#izzy's ugly walls of text

[robotpiez]

unpopular opinion: gamzee doing voodoo shit and necrophilic stuff is based off ICP's songs, not bc he's a black steryotype

[yeahimwiththeband]

-> with the band chapter 2

Go! Dance!

warning: 18+ minors DNI due to smut in the next chapter. also, people pleasing, anxiety, codependency (just with mc’s mom, thank god), huge amounts of really ugly fabric from the 60s, repression. still not for larries :(

A/N: first story post on tumblr, first attempt writing a book of any kind.

chapter 1 is right here

word count: 3.32k

That fucking voice.

Izzy couldn’t stop playing the song over and over and over in her mind. Harry drowned out the 50s acapella always on in the background of the store. The od music matched the venue: wall to wall paisley carpeting and wallpaper, taupe and yellow fabric samples draped from the ceiling, and mannequins dressed like 1962 framing a fitting area with a three way mirror that made the brown room seem like an infinite prison Izzy would never escape. Izzy had never been to a concert. Her whole life seemed to her like a long list of things she had never done. 

Izzy did another lap of the store with the duster, nervous. Maybe she could say she couldn’t make it because of the thunder storm that was going to happen that evening? Why did she use up her food poisoning excuse last week on that house party? She could stay in the store and do Mrs. Shepherd’s appointment and take care of the shoe inventory, like she did every Friday night.

But she couldn’t get that voice out of her head. And her secrets urged her on. The super pretty and way too short green dress waited upstairs, demanding to be worn. It was laid out on her bed, spiting The Boulder, shocking her room’s brown wallpaper and brown carpet. 

She was going to the concert tonight. She was going to the pit. She’d hear the song live, the song that Meg sent her with that voice. 

Izzy checked her phone: it was another mysterious text, this time not from Meg.

can’t wait to meet you tonight

It was from a number she didn’t recognize. Did that weirdo who messaged her on the app last night somehow find her number? Noah whatshisname?

Izzy checked Instagram, where Meg had just posted another one of those couple posts: legs and hands and sheets intertwined. Izzy loved Meg too much to be nauseated by the post, but she did want what she had. Izzy thought, feeling a change in the air, maybe she would have to do what Meg did to get it—starting with leaving her house. 

A huge iron cross hung over her at the register, above the shop entrance. The guilt landed on her chest with a thud: how could she selfishly just leave this struggling business, abandoning her mom to fend for herself? Her mom was getting older. She was an only child. The cross was the first thing her grandmother put in the store, her mom told her. Everything her mom had learned about being the most conservative, hardworking person on earth, she had learned from Ila, a name that sounded way too soft to have belonged to a woman so formidable. Ila built the store from nothing. Her mother’s sister was supposed to take over the store, but that was before the accident. Izzy’s hand reflexively drifted to her stomach, where her scar was. Her aunt, Lydia’s mother, died in the accident when Lydia was just 16. Ila left the store to her mother so that the family could survive and everything Izzy had was thanks to the store. This is what her mother had told her thousands of times. 

Izzy checked over her shoulder—a reflex—then dusted off the ancient 2002 boombox always on Easy Vintage Listening FM. She fiddled with the tuning dial until she struck gold: it was that voice, singing about a girl crush and a heart rush. That voice on the radio by chance was clearly a sign. Izzy decided: she was going to the concert. For sure.

botticelli’s at 1, right?

Another text from the mystery number. Botticelli’s, across from the store, was as old as the store. It was a restaurant for geriatrics with a last seating at 4 for a 5 PM closing. Izzy texted back: I think you have the wrong number! Sorry :)

Just then, her mom swept in, silent as usual. Izzy jumped when she appeared on the other side of the counter.

“Izzy, crisis,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “The inventory is arriving a day early!They said it should be here by 6 at the latest—“

Izzy took a deep breath. “Mom, I have that concert later, and I’m supposed to be at the doors at seven.”

“Was that tonight?” Her mom neatened the receipt stack on the counter and abruptly changed the music back to the preselected station.

Sudden text from Lydia (they were always sudden): you owe me $86 for the tickets

you said they were free, Izzy fired back.

fees face value etc, Lydia texted.

Just then, the mystery texter struck again: haha, I heard you were funny Izzy

Izzy watched her mother move around the store, dusting and straightening everything more frantically than usual. The vibes were off.

Izzy caught a glimpse of herself shattered in the store’s folding mirror, refracted with slices of brown and brocade. She transferred Lydia the money without checking her balance. She couldn’t stop thinking about that voice, listening to it in her mind: it was so deep. There was so much longing in it. It spoke directly to her. 

Izzy was the kind of broke where she had to check her chequing account before sending that kind of money over. She earned less than minimum wage at the store (and free rent, as her mom always pointed out). She had a small nest egg of $2,314 she was saving for her own apartment, first and last month’s rent, in another account that wasn’t joint with her parents’.

She hatched a plan: whispering into her phone, she called the supplier and asked for the shipment early, which she had done before. It was many bolsters of fabric and would take ages for her to unload and set up in the store. The supplier would arrive at noon, giving her plenty of time to get to the concert. As she hung up the phone, her mom turned on the hand vacuum, which she used on the many hangers that hadn’t been touched in months. It was noon and there were no customers in sight, as usual.

This was new: an image of herself appeared on her phone screen—a photo taken three summers ago, Meg cropped out of the frame. An alarming text accompanied it: You’re so pretty in your photos. This one’s my favourite.

The truck pulled up with its usual horn—same driver for forty years—and Izzy rushed out to meet it. Her mom was close to follow.

“I wanted to start unloading over lunch, so I could be sure to make the concert,” Izzy explained, noticing her mom seemed distressed by the early arrival, wringing her hands. The driver opened the back and started unloading the rolls.

“I’m not sure you can unload it over lunch, sweetie,” her mom said. “I have a surprise for you.”

More ominous words had never been spoken. The fabric bolsters piled up inside the store entrance. Izzy’s phone pinged again.  

Her mom smiled. She nodded toward the door.

A balding man, wearing the same suit cut as her father, strolled into view beside the truck. He was maybe 40.

“Izzy?” He asked in her direction. Izzy looked behind her, then back at him, confused. His voice was high and tight, like a balloon.

Her mom nudged her forward. Izzy stumbled over one of the fabric bolsters.

The man smiled at her and extended his hand. “Hi,” Izzy managed. His hand was slick with… sweat? Hand sanitizer? What the fuck is this? Izzy thought.

“I’m Josh. I’ve heard so much about you.” Josh took a small tube of hand sanitizer out of his pocket and rubbed his hands. He extended it to Izzy. Izzy shook her head.

“She’ll be ready in just a second,” her mom said. Josh took a step back. Upon closer inspection, his suit was definitely from the store.

Her mother pulled Izzy aside: “I put aside an outfit for you. You can match.”

“Mom… what is this?”

“Just a lunch date! You haven’t been out on a date in so long, not since Roger. And this is your father’s youngest friend.”

A tremor ran down Izzy’s spine. Roger. Yikes. One of dad’s friends… and not in a hot way. Big yikes. Izzy felt panic spread from her hands up her back to her scalp: a burning she knew well. She had a name for it now: anxiety. 

But she couldn’t say no. That was even more terrifying.

Izzy found herself sitting in front of a plate of half eaten Waldorf salad—nuts, mayonnaise, grapes, nightmares—opposite this old stranger, watching the truck pull away, leaving about eighty fabric bolsters piled up in the store entranceway. She caught her mom peering at her from the store from time to time, and had to stop looking over at the fabric piling up.

Their outfits matched. One of her mother’s more evil moments—well intentioned, but good god. Izzy shuddered when she caught the sight of them, the matching couple, in the glass. She remembered Meg’s photo of her and her husband, arms intertwined, in bed. Josh’s vibe was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal, but he hadn’t noticed the big dollop of mayo that had landed on his brown tie. 

“You’re even more beautiful than the photos,” he said, breaking his monologue about the benefits of rising home prices for the middle class. He dropped his wet hand onto hers. The mayo dropped into his lap.

“The photos?” Izzy stammered.

“That your mom has been sending. She wanted to wait for me to ask you out, and then all of a sudden, late last night, she said now was the perfect time.”

Josh was handsome in a sort of flat-faced way, with defined, narrow shoulders and overlong legs. Izzy would forgive any physical flaw, if it weren’t so emphasized by all the personal ones: he had been talking for an hour without asking her any questions. Josh’s obliviousness helped to soothe her anxiety; he didn’t seem to notice her enough to note what was wrong with her, and her burning need to make a good impression on him to please her mother faded by the minute. 

Josh sat ramrod straight in his chair and kept straightening his napkin in his lap. He had insisted on pulling out her chair when they sat down, almost tripping her in the process, and asked for a salad fork when the first course came. An Izzy from last year might smiled and nodded and found nothing wrong with his monologuing. 

Izzy wasn’t sure how many courses there were, but she had to get out of there if she was going to make the concert. She decided to speak up.

“Josh—”

“And that’s when I realized that supplier logistics was my passion,” He squeaked. “The data available now, it’s incredibly exciting: everything from customer retention to granular behaviour, down to order patterns by the season…”

“Josh—”

“And I wanted to tell you, as I told your mother, that I’ve saved up enough for a three bedroom condo and I intend to purchase one in this neighbourhood within the next year, if the interest rates—“

“Josh!” Izzy dropped her fork.

Josh looked at her, maybe seeing Izzy for the first time.

“Sorry! Interest rates aren’t really first date material, are they?” He cleared his throat, but started again before Izzy could get a word in. “Where do you think the housing market is going to go?”

“I have to get back to the store,” Izzy said.

Izzy folded her napkin and put it back on the table. “This was great,” she lied. She scolded herself internally: she was trying to lie less, even if it made things awkward. She stood up. “I have to put away all that fabric. Thank you so much for lunch.”

Josh awkwardly stood up and hugged her: “I get it! Girlboss gotta girlboss.” Izzy laughed awkwardly. The mayo had transferred to her vest.

“You’ve got a little something,” Josh said, gesturing to her shirt. Izzy smiled and brushed it off, waving as she sprinted back across the street to the store.

She was soon lugging large swathes over to the display cases: greys, beiges, synthetic corduroy, synthetic everything. It was 6 PM. Her mom hovered over her, asking questions until she felt like she might explode:

“Was it a love match? Did he tell you about the condo? Three bedrooms! He wants to start a family. Did he mention how long he’s known your father?”

Izzy was about to snap when her mom dropped the final bomb: “Mrs. Shepherd had to move her appointment back to seven. I hope that’s okay. I’m sure you can see that band tomorrow night. I have to go look at the books upstairs, but you can handle it, right?” Izzy barely heard the door close behind her. She was alone in the store, again. Like always.

Izzy’s shoulders sagged. She stepped up onto the pedestal in front of the three way mirror and surveyed the damage.

Her face was slick with sweat. Her vest was stained. Her stockings had a run. She looked into the mirror, and saw her mom’s face staring back at her. Her chin wrinkled suddenly. She was about to cry.

“Elisabetta?” Izzy wiped her eyes. She turned around to see Mrs. Shepherd waiting behind her. She was a short woman, in a tweed skirt suit, grey hair. The same age her grandmother would have been, and the store’s longest customer. She had always called her Elisabetta, just like her grandmother did. 

“Hi, Mrs. Shepherd. Let me grab your sample.”

“But what are you doing here? It’s Friday night!”

Izzy emerged from the changing room, holding out a pink skirt suit in the same conservative cut. Mrs. Shepherd and her grandmother had been friends back in Italy, all the way back in the tiny Sicily town where they were born just days apart. They had come over soon after one another, when they were done high school. Both raised Catholic, both married off when they were teenagers. They went to church not once a week, but three times, after they moved to America. 

“What do you think?” Mrs. Shepherd didn’t look at the dress.

“But I hope you’re not staying home on my account,” she said, frowning.

“No, no,” Izzy replied. Mrs. Shepherd looked her best friend’s granddaughter up and down. Izzy self-consciously tugged on her vest. 

“I remember when you were a little girl,” Mrs. Shepherd said, sadness in her voice. “You used to dance in this room, twirling all the bolsters. You used to make your mom change the music to whatever you wanted.”

