke-and went to the bathroom. After that, you walked over to the door that lead to Sebastian’s room and knocked. No answer. You knocked again, “Sebastian! We need to go over tomorrow’s itinerary.”  Still nothing. Luckily, the door was unlocked. A subsequent sweep of his quarters revealed that they were empty. 

Shit. 

That slippery motherfucker had once again escaped under your watchful eye. Okay, maybe not so watchful since you had been on the other side of a wall when he slipped away. But he was only out of eyeshot for about twenty minutes and he managed to not only fly the coop but also unpack all of his luggage. He had so many suitcases! How in the world did he unpack them all so fast? Not that it mattered, because when you found him you were going to handcuff him to one of those god-damn oversized suitcases. See how he liked lugging around an inconvenient charge for a change. 

Present

Now you were wandering around the nightlife district looking for the escaped actor. You stopped outside a bar that could only be described with the word “dive” in front of it. This had to be it since you had scoured every other location in the area that offered booze and/or entertainment. You had waded through drunken crowds in cramped bars, had enjoyed some nice piano music at a more upscale establishment, you had even witnessed a very flexible dancer shimmy up a pole and then drop back down it hanging on with only one leg. Still, Sebastian was nowhere to be found.

At one of the places, you thought you’d found him sitting on a stool at a bar with his back turned to you. You tapped his shoulder and instead found a drunken man in his 50s. The stench of bottom-shelf whiskey wafted off of him. He teetered in his seat on the verge of toppling over. He’d leaned towards you, either because he thought your touch had been a sign of womanly desire or gravity had finally caught up to his unbalanced state. Either way, you leaped back, smacking into a waitress carrying a tray of beer. The tray went flying. The beer went on you. 

So, you were in a particularly foul mood as you walked into the last bar on your quest to find the most annoying actor on the planet. You were soaked in cheap booze and out forty bucks you had used to comp the spilt drinks. It took one sweep of the bar’s interior to spot the man you had been trying to find for the past five hours. 

He was standing under dim lights in the back, surrounded by a boisterous group of men. The bastard was playing pool. By the carefree look on Sebastian’s face and the way he was joking around with his new buddies, his evening had been a lot less shitty than yours. You centered yourself, trying your best to reign in the anger thrumming through your entire being, and strode towards the man who made your job, no, your life, a constant stress-inducing nightmare. 

Sebastian stood at the far end of the pool table, lining up his cue stick to sink the last solid ball on the pool table. His relaxed demeanor was all confidence, but the slight furrow of his brow gave away how deeply he was focusing. You shoved your way through the loud men gathered around the table. When you finally reached Sebastian, you stopped at his side, glaring at him with murderous intent. You expected him to notice the waves of thinly veiled rage radiating from your presence right away. But instead of turning around to beg for forgiveness, he just kept staring at the ball in front of him, oblivious to your fuming state. At this point, you had had enough of this bullshit and just wanted to get back to the god-damn hotel.

“Hey, asshole!” You shouted so that your voice was heard over the roaring group of men. Unfortunately, since you were right next to his ear, you startled him. Sebastian jumped. The hand that was gripping his cue stick flew forward, sending the cue ball directly into a side pocket. Members of Sebastian’s team went into an uproar, furious about the scratch.

Sebastian whipped around, surprise and anger etched into his features, “Y/N?! What the hell? What are you doing here?” 

You were about to retort when a large hand grasped your shoulder and spun you around to face a man who looked like a frat bro mixed with a pickup truck. He fumed, “You just fucking cost us the game! I’m out two hundred bucks now, you fat bitch!” 

Normally, you were able to keep your cool whenever insults were thrown at you. Years of similar-looking asshats calling you all types of degrading names had given you pretty thick skin. However, there was something about this particular meathead that broke through it. The awful night you were having probably had something to do with it too. You stood on your tip-toes, getting up in his face, “What did you just call me? If I were you, I’d turn the fuck around, prick.” 

He lowered his head, closing the distance between the two of you even more. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of cigarettes and dollar store cologne, “And why’s that, little piggy?”

You saw red. You swung your fist back, about to go for a gut punch when a large body pushed between you and the truck man. Sebastian looked like he wanted to hit the other guy too, but instead, he wrapped a hand around your arm and held you at a distance.

In a flash, Sebastian’s cool demeanor returned, “I’m sorry about my… sister, Tod, she’s just in a bad mood right now, ya ‘know?” He gave the man a tight smile as if letting him in on a little joke.

You stepped forward to protest, “I am not his sis–” His grip on your upper arm squeezed tighter. “Ow!” you squeaked, but he just kept looking forward, not even glancing back at you.

Tod, formerly known as Pissface, seemed to accept Sebastian’s explanation. Apparently, though, he still felt the need to give his two cents on why you were in such a “bad mood” as Sebastian had put it, “Yeah. She’s probably on the rag, man.” 

You rolled your eyes, of course. Of course, a grade-A troll like him would say that. Of fucking course.

Pissface–Tod–continued to run his mouth, “I thought she was some stalker man, you guys don’t even look related.” 

Sebastian laughed humorlessly, “She takes after our mom.”

“Huh. Either way, you should put a muzzle on that thing,” Tod nodded towards you. You flipped him the bird and he sneered back at you. “Ugly fat chicks like you always have the bitchiest personalities,” he turned his head back to Sebastian, “Good luck getting any tonight if that’s your wingman.” With those departing words, the deadshit man walked off. Sebastian made no move to rebuke the insult. Instead, he pulled you towards the exit, only pausing to shove a wad of cash at a waitress to cover whatever expenses he’d racked up.

Sebastian burst through the exit door, your arm still clutched in his vice-like grip. He dragged you down the street before finally letting you go. 

You rubbed the spot on your arm he had held and swiveled to glare at the bar that was now almost out of sight. “God, what a douchebag. I’m glad he lost all that money,” you turned your gaze back to where Sebastian stood, illuminated by a lamppost, “why were you even on a team with a dick like him? I’m sure his friends weren’t any better. What’s wrong with y-” 

“Y/N, Shut up!” Sebastian yelled, his usually relaxed tone gone. You took a step back in surprise. His eyes stared daggers at you and there was a brooding aura around him all of a sudden. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his body was stiff as if holding back rage. For the first time since you had started working for him, Sebastian Stan was legitimately pissed off. He tended to be the one who rolled with the punches, who wasn’t bothered by anything. But now, he looked furious. And for whatever reason, his newfound anger was targeted at you.

You were immediately on the defensive, “What’s your problem? Why are you angry with me? Pissface back there was the one being an ass,” you took a few steps closer to him to prove that you weren’t intimidated by his menacing presence, “And I’m the one who has the right to be angry at you!”

He narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, leaning forward, as if talking to a petulant child, “And why is that?”

You let out a frustrated noise. “What do you mean, ‘why’? You snuck off again! Sebastian, you are so selfish, you know that!? I’ve been searching all over, by myself, trying to find you for the past–” you checked the time-“five and a half hours!” 

Your words made Sebastian pause, “You’ve been what?” he didn’t let you answer, “Why the hell have you been out here alone at night? And trying to start a fight with some wannabe pool hustler? You’re lucky I saved you from getting your ass handed to you back there.”

“I didn’t ask you to! I can handle myself just fine. I’m not some fragile doll, look at me,” you gestured to yourself, “I’m a big girl, I can fight my own battles.”

“You’re telling me you could have taken on that prick back there? What about all of his buddies, huh? You don’t think before you act, Y/N.” He said your name like an irritated parent reprimanding their child. “Why’re you so fuckin’ reckless!?” Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends, “Y/N, you’re my handler, not my bodyguard. And even if you were, I still wouldn’t want you wandering around a strange new city at night by yourself.”

“Sebastian, that’s exactly what you did,” you deadpan.

“That’s obviously different, Y/N,” he said flippantly, brushing aside your very valid point, “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. You’re a woman, that makes you vulnerable. The world is full of dangerous people, Y/N. Especially men, who would do god knows what to you if given the opportunity. That’s true in any situation, but when you do this?!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated, “You’re just asking for some random bastard to take advantage of you.”

He was missing the point, “Like I said before; you don’t have any reason to be so worked up. If I was smaller I’d understand your concern, but since I look the way I do, I don’t have to worry about being ‘taken advantage of’ as you put so lightly.”

“What does your size have to do with anything, Y/N?” 

You shook your head, he just didn’t get it. “My whole life I’ve been pretty much ignored by the entirety of the male species, and when they do notice me it’s to reaffirm how repulsive they find me. All because of my size,” your words tasted like bile, painful but true, “That fact doesn’t change when I’m out on my own or when it’s after sundown.” Why was he making you explain this? How could he not see what was so obvious to everyone else?

Sebastian’s voice was somber now, “That kind of thinking is going to get you hurt, Y/N. Or worse, killed.” 

Deep down you knew some of what Sebastian said was true but there was no way you were bowing down to his claims, “How would you even know? You have no idea what it’s like to be me. You never will.” His blue eyes were filled with concern and something else. Something you despised: pity. 

Finished with the conversation, you decided to stop sugarcoating your words, “Sebastian, get it through your thick skull, no man is going to violate me! I’m too big, too fat, too disgusting! I’m just not worth it!" You were out of breath with your words, and your eyes brimmed with spite-filled tears. Sebastian stared at you, wide-eyed and lips parted in disbelief at your outburst. You quickly turned away from him, trying to discreetly rub the tears from your eyes.

“We are done talking about this. As your handler, I am the one responsible for keeping you out of harm's way and fixing any screwups you cause. I will not apologize for doing my job by coming down here to find you. I am the one who lays down the law, not you.” You took out your phone. “Now, I’m calling us a ride and we’re going back to the hotel. That’s an order.” 

Quick steps sounded behind you and when you turned back around Sebastian was right in front of you, “What are you do–”

He snatched your phone away.

“Hey–”

Sebastian grabbed your now phoneless hand and tugged you towards a nearby ally. He kept hold of your wrist as you stumbled after him, confused. What was happening? Had he seen some paparazzi and was trying to hide? If so, he didn’t have to be so rough.

Once you were off the sidewalk and out of sight he pulled up short. You ran into him, unprepared for his sudden halt. Right as you were trying to pull free, he dropped your wrist. You stumbled forward and caught yourself on the brick wall in front of you.

Before you could right yourself, Sebastian was there, pressing his muscled body flush against your backside. What was happening? Startled, you tried to push yourself off the wall to get away from him. His hands shot forward and yanked your flailing fists behind your back. His right hand locked them in place with its strong grip. His left arm wrapped around your soft middle, fingers skimming your waist. It all happened so fast. You froze-too overwhelmed by Sebastian caging you against himself. His heated presence overpowered your senses. You couldn’t utter a single sound.

Sebastian was now devoid of the anger that had been coursing through his veins just a moment ago. His face nuzzled into your neck and shivers shot down your spine at the feel of his rough stubble scraping your skin. He breathed you in and let out a guttural sound. “You smell like beer,” he chuckled. The low rumble of his dark laughter slid over you like a velvety blanket. It caressed every nook and cranny of your body. He flicked his tongue against the base of your neck, sending tingles along your arms, “Taste like it too.”

“Seb-”

You tried to protest but his tongue returned to your skin and you were once again rendered speechless. He licked a languid stripe from the base of your neck up to the notch of your jaw, nipping at the sensitive flesh. You yelped. His rough lips curved into a devious smile as he continued his assault on your exposed throat. Sebastian must have felt your heartbeat increase under his touch because he nipped at your pulse point. He dug his teeth in deeper this time, almost breaking skin. Your cry of pain morphed into a groan of pleasure when he sucked at the spot and then smoothed his tongue over it. 

While his mouth continued to explore your throat, his left hand began its own expedition. It trailed up your stomach and landed on your right breast. When he squeezed and felt your hard nipple straining against the confines of your clothes, he let out a low growl. You gasped when he balled up the front of your blouse in his fist. He wouldn’t dare. He pulled down, tearing the still damp fabric apart. Before you had the chance to rebuke him for having the audacity to rip one of your favorite shirts, his hand once again cupped your breast, this time slipping underneath your bra. His thick fingers rolled over your sensitive nipple and the sound you made was something so obscene you couldn’t believe that you had just produced it. He rubbed your already swollen nub raw. His fingers pinched and plucked and squeezed until you were a writhing mess in his arms, trying to escape the overstimulation.

“Shh, shh, shh,” his lurid voice whispered in your ear, “it’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got you. You’re doing just fine, sweetheart. God, you feel like perfection.” Suddenly, he stopped his ministrations and slid his hand up to your neck. He didn’t squeeze, just wrapped his fingers around your throat. He felt the thrum of your heartbeat against his thumb. Sebastian inhaled deeply, basking in your scent, “I knew you would be perfection,” 

He caressed the underside of your jaw with his calloused thumb and smiled when you shuddered at his touch. You were at his mercy, he was the one in charge now. It was he who made the rules and kept you in place, “You may think no man is ever looking at you, but trust me, I haven’t been able to look away since the day we met.” His tone was deceptively calm, but his heavy panting proved that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“You’re my every desire,” he growled, “do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about doing this exact thing? About pinning you down and touching every inch of you? Touching, caressing, squeezing your body until you’re a moaning mess. Unable to utter a single, infuriating word.” As he spoke he released his hold on your wrists, instead moving to the button of your jeans. He paused, his fingers skimmed over the clasp as if waiting to see what your next move would be. You couldn’t move, even if they were free now. You weren’t sure how he would react if you did, and you didn’t want to find out. This was not the Sebastian Stan you knew. This was something dark and unpredictable, something primal. A small part of your brain claimed that the real reason you didn’t fight was that you wanted him. That you wanted Sebastian to fuck you until you forgot your own name. “Good girl,” he remarked when you stayed still. You involuntarily preened at his praise, arching your back and grinding your ass against his crotch. He was hard, and from the feel of him, he was large. 

Sebastian hissed, sucking in a groan at the feeling of your ass against his throbbing erection, “You are infuriating, dragă,” he knew you despised his Romanian nickname for you. You had always assumed he used it to taunt you. You were nobody’s “darling.” Maybe he had been sincere this whole time. “You drive me crazy with every order, every scowl, every negative comment you throw at yourself.” He slipped his hand under your waistband, roaming down towards your sex. His fingers danced just above your heated center. “I think I’ve finally found a way to shut you up,” He cupped your mound, his chest rumbled when he felt the evidence of just how aroused you were. 

“S-Sebastian, please–” you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop or for him to actually do something. Sebastian decided it was the latter and plunged a thick finger into your dripping pussy. 

He drew in a quick breath, “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart. Not sure if you’ll be able to take all of me-” he added another finger, working to get you ready-“but we won’t know until we try.” He continued to press and stretch your walls. When he added a third finger you lost it, giving up on holding back any sounds. The brief moments his palm brushed over your clit you mewled, desperate for more pressure on the pulsating bud. 

His hand that was still fisted around your neck squeezed before dropping down. He pushed down your pants even more so that they laid at your knees He pulled your thick thighs further apart, widening your stance for easier access to your drenched hole. When his fingers began an assault on your bundle of nerves you threw your head back, and obscene sounds flew from your lips. The fingers inside of you pressed against your G-spot and you started to tremble from the overstimulation.

Sebastian ran his chin along your jaw. The knowledge that he was making you come undone with only his hands was driving him crazy. He ground his clothed erection against your ass, smiling when you gasped at the feel of him. Focus back on you, he flattened his thumb on your clit, massaging it with precise motions. He was greedy for your release. 

It was all too much: Sebastian’s fingers pumping in and out of you, the exquisite pressure he was forcing upon your clit, the feel of his heavy breaths against your ear. You convulsed in his arms, your back arching up as molten lava flowed through your veins. 

You were still recovering from the high his fingers had just pulled from you, but Sebastian didn’t care. There was no way he was waiting another second to fuck you. He spun you around to face him. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hands moved to his pants. He pulled out his cock. It was thick and long, precum was already leaking from the tip. He stroked it from base to tip while his eyes devoured your disheveled state. Your breasts bounced with your every gasping breath. Your peaked nipples were still raw from his earlier torment. It looked like you might crumble that very second, too wrecked to stand up straight. You could barely hold your own weight, he had turned your bones into jelly. Sebastian smirked when he noticed the numerous marks he had left all over your neck and shoulders. His gaze wandered back to your face and his cock twitched when he saw the arousal clear in your eyes. Your irises were just thin halos of color shadowed by your blown-out pupils. It was a good thing he had already gotten you off because he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep from blowing his load once inside your velvety walls.

 “Look at me, dragă.” 

You refused, even though he had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life. There was something about this new position. You felt more vulnerable and didn’t want him to see that reflected in your expression. Instead, you turned your face away from his. That was a mistake.

Sebastian growled. He snatched your neck in his grip again, jerking your head forward to face him dead on. “What did I fucking say?” 

Your hazy focus zeroed in on him, hyperaware of the beating of your heart against his heavy palm. His fingers squeezed tighter and you rasped out, “To look at you.” 

His grip compressed even more, “Say my name. I want to make sure you know who’s in control now.”

It was a desperate fight for air to get the words out, “Y-you are-” He squeezed tighter- “Sebastian!” You managed to squeak out, seeing spots. His grip loosened enough for you to heave in a gasp of air, your body tingling from the return of oxygen to your veins. His hand was still wrapped around your throat, though, his intense blue eyes seemed to see into your soul, “You’re in control, Sebastian.”

“That’s a good girl, Y/N,” his low murmur was laced with warning, “You’re gonna take every inch I give you; gonna be a good girl for me,” his lips widened into an ominous grin, “I’m not going to hold back.” 

You gasped as he nudged your aching folds with the tip of his cock, running it up and down your pussy lips. He thrust into you without further warning. His lips met yours in a deep kiss at the same time. It was an overload of sensations, his tongue caressed the crease of your mouth, demanding entrance, while his hips pounded into you relentlessly. You arched into him, mewling at his unforgiving pace. Your hands flew up to his toned shoulders, gripping them so hard that Sebastian could feel the bite of your fingernails beneath his shirt. Finally prying your lips apart with his tongue, he crashed his lips onto yours, locking your tongues in a heated dance that took your breath away and left you wanting more. More of his mouth, more of his touch, more of him. 

Sebastian seemed to read your thoughts. He rutted into you with even more force. Your pussy walls ached at the stinging stretch of his thick cock. The hand that wasn’t around your neck grabbed your thigh. As he lifted it to wrap around his waist your pant leg slipped down to pool at your feet. His fingers dug into your thigh as he held your leg up. The new angle allowed him to slide against your upper wall with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting the spot that sent shivers down your spine. He released his hold on your throat and brought it down to your center. When he massaged your clit with his dexterous fingers, you saw stars.

“Holy fuck,” you heaved, trying to get air in your lungs, “Sebastian! Oh my god, Sebastian-” All you could do was string together a jumble of incoherent words and moans and cries of pleasure-filled pain.

“Are you close, baby?” his raspy voice teased. He removed his hand from your core, resting it just above where you needed him. You whined at the loss and tried to grind up to reach fingers. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, “Awww, poor thing. Do you wanna cum, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, desperate for release.

“Use your words, dragă,” he tapped his fingers lightly, still too far away for the motion to give you any relief.

“Y-Yes, I want to cum,” you hoped that would be enough for him to take pity on your unruly state.

It wasn’t. “Then beg for it. You already got to cum once, why should a disobedient, aggravating slut like you get to cum again?” The angle of his thrusts changed, he was chasing his own release now. If you didn’t convince him, he wasn’t going to let you cum. You didn’t have the energy in you anymore to be defiant for the sake of your dignity. Screw dignity. All you knew was that you needed him to fuck you until you came undone on his fat cock.

“Please, please let me cum on your dick. It’s all I want. I need it,” His hips angled up to brush against your G-spot again, but he still didn’t touch your clit, “Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry for what I did. Please forgive me, Sebastian, I need to cum. Make me cum on your thick cock. Please, Sebastian, please.” 

Sebastian tensed when you used his name, his hooded gaze darkened with a hungry desire at the sound of it coming from your lips. Satisfied, he brought his fingers back to your throbbing bud, “That’s my good girl.” You shrieked in delight. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight.” He pressed harder against your clit, repeatedly rolling over the spot that made you squeal in ecstasy. 

He groaned at your sounds, “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to, sweetheart.” His hips pumped up into yours, driving you both further to the edge. Sebastian’s grunts and moans filled the space, “Cum for me, Y/N.” Sebastian ordered as he took you, “Wanna feel your perfect cunt milk my cock dry,” his words sent you hurtling over the edge, and with one more snap of his hips, you were gone. Your insides spasmed and your entire body convulsed from the waves of pure bliss washing over you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his defined shoulders. Sebastian kept moving his fingers against your clit, making your pussy clamp around his massive cock even tighter. 

Sebastian buried himself to the hilt and his load exploded inside of you. “Holy fuck!” He roared as thick ropes of cum coated your quivering walls. His body shuddered at the impact of his release. He felt lightheaded. He dug his fingers into the plump flesh of your waist to ground himself. Your soft whimpers were like music to his ears. He pulled you to him, cementing his cock inside of your still trembling walls. He shifted his hold so that one arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His other hand came up to gently cradle the side of your face. You were too spent to try and object to his hold. It was like your bodies melded into one; his hard, sculpted edges melted into your soft, rounded curves. Sebastian drank in the feeling of you. He was never going to let you go. His fingers lifted your chin so that your eyes met his and he planted a chaste kiss on your lips. “Looks like you’re not as repellent as you thought, dragă.”

(P.S. I really like this handler!reader concept so I might make some more that are also stand-alone's.)

[prettyflyshyguy]

Ok here’s chapter 1′s draft of my Resident Evil 6 C-Virus AU fanfic. I am not a writer so would absolutely love feedback on this of any kind. Its almost 2k words so I feel like its in a comfy spot for an opening chapter. If you’re familiar with the game, it opens during the Medical Research Centre segment of Leon and Helena’s campaign. Full thing’s under the cut!

(RT if you want BUT I’m quite likely to delete this post after a while in favour of putting up the finalised version of this in the future!)

“Ada stop! We have to talk!”

Pounding footsteps and heavy breathing echoed through the hallways of the Vinci Medical Research Center. Rounding a corner, Ada flew off with her grapple gun, gracefully landing on the opposite side of an open shipping crate storage room. 

“Your friend likes to play hard to get. She always been like this?” Helena had a mixed tone to her voice, one part concern and three parts sarcasm.

“Yeah.” Leon puffed as they continued the chase.

“Yeah she’s uh, always just like this.”

Across the room, the two Agents heard two voices.

“There she is! Cut her off!”

“I’ve got her!”

Ada was running herself into a trap, the two strangers had approached from two corridors of the room locking her into a corner. She had no where to go. A spray of bullets landed at her feet as one of them aggressively approached her from the front. Turning around, she realised the other had caught up to her from behind. They both had military rifles and were cautiously aiming at her as they slowly moved in. She stared them down, her gaze flicking to the larger of the two men as she noticed Leon and Helena quickly approaching from behind him.

In fear she was about to be shot, Leon violently slapped the rifle in the larger man’s hands, the shock resulting in him accidentally firing a number of rounds that just missed Ada’s head as the sparks  rained down from the impacts up the wall. The risky move meant he lost his grip and the rifle flew out of his hands. In a panic he swung a punch towards Leon who quickly ducked out of the way and threw a high kick back. For a few seconds they wrestled, unsure what the outcome would be. Leon ensured a knee to the gut, he caught the stranger in a headlock, ultimately losing to a weight imbalance as he was tackled to the ground. The break in the action allowed both men to draw a sidearm and they raised one at the other almost in sync. Both breathing heavily, they stared at each other for a moment until Leon broke the silence.

“... Chris?”

Confusion and concern immediately crossed Chris’s face as he realised who he just kicked the shit out of.

“Leon?”

Quickly glancing at Piers, who had maintained his focus on Ada in case she tried to slip away in the confusion, he shifted his aim from Leon back to Ada.

“What are you doing here?”

Helena, who had lagged behind slightly rushed to join the group. Readying her gun but unsure who she should point it at.

A smirk crossed Ada’s face, though no one really paid attention to it.

“Put your gun down, Chris.” Leon holstered his own.

“She’s a key witness, we need her.”

“A witness?! She’s the one who did all this!” Chris’s raised voice and temper shook the walkway they stood upon.

“No, it wasn’t her, it was Simmons. The National Security Advisor.” Leon tried to explain before being swiftly interrupted.

“I lost all my men because of HER!”

“And I lost over seventy thousand people, including the president, because of Simmons!” Leon raised his to match.

Chris’s face softened ever so slightly. There was more going on then he realised. He quickly looked at Ada, who shot him a sickly sweet smile. He went back to Leon, with pain in his eyes.

“She’s working for Neo-Umbrella. You know what that means?”

“Yeah, I do.” Leon’s reply was stern.

“And you’re still going to protect her?” 

“Yeah, I am.”

With half the room’s attention not focused on her, it was just enough time and distraction for Ada to let a flashbang gently slip from her hands.

“Captain!”

The other man with Chris, Piers, yelled out as he saw the grenade fall and clack against the metal floor. Leon shot around just as the explosion went off, blinding all four people. As their vision cleared, they could only watch as Ada made her daring escape with her grapple gun.

“She’s heading towards the roof! Captain what do you want me to do?” Piers’ voice expressed impatience and frustration as they had let her slip.

Chris began to stride towards him when Leon made him stop by placing a hand gently on his chest.

“Chris I need to talk to her.”

In his eyes there was desperation. Chris could tell how important this was to him.

“Leon what the hell is going on. I lost my whole squad but Piers because of her. Do you know how much damage she’s caused?” 

The pain in his voice was obvious, Leon couldn’t imagine what he had gone through. 

“I don’t know what she’s done, but I need her alive. Make her face justice for what she did to your squad, they deserve that.” His response was earnest.

“Just give me five minutes, that’s all I need. Please.”

Chris nodded.

“If anything happens though, I’m interrupting.” 

“Thanks Chris, I owe you one.” Leon smiled at him, though there was a somber look in his eyes. He had no idea the pain and damage Ada had caused him, yet something didn’t feel right.

“You owe me way more than just One.” Chris scoffed as he walked over to Piers, and started discussing the plan of attack for apprehending Ada.

“You sure you can trust her?”

Leon turned back to Helena, she looked a mixture of dead serious and concerned.

“We have history together, I’ll be ok.”

-

Leon and Chris stood on opposite sides of the door leading to a balcony on the roof of the building. Quietly, they exchanged nods, and Leon opened the door while Chris stayed behind out of sight. Through luck and good timing, Ada was there, and she was walking towards the railing.

“Ada wait!”

She glanced over her shoulder, watching carefully as Leon slowly raised his arms indicating he was unarmed.

“I just want to talk. Just five minutes, please.”

A bemused look crossed her face, and with a smirk she responded “Fine, but I’ll be counting the minutes.”

Turning once again with her back to him, she placed a briefcase up onto the balcony railing, opened it and began to shuffle around with its contents. Not willing to push his luck, with the added sting of the flashbang incident that happened moments earlier, he opted to keep a comfortable distance from her. Hoping she will amuse him for just long enough to shine some light on what the hell is going on. 