Mrs. Shepherd disappeared into the dressing room. Izzy couldn’t remember ever dancing here. She checked her watch. It was 6:30.

“You’re early, thank you,” Izzy said.

“I got a call from your mother this morning moving the appointment back all the way to seven, but I thought I’d come at the usual time just in case,” Mrs. Shepherd said from the dressing room.

Izzy’s mouth dropped open in shock. She couldn’t reply. 

“She said she set you up with that Josh, finally,” said Mrs. Shepherd. “She’s been talking about setting you two up for years! Your mother and his father have planned it practically since you were born. He’ll never move out of this neighbourhood, that’s for sure.”

Izzy couldn’t move. 

“But he is a bit of a bore, no? Self-important, over obsequious, I think. And I told her that I was sure a bright young thing like you had many suitors—you must be drowning in suitors!”

“Not really, Mrs. Shepherd,” Izzy tried a weak laugh.

Mrs. Shepherd came out of the dressing room fully enswathed in a dusty pink.

Izzy held her hand as she stepped up onto the pedestal in front of the mirror. Rather than letting go, Mrs. Shepherd’s grasp tightened suddenly around hers. She pulled Izzy in close, her face just inches away.

“Your grandmother,” Mrs. Shepherd whispered, “she was a wild woman.”

Izzy gasped. Mrs. Shepherd continued, pulling her even closer: “She was wild. The way we used to go out dancing. She used to sing, you know, and play guitar. She could have really been something.”

“Ila?” Izzy asked, stunned. Her eyes flitted to the heavy iron cross hanging above the door.

“Ila was truly free. She left Italy because she had to,” Mrs. Shepherd said. She dropped Izzy’s hand and pointed to the door. “Go. Be young. I’m sure your friends are waiting for you somewhere.”

Izzy stumbled backwards. “No excuse—I know how to close, of course,” Mrs. Shepherd said, laughing. “I’ve only been coming here for forty years. Keys under the cash register.” Izzy nodded, dazed.

She started toward the door, turning back to say thank you. Mrs. Shepherd smiled broadly and waved her onward. “Go!”

Izzy was soon upstairs and out the door in her green dress, fanny pack hastily slung around her shoulders with her wallet, a chapstick, and her phone. She ran down the sidewalk with her sneaker laces flying, casting one last glance over her shoulder to see her mom in the upstairs window hunched over a laptop, and Mrs. Shepherd downstairs locking the front door.

The parking lot outside the venue was a pulsing throng: thousands of girls, a beat in the background, everyone glistening in the humidity and swarming toward the venue gates.

Izzy heard a clap and turned to see Meg: “You made it! Yay!”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” Izzy apologized a few more times for good measure. She was fifteen minutes late.

“Bleh, shut up,” said Lydia. She had no filter. Wearing a rainbow sequinned jumpsuit, a shearling jacket, and star-shaped glasses, she jumped up and down in front of her phone, taking a video.

“You guys look like rubes,” she said, closing the video.

Lydia was truly beautiful, a tall pale fairy thing who looked like she was from another family, or another planet. Her skin was almost translucent, like porcelain except the few moles dotting her arms. She had wide open eyes a blue so pale that they were almost clear. Her hair fell nearly down to her waist. 

“What’s a rube?” Izzy asked, pulling her cousin in for a hug. Izzy often wondered: How do we come from the same family, and Lydia ends up this glittering cool chaos person, and I…

Lydia took lipstick out of her purse and yanked Izzy’s dress down on the left side to reveal her bra. Izzy stood placidly. Nothing Lydia did shocked her anymore. 

“We have to get inside! The opening act has already started!” Meg tapped impatiently on her smartwatch. Meg couldn’t be more different from Lydia: shorter, darker, with full lips, wide hips, and deep, piercing eyes. 

Lydia drew a heart in red lipstick on Izzy’s chest, coming to a point just above her nipple. Izzy pulled the dress up slightly, but the heart was still mostly visible.

“Much better,” said Lydia. She drew a smaller heart on Meg’s cheek. 

“Izzy, you look like super amazing,” Meg said. 

“You too,” Izzy replied. Meg was one of the few people Izzy could see clearly. She felt totally calm around her. 

Lydia grabbed both their hands and pulled them toward the open gate, past security, and down a broad flight of stairs. They moved with the crowd and the beat, getting closer and closer to the throbbing inside of their town’s largest venue. Izzy’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to get it out of her bag as Lydia yanked her along; it was her BeReal alarm. But she forgot it entirely when they ran through the final doors, nearly dropping her phone on the ramp. 

They burst into the concert hall: Izzy did a full circle, awestruck by the sight of thousands of girls, dozens of rows high, all around the stage. She and Meg grinned each other, eyes wide. The whole room was screaming and pulsing to an insane drum solo coming from the stage. Lydia explained, shouting over the crowd, that this was a new opening act just for this city. 

They followed Lydia, running after her to keep up, as she got closer and closer to the lights, past more and more security guards in yellow vests. Water bottles already littered the concrete stairs and everyone stood with their hands up, swaying in front of their seats. Izzy just felt like one of them; The Boulder was reduced to a pebble in her shoe. Mrs. Shepherd’s words echoed in her mind: Go! Dance! 

They were on the floor, breaking past groups of women holding up signs and throwing things on stage. Izzy could make them out now: four women, on drums, a guitar, keyboard, and at the mic. Lydia’s eyes were fixed forward—she was totally determined to get to the front. Izzy followed her gaze up to a shirtless base guitarist with deep brown eyes and a curl dropping over his forehead, sweat gathering on his bare, muscled chest. He looked like he was carved out of marble. 

“Best girl band in the country,” Lydia screamed over the music. “Check out that fucking drummer.” 

They had reached the stage—Lydia reached out to touch it, eyes closed, as if she were touching an altar. They were close enough to see the smudges on the band’s members’ shoes. 

The drummer accelerated, her hands and sticks a blur. Lydia dropped her hands and started dancing, possessed. Meg followed. Izzy looked up at them, awestruck: the women were absolutely raging. The lead singer started and the guitarist strummed over the drums, a low wail that built and built. The crowd fucking lost it. She hadn’t heard them before, but Izzy couldn’t help herself—she let go in the swelling beat. She felt like she was inside the music. She threw her hair around and put her arms above her head, dancing like she was a kid again. It wasn’t a performance, like so much of what she did in front of other people; she danced the way she felt, for herself. 

Lydia seemed to be in a trance. Izzy followed her eyes up to the lead guitarist. The guitarist’s hands climbed and fell manically, hitting crescendos during the chorus that sent the crowd into a frenzy. He wasn’t the voice, but oh god. 

Just then, he turned and their eyes met. Izzy looked away, embarrassed. That grin. Those furious fingers. Mrs. Shepherd’s words floated over the music: Go! Dance!

Izzy looked back up at him. His eyes were still on her. He smiled. She beamed back. 

The guitarist was so far beyond the guys she had ever met in person; not just in the way that he looked. It was the way that he moved.

They laughed and danced and anytime Izzy stole a glance, the guitarist was looking back at her.

That voice hadn’t even come on yet, and it was already the best night of her life.

chapter3

[pagingevilspawn]

Loving You Is A Losing Game - chapter nine

heyyy! it’s been a little while, but i did warn that updates on this book a going to get slower. lots of stuffs been going on with my family lately, so its been really hard to find time to sit down and write... but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy this chapter that i only like the second half of...

~*~

"how many pennies in the slot"

~*~

"when can i see you again?"

____

they had set a date. that night outside of joe's bar, they agreed that in just less than two weeks they would see each other again. paul would be out of town on a golfing trip like he did every last friday of the month, and alex would say that he had a family emergency. it wouldn't be hard to get a day off, just the words 'schizophrenic mother' would be enough to let him have a little while off.

so, on that early friday morning, alex stood in the trailer, packing up his suitcase with clothes while izzie continued to sleep peacefully, not needing to wake up for another twenty minutes or so. she had started back at work two days ago and he could tell it was taking a toll on her. she was more irritable and had been sleeping more, exhausted from being on her feet all day, a large comparison to being practically tied to a bed for twenty four hours straight.

he left a note, izzie knew that he was most likely going to be gone before she woke up that morning, but he wrote one anyway. 'gone to the airport. take your pills. love you'. it was short and sweet. he zipped up his suitcase slowly and quietly, careful not to wake his sleeping wife. before he heads out the door he takes one more glance at her and the guilt settles in deeper. he wasn't going to iowa, no, he was going to boston, to see another woman. a woman who wasn't his wife.

he considers not going for a second, calling off the whole trip and staying loyal to izzie, his wife. that's what he should do. the right thing.

but he has this desire in him, this burn. he needs this release, a sense of normalcy, and jo's the only one who can give it to him.

life was really screwed up sometimes.

he knew that someday, somehow, this would come back and blow up in his face, that was a given. but right now... right now he needs this. he needs to ramble on about stupid crap to jo while she does the same, stuff that he wouldn't talk about with izzie because he knew she wouldn't really care. stuff he wouldn't talk about with meredith or cristina because they would somehow circle the problem right back to them. 

he needed this, and he could tell that she did too.

so with that he exits the trailer and slings his small suitcase into the back seat of the cab he ordered, watching as the tin can he called home slowly grew smaller and smaller as he got further away from it. he pulls out his wallet when he reaches the ferry boat not long later, giving the driver a generous tip before stepping onto the dock, the early morning sun just barely peeking above the horizon, setting an orange and yellow tint to the blue water of the sound. it was calming, settling. for the first time he could see why shepherd loved them so much.

when he arrives on the mainland he takes another taxi to the airport, going through security and baggage check quickly, grabbing a straight black coffee from the starbucks by one of the many gift shops, settling himself into an uncomfortable black chair next to an old lady knitting some kind of scarf. it was an ugly thing, green and a weird puke yellow, but the woman seems to like it, so he doesn't judge. he pulls his phone out from his pocket and looks through it, checking to see if he had any notifications or texts. he responds to a few work emails, which was mainly lexie asking for some details on patients since she was covering his service for the next three days.

he doesn't need to wait long before he hears a woman's voice come over the intercom. "flight 270 to boston, group two now boarding." he picks up his suitcase and shows the attendant his ticket before making his way to his seat, which was thankfully an aisle. he places his suitcase in the overheard compartment, letting in his seat mates before him.

he pops a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth so his ears wouldn't get clogged on the way up, leaning back in his seat and drifting off to a much needed sleep. maybe sleep would help to settle his nerves. maybe sleep would bring him some peace.