“Is it true? Are you really working for Neo Umbrella? For Simmons?”

A dry laugh pierced the cold night’s sky. 

“You know the old saying, ‘Some men just want to watch the world burn’? Well,” she giggled slightly, “Some women want to watch it burn too.” 

There was a venom in her voice. A venom unlike anything he’d ever heard from her before. The puzzle pieces in his mind started to come together, and the five minutes he had were ticking away. The dramatic shift in outfit, in behavior, in personality, in motive...

“Who are you really?” 

She froze with her back to him, she visibly stiffened.

“I’m Ada Wong.”

“No, no you’re not.”

Slowly turning to face him, he felt a slight shiver hit him as her piercing stare shot through him. 

“Yes, I am.”

Before he had a chance to react, she had pulled a gun out of the briefcase behind her. Something cold pierced his neck with a sharp pain, he reflectively backed up as he yanked a syringe out of his neck. 

“I was saving that one for Simmons but I think it suits you better.”

As he fell to his knees in pain, his body stiffening, dark veins growing across his skin, he watched as she carefully closed the briefcase and prepared her grapple. 

“You’re no better than the rest of them.” 

The last thing he heard from her was a light laughter that drifted on the wind as she zipped down the side of the building.

Knowing he only had a few seconds, losing motor control and a panic state growing, he struggled to retrieve his communicator, speed dialing Helena.

“Hey did you get a chance to-”

“Helena I don’t have much time, that woman is not Ada, she shot me with a-”

She could only watch as he screamed while the flames engulfed his body and the videofeed shut off due to him dropping the device or the sheer power of the heat. 

-

Her hand started to shake as she gripped the communicator tighter.

‘Signal Lost’ blinked over and over, barely masking the freeze frame of Leon engulfed in fire behind it. She should have gone with him. She should have done something. After everything he did for her, after everything they’ve been through, after how much he trusted her when he had no reason to, she let him down like this. Like Deborah. Like everyone. She had no one left but herself now. Channeling the white hot anger that boiled inside her, she focused on the thought of Simmons. He caused all of this. 

He will pay for it all.

Not giving her time to overthink it, she took off towards the Kwun Lung building, it wasn’t too far away and it was her last shot at taking down Simmons. She knew he would be there, the intel from the Agent that Leon knew was solid. She would just have to do it alone. Like she always had. 

“I won’t forget what you did for me, and Deborah. I swear I will never forget.” She choked back tears as she gave one final glance at her communicator, before flicking the screen off.

-

By the time Chris realised what had happened it was too late. He kicked the door open and readied his rifle, but the flash of heat and fire before him caused a flinch.

Through the fumes and the flickering he caught a glimpse of Ada swinging off the edge railing of the balcony and plunging down the side of the building. Everything happened so fast.

His eyes shot back to where the fire was. A glistening, green cocoon forming in its place. 

Panic creeps up on you. It starts with a feeling in the pit of your stomach. It rises to your head and your hands. You start to shake. You feel light, things start to become a blur. Your breathing hastens. 

Chris felt it coming. Not again. Not this soon. Not Leon.

He shoved himself into the doorframe for support. It was hard to breathe. The fumes and stink of burnt clothes and whatever biological matter the cocoon was didn’t help. He stared at the floor as he focused on each breath. In and out. In and out. 

“Captain, captain what's going on? Captain!!”

Pier’s voice pulled him back.

“Fuck, FUCK.” 

He shot one last glance at the cocoon. He was too late again. He was always too late. 

“He’s gone Piers. Leon’s gone.”

His voice trembled almost as much as his hand did as he responded into the radio. He started sprinting down the staircase. Away from the balcony. Away from the cocoon. Away from whatever’s going to come out of it. Away so he wouldn’t have to face it. Not again.

Pier’s was ready with a military vehicle. As soon as Chris jumped in he punched the accelerator and the car screeched off.

“She took off towards the port, I’ve already alerted all other units in the area.”

He flicked a glance at Chris, seeing the strain in his face as he fought back tears.

“I promise we’ll get her. I won’t stop until we do.”

[moniiyah]

I'll be back. I promise. (part 2)

Pairing: Seoho X Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: fluff ( i guess?)

Warnings: none

Word count: 777 (Ok, i planned this one a little bit lol)

Summary: After your visit of fansign in Korea, you are back home, but still thinking about your experience with Seoho. You just can’t give up. There’s a light of hope when you see him wear the bracelet, you gave him. 

If you haven’t read the first part, you should. Here’s the link: https://moniiyah.tumblr.com/post/190569222245/pairing-seoho-x-gender-neutral-reader-genre

It's been about three days since you came home from Seoul. Your meeting with Seoho left a huge impact on you. You catched yourself checking the official instagram of Oneus every five minutes, you know, in case Seoho posted a picture with the bracelet. "I just hope he didn't throw it away" you mumble. "But he's not the type to do that right? He definitely liked it. Right?" you start doubting everything. The best decision you made so far was to go to sleep, since you're still jet lagged and also to ease your mind a little bit.

You woke up about 2 hours after. Totally forgetting the bracelet situation that made you so nervous couple hours ago. You made yourself some hibiscus tea and went to watch Netflix in your bed. Then a notification popped up on your screen. "Official Oneus has posted a picture." That's where it all started again. You panicked. "What am I supposed to do if it's him? Should i comment about it? Make him remember me? But my comment will get lost between all of the other ones for sure." you did this for 15 minutes. Finally you got to the important part and that's opening instagram. Shit! It's Seoho's post. He posted 3 pictures in one post. First one being a selfie after a show. You swipe quickly. Second picture is him and Hwanwoong having dinner. Your hopes went down as you swiped to the last picture. You hardly swallow. The last picture is Seoho holding up his wrist, showing of the bracelet you gave him. You could swear your heart stopped for a minute. You went to look at the caption trying to read it in korean, but then you gave up and clicked the translate button. "I had so much fun today during our show. Please look forward to it our Tomoonies! hhhhh. Me and Woong had samgyeopsal for dinner! It was my third this week hhhh. But look at my new bracelet! It's pretty right? I'll wear it carefully, it's special to me. Please be careful everyone!" Your hands were shaking so much as you were reading it. "It's special to me" those words got stuck in your head.

Few weeks went by and Seoho had posted some pictures here and there, always making sure to show of his bracelet. Even in group photos he'd always have his wrist up making either their signature moon pose or a peace sign. You were feeling like on a cloud 9 at this point. It felt like a dream. But you wanted to show him, you're still there and thinking about him. You also wanted him to find a way to contact you, because you didn't want to text him on their official instagram so all of the members would see it.

You couldn't figure out what to do for the longest time, but then it hit you. You grabbed your microphone, put the music on and started singing passionately. You chose to sing "Talking to the moon", simply because Seoho sang it before and he knows the meaning of the lyrics. At the end you added quiet "I'll be back, I promise". In korean ofcourse. Then you posted that video on youtube, tagging Oneus in it. Also begging people in the comments to send them this video so they'll see it. You proceeded to post it on your instagram and instagram story aswell, tagging them everywhere. Last part of the plan was to put your kakao id into your bio on Instagram and Youtube. It wasn't the best choice since everyone could have used it but you kinda had no other choice. You hoped Seoho'd see it and text you, maybe you're naive but you're also desparate.

It's been a day already and nothing, no message, no comments not even a like from Oneus account. Maybe day isn't enough. Or maybe he's not interested. Trying to distract yourself you open Netflix and watch your favorite show. "Kakao" a notification made you jump. Thinking it's one of your friends from Korea you ignored it. After watching another episode you opened the message you got earlier. "I'm so glad i found you." "I looked everywhere, I even tried to go through every single follower we had on instagram but it was too much." You had to translate it, because your korean isn't that good yet. Meanwhile another messaged arrived. "Your voice is so beautiful." This time in english. "Nobody can beat your singing" you respond using the korean translator you always use. "I already miss you." You meant every word of it.

Time to plan another trip to Korea i guess?

[ain-t-bovvered]

Epiphany 2

read first ACT 1 

EDIT:  @waywardbaby​

Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters. But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably,  or at least that’s what they told you anyway. 

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack

Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst. 

Some laughs and some shuffling later Cas and Jack left you and Dean alone again. After a little moment of awkward silence, during which a particularly interesting drop of condense rolled down the neck of your beer bottle, Dean clicked his tongue annoyed.

“By the way, big fan of how you masterfully avoided any talks about that scar of yours.” he blurted out.

“Well, nobody asked.” 

You stood up, the old stool protesting, slowly moving in front of him. He removed his legs from the table as you bent over, both your hands on the armrests of his chair.  Leveling your eyes to his, you saw how he tried to hide how his breath caught in his throat and his own eyes flicked to your mouth. You smiled because, holy shit, and then leaned in, grabbing the coffee and the Moka beside him. 

“Take me to the kitchen. I’ll show you how to use this.”

Dean blinked confused before registering what you had just told him, quickly scrambling to his feet as the chair legs scraped the floor.

“Don't use tap water, and fill it to the valve, not over and not under it. Just exactly in the middle.”

“Yeah yeah, how many rules are there?” he said, watching you from behind, bending over your shoulder. “I want to drink coffee, not defuse a bomb”

You shushed him, “Do as I say and you’ll thank me later”, you went on, opening the packet of grounded coffee. “Pass me a spoon, would ya?” you asked him without turning towards him, while you tied your hair up and out of the way. The spoon came hovering in front of your eyes, Dean’s breath was on your neck, and shivers spread down your spine. 

“Y-you need to put the coffee in carefully, ok?” you faltered, “... however, there are two different opinions. We DO like to tear each other apart over that” 

Dean was watching what you were doing, intensely but he was also distracted. 

Dean’s thoughts, even if he was, barely, paying attention, were all over the place. She was talking nonstop, about this and that…  

Jesus, whatever!

He actually did not care right now. She was here. How long had it been since he last saw her? Almost two years? It certainly felt a lot more than that, but she looked the same and completely different at the same time. There was something offbeat in the way she carried herself. However, when he saw her blushing again he knew she was still the girl who mumbled and hit her head under a table and spilled special whiskey on his hand. 

She definitely looked like she could still eat his face if she didn’t like what came out of his mouth and he was pretty sure she could slap him silly if he gave her a good enough reason, and holy shit he got real close to that. 

When he had first seen her, in his bedroom, he had thought he was hallucinating or something. Then she manhandled him and he knew right away that she was real. 

Then came anger when he saw her tattoo and what the fuck. She said she was deep in books and guts not guns and also guts. 

Oh, she’ll hear him alright he had thought before she came back with needles and anti-Vamp biotic or whatever that was. And she looked so proud, all twinkling eyes and pure confidence, his resolutions went flying right out the window. 

She was doing well, she looked well. Maybe just a spank or two.

He gulped, suddenly feeling his mouth dry. No, okay maybe don’t go there Winchester.

When Sam had left to get dinner, he had a moment to let his eyes wander over her, taking her in. Fieldwork surely looked good on her. She looked strong even in her ridiculous height. Layers of clothes didn’t hide what all that training did. She looked sturdy, she was wearing jean shorts, her thighs tanned and full and- 

“The fuck is that?” his eyes had widened at the sight of a long scar.  He dropped between her knees without thinking, and only now did he realize how their position must have looked to Sam’s eyes. 

He cleared his throat as her fingers brushed along his when he handed her the tablespoon.

“Actually that life found me, you found me ….”

He never had what she had and she was willingly diving into this life. They did encourage it when they had left, but she had made it clear that she would just help, not actively participate, or at least...be that involved that would justify a scar that big. 

What else has she been lying about? Was she alone? How many times did he risk los- had she risked her life?

“OH SHUT UP! You want to know what I’d be if I hadn’t met you? I would be dead, in my car, that night. You saved my life and I’m proud of what I’m doing with it… Do not fucking spit your fucking contempt on it”

Her outburst caught him completely by surprise. There she was, standing proud, teary eyes, lips trembling, red-faced and she looked magnificent. His anger had melted into something else, pooling at the pit of his stomach. He had wanted nothing more than to take her there and then. He didn’t care that Sam was there. He had taken a moment before he followed her, but not before throwing Sam a glare to stay, the fuck out of that. His brother had lifted his arms in surrender and shaken his head, and fuck that, Dean saw the smirk on his face. 

He had found her packing the few things she had brought in earlier.

Oh, hell no!! She wasn’t going anywhere. For once he had decided that he was going to swallow his pride just a bit. She smiled at him and his insides melted once again. 

Her face at the sight of Jack had been priceless, and she had brought nougat for Satan’s baby. Yep, the kid had been so grateful for the gift, he kissed her and before he could stop himself he actually shouted at him in front of everyone. 

Smooth Winchester! Real smooth! 

The last night he had seen her replayed in his mind. Her skin, and scent, his fingers through her hair and how his name sounded, whispered and gasped from her lips when he had pressed her against the wall, her whole body opening for him and- 

when Sam had told her she could stay, he saw her hesitation.

“…this is your home too, now” he blurted out without thinking, and it almost scared him how true that felt. 

And now there they were, making coffee at the crack of the fricking dawn, probably trying to fight jet lag as he scooted closer, hands itching to touch her.

“So you have two choices here…” you continued trying not to think about Dean looming behind you and his warm breath on your neck, “... pack your coffee very tight and once you reach the edge smooth it down. Or you could gently let the coffee settle by itself and just let it breathe. In my opini-” you stuttered feeling his nose grazing your skin, his arms moving around you, hands resting on the counter. 

“Dean?”

“Mmm, your opinion?” he murmured and you could be mistaken but you were almost certain he had buried his nose in your hair and maybe inhaled.

You cleared your throat, “I - in my opinion, the first method gives you a stronger and sharper taste. The second makes the taste smoother and gentler. So it depends on what are you in the mood for…”

“I can think of a few things,” he said low, and you swear you could hear the smirk on his stupid mug. Spinning around you faced him, hands bent behind you on the counter, looking up in his dark, hooded eyes gazing down at you. You just needed to stretch on your tippy toes to…

“OH.. " you cocked an eyebrow, “I’ll be happy to listen to those…” your hand lifted to his face, brushing his cheek lightly before gently grasping his ear. After all, two can play this cruel game and tugging him down to your level, added: “... after you make me the perfect coffee as I just explained it to you.”

Half an hour later, you were satisfied.

“Mmm yep! This is great. I can almost taste you” you said moaning, around escaping your lips that may not quite be appropriately fitting a coffee sampling. 

Dean choked in his mug, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I-I m-mean ...I can tell this has been made by you”

“Oh, so you could tell who made you coffee?” the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“To some extent, yeah. Everybody can tell different people making coffee”.

He leaned back and crossed his arms, “Ok, close your eyes then and tell me which one is which.'' 

You felt him putting a cup in each of your hands. You slowly sipped from both. After a moment you held up the right one, opening your eyes.

“This is mine”

“How in the hell …”

“Because it tastes different. Here…” he took a sip from the cup you held to him and then one from the other.

“This is good,” he said, lifting yours. “Tastes soft in the beginning and then bam! All the flavor hits you at the end. That one though,” he said pointing at the one he had made, “That one just tastes bitter.”

“That’s not true. It’s rich and complex. You’d think you know what you are tasting, and end up with something totally different” you pointed at yours, “mine is just…bland”

“Let’s just agree to make each other’s coffee?” he offered. 

“Yeah, I think it’s better” you chuckled.

“So how long you planning on staying?” he asked peeking from above his cup.

“I - I, uh, don’t know. For as long as I’m gonna be useful? Actually, I’m here because I sorta um …lied to my bosses...?”

“Lied?” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, I guess I told them I was going to…sort of ...train …you” your voice lowered almost to a whisper, and you blushed deeply.

“I - 'm sorry what?” he laughed, “Did I hear that right?”

You bumped your forehead on the hard cold table embarrassed.  “I needed an excuse to leave my post and this was the best I could come up with!”

“…so you said” he had another fit of laughter, “that you were going to train American hunters?” His eyes gleamed as he continued, “And they believed you? Damn, Y/n!”

“Well…I… uh... volunteered to bring you some new equipment and knowledge. And before you say anything, they don’t know that I was talking about the Winchesters.”

“Why?”

You fidgeted with the handle of your cup, not looking at him in the eyes. “Well ...you two are pretty famous both as hunters and as legacies, and not in the best way. If I had told them you were my contacts they would have never let me leave-”

“Oh…?” he said smugly.

“-not that I think the same!” you quickly added, “I have the utmost respect in what you did and do. I've told you that already.” You looked down at your wringing hands “Don’t ever doubt that” you whispered trying to show him how truthful you were. 

“I know you do,” he said softly. Your hands itched to grab his but you didn’t know where you stood. 

Were you friends? More than that? Lots of time had passed and things were muddy and he was being his flirty, asshole self as always but-

“Um, I guess I’m gonna crash with you guys for a bit, if... that’s ok”

“I told ya, this is home, you can stay as long as you want”

“Thanks” you smiled. “I’m gonna start unloading my car, for my luggage at least. The rest, I can do tomorrow.” 

Putting your empty cup in the sink you walked toward the exit.

“You can go to sleep, you know?” you looked over your shoulder when you saw Dean tailing you.

“I know. It’s fine. I’ll help”

“Your shoulder’s fucked”

“‘Tis but a scratch,” he replied with a British lilt, his stupid grin brightening up his eyes, and damn those eyes, and his smile, and his whole face.  

You laughed climbing up the stairs “Don’t quote Monty Python to me”. 

Once out, you walked to your rental car and grimaced even before you heard Dean’s whistle.

“Nice car” he taunted.

“Yeah, I know. Well, I just needed to drive here, and since you brought it up, how about you find me a nicer one? “

“We have a full garage here. Some cars need a little kick but nothing I can’t fix.” he proudly said.

You opened the trunk and dragged out a big trolley and another big backpack that you gave to Dean. Easier to carry on his good shoulder.

Walking in the sterile green corridor, you tried to be as silent as possible. The acoustic must be terrible here, and you didn’t want to wake up Sam.

“You can choose any room, Sam’s down there, mine’s number 11 from before.”

“…yeeeah ...I'll need one with a bathroom for myself. You know…one bunker, two guys, one angel, and the antichrist. A girl needs her space.”

“Oh…sure. Mmm, there should be a service bathroom, I think it’s mid corridor? Aaah, you’ll find it. But ..ah...showers are common. No luck there until you say otherwise, though” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure Dean,…just to be safe, if there is a towel on the handle, please knock “ You chose a room that was almost at the same distance from both of them. Opening the door, you grimaced.

“Spartan” you sighed entering and threw the suitcase on the bed. A cloud of dust rose and tickled your throat and you coughed waving your hand in front of you. “I guess I know what else I'll do tomorrow”

You turned to Dean who was waiting at the door. He handed you the backpack and put his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yes, Dean?” you asked while unpacking.

“You…you know that I’m happy…  we… we are happy that-” he waved a hand towards you.

You stopped to look at him, “Of course” you smiled.  "You just need to stick it into your head that I make my own choices. I’ll be fine. I need to finish unpacking and you should go to sleep”

“Yeah…ok. Uhm…goodnight then”

“Night”

You tossed and turned in your new bed, the jet lag hitting you hard and probably the dawn coffee hadn’t been a great idea. You had hoped that maybe listing all the things you were gonna do tomorrow would help, but nope, you were still wide awake. The phone said it was just past 5 am; you could explore the bunker and maybe make breakfast for everyone...? 

Tossing your blanket aside you padded silently down the corridors, shivering as the cold tile floor hit your naked feet. Nobody had switched off the lights, thank god and now you were wondering if they ever switched them off?

Arriving in the main room, the one that looked like an old library, you lost yourself between the shelves. This room alone had so many rare things and so much knowledge that was thought to be lost back at home. Maybe you could ...no… what the hell? You put the book back in its place with a loud thud.

“Y/N, you are not gonna steal these books, you are not gonna steal these books, you are n-” you repeated to yourself in a mantra-like tone. 

“You want to steal books?”

 “Wh - Jack! Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack” 

You jumped at the sudden voice behind you. His face suddenly grew worried, “You need a doctor? W - wait, I’ll call Castiel to-”

“No no, I’m joking! I was joking” you said quickly as you gripped his arm.

“Why would you joke about that? It’s a serious human, medical emergency,” he said confused and honestly, he looked offended. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“No, you are right. Sorry if I scared you. It’s just a figure of speech” 

You saw his brain gears working to assimilate the new information. God, he really looked like a normal kid, a normal confused kid with so much power. Your hands itched. No, it’s - he’s not another monster to put on your table. He is…

“Jack …what are you doing awake anyway?”

“I don’t sleep much and I heard some noises. What are YOU doing up?”

“Ah, jet lag, can’t sleep; I was looking for something to pass the time before breakfast. Tell me, you know the bunker well?”

“Yes “

“Great, want to show me around?”

Jack showed you all the rooms and sections of the bunker. They even had an indoor shooting range. The garage made you giddy and you already eyed one of the bikes, the black Norton Commando. Your eyes were hooked on that when you felt Jack scooting to you. Looking at him, confused, you saw him eyeing the black Impala that was parked inside.

“It’s just a car, Jack”

“Dean said I can’t go near her. He calls her baby and treats her like she’s a person. I don’t think that’s normal”

“No, no, it’s not.” 

Chuckling, you approached the car, Jack anxiously trying to stop you. You let your hand slowly caress the sleek, polished, black hood and you peeked inside. It really was a gorgeous car. 

You went out of the bunker, enjoying the crisp morning air and you paused to watch the sun rising. You felt at home and you were so happy right now. 

“Say Jack…?” you began, facing him as he squinted his eyes at the first sun rays of the new day, “... care for a quick drive?”

The phone buzzed a couple of times and you thought nothing of it. Probably your parents asking about minor stuff and that could easily wait.

“After last year Dean doesn’t like me going out without telling.” Jack was nervous but at the same time, he looked around the store excited even to be the one pushing the cart.

“Yeah well, I’m not Dean, am I? Just stay close ok?”

“I will “

Jack looked like an excited kid, pushing the cart between the aisles, eyes sparkling as you asked him to choose the cereal, while you looked for something that resembled what you knew about American breakfast. He came back with 4 different kinds, face falling as he told you he couldn’t decide. You just took all four and tossed them in the cart.  

You let a fascinated Jack put the items on the rolling mat while you went to the other side to bag the groceries, getting confused looks from people because you refused help to do that. ‘I can bag my own, damn, groceries, thank you very much’ you thought. 

After paying, you also let him park the cart with the others, laughing when he connected them and looked at you all proud, waving the coin. He picked the bags from you and walked to the car. Suddenly the screech of tires broke the silent morning in the mostly empty parking lot and you jumped, startled as Dean’s car stopped right in front of you. 

The three jumped out, a scary look on Dean’s face, a worried one on Sam’s and you could not tell what was on Cass' face. Amusement and something that looked like he was gonna spank the two of you.

“Y/N, what the fuck ?”

“Wh-?” you didn’t have time to respond and Dean was in your face, Sam trying to get between you two. 

“What happened? “ you asked, startled

“This! This is what happened,” Dean stated gesturing between you and Jack. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You and Jack shared a look “…pancakes?”

“Pancak-” Dean began and he had to stop himself from freaking out. “Ok…you can’t take Jack to buy groceries alone”

“Why? “

Dean threw his arms in the air, exasperated.

“Y/N…” Sam pushed his brother to the side, “... we woke up and you were gone and Jack was gone too. We were kinda worried”

“Oh...I’m sorry, next time I’ll leave a note “

“There is no ne-” Dean began. 

“Dean, it’s fine. Nothing happened.” Cass’ calm voice interrupted him. You watched them, and suddenly it clicked, and you peered at Jack who looked guilty and kinda sad. Your heart broke but he was still the most powerful being in the known universe and you took him shopping for groceries.

“Oh ...I see, guys I’m sorry. In my defense…” you grabbed Jack and pushed him in front of you. “Look at him! Look at this face” you put your arms around him. “He would never hurt me, right?” you asked and he looked at you from above his shoulder, nodding shyly.

“I can’t believe this,” Dean said rubbing a hand on his face. He breathed out and looked at you. “Get in your car, we’re going home. Jack, jump in,” he said, opening the passenger door of Baby.

“He can ride with me” you challenged, lifting your chin “I promised to teach him how to drive later”.

“Okay Jack, now slowly pour the batter in the center. Try to keep it as round as possible.” 

Leaning on the counter near the stove, you watched Lucifer’s kid, cooking pancakes, his tongue peeking out his lips in concentration. “When you see bubbles at the edges, flip it over quickly as I showed you.”

He looked at you panicked when the first bubbles started to appear, and carefully picked up the half-cooked pancake, flipping it over flawlessly. His head snapped up at you, mouth opened with amazement and your fists shot in the air triumphantly. “You did it! Nice job” you opened your palms waiting. He looked confused, “Dude, slap your hands on mine! Come on! Don’t leave me hanging “.

Dean‘s head popped in the kitchen right at that moment. “We hungry here”.

“Almost done. Jack, can you take those to the table? I’ll join in a moment.” 

Dean started to follow him.

“Deeean…” you chanted, “... can you help me with something here” your tone glacial, now.

“S-sure. Um- whatcha need?”

“I need…” you turned to face him smiling sweetly, hands behind on the counter, “... to tell me, how did you manage to find us”. 

You watched as he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “You put a tracking device somewhere in my shit, right?” 

His shoulders sagged and you exhaled “It’s not my phone because it would have been neutralized, so what?” your face contorted in disbelief, “Is it my car? Did you bug my car?” 

He did not say a thing but his expression told you everything. “Seriously?!.... Oh my God, don’t you trust me?”

“What? No, of course, I trust you, don’t be stupid!” he retorted and you blinked at him, “Uh...sorry...we all do. We had already tested if your GPS worked but it didn’t...”

“So, you bugged my car?” 

You turned around to pick up the pitcher with the freshly squeezed orange juice and walked up to him, looking like you wanted to tell him something and he lowered himself. 

On your tiptoes, you brought your lips near his ear and grazing it because you, too, are a little shit sometimes, and whispered, “Next time just ask me or I’ll smack you so hard that not even Castiel can raise your ass from where I’ll send you.

“Yes ma’am,” he stuttered. 

Patting his injured shoulder a little bit harder than you should but believing that he deserved it, you joined the others.

The table in the library looked great. A huge pile of steamy pancakes in the middle, fresh bite-size cut fruit, greek yogurt, because Sam, Nutella and the juice alongside the still fuming family sized Moka. Sam was already piling fruits into his yogurt bowl, Dean hadn’t even sat yet that he already had his hands full of pancakes, bouncing the stack from hand to hand because they were still hot, the entire jar of Nutella under his arm.

“Leave some for us, would you?” you said to Dean who was spreading a nauseating quantity of chocolate cream between the layers.

“This jar is-” he said looking at the number on it “-500g…whatever that means. I think it’ll be enough” you snatched it from his hands and passed it to Jack who thanked you and did the exact same thing that Dean had.