____

to say jo was nervous was an understatement, she was terrified. for what, she wasn't quite sure. maybe she was worried paul would come home early and see that she wasn't there. maybe she was worried that her and alex wouldn't connect, like last time.

she really hoped that wouldn't be the case though. she needed this, she craved it. she needed the release, she needed the conversations over beer, she needed the ease of being together, even though what they were doing was far from it. easy, that is.

alex would be meeting her at the hotel not too far from her house, a ten minute drive or so. she had a small duffle bag filled with clothes, school textbooks (she still had to study, she was a med-student above anything else after all) and necessities like her toothbrush and comb. she checks the time on the clock on the wall. it was now 2:32. alex's flight landed at around two, and he was going to text her when he arrived at his hotel.

she lets out a long breath, biting her lower lip as she flops back onto her bed, turning on her phone for the hundredth time in the last five minutes, seeing if alex had texted her yet. her feelings were a combination of nerves and impatience. she needed him, right there, right now. she needed to feel something real.

ever since paul hit her two weeks ago she seemed like she was living in a dream world. her thoughts were more hazy and the life she was living just didn't seem all that real. (she didn't have brain damage, but she chalked it up to a sign of shock).

everything had shifted in those two weeks. paul was worse —angry all the time. instead of being greeted by the door with a kiss, it was now an order, either to make him coffee, snack, or some other kind of demand. she didn't know this paul. but, he would get better. she knew he would. people always say that after the honeymoon stage of marriage ends it gets harder. so she thought that that's where they were right now. the harder part.

luckily the bruise on her eye had faded, nearly completely gone by now. a little bit of concealer on the corner of her lid was just enough to cover the yellow spot so it was unrecognizable. she was thankful for that. she didn't want to have to explain why her eye was bruised to alex.

she closes her eyes and places a hand on her forehead, not needing to wait long before her phone buzzes in her hand.

alexandra: just got in a taxi. the driver says i'll be at the hotel in twenty.

joseph: okay, room 363 right?

alexandra: yep ;)

jo chuckles at his response (leave it up to alex to flirt through every text), zipping her duffle bag closed, and walking over to the mirror hanging above her dresser. she ruffles her hair before picking up a spare comb and brushing through it once more. she hated her hair sometimes. it didn't matter how many times she combed through it, it was tangled and knotted as hell five minutes later. she sets the brush down, exhaling a long sigh as she looks into her reflection, her seas of hazel staring right back at her.

she wanted to say that she regretted those three nights. she wanted to say she was going to regret the next three. but honestly? she couldn't. she knew the shame would be flowing through her body once they left the room. she knew that she would not be able to look at herself for a few days in the mirror, only being able to see a woman who cheats on her husband. she knew. but for some reason it didn't matter. she wanted to meet alex in that room for three days straight and let them confine in one another.

she wanted it. she needed it.

so with that thought, she slings the bag over her shoulder and exits the bedroom, closing the door behind her. she gets into a taxi she ordered and drives to the hyatt where alex was staying, nervously tapping her fingers on her knees the whole way, grateful that she had ordered a taxi and not chosen to drive her own car. (no way in hell was she going to pay for hotel parking.) besides, it's not like her and alex were going to be leaving the room much.

she grabs her phone out of her pocket and pulls up alex's contact. she couldn't check in, since the room was in alex's name.

joseph: you here yet?

alexandra: yeah, just set my stuff down.

joseph: okay, i'll be up in a few

jo flashes the woman at the receptionist's desk a polite smile before she can talk, entering the elevators and pressing the third floor button. when the doors close, soft tunes begin to play through the small space, a long groan escaping jo's lips. she hated elevator music. she hated it's stupid rhythm and the way it made you want to claw your eyes out. abso-freaking-lutely nothing was enjoyable about elevator music. when the steel doors open she couldn't get out of them fast enough, cursing under her breath about their 'stupid freaking songs'.

she finds the room quickly, taking in a deep breath before she raises her hand to knock. if she wanted to leave, now was the time. she could make a run for it, text him that she couldn't do it and ghost him after. but the truth is, she didn't want to. she wanted to knock on the damn door, open it and see alex once again. in person this time, not just over her phone. 

three knocks. an "it's open," is all it takes for her to swing the wooden door wide and be met with the face of alex karev, who had a small smirk on his features, looking her up and down, drinking in the sight of what's been on his mind non stop for the past month.

jo stands nervously in the doorway, leaning against the frame. she somewhat expected him not to show up. her whole life she'd been abandoned. who was she to expect a guy would fly across the country and cheat on his wife with her? and to show up would be a whole new thing.

but he did. it wasn't something to be proud of, but she didn't think he'd ever know how much it meant to her that he was there.

alex's smirk quirks up higher at one end, "personally... i think you're wearing too much clothes," he teases. that's all it takes for jo to drop her bag on the floor without a thought and jog over to him, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

the kiss was needy, frustrated. weeks of pent up emotions poured into it, burning their mouths with their desire for one another. her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, bodies pressed so tightly together there was no room in between them.

nothing mattered in that moment. it was just them, nobody else, nothing else. all they were was two bodies longing for the touch of one another, to caress their skin, to realize that everything was going to be just fine if they could kiss each other like that for just a little while.

it was just them.

____

jo and alex laid in the afterglow, the sun peeking through the curtains and setting a warm hue on their entangled bodies, limbs seeming to no longer belong to just one person. a calm silence surrounded them, a silence they desperately craved. it brought peace and promise, something they could both agree was a necessity right now in the chaotic mess that they had gotten themselves into.

she traces circles on his chest, eyes closed as he runs his fingers through her hair. her foot moved up and down his calf, nearly in sync with the way his hand twirled her brown locks. they were tired, exhausted after what they had just finished with each other, but they didn't want to fall asleep. the way their skin felt on each other, the fireworks going off in them was just too much to allow them to drift off. just being near each other seemed to heighten their adrenaline.

while she was focused on his chest and (now) making stars with her finger, he was staring at her lips. it was odd, how hers seemed to mold so perfectly into his. at the moment, her lips were swollen, a bright red tint glossing over them from their previous activities. a sight he enjoyed much more than he would ever admit.

they lay like that for a while, until jo shifts a bit, beginning to place tiny kisses on the side of his chest. "how's work been?" she asks, momentarily stopping the movement of her lips on his skin to look up at him, her eyes shining with genuine questioning.

alex moves his hand from her hair to her side, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin that she possessed there. he pulls her closer to him, stifling his groan in her hair, making her let out a laugh —a sound he had grown more than fond of. "we’ve merged with one of the lower ranking hospitals, mercy west. which sucks."

he can feel jo pout against him. "i'm sorry." she says sincerely. 

he blows out a breath, "yeah. i can't stand any of these new people —none of us can, actually."

jo sits up, eyes locking with his, a teasing undertone shining through her words. "oh c'mon, how bad can they really be?"

alex smirks, taking her mock as a challenge. "well for starters, they're all a bunch of total kiss asses." he grins, making her chuckle against his palm. "i'm serious," he laughs, adjusting his position so he could now sit fully upright. "kepner has this little book, where she writes everything down in, and i mean everything," jo leans against the headboards, taking her hand in his larger one and begins to trace his fingers. 

"she never stops talking. she's like a freaking chihuahua. and she also got this huge thing for shepherd," he chuckles, thinking about how the girl practically melted every time the neurosurgeon entered the room. "she has her lips permanently superglued to his ass." 

jo hits his chest, trying to keep her laughs to a minimum. "i'm sure she's not that bad," she reasons. his curt glare is the only thing that told her that this kepner was in fact 'that bad'.  

“she’s terrible. never shuts up about jesus either. jesus wouldn’t approve of all the images she’d probably conjuring in her mind about shepherd though.” he snorts, amused at his own joke. jo rolls her eyes, biting back a smirk. 

“oh doctor shepherd, i’ve picked up your lab results. oh doctor shepherd, i’ll assist you on a surgery nobody else wants to even observe. oh doctor shepherd, i’ll do anything you want me to if that means i get to stare at you a little bit longer.” 

“please tell me you’re exaggerating.” 

alex scoffs, “i wish. worst part is, she does it while mer is in the room. i’m not sure if she doesn’t know he’s married or has just never had the hots for someone before. Because if she hasn’t, she’s making it painfully obvious.”

jo gives up on holding back her laughter, letting a little giggle escape her throat. “that’s… something,” she settles on. over the past few weeks she’d begun to learn nearly everything about alex and all of his friends’ crazy, soap-opera lives inside the walls of the hospital. what she retained is one; that they were all somehow related, either biologically or through sex, and two; people who worked at seattle grace were incredibly horny, to put it lightly. but that was a discussion for another time. 

“mhm, then adamson is just a-a bitch. yeah, she’s a huge bitch. don’t know how else to describe her other than that.” he leans over the side of the bed and ruffles through his carry-on bag, emerging with a bag of gummy bears. ripping the bag open he offers the candy to jo, who eagerly accepts and shoves at least four of the bears into her mouth at once. 

“percy’s just this… absolute giant. guy’s like, seventy feet tall. he’s also got this thing for adamson, who only sees him as her brother. it’s sad really, she calls him charlie and everything.” he fakes a pout, posing mock sympathy for the man he honestly wouldn’t even give the time of day to if he wasn’t currently invading his work place.

jo clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “that’s a tough one.”

“yep.” he pops a few more gummy bears into his mouth, waiting until he finished them before talking again. (he one time tried to complete his story with food still in his mouth and jo had physically shut his jaw and forced him to chew until all of the pizza was gone. no way he was making that mistake again —jo was strong.) 

“don’t even get me started on avery. god, every time i see him i just wanna punch him.” that piqued jo’s interest, a teasing grin split across her lips. 

“are you jealous?”

alex scoffs, “god no. definitely not. i just can’t stand the guy. the dude looks like he should be on the cover of a fashion magazine, not inside of an OR. and, he gets standing ovations in the middle of the emergency room. oh yeah, plus he’s loaded, being harper avery’s grandson and all. i thought we were past the age of nepotism” 

jo’s eyes widen comically, snatching the bag of gummies out of his hand and tossing it across the room, cutting off alex’s loud display of protests at the fact that the candy was now scattered carelessly across the carpet. “harper avery’s grandson?!” she all but screeches. 

 alex visibly winces, “yes jo.” he replied, nodding his head and trying to figure out how the woman he thought he had gotten to know so well could emit that kind of sound. like one of those teenage girls who were obsessed with those movies about vampires and werewolves.  

“as in the harper avery award harper avery?”

“no jo,” alex deadpans, dramatically rolling his eyes. “the harper avery who owns the car dealership down the street —yes the harper avery award harper avery. who else would it be?” he gets up from the bed and starts collecting the gummy bears, dumping all the dirty ones into the trash while silently cheering when a good amount of them were still left in the bag. 

when he returns to his spot, jo slaps him across the chest. “asshole. there may be a lot of people out there who are named harper avery.” in her defense, there were seven point six billion people on the earth. it was highly likely a few people shared the same name as the former doctor. (at least one.)

“mhm. yeah, well, the guy’s an ass.” he argues, giving her the bag of candy in hopes that she won’t throw it across the room again.

jo’s eyebrows scrunch up as she tilts her head to the side, seemingly deep in thought. “you know you gotta become friends with him right?”

he lets out a bemused laugh, “tell me you’re joking.” he says.

she shakes her head, jutting out her bottom lip. “nope. i mean...there’s gotta be some benefits to befriending an avery, right?” surely, there would be some kind of advantage. extra… good points with the foundation? mentions about oneself to the famous catherine avery? (the more she ran it over in her head the worse it sounded, but there was no way she was gonna give up, because there had to be at least one advantage to being best bros with an avery.)

“sure,  i’ll keep that in mind.” he smirks, seeing how the wheels had stopped turning in that mind of her’s and were put to a rest once she realized the lack of good things that could come from being nice to mr. green eyes. 

“whatever jerk. help me with some of my homework, i don’t wanna do it and you’re the hotshot surgeon who already finished med-school and works at a big, fancy hospital. sound good doctor karev?” she teases, grabbing her books from her bag and dropping them down onto the bed, the heavy pages creating a loud thump that immediately sends alex back to his days in college. books scattered on his bedspread, day-old mcdonald’s cups on his side table, and packets of unhealthy snack foods thrown across the floor. he lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to think it over before pulling a book and jo towards him. 

“so, biochemistry…”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twenty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Twenty-Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning(s): Language, Hints at drug use

A/N: This wasn't the entire chapter, however tumblr's being weird and won't even let me create a new draft right now let alone let me upload a 4,044 worded text post so I'll upload the second part of this asap (probably tomorrow of they get their shit fixed on here) and there will be another update Friday. Have a good night:)

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

I smooth my wavey hair down, taking the last giant velcrow roller out before putting my lipstick on and leaving the bathroom, looking for the car keys, unable to find them.

"Nikki, babe, where are the keys?" I call to him, looking in the kitchen and living room, heading to our bedroom.

He's passed out from a night of partying, Robbin still asleep on the floor.

"Baby." I lightly pat Nikki's face, not having the time to patiently shake him awake.

He groans, scrunching his face and rubbing his eyes.

"What is it?" He asks me, exhausted.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Mine or your's?" He questions, blinking at me to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"Your's. I can't drive mine until we get the driver's side window fixed, remember?"

"What? What happened to it?" He sits up and I raise my brows.

"Uh, well, you put your fist through it?" I remind him and he exhales.

"Oh...yeah." He replies. "They're in my pants pocket."

I don't give him time to reach for them himself.

My hand is in his pants pocket, grabbing his keys and pulling them out.

"Bye, love y-love, I'll see you when I get back." I stutter to cover my slip up, cutting myself off immediately before I can say, "love you", even though I've never called Nikki "love" before.

He doesn't notice it.

"See you when you get back." He mumbles once he's laying back down.

I slip my kitten heels on and head out.

"I love you" was one of the biggest Elephants in the room between Nikki and I.

We should have said it and we knew that, but we just didn't say it.