“Jack…are you sure you can eat all of that? “

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Sam “he’s imprinted on Cass and Dean and has been imitating  them since his birth “

“Oh, that’s why he kissed me yesterday,” you said just to be a bit mean to Dean who was currently choking. You poured him some coffee while turning to Jack, “I mean, you must have seen him kiss some girls. Please, tell me that’s all you saw”

“Do we need to talk about that?” Dean said, his voice still strained. “Now?!”

“Yes, that happens on cases. Sam always takes me to get ice-cream or at the movies… he says-” his forehead furrowed, “-he says that it’s best if we wait a bit before going back to the motel, but every time we come back Dean is sleeping drunk and clothed. I don’t understand”

“Dude! Come on!!” Dean groaned.

You snorted, and the coffee stuck in your nose.

“Is that everything?” Dean grunted, putting down the last case. Straightening up, he massaged his hurt shoulder. “What’s all this stuff, anyway?”

“Equipment.” 

You crunched down and opened one of the crates, Dean and Sam peering down curious. At the sight of piles of books and manuals, Dean’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“You think I would have been able to go on a plane with all the weird shit without problems? They shipped all the toys in a container. They should arrive in a few days”

“Toys? What toys?” Suddenly Dean’s eyes sparkled.

“Most of it, you’ve already seen from the British. The rest is mostly prototypes I was helping with. Shouldn’t really have taken them out the lab but, what the hell? They don’t know what you have to face. They could be more useful to you than to them”. You passed the manuals to Sam’s eager hands. “Now, can you show me an empty room you don’t use so I can set up my stuff?”

The next 3 hours were spent setting up a makeshift lab with what little you were able to bring from HQ. Jack offered to help and he was now sitting on a chair while he checked the list. “Is that everything?” you asked, clapping your hands to get rid of some dust.

“I…think so “

“Let me see.” You walked behind him and scanned the list.  “Yep, that’s everything. Thank you, Jack.”

He smiled proudly. You really couldn’t see evil in him. Your eyes fell on the exposed skin on his neck and your hand twitched. If you could just take a bit of his blood…

“what’s all this crap?” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your trance and you looked up at him.

“Your new lab!” you announced, gesturing around, proudly.

“The new what, now?” he walked in and looked around. “Not to be an asshole sweetheart, but we don’t need this stuff.”

Your smile fell, before frowning. “You say that now, but after I’ll show you how this works you’ll thank me. Besides …” you said walking up to him, “... this is just a little one. It only has the basics. You’ll learn in a flash, don’t worry and I translated all the procedures”

“Y/N, we are hunters…” he began. 

“And I’m a lab nerd, I know. But…” you turned to watch the room, “... this could help you with the medical problems and… ” you faced him again, “...preventing nasties, ok?”

“Such as..?”

“…Mmm, like… not having to worry about vamp blood accidentally falling in your mouth or, even better, werewolves’ bites. You inject this-” you said pulling out a vial and shaking it in front of his eyes, “-and no worries. You are safe for up to 4h from doggie genes. Awesome right?” you said wiggling your eyebrows.

“…that’s…ok, yeah that’s actually pretty sweet, but ...why needles, Y/N? Aren't there any…vitamins, gummies?”

“….-then there’s this spray that can partially transform your scent to nonhuman or something. It confuses the nose,” you said waving a can to him. “Oh, oh and this! Oh, this is one of my favorites. Need blood to draw a sigil or some spells? Forget about cutting yourself and….” he and Jack watched as you went around the room grabbing things and dropping them in a pile in Dean’s arms.

Suddenly Cass appeared on the door, “I think Sam has a case”

“Really?!” you stopped with another one of your tools mid-air, throwing it to Dean, who barely caught it and followed Cass.

“She’s very energetic” Jack commented beaming to Dean, who stared down at his full arms and at the door where you disappeared.

“Yeah, …she is” he answered smiling softly, before almost dropping one of the vials.  “Aaah, crap-”

When Dean, followed by Jack, arrived in the war room he came to a harsh halt making Jack almost crash into his back. As Sam was explaining the case, you had your elbows propped up on the light table, stretched to reach the laptop laying in the middle. Your hips swaying casually as you listened to what Sam was saying, unaware that the shorts had ridden up your thighs. His hand flew up to cover Jack's eyes, and he cleared his throat. You straighten up smiling at Sam and spun around.

“I’ll go grab my things. Sam’s gonna update you.” hopping past him you heard him yelling at your back:

“To the car in 20 …and change your pants!” 

“…and change your pants” you mocked while shimmying out of your shorts. “Like, I don’t know any better”. Hopped to squeeze in your leggings, you felt your heart beating fast, excited for your first real hunt with them. A chance to prove your worth, finally! Maybe after this, Dean would stop being an asshole. Grabbing your medical kit and duffel bag, you stopped by the new lab and grabbed a few things. You were going to hunt what was probably rogue werewolves. Should you bring…

“Maybe I should ... yeah, ok.” You went back to your room and dragged out the soft case from under the bed, which you had hastily placed there, the night before. 

“Hello beautiful “ you cooed, stroking the straps across your chest. 

You found everyone in the garage. Jack and Castiel, you noticed, had no luggage. 

“You not coming?” you asked, disappointed.

“No Y/N. I and Jack will stay here for this one”

“Why?”

“It’s probably a milk run, nothing fancy. They can rest this one out and focus on the search for mom” Sam told you, leaning out the passenger seat.

“We’ll stop along the way for a bit before going to Grantsburg” Dean called from the driver seat, “get in”

“Where are we stopping? “ you yelled over the music. Dean lowered the volume, looking over his shoulder to you.

“Sioux Falls “

“Oook, why?”

“It’s a 10h drive to Grantsburg. We’ll stop to rest and visit a friend.”

“Another hunter?”

“And a sheriff and a friend of ours,” Sam added.

You nodded and caressed the leather seats, Dean’s eyes watching from the rear-view mirror. “This car is gorgeous, by the way…” you mused and heard Sam scoffing and Dean, pleased, hummed gently as he patted the dashboard, “...and you have an unhealthy relationship with it,” you added, earning a laugh from Sam and glare from Dean. 

The rest of the drive passed slowly, listening to the same 3 cassettes. By the look Sam gave you, you realized that suggesting something else was out of the question. Like, not even try to ask, it's out of the question, kinda look.  Finally after a drop of temperature that made you put on your old ratty jacket, and the “Welcome to Sioux Falls” sign, Dean parked outside a simple, little house.

You slid out of the car slowly, groaning, stretching your legs painfully.  “Man, I’m not used to these long drives “

“How do you travel long distances back home?” Dean asked retrieving your duffel bag and swinging it on his good shoulder.

“Humans have these amazing inventions called airplanes, you can cover great distances in 1⁄4 of the time”. He mumbled something while Sam simply shook his head. You followed them to the door and watched as a short-haired woman appeared before they could even knock.

“Hey, guys! Couldn’t mistake that car’s sound for anything else.” She hugged them both, warmly. “How are things?”

“Oh, you know Jody. No rest for the hunters. This…” Dean said moving aside, “... is Y/N. We told you about her, yes?”

Jody looked at you with a critic's eye. You smiled uncomfortably, her gaze quickly softening, as she offered her hand.

“Hi…I’m Y/N” you repeated as you took it, smiling.

“Jody Mills... they told me you are Men of Letters?” she asked you while inviting you in.

“More like Ladies of Letters, from the family that initiated me. Ladies run things where I come from”

“Love that!” She closed the door and pointed you to the couch where Dean was already slouched on, Sam occupying the armchair which although quite spacious, looked extremely small with that soft giant on it.  

“Are you here for a case that I missed?” she asked from the kitchen.

“Nah, just visiting. Tomorrow we're driving to Grantsburg for a possible werewolf case… thanks” Sam said, grabbing one of the beers from Jody. Dean was next and she paused a moment, sizing you up.

“…I know I have a baby face but I’m past 26” you smiled bitterly. She blinked and smiled back, handing you the bottle.

“Don’t sound so salty. Give it 15 years and that baby face will be your best ally. Trust me”. Sitting down, she turned to Dean. “I’ll call Donna later to give her a heads up”

“I think this will be a milk run, but sure. Maybe she picked up something. Where are the girls?” Dean asked looking around.

“Alex’s at work, Patience’s gone home for finals and Claire she is ...well…you know” she sighed. 

“Looking for trouble again, I assume” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah …” She confirmed while taking a large gulp of her beer. Looking at her watch she stood up slapping a hand on Dean’s knee. “Stay for dinner?”

“I thought you’d never ask” Dean answered, excited.

[carmenlire]

Off the Record Ch. III

read chapter one

read on ao3

Magnus walks into the office at 7am sharp. He’s carrying a latte from the coffee shop around the corner and as he takes a sip, he grimaces a little at the bitter taste.

He’s running on three hours of sleep, having stayed up far too late working on the finishing touches of Alec’s suit. It’s been a while since Magnus has worked around the clock for a piece and it’s strangely invigorating even if he does want to collapse on his couch and sleep the morning away.

Nodding to a few of his employees, Magnus manages to make it up to his office without talking to anyone. Really, only a few departments were up and running this early. Magnus might demand a lot from his staff but he wasn’t unreasonable.

He kept unreasonable expectations to himself.

Clary’s not due for a couple of hours so Magnus has the floor to himself. Walking into his office, Magnus sees the two mannequins displaying Alec’s sample jackets near his desk. In the bright morning light, Magnus takes another drink from his cup as he studies them.

“Still got it,” he murmurs to himself, eyes raking over the fabric looking for anything out of place, pushing a loose pin back into position.

He has no idea what Alec will think of the suits. Really, while Magnus might have the tiniest crush on the reporter, the man’s an enigma. In his early thirties, Alec Lightwood was by all rights a man on a mission.

Magnus could relate even if he wondered just how much the old adage rang true.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Alec seemed constantly in motion, flying off to far flung countries and racking up awards and accolades. It was undeniably attractive, all that accomplishment and drive. Magnus has always loved someone who knows what they want and Alec certainly fit the bill there.

With a sigh, Magnus turns and makes his way to his desk, sitting down and setting his cup to one side while he boots up his computer. While Alec was sure to be the most exciting part of his day, Magnus’s world couldn’t stop for a consultation.

He spends the next few hours losing himself in work. He skims the day’s headlines and gets caught up on his email-- at least as much as he ever is.

It feels like for every reply he sends, two more messages pop up in his inbox in a never ending deluge of correspondence.

He looks over the daily media report his publicist emails at the start of the day, seeing how the Bane brand is faring in the media. Thankfully, all mentions look positive with an editorial piece in Tokyo Vogue speculating about his winter line. Magnus raises a wry brow as some of their theories are remarkably close to his actual portfolio while others are so off the mark as to be laughable.

Taking a short break, Magnus thinks for a quick second before taking his phone out and positioning the mannequins in their most advantageous light. Taking a few pictures, he chooses one before posting it to his Instagram with the caption, Special commission for a client. I wonder who?

Immediately locking his phone again, Magnus looks up at the knock on his door, smiling as Clary pops her head in.

“Good morning, Biscuit,” he greet warmly. “What do you need?”

Walking into his office without a word, Clary only takes enough steps until she can close the door behind her, leaning against it as she looks up at the ceiling without saying a word.

“What is it?” Magnus’s voice is bemused as he takes in his assistant of three years. Clary’s a consummate professional even if she has a propensity to be a little dramatic.

With a sigh, Clary straightens and holds the folder to her middle. If Magnus’s isn’t mistaken, there’s a blush sweeping over her cheeks. He’s just about to ask what on earth just happened when she speaks up.

“You’re ten o’clock is here. Alec and Isabelle Lightwood.”

Looking up at the clock, Magnus is a little taken aback to see just how much time has passed while he was working. It’s ten on the dot and Magnus gives the Lightwood siblings points for punctuality.

“What’s got you so flustered?”

Glaring, Clary manages to hiss, “You didn’t tell me that Isabelle was stunning,” in a stage whisper that has Magnus barking out a laugh as he walks over to the mannequins.

“Now that you mention it,” he muses. “She is your type.”

Fanning herself with the folder, Clary straightens back into her professional stance. “Should I send them in?”

Smoothing down a lapel, Magnus gestures absently with a hand. “Of course, dear.”

He barely hears the door open again, focused on last minute adjustments in a move that is not an effort to quell his nerves.

Magnus Bane doesn’t get nervous and certainly not over a client.

He ignores the voice in his head calling him a big goddamn liar and turns around as he hears steps approaching. Face set into a welcoming smile, every thought in Magnus head disappears for a beat, then two, then three.

Alexander Lightwood can wear a pair of Levis like no one Magnus has ever seen before, making a perfectly plain sweater-- which Magnus has a sneaking suspicion is Valentino-- look couture.

He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning and it gives him a deliciously rugged air. Distantly Magnus wonders if he’s drooling before he shakes his head imperceptibly and pulls his shit together.

If he didn’t know better, Magnus would swear that Alec was similarly affected. Holding out a hand, Magnus says, “Magnus Bane. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

To his utter delight, Alec smiles and it looks easy, open. Magnus might have expected a certain coolness but right now, Alec looks approachable and friendly.

“Alec.”

Magnus thinks he hears Isabelle mutter underneath her breath but he can’t quite place the words. It’s no matter, though, because in the next instant Alec is sliding his hand into Magnus’s.

His palm is warm, inviting, and as the two of them shake hands, it feels like their in their own little world-- at least to Magnus.

Alec, for his part, looks completely unaffected as his smile cools. The handshake is completely perfunctory before Alec drops his hand and turns toward his sister.

“You already know Izzy,” he says with a nod in her direction and Magnus almost gets whiplash from the change in attitude, the earlier friendliness turning almost icy.

Magnus has worked with jerks before and while it chaps his ass, Magnus doesn’t let his expression shift as he turns toward his friend.

“Of course. Isabelle,” he greets, smile deepening, and leans close to kiss her cheek.

She reciprocates, resting her hands on his shoulders, before pulling back. Back to Alec, Magnus only sees Isabelle as she rolls her eyes in her brother’s direction.

“Magnus. Thank you so much for doing this. We know you’re a busy man who did this as a favor to a friend.”

The tilt of Magnus’s mouth turns wry as Isabelle speaks through clenched teeth and as he takes a step back, Magnus’s gaze flicks over to Alec who looks like he’s chewing glass as he says, “Thank you, Magnus. Next week’s dinner is important and my sister’s been raving about you since she told me about our appointment.”

Slightly mollified, Magnus just offers, “Good to know my reputation precedes me,” and turns with a extravagant hand towards the two mannequins.

“Why don’t we get down to business,” he says briskly and starts with the classic suit jacket. “I’ve created two sample suits. As you can see, I went with classic for this first piece. All black wool with silk lapels and finishing details.”

Moving toward a hidden closet, Magnus opens the door and takes out the hanger with the rest of the ensemble. Handing them over to Alec, who takes them without hesitation, Magnus continues, “Go ahead and try this on and we’ll see how it fits.”

He winks. “We’ll see just how close to your measurements I could come to with just pictures as reference.”

Clearing his throat, Alec nods and turns towards Magnus’s ensuite bathroom and closes the door without a word.

Left alone with Isabelle, he looks over as she sighs heavily.

“He’s such a dunce,” he hears before she’s smiling apologetically. “Sorry about him. I’d blame it on the jet lag but unfortunately my brother isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type.”

Magnus waves that away. “He’s not the first less-than-pleasant client I’ve had, dear, and he won’t be the last. While I’m disappointed, of course, that he doesn’t have the same sunny disposition as you, I have to admit that I’m looking forward to seeing him fill out my clothes.”

“Alec might prefer to wear simple clothes but he definitely has his own sense of style,” Isabelle agrees. “He does get a little set in his ways, though.”

“Don’t say that Alec didn’t want to come this morning,” Magnus says sardonically.

Grimacing, Izzy just replies, “He wasn’t an ass about it but once my brother finds something-- someone-- he likes, it takes some persuading to steer him in a different direction. He has the disappointing and extremely frustrating habit of landing himself in ruts.”

Magnus can’t help himself from coming to his defense, suggesting, “He is a busy man. I can’t imagine that he has all the time in the world to explore when he’s always off on assignment.”

Isabelle huffs but before she can say anything, the bathroom door is open.

Goddamn.

Magnus keeps his neutral expression, though it takes more effort than he’d like to admit. He’d gotten damned close to Alec’s measurements and as he runs a critical eye over the suit, cataloging the dozen places that need altering, Magnus gives himself a little pat on the back for another job well done.

Gesturing sharply for Alec to approach the tri-fold mirror in the corner of his office, Magnus swings by his desk to pick up his pin cushion and tape measure before joining Isabelle and her brother.

If his eyes happen to drop to a truly magnificent ass, Magnus assures himself that no one’s the wiser.

Coming around to stand in front of Alec, Magnus smooths the shoulders of the suit.

“This needs let out three quarters of an inch,” Magnus mutters under his breath, noting the tightness as the fabric stretches over an impressive set of shoulders.

Alec stands still as Magnus repins the area. Magnus doesn’t pay him much mind as he circles around, making other minute alterations. Tugging down the back of the jacket, Magnus admires the flare that accentuates slim hips before coming back around and shifting to the shirt.

Looking up, Magnus meets Alec’s eyes, his own dancing just a little as he reaches toward the collar.

“Now, I don’t know the dress code for this event but I’ve tailored the shirt and jacket so that it’s suitable for both a bow tie or open throat.” So saying, Magnus unbuttons the top two buttons, fingers just gliding over the warm skin of Alec’s neck.

While his expression doesn’t change, only half of Magnus’s mind is on which style fits best, waiting for Alec to give him some feedback.

Most of his thoughts are caught on the ripple of Alec’s throat as he swallows hard, mouth opening on an almost silent gasp that only the two of them hear. Their eyes collide and Magnus wishes desperately that this was a sign. It’s a moment suspended in time-- Magnus’s fingers still along the collar of the shirt, spreading it wider to show a larger swathe of tan skin.

No one says anything and Magnus can’t even begin to string a sentence together as he wonders what the hell the man in front of him is doing to his usually iron-clad professionalism. Before he can do anything though, Alec’s clearing his throat. It jars them from the spell that seems to have been cast over their tableau and while Magnus doesn’t startle, he does blink, the breath shuddering out of him as Alec’s tongue darts out to drag over a full bottom lip.

“Actually,” Alec says slowly, looking at Magnus as though for permission, “The gala is black tie only. No open throats allowed.”

“Of course,” Magnus replies mechanically. On autopilot he buttons the shirt back up and takes a step back, regaining some equilibrium with the move.

Turning his back for a brief moment, Magnus walks over to his desk, grabbing the slim box from the corner of his desk. He lifts the top as he returns to Alec, holding it out for both he and Isabelle to look over.

“I thought you might say that,” Magnus says with a small smile, nodding towards the black silk bow tie resting in white satin. “I had the design team bring this up just in case you opted for the more formal choice.”

Isabelle reaches for the piece of fabric, but Alec beats her to it, lightly slapping her hand away. “I can tie my own bow tie,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes as only a big brother can before taking a step or two closer to the mirror for a better look.

Magnus watches the display with a smile. His eyes catch on the graceful, if utilitarian, movements of Alec’s hands as he expertly ties a perfect bow. Leaning closer to the mirror, Alec’s thumb runs under the wing tip collar of the oxford shirt, smoothing the black silk, and Magnus’s mouth goes dry.

Get a grip, he tells himself and brightens when Alec’s eyes catch his in the mirror, as if asking for a second opinion.

Gesturing for Alec to step back, Magnus runs a critical eye of the outfit. He reaches for Alec’s arms, pulling them straight in front of him, gauging the length.

“It’s a little tight,” Alec admits, subtly flexing his arms.

Magnus’s reply is absent as he says, “The sleeves are too short. I’ll send down to the store for the next size and tailor it to the measurements I’ll take in a few minutes.” Shooting the cuffs, Magnus looks up with a frown. “Do you have cuff links or do you need a pair? I have a few on hand to get the general effect but I can refer you to a few jewelers if that’s more your speed.”

“I have cuff links at home. I didn’t think to bring them,” Alec admits sheepishly.

Magnus waves that away.

“I should have told Isabelle. No matter, like I said, I have some that will give us the effect we need and see what adjustments might need to be made.”

Grabbing the a notebook on a side table, Magnus reaches for the pencil tucked behind his ear, pulling his tape measure from around his neck. He spends the next several minutes readjusting pins and getting real measurements, wanting to make sure that this Bane Original especially fit like a dream.

Taking a step back, Magnus studies the new silhouette before his gaze snags on the pants. Tossing his notebook to the side, Magnus kneels and reaches for the hem of Alec’s pants, tugging them down over sock-clad feet.

He smiles, just a little, at the mini ducklings that make an otherwise plain black sock fun.

“What do you think of the silk stripe down the side? Too much?” Magnus glares at the pant leg, debating on the length when he looks up to see Alec already studying him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Alec says and Magnus leaves it at that. He can’t help clients who won’t say what’s on their mind.

Deciding the length works-- surprising since Alexander’s exceptionally tall-- Magnus stands back up, dusting his hands off in the process.

“Well, how does it look,” Magnus asks, stepping back and gesturing for Alec to spin.

Alec does so, looking down at himself in the suit. “I like it,” he says, sounding surprised. Shrugging a little, he looks up at Magnus as he completes his revolution. “I like it a lot.”

Magnus smiles, leaning down to grab his sketchbook from where it’d landed on the floor. “That’s what I like to hear,” he says lightly. He tilts his head toward the second mannequin. “Do you want to try on the second suit? I know it’s flashier, a little bolder, but I looked through press pictures from past formal events and sometimes you like something with a little edge.”

Alec bites his lip, thinking, as he glances over to the other side of the room. He smiles faintly. “Purple, though,” he asks, eyes laughing as he looks more than a little taken aback.

Magnus’s reply is prim as he merely offers, “Aubergine, Alexander. It’s all about the shade.”

“Oh, of course,” Alec agrees easily, laughing. “That makes all the difference.”

“Magenta is different from violet is different from lavender.”

Nodding, Alec grins and Magnus notes the faint laugh lines just starting to form at the corner of his eyes. “You’re right," he says gravely. “My mistake.”

“As long as you’re aware,” Magnus murmurs, taking a step back.

“Can I offer either of you something to drink? Eat?” He winces. “I’ve been a terrible host and businessman. Forgive me.”

Alec waves that away almost before he’s done talking. “I’m good. Iz?”

Smiling, Isabelle asks for water which Magnus goes to the intercom to order from Clary. She knocks on the door to the office before poking her head in. Walking into the office, Clary holds the bottle of water out but Magnus nods toward Isabelle and Clary falters imperceptibly before she switches directions.

Magnus watches as Clary hands the bottle to Isabelle, who takes it with a wide smile, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she says something to low for him to hear. Clary laughs though, breathless, and Magnus finds himself intrigued.

Looking up, he catches Alec’s eye and the two of them exchange looks as Isabelle and Clary talk for another minute before Clary takes a step back, tripping over air with a small yelp before turning on her heel and leaving the room posthaste.

The room’s silent for a minute before Alec clears his throat. Magnus sees Isabelle close her eyes as though in pain before pasting a bright smile on her face and turning towards her brother.

She tries to ignore his look, instead moving to brush an invisible piece of lint from the front of his jacket. Alec doesn’t say anything, and Magnus doesn’t either before Isabelle sighs exasperatedly and snaps, “What?”

Theatrically raising his brows, Alec just pleasantly returns, “Why don’t you tell us?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she just says, “So, she’s cute. What about it?”

Grinning, Alec pokes her shoulder. “You have a type,” he says knowingly. “Why don’t you just ask her out and save everyone involved-- including the long-suffering witnesses-- the pain of drawing it out.”

“We’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to focus on you. And what a sight to focus on,” Izzy exclaims. “You look great, Alec.”

She throws a sharp look at Magnus that he has no hope of deciphering before she says, “Lydia won’t know what hit her.”

At that, it’s Alec’s turn to look uncomfortable.

Isabelle immediately jumps on the shift in expression, demanding, “What happened?”

Clearing his throat, Alec spares a fleeting glance at Magnus before admitting, “Lydia and I are no longer a thing.”

“You’re no longer a thing,” Isabelle repeats incredulously. “What?”

Shrugging, Alec just says, “We both decided that things had run their course and we should go our separate ways. We’re still friends just-- just nothing else.”

Magnus absorbs the information. The truth is, people rarely paid attention to their tailor and Magnus has been a fly on the wall of conversations some people would kill to know. He can’t quite believe Alec’s airing his business so nonchalantly in front of him but Magnus fulfills his role, remaining obscure.

That’s, at least, until Alec turns directly towards him and offers, “It’s probably hitting the news soon, so I didn’t see an issue letting someone know before it’s official. I hope you don’t mind.”

Alec rubs the back of his neck, “I know that we’ve only known each other an hour,” he says, tone self-deprecating, “But I trust you. I don’t know why but I do.”

“Client confidentiality is a must in my business, I assure you.” Magnus smiles, just a little, adding, “I’d hope my friendship with Isabelle would vouch for me but just so you know, I’m not in the business of spreading gossip.” He arches a brow. “I have better things to do with my time. I am a busy man after all,” he sniffs.

Alec’s expression warms at the reassurance and he snorts a laugh. “Good,” he says. “I’m glad."

Taking a few steps over to Magnus, Alec holds out his hand. “Thank you. I know I was a little short with you when we first arrived and I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but helpful and I love this suit.”

Magnus slides his hand into Alec’s grip, their handshake professional even if Alec’s expression is much more open this second time around.

“You’re welcome, Alexander. I’m glad that Isabelle thought to mention my name. It’s been awhile since I’ve done such a commission and I have to admit that I’d forgotten how fun it can be, filling a rush order for a particularly influential client.”

“I’m influential, huh?” Alec’s voice is soft, searching, and Magnus can’t stop himself from leaning infinitesimally closer.

“Well, you’re only one of the most well-known journalists in The States, if not the world,” Magnus replies demurely. “I can’t wait to see how you photograph in my clothes.”

Close, Magnus can see the way Alec’s eyes widen and the way the faintest color sweeps across his cheeks before he pulls-- finally-- his hand from Magnus’s.

It’s over quicker than Magnus can blink and he can’t help but wonder if he didn’t just imagine the way Alec swept a lingering thumb across his palm.

Stepping back, Alec nods towards Izzy. “I hope I can do them justice,” he says before continuing, “I promised Iz that we’d get lunch soon and we’ve taken up enough of your time. While I love the craftsmanship of the second suit-- and you might have even gotten me into it if it was for a different occasion-- I think I’ll go ahead and order this black one.”

“Smart choice,” Magnus manages, still preoccupied before he shakes his head and snaps back to attention. He smiles brightly at Alec.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Alexander. I have to admit that I might watch your news segment regularly. It’s nice to meet the man behind the camera.”

“Yeah,” Alec asks, sounding pleased at the news. “I hope I don’t bore you.”

“Never,” Magnus vows. “Not even when I have no idea what treaty or legalese you’re talking about.”

Clearing his throat, Magnus steers the conversation away from his embarrassing habit. He just met the man-- Magnus doesn’t need to spill all of his secrets this morning.