At first I was waiting for him to say it, then he never did...so I just decided it was something we wouldn't do.

Love's an action instead of an emotion, anyway, so I didn't think it was a big deal that neither of us had heard it from the other because we showed each other we loved each other in other ways...until we didn't anymore...and started keeping score, measuring who was winning by who was hurting who more, instead of trying to be better to each other.

I had to face that ugly reality when we were both screaming "I hate you" with Fred and Doc trying to break up one of our argument-turned-near-fist fights backstage at the last North American show of "Girls, Girls, Girls."

That was the night I got pregnant with my first son, Monroe, and the man barking about how much he hated me, isn't the father.

It's safe to say I won.

My heels click down the concrete stairs of the church as I walk to Nikki's black corvette after service is over, furrowing my brows the closer I get, seeing a white slip of paper tucked under the windsheild wiper.

I pluck the paper off and see it's a ticket for $350.00 with "BROKEN TAIL LIGHT" marked on it.

"My tail light isn't broken." I argue to myself, stepping around the back.

The entire left side set of lights are busted with signs of swapped paint where someone hit the car with their's and I open my mouth to speak but no words come out.

I stand and stare at the paper, then the busted light, tears oncoming the more I look at it.

Nikki is going to kill me.

I hear a car pull up behind me and park on the curb of the street but I don't pay any attention, too busy figuring out how to explain this.

"Hey, uh, Vivian?"

I turn to see Duff, wiping my eyes quickly.

"Duff?" I'm caught off guard by my recently new friend. "I've told you just call me 'Viv'." I tell him, sniffling and he furrows his brows, stopping in front of me where I'm now standing by the driver's door of the corvette.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." It's an obvious lie, a pathetic squeak leaving me.

"What's up?" He asks me and I lick my lips and sigh out.

"It's stupid." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"What happened?"

I just hand him the ticket and he takes in a sharp breath, his brows shooting up.

"Jeezus." He lets out. "You just got this?"

"Yes." My voice cracks and he looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Viv, c'mon, it's not that bad. It'll be alright." He tries to reassure me.

"Oh, no, no, no...that's not all." I say, walking to the back and he follows me, not hiding the gasp that leaves his lips. Nikki is going to kill me."

There's a silent pause as I rest against the back of the corevette, crossing my arms, trying to figure out how I'm going to present the $350.00 ticket to my husband.

Duff leans against it beside me, avoiding the broken bits, thinking for a second, too, before reaching into his jacket pocket.

"Here." He grabs my hand, putting a wad of cash into it and I look at him, confused. "For the ticket." He explains and I shake my head.

"N-No. I can't take this from you, you need it." I argue, wiping more tears.

He goes to say something but I cut him short. "If you say that you don't need it, I'm going to hit you. You live in your car, Duff. You've been talking about getting a new place and this is part of the rent for an apartment." I point out, handing the cash back to him.

"Whatever you say." He shrugs, putting it back in his jacket.

We sit for a moment longer before he nudges me with his elbow.

"You hungry?" He asks and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Stop offering to spend your money on me." I chuckle and he smiles.

"Actually, I know a place the both of us can eat and it would only cost the price of one beer." He tells me and I raise my brows.

It was the first of many Sunday lunches at this hotel a few blocks away that offered an "all you can eat" buffet if you just buy a bottle of beer.

I listen as Duff goes on about possible members of the potential band he wants to be a part of.

A drummer named Steven, who has a lot of extra drums in his kit than what's needed but he's a hell of a drummer.

A Johnny Thunders look alike-that isn't that great on a guitar but makes it sound cool anyway-that goes by the name Izzy.

And a kind of weird kid that apparantly has massive hair and is super shy but speaks a billion words a minute through his guitar: Slash.

"And Slash and Steven are buddies, but I don't know if they've ever met Izzy or not." He tells me, sipping the beer neither of us were carded for, even though we're only twenty.

"What style of singer do you have in mind?" I ask, taking a bite out of my mozerella stick.

"Someone who gets the punk scene, but not necessarily a punk singer." He tells me and I wrinkle my nose. "Don't do that." He points at me, knowing exactly what I'm about to say.

"Punk?"

"Don't say it like that." He laughs. "You don't like it because you don't understand it."

"I understand it and I respect it, I just don't..." I try to choose my words. "...I like some of it, but most of it I don't really care for."

"How the hell do you survive not liking punk? It's the biggest 'fuck you' to societal standards." He defends the genre.

"I like the Ramones, The Stooges, the New York Dolls." I tell him, even though they were all acquired tastes because I have to listen to them so much due to Nikki.

"What about The Sex Pistols?" Duff suggests.

"I did, until Sid killed Nancy." I shrug.

"Oh, c'mon, Viv, you really believe that propaganda bullshit made up by the conservative media to further their anti-punk/rock agenda and get a good check? He did not kill her." He argues.

"They'd been binging on all kinds of drugs for weeks. I'm not saying he meant to, maybe he was hallucinating and genuinely didn't realize it was her until it was too late, but he did it." I state.

"Nope."

"Oh, okay, so it was the body guard?"

"I think it was a double suicide attempt." He explains and I lean back. "His just didn't work."

"If it was a double suicide, why didn't he just use the knife she used and bleed to death like she did?" I question.

"Maybe he didn't want to be stabbed."

"If he was going to die, what would it matter?" I ask and he shakes his head a little with a small grin pulling at his lips.

"Hi, my name is Vivian Estine Sixx and I can argue with a brick wall for five hours straight." He mocks me and I cut my eyes at him.

We just stare at each other, and he attempts to take another drink of his beer while we have our staring contest, and the both of us crack up simultaneously, and he sprays beer through his lips and nose, further egging my laughter on.

I get home around four in the afternoon after spending three hours talking to Duff, and my stomach's sore from laughing so much.

"Viv?" Nikki calls from the bathroom and I walk in to see him teasing his hair.

He's shirtless, his black jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing some of his pubic hair and I lick my lips.

"Did you have fun?" He asks in a teasing tone, referring to the oh-so-wild church service I attend as much as I can, and I roll my eyes and lean against the sink beside him, crossing my arms.

"Yes, I did." I reply, not able to meet his eyes because I'm too focused on his exposed skin.

"What took you so long to get back?" He asks next.

I know, I know, "if it was innocent then there should be nothing to hide and you should be able to tell him you were with another man."

It wasn't Tommy, Mick, Robbin or Vince, and he never met Duff.

He didn't trust men he'd never met around me.

So if I would have told him, I would have never heard the end of it.

"Long sermon." I lie, and he looks at me and furrows his brows.

"Have you been crying? Your mascara's smudged." He tells me, his thumb swiping right under my bottom lash line to wipe away dried mascara and I'm suddenly hit with the realization that I have a $350.00 ticket.

"It was a good sermon." I say.

He finishes his hair, turning to look at me.

"Me and the guys are going to the Rainbow tonight." He tells me. "You're comin', right?"

"Yes." I nod, grinning.

"Good. I gotta go get the oil changed and I'll be back to pick you up." He steps out of the bathroom to go get dressed and I follow him.

Once he's got his t-shirt that has "FUCK" written across the front, he's pulling his jacket and boots on.

When he's gotten his boots on, he stands up from the matress of our bed, and I grab at the top of his jeans, pulling him closer to me, standing on my tip toes to press my lips to his.

He kisses me, his hands holding at either side of my jaw.

When we pull away, he smiles, kissing my cheek before grabbing his keys and leaving.

The second he's gone I'm darting to my purse, attempting to find the ticket, praying I didn't leave it in the car.

Once I see it's not in my purse, I let out a deep breath and worry that I've lost it.

"Damnit." I mumble, trying to remember the last place I had it. "The church parkinglot with Duff but..." I trail off, thinking of the possibility of it being left in the parkinglot and I groan out.

There's no way it's still there if that's where it got left.

I decide to figure it out later and go wash away my worn off makeup before reapplying it and changing clothes, waiting for Nikki to get back.

I'm finishing putting on ruby red lipstick when I hear the front door slam and I tense up and put the cap back on the tube before peeking my head out the door and seeing Nikki put his keys and a piece of paper on the counter, frustration taking a stance in his movements.

Pretending nothing's wrong, I walk out of the bathroom and across the floor to our bedroom to grab my purse and put my heels on.

Once they're on, I walk back into the kitchen smile at him.

"C'mon, babe." I nudge him as I walk past him to get to the door.

He grabs my arm, though, causing me to stop and he pulls me back, pushing me against the counter, trapping me when he puts his hands on the counter on either side of me and his face is centimeters from mine.

"You wouldn't know anything about the completely shattered tail light on my car, would you?" He asks me calmly.

"No?" I lie, trying to seem confused, but it's clear he's not buying it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He just stares at me and I slide my hands up and down his arms, smiling nervously.

"Can we go, now?" I ask, kissing his cheek.

"I spent $100.00 to get it fixed today." He explains. "Did you back into something or did someone hit the car?"

"I told you I didn't even know about it, babe." I argue calmly. "Can we leave and just go back and forth about this later? We're gonna be late."

He gives me one last stare before sighing out, letting me go and I make sure to beat him to the car by several strides, frantically searching for the ticket when I get in, not finding it, before he gets in beside me.

[morgemuffel]

MALEC. ➰ INSECURITIES ARE HUMAN.

This story takes place between 3Bx14 & 3Bx15

I know Underhill has not been given a first name yet so I'll just name him Jack in my story. If the name gets revealed in season 3B, I will revise the text and replace the name. :) *(Part 1 of my series: our heart beats like one)

So enjoy reading & please remember English is not my mother tongue... :)

Sometimes I can't understand his reasoning, I can't understand him. Why can't I just understand his actions and be happy for him? He has regained his magic, well more likely he got a top-of-the-line dose of Lorenzo's and even that to a pretty lousy price. To the price tag of the loft. His home. My home. Nevertheless, I should be happy for him, but I just can't. Am I a bad boyfriend now?

Alec is lying on his bed at the New York Institute and has been staring at his white bare ceiling enormously fascinated for a quite bit of  time now. He never realized how uncomfortable his room was set up. The large room radiated more of a particularly than a cozy atmosphere. Everything looked rather cool. The antique furnitures were indiscriminately combined, the whole previous facility more functional than friendly and inviting. Not like if someone would really live here and feeling safe and secure while being there. Neither Alec's character was reflected nor did it somehow felt like his home. Home, that was the key word, Magnus' Loft was home, Magnus was his home. A part of Alec, just a tiny little egotistical part of Alec, had been looking forward to the loss of Magnus magic. He had felt an unintentional relief at the thought that he and Magnus now had a chance to get old together and the immortality issue would be out of the blue once and for all. But as soon as the thought had come so quickly it had evaporated again. He knew how much Magnus was suffering from the loss of his magic and it hurt him to see him like that. His magic connected him with everything around him and without it he felt like a stranger. In the body of a more than 400-year-old warlock without the electrifying feeling of his magic flowing through him like blood through his veins. So how could Alec begrudge him that feeling? Furthermore, it was not certain that the return of his magic had automatically resolved the mortality. But he was too afraid to ask him this question. This one question that burned like fire on his tongue. The fear that this little shameful part of him would gain the upper hand in a confrontation. He didn't want Magnus to know about that ugly part of him. And so he was back to the beginning of his thoughts, was he a bad boyfriend because of that?

All at once his cell phone rings and an unknown number showed up  on the display. Astonished, Alec answered the phone "Alexander Lightwood, head of the New York Institute, who am I talking to?" There was a moment of silence at the other end. Until the person cleared his throat. "Underhill here, well ahm... Jack." Alec felt a little stupid right now. Why did he have to answer so over-formally? Jack continued "I got your number from Isabel, After assuring her that I really only wanted to go out for a drink after work without any ulterior motives, she gave me your number." Ahm... yeah so, how about a beer? The first round is on me." "Alec tried to quickly sort the information inside his head: 1. OK then his cheeky sister Izzy just pulled out his private number 2. what makes her think that Underhill would actually go for someone like Alec? Alec blushed at the thought. Of course two gay men could also only be friends with each other and 3. Would Magnus see it that way too? What was he thinking, sure Magnus was not a jealous man. "Yeah, why not, Hunter's Moon at 8:00pm?" Jack laughed relieved. It almost seems like he wants to talk to Alec about something important. "Sounds great see you then." They said goodbye and Alec slips his phone a bit confused back into his pocket. He never really had friends apart from his brother Jace and his sister Izzy. Well there were still Clary and Simon. But Simon talked too much about irrelevant mundane stuff and Dustin Hoffman movies. Clary and him were just recently getting along maybe that would change in the future but right now it was more like a collegiate base. It would be nice to have someone who was just his friend, someone who knew what it was like to come out at the institute, someone he could talk to about shadowhunter-stuff and relationship issues and who'd actually understand him. Of course, Jace was his Parabatei and felt everything what Alec felt through their connection and tried to help him as best possible. But Jace, well... Jace, was still Jace at the end of the day and his advice, though well intentioned often not really helpful. With Magnus he could talk about all these things and he appreciated that. He had never opened so much to anyone but what bothered him now, had to do with Magnus and therefore he also dropped out as an option. So Alec was looking forward to hangout with Underhill, with Jack.

Magnus just left Hunter's Moon after his cheering-up-martini. He was feeling a little melancholic at the thought of his lost loft. But he was still convinced that it was worth it. At the end of the day it's just a thing and so he had the opportunity to look for a new home. That was always a lot of fun. He loves to have a look at new apartments and then set it up and decorate it again. He had the money and who knows, maybe he could even persuaded Alec to to paint the walls with him and pick out new furniture from catalogs? Maybe there was even a similar apartment in Brooklyn just waiting for him. And perhaps it was a sign? That the time to take the next step and move in with Alec has come. He had told Alec a few weeks earlier that it wasn't the time yet, that it's to soon.  They were together for about two months now but it felt like an eternity. He wanted to say yes that day when Alec stood there in Magnus' blue shirt when he looked at him expectantly, but he couldn't. He was too afraid and had never ventured this step with anyone before. With Alec he always discovered new needs, needs he never know that they were even there. What Magnus really wanted, no needed was waking up every morning beside his wonderful boyfriend, to lose himself in those beautiful hazel colored eyes, having breakfast with him, eating french toast on a balcony each and every morning, spend the day with him and wait for his return in the evening. For his return to their home. Home, Magnus smiled, yes he was ready for this new adventure.

Arriving at Hunter's Moon, Alec looked for the blond shadowhunter. He just missed Magnus who went out of the back door. Jack Underhill sat at the counter with a beer in his hand and waved to Alec. Alec sat down and ordered a beer as well. Magnus tried to familiarize him with the different drinks and wines but Alec was usually more confused at the end, that's why it was always up to Magnus to decide. He thought taking the same thing like Underhill would be the easiest. "Cool that you've  made it, Underhill started, I honestly asked you out for a reason ..." Alec frowned, and took a sip of his beer. Jack hesitated before he finally started. "I haven't been dating anybody for a long time now and..." Alec's thoughts were a wild mess now. "Oh by the angel, no I don't know how to deal with such a situation please don't say what I think you're about to say ..." Underhill took a deep breath and asked: Would you be my wingman tonight? Alec blushed, he wasn't expecting that. He has never been asked to be someone's wingman. Jace didn't need anyone because he was the master of flirting and now he's happy in a relationship with Clary anyway. What do you even do as a good wingman? Alec wasn't sure. Nevertheless, he agreed" "Okey, then and what did you have in mind?" he asked hesitantly. Underhill told him he just had to help him talk to a potential partner. "I don't know if I'm the right person for this job..."Alec said. Jack shook his head tentative. "Of course! if not you who else?" You got yourself the High Warlock of Brooklyn the Magnus Bane!" Alec grinned at the thought of Magnus. Although he wasn't the high warlock of Brooklyn anymore he sometimes couldn't believe it himself. Magnus wasn't only incredibly hot and sexy but also extremely funny intelligent and... oh, he shouldn't digress it wasn't about him now. But how should he help Underhill? Communication with other people apart from Magnus wasn't really his strength. Except he was drunk then he was according to Izzy *a babbling waterfall* "Well, let's try it, but I'll need two more beers first," Alec laughed.

Meanwhile Magnus opened a portal in the narrow alley behind the bar to get into the institute. Suddenly blood ran from his right nostril down to his lips. Surprised, he wiped his nose and tried to suppress the thought that wanted to spread in his head. Just don't think about it, then it is not true. He wipes his hand on the inside of his jacket and walked through the portal. Once there, he sets out to find Alec, he should be finished working by now. But he doesn't find him anywhere. As he passes the Armory, he sees Izzy and he decides to ask her about Alec."Isabelle, have you seen Alec? I wanted to surprise him with a dinner in Paris and talk about my... our... new living situation." Izzy looks at him sheepishly as she replies "Yes he is with Jack, I mean Underhill they went out for a drink." "Oh... Jack," Magnus says visibly surprised by this message. "Well then we'll have to delay this special occasion..."Izzy perky as always "don't worry about my brother, he only has eyes for you and I think tall, blonde and handsome is more like Clary's type." "Yes ... no no, I'm not jealous Isabel, do you know when he'll be back?" Izzy thought about it "naah, no idea tomorrow is his day off from that... I don't know. Magnus was undecided what to do next. He had hoped to spend the night with Alec in his apartment in Paris. Now he wasn't even sure if it's a good idea to open a portal again. Should he just wait in Alec's room? Yes, that was a good idea. "I'll just wait for him in his room," Magnus said. Izzy nodded and continued polishing her seraph blade. Magnus headed to the bedchambers of the institute until he reached Alec's room. He rubbed his hands happily when he got the idea to redesign the room. And so he was busy with his new project for the next few hours.

An hour later, the two men sat laughing, lolling and loot spying at the counter. So far, Alec had not found any of Underhills suggested men passable. Underhill: "How about the one over there at the pool table, the one in the white shirt?" "I mean he looks good... and I like the way he's stroking through his hair when he laughs... somehow cute." Alec: "Uh... really?" I'm not sure, he's a bit pale" he said with a shrug. Jack: "Well, not everybody can have a flawless tanned caramel-like body with perfectly defined muscles and silky smooth hair. Alec looked at him puzzled "you remember that you're talking about my boyfriend right? Underhill then a bit uncomfortable "Yeah sorry, but I mean Magnus is really good-looking even I can see that. Alec laughs and turns back to Mr. White-Shirt. He inspects him from top to bottom, but finds it difficult to find something about him that he would actually classify as attractive. Automatically, Magnus' Ideal Body appeared in his mind's eye and Alec started comparing the two men. He couldn't say if he would find the man attractive if Magnus wasn't his boyfriend. Hm... Okay the guy could play pool that was positive but otherwise? Alec: Well he's definitely not a Magnus, at the most a 6 out of 10 and he's good at playing pool, you like doing that too sooo...? Jack: "Haha, but I'm not looking for a second Magnus either..." he started but Alec interrupted him, "you wouldn't even find a second one he said in a played sulkily tone. Underhill "Maybe I should have thought this through." The two men burst out laughing again and so it goes back and forth for a while. As Alec's phone rings in his pocket. "Oh, speaking of which..., "heeeey baaabe... "he mumbles into the phone, smiling.

Magnus on the other side of the phone exhales slowly before answering in his casual tone. "Hello darling... I've heard you're out, uhm... with a friend and I wanted to ask you when you're about to be back..? I'm here at the institute, decorating your room a bit..." Magnus cursed inside that wasn't very subtle, he had told Isabel that he wasn't jealous and he meant it. Especially after so many centuries and several relationships, he had learned that, jealousy is just a feeling that comes from your own insecurity. And he knew that he could fully trust Alec but even Magnus was uncertain sometimes. Unsure he might be easy to replace? "Pssst... that's my boyfriend Magnus on the other end, could you all be quiet, thanks!" Alec rolled his eyes at the guests at Hunter's Moon and shaking his head as if it were the most logical thing that the entire bar has to be quiet when his boyfriend calls. Yes drunk Alec was here. Underhill could barely suppress his laugh as he tried to ignore the evil glares of the others. "Send your better half kind regards." Magnus heard Underhill whispering in the background. Alec returned to his conversation with Magnus. "Ahm... greetings, no a kind regards from Jack and I'll be on my way in about 15 minutes," Alec whispered lovingly into his phone. Magnus' heart on the other end began to throb wildly, oh he loved this Nephilim so much that it almost hurt and Underhill is a nice guy so get yourself together Bane. "See you then darling," Magnus replied and hung up.

After Alec has finished the call, the sentence which Underhill had told him a few weeks ago went through his head - Nephilim love once, fiercely - Yes, he couldn't look at other men without thinking about Magnus and his inner conflict made itself noticeable again. Now was the right time to ask Jack for advice. So he took all his courage together and just blurted out with it. "Hey... Can I ask you something serious about ahm... relationships...?" Alec asked. Underhill took a deep breath and stretched slowly. "Alright buddy go ahead." Alec started to tell him about his worries. He told him that he was hurt when he found out that Magnus had regained his magic today. Because he has the feeling that Magnus prefers to have his magic, be immortal and to outlive him. To forget him and one day simply replace him, instead of being mortal and spend like fifty years in the mundane way with Alec. He confessed to him that he thought the biggest hurdle in their relationship would be out of the world. Even though he wants Magnus to be happy at all costs, he doesn't know how to handle this feeling. "He could have died trying and did'n't even ask for my opinion you understand? And I dare not to ask him if he has now regained his magic and immortality, or only his magic and if I am unnecessarily maddening." Jack nodded slowly as he said "It's always best to start with yourself first." Let's talk about the immortality part..."

Alec was obviously feeling better after Underhill's speech and decided to get back reasonably sober with a lot of coffee and then confront Lorenzo at the handover in Magnus' loft. Nobody had the right to humiliate his Magnus like that and he would do anything, to make sure his boyfriend was happy again. The two men said goodbye and reassured each other to repeat this soon again. Alec walked towards Magnus' loft, the cool New York breeze blew in his face and he felt more sober after each block and more like himself again. He took the time to think about Jack's words. Alec had realized he was right about everything. He loves Magnus and he knew from the beginning that Magnus was immortal. He knew that one day he'd be old and that Magnus would probably just bee as young and alive as now. The new situation, whether temporary or not, doesn't change the fact that Magnus is a warlock. He was born as a warlock and his magic is a part of him as well as the immortality. Done.

The loft was unrecognizable. Alec went to the balcony and admired the view as he did so often before, as the door opened and Lorenzo entered. He had so much to say to him, wanted to yell at him, beat him but he tried to stay calm. Instead, he just asked quietly, "You really are despicable, aren't you? Lorenzo remained calm and replied only insolently, "Mr. Lightwood what a pleasant surprise. I didn't know you came with this apartment." And confessed that he just wanted to humiliate Magnus and put him in his place after all, he is now the high warlock of Brooklyn. Not Magnus. Mockingly, he added a condescending remark, "And the fact that he sent his little boyfriend to plead his case tells me I more than succeeded."Alec was seething with anger. Lorenzo forgot who he was talking to. Alec would teach him some manners. Lorenzo could play games with everyone else but not with Alec. No. "I'm the head of the New York Institute. Don't speak to me like that." For a moment he saw the fear in Lorenzo's eyes. Lorenzo said soothingly: "You're right." Perhaps this is getting unnecessarily heated." So Alec tried to negotiate with him offered to find him a better deal. But the warlock refused. He was only interested in referring Magnus to his place and playing out his new position of power. Alec had heard enough. You don't climb higher than you should otherwise you'll fall deeper than you'd like. And Lorenzo was getting too cocky. Alec lowered his voice as he spoke again "Enjoy this position while it lasts." The Clave doesn't take kindly to conniving, unethical Downworld... Leaders." He took a step towards Lorenzo and glared at him as he said: "You will slip up." And when you do, I'll be waiting there to take you down." With these last words he left the loft and thus a thoughtful and confused Lorenzo Rey.