He walks until he’s standing behind Alec and helps him shrug out of the jacket. He gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to change back into your street clothes while I hang this up.”

Alec follows his direction and disappears into the bathroom. Magnus doesn’t know quite when Isabelle moved but he’s suddenly being nudged in the ribs.

Wincing, Magnus jerks out of Isabelle’s particularly pointed reach.

“What?”

Pointing a finger in his direction, Isabelle’s tone is playfully accusatory as she replies, “Don’t play dumb with me, Bane. You were totally checking out my brother.”

Glaring, askance at both Isabelle’s forwardness and his own lack of discretion, Magnus merely scoffs and says, “He’s Alec Lightwood. Of course I was checking him out. I’d have to be dead not to take that man in.”

Izzy chastises him. “You weren’t being subtle,” she says dryly.

Rolling his eyes, Magnus’s voice is equal parts annoyed and amused as he says, “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you’re very straight brother didn’t notice.”

Isabelle doesn’t say anything in response and when he looks over from where he was hanging the jacket back on the empty mannequin, he sees his friend looking like she’s chewing particularly cutting glass.

“What,” he wonders. “I might flirt a little but I’m very much aware that he’s not interested, Isabelle. I would never make a client uncomfortable, though I find it hard to believe that Alec is a homophobic bigot, considering the way he teased you earlier about my very lovely assistant.”

Isabelle laughs. Loud, echoing laughs that, quite frankly, startle Magnus.

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and waits for his possibly deranged friend to calm down. Isabelle quiets down to soft snickers after a few minutes, wiping under her eyes to clean up her running eyeliner.

“Alec is as from a homophobic asshole as you can get,” Izzy assures him. “I promise you didn’t make him uncomfortable. He’d have no problem telling you to get lost if you had.”

She shrugs. “Who’s to say. Alec probably didn’t notice you flirting but if he had then he must not have minded very much.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to make of that so he opts to ignore it, though he can’t deny that it lingers in his mind, thoughts twisting over those innocuous words.

He shakes his head, impatient at himself, as the bathroom door opens and Alec comes back out, dressed in the warm brown sweater and worn jeans.

Handing the suit to Magnus, Alec smiles easily. “Thanks again, Magnus. I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“You’re more than welcome, darling. When do you need this suit again? I need a firm time.”

Squinting a little, Alec throws out, “How about Tuesday afternoon? Four? The gala’s at eight but I won’t get ready until the late afternoon. Does that work?”

“Perfect,” Magnus beams. “With a rush order, every extra hours counts. I’ll have this delivered to your home or office Tuesday afternoon.”

Tapping his pencil against his chin, Magnus thinks for a second, making sure that he has everything he needs.

“Oh! What color accent do you want for the pocket square?”

It’s a small thing but definitely a touch that most clients like to personalize. Magnus does his best to tailor every order to the client’s specifications and so he waits for Alec to think through options, hoping that it won’t be a fashion faux pas.

He once had a special commission for an orange paisley suit with a blue plaid pocket square and string tie. The client was over the moon with the finished product, even if Magnus had hated every stitch.

“Let’s go with a blue. I trust you can pick the best shade that will be a pop of color but won’t be overpowering or too dark?”

“I can do that,” Magnus agrees easily, happy with Alec’s choice. “Classic, masculine-- very you, darling.”

Magnus can’t resist and he’s treated to a soft smile as Alec ducks down, hiding his face from view.

Isabelle clears her throat. “Well, we’d best be getting to lunch. I’m starving and Alec’s paying so no need to dawdle. Right Alec,” she asks, studying her brother like a bug under her microscope.

“Yeah,” Alec says, voice rough.

“Have a good day you two and thanks for stopping by, Isabelle. It was nice seeing you.”

“We should get lunch soon.”

Magnus winks. “Stop by Clary’s desk on your way out and she can set something up for us.”

Izzy grins, nodding, before turning towards the door and leaving without a backwards glance, not waiting for Alec to follow.

Still, Alec doesn’t leave right away and Magnus is loathe to end their meeting.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Alexander.”

“That’d be nice, though I am out of the country a lot for work.”

“A journalist’s work is never done,” Magnus teases.

“It does seem like it sometimes.”

Taking a step closer, Magnus slowly says, “Well, maybe when you’re in town next you can call me and we’ll see if we can make our schedules work.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a business card and holding it out for Alec to take.

Alec reaches out slowly, as if afraid it’s a trap, before grabbing the card. His fingers brush over Magnus’s and they both still at the contact.

“Thanks,” Alec breathes before breaking the connection and taking the card, sliding it into his back pocket.

“Don’t mention it,” Magnus manages and smiles.

Taking a step, Alec starts to turn toward the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Magnus.”

Nodding, Magnus doesn’t say anything, just watches as Alec leaves, carefully closing his office door with a quiet snick.

The minute the door closes, Magnus is blowing out a breath and falling back onto his couch with a muttered curse.

“Christ,” he whispers under his breath, working on his breathing.

While things had gotten off to a rocky start with Alec, there was just something about him that Magnus couldn’t put his finger on that made him want to come closer and learn more about the damnably closed-lip man.

Magnus couldn’t get a read on him. Cool one minute, bright enough to melt the polar caps the next. There’s something there that makes Magnus want to burrow closer and find out just what Alec’s hiding under the small smiles and brusque facade.

It’s interesting reconciling the man who reports the news in dangerous, tense locales with the approachable, long-suffering big brother he’d met today. Two sides of the same coin and Magnus can’t help but wonder what other sides there are to one Alec Lightwood.

Alas, he probably won’t see the man again, Magnus thinks glumly.

He’d put the ball in Alec’s court and while Alec had been everything polite about the invitation, Magnus doesn’t want to think that there’s anything more there but an exceptionally talented designer fulfilling a lucrative commission.

More’s the pity, he thinks and sighs again.

Lack of sleep starts to catch up to Magnus and with a quick look at the clock that hangs over his desk, Magnus decides that he can take a few hour nap before his early afternoon appointment with the textiles manager in Milan.

He’s asleep almost before he makes the choice, his last thought lingering on Alec and just how well he filled out a pair of jeans.

[tipsytaee]

NCT 127 – “Neo City: The Origin” in San Jose (Fan Account - 190509)

Left work at 5:40pm, arrived in San Jose at 7:10, bought chicken nuggets from McDonald’s, and entered the concert hall at 7:50.

Hall feels kind of like a high school auditorium. Was expecting something a little more memorable.

I was kind of nervous and wondering if the $160 would be worth it, but I was excited about it too. Texted BFR and MKT a quick photo and both replied with excitement for me.

Concert begins.

(Cherry Bomb) Took me a little bit to get energized, but the smooth glide, backward fall, and leg split were everything.

NCT lightsticks are bright af. Every time the girl next to me waved hers to my side, I think I went just a little bit more blind lol.

(Chain) Taeyong’s absss. I was trying to fix something on my phone and, BAM! Front and center on the big screen. That shit came out of nowhere >.<

Didn’t have a lightstick this time, so I was just kinda awkwardly standing there. People around me must’ve thought I was the quietest kpop fan ever. But in my head I was hyped xD

(Ment #1) Taeyong really knows how to pump up a crowd—from his stretched out “Ohhh yeahhhh” that reclined into a sexy, throat-deep groan to his vocalized sports tournament siren after introducing his name. And his little fumble when trying to say “lifetime memories” was cute.

(Fly Away with Me) Ugh, this song put me in a mood. And Taeyong’s bouncing dance moves. He does them really nice.

(Back 2 U) Yuta’s vocals o.o And Taeyong’s soft swag throughout.

Not as many Taeyong stans as I thought, but definitely one behind me. I relate to her every time she screams for him when he does something remotely sexy and the crowd is quiet in obliviousness xD

(City 127) Slower song and Taeyong’s still not able to sit still. He was the only one who stood up and danced around for his part, and he continued to wiggle around in his chair after that xD :3

(Angel) So. Much. Skinship. Taeyong scooting his chair over to Jaehyun and being all squishy, touchy, and adorable with him. More with Yuta & Doyoung, and Jungwoo & Haechan. The line, “I’ll be your morning star” gave me all the feels. I eventually found myself swaying along.

(Jet Lag + more) Yuta’s slow, emotional hair flip and his unrelenting cuteness. If Taeyong doesn’t do it first, this kid might just kill me >.<

(Ment #2) Yuta being cute af and possibly throwing some random Japanese in there? xD

(No Longer) Definitely falling for Taeil’s voice.

So many Taeil, Haechan and Jaehyun stans.

(Regular) Taeyong’s sex faces live are killing me.

(Wake Up) The bars have come out. Hyped by Taeyong’s “Are you ready San Jose!” and subsequent ‘yeah’s and ‘whoo’s and arm pumping dance.

(Baby Don’t Like It) Taeyong literally coming in like a pimp on top of the bars. Sunglasses, posture, attitude, and all lmao.

(Mad City) The vibrations man, the fucking building was shaking.

(Good Thing) Taeyong’s outlandishly flamboyant paint-splatter suit, wtf xD Also his moonwalk is so fucking smooth. Yuta is adorably bouncy in his cute yellow sweater.

Seeing Taeyong’s sex faces in person is ridiculous (part 2).

…is Yuta my bias wrecker?

Chipmunk voices on the mic… (Started with Mark’s mic during Mad City and continued randomly throughout)

Changing lightstick colors with the music. Didn’t expect that to happen here. For some reason I thought it was only a Korea/Japan thing lol.

(Superhuman) The superior song. Always fall for that head snap in the beginning.

I was watching Taeyong for most of the concert, but I swear I saw Taemin’s face flash by for like half a second. I think the desperation to see Taemin live is getting too strong xD

(Ment #4) I fucking looked up and Taeyong had taken half of his sparkly jacket off during the ment. Guns fully loaded. Biceps at the ready. But my poor heart wasn’t >.< Haechan speaking Korean for the first time during the concert kind of made it more real that I was watching Korean idols who had traveled halfway across the world to perform in front of me. Taeyong and his backwards visor and casual black clothes is fucking hot. Taeil getting embarrassed when Johnny told him to growl and flex his muscles one more time, adorable :3 Taeyong did clapping push-ups, aegyo-ed, and fucking dabbed in the span of 20 seconds >.< Jaehyun asking if we’re ready to “get hot.” Boy, I’ve been steaming for an hour now (both literally and figuratively lol. Couldn’t find the time to take off my coat xD)

(Summer 127) The resonance and vibrations from the bass line had me shaking (in a good way). Taeyong’s front group seemed a little lost in the music when they finally went back into choreography—they kept looking at each other like “uh…” and wiggled their arms around aimlessly until it matched everyone else lol. Taeyong went HARD during this song. His panting had me thrown, and he rapped so hard his fucking vein popped out.

(Ment #5) Doyoung’s adorably cheesy fortune cookie story. Fortune cookie read, “You will touch the hearts of many.” Generic but absolutely true ^^ Taeyong’s pouty face before his ending speech. And he put his hands together, almost in prayer, when thanking his fans. It was so heartfelt and sweet.

(Pre-0 Mile) Taeyong’s switch from his soft voice when correcting the crowd’s move for “mine mine” to his deep, loud, crowd-pumping voice at the final “girl you’re just mine mine!” I love his duality. And the way he turned around to walk to the back of the stage for 0 Mile. Hot.

(0 Mile) Taeyong being a mom and picking up Doyoung after he fell to the ground trying to protect his abs xD He’s such a sweetheart <3

For the last three-ish songs, Taeyong was super energetic and hyped for the performances. It got me hyped too.

Their “San Jose is a real vibe-killer~~” xD

Someone threw a rose at Taeyong when they were walking from the left side audience to thank the right side, and he got adorably flustered. He fumbled with the rose a little bit, but he did manage to catch it.

Taeyong picked up the rose he had put down earlier to hold his members’ hands and bow. He was being such a tease with it, putting it sexily in his mouth, tango style, and turning around and pausing every two steps to pose with it. He also put on an adorable “San Jose” beauty pageant sash before posing with the rose and heading off stage. He was the last member to leave and he kept dorking around and teasing his fans, it was so freakin cute >.< (Side note: Found out later he was recently crowned “in charge” of their San Jose stop, which is why he had the sash.)

That ending^ was all I needed to make that whole concert worthwhile. I love you Taeyong <3

Concert ended at 10:40pm. Walked back to my car and drove home listening to nothing but NCT songs.

Post-concert thoughts: In the beginning, it felt like I was just watching another random concert. I was also hesitant about going even before that because I only really listened to about half the songs on the setlist. But I realized there’s something about concert settings that just makes everything sound amazing. The concert eventually evolved into something more meaningful and that I was super spazzy about and into (probably triggered by something Taeyong did lol), but it got so much more exciting after that and I loved it.

P.S. Taeyong’s shirt was sheer????

[klaineanummel]

eighteen going on extinct 4/20

Kurt Fabray just wants to relax after a tough week at school, but that is shown to be impossible when he realizes that his absent father has once again blown into town. Not wanting to spend more time around him than necessary, Kurt goes to his old babysitters house, the one place he feels safe when his father is in town. While there, he stumbles upon a secret he knows he was never meant to find out - one that could change the entire course of his life.

An AU very loosely based on Mamma Mia.

As some of you will recall, there are three potential dads in Mamma Mia... ;) and that's all I will say about this one. Hope you enjoy!

PS since I only posted once last week, i’ll be posting three chapters this week :)

PSS if you already saw this on AO3, i’ve edited a bit of the beginning because of a small inconsistency i noticed. i’ve changed it on AO3 as well.

Previous Chapter  |  Read on AO3

Despite his hatred for the guy, Kurt still winces when he sets sight on Puck’s bike. It looks like someone took a knife to the thing, carving huge gashes throughout the exterior, to the point where Kurt can literally see the inside of the bike. It looks like it’s probably still rideable, though, so Kurt turns the engine on. Nothing else he can do but hope for the best.

There’s no helmet around, so he keeps his fingers crossed as he backs out of the parking space, and then onto the street. If a cop catches him he’ll be in trouble, and really that’s just the last thing he needs.

He’s a bit wobbly, not having driven for several months. Even when he was with Sebastian he only drove a few times, and usually just around Sebastian’s estate, since the oldest Smythe brother had an extra motorcycle he didn’t mind letting Kurt use. Plus, part of the appeal for Sebastian was riding on the back with Kurt, and he couldn’t exactly do that with a TIPIC outside their private property, so.

He’s cautious, but he doesn’t lag. He really doesn’t want to get caught by a cop without a helmet, and honestly, there’s always cops loitering in Lima Heights.

His first stop is the library down the street. He’s pretty sure it should still be open, so he heads there, parking the bike in the completely empty parking lot. 

It’s a dinky building, with a single floor of shitty paperbacks and two computers hidden in the corner. The librarian greets him with, “We’re closing in ten minutes,” but Kurt ignores her, heading straight for the computers. 

It takes him a second to find his library card in his wallet, not having used it in years, but he manages to get it and sign into the computer. Once signed in, he plugs ‘motorcycle garage lima oh’ into google. He’s soon informed that there’s a place called Hummel Tires and Lube just a few blocks away, right by a stop on his usual bus route. He signs himself back out, and hurries back to the parking lot, giving the librarian a ‘see, I didn’t take up too much of your time’ look before leaving.

He grumbles as he gets back onto the bike, knowing he wouldn’t have had to make this totally useless detour if he’d just remembered his charger the day before. He starts the bike up, and heads off.

It doesn’t take him long to get to the garage, thankfully. He parks it just outside the garage, on its driveway, and heads inside.

Bowtie Blaine is sitting behind the front desk. Kurt grins. Oh, his day just got infinitely better.

“Well, hey,” Kurt says, sauntering over to the desk. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Blaine glances up and raises an eyebrow. “Where I work?”

Kurt smirks. “Hey, it’s only fair, don’t you think? You saw me at my work, now I get to see you at yours. Though,” he glances around the garage, which is surprisingly clean considering what goes on in it, “I have to admit, your place looks to be a thousand times better than mine.”

Bowtie Blaine presses his lips together, but Kurt can see that he’s doing so to hide a smile. “Are you implying that flipping burgers at Wendy’s isn’t the best job in the world?”

“Hey, now,” Kurt says. “I make sandwiches at Wendy’s. I don’t flip any burgers.”

“Ah. Do you get paid more for that?”

It feels nice to flirt again, especially with someone as attractive as Bowtie Blaine. Nobody’s really caught his eye since Sebastian dumped him. This feels… good. Really good.

“You would think,” he says. He leans his hip against the desk. “What about you? Just desk duty, or do they ever let you play with the machines?”

Blaine shakes his head, still trying to hide his smile. Kurt wishes he wouldn’t. He bets Blaine has the best smile.

“I really don’t think anybody wants me to do that. This machine gives me enough trouble as it is,” he says, gesturing to the computer.

“What about your phone?” Kurt asks, lip curving up even higher on his face. He knows he’s being forward but, hey, it’s always worked for him in the past. It’s how he got Sebastian in the first place. “Can you work that one okay?”

Bowtie Blaine gives him a careful look over. “I don’t have a phone,” he says, voice tight.

Kurt’s heart sinks. Fuck. “You… don’t have a phone?”

Blaine shakes his head. “That’s not a line, I swear. I really don’t have one.”

“Are you like, stuck in the nineties or something? How do you not have a phone?”

“Because I haven’t got him one yet,” a gruff voice says behind him, and Kurt jumps. He turns and sees the man Blaine was with at Wendy’s earlier standing behind him. He’s wearing blue coveralls and a backward baseball cap and wiping his hands on a rag. The man gives Kurt a once over, then looks to Blaine. “This guy bothering you?”

Blaine shakes his head, “Not really,” he says. “He hasn’t really told me why he’s here, though.”

“Oh,” Kurt says. “Right. It’s… I have a bike. Not my bike, my…” his tongue becomes thick and he can’t say it, he can’t, “this guy’s,” he says instead. “It got vandalized last night. Google told me you guys fix bikes.”

“Yeah, I do that,” the man says. “Burt Hummel.” He holds out his hand, and Kurt takes it carefully. He can feel the grease and grime being transferred onto his own, but he doesn’t mind much. He hasn’t managed to take a shower since he got back from work anyway. “Why don’t you show me this bike?”

Kurt sort of gets the feeling that the man has more interest in getting him away from Blaine than in actually seeing his bike, but he goes with it. He does look over his shoulder and wink at Blaine as he goes, though. He keeps looking just long enough to see Blaine rolling his eyes after he does so.

He leads Burt to the bike, hearing the man whistle lowly as he approaches. “Damn,” he says. “This your bike?”

“Not mine,” Kurt repeats. “It’s, um. This guy. My mom’s friend.”

Burt kneels down when he gets close and puts a hand on the seat. “Why’d you bring it in then?”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes. “Asshole thinks I did it. I didn’t, but my mom’s still making me pay for half of it.”

Burt glances up at him. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not,” Kurt replies. “Can you fix it?”

Burt clucks his tongue, looking over the bike again. “Yeah. You’re actually lucky the damage is as bad as it is, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do anything, since it’s mostly cosmetic. As it is, I’m going to have to replace a few of the outer pieces. Probably take about two weeks to get the parts in and do the work.”

Shit. Two weeks with his bike in the shop meant two weeks that Puck would be stuck in Lima.

“Is there any way it can be done faster? Like, expedite the process or something?”

Burt shakes his head. “Sorry. I can’t really control how fast the parts get here. Might even be longer than that, to be honest with you.”

“Fuck,” Kurt grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand over his face. “This is so…”

“Sorry, bud,” Burt says. “You wanna call this guy and see if he’s cool with it?”

Calling Puck is the absolute last thing Kurt wants to do. He doesn’t think he even has his number anymore.

He shakes his head. “No. Just… yeah, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. Two weeks is fine.”

“Yeah?” Burt raises an eyebrow. “Alright, then let’s bring her in.”

Kurt kicks the gear to neutral and starts to push the bike to the entrance of the garage, not feeling like turning it on for this.

Burt helps him, grabbing one handle bar. It goes easily, the driveway on a bit of a slope, but Kurt’s still thankful for the help.

“So, hey,” he says, trying to be as casual as possible. “Blaine. Is he your son?”

Burt chuckles. “Yeah, you could say that,” he says. “Why? You like him?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says. He’s always hated people who beat around the bush when it comes to things like this. “Does he really not have a phone?”

“Not yet,” Burt says. “I’m working on it. Been busy lately, you know how it is.”

Kurt has no idea how it is, but he nods anyway. “Think he’d give me his number when he gets one?”

Any good mood Burt had been put in by the mention of Blaine as his son is gone by now. “Hell if I know,” he grunts. “You’d have to ask him yourself.”

Somehow, the way he says it sounds like a resounding hell fucking no.

Kurt doesn’t say anything else the rest of the way into the garage, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all as they keep pushing the motorcycle in.

They finally reach an empty patch of concrete and Burt flips down the side stand. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the front desk. “I’ll get you the paperwork. I usually ask for half upfront if I have to order parts in, so since you’re paying for half would you like to pay for it all now? Or just half of your half?”

Kurt tries to remember how much his last paycheck was. “Um. How much will it be?”

“Five hundred, I’d say. Give or take.”

Kurt winces. “Yeah, I think I’ve got that on hand.” His paycheck was definitely more than five hundred. He worked a lot the last week before school started. Still, he hates that he has to use it on this. He’s not going to be able to help out with the electricity bill this month.

They walk to the front desk, where Blaine is tapping away on the keyboard. Kurt glances down at his neck and sees that he’s wearing a bowtie Kurt hasn’t seen before. It’s new, silky and gorgeous. Burgundy. It looks amazing on him.

“Hey, Blaine, can you get the paperwork for motorcycles printed out for this young man? I’ll get you an estimate for your portion, and Blaine can put the payment through for you.”

Burt gives Blaine a significant look and then turns back to where he and Kurt came from. Blaine rolls his eyes and continues tapping away on the computer. Within seconds the printer next to the computer is whirring to life.

“I like your bowtie,” Kurt says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Blaine glances up, his left hand coming up to finger at the fabric. He smiles softly. “Thanks. It’s new.”

Kurt was right. Blaine’s smile is absolutely out of this world. Even just the small one he’s gracing him with now.

“It looks good,” Kurt says, though he isn’t referring to the bowtie.

Blaine tweaks one side of the little bow, then pulls the papers out of the printer and staples them together. “Here,” he says, holding them out, along with a pen. “Just fill this out. It’s mostly contact information, but a bit about the bike.”

Kurt groans. “I don’t know much about the bike. It’s not mine.”

Blaine shrugs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just leave what you don’t know blank. I’m sure Burt will know that information.”

Kurt nods. He takes the papers and the pen from Blaine, then leans over the desk and starts filling his information in right there.

After a few moments, Blaine clears his throat. “We have a table over there for stuff like this,” he says.

Kurt glances up and smirks. “Yeah, but you’re here.”

Blaine gives him a funny look, kind of like half a glare, then he says, “Are you flirting with me?”

“What gave me away?” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Um.” Blaine looks away. “You probably… shouldn’t. Flirt with me.”

“Why?” Kurt asks. “Is it because you gave me the cold shoulder on the bus yesterday? Because I’ve already forgiven you for that,” he winks at him, and chuckles to let Blaine know he’s teasing.

“No, it’s just because I won’t go out with you, so you know. Don’t want you to waste your time.”

Oh.

And Kurt thought he was being forward.

“Shit,” he says. “That’s… wow. Well, that’s too bad. You’re pretty cute.”

He then picks up the paper and the pen and heads over to the table Blaine pointed out earlier.

He fills out the paperwork without paying much attention. It’s really too bad. Blaine seems like the kind of guy Kurt would get along with, and Kurt’s started to like seeing him around. He would have loved to get to know him better.

Oh well. It’s probably for the best, what with all the shit going on with Puck and Finn. Entering a relationship at this exact moment probably isn’t the best idea.

Maybe when he’s got all this paternity shit sorted out Blaine will be more willing to go out with him. Or just hang out with him. He’d never say no to a friend as hot as Blaine.

Wishful thinking.

He signs the bottom of the form and heads back to the front desk. Blaine is staring at the computer, frowning. When he notices Kurt approaching he turns to look at him, his frown only deepening.

“Here you go,” Kurt says, handing the papers to Blaine. “Did Burt bring the estimate yet?”

Blaine gives him a cautious look as he takes the paper and pen. “Not yet,” he says. His eyes narrow. “What’s your angle?”

“What? My angle?” Kurt glances behind him, wondering if he’s being set up for some kind of joke. “I just want to get out of here. I didn’t shower after work and I can feel the grease seeping into my skin.”

“Your angle with me,” Blaine clarifies. “I say don’t bother flirting, you say ‘oh well’, and then… that’s it? You’re done? I can’t figure out what your angle is.”

Kurt stares at him for a few moments, trying to work out what the boy’s saying. He slowly raises an eyebrow, and then says, “My angle is that you said no, and so I’m not going to keep bothering you.”

Blaine stares right back. His mouth opens and closes a few times, as though he’s about to speak but thinks better of it. His brow scrunches up. He looks back to the computer, and finally says a simple, “Oh.”

Kurt frowns. “Do the boys where you come from not know the meaning of the word ‘no’ or something?” He leans closer. “Do I have to beat someone up?”

“You don’t even know me,” Blaine says quietly. “You don’t know where I’m from, or what boys you’d have to beat up, or if I’m even worth getting in a fight over.”

“True,” Kurt says, shrugging. “Still. If you’re this confused at the fact that someone knows what the word ‘no’ means, I think someone needs to get their ass kicked.”

Blaine gives him a glance out of the corner of his eye. “You’re really not going to keep pursuing me? I said no, so you’re just going to drop it.”

Kurt shrugs again. “Well, yeah. Unless you want to be friends, in which case I’m totally down. I can get you 50% off at Wendy’s,” he says with a wink.

Blaine looks him over, clearly considering. “Maybe,” he says. “Half off Wendy’s would be decent.”

Kurt grins.

“Okay, kid,” comes Burt’s voice, and Kurt takes a step back from Blaine’s desk. He doesn’t want Burt to get the wrong idea. “I got a total for your parts for you, and then you’ll be okay to head out.”

“Cool,” Kurt says. Burt hands him a piece of paper with “$478” written on it. Kurt lets out a sigh of relief. Slightly less than he was expecting. Still more than he wants to spend on fucking Puck, but not as bad as it could have been.

He hands the paper to Blaine, pulls out his wallet and takes out his debit card. Blaine starts setting the debit machine up and Burt picks up the paperwork. Kurt says, “Oh, yeah, I left some of the details on the bike out, since I don’t know them. Blaine said you’d probably know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure I can figure it out,” Burt says, scanning the papers. He looks surprised when he sees something, then turns to Kurt and says, “Your last name’s Fabray?” Kurt nods. “Any relation to Quinn Fabray?”

Blaine flips the debit machine toward Kurt, but Kurt doesn’t move to pay. “Yeah, she’s my mom,” he says. “You know her?”

“Yeah. Well, I used to, when we were younger.” He gives Kurt a once over. “You’re her son?”

“I am.” Kurt leans down and swipes his card through the machine.

“But… you look like you’re eighteen, at least.”

“Turned seventeen in May,” Kurt says, putting his card back in his wallet when the machine indicates his swipe was accepted. Thank god. “She had me young.”

“Huh,” Burt says, looking Kurt over. “And you live around here?”

“Been in Lima Heights my whole life,” Kurt says. “Man, you must have been really young when you knew my mom if you didn’t even know she had a kid.”

“Yeah, I was,” Burt replies, though it sounds kind of distant. His face is scrunched up, like he’s thinking really hard about something. He doesn’t say anything else though, so Kurt turns back to Blaine.

“I’ll see you around?” he asks.

Blaine shrugs. “We do take the same bus to school, so. Yeah, probably.”

He sounds detached, but it still makes Kurt smile.

“You’ll call me when the bike is ready?” he asks Burt, who is still looking deep in thought.

“What?” Burt asks; then, as though catching up, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll call you.”

Kurt nods, wondering what about their interaction put the man in such a trance. He glances over to Blaine, who looks just as confused. Blaine meets his eye, shrugs, and nods toward the exit.

Kurt gets the not-so-subtle hint and heads out, waving over his shoulder. He grins when Blaine waves back, albeit absentmindedly.

He thinks about Blaine as he buses home. It’s a nice change from thinking about Puck.

Chapter Five

[taronfanfic]

ABER

Masterlist

Chapter 17

Surfing, cocktails and jet lag were a lethal combination. Taron had stuck to his word and ordered you both Sex on the Beach cocktails that night, doing his best to kick off the evening on the right foot. You’d had dinner in the hotel restaurant and then moved out to the bar which overlooked the pool and hotel grounds. It felt like your first holiday together, and even though you’d spent so much time with Taron recently there was a different feeling that came with him being away from work. You could tell that he was more relaxed. He was never as conscious about how tactile he was with you and as you sat with him now he without a doubt felt like your boyfriend. You’d not put a label on what you were, in fact the last time you’d needed one you were still known as his oldest and closest friend. The wait for him to make the next move was wearing thin and despite your initial fears about what your relationship with him would become, you were now past the point of caring and felt more than ready to take matters into your own hands.

“I’ve really enjoyed today.” You sipped your cocktail and relaxed back in your chair as you drew Taron’s gaze away from the sea.

“Me too. Surfing was a good choice.” He crossed his leg over his knee as he also sat back and relaxed with his drink.

“It was, but we’d have made anything fun. I’m loving getting to spend so much time with you.”

“I’m loving seeing you so happy.” Taron smiled back to you and you could see the happiness in his eyes. “Genuinely, to look back at how you were when you were sat on the end of my bed in Aber… and then see the smile you had on your face all day today. It’s still right there.” He reached out and softly touched your cheek. “You’re like a different person.”

“It’s all down to you.” You felt yourself blushing under his touch.

“It’s not.” He shook his head. “It’s as much you as it is me. Just because I opened the door, didn’t mean you had to walk through it. You chose to do it, Y/N and I’m so pleased you did.”

“You made it easy… you’ve got a hard face to say no to.” Taron laughed gently and then covered his yawn with his hand. “Someone’s looking sleepy.” You reached out and caressed the skin of his lower thigh.

“Sorry, I’m knackered. Do you mind if we head back?”

“Not at all.” You finished the rest of your drink and stood up from the table, deciding that you’d ask the question when you got back to the villa instead. “You’ve still got a winning bet to claim.” Taron took hold of your outstretched hand and let you guide him down the path.

“Can I save my winnings for tomorrow? I think I’m going to be out as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight.” Taron let go of your hand to shield another yawn before his arm moved back to rest around your shoulders and pull you in closer to his side.

“Cash it in whenever you like, it’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Good. I can’t believe I did so many months of this on my own… the thought of going back to that, it would be so shit.” Taron paused in the doorway to the villa with the key in his hand. “Hugh always said it was way easier when his family could travel with him or even just his wife, and I really get it now. It shifts your focus. Makes it easier to switch off from the job.”

“Hopefully there’s more to it than me just being a distraction from your job though…” You followed Taron into the villa and switched on the lights as he made a beeline straight for the bed, stripping to his boxers and collapsing down on his back with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” He mumbled in confusion as he let his eyes close.

“I mean… hopefully there’s more to us than just being friends… or friends with benefits.” All the confidence you had earlier started to drain from your body as the fear of saying anything more out loud hit your stomach. You crouched down and started to rummage through a suitcase in search of your phone charger, acting busy as Taron’s silence lingered on. “Have you seen my charger in here anywhere?” You asked through your nerves as you desperately tried to fill the awkward silence that encompassed the room. There was a faint murmur of noise from Taron and the sound of him moving about on the bed had you looking back over your shoulder at him. His eyes were still closed, a hand rested peacefully below his cheek and he’d drawn his knees higher up the bed as he’d fallen asleep. “What I really wanted to say was I love you, you idiot.” You said quietly to yourself, once again accepting that tonight wasn’t going to be the night either.

***

Taron’s hands gripped your bare waist and lifted you up to sit on the bonnet of the white open topped Jeep that he’d hired for your day of exploring. He stepped back and took a photo of you as you posed in your high waisted denim shorts, cropped t-shirt and cat eye sunglasses.

“Now if that doesn’t end up on your blog I’ll be disappointed! Got to show off my photography skills to the world.”

“I’ll need to steal your phone charger before that can happen. I swear Jane never packed mine and it’s still plugged in at the hotel in Beverly Hills!” You replied as you jumped down from the front of the car and climbed into the passenger seat instead.

“When she’s organised she’s great, but she’s useless in a crisis. So how is the blogging going? I meant to ask before but there’s been a lot going on.” Taron set off on the open road, heading south down the coast towards Byron Bay.

“Yeah, good I think. It’s not really headed down the path I expected it to but plenty of people seem to like it.”

“Where did you expect it to go?”

“I guess I thought it would be more like a travel blog. Reviewing hotels, restaurants, nice tourist spots… but it’s sort of turned into more of a personal journey.” You cringed back at your use of the word journey.

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing! It means your blog isn’t generic. People get sick of reading the same old stuff and with your personality behind it, it always was going to be popular. I knew that from the first post you let me read.”

“Never doubted me, did you?”

“Not even a little bit.” Taron took his eyes off the road and looked across at you through his sunglasses with a smile.

“Smug.” You laughed. “I’ve not posted anything up there for a while, they probably all think it’s me who’s dead, not my phone battery!”

“Just borrow my phone. Post the photo I took and let them know you’ve changed continents but you’re still very much alive and well.” Taron unlocked his phone and passed it over to you before turning the volume up on the radio as one of his favourite songs started. You reached his phone out the side of the car and recorded a short video of the two of you singing along and laughing away together, capturing another fun moment of your little adventure before you got down to writing the next blog post.

***

Fear not. I am alive and well. Sans phone for now due to my charger being 7,000 miles away in LA (I’ve borrowed David’s phone to post this.), so don’t expect any regular updates. I’ve just caught sight of my last post and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that night was not the night. So anyone who thought my sudden silence was down to a life of romantic bliss, put your party hats away. We are literally no further forward despite the literal time difference between LA and Australia. That’s right, I’m down under. Literally and metaphorically. David ventured down under on The Night That Never Was and ohmydays. That man. I do owe him now though, thanks to a lost bet…

We spent the day surfing yesterday which was amazing. I should have known better than to accept his challenge though. Whoever managed to successfully stand up on the board first has the other one go down on them. I thought I had a chance. I’d already had a taste of the reward (or more like David had had a taste!) so I knew it was worth fighting for. But that man’s skills know no bounds and I didn’t even get a look in. The bastard!

Competitiveness aside we’ve been having a lot of fun. Australia is beautiful and so peaceful compared to LA. We have a gorgeous beach front villa where we can watch the sun rise each morning and right now we’re driving down the coast towards Byron Bay in an open top White Jeep. David has insisted I post this photo to show off his photography skills – humour him.

I keep trying to find or make the right kind of moment to talk to David about what all of this means, what we are, what we have, how we feel. But it seems like the harder I try the more things get in the way. Maybe it’s the world’s way of telling me to stop pushing. Maybe someone, somewhere, knows that my earlier fears were to be believed and that making this official, labelling it, and telling David how I feel is a really bad move.

Maybe. Maybe not.

I’m not going to push it today though. I’m just going to enjoy having the man I love by my side and make the most of the Australian sunshine.

BADQ x

Tag list: @egerton-sweetie @amanda-tallmadge @lizziespidiepridie​ @leanimal90 @anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker @bohemianrhapsody86 @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi @manners-maketh-taron @livingincompletesilence @marvelmakeuplover @ohsosmutty 

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part Twenty

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/166625203373/ltrtihew-part-nineteen

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else

Shaking with rage, Ivan pulled a sword from his luggage. “You... You touched him. You took advantage of him! My only friend left in this world!” Ivan hissed in Russian, feeling madness creep in from the depths. The desire to obliterate, kill, and destroy washed over him. France paled and ducked as Ivan attacked. Red with rage. Red with vengeance. Violet eyes glowed with nuclear madness as Ivan trapped the shorter Frenchman in a corner.

Deeply cut in several places, France had not avoided the flurry of attacks unscathed. Bleeding heavily, he was hiding poorly behind a potted plant. “Please Russia, spare me! I did nothing! I did nothing at all!” he begged in his native language, stinking of fear and blood. Killing the inhuman creature could be so easy, a single strike from Ivan's beloved sword. Ivan arced high for the death blow as France crumpled and started sobbing.

A voice seeming so far away snapped Ivan out of his blood lust. “Ivan, what are you doing?” A very groggy Alfred asked, not entirely awake. Ivan paused, then blinked. He looked around the now wrecked living room. Ivan's new summer clothes were splattered in France's blood, halos of crimson on the floor. “I do not know.” he answered truthfully in English, dropping the sword on the floor.

Curiously, Spain and Mexico were sound asleep after all the ruckus. France continued to cry, clutching at his wounds. Ivan sat beside Alfred, removing the humiliating hair bows with utmost care. “Why am I covered in glitter? Why are you covered in in blood?” the honey blonde grumbled, disorientated. The livid fury drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving Ivan tired. “Alik. Do you feel uncomfortable or painful anywhere?” Ivan asked slowly, searching for bruises or signs of abuse.

Alfred shook his head, replying “Just hungover.” Ivan sagged forward, relieved. His associate was okay. He had made it there in time before anything horrible occurred. “You look like shit, buddy.” the freckled nation commented, shaking glitter off his shirt. “Jet lag is taxing.” Ivan admitted, not having slept since yesterday. He had a hard time sleeping in general as of late. It was all quite mysterious to him.

Now that America was awake and sober, he couldn't possibly be harmed by anyone. Apparently the three other nations had come over anyway to trash Alfred's house as an elaborate prank. Ivan helped sweep up glitter off the hardwood floor, a large yawn slipping out of him. France was carried out by Spain and Mexico an hour earlier after fainting from terror and blood loss. It made the room feel better already.

“Ivan, go to bed.” Alfred ordered sternly, a tone that didn't suit his breezy nature. “No one tells me what to do. I choose to go to bed.” Ivan replied proudly, not caring if he was acting like a child. “Yeah, yeah. Mighty Russian Federation this and that.” Alfred dismissed, rolling his eyes. “Thank you for acknowledging that I'm more powerful than you.” Ivan sneered, more playful than cruel. “You are just... the worst! I'm clearly stronger.” Alfred argued poorly, ridiculous like always.

“I don't believe that.” Ivan challenged, grinning cruelly. Alfred took the bait, he always did. It was how they always wound up doing stupid stunts during world meetings. Minutes later, they were both outside. The stubborn American was going to lift more cars than him, or something equally fruitless. Ivan couldn't help but notice how soft the lawn looked. Fresh green grass bathing in the warm rays of a late morning sun.

Sitting in the yard, he admired the modest rose bushes that lined the edge of the property. The sun was pleasant on Ivan's chilly skin, beckoning him to rest. While Alfred was dragging things out of his stuffed garage, it couldn't hurt to close his eyes. Nothing bad could possibly happen, right?

The first thing to register was the darkness. Ivan was in a dark place, weakly lit by a small American flag nightlight. He was under thin flannel covers, still in his day clothes. He was hugging a thick pillow, completely askew on the queen sized mattress. The sheets had not been washed in a long time, distinctively scented. Yes, it was crystal clear what room this was.

He had woken up in Alfred's room. That could only mean he was carried in by the room's owner after falling asleep on the lawn. Ivan snuggled the pillow closer, lost in thought. Did this mean Ivan had made a friend? The possessive Russian considered America a friend, but only privately. The word 'friend' had never directly applied to either nation seriously. The fact remained that Alfred was treating Ivan as nicely as he had before 1917.

The idea of being friends with anything was invigorating. Ivan would be sure to tell Koshka all about this upon returning home. Kicking off the covers, Ivan ran downstairs in a hurry. Alfred was in the kitchen, frying chicken strips. His forgettable sibling, Canada, was talking with him while sipping a beverage. “Matvey!” Ivan cheered, pinning the wheaten blonde in a punishing hug. Before the quiet nation could squeak out protests, Ivan dropped him thoughtlessly, tackling Alfred.

[fullyrealisedlegend]

We Are (Not) Monsters: Ch.4

HOLY SHIT IT’S BEEN A WHILE I’M SO SORRY. Also, this one and ch5 aren’t new, they’re on AO3 but I haven’t put them up here in ages... i’m also about to post ch6 and maybe 7 so there’s actually stuff to read for once!! thank you sm if you’re still reading it. it means so much to me <3

Read on AO3, Ch1, Ch2, Ch3

Setting: Future AU - canon setting, but further in the future and with my signature ‘dark with psychological trauma’ twist on it.

Pairings: Klance is the focus - mentions of Shallura

Rating: Mature - starts out reasonably tame with only mentions of past trauma, death, torture, abuse, etc. Will probably get a bit more explicit later on. Lots of swearing. Like, LOTS.

Summary: Rumours of the Paladins of Voltron jump from planet to planet. Most are good. Freedom Fighters, they’re called. Heroes. Warriors of Peace. But some are darker. Merciless killers, some say. Brainwashed child soldiers say others. Monsters. They hear them all and ignore them all. They have their own reasons for fighting. But when they’re called back to Earth, they realise just how much they’ve changed. Not entirely for the better.

“Hey, Pidge. What're you up to?”

“Yo, Keith. Just examining some new junk. What's up?”

“Can you help me with something real quick?”

“What's in it for me?”

“Blood sample.”

“Done! You know how to woo a girl, Keith. So, what can I do for you?”

“I need help finding Lance. He's hiding from me.”

“And you can't just find him via your mental link? You two are gonna have to let me run some experiments on that at some point…”

“No, he's blocked me out completely. We kind of had an argument.”

“What do you guys even fight about? It's something trivial, isn't it?”

“Yeah. A stupid tiny detail. Nothing you need to know about.”

“He says, like I don't know it's about your sex life.”

“Pidge! Fuck. You're like our baby sister; I refuse to discuss it with you.”

“Was it about who gets to top?”

“Stop. Please. This is all kinds of weird.”

“You are aware that all the Paladins are mentally linked, right? Not just you and Lance? We know when you're going at it. Fortunately, it's easy enough to throw up a wall temporarily.”

“...I am so sorry.”

“For what? Keith, we put our lives on the line every other day, I've killed and been drenched in the blood of both Galra and innocents. We share a psychic connection that means we basically can't hide our emotions from each other. I'm pretty sure knowing that you two get it on is not what destroyed the last remnants of my childhood. Get over it.”

“Yeah, okay. Fair enough. It still wasn't about that, though. It was about food. Don't even ask. It's still stupid and is near impossible to explain. It'll be over as soon as I find him.”

“Mm. Yeah, I'm looking. You guys don't actually have proper fights, do you? I mean, I'm not the most knowledgeable about healthy relationships but that's a good thing, right?”

“It is, Pidge. Honestly, it's hard to be properly mad at someone when you can hear their thoughts. It means we can't lie to each other or miscommunicate, and even if we don't necessarily agree with that the other is doing, we understand why instantly. It's… Complicated but also really simple at the same time? There's no point to fighting. We're too involved in each other’s thought process.”

“That… Actually makes a lot of sense. And, would you look at that. I've found the shithead. Just walked into the training room.”

“Thanks, Pidge. You're amazing.”

“I'm aware. I'll be demanding that sample soon enough. Go, piss off. Leave me be. I want to finish this project.”

She watched as Keith strode out the door to her workshop, her gaze relaxing into a fond expression. She really adored the boys around her. They were all family. Though she was glad she could block them out of her mind sometimes - it could get a bit overwhelming.

She turned back to the screens just in time to see Keith skid into the training bay and start yelling at Lance. She couldn’t hear what was being said but she giggled at Lance’s childish pout before he finally started yelling back, arms flailing. It was of no surprise when Keith’s patience finally snapped and he pulled Lance into a heated kiss. With a roll of her eyes and a quick tap of buttons, the screen went blank. For good measure, she locked them door on them; no one needed to walk in on that. With one last wave of love mentally pushed in their direction, she walled them off and turned back to her computer program.

Even if she was stuck in space, she couldn’t ask for better company.

Pidge smiled slightly at the memory as she watched the people she called her Space Family. She had let her mind wander while Coran set up some equipment that was supposed to act as a projector, and one of her programs worked away on her laptop. It was a good memory; one that reminded her of how strong the connections between all of them were and how deeply they now understood each other. They had come a long way.

Off to the side, she can see Hunk and Allura engaged in some conversation, faces relaxed. Shiro is sitting near them, only half listening it seems, more focused on watching Coran and keeping an eye on Lance and Keith. Said, rowdy boys were as loud as they always were, fighting each other on the ground in front of Pidge, each trying to get the upper hand. It wasn't quite serious, more like play-fighting, in the same way lion cubs practice their skills. They were still going to come out with injuries though; they didn’t play gentle. Scratches and bruises were a normal result, but they had gotten especially violent on occasion. Lance had emerged with a broken nose from one session, Keith with a knife in his leg from another. She wondered if Keith was keeping his claws in check today.

Somehow Lance managed to pin Keith’s shoulders down with his knees. He crowed in triumph and Pidge can't help but shake her head and smirk. Lance is good but Keith still trumps them all in hand to hand combat so she has a feeling Lance’s win is only because it was allowed. Now all she can see is a tuft or black hair sticking up from between Lance's bare thighs. He's wearing shorts. He's lost this round and he doesn't even know it yet.

“Pidge!” Lance is now whining at her instead. “Are you done yet? I'm bo-”

He cuts off with a yelp and Pidge snickers at him. Keith has nipped at Lance's inside thigh with his elongated canines which means that Lance is now torn between letting him up or dealing with the torture. Pidge ignores both his tone and his current predicament to answer his question.

“Just about. As soon as Coran’s set up, we should be good to go.”

“You haven't even told us what you've found.”

She raises an eyebrow at him for a moment. Lance is doing his best to shut Keith out and focus on her. He's doing a surprisingly good job, even if she can see him squirming.

“I did. You just weren't listening. I've been compiling news and things from Earth and found some information relevant to our disappearance and stuff. I put some of it into a bit of a compilation video because I figured you'd all want to know what was said about you.”

“Oh. Right. Now I remember. Cool. Is there other stuff too?” A quick intake of breath. “Keith! Can you fucking stop that? What is wrong with you?”

“So many things.” Keith's deadpan voice floated up from under Lance.

“Amen.”

“Pidge, you're not helping."

“And I'll stop if you let me the fuck up!”

They fell into bickering again, Lance accidentally letting up enough for Keith to throw him off and resume their earlier fist fight. She caught sight of Coran indicating he was ready and shot him a thumbs up in return. Shiro got the message as well and alerted the others. Pidge just laughed as Hunk came over to physically separate the arguing boys, picking them up under each arm like they were nothing and carrying them to the couches. They didn't complain, instead just going limp in his grip, knowing it was time to settle and leaning into him once they were all sitting.

Pidge stayed where she long enough to hit play and grab a remote control so she can run everyone through the information as they go. It starts up just as she claims her spot on the other side of Keith, who ruffled her hair. The picture is low quality, grainy and a bit lagging, but it doesn't matter. It's something from Earth, from home, and she can feel the heartache strumming through them all. They've missed it. She'll have to talk to Matt soon and see if he can get some form of connection where he is. He probably misses it more than her. She'd think about that later though, right now she needed to focus on the news clips playing in front of her.

“ -three cadets missing.” The news lady was saying. “Lance Diaz, Hunk Garrett, and Pidge Gunderson- ” Some information about the circumstances were rattled off and it flicked to the next video clip. Pidge glanced at Lance, watching as his eyes went wide and he leaned forward. His mother had come on the screen.

“They need to tell us what happened to our children! My baby has disappeared and they won’t tell us anything!”

There was some more ranting, and the camera zoomed out to reveal Hunk’s mother as well, nodding along to Mrs. Diaz’s words. More questions, more answers, more information about the missing cadets. The camera turned back to Lance’s mother.

“Lance, baby- and Hunk too, and Pidge- please, come home. Please let us know you’re safe, at least. And if you have taken our children, please, for the love of God, please give them back.”

Lance had crawled into Hunk’s lap, who was holding him tightly. Both of them were shaking. Keith was gripping one of Lance’s hands and had it pressed too his lips. They all knew how strong his homesickness was, and this was a painful, if necessary, experience.

The next few clips were more about Pidge. The reports about her had quickly grown to confusion as it came to light that nobody seemed to know who ‘he’ was. And then:

“-breaking news. It has been discovered that the Pidge Gunderson, one of the cadets that went missing three months ago, is actually Katherine ‘Katie’ Holt, daughter of Dr. Samuel Holt and brother of Matthew Holt, who both were lost in the Kerberus Incident along with their pilot Takashi Shirogane-”

That was the only mention of Shiro. His status as ‘missing, presumed dead’ was long since accepted. Nobody except the Garrison knew he had even been back on Earth on the same day they disappeared, and they sure as hell weren’t going to share that bit of information, no matter what else they gave up.

The various news programs played. Some of them separated by mere hours, others by weeks. Mrs. Diaz - Angela - seemed to be at the forefront of any outcry from the public, bringing together the other parents and constantly pressuring for cooperation from the Galaxy Garrison. Pidge had never met her, but she was proud of the strong woman. She was refusing to give up hope. Eventually, something seemed to shift, the news reports that had been dying out returned in force, every stations clattering for new information. A statement had been released by the Garrison. They claimed to have been investigating the matter privately, but were now cooperating with the civilian police force.

The paladins knew it was a lie. They had probably just gotten tired of the bad press. It was amusing watching them try to figure out what had happened, now nearly a year after the fact.

The next clip caused a few intakes of breath. Keith’s desert shack.

“-tracked their movements to this shack in the surrounding desert where personal items were found. Belongings of another former cadet were also found; those of Keith Kogane-” She touched on Keith’s orphan situation, but didn’t stop there. “Keith has a history of antisocial and violent behaviours, including an incident of threats against an instructor at the Galaxy Garrison while he was a cadet. This incident resulted in his expulsion. Police are now discussion the possibility of homicide with Keith as the key suspect-”

Any further accusation was cut off by a furious Lance, shouting both English and Altean obscenities at the screen. Keith simply looked amused as he pulled his boyfriend off Hunk’s lap and into his own, soothing his anger as much as possible. Pidge agreed with Lance though. The morons back on Earth had no idea who Keith was or what had actually happened to him. They had been told the story once. Suffice to say that the instructor had deserved the rough-up and should have been the one booted.

The news clips started to reflect the passing of months on Earth with no further progress in determining their whereabouts. People lost interest. Their families lost hope. They were officially declared ‘missing, presumed dead’. A service is held and televised because their story is a public interest now. Pidge cringed, reminded of the one for Matt and Dad. Remembers how angry and upset she was. Her own mother is in the shot and Pidge knows she feels the same way that her daughter did all that time ago. She probably believes Pidge now; that the Garrison was hiding something.

The information pertaining to the missing cadets peters out; they're forgotten by the world. There's mostly pictures of unrelated things now and Pidge jumps up to talk them through the information. It's simple summaries of world events and technological advances on Earth. She's trying to squeeze six years into a short report. It's hard, but she manages. The videos behind her flare to life once again, but this time they're about the Paladins of Voltron; the announcement of their existence and their plans to visit Earth. Of course, it's a big deal - proper alien contact. Won't they be disappointed when most of them are human. Pidge looks forward to watching their expressions falter.

Eventually, she runs out of information. Or really, doesn't want to continue. It's okay, she's covered all the important stuff so everyone lets her step down. Hunk hands out the communication devices he built and Pidge programmed. They're essentially phones, but very high tech and more features than you'd expect. They're also only linked to each other and heavily encrypted. Safety first. Shiro rises to give a rundown of the plan.

They will land and have initial talks with whatever dignitaries or ambassadors the world puts forward. Two or three days, nothing more. Then Allura and Shiro will stay and they can go home (Keith will accompany Lance, obviously). The earlier they go, the more time they'll probably have. It feels weird knowing they'll get to see their families, especially with the knowledge of the time gap. Pidge misses her mum, but at least she's regularly in contact with Matt these days. No one else has that.

Pidge feels a niggling in the back of her mind. It's Lance, sending vague emotions of concern and comfort down their metaphorical phone line. He's checking that she's okay. Silly Lance, always watching out for the rest of them, far too selfless for his own good. She sent back warm reassurance and he backed off, his lips twitching into a tiny smile. He was probably the most worried, she thought. Not only was he returning to a large family he had missed since the start, he was taking Keith with him. His boyfriend, partner, lover, other half. No wonder he was on edge.

Shiro finally sends them off. They've got about 12 hours to have a rest, gather what they need, and prepare themselves. Pidge isn't sure anyone will get much rest, but that's okay, they're used to that. Still, she can feel the unease thrumming through them all. She had to be strong. For them, for her mother, for Matt, for her dad's memory, for Voltron…

But they were all there to support each other through this.

She could do it. They could all do it. They had been through so much worse.

And as long as they had each other, they could do anything.

Right?

[bangtan570]

Police Patrol | Jungkook

Summary | AU where you are a famous singer and Jungkook is a younger police officer and you two entangle in an unexpected encounter

Genre | Fluff, slight angst with a touch of action

Word count | 7,194

Author’s Note | This is my first BTS fanfiction... I’ve never written one so I hope it’s somewhat enjoyable yippee

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The second you walked through the terminal, you heard the calling of your name all around you. The airport security surrounded you and your bodyguards, trying to push back the wave of people swarming around you. Everyone who was there had their phones out, trying to take clear photos of you so you kept a smile on your face, occasionally holding a hand up to wave.

You made it through the airport and were about to step into the company van when something caught your eye on the ground.

“Oh, did someone drop their wallet?” you asked, bending down to pick up the black leather and flipped it open to check if there was some kind of identification license inside. What you found instead was a shiny gold police badge, belonging to the New York City police department.

“Is there an ID inside?” your manager, Mina, asked, peering over your shoulder to look at what you held in your hand.

You shifted to let her see. “It’s someone’s police badge.”