Back at the institute Alec opened the door to his room when he realized, that he was probably still a little drunk, since he had obviously mistaken the room. He was just about to turn in between the door step when the shape on the bed moved and two cat eyes lit up in the dark and gazed at him. "Alec is it you?" Perplexed, Alec tried to spot the flaw in the room in the dim light. The furniture were the same but the walls had been painted in a cool shade of gray, black picture frames were mounted on the walls, with memories of travels he had made with Magnus. It looked like in an art gallery. A big plant was standing next to his desk and he slowly recognized the Scandinavian style that wafted through the room. "Maaa...gnuus, what have you done to my room...?" Alec laughed. He heard a giggle followed by a yawn."I was bored when I was waiting for you and well Nordic Interior Design is currently very trendy, you like it?" In that moment Alec knew he would never ask him. He didn't need to know the answer. The only truth he knew was that he loved this man with skin and hair. And that was all that matters. "I love it" Alec said. "And I love you, so will you finally join me my angel?" Magnus whispered. Alec liked it when Magnus addressed him with pet names, though not all of them were great, but most of them were actually really cute. He wasn't as original at them like his boyfriend and when he tried well... something strange came out of it. He has become friends with *Babe* it was not very originally but since he was the only one allowed to call Magnus like that it was enough. He undressed and slipped in something comfortable to sleep before he went to bed an snuggled up with Magnus. For a while they lay there quietly entwined until Alec asked into the darkness: "Magnus were you jealous of Underhill...? cause I wasn't sure but... " Magnus hesitated for a moment before he answered, maybe in an octave too high "Uhm nope, I have no reason to be." Alec laughed as he noticed the little lie and pressed Magnus even closer to him. He whispered in his ear: "We both know that there is no reason for jealousy but sometimes even I'm a bit jealous, I think that's normal." Magnus turned to look at Alec in surprise. His Alec jealous of whom? He could not imagine with the best of intentions who Alec even rudimentarily regarded as competition. "Please, who could you possibly be jealous of?" Magnus asked. Alec grinned into the darkness. "Good night babe."

[stupidnephilimlove]

Office Hours P14

How did we get to p14?! Tagging @kindaresilient @ifthingsgetcrazy @shiningalec & @irisphryneadler . Read on ao3.  Or start at the beginning.

Somehow, being home for the holidays is turning out to be worse than Alec anticipated, and he already anticipated the worst. Their mother is on fine form, fussing and criticising from the moment they walk through the door. Alec wonders how he’s supposed to survive a day of this, let alone two weeks.

Ale pushes his potatoes around on his plate and tries to block out the conversation.

“So, Alec,” his mother addresses him, and Alec has to tune back in. “What’s new with you?”

Nothing, Alec thinks. Or nothing that he’s comfortable sharing with his parents.

“Have you decided to grow up and decide on a career yet?” Alec’s father asks.

“Robert,” Maryse chastises.

Robert sets down his knife and fork, and pulls the napkin from the front of his shirt, tossing it on to the table.

“No, Maryse. We pander to him too much.”

Alec grits his teeth together to stop himself from saying anything. Pander to him? Really? Weren’t they the ones that gave him the ultimatum about college? Hadn’t they told him they wouldn’t pay a cent towards it unless he agreed to a course of their choosing? So Alec had chosen not to go. If he couldn’t go on his terms, he wouldn’t go at all. He’d moved out, worked three shitty jobs to afford food and rent, and two years later they’d acquiesced.

But two years later, Alec had decided he was ready for college. He wouldn’t have them pay for it though. He couldn’t have them holding the threat of money over his head, manipulating him into what they wanted him to do. He’d applied for endless grants and scholarships and eventually been successful enough to support himself without their help.

Alec listens to his parents bicker about him as if he isn’t sitting across the table from them. Izzy and Jace look bored with the proceedings. It’s nothing they haven’t heard before. But Max has this sweet, concerned look on his face. They never used to do this in front of Max, but recently he’s being exposed to more and more of their arguments.

Alec sticks out his tongue at Max, and Max smiles.

“I’ve decided on a career, okay,” Alec interrupts.

Five heads instantly turn to him. Faces of intrigue, apprehension, and pride look at him.

“Well, enlighten us,” his father says, voice derisive.

“I’m thinking about working at a publishing house.” Alec hasn’t voiced the idea to anyone other than Magnus, and he feels a bit sick as he says the words, as he puts it out there. But still, he knows this is what he wants to do.

His father, of course, instantly pounces. “Doing what?”

This is where it gets a little tricky for Alec though.

“I’m not sure… yet.”

Robert scoffs at Alec’s words. “So, you don’t have a plan.” His voice holds this tone, the one that Alec’s always associated with his father telling him ‘I told you so’. It’s superior and condescending, and Alec fucking hates it.

Alec says his next words without really thinking about them. For once, he just wants to be able to prove his father wrong. “Actually, I’ve got a meeting with a publisher in the new year.”

His father’s eyes narrow. “Which publisher?”

Must Alec always have to prove everything? Okay, so he might not have actually scheduled a meeting with a publisher, yet, but Magnus had offered.

“They own Epeolatry.”

Alec’s careful not to say ‘she’. His father will no doubt look down his nose at that. His father doesn’t say anything else, probably because he hasn’t heard of the place so he can’t yet criticise it. Alec looks forward to that phone call or email from his father, telling Alec how he doesn’t approve. Then he’ll send Alec a list of publishing houses that he thinks are appropriate for his son to work at. Alec’s not going to work at any of them purely on principle.

This does kind of pose a problem though. Fuck. He’s going to have to actually ask Magnus to set up that meeting with his friend Cat. Alec feels uncomfortable asking for a favour, but he’s managed to talk himself into a corner now, hasn’t he?

“Did you get new curtains, Mum?” Isabelle asks, quickly diverting the conversation, and Alec’s never been so grateful to his sister.

-

It takes Alec a few days to work up the courage to ask Magnus. He types, scraps, and re-types the email multiple times. Maybe it’s best to start a conversation first. Not just ask outright.

-

From: a.lightwood@nyu.edu.com To: m.bane@nyu.edu.com

Wednesday 20.12.2017 10:07 AM

I’ve made a solid dent in that reading list. Gotta say, Adept was a strange mix of fiction and non-fiction, absolutely chilling in places.

Alec

-

From: m.bane@nyu.edu.com To: a.lightwood@nyu.edu.com

Wednesday 20.12.2017 12:13 PM

Think I slept with the light on, wrapped around my cat, Chairman Meow, for at least a week after that one.

M

-

Magnus has a cat named Chairman Meow? How is Alec only just discovering this? He tries to focus on why he was really getting in touch with Magnus. Right. The meeting. He feels nervous all over again, but in the end, Alec just decides to go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? Magnus says no. That’s it. But even as he presses send, he feels nauseated.

-

From: a.lightwood@nyu.edu.com To: m.bane@nyu.edu.com

Wednesday 20.12.2017 12:20 PM

Chairman Meow? Haha! That’s an epic pun.

I wanted to ask if you were serious when you said you could arrange for me to speak to your friend Cat at EPEOLATRY? Don’t feel obliged or anything, I just wondered.

Alec

-

From: m.bane@nyu.edu.com To: a.lightwood@nyu.edu.com

Wednesday 20.12.2017 12:35 PM

Of course, I was serious Alec. I’m glad you asked. Let me talk to Cat and see when she’s got some free time. Do you have a number I can contact you on? I’m waiting for half five so I can leave and I refuse to look at my work email over the holiday.

M

-

Alec almost can’t believe his eyes when he reads Magnus’ reply. He just stops functioning for a minute, all he can focus on is the fact that Magnus wants his mobile number. What if Magnus phones him? Alec thinks he’d die. What would that sultry voice of his sound like in Alec’s ear?

Alec’s hands shake a little as he writes his number in the reply.

-

Magnus (21.12.17 4:45 PM): Hi Alec. Just wanted to check I had the right number. I know Cat’s out of town most of January, so I think it would be early Feb? That okay with you? Magnus.

 Alec (21.12.17 6:13 PM): This isn’t Alec. Is he giving out this number again?

 Alec groans the minute he’s pressed send. Why did he write that? Why is he like this? He feels like he’s Thirteen and trying to impress Kieran Mitchum all over again. It hadn’t worked out well then - stuffed in a locker - and he doubts it’ll work out well now. Quickly, he writes a follow-up text.

 Alec (21.12.17 6:14 PM): Joking. It’s Alec, of course I gave you the right number. Any time she’s free I will make work. She’s doing me the favour after all. Just wanted to say thanks for offering and organising this for me.

 He hopes that makes up for whatever that first text was. Hopefully, Magnus just won’t notice it.

-

It’s cold when the four of them gather in the tree house in the late hours on Christmas Eve. Max curls into Isabelle’s side, and she wraps a blanket around the two of them.

“Like two bugs snug in a rug,” she tells him, and Max rolls his eyes at her, but Alec catches the way he smiles at her.

Alec leans back against the wood of the wall, pulling his jacket tighter around himself while Jace sets hot cocoa in front of everyone.

“You forgot the marshmallows,” Max complains and pouts.

Alec digs into the bag by his side, pulling out a bag of mini marshmallows. “As if we’d forget the most important part,” Alec says and laughs when Max jumps up from Isabelle’s arms to grab the sweets. He rips the packet open and overflows his cocoa as he tips them into the cup. It’s been a rough couple of days being home, but these moments with Max make it all worthwhile.

“Hey, save some for me,” Izzy teases, and digs her fingers into Max’s side.

Alec’s not sure how many years they’ve done this. He thinks it started as a distraction for Max when their parents had been having a particularly ugly fight one Christmas Eve. The siblings hadn’t wanted Christmas to be spoilt for Max so they’d each taken one gift from below the tree for Max, and come out here to open them.

It’s become something of a tradition for them since then.

“It’s midnight,” Max exclaims as the second hand of his watch ticks past the twelve.

“Oh really?” Alec says.

“Merry Christmas,” Izzy adds.

Then silence falls between them. Max’s eyes dart between the three of them, and Alec can see him getting more and more worried that perhaps there are no gifts this year.

“Here,” Izzy says, the first to crumble. She pulls a small gift from her pocket and hands it to Max.

“Thanks,” Max mumbles as he begins to rip the gift open. It only takes a few seconds for Max to have the binoculars out and pressed against his eyes.

“These are cool,” he tells Izzy, and he stands at the window - a hole cut in the wooden side - to look out. “I can see Dad in the living room.”

Max uses the binoculars to see into every room in the house that he can from the tree, and then he sits back down and looks between Alec and Jace insistently.

Jace is the next to hand Max his gift. It’s wrapped in the same spider-man paper Izzy had used, and Alec can tell that Jace had the same idea as he did. What? Their sister likes to wrap things, why wouldn’t they make use of that?

Max shakes the cube in his hand before tearing the paper away.

“Awesome,” Max exclaims as the slinky comes into view. “I love these.”

Max collects slinkys. He’s got them in all kinds of shapes and size, and Jace makes it his mission to find new ones for him. This one’s on the small side and when lined up it has the poop emoji on the side. Of course, Max loves it.

When Max has finished telling Jace how great it is and settles back down, Alec pulls out his.

“Here,” Alec says.

“No idea what this is,” Max jokes as he turns the thin rectangular gift over in his hands. They all know it’s a book, but he doubts any of them can guess which one.

Max rips the paper in record time and laughs as he reads the title: My brother is a superhero.

“You didn’t mean you, did you?” Max teases.

“Hey, I could be a superhero,” Alec tells him, at which point everyone in the tree house breaks out into laughter.

Max announces they have to read the book there and then, so they settle in to read.

As Alec nears the end of the book, Max falls asleep resting in Alec’s lap. They should put him to bed properly, but Alec wants to enjoy this moment for just a little while longer. Alec strokes his fingers through Max’s hair as Isabelle and Jace bicker over who got the better gift. It’s clearly Alec.

What’s Magnus doing? Alec wonders. Sleeping, probably. It is 1 AM on Christmas morning after all. They all should be sleeping. Max is going to be jumping on their beds at about 5 AM. Yes, sleep... soon. That’s a definite requirement.

When Alec lies in bed later though, he stares up at the ceiling unable to sleep. He’s excited, he realises. More than the normal Christmas excitement. He can’t wait for Magnus to open his gift. Has he done it already? What did he think? Did he like it? Would he ask Alec how he could repay him?

As Alec drifts into sleep, he dreams of Magnus’ lips pressed hotly against his own in thanks. He dreams of Magnus’ mouth stealing his breath; he doesn’t want it back, Magnus can keep it - him - forever.

-

Alec checks his phone first thing when he wakes up. No texts. It’s okay. It’s early. Magnus probably just hasn’t gotten up yet. There’s time.

He keeps his eye on his phone through the present opening. He gets no joy out of it, can’t even really pay attention to what they got each other. Why hasn’t Magnus text him yet?

He’s distracted for most of the day, and as they sit down at the dinner table, his mother calls him on it.

“Alexander, can you please be present and spend some time with our family. Put that damn phone away.”

Alec mumbles an apology and stuffs the phone into his pocket.

“So… are you seeing someone?” She asks.

“No,” Alec says. Much to his dismay, he’s very, very single.

Isabelle chokes on the mouthful of drink she’s just taken. What? He’s not dating anyone. Why do people keep getting it in their heads that he is?

“Come on now. A mother knows when her son has someone new in their life.”

Really? ‘Cos he’s sure she never knew about Harley Walton, who he dated for six months when he was fifteen. He’s sure she doesn’t know that Harley snuck into Alec’s bedroom one summer night and that they had sex for the first time while his parents were downstairs watching the TV.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Alec reiterates as he swirls his spoon through his soup. He can’t drum up any enthusiasm for food today. He wants to look at his phone, but he knows his mother will kill him if he gets it out again.

Alec’s father is quiet about the whole business. Alec’s love life isn’t his favourite subject. He likes to pretend that Alec isn’t gay, and it becomes increasingly difficult to do that when they get into a conversation like this. Alec usually likes to annoy his father by making it so that he can’t ignore it, but in this case, he’d really rather not.

“Oh fine,” his mother says. “Just promise to bring her for dinner some time.”

“Him,” Alec corrects.

“Sorry, dear?” she says as if she hasn’t heard him. She’s also in denial, but at least she’s upfront with him about it.

“You know I’m-” Alec starts.

“Anyone need a refill?” his father interrupts, rising from the table. Everyone’s drinks are full, so no… none of them needs a fucking refill. They just can’t have Alec say he’s gay at the dinner table now, can they?

Alec stews as he eats the remainder of his soup. If he were to ever date anyone and it got serious, he sure as hell would never bring them here. He couldn’t subject them to his parents. As always, Alec’s mind goes to Magnus. He tries to imagine Magnus here and has to hold back his grin. His mother wouldn’t have a clue how to behave. She’d be scandalised, but have to play the perfect hostess. His father would scowl and degrade Magnus, which would actually be terrible, but Magnus, no doubt, would have a reply that would put his father in his place. And why is he thinking about bringing Magnus home to meet his parents? In what world would that ever happen?

-

Alec’s lounging on the couch, mood terrible, when his phone finally pings with a message. He can’t open it quick enough. It’s Magnus. Thank god.

 Magnus (25.12.17 7:24 PM): Where did you manage to find the book?! I can’t believe it. Thank you. Thank you so much, Alexander. I think I owe you a great debt.

 Alec doesn’t know why he was worried Magnus wouldn’t like it. He clearly wanted the book, and if that text is anything to go by, he’s happy with it. A great debt. Alec has to remind himself not to flirt with Magnus, though he’d dearly like to type that he knows exactly how Magnus could work that off. His fingers move like lightning as they fly over the touchscreen.

 Alec (25.12.17 7:25 PM): Pretty sure the gift was to thank you! No debt. I don’t accept. I’m glad you like it though. It was just from this little, used bookstore near where I live. Saw it, and remembered you were looking for it.

 Magnus (25.12.17 7:27 PM): Well I guess I should just come to you if I need to find a book in the future then. Maybe we’ll agree to disagree on the debt. How’s your Christmas been?

 And just like that, Alec’s Christmas is perfect.

P15 is here

[sordidpassionsandlockedemotions]

Alec was in some meeting,honestly it had turned into some people’s ego contest. So he was messing around with his phone underneath the table mostly just texting his siblings. However then came a text from his boyfriend which immediately stole all focus from the Lightwood siblings group chat.

Eyes glancing up taking a second double check the arguing was still happening before opening up the text from Magnus. Which was simply asking him about if he’d be fine with a small spell accident. Keeping a normal face much he wanted to subconsciously raise a brow before texting a simple question mark. 

Taking small sips of his no longer warm coffee when the picture showed up. Coughing coffee onto the table everybody stared directly at him. Slipping his phone subtly aware swooped up the coffee cup. “I uh need to go drink some water.” 

Retreating out the room before slumping against the wall covering his mouth to stop from laughing. The picture probably didn’t do justice if was real because glowing hair would certainly be different in person. Recovering he headed to the kitchen finishing off the dregs of coffee.

Leaning against the sink while it cooled off,glass nearby for the water meanwhile pulled out his phone again. Texting Magnus joking that no way could it be real before heading back into the meeting. Which mostly became a whole lot more stares at him,and him ignoring his phone because Izzy and Jace had spammed him with texts.

Meeting over with figured could call it a night,head home to Magnus so quickly organized everything in the office for the next morning. Izzy appeared leaning in the doorway,”So big bro what’s gotten into you?” He glanced up setting down the reports he’d relocated. 

“Just inhaled wrong that’s all.” She looked unimpressed with the answer but he just resumed as he had been. Honestly highly doubted she would find the real answer all that amusing. “My reputation already is pretty bad so doubt it even dented it that much more.” Pocketing his stele and figured pack his laptop up take it with for some reports before bed.

Or maybe his tablet? “Alec I love you but clearly you’re not overthinking which is a blessing if not a curse.” Pausing he looked at her wondering just what she was trying to say. “It first off must have been something from Magnus,and secondly your reputation is everybody’s pretty much aware of that fact now I’m not saying I had the same lame train of thought as them but-.” 

Alec’s eyes widened,”Seriously?!” Sighing just shook his head,”People are weird but no that was not-ew real mature just was some probably photo shopped picture of his hair that’s all.” Her eyes sparkled stepping closer with curiosity. “Doesn’t matter did promise once the meeting was over I’d head home so that’s that.” 

His sister reached towards him before swapping some candy off his desk,”Alright cool as for your honor gladly fight for it,and I think the first victim is Jace any opposition to me finding a baby duck to leave in his room?”

“Izzy-.”

“No you’re right I should get two baby ducks,bury his ugly shirts and then enlist him to assist,thanks Alec.” With an added kiss to his cheek before she ran out of the room leaving him to sigh. She might not do it was all he could hope slinging the bag containing his chargers,tablet,laptop,and probably some pens onto his left shoulder. 

He texted Magnus saying he would be home shortly,and then made his way to the loft maybe just a bit curious if his hair was actually glowing neon blue. If so then there was all the teasing possible for messing up a spell to such an interesting outcome. Even if it was on purpose probably looked good regardless real or not. 

Finally reaching the top of the building slid the door open stepping inside,sliding his bag onto the floor,”Hey Magnus I’m back.” Calling out before dumping his holster,boots and jacket aside as well. Heading towards his boyfriend’s office poking his head in,”Maybe for good cause Izzy may wreak havoc on the Institute and put me out of a job.” 

Arms wrapped around him from behind and he smiled especially recognizing the rings along with his boyfriend’s hands. “So you decided to let her run rampant,to come home instead any concussions today?” Rolling his eyes he turned around but before he could reply blinked yeah okay the hair was real,and it was eye catching for sure. 

“Uh huh,your hair’s not as bright looking-.” 

“In person,noticed hours ago speaking of which do promise entirely accidental and temporary.” Alec just gave a nod hands resting on his boyfriend’s sides curled up thinking a moment before kissing him. “So how was the meeting anyways?” Coughing he pulled away collapsing onto the couch. 

Unsure entirely what to say,”Well two people got in a fight the whole meeting was them bickering,naturally everybody just let them go at it I mostly was just texting with my siblings or messing with my phone.” Magnus gave a look which spelled ‘don’t you run the Institute now’ to which he didn’t answer it was obvious. “Then you texted and shortly after it was called a night.”

When Magnus sat down curled up into his side,”So what about you Magnus,what exactly caused the hair?” Stealing his hands to play with while listening to the tale of some new spell going wrong,and it nearly making Church’s fur change color too. Laughing a bit at it before kissing him again then came the lazy choice of summoning dinner,pizza because it was easiest. 

They put on some low budget cheap film,so terrible and cliche but easy to laugh at. Giving each other the occasional kiss,if not spending a minute deprieving themselves of oxygen. Of course towards the end of the movie became some sort of actual conversation. 

“Okay but in reality think a ghost wouldn’t be on this plane of existence.” Magnus gave a look like ‘are you seriously overthinking ghosts’. “Ghosts should hold no effect on reality,let alone be able to pick up a knife and stab people especially if the ghost is hundreds of years old.” 

“Alexander you are aware there is stranger things like that they even went into the house in the first place?” 

“Horror cliche-but the knife thing’s absurd.” 

“Remind me to never let you pick the movie ever again.” 

“It was my turn,Magnus but yeah maybe revoke my movie choice privileges this one was not my best choice.” 

“Yeah I love you,but that power’s a bit much for you at least for the rest of the week.” 

“Now you’re just taking it so you can make us watch your shows all week.” 

Rolling over head facing upwards to look at Magnus’ which gave a sort of facial shrug in reply which caused him to put a hand gently near his boyfriend’s face. Then he propped up giving a fake pout instead of simply sitting up to kiss Magnus,or ask because what fun would that be. 

Especially when he felt their breath mix,and lips over his eyes closing slowly sitting up in his boyfriend’s lap. Dizzy,lack of oxygen thinking it was heading somewhere when a thud landed beside them. Lips pulled away from his and Alec was about to let out a huff when followed where the attention had gone. 

Some cat was sitting there staring at them must be one of Magnus’ wasn’t gray nor grumpy so must be Chairman. It meowed stretching out clawing at Alec’s leg some,”Ow.”  Moving the paws carefully sliding off his boyfriend’s lap only to watch the cat stretch across it. “Just realized never met your cat’s now kind of realize why.” 

Magnus shook his head giving the cat attention,namely petting it till purring happened. “Chair’s probably hungry that or hiding from Church as for the clawing purely accidental.” Alec gave a nod rubbing his eyes watching the cat a moment. 

“Right well I think while you feed Chairman I’m going to start getting ready for bed,or maybe just hog the bed seeing as you might be stuck on the couch via cat imprisonment all night.” Dodging the pillow thrown at him with a grin heading towards their bedroom. After glancing back at the still glowing hair still unsure how hadn’t made a joke about how it’d likely glow all night. 

Or how could probably act as a glowstick in the dark.. The ideas kept appearing while he brushed his teeth and used mouth wash really wasting time before he could curl up close under the covers with his boyfriend. 