She frowned. “That’s pretty irresponsible for them to drop something so important. After your interview, let’s stop by the police station to return it.”

You agreed and tossed it into your purse, climbing into the van and prepared for the drive to Manhattan.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Post-interview and talk show, you were back in the company car, sighing in exhaustion. “There’s nothing else today, right?” you asked Mina.

She shook her head in response. “Nope, you’re free until tomorrow. You have a fanmeet at noon, so you should just shower and sleep once we get back to the hotel.”

After a day of flight travel, car rides, and interviews, there was nothing you wanted to do more than to just wash off all your makeup and take a fat nap. You hummed your approval at Mina’s suggestion and closed your eyes, deciding to get a jump start on your sleep hours. However, you couldn’t really get into a comfortable position and by the time you finally start drifting off, the car jerked to a stop in front of the hotel you were staying at.

“We’re here,” Mina said, helping you grab some of your bags and carried them off the van.

You hooked your purse onto the crook of your arm and slung your duffel onto your shoulder. It was starting to get dark out and you were a foreign singer in America, so you weren’t too worried about people recognizing you and just slipped on a pair of big sunglasses for safe measure.

You checked in at the front desk and got your room key, heading into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor with Mina following closely behind you. You were sharing a room with her not just because she was your manager, but you two also had developed a close friendship, being together so often.

Once you got into the room, you immediately jumped into the shower and washed off the grime of the day, the warm water relaxing your muscles and clearing your head.

After you came out of the shower, you blew your hair dry and flopped onto the bed while Mina went to take her shower. You pulled your phone out of your purse, responding to some texts from friends and checked social media. Mostly, messages and comments were encouraging, and you appreciated all the loving fans you had that genuinely wished for your well-being. But while years of experience in the industry has helped you develop thick skin, sometimes negative comments could still get to you.

“Why is everyone hyping her up so much? Her voice isn’t anything without autotune.”

“Is she really going on tour? Will anyone even go to her concerts…”

“Her voice isn’t special, and she isn’t even pretty...”

“She boasts about not having anything done but I think in this case she should get some surgery…”

“She debuted when she was 17 but she’s still around? I thought she would have died out by now… She sure is brave, thinking she can go on tour at 26… Her company must not be afraid of going into debt…”

You sigh deeply, dropping your phone next to you and closing your eyes. They say not to read negative comments and to just ignore the haters, but you just can’t help it sometimes. Even though you can’t make everyone like you, you still want to see what people have to say, and maybe, just maybe, you can improve yourself.

Mina came out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel. She looked over at you and knew immediately.

“Were you reading comments again?” You were silent. “You know that doesn’t do anything but bring you down, right? There are people out there who will never be satisfied. They have to find something, anything, about someone to pick at.”

“Yeah, but… What if they’re right? What if I really am getting too old for this industry?” You sit up, looking at Mina. “Was this tour a mistake?”

She sat down on the bed and took your hand. “Your concerts are nearly sold out. No matter what anyone has to think, there are all these fans out there who love you and love your music. You’re not singing for the haters. You’re singing for those who love to hear you sing.”

You bite your lip but nod your head. Mina was right, after all. What good did it do to think about the haters? You smile and Mina smiles back, climbing over to her bed.

“Try to get some sleep. It’s late, and you don’t want to look like crap at the fanmeet tomorrow.” She turned out the lights and you pulled the cover over your body, snuggling into the bed.

“Goodnight, Mina.”

“‘Night.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You reach over to the nightstand and read the time on your phone. 1:13 AM. You groaned internally, rolling back over. You’ve been trying to sleep since eleven, and the impact of the comments combined with jet lag, you had been shifting around endlessly without success.

Well, if trying to sleep hasn’t worked for the past two hours, I guess it never will, you thought to yourself. You sat up, deciding to take a walk around the city. It was late, and you doubted that anyone would recognize you in Manhattan. You looked over at Mina, who was sleeping soundly, and decided not to wake her. As quietly as you could, you got dressed in comfy clothes and slid on your shoes, grabbed your phone and purse and left the room.

Even late at night, the city was still alive. Cars drove by, people were chatting with friends in outdoor seating areas, and the bright lights of buildings were twinkling in contrast to the dark skies.

You walked along the strip near your hotel, admiring the picturesque night view, and took out your phone to take a photo. While you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, someone bumped into you roughly, knocking you onto the ground.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” the stranger asked, bending down to check if you were hurt.

“Well, I was thrown to the ground like a rag doll, do you think I’m okay?” you snapped back, trying to gather the contents of your purse, which had spilled when you fell.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized. “Here, let me help you.” He picked up some of your things and handed them to you. You eyed him suspiciously, taking them and putting them back into your bag. He looked young, in his early twenties, tops. He was cute, definitely—but young.

You put the last few things into your purse when you noticed your wallet was missing. You checked around you, not seeing it on the sidewalk, and looked in your bag again.

“Are you missing something?” he asked, looking around as well.

“Yeah, my wallet. Did you take it?” you demanded, holding your hand out.

He raised his hands in innocence, standing. “I don’t have it, I swear.”

“You’re lying. I definitely had it when I came out. Give it back before I get really angry.”

His face started to twitch with annoyance. “I really don’t have it. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Am I just supposed to believe you?” He nodded furiously, and his boyish feel made you want to believe him. You checked your bag one last time and when it wasn’t there, you sighed deeply. “Look, I didn’t want to do this, but—” you pull out the police badge you found earlier, “you better give it back.” You flash the badge in front of his face, hoping he couldn’t see the beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead.

Are you crazy?! You reprimand yourself. You are the craziest bitch I’ve ever met! You’ve finally lost it, huh? Using this badge like it’s your own? You really want to die, huh??

His eyes widened before narrowing again. “NYPD, huh?” he asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “What precinct are you?”

“The… the 17th. Yeah, the 17th precinct,” you said, trying not to sputter.

“The 17th? I have a friend over there. Joshua Hong? You know him?”

Joshua Hong? No! Of course I’ve never heard of him! What the hell! How do you always manage to get yourself into this kind of situation?!

“Joshua Hong? Of course I know him,” you heard yourself say. “But uh… we don’t work together. Like, we’re not—we’re not close. So I know him, but he might not know me. We’re not like chums or anything. So it wouldn’t be worth it to ask about me. He wouldn’t know me.”

“And who might you be, officer…?” he trailed off, waiting for you to fill in your last name.

You shook the badge again. “Stop changing the subject. Where’s my wallet? Give it back, and I’ll let you off this time.”

He shrugged. “I really don’t have it. I’m not sure how many times I need to tell you for you to understand.”

“Hey!” you yell, making him jump slightly. ���Just give me back my wallet. I’m tired of messing around.”

“I swear to you, I did not steal your wallet. Are you really sure you brought it out with you? You didn’t leave it at home or anything?”

“Of course I didn’t—” you cut off, thinking about where you saw your wallet last. You had it in the car, then you took it out to get your ID when you checked into the hotel, and then you put your wallet…

You shoved your free hand into your jacket pocket and felt the familiar leather material of your wallet on your fingertips. Well, you really did it. You really fucked up. Nice!

The guy smirked. “Find your wallet?” he asked, knowing he was right.

You licked your lips nervously. “Okay well… I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions. My bad.”

“Yeah, you were pretty sure I stole your wallet, even though I told you I’d never do anything like that. I’m hurt,” he said, putting his hand over his heart.

You wanted to do nothing else but go back to the hotel and curl up in your bed and cry. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said dully.

“You found your wallet pretty easily. Did you maybe find that badge somewhere too?” he asked, stepping closer to you.

“W-what do you mean?” You laugh nervously.

“You know, I happen to work at the 17th precinct. You, on the other hand, definitely do not,” he said, his face dangerously close to yours now.

“I’m… new?” you tried, shifting away from him.

“I’ll bet good money that’s my badge you’re holding right now.”

You close your eyes, throw the badge at the man, and book it back to the hotel. “Sorry!” you yell again while running away. “I really do love the law!”

The guy stood in the same spot, holding the badge he had lost earlier that day. “She sure has guts,” he laughed softly, and continued walking.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After the fanmeeting the next day, you sat in a room at the venue, trying to stop thinking about the utterly embarrassing event of the previous night. You know what? The city is so big. The chances of you ever meeting him again are slim to none! You just have to make sure never to go to the 17th precinct. Better yet, don’t go to any police station at all.

“How was it?” Mina asked, coming to meet you.

“Great,” you manage to smile. It was true; everyone who came was nothing but sweet and supportive. “It was really nice.”

“Good to hear,” she said. “You have about an hour and a half before you have the interview with Yahoo, so do you want to stop by the police station?”

“W-why would we need to go to the police station?” you stutter.

“To drop off the lost badge we found yesterday,” she said. “We forgot to on our way to the hotel, so we can just make a quick stop on our way to get lunch.”

“Oh… great. Fantastic,” you said. “That’s just the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

Mina eyed you suspiciously. “Are you okay?”

“Yes! I sure am,” you said, turning to your phone to avoid any other mention of the topic.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

God’s joke really has gone too far this time, you thought to yourself as the van pulled up to the police station, “17TH PRECINCT” lettered proudly above the door.

“Here, give me the badge,” Mina said, holding out her hand. “I can go do it.”

“No,” you insisted. “I’ll go. I want to return it myself. I, uh… want to thank them personally for all the service they do to protect our city.”

“You don’t live in this city.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you said quickly, darting out of the car and gripping the handles of your purse tightly to the point where your knuckles were white.

What are the chances that he’d be here, right here, right now? You reassured yourself. It’s easy. In and out. Just walk up and pretend to give them something and leave. It’s fine.

Swallowing, you walk up to the front desk and a woman looks back at you, seemingly bored with the interaction already.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, um. Do you… have a bathroom I could use?” You reach into your purse and pull out a pad. “It’s an emergency.”

“We don’t offer public facilities. Try any restaurant on the strip,” she replied dryly, probably thinking I was the stupidest person she has ever encountered.

“Okay, that rocks. Thank you so much. For everything,” you said, quickly shoving the pad back into your bag and walking towards the entrance. However, when you were almost to the door, your heard an all-too-familiar voice.

“Hey, you!” You froze. No no no no no no no no no— “You’re that girl!”

You reluctantly turn around. “Me? I don’t think we’ve ever met. Maybe you’re mixing me up with someone else?”

The guy from yesterday shook his head, a big smile on his face. He was wearing the black police uniform of the city, making him look a little older and much, much more handsome than before. “You’re wearing the same jacket and bag. Yeah, you’re the girl who tried to use my own badge to scare me! I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

“Well, I’d hate to credit for something that I didn’t do,” you smile weakly back. “Now, I have to go…”

“Wait, what’s your name?” he asked, touching your arm.

“What, so you can sue me? Throw me in jail?” you retort.

“You really caught my interest yesterday, and I want to invite you to coffee sometime. I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

You certainly didn’t see that coming. “Um, I’m—”

“Jungkook! I told you to wait for me,” a loud voice came from behind said man. Another man in uniform appeared, slinging an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re that one celebrity!” he said when he saw you. “That singer!”

“You know me?” you asked, slightly surprised.

“Yeah! I saw your interview on the late show,” he said, sticking his hand out. “Kim Taehyung.” He smiled brightly.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you replied, shaking his hand.

Jungkook looked closer at you, and then a spark of recognition came across his face. “Oh! I know who you are! I didn’t recognize you for a second.”

“He’s totally lying,” Taehyung smirked, looking at Jungkook. “He loves your music. Playing dumb, huh?”

“What the hell,” Jungkook muttered, “why would you tell her that?”

Taehyung laughed. “So what do you say? Will you give this big boy a chance and take him up on his coffee offer?”

With two guys looking eagerly at you, you felt like you didn’t have any choice but to give in. “Um… sure, why not,” you said.

Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah, just… DM me on Instagram or something and we can figure out a time. I really do need to go now. It was nice to meet you,” you said, waving briefly before stepping out of the station.

Jungkook punched Taehyung’s arm, looking dumbfounded after you left. “Did… that really just happen?”

“Yeah, man,” Taehyung replied, looking equally surprised. “I think it really did.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jungkook: Hi, it’s Jungkook from the police station. How are you?

You: I’m doing well, not being in prison and all. You?

Jungkook: Thinking about our coffee date.

You: Oh? It’s a date now?

Jungkook: Oh. Well, only if you want it to be.

You: Hm. I don’t really know you. I’m not sure if I want to be going on dates with you quite yet.

Jungkook: Okay well you know my name is Jeon Jungkook. I was born Sept. 1 in Busan and I’m 21. I have an older brother, and I just graduated from the police academy. I used to dance and sing, and I love playing Overwatch.

You: And you’re a fan of mine?

Jungkook: Well, I mean… Yes. I first saw you when I was still living in Korea on TV, and thought you had an amazing voice. I really didn’t recognize you when I bumped into you on the street though—only when I saw you in the daylight today I was able to recognize you. You made me want to take up singing and dancing.

You: Do you still sing and dance?

Jungkook: I haven’t since I joined the police academy. I was never really good though, haha.

You: Maybe you can show me on our date.

Jungkook: Yeah, of course.

Jungkook: Wait what

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“And I was so tired after the fanmeeting that while walking backstage, I fell flat on my face right in front of everyone,” you recall. “It was my first one too—I was so embarrassed. I think the fans tried to be courteous by not posting pictures, but some ended up surfacing on the internet. And it was just as bad as I thought it would be.”

Jungkook laughed heartedly, imagining the scenario. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkled and his mouth opened slightly, showing all of his pearly white teeth, letting out the most angelic-sounding laughter.

Even though it was only your first time actually having a conversation with him, you felt like you had known him for years. Something about him just made you feel comfortable and at ease—it was a much-needed break from the pressures of the industry you had made your name in. You didn’t have to be doing anything crazy with him to have fun. Just conversing over a cup of coffee, exchanging stories for hours, made you smile and laugh more than you have for a long time.

“Do you want some more?” Jungkook asked, breaking you out of your reverie, gesturing to your nearly-empty mug.

“Oh, no, I’m good. I’ve had entirely too much coffee for today,” you replied.

“Do you want to walk outside? And see some sights here in the city?” he asked, clearly not wanting the date to end.

You send him a soft smile. “That sounds great.”

You two walked around Manhattan, continuing your conversation with Jungkook occasionally pointing out certain sights and buildings, giving some background and facts about whatever it is that you saw.

At some point during the walk, Jungkook had taken your hand sheepishly, not looking at you. In the back of your mind, you knew he was younger than you, and you shouldn’t lead him on, but you couldn’t help it. Time seemed to fly with him around—it didn’t seem to make sense to you that you two had only met a few days before. You were grateful for a day’s break in your schedule, allowing you to be with him without the restraint of time.

You had walked for a while before ending up in a familiar location. “Here, let me introduce you to some of my friends,” Jungkook said eagerly, pulling you gently into the 17th precinct station.

You walked slightly behind him, looking around the station and taking in the area around you.

“Jungkook!” you heard multiple voices call. A few guys stood up from their desks, walking over to where you stood.

“Guys, this is the girl I was telling you about,” Jungkook said, looking at you, turning slightly red.

“Oh!” one of them said, pointing at you. “Badge girl!”

You forced a smile, spitting your words at Jungkook through your gritted teeth. “You really had to tell them about the badge, didn’t you?”

Jungkook looked away, pretending to be distracted by something through the window. “Anyways, these are my friends. Jung Hoseok—” the one who recognized you as badge girl— “Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, and Kim Seokjin. Guys, this is Y/N. Where’s Namjoon and Taehyung?”

“They’re out right now,” Yoongi replied. “They should be back soon, though.”

“Namjoon is the sergeant of our precinct, so he’s responsible for all of us. Taehyung is with him; he’s the one you met yesterday.”

You let out a small “oh,” and nodded your head.

“So, what’d you guys do today? You’ve been out for a while, right?” Seokjin asked, almost suggestively.

Jungkook punched his shoulder. “Like I told you, we went out for some coffee. Then we walked around the city and came here.”

“That’s it?” Yoongi asked, looking disappointed in Jungkook. “How… riveting.”

Before Jungkook could muster a retort, Hoseok asked to you, “So you’re in town for a concert?”

“Yeah, in Madison Square,” you replied. “I still haven’t completely comprehended that I’m really able to perform at such a huge venue tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he said, punching a fist into his palm. “A lot of the precincts nearby were asked to send officers out to control traffic and stuff since it’ll probably get crazy around there, especially since it’s on a Friday.”

“Hopefully nothing bad happens,” you said nervously. “That would be awful.”

“Well nothing will happen to you,” Jungkook said reassuringly. “We’ll make sure of that.”

You smiled gratefully. “Not just to me, but also to my fans. I’d hate for them to get hurt in any way.”

“You can count on the NYPD!” Hoseok said cheerfully, flashing a big smile that was nothing but contagious.

“Do you need to get back to your hotel or anything?” Jungkook asked, checking the time on his watch. “I’ve kept you out for a long time now.”

“I don’t have anything planned, but it’s probably best that I don’t stay out too long,” you said. “I can call for a car.”

“I’ll take you back,” he said, taking car keys from Jimin, who had been holding them out to his friend.

“It’s really not a big deal,” you said. “You’ve already done so much today.”

“And it’s really not a big deal for me,” Jungkook insisted. “Come on, his car is out in front.” You gave in, seeing how stubborn a 21-year-old could be and waved to his friends, following behind Jungkook to the doors. He opened the passenger door for you, letting you step in and buckle up for the ride back to the hotel.

Once he started the engine and pulled out onto the main road, an almost awkward silence came over the car. You could tell he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what he was thinking about.

“Thanks for today,” you said instead. “I had a lot of fun.”

“It was nothing!” he said, a little too enthusiastically. “Um. We could do it again sometime? If you wanted? Only if you want. I mean, I don’t know how long you’re staying in town. But yeah, I-I had fun too.”

You laugh quietly at his nervousness, but didn’t say anything for a while. You looked out the window, watching the buildings as you sped by. The ride to the hotel was short, and you arrived quickly.

“Anyways, thanks again,” you said, opening the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

You shut the door, but Jungkook climbed out of the driver’s side and met you on the sidewalk. “So you.... You don’t want to do it again? I mean, going on a date again. With me.”

You looked down at your shoes. “Jungkook, I’d… I would love nothing more than to go on another date with you. You’re such a great guy. I feel like something about you… It just… clicks with me.”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Me too, I feel the same way.”

You force yourself to look at him. “Jungkook, I’m a celebrity. People watch me no matter where I go. If they find out about you, they’ll start attacking you, too. No matter what.”

He frowned. “That’s nothing. I can handle that.”

“And you’re… You’re 21. And I’m 26; I shouldn’t be trying for a relationship with you. You’re just a kid.”

“A kid? I’m 21. Don’t joke around; I’m not a kid.”

“It might be because you’ve been watching me since you were young, or maybe it’s because you’re still so young—but you like the idea of being with me. I’m not everything the media makes me out to be. And I don’t deserve someone like you. You deserve to be with someone who can be with you when you come home from work, someone who can tell the whole world about your relationship.”

“Did you not hear me earlier? Everything you said about us clicking, you wanting to go on another date—I felt the same way,” he insisted, holding your shoulders. “I don’t care if we have to see each other in secret, and I care even less about the age difference. That all means nothing to me. I do like you, for you.”

“It feels wrong. I’m depriving a kid of his ability to date freely, forcing him to hide his relationship. And with someone old like me, of all people.”

“Will you stop saying you’re old and calling me a kid? Are you really making that a reason to not date me?”

“I need to go,” you said, pushing his arms away. “Maybe I’ll see you sometime.” You walk into the hotel, ignoring Jungkook calling your name.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So that’s it?” Mina asked once you explained the day’s events to her. You told her everything, start to end and she, of course, chastened you for going out alone at night, but listened carefully nonetheless. “This guy—handsome, funny, obviously completely head-over-heels for you—is younger than you and that’s why you won’t date him?”

“Not just his age, but because I’m famous,” you said. “You see the things they say about me already. I don’t want them to say things about him.”

“Isn’t that what every celebrity has to go through? Just because you’re famous, you can’t date whoever you want? Who cares what people think? I always tell you this, and I know it’s easier said than done, but ignore the negative comments. There’s no way you’ll satisfy every person who ever comes across you.

“So what if he’s five years younger than you? So what if you’re famous? This guy is so into you—and as far as I can tell, you feel just as strongly. What’s stopping you? Even as your manager, I can’t tell you not to date. You’re 26; you should be dating. But even more so as your friend, I’m saying you shouldn’t let this opportunity go.”

You stare at Mina for a while, trying to confirm that she was really speaking her mind. You didn’t need to; you’d known her for so long that you knew she’d never lie to you about something like this.

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk to him after the concert. I need to just focus on the concert right now,” you said, and Mina agreed with you. She ordered dinner for the two of you and let you go to sleep early so you could be well-rested for the concert tomorrow night.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The concert was amazing, to say the least. The fanchants nearly deafened you, the lights nearly blinded you, and you definitely cried more than once. You bowed countless times, thanking everyone for supporting you endlessly throughout your career. You promised to keep working hard to make your fans proud of you and ended your performance with a slower song.

After you made it backstage, Mina handed you a bottle of water and you gulped most of it down. “You were breathtaking out there,” she said, giving you a big hug. You hugged her back with as much energy as you could muster, giving her your thanks.

You walked with her back to your dressing room until she had to go meet with security to discuss your exit from the venue to confirm there was enough personnel there to keep you safe.

“Why don’t you take a break for a bit until I come back, and then we can go thank the stage crew,” she said. You nodded and opened the door to your dressing room.

Immediately, you sunk into a chair and closed your eyes, letting your breathing return to normal. Only a few moments had passed when you heard the door open again.

“Back already?” you asked, looking up. However, it wasn’t Mina at the door. It was Jungkook.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” You jumped up.

“They needed some more security in the venue, so some of us on patrol got asked to come inside to stand guard,” he explained. You noticed that he was wearing his police uniform again.

“Oh,” you said. “So, uh, did you manage to watch the concert?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I came in about halfway through. You did amazing.”

“Thanks,” you replied. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Jungkook put his hands in his pockets, and there it was again. The awkward silence. Should I tell him now? But what if he thought about it and decided not to pursue an old person like me? What if he likes younger girls anyways? Okay you know what? Just… fuck it. I’m going to say it.

“Jungkook, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me yesterday,” you started. He looked up, staring straight into your eyes. You couldn’t tell what his expression was saying. “And if you’re okay with… the age difference and having to keep our relationship a secret, then… I think we can give it a try.”

He was quiet for a while before speaking. “Are you sure? Don’t feel like you have to date me just because I was the one who liked you so much. I’ll get over it.”

“I’m serious,” you said. “If you’re okay with it… I would love to date you.”

His sullen expression suddenly transformed into one of pure joy. He started walking toward you, taking your hand.

Before he could say anything, there was an uproar of noise outside the room. He looked at the door and back at you with a questioning look on his face. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and a big man stormed in, holding a gun. He looked around furiously, looking for you. When security tried to stop him, he aimed the gun towards them until they stopped.

“I’ve followed you for nine years now,” he yelled, looking back at you and pointed his gun. You were frozen to the spot in shock. “I’ve loved you for nine years. You never once looked at me. And then yesterday, I saw you—I saw you with him. That guy.”

You couldn’t even open your mouth to respond when Jungkook pulled a gun out and aimed it at the man.

“Put the gun down,” he told the man evenly, his voice showing no sign of wavering.

“You,” the man hissed, putting both hands on his gun now. “You’re the punk from yesterday. Do you really think you can have her? I’ve loved her for nine years. You’ve known her for, what, a few days?”

“At least I’m not some creepy stalker,” Jungkook couldn’t help but let out. The man’s eyes widened with rage and you heard a gunshot ring through the air. Everything happened so fast, and you waited for the impact, squeezing your eyes shut, but it never came.

Once your eyes were open, the man was on the ground, bleeding from the hand. His gun was across the room, and he was being detained by police members. You are relieved until you feel a heavy weight on your own body.

“Oh my God,” you whisper in fear, shaking the man lying limp on top of you. “Jungkook? Are you okay? Jungkook!” You shake his shoulders, only to have bright red blood transfer onto your right hand. “Oh my God, oh my God—help! Someone help me!”

Security ran over, taking him from your arms. “He has a GSW to his left shoulder,” one of them said. “Call for an ambulance right now.”

“Is he going to be okay?” you ask frantically. “He’s not going to die, is he?” No one answered your questions. As quickly as everything happened, Jungkook was taken out of the room and loaded onto an ambulance and driven to the hospital.

Mina eventually found where you were, and rushed towards you. “You’re not hurt are you?” she asked, alarmed. “Holy shit, how did that crazy fucker get backstage… Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to go to the hospital just in case?”

You shook your head. “I do want to go check on Jungkook. I think—I think he jumped in front of me. I need to go. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“You should really go back to the hotel, where we can keep you safe. God knows if that guy was the only armed one here tonight.”

“Mina, please,” you beg her. “He saved my life. I can’t just go back to the hotel. I have to make sure he’s okay.”

She looked conflicted. Going back to the hotel was what you should do. But as your friend, she knew where you were coming from. Finally, she let out a deep sigh. “Come on,” she said, taking your wrist. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sat outside the operating room, shaking your legs uncontrollably, your hands clasped together. It felt like an eternity that you were waiting there, being able to do nothing but hope for the best. You felt like you couldn’t sit anymore and stood up, pacing the distance from one side of the hall to the other.

“I know you can’t calm down, but try not to put yourself into cardiac arrest,” Mina said quietly. “I don’t need two people to end up in the hospital today.”

You didn’t respond, trying to calm down. You bit your nails, a habit that you’ve tried to kick but always came back whenever you got nervous.

Finally the light of the operating room shut off, and the doors opened. The surgeon came out, taking off her mask.

“So?” you ran up to her breathlessly. “Is he okay?”

“The gunshot wound only hit his shoulder, and we got it out safely. His life shouldn’t be in any danger, and I’d expect a full recovery after he’s healed.”

You couldn’t help but throw your arms around the surgeon. “Thank you,” you said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jungkook slowly stirred, starting to gain consciousness. His shoulder hurt like hell, though. He slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. There was a faint beeping coming from somewhere.

He looked down near his thighs, and there was someone sitting next to him, with their head curled up in their arms on the bed. He thought that she looked slightly worn down, but completely angelic. He remembered the events that had happened before he lost consciousness and pieced together that he was in the hospital. He sat for a while, just looking at the girl in front of him before trying to reach for some water with his good shoulder without success. Pain shot through his body, and he jerked back to his original position.

His shifting awoke you. You blinked a few times before realizing Jungkook was awake.

“Oh my god, you’re up,” you said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he said honestly. “Good to see that you’re not in a hospital bed like me, though.”

You hit his thigh. “Why did you do that? You could have died! You’re lucky he only hit your shoulder. What if he hit your head? Or your chest? What if you got killed?”

“That’s my job,” he responded. “I’m supposed to protect people. Not to downgrade your wonderful position in my life, but I also moved out of instinct. I’d do it for anyone else. But if I had to get shot for any one person, I’m glad it was you.”

“Well, I’m thankful either way. So you better recover quickly so I can thank you properly,” you said.

Jungkook raised his brows suggestively. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Your face contorted into one of disgust. “I mean I’d take you out for dinner or something. Get your head out of the gutter. Sometimes I forget you’re still just a kid.”

His good arm grabbed yours and pulled you onto the bed, causing your face to be inches away from Jungkook’s.

“I threw myself in front of you to save your life, and you’re still calling me a kid?” His stare was even more intense than ever before.

You blinked a few times. “I guess… you’re not really a kid, then.”

“And because I’m not a kid, I think I can do this,” he said, leaning into you and touching his lips with your own. You melted into his kiss, allowing yourself to indulge the sweet taste of his mouth softly moving with yours.

He eventually pulled away slowly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Never thought that’d actually happen,” he admitted in a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Was it better than you imagined?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” he replied, kissing you again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

three years later

“Sorry, I might be even more late,” you said through the phone, looking at the long line of traffic in front of you. “This jam is insane.”

“What? You’ve already had me waiting for an hour,” Jungkook’s voice came whining from the other end. “The restaurant definitely thinks I got stood up.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “Hurry up.”

“Hey,” you said before he could hang up. “I love you, okay?”

You could almost hear his blush through the phone. “Yeah, love you too,” he said sheepishly. You smiled and hung up, checking your reflection in the car mirror.

It had been about a year and a half since your busy schedule of constant interviews and performances gradually tapered off. You still had some events here and there, but you’ve taken more of a backseat in the industry and watched the new generation of idols and singers take the world by storm. You were okay with it—you had maintained relative popularity in music for almost a decade, and you wanted to take some time for yourself before returning.

Earlier you had an interview about your participation as a judge and vocal mentor in a new idol survival show, which would start early next year. It went a little longer than expected, and your driver was now trying to navigate the notorious traffic jams of Manhattan.

Today was your three-year anniversary, and he had reserved dinner in a nice restaurant in the heart of the city. You moved in together once you decided to take a break from industry, and spending time with Jungkook has only made you fall for him even more. Of course, you two occasionally had arguments and disagreements, but that only made your relationship stronger. You couldn’t imagine your life with anyone else.

The car finally pulled up to the restaurant and you thanked the driver and rushed in. It was on the top floor of the building and the hostess directed you to the dining area.

When you walked in, the room was completely empty with the exception of a table in the middle. Jungkook stood when he saw you, dressed in a grey suit and black dress shirt, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“What is this?” you ask, shocked.

“Something special for our three year anniversary,” he said. “Do you like it?”

You took the flowers from him, giving him a peck on the lips. “I love it.”

You ate dinner together, conversing like you always do about your days. He had been promoted to lieutenant at his young age, and you couldn’t be more proud of him. You knew better than anyone else that he was fearless when it came to protecting the city and its people.

When you both finished, he cleared his throat, making you look up at him.

“From the minute you pulled my badge out at me that one night on the sidewalk, I knew you were different from any other girl. Then I found out you were the girl I’d been admiring since I was 12, and I thought my life couldn’t get any better. Then it did. Then you agreed to date me, you agreed to move to America, and you agreed to move in with me. You’ve been doing nothing but make my life worth living and making it the best life anyone could ever ask for. And I should be satisfied with this. I’ve received so much more than I could ever deserve. But let me be a kid this one time, let me ask for even more and do me one more thing.”

He came over to the side of the table, got on one knee, and pulled out a simple, diamond ring. “Would you do me the absolute honor of being my wife?”

You gasped slightly, covering your mouth with your hands. “Yes,” was your immediate answer. “Yes, yes!”

Jungkook broke into a huge smile, giving you a deep kiss. “I am the luckiest man alive,” he said.

“You’re the luckiest kid alive,” you teased.

“You’re never going to let that go, will you?” he laughed.

“Never.”

[audreycritter]

Fic for @cerusee​ Gen/Family Bonding Young!Jason Todd Rated: T

The massive clock ticked off the seconds of the fourth quarter and far below on the field, players were moving into formation at the Gotham Knights offensive twenty yard line. They looked minuscule from the windows, so the few people in the luxury box mostly watched the game on a huge flat screen television mounted in front of a curved leather couch.

On the other side of the room, a table with the remnants of catered h’or d'oeuvres was set back against the wall, beneath framed and signed photographs.

Bruce Wayne was doing three things at once, during the last quarter of the game. He was giving just enough attention to the score that he could react appropriately during plays. He was keeping up a buddy-buddy conversation with two executives that were considering merger deals that let Wayne Enterprises essentially buy out company control in return for shared accounts and research funding.

And finally, he was occasionally twisting around on the couch to glance at Jason Todd. The tiny thirteen year old could still pass for eight or nine despite the fact that he'd single-handedly cleared about a third of the catered snacks himself. The boy had been visibly excited at the prospect of the luxury box when Bruce had mentioned it, but the thrill had clearly faded when it became clear that Bruce was busy, in a way, and that there wasn't much to do other than watch a football game.

Jason wasn't, for all his protests, really that interested in sports.

A few times, Bruce had tried to draw him into conversation at least, to alleviate the boredom, but Jason was sullen and silent around the other men. Despite that, he had refused a quiet offer to have Alfred pick him up early. And now, while the last minutes of the game ticked away, Jason was lying on his stomach on the deep, plush carpet near the table, flipping through a Car & Driver magazine. Occasionally, his hand would snake upward and he'd snatch another miniature spinach quiche off the table.

With a frustrated slant to his mouth, Bruce turned back around when the others cheered, just in time to see a touchdown victory dance on the screen.

Half an hour later, the Knights had won their game by a narrow margin and Bruce Wayne had informally closed two separate deals, bolstered with good spirits from the scoreboard and expensive wine. The last of the guests in the Wayne luxury box shook hands with him in turn and left by the private hallway, on a tour to meet the team post-showers.

Bruce declined to join them, claiming he was tipsy and didn't want to slow them down. He was not tipsy. He'd had one glass of wine to their three each.

Once the door closed behind them, he turned to find Jason standing at the window overlooking the field and pressing his face against the glass to take more of the view in.

“This is so high,” he breathed, despite the fact that they went higher when they patrolled.

Bruce joined him at the window.

“It's pretty far up,” he agreed.

Jason breathed on the glass and wrote his initials in the fog, and before it had even faded, he tore himself away from the window and flung himself across the leather couch.

“That was so boring,” he complained. “Do you even like those guys?”

“It's not my job to like them,” Bruce answered, loosening his tie. “It's my job to make them think I do.”

Jason flopped backward and somersaulted off the couch and sprang to his feet. He walked through the sitting area in front of the television, trailing one hand on the leather of the couch arms, and then hopped up the step to the kitchenette.

“That seems slimy,” Jason said bluntly, opening cabinet after cabinet and peering inside. He punched buttons on the shiny microwave and then cancelled the beeping operation. “Man, I could live here.”

Bruce was content to let him explore, now that he realized this is what Jason had been waiting to do and wouldn't do in front of guests. He stretched out on the couch, thinking maybe he could doze for ten minutes before heading back to the Manor and suiting up for patrol.

It wasn't long before he was half-asleep, listening to the opening and closing of drawers, debating facing Jason’s wounded anger to insist that the lad stay home and sleep after a long day. Alfred would come around with the car when Bruce called and maybe the ride home would be a good place to deal with the reaction in a contained way.

“Hey, B,” Jason said, from close to Bruce's face. Bruce opened one eye. The boy was hanging over the back of the couch, his eyes mere inches from Bruce’s. “I'm not kiddin. I could live here.”

“You're not going to live in the luxury box,” Bruce said, yawning.

“It's got everything,” Jason insisted. “A bathroom. A kitchen. The best carpet. A TV. I could sleep on the couch.”

“Jay-lad, you have a bedroom at the Manor. This kitchen doesn't even have a stove.”

“Don't need a stove for Spaghettios,” Jason answered, balancing on his stomach on the couch back. He slipped and toppled onto Bruce’s head but didn't rush to leap off, like he might have a year ago. “Puhleeeeeese, just a week. I'd do so much homework, I swear.”

“You do all your homework now,” Bruce answered, his voice muffled by Jason’s shirt and belly.

The boy slid to the floor in a heap and rubbed fiercely at his stomach. He craned his neck so Bruce could see his angry expression.

“That tickled. I hate being tickled.”

“I hate being suffocated. Call it even?”

Jason grumbled.

“I don't know why you'd have an awesome place like this and not wanna use it.”

“We did use it. Today.”

“For boring stuff!” Jason yelled, throwing his arms in the air and falling from sitting on the floor onto his back next to the couch. “One night. Just one. We can rough it like Robinson Crusoe.”

“I don't think Crusoe had deep-pile carpet,” Bruce said wryly, closing his eyes again.

“Like the Swiss Family Robinson, after they built their tree house,” Jason said, sitting up again. Bruce sensed, rather than saw, the motion. “Please, just one night. One night and I won't complain about anything for a month. For the rest of my life.”

“That's a pretty big commitment. What if you live until you're ninety-seven?” Bruce asked, resigning himself to no dozing. He sat up and rubbed his face.

“Eww,” Jason said, his lips curled in disgust. “I'm not getting gross-old. I'm gonna die when I'm like normal old, like forty-five. I'll have a dozen cars and a shit-ton of money and a girlfriend.”

Bruce bit back a laugh and tousled the boy’s hair.

“Normal old, huh,” he said. “Don't let Al hear you cuss.”

“Yep,” Jason said. “I got it all planned. So, can I stay the night?”

Bruce unknotted the tie he'd loosened earlier and pulled it all the way off. He threw it over the back of the couch and stood. He mussed Jason’s hair again and went to the box phone on the wall by the kitchenette. He was acutely aware of Jason’s eyes tracking his every moment.

“Alfred. Yeah, we’re done. No, change of plans. I need a few pizzas and two sleeping bags. Maybe a book or two.”

“Stuff for s’mores!” Jason shouted. Bruce turned. The kid was standing on the back of the couch like it was a balance beam.

“And stuff for s’mores. No, I know. No, I'm not going to light a fire in the box. Yeah, I'll see you in a bit.”

Bruce hung up and Jason whooped loudly and jumped from the couch onto Bruce’s back. Bruce kept his balance and Jason leapt back off.

“I can't believe this,” he said, pressing his hands to his cheeks and smooshing his own face together. “This is gonna be the best thing ever. I promise. You won't even want to go home after.”

“I doubt that,” Bruce said. “But one night might be fun. Did you want to explore the stadium while we wait for Alfred?”

“Are we gonna have to pretend to like boring old guys?” Jason asked suspiciously, glancing over his shoulder toward the glass with a guarded frown.

“Not if I can help it,” Bruce said. He was about as done playing nice as Jason seemed to be. “I'll race you up the steps. From the field to the peanut gallery.”

Jason’s suspicious gaze turned immediately disdainful.

“I shoulda known,” he muttered sourly.

“What?” Bruce asked, bewildered.

“That this was a ruse to get me to exercise,” Jason grumbled. He sank to the floor with a dramatic sigh. “B, I ate like, an entire whale. If I run I'm gonna hurl all over the whole freaking stadium, like so much it'll make even you sick.”

“We don't have to run,” Bruce said, shrugging a shoulder. “I just thought you were probably fast enough to beat me by now.”

Jason moved his arm off his face to squint up at him.

“You think so?” he asked.

Bruce shrugged again.

“Maybe. It's okay. We can find out some other time.”

Jason was at the door by the time Bruce blinked. The boy tugged the door open and yelled over his shoulder, “C’mon, slowpoke! You make snails look fast!”

Despite the sound of rushing feet in the concrete hallway, Bruce took the time to peel his suit jacket off and leave it behind on the couch.

“How the hell do we get down? Heck, I mean,” Jason yelled from outside the box. “Never mind! I'm gonna jump this railing!”

“Don't--” Bruce shouted back, but he was interrupted by the sound of a body landing on a hard surface and then rushed almost-nervous laughter, followed by a whoop.

By the time he emerged on the lower platform above the steps in the empty stadium, Jason was already turning cartwheels on the field. Bruce went down the steps, taking his time. He'd barely set foot on the bottom path before Jason scaled the concrete barrier to join him in the stands again.

“OnetwothreeGO!” Jason yelled, sprinting past him as soon as he'd vaulted over the rail. He was up a dozen steps by the time Bruce turned and started up them by twos.

He hung back a little until Jason started lagging, halfway up, and then quickened his pace until he was beside him. Right as he was going to pull ahead to see if Jason would push himself to keep up, the boy ducked his head drove forward, then launched himself off the edge of a stadium seat and onto Bruce's back.

For a moment, Bruce staggered, slipping sideways with the force in his slick dress shoes that weren't exactly made for running smooth cement stairs. He regained his balance and picked up speed.

“Uuughhh,” Jason said from near his ear. “This was a bad idea.”

“Should I stop?” Bruce asked, slowing a little.

“Not unless you're too weak, old timer,” Jason retorted.

A minute later, they were at the top and Bruce turned to survey the stadium. Jason was draped across his back and after a nerve-wracking hiccup, he sighed and said, “Okay, I swallowed it. I think I can hold it down.”

“That's gross, Jay,” Bruce said affectionately, heading for the elevator. “C’mon, you can lie down on the couch.”

Back in the luxury box, Jason sprawled out on the leather and didn't move until Alfred knocked on the door. Bruce opened it to see the older man standing with two pizza boxes and a sack of supplies.

“The sleeping bags are still in the car,” Alfred said, as Jason rolled off the couch.

“I'm starving,” Jason said, taking both of the pizzas. “All we had for lunch was snacks.”

Bruce faltered under Alfred’s stern glare of reproof and he turned to the boy, who had already flipped back the cardboard lid of one pizza.

“Ten minutes ago you were complaining you'd eaten too much,” he said, hoping to salvage himself in Alfred’s estimation.

“That was like, forever ago,” Jason said. “We were waiting for half my life.”

“It was finger food,” Bruce said firmly, deciding to take the offensive. “He ate.”

“Hm,” Alfred said in a noncommittal way. “I'll return with the sleeping bags. Should I remain available this evening?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Bruce said, watching Jason hold a piece of pizza with his teeth while he searched cabinets for plates. “Take the night off.”

“No post-midnight activities, I presume?” Alfred asked from the doorway.

“I think we’ll skip tonight,” Bruce confirmed.

In the kitchenette, Jason froze. He took the pizza slice with one hand to free his mouth, so he could ask, “Do we have to?”

“One or the other, kid,” Bruce said, glancing out the window at the skyline beyond the stadium walls. It was actually right inside the city and a lot closer than the Cave.

“No,” Alfred said sternly from behind. “We are not relocating.”

“One or the other,” Bruce repeated with a small sigh. “A night off is okay.”

When Alfred brought the rest of the supplies up and said farewell, Jason took a break from wolfing pizza down to shove the couch back and unroll the sleeping bags. Bruce ducked into the bathroom to change out of his suit, and when he reemerged, Jason was lying on the bed he'd made with more pizza, flicking through channels on the television.

“I didn't even know that had cable,” Bruce said, sitting on the floor with him and taking another piece of pizza. Jason found a B-list action film and tossed the remote aside.

“Eew,” Jason said a few minutes later, covering his eyes but continuing to watch through splayed fingers. “Does it really look like that when someone’s head is blown off?”

“Give me that remote,” Bruce said, reaching over the boy. He changed the channel and then added, “Yes. It was pretty close.”

“Ugh, you know the coolest shit,” Jason said, fighting half-heartedly for the remote. “Go back, I wanna see if they win.”

“They win,” Bruce said, holding the remote above his head. Jason apparently didn't care enough to stand up and really go after it. “It's the formula. We're sticking with something less likely to get either of us in trouble with Alfred.”

“Brown-noser!” Jason moaned. “You just hate it if I have fun.”

“I do,” Bruce replied, leaving the TV on an old sci-fi show instead. “I hate when anyone has fun.”

“I'm gonna make a s’more,” Jason said, pushing himself up. “I'll even make one for you, just ‘cause you'll hate it for being delicious.”

Bruce leaned back against the couch and watched the dark sky out the window. The microwave hummed and Jason whistled and drummed his hands on the counter until the whistling and drumming both cut off abruptly.

“Fuck,” he heard the kid say under his breath. Bruce looked over toward the kitchenette. Jason’s face was a picture of panic and he was reaching for the microwave door with a towel. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit,” he yelped while Bruce was climbing to his feet.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, jumping over the couch. The microwave was steaming and he snagged Jason around the waist and pulled him back while it hummed then beeped. White ooze seeped from the edges of the microwave door and the whole glass was a solid pale gray.

“Uhhh,” Jason said, his eyes wide.

Bruce scanned the counter and took the towel from Jason. The marshmallow bag was half-empty already.

“How many did you put in there?” Bruce demanded and Jason stepped back.

“I don't…” Jason said, his hands clenched into fists. “I didn't count. I was gonna…”

Bruce unplugged the microwave just in case and gingerly sprang the door open, jumping back as steam and goopy, sagging marshmallow oozed out onto the counter. He turned and Jason was gone.

“Jay,” Bruce said, trying to keep the edge of annoyance out of his voice. He hadn't heard the door open or shut. He studied the room and there was a telltale lump inside one of the sleeping bags. He gave the marshmallow mess a rueful frown and abandoned it for the moment.

Across the room, he knelt next to the lump and prodded it.

“Do we have to go home?” Jason asked from within, sounding wretched and embarrassed.

“No. Come help me clean this up. Maybe we can save some in a bowl and make a dip.”

Jason’s face peeked out of the sleeping bag, his cheeks tear-streaked and his eyebrows bunched in a worried, angry glare.

“You can just say I'm stupid,” Jason said stubbornly.

“Why would I lie to you?” Bruce asked, offering a hand. “Come help me find some spoons.”

Jason let himself be pulled to his feet and he dragged himself to the kitchenette and started opening drawers to look, slamming each one shut after.

“At least you didn't start a fire,” Bruce said. “First time I tried to make tea for Alfred, I caught the kettle on fire.”

Jason grinned suddenly and looked up.

“I bet he was mad.”

“He was mostly worried. We took care of it.”

Jason handed him a spoon and a bowl.

In the end, it took forty minutes to clean the mess. Half of it ended up in the bowl, another fourth Jason ate straight with a spoon while they worked, and another fourth was scraped off with damp paper towels and soap.

Bruce rewarmed the hardening mass in the bowl and Jason gleefully stirred in broken chocolate bars. Bruce would have preferred to just try from scratch with the rest of the bag, but after twenty minutes of indirectly encouraging Jason back to a good mood, he was reluctant to undo his work.

They sat in front of the television and used graham crackers like chips until even Bruce was feeling a little ill. He expected Jason to need to go run off the sugar rush, but the boy had the opposite reaction and was nearly tipping over with sleep-lidded eyes.

He curled up in the sleeping bag when Bruce took the bowl away and yawned.

“B,” he said, in a sluggish voice. “Are you sure we can't live here?”

“I'm sure,” Bruce said. “But a night’s not bad.”

“A night is the best,” Jason mumbled. “Did Al pack my Nancy Drew book?”

Bruce tugged the monogrammed duffle bag closer to him from the end of the couch and rifled through it.

“He did,” Bruce said, pulling the book out.

“I'm on chapter seven,” Jason said with another yawn. “I'm too tired to read.”

“You want me to read?” Bruce surmised. After a second’s thought he decided it wasn't the right time to prod Jason into just outright asking, considering how well the boy had done during the day.

“Yeah,” Jason said sleepily. “Chapter seven. Do the high voice for Nancy.”

“What high voice?” Bruce asked, acting falsely affronted.

“That one you use when you tell Alfred things Selina said that annoyed you,” Jason insisted. “I’ve heard you.”

Bruce sighed and opened the book and resolved to be more careful in the future about conversations he assumed were private.

“Chapter Seven,” he said.

“We really could live here,” Jason interrupted. “It's right in the city.”

“Don't tempt me, Jaylad,” Bruce warned. “And hush. You wanted me to read.”

Jason giggled every time Nancy had dialogue and was asleep before the end of the chapter. Bruce set the book aside, turned off the light, and stretched out in his own sleeping bag.

He looked around the dark room and then over at Jason, sleeping with his face smashed into the little nylon pillow. Drool trickled out of the boy’s mouth and onto the bag. Bruce reached over and used Jason’s own shirt to wipe it off.

Then he leaned back and closed his eyes. It was actually nice to go to sleep before midnight for once.

He woke with the sun streaming through the huge windows and Jason leaning over him.

“Get up!” he ordered. “We’re nearly out of supplies. I'm making marshmallow dip for breakfast so we don't starve.”

“We’re not going to starve,” Bruce said, grabbing Jason’s ankle when the boy tried to rush off. “Call Alfred. We’ll get breakfast on the way home.”

“Marshmallow dip or we waste away!” Jason shouted, kicking at Bruce’s wrist with his other foot. “Lemme go!”

Bruce resigned himself to his fate and released the kid. He rolled over and buried his face in his arms.

“When Alfred gets here, we pretend we haven't eaten yet.”

“Deal,” Jason agreed. “But he’s gonna know anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “But we can go down fighting.”

“Or live here forever!” Jason crowed, jabbing microwave buttons. “Luxury box kings!”

Bruce laughed and tried to go back to sleep.

He did not succeed.

[gilbertandanne]

AU College Fic. Farkle never figured out how Riley really felt about Lucas, so it never got out. Now she’s turning 21 and the gang decides to go to Las Vegas to celebrate. Sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas.

Rating: M (because of language, situations, and it’s Vegas, soooo yeah)

Pairing: Rucas

Word Count: 3,890

Cross-posted at ff.net

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | J | Q | K | A | J |

                                           Chapter Three: Treys

“Farkle Minkus,” Riley’s mouth fell open the moment the manager of the hotel opened the double doors to the penthouse suite of the Hard Rock Hotel.  Her eyes widened as she surveyed the expansive living room of the 4,200 sq ft suite.  “This can’t possibly be right.”

“It is,” he smiled as he turned to the manager. “My father also said something about a butler?”

“We get a butler,” Maya hissed at Riley.  She knew that Farkle’s parents wanted to pay for their room, but she had no idea that they paid for them to stay in heaven for the next few days.  How was she ever going to go back to her cramped dorm room after this?

“This is unreal,” Zay marveled as he walked around the main living room.  Couches, TVs, and various pieces of artwork were everywhere.  As he wandered toward the corner of the room, he noticed a neon light in his peripheral vision.  He slowly turned toward it.  When he did, his eyes widened.  “Oh shit,” he chuckled.

“What is it,” Lucas asked as he and the girls followed the sound of his voice.

The four of them stood shoulder to shoulder as they gawked at the one lane bowling alley in the middle of the suite.

“This is it, guys,” Zay grinned as they stared at the structure.  “It will never get better than this exact moment.”

Riley glanced at Lucas, but quickly turned her head when she noticed his eyes move over to her.

Maya examined the bowling lane for a moment before she shrugged.  “How much do you want to bet that it actually does get better than a bowling alley in the living room?” Maya quickly reached for her best friend’s hand.  “Let’s see the rest of our home for the next four days,” she squealed.

Farkle wandered over to the group as they continued to take in their surroundings.  “There are three bedrooms, a couple of different sitting areas, a bowling alley, a pool table…there is a hot tub in there,” he gestured to the back of the suite, “And we have a butler on call 24/7 for whatever we might need.”  He tried to think if there was anything else.  “Oh, and a fully stocked bar over there,” he gestured to the other end of the bowling alley.

“I’m never leaving this room,” Zay told the group.  “You guys can go and explore Las Vegas all you want to, but I already know that nothing could be better than this.”

Riley’s wide eyes turned to Farkle.  The room was nicer than anywhere she had ever been in her life, but she couldn’t help but to wonder how much this was going to cost.  “Are you sure about this?  It must cost—“

“It’s fine,” he assured her.  “Mom and dad insisted.  They knew we were waiting to properly celebrate until we all turned 21.  They didn’t want us to worry about anything while we were here.”

“Is it too late for them to adopt me?”  Maya strolled over to the pool table.  “I seriously don’t want to leave the room now.”

Riley put her arm around Farkle’s shoulders as she gave him a warm smile.  “Thank you, Farkle.  It’s already so much more than I ever thought it would be.”  She brought her other arm around to hug him from the side.  It was truly incredible.  When she pulled away from him, she glanced around the living room once more.  They had only just arrived, but she had a feeling that it was going to be their biggest adventure yet.

“Then why don’t we just stay here tonight,” Zay finally yelled overtop of everyone as they debated on what to do that evening.  He raised his hands as he gestured at the space around them.  “I mean, we already have the best room in town.  We just got here, and I’m sure we’re all a little jet lagged, right?”  When Farkle and Riley nodded, he continued.  “So, let’s go grab some food, come back here…maybe bowl a little, play some pool, hop in that Jacuzzi…” he paused.  “Staying in tonight makes sense to me.  Riley doesn’t turn twenty-one until tomorrow night at midnight, so if we’re going to chill out one night, it needs to be this one.”

“He makes a good point,” Farkle agreed before he turned to the girls.  “What do you think?”

Maya glanced at Riley.  It wouldn’t be fair to try to go out when Riley had to wait one more day.  She was itching to gamble, but she wasn’t about to do it without her best friend.  “Yeah.  I agree.  We can all relax and enjoy the room tonight.  Tomorrow, we do…whatever it is that you have already planned, but tomorrow night…we go all out.”  She wrapped her arms around Riley.  “It’s not every day your best friend turns twenty-one.”

“Awww,” Riley cooed as Maya hugged her.  She glanced at Farkle.  “So, where are we going for dinner tonight?”

“It’s a surprise,” Farkle grinned as he stood up.  “We do have a reservations somewhere, so why don’t we get dressed and meet back in here in an hour?”

“Sounds good,” Maya said as she stood up.  She reached for the brunette next to her.  “Come on, Riles.  Let’s see what we’re working with in our bathroom.”

Zay and Lucas slowly stood up as the girls walked to their room.  “I’m going to shoot some pool,” Zay told the remaining members of their party, “Because it will not take me an hour to get ready.”  He glanced at the guys.  “Anyone want to play?”

“I need something to drink,” Lucas answered for the first time in several minutes.  He was content enough to let everyone else decide what they wanted to do.   He was pretty open for anything.  Besides, his mind had been preoccupied with a few things that were definitely more important than their plans for the evening. “Farkle, can you show me the ins and outs of the bar?”  He didn’t wait for an answer as he walked toward the corner of the suite.

Farkle frowned, but followed him regardless.  Out of the entire group, Farkle would have been voted ‘least likely to be found in a bar’.  He knew very little about alcohol, but also knew that Lucas was well aware of that fact.  “Lucas, I’m not really a heavy drinker, and the bar seems pretty self-exclamatory.”

“I know,” he answered as they reached the little alcove.  As soon as Lucas walked behind the bar, he faced Farkle.  Was he actually about to do this?  Was he going to risk giving himself away?  To be frank, he didn’t really care about the repercussions.  He had to know if he had a chance.  He had to know if there was someone else.  “I needed to talk to you and…I really need a drink of something before I do.”  He was nervous.  He had never been nervous to talk to Farkle before.  The genius was one of his best friends.  They were practically brothers—which is exactly what made this conversation even more nerve-wracking.