[illumi-nnaughtyy]

1-155 ahahahah

I'm petty asf so here ya go 😂 1: Name- Bailey 2: Age- 17 (almost 18)3: Fears- lol everyone y'all 4: 3 things I love- my dog, pasta, & Morgan 5: 4 turns on- kindness, intelligence, effort, & being funny 6: 4 turns off- not able to keep an interesting convo going, no sense of humor, treat waiting staff bad, and not being good w/ kids7: My best friend- MORGANNN8: Sexual orientation- just living my life homie 9: My best first date- never had one 🙃10: How tall am I- 5'1 (I'm small)11: What do I miss- Izzy💗12: What time were I born- idk I think like 12?13: Favourite color- blue or green14: Do I have a crush- a huge one send help15: Favourite quote- "Live Life For Bella"16: Favourite place- anyplace outdoors or anyplace with coffee 17: Favourite food- ANY AND ALL PASTA 😍18: Do I use sarcasm- lolololololol all the fucking time 19: What am I listening to right now- nothing, but I have headphones in which is weird 20: First thing I notice in new person- sense of humor 21: Shoe size- 6 1/222: Eye color- blue/green23: Hair color- blonde 24: Favourite style of clothing- tshirts I guess 25: Ever done a prank call? I was in middle school once so yep 26: Meaning behind my URL- I liked the song Wake me up by Avicii when I made my blog forever ago :/27: Favourite movie- not so many but atm probably The Proposal 28: Favourite song- too many to chose from 29: Favourite band- idk don't listen to a lot of bands 30: How I feel right now- happy 😊 31: Someone I love- My dog Jake 32: My current relationship status- single 33: My relationship with my parents- I'm really close w/ both although my mom & I argue a lot (about politics and religion mostly), but my dad is my fav human to ever exist 34: Favourite holiday- probably Valentine's Day or Christmas 35: Tattoos and piercing I have- my ears are pierced 36: Tattoos and piercings I want- so many tattoos omg 37: The reason I joined Tumblr- I thought it looked cool?38: Do I and my last ex hate each other? I don't hate her bc I've let go of that negativity but she probs hates me but it's chill 39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? I have recently & it makes me heart smile bud 40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? That'd be Morgan so YEET no 41: When did I last hold hands? When my dad was driving me to take my Midterm & I was nervous so he held my hand 42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? Like 20 minutes, u less I shower then like 40 minuets43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? Yepppp 44: Where am I right now? Laying in bed 45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? Morgan probs 46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? LOUDDDD47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? Mom48: Am I excited for anything? The future 49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? My dad 50: How often do I wear a fake smile? Anytime I'm at yee yee south Paulding high school 51: When was the last time I hugged someone? Honestly so long ago it's kinda sad52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? They would be an invisible person bc I haven't kissed anyone 53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? Probably 54: What is something I disliked about today? Yes55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? Hmmmm probs lexi or obama 56: What do I think about most? School tbh 57: What’s my strangest talent? My dedication 58: Do I have any strange phobias? I irrationally hate the dark bc I'm five 59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Both idc 60: What was the last lie I told? That I wasn't mad that my dad wasn't picking me up until tomorrow 61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Both is fine I prefer in person 62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Def ghosts but idk about aliens 63: Do I believe in magic? Nah64: Do I believe in luck? Ehhhh not really 65: What’s the weather like right now? Cold as hell66: What was the last book I’ve read? Medical Law, Ethics, and Bio Ethics 67: Do I like the smell of gasoline? Kinda 68: Do I have any nicknames? Bai & Angel 69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? Broke my arm & my knee 70: Do I spend money or save it? Both 71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge? Nope72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? My room walls 😅73: Favourite animal? My dog 74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? Talking to lexi 75: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? Trump 76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? Brown eyed girl 77: How can you win my heart? Make an effort to remember the little things & make me laugh....also if you're good w/ kids 😍78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? "This bitch was lit asf"79: What is my favorite word? Content 80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr yeet too much work to do this 81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? Why are we all so hateful?82: Do I have any relatives in jail? Yes83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? To know everything 84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? Idk depends on who's asking 85: What is my current desktop picture? Trees 86: Had sex? Nope 87: Bought condoms? Yes (as a dare)88: Gotten pregnant? Nope 89: Failed a class? Nope 90: Kissed a boy? Nope 91: Kissed a girl? Nope92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? Nope 93: Had job? Yes 94: Left the house without my wallet? All the fucking time ugh95: Bullied someone on the internet? No bc I'm not an asshole 96: Had sex in public? Nah 97: Played on a sports team? Yes 98: Smoked weed? No 99: Did drugs? No 100: Smoked cigarettes? No 101: Drank alcohol? Yes 102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? No 103: Been overweight? No 104: Been underweight? Yes 105: Been to a wedding? Yes I love them so much 😍😍106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? I do online college so sadly yes 107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? Lololol I'm trash so yes 108: Been outside my home country? Yes 109: Gotten my heart broken? Many times110: Been to a professional sports game? Yes111: Broken a bone? Yes112: Cut myself? .....113: Been to prom? Yes114: Been in airplane? Yes 115: Fly by helicopter? No116: What concerts have I been to? 4 Taylor Swift, 1 Carrie Underwood, & 1 one more that I can't think of 117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? Lololol so many times 118: Learned another language? Like 2 years of hs Spanish 119: Wore make up? I'm an ugly toe so yes 120: Lost my virginity before I was 18? Nope 121: Had oral sex? Nope 122: Dyed my hair? Yes 123: Voted in a presidential election? Nope 124: Rode in an ambulance? Nope 125: Had a surgery? Yes 126: Met someone famous? Yes 127: Stalked someone on a social network? All the fucking time 128: Peed outside? Yes 129: Been fishing? I live in Georgia so what do u think?130: Helped with charity? Yes 131: Been rejected by a crush? Lol all of them132: Broken a mirror? Sadly 133: What do I want for birthday? Money 134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names? Idk maybe 2 or 3? And I want to name them Dani, Andi, or Amelia 135: Was I named after anyone? Some bitch from my mom fav tv show 136: Do I like my handwriting? Noooo it's horrid 137: What was my favourite toy as a child? A Mickey Mouse teddy bear 138: Favourite Tv Show? Soooo many but atm scandal 139: Where do I want to live when older? Idk just not in Georgia 140: Play any musical instrument? The recorder that I learned in 4th grade 141: One of my scars, how did I get it? I have one on my knee from falling off of my bike & breaking my knee cap 142: Favourite pizza toping? Mushrooms bc I'm trash143: Am I afraid of the dark? Yes 144: Am I afraid of heights? Very 145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? Nope 146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? Everyday fam 147: What I’m really bad at? Telling ppl how I feel 148: What my greatest achievments are? My academics for sure 149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me? Prefer not to say 150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery? Pay for college 151: What do I like about myself? Not gonna lie I've got some A+ boobs 152: My closest Tumblr friend? Hmmm idk 153: Something I fantasise about? Moving out of my house & being independent 154: Any thoughts on the paranormal? That it's scary as fuck 155: Free question: Any question you’d like to ask, be it rude, fun, curious, strange, sexual, random, meme related, etc! Lol one wasn't asked

[bestforlessmove]

'Flip or Flop': Another Tarek and Christina Feud Almost Spells Financial Disaster

HGTV

“Flip or Flop” stars Tarek and Christina El Moussa proved the adage that communication is the most important part of a relationship-whether it's personal or professional.

Not syncing up their schedules almost spelled financial disaster for the renovating exes when they decided to go all-in on a fixer-upper-sight unseen-in this week's appropriately titled episode, “Bursting at the Seams.” While the house they attempt to remodel is overflowing with junk, the title also seems to be an apt metaphor for the state of their relationship.

The fireworks start when Tarek is out of town and finds out about a home in La Mirada, CA, in need of some TLC. It reads like a killer deal: three bedrooms, two baths, and 1,100 square feet of space. The list price is $400,000, while the comps are in the high $400,000s. Tarek calls Christina and asks her to check out the house because it's bound to sell quickly at that price.

Not so fast, Tarek! Christina says she's out of town as well, on a girls' trip in San Diego.

“Now that we're divorced and have separate personal lives, balancing business can be tricky,” Christina says. “I had no idea that Tarek was out of town, and suddenly he calls me and tells me that I have to drop everything to go and check on a house? I'm not OK with that.”

Tarek is not pleased either. “Apparently Christina hanging with her friends is more important than us making a living,” he says. “If we don't jump on this house now, someone else is going to.” Yikes.

Their solution? Buy the house sight unseen-warts, vermin, junk, and all.

Junk covers the floor of this fixer-upper.

HGTV

His is not the only bid; however, as luck would have it, he ends up getting the home for $420,000. But the excitement from winning the house fades when they pull up and see a huge van with flat tires in the driveway.

Uh oh, this might not have been such a wise purchase after all. It'll cost a pretty penny to have the van hauled off. On top of that, Tarek estimates that renovating the house will cost them $65,000.

And the worst is yet to come: Tarek and Christina still have to deal with this rotten, junk-packed home and attempt to make a profit. Read on to learn from their mistakes and pick up a few tips for your own (hopefully less-challenging) renovation projects.

You should always phone a friend

Yes, both Christina and Tarek are out of town. But couldn't they have at least called a friend, colleague, or assistant to snap and text a few photos of the house, to give them an idea of what they would be getting into?

When they arrive, the place stinks to high heaven, the interior is filled with junk practically to the ceiling, and the backyard is filled with tall weeds. They had to pay $1,200 just to haul the trash away!

We know this is TV, where editing and meddling happens behind the scenes, but a lot of trouble could have been avoided if they'd just asked someone else to do a little research.

The junk-filled backyard

HGTV

Structure always trumps design

The garage floor is also covered with so much junk that Tarek and Christina don't notice huge cracks in it on first inspection.

Contractor Israel “Izzy” Battres tells Tarek it's going to cost a whopping $8,000 to pour a new garage floor-an expense that will eat into their overall renovation budget. But where will they pull the extra cash from?

“You know what the first thing to go is? Design!” Christina quips, pouting.

She lobbies to cut the budget somewhere else. But Tarek reminds her that fixing structural issues should always be the No. 1 priority-and Christina reluctantly agrees.

Get creative for a bigger kitchen

“This is one of the smallest kitchens we've ever done,” says Christina, and there's absolutely no room to expand.

To open the space up, they remove the wall between the kitchen and the family room and extend the countertop into a peninsula, which juts into the other room by a few feet. This simple design change makes a world of difference and provides more counter and storage space.

The new kitchen with an extended peninsula

HGTV

Swatch your wallpaper

Tarek wants to paint an accent wall, Christina wants to apply wallpaper, and neither one is willing to budge. Christina estimates wallpapering will cost about $500 more than painting, but Tarek vetoes all of the options she shows him. He asks for paint samples to match the color scheme she has planned, but then decides they're too ugly. Tarek approves the wallpaper, playing right into Christina's hand.

But when the wallpaper she's selected is hung, they realize it has such a subtle pattern that the wall looks plain white-like a simple coat of paint.

The lesson? When selecting wallpaper, affix a swatch to the wall and take several steps back so you'll get a better idea of how it will look when it's hung. If it achieves a similar effect as paint would-and if budget is an issue-go with paint, a much cheaper option for your walls.

Also, don't get cute trying to trick your partner into something he's not comfortable with.

The wallpaper is so subtle it looks like white paint.

HGTV

Is it a flip or a flop?

Although Tarek and Christina budgeted $65,000 for the renovation, they end up spending $79,900. With the added expenses of staging and fees, they're going to have to sell it for $530,000 to break even.

Tarek says they should go for broke and put it on the market for $589,900, and Christina reluctantly agrees.

Orange County's hot housing market might be to blame, but a bidding war ensues and they sell the house for $605,000. After factoring in closing costs, they wind up making a $75,000 profit, an impressive feat considering all that could have gone wrong.

The post 'Flip or Flop': Another Tarek and Christina Feud Almost Spells Financial Disaster appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

[robotpiez]

i never get jenny wakeman nsfw art bc like. isn't she 16 and is in school

i fw robots but making nsfw of a robot that's SUPPOSED to resemble a teen girl is kinda fucked up

[robotpiez]

ramona flowers is actually born with color-changing hair and can change it whenever she wants

[robotpiez]

people saying that gideon graves is cishet is honestly ridiculous like. did you saw that twink-ass pose he did for that movie

[robotpiez]

my version of karkat is actually.bald. he has no hair at all whatsoever

[robotpiez]

(raaaggghhh i have a strawpage now)

if u wanna see my answerz to ur anonymous asks then go on to my twitter or spacehey (bulletins)!!

fucking intro or smth‼‼

☆ I'm Izzy and i go by they/him

☆ i'm a MINOR so NSFW BLOGS GET OUT

☆ Selfshipper 🤩🤩 i love karkat

☆ huge fan of Gerard way (he's cool)

☆ umm sona i guess (if you wanna draw me then that's cool)

aaaand some tags:

#pie flavoured art • art that's totally from a human

#izzy's ugly walls of text • unimportant ranting

#holy shit asks • when people ask me stuff

#sprites from the machine • homestuck sprites. Now mostly on @robotpiez-sprites

anyways um yea thats it for now!! there'll prob be a more detailed intro post later in the future but i still have to work on it!!

i don't really have a dni, but i will block people who i don't really like (proship and nsfw, for example)

also feel free to chat w me! (IF YOU ARE NOT ABOVE THE AGE OF 22) i'm kinda lonely XP

ALSO:

i do art requests yayyyy

[robotpiez]

yo check out @robotpiez-sprites where i make homestuck shit

[robotpiez]

hiding things i hate on tumblr works better than twitter

i'll block that word on twt and anything related to it and it's STILL show up on my fyp