Farkle frowned as he watched Lucas quickly pour himself a double shot of whiskey.  “Why do you need a drink to talk to me?”  His eyes widened when he watched his friend quickly down the amber liquid and pour himself a second one.  “We’ve been friends for eight years now.  What could it possibly be—“

“It’s about Riley,” he said before he slid the second one back.  He knew that the effects wouldn’t be instant, but he had to take the edge off.  It was crazy.  Ever since they got off the plane, ever since he checked his phone, a hurricane of anxiety raged within him about the brunette girl who was currently on the other side of the suite.

“Riley?”  Farkle glanced at the direction of the girls’ room.  “What about her?”

Lucas looked down at the glass in his hands.  He hadn’t told anyone about his deeply rooted feelings for the brunette.  He didn’t want any of his friends to interfere or to be forced to keep it a secret from the others.  No, it had been his burden, and his alone, to bear for the last seven years.  He thought as the years went on that his feelings for her would fade, but instead, they intensified with every interaction they had.  He thought for sure she would notice.  He thought that they all would have seen it by now, but maybe they hadn’t because they didn’t know to look for it.  “Yeah, I noticed something earlier…and wanted to ask about it.”

Farkle didn’t understand what Lucas was trying to say.  “Ask what?”

Lucas sat the glass down.  He had to spit it out.  It was like ripping off a Band-Aid.  He only hoped that what lied beneath wasn’t a deeper cut.  “Is there…something…going on with you and Riley?”

Farkle lifted his eyebrows in shock.  “What,” he nearly shrieked.  “No.  No, no, no, and no.”  He shook his head for emphasis as he leaned against the counter.  Riley was like a sister to him, nothing more.  “What makes you think that?”

Lucas looked down at the counter before he sighed.  “This is a really nice suite, Farkle.  I know you said it was for all of us to celebrate, but it is her birthday…and you’re taking her to a surprise place for dinner.”  He shrugged.  He had to downplay his line of questioning the best he could.  “I was just curious.”

“Riley is one of my best friends.”  He paused.  “So is Maya.  I’ve known them both for far too long to ever see them as anything other than a sister type.  I mean…if something was going to happen with either one of them, it definitely would have been before now, don’t you think?”

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I guess so.”  ‘Nonchalant, Friar.  Nonchalant.’

Farkle watched as Lucas preoccupied himself by looking around the entire bar area.  Farkle could swear that Lucas had looked everywhere around them except for him.  “Why are you so curious about it?”

Lucas took a quick breath before he finally looked up at Farkle.  “What do you mean?”

Farkle gestured to the empty glass.  “Why did you need to take two shots before you asked me about it?”

“Oh, you know…we don’t really talk about dating stuff.  I was just curious.”  He picked up the glass and turned around to sit it in the sink.  He was grateful for the ten-second distraction.  “I didn’t know if Zay and I needed to help push you…closer to her over the next few days.”  He paused as he turned back to his friend.  Thank God he didn’t have to push his friend toward the one girl he had never been able to forget.  “You know since she’s been talking to that Steve guy.”

“Steve?”  Farkle had to think for a moment.  Steve who?  “Steve Fitzsimmons?”

Lucas shrugged.  ‘Good job on that transition,’ he mentally applauded himself.  “I saw Maya’s instagram post earlier…the one with the picture of Riley on the plane.  Asher tagged me in the comments and I noticed that a guy named Steve said something about taking Riley out for her birthday when we got back.”

“Oh.  Yeah, I think she’s gone out with him a few times over the last couple of weeks.”

Lucas knew he should drop the conversation.  Riley was free to date whoever she wanted to and Farkle didn’t seem that suspicious of his fascination with Riley’s love life.  Still though, he couldn’t help but to press the genius a little further.  “Do you think it’s serious?”

“No idea.”  Farkle chuckled.  “But it’s Riley.  She never gets serious with anyone.”  Farkle’s smile slowly faded as he studied Lucas’s pensive expression.  He was deep in thought about something, and truthfully, Farkle could have sworn that his friend seemed tense.  “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Lucas shook his head as he tried to force the brunette from his mind.  “Yeah.  Why do you ask?”

“Are you upset about the breakup with Alicia?”

“No,” he sighed.  “You know how it is with me, I guess.  Can’t ever quite reach the committal stage.”  He glanced at the clock on the far wall.  “I probably should go get ready.”

Farkle frowned as he glanced at the glass in the sink.  Something wasn’t adding up. He turned around as he watched Lucas retreat to his room.  Was Lucas asking from sheer curiosity—as a protective older brother type—or was it something more?  Was he jealous or was he merely envious because he was still dealing with his most recent breakup?  Something definitely didn’t seem right.

“Top of the World,” Riley squealed as she twirled in the middle of the suite’s living room.  Not only was she was staying in the most beautiful room in the world, but she also just had the most amazing meal ever.   “The view was so incredible,” she grinned as she turned to her friends.  There was no way anything would top the view from their table.  She felt like she was in heaven as she spent most of the night staring at the glimmering lights below them.

“It was really nice,” Maya agreed as she walked toward the whimsical brunette.  “I’m not sure how we’ll be able to top that place as far as our meals go.”

“There are so many places to eat at around here,” Zay told them as he strolled over to the bar.  “I’m sure we’ll have just as much fun tomorrow night…although, you did set the bar pretty high, Farkle.”

“So, what do you guys want to do here tonight?”  Riley glanced at the bowling alley.  “We have the pool table, the bowling alley, the hot tub.”

“Yes,” Zay exclaimed as he pulled out several bottles of liquor.  He placed them all on the counter and grinned as he looked up expectantly at his friends.

Riley chuckled.  “Yes to what?”

“All of it,” he answered decisively.  “It’s about 9:30 now, and I don’t know about you guys, but I am so not ready to go to bed.”  He looked down at the liquor sprawled on the counter.  “So, how about this?  I’ll be the bartender tonight and you guys can go get changed into your suits while I think of some games we can play.”

Farkle yawned.  “It’s 12:30 in New York.”

“But it’s 9:30 here,” Zay reasoned.  “I’m prepared to keep this party going all night.  Who’s with me?”

Riley raised her hand as she walked over to the bar.  “I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a really long time.  There is no way that I am crashing at 9:30 on the first night.”  She turned to Maya.  “What do you think?”

“I’m in,” she smiled.  She knew those few hours of sleep on the plane would come in handy.

Riley looked to the abnormally quiet Texan.  She wasn’t sure why he had been so quiet for most of the evening.  Maybe he was thinking about Alicia?  Riley assumed that he was the one to end things—he usually was—but maybe something else happened this time?  “Lucas?  What about you?”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name.  Truthfully, he hadn’t heard much of their conversation.  His thoughts had been completely focused on the girl who now looked expectantly at him.  “I’m sorry.  What?”

“Are you going to go to bed or are you going to stay up with us and enjoy everything this room has to offer?”

Maybe he should go to bed.  Maybe he should regroup and start fresh in the morning.  He knew that if he mixed alcohol with being in such close proximity to her, that something might slip out.  He had done a fairly good job at hiding his feelings from her for the last few years.  Was he finally breaking down?  Did his heart have an eight-year cap on repressing his true feelings?  He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to retreat to his room only to find out something insane happened that he could have prevented if only he had been there.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m in.”

“Great,” she smiled.

“You guys have fun,” Farkle yawned once more.  He was excited to be in Las Vegas, but he had also been up since 5:30.  He knew if he had just one drink he would pass out.  “I have got to get some sleep.  We have a packed day tomorrow.  Our wake up call is at 7am.”

Maya flinched.  “I haven’t seen 7am since high school, Farkle!  I thought this was a nocturnal town?”

“It is.  We’re going to the Hoover Dam in the morning and it’s going to take about an hour to get there.  If you combine that with how long it’ll take everyone to get ready and eat, and well…7am wake up call.”

Maya pouted.  “Really?”  Did they have to go to the damn Dam that early?

He nodded.  “Afraid so.”

“I’m still staying up,” Riley declared as she pulled out one of the chairs in front of the bar and sat down.  She slapped her hand on the counter.  “Bartender, make me a margarita.”

“Sure…after I see some ID.”  When Riley raised her eyebrows in response, Zay laughed.  “You know I’m just kidding.”  He waited a beat.  “I can only make this joke for one more day!”

“I’m staying up too,” Lucas told the group as he loosened his tie.  “Zay, can you make me a jack and coke?  I’m going to go change.”  Maybe this was a bad idea.  Maybe something would slip out during whatever drinking game Zay would concoct, but truthfully, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep everything bottled up.  He was tired of being tense around her.  He was tired of having to be mindful of every look, every word he directed at her.  He wanted to relax.  He wanted to be himself around her again.

“Well, if you guys are staying up, so am I,” Maya said as she slipped her shoes off.  “Zay, vodka and redbull.  I’m going to need some energy.”

“You guys have fun.  I’m exhausted and jet lagged.”

“Goodnight,” Riley called out to Farkle as he headed off to his room.  Once she heard his door shut, she turned back to Zay.  “I can’t get over this suite,” Riley told him as she glanced around the room.  “I could spend the next four days in here and be perfectly happy.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!”  He pulled out a few glasses from the cabinet and sat them in front of the brunette.  “I know one thing…I’m going to take advantage of that 24/7 room service.”  

Riley placed her head in her hand as she rested her elbow on the counter.  “We just got back from dinner.”

“Not right now…but if we’re going to stay up late…and especially after getting a few drinks in?  You’re going to be begging for some pizza.”

She smiled as her eyes drifted toward the wall.  “Too true.”

As Zay filled the glasses with some ice, he glanced at his friend.  He couldn’t help but to notice that she seemed to be in a daze as she stared at the back wall.  “So, how’s life Riley?”

The right corner of her lips turned up into a smirk as she looked back at Zay.  “Life is…life.”

He nodded.  “Have you been seeing anyone new lately?”

She raised her eyebrows.  That was a pretty loaded question, and honestly one that didn’t have a short answer.  Was she dating around?  Yes.  Was she serious about any of them? No.  Not yet, anyway.  “I don’t know…you interested,” she teased.

He chuckled.  “Sorry, girl.  I’ve known you for too long to ever risk losing your friendship.”

She drummed her fingers on the counter as she sat up.  “No worries.  You’re one of my best friends.  It would be too weird, I think.”

“Yeah,” he agreed as he poured Lucas’s drink.  “I feel like it would be with all of us though.  We’ve all been so close for so long…why rock the boat now, you know?”

Riley’s lips formed a thin line as she stared at the counter.  She knew it would be weird, and awkward, and the odds of it ending well were practically nonexistent, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about Lucas in that way.  It didn’t stop her from constantly daydreaming about where a relationship with him could go.  It didn’t stop her from falling more in love with him with every passing day.  “Yeah.”

“How are those drinks coming,” Lucas asked as he strolled out of the room he was to share with Zay.  

Riley turned around to look at him as he walked toward the bar.  He had changed into a pair of swimming trunks and a white t-shirt.  Even dressed down, he looked positively god-like.

“Perfect timing.  Yours is ready, my friend,” Zay told his best friend as he handed him the drink.

Lucas took a small sip.  “This is strong,” he commented before he took a longer swig.  Strong was good.  Strong was the quickest way he would be able to relax around Riley and quiet the voices in his head that screamed at him to tell her how he felt.

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you any,” Zay responded as he poured Riley’s tequila into a glass.

“We’re here to have fun, right?”  Lucas glanced at Riley.  He was surprised that she hadn’t gone to change her clothes yet.  “Are you going to go change?”

“Yeah.  Absolutely.  I was just trying to butter up the bartender here so he would give me a good pour.”  She slid out of the chair as she turned her head toward the back of the living room.  “I’m dying to see the view of the strip from that hot tub.”

Lucas swallowed harshly as the mental image of Riley clad in a bikini flashed through his mind.  He looked down at the drink in his hand before he quickly downed the rest of it.  He had never been a really heavy drinker, but considering the amount he had already consumed since they arrived, he had a feeling that this weekend would be an exception.

“Here, take this with you,” Zay instructed as he handed Riley her margarita.

She took a sip of it.  “Whew.  Definitely strong, Zay.”

“We’re going to do Vegas right,” Zay grinned as he popped open a can of Red Bull for Maya.

“I have a feeling that Farkle’s going to have a very hard time getting us up in the morning,” she told the guys before she wandered to her room to change her clothes.

As soon as Riley closed her bedroom door, Zay reached for Lucas’s empty glass.  “What’s going on with you, man?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you have a high tolerance for alcohol, but I also know that you’ve never been a big drinker.”  He reached for the bottle of whiskey.  “I’ve seen you drink more already tonight than in the last two months.  What’s going on?”

Lucas shrugged.  “Nothing.  You just said you wanted us to ‘do Vegas right’.  I do too.  I want to have fun.”

[myaekingheart]

I've been seriously lagging here so I'm just going to dump all of my dreams (that I remember) from the past couple nights into one big post.

Wednesday night: 1) I don't remember this first dream very well except that it had something to do with a school assigment. I think I was in a dark classroom? I don't know, it's really faded from my memory at this point. 2) My boyfriend and I were at the community pool in my grandma's neighborhood. Nobody was there, we had the entire place to ourselves, so we figured we'd live it up a little and go skinny-dipping. He tossed his navy blue swim shorts onto the side of the pool and I slipped out of a neon orange one-piece (which I have no idea why that was a thing because I'd never in my life wear a neon orange one-piece but anyways) and we splashed around in the pool ass naked and got all touchy-feely and shit and it was a grand old time. Until the crotchety old man next door saw us. For the longest time, in real life, there was this really nasty old man who lived right next door to the community pool and he'd always come stomping out of his home and start scolding the people in the pool if he caught anything going awry. This was especially true of unfamiliar children (which were practically all children since this is a self-proclaimed 55+ community) he caught that may have jumped the fence. The man is long gone now, though, he died a few years back, but anyways, so he shows up in the dream stomping out of his house all pissed and whatnot because these two college kids are skinny dipping in his neighborhood pool so my boyfriend and I grab our swimsuits and rush out of there while we're trying to get them back on and that was the end of our little naked swimming adventure. Later that night in the same dream, though, I found myself stuck at a family dinner at the community pool. The way the pool is set up is that there are two tents on either side of the pool with tables and chairs, lounge chairs surrounding the rest of the pool, and then at the shallow end there's a little clubhouse that's basically just a screened in room with a men's bathroom on one side and a women's bathroom on the other and a big outdoor table and chairs in the middle. That's where we were having a big family dinner; it was me, my parents, my grandmother, and my aunt and uncle from up north. So we were sitting around and everyone was laughing and talking and carrying on as you do but meanwhile I was sitting there absolutely panicked, terrified of what would happen if everyone found out about how I got in trouble at that very same pool earlier that day. I forget if word actually broke out about it in this scenario or not but I do remember some sort of uproar and finding out that my aunt was involved in drugs at my age, at first thinking it was marijuana because that's the most likely scenario (my aunt and her husband are very much leftover hippies) but ending up discovering that she was into meth instead. 3) The last dream I had was far less dramatic than the skinny-dipping one yet somehow still found me swimming someplace? It wasn't until I woke up that I realized how similiar this dream was to the last dream I had about this scenario but basically the gist of it was that I was at some gorgeous freshwater spring and there were tons of bottlenose dolphins around that I was swimming with and I had my mermaid tail on and I think there were other mermaids around me which was cool as fuck. I distinctly remember holding onto one of the dolphin's dorsal fins and riding him around the cove with my mermaid fin on and it was fucking great.

Thursday night: I only had one dream Thursday night that I can remember but it was one of those bothersome dreams that feels realistic and conveys some situations that you're not sure you're entirely comfortable with. I dreamt that I had stayed in bed all day until about 2pm, which isn't totally inaccurate, but that while I was asleep, my boyfriend went out to a friend's house. He came home and sat on the edge of the bed beside me and was ranting and raving about something regarding the best way to heat up leftover grilled cheese? But I remember he was also showing me pictures that got posted on facebook of him at his friend's house. It wasn't necessarily anything terrible, just the ordinary stuff, but there was one person there who made the entire situation that much more uncomfortable. The only specific picture I remember from the post was one of my boyfriend sitting on a dimly lit living room on a brown couch kind of similar to the one we have in our living room next to some of his work friends (one of who I recognized as a girl he works with who I've met a few times before) playing video games and whatnot, and there was a table of snacks in front of them like chips and salsa and pretzels and whatnot. Among my boyfriend and his work friends, though, was none other than my boyfriend's dead ex's brother sitting at the end of the couch with headphones on and a Playstation controller in his hand looking very enthralled in whatever game it was that he was playing. This shook me and I think took more of my focus than anyone else in these pictures just because this guy was just so out of place in a setting such as this and I couldn't comprehend why he was there at all. I understand he and my boyfriend are still distant friends, they spent a lot of time hanging out together when my boyfriend was younger and the two of them would play video games with my boyfriend's ex, the guy's sister, all the time but it just seemed so bizarre and random that he was there where I felt he didn't belong. I don't know, it just kind of shook me up.

Friday/last night: I only had one dream (that I can remember) last night, as well, and I don't really know why I remember it or why I had it in the first place. I dreamt I was working at this high-scale fast food restaurant as a cashier so I was standing in front of this touch screen computer punching in people's orders as they approached me. For some reason I remember calling the place Whataburger even though it obviously was not Whataburger. If anything, it reminded me of my community college's cafeteria with lots of high windows, sleek white tables, and chairs of all different colors. You know what the place really looked like? It looked like a Piet Mondrian painting in restaurant form. It was honestly a really cool looking place and that whole modern-geometric-abstract style really worked well from an interior design perspective. As for the architectural aspect, the build of the place reminded me a lot of the McDonald's that used to be at Downtown Disney in Orlando, where that stupid Pollo Campero is now. But anyways, I remember standing there behind this touch screen computer cash register thing and I think I was the only one working the front? Maybe there was one other person with me? Either way, it was pretty goddamn empty except for the few people that would come in, order food, and then leave. I remember thinking to myself how easy yet repetitive the whole thing was, wondering why I had never gotten a job sooner or something, and maybe part of the dream involved my boyfriend getting mad at me and saying I needed to go out and get a job and start earning a living and pulling my weight around here rather than depending on my parents to pay all of my bills for me or something. In retrospect, I feel like maybe this is more of a secret pressure I'm slowly increasing upon myself rather than something my boyfriend is thinking, since I know the thought of me leaving the house on my own and traversing the city by myself makes him insanely nervous and he said he feels safer knowing I'm at home all the time or something, which makes sense since there's a lot of sketchy people in our town and he wants to keep me as safe as humanly possible. I'm pretty sure he wants to be the breadwinner of the house here, anyways, because I know he's said he wishes he had a better job and earned more money so we could afford to buy our own house, I think he said something once about he wished he could afford for me to never have to get a job in the first place or something but that could just be me twisting memories or whatever. All I know is that he wants to keep me as safe as possible and do his best to provide for us. But anyways, back to the dream. I remember standing there and thinking to myself how easy albeit repetitive this job was and wondering why I never got a job sooner, but then quickly realizing the reason I've held off: my anxiety. I remember standing there and suddenly feeling myself spiral into a panic attack, I think over forgetting to punch in a woman's drink order along with her food. The creepy part is that I swear it almost felt like I was really spiralling into an anxiety attack like I could feel my hands start to tingle and go numb and my throat tightened up and my heart started racing and I could feel myself start to break out into a cold sweat. I remember someone, a co-worker, telling me to take my break and sit down for a minute or maybe I told the co-worker I was going to take my break and sit down for a bit or something? Either way, I went on my fifteen minute break and took a seat at one of the tables by a window on the same wall as the entrance door and just tried to calm myself down with deep breaths and whatnot but it wasn't really helping. I was still panicking. I don't really remember what happened afterward but if anything, that dream is just a congregation of thoughts and fears about the conflict I've feared for months about getting a job. I want to get a job so I can be more independent and start earning my own money but at the same time, I always have my anxiety to think about, like it's always in the back of my mind and I'm constantly terrified that if I do get a job, I'll break out into a panic attack at any moment during my shift and that's honestly really fucking bothersome. It doesn't help that I've never had a job before, I've always been a student full-time getting money from my parents so I can devote all my time and energy into my academics, so the thought of getting a job is new and terrifying and I never know what to expect. I don't know, man, it was just fucking weird.

[silver-palette]

NCT 127 – “Neo City: The Origin” in San Jose

5/9/19

Left work at 5:40pm, arrived in San Jose at 7:10, bought chicken nuggets from McDonald’s, and entered the concert hall at 7:50.

Hall feels kind of like a high school auditorium. Was expecting something a little more memorable.

I was kind of nervous and wondering if the $160 would be worth it, but I was excited about it too. Texted BFR and MKT a quick photo and both replied with excitement for me.

Concert begins.

(Cherry Bomb) Took me a little bit to get energized, but the smooth glide, backward fall, and leg split were everything.

NCT lightsticks are bright af. Every time the girl next to me waved hers to my side, I think I went just a little bit more blind lol.

(Chain) Taeyong’s absss. I was trying to fix something on my phone and, BAM! Front and center on the big screen. That shit came out of nowhere >.<

Didn’t have a lightstick this time, so I was just kinda awkwardly standing there. People around me must’ve thought I was the quietest kpop fan ever. But in my head I was hyped xD

(Ment #1) Taeyong really knows how to pump up a crowd—from his stretched out “Ohhh yeahhhh” that reclined into a sexy, throat-deep groan to his vocalized sports tournament siren after introducing his name. And his little fumble when trying to say “lifetime memories” was cute.

(Fly Away with Me) Ugh, this song put me in a mood. And Taeyong’s bouncing dance moves. He does them really nice.

(Back 2 U) Yuta’s vocals o.o And Taeyong’s soft swag throughout.

Not as many Taeyong stans as I thought, but definitely one behind me. I relate to her every time she screams for him when he does something remotely sexy and the crowd is quiet in obliviousness xD

(City 127) Slower song and Taeyong’s still not able to sit still. He was the only one who stood up and danced around for his part, and he continued to wiggle around in his chair after that xD :3

(Angel) So. Much. Skinship. Taeyong scooting his chair over to Jaehyun and being all squishy, touchy, and adorable with him. More with Yuta & Doyoung, and Jungwoo & Haechan. The line, “I’ll be your morning star” gave me all the feels. I eventually found myself swaying along.

(Jet Lag + more) Yuta’s slow, emotional hair flip and his unrelenting cuteness. If Taeyong doesn’t do it first, this kid might just kill me >.<

(Ment #2) Yuta being cute af and possibly throwing some random Japanese in there? xD

(No Longer) Definitely falling for Taeil’s voice.

So many Taeil, Haechan and Jaehyun stans.

(Regular) Taeyong’s sex faces live are killing me.

(Wake Up) The bars have come out. Hyped by Taeyong’s “Are you ready San Jose!” and subsequent ‘yeah’s and ‘whoo’s and arm pumping dance.

(Baby Don’t Like It) Taeyong literally coming in like a pimp on top of the bars. Sunglasses, posture, attitude, and all lmao.

(Mad City) The vibrations man, the fucking building was shaking.

(Good Thing) Taeyong’s outlandishly flamboyant paint-splatter suit, wtf xD Also his moonwalk is so fucking smooth. Yuta is adorably bouncy in his cute yellow sweater.

Seeing Taeyong’s sex faces in person is ridiculous (part 2).

…is Yuta my bias wrecker?

Chipmunk voices on the mic… (Started with Mark’s mic during Mad City and continued randomly throughout)

Changing lightstick colors with the music. Didn’t expect that to happen here. For some reason I thought it was only a Korea/Japan thing lol.

(Superhuman) The superior song. Always fall for that head snap in the beginning.

I was watching Taeyong for most of the concert, but I swear I saw Taemin’s face flash by for like half a second. I think the desperation to see Taemin live is getting too strong xD

(Ment #4) I fucking looked up and Taeyong had taken half of his sparkly jacket off during the ment. Guns fully loaded. Biceps at the ready. But my poor heart wasn’t >.< Haechan speaking Korean for the first time during the concert kind of made it more real that I was watching Korean idols who had traveled halfway across the world to perform in front of me. Taeyong and his backwards visor and casual black clothes is fucking hot. Taeil getting embarrassed when Johnny told him to growl and flex his muscles one more time, adorable :3 Taeyong did clapping push-ups, aegyo-ed, and fucking dabbed in the span of 20 seconds >.< Jaehyun asking if we’re ready to “get hot.” Boy, I’ve been steaming for an hour now (both literally and figuratively lol. Couldn’t find the time to take off my coat xD)

(Summer 127) The resonance and vibrations from the bass line had me shaking (in a good way). Taeyong’s front group seemed a little lost in the music when they finally went back into choreography—they kept looking at each other like “uh…” and wiggled their arms around aimlessly until it matched everyone else lol. Taeyong went HARD during this song. His panting had me thrown, and he rapped so hard his fucking vein popped out.

(Ment #5) Doyoung’s adorably cheesy fortune cookie story. Fortune cookie read, “You will touch the hearts of many.” Generic but absolutely true ^^ Taeyong’s pouty face before his ending speech. And he put his hands together, almost in prayer, when thanking his fans. It was so heartfelt and sweet.

(Pre-0 Mile) Taeyong’s switch from his soft voice when correcting the crowd’s move for “mine mine” to his deep, loud, crowd-pumping voice at the final “girl you’re just mine mine!” I love his duality. And the way he turned around to walk to the back of the stage for 0 Mile. Hot.

(0 Mile) Taeyong being a mom and picking up Doyoung after he fell to the ground trying to protect his abs xD He’s such a sweetheart <3

For the last three-ish songs, Taeyong was super energetic and hyped for the performances. It got me hyped too.

Their “San Jose is a real vibe-killer~~” xD

Someone threw a rose at Taeyong when they were walking from the left side audience to thank the right side, and he got adorably flustered. He fumbled with the rose a little bit, but he did manage to catch it.

Taeyong picked up the rose he had put down earlier to hold his members’ hands and bow. He was being such a tease with it, putting it sexily in his mouth, tango style, and turning around and pausing every two steps to pose with it. He also put on an adorable “San Jose” beauty pageant sash before posing with the rose and heading off stage. He was the last member to leave and he kept dorking around and teasing his fans, it was so freakin cute >.< (Side note: Found out later he was recently crowned “in charge” of their San Jose stop, which is why he had the sash.)

That ending^ was all I needed to make that whole concert worthwhile. I love you Taeyong <3

Concert ended at 10:40pm. Walked back to my car and drove home listening to nothing but NCT songs.

Post-concert thoughts: In the beginning, it felt like I was just watching another random concert. I was also hesitant about going even before that because I only really listened to about half the songs on the setlist. But I realized there’s something about concert settings that just makes everything sound amazing. The concert eventually evolved into something more meaningful and that I was super spazzy about and into (probably triggered by something Taeyong did lol), but it got so much more exciting after that and I loved it.

P.S. Taeyong’s shirt was sheer